This Rabbi - a Retirement Reflection - for the Temple Beth-El Las Cruces, NM July 2020 Adelante Newsletter

I have been thinking about

All of these years

As a rabbi.

They have not passed 

In the blink of an eye. 

Yet, I still can’t believe

That this journey 

As a congregational rabbi

Is coming to a close. 

With the unexpected flurry of activity

Which the pandemic 

Has added to this time of transition,

I feel fulfilled, and a bit exhausted

Gratified, and somewhat stressed

Satisfied, and sad that personal contact 

Has happened mainly on computer screens.

Every year has been different

One from another

In its specific challenges. 

Still, every year has featured 

The landmarks of the Jewish calendar

Shabbat, holidays

The repeating cycle of Religious School

Life events for members of all ages 

Programs clustered 

in the months of August through May

that included 

Study groups

Annual Meetings 

Jewish Food Festivals and other fundraisers

Community worship services and programs to mark Thanksgiving and Martin Luther King, Jr. day

Clergy gatherings 

And attendance at national conventions

Where i joined with rabbis and with colleagues in Jewish music and education

To learn, to absorb to grow.

There have been years putting forward 

the fruits of my personal expression 

in prose and in song 

Within the congregation and in the community.   

There are family photographs taken every year at Tashlich,   

The rabbi leading an enthusiastic congregation in his white robe on Sukkot and Simchat Torah and at Consecration and Confirmation services,  

And wearing a variety of hats while singing Purim songs before the Megillah reading or Purimspiel.

There were rabbinic and personal moments merged into one at weddings, birth ceremonies, bar/bat mitzvah services, Confirmation, and funerals.   

There were hellos, and goodbyes, and hellos.   

There were moments for speaking my mind and times when keeping silent was, sadly, necessary. 

There were people to meet, good people in the congregation and in communities,

Some becoming lifelong friends. 

There were encounters with governors, members of Congress, famous folksingers, noted authors, famous biblical scholar, the creator of Star Trek himself, and a future president. 

Moments of solemn remembrance, as well as collective protests against hatred, were turned into community gatherings to sing and share.

There were many episodes of challenge, too many, when alternative choices for behavior (whether on the part of others, or, admittedly, my own) could have changed an unfortunate outcome...or, perhaps not. 

Mainly, there were

Milestones celebrated, smiles shared

Harmonious voices joined in a unified chorus

Children and adults growing into themselves as Jews and as human beings

Values taught 

Lessons learned (sometimes the hard way)

Helping hands extended 

Love expressed, especially within and throughout the generations of my own family 

Communities built based on shared principles

And a hope 

That the foundations of all of these efforts

Will last for all those whose lives were touched 

And will persist and serve as seeds for renewal

In the heart and mind 

Of at least

This rabbi.  

Becoming Your Eyes and Hands - A Meditation on Shabbat Evening Prayer - June 29, 2020

Eternal God, 

Our Creator, Our Sustainer,

Our Inspiration,

Rule us with justice 

So that the voices of the upright among us

Will be heard by all who need to listen. 

Send protection as we walk along our paths

Whether in the form of traveling companions

Or accompanying angels. 

Enable us to appreciate Your light that illumines our hearts

And may we sense that light even after night has fallen. 

Be a loving Parent who presents us with teachings

That will lead us to understand that Your Oneness

And that can turn us towards each other in respect and unity. 

Open our hearts that we may love You in return,

So that, when we await your redemption 

At times of great challenge, 

We will cross the sea of despair 

And discover, on the other side, the warmth of Your embrace. 

Remember our bonds with those who came before us,

Who sought Your help as we do now,

Who expressed their faith by bringing freedom, 

support and healing to people in need, becoming Your eyes and hands.  

May we strive to be holy like You, 

Always moving to the rhythm of Your teachings.

When we rest, celebrating all that You have made, 

may we muster the fortitude we need 

to suffuse the world with Your kindness and goodness. 

When we pray, hear us. 

When we lead prayer, give us insight 

to uncover the deepest meanings within the words before us,

and as we speak them aloud, 

may the sound of our voices touch every soul within of our circle of worship. 

May our sincere gratitude allow us to humbly see that we are surrounded by gifts that we do not even realize are there.  

May the peace embedded in all that we do be a resounding echo of the 

peace which You fashion in the heights of the Universe. 

And may that peace, above and below, be a beacon of hope for us

Every day of our lives. 

“Always on the road to holiness” Words of Torah - Parashat Korach - June 26-27, 2020 for Temple Beth-El Las Cruces NM

WORDS OF TORAH – Parashat Korach – June 26-27, 2020

Shabbat Shalom!
  We, as a congregation, are about the move into a new chapter of an ongoing story. I will conclude my service to the congregation as rabbi on June 30, and then take on the role of rabbi emeritus. Rhonda and I will continue to be members of the Temple Beth-El community. Lay leaders and student rabbi Sofia Zway will actively work together to sustain Jewish life and growth for Temple Beth-El.  This juncture of transition is a “Shehecheyanu” moment. It carries with it an air of sanctity, because we will all be seeking ways in which we can continue to create holy moments in our lives. (P.S. We are looking forward to celebrating all of our shared accomplishments tonight). 
   In the Torah portion for this week, Korach, possibly a relative of Moses and Aaron, challenged the authority of the Israelite leaders by claiming that, if all the Israelites were holy, how could Moses and Aaron put themselves above everyone else? We know that true leadership carries with it responsibility and requires an ability to adapt and change. Torah commentator Yeshayahu Leibowitz saw Korach’s assertion about the holiness of the Israelites to mean that “we have achieved our goal and nothing more need be demanded of us” to be holy.  

 It was as if he was saying, and even boasting, “I am already holy and don’t need to change.” Yet, what the Torah actually says (based on Leviticus Chapter 19, which includes the phrase, “Love your neighbor as yourself) is “YOU SHALL BE HOLY, for I, the Eternal your God, am holy.” Holiness is about the process of striving to become holy like God. It is a goal, not a present state, because we may never reach a divine level of sanctity. Leaders and people like Korach think they have nothing to learn from anyone or any new experience. Leaders and people like Moses and Aaron see their own imperfections, lament the need to stand firm in the face of overwhelming opposition, and are willing to learn something new to move along the road towards greater effectiveness and 
even holiness.
   Every milestone in life gives us a new opportunity to take note of who we are and where we are at any given moment, and where we want to be in the future. Marking a special occasion in any way makes that moment KADOSH, sacred, reminding us that embodied in our celebrations is an admission that we can continue to learn and grow along our life’s journey. May we continue together on this path of “becoming” in unity and hope!

God Loves Becoming - Remarks by Rabbi Larry and Rhonda Karol at the Retirement Event and Tribute by Temple Beth-El Las Cruces on June 25, 2020

The prayer comes from the Mishkan T’filah prayerbook - it was written by Rabbi Norman Hirsh. 

The rest is from Rhonda and me. 

ONCE OR TWICE in a lifetime, 

a man or woman may choose a radical leaving, 

having heard Lech l’cha — Go forth. 

God disturbs us toward our destiny by hard events 

and by freedom’s now urgent voice 

which explode and confirm who we are. 

We don’t like leaving, but God loves becoming.

We sometimes leave what was familiar

To become familiar with something new. 

We may physically leave one place 

But we do not leave behind 

Fond memories

Partnerships 

Achievements 

Shared holidays and life events 

Sorrows

and Joys.  

We may stay in one place 

Leaving behind the responsibilities of one position

Only to assume a new and significant role

Which does not disconnect us from people or our past.  

We carry everyone and everything with us

Because each of us is the product of all of our experiences 

And relationships:  family, friends, congregants, 

And fellow travelers on our journeys.   

ONCE OR TWICE in a lifetime, 

a man or woman may choose a radical leaving, 

having heard Lech l’cha — Go forth. 

God disturbs us toward our destiny by hard events 

and by freedom’s now urgent voice 

which explode and confirm who we are. 

We don’t like leaving, but God loves becoming.

Lech l’cha 

l’chi lach

We have gone forth.

What have we become? 

Graduates

Jewish professionals

Friends 

Spouses

Travelers

Residents of a Capital City 

Parents

Passengers on the train in Gage Park 

Explorers

Nearby adult children

A family of Chiefs, Royals and Jayhawk fans

Musical theater devotees for the young star in the family

A Jewish singer/songwriter  

A teacher and storyteller 

Veteran Religious School faculty members

A proud mom and dad at two graduations 

Seacoast dwellers a short drive from the ocean, some family and friends, outlet malls, and great ice cream, with mounds of snow gracing our yard,

Suddenly, southwestern desert dwellers at Israel’s latitude

Bearers of new allergies 

Seekers of new doctors, hairdressers, and a place to find fresh Challah for Shabbat 

Apprentice Appreciators of New Mexico chile, so please don’t ask about the color 

Fans of gypsum dunes at White Sands

Spectators of beautiful sunsets from our patio, resulting in galleries of photo memories 

Celebrants at a snowy winter wedding

Proud mother-in-law

Proud father-in-law

60 year-olds

Still teachers of children and adults

Still learners from adults and children

Still community servants 

Still friends making friends 

Grandparents connected with family through wondrous technology 

Home dwellers in the face of a new challenge, trying to stay safe and healthy

Zoom-masters 

Hopefully, thankful, patient and flexible souls as our plans changed 

65 year-olds

Who have come to the conclusion of a chapter but not the end of a journey. 

Reflections of those who came before us, who left us their legacies, on whose shoulders we stand

Builders and givers to a future 

For peers and for a new generation 

To learn, to teach, to care and to grow. 

We don’t like leaving 

But God loves becoming.  

May all of us be blessed 

With courage,

The power to let go of the familiar, 

As we tread new paths 

While not losing our treasured connections

And while helping one another, always,

To walk with hope.  

Legacy - June 2020

(From  Nehemiah 5:19 - first two lines)

LEGACY 

“Remember for my good, O my God, 

all that I have done for this people.”

For as long as I can remember

I have given my presence

My voice for singing

My thoughts for study

My prayer for communal spirit

My service for support and strength

Informally,

There were conversations about You,

Eternal One. 

There were celebrations 

Gatherings with peers 

That forged friendships 

Some lasting a lifetime. 

There were books and discussions

That stimulated my thought

And refined my beliefs. 

There were visits to ancient sites

That still bear deep meaning. 

Remember for my good, O my God, 

all that I have done for this people.

There were frequents trips

for learning to be a teacher, 

A leader, a source of inspiration 

And a friend. 

There was one walk down the aisle

With future colleagues

And another walk

With my life partner

And we joined as one

Our path of service

And creating a home

Yet to be shared with a future 

Singer, leader, teacher, advisor, friend. 

Remember for my good, O my God, 

all that I have done for this people.

There was worship on days of rest

During seasons of celebration

And at times of solemn commemoration 

There were moments 

Delving deep into treasured texts

Examining pivotal episodes from our past

Fostering ties with family

Engendering bonds in a congregation 

And throughout a greater community

Holding up the values of understanding,

Equality, acceptance and respect. 

There were relationships based in sacred partnership

Sometimes successful and ongoing

Sometimes not

But the triumphs offered reminders

Never to give up. 

As, from a distance,

I look into the eyes of members 

of a new generation,

Sharing my laughter,

Singing my soul,

Offering pearls of my accumulated wisdom,

May the fruits of all that I have done

Remain and still grow 

In the minds and hearts of those who have 

Seen, listened, learned, and walked 

This path with me.

Remember for my good, O my God, 

all that I have done for this people.

The Power of Ten...and More - Parashat Sh’lach L’cha - June 18, 2020

One of the most curious and surprising aspects of the Torah reading for this week is captured in a comment included in the Conservative movement’s Torah commentary, Etz Hayim. Sh’lach L’cha recounts the journey of 12 scouts, each representing one of the tribes of Israel, into the land of Canaan to see what it was like. Two scouts – Caleb and Joshua – returned to the people with excitement and optimism, but the other 10 scouts brought back a message of apprehension and despair, telling the people that they should remain where they are, short of their goal.

    In Chapter 14, verse 27 of Numbers, the 10 scouts who gave the negative majority report were called an “eidah ra’ah,” an “evil community.” The rabbis of Jewish tradition looked at this verse and deduced that ten must be just enough for a group of people to be called a “community.” This was one of the very verses the rabbis cited when they ruled that the minimum number is TEN for a quorum for a worship service (which we know as a minyan, meaning “counting”). How strange that the rabbis would take this negative reference as a basis for such a standard, given that the pessimism of the 10 scouts was so great that it was determined that the people weren’t yet ready to enter their promised land!

     Yet, there are important lessons to learn from the approach of the rabbis to this passage. First, they took something negative and turned it towards a positive purpose. The total number of the scouts in the negative majority – ten - became the prescribed minimum amount for future gatherings of Jews who would recite prayers that would express praise, thanks, and hope (instead of voicing pessimism and despair). More important, this was the rabbis’ way of telling us that ten people out of hundreds of thousands can make a difference, for better or for worse. What they hoped, of course, was that gatherings of ten-plus would seek to change the world for the better and enable each individual to grow and to take his or her community responsibility seriously.

   In our attitudes, our declarations, and in our leadership, let us remember that, through what we do and through the faith we have in ourselves as individuals and as a group, we can sustain or, if necessary, restore, confidence and hope for ourselves, our community and even for the world.

Invocation - Temple Beth-El Las Cruces Board meeting on June 17, 2020 (the concluding Board meeting of my active congregational rabbinate)

Eternal One,

Source of wisdom,

Wellspring of insight, 

As our ancestors were challenged

To adopt an attitude of optimism and courage

So that they could “go up” to a promised land

Let us now go up. 

Let us go up to new opportunities

Let us rise to the pinnacle of our creativity 

Let us aspire to greater ingenuity 

Let us ascend to a vantage point

that will enable us to see more clearly

our present and our future

Let us grow towards greater understanding

of ourselves and one another

Let us navigate the difficult paths that could separate us

So that we can come together in a place of unity

Let us overcome our fear of the heights of uncertainty

So that we can move forward on our journey with confidence and fortitude. 

Let us extend our spiritual reach to the heavens

Where Your peace reigns, Eternal God,  

And may we bring that peace down to our community 

So that harmony will envelop us

And your love will suffuse our souls.  

Eternal One, 

Source of hope, 

Wellspring of strength,

Let us go up. 

Seeing the face of God - Remarks at Las Cruces NM Interfaith Virtual Peaceful Demonstration on June 14, 2020

“To see your face is like seeing the face of God.”

    We should be saying these words frequently, to every person we meet, even when our encounters may seem to pit us against one another. 

      This phrase was spoken by the biblical patriarch Jacob to his brother Esau. 

      Jacob thought that Esau was coming to kill him, to take revenge for all that Jacob had done to his brother through dishonesty and deceit so many years before. 

     “To see your face is like seeing the face of God.”

     Esau was coming to greet his brother with an entourage of 400 men.  This was nothing unusual for him.  Jacob didn’t know that Esau wasn’t planning to attack him.  When Esau saw his brother Jacob for the first time in many years, all he wanted was a reunion, a peaceful and hopefully face-to-face meeting.  He was looking forward to forging a new relationship.   It may be that Esau had not forgotten what his brother had done to him in the past.  It was just that he realized that they were brothers, and that they needed to be together again. 

      “To see your face is like seeing the face of God.” 

    Do we believe that every member of the family of humanity is created in the image of God, a spiritual template that enables us to show respect, to give support, to offer compassion, to extend our hearts in love, and to make peace with one another? 

      “To see your face is like seeing the face of God.” 

     God’s image does not come in one hue.  A spiritual image does not have color.   But external color has been a source of division.  Some human beings have not included people of color among those created in God’s image.  They have viewed them with fear, approaching them with a need to exert power and control over them, to buy and sell them, to try to proclaim to them that there is one culture in which they are not allowed to participate, creating a context where that difference leads to discrimination in housing, work, health care, and community and personal safety, and where calling out those areas of inequality is viewed with contempt and disdain. 

    “To see your face is like seeing the face of God.”

     This has happened too many times in human history.   It needs to stop.   Looking in to someone’s face, listening to their stories, empathizing with what is in their heart based on their experiences, that is what God would want us to do. 

      “To see your face is like seeing the face of God.”

     Can we truly recognize God’s presence in one another?  If we could, there would be equal treatment for all people.  There would no longer be suspicion, because, even with diversity, we could see God’s presence underneath that difference.  We would realize that unnecessary violence against one person of color is violence against every human being and against God.    We would understand that until everyone truly knows freedom, none of us are free.  We would finally fathom that if there is injustice experienced by some people, there is not yet justice for us all. 

      “To see your face is like seeing the face of God.” 

    We need to look harder into one another’s faces and hearts, and join together, hearing stories of trauma, making new narratives of cooperation and hope that will lead to changes in policy and attitudes that will enable our nation to make equality more real and true than ever before.  

       Only then will we see the face of God in one another.

      

“To stay or go? How do we know?” D’var Torah for Parashat B’ha-a-lot’cha - June 12, 2020

How do we know when it’s time to make a move...or a change? 

How do we know when it’s time to “stay put,” to be committed to where we are and to what we are doing at a given moment? 

  Most of us have had times in our lives when we did remain somewhere, because of a desirable job, a livable city or town, or, perhaps, because it was simply the best choice at the moment not to move.   

    There may have been other times when we realized that we should try to make a change.   The job might have become less desirable.  The city may no longer have offered us the connections, friends, opportunities and culture that we craved.    Or, we might have reached a point of restlessness that led us to test out ability to make a transition to new pursuits.  

      What is it that tells us to stay or to go?  We often just know for ourselves what we should do, if we have the wherewithal to do it.  It might be that we have friends, mentors and confidants who are able to sense our need to spread our wings and grow.  Those same people might be the ones who see us so content and fulfilled where we are that they might counsel against a change. 

      The Torah reading for this Shabbat, B’ha’alot’cha, from the book of Numbers, identifies the beacon that guided the Israelites in the wilderness.   

       We might think that the decisions for a change of location for the Israelites would certainly have emerged from a conversation between God and Moses...

     But not exactly in this case.    The direction did come from God, but it was in the form of a visible sign that all the people saw at once.   Here is the description from Numbers, Chapter 9: 

      “On the day that the Tabernacle was set up, the cloud covered the Tabernacle, the Tent of the Pact; and in the evening it rested over the Tabernacle in the likeness of fire until morning. It was always so: the cloud covered it, appearing as fire by night. And whenever the cloud lifted from the Tent, the Israelites would set out accordingly; and at the spot where the cloud settled, there the Israelites would make camp. On a sign from the Eternal they made camp and on a sign from the Eternal they broke camp.”

      That sounds so easy.   All the people had to do was to look up.  Whether it was day or night, they would know if they were supposed to move as a community or remain in place.  

     We know that the Israelites didn’t make it easy for Moses or for God.  This Torah reading includes an instance of new complaints about what was being provided for them to eat as they journeyed away from Egypt and towards their promised land.  

     In our lives, we know that change can be difficult.  A widely-used stress inventory cites the following experiences, among others, as adding to the stress we might be feeling at a particular time: moving to a new city, retirement, losing a job, shifting one’s careers, redefinition of job responsibilities, illness, the death of a loved one, beginning or completing an educational endeavor, and outstanding personal achievement. 

     I find it fascinating and curious  that there are positives mixed in with the negatives on this stress scale. 

      I want to share with you one moment from my life when reaching a positive goal led me to feel anxious and concerned. 

      I was in my concluding year at Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion in Cincinnati.  I had just completed my research for my rabbinic thesis on the career of Rabbi Abraham Feldman, who served in Hartford, Connecticut for 50 years.    My next step was to compose the text for my thesis based on what I had discovered about Rabbi Feldman’s life and work. 

      At that point, I should have felt relieved and accomplished that I was ready to write.    I didn’t. 

      That night, I couldn’t sleep.  I left my dorm room and walked down the hallway.  One of my classmates saw me from his room and said to me, “Did you hear what happened?”  I said, “No, I was sleeping.”  He gave me the news.   “John Lennon was shot in New York City and died from his wounds.”    

      I was speechless.   The response to Lennon’s death over the next few days demonstrated how much people saw him and the best messages that he conveyed in his music as a beacon for their lives.    

       The murder of John Lennon affected many people, including me.  He had just released his new album, Double Fantasy. At that point, we had to consider his life’s work complete.  In the decades that have followed, his music continues to speak out in ways that we may not have been able to imagine back then.   John Lennon had already, at that point in his life, created a lasting legacy. 

      I went back to my room after my classmate told me what happened. When I thought again about my rabbinic thesis, I knew that I had to finish what I started.   I was at a crossroads that demanded that I not get stuck.  I need to take action.  

     I began writing the next day.  I turned in my completed thesis on March 9, 1981, five years to the day before the birth of our son Adam.   

       The events of December 8, 1980, one tragic for one of my favorite musical performers, and, the other, personal and creative, taught me how important it is to enjoy the journey, both while staying in place and when taking on new responsibilities or a new position.   Either way, I knew that it was crucial that I feel fulfilled and renewed.  

      We may never truly know exactly what leads us to stay or go, even when we attribute those decisions to our own instinct or to the advice of people in our lives whose judgment we trust.  

       But the signs are waiting for us to simply take a look and follow their guidance.   May we always be able to find that cloud by day, or fire by night, that will take us to where we need to go.  

      

Coming back - thoughts on the effects of COVID-19 (and its persistence) - June 12, 2020

Perhaps I need to say this....

   I was asked to write something about my congregation’s approach to coming back in person for worship and programming a couple of weeks ago.   It’s a Board decision, and as I am retiring on June 30, I was not sure whether anything should come from me on the issue in a public statement.  

   After reading about and discussing what congregations are doing, or not doing, what I would say is this: 

1) COVID-19 is not going away any time soon.   Personally, I am limiting my venturing out into the public sphere to necessary shopping for food and medication, medical appointments, necessary auto repairs (my glove compartment ended up on the floor of my car yesterday - it’s fixed!), and maybe a few other purposes.   That’s it.   Congregationally, if we truly care about each other, the presence of the Coronavirus would necessitate, if we were meeting in person, masks, extreme social distancing due to aerosols from our singing even from behind our masks (or NO singing at all), no prayerbooks or constant cleaning of prayerbooks, taking people’s temperatures as they enter the building, limiting the number of people who can come in based on socially-distanced seating capacity, and no serving of food unless it’s individual servings prepared by people with masks and gloves.  But NONE of that should happen while there is still even a modest increase of cases in our area.   That’s still happening now.  We are not ready. 

2) Pikuach Nefesh, saving a life, is a central value of Judaism.  That is one of the things that underlies my approach to this challenge. 

3) I was told in mid March, before Temple was closed, and when we were thinking about it, that we shouldn’t “be afraid” and should stay open no matter what.   This is NOT about fear.  One of the things about New Hampshire that always puzzled me was that adults didn’t have to wear seat belts, while it is the law in all other states and the District of Columbia for adults sitting in the front seat to wear seat belts.   Is that out of fear, or because it’s prudent and wise?   I will go with prudent and wise - same with masks and washing hands.   

4)  I know that there are people who are not dealing well with this lack of contact.  It’s hard. I guess that I have spent my rabbinic career of 39 years approaching challenges with the idea of trying to do the best that we are able in each case.    On that first Friday night after Temple was closed, March 20, I knew exactly what to do, which was to do a service on the Temple FB page on Facebook live.   Soon after that, we began study groups on Wednesdays and Saturdays on Zoom.   Services on Zoom to FB live started in May when congregants began to help lead our worship.  Our Temple Seder was on Zoom.  We just took part in the naming of our granddaughter (in NYC) on Zoom.  Is it real?   Well, almost, but it is the best we can do right now, and if we can master it and stay connected, we have done a lot.    I see it as a triumph.    Some meetings of community groups and friends have taken place in a virtual space that would have not taken place otherwise.   You know, when we give ourselves a chance, we are quite creative, resourceful and resilient. 

5). For those who have had their employment curtailed, there are community groups that may be able to help in some way.  For those who are dealing with health issues and a lingering sadness at the lack of human contact,  there are ways to help with that.   As I said, this is hard.  But we can be here for each other.  Please make your needs known. 

6).  I have not gone out to large groups in the community that have gathered in recent days because, at my age and with my health issues, I am at high risk.  I am doing the best I can to offer support from home, from where I can still share my suggestions and whatever little bits of wisdom I have accumulated over the years.   

7).  Let’s be present for each other as much as possible, and listen to the medical experts as we try to navigate through this passage.   Stay safe and healthy.

Seeing our light - Words of Torah - Parashat B’ha-a-lot’cha - June 12, 2020

    As the beginning of summer approaches, the hours of daylight will grow longer.  Even amid our social distancing and staying at home more than usual, we can still go outside and recognize, and enjoy, the greater presence of light.   It can lift our moods and spirits and offer us hope.   

    Sometimes, we need that external presence of light to remind us of the light that is inside of us.   This past Shabbat, in the Torah portion NASO, we recited the priestly blessing, which includes the phase “May God shine the light of the divine face upon you and be gracious to you.”   The Torah, and various commentaries, interpret this light as divine kindness and wisdom.   The word “enlightenment,” in this context, can refer not only to intellect but also to our own moral and spiritual development and to our heightened sense of awareness at the wonder of living in the world and with each other.  

   This week’s portion, B’HA-A-LOT’CHA, begins with the mounting of seven lamps in the Tent of Meeting, the Israelite center of worship.  The seven lamps comprised the MENORAH, the symbol with which we are so familiar, and which graces the main doors of our building.  It was the duty of the priests to set up the MENORAH and to tend to the light, to keep it burning at all times.  Synagogues and Temples now feature the NER TAMID, the Eternal Light, that always remains lit in a chapel or sanctuary, along with a seven-branched MENORAH that gives light during worship.  These lights signify how divine inspiration and the teachings of our heritage  can guide us.   The EITZ CHAYIM Torah commentary quotes a midrash which imagines God saying, “As I shined a light on Israel…let them shine a light on Me.”   

      Even when we are not worshiping in our sanctuary, there is light all around us.  Jewish tradition envisions God shining kindness on us as we radiate that light back to God.  What is the source of OUR light?  According to the biblical book of Proverbs, “the human spirit is the light of the Eternal One.”   Every one of us – in our community, in the world – shares in that light of divine blessing that pervades the universe, a light that is an intrinsic part of who we are. 

     We have the opportunity, every day, to acknowledge the light of the Eternal One that can emanate from the depths of every person in this world, These days, we can see that light in efforts to promote healing, protection, understanding, and listening, which can lead to the mutual respect and consideration that all people deserve.     

      May this light, God’s light that shines through us, bring us blessing and unity in the days to come.

The virus...the cure -June 10, 2020

The virus 

Of hatred 

Has spread throughout human history

Denying the humanity of some

So that those deniers could elevate and enhance

Their own status

And their own advantage

In the world. 

Some who have been 

victims of hatred themselves 

Have become perpetrators 

While others among those targeted

Have had the ability to empathize

And to begin to understand. 

People, however

Are quick to judge 

those who speak up

Because they are angry at the growing number

Of victims of hatred and violence

“Your response is wrong.” Others say.

“Your calls for justice and equality 

Show your own prejudice.” 

“There is not such thing as a peaceful demonstration

If it lead others act with violence.”

I remember...

After the assassination of The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. 

I attended a peaceful, multifaith memorial service. 

It was helpful, heartening. 

The next day

Reports of riots came through on the radio and on television.

I didn’t understand

That it was an expression of despair

Among people who had no measure of hope

For improvement in their lives.  

I was 13 years old then. 

I had not heard 

what Dr. King had said in 1967:

“Certain conditions continue to exist in our society, 

which must be condemned as vigorously 

as we condemn riots. 

But in the final analysis, 

a riot is the language of the unheard. 

And what is it that America has failed to hear? 

It has failed to hear that the plight of the Negro poor 

has worsened over the last few years. 

It has failed to hear 

that the promises of freedom and justice 

have not been met. 

And it has failed to hear 

that large segments of white society 

are more concerned about tranquility 

and the status quo 

than about justice, equality and humanity.”

In the years since that time,

I have tried to understand,

And to listen 

To people of color

In congregations I have served

And to members of the greater community,

partners in interfaith work

Who were my teachers.  

Working with one congregant

Who organized local discussions on racism 

Grounded in her African-American heritage

And in faith values that direct us towards justice and respect, 

Taught me the importance of listening and learning,

Of internalizing all that I had heard—

All of the stories of challenge, of being singled out,

Of Discrimination, and of targeting based on skin color—-

With the hope that hearing those stories

Could lead to action and progress

That could happen through the work of many people,

Including me. 

I understand better, now. 

I can identify 

When I benefit from privilege 

And, also 

when I run into a brick wall because of who I am. 

But I also know

That for many, 

There is no space in front of that brick wall.

There is no room to move. 

There is only that brick wall

Pressing against them

Which, on some or many levels,

precludes acceptance and respect

And precludes the possibility of hope 

That things will change for the better. 

At this time, 

Another virus is keeping me inside

So I am not outside marching and speaking.

But I am watching, 

I am listening, 

I am feeling outrage 

That our supposed leaders cannot respond to protesters 

With even one iota of understanding or human feeling.

They care more about “law and order” 

Than about truly listening 

to why people are marching 

And crying out 

In the first place. 

So I hear you, and I see you, 

Those who are walking together 

on the streets of our cities and towns

Every day. 

I support you

And when I hold up my Bible 

In my own private holy space

And inside my mind and heart, 

I am inspired by calls for justice.

I am moved by the command not to harden one’s heart

In the face of another human being. 

I am ready

To join other voices and partners

To make it possible, more than ever before

To let justice roll down like waters

And righteousness like a mighty stream. 

May those waters

Finally

Provide the cure 

For which we have been waiting

For so long.

Seeds of Goodness - June 8, 2020.

In your goodness You daily renew creation

I wake up each day

To the news 

I hear about

Disease

Riots

Violence 

Murders

Injustice

Hatred

Prejudice 

Peaceful Protests

Vigils

Calls for change 

Helpers 

Healers

And Survivors 

But I know that

I must turn away

from the headlines

For a moment

Not to hide

But to disengage

And find inspiration

Out in the world.

I look out the window in the morning

The sunlight bathes warmth and brightness

on the landscape - the sand, the homes, the mountains nearby

I know, and I have prayed many times 

this humble declaration: 

In your goodness, You daily renew creation. 

Eternal God,

Help me to see that within every part of Your universe

And even deep inside everything I saw on the news

You have placed a touch of your goodness

From which I must learn. 

It is a seed that can grow 

And suffuse the earth and our souls with goodness, 

With wisdom 

With hope 

and with Your loving presence.

In your goodness You daily renew creation

In my corner of the world,

May the contributions I make to the world 

from my heart and spirit

Be for good.