God and Humanity: Getting Closer - URJ 10 Minutes of Torah for August 16, 2012

Rabbi Richard Sarason, in a recent explanation of "Festival Additions to the Torah Service," highlighted the inclusion, among those special prayers, of this passage from Exodus, Chapter 34, verses 6 and 7:

 Adonai, Adonai, compassionate and gracious God
slow to anger, abundant in mercy and faithfulness,
extending kindness to the thousandth generation,
forgiving iniquity, transgression and sin, and granting pardon.

The "scene" in Exodus, Chapter 34 has always intrigued me, even more than the passage in Exodus, Chapter 20 in which God declared, for the first time, the Ten Words/Divine Utterances/Commandments. Moses' return trip up the mountain, with the "two tablets of stone like the first set" in his hands, creates a poignant moment of divine-human reconciliation. I find myself drawn to such tales of "coming back together," whether it is this reaffirmation of the covenant, or the episode in which Joseph reveals his identity to his brothers, or Ray Kinsella asking the ghostly apparition of his father, "Hey, dad, you want to have a catch?" Even the Beach Boys' current 50th Anniversary tour qualifies as an exercise in reconciliation.

None of these encounters would touch the human heart so deeply were it not for our capacity to "let go." We have it in our power to "write in sand" the deeds of others that caused hurt, which would better be forgotten, and to inscribe in stone the positive acts that would enable true fellowship, acceptance, and even love to endure.

Chanting the passage from Exodus, Chapter 34 as I stand before the open ark during our festivals and the High Holy Days is both an awesome and intimate experience. There is already a sense of closeness as we remove the Torah from the ark and chant/sing the declarations of the daily and Shabbat liturgy. These words add the elements to the Torah service of humility, honesty, and return. They express humility and honesty, because reciting this passage is an admission that we may have done something that calls for mercy, patience or forgiveness. This passage reflects "return," t'shuvah , because standing before the open ark (even for those not on the bimah) links us physically to God's eternal teachings embodied in the Torah. It is as if we are right next to Moses in the cleft of the rock, unable to see God's face, but comprehending a divine presence that not only passes by us but accompanies us with every step we take.

The recitation of the divine attributes from Exodus, Chapter 34 is not only a characterization of God, but also a guide for us. As God is kind, compassionate, merciful and gracious to us, we need to act with kindness, compassion, mercy and grace. As God is described as "slow to anger," we need to remind ourselves that there are times when it is best to hold back our temper and allow our patience to direct our words and deeds. In community life, there are so many times when we or those around us may not make the right choice, so that estrangement and conflict will become inevitable, unless we remember that asking and granting forgiveness can heal the hurt, repair the breach, and restore wholeness, respect and unity.

Taking the Torah from the ark, bringing it out to the congregation, and reading from its words reminds us to keep those teachings "in our mouths and in our hearts, so we can do them." (Deuteronomy 30:14). The passage from Exodus, Chapter 34 teaches us that there are second chances for an individual or a community. God seems to want Moses and the Israelites to remain close to the divine and to each other. So should we seek that closeness in our families, our congregations, and within and between nations.

Musically, I find many melodies expressive for the Exodus 34 passage, such as the first setting that I learned, composed by Louis Lewandowski. Listen My favorite is Leon Sher's melody, sung with intricate harmonies by Beged Kefet.  Listen The voices come together in such a way to reflect the intimacy of that moment between God and Moses, and the strong bonds that can continue to link us together as we seek to make divine teachings come alive every day. May kindness, compassion, mercy, grace, and forgiveness enable us to create and sustain love and peace within the human family.

A doorway to blessing - July 31, 2012 (for Temple Beth-El Las Cruces Adelante newsletter)

On August 8, Rhonda and I will celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary.   During our marriage, we have lived in four different cities and participated as members (and leaders) within four different Jewish communities.  What we believe for the community in which we live begins at home:  respect, patience, caring, love, communication, blessing, warmth and hope.   In each of our homes, the mezuzah in our doorway reflects these and other values, embodied in passages from book of Deuteronomy that we will read in early August. The command “inscribe these words on the doorposts of your house and on your gates!”  directs each of us to make our home a Mikdash M’at, a “small sanctuary. ”   A Temple/synagogue building, which also bears a mezuzah, is a “larger sanctuary,”  a holy place characterized by our tradition as a Beit K’nesset, house of meeting, a Beit T’filah (house of prayer) and Beit Midrash (house of study). 

    The mezuzah and its contents, with quotes on the parchment from Deuteronomy Chapters 6 and 11, offer us lessons that relate to who we are and what we do as members of a Jewish community and the human

family:

· The command to love God means that we should also find a way to love and respect our fellow community members, who were also created in the image of God.  “Love your neighbor as yourself,” the commandment from Leviticus 19, is preceded by verses that direct us to be forthright and thoughtful in what we say and do in order to assure that love and concern are at the basis of our lives together.

· When you relate to people and ideas, be sure to engage your whole being—the fullness of your heart, mind and soul.

· Ceremonies such as Bar/Bat Mitzvah or a graduation do not signify an end to learning.   Each milestone marks the beginning of a new phase in expanding our knowledge and wisdom.   Opportunities to study the texts of our tradition are intended not only to make us more familiar with our heritage but also to see how Jewish teachings offer us a unique perspective on current events. 

· We should not keep our keenest insights about life to ourselves.  We should speak about and share our unique perspective with family members, friends, colleagues and all people, who can also teach us what they have come to know from their experiences. 

· Every moment of our lives offers us an opportunity to learn something new:  when we are at home or on the road, at the end of a long day or in the morning when we wake up, ready to face the new day.

· What we do should accurately and genuinely reflect the best of who we are.  Our actions are a sign of our core beliefs and values.  They have the potential to define us as people who are dedicated, generous, caring and kind.

· The mezuzah is placed in the entrance of a home or Temple/Synagogue built by people.  It can signify our gratitude for the good work of human hands and remind us to “build” in a positive way with our words and our deeds. 

· Physical symbols like the mezuzah remind us to live up to a particular standard set by those who came before us.  Organizations, sports teams, businesses and nations gain reputations based on how their members or citizens act in the name of the group or country.   The mezuzot in the doorways of our homes or at Temple represent a sign from the past that challenges us to be the best community we can be, one that seeks to reach into the hearts of all who walk through our doors with concern, support and guidance that can sustain us at all times.

        The mezuzah is more than a small container affixed to a doorway.  It can inspire us to create small worlds of blessing and peace within the walls of our homes and our congregation so that we can, in turn, bring greater blessing and peace to the entire world. 

True Remembrance - July 27, 2012

     Over the last few days, I have been reflecting on the news of the attacks of last week, one an act of terrorism in Bulgaria, the other, in Aurora, Colorado, an apparent expression of the inner turmoil of one young man who now claims that he has no memory of his violent and murderous rampage. 

    I have also been listening intently to all statements leading up to the opening of the Olympics regarding the request for a moment of silence in memory of the Israeli athletes who were murdered by members of the Palestinian Arab Black September movement 40 years ago.  

    And, I went to see the movie, “The Dark Knight Rises” this week in order to gain the perspective of director Christopher Nolan on how we can make order out of chaos.   Nolan’s Batman/Bruce Wayne began the movie devastated at past events that left his Batman persona in disgrace. He had taken responsibility for murders committed by the late district Attorney Harvey Dent.  Dent had almost succeeded in his plan to take vengeance on everyone who had a hand in the death of his fiancée Rachel Dawes, until Batman stopped him.   Rather than subject Gotham City to the truth of a good man gone bad,  Police Commissioner Gordon went along with Batman’s plan to sustain a lie. He supported for 8 years the observance of an annual memorial to Dent’s supposed legacy of tough justice and courage.    New laws that put more criminals behind bars restored order to the city, but the chaos of Harvey Dent’s turn from goodness to evil was lurking under the surface.  Lawlessness eventually emerged with full force, and only the return of Batman would give Gotham City even a slight chance to overcome new threats to its very existence.

    The occurrence of an annual memorial event based on false premises in “The Dark Knight Rises” made me realize that the Jewish community has a great deal to teach the world about mourning and memory.   Tomorrow night begins Tish’ah B’av, which commemorates the destruction of the First and Second Temple in Jerusalem.  Actually, the ninth of Av begins at sunset tonight, but we don’t observe a day of fasting and mourning on Shabbat.   Why is it that we have marked this somber anniversary for so many centuries?   Jerusalem became, as one passage in a Reform prayerbook declared, “the capital city of our souls.”   The rabbis saw the Holy of Holies in the ancient Temple in Jerusalem as the spiritual center of the universe.  Our daily, Shabbat and holiday prayers highlight the central place of that city in our heritage.    Jewish sources state that the Second Temple was destroyed by “baseless hatred.”  This is the type of hatred that persists even when the reason for one person’s animosity towards another person is removed, when acts toward rectification and apologies have been offered but have no effect.   At that point,   when one person continues to hate with no reason, because he or she feels that only his or her feelings are what count, mutual respect and compassion disappear.  What may endure is at least a small measure of societal chaos, because what could be set right will never reach a satisfactory resolution.    When we observe Tish’ah B’av, we mention the claim that baseless hatred was rampant among the Jews at that time in order to lead us now from chaos to order, from undirected grief to shared memory.  The hope is that, in our common recollection of a tragedy, we will, in OUR time, find unity.   

     Family members of the Israeli athletes have been calling for years for a moment of silence to recall their loved ones who were murdered in the Olympic village in Munich in 1972.  One reported recently that an Olympic official told her 16 years ago that any moment of silence also needed to mention the Palestinians members of Black September who died in Munich.   What we have heard this year is that a moment of silence would “politicize” the games.   Yet, the Israeli athletes went in peace to Munich in 1972 to compete with their colleagues from around the world.    The members of Black September are said to have not cared about their own lives, only about the release of their comrades from Israeli prison, marring the spirit of peaceful competition that should always pervade the Olympics.    They may have had a political point based on their own views, but their choice of when and how to make it has reverberated through the decades since as a shattering of the hope that the international games can truly reflect peace. 

   So it has been reported that Palestinian Olympic Committee chair Jibril Rajoub has written to the International Olympic committee thanking the members for refusing to allow a moment of silence.  He said that the request for such a moment was “racist,” and added: “Sports are a bridge for love, communication and the spreading of peace between nations and should not be used for divisiveness and the spread of racism.”  The Palestinian authority, in 2010, honored, with a military funeral, Amin Al-Hindi, one of the planners of the Munich Olympics attack on the Israeli athletes.  

     Perhaps we have come a long way since 1972, but perhaps the steps toward “peaceful competition” have gone backwards to the point where politics can never totally be removed from the Olympics.   It is more than ironic that the very group that perpetrated the act is now declaring a moral high ground, stating as their view the very reason - “sports are a bridge for love and peace” -  why the 1972 massacre should never have happened.   It feels like justice is topsy-turvy and that chaos is gaining a greater foothold in a world that needs justice and peace. 

    It was reported this morning that the Lebanese Judo Olympic team, which was practicing right next to the Israeli team, said that they would not continue until a barrier was erected so they wouldn’t have to look at the Israelis.   Their request was granted and a temporary wall was put in place.    

   This is not the world that we want, I am sure.  The familiar words of Hinei Mah Tov from Psalm 133 are still with us as a goal and as a beacon of unity.  But even with those words, Martin Samuel Cohen explained, in his commentary on the Psalm, that it probably should be translated, “How good and how pleasant it would be” when people dwell together in unity.  How good indeed it would be to know that the athletes marching into the stadium for the opening ceremonies at each Olympiad could truly see each other as brother and sister.   So many people in the world have focused on one word in the phrase “Israeli athlete” rather than the other.  It is the word ATHELTE that should be considered first, because it refers to a human being who has developed a skill in a particular sport and is willing to put his or her ability on the line alongside other similarly skilled athletes from all over the world.   We do have a certain sense of wanting OUR nation to win as many medals as possible, but we like to hear stories of the people of all nations who have made the Olympic Games a sports spectacle to behold.    The remembrance should be in the statistics and not in the incidents of disrespect, disruption, or political hatred that, sadly, find their way onto the field of competition.  

    So let us take a moment of silence of our own tonight to remember the Israeli athletes who died without their hopes of competition realized.  Let us pray that peace will find its way to win over hatred and chaos not only on the field but throughout the world in the times between the many Olympiads to come.   

Refuge...and safety - July 20, 2012

We read in this week’s Torah portion of the command

to create cities of refuge,

places to where one who caused a death

unintentionally or accidentally

could flee to escape the relative of the victim

who was coming to take vengeance, to settle the score

in order to restore a balance between the two families.

One who committed manslaughter 

was still responsible for taking a life,

enough that he or she would need to stay in the city of refuge

until the death of the high priest there 

would reestablish a communal equilibrium 

that took justice and mercy into account.

In the here and now,

we know that there are times when our actions

may cause unintentional hurt

sometimes based on misunderstanding

or a lack of full awareness of all circumstances 

related to a given situation.

We ask for forgiveness during the High Holy Days

for those actions that we committed inadvertently

and we hope that we can depend on 

the compassion and patience of others 

to give us space when we err

to offer us the possibility to make things right

and to restore a balance of respect, cooperation 

and fellowship within a community.

We hope that our congregation, our city, and our nation

can offer a sense of refuge

where we can find support at difficult and challenging times,

knowing that we can return to a right path 

with the help and guidance of friends, neighbors and family.

In order to continue to face life with strength and hope,

we occasionally try to take a break from our routines

to renew and refresh our spirits.  

Those are not the times when we would expect 

that tragedy would intervene

to remind us of the precious nature of every moment.

The terrorist attack on the Israeli travelers 

on a tour bus in Bulgaria

two days ago

and the shooting of moviegoers in Aurora, Colorado 

early this morning

may make us wonder if we can truly find refuge and safety

in our daily lives at those very times

when we hoped to find escape 

from routine worries and stresses. 

At a time like this, we realize, again,

that minor disagreements, ongoing arguments and

our struggle between focusing on personal needs, 

on the one hand,

communal concerns, on the other,

matter little in the face of threats to our very lives

or the well-being of other members of the human family.

And so we pray…

Eternal One,

be with the families of the victims of those

who died in these tragedies this week,

acts of violence perpetrated by individuals

who saw no value whatsoever in the lives

of the people that they murdered or injured.

Help family members and friends of the victims

to deal with their pain,

to move through this time of shock, sadness and grief

with a sense that many people are with them

and that You are with them

Enable them to sustain the memory of the victims 

in order to continue to give meaning 

to their years among us.

Teach us to value every moment,

Guide us to create a community and a nation

based on mutual support, compassion and respect,

where we use our words and our energies

to heal and not to hurt, 

to build up and not to break down.

Remind us that all human beings are connected

not only when tragic events occur

but at all times.

God our shelter, be with us on all of our journeys,

and help us see every departure and safe arrival and return

as a privilege and a new opportunity

to appreciate the very gift of our lives.

Compassionate Commitment - July 13, 2012

The Israelites, in their journeys, carried with them

the Ten Utterances of God at Mount Sinai,

which were cast in two tablets of stone.

All of the other rules of the community, it seemed,

were engraved in stone as well.

While many of the Israelites held fast to the divine commandments,

there had been rebellions based in lack of faith

or a misplaced sense of personal importance,

that already caused some of their  people

to meet an untimely and unfortunate demise.

There was the lack of trust in a positive report about

the land of Canaan

that called for only a new generation to eventually cross the Jordan River.

At the beginning of this week’s parashah,

Pinchas, son of Eleazar the priest, and grandson of Aaron,

had received a covenant of peace with the Eternal

after executing an Israelite man and a Midianite woman

who had worshipped a foreign god.

Commitment to the covenant seemed to be based in passion,

even zealotry, in this and other cases.

Still, the people likely heard the echoes

of Moses’ past pleadings to God

to be patient with this people that could not always see

the miracle of their survival

the redemption that was theirs

and the future that would enable them

to create a sacred community. 

A calm descended over the people

as Moses and Eleazar fulfilled a command

to take a census of this new generation of Israelites

counting the Israelite men who could take part in battle

and enumerating the clans that would create the Israelite nation

on the land of their ancestors.

It was a time still touched with the stress of life in the wilderness.

At such a moment, it must have taken great courage

for the daughters of Zelophehad - Mahlah, Noa, Hoglah, Milcah and Tirzah -

to come forward.

They asked Moses that they be able to receive their father’s inheritance

within the clan of their tribe since they had no brothers.

This challenge to the existing law, which dictated

that only sons could inherit their father’s possessions, 

did not intend to put Zelophehad’s daughters

 above all other Israelites or outside the people.

It was a request to allow their family to be

an equal  part of the community.

It was a suggestion based on fairness

that could appropriately preserve

Zelophehad’s legacy for his children.

Moses brought their case before God without hesitation,

perhaps sensing that this was a time

to show compassion and flexibility.

The divine command in response offered a resounding affirmation:

“The plea of Zelophehad’s daughters is just: you should give them a hereditary holding among their father’s kinsmen; transfer their father’s share to them.”

The word for just in this verse is “Kein” –

the word for “so it is” or even “Yes.”

This biblical tale establishes the possibility

to say “kein” with a sense of compassion and equality

When the answer that would take no deliberation

might be “Lo”- No.

In recent months,

we have seen legislators and judges 

in our own country

Offer answers to critical issues – 

sometimes Yes, sometimes No,

sometimes based on a balanced perspective,

sometimes grounded in a firm and narrow political party line,

and sometimes with no sense that compromise 

could even be attempted, much less achieved.  

In the State of Israel, as we know,

There are times when it might be better

To say KEIN than LO

To engender a spirit of equality and fairness. 

Women, who are not actually prohibited

from wearing a tallit by halachah, Jewish law,

are detained for questioning

when they do wear a tallit during prayer

by the Western Wall. 

Women are forced to sit at the back of the bus

even when rules are posted

That prohibit a driver or a passenger from making such a demand.

In Israel, the legal system has declared that

Reform, Conservative and Reconstructionist Rabbis

serving communities there

should receive salaries from the government for their work

and also be allowed to serve on local religious councils.

The response from Israel’s Sephardic Chief Rabbi Shlomo Amar

was to ask his colleagues to pray

in order to stop liberal rabbis,

whom he called  “destroyers and saboteurs

who are trying to uproot the foundation of Judaism.”

Knesset member Moshe Gafni

called non-Orthodox rabbis

“clowns that see Judaism as a joke.”

How far that is from the truth!

We know that we, in our congregation, try to be committed

to being Yisrael, strugglers with God and with our heritage.

Members of Temple Beth-El met on Wednesday night this week

To develop a list of values

central to our congregation and our tradition

which we ultimately share

with the greater New Mexico community.

We listed a variety of core principles:

fairness, education, questioning, tzedakah, equality, wisdom, humility, 

a tribal sense that we are in this together, survival, and interdependence.

The basic premise of our discussion was that

no one of us and no community is an island.

We know from experience

that there are times when devotion and commitment

must be guided by

fairness and compassion

in order for a community to survive.

We do need a measure of passion

for who we are and what we do.

But we also need the wisdom to say “Yes” – “Kein”

to anyone who desires

to enhance and contribute to

the betterment of the community

while sustaining the core of faith and tradition

that we have preserved for so many generations.

When we encounter the spirit

of the daughters of Zelophehad

within our community and our nation,

may we realize that there is a time

to say KEIN, yes,

and that our affirmation will offer all of us

strength and hope.

So may we do – and let us say amen. 

A Temple Volunteer’s Psalm - June 25, 2012

Eternal One, Creator and Sustainer of all life,

help me to serve my congregation

with a sense of selflessness and a generosity of spirit.

Teach me that even the small tasks that I do can be great

and that every time I step forward,

I am seeking to raise myself to a higher place

as I join others in creating and shaping 

a sacred community.

Help me to see that healing comes 

from the patience and forgiveness

that I offer to others and to myself,

and that warmth is generated 

when I willingly extend an open hand

to a newcomer who seeks a sense of belonging

or to a member who hopes to deepen

his or her commitment to our heritage.

Remind me that I set an example 

every moment I am with my congregation

of what our community can and should be:

a place that reflects the best values of our tradition,

including unity, equality, cooperation, mutual respect, 

compassion, and humility.

Enable me to understand that what I do is for Your sake,

that the reward for my volunteerism 

is the overwhelming feeling of connection 

that I derive from giving.

Instill in me a sense of gratitude 

for the opportunity to give

and with a desire to show others how grateful I am

that they have been willing to serve, to give, to help,

and to create lasting partnerships and friendships

among members of all ages.

Grant me the wisdom to see that I need to be present in many ways for my fellow community members

in times of sorrow, offering support and hope.

Give me the insight to foster a sense of celebration and joy 

when we mark life’s milestones

and when our collaboration yields new ideas, 

ongoing successes and growth.  

May I join with my community to create a culture of honor

which will always highlight how the intangible gifts 

that each of us brings to our community

will make others want to join us along our common journey.

L’chayim – to life – for all of us as we seek the One

who keeps us alive, who sustains us, and who brings us

to each new chance to serve and share. 

Burdens of Leadership - Parashat Korach - June 22, 2012

    In the last several years, we have witnessed a variety of movements calling for drastic change in an organization or a nation.  The Presbyterian Church USA will soon be considering resolutions that would support a boycott of Israel.  A local Presbyterian minister came to meet with me because he will be on a committee that will consider these proposals.   Our discussion covered a lot of ground, much of it hovering around a centrist position, one that admits the many complexities of the Arab Israeli conflict.    We have seen that the Arab Spring in Egypt has likely not yielded the desired results, given that the military is attempting to assert power over Egypt regardless of the outcome of elections. The Occupy movement has stirred the conscience of our country, but we are uncertain as to how it will affect the way we approach finances in the long-term on an individual, national or international level.  Finally, we are in the midst of yet another presidential election campaign, where incumbent and challenger are pitted against each other in a battle for framing the issues and suggesting solutions that might work.  This year, as in past campaigns, citizens are looking back to the years before the previous presidential election and wondering how decisions made by leaders then have affected the state of our nation today. 

    Leadership is difficult, challenging, and, very often, lonely.   Some people who are dissatisfied with their leaders may have legitimate criticisms based on extensive knowledge of their current situation.   Others may not see the whole picture.  They may, instead, be focused primarily on what they believe they deserve in terms of communal or political position and status.   In the Torah reading for this week, KORACH, there are, at least, two rebellions against Moses and Aaron and their leadership. Korach was likely a cousin to Moses and Aaron who came from a priestly family but was not eligible to be among the high priests.  He claimed that, if it was true that all the Israelites were holy, then no one, not even the high priests, should be considered holier than anyone else.  Korach viewed the leadership of Aaron and Moses with a feeling of jealousy, seeking for himself their power, without acknowledging the sense of responsibility they had taken upon themselves and the difficulties involved in leading the people.   Dathan and Abiram were instigators of unrest based in their own dissatisfaction with the plight of the people following their flight to freedom.  They thought that being descendants of Reuben, Jacob’s oldest son, gave them the right to be leaders over Moses and Aaron.  Furthermore, they saw the state of the Israelites in the wilderness as less preferable to their former life of slavery in Egypt. In their complaint, they called Egypt  “a land flowing with milk and honey,” using the very phrase that described the lush land of Canaan that they would eventually enter. The Torah recounts that both of these rebellions, which saw leadership as a function only of status and not of inspiration, met their demise at the hand of God.

     We may be understandably uncomfortable with the specter of anyone being crushed by divine power.  These tales of rebellion must be in the Torah for a reason, so that we can derive some lesson on a metaphorical level or gain some insight on leadership and community life.  So what can we learn from this portion?   One way of viewing the disposition of the rebel leaders, Korach, Dathan and Abiram, is to note how they undermined their own cause through their envy, anger and pessimism.  They had disqualified themselves from instilling any sense of hope and confidence among their people.   They saw the plight of the moment, blamed it on their leaders, and tried to convince the people that they could do better, without offering anything more than demagoguery and an utter rejection of the status quo.  They weren’t willing to admit that the current leadership could, in any way, take them along a path towards a better life and welcome change.   They hadn’t moved from the mindset of slavery, where their needs were met with a great measure of disrespect and cruelty. They were not yet free people who could see their new status as an opportunity.  According to the Torah, one reason that the Israelites wandered for so long was that they needed a change in attitude that could only be nurtured over a period of years with patience and perseverance.  The Israelites had to let go of their past before they could adopt a positive outlook toward the tasks of community-building that awaited them in the decades to come.

    True leadership requires an ability to adapt and change, encouraging people to think in new ways and to consider untried ideas and approaches to the challenges before them. Torah commentator Yeshayahu Leibowitz saw Korach’s assertion about the holiness of the Israelites to mean that “we have achieved our goal of being a holy people and nothing more need be demanded of us” to maintain that sanctity. 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 is “YOU SHALL BE HOLY, for I, the Eternal your God, am holy.” Holiness is about becoming, not being.  It is a goal, not a present state. Leaders and people like Korach, Dathan and Abiram 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.  It is through learning from what we have done wrong and realizing what we do right and well that we become a KAHAL KADOSH, a holy community. 
    I went to meet with Las Cruces Mayor Ken Miyagishima on Wednesday as part of a delegation from CAFé, Communities in Action and Faith.  We sat for nearly two hours discussing concerns about our city and state, focusing first on how to get more people involved in the political process by voting in elections and by staying engaged with the work that needs to be done to improve our community.  It was a relaxed and productive conversation.  Mayor Miyagishima said that he is fortunate to have an effective city council working in partnership with him.  He remarked that some people have told him that the position of mayor is mostly one of figurehead status.   His response to that opinion is that any position of leadership is what  you make of it.  A leader can choose how much, or how little, he or she wants to accomplish.   The same goes with being a member of a group or community.   There are many ways in which we can positively contribute our voices, our wisdom and our energy to bring about productive change and a renewed sense of unity and hope.  We can add our own spirit and insight as congregants of Temple Beth-El and as and citizens of a city, state and nation. May our efforts to move forward towards a better life be borne out of a sense of renewal and mutual respect and concern that will shape a future filled with promise!