Opening doors, emanating light - reflections on Shabbat Shira on November 2-5, 2017 at Olin-Sang-Ruby Union Institute

     I frequently have the opportunity to be the person to open the front door of the Temple.   It is an act of kindness, welcoming and connection. When people thank me, I tell that them that being the “Temple door man” is what I want to do when I retire. 

   The Torah reading on the day that I become Bar Mitzvah, November 18, 1967, at Temple B’nai Jehudah in Kansas City, Missouri (it’s since moved to Overland Park, Kansas), was VAYERA, beginning with Genesis, Chapter 18.  I read the first 15 verses of the chapter at that service. I have since learned the chant for some of those verses since my milestone day.    

    I just attended, on November 2-5, Shabbat Shira (Sabbath of Song), the fall worship/music workshop presented by Olin-Sang-Ruby Union Institute Camp in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin.   The program was created especially for veterans of the late spring gathering for songleaders, Hava Nashira (come, let us sing).         It didn’t take me long to realize that I would be at Shabbat Shira on Shabbat VAYERA, exactly 50 years after becoming Bar Mitzvah. 

     It is also 50 years since I attended the inaugural session of Tzofim (Scouts), a new program  created at the camp, then called Olin-Sang Union Institute, which featured living in tents and engaging in activities similar to those campers who resided in the cabins “up the hill” for their session 

      I can still remember the welcome I received when I arrived for Tzofim, and how, when I returned the next year, I darted from the car to run down to the campsite.   The initial sense of an “open door” at the camp extended, for me and many others, into the immediate and distant future.

     In Genesis Chapter 18, Abraham’s tent did not have a door, of course, nor did it have an entrance flap that closed with a zipper, like the Tzofim tents in which I spent 22 days of my life. 

     Abraham’s tent was open on all sides. He, his wife Sarah, and other members of their household knew what to do when visitors came.   The went into “extreme emergency welcoming and ‘open door’ mode.”  They dropped everything and made sure that their guests received the care and respite they deserved.  

     In the case of Abraham and Sarah, because of their “open door” approach, they received a special message...and, later, a gift.   The message was that Sarah would bear a son, and the gift was their son Isaac - Yitzchak - “he will laugh.”  

     In this biblical story, the “open door,” or, better put, “open tent,” seems to have made something special happen, because it may be that the delivering the message was contingent on receiving a warm welcome. 

     It was an honor for me to chant the beginning of my Bar Mitzvah portion at the Shabbat Morning Service at Shabbat Shira on November 4, 2017.          

 After the service, I called my wife, Rhonda, to tell her about the experience and shared my thoughts about the importance of openness and open doors.   During our conversation, one of the other Shabbat Shira participants, whose hands were full, asked me if I could open the door of a nearby building for her.  And so I did!

    Opening a door inside our hearts, minds and souls allows us to receive new ideas, innovative approaches, and deep expressions of emotion and thoughts from peers, colleagues and friends.     That happens constantly at Shabbat Shira, both in sessions with our very talented faculty members and peer leaders, and in individual conversations about what we do in our respective settings to find inspiration and to engender a sense of community.   In the sessions I attended, we focused on which modes of worship and music are suitable for our own congregations and explored the enduring value of songs about justice.   

   Opening a door allows us to fashion and sustain connections with people from various locales who can provide support and sustenance throughout the year.  Some of us have closely followed our respective careers (and families) over the course of years after meeting at past conferences. For me, one conversation in particular led to the realization that several of us were all at the same regional youth convention program (they were youth group members, I was a rabbinic student who led a break-out discussion group).   Other discussions made us realize how much we have in common, both inside and outside the realm of music.      

    Opening a door enables us to hear the significance of every note, every chord, every word in a song that we know well or that we are hearing for the first time. At Shabbat Shira, that approach is a prerequisite to appreciating the creative gifts of colleagues and fellow community members, enabling us to “cheer each other on” as we sculpt songs of faith and voice the overflow of our souls in melody and lyrics.  

  The themes of being “part of a circle” and sharing light pervaded the Shabbat Shira program designed by the faculty this year.  They guided us to create a circle among us that emanated light, and encouraged us to enlarge our circle and to share the light we discovered and created together when we return home.       So...opening a door is what all of us who attended Shabbat Shira hope to do when we return to our respective settings of musical leadership.   We trust that our community members will, like the guests who visited Abraham and Sarah with unexpected news, accept our invitation to refresh their souls in our communal holy spaces,  nurtured by the light of the divine presence that can open our eyes to recognize the circles of faith and song that bind us together as one family.  

Fill the earth and Tame it - Creation and Leadership- D'var Torah - Pasrashat B'raysheet - October 13, 2017 (Installation Shabbat)

 The story of the creation of the world in the first chapter of the book of Genesis includes what might very well be the first job description. 

       Since, however, it’s not for a job, but a life’s mission, it probably isn’t a job description at all.    

       And if it’s not a description of tasks for a position of employment, we could call the first man and the first woman the first ever volunteers.    

       There seems to have been little arm twisting in the first chapter of Genesis.  The chapter describes the newly-created man, not yet named Adam, and the woman, not yet named Eve, receiving a charge from God.   

         Their life’s volunteer mission began with God’s blessing, as God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply; fill the earth and tame it; hold sway over the fish of the sea and the birds of the sky, and over every animal that creeps on the earth.”

        In this translation, fortunately, the Hebrew word “V’CHIVSHUHA” is translated as “tame.”   Many Bibles say “subdue.”  Literally, the word could mean “conquer.”      For at least 2500 years, this word has been in this text, and it’s a strong one.   

        Does the Hebrew word mean to overcome by force?  Or does it mean to bring something under control?   One English definition of “subdue” explains that it can mean to cultivate. It can also mean to “tone down.”    One Webster definition of “tame” is “to reduce from a state of native wildness especially so as to be tractable and useful to humans.”  

      It is what comes after the Hebrew word in question that may help us define the what that word really means here.   God was setting up these new human beings and their descendants to be responsible for the earth, the entire earth.   It was an overwhelming task.    And it was God doing the asking.   How could they say no? 

      But what did God’s charge really mean?      There are some who say that this passage gives us members of the human race license to do whatever we want to do with the world.   But Judaism says, “not so fast!”   Modern commentator Richard Elliot Friedman explains that just because the Bible says that human beings should subdue and rule the earth doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t be GOOD rulers!   Bible scholar Aviva Gottleib Zornberg interpreted this verse to mean that we should serve “as the earth’s custodians, by changing, controlling and improving the environment.”  

    That goes along with the rabbinic midrash that describes God taking Adam around the Garden of Eden to orient him to the natural realm.  God told him, “See how beautiful all my creations are. Everything has been created for your sake.  Think about this, and take care not to destroy my world.  For if you do, there will be none to repair it after you.”  

        This passage notes that, on day six, God saw what had been created as not just “good” as it had said before on the previous days of creation.   At this point, after the first appearance of humanity, the world was, in God’s eyes, “very good.” 

       That definition of the status of creation set a standard for the task awaiting the human family.   If God gave us a world that is “very good,” we need to teach future leaders and global citizens how to preserve the world as a “very good place.”   

        That goes for leadership on a smaller scale as well.   In organizations like religious congregations and their affiliate groups, there are generations of leadership.  There are some leaders who are new, and there are some who have led in the past and come back again to take on a new position of enhancing and enlivening the holy community to which they belong.   The challenge of taking any position of leadership is knowing what is expected of you, when you are charged to preserve and maintain, and when you are asked to create something new that will have the possibility of gaining a life of its own that new leaders will sustain in the years to come.   

        I believe it’s important for Temple leaders to be installed when they begin their service in their new position and then to take part in this ceremony as long as they continue to serve.   With each passing year, we gain experience and wisdom and perhaps even increased energy and enthusiasm for our tasks.   With each new year, the world may look a little different than before because we have grown, and it is through those new eyes that we view fresh possibilities that lie before us.  

     Sometimes we, as leaders or volunteers, may think that we need to do everything at once.  All right, so God seems to have done everything at once, but, even for God, the world was not created in a day.   Sometimes, if we accomplish only one part of a larger task, we are making progress. 

    One of my favorite stories about how even the small things we do matter is about a man who was walking along a beach covered with starfish that had been left high and dry by the receding tide.   He saw a girl on the beach, picking up starfish one by one and throwing them back into the ocean.   “What do you think you are doing?” the man asked the girl.  She said, “I am saving the starfish!”   The man replied, “On this beach alone there must be tens of thousands of starfish, not to mention the tens of thousands of miles of beaches around the world with just as many starfish.  How can you possibly make a difference?”  The girl picked up another starfish, looked the man straight in the eye, and hurled it far out into the sea.  Looking back at the man, she said, “Made a difference to that one, didn’t it?” 

       Every single act that makes a difference can improve our community and make an impact on the entire world.    One of my favorite coffee mugs at home says as much:   “To the world, you may be one person.  But to one person, you may be the world.”    May the new worlds we fashion with our spirit and creativity bring goodness and blessing to us all, here within these walls, and always extending out to the world around us.  

Open Confession is Good for the Soul - Column for the Las Cruces Bulletin on October 6, 2017

 At this writing, I am about to lead my congregation in the observance of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. This day of fasting and introspection includes congregational prayers of confession that have a long history in Jewish worship.

   The most important application of these prayers to daily life is their guidance in how we present our apologies when we have erred in our words and actions.

   In my own exploration about apologies, I learned that some people believe that they are more powerful when they refrain from saying they are sorry. Psalm 32 counters that notion, indicating that a person who did not confess his or her sins would be overcome with anguish as if he or she was in the midst of a “summer drought.”  The famous Scottish proverb about confession with which many of us are familiar actually says this:  “OPEN confession is good for the soul.”  

   A facet of confessional prayers in a synagogue on Yom Kippur is that they are recited by the worshippers all together and aloud (mostly) with “we” language that offers direct admission of sins that human beings, as a whole, commit: “We betray…we are cruel…we lie…we disobey…we corrupt…we go astray…we lead others astray.”

   This year, I asked members of my congregation to suggest what makes for a good and sincere apology and what might keep someone from apologizing.

  Their comments were comprehensive and insightful.   They explained that apologies should come from the heart and include specific language, leaving out the words “but” and “if,” which serve to negate the apologizer’s message.  An apology needs to demonstrate that the person has taken responsibility for his or her actions, that he/she understands the hurt caused, that restitution will be made, and that the person will not repeat the words or actions that caused the hurt.

    They surmised that people may refrain from apologizing because of pride, a lack of courage, fear of rejection, anger, stubbornness, arrogance, a lack of self-awareness, and being uncertain of just what to say.  

    The impetus for my focus on apologies this year came from the book Why Won’t You Apologize? by Dr. Harriett Lerner.  Dr. Lerner, who was a congregant of mine when I served in Topeka, Kansas, presented a wide range of situations in her work from which she derived important guidelines for how to say we are sorry and how we can overcome our reluctance to do so. Dr. Lerner gave guidance on how, within our complex relationships, apologies can heal hurts that may have lasted for decades.  

   In an interview about her book, Dr. Lerner explained that being able to apologize is so important for people in all walks of life:   “The level of respect we earn from others, as well as our own level of maturity, rest squarely on our ability to see ourselves objectively, to take a clear-eyed look at the ways that our behavior affects others, and to be fully accountable for our mistakes without blaming others.   The courage to apologize and the wisdom to do it wisely and well is at the heart of friendship, leadership, marriage, parenting and being grounded in maturity, integrity and self-worth.  It’s hard to imagine what’s more important than that.”

  “I’m sorry” is a statement that has the potential to bring people closer together and restore relationships.   These might be the most important and pivotal words we will ever say.

Column for the October 2017 El Paso Jewish Voice - Creation and the Southwest

 When Rhonda and I visited Las Cruces in late March of 2011 (to interview for the position at Temple Beth-El) for the first time, I realized that I hadn’t ever really been anywhere with similar scenery, except, perhaps, Israel.  I told one of my congregants-to-be who had lived in Israel that Las Cruces reminded me of Beersheva.  Never mind that I haven’t been in Beersheva since 1977.  The memory was still there, and something resonated from the appearance of the terrain, especially with desert all around us in this area that we began to explore on that trip.

   I have vague memories of a 1963 trip with my family through New Mexico (Santa Fe, Albuquerque, Carlsbad) that led to a stay in El Paso and walking across to Juarez.  My midwestern “perch” in Kansas City, marked with rolling hills and tree-lined streets, hadn’t included the vistas that we enjoy here in our shared region along the border.

   I look out our window every morning towards the northwest, seeing not the sunrise but the effects of the beginning of a new day on the area around us.   In the evening, if there are clouds in the sky, I am prepared to take at least one sunset photo with the mountains across town dotting the horizon.    

    We are amazed at the brief periodic flourishing of Texas Sage (Leucophyllum frutescens, so they say) and the surprising blossoms that appear on various cacti.  The infrequency of rain in our area makes it seems all the more precious to us when it comes. 

    During our autumn, there are not many trees that lose their leaves, like our experiences with a burgeoning collection of large sycamore leaves in our yard when we lived in Kansas.   There are no changing colors as we witnessed in September/October in New Hampshire. There are, enough leafless trees, though, to remind us that winter, with it own unique character here, will ultimately arrive.

    Every year, a major reminder of the change of seasons for us is the Jewish calendar, and when it comes to nature, Chag HaSukkot connects us, wherever we are, to the cycles happening around us.   If we didn’t notice it before, building the Sukkah and praying and eating and spending time in it, waving the Lulav/Etrog, reciting blessings of the season and beholding our harvest symbol for a week highlights for us that we live in nature’s time and God’s time.  

     Even the celebration of Simchat Torah, which provides with an opportunity to rejoice in the opportunity to hear God’s voice through the the text and to study with each other, touches upon creation.  It ends with the passing of Moses, a treasured teacher and leader who guided the Israelites through many years living in a challenging natural setting while learning to become a community. And then, the Torah begins again with the creation of the world.   After commemorating creation on Rosh Hashanah, the Birthday of the World, we have a second chance to marvel at the process of creation that has resulted in our existence and our presence together in the world.

    So may we praise the Eternal One, Ruler of the Universe, who makes the works of creation and renews them every day.  May that renewal inspire and lead us to grow our own character towards goodness,  godliness and gratitude for the gift of life.  

   

Musical Conversations with God - Part One - Psalms in Song

In preparation for my "Harmony in Unison" online presentation on October 23, I have been reviewing my original songs to see which ones would qualify as "conversations with God."   

I don't want to give away my whole setlist for that performances, but here are a few YouTube videos of my songs based on Psalms: 

Turn to Me (Psalm 86) 

Lev Tahor/A Pure Heart - Psalm 51

Natatah Simchah V'Libi (You Put Joy in My Heart) - Psalm 4

At Daybreak (Based on Psalm 5)

Nashirah (Let Us Sing - Based on Psalms 42 and 43)

Here are a few to consider! 

“Finding our Way Back” – Sermon – Yom Kippur Morning – September 30, 2017

     The rabbi was about ready to get that last High Holy Day sermon underway.   He had experienced a meaningful Rosh Hashanah with his congregation.  His Yom Kippur evening sermon was done.   After a couple of community meetings which had reminded him of the challenges of finding common ground and engendering good values, he welcomed an opportunity to focus on the principles embodied in the Torah and Haftarah readings for Yom Kippur.   Every year, these portions challenge us to recognize that the teachings of our heritage are near and dear to us so that we can easily observe them.  We hear the words of Isaiah, who proclaimed that prayer and ritual mean very little if they don’t lead us to care for our fellow human beings and attend to their needs.  We tell the story of Jonah to remember that every person should have an opportunity to find their way back to goodness if they have, for some reason, gone astray.  

     The rabbi tried very hard not to think about politics.  It didn’t work.  His mind wandered to certain expressions by national and international leaders that included unbridled ridicule and statements intended to isolate certain citizens. The rabbi had thought that leaders are supposed to lower the temperature of potential conflicts that could go nuclear.   He didn’t see that happening.  

     The rabbi thought back to these words, once spoken by a former president at the national prayer breakfast:  “At times, it seems like we're unable to listen to one another; to have at once a serious and civil debate. And this erosion of civility in the public square sows division and distrust among our citizens. It poisons the well of public opinion. It leaves each side little room to negotiate with the other. It makes politics an all-or-nothing sport, where one side is either always right or always wrong when, in reality, neither side has a monopoly on truth. And then we lose sight of the children without food and the people without shelter and the families without health care. Empowered by faith, consistently, prayerfully, we need to find our way back to civility….progress doesn't come when we demonize opponents. It's not born in righteous spite. Progress comes when we open our hearts, when we extend our hands, when we recognize our common humanity. Progress comes when we look into the eyes of another and see the face of God. That we might do so -- that we will do so all the time, not just some of the time -- is my fervent prayer for our nation and the world.”

   The rabbi knew that times had changed since then.   He needed time to think.    So he decided to get out of town just a short distance.  He drove to one of his favorite spots that overlooks his city, near the majestic mountains that tower over his beautiful locale.  He got out of his car and gazed at the length and breadth of the town. But he hadn’t rested well on the previous nights.  He sat down at a nearby picnic table.  It was all too easy to close his eyes and….

   The next thing he knew, he was standing on a higher mountain, looking across a great valley to another range of hills. In between, there was a river going to the north, and, to the south was an unusual looking sea. He thought a moment and said to himself, “Wait, I know exactly where I am. Where are the other rabbis on my trip?” He was imagining himself in Jordan, on a tour of the Middle East in January of 1996 with 54 of his colleagues. He saw some of them milling about at first…and then they disappeared.”  He was alone…or was he?

 There was another man nearby, with a long white beard and an impressive white robe, just looking out over the expansive landscape before them.

    The rabbi knew that he was standing on Mt. Nebo, the famous overlook of the Jordan Valley from where Moses was allowed to look across to the Land of Canaan, the Promised Land, a place where the Israelite leader was not allowed to enter.  That privilege was given to Joshua.

   The rabbi knew that, on his visit in 1996, he had been able to stand in that spot because two leaders had found their way back from a continued state of war to a measure of peace. King Hussein of Jordan and Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin completed a process of turning their two nations from mutual hostility to clandestine cooperation in the 1970s and 1980s to the beginnings of a civil dialogue and, finally, to peace in 1994.

   The rabbi’s thoughts were interrupted when he felt a tug on his coat.  The man with the white beard had approached him to make some connection.

  “Amazing view, isn’t it?” he asked.

    The rabbi was startled at first, but then he regained his composure and said, , “I can’t believe I am seeing this view – it is incredible, and it’s only possible because these two nations made peace. The hills on both sides are like mirror images of each other. The road up to Amman looks a lot like the road going up to Jerusalem, winding around the hills near the cities and towns. You feel like you are doing a real ALIYAH – going higher and higher – literally.”

   The man with the long white beard said, “I never had the chance to see Jerusalem from the ground – only from above. Heavenly Jerusalem – Y’rushala-yim shel ma’alah – is one of my favorite places to visit. It’s a lot quieter than the Jerusalem you know.”

    The rabbi was puzzled, “So why haven’t you been to Jerusalem like I have?” The mystery man lamented, “I wasn’t allowed to see what you have seen.  My assistant and successor was, though. His name was…..”

   The rabbi interrupted, “Joshua? I had a feeling. Then I am speaking with…Moses?”

  “How did you know?” asked the stranger who was no longer a mystery.

   The rabbi’s uncertainty turned to excitement. “You look a lot like you do in the movies – even Prince of Egypt –wow, how did they know?  I seem to have these unexpected encounters just when I need them. So, Moses--by the way, you look great for 120 - what did you learn about shifting conflict towards civility and peace during all those years of leading the Israelites in the wilderness? I know what it’s like to lead a congregation – there are always challenges along the way.”

    Moses looked at the rabbi, “Sounds like we have a lot in common. I will answer your questions.   So you were amazed at being able to stand here, were you? Don’t think I haven’t kept up a little with history over the last 3200 years! I was glad to see my descendants and some of their neighbors start to figure out how to make peace by identifying their common goals, trying to discover a way to build up their countries without the threat of war, and being willing to share all kinds of knowledge and resources because it would bring them mutual benefit. And it couldn’t have happened unless they toned down the rhetoric at some level and stopped talking about how much they hated each other.  I know they may not be doing all of that now as much as they had before.  Hopefully, they will be able to continue to engage in honest and civil conversations about what it would take to make peace not only among leaders, but also among the people. I have seen where it has worked, and, also, where it hasn’t.  Hatred and demonization of ideological opponents persist even within each of these two countries and in neighboring nations. It may take a long time to bring complete healing and peace, but I believe it will happen someday.”

    The rabbi wondered, “Moses, I had the impression that you felt that you hadn’t been treated well as a leader, and I wonder how you felt about not being able to cross into the land where your people would settle.”

Moses said, “Well, I was disappointed, but I realized that our struggles along our journey had put me in a difficult position. At first, I felt I had to directly battle with the pessimists and naysayers who kept on shouting, ‘Why did you take us out into the wilderness where we have nothing? Lead us back to Egypt!’ Even when I reminded them that they were slaves in Egypt who suffered from oppression and cruelty, some of them didn’t want to remember that part of the experience. Freedom is a gift, but keeping it requires taking responsibility and maintaining cooperation. I felt so much better when I had judges and priests who helped me lead. And when the Israelites turned time and again to focusing on the uncertainty of their new life, I would still plead to God on their behalf. I was committed to keeping them secure and together as a community, because it was all important to me to sustain their newfound liberty. It took almost everything out of me. By the time I gave my farewell speech – which you may know as a book called Deuteronomy – I had put everything into perspective. I accepted that Joshua would ‘take it from here.’ I reminded the people of all that had happened to them, and outlined rules that they needed to live by: Don’t gossip, don’t stand by when someone is being harassed or bullied, offer criticism as gently as possible, and, in your words and actions, love your neighbor as yourself.   Maybe you know those rules?”

The rabbi was excited to hear these teachings directly from Moses.  “Yes, I know all of those rules, and we still teach them, discuss what they mean and try to apply them to our lives now. And you should know, Moses, how much your story as the leader who liberated the Israelites from slavery in Egypt has been at the foundation of the story of my country, the United States of America.   George Washington, the first president of my country, was seen as an American Moses. Several of the founders of our nation, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson and John Adams were asked to create a seal for the newly formed United States – and their proposal depicted you, Moses, leading the Israelites across the sea. Harriet Tubman, who fought against slavery in our nation, called herself the ‘Moses of her people.’ Abraham Lincoln, a president who paved the way for slaves to become free, saw himself as taking up your role as a liberator. On the night before he died, civil rights leader Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke as if he was you, standing here at Mt. Nebo.  A man named Bruce Feiler wrote a book about all these references to you, calling you America’s prophet. That is in addition to you being so significant to the great religions of Judaism, Christianity and Islam, as Moshe Rabeinu, Moses our teacher; Moses the Lawgiver and Liberator, and Nabi Musa, Moses the prophet revered by Muslims. Your legacy is revered the world over. How does that make you feel?”

   Moses thought a moment and said, “I am overwhelmed, and extremely humbled.  I am not sure I deserve such an honor.  But I appreciate being remembered, and I hope that my story and the tale of my people’s journey to freedom is a uniting force in the world.”

    The rabbi lamented, “I wish I could say it is. Sometimes people fight over who really speaks for you. One group or another says that they have the only correct interpretation about what your teachings represent. I would have hoped that the universal appeal of your story would bring people together. Is that even possible in a world where civility is so hard to come by?”

   Moses was assertive in his response, “There was a good reason they called me Moses the teacher. So listen now, rabbi, to what I believe. You know where it says at the end of the book of Deuteronomy that all of the people were standing together in front of me? That was quite a scene – with people of all ages and all walks of life assembled, listening to what I had to say. I told them that God’s teachings were in their mouths and their hearts, and that they should choose life and goodness.  One way to choose life and goodness is to choose and use words carefully, and to listen to your heart and what it guides you to do. Love your neighbor as yourself really means putting yourself in the place of the other person, imagining that, when you speak, you are the other person listening to you. Think about that –see how that feels to you before you speak. You know in your heart what it means to choose life.  I am sure that you have a sense about what it means to do right and good for others and for yourself.   Civility breaks down when we stop using words that can be encouraging and healing.  Without civility, peace is a distant dream.   You know that you couldn’t have ever stood in this place without someone having let go of hatred and realizing that civil conversation and peace were well within their reach if they could only commit to listening to each other and recognizing their common goals.”

    The rabbi was awed by what he heard. “So we don’t have to be stuck with polarization, disrespect and hatred?”

“As long as you think about those words, rabbi – UVACHARTA V’CHAYIM, Choose Life.”

   “And rabbi, there is one more thing.  One of my worst mistakes that kept me from entering that land across the way was when God had told me to speak to a rock to get water for my people, who were extremely thirsty.   They were shouting their complaints to the point where my brother Aaron and I just couldn’t stand it anymore.   So I snapped back in a fit of anger, “Hear now, you rebels, shall we get water for you out of this rock?”  And then I struck the rock and water did come out, but I was wrong. Totally.  My first mistake was not following, to the letter, the instruction that God gave me to merely tell the rock to give water but, instead, striking the rock with my staff.  My second mistake was saying that my brother and I would get water from the rock, when we knew that everything we were able to do for the people came from God.  And my third mistake was that I called the people rebels.   Now maybe they were engaged in a sort of rebellion at that moment, but I didn’t have to call them names.  Afterwards, I felt like a bully, even though I could have justified my anger by saying that their cries pushed me beyond the limits of my patience.  A leader should not marginalize his own people like that. Keep that in mind, rabbi, because you never know when someone may believe that name-calling is actually productive and acceptable.  It’s not.  Trust me.”

“Moses, thank you, again, for being my teacher. Your message is very timely for me.  So where will you go now?”

    The rabbi looked away from Moses and out at the view for a quick second, and then turned around.

    He was standing alone, looking across the Jordan Valley towards Israel and then…..

    The rabbi woke up, sitting still at the picnic table.  He stood up and saw again the impressive local landscape that he had come to enjoy for a few minutes. The rabbi thought, “If people could only realize that it is possible to reflect, in our words and actions, the beauty of the world, our lives would be so much better.    As the natural world seems to foster cooperation among animals, plants, and the land to fashion a vista that can take our breath away, so can our approach to life do the same if we act based on unity, respect, and goodness.” 

    The rabbi stood in silence, and in the breeze, he began to hear a familiar tune with its words echoing inside of him….Hinei Mah Tov U-Mah Naim Shevet Achim Gam Yachad – how good and how pleasant it is when people dwell together. Any place where people are gathered, he thought, they don’t all need to agree, but they can find ways to commit themselves to engendering civility and harmony as they move forward towards whatever promised land is spread out before their eyes and ready for their arrival.

  And so we pray: may our journeys in the year to come bring us all life and good, blessing and peace.

Source:  National Prayer Breakfast Talk – President Barack Obama, February 4, 2010.