What Weddings Teach Us about Community - February 24, 2015

Mishpachah - Family

Kedushah - Holiness.

Ahavah - Love. 

    They comprise the essence of every life event, both joyous celebrations and times of sorrow and remembrance. 

They are the ingredients of our most treasured relationships. 

They lie at the foundation of any community. 

    I could have shared these reflections at any of the milestones that have already happened in my own life or within our family.   I didn't.   Family, holiness and love were present in large measure in our son Adam's birth ceremony, Consecration, Bar Mitzvah and Confirmation, and even in elementary school, middle school, high school and college graduations.   

   As Adam married Juli Schnur on February 21, I realized that all of those elements were part of our celebration, but it was different. 

   It was deeper. 

   It was unique. 

   All of those other life events are siginificant landmarks along the path of life.  They brought both sides of a family together.   

   A wedding is a moment of creation.  It takes two families and makes them, at least to some extent, one, through the union of the couple that was, in this case, standing under a chuppah.  

   It has the potential of adding to a parent's life yet another person who will call him or her "Dad" or "Mom."   

    It defines, in the broadest way, which friends who are outside the family have become family-by-choice, not just through their presence on the guest list, but through the connection they feel to the couple and through events in the future by which a shared history will unfold.   MISHPACHAH is a tree of generations, a web of connections, and a story of how all of those bonds came to be and will continue to grow. 

   All religious and secular life events include specific rituals which set them apart from other moments, giving those times a dimension of KEDUSHAH, holiness.   A Jewish wedding includes the chuppah, the canopy that represents the couple's first home; rings that illustrate their union as they form a circle of two; wine as a symbol of joy; and the breaking of a glass that has many explanations, but its place at the end of a wedding ceremony, with the shout of "MAZAL TOV" offers a culmination of a holy celebration which is often called KIDDUSHIN (taken from the root for holiness).  

    In Adam's and Juli's celebration, sacred ceremony was linked with weekly sacred Jewish time.  We welcomed Shabbat with selected prayers before the rehearsal dinner, participating with Juli's parents, Steve and Nancie.  We recited Havdalah before the signing of the Ketubah and the wedding itself (at which Rabbis Rick Jacobs and Ken Kanter officiated).   We had marked the beginning and end of Shabbat, so that we entered the holy space and moment of KIDDUSHIN having marked the very observance of which it has been said, "More than the Jewish people have kept Shabbat, Shabbat has kept the Jewish people."    As with Rhonda and me,  Shabbat will be a time which will define a regular part of life for Adam and Juli, not only in time, but in its underlying values of creation and working for freedom and liberation for all people.  Those principles reflect a KEDUSHAH all their own. 

    AHAVAH, love, is central to what Rabbi Akiba called the "fundamental principle of the Torah" - "Love your neighbor as yourself."   It is, of course, all important in a marriage, in all family relationships and friendships, and in the interconnections of community which we have the opportunity to create together.   

    As I looked around at those assembled for Adam's and Juli's wedding, I could see the love in their eyes for the couple.  I could hear the depth of the bonds between each of the rabbis and the bride and groom.   I could sense the spirit that flowed between the parents standing on either side of the chuppah and the two people who were about to merge their life stories into one.   Throughout the weekend, as I looked around at those present whom I already knew, I thought about how they were a part of my own story and Rhonda's and my shared journey.   Yes, there was MISHPACHAH - family.  Yes, there was KEDUSHAH, holiness, because of the uniqueness of the tales we have spun through shared experiences.   And there was love, not only among family, but with friends as well.   Picking up Adam's high school friends at the train station reminded me of the love of friendship that exists between them all and is a joy to behold, connections in which I have, in some way, always been a participant, not just a bystander.  AHAVAH, between family and friends, whether they are present in body or spirit, can be a powerful source of joy, inspiration and hope.  

     So Rhonda and I have returned home.   There is a young woman who now calls us Mom and Dad.   Adam will do the same with her parents.   MISHPAHCHAH, KEDUSHAH and AHAVAH will guide us in strengthening newly formed ties that we will always cherish. 

     And we know that this can happen in any type of community, if we see each other as part of the same family, if we are willing to recognize that what brings us together is unique and special, and if we allow the love of our neighbor and the love of God to embrace and engulf our souls.  Then we will know what it truly means to be one.   

For Adam and Juli - Messages to the almost Newlyweds on February 20-21, 2015

KABBALAT SHABBAT - February 20, 2015

Adam and Juli,

      A little while ago, I was writing my message to you in the hotel business center.  When I stopped for  a moment to say hello to one of the guests for the weekend, the computer logged me out and, well, there went my text.  That was likely God's way of telling me to speak to you from the heart.

    The Torah reading for this Shabbat, TERUMAH, speaks about the Israelites bringing gifts for the building of the Tabernacle, "as their hearts so moved them" (Exodus 25:2).   This wording could be used to describe how the two of you have  come together.  There were many reasons that you grew close, but I believe that it was your hearts that moved you to be together, so that you could share your gifts with one another.  

    And what were those gifts?   For the Israelites, those gifts were yarns of different colors, gold and silver, wood, stones for setting, and oil for lighting.  We all have experienced the gifts that you share with each other because you have shared many of them with us: wisdom, humor, a desire to serve others, enthusiasm, creativity, and a developing coordinated sense of adventure. 

   And where do those gifts lead you?  We read in Exodus, Chapter 25, verse 8, "Let them make me a sanctuary, that I may dwell among them."   I can still remember my home rabbi, William Silverman, speaking about this passage and saying, "It doesn't say 'that I may dwell IN IT,' but, instead, its says 'among them.'"   Adam and Juli, the two of you have already begun to create your small sanctuary, a MIKDASH M'AT through mutual respect, partnership and love.  Those characteristics of your relastionship demonstrate that God is with the two of you together.  And all of us who are here - family members and friends - offer you further support as a foundation for your MIKDASH.   Our prayer for you is that the MIKDASH that you continue to create will be strong for many years to come.    

HAVDALAH - February 21, 2015

Adam, on the day you were born, Mom and I were leaving the house to go to the hospital.  We stopped, looked around, and Mom said, "It's never going to be the same here again."   And it wasn't - and we are glad it wasn't because we had you in our lives.  

I was leaving our hotel room this afternoon to come over to this venue, and I said to myself something very similar, "When I come back to this room tonight, I will have a married son and I will be father-in-law, and, likely, have one more person calling me 'Dad.'"   

   Each of those realizations were about making a separation between one phase of life and another.  And here we are, preparing to bid farewell to this Shabbat  and welcome a new week. What I normally say about Shabbat in relation to my work in the community these days is that Shabbat is a time to reflect on how to make the world a better place in the coming week and to begin to plan what I can do to realize that goal.   

    This Havdalah is special, though, because we have here a special circle of friends and family who will sign the Ketubah and marriage license and offer prayers for you before we go out to the actual wedding ceremony.   While we will always be here for you, we know that you will be the ones who will imagine, together, how to share your special talents and gits with each other and with the world.  This moment - and every Shabbat - will offer you space to dream of how you can make a difference.  As we go out to the ceremony, and as you face the world together afterwards as husband and wife, we know that you will continue to discover new ways to bring your spirit to everyone around you.  

    In this new week, and in your married life, we wish for you every possible opportunity to touch the lives of others as you build your home with light, joy and love.  

 

    

Seeking Justice and Fairness - D'var Torah on Exodus Chapter 23, Verses 1-9 (Mishpatim) - February 13, 2015

•     Last week, the Torah presented what many see at its centerpiece: The Ten Divine Utterances – ASARAH HAD’VARIM – better known as the Ten commandments.
•       The first 4 of those commandments set standards for our obligations to God; the fifth commandment declares what we owe our parents, who, as God’s earthly creative partners, made us; and the last 5 commandments established parameters for how we should act towards one another.
•       The sections that follow, often known as the “Book of the Covenant,” do more of the same, covering rituals, and interpersonal issues related to how we humans have the potential to help and harm one another.  And when we cause harm, we are liable for what we have done.
•       But chapter 23 of Exodus begins with something different. 
•       I could call it the Torah’s “moral calculus for equal treatment, truth and acceptance” – perhaps, because it uses the root TZEDEK, righteousness, at least twice, this section offers us a “compass of righteousness.”
•        Richard Elliott Friedman’s Commentary on the Torah offers a no-nonsense translation of this 9-verse section that I will read from the Torah tonight – so I will use his rendering of this passage as my starting point.  
•       Verse 1:  YOU SHALL NOT BRING UP A FALSE REPORT.  DO NOT JOIN HANDS WITH THE WICKED TO BE A MALEVOLENT WITNESS.  This seems so simple and clear, but it’s not, by any means, always  understood or followed.  False reports are widespread when so many people believe that they possess the “real” story about an issue.  We might say that, when it comes to the news on television, balance comes from watching several networks rather than just one.  In our communities, the truth depends on the person who is telling it.  We may not know that something we are passing along is true or false, and if we don’t know, we shouldn’t pass it along.   The second half of the verse is about court proceedings and about the court of public opinion.  It says that we shouldn’t go along with someone whom we know has evil intentions and who will require us to engage in publicly declaring what we know to be false, technically leading us to commit libel or slander.  That includes accepting a statement as true without digging deeper to see that alleged connections that were made were totally false.  That happens too often. We have to be careful, and, especially, as listeners, we have to be discerning about what we hear, committing ourselves to seek our own verification so as not to become malevolent witnesses ourselves.
•       VERSE TWO: YOU SHALL NOT BE FOLLOWING MANY TO DO BAD. AND YOU SHALL NOT TESTIFY ABOUT A DISPUTE TO BEND FOLLOWING MANY, TO BEND IT.   Here I feel that Richard Elliot Friedman’s own words say it best: “Do not follow a group, a crowd, a majority if what they are doing is wrong.  Do not do it for acceptance, for the secure feeling of being in a group, or for the sadistic pleasure of being able to exclude someone. It is easy to be hurtful in a group.   And it is easy to keep silent when one’s group does harm – or when its leaders do harm from their position, which  derives its power from the group. All of this is forbidden.  It is utterly inconsistent with the Torah’s conception of what a human should be and how one should behave towards other human beings. This comment should be unnecessary.”  In addition to that observation, Friedman noted the use of the word “bend.”  To “bend following many” means that justice is being bent out of shape if you follow the majority just because they are the majority.  The use of the word “bend” two times reminds us how serious it can be to bend a dispute away from a just and fair decision and conclusion.
•       VERSE 3: AND YOU SHALL NOT FAVOR A WEAK PERSON IN HIS DISPUTE.  We shouldn’t bend the law because of bad motives or good motives – where, in this verse, the good motive is to help a person who has little power in society.  Everyone needs to be seen as equal under the law.
•       VERSES 4 AND 5: IF YOU WILL HAPPEN UPON YOUR ENEMY’S OX OR DONKEY STRAYING, YOU SHALL BRING IT BACK TO HIM. IF  YOU WILL SEE THE DONKEY OF SOMEONE WHO HATES YOU LYING UNDER ITS BURDEN, AND  YOU WOULD HOLD BACK FROM HELPING HIM, YOU SHALL HELP WITH HIM.   Most translations say that the “him” should be translated “it” and means the ox or donkey.  Friedman believes that “him” means your enemy – the one who hates you.  By assisting the animal, you are helping your enemy.  This is the closest the Torah comes to telling us to love our enemies.  But it doesn’t tell us to go quite that far.  This text realizes that we may not be able to love our enemies….so it suggests that we show them consideration and respect.   If we can do that, we would, according to the Torah – and God – be doing quite well.   Friedman puts it this way: “the main point is that one must be of help, even to someone who bears ill will- perhaps ESPECIALLY to someone who bears ill will.”  
•       VERSE 6: YOU SHALL NOT BEND THE JUDGMENT OF YOUR POOR IN HIS DISPUTE.   The Hebrew really does say YOUR poor – the poor among Israel are the responsibility of all Israelites.  It is everyone’s duty to be sure that the poor get a fair hearing, which may not happen because of who they are.  As was said before, justice should not be bent towards them just because they are poor.  But this verses very clearly states that no one should bend judgment against them. 
• ·      VERSE 7: YOU SHALL KEEP FAR FROM A WORD OF LIE, AND DO NOT KILL AN INNOCENT OR VIRTUOUS PERSON, BECAUSE I SHALL NOT VINDICATE A WICKED PERSON.   What if someone said over and over that a person of impeccable integrity was a liar or was unethical just because of a mutual disagreement on a particular political or moral issue, and not because of any real action that violated a rule?   It happens all the time, and due to the way in which information gets shared these days, it is hard to overcome a false accusation.  It takes on a life of its own.   When someone loses his or her life or reputation because of trumped-up charges or twisted truths, the perpetrators will be responsbible for an act for which “I am sorry” or a mere correction in a publication will not suffice.
•       VERSE 8: AND  YOU SHALL NOT TAKE A BRIBE, BECAUSE BRIBERY WILL BLIND THOSE WHO CAN SEE AND WILL UNDERMINE WORDS OF THE VIRTUOUS.  In more than one passage, the Torah notes what bribery can do to our vision. We no longer form our views based on what we really see, because we can’t see at all.  We only see what the person who bribed us wants us to see.  And we won’t be able to hear either, because the words to which we will listen are no longer based on open and actual truth.
•       VERSE 9: AND YOU SHALL NOT OPPRESS AN ALIEN – THAT IS, A STRANGER – FOR YOU KNOW THE ALIEN’S SOUL, BECAUSE YOU WERE ALIENS IN THE LAND OF EGYPT.    As members of a Jewish community, we came to be here through many paths.  Some of us are here because of the immigration of generations before us and birth into a Jewish identity or choosing a Jewish identity later in life.    It doesn’t really matter how we came to be here.  We know what it means to come from somewhere else, to be a bit different, and it can give us a special insight into the feelings of those who are newcomers or who are cast aside for one reason or another.  It is our responsibility not to add to any type of oppression, but to help to create an understanding of the stranger who might hope to become a community partner and a citizen.  Based on all of the verses that preceded this one, we are called upon to act based on principles of justice and fairness, without malice, with consideration for everyone, and without an intention to undermine any person.    May this be at the foundation of all that we do within our community and our world. 

Remarks for a Roe v. Wade Commemoration in Las Cruces - January 22, 2015

     It is important for me to be here to speak to you today, but not only about issues of Reproductive Choice in our country.

  I am here representing myself.  I am here representing the Union for Reform Judaism, the Reform Jewish Movement in the United States. 

    I am here as a rabbi who has studied passages from texts that are less than 100 years old and over 3000 years old on this and other issues.  I am here because I believe that Judaism concluded a long time ago that there are always hard questions to ask when there are difficulties surrounding an impending birth, especially for the mother.  In Judaism, it is the mother’s life and health that are primary until the birthing process begins.  That principle guides me in my views and in any counsel I might give to anyone who approaches me.

      As a man, there are reproductive choices to be made that are not mine to make.  In forming my own viewpoint, I have listened to the voices of women.   Several women who are also Reform Rabbis have spoken out over the years about difficult decisions they made in their lives.  They were following not only their own conscience but Jewish laws and interpretations they had studied in rabbinic school.  In the mid-1980s, one of my female rabbinic colleagues told of watching from a hospital bed as the sitting American president made a speech on television about restricting the choice she had just made to end a pregnancy for a developing child that would not survive the birthing process.  After that, she was emboldened to share her story.   I cannot imagine having to make such a decision myself.

  Based on what I just said, I know that there are many Americans who agree with me, and many who don’t.  That is one of the great aspects of our country and our society.  Of course, some may choose to disagree through shouting and accusation. Some may assume that any organization to which I belong necessarily agrees with my position and that group should be shunned.  Others may believe I should shun an organization that doesn’t totally agree with me.   If that were the case, I would have had to leave every congregation which I have served as rabbi, because of differences of opinion among my congregants.  That has never happened, though. We stay together, and we get along by getting to know each other’s perspectives and having thoughtful conversations.   There are diverse clergy groups and interfaith organizations of which I have been a part that have not taken a position on reproductive choice. Yet, we defend each other’s right to have our own opinion, and we accept that different faith groups come to different conclusions.  And we agree that in a nation where we enjoy religious freedom, we need to make room for our various viewpoints and make it possible for people to put those perspectives into practice.   Freedom of speech gives us the opportunity to express why we hold our beliefs, and what values have led us to our current position whether religious or secular, whether from knowledge or experience.  

   Freedom of religion is the basic principle that brings me here to this event.  Pure and simple. I cherish a right to be able to tell a Jewish woman who is facing a difficult decision related to a pregnancy who comes to me, “Here is what Judaism would tell you to do in this difficult situation.”   The Roe v. Wade Supreme Court decision made it possible for people to struggle with hard decisions based on the dictates of conscience and faith.  

One thing I would add – I believe that everyone here today agrees about how we should care for children who are born into this world.  They deserve a roof over their heads – they deserve to be fed well, to be nurtured by loving parents, to have a fair chance at a good education, and to be safe and healthy.   Perhaps that is where our dialogue needs to start.  I would welcome anyone here today to come to my office to discuss our similarities and differences while we respect each other as fellow citizens.   This is the America in which I believe.    

********************************
P.S.  Clarification for local Las Cruces community members (which was delivered in the first paragraph): I must clarify that I am in no way, shape or form representing NM CAFé (Communities in Action and Faith), an organization I serve as board president.  NM CAFé had no role whatsoever in this event.  Those who have made such a suggestion are totally wrong. The Torah says in the book of Exodus, "Keep far from a false charge."  Anyone who has heard this charge should dismiss it as absolutely untrue. 

Praying with our feet - Thoughts on the Martin Luther King, Jr. March in Las Cruces, NM on January 18, 2015

     I wouldn't miss it.   On April 7, 1968,  when I was 13 1/2 years old, I stood with my parents and brother at the memorial service in Kansas City for Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.   My rabbi, William B. Silverman, spoke.  Many members of my congregation and people from throughout the community filled the plaza by Liberty Memorial (created to remember soldiers who died in World War I).   That memory has led me to a constant desire to be a part of some commemoration of the need to realize Dr. King's dream.  His dream was challenging and inclusive, one that called for us to adopt "a new heart and a new spirit" that would lead us to freedom, justice and equality, one that would leave behind vestiges of past hatred and prejudice.

      It hasn't worked out that way.   Making Dr. King's dream real takes action and presence.  That is why I go.  I was fortunate to take part in the "Whose Dream Is It?" commemorations of the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. birthday in Topeka, Kansas from 1994-2006.  I joined the Dover Area Religious Leaders Association in Dover, NH for 5 years at their annual commemoration, and I also participated in events at the University of New Hampshire at around the same time.  In Las Cruces, NM, the local NAACP chapter plans a march on Sunday afternoon of the weekend, and sponsors a breakfast on the morning of the birthday observance.  These events are staples on my annual calendar.

    This year was just a little different.  Yes, as the rabbi, I get called upon each year to offer a spontaneous prayer.  Yes, I am present with members of my congregation and groups in which I am active as a leader (in this case, New Mexico Communities in Action and Faith, a local affiliate of the PICO National Network). It was heartening to see members of the Las Cruces Muslim community present at the march this year, some of whom I have met a previous local gatherings.   That was appropriately reminiscent of some of my past involvements in interfaith work, and it was inspiring to see how diverse this group of marchers had become.  

    I was given the microphone to conclude the event with a prayerful reflection.  I can't reproduce exactly what I said, but the essence of the thoughts I shared began with my sermon on the Torah reading for this past week from Exodus Chapter 6, in which God told Moses to communicate five promises to the people, declarations that they couldn't hear because they were broken of spirit (or their spirits were "short").  Perhaps the people were simply exhausted from their harsh labor, but it was also that they couldn't see any possibility for change.  They had no hope.   

   What I told the group is that we should have hope, but that we may feel broken because, in many ways, we have fallen so short of making Dr. King's dreams real.  Yet, we shouldn't allow ourselves to feel broken and give up.  We have to keep working towards freedom.  The last two promises to Moses can guide us today.  One was, "I will take you to be my people, and I will be your God."  I told those assembled that we should see each other as one people, linked together to realize Dr. King's dream of justice, freedom and equality.   The last promise was that God would bring the people into the land sworn to their ancestors.  As we marched, we sang traditional American songs that spoke of that freedom and equality that, hopefully, remains a goal for most (if not all) Americans.    I declared that we are in a land that could be a place  of liberty and justice for all.  We aren't there yet, but we can't be broken, we can't give up.   We have to keep on marching to that goal.   

    This is a message in which I truly believe.  Too many people allow their narrow ideologies to stand in the way of working with people of different faiths and backgrounds with whom they may disagree on some issues, but with whom they would find welcome and energetic partners for alleviating poverty and eliminating hatred and prejudice from our society.   We need to focus on making our lives better, together. 

      One of the songs I have learned in my community work over the last year, "come and go to that land," sees a land of peace and justice and freedom, a place where there is no more sorrow.  We have to get there, and we will only get there marching side by side, looking a lot like we did today in Las Cruces, with a group of people with differing backgrounds united in one common purpose.   

       Psalm 133 declares, "How good and how pleasant it is when people dwell together."   May we believe in that vision and live it every day.  If we do, we will truly honor Dr. King's legacy. 

Everyone's Dreams - D'var Torah for Parashat Va-era - January 16, 2015

What kind of hopes do we hold from one week to the next?

Sometimes we just want to get through the next week by fulfilling all of our usual responsibilities, maintaining as much of a positive attitude as possible, navigating through the small and major challenges that may come our way, and retaining a glimmer of optimism that the coming days may bring some unexpected gift or a welcome opportunity for growth or a new source of satisfaction and even joy.  

   These thoughts and considerations may represent our dreams for the steps immediately ahead of us on our life’s journey. 

In the Torah reading for this week, Moses brought the Israelites notions that were well beyond their expectations and dreams.   

Their bondage in Egypt was the same, week after week.  

It was all about survival from one moment to the next, and not provoking the cruelty of a nearby Egyptian taskmaster. There was little hope for change.   

To those people who were engaged in hard labor, Moses brought a set of promises, dreams of freedom directly from God:

•  I will free you from the burdens of the Egyptians
•   I will deliver you from their bondage.
•  I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and through extraordinary chastisements.
•   I will take you to be My people, and I will be your God
•   I will bring you into the land which I swore to give to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and I will give it to you for a possession, I the Eternal One.

Moses likely expected to see wonder and hope in the eyes of the people after they heard him speak, but the Torah recorded their response in the next verse:  “But when Moses told this to the Israelites, they would not listen to Moses, their spirits crushed by cruel bondage.”

Whenever we begin the Martin Luther King, Jr. birthday observance weekend, “having a dream” is very much on my mind, based on the declarations from Dr. King’s speech at the March on Washington in 1963. 

To reexamine that dream, I went to see the film “Selma” last night on Dr. King’s actual birthday.   Much has been made about portrayals of President Lyndon Johnson and the involvement of the Jewish community not being quite accurate.  Even if that is the case, “Selma” effectively  zoomed in on the hard work it took to make known the seriousness of the plight of blacks who were denied the right to vote. People around the country accused participants in this movement of provoking the violence of law enforcement officials and others by their public demonstrations.  Dr. King and his partners knew that they couldn’t stop, for if they did, they would never reach their goal.  Instead, they focused “their eyes on the prize” and continued to keep the issue uppermost in the minds of as many Americans as possible.  After the attempts to march in Selma had met with resistance, one change, according to this film, turned the situation around.   THIS IS A SLIGHT SPOILER ALERT!!!   President Johnson told Governor George Wallace that he didn’t want to be seen as supporting a leader who refused to guarantee all of the citizens in his state the possibility of full communal participation.  It was then that Johnson began to openly support the Voting Rights Act, which, in recorded history, was drafted at the Reform Movement’s Religious Action Center in Washington,  DC.  That exchange reminded me of a scene in the movie 42 which depicted a conversation between Brooklyn Dodgers owner Branch Rickey and the uncooperative Philadelphia Phillies owner Herb Pennock who had said that his Phillies would refuse to play against the Dodgers if Jackie Robinson made the trip with his team (some of the language has been updated just a bit):

Branch Rickey: You think God likes baseball, Herb?

Herb Pennock: What is that supposed to mean?

Branch Rickey: It means someday you're gonna meet God, and when God inquires as to why you didn't take the field against Robinson in Philadelphia, and you answer that it's because he was Black, it may not be a sufficient reply!

   42 and Selma tell a similar story of a movement that began with the courage of one person or a group of people to bring about change that made society more welcoming and inclusive and tried to truly promote “liberty and justice for all.”

So what about our dreams and hopes?  

What aspirations do we share with people of all races, ethnicities, faiths, nationalities and backgrounds?

Or do people even get to the level of aspirations when their basic needs aren’t met, often due to no fault of their own when they are working hard to provide for themselves and their families?

In the spirit of the 5 promises that Moses proclaimed to the Israelites, I would offer these updated promises that can apply to all of us as we move forward in our lives:

I will free you from the burdens that hold you back from developing your own potential for strength, wisdom, and generosity. 

I will deliver you from people and circumstances that prevent you from realizing at least some of your cherished dreams.

 I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and a helping hand through the support and love that will come to you both from caring strangers and from the most treasured people around you.  

I will take you and link you to other people with whom you can join hands, hearts and minds to work for freedom, justice, equality, and understanding for all.

I will bring you to a land, a place, without hatred, violence and prejudice, a place where all shall sit under their vines and under their fig trees and none shall make them afraid.  I, the Eternal One.

May we make these dreams, these promises real for ourselves and for our fellow human beings through dedication and commitment to heal and help every soul and the entire world. 

Hearing Voices of Hope - D'var Torah for Parashat Sh'mot - January 9, 2015

As I have been watching the news over the last few days, and reading columns in the local newspaper, I have been thinking about a summary of the basic teachings of Judaism that comes from rabbinic tradition.  It is contained in the Mishkan T’filah Weekday and Festival Prayerbook, and you have it on your handout.

Our rabbis taught: Six hundred and thirteen commandments were given to Moses. Micah reduced them to three: “Do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.’’

Isaiah based all the mitzvot upon two of them: “Keep justice and righteousness.”

Amos saw one guiding principle upon which all the six hundred and thirteen are founded: “Seek Me and live.”

Habakkuk expounded the Torah on the basis of a single thought: “The righteous shall live by their faith.”

Akiba taught:  The great principle of the Torah is expressed in the Mitzvah: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” 

But Ben Azzai found a principle even more fundamental: “This is the story of humanity: when God created us, God made us in the divine image.”

And Hillel summed up the Torah in this maxim: What is hateful to you, do not do to others.  That is the whole Torah - the rest is commentary: you must go and study it.

Why was there an attempt to create such a concise list of basic Jewish values?  I believe that it was an exercise in prioritizing what is essential to Jewish life.   Note that the statements that the rabbis cited are about ethics more than about ritual, although many Jewish observances do express and illustrate our values.

   So Judaism believes in practicing justice, mercy, humility, mutual respect and consideration, righteousness, and seeing and seeking the divine in each other. Those values, taken together, require us to look at all people as part of one human family.   They challenge us to break down barriers and build bridges.  They direct us to open up channels of dialogue when possible.  They lead to the rabbinic declaration that, “When you save one soul, it is as if you have saved the whole world; and when you destroy one soul, it is as if you have destroyed the whole world.”

   The Torah portion for this week finds the Israelites mired in their predicament of bondage in Egypt, working hard under harsh treatment from their Egyptian taskmasters.   They had places to live, they received food to eat, but their lives and the conditions in which they lived and under which they worked were not ideal.  It was so difficult for them that when Moses offered them hope, they couldn’t believe his promises of liberation.  Their notions of the possibility of freedom, equality, engaging in personal decision making, and following their own faith were all but gone.   The opening chapters of Exodus, alongside a portrayal of the power of God, demonstrated how oppression and subjugation of some people under others who possessed temporary power violated basic human decency.  This tale of slavery led to the far-reaching acceptance of all fellow human beings in Exodus 23 as expressed in this verse: “You shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the feelings of the stranger, having yourselves been strangers in the land of Egypt.”    The historicity of this experience is not as important as the impression it has left on anyone who sees this passage as sacred scripture.   We are commanded to be open and welcoming, and to overcome the fear of people who are different by creating opportunities for the so-called “stranger” to become a valued partner in community life.

    In the last few days, it is not just the tragic events in and around Paris that have demonstrated a lack of respect for other human beings, where power and ideology trumped basic human decency and mutual consideration.   The recent bombing at the NAACP offices in Colorado Springs didn’t injure anyone, but it was a violation of communal peace that reminded citizens of all backgrounds that respect for property and for the ideas of freedom and equality are fundamental to a civil society.  Our hearts go out to the NAACP and to the citizens of Colorado Springs in the hope that they will understand the need to be partners and neighbors rather than strangers.

And I have that hope as well for citizens of Paris and all around France.   For me, it’s not just about the freedom of speech issue, which is important.  It is about how to respond to those with whom we may vehemently disagree. People who see each other as partners use their words to challenge each other.  For example, as much as I was angry about a notorious family and church of picketers in Topeka, Kansas focusing on me and others with untrue accusations, ridicule and hatred, I always answered them indirectly with words that reflected the values embodied in the reading we shared earlier.  I tried not to make any such accusations in return, but, rather, to state positively what I believe.      

     Those who combine faith with a desire for power and revenge for what they perceive others have said about them or done to them and use violence rather than words in response often twist their own beliefs well beyond their original intention.  When that occurs, potential partners and neighbors become strangers who become enemies who need not be seen as human beings any longer.   This has happened all too many times in human history, and it saddens me that it still happens today, not just in France, or Colorado Springs, but in our own community from time to time. 

    And I have to add, after the murder of hostages in a kosher supermarket in Paris today by an associate of the perpetrators of the original attack, we now know the nature of their hatred was as we suspected.  It was focused on all of the people they considered to be their enemies:  some, because of what they did, and others, specifically, Jews, simply because of who they are.  Our hearts go out to the French Jewish community in particular and to the country of France with prayer for some semblance of calm and eventual harmony that can overshadow and dispel hatred.   

   Such actions across the globe and in our own country may make us feel that we have no choice but to despair of the possibility of a human community based on justice, fairness, equality, freedom, fellowship and peace.   We could become like the Israelite slaves, who couldn’t hear, at first, a voice offering them a feeling of hope.    However, we need not be like them, because Judaism teaches us to be optimistic.  It is not that we should wait for a leader like Moses to come, but that we should be leaders ourselves like Moses, who believe in those values that the rabbis cited so long ago as central to making our lives meaningful and complete.     So may we always be open to hearing those voices of hope inside of us, which can guide us to work for cooperation, partnership, and peace.