Monday, October 26, 2020
COVID-19 - Ending or Maintaining Caring and Compassion - It depends - October 22, 2020
On Separations...and Cruelty - October 21, 2020
48 years of voting - a personal history - October 19, 2020
Sunday, October 11, 2020
Fighting for our lives - still
Oblivion can wait - October 10, 2020
Thursday, October 8, 2020
Reminders of the virus of hatred - October 8, 2020
Monday, October 5, 2020
Cautious, not afraid - current thoughts on COVID-19
Friday, October 2, 2020
Sukkot NOT Deferred- Introduction to Sukkot Video Retrospective for Temple Beth-El Las Cruces - October 2, 2020
It was one of those dreams one doesn’t forget.
At least not now.
The rabbi had retired, but he was preparing to lead a service for Sukkot.
He knew that the Lulav, with its palm, willow and myrtle branches, and the etrog were waiting patiently in the Temple refrigerator.
There would be no physical Sukkah, but there would be familiar prayers, the same ones recited during past Sukkot celebrations.
The night before the service, the rabbi was having a restless night. He finally fell back asleep.
Suddenly, he found himself in the Temple playground.
Two figures materialized - a man and a woman.
They were dressed in clothing that looked like....branches, leaves, artistic decorations, and fruit.
They were covered from head to toe in these strange and unique garments.
To the rabbi’s delight - and even slight horror, they spoke, but with gentle, reassuring voices.
The man said, “Rabbi, I am ARAV,”
The woman introduced herself, “I am HADAS.”
The Rabbi said, “Mr. Willow and Ms. Myrtle. Wonderful names! Which is why you both look like...
“A Sukkah. Yes, Rabbi!” Exclaimed Hadas.
“Why are you here?” Asked the rabbi. The Temple did not build a Sukkah this year because...
“Yes, we know all about the pandemic,” ARAV said. “We know that more people than ever before are building a Sukkot at their homes, if they are able. We know that fewer congregations are building Sukkot outside their buildings. We just came to tell you what you might do to remember what it’s like to be together in a community Sukkah .”
The rabbi said, “What can we do? ARAV, HADAS, tell me!”
HADAS spoke first. “Rabbi we know you have quite a collection of photos of past Sukkot celebrations. Making and hanging decorations, building the Sukkah, and then images of people gathered in the Sukkah for that really cool service. We love the way you play ‘Turn, Turn, Turn,’ by the way.”
ARAV continued, “Rabbi, take some of those photos and add them to a song about Sukkot on — what is it called? - a computer.”
HADAS chimed in, “ARAV, don’t you know about iMOVIE? Rabbi, you know what to do. All of those memories will come flooding back when you see those photos: they will carry you through this year’s Sukkot until you can be together in the Temple Sukkah again next year.”
ARAV added, “All true, HADAS, but you know that they can still take a photo in their Sukkot worship space - just like before....all right, almost like before. Their faces will all be together in their virtual Zoom Sukkah. Aren’t you amazed, HADAS, that they have figured out how to join together to celebrate the holiday? They could have thought of themselves as lost in the desert. They are not lost at all! They are joyful! And they are hopeful!”
HADAS said, “YES ARAV - you are so right. Rabbi, make that video from the pictures from the past. Next year, you can include photos from this year to remind you of how you all overcame obstacles to celebrate as a community.”
The rabbi thought for a moment. “ARAV, HADAS, what great ideas and thoughts. I will start looking through my photos. I have just the song, too, as the soundtrack. I promise I will get to work....”
Before the rabbi could say, “as soon as I can,” he was awake. He got out of bed in the middle of the night and created a retrospective: a reminder of Sukkot celebrations past, and of those yet to come.
Do justly, love kindness and walk humbly with God - Column for Las Cruces Bulletin - October 2, 2020
Recently, a Temple Beth-El study group which I lead read Chapter 6, verse 8 from the book of the prophet Micah. These words may be familiar to you: “It has been told you, O mortal, what is good, and what the Eternal One requires of you: only to do justly, love kindness, and walk humbly with God.”
Six years ago, that verse served as the centerpiece of a discussion I facilitated for Temple Beth-El congregants.
Participants first had the opportunity to comment on each of the three parts of Micah’s statement.
They explained that “to do justly” expresses the societal principle of equality of opportunity, along with the elimination of obstacles to equality. There was an acknowledgment that not everyone sees justice from the same perspective, but it is through justice (in the legal, personal, cultural and social realms) and fairness that we survive as a community.
We discussed how Jewish commentators explained that “love kindness” actually means that people should perform acts of kindness with a whole heart and a generous spirit. This can refer to charitable giving or to helping people in all sorts of significant ways.
Participants in that conversation noted that we “walk humbly/modestly with God” when we listen to other people and see the divine spark in everyone, recognizing our common humanity. One person commented, “Practicing justice, love, kindness and mercy ensures that you will walk humbly, modestly and wisely.”
I believe that we are doing justly, practicing kindness, and walking humbly as we respond to the challenges created by the COVID-19 pandemic. Many of us, in some way, have answered the call to provide support and comfort for those who are ill and for their family members, to donate supplies to people in need, and to hold up, as much as we are able, individuals who need financial help due to loss of or reduction in their income.
Micah’s proclamation has the power to bring us close together, encouraging us to overcome our differences so that we can discover what we hold in common. Some people may believe that the divisiveness and polarization which, too often, rule the day, precludes such a possibility.
The recent death of Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg (may her memory be for blessing, we say in the Jewish tradition after a person has died) offered a reminder of how two people, who were usually vociferous opponents in their judicial approaches and opinions, could forge common ground.
Justice Ginsburg’s friendship with the late Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia was based on their shared love of opera, and, just as much, on the judicial expertise, which they each possessed, that made them worthy adversaries.
In her eulogy for Justice Scalia in 2016, Justice Ginsburg said, “Once asked how we could be friends, given our disagreement on lots of things, Justice Scalia answered: ‘I attack ideas. I don't attack people.’”
Justice Ginsburg concluded: “I will miss the challenges and the laughter he provoked, his pungent, eminently quotable opinions, the roses he brought me on my birthday, the chance to appear with him once more as supernumeraries at the opera.”
Perhaps they were friends, also, because the late Justice Ginsburg believed that “We the People” means “all the people.”
Are we capable of such a friendship? I believe so, especially when we seek fairness, act with kindness, and remember that, because we are walking, side-by-side, along the same road, we can be, for each other, beacons of hope.