"Standing Together" - D'var Torah for Nitzavim (Deuteronomy 29:9-14) - September 19, 2014

What does it mean to stand together?

For the Israelites, poised to enter the Promised land,

the nature of their unity was clear.

The beginning of this week's Parashah depicts the scene that included all of the people who were gathered as a community to declare their acceptance of a special relationship with God:

"You stand this day

All of you

Before the Eternal your God

You tribal heads, you elders, you officials,

You men, women and children

The stranger who is with you in your camp

From your woodchopper to your water drawer

To enter into the covenant of the Eternal your God."

Everyone had a common sense of purpose: to reaffirm the original experience at Mount Sinai , when they perceived that God, who had delivered them from slavery in Egypt, was offering them rules that would  guide them in their lives.

    This section proclaims that even members of future generations who hadn't yet been born would be a part of this timeless relationship.   And today, all branches of Judaism speak of the B’RIT, the covenant, each in their own way, but with a sense of the biblical foundation that encompasses all Jews today and in the past. 

    This past Wednesday marked the 227th anniversary of the signing of the United States Constitution.    There is no description in the annals of our nation’s history of a scene where "all the people" were standing together to accept this newly created document that would direct our national life, outlining rights and responsibilities for America's citizens.    What we do have is the written Constitution itself with signatures of those who met to craft its contents.    The Constitution's signers included some of most prominent members of the founding generation of leaders of the United States.  We know more and more about how some of them vehemently disagreed with one another on certain issues.   We also know that they deeply cared about their respective visions for our country as a land of freedom.  And now, one would hope that the symbols, customs and practices of our nation, including the run-up to national elections, continue to affirm that we do still stand for the value of E PLURIBUS UNUM – “out of many, One.” 

       Some Americans have suggested that our understanding of the constitution should reflect what they call "the intent of the framers" and nothing more.   That assertion echoes passages in the Torah which declared, "You shall not add anything to this law, nor shall you take anything away from it."  Even with that statement in the Torah, rabbinic Judaism and contemporary Jewish movements developed their own understanding of Jewish law, arriving at new interpretations and adding practices not contained in the original Torah text. The call of sages like Rabbi Akiva, who reportedly suggested that the rabbis "go out and see what the people are doing," recognized how a body of law could gradually and organically grow.   In Judaism, the "intent of the framers" may be claimed by one group or another, but most Jewish movements believe that even the rabbis of old wanted future generations to make Jewish law their own.   The term used in relation to interpreting the American constitution, "loose constructionism," would apply in a Jewish context not only to Conservative, Reform and Reconstructionist rabbis, but to some modern Orthodox rabbis as well.     

     Constitutional scholars, judges and many Americans continue to discuss how we can enable the document signed on September 17, 1787 to grow as our nation continues to move forward with changing demographics and newly-developing  economic and geo-political realities.  When it comes right down to it, we need to stand together as citizens of the United States in the way that the Israelites stood together so long ago.  We are part of a covenant of community in this country, reflected in the prayer for our country that we recite in our worship.  So may we find new ways of taking a vision of unity in the Torah and sharing it with our fellow citizens so that a vision of America will be one that reflects equality, inclusiveness, wisdom, justice and hope. 

     

"I Couldn't Have Done It Without You" - D'var Torah - Parashat Ki Tavo - September 12, 2014 (Temple Beth-El Las Cruces Installation Shabbat for Temple leaders)

What is our story?  How would we recite it in one paragraph?

Each of us would likely craft a narrative that speaks about our birthplace, our family, where we lived the longest, and what were the most important achievements in our lives. 

When I was asked to provide information for the inscription on my Doctor of Divinity degree, it had to hit what we might call the “high points” of what was then a 25 year career.   It mentioned leadership both inside and outside the congregation, and it still serves as an accurate reflection of who I am and what I do.  That paragraph was read by the president of Hebrew Union College as he was about to offer me words of blessing at a special ceremony.

In this week’s Torah reading, the Israelites learned that they would be asked, after settling in the promised land, to bring the first fruit of the harvest as an expression of humility and gratitude for making their way to that land after centuries of slavery in Egypt. 

After they presented the basket of produce to the priest, each Israelite was required to recite a formula which traced their story, from wanderings to a sojourn in Egypt filled with hardship, to God’s deliverance, to their entry into the land where they would make their home.  It was their way of saying, “God, thank you – we couldn’t have done it without you.”   

Perhaps that is the essence of the combined message of the words we pray in every service.   That could be the reason that we do what we do for this congregation.  Our involvement does keep us connected to each other and strengthens our feeling of Jewish community.   But maybe, just maybe, our presence and our work for Temple is like the Israelite’s presentation of the basket of first fruit to the priest.   That act was a reflection of pride, thanksgiving, humility, faith and remembrance.   And those values can permeate our service to this congregation, no matter what we do.  So as we continue to strengthen Temple Beth-El, let us always have that phrase in the back of our minds, recognizing that every act on behalf of Temple is touched by holiness.  And may this be our thought at the beginning and end of each day, so that we can find the best in our giving and living: “God, thank you – I couldn’t have done it without you.”   

Sometimes we forget - Remembering a heritage of Justice - D'var Torah for Shoftim - August 29, 2014 (introduction to a reading on justice)

Sometimes we forget.

Sometimes we are so overwhelmed by the messages we hear around us that we forget.

We forget who we are.

We forget from where we came.

Sometimes we forget what we are supposed to remember: "Do not oppress the stranger, for you know the feelings of the stranger, having yourselves been strangers in the land of Egypt."

Sometimes we forget that we come from a tradition of a people that created a society that sees the divine image in everyone.

And when those people forgot, sometimes we forget that there were prophets who would call the people back, in the name of God, to their ethical roots: to act justice, equality and fairness.

Sometimes we forget that caring for people in need and creating a safety net for all were part of a biblical and prophetic vision of justice rather than the province of a particular ideological or political group.

Sometimes we forget that the prophets and rabbis knew that people who deserved justice and did not receive it might attempt to take what they thought was due them, which was why they called for acting with justice in the first place.

Sometimes we forget that justice - TZEDEK - through TZ'DAKAH - righteous giving - is an obligation, not a suggestion.

And so, let us remember what we sometimes forget and act in a way that reflects the justice taught by our heritage.

Remarks at Dedication of Sephardic/Anousim (those forced to convert from Judaism) Center in El Paso, Texas - August 10, 2014

It is an honor to bring greetings at the dedication of this center from Temple Beth-El in Las Cruces.

 One of the main symbols in our sanctuary, the Neir tamid, the Eternal Light, is stylized to include the ladder in Jacob’s dream.  After he woke up from his vision of a ladder reaching to the sky and of a conversation with God that gave him reassurance for the future, Jacob named the place, Beit-El, the House of God.   It was in retrospect that he realized God had been with him all along.

This center is like Jacob’s vision.   When any of us explore our roots, we often uncover some aspect of our background that is, even in a small way, essential to who we are.   Jacob finally recognized a divine presence at his side.  Learning about our ancestors and what they practiced and believed can unlock a part of our identity that we always knew was there but for which we had no explanation.  This center will help people find that key to self-knowledge.  

   The rabbis imagined that the ladder in Jacob’s dream represented future history, and that the angels going up and down on it were the great powers of the world that would rise and eventually fall.  In that midrash, God asked Jacob if he wanted to take his turn ascending. He was afraid and no answer is given as to his choice.  I believe Jacob did ascend because, well, here we are.   For this center, the ladder is directed not only to the future but also to the past, to reveal the nature of those angels from the generations that came before us that now want us to ascend by digging deep into our identity and our history on an ongoing path of discovery.  

 May this Anousim Center provide countless opportunities for people to find their forebears and, thereby, to find themselves, with the presence of God guiding every step of that journey.  May the Eternal One bless you with knowledge, hope, inner peace, and a sense of oneness that will unite past, present and future. 

(Note - the photographer took a photo of a scene in Santa Fe for the poster for the center - the ladder coming up from one of the building which is in the photo reminded him, he said, of Jacob's ladder).  

Great shall be the peace of your children - Temple Beth-El Adelante Newsletter Article for August 2014

   “All your children shall be taught of the Eternal One, and great shall be the peace of your children.” This passage from Isaiah, Chapter 54, has been on my mind during recent weeks. A ceasefire was just announced (it’s Thursday, July 31, 2014) that both Israel and Hamas accepted. Hopefully, a longer ceasefire will ensue that will bring quiet and perhaps, in the long term, security (Rabbi’s note—sadly, it didn’t last long).

   A few nights ago, I set that Isaiah passage to music (see video below) and created this English lyric to capture the prophet’s declaration: “Can you hear the sound, the sound of justice driving out the hatred, calling off the warning? (There’s) no need to fear the peace that will surround you.” Forging agreements that will lead to eventual cooperation and peace may seem difficult when set alongside the perpetuation of a less-than-perfect status quo. We human beings are, at least sometimes, afraid of change, even though we know that it is a constant in our lives.

     I had the privilege of helping out with Las Cruces’ Peace Camp on July 21-25. On two days, I took part in discussions on social justice. I led the song session that concluded the pro-gram as well (see photo). Peace Camp was like a respite from the current turmoil of the world, where the children, along with their counselors and teachers, could practice techniques and strategies for resolving conflict that would bring people together rather than keeping them at odds with one another. So much of the work of making peace is about acknowledging one another’s stories, but focusing more on the future and the benefits that productive agreements could bring. Evidently, there were talks going on between Israel and Gaza business leaders over the last few months that might have led to an increasingly open border and commerce that would have benefited everyone concerned. Hamas did not approve of those efforts, but those seeds of partnership may actually be allowed to blossom one day.

    On July 30, 15 congregants came together to join me (see photo in the next column) in discussing a well-known pas-sage from the biblical book of Micah: “It has been told you, O mortal, what is good and what the Eternal One re-quires of you: only to do justly, love kindness, and walk humbly with God.” Participants first had the opportunity to comment on each of the three parts of Micah’s statement. “Do justly” was seen as expressing the societal principle of equality of opportunity along with the elimination of false obstacles to equality. There was an acknowledgment that not everyone sees justice with the same perspective, but it is through justice (legal, personal, cultural and social) and fairness that we survive as a community. “Love kindness/mercy” implies the value of G’MILUT CHASADIM, showing or acting with kindness, and doing so with a whole heart and a generous spirit. This can refer to tzedakah, righteous giving, and it can refer to helping people in all sorts of ways. This is definitely kindness in action. Participants noted that we “walk humbly/modestly with God” when we listen to other people and see the divine spark in everyone. One person commented, “Practicing justice, love, kindness and mercy ensures that you will walk humbly, modestly and wisely.”

We discussed how to apply this passage from Micah to our dealings in our congregation and in the greater community. Intra-congregational dialogue should be based upon mutual respect for each other’s opinions. There was a feeling that we can, through such conversations, develop a common understanding of social justice (to “do justly”) that will serve as a basis for our work as a congregation in the community. We noted that some local coalitions (I am part of one that includes a wide range of faith groups that met recently at Sonoma Springs Church next door) are working on stocking food pantries, serving at El Caldito soup kitchen, providing beds for families in need, and helping with transportation for children going to school and for adults who require assistance. Some faith communities join together in many American cities to deal with immigration reform, prison reform, civil rights, working for changes that can enable people to move out of poverty, and dealing with domestic violence and child abuse and neglect. These issues are linked to many faith traditions, including Judaism, and can be an expression of religious values in action.

This conversation was one of many that I hope will en-sue in the coming months. More and more members can be part of this dialogue to enable us to find out who we are as a congregation and what we would like to do for each other and for our neighbors in Las Cruces. May we work together among ourselves and with partners in our city to ensure the peace and well-being of our children and their children as well.

Rav Shalom - new song by Larry Karol

Shelter - and one day, Peace as well - D'var Torah - Parashat (Portion) Mas'ei - July 25, 2014

Throughout this week, I have participated in the Las Cruces Peace Camp program.

Yesterday, as I left for another meeting in the early afternoon, after being at camp since the morning,  I told one of the staff - "thank you, I am going back to my civilian rabbi life."

  Of course, what I was doing there was as rabbinic as any other educational work that I do at Temple or in other community organizations.

But something felt different about this week.

As I read my fill this morning of articles about the war in Gaza, I realized that Peace Camp felt to me like a safe bubble or haven where I could gain a respite from the turmoil in the world and talk about peace and building a better world with a feeling of hope.

I was grateful for my daily flight into idealism, which included discussions about constructive conflict resolution and gaining a sense for how to understand how people live in various parts of the world.

It wasn't all idealism, though - anytime that we create community among a group of people, we form a microcosm of real life in which we have to get along.  

   As we know, Israel is one country with an increasingly diverse community politically and culturally that still finds common ground rather easily. 

   I was fascinated by the report of a July 12 demonstration against the war in Gaza by Israelis on the left at Habima Square in Tel Aviv.    Right wing counter demonstrators were right there with them, shouting at them whatever slogans they could muster. 

Then the sirens sounded.

Then they all went to a MIKLAT - a shelter - together. 

Yes, right-wing and left wing Israelis - in a shelter – together, suspended their conflict for a moment as they sought refuge from the common existential threat from Hamas.

    Once the all clear was sounded, they went back up to the square and resumed their positions, shouting at each other in disagreement once again.

For a moment, the shelter - the MIKLAT - was not only a haven and refuge from rockets.  It was also a place where these Israelis automatically, almost unconsciously, set aside their differences.  

   In the Torah reading for this week in Numbers Chapter 35, we read about six ancient cities, each 

called an IR MIKLAT, a city of refuge, in which a priest would reside in order to provide sanctuary for a person who unintentionally killed another.  His - or her - life would automatically be sought after by the victim’s relative, known as the GOEL HADAM - the blood avenger.  In the ancient world, the goal was to keep a balance between the families, and justice could only be set right when someone died on each side - except in this case where there was no hatred and no intention to take a life. The person who had accidentally committed the killing had to stay in that city.  That town was a place of safety, a MIKLAT, a shelter, keeping the hatred of the victim's relative from touching him or her.   The death of the High Priest of the city would provide the restoration of the balance, perhaps because of the communal respect for the priest himself that would supersede any other considerations in the community.   Blood vengeance would fall by the wayside at such a time of city-wide mourning.

    In recent weeks, conflicts in the world have affected not only citizens of countries but also, tragically, people flying above them.   Some cities in Europe that we would think are safe for Jews are havens no more, as demonstrations against Israel's actions target Jews and their synagogues.  A store owner in Belgium put up a sign that said dogs were allowed but not "Zionists."  Due to the actions of ISIS, Christians in Mosul, Iraq are threatened if they don’t convert to Islam.  People have become hostages to their own community members or victims of violence of their fellow citizens who hold extreme ideologies and seek to grab power through punishing innocent bystanders.  

     I suppose that is why I was glad that Peace Camp happened this week. I went back for the closing session this afternoon, singing several songs about peace. For us, in our sanctuary, right here, may we think about all that we have prayed about peace during this Shabbat Service, and may the hope we recite each week come to fruition:  May the one who makes peace in the highest heavens make peace for us, for all Israel, and for all the world, and let us say Amen. 

Reaching for a Covenant of Peace - Parashat Pinchas - July 11, 2014

Us.

Them.

A part of the human brain was hard-wired long ago

to be prepared for an immediate threat to our existence or for impending danger.

Another part of our brain has the ability to take our thinking to a higher level, far above the fear that could cause us to expect doom at every turn,

to compete with others in most situations, or to see life in terms of conquests and defeats rather than as a series of opportunities for thoughtful cooperation, productive partnership and constructive compromise. 

The Torah portion for this week, Pinchas, begins with God offering a covenant of peace and friendship to Aaron’s grandson, Pinchas the priest.

    At the end of the previous Torah reading, Pinchas’ spear had pierced through an Israelite man and a Midianite woman (by his own hand) as they worshiped a foreign god that was not responsible for their liberation from Egypt.

    Some say the covenant was a reward to Pinchas for his act that stilled God’s anger at the people’s backsliding into idolatry.

   Perhaps the covenant was really God’s way of telling him that he could express his zealotry for his faith and his people through a violent act only once.

    It may appear that it wasn’t until the time of the prophets that the Israelites were able to look at a situation with a fresh approach, what we would call “outside the box,” moving beyond narrow ways of thinking about situations and about people.

Enter the daughters of Zelophechad – Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah and Tirzah – who came forward in this Torah reading with a radical idea.  

Their father had no sons, and they believed that they deserved to have their father’s inheritance transferred to them.  

Moses took the case to God, who declared that “the plea of the daughters is just.”  

For the Israelites, this decision transcended, if only for a moment, the “us/them” of rights based on gender.  There was only one community, which included both men and woman, who could be seen as equal.  

   That decision reflected creativity and openness.

  It set the stage for Moses’s request that God appoint his successor, a leader over the community who would “go out before them and come in before them, who shall take them out and bring them in, so that the community of the Eternal will not be like a sheep that have no shepherd.”

It was the leader’s task to direct the people, to assure that they had food and drink, to guide them in battle, and to continue to teach them about the meaning of freedom.  

    It was Joshua who was chosen to succeed Moses, the man with the name meaning “salvation.” 

    Salvation had a unique significance for the Israelites, and, later, for the Jewish people, as they faced challenges from without and within.

   The notion of “us/them” persisted over the centuries as a world was unable to understand a people that was few in number but mighty in spirit and study, a people that believed that salvation ultimately applied to all humanity.

    And so we come to today – now – this week.

   As rockets fired to perpetuate the “us/them” approach targeted Israeli cities, necessitating a response in self-defense, families mourning their murdered children on both sides extended hearts towards one another.

Even a particularistic sense of peoplehood does not preclude holding onto faith in God as Creator of all humanity, a belief that has led some, in their sadness, to rise above a perspective of “us/them” to see themselves as part of yet another specific community, defined as “we human beings who desire to live in peace so that no one else will need to experience the pain of grieving for a murdered child.”  

    Such a community needs a shepherd – a leader. Psalm 23, which a number of us studied at Temple this week, speaks of a Shepherd, with a capital “S,” who would provide for the people, lead them through green pastures and by still waters, revive their very lives amid their despair, direct them along pathways of justice, and remind them that goodness and kindness are always running after them, pursuing them, as if those two calming qualities of character were calling out to us, “Slow down so that we can catch up with you and be an integral part of your lives.” 

     May that Shepherd in whose house we yearn to dwell forever lift our vision to the heights, so that communities and their leaders can see that the peace that is created in the highest heavens has the potential to bring benefit and serenity to the world below.   May the violence of some give way to the wisdom of others that will make peace a reality that will bring light and hope to the dark corners of the world.  So may it be –and let us say amen.