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Dear Bet Shalom,
If you only read one paragraph, read this one and follow the link to vote: The next World Zionist Congress convenes this coming October in Jerusalem. Our job now is to ensure that our Reform Jewish values are represented by voting for delegates who represent ARZA. Voting for delegates is open to those over age 18 (by June 30, 2020) who self-identify as Jewish and agree to the Jerusalem Program. Voting runs from January 21 through March 11. The website for voting is https://azm.org/elections. The cost of $7.50 covers administration of the voting.
In 1897, Theodor Herzl founded the Zionist Organization, today called the World Zionist Organization (WZO). More than 120 years later, the WZO remains the best way for Jews living outside Israel to have a real impact in Israel. Every five years, the WZO calls together a congress comprised of delegates from across the Jewish world. These delegates vote to determine how major funding will be distributed to organizations in the Land of Israel. A helpful article about the WZO was just published in the Forward.
As Reform Jews, our movement, the Union for Reform Judaism (URJ) is represented by the Association of Reform Zionist of America (ARZA). For more information about ARZA, read the platform and slate.
More votes for ARZA equal more support for issues and values supported by Reform Jewry:
* Religious freedom and equality
* Personal status issues (marriage/divorce, conversion)
* Access to holy places (the Kotel)
* Commitment to a two-state solution
* Gender rights
* Combating racism
* Women’s leadership
* Support for Reform synagogues and education in israel
* Transparency in government funding
Over the next six weeks, let Bet Shalom’s voice be heard! We will have a table in our lobby with computers set up for voting and stickers for all who vote. Beginning on Sunday, January 26 there will a computer or ipad available in the Religious School lobby for voting. You can also vote from your phone! We will have a voting station available before services and at other synagogue meetings and programs.
In 2015, ARZA received 39% of the votes and 56 of 145 US delegates. That ultimately meant that $4 million a year ($20 million over five years) funded the Reform Movement in Israel.
To make that sacred mission a reality, we’re calling on each of you to speak out and have your voice heard – to Vote Reform in the World Zionist Congress elections. Your vote will support the Reform Movement in Israel, helping it grow and ensure Reform values. Your vote will help determine the leadership of important national Institutions, create partnerships with Israeli political parties and enabling us to have a voice in Israeli society.
Voting takes only 60 to 90 seconds. If you prefer, we will have paper copies of the ballot, and you can write a check to cover the voting cost. Please join me in this sacred task.
Rabbi David Locketz
Bet Shalom Congregation is a collaborative congregation of Beacon Interfaith Housing Collaborative. Last year in January we hosted Beacon’s biannual convening which included Governor Walz and Lt. Governor Flanagan as speakers. Beacon and their supporters have been involved in advocating for the need of affordable housing and addressing the needs of our homeless citizens which in part has help support Gov. Walz to recently propose a Local Jobs and Projects Plan which includes a major investment of $276 million for safe and affordable housing projects across the state.
Attending the convening is a great way to become more aware of the work in which we are collaborating with Beacon to address the needs of our communities regarding homelessness and affordable housing and find out how you can involve yourself with our team supporting Beacon.
Join congregations across the collaborative at Shepherd of the Lake Lutheran Church, 3611 N. Berens Rd. NW in Prior Lake at 7 p.m on Thursday, January 30. Hear from Scott County Commissioner Barb Brekke and Rep. Michael Howard as we focus on building our power to create Prairie Pointe in Shakopee and advocate for bonding and rental subsidy for everyone who needs it. Plus we will practice advocating for this tikkun olam project.
To learn more about Beacon, CLICK HERE.
There are many ways to become more involved with social action Tikkun Olam through Bet Shalom’s Social Action Committee. Our areas of focus include Domestic and Gun Violence, Racial and Social Disparities, Homelessness, Hunger and Food Insecurity and Climate Change and Environmental Abuse.
You can contact our SAC Chairs Katey Powers and Lou Kidder at email@example.com
I pray that your celebration of Thanksgiving was fulfilling for you and your loved ones. Did you happen to notice, in this week’s HaEtone, the inclusion of an event entitled The Inner Light of Hanukkah: A Celebration of Practice and Learning? Bet Shalom will be hosting a live-stream, world-wide broadcast on Sunday, December 8between 12:30-2:00 pm Central Time presented by the Institute for Jewish Spirituality. Let me tell you a little bit about it and why you might want to attend.
In 2002-3, I had the privilege to attend four, week-long retreats that featured mindfulness practice, Hasidic text study, spirited singing, yoga, silence, prayer, and deep conversations with rabbis and cantors from around the country and from multiple denominations. Although I had already worked as a full-time cantor for over 10 years, my participation in the Institute for Jewish Spirituality’s 18-month program profoundly affected my faith, broadened my perception of Judaism as a spiritual path, and helped me recognize how blessed I am to be a cantor.
My life continues to be nourished by teachers and colleagues of the Institute who are attuned to their inner lives and committed to guiding others in deepening their connection to Judaism through prayer, words, actions, and song. Although the Clergy Leadership Program remains its centerpiece, IJS offers bountiful opportunities for any person interested in creating “a vibrant, enduring Judaism now and for generations to come.” To mark its 20th anniversary, the Institute is presenting this live-stream event to celebrate with those who have benefited from its work and provide those who are curious with an opportunity to experience some of what IJS offers. The program will include, among other things:
- -A guided meditation led by Rabbi Sheila Weinberg
- -A reflection by Rabbi Arthur Green
- -An accessible Hasidic text study with Rabbi Jonathan Slater
- -Inspirational music with Cantors Benjie Ellen Schiller and Richard Cohn
Please accept this invitation to join me and other Bet Shalom-ians for this unique, cost-free event. If you plan on attending, please RSVP to Rachel Calvert and arrive at 12:20pm.
Here’s a link to the IJS website with more details: https://www.jewishspirituality.org/20-years-of-practice/. Finally, if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to contact me.
B’shalom, Cantor Schwartz
I am excited to invite you to come and learn with our teacher and Bet Shalom Founding Rabbi Emeritus, Rabbi Norman Cohen as he serves as our scholar in residence during the weekend of November 8-10. Rabbi Cohen is one of the great students of Judaism, having never stopped studying and researching even during the busiest moments when he was Bet Shalom’s Senior Rabbi. He is a gifted teacher, and orator, and our weekend dedicated to learning with him is going to be both enlightening and fun.
On Friday night, November 8th, we will gather at 5:30pm for our weekly kabbalat Panim (reception and nosh) followed by our 6pm Kabbalat Shabbat service during which Rabbi Cohen will give a D’var Torah on the topic of, “Judaism & Christianity: Two Different Paths to the Same God.” After services all are invited to stay for an evening of kehilah kedosha – sacred community with friends and good food as well as Talmud Torah as we continue learning with Rabbi Cohen. During dessert there will be an interactive study of “The Stereotypes & Misconceptions Christians and Jews Have About Each Other.” If you’d like to attend dinner, be sure to register by clicking here. Join us for the dessert and study portion of the program without registering at about 7:45pm. Free child-care and dinner for children is available throughout the evening.
Our learning continues on Shabbat Morning during our 10am Shabbat morning service, when Rabbi Cohen will answer the question, “What Are Nice Jewish Boys Like Abraham and Moses Doing in a Book Like the New Testament?” After services, we will enjoy a Shabbat brunch with a text study on “A Jewish Approach to the New Testament.”
Our youngest members will have the chance to learn with Rabbi Cohen on Sunday, November 10th at 9am during our Religious School Assembly.
When Rabbi Cohen became Bet Shalom’s Emeritus Rabbi, he authored the book, “Sacred Architecture: The Building of Bet Shalom,” and has gifted a signed copy to every member of Bet Shalom. There will be opportunities at the end of each program throughout the weekend to have a copy signed if you have not received yours yet. Having your copy signed is also a great opportunity to catch up and connect with Rabbi Cohen and you are invited to sign up for a brief appointment with him on Sunday morning by clicking here.
Let me also take this opportunity to wish Mazal Tov to Rabbi Cohen who recently was awarded the Hoc Signo Award from his alma mater, the College of the Holy Cross. Our Scholar in Residence weekend with Rabbi Cohen promises to be a meaningful opportunity for learning and community and I hope you’ll join us.
I look forward to seeing you soon,
Rabbi David Locketz
I was in utero during the 1973 Yom Kippur War and born a month later. That was just 25 years after Israel’s founding and 28 years after the official end of the Holocasut. My religious identity formation was marked by the refrains of “Never Again” and “Am Yisrael Chai…the People of Israel lives.” I have only a few overt memories of Israel though I am certain it was a constant subject in Religious School. I remember a third grade simulation that included boarding a pretend airplane in my childhood synagogue’s social hall and “touring” the Promised Land. And I vividly remember Israel’s 35th birthday. Each year we participated in the “Walk for Israel” when the whole community would come out and walk around Lake Bde Maka Ska with signs and posters and singing. We’d get sponsors and raise money from our friends and neighbors. I particularly remember the Walk for Israel at its 35th birthday because we all got posters to bring home from Sunday School. It was in contemplating my poster on my wall in my bedroom that it occured to be that my father was older than the Modern State of Israel. What struck me as so funny then has been a reminder to me ever since of how new the Modern State of Israel really is.
I was in utero on Israel’s 35th birthday and born a few months later. And so even though I missed this particular “Walk for Israel,” these Walks were also an important part of my earliest memories and connections to Israel. Though I don’t recall the exact year, perhaps it was Israel’s 45th birthday, I vividly remember the excitement of arriving at the Milwaukee JCC at the end of that year’s Walk for Israel to find camels, yes, real live camels, just waiting for us kids to ride them. It was at this moment, high in the air on a camel’s back, with blue and white face paint on my cheeks and Am Yisrael Chai blaring from a boombox, I started to dream about a foreign land that someday, I knew I would call home.
My first “real” visit to Israel was the summer before my Junior year in High School. I was 16 and ambivalent about going because I really just wanted to stay home and hangout with my friends. But an opportunity materialized that I couldn’t pass up and I travelled with a group of 20 American teens and 20 Israeli teens, first for a week in Poland and then 5 weeks in Israel. That experience changed the course of my Jewish identity and my understanding of Israel in profound ways. On the level of Jewish Peoplehood, I made connections that summer that remain part of my life today. 30 years later, I am still in contact with others in that group, both American and Israeli. And as significant in different ways, I remember realizing how small the country was on the day we drove from Mt. Hermon in the Golan Heights to Eilat. And if I had been aware of the conflict between Israelis and Palestinians as a teenager, I didn’t really understand the geography of it until that drive from north to south when we joined an army escort through the Jordan River Valley with an armed soldier on our bus which was common in those days. And when we came near Hebron…I just remember a lot of chain link fence. I also remember a sunrise hike on Mt. Shlomo along the Egyptian border when we shared food and water with an Egyptian soldier posted on the other side of razor wire. I keep a photo of that exchange in my study here at Bet Shalom.
When I was in High School, I watched in envy, as many of my friends returned home from summer in Israel programs, impacted perhaps more by the social implications of having not had an experience that all my friends were having, than by a true understanding of what I was missing out on. But by the time I got to college I experienced a profound feeling of disappointment when just as I was preparing for a semester at Hebrew University through the University of Minnesota’s Study Abroad program, the U decided to cancel and discredit all study abroad programs to Israel because of the escalating violence of the Second Intifada. So instead of journeying to the land I had been taught was a safehaven for the Jewish people, I traveled instead to Prague, a place where so many Jews had either left or been murdered, but was, according to the University of Minnesota in 2003, a proper safehaven to learn about Jewish history and culture. The irony was not lost on me and only heightened my yearning and my resolve. And so, as I immersed myself in the rich and beautiful story of Eastern Europeran Jewry, I found myself connecting to the Zionists who came before me, feeling like a 21st century version of the 12th century Spanish poet Yehudah Halevi when he wrote, libi bamizrach, v’anochi basof ma’arav, My heart is in the East, and I am at the edge of the West.
1999/2000, the year Debbie and I lived in Israel, during my first year of Rabbinical School, was one of the most peaceful time periods in a decade before it, or since. Yitzchak Rabin was assassinated just three years before we moved into our Jerusalem apartment. Within a year of our moving to Cincinnati for my second year at Hebrew Union College, there would be 25 suicide attacks with dozens murdered and hundreds injured. While we lived there, there was a palpable hope in the air. It felt like peace. Ehud Barack was the Prime Minister and it seemed as if there was going to be peace with Lebanon. On Shabbat, my friend Sami who lived in Ma’alei Adumim would walk toward Jerusalem and Debbie and I would walk toward Ma’alei Adumim and we’d meet up in a Palesitian village somewhere in between for fried cheese and baklava. Once on Shabbat, we drove with Sami deep into the West Bank, going village to village on dirt roads and we stopped to help a family harvest olives from their trees. It felt so free and secure.
I arrived for my year in Israel in the summer of 2007, a year after the Second Lebanon War and a few years after the Second Intifada. Ehud Olmert was Prime Minister and there was an atmosphere of nervous calm in the air, a sense of relative peace and security… but with a lot less hope for lasting peace, and a lot more fear that things could break at any moment. People openly talked about being afraid to ride city buses, but most of us did anyway. My classmates and I didn’t live our day-to-day lives in fear, we still had dinner at the best restaurants in East Jerusalem, built relationships with Arab Israelis, and walked freely in the city that became our home. But even still, there were moments when we were reminded of the fragility of peace, and the reality of terror. We had practice drills in the bomb shelter at HUC and would occasionally receive emergency alert messages through our phones, which keep in mind, were not yet smartphones.
When I was a rabbinical student in Cincinnati, I went on a solidarity mission with the Federation during the height of the suicide bus bombings…when more than 40 of these terrorist attacks were occuring on average each year. Groups came from all over North America. I ran into Rabbi Cohen and Rabbi Sim Glaser at the Western Wall.
In the 12 months that I lived in Jerusalem, I had only one moment of true panic, of seeing, and being part of how Israel responds to what initially felt like terror. I was at a soccer game with some classmates and one of our professors. A scene, which under normal circumstances, is enough to produce panic from fan enthusiasm alone… when suddenly there was a large boom and all the lights in the stadium went out. Announcements were made that the game was canceled and everyone must exit the stadium. There was fear but also action, leadership, surprising order, and calm. We found out after the fact that it was an electrical malfunction and not a terror attack, but the response was emblematic of a country who was ready, almost expecting, this exact moment.
I have had the privilege of spending more than two years of my life in Israel when you add it all up. I love our Holy Land as much as anyone who has not made Aliyah. And at times I’ve considered that too. For sure Israel has issues. There is no Garden of Eden. But, “libi B’mizrach…My heart is in the East.” During college, I spent a summer in a leadership program and we met with Palestinian Authority officials in East Jerusalem. I will always remember when we were ushered into a conference room that had a huge map on the wall of the Middle East. It said Palestine and did acknowledge Israel. I remember how viceral my response was. I was so angry. And I have the same response to this day when I walk into a Jewish classroom and see a map that doesn’t show the West Bank and Gaza as separate from Israel. I have believed in a Two State Solution…dividing up the land into two countries, one for Israel and one for Palestine…since I remember being aware of the idea. And it has been the agreed upon approach to the conflict for much longer than I’ve been alive. In 1947 it was called the Partition Plan, negotiated by the League of Nations and accepted by the Jewish World.
I have also believed in a two state solution for as long as I can remember and have been continuously distressed about the expansion of settlements that slowly, year by year, make the potential for the establishment of a Palestianian state less and less possible. So when I traveled to Yeshivat M’kor Chaim, a High School in K’far Etzion, which is part of the larger Gush Etzion settlement bloc of the West Bank, just south of Jerusalem, I was uncomfortable. This visit was in 2011, when I spent the summer in Israel as part of a fellowship with the HUC School of Education that sought to push and expand our notion of Jewish peoplehood. It was almost like a test to see how reform rabbinical students and yeshivah boys would interact. What we experienced that day in K’far Etzion was a true human connection with Jews who understand Judaism and Zionism in a fundamentally different way than we do. We heard more than one person say “this is my land and I deserve to live here.” We heard a confident expression that Gush Etzion is, and will be, accepted as greater Israel, even by the left… Both because of the important historical role it played in the narrative of the 1940s and also because there is already such a firm stronghold in the settlement bloc, that their expansion is natural growth, not new people coming in from the outside. That night I returned to Jerusalem with more questions than answers about the role of the settlements in any future two state solution. And also questions about my role as an American Zionist and soon-to-be rabbi in engaging and educating about the complexities and challenges that stand in the way of peace.
We don’t talk about settlements or suicide bombs with our first graders. It isn’t developmentally appropriate. We talk about Israel with children the same way we talk about Noah and his Ark, or the splitting of the Sea. We tell big foundational stories that we hope to build on throughout peoples’ lives. We hope that each person’s theology grows with them. When you are three you need to be able to believe the Sea split. When you are 30, you need to believe you are still a “good Jew” even if you no longer believe in those kinds of miracles. Regrettably, we’ve done a better job over recent generations of transmitting Ahavat Yisrael/the love of Israel associated with traditional Zionism than a nuanced understanding of Israel’s geo-political situation and challenges. Not long ago, a young woman came to me and expressed anger that we never taught her the whole story…that we only celebrate the many Israeli Nobel prize winners and the Startup Nation ingenuity. We praise Israel’s tech genius, drip irrigation and the cherry tomato developed there. But we haven’t talked enough about the Occupation or Jewish religious extremism.
In recent years, we have started to integrate more of these conversations into our curriculum with our older teens in Confirmation and Post-Confirmation. They are difficult discussions and ones that teens who have gone through our program are ready for. It is why we say that the milestone of b’nai mitzvah marks a transition toward a deeper exploration of Judaism. It is a beginning, and not an end to the lifelong pursuit of struggling with all that pulls at our heads and our hearts. My love for Israel is unwavering. And it is precisely this love that compels me to also explore and express my concerns and my criticism. As my relationship with Israel continues to unfold, I pray that I will continue to fall in love with, and be challenged by, the country, land, and people who are so much a part of who I am.
This morning we have shared parts of our personal stories. I experience a magnetic east in my life…a pull toward Jerusalem…as so many Jews before me have for thousands of years. I feel so fortunate to have been able to cultivate such a deep and personal relationship with Israel during my life. I am excited to return there this February with many of you. Politics and security are just one part of a much bigger story and connection. I hope that in this year ahead, you’ll take time to consider the space the land of ancestors, stories and prayers holds in your identity. We have many opportunities in our program over the coming months and we hope you’ll join us. We look forward to learning together and sharing in our Ahavat Yisarel – Our love for Israel.
We conclude with a prayer for peace in the Middle East by Alden Solovy:
Light of truth,
Source of wisdom and strength,
In the name of our fathers and mothers,
In the name of justice and peace,
Help us to remember our history,
To mourn our losses together,
So that we may,
Lay down our weapons and live.
God of all being,
Bring peace and justice to the land,
And joy to our hearts.
Hineinu. Here we are. We have joined together in perhaps one of the most important events of the Jewish communal year. We’re here in our sacred space…we’ve taken the Torahs out…the heart of the Jewish people and perhaps in this moment…God’s stand-in…and we’ve begged for mercy. We’ve asked forgiveness for our sins which we have atoned.
I think that says something about us. I think it says that we have faith in forgiveness. It says we have faith in ourselves and that we hear that call to do better. We didn’t come here to ask God to fix us. Or to fix our world. We come here to fill our tanks and rebuild our reserves in order to right ourselves. So that we may fix the world.
Since we last came together on Kol Nidre, 385 days ago, many things in our lives and in our world have gone the wrong direction. The situation with the environment is worse than we realized. The political environment is unprecedentedly negative. We stare at our phones more, we talk to each other less. The gun violence plague grows daily. Addiction is rampant. Poverty, food and housing insecurity continues for too many. Our collective level of happiness feels lower. There is less kavod – respect for each other, respect for ourselves. The list is almost endless.
One of my favorite children’s stories is about the Aron Kodesh, the ark in which synagogues keep the sacred Torah. The story is a true one of Rabbi Lawrence Kushner giving a tour to the preschool of the sanctuary. He had saved the ark for last, but then got called away right as he was about to pull back the curtain to reveal the Torah scrolls. He told the kids that unfortunately he’d have to show them another time. Later the teacher of the classroom told him that the little ones had a great debate after he left about what was behind that curtain. One kid argued it was empty. Another suggested there’d be a brand new car. One did guess correctly that it held the Torah scrolls. But another insisted they were all wrong. That when the rabbi opens the curtain, there will just be a big mirror.
There might as well be a mirror in there because the Torah is like a mirror in so many ways. We read it over and over and over again. Every year we roll it all the way back to the beginning and read the same words again. The words stay the same, but we change. And the world changes. Sometimes for the better and sometimes not.
It’s as if the past presidents of this congregation just held those Torahs up to our faces, but not because God is literally in them judging us and granting us atonement. They held them up so that in those reflections we can remember who we are. And they don’t just reflect us…they reflect the whole world. The Torah, the story of our people from thousands of years ago, held up to recount and reflect and remind us of the story of our world over the last year…and right now.
On July 27, 1656, Rabbi Baruch Spinoza was put in cherem by the Amsterdam Jewish Community, which means excommunicated. We don’t really have anything like it in non-Orthodox Jewish culture today. But back then it was like death. If you were put in cherem, not only were you completely removed from the community, but anyone who maintained contact with you was in danger of also being put in cherem.
Spinoza was cast out not because he killed someone or coveted his neighbor’s wife. He didn’t desecrate the Sabbath or ignore some significant Torah law.
He did what rabbis have done since the days of the Torah. He was making sure the right questions were being asked. In a sense, the question he asked was, “Does Anochi Adonai Elohechem…I am Adonai your God…mean what you think it means?” Spinoza was guilty of suggesting that the reality of God in the world wasn’t like the Creator God in the Bible. That God and nature could not be separated. In a period of great misery and despair for our people, his thinking suggested that perhaps God couldn’t directly change the course of historical reality. God couldn’t stop the misery. Or at least wouldn’t. Because if God created the world, and there was bad stuff going on in the world, and God didn’t fix it…then God either didn’t want to…or couldn’t. Maybe Spinoza was not so different than the average member of the Jewish community of his time. Maybe he wasn’t so different from Jews in any age trying to understand what life means and how to cope with difficult and uncertain times. Spinoza was asking the right question at the wrong time.
There was a theological war afoot during the 16th and 17th Centuries in Europe, which led to real wars, between those who held different ideas about how God interacted in the world and what that meant for human behavior. These theocracies made life particularly difficult for the Jewish community in the big cities.
Jews had been exiled from England in 1290. In the 1600’s a few were allowed return…but true English Jewish emancipation didn’t happen until the 1800s. And there were different versions of this same history and experience throughout Europe including inquisitions in Spain, Portugal and Rome. Jewish existence was tough. Anti-Semitism was rampant. Jews were not citizens of the lands they lived in. They had few civil rights or property rights. Only a few attained any semblance of wealth.
Jewish extremism was influenced by Christian extremism. In his letter to Oliver Cromwell asking for Jews to be allowed back into England in the 1600s, Rabbi Manasseh ben Israel mentioned the coming of the Messiah. Messianism swept the Jewish community…life was so bad…it had to be a test. And if they could just pass that test, God would have to send a reward by way of the redeemer and Messiah to perfect the world.
On Rosh Hashanah in 1665, Shabbatai Tzvi was declared the Jewish Messiah. Though he managed to convince a surprising number in the Jewish community that he was God’s chosen one, he was false. A false messiah because here we sit and the world is far from perfected. I wonder what Spinoza was thinking looking on from the world outside just ten years after his own excommunication. This was the exact thing he had been teaching against.
Was he surprised? We’ll never know. But I imagine him shaking his head in sadness that the community was still looking in the wrong place for answers to the wrong questions. How and when will God fix the world instead of how and when will we fix it?
The recent novel “The Weight of Ink,” by Rachel Kadish, is based in this same time frame, and masterfully weaves aspects of history and the Jewish experience. The book tells the story of Baruch Spinoza, but Kadish tells it through the eyes of a fictitious 17th century female scribe name Esther whose life was full of existential difficulty. The narrative alternates between Esther and a graduate student named Adam Levy in the early 2000s who was trying to save Esther from historical obscurity. Hundreds of years apart, their worlds were different, but their desire for meaning and strength and to understand the world was no different. In Adam’s own despair, he went to synagogue for the first time in many years and while there, observing the service goers, he had the following realization, “It seemed to him that the god these people had just prayed to was the present: A world in which they felt compelled to act, stepping into the history flowing right in front of their feet; making choices in the knowledge that they might fail.”
This work of fiction is full of truth. That for time immemorial, people…our people…have wondered how an all-powerful God could let the world be so full of suffering and despair.
I think it is the wrong question. We should not be asking how God allows such suffering in the world. The question really should be; how do we allow such suffering to exist in the world?
We live in a time with incredible access and freedom to speak our truth. Spinoza lived in a different time and he spoke his truth and paid the price with his identity. It we look honestly into the mirror of Torah, we can see that our identity is on the line too if we don’t speak our truth. This moment in history feels heavy and difficult and unsure. In difficult times like these people turn to God for help. So let’s restore our souls together. We join together in prayer for spiritual sustenance. But not in the hope for a messiah. Fixing the world is our job.
Rabbi Menachem Menedel Schneerson was the most recent Lubavitcher Hasidic Rebbe and he died at 92 years of age in 1994. But the Hasids have not selected a new rebbe because many people believe that Schneerson was the messiah. And that he will return. I don’t believe he was the Messiah…I don’t believe in that kind of messiah…but I think he was a brilliant rabbi and scholar. In our Rosh Hashanah Machzor you’ll find his words. He once said,
“If you see what needs to be repaired and how to repair it, then you have found a piece of the world that God has left for you to complete. But if you only see what is wrong and what is ugly in the world, then it is you yourself that needs repair.”
He didn’t say God will come to fix the errors and incompletes in our world. He taught that we are born with the ability to discern between holy and mundane…between wrong and right…and that it is we who need to do the work.
We live in tough times, and as I said before, the to do list just feels so big and insurmountable. And speaking for myself, I feel so small at times…like there is so little I myself can actually do.
If you’ve read Tuesdays with Morrie, you’ll remember the story of the two waves in the Sea. “There was a little wave, bobbing along in the ocean, having a grand old time. He’s enjoying the wind and the fresh air — until he notices the other waves in front of him, crashing against the shore.”
“‘My God, this is terrible,’ the wave said ‘Look what’s going to happen to me!’”
“Then along comes another wave. It sees the first wave, looking grim, and it says to him, ‘Why do you look so sad?’ “
“The first wave says, ‘You don’t understand! We’re all going to crash! All of us waves are going to be nothing! Isn’t it terrible?’ “
“The second wave says, ‘No, you don’t understand. You’re not a wave, you’re part of the ocean.’”
“Part of the ocean,” he says. “Part of the ocean.”
Whatever it is that keeps you up at night, I am sure it does feel at times like we are just waves crashing against the shores of history.
But I am not a wave, I am part of the Ocean. You each are part of the Ocean too.
We are part of something bigger than ourselves. And when the world seems so dark, the responsibility seems so great. Maybe too great. But as Rabbi Bradley Shavit Artson writes, you can “Become what you worship here today…become hope and faith and love and justice.”
God is how we are becoming. God is in how we are coming together. God is how we live. God can be a verb or an adjective, not just a noun.
May we in the year ahead, in whatever way we each can…in every way we each can…bring God’s adjectives into the world…comfort, sustenance, warmth, security, acceptance and so many other descriptors that increase both humanity and holiness.
If you see part of the world that needs repair…let’s together get to work on repairing it. And that will be the true beginning of the perfection of our world…perfection that we have prayed for since the first prayer was ever uttered.
G’mar Chatimah Tovah – May you
speedily inscribe yourself in our collective and sacred Book of Life.
 Paraphrased from “The Mirror in the Ark” By Rabbi Laurence Kushner in, “God was in this Place”
 Rachel Kadish, “The Weight of Ink,” page 547
 Menachem Mendel Schneerson, quoted in Mishkan HaNefesh for Rosh Hashanah
 Tuesdays with Morrie, page 179
We arose early in the morning. My father in front riding his donkey and I was right behind him, next to the servants who were carrying the wood for the offering. We hadn’t made it even a few hours when my father instructed us to stop. From here, the servants would stay back with the donkey, my father carrying the knife, and me, carrying the wood and stonefire, and the two of us ascended together. It was heavy and it was hot outside. I don’t usually carry the wood. I was tired, confused, concerned. We didn’t even tell mother we were leaving. Something was not right. I turned to my father, saying, “father, here are the firestone and the wood, but where is the sheep for the burnt offering?” “God will see to the sheep for the burnt offering, my son.” God will see to the offering?? My son? What is going on here…. Is it me? Panic set in. I froze… unable to think or speak… I have no memory of what happened next… did we continue to talk, or did we proceed in silence? Did he force me to lie down on the altar, tying me down… or did I willingly comply? I’ll never know. The next memory I have is of my father standing above me, his knife above my face, but his gaze off to the side. God provided for the sacrifice and it was not me. And now, all these years later, I still wake up every night in a sweaty panic… with the image of my father and his knife hovering above me… we haven’t spoken since it happened. How could we. He may have proven his loyalty to God but he did so at the cost of his relationship with me, his son, his favorite son, the son he loved. Every time I think about him my blood boils over in anger. How could he do this to me! And how could he do this to my mother! oh, mother…. I’ll never forgive him.
I awoke in a haste… everything was off, it was too bright, the walls around me were spinning… and all the sudden, out of nowhere, someone, something, appeared… was I having a vision… or a dream, more like a nightmare.. “Did you hear what happened in the world, Sarah? Abraham took Isaac, his son, and slaughtered him, offering him up on the altar as a sacrifice.” (shofar sounds) He what? Did I hear that right? I’m shaking. This can’t be real. My son, our son… the son we waited for, prayed for, my son, my only son, the son I loved. (shofar sounds again) What was he thinking – did you put him up to this? Playing games with my husband in your wars with our God. Leave us alone! You know he’ll do anything God says. He probably didn’t even hesitate… eager to show his devotion. How could you do this, how could God allow it… and don’t give me that grin – yes, I’m mad, I’m more than mad, I’m furious. I’ll never forgive him until the day I… (shofar sounds)
This story, the Akeidah, the binding of Isaac, is the story our rabbis have chosen as our Rosh Hashanah Torah Reading for tomorrow morning.. On this birthday of the world, this celebration of creation, we will read one of the most shocking, horrifying, and infuriating stories in the entire Torah. Though often presented as a story of unwavering faith, it is in fact a story of intimidation and abuse at best, attempted child murder at worst. A story that lauds the abuser, and silences the victims.
Abraham and Isaac never speak again after this incident. And we learn that Sarah, who is not even referenced in the story, dies in the very next Torah portion without ever hearing her voice. And though numerous commentators address the impact the story might have had on Isaac and Sarah, they focus primarily on fear, pain, and loss. This story, a story that by all rational accounts, should have elicited the emotion of rage in those who were the victims of Abraham’s actions, only shares their silence, fear, submission, and death.
So why do we read this story on Rosh Hashanah? Some say that we read it to consider the ways in which God tests our own faith today, and how we might, in our own way, emulate the faith that Abraham exhibited.
I couldn’t disagree more and still, I wouldn’t trade this reading for any other. And the reason is because on this most sacred day, when we are turning inward and considering our place in the world… it is on this day that we are encouraged to take stock… to consider what is going well, what is not, and what could be different. In order to do this we must allow ourselves to feel anger, and not only feel it, but lean into it in order to reimagine a different reality.. And there is perhaps no better story to elicit the emotion of anger than the story of the binding of Isaac.
In her book, Good and Mad, Rebecca Traister explores the fact that over and again, we find ourselves in situations where the most appropriate response to what is happening around us is anger, and yet, no anger is visibly expressed. Since the time of the biblical period, we have been taught to have a pleasant countenance, to withhold, suppress, or repurpose our anger. We quickly learn that acting or appearing angry can be detrimental toward the way others see and accept us. It can cost us promotions, set us as outcasts in social circles, and strain our family relationships. This is particularly true for girls and women who are socialized from an early age to smile and laugh when someone says or does something sexist. We are socialized to be subservient to boys and men, to be peacekeepers, and caregivers. These techniques are often employed to protect ourselves from the very real threat of harm and retaliation.
As Soraya Chemaly explains in her book Rage Becomes Her, research shows that when women express anger, men are most likely to respond with even greater anger but when men express anger, women are most likely to respond with fear. Fear of being ridiculed, fired, or outcast… but also the fear of being physically attacked, sexually assaulted, raped, or murdered.
Men, and more specifically white men, are regularly celebrated and rewarded for expressions of righteous anger in the face of injustice, while women, and especially women of color, are demonized and dismissed as shrill, crazy, or hysterical for an even slight change in tone or expression. This truth plays out every day in the classroom, the workplace, and the political stage. I am acutely aware that my ability to even name this injustice without fear of being dismissed as hysterical myself is itself a product of the privilege I hold as a white woman in a position of power. And it is in part the knowledge of this privilege that inspires me to speak out with, and step aside for, those who are in more vulnerable positions than I am, and who have a lot more to be personally angry about than I do.
Anger, on its own, is not an unhealthy emotion that needs to be suppressed. It is quite the opposite. As both Rebecca Traister and Soraya Chemaly explain, anger is a forward looking and optimistic emotion.
It is a feeling we have when we know something we are experiencing should and can be different. Anger, when understood and expressed effectively, leads toward positive change… it is the impetitus that encourages us to speak out and act in the face of injustice.
Conversely, for both men and women, the suppression of anger can be personally harmful to our emotional and physical state. It can also be harmful to our society and our world as the suppression of anger means that we are accepting defeat, admitting that nothing can be done to make things better for us, our neighbors, and our earth. Soraya Chemaly notes that the inability to articulate anger is recognized as a significant component of anxiety and depression. She says that while “obviously anger will not eliminate pain, illness, discrimination, or death, research has shown that people who articulate their emotions and in a way that makes meaning out of strong negative feelings of anger and resentment are better able to adjust to pain.”
This does not mean that we should lash out in physical and verbal attacks… for those expressions often create even more harm and destruction. Instead of lashing out, what we can do, is explore what a healthy expression of anger might look like.
To notice and accept the emotions we are feeling, consider how things might be different, and then use that burning fire inside us to work toward creating the change we want to see in the world.
This past year of 5779 has been one of deep pain, carelessness, neglect, targeted harassment, and acts of hatred. It has been a year where I have regularly woken up feeling very angry about something going on in the world. The list of egregious and painful acts occurring all around us, against us, against our loved ones, and strangers in our midst, is too long to recount. And just because we have been here before, just because history has certainly seen worse, is not an excuse for ignoring inappropriate behavior. Instead, the gross volume of injustice in the world can serve as a wake up call… a paralyzing blast of the shofar to shake us out of complacency and fear and toward restoration and transformative action.
We have so many choices for how to respond to the anger we feel inside. In Torah, we learn that when God felt angry, God’s nostrils flared. Today, we sometimes do the same. We certainly experience anger physically, whether it be with flared nostrils, a flaming red face, racing heart, tense muscles, or pit in our stomach. We also respond to anger through suppression, we lash out, we laugh it off, we pretend we didn’t hear or didn’t see, we get sad and scared, we cry, and sometimes we even die. But there are also other things we can do. We can talk about our anger, we can write, sing, hug, exercise, help others, dream, and create. Embracing anger doesn’t mean we can’t have fun, experience joy, and find inner peace. It means we want to have more of those things for ourselves and for others and we will work to overcome stumbling blocks that stand in our way.
So as we prepare ourselves to read one of the most infuriating stories in our Torah tomorrow morning, we must consider what we will do with that anger. In the case of our Torah reading, I hope we will allow ourselves to be angry at Abraham or God. We must continue to add our voices as the next link in a sacred chain of tradition that dates all the way back to our biblical ancestors. To reclaim the stories of those who have been silenced and to retell their stories, in all their pain and all their beauty. And as we do so, I hope we will also open ourselves up to that which makes us angry in our own lives, and in the world around us, and commit to noticing and expressing that anger in a way that makes the world a better place.…. Y’hiyu l’ratzon… May the words of our mouths and the meditations of our heart be acceptable to you, oh God and may we all, one day, be inspired to achieve that which we know can be different in order in order to join together with You in the pursuit of peace, for us, for all Israel, and all humanity. Amen.
By now you may have noticed that our cabinet here in front where we usually keep our Holocaust Torah Scroll is empty. That Sefer Torah was saved from the ashes of the Klatovy Jewish community in today’s Czech Republic…a Jewish community decimated in the Holocaust. Every Torah is a symbol of the Jewish people…but that Torah is a different kind of symbol. That Torah saw the very worst of the Jewish Experience…the darkest days in our collective history…and it survived those horrors to sit here with us for all of these years and to be witness to the beauty and richness of Jewish life in these times. The mirror in that cabinet lets us see what it sees.
But that Torah never forgets those dark times…it remembers them for us. And it serves as that crossover point in our collective memories…the crossover from bad to good. From destruction to re-construction.
The cabinet is empty, but the Torah isn’t missing. It is being restored.
A family in our Bet Shalom community felt that our Klatovy Torah should be more than just a symbol…it should be used by us, the living and breathing Jewish community, so they are sponsoring its restoration. We will welcome it back with great ceremony when it is completed…probably in February. You’ll hear more about that soon.
Yet even as a restored “living” Torah…it will always be a symbol and reminder of those dark days which most of us can’t remember. In our own day, when arguably we have the freest most developed Jewish community in history, we remember the darkness through which this Torah came to us.
And for many of us…that darkness has a triggering affect. We can imagine what it saw and experienced. And when we see images like what we imagine…we are triggered.
Images like burning synagogues. This month we saw those horrific images on the news from Duluth. Adas Israel Synagogue, the 3rd Str. Shul, combusted and burned in the dark morning hours of a September Monday and was totally destroyed. If you trace your roots through Duluth, then I am certain that you have at least one memory wound up in that building. Even more-so if you grew up at the feet of your grandparents there. To our Duluth families in the Bet Shalom community, we are all so sorry for your loss. My hope and prayer is that your children and grandchildren and great grandchildren, who come after you, have the same kind of positive memories of you and Bet Shalom wound together, just as you do of your families and Adas Israel.
And while the news of the fire was breaking…so many of us couldn’t help but wonder about the cause. The image of a burning synagogue tears our hearts. Hearts that remember what we haven’t personally seen…memories the Torah carries for us. There was a collective sigh of relief when it turned out to have been an accident…a poor soul trying to keep warm and his fire got out of control. We were bracing for it to be antisemitism…and he was bracing against the cold. In this era…both have become systemic problems. Anti-Jewish sentiment AND people on the streets with nowhere to turn for warmth and security.
Duluth is close to home…Minnetonka High School is closer. Last winter an image surfaced of a teen asking her boyfriend to a school dance using various Hitleresc puns and symbols on a poster board. And it went viral. The Jewish community was rightfully up in arms.
The next day I received a phone call requesting that I meet with the teens in the photo to help them understand why what they had done was so wrong. Reluctantly, I agreed to meet with them before Shabbat services that Saturday morning. I explained to them that the photo of them was like ripping off a bandage for our community that was covering a wound that would never heal. I stood with them here in the sanctuary, in front of that cabinet with the Holocaust Scroll and while we stood there and talked, and I found them open to its truth.
Some might disagree with how I responded to this situation. But in that moment, I decided to forgive them…to offer them my love instead of my anger. I decided to help them see that they had a higher purpose and that they could take their mistake and try to do right by it. What they did perpetuated anti-Semitism no doubt…every such act opens the lid on Pandora’s box just a little more. But they are not anti-Semites…they are teenagers who did a dumb thing.
Over the next several months, I met regularly with them and I taught them about Judaism, about our history, and about the wound into which they dumped salt. Thanks to the Jewish Community Relations Council (JCRC) who supported my efforts, I was able to travel with them to Washington DC to accompany them to the Holocaust Museum. I watched them change. Perhaps the most memorable moment we shared in DC was standing at a table in the lobby of the museum where survivors sit and talk with museum guests. At the table that day was a woman in her 90’s from the same town as Anne Frank…she had been friends with Anne Frank…It was like looking at and speaking with Anne Frank if she had survived. It was then I believe they truly connected the dots from what they had done to the real world. To our world. And I know they repented their actions.
I am not naïve. Every member of the Jewish community alive today is still directly, or indirectly, affected by the Holocaust. I’d like to think I honor those who died, and all of us who still live, by leaning into love instead of hate. The anger and venom from our own community toward these kids was perhaps justified in the moment…who can blame an angry emotional reaction? But vengeance is different than anger. And as Rabbi Crimmings taught us last night, anger can be good when it moves us forward.
But it seems like it just keeps coming. Only days, there was another rash of vandalism against synagogues around the country…one of which is in Racine, Wisconsin. That synagogue was spray painted with swastikas and other Nazi symbols. That wasn’t ignorance or an accident. That was blatant antisemitism. The result is the same though…it triggers our disgust and our fear.
The first thing that many of us think about when we talk about anti-Jewish sentiment is safety. Some in our congregation worry about coming to Bet Shalom in our country’s current atmostphere. The security of our community is something I take very seriously. And so does the other clergy, our staff and our Board of Trustees. We are secure here. For years, our staff have regularly reviewed our safety policies and coordinated directly with the Jewish Community Relations Council which is the central organizer of security for the Jewish community. With the JCRC’s help, Steve Barberio, our Executive Director has secured a $100k grant from the Department of Homeland Security to upgrade our systems and procedures for the building. None of it is in your face because it doesn’t need to be. Bet Shalom is secure and remains a haven from the darkness in the world. This building is an extension of your home and it is a secure place to be.
I am not here to say in any way that anti-Semitism isn’t a problem. In fact, I believe the opposite is true. The recent rise in anti-Jewish acts of hatred is a scary problem. Our children who ensure the future of our tradition have seen more images of burning synagogues and Nazi Propaganda than most of us could have imagined outside of history class. And they are far more likely to experience anti-Jewish sentiment in school than any adult is at their place of work.
Antisemitism is an affront to the democratic ideals on which our country was founded. Maybe that is why we don’t like to think it can happen here. That America, for all our issues, is too enlightened for a blight such as baseless hatred to take hold.
This is a societal problem, not just a Jewish problem. A human problem. And it comes from every direction…from the right and from the left. It comes from the ignorant and from the educated…We see it in politicians of every persuasion and we have to call it out even when it is coming from “our side”. No one gets a free pass.
We see it in the intersectionality of social activists who say our love for Israel cancels out our passion for social justice. That a love for Israel means we are somehow less loyal to this country…or that we disregard human rights.
We see it in the white supremacists and white nationalists who consider our concern for the immigrant treason against our country.
We are not living in Germany in the 1930s…or France during the Dreyfus Affair in the 1890s before that…or during the Cossack Uprisings in Poland, Lithuania and Russia during the Middle Ages before that…or the Inquisitions that reached from London to Amsterdam and beyond during the centuries before that…It may be hard sometimes to ignore parallels, but we are living in the 21st Century…in the United States of America…during the freest time our people have ever known in the modern world. Yet we can see ourselves, at least our ancestors, in the experiences that the Holocaust Torah symbolizes, not just in the mirror behind it.
Last year after the tragedy at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh, we gathered here for Shabbat, and our sanctuary was filled with Bet Shalomians AND our friends in the community. If only we could bottle that spirit and let a little out each day into the world. Think of what we can accomplish when we join together with others who share common values…people with different religions, culture…people from different socio-economic levels…different races…people born here or elsewhere…united under the shared goals of a safe and peaceful existence.
Every single time there is an act against the Jewish community we hear from those who won’t stand for it. My inbox fills with messages from local Christian and Muslim leaders. Just as Antisemitism paints the entire Jewish world with one exaggerated and dishonest brush stroke…we have to be careful not to do the same to others. When our right to be who we are is threatened, their right to be who they are is threatened too. Those who do hateful things DO NOT represent the whole…they are the minority.
Celebrating the values of Torah that have survived trough so many thousands of years to be in our midst, we can join arm in arm with those who hold up the Christian Bible or the Koran as their own source for illuminating the human spirit… and not only to stand against threats that injure our nation, but we can stand together for something. From the ends of our driveways talking to neighbors, to interactions with our co-workers…in our city halls, in op-eds, on our Social Media feeds…we can stand for the kind of democratic pluralism that makes our country so different from all the other places in which our ancestors have been oppressed.
And maybe the world is finally starting to wake up to it. Just this week the United Nations finally…finally…released a report on combatting anti-Semitism defining it as an international problem and it describes the activities of the BDS movement as fundamentally rooted in anti-Semitism, the movement advocating for Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions against Israel. It isn’t enough…but it is rare for the United Nations to stand up for Israel or the Jewish people and it is a good thing.
I don’t want to be up here on this bima talking about anti-Semitism. I’d rather be here talking about some finer point of Jewish liturgy or Jewish practice that brightens our lives and the world…not this issue which makes it darker…this issue that affects our children…and every member of our community.
I’d rather be celebrating the work our congregation does as a sponsor of the Beacon Interfaith collaborative fighting for those who need housing and job support. I’d rather be celebrating the good that comes from our support of the ICA…the Inter Congregation Association that provides food and resources for people in need here in our neighborhood.
And while we work to achieve that world, we have to continue to address anti-Jewish sentiment and anti-Semitism. We have to recognize it and call it out when we see it. If you experience some sort of anti-Jewish bias, we are here to support you. We want to help you process it and we want to make sure the JCRC and proper authorities know about it.
Being in community helps. Our teens create safe space to discuss these things because they are with each other every week and have built trust. Adults can create that space here at Bet Shalom too. Our love of Judaism and our relationship with Israel are holy parts of who we are. We should celebrate them…not be treated differently because of them. And neither should we have to be scared to express them.
Bari Weiss is an opinion writer for the New York times who writes convincingly about Jewish identity and recently wrote, “In these trying times, our best strategy is to build, without shame, a Judaism and a Jewish people and a Jewish state that are not only safe and resilient but also generative, humane, joyful and life-affirming.”
It may not be so simple, but it is a great goal…in a sense she is saying that in order to fight those that hate us…we need to be more US. We need to rebuke those that need to be rebuked…but turning from anger to love when we find we can teach teenagers who make mistakes. Being US means immediately turning our anger to love when we find out the man who burned down a synagogue did so by accident trying to stay warm and then making sure he, and others like him, have shelter.
But being us also means that we have to constructively use the full force of our anger when we find that it wasn’t a mistake when someone makes anti-Semitic comments. or jokes, with hate in their heart…or when a gang defaces our holy spaces…then we need to act. As Eli Wiesel taught…the opposite or love is not hate…it is indifference. We cannot be indifferent, but hate isn’t the right response either.
In just a few minutes we’ll hear the words of the Akedah, the story in the Torah that describes Abraham attempting to sacrifice his son Isaac. When God calls it off, Abraham sees a ram thrashing in the thicket. Our sages teach us that in that moment, God told Abraham, “Thus are your children destined to be caught in iniquities and entangled in misfortunes.” Abraham turned to God and implored, “Master of the World! Will it be like this forever?” God replied, “In the end, they will be redeemed by the horns of this very ram.”
This coming April will be the 75th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. There is indeed more light in the world today than the darkness of those days. And even though we may at times still feel like we are stuck in the thicket, the sound of the Shofar comes to remind us that redemption is in reach…but we must use our own hands to push back that thicket that entangles the world.
May the year 5780 be bright. May we honor the memories that the Holocaust scroll holds for us and may we reflect, as that mirror does, all the good in the world…may that mirror be a prism that magnifies the light of Torah as we, together…a community filled with joy and light…work to close pandora’s box and to make this world the better place we know it can be.
Ken Yehi Razon – May this truly be God’s will.