Category Archives: Divrei Torah

On Demolishing and Rebuilding our Chapel

23 Thursday May 2013

Posted by in American Jewish Life, Art, Divrei Torah, Ethics, Jewish History

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Among the most compelling of Biblical verses is Exodus 25:8 – Asu li mikdash v’shachanti b’tocham (“Make for me a Sanctuary that I might dwell in them.”) because it is the basis over three millennia upon which the Tabernacle, the Jerusalem Temple and synagogues have been built.

In mid-June we at Temple Israel will commence the final stage of a ten-year rebuilding project to be completed before the High Holidays of 2014. The first act is to demolish this Chapel. In late September after the High Holidays 2013 we will gut the lobby, social hall, library, and administrative offices.

In place of the old will arise a newly designed state-of-the-art enlarged light-filled multi-use space that can accommodate a congregation four times the size from what we had twenty five years ago.

Tonight we pray together in this Chapel for the very last time, and I want to reflect on its unique history, architecture and sacred character, and to respond to the question – What Jewish tradition says about demolishing a synagogue, as we are about to do?  

Generations have used this sacred space for worship, Torah reading, learning and life cycle events thus making it a place of holiness and memory.

The Chapel was built 60 years ago as part of the Briskin Building construction, and was named in memory of Isaac Chadwick, a founding member of Temple Israel of Hollywood and owner of Chadwick Studios.

It was built in the Bauhaus design (lit. “House of Construction”), the modernist  German arts, crafts and architectural movement that thrived between the First and Second World Wars. Bauhaus architects turned away from “fanciful experimentation,” and based their designs on what was considered rational, functional and standardized principles. Bauhaus elements include non-symmetrical forms, indoor-outdoor continuous space, and simplified design elements such as those on the right front wall evoking menorot, the glass on the eastern wall over the Ark, and our Ner Tamid (Eternal Light).

Our Aron Hakodesh, however, is not Bauhaus. It was commissioned in the mid-1930s by one of our early Temple leaders, the film producer Hal Wallis (e.g. Casablanca, The Maltese Falcon, True Grit, and Anne of the Thousand Days), who hired stage designers at Paramount Studios to create an Ark for the first Temple Israel building on Ivar and Sunset (now demolished). This Ark has a carved relief of Moses leading the people to the Promised Land.

There was a minor controversy at the time that Hal Wallis used Paramount Studio funds to build our Ark. He denied it and claimed that he paid for the Ark out of his own pocket and the studio workers built it on their own time.

We are likely the only synagogue in the world with an Aron Hakodesh designed and constructed by a Hollywood film studio. We will keep and display the Ark doors, though it will not be part of our new Chapel.

Emotionally it may be difficult for some among us to witness the demolition of this prayer space. Change is, after all, at times difficult. The larger question, however, is does Jewish tradition permit a community to demolish its synagogue at all?

There is nothing stated directly about this in the Hebrew Bible. However, based on verses in Deuteronomy (12:4-6) the rabbis legislated against destroying synagogues (Babylonian Talmud, Megilah 26b).

Rav Chisda (d. 320 CE) taught that a synagogue, however, could be demolished if a replacement synagogue were built first. We, of course, have not done so because the new Chapel will be built on the site of the old. Rav Chisda’s primary concern was based on his fear that even if the money were raised, the community might decide to use the funds for another purpose, such as the ransoming of captives (pidyon sh’vuyim) (Babylonian Talmud, Baba Batra 3b) thereby not building a synagogue at all.

If, however, there were already another synagogue available for worship adjacent to the demolished synagogue, other sages rule that the demolition of the older synagogue is permissible. Since our Nussbaum Sanctuary will be our “replacement” synagogue for the next 15 months and, of course, beyond, we see no violation of the tradition in what we are about to do.  

To the contrary, the plans for this new Chapel are inspiring (Koning Eizenberg Architects). It will be built upon the faith and traditions of the old.

Most of all, we will be able to fulfill the mitzvah – Asu li mikdash v’shachanti b’tocham (“Make for me a Sanctuary that I might dwell in them.”)

Chazak v’eimatz v’Shabbat shalom!

The Divine Wedding and Kiss – Parashat Naso

16 Thursday May 2013

Posted by in Divrei Torah, Inuyim - Prayer reflections and ruminations, Musings about God/Faith/Religious life, Poetry

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“O for your kiss! For your love / More enticing than wine, / For your scent and sweet name – / For all this they love you.

Take me away to your room, / Like a king to his rooms – / We’ll rejoice there with wine. / No wonder they love you!” (Song of Songs 1:2-4 – Translation by Marsha Falk)

So, tradition teaches, was the kiss experienced so sweetly on Mount Sinai between the finite bride Israel and the Infinite Bridegroom beneath a chupah attended by angels.

Only forty-nine days earlier God delivered the people through the birth waters of the sea into the midbar, an awe-inspiring expanse of earth and sky, where death stared them in the face, and where life teemed, and authenticity was possible, where a kol d’mamah dakah  (a “soft murmuring sound”) was heard even from within the devastating silence, and where the “Word” was at last spoken.

There in the midbar God and Moses met “face to face” and Eternity uttered the Name.

A kiss more enticing than wine, the “I” of God forged a covenant of light with the people Israel.

The Holy One, having revealed Himself before the people b’li shum l’vush (Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev, K’dushat Levi, Parashat Yitro), in raw naked power as a young warrior when He crashed the waves and drowned the Egyptians, now at Sinai (commemorated this past Tuesday evening on Shavuot), for our sake did God step back as a wise old sage without brandishing a sword and instead uttered words of Torah to teach she-ha-olamot y’hiyeh yachol l’kayeim (ibid.) “that the worlds could exist” without overpowering military might.

The Divine Lover and Groom did all this for our sake, so taught the Berditchever Rebbe, that we might walk through the “gates” to holiness and not get stuck in the “gates” of impurity.

On Shabbat Naso, this week, only three days after the Divine wedding on Shavuot, God is still in a most loving mood and blesses His Bride:

 May God bless you and keep you; / May God’s face shine towards you and be gracious to you; / May God lift His face towards you and give you peace. Numbers 6:24-26

Among the most famous blessings in world literature, our sages teach that these three lines promise the fulfillment of every human need and want; wealth, justice, and strength; intelligence, skill, wisdom, intuition, and knowledge; health, compassion, forgiveness, integrity, safety, love, and peace.

This priestly blessing (Birkat Kohanim) represents the highest expression of God’s love. So much so, that the priest was not permitted to offer the blessing on God’s behalf if he hated his community or anyone of its members, or if he was hated by them.

Humbly, the Kohen would ascend the bimah and cover his head with a tallit, and spread his fingers to the shape of a shin, palms towards the earth bestowing blessing from above.

He was never to look the congregation in the eye, and the congregation was to look away as well, because it was then that the Shekhinah would enter the community of Israel.

She was too beautiful and magnificent and inspiring to look upon, for to see Her directly with the naked eye was to peer directly into the face of God, and no one can see God’s face and live.

The former Chief Justice of the Sephardic rabbinical court in Jerusalem, Rabbi Hezkiah Shabtai, originally of Salonika and Aleppo (1862-1950), cited Numbers 6:23: “Speak to Aaron and his sons and say to them, ‘Thus shall you bless the children of Israel.’”

“Amour lahem,” he repeated (“say to them!”). He explained, “Amour in French means love… therefore say, ‘Love them when you are about to bless them. You must love them first.’”

It’s all about love, after all – our covenant with God and each other.

The wedding of The Divine Infinite Bridegroom and Yisrael the Bride was a wondrous thing when it occurred at Sinai, and the blessing of the Kohanim continues that Divine love affair even now – even now.

 

Wandering, Romantic Love, Transcendence, and Shavuot

09 Thursday May 2013

Posted by in Divrei Torah, Holidays, Inuyim - Prayer reflections and ruminations, Musings about God/Faith/Religious life, Stories, Uncategorized

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This week’s portion B’midbar (lit. “In the desert”) always precedes the festival of Shavuot that begins on Tuesday evening. Parashat B’midbar is not just a marker that reminds us when Shavuot occurs each year, its juxtaposition joins the season’s themes of wandering, covenant, transcendence, and love.

These themes are amplified in the Haftarah portion from the prophet Hosea. Betrayed by his wife’s promiscuity as another man’s concubine, the prophet perceives in his own tragic personal biography a parallel to the Israelite’s betrayal of God during the period of wandering.

Hosea was a star-filled romantic. He so wanted to forgive his wife her infidelities and welcome her back into his bosom. He prayed not only for personal reconciliation with her but also that God would forgive His own wayward lover, the people of Israel, and reaffirm with them the Covenant they once forged together at Sinai.

The prophet proclaims: V’e-ras-tich li l’o-lam b’tze-dek, u-v’mish’pat, u-v’che-sed, u-v’ra-cha-mim (Hosea 2:21-22) – “I betroth you to me forever; I betroth you to me with steadfast love and compassion; I betroth you to me in faithfulness…”

Love for God, one man’s yearning for his bride, one woman’s passion for her lover, the longing of the soul for the Ein Sof (God), all are joined in B’midbar, Hosea, and Shavuot. 

In a wonderful volume called “We – Understanding the Psychology of Romantic Love,” the Jungian analyst Dr. Robert A. Johnson explores these themes as they played themselves out in the medieval myth of the hero Tristan and his beloved Iseult the Fair. This is a complicated, moving, beautiful, and tragic tale from 12th century Europe from which “Romeo and Juliet” and other great romantic love tales have sprung.

The story focuses upon the emotional and spiritual journeys of two protagonist lovers, and Dr. Johnson explores what came to be called “Courtly Love:”

“The model of courtly love is the brave knight who worshiped a fair lady as his inspiration, the symbol of all beauty and perfection, the ideal that moved him to be noble, spiritual, refined, and high-minded. In our time we have mixed courtly love into our sexual relationships and marriages, but we still hold the medieval belief that true love has to be the ecstatic adoration of a man or woman who carries, for us, the image of perfection.“

Dr. Johnson explains that when lovers fall “in love” they feel a sense of completion as though a missing part of themselves had been returned to them. They are uplifted as though suddenly raised above the ordinary. They feel spiritualized and transformed into new, better and whole human beings.

The connection of theme in the mythic romantic love tale “Tristan and Isault” and the Revelation at Sinai should now be clear. Dr. Johnson writes:

“Here we are confronted with a paradox that baffles us, yet we should not be surprised to discover that romantic love is connected with spiritual aspiration – even with our religious instinct – for we already know that courtly love, at its very beginning so many centuries ago, was conceived of as a spiritual love, a way of loving that spiritualized the knight and his lady, and raised them above the ordinary and the gross to an experience of another world, an experience of soul and spirit.”

“Tristan and Iseult” is a story describing the yearning of the soul. So too is that great and singular event that Shavuot commemorates. Indeed, the wilderness of Sinai stripped the people of pretense. They were more vulnerable than they had ever known, and in that the expansive uninhabited landscape of quietude they opened their hearts and souls in awe and wonder to God.

It was there that Torah was given and received. It was there that God and the people of Israel, even if but for a moment, were One.

Shabbat shalom and Hag sameach!

Nachshon Ben Aminadav – A Hero For All Times

22 Friday Mar 2013

Posted by in American Jewish Life, American Politics and Life, Divrei Torah, Holidays, Israel and Palestine, Israel/Zionism, Jewish History, Jewish Identity, Musings about God/Faith/Religious life, Uncategorized

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Nothing in the Seder is as it appears. Each symbol, midrash, vignette, poem, and song evokes layers of meaning that help fashion the Jewish heart, mind and soul. The Seder carries such deep religious, cultural, moral, historical, and political significance that Passover is among the richest and most observed rites in Judaism today.

A little known figure in the Haggadah is worth mention especially in light of the President’s journey to the Middle East this week. His name is Nachshon, the son of Aminadav.

Nachshon is not mentioned in the Biblical exodus story per se (he is cited in Numbers 1:7 as the chief in the Tribe of Judah), yet he looms large in rabbinic literature as a critically important figure in the narrative at the Sea of Reeds.

It is written that as the Israelites fled Egypt they faced before them the impassable Sea and behind them in the pursuing Egyptian army. Terrified, they turned on Moses and cried, “Why did you bring us here to perish?”

“Rabbi Judah says: ‘When the Israelites stood at the sea one said: ‘I don’t want to go down to the sea first.’ Another said: ‘I don’t want to go down first either.’ While they were standing there, and while Moses was praying to God to save them, Nachshon the son of Aminadav jumped up, went down and fell into the waves.’”  Talmud (Bavli, Sota 36a), Mechilta (Parashat B’shalach)

What is the meaning?

First, that Moses’ prayers were insufficient to convince God to split the sea. Only when Nachshon took the initiative and jumped into the waters did God respond.

Second, at a very early stage in Israel’s history there was a basic understanding about the mutual relationship between God and humankind, that though the people might have felt alone and abandoned, God was with them all along.

Nachshon’s “leap” was a significant turning point in the Jewish experience. His willingness to take history into his own hands became a fundamental tenet of Jewish religious activism and a defining element in the character of the Jewish hero.

This past week, J Street, a pro Israel pro peace Political Action Committee in Washington, D.C., published an insert on the symbolism of the Karpas. It was written by my teacher, Rabbi Richard Levy, and intended for family Seders this year. What follows is a portion of Rabbi Levy’s moving text:

“On the nights of Passover we celebrate Israel crossing the …Sea from slavery to freedom. In this light, karpas has other overtones: we remember the heroic example of Nachshon ben Aminadav, who was the first to step into the salty sea. As the Israelites faced the raging waters, Nachshon alone plunged in. Because of his courage, the Midrash tells us, God divided the sea in two so that all the people of Israel could walk across. When our karpas represents Nachshon, …the salt water no longer suggests tears, but the grit of heroes.

Nachshon represents those willing to stand up against the raging waters of intimidation, to state what is right and just and reasonable. In our time Nachshon might say: Israel can be freed of her occupying status and survive as a just, peaceful, and secure state only alongside a just, peaceful and secure Palestinian state… if enough people, ordinary citizens like Nachshon, speak enough to the leaders who represent them, they too will understand that the waters can part, that the just and practical solution – a two-state solution – can emerge out of the depths, and the freedom and peace of two peoples can be assured.”

At this critically important moment when hope flickers still that peace can be achieved, I offer my prayers for the success of American efforts to assist Israel and the Palestinians in arriving at a two-state solution leading to an end of conflict peace agreement.

I pray that President Obama and Secretary Kerry will utilize all their wisdom, resources, strength, and stamina to do what must be done.

And I pray that the Israeli Government and the Palestinian Authority may seize this opportunity together to achieve what should have been done years ago to end this bloody and demoralizing conflict once and for all, thereby allowing two states to flower and thrive side by side in security and peace in a new Middle East.

Ken yehi ratzon – May it be God’s will and ours.

Shabbat shalom and Chag Pesach sameach.

Bezalel: A Master Architect of Sacred Space – Parashat Vayakhel-Pikude

07 Thursday Mar 2013

Posted by in American Jewish Life, Art, Divrei Torah, Inuyim - Prayer reflections and ruminations, Jewish History, Musings about God/Faith/Religious life, Uncategorized

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This week we learn about Bezalel, the man chosen to design and build the Tabernacle that carried the tablets of the law that Moses brought down from Sinai. (Exodus 38:22-39:31)

On the face of it, these verses describe the matter-of-fact building of a physical edifice. But this isn’t merely an architectural plan. Rather, it’s a description of the highest aesthetic vision of the ancient Israelites, a standard of beauty and meaning that would impress itself upon the soul of generations of Jews to come in the land of Israel and all the lands of the Diaspora.

Not just any craftsman could design and build this sacred structure. The necessary qualities are spelled out in the text:

“See, God has called by name Bezalel … and filled him with the spirit of God, with wisdom (chochmah), with understanding (t’vunah), and with knowledge (da-at) in all work. And God instilled thoughts (lachshov machshavot) [in Bezalel’s mind] in order for him to make designs of all kinds…” (Exodus 35:30-32)

Because of the importance of the Mishkan in the iconography of Jewish tradition, our sages sought to understand the deepest meaning of this passage. Rashi says that chochmah is the wisdom we learn from others; t’vunah – the understanding we gain from life experience; and da-at – mystical intuition. Jewish legend assumes that Bezalel was well-versed in Kabbalah, that he understood the combinations of letters with which God created the heavens and the earth.

From all this Bezalel is presented as a master craftsman and architect, seasoned by life’s experiences, open-hearted and open-minded to the needs and insights of the people, inspired with a Godly spirit, and understanding of the fundamental laws and truths at the core of creation.
The name “Bezalel” means “being in God’s shadow,” suggesting that he had attained the level of tzadik and achieved yihud, unity with God.
Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev says, yes, Bezalel’s function was to be the chief executive of this project to build the Mishkan, that is, in Rabbi Levi Yitzhak’s words, “someone who would meticulously carry out instructions.” But the next verse adds another dimension when it says “v’lachshov machshavot” ([and God] “made him think thoughts”), meaning that Bezalel was asked not only to carry out God’s instructions, but to contribute “original ideas of his own.”

There are people today and throughout history who have made and do fine work replicating through drawing, painting, sculpture, and architecture what they see objectively in nature, and in the art and architecture of others. They seek, at the very least, to reconstruct what they see. The great artist, however, does more than repeat. He/she adds something ineffable to the work – a deeper and broader vision that is unique to the artist.
Bezalel was such an artist. Yet, a midrash says that even his wisdom, understanding, knowledge, and originality weren’t sufficient to merit his assignment as chief designer, architect and manager of the building of the Mishkan.

A midrash has God asking Moses if he, Moses, thought Bezalel was suited for this holy duty. And, as if stunned by the question from the mouth of the Holy One, blessed be God, Moses replied, “Master of the universe! If You consider him suitable, then surely I do!” Whereupon God instructed Moses, “Go and ask Israel if they approve of my choice of Bezalel.” And Moses did so.

The people, also probably stunned, replied, “If Bezalel is judged good enough by God and by you, surely he is approved by us, too.”

From this, our sages concluded that Bezalel wasn’t only God’s choice but also the people’s choice.

Mark Chagall adds yet another dimension to the task of the artist when he wrote that “the artist must penetrate into the world, feel the fate of human beings, of peoples, with real love. There is no art for art’s sake. One must be interested in the entire realm of life.”

This story reminds us to consider well the nature of our own  sacred spaces. They are not meant to be merely functional meeting halls with an ark and Torah scrolls on the eastern wall. Rather, they should reflect the highest aesthetic vision of our tradition and people, and thereby not only enhance our prayer experience in their spaces but construct stairways to heaven.

That is the architectural vision that our own architects, Hank Konig and Julie Eisenberg of Konig-Eisenberg Architects, Inc. have envisioned for our new chapel to be built in this very space.

It is our fervent hope that construction will begin soon thereby fulfilling at last the final stage of what we set out to do as a congregation more than ten years ago, to create a new synagogue as a whole and a new sacred space in which we may celebrate the holy and draw nearer to God.

Shabbat shalom!

Coin of Fire – Parashat Ki Tisa

01 Friday Mar 2013

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“This is what everyone who is entered in the records shall pay: a half-shekel by the sanctuary weight to “atone for your souls.” (Exodus 30:13)

The Tosafot surmises that

“Moses was perplexed, thinking to himself, ‘What can a person possibly give that will serve as atonement for his soul?’ Thereupon, God showed him a ‘coin of fire.'”

Question – How can a “coin of fire” grant atonement for one’s soul?

Rabbi Menachem Schneerson answered with a parable:

A person once served as an apprentice to a silver and goldsmith. The artisan taught his apprentice all the necessary details except for one, which he omitted because of its utter simplicity: in order to melt gold and silver and change its shape, a fire must be lit under the metals.

Setting out on his own, the apprentice faithfully followed all the particulars his master taught him, leaving out that one “minor” detail that his teacher had omitted, the need for a fire. Because of this omission, of course, nothing happened. The silver and gold remained as they were, and the apprentice could fashion nothing at all.

God similarly responded to Moses by showing him a ‘coin of fire,’ (the half-shekel). (Likkuti Sichos, Vol. III, pages 923-28; from Parashat Shekalim “An Undivided Half-Shekel“)

The parable explains that merely offering a half-shekel coin doesn’t bring about atonement. But, when the coin is offered with  fire, referring to soul-fire, then the half-shekel atones even for a sin as grievous as the sin of the Golden Calf.

Another question – Why does Torah ask for only a half-shekel and not a whole shekel?

Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev explains in a complex Kabbalistic discussion (Kedushat Levi, vol. 2, p 494, Lambda Press) that what we’re dealing with here are purely spiritual matters, that when an Israelite gives a half-shekel of twenty gerah weight, it isn’t about the monetary value we earthly beings require to physically sustain a community. Rather, it’s about how we may enter into God’s presence.

The first letter in the word Keter (Crown – the highest emanation of God on the Kabbalist chart of emanations) is chaf, and chaf equals twenty according to Hebrew letter-number equivalents, the same as the weight of the half-shekel, thereby indicating that the 20 gerah (chaf-Keter) weight half-shekel is a spiritual metaphor of ascent towards yihud (unity) with God at the highest level.

Rabbi Levi Yitzhak explains that without the spiritual fire no offering, no gift, no presentation from the heart will succeed in linking heaven and earth. Soul-fire is the critical element that enables yihud, union, between us and God.

It is part of the human condition that we are broken, flawed, distracted, seduced, unfocused, fragmented, disloyal, weak, and imperfect. The golden calf incident is the most spectacular example in the Biblical period of betrayal perpetrated by the people against God. Only 39 days before the making of the golden calf (recalled in this week’s Torah reading) they heard the commandment against worshiping false gods, and they made the object and celebrated it as a god in spite of what they had only recently experienced at the foot of Mount Sinai.

Those who had turned away from God badly needed a means to return to holiness. Restoration, thankfully, is always possible. Rabbi Simon Jacobson writes that Moses “offers us a rare – once in history – glimpse into the intimate secret of communicating with the Divine, as he beseeches God to forgive and reconcile with the people…. Moses implores God, ‘Show me Your face.’ [And in response] God forgives.”

Mending our relationship with God (and with those we love and community) is a fundamentally restorative and healing process, and it begins with the offering of the half-shekel.

Judaism teaches that we are most whole when we enter into authentic, trusting, loyal, loving, and passionately committed relationships with family and friends, with a sacred community and with God. That is the lesson of the half-shekel “coin of fire.”

For those of us who do not believe there is a God or, at the very least are skeptical about ever experiencing a relationship with the Divine, then I suggest that you let authentic relationships with loved ones and with community suffice. Perhaps the Divine-human experience will follow.

Our Torah portion and the Midrashic literature teach that the ‘coin of fire,’ the half-shekel, facilitates atonement (read instead “at-one-ment“). When that occurs, when we offer a coin of fire we become, in effect, God’s light, as it says in Proverbs (20:27) – Nishmat adam ner Adonai – “The human soul is the lamp of God.”

Shabbat shalom.

“To dwell is to make peace where we dwell!” Parashat Vayeshev – Thoughts following the UN Palestinian Resolution

02 Sunday Dec 2012

Posted by in American Politics and Life, Divrei Torah, Israel and Palestine, Israel/Zionism, Jewish History, Social Justice

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I am grateful to my colleague Rabbi Victor Reinstein for the central idea of this d’var Torah. When he was a senior rabbinic student at HUC in New York, he offered a drash on the first two words of the Genesis 37:1 – Vayeishev Yaakov “And Jacob dwelled,” and suggested a midrash: Ein omrim vayeishev Yaakov (“Do not say ‘And Jacob dwelled;”)  Ele vayasheiv Yaakov  (“Rather, and Jacob made peace.”)

If we re-vocalize the verb yod-shin-vet from the paal construction to the piel construction, yashav can be understood in the sense of lashevet (“to dwell”), as it is usually translated in our portion. Or it can be used as l’yasheiv (“to settle a dispute”), as in yishev sikh’sukh.

The same Hebrew root means, based on verbal form, “to dwell” and “to make peace!” The close relationship between them suggests the deeper purpose of dwelling – that when we dwell in a place we are meant to make peace in that place.

Each of us simultaneously dwells in at least two places – in our own “place” (i.e. lives) and in the world. The greater challenge of va-yashev/va-yeishev is for us to seek to make peace in both.

In the Talmud “Rabbi Yochanan said, ‘Every place where it says va-yeishev, this is in the language of pain; ‘And Jacob dwelled in the land of his father’s sojourning – it’s written after that, ‘and Joseph brought evil report of his brothers unto his father.”” (Talmud, Sanhedrin 106a)

Jacob (and Joseph in his early years) dwelled, but they each failed to make peace where they dwelled. Jacob allowed his family to be torn apart by jealousy and hatred resulting in much pain and despair. However, when we unite through peacemaking, we create a new language of hope.

“Ein omrim va-yeishev Yaakov, ele va-yasheiv Yaakov”

“Do not say ‘and he dwelled.’ Rather say, ‘and he made peace.”

This teaching challenges us to think and act responsibly in the wake of the successful UN General Assembly Resolution vote raising Palestinian status to that of a non-member state. There are those in our community and in Israel, led by the Israeli government, that want to punish the PA by building more settlements in E1 thereby closing off any possibility for a contiguous Palestinian state in an eventual two-state solution, to withhold taxes collected by Israel and intended for the PA from a cash starved Palestinian Authority, and in Washington, to close down the Palestinian Authority Mission should negotiations become stalled for any reason.

Not only are these actions reactive, they are strategically foolish. After all, the PA used diplomacy, not terror and war, to advance its cause at the UN. Regardless of what we might think of the UN, they had the legal right to do so.

We American Jews who love Israel and recognize that she must remain both Jewish and democratic and fulfill her own Declaration of Independence, should be doing everything we can to encourage the President of the United States and our Congressional leaders to not “punish’ the PA for taking the diplomatic route. To do so is to give up hope for a peaceful resolution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Further, it is tantamount to giving the nod to the terrorist organization Hamas and to endless war.

We American Jews should be doing everything possible to encourage President Obama, the Quartet, and the international community to bring a viable plan based on passed negotiations and agreements to the Israelis and Palestinians so they can negotiate an end-of-conflict two-state solution before it is too late.

Just Imagine – Parashat B’reishit

12 Friday Oct 2012

Posted by in Divrei Torah, Ethics, Musings about God/Faith/Religious life

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One of the most important verses in all of Torah appears in this week’s Torah portion B’reishit: “And God said: Let us make the human being in our image, after our likeness” (Vayomer Elohim, naaseh Adam b’tzalmeinu kidmuteinu…” (Genesis 1:26).

Notice that God seems to be speaking to others, but who? The Midrash imagines this conversation between God and the only other beings with whom the Divine could possibly be talking – the heavenly host, or angels:

“Rabbi Simon said: When the Holy One, blessed be God, came to create Adam, the ministering angels formed themselves into groups and parties, some of them saying, ‘Let the human be created,’ while others urged, Let the human not be created.’ Thus it is written, ‘Love (Chesed) and Truth (Emet) fought each other, ‘Righteousness’ (Tzedek) and ‘Peace’ (Shalom) combated each other’ (Ps. 85:11). Love said, ‘Let [Adam] be created, because he will dispense acts of love (g’milut chassadim)’; Truth said, ‘Let [Adam] not be created, because he is filled through and through with lies’ (sh’karim); ‘Righteousness’ said, ‘ Let [Adam] be created, because he will perform righteous deeds’ (tz’dakot); ‘Peace’ said, ‘Let [Adam] not be created, because he is full of strife (k’tatah)”’ … Rabbi Huna the Elder of Sepphoris, said: While the ministering angels were arguing … the Holy One, blessed be God, created [Adam]. Said God: ‘What can you do? The human has already been made!’” (B’reishit Rabbah 8:5)

To review – the angels of “Truth” and “Peace” were against the creation of the human being because they knew that we mortals would lie and fight each other in battles large and small.

The angels of “Love” and “Righteousness” favored our creation because they knew that we would perform deeds of loving-kindness (g’milut chassadim) and acts of righteousness (tzedek).

In the end, God sided with “Love” and “Righteousness” and Adam Harishon (i.e. the First Human) was created.

“Truth” and “Peace” were right, however, because we are prone to lying and fighting, to intolerance of the “other,” hard-heartedness, self-centeredness and small-mindedness.

And “Love” and “Righteousness” were also right because we can be compassionate, empathic, generous, humble, and kind.

The story is told that once the Baal Shem Tov summoned Sammael, the Lord of demons, because of some important matter that he wished to command Sammael to do, but Sammael resisted. So the BESHT told his disciples to bare their foreheads to Sammael, and on every forehead, the Lord of demons saw inscribed the sign of the image in which God creates the human being – B’tzelem Elohim.

Sammael was disarmed, and then agreed to do the BESHT’s bidding, but asked humbly and beseechingly before departing, “Oh children of the living God, permit me to stay here just a little longer and gaze upon your foreheads.” (Tales of the Hasidim, Martin Buber, Book 1, p. 77).

I encounter people every day, some with open and kind hearts, and some self-centered and mean-spirited. This story and the verse upon which it is based (Genesis 1:26) remind us who we are and before Whom we stand.

When those before me are kind, generous, inclusive, and loving, I see the words B’tzelem Elohim flowing from their every pore. When they are not, still I search for the sign of God on their foreheads, strive to treat them as if those sacred words are apparent, and I imagine what kind of world we would have if we looked for that sign in everyone we meet.

Shabbat shalom!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Torah Can Come to Us From Anywhere – Even a Barber’s Chair

07 Sunday Oct 2012

Posted by in American Jewish Life, Divrei Torah, Ethics, Health and Well-Being, Holidays, Jewish History, Jewish-Christian Relations, Musings about God/Faith/Religious life, Social Justice, Stories

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It isn’t often that the Torah portion of the week and my getting a haircut coincide, but it did last week.

For years Susie Polin has cut my hair. She has a huge heart, is a artist who cuts hair for a living and a Sephardic Jew whose family origins are from Greece.

Last week’s Shabbat Torah portion included Exodus 34:6-7 (for Chol Hamoed Sukkot):

“Adonai, Adonai, El rachum v’chanun, erech apayim, v’rav chesed v’emet: notzeir chesed la-alaphim nose avon vafesha, v’chataah v’nakeh”

“Adonai! Adonai! A God compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in kindness and faithfulness, extending kindness to the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin…”

Susie has lived in the Pico-Fairfax neighborhood of Los Angeles for many years. Once a Jewish neighborhood, by the time she moved there it was African-American and she was “the only white Jewish girl” in the neighborhood. Nevertheless, she became close to her neighbors, especially the people next door. Five months ago the elderly woman who lived there died leaving her husband Johnny alone. Johnny had worked for many years for the LA Unified School District and had come into contact with asbestos, which sealed his fate.

After his wife died, Susie asked if she could do anything for him as he too was infirm. “Thanks Susie – I’m alright!”

“Do you have enough food in the house,” she asked.

“I’m good every day except Tuesday.”

“You can count on me, Johnny, to bring you dinner each Tuesday,” she generously offered.

So every Tuesday for the past four months Susie brought Johnny dinner that she bought at the local Gelsons take-out stand. When she explained to the Gelsons’ workers that she’d be back every week to buy dinner for Johnny, they gave her double the food at the same price, food that lasted Johnny for days.

One day, Johnny asked, “Susie – is ‘Jew’ and ‘Jewish’ the same?”

“Yes!” she said.

“What’s Jewish?”

Susie explained that to be Jewish means to follow the Bible’s commandments and to do deeds of loving-kindness for others. It’s all about love,” she explained, “because God wants us to love each other.”

“I love you, Susie.”

“I love you too, Johnny!”

Johnny died two weeks ago. When the day of his funeral arrived, Susie drove to the black church in South LA and was the first to arrive. She entered the church and sat down. As his family, many friends and care-takers arrived, those who knew her greeted her like a she was a member of their family. Soon everyone heard what Susie had done for Johnny, and that she was a Jew.

When she told me about her experience I was reminded of the famous story in the Midrash (D’varim Rabba 3:3):

“Rabbi Shimon ben Shetach one day commissioned his disciples to buy him a camel from an Arab. When they brought him the animal, they gleefully announced that they had found a precious stone in its collar. ‘Did the seller know of this gem?’ asked the Master. On being answered in the negative, he called out angrily, ‘Do you think me a barbarian that I should take advantage of the letter of the law by which the gem is mine together with the camel?  Return the gem to the Arab immediately.’ When the Arab received it back, he exclaimed: ‘Blessed be the God of Shimon ben Shetach! Blessed be the God of Israel.”

I told this story about Susie and Johnny on Friday night to my congregation. There were many children present including our 6th grade Day School students and their Israeli exchange student friends from the Tzahalah Elementary School in north Tel Aviv.

I explained to them that we are all more than just individuals. We are part of a family, a people and a religious tradition, and what we say and do outside our homes and immediate communities not only reflect back on us, but also on our families and the Jewish people.

The way we treat others, whoever they are, Jews, Christians, Muslims, blacks, Latinos, Asians, Palestinians, immigrants, the poor, the powerless, strangers, the people with whom we work, the people who work for us, tells more about who we are and what we value than anything we say we believe.

Susie Polin is a special woman who gives of her heart and soul continually to others. Through her loving deeds the good name of the Jewish people and the God of Israel was enhanced in Johnny’s community, for Susie may have been the only Jew that Johnny and many in his community ever knew up close.

Torah can come to us at any time and in any place, even the barber’s chair.

Chag Sameach!

 

On Mining the Soul – D’var Torah Haazinu

27 Thursday Sep 2012

Posted by in Divrei Torah, Inuyim - Prayer reflections and ruminations, Musings about God/Faith/Religious life, Poetry

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So much of Torah is metaphor. Indeed, if we read this classic Jewish text only according to its plane meaning we miss the greater truths and the richer opportunities for understanding and transcendence.

The poetry of Ha-a-zinu (Deuteronomy 32:1-43) is as fine an example of metaphor as there is in Torah. It begins this way:

Ha-a-zinu ha-sha-ma-yim v’a-da-bei-rah / v’tish’ma ha-a-retz im’rei fi: / Ya-a-rof k’ma-tar lik’chi / ti-zal katal im’ra-ti / kis’i-rim alei deshe / v’kir’vi-vim alei esev. (vs 1-2)

“Give ear, O heavens, that I may speak, / hear, O earth, the utterance of my mouth. / Let my teaching drip like rain, / let my words flow like dew, / like droplets on new-growth, / like showers on grass. (Translation by Everett Fox, “The Five Books of Moses,” pps. 1001-1002)

Most sages interpret this verse as “hyperbole for the study of Torah,” that the more Torah we learn the deeper will be our understanding.

“The earth requires heavy rainfall to promote plant growth. Once such plant life exists, relatively small amounts of rain or moisture ensure the ongoing process of vegetation. Matar (“drip like rain”) is the initial precipitation, a downpour. R’vivim (“like showers on grass”) are the minimal amount of moisture required to maintain grass in prime condition. Deshe (“new-growth”) is the initial growth. Esev (“grass”) is the growth when it has matured already.” (Rabbi Moshe ben Chayim Alshich, 1508-1600)

Possibly, the lesson of these verses is that Torah learning is progressive. When we begin to study Torah it appears as if a tremendous input (matar – “drip”) produces relatively little output, (deshe – “new-growth”), that is, we acquire only a coarse primitive knowledge of Torah. But, in the course of time and with the advantage of the infusion of a steady gentle input (r’rivim – “showers”) of learning there will be produced a refined mature output (esev – “grass”) of deeper Torah knowledge.

“The more Torah [we] learn the less burdensome and more rewarding such study appears to the student.” (“Midrash of Rabbi Moshe Alshich,” transl. Eliyahu Munk, vol. 3, page 1132)

Rabbi Simcha Bunim of Przysucha (1765-1827) reflects on the benefits of Torah learning this way:

“The hallowed words of the Torah may be likened to rain. While the rain falls we still cannot see the benefit it brings to the trees, the plants and the soil. It is only later, when the sun shines again, that we can see what the rain has wrought. We find the same to be true with regard to the words of the Law. While they are uttered we still cannot see what they will accomplish on earth, but in the end all will know what they have wrought.” (“Wellsprings of Torah,” Rabbi Alexander Zusia Friedman, p. 432).

People (adults and children alike) often ask what I love so much that I am consistently engaged with learning Torah over many years. I explain that I love the cumulative effect of gaining in Torah knowledge because this kind of learning opens my heart and soul ever-wider thus revealing intuitively to me the wonders of the heavens and the earth on a level that I experience in no other way.

The Hebrew for the revelation of God at Mount Sinai is Matan Torah, the “giving of Torah.”The uniqueness of this “giving” is that it is ongoing. Truths buried within each of our souls are necessarily hidden because of our physical creaturely identity. Only by continuous Torah learning do the deeper truths about who we really are in relationship to God become evident.

One of those truths was inspiringly articulated by the theologian Teilhard de Chardin (1881-1955): “We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience.”

In other words, our souls are much greater, much older, and much richer than we realize. It is through this kind of learning that I have discovered this truth.

Shabbat shalom and L’shanah tovah u-m’tukah!