Category Archives: Divrei Torah

Living in the Light, Being in the Light to Others – D’var Torah Bo

18 Thursday Jan 2018

Posted by in American Jewish Life, American Politics and Life, Divrei Torah, Ethics, Health and Well-Being, Jewish Identity, Musings about God/Faith/Religious life, Poetry

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“I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish’d, and the stars 
Did wander darkling in the eternal space, 
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth 
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came, and went and came, and brought no day,
And [people] forgot their passions in the dread 
Of this desolation; and all hearts 
Were chill’d into a selfish prayer for light:…”

Lord Byron describes well what must have been the experience of the Egyptians when the 9th plague of darkness befell them, as described in our Torah portion, Bo, this week.

This was not an ordinary darkness. So dense it was that a person couldn’t see his own hand in front of his face. The Midrash says that this darkness, choshech, wasn’t of the natural world. It wasn’t a solar eclipse nor the darkness that comes on a moonless night. While it oppressed the Egyptians guilty of enslaving the Israelites, the sun and universe operated normally. It was as if each Egyptian was imprisoned in a black box of isolation.

This darkness catapulted the Egyptians back to a time before creation itself when “darkness covered the face of the deep.” (Genesis 1:2)

From where did this darkness come, and what did it mean?

In Psalms (105:28) we read: “Shalach choshech va-yach’shich – God sent darkness and it became dark.”

In our portion, God instructs Moses: “N’tei yad’cha al ha-shamayim vi-hi choshech… – “Hold your arm over the sky that there may be darkness upon the land of Egypt, a darkness that can be touched.” And Moses did so.

This darkness of heart and soul reflected the debased spiritual and moral condition of the Egyptians.

The Psalms (18:12) tell us something else as well: “Yashet choshech sitro s’vivotav sukato – He makes darkness be His screen round about him,” suggesting that the light that could not enter the Egyptian heart is always hidden, only with them it was nearly extinguished because they were slave-masters.

The Divine light, however, shone in all the Israelite dwellings. In its purest form it was a luminosity so brilliant that no one could see it and live. The mystics say that the Torah is a veil shielding the light which is revealed to each of us according to our capacity to fathom it.

Rabbeinu Bachya ben Asher (14th century Spanish Kabbalist) taught that God shut off every Egyptian’s antenna to receive this Godly light without interfering with the source of its transmission. But the Israelite antennae were open because our hearts were not hard.

What does all this mean for us?

If we live long enough we will suffer broken hearts. Some suffer chronic biochemical imbalances that need medical attention. Everyone needs love and support when we or our loved ones become ill, when we divorce and when a cherished loved one dies. Others among us lose our jobs and income. All these losses necessarily bring with them a pall of darkness.

Rabbi Isaac Meir Alter (19th century Poland) taught that the worst darkness of all is that blindness in which one person will not “see another,” and will refuse to look upon another’s misery and to help him. Such a person who can’t see another will become incapable of “rising from his/her place,” that is, of growing spiritually and emotionally.

Rabbi Yochanan taught that every eye has an area of white and black. We might think that the human being sees out of the white part. But no; we see out of the black part, which means that when we’re in the dark we’re capable of seeing what is in the light, but when we’re in the light we cannot see what is in the dark. (Yalkut Shimoni 378).

In other words, there is always hope, and there is always light, even when we suffer our darkest moments. In Egypt, wherever a Jew went, light also went because the light was in them. That is what it means to be a Jew. To live the light, to be a light to others, and to hope.

Shabbat Shalom!

A Pure Soul – Moses’ Selection as Prophet

04 Thursday Jan 2018

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

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Moses at the Burning Bush – Marc Chagall

The Book of Exodus is the story about God’s saving love for the oppressed Israelites. It begins with the birth of Moses, follows him as a young prince, as a rebel and outlaw, a shepherd, and THE prophet of God.

Why Moses? What was so unique about him that God chose him to be his most intimate prophet?

Moses was complex, passionate, pure, just, humble, at home nowhere, carrying his people’s burdens while hearing God’s words.

He was unique, the only prophet to speak panim el panim (“face to face”) with God. That is what my drash-poem is about. Moses is the most important Jew in our history and our gold standard of a religious, moral, and political leader.

In our time the world has benefited from Mahatma Gandhi, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, Dr. Martin Luther King, Mother Teresa, the Dalai Lama, and Nelson Mandela. Nevertheless, Moses continues to stand alone.

A Pure Soul

I walk in a daze / Eyes sunk in creviced faces / Fettered to worldly tasks / Unable to glimpse rainbows.

I imagine Moses in Midian like that / Brooding in exile / Burdened by his people’s suffering / Knowing that each day / They scream from stopped-up hearts / Shedding silent tears.

A simple shepherd Moses / Staff in hand / Counting sheep / Until one day weaving among rocks / And bramble bushes / The shepherd / Heard thorns popping / Turning his head / His eyes opened / And he would never be the same.

God had from his birth taken note of him / And waited until this moment / To choose him as prophet.

Dodi dofek pitchi li / A-choti ra-yati yo-nati ta-mati. / Open to me, my dove / my twin / my undefiled one. (Song of Songs 5:2)

Moses heard God’s voice / And beheld angels, / His soul flowing in a sacred river / Of Shechinah light.

‘Why me? / Why should I behold such wonder? / Unworthy am I!’

God said / ‘Moses – I choose you / Because you are soft / Because you weep / Because your heart is burdened and worried / Because you know this world’s cruelty / And you have not become cruel / Nor do you stand idly by.

You are a tender of sheep, / And you will lead my people / With the shepherd’s staff from Egypt / And teach them to open their hearts / Without fear.’

Trembling, Moses peered a second time / Into the bush aflame / Free from ash and smoke.

His eyes opened as in a dream / And he heard a soft murmuring sound / Like the sound breath makes / Passing through lips. 

MOSHE MOSHE!—HINEINI!

Two voices—One utterance! / He hid his face / The more Moses heard / The brighter was the light / And he knew he must turn away / Or die.

The prophet’s thoughts were free / Soaring beyond form / No longer of self / To this very day / There has not been a purer soul than his.

God said ‘Come no closer, Moses! / Remove your shoes / Stand barefoot here on this earth / I want your soul.

I am here with you and in you / I am every thing / And no thing / And You are Me / I see that which is and which is not / And I hear it all.

Take heed shepherd-prince / My people‘s blood / Calls to me from the ground / The living suffer still / A thousand deaths.

You must go and take them out / Every crying child / Every lashed man  / Every woman screaming silent tears.

And Moses know this / “With weeping they will come / And with compassion will I guide them.” (Jeremiah 31:8) / The people’s exile began with tears / And it will end with tears.

I have recorded their story in a Book / Black fire on white fire / Letters on parchment / Telling of slaves / Seeing light / Turning to Me / Becoming a nation.

The Book is My spirit / The letters are My heart / They are near to you / That you might do them / And teach them / And redeem My world / That it might not be consumed in flames.

Poem composed by Rabbi John Rosove

 

Hanukah – A Major Battleground for the Heart and Soul of the Jewish People

13 Wednesday Dec 2017

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

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Hanukiya- Besht - Ukraine 1809

[The photo is of a Hanukiya from Ukraine (circa 1809) that is crafted in the style of the Baal Shem Tov. It is part of the Judith and Bernard Briskin Fine Judaica Collection at Temple Israel of Hollywood, Los Angeles.]

Without the success of the Maccabean Revolt in 165 BCE, there would be no Judaism, no Christianity, and no Islam today. That being said, what is the real story of Hanukah as opposed to the traditional story we teach our children?

The traditional story tells of the heroic battle of the Maccabean family against the Greeks, the Greek desecration of the Temple Mount, the miracle of the oil lasting eight days instead of one, the lighting of the Hanukiyah (the 8-branch Hanukah Menorah), eating latkes, and spinning dreidels, but this isn’t the true history of this holiday. The real history is more interesting and even more important for us in 21st century America and Israel (based on the 1st and 2nd Books of Maccabees).

The Maccabean Revolt was a battle for the heart and soul of Judaism and the Jewish people. That revolt affirmed Jewish self-identity and survival, themes that are applicable to every ethnicity, religion, and nation in the modern world.

A few years ago Dr. Noam Zion of the Shalom Hartman Institute in Jerusalem, spoke to the Board of Rabbis of Southern California on the theme: “The Reinvention of Hanukkah in the 20th Century as A Jewish Cultural Civil War between Zionists, Liberal American Judaism, and Chabad.”

He offered a comprehensive view of Hanukah from its beginnings 2200 years ago (165 BCE), and how it is understood and celebrated today by Israelis, American liberal non-Haredi Jews, and Chabad Lubavitch. Based on Hanukah’s history and the corpus of sermons written by rabbis throughout the centuries, Dr. Zion noted that three questions have been asked consistently through the ages:

‘Who are the children of light and darkness?’

‘Who are our people’s earliest heroes and what made them heroic?’

‘What relevance can we find in Hanukah today?’

Jewish tradition considers Hanukah a “minor holiday,” but Hanukah occupies an important place in the ideologies of the State of Israel, American liberal Judaism, and Chabad.

Before and after the establishment of the State of Israel in 1948, the Maccabees served as a potent symbol for “Political Zionism,” for those laboring to create a modern Jewish state as a response to anti-Semitism and as a refuge for oppressed Jews the world over. The early Zionists rejected God’s role in bringing about the miracle of Jewish victory during Hasmonean times. Rather, they emphasized that Jews themselves are the central actors in our people’s restoration of Jewish sovereignty on the ancient land, not God.

For 20th century liberal American Jews Hanukah came to represent Judaism’s aspirations for religious freedom consistent with the First Amendment to the United States Constitution. Even as Hanukah reflects universal aspirations, the Hanukiyah remains a particular symbol of Jewish pride and identity for American Jews living in a dominant Christian culture.

For Chabad, Hanukah embodies the essence of religious identity on the one hand and the mission of Jews on the other. Each Hassid is to be “a streetlamp lighter” who ventures into the public square and kindles the nearly extinguished flame of individual Jewish souls, one soul at a time (per Rebbe Sholom Dov-Ber). This is why Chabad strives to place a Hanukiyah in public places. Every fulfilled mitzvah kindles the flame of a soul and restores it to God.

Dr. Zion concluded his talk to us rabbis by noting that the cultural war being played out in contemporary Jewish life is based in the different responses to the central and historical question that has always given context to Hanukah – ‘Which Jews are destroying Jewish life and threatening Judaism itself?’

The Maccabean war was not a war between the Jews and the Greeks, but rather a violent civil war between the established radically Hellenized Jews and the besieged village priests outside major urban centers in Eretz Yisrael (the Land of Israel). The Maccabees won that war only because moderately Hellenized Jews recognized that they would lose their Jewish identity if the radical Hellenizers were victorious. They joined in coalition with the village priests and together retook the Temple and dedicated it (The Hebrew Hanukah means “dedication”). That historic struggle has a parallel today in a raging cultural civil war for the heart and soul of the Jewish people and for the nature of Judaism itself in the State of Israel.

The takeaway? There is something of the zealot in each of us, regardless of our Jewish camp. If we hope to avoid the sin of sinat chinam (baseless hatred between one Jew and another) that the Talmud teaches was the cause of the destruction of the 2nd Jerusalem Temple in 70 C.E. (Babylonian Talmud, Yoma 9b), we need to prepare ourselves to be candles without knives, to bring the love of God and our love for the Jewish people back into our homes and communities. To be successful will take much courage, compassion, knowledge, understanding, faith, and grit. The stakes are high – the future of Israel and the Jewish people.

Is it any wonder that Hanukah, though defined by Judaism as a “minor holiday,” is in truth a major battle-ground for the heart and soul of Judaism and the Jewish people?

Chag Hanukah Sameach!

In the Black Night – A Poem for Vayishlach

01 Friday Dec 2017

Posted by in Beauty in Nature, Divrei Torah, Musings about God/Faith/Religious life, Poetry

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In the black night / the river runs cold / slowly passing me by / over formerly sharp edged stones / worn smooth by centuries of churning  / as if through earthy veins / and I Jacob, alone / shiver and wait / to meet my brother / and daylight.

Will there be war? / And will the angels carry my soul / up the ladder / leaving my blood / to soak the ground?

A presence!? / And I struggle / as if in my mother’s womb / and my dreams.

We played together as children / my brother Esau and me / as innocents / and I confess tonight / how I wronged him / and wrenched from him his birthright / as this Being has done to me / between my thighs.

I was so young / driven by ego and need / blinded by ambition / my mother’s dreams / and my father’s silence.

I so craved to be first born / adored by my father / to assume his place when he died / that my name be remembered / and define a people.

How Esau suffered and wailed / and I didn’t care; / Whatever his dreams / they were nothing to me / my heart was hard / his life be damned!

I’ve learned that Esau and I / each alone / is a palga gufa / half a soul / without the other / torn away / as two souls separated at creation / seeking reunification in a great spiritual sea / the yin missing the yang / the dark and light never touching / the mind divorced from body / the soul in exile / without a beating bleating heart / and no access to the thirty-two paths / to carry us up the ladder / and through the spheres.

It’s come to this / To struggle again / To live or die.

Tonight / I’m ready for death / or submission.

Compassionate One / protect Esau and your servant / my brother and me / as one  / and return us to each other.

El na r’fa na lanu! / Grant us peace and rest / I’m very tired.

 

This poem was composed by Rabbi John L. Rosove and was originally published in the CCAR Journal: Reform Jewish Quarterly, Spring, 2010, pages 113-115

 

 

 

Jacob’s Dream and His Emergence into a Man of Faith

22 Wednesday Nov 2017

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

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Marc Chagall’s Jacob’s Ladder

Jacob’s destiny was set from birth and would come at a price. As his mother Rebekah’s troubled twin pregnancy came to an end and the babies were born, Jacob holding Esau’s heel suggested a strong pre-natal desire to be born first and become the future leader of the tribe. In a clever commentary, Rashi (11th century, France) says that the scene reflects a primogeniture truth, that Jacob was actually conceived first, though he came out second, much as a pebble dropped into a tube first will come out second when the tube is inverted.

Despite being second-born, Jewish tradition asserts that Jacob’s spiritual potential merited his assuming first-born rights, and it also suggests that Rebecca knew that her other son Esau, a hunter, lacked the requisite sensitivity, gentility, vision, and prophetic capacity to lead the tribe, whereas Jacob possessed all those virtues.

Jacob’s dream event that opens this week’s portion Vayetze (Genesis 28:10-22) signals the beginning of a new stage in Jacob’s life. He had just fled in fear from an enraged Esau, was alone in the mountains, unsure of himself and exhausted. He fell asleep and dreamed of ladders and angels.

This dream sequence is filled with powerful religious imagery, suggestion and mythic archetypes. The stones Jacob placed under his head are symbolic of what Carl Jung called the Ego, the limited “I” of Jacob, a man still unaware of the implicate order in the universe that links the material and metaphysical worlds.

The top of the ladder represents what Jung called the integrated Self which unifies the conscious and unconscious into a non-dualistic cosmos.

When Jacob went to sleep using stones as a pillow, we suspect that something unusual is about to happen, that he’s on the cusp of new self-consciousness. Lo and behold, he sees angels ascending (representing his yearning for something greater than himself) and angels descending (representing God’s outreach towards him), Rabbi Heschel’s idea of prophetic empathy and God’s pathos.

When Jacob awoke from the dream and opened his eyes, he was astonished: “Surely God is in this place, va’anochi lo yadati, and I did not know it! … How awesome is this place! This is none other than the abode of God, and this is the gateway to heaven.” (28:16-17)

The beginning of any religious experience requires us to understand that we know nothing at all. In Hebrew “I” is ani (anochi is a variant form), and when we rearrange the letters – aleph, nun, yod – we spell ain, which means “nothing”). The religious person must transform the “I” of the  ego into a great Self in which we become part of God’s Oneness. Jacob’s sudden awareness results in his newfound humility and is a prerequisite to the development of his faith.

Despite the spiritual potency of this experience, Jacob remains unaware (i.e. he lacks access to his full unconscious) and his faith is conditional. He says, “If God remains with me, if God protects me…, and gives me bread to eat and clothing to wear, and if I return safe … the Eternal shall be my God.” (28:20-21)

One of the consistent themes throughout the Genesis narrative is that in order for the Biblical figures to grow in faith they had to suffer trials. As a protected child of his mother, Jacob had been pampered. However, in being forced to flee for his life from the brother he wronged, Jacob became aware of the shadow (Jung’s term denoting that part of the unconscious consisting of repressed weaknesses, shortcomings and instincts) in which he lived and which would envelop him for the next twenty years. Then he met a being divine and human at the river Jabbok and emerged with a new name, Yisrael – the one who perseveres with God.

From Jacob’s birth to next week’s encounter at the river we witness the patriarch’s evolution from the unconsciousness of his childhood to greater awareness, from a self-centered trickster to the bearer of the covenant. As he progressed he learned to view the world through the eyes of faith as he stood at heaven’s gate.

Shabbat Shalom!

 

 

“Why Judaism Matters – Letters of a Liberal Rabbi to His children and the Millennial Generation” – Reading and Book Signing – November 27 at 7 PM – Chevaliers Bookstore, Los Angeles

19 Sunday Nov 2017

Posted by in American Jewish Life, American Politics and Life, Book Recommendations, Divrei Torah, Ethics, Health and Well-Being, Holidays, Israel and Palestine, Israel/Zionism, Jewish History, Jewish Identity, Life Cycle, Musings about God/Faith/Religious life, Social Justice, Stories, Uncategorized

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Book cover

Chevaliers Books is the oldest independent book store in Los Angeles and is located at 126 N Larchmont Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90004 in Hancock Park.

I would love to see you there!

“Why Judaism Matter – Letters of a Liberal Rabbi to His Children and the Millennial Generation” with an Afterword by Daniel and David Rosove is now available for purchase on Amazon.com (publishing date – October 10). This book is a collection of thirteen letters offering a common sense guide and roadmap for a new generation of young men and women who find Jewish orthodoxy, tradition, issues, and beliefs impenetrable in 21st Century society. It is published by Jewish Lights Publishing, a division of Turner Publishing.

Endorsements

“Rabbi Rosove’s letters to his sons are full of Talmudic tales and practical parables, ancient wisdom with modern relevance, spiritual comfort, and intellectual provocation. Whether his subject is faith, love, intermarriage, success, Jewish continuity or the creation of a meaningful legacy, you’ll find yourself quoting lines from this beautiful book long after you’ve reached its final blessing.” – Letty Cottin Pogrebin, writer, speaker, social justice activist, author of eleven books including Debora, Gold, and Me: Being Female & Jewish in America, a founding editor of  Ms. Magazine, a regular columnist for Moment Magazine, and a contributor of op-eds in the New York Times, Washington Post, Boston Globe, Philadelphia Inquirer, Toronto Star, and LA Times, among other publications.

 “John Rosove does what so many of us have struggled to do, and does it brilliantly: He makes the case for liberal Judaism to his children. As Rosove shows, liberal Judaism is choice-driven, messy, and always evolving, “traditional” in some ways and “radical” in others. It is also optimistic, spiritual, and progressive in both personal and political ethics. Without avoiding the hard stuff, such as intermarriage and Israel, Rabbi Rosove weaves all of these strands together to show the deep satisfactions of living and believing as a liberal Jew. All serious Jews, liberal or otherwise, should read this book.” – Rabbi Eric H. Yoffie, President Emeritus of the Union for Reform Judaism and a regular columnist for the Israeli daily newspaper Haaretz.

“Rabbi John Rosove has given a gift to all of us who care about engaging the next generation in Jewish life. The letters to his sons are really love-letters from countless voices of Jewish wisdom across history to all those young people who are seeking purpose in their lives. From wrestling with God, to advocating for peace and justice in Israel and at home, and living a life of purpose, this book is a compelling case for the joy of being Jewish.” – Rabbi Jonah Pesner, Director of the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism in Washington, D.C.

“Rabbi John Rosove gets it. Here is a religious leader not afraid to tell it like it is, encapsulating for his audience the profound disaffection so many young Jews feel towards their heritage. But instead of letting them walk away, he makes a powerful case for the relevance of tradition in creating meaningful lives. In our technology-saturated, attention-absorbing age, Rosove offers religion-as-reprieve, his fresh vision of a thoroughly modern, politically-engaged and inclusive Judaism.” – Danielle Berrin, columnist and cover-story journalist for the Los Angeles Jewish Journal, commentator on CNN and MSNBC, and published work for The Guardian, British Esquire, and The Atlantic.

 “If you’re a fellow Reform millennial, give yourself the gift of John’s insights. This book is written in a breezy, gentle, readable style that is welcoming without losing sharp insight. It was so enjoyable and refreshing to read and persuasive without ever being pushy. Rosove managed to do what only a truly worthy slice of kugel or chance viewing of Fiddler has done for me; reactivate my sense of wonder and gratitude about being Jewish. I’m a huge fan of WJM.” – Jen Spyra, staff comedy writer on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert (CBS), former senior writer for The Onion, actress, and stand-up comedian. Jen’s writing has appeared in The New Yorker, The Wall Street Journal, The New York Daily News, and The Daily Beast, and has been featured by The Laugh Factory Chicago’s Best Standup Show Case.

“Rabbi Rosove has written a wonderful book, a love letter to his children, and through them, to all our children. Prodigiously knowledgeable, exceedingly wise, and refreshingly honest, Rabbi Rosove has described why Judaism Matters. It should serve as a touching testament of faith, spanning the generations for generations to come.” – Rabbi Ammiel Hirsch, Senior Rabbi of Stephen Wise Free Synagogue in NYC, former Executive Director of the Association of Reform Zionists of America-World Union for Progressive Judaism, author of One People, Two Worlds: A Reform rabbi and an Orthodox rabbi explore the issues that divide them with Rabbi Yaakov Yosef Reinman.

“Rabbi Rosove has written a book of the utmost importance for our time. It is an imperative read for all those who struggle with the changing and evolving attitudes towards belonging, behavior and belief.  His analysis, stemming from deeply personal contemplation and decades of rabbinic experience, offers clear yet sophisticated approaches to tackling the challenges facing this generation and those to come. This book offers a treasure of wisdom through the lens of Jewish texts – both ancient and modern – which help to frame life’s major issues taking the reader from the particular to the universal. Israel is one of the most complicated of issues and he bridges the divide between Israel’s critics and staunch supporters and moves beyond the conversation of crisis for the millennial generation.” – Rabbi Joshua Weinberg, President of the Association of Reform Zionists of America

“John Rosove’s letters to his sons based on his life, philosophy, and rabbinic work address what it means to be a liberal and ethical Jew and a lover of Israel in an era when none are automatic. He writes in an unassuming personal style steeped in traditional texts as he confronts conflicts of faith and objectivity, Zionist pride and loving criticism of the Jewish state, traditional observance and religious innovation. He is never gratuitous and invites his readers into his family conversation because what he says is applicable to us all.” – Susan Freudenheim, Executive Director of Jewish World Watch,  journalist, former managing Editor of the Los Angeles Jewish Journal, and a former editor at the Los Angeles Times.

See 11 Reader 5 Star Reviews at Amazon.com

Filling My Children’s Cups – Toldot

16 Thursday Nov 2017

Posted by in American Jewish Life, Divrei Torah, Inuyim - Prayer reflections and ruminations, Poetry

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Kiddush cup - Shevach shevach Jerusalem

I am Isaac / Tradition doesn’t esteem me / as my father and son.

To our people’s cynics / I’m a passive placeholder / set between two visionaries / one hearing God’s voice / the other communing with angels.

To them I’m the do-nothing / dull-witted middle-man / neither here nor there / coerced into submission by a father / tricked by a son / abandoned by God / who willed me slain / to test my father’s faith / thus becoming history’s most misunderstood near-victim.

My father was driven by voices / left home on a promise / and journeyed to a Place he’d never seen / a low-lying mountain shielded round about / by a cloud / beneath heavenly fire.

My son dreamed of angels / ascended ladder rungs / from land and form / into spirit and spheres.

Tradition diminishes me insinuating / that I merely built a worldly fortune / on my father’s wealth.

Dear ancestors / I’m more than this / the wellsprings I uncovered / are more than you know / greater that waters deep, calm, cool, and tranquil / their streams flow to the Source of souls.

I dug anew my father’s wells / the same the Philistines / with stopped-up hearts / and clogged souls / filled in when he died.

I and my servants dug / our thirst unquenchable / passions unleashing / hearts expecting / souls soaring / on angels’ wings.

After our digging / we found the well / and the spring / flowing in earthly and heavenly wetness.

The inflowing fountain never dries up / The well is replenished continually / and whoever drinks from its waters / merges into Oneness through supernal faith.

The wells I dug / are the same as my father’s / That is our gift to you!

I yearn that you / pour the waters into your cups / dig anew / and pour the same / into your children’s cups.

 

Poem composed by Rabbi John Rosove – The Kiddush Cup was created by Shevach Silversmiths of Jerusalem (Mamilla Mall)

 

 

Twinship

14 Tuesday Nov 2017

Posted by in American Jewish Life, Beauty in Nature, Divrei Torah, Stories

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The following are the thoughts of Rabbi Jacob J Weinstein (z’l) whose daughters Judith and Deborah were identical twins. I return every year to his reflections about his daughters during the week of Parashat Toldot (Genesis 25:19-28:9), the story of two other twins, Jacob and Esau.

“Job said that there were some things which he could not understand: the way of a ship upon the sea, a coney on the rocks, and the way of a man with a maid.  How then can I understand the super mystery of twinship?  A Rabbi — like other carers of souls —becomes a chameleon and takes on the coloration of the confessor, and I have sometimes felt the kick of the child in the pregnant woman who comes to relate her fears of childbirth. But I have never been able to enter into that very special intertwining relationship which governs twins. Where does one find a scalpel keen enough to sever an invisible umbilical cord?

Your description was about as close as any I have heard in capturing the inwardness of that shifting half-separation and rebounding amalgamation which takes place between the Jacobs and Esaus, the Judiths and Deborahs of our world.

You both will find it hard to realize that separate parachutes may be the only means of salvation at certain times — that there must be spaces in our togetherness, that the oak tree and the cedar do not grow in each other’s shadow.

While this may be a constant source of danger and will require a degree of special awareness, the compensations are more significant. Your twinship will have reduced to a minimum that fear of relatedness, that reticence in sublimation, that inability to put yourself into another’s shoes, or skin or heart or mind—which accounts for so much of the alienation, divisiveness, frigidity and uncommunicativeness in our society. I know that you recognize Mother’s and my wisdom in deliberately placing separateness in your togetherness, even as we recognize how wisely you have disciplined yourselves.

I know that having learned to respect each other’s differences and each other’s need to follow the compulsion and vagaries of your individual hearts, you will both be ready for that most crucial laboratory of relatedness, which is marriage. While you have at times condemned each other and bitterly pointed out faults in each other, you have never allowed these criticisms to dampen your affectionate acceptance of each other, and you have always and at times savagely resented attacks from any outside source (including your parents). If you can transfer that “acceptance” to your mate, you will have it made.”

From “Letters from A Father” – by Rabbi Jacob J. Weinstein, pages 10-11. These letters were privately published by his children, Ruth, Daniel, Judith and Deborah Weinstein in 1976 in Berkeley, California. 

Note: Judy and Deborah both became psychologists. Each was a remarkable woman. They died of cancer two years apart at the age of 48 and 46 respectively leaving husbands and 3 children between them.

Deborah was among my wife Barbara’s and my dearest friends. She was a force of nature, brilliant, passionate, socially conscious, a strong feminist, and kind. She loved us and we loved her. We miss her still nearly 24 years since her death. We knew Judy less well, but she was no less extraordinary. They adored each other. Witnessing them interact revealed the complexity that comes with the closest sibling relationships and  the joy that comes with the deepest intimacy.

 

 

 

 

A love story – Rebecca and Isaac

10 Friday Nov 2017

Posted by in Divrei Torah, Poetry, Stories

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To be alone in shifting wheat / On rocks in the sun / Beneath stirred-up clouds / And singing angels / Audible in the wind.

I’m alone / Like my father/ When he went out / Leaving what he knew / For a place he’d not been / That God would show him.

My father broke my heart /  Betrayed me / Stealing me away / Before my mother awoke / To be an offering to his God.

When Mother learned / Her soul passed away / Out of the world.

How she loved me / Filling me / With laughter, love and tears.

Bereft in this field / Compassionate One – Do You hear me / From this arid place / Of snakes and beasts?

From afar / a caravan appears / Camels, men and a girl / Like sticks standing in an oasis / That Isaac does not see.

Sitting still / Meditating in the afternoon sun / Beneath swirling clouds / And singing angels / That he does not hear.

‘Who is that sitting in the field?’ Rebecca asks.

‘My master Isaac, / Your intended one, / Whose seed you will carry / And birth new worlds.’ Eliezer says.

Then she fell from her camel / Shocked and afraid / Onto the hard ground.

She veiled her face / Bowed low her head / Together they entered Sarah’s tent / And Rebecca comforted him.

 

Poem by Rabbi John Rosove

 

 

God’s Promise and the Rainbow – A Midrash

19 Thursday Oct 2017

Posted by in Beauty in Nature, Divrei Torah, Ethics, Health and Well-Being, Musings about God/Faith/Religious life, Stories

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rainbow-sky-over-the-rainbow

God looked out upon creation and saw that violence, chaos and mean-spirited self-centeredness engulfed the human heart. There was neither kindness nor justice in the world. Empathy had ceased. Fear and hatred supplanted peace and love. In Divine disappointment and righteous rage God determined to destroy creation and return everything to primordial darkness.

The Eternal mourned and recalled how great was the effort to create the heavens and earth, give life to growing things, design and fashion the birds, sea creatures and animals in all their variety, shape, color, function, and form. That thought grew within the Divine mind, and so the Creator hesitated and stepped back from the brink thinking how great a tragedy it would be to destroy that which had once been thought “good.”

God wondered: ‘Is there one human on earth, different from the rest, who can still fathom Me, who hasn’t been consumed by the sitra achra, the evil that brought such darkness to My creation.’

God peered into every human soul seeking that one, better than the rest, who though not yet a complete tzadik might be good enough to hear the Divine voice and save what could still be saved.

To God’s relief, there was one human named Noah, so God spoke to Noah and told him to build an ark and save his family and two of every creature that all might not be lost and that the world might begin anew.

As the Eternal wept in contemplating the devastation, Divine tears fell heavily to earth and continued forty days and nights.

When finally God’s tear ducts were dry the waters receded, dry land appeared, and the ark docked. The Eternal God spoke to Noah:

“I am God, Noah, Who created you and brought you into this new land. Look around you and see the cleansed earth. The world is once again new. There is no longer rage or hatred, violence or hubris in the human heart. I will make with you a covenant marked by a sign that will remind us both how I created the world in peace, but then destroyed it, and then allowed it to begin anew that it should remain a place of peace for all time.

And the sign of this covenant will be a radiant smile that stretches across the heavens and fills the sky, an arc of light shining through the flood waters, a vision of loveliness that will inspire awe and love for Me. 

This promise, Noah, shall be called the ‘rainbow,’ and this bow in the sky will remind you, Me and your progeny that I will never again bring such devastation to the earth. 

Your duty and that of your children and children’s children must be to protect My creation, to preserve and nurture it, for there will come no one after you to set it right if you destroy it.”

Then God bent towards the earth and stretched the Divine arm mightily across the sky and made an arc. And just where God’s hand had been, there appeared a sheltering bow of every color spread out across the blue canvas of sky.

And God spoke of the colors and the sign of the rainbow:

“First comes red to stand for the blood pulsing through human veins that carries My Godly soul and makes all things live; orange is for the comforting warmth of fire and its potential to create, build and improve upon what I created; yellow is for the glory of the sun that lights the earth and gives vision to earthly souls that they might see Me in all things and live; green is for the grass and the leaves of trees and their fruit, that all creatures might be sustained in life; blue is for the sky, sea and rivers that joins air and ground and makes clear that all is One, divinely linked and a reflection of Me; indigo appears each day at dusk and dawn to signal evening and morning, the passage of time and the seasons, the ever-renewing life force that is intrinsic to all things; violet is for the coming of night when the world rests and is renewed, and it carries the hope that all might awake in the morning and utter words of thanksgiving and praise.”

God explained that the rainbow appears to the human eye as a half circle, and said to Noah:

“Do not be fooled, my most righteous one! There is more to life than what the eye can see. There is both the revealed and the hidden, and the hidden half of the bow reaches deep into the earth that you and those who yearn after Me might come and discover Truth, and reveal and make whole both the revealed and the hidden in My world.”  

God told Noah:

“Remember this blessing, My child, and you will remember My promise – Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, zocheir habrit v’ne-eman biv’rito v’kayam b’ma-amaro.

Praised are You, Eternal our God, Sovereign of the revealed and the hidden, Who remembers, is faithful to, and fulfills the Divine covenant and promise.”

Compiled and written by Rabbi John Rosove. Inspired by classic Midrashim. First published in October 2010.