Author: Rabbi Aaron Bergman

This past Shabbat was Shabbat HaGadol. Literally “The Great Shabbat” that occurs the week before Passover begins. The question is, what is so great about it?

For many years rabbis would give very long talks about the laws of Passover that morning, sometimes lasting hours. There were of course a couple of problems with this. The people in the synagogue did not think it was so great to sit and listen to the rabbi for several hours. It was also a little late to do anything about it, anyway.

The real reason for this Shabbat to be called Great, is that Passover traditionally is considered to be the time of the coming of redemption, the beginning of the Messianic era. The Shabbat before would be one of preparation.

The way we prepare for this redemption is not obvious, and has to do with Elijah the Prophet. Elijah has a prominent place at the Passover Seder. We fill a cup of wine and leave it on the table. At a certain point in the Seder a young child goes to open the door to allow Elijah in, who then drinks from the cup. This of course opens all sorts of possibilities for adults to try to trick the children, particularly those adults who have already had at least their required amount of wine.

I always thought it was kind of strange that Elijah could make it around the world to everyone’s house, but could not get in the door himself. I eventually learned the real reason for the cup of Elijah.

There is a debate in the Talmud over how many cups of wine we should drink at the Seder. Some say four, others say five, depending on the interpretation of a particular verse in the Torah. The rabbis decided to compromise. We would drink four cups of wine, and leave a fifth on the table. When Elijah comes, meaning during the Messianic period, of which Elijah was the announcer, then we will know the final answer.

This means that the cup of Elijah is a symbol of compromise. Compromise in fact is what will bring redemption.

We live in a time when people think all the world’s problems, or at least their family’s problems will be solved if only people do exactly what they say, without compromise or change. People believe so much in the righteousness of their opinion that they are willing to end relationships and connections over their convictions.

My father taught me that being right does not always help. In fact you can be completely right and still spend the rest of your life on the couch.

Judaism values the process of decision-making as much, if not more than, any conclusion. A process that honors all opinions will build a much more solid family and community than a fight to the bitter end, no matter how right we think we are.

This is a good idea to remember at Passover, when a lot of families get together for the first time maybe since last Passover. Our homes have a daily reminder of the value of compromise. The mezuzah on the door posts of our houses and Jewish institutions are set on an angle. This, too, was a compromise. One group said it should be vertical. Another group said it should be horizontal. They compromised at an angle. It was more important to live in peace than to insist on getting one’s way.

Our tradition teaches us that the greatest thing we can do to bring redemption to the world is put our egos aside and learn to listen to others and find a common ground.

I wish all of us a Passover of joy and peace.

Terumah 2012

A few years ago I was leading a tour for people who had never been to Israel. At the end of one of the days in Jerusalem a few of the men mentioned they had never been to Meah Shaarim, one of the more traditional neighborhoods. It was around midnight, but I suggested we go anyway. Jerusalem at night has its own magic.

 

We were walking down one of the main streets, and I saw that one of the Yeshivot for the followers of Rabbi Nachman of Breslove still had its lights on. Rabbi Nachman is one of my favorite rabbis and biggest spiritual influences. He believed that joy, even in difficult times, was the thing that God most wants for us.

 

I knocked on the door, and asked the person who opened it if we could look around. He was very welcoming. One of the first things I noticed was an elaborately carved wooden chair that was in a glass booth.

 

I had heard that Rabbi Nachman had a beautiful chair, almost a throne, that was made for him by one of his followers. I could not believe that I was now looking at it. I did not know it survived.

 

The person from the yeshiva told me that the chair, which had been in the Ukraine, had been cut into six hundred pieces and distributed among dozens of followers who vowed to meet in Jerusalem. Every single follower and every piece made it. The chair was reconstructed and is now safe in that yeshiva.

 

The chair itself seems out of character for Rabbi Nachman, who was very modest. Rabbi Nachman said that every moment that the craftsmen spent making the chair his heart was was elevated and filled with feelings of holiness. Rabbi Nachman knew that this chair was not just for him, but was a vessel for others to do holy work.

 

I think this is why God asked the Israelites to build a tabernacle, a mishkan, a place for God on Earth. The tabernacle was to be made from gold, silver, copper and precious fabrics, but also from cheap hides and balsa wood. Each material was considered just as precious as the next.

 

After the materials were donated they would be crafted a particular way, assembled and then carried throughout the wilderness toward the Promised Land.

 

God created the design for the tabernacle out of the materials that the people had, and with the knowledge, skills and abilities that they had. They had just left Egypt, and could only take with them what meager possessions they owned, plus whatever reparations they could get from the Egyptians for their centuries of slave labor. Some got gold. Some got goatskin.

 

Some Israelites were skilled artisans, others were strong lifters. God saw all of their abilities and potential and designed a system that would allow each person to feel that he or she had a real contribution to make, and that they were valuable and critical to God’s plan.

 

The Torah is teaching us that when we use or own gifts and skills to help others, no matter what profession we are in, or what volunteer work we do, are any way we support our family and friends, is holy work. God wants us to use who we are to make a difference in the world, not try to be something we are not.

 

God says in the Torah, build me a sanctuary and I will dwell among and within them. It does not say God will live just in the sanctuary, but within all of us. When we celebrate who we are and what we can do, and cherish the same in others, we build God a sanctuary every day, in every place.

  

I used to assume that all the slaves who came out of Egypt knew each other.

I would imagine them saying to each other on the way out, “Who did you have seder with last night? We were at the Goldbergs. You went to the Greenbergs? Did you see the Schwartzes there?”

Egypt is a big country. There were hundreds of thousands of slaves who were spread out all over the country. It is not likely that each knew more than a few people. As slaves they would have lived and worked in the same area.

They were mostly strangers to each other. Many may not have spoken same language. The people who came out of Egypt came from different regions and cultures. They also may not have trusted each other, thinking that there would be Egyptian spies among them.

Their first big event as a people was leaving Egypt and then running for their lives from Pharaoh’s men. It could have been a disaster dividing them for all time. Imagine how chaotic the scene was. Hundreds of thousands leaving at one time, and then suddenly chased by the enemy. In front of them is the sea. They could have tried to trample each other to get away. The could have ignored the ones who could not keep up.

Instead, they go through the sea together. They go through orderly and quietly. When they ge to the other side they sing together. Even though most of them remain strangers to each other afterward, maybe only knowing each other a little better, they continue their journey together into the unknown.

It would have been easier for God to take a small, tight knit group out of Egypt who already knew each other, and then start with them in the promised land.

There are two ideas I want to share about this. The first is very optimistic about humanity. The second one is, too, but it is not going to sound like it at the beginning.

I think God put all these strangers together to show the great potential that people have in making connections to each other in even in difficult circumstances.

God gives us our mission statement. You were strangers in a strange land, and your task is to help the stranger when you have the power to do so.

Strangers do not have to hate each other or be afraid of each other. They do not have to know each other to help each other. The Torah teaches us that the only way to get through our difficult situations, our Red Seas, is to help others get through theirs. For a society to succeed it must look out for the well being of everyone, those who fit in easily, and those who do not, those who are easy to deal with and those who are not. No one should feel like a stranger.

If you look at Nazi Germany, it was based on the idea that only some people are authentic and worthy of protection. Everyone else was a stranger. Only societies that protect everyone will ultimately survive.

The other idea I want to share, which is a little more challenging but important to think about, is that all human beings are strangers to each other, no matter how long we have known each other or in what context. It is impossible for anyone to really know anyone else, and that no one can really know us completely. We never really know ourselves fully or all the time. If we are a surprise to ourselves we are certainly a mystery to others, and they to us.

This could lead to endless frustration and pain. We don’t feel understood. We don’t speak the language of our loved ones. We can feel like strangers in our own home or community.

Here is the good part. It is simply a part of being human. The Torah is teaching us that everyone feels that way, no matter how confident they may be from time to time, or at least appear that way, and that a key to happiness is not total knowledge of each other, though I think we should take the time to take an interest in what our loved ones care about and share our thoughts and feelings as clearly and openly, and kindly as possible.

The Torah teaches us that key is to love each other and look out for each other and be patient with each other even when we do not understand each other, even when we feel like strangers. We should love each other, as Rabbi Yitz Greenberg would say, not despite our quirks and idiosyncrasies, but because of them. Others will love us because of ours, as well.

We are all strangers in a strange land. When we recognize this, then we can accept each other and ourselves with greater compassion and forgiveness. We can help each other with life’s scariest moments, and like our ancestors, we can help each other get through the hard times and look forward to the good ones.

 

This is part one of a guide to making friends with the Siddur, the Jewish Prayer Book. We will be continuing the discussion Sunday, February 12th at 11 am at Adat Shalom Synagogue. It is open to everybody who is open to nurturing their own spirituality. 

The purpose of the Siddur is to help your spiritual development

(It is not your responsibility to make the Siddur happy)

 

The Jewish prayer book, the Siddur, can be a helpful tool for developing your own spiritual life, but it can also be a tremendous barrier. Too often, we come into the sanctuary and immediately start looking for the right page. Once we find it the next page has been called and we are starting to feel a little frustrated. If we don’t know the order of the service or if we are not very good at Hebrew we begin to grow a little resentful at the Siddur, it starts to feel a little heavy in our hands. You feel like a pretty competent adult in the rest of your life, but now you are having a waking version of the dream of not knowing what you are doing in school. By the time services have over we have probably checked out emotionally and spiritually and are relieved that at least the cake at kiddush will make our day a sweet one.

 

I want us to think about the Siddur not as a book, but as a place where we can find a sense of comfort, peace, meaning and joy. I offer the following as a guide that I hope will help you make friends with the Siddur, or at least a close acquaintance you are happy to see on a regular basis.

 

1. You do not have to go to the page we announce. You do not have to go to any page of the service we are praying at the time. You may even browse completely at random. If you find something that moves or interests you, stick with that for a while. We only announce pages to let you know where we are in the formal service. You may join in at the parts you enjoy, and then go back to browsing at other times.

 

2.You do not have to open the Siddur at all. This is your time. If you just want to think quietly, please do so. I would just recommend standing when the congregation stands and sit when they do, not necessarily for religious reasons, but that so others around you won’t (politely) suggest you stand or sit. It is, though, ultimately your decision.

 

3. Bring something else to read that you find spiritually uplifting. I would love to hear what it is.

 

4. Even if you are planning on following the formal service it would be helpful to begin by asking yourself the following questions. Don’t be afraid of the answers or be concerned that they may not be Jewish enough. Allow yourself to think and feel what you really think and feel. Theses questions and your responses will give you insight on what you should be focusing on once you do begin praying, and will help you with the rest of your day, too.

 

Questions before prayer

 

To Whom are you speaking?

 

 

What do you need today?

What are you happy about?

What are you afraid of?

How do you feel?

How do you want to feel?