Category: Articles and Sermons

 

 

I have been fortunate to have attended a lot of graduation ceremonies lately. They are wonderful events, but I always feel bad for the adult keynote speakers. Everyone just wants to see their own child get the diploma and throw his or her hat in the air.

 

A lot of these speakers are very inspiring and talk about how to achieve success in the future, and not just financial, but emotional success, too. They emphasize that, if you try hard enough, things will be fine and everything will work out in the long run the way you want.

 

This is why Moses has never been invited to give a commencement speech. Even if he were alive today, he would likely not be invited. His message, at least on the surface, is not quite as reassuring as we expect a graduation speaker to be.

 

Moses understood that life may never work it out the way we want it to, or think it will. Life is potentially filled with unresolved disappointments and failures. What makes Moses great, is that he teaches us how to handle all of our potential frustrations in a healthy and life affirming manner.

 

In the Torah, Moses sends the leaders to check out the land that the whole people were to someday enter. The leaders bring back a scary and disheartening report. The land was filled with giants, and not the friendly kind. The people panic and say that they are afraid to go forward. They felt they were better off as slaves in Egypt. God then tells them that they will not enter the promised land, and will live the rest of their lives in the wilderness, and someday die there.

 

The people ask for another chance, but God knows they will never be able to handle what it will take to go into the land.

 

The people are frustrated and terrified that their lives are now meaningless because they will never achieve the success for which they were brought out of Egypt.

Instead of telling the people not to worry, Moses does something he interesting. He does not tell them not to worry. He does not tell them things will work out the way they want. He does not tell them they can still make it to the promised land. He tells them the rules of sacrifice that are to be followed in the promised land. He describes all the great things the people that will make it into the promised land will do. This is not cruelty or taunting. It is to remind them that their lives still have purpose even if things did not work out.

 

They are to live their lives in the wilderness without bitterness and jealousy and without taking it out on the next generation. Their job is to help the next generation. It is to teach about perseverance even when you know you will not get exactly what you want.

 

This is important for us, because we live in a goal obsessed society, where we measure our worth by achievement, not by the quality of our moral character or our compassion. Moses tells us we may fail in our goals, but we do not have to be failures as human beings. We have much to offer in all aspects of our lives, even in the broken and imperfect ones.

 

Moses may not have made a great commencement speaker, but he was responsible for making sure we can still live meaningful and valuable lives even if we never get out of the wilderness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My first and greatest theatrical performance was as a tree in the Einstein elementary school production of Where the Wild Things Are, though it was the only time the phrase wooden was used as a compliment for my performance. Little did I know that the book our play was based on was already being banned in many communities around the country, and is still not quite universally accepted.

Where the Wild Things Are became one of my all time favorite books, and Maurice Sendak became one of my favorite authors, not just favorite children’s book author. I would like to share why I loved him and his books so much, never more so than when I became an adult and a teacher and a father myself.

Let me review the plot of book for a moment and then share why the book was banned and then I will tell you why I think it was really banned.

It takes place in a very small and cramped apartment in what seems like a very modest section of Brooklyn, where Sendak grew up as the son of refugees from Poland.

 Max is a little boy with a great deal of energy. His mother asks him to be quiet. He refuses.

His mother sends him to his room, which is very small. The room becomes a magical forest, and a boat appears. He takes the boat to the land where the wild things are.

They seem quiet scary and try to frighten him. He refuses to be afraid. They make him their king, and he makes them his friend. A wild rumpus ensues. Max eventually becomes homesick and wants to go back. The boat reappears and takes him back to his room, which is not only much bigger, but has a nice warm meal that his mother left for him.

The main reason offered by those who banned this book was that it was too scary for kids. If you have ever read your average Grimm fairy tale you will immediately understand that this excuse was nonsense.

There are two real reasons the book was banned. The first is that when Max mouthed off to his mother, she did not smack him, as would have been expected when the book came out in the early sixties, but she stayed calm and gave him a time out. She even acted lovingly toward him before he apologized for his behavior. This may not sound like such a big deal now, but it was radical at the time and was seen to be undermining parental discipline. Unfortunately, for a lot of children, their houses are still pretty scary places.

This brings me to the second reason for the ban. The purpose of fear in stories up until that point was to intimidate children into proper and docile behavior. The message to children was that as long as you behave perfectly, nothing bad will happen to you, but if you misbehave terrible things will happen. Not a good way to go through life. This was the basis for a lot of religion, too.

Sendak was banned because he refused to tell children that there was nothing to be afraid of if they behaved perfectly at all times and he would not say that they did not have to worry about anything unless they misbehaved. Children know that the world is scary often for no reason. Sendak validated many children’s real concerns and told them that you could face that fear with courage and humor and still stay yourself, though a bit wiser.

Maurice Sendak was one of the first authors to really see children as people. They were far from perfect, but they were worthy of having their inner lives respected. He said, “I find children on the whole more direct and honest, but being a child doesn’t automatically make you superior. Although usually it does. On the whole, children are better and more touching. They aren’t racists and liars… If we don’t look, and if we don’t listen, and if we don’t do something, kids will be lost.”

Sendak helped me raise my own wonderful children to face the wild things in their lives, and someday, to have children of their own running around in wolf suits, eating meals that are still hot, and living where someone loves them best of all. Rest in peace, Maurice, and thank you.

Shmini 2012

 

One of the most painful and challenging stories in the Torah is that of strange death of the sons of Aaron, the High Priest.

 

Aaron’s role was to bring sacrifices on behalf of the people. He would wear special clothes, and carefully and precisely make the offering. His sons, Nadav and Avihu bring a burnt offering on their own, without being asked.

 

They were literally playing with fire. Their actions do not end well. A fire consumes them.

 

Why they died has been debated. Some blame them for doing something they had no permission to do. Others say it was just the tragic, but accidental result of people trying to do something they were not trained or qualified to do.

 

I want to focus on what happens after. God tells Aaron not to mourn, but to return to his duties. The people would mourn instead.

 

This sounds cruel, but I think it might be kind on God’s part.

 

God is telling Aaron and the people that Aaron was not at fault about his sons, and that he is still qualified to be a leader and fulfill his duties. The people should realize that Aaron is human and in need of comfort from his people. God does not want Aaron to hide in grief or shame.

 

We often blame ourselves for the behavior of others, particularly family, when something bad happens. We go from feeling bad to feeling responsible to blaming ourselves.

 

The Torah is saying that a lot of people, including our loved ones, do destructive things to others and to themselves, but that it is not our fault. We can try to help as much as we can, but ultimately the ones who cause the harm are responsible for their actions.

 

We are entitled to live our own lives. We do not have to sacrifice who we are because of the decisions of others. We do not have to make our selves a victim.

 

It also means we have to let other people help us. Aaron may have sealed himself off from the people. God wanted him among the people because he knew that Aaron’s sorrow could only be healed if he allowed others in, instead of trying to solve all his problems himself.

 

We read this story between Passover and Shavuot, the giving of the Torah. God is telling us that real liberation can only begin when we stop blaming ourselves for the bad decisions of others. We must realize we can try to make things better, but that we cannot fix everything, and that we are entitled to live our own lives. Only then will there be room in our hearts for the wisdom and compassion that God wants for us.

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?

 

 

This last Thursday night I had my first and likely last experience singing in a Broadway type musical. I was the guest opening singer in a delightful local production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. I somehow managed to remember a fairly large number of the right lyrics and did not trip over and fall on one of the children, which would have been extremely awkward, especially on opening night.

The show itself and this production in particular is very entertaining and fast paced. The songs are good and everything moves nicely to an upbeat conclusion. What gets lost in the show is that there are some really bad people who are involved in the Joseph story.

I do not just mean the brothers who throw Joseph in a pit. That is certainly bad enough. I was thinking more about the Midianites to whom the brothers sell Joseph. The Midianites were not merely merchants. They were in the slave trade, as well, and could care not less about the humanity of their cargo. They could have used, “We will be your brother’s keeper” as their business motto.

The Book of Genesis warns against having any contact with them because of their lack of morality.

It is fascinating, then, that when Moses, in the Book of Exodus, leaves Pharaoh’s palace, the only home he ever knew, and flees into the wilderness, lost and alone, The people in he runs into are Midianites. He rescues some of them from a bad situation, but ultimately they save him. He marries a Midianite woman. His children are half Midianite. His most trusted advisor, the man who really teaches him about leadership and selflessness, is his father-in-law Yitro, a Midianite priest.

The Torah is teaching us that our family history does not have to be our destiny. We can recreated ourselves to be the kind of person we want to be. We may have very difficult and challenging people in our past. We may have painful memories of things they did, maybe even to us. It does not mean that we are destined to relive and perpetuate those things.

Every morning in our prayers we remind ourselves that our souls are pure. Our souls cannot be damaged or made unclean. We have the potential to rise above the difficult aspects of our past. This does not mean we need to make a complete break with our past, or that we should. I hope we all have positive and loving memories of our past.

I want us to be able to face the past with compassion, and get on with the kind of lives that would make us happier, without hearing those negative voices or thoughts from our history.

This Monday is Martin Luther King, Jr. day, which I am thrilled that we observe as a nation. He understood that history is not destiny. This is a quote from his I Have a Dream speech.

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

Dr. King understood that you had to believe in the potential for the children of your enemy to transcend their past and become better people.

True freedom and liberation begins with the realization that we can honor what is best of the past, but we do not have to be slaves to it. We can recognize that God created us already free.

 

If you were to ask most characters in the Torah that we think of as Jews whether they were Jews, they would have no idea what you were talking about. They may have thought of themselves as Hebrews or Israelites, but certainly not Jews. That word does not appear until toward the end of the Hebrew Bible when Mordechai is called a Jew. That story occurs at least a fifteen hundred years after Abraham.

 

Why, then, are we are called Jews? The simple answer is that at the end of our last period of independence before the rise of the modern State of Israel, the part of the promised land we lived in was called Judea, which was named after Judah, one of Jacob’s children. For the rest of our history we have retained the name Jew, a descendant of Judah.

 

The biblical Judah, though familiar, is not very well known among Jews. He is not as famous as Moses or David. He is not even the most famous Judah. That would be Judah Maccabbee.

 

Why aren’t we the Mosesites or Davidites?

 

Judah does something very powerful and courageous. His father had sent him and his brothers to get food, because there was a famine in Canaan. Pharoah wants something in return. He wants Judah’s youngest brother as a hostage.

 

Judah begs the vice-chancellor of Egypt, the second to Pharaoh, for the life Benjamin. He does so not just to spare Benjamin, but his father Jacob, too. Under normal circumstances this would be admirable, but expected. These were not normal circumstances.

 

Judah probably has no great love for Benjamin. Benjamin is the new favorite of Jacob once Joseph disappeared. Judah also knows his father does not love him, or at least care much about him. Every family has its issues, but this family in particular had problems that would never resolve.

 

There is no advantage to Judah in pleading for his brother’s life. In fact there was a disadvantage. He was putting his own life on the line, even though he knew his father would not appreciate it. Judah could have saved himself and begun a new life in Egypt. Nonetheless he spoke up.

 

We know this story has a happy ending and that Joseph reveals as the person Judah was talking to. Judah had no reason to think that would happen.

 

Judah does the right thing simply because it was the right thing, even though he had nothing to gain and much to lose, even though he did these things on behalf of those he did not love and who did not love him.

 

He put aside his anger and frustrations and fears. This is genuine compassion. It is the absolute core of what it means to be Jewish.

 

I was thinking about this in regard to the morning blessings that we say every single day. They describe God’s attributes, such as freeing the bound, giving sight to the blind, returning dignity to those bowed over, guiding our steps, etc. These are all things we are supposed to emulate.

 

I finally noticed what isn’t there. Seeking vengeance against our enemies. Nurturing a grudge, no matter how righteous we are. Rebuking people we think have faults.

 

The list of kindnesses we are supposed to do each day are for both those we like and those we don’t.

 

Obviously we should defend ourselves if we are in danger, and showing kindness does not mean that we condone every behavior or put up with it when it is directed to us.

 

Judaism understands that hatred and jealousy only create more hatred and jealousy, and that anger, no matter how righteous, only creates more anger.

 

Judah said that when we make our decisions based on compassion and not ego, we can accomplish wonderful things that ultimately make our lives better.

Judah understood that Benjamin was not going to thank him for saving him. He knew his father would not give him any credit, but would just return to complaining about everything in the rest of his life that did not go well. He even knew that Joseph would never admit to being a brat who kind of deserved to get tossed in a pit.

 

Judah’s willingness to do the right things for others despite the difficulties it created for himself had a positive impact on his children. They become the tribe that survives. Their strength came from their compassion.

 

We are their descendants. We are still here as a people not just because of our allegiance to ritual, but because the core of our philosophy, our deepest understanding of what God wants, is the courage to do what is right for the whole world, not just ourselves. This is a critical idea that will help carry us into the future.

 

Calling ourselves Jews does not just mean that we belong to an ethnic or religious group, but that it is a mission statement for bringing sanity and calm into a world that really needs it.