Westchester Reform Temple Torah Study Blog

Out of the Darkness, Light: Live Streaming Comes to WRT!

2012-01-27T16:59:00.003-05:00

Shalom, Internet friends!

This week's Torah portion, Bo, describes a plague of darkness -- "darkness so thick it could be felt." (Ex. 10:21). The Egyptians afflicted by the plague sit, encased in this impenetrable shroud, unable to move from their places, so utterly obliterating was the darkness.

But all the Israelites had light in their dwellings (10:23).

A famous midrash (Shemot Rabbah 14:3) noted that the text says that the light was found not throughout the land of Goshen where the Israelites resided but rather "b'moshvotam" -- in their dwellings -- so as to suggest that the light came from the residents, not from the residence! The light emanated from the people, a people blessed with light.

The Jewish people have always felt the charge to bring light into dark places. "I will make you a light unto the nations" (Isaiah 49:6).

There are many ways to bring light in the darkness: a kind word, a caring act, a loving look, a warm embrace. We can also embrace new ways of reaching out to people to cast light into the shadows. Many within and without our community would love easier access to worship services at our synagogue, but especially in the cold winter months feel uncomfortable driving at night or in inclement weather. Many people who live outside our area would love to find connections that keep them close to our community's experience of prayer. And many people would simply find it illuminating to know what happens at Westchester Reform Temple on a Friday night.

I am so pleased to share with you today's news from WRT. The words of our Executive Director, Yoel Magid follow this message. Read on and tune in to this evening's live webcast of Shabbat services -- tonight, at 7:45. Shabbat Shalom!

Rabbi Jonathan Blake

I am grateful to David Levy who reminded me of this wonderful midrashic teaching.

WRT's Board of Trustees has approved regular livestreaming webcasts of Friday evening services. As part of a winter update from WRT President Lisa Messinger, we will explain the policy in a bit more detail in a congregational letter next week. But since we had a number of congregant requests, we've decided to begin the regular livestreaming today since so many of us knew and loved Debbie, not only because of her wonderful music, but also as someone who spent so much time with us at WRT leading healing services and as an artist-in-residence for a year.

The link to the livestreaming webscast will appear on the bottom right section of the home page of our website and will not require a password. Feel free to inform your children away at school or others in the congregation who might not be able to attend the service that they can watch the webcast on www.wrtemple.org .

The webcast will begin at 7:45 PM. As a general guideline, please note that it is not possible for anyone watching to copy the webcast and that WRT retains all rights in and to each webcast, including the rights to use, modify, distribute, display publicly and control the contents of the webcast.

We hope you will be able to join us for this special Shabbat evening service in Debbie's memory, but, if not, we hope you and your family will be able to join us virtually to share in welcoming Shabbat and to enjoy Debbie's music that accompanies us through so many of our services.

Yoel Magid, Executive Director

Va'era 5772: The Dangers of a Hardened Heart

2012-01-20T12:30:00.001-05:00

MLK Shabbat - Shabbat Shemot

2012-01-13T17:50:00.004-05:00

SHEMOT - INTRODUCTION TO REV. DARIN MOORE

This is the meaning of this week’s Torah portion:

That when you take the power of God, and combine it with a human voice, and you multiply that human voice with other human voices, then there is nothing you cannot do.

The Hebrew slaves are languishing under the whip of Pharaoh’s taskmasters. A genocidal decree goes forth from the king, dooming the male children to destruction. A baby boy is floated down the Nile in a basket of reeds, rescued by the daughter of Pharaoh, Moses--from the water have I drawn him. As he grows to manhood he sees the suffering of the slaves. Defending one of the victims he strikes a taskmaster, killing him, and flees for his life. Moses has discovered the power of his fist to strike against injustice but he has not yet learned the power of his voice or the power of God.

To find that, he must go to the mountain, to the bush burning but unconsumed, to the call that summons him before Pharaoh.

He must learn of God’s signs and wonders, the miracles and marvels that will impress Pharaoh.

But most of all, Moses has to find his voice.

God gives him the words. “You must say to Pharaoh, “Thus says the Eternal: Israel is My firstborn child! Let my child go in order to worship Me. But if you refuse to let him go, then I will slay your firstborn.”

Moses does not feel ready to speak. “I beseech you, Almighty. I am not a man of words. Never have been, never will be. I have heavy lips and a heavy tongue.”

God relents and says, “What about Aaron your brother, the Levite? I know that he can really speak. Look, here he comes! When he sees you, he will rejoice in his heart. You shall speak to him. Put the words in his mouth, and then I’ll tell you what to do next.”

This is the meaning of this week’s Torah portion:

That when you take the power of God, and combine it with a human voice, and you multiply that human voice with other human voices, then there is nothing you cannot do. God’s power, Moses’s voice, Aaron’s voice all combine to overturn a tyrant, set free a people, turn the raging sea into dry land, give birth to a nation, bring forth the law from the mountain, survive for forty years in the wilderness. God’s power, and human voices speaking together.

You may not remember this but when Reverend Darin Moore last spoke at WRT, our sanctuary was very new -- he was one of the first guest speakers to our congregation. In fact, you may have missed this architectural detail but the doors to our sanctuary were normal-size back then.

When Rev. Moore spoke to us last time, 2 years ago, he literally blew the doors off the place. Rev. Moore, that is why our sanctuary now features ginormous doors -- we are ready for your message tonight!

Our oversize doors were really part of the plan all along. They echo the message of Isaiah, “My House shall be called a house of prayer for all people.” Those doors are wide enough to embrace all who enter, all God’s children--people who come here with joy to share, who need healing in their distress and comfort in their grief, who come to feel embraced.

We feel so privileged to welcome back to WRT Rev. Darin Moore, who has been the Pastor of Greater Centennial A.M.E. Zion Church of Mount Vernon since 1993.

Much has happened in our congregation and in yours since the last time you spoke here and lifted us up. In that time, WRT and Greater Centennial have joined a wider alliance of community institutions working for the common good, called Westchester United, a number of whose dedicated participants have already come up onto our bimah tonight.

Speaking of which: there must be a spiritual energy to this bimah; it seems that religious leaders who speak here get put on the track for national leadership in their respective denominations. Even as our own Rabbi Jacobs has ascended to the Presidency of the Union for Reform Judaism, our friend Rev. Moore has offered himself for the office of Bishop in the African Methodist Episcopal Church, a denomination officially born in 1796 that now serves more than a million members. A board of twelve bishops provides the leadership of the church; last year at this service we heard from one of the bishops, Rev. Dennis Proctor. You can now follow and support Rev. Moore’s candidacy by going to the Moore for Bishop 2012 page on Facebook, and following @MooreForZion on twitter.

That’s right! I know a lot of you have had questions about how much time your new senior rabbi spends on social media (all for work, I promise), but our guest tonight out-tweets me at every turn. Because he understands that the power of God and the power of the human voice can be even more powerful when we use technology in an inspired way to bring a powerful message to the people, and multiply it. Consider a recent tweet, a message broadcast into cyberspace in 140 characters or less, from Rev. Moore’s personal Twitter feed:

Happy New Year! Remember that it won't be new if u do

the same in 2012 that u did in 2011. A new year awaits a new YOU!

So instead of spending these precious minutes reading the obligatory biography of our distinguished guest, I want to encourage you to go online and get the message from the source.

We are thrilled to welcome back to WRT our friends from Greater Centennial: Rev. Moore and his wife Devieta; Rev. Julius Walls, his wife Cheryl and assistant Kay Heron; Minister of Music Mel Reburg; and Chairman of Operations Tony Granston; their amazing choir and musicians, and so many of their parishioners.

And we are grateful to God for the gift of the voice that has the power to make the message known.

Vayechi 5772 - A Vision for WRT Part I: Community

2012-01-06T17:35:00.002-05:00

VAYECHI 5772 - A VISION FOR WRT PART I: COMMUNITY

Rabbi Jonathan Blake

Westchester Reform Temple, Scarsdale, New York

This week’s Torah portion is called Vayechi, meaning “he lived”--an ironic title if ever there were one, for in this portion, both Jacob and Joseph die.

On his deathbed, Jacob called his family near and blessed his grandchildren and his children one by one. His eyes, the Torah reports, had become “heavy with age; he could not see” (Gen. 48:10) But his words reveal that while his eyesight had departed he had not lost his capacity for vision. “Gather around,” he says to his family, “and I will tell you what will happen a long, long time from now” (49:1).

Peering into the future, Jacob foretells the destiny of each of his sons, the tribes of Israel, noting who will prosper and who will falter, who will live by the sword and who by the sea, who will plough fertile fields and who will feed abundant flocks. Jacob shares his vision for the future of Israel.

We admire the quality of vision in our leaders. We expect it of them, this ability to look into the future, to see the possibilities and potential pitfalls. Visionary leaders must also articulate their vision and translate their commitments into transformative action: not only seeing the future, but charting a course.

When I think of visionary leaders, I think of Thomas Jefferson who articulated his vision of these United States of America in the signature documents of our nascent democracy, and translated this vision into two terms of a remarkable presidency.

I think of Steve Jobs whose mercurial, ill-tempered personality nevertheless accompanied a rare ability to imagine technologies that we would crave, explain them to us, and change the world.

And I think of Anat Hoffman, the pioneering champion of non-Orthodox Judaism in Israel who years ago came to see what many Israelis even today struggle to see--that there is more than one way to be Jewish. She works tirelessly to change the Israeli religious landscape.

When it comes to visionary leaders I think of my mentor Rick Jacobs, whose vision for WRT we see and feel everywhere--in our vibrant worship, in our social justice commitments that challenge the status quo, in this extraordinary campus that re-defines the possibilities for any Reform Temple. And of course no vision for WRT could be sustained without the legacy of Rabbi Jack Stern, who helped to transform a burgeoning little synagogue in the suburbs into one of the most venerable congregations of the Reform Movement.

When a Reform rabbi applies for a job, our parent organization, the Central Conference of American Rabbis, and its Office of Placement which helps congregations to locate rabbis to lead them, and to situate rabbis in new congregational jobs, insists that every applicant write something called a Vision Statement, a document that comprehensively articulates his or her vision of the rabbinate and the work he or she would like to do in the congregation. Two and a half pages, please.

Last Spring, I dutifully submitted a Vision Statement for consideration, and over the coming weeks and months, I will share with you its major components.

I organized my Statement around the five pillars of Westchester Reform Temple’s Mission Statement: Chavurah--Community; Avodah--Worship and Spirituality; Talmud Torah--Education; Tikkun Olam--Repairing the World; and Klal Yisrael--The Unity of the Jewish People. Then I added a sixth pillar, or, more to my way of seeing things, the sixth point of a Jewish star: Omanut v’Tarbut, Jewish Arts and Culture.

Tonight I want to spend a few minutes focusing on a Vision of Chavurah, Community, and specifically lifting up three major themes. One, inclusion. Two, reaching out beyond the walls of our synagogue. And three, deepening engagement with our members.

Inclusion. We comprise a congregation of individuals, each made in God’s image. One of my most sacred commitments as a rabbi is to affirm the rightful place of all who wish to participate in the life of our congregational community. This commitment embraces the inspiring work that our professional and lay leaders have undertaken in responding to congregants’ special needs, from students with physical, emotional, and academic disabilities to the needs of the elderly and infirm, of which this accessible bimah is an important emblem and a blessing -- I speak from recent, personal experience!

I am proud to announce tonight that WRT has just been awarded this year’s UJA-Federation Synagogue Inclusion Award, commending our efforts “to include, accommodate, and accept those congregants living with disabilities,” an honor “granted to synagogues that exhibit inclusion in all aspects of synagogue life.”

Inclusion must also extend to people struggling under the burden of financial difficulty. While financial need never excludes a family from membership, we have already begun to research appropriate responses to a community still struggling under today’s burdensome economy. By embracing people living in all socio-economic circumstances, we will fulfill the promise of the Prophet Isaiah, “My House shall be called a house of prayer for all people.”

And Inclusion means interfaith outreach. We draw strength not only from our Jewish members but from all who accompany us on our Jewish journeys. When Kelly’s own spiritual quest--a journey that began long before we met--led her to choose to become Jewish, I came to understand the importance of interfaith outreach. I also came to inherit an extended interfaith family. My mother-in-law and brother-in-law are not Jewish but their feelings of warmth toward Judaism and the Jewish people derive directly from how they were treated at Rockdale Temple in Cincinnati where Kelly celebrated her conversion. Interfaith outreach will become an increasingly important theme as interfaith marriages touch more and more of our families.

Reaching out beyond the walls of our synagogue. WRT emerged first among area congregations as a sponsor of a program called Next Dor NYC, which uses one-on-one networking and group programs to create community among people in their 20s and 30s in New York City. Over the summer I enlisted seven other partner congregations, each of whom may have dozens of people in their 20s and 30s who grew up in our congregations and whose lives now revolve around the city. We cannot expect them to commute to Scarsdale, Rye, White Plains, Roslyn, or Short Hills for Friday evening services, Monday night classes or a Sunday morning program. But dozens are now showing up regularly for Next Dor services, programs and social gatherings in the city. If you have a friend or a relative in this age bracket who would like to get involved, just let me know.

I’m also encouraged by the enthusiastic response to the application of social media, not only from our youth, but also from veteran Torah Study participants who tune in each week to WRT’s Torah Study blog. Our new website, www.wrtemple.org is clean, clear, and updated regularly so if you haven’t logged on lately, check it out.

When I interviewed for the position this summer, one thoughtful search committee member asked, “As senior rabbi, do you think you’re still going to want to spend your time using social media like Facebook and Twitter and video blogging?” I responded, “The real question is, why is the entire professional staff of a large, presumably cutting-edge synagogue like ours not already doing the same?” New technologies provide new opportunities, like live-streaming services which can reach members and non-members, travelers and the homebound, college students and city-dwellers alike: a powerful way to reach the unaffiliated.

Engaging our Members. When it comes to creating sacred community, “high-tech” is just a tool in service of “high-touch,” which means leading with compassion, openness, and humility. Deepening our pastoral caregiving, with an emphasis on sustained interaction with congregants in need of comfort and healing will be a priority for all of us.

The Caring Community of WRT which reaches out to people in times of sorrow and celebration is already hard at work meeting the emotional and spiritual needs of our 1,200 households undergoing every manner of life transition. And a caring team of Shiva Service Leaders has joined the clergy who remain on call to assist in homes experiencing bereavement.

We rabbis and cantors also regularly visit congregants at White Plains Hospital. Hospitals are not authorized to disclose confidential information about patients, so we request your help in notifying us about visitation requests. In all these ways and more, my vision encompasses a community where each of us feels held and embraced and understood--from our youngest to our oldest members, from our families with young children to our empty-nesters, from our toddlers to our teens, from those without children to those living through divorce or bereavement.

In the end, though, my vision of community is not primarily about the clergy and what we bring to the table. I read an article in this week’s New York Magazine in which the author, Justin Davidson, a classical music critic, is given an opportunity to live out a fantasy, to conduct a rehearsal of the New York Philharmonic. He chooses the Overture to Mozart’s Don Giovanni, and soon discovers that despite a conducting class here and there back in his school days, he has no idea what on earth he is doing. He turns to Music Director Alan Gilbert for advice. “‘Just beat clearly and they’ll take care of it,’ he advises.” And James Ross who, with Gilbert, runs the Juilliard School’s conducting program, has this piece of wisdom to offer: “The sound is all around and behind you. You have to gather it from there.”

Ross asks him to set aside the baton, close his eyes, and turn his back to the orchestra so that he’ll listen more and insist less.... “[W]e have to realize the emotional life of the music is going to be there, no matter what’s going on inside us.”

This is what I know about this extraordinary community: the emotional life of the music is going to be there, no matter what’s going inside us (i.e., the professionals, the clergy).

I know I speak for my exceptional colleagues when I say that we will try to beat clearly as we take this journey together. But my experience of this congregation has taught me that you’ll take care of it--you, the community, you the people--you, who make the music.

Vayiggash 5772 - Judah and Judaism

2011-12-30T17:38:00.007-05:00

VAYIGGASH 5772

You may have heard this week about eight-year-old Naama Margolese, the daughter of American Modern Orthodox Jews who made aliyah and who now live in Beit Shemesh, an increasingly haredi or ultra-Orthodox enclave in Israel.

“...Naama had become terrified of walking to her elementary school … after ultra-Orthodox men spit on her, insulted her and called her a prostitute because her modest dress did not adhere exactly to their more rigorous dress code” (The New York Times, “Israeli Girl, 8, at Center of Tension Over Religious Extremism,” December 27, 2011). Their attack has escalated into riots, where hundreds of men and boys from the haredi community have demonstrated, at times violently, to defend gender separation and their rigorous definition of modesty.

Several hundred haredi residents of Beit Shemesh have now become sufficiently emboldened to consider it appropriate to bully a schoolgirl. They call themselves Sicarii after the so-called “dagger men” who used stealth tactics to assassinate not only Roman enemies during the Judean war of the first century CE but also their own Jewish compatriots who did not share their hardline rejection of Roman authority. I call these men Jewish extremists, because that’s what they are, as much today as they were 2,000 years ago.

This virulent strain of Jewish extremism does not incubate in a vacuum, nor does it represent a totally anomalous expression of Judaism in Israel today. Spitting on a schoolgirl represents only the latest and perhaps most offensive of a string of public behaviors that illustrate what happens when a group of anti-modern extremists bump up against a burgeoning modern, socially progressive society.

As reported in this week’s New York Times, in recent weeks and months, “Orthodox male soldiers walked out of a ceremony where female soldiers were singing, adhering to what they consider to be a religious prohibition against hearing a woman’s voice; women have been challenging the seating arrangements on strictly ‘kosher’ [that is to say, gender-segregated] buses serving ultra-Orthodox neighborhoods and some inter-city routes, where female passengers are expected to sit at the back” (Ibid).

Adding fuel to the fire, there is the political reality, that Israel’s governments continue to empower extremist constituencies so that ultra-Orthodox parties end up influencing policy. In the Knesset, whose structure necessitates government by coalition, any ruling party needs to team up with a number of smaller parties representing various voting blocs in order to maintain an ever-tenuous hold on power. Should the ruling party fail to mollify its ultra-Orthodox partners, these smaller parties can and will bring down the government. The very threat of dissolution usually leads more mainstream Israeli leaders to bite their tongues, hold their noses, avert their eyes while haredi lawmakers assert their backward views and insert their draconian vision of Jewish law into the law of the land.

There is also the demographic reality. The haredi are growing well out of proportion to the rest of Israeli society and their rising voices reflect their multiplying numbers. Indeed, the only other demographic group reproducing at a similar rate in this part of the world is the Palestinians, a polarizing intensification of society’s extremes that sets up the Holy Land for aggravated conflict, even conflagration.

As the Beit Shemesh brouhaha unfolded, a congregant sent me an earnest, anguished, and probing e-mail that read, in part, “it is increasingly difficult to voice support for Israel.”

I pause here to acknowledge that there may well be among you joining us for Shabbat this evening a number who find my remarks uncomfortable. Israel, some would argue, does not need American rabbis exposing the seamiest underbelly of Israeli society. Reform Jewish communities in particular, some may argue, not inaccurately, already suffer from a debilitating malaise of Israel apathy, and what they do know about Israel is twisted and biased.
So--if you’re one of those people--just hang on. I’m not done.

The news from Beit Shemesh this week is a snapshot of the real-world Israel. To me, Israel means more than history and hopes and dreams although it also means all of those things. The real-world Israel enfolds all its dualities--triumphs and tribulations, progress and its regress. The real-world Israel embraces signature paradoxes: hi-tech and backwards, brave and bellicose, altruistic and self-serving, tolerant and repressive. The Israel of the real world and the Israel of historic hopes and dreams: one does not exist without the other.

I know that discussing the paradoxical dualities of Israel carries risks, but this week’s news is about so much more than a man spitting on a girl. It’s about a self-righteous fanatical community spitting on the soul of Judaism. Therefore we stand up and speak out.

And now a word about this week’s Torah portion.

For the past few weeks we’ve been reading the story of Joseph but this week the spotlight illuminates Judah who emerges as the real hero of the story. Joseph, now vice-regent to Pharaoh, vizier of all Egypt, has imprisoned his kid brother Benjamin as a ransom, testing his brothers who long ago mistreated Joseph, selling him into servitude, leaving him for dead, bereaving their father Jacob of his beloved son. Now Joseph has the upper hand. He wishes to find out if his brothers have become honest men, stand-up guys who have repented, changed their ways. With Benjamin in custody the brothers face an existential test: stand up for their brother and risk coming away empty-handed, or grab their rations and hightail it to Canaan without him.

At that moment, Vayiggash--a verb meaning, “he stepped up” and the title of this week’s portion. Judah stood up. He, alone among his brothers, stepped forward, stood before Joseph, stood up for his vulnerable youngest brother. “The boy cannot leave his father,” Judah insisted, “for if he leaves his father, he will die.” He alone took responsibility. He knew that if he failed to bring him home, he would “have sinned against” his “father forever.” “So now, please let your servant stay instead of the boy as a slave to my lord,” he pleaded, “and let the boy go back home with his brothers."

This is Judah’s finest moment, this moment of stepping forward and standing up, this moment of Vayiggash that gives our portion its name, and it is not only Judah’s defining moment it is a defining moment for the Jewish people. For who are we but Yehudim--a word meaning Jews but more literally, the people of Judah?

We are people of Judah, we Jews, because like Judah of the Bible we stand up for the little guy. What is the most repeated instruction in the Torah? “You shall not oppress the stranger--for you know the heart of the stranger, the vulnerable, the needy--having been slaves in the land of Egypt.” 36 times it finds expression in the Five Books of Moses. Judah’s essential moment foreshadows the Jew’s essential mission.

And this is also what we have seen this week--because in the wake of the repugnant behavior coming out of Beit Shemesh we have also seen tens of thousands of Israelis rallying in Beit Shemesh to protest ultra-Orthodox extremism. “We are fighting for the soul of the nation,” President Shimon Peres said.

A day after the protests, a leading Israeli rabbi--a haredi Jew by any standard, by the way--ruled that gender segregated buses violate Jewish law.

These voices also represent the real-world Israel, proof-positive that Israel is a thriving democracy, not a theocracy that will allow itself to be bullied into submission by its most fanatical fringes. This is an Israel worth celebrating, the Israel I love, an Israel with the soul of Judah--that is, a Jewish soul.

Meanwhile, reassuring condemnations continue to pour in from all parts of the Jewish world and from every denomination. On Wednesday, an ultra-Orthodox rabbi and contributor to the Jerusalem Post did what Judah did--he stood up and spoke out. “Attacking and spitting on a child is wrong, wrong wrong,” wrote Rabbi Issamar Ginzberg. “We are meant to be a light unto the nations, and not in the headlines of the New York Times for such unbelievably appalling behavior.”

Noting that most haredi Jews do not read the secular media (and therefore their silence should not be mistaken for approval) Ginzberg added, “I am not the spokesmen for Charedi Jewry--but I am a member of that segment of society, and proudly so. That said--this turn of events does not represent me, nor 99.9% of the people I know.”

I for one am not so sure that 99.9% of the haredi world disavow this week’s ugliness, and I would not so blithely let the collective haredi community off the hook for their silence to which Rabbi Ginzberg’s remark is a notable and refreshing exception. Nor should we excuse the obstinate unscrupulousness of the Israeli government in furthering the politics of appeasement toward the most repellent elements of Jewish religious society.

At the same time, I would caution us about impugning Israel entire. The fact of the matter is, religious fundamentalism is ugly in any guise, and America is no less a host to fundamentalists, even violent fanatics, than Israel, or for that matter, Iran. The difference is, in Israel as in America, we the people stand up in protest like Judah. In Iran the fanatics are running the show and those who dare stand up find themselves facing down the pepper spray cans, batons, and the gunsights of the Basij, Iran’s notorious paramilitary group.

The Jewish response is never to abandon Israel. To do so is to become no better than the brothers who left Joseph for dead. The Jewish response is to be like Judah, Vayiggash, who stood up, put himself in the shoes of the little guy, and spoke truth to power.

Our tradition summons us to engage with Israel all the more deeply now, standing with the vast majority of Israelis who understand that there’s more than one way to be Jewish and that the haredim do not speak for us.

We are one people--we American Jews, we Israeli Jews--with one Jewish soul and one glorious heritage that impels us to pursue justice. We call that heritage Judaism, or, more to the point, Judah-ism.

Shabbat Shalom!

A Chanukah Message about Miracles - 5772

2011-12-23T16:44:00.000-05:00

Shabbat Wishes from The URJ Biennial

2011-12-16T14:34:00.004-05:00

Dear Friends,

Every 2 years, the Reform Movement convenes its Biennial Convention. This year, just outside Washington, DC, the Reform Movement has gathered together for its largest-ever Biennial (over 6,000 registrants!)

President Obama will be addressing the convention momentarily (as I write this at 2:35 PM on Friday). Throughout the weekend, the Biennial will sponsor inspiring worship, tributes to outgoing President of the URJ Eric Yoffie and incoming President Richard Jacobs (of Westchester Reform Temple).

Be part of the excitement this weekend by following the live webstream of the Biennial of the URJ by clicking here:

http://urj.org/biennial11/webcast/

Vayishlach 5772

2011-12-08T12:55:00.002-05:00

Jacobs' Farewell - Vayetze 5772

2011-12-02T16:22:00.002-05:00

No, the apostrophe is not misplaced....

In this week's portion, Jacob leaves home -- the opening word and title of the parasha, Vayetze, means "he left":

"So Jacob left Be'er-sheva and went to Haran" (Gen. 28:10).

And so begins the saga of Jacob as a man away from his home for the first time: he will go to his family's ancestral land, to Paddan-Aram, there to serve Laban who will be his father-in-law and employer....

Our own WRT community is preparing to say farewell to Rabbi Richard Jacobs, so Jacob's departure corresponds in poetic symmetry with Jacobs' departure. Tonight at WRT at 6:15 please join us for a service honoring Rabbi Jacobs' 20 years of devoted service as the senior rabbi of Westchester Reform Temple. Rabbi Jacobs' imprimatur is felt in every dimension of our congregation's life--in our approach to worship, education, social justice, Israel, and community--and in the very building itself, this magnificent campus that was just awarded the 2011 American Architecture Award (to Rogers Marvel Architects).

Please join us tonight to celebrate Rabbi Jacobs' service to our community, the incredible legacy of Jewish leadership and inspiration that he leaves our temple and that will ever abide among us, and wish him well in his new leadership role as the incoming President of the Union for Reform Judaism.

Please also use this page to offer comments and tributes honoring Rabbi Jacobs -- it will be deeply moving to have your words and well wishes recorded here.

Speaking personally, I am forever indebted to my rabbi, friend, mentor, and teacher. May God bless him in this special moment of transition.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Jonathan Blake

Seeing And Not Seeing: A Reflection on Parashat Toldot (5772)

2011-11-25T17:32:00.002-05:00

SEEING AND NOT SEEING

D’var Torah for Parashat Toldot 5772

November 25, 2011 - 6:15 PM

Rabbi Jonathan Blake, Westchester Reform Temple

Taken at face value, this week’s Torah portion, Toldot, gives us every reason to conclude that Isaac, son of Abraham, father of Jacob and Esau, was a complete idiot.

“When Isaac was old, and his eyes too dim to see, he summoned his older son Esau and said to him, “My son!” And Esau replied “Here I am.” Isaac sent Esau out to the fields, to hunt some game for preparing a delicious meal for Papa.

Rebecca saw in this an opportunity for Jacob to seize his father’s blessing. They schemed for him to impersonate his brother, wearing hairy goat skins to simulate the hirsute Esau, presenting a delicious goat stew which mom had made lickety split while Esau was out hunting.

Now pay attention to how many times Isaac seems on the verge of figuring out what’s going on… but then, doesn’t.

Jacob “came to his father and said, ‘My father!’ And he replied, ‘Here I am. Who are you, my son?’”

“Jacob said to his father, ‘I am Esau your firstborn. I have done as you have instructed me. Please get up, sit down and eat of my game, so that you may give me your innermost blessing.’”

“Then Isaac asked his son, ‘How is it that you have found [it] so quickly, my son?’ And he said, “Because the Lord your God prepared it in my presence.’”

(I want to interject here, that Jacob has just told his father that the reason dinner came out so fast is because God made dinner.)

This did not seem to faze him. “Isaac said to Jacob, ‘Please come closer, so that I may feel you, my son, whether you are really my son Esau or not.’”

“So Jacob approached Isaac his father, and he felt him, and said, ‘The voice is the voice of Jacob, but the hands are the hands of Esau!’”

“And then,” the Torah tells us, Isaac “did not recognize him because his hands were hairy like the hands of his brother Esau, and so he blessed him.”

But that’s not even the end of the episode!

"'Are you [really] my son Esau?’" Isaac asked again. And Jacob answered, "I am!"

After enjoying dinner, Isaac said, "Please come closer and kiss me, my son."

So Jacob came closer. Isaac kissed him, smelled his garments, and blessed him, saying, "Behold, the fragrance of my son is like the fragrance of a field, which the Lord has blessed!”

Three times did Isaac directly confront Jacob: “Who are you, for real?” He felt him, kissed him, smelled him, ate his food. Deprived of eyesight he relied on hearing, touch, smell and taste. The voice gave Jacob away; but the hairy disguise, the outdoorsy smell, the delicious dinner all said “Esau” so again, taken at face value, Isaac was duped.

But come now. Are we really to believe that Jacob tricked his father into transferring a precious family heritage to the wrong son? The stakes were so high. How could Isaac have let it happen? If even a shred of doubt nagged at him, why would he have gone through with it?

For with this blessing Isaac set in motion the rest of the Jewish story: Jacob will inherit the mantle of leadership. “Nations shall serve you and kingdoms shall bow down to you.... You shall be master over your brothers, and your mother's sons shall bow down to you. Those who curse you shall be cursed, and those who bless you shall be blessed.”

An anguished Esau burst into the room after Jacob departed, pleading with his father for another blessing. “Bless me too, father! Bless me too!” he wept. It is one of the most heartbreaking scenes in all of literature. But the deed is done and not even the promise that one day Esau will break Jacob’s yoke can ameliorate his hurt feelings.

Esau flew into a murderous rage and Jacob fled, initiating a pattern that will persist throughout the story of our people: Jacob, that is, Israel, imperiled by brutish enemies. (Esau will come to represent the Roman Empire.) The people of the book always having to outwit or outrun the hunter.

All because, it would seem, Isaac was a complete idiot.

I mean, really? Could he really not figure out what was going on? There is a difference, after all, between visually impaired and comprehensively blind to reality. Could he not have just switched the blessing when he found out? “Oops, sorry boys. My bad. Do-over.”

Something about this face-value reading doesn’t add up. Idiocy does not explain Isaac’s behavior, and, for that matter, neither does blindness. Maybe Isaac’s condition conveniently allowed him to get away with subverting a cultural norm--the blessing of the firstborn son--in order to privilege the son better suited to spiritual leadership.

As it turns out, a number of noted commentators on this passage believed that Isaac knew exactly what he was doing by bestowing the responsibility of leadership on Jacob. The 19th century Russian rabbi known as Malbim concluded that Isaac deliberately bypassed Esau who had forfeited all claim to future Jewish leadership when he intermarried with idolatrous women.

And the supreme authority RaSHI, drawing on earlier midrash, takes great pains to portray Isaac as a willing partner in Jacob’s deception (which, however improbably, he concludes was not really a deception at all).

So before we smear Isaac with a reputation for idiocy we could give the old man the benefit of the doubt. It seems to me that this story comments meaningfully on a common phenomenon among us human beings: not being blind so much as refusing to see what’s right in front of our faces, especially if what’s right in front of our faces makes us uncomfortable, challenges our ways of looking at the world, conflicts with our stated beliefs, preconceived ideas, or deeply held convictions and intentions.

In short, we don’t see what we don’t want to see.

Last week, New York Times columnist David Brooks published a provocative op-ed that went, in part, like this:

“First came the atrocity, then came the vanity. The atrocity is what Jerry Sandusky has been accused of doing at Penn State. The vanity is the outraged reaction of a zillion commentators over the past week, whose indignation is based on the assumption that if they had been in Joe Paterno’s shoes, or assistant coach Mike McQueary’s shoes, they would have behaved better. They would have taken action and stopped any sexual assaults.

Unfortunately, none of us can safely make that assumption. Over the course of history—during the Holocaust, the Rwandan genocide or the street beatings that happen in American neighborhoods—the same pattern has emerged. Many people do not intervene. Very often they see but they don’t see.

...Some people don’t look at the things that make them uncomfortable. In one experiment, people were shown pictures, some of which contained sexual imagery. Machines tracked their eye movements. The people who were uncomfortable with sex never let their eyes dart over to the uncomfortable parts of the pictures.

As Daniel Goleman wrote in his book ‘Vital Lies, Simple Truths,’ ‘In order to avoid looking, some element of the mind must have known first what the picture contained, so that it knew what to avoid. The mind somehow grasps what is going on and rushes a protective filter into place, thus steering awareness away from what threatens.’

Even in cases where people consciously register some offense, they still often don’t intervene. In research done at Penn State and published in 1999, students were asked if they would make a stink if someone made a sexist remark in their presence. Half said yes. When researchers arranged for that to happen, only 16 percent protested.

...So many people do nothing while witnessing ongoing crimes, psychologists have a name for it: the Bystander Effect. The more people are around to witness the crime, the less likely they are to intervene.

...A woman was recently murdered at a yoga clothing store in Maryland while employees at the Apple Store next door heard the disturbing noises but did not investigate. Ilan Halimi, a French Jew, was tortured for 24 days by 20 Moroccan kidnappers, with the full knowledge of neighbors. Nobody did anything, and Halimi eventually was murdered.

People are really good at self-deception. We attend to the facts we like and suppress the ones we don’t. We inflate our own virtues and predict we will behave more nobly than we actually do.

...The proper question is: How can we ourselves overcome our natural tendency to evade and self-deceive? That was the proper question after Abu Ghraib, Madoff, the Wall Street follies and a thousand other scandals. But it’s a question this society has a hard time asking because the most seductive evasion is the one that leads us to deny the underside of our own nature.”

We have a phrase for this all-too-human tendency to overlook the things that disturb us, that threaten to knock us from a place of complacency to a place of concern; we call it “turning a blind eye.” How many kids turn a blind eye when we see a classmate being teased? How many of us turn a blind eye when we see a fellow man or woman being mistreated, because to get involved might exact a cost, entail a risk?

Even more:

Most of us--and I am certainly as guilty as anyone on this--tend not to want to know every last detail of exactly what and whom our mutual fund investments are supporting; exactly where and how our food and clothing and electronics and household items are produced; exactly how much the cooks who prepared our last four-star dinner in Manhattan are taking home and how much they are sending home each month to family members in, say, Guatemala; exactly how big our carbon footprints have become and how dependent we remain on fossil fuels. We know that our American way of life depends in large measure on cheap foreign labor and foreign oil but we usually remain deliberately vague on the specifics.

Even in these lean times we are, most of us, coming to services with bellies still full of Thanksgiving dinner and hearts appropriately full of gratitude for our blessings. From a place of comfort and contentment it becomes easy not to see what we don’t want to see--like the nagging knowledge that, for instance, while we were eating Thanksgiving dinner last night, the better part of 50 million Americans were wondering where their next meal would come from.

But our Jewish tradition teaches that we have to see not only what we want to see but also what we do not want to see. The road to Jewish spiritual enlightenment does not lead to a monastery cloistered from the world.

The road to Jewish spiritual enlightenment leads directly through the experience of human suffering, down the ladder of economic injustice, deep into the belly of the the real world, with all its hurting, all its aching... and all its redemptive possibilities for helping and healing.

And the only way to walk that crooked road is with eyes wide open.

Chayei Sarah 5772: A Pre-Thanksgiving Reflection

2011-11-17T16:26:00.004-05:00

Shalom, friends!

A few reflections before the Thanksgiving holiday is upon us....

You may want to see Gen. 24:52 and RaSHI ad loc. as well as the surrounding material for reference.

I will be away this weekend in Great Barrington on our annual Confirmation Class Retreat at the URJ Eisner Camp, but I'll be eager to follow your comments on the blog!

With warm wishes as the weather turns cold....

Rabbi Jonathan Blake

Vayera 5772 - The Healing Effect of Being Present for Others

2011-11-11T15:15:00.002-05:00

Dear Friends,

Thank you for your patience while I've been recovering from an injury over the past 10 days. I am grateful for all of your prayers and supportive wishes.

Please view this little video comment on this week's reading (Vayera, Genesis 18:1 - 22:24) where I explore the intersection between being present for others and healing, in a very personal way!

Shabbat Shalom,

Jonathan

Rabbi Jonathan Blake

Westchester Reform Temple

Scarsdale, New York

NOACH 5772

2011-10-28T19:28:00.001-04:00

I’m sure many of you know the story of the Tower of Babel, at the very end of this week’s parasha, Noach. It depicts a group of settlers establishing a city and building a tower extending into the heavens in order “to make a name for themselves.” Displeased with the building project, God confuses the languages of the builders so that they can no longer communicate and then disperses them to all the lands of the earth.

This is what we might call an etiological folk tale, a story designed to explain some feature of the world as we know it, like, how the tiger got its stripes. In this case, our story responds to the question, Why do people speak different languages? Even more to the point, why is human civilization so fractured and fractious? Why can’t we all just get along?

The Rabbis pay special attention to a feature of the story that I wish to highlight for us tonight. The way in which the text describes God’s behavior particularly interests them. Rather than summarily scattering and confusing the builders from a heavenly perch, the text reports that God, using something like the “royal we,” says, Hava Nerdah, “Hey, let’s go down there” before taking action. Two verses later the story says, “So God went down to see the city and the tower that the people were building.”

Why on earth would God need to leave the heavens, to come down, in order to see what was going on in Babel? Does not the Omnipresent One know all, see all? This question fuels the Rabbinic imagination.

It was not the case, concludes the midrash, that God needed to go down in order to see what what going on so much as God wished to model for human beings the proper way to evaluate any situation. RaSHI says that God said Hava Nerdah, “Let’s go down there,” in order to teach us that anyone who would judge a situation cannot determine if it is really bad [or good] until actually seeing it and comprehending it in person.” If you want to understand, first see with your own eyes.

We are living in a time and place that has made it possible, indeed, so easy, to formulate opinions and make judgments at a remove, without first-hand knowledge. The digital age has made every media image unreliable: what looks like cereal glistening with droplets of milk and ripe red strawberries in an advertisement is really some unholy and unpalatable combination of corn syrup and heavy cream or even glue. You really want to know how things are? Hava Nerdah, the Torah says. You have to see things with your own eyes.

The 24/7 news cycle bombards us with media images of people and places we will never see with our own eyes, surrounds the images with “expert” commentary, and then gives anyone with an Internet connection free reign to bloviate at will. The “comment” pages of any online news article or op-ed have become a repository for the worst sort of bilious nonsense, a soapbox for the ignorant and petulant.

Not long ago, an Orthodox Jewish guest to WRT’s online Torah Study blog used our forum for disparaging remarks about Reform Judaism and Reform Jews. In the spirit of Hava Nerdah, of seeing it for oneself, our Torah study community responded with open and sincere invitations to come to WRT and experience firsthand a thriving, engaged Reform Jewish community. And this cuts both ways; too many Reform Jews have a mental image of what goes on in Orthodox synagogues informed not by eyewitness testimony but by a combination of imagination, invention, hearsay, and childhood recollections. To promote interdenominational harmony, we need a serious dose of Hava Nerdah, of going down and seeing with our own eyes before passing judgment.

What about our perceptions of Israel? One interesting exercise is to hand a classroom of Jewish teenagers some blank paper and markers and ask them first to draw “a typical American home.” Then draw “a typical Japanese home.” Finally we ask them to draw “a typical Israeli home.” The pictures speak volumes about this week’s Torah lesson. The “American homes” feature green lawns, colorful furniture, happy children, televisions, and dogs. “Japanese homes” come out in black-and-white with serious children. And the pictures of “Israeli homes” often feature barbed-wire fences, explosions, military aircraft, and anguished faces, with backdrops of sandy deserts and camels. It would make us laugh if it weren’t so sad. In December I will be leading a WRT Family Trip to Israel and I again invite you to fulfill the precept of Hava Nerdah, of seeing for yourself the beauty, the exuberance, the high-tech, ecologically diverse, complex multicultural tapestry of modern-day Israel. We have a few spots still available and anyone who is interested can ask me about it.

When I think of the far-reaching wisdom of this week’s teaching, I wonder aloud: How many Americans have actually been inside a mosque? To experience the ritual of respectfully removing one’s shoes and peacefully stepping inside an ornately inscribed prayer space, observing the ritual movement and chanted liturgies of a Muslim community in the act of prayer? The word “mosque” conjures, for millions of non-Muslims, images that do not comport with what one might actually see.

How many Americans who have never visited New York carry an image of our beloved city informed more by the smoldering ruins of 9/11 than by the city blocks of the Upper East Side, the shops of SoHo, and picnics in Central Park?

This is nothing new, of course. If you’ve ever looked at very old maps you’ve probably gawked at the inaccuracies and omissions, some earnest cartographer’s attempt to illustrate the world without being able to see it with his own eyes. An astonishing passage in Cormac McCarthy’s landmark book Blood Meridian speaks of “those whited regions on old maps where monsters do live and where the is nothing other of the known world save conjectural winds” (p. 152).

Medieval artists almost invariably portrayed the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden as a shiny, red apple even though the Bible never specifies the fruit. Sometimes art tells an even more provocative, even dangerous, version of events. Despite the portrayal of almost every Christian masterwork, Jesus was surely not Caucasian.

So it was with this week’s lesson in mind that I took the 6 train downtown this past Sunday, accompanied by my friend Michael Friedman, who was my first rabbinical intern at WRT and who now is a rabbi at Central Synagogue in Manhattan, to see with our own eyes what’s happening in Zuccotti Square near Wall Street. We went not in neckties but in jeans, and did not identify ourselves as rabbis. Using a small videocamera to record our experience, we approached some of the demonstrators who have occupied this public square since September 17th but whom we had only seen on the news day after day. Hava Nerdah, we said: Hey, let’s go down there and see for ourselves what this is all about.

Mike and I spent some time listening to some demonstrators speak about a number of causes including fracking (short for hydraulic fracturing, a process of using pressurized fluid to create a fracture in a rock layer to release petroleum or natural gas, which has come under fire for environmental and health concerns), student loan reduction, campaign finance reform, and unemployment. We also heard from opportunistic vendors and hangers-on, Hare Krishnas, Christian evangelicals, a synchronized drumming circle, and a sing-along to Madonna’s song “Material Girl.” Before departing we encountered an old-timey string band with an enthusiastic leader who taught us how to square dance. Upon departing, Mike and I turned to each other and in a unison voice that could only be described as ironic, said, “It’s Babel.” Babel, that place of confused speech.

I also spent some time this week applying the lesson of Hava Nerdah, of seeing things up close, by speaking one-on-one with members of New York’s financial community about their experience of the Movement. Fortunately we have a number in our congregational directory who were eager to share their perspective with me. One thoughtful respondent shared with me a sense of frustration in the Wall Street and business community about the way in which this Movement taints even well-intentioned people in the business world. “There is a sense,” he said, “that we share the frustration of a growing discrepancy between rich and poor in America. This, it seems to me, is fair game. But it is social-policy oriented, which has been misdirected at Wall Street instead of at Washington which sets the boundaries for what companies can and cannot do.” “I get it that we’re in a tough economy and that there is paralysis in Washington, D.C.,” he added. But the business community feels unjustly maligned that not only investment banking in its entirety, but capitalism in general, have come under fire.

Another respondent reminded me, “you could say that everything we see around us we built with our capital investment system.”

Still others shared their sense that the Movement’s original intentions have become distorted by hangers-on and hypocrites like the rappers Kanye West who joined the protesters wearing a suit estimated to cost $30,000 and Jay-Z who pulled up in his Bentley. And more than a few noted their exasperation with the protesters having become “media darlings” given the problems with their message.

More than once the Talmud resolves a dispute in a matter of Jewish law with the advice, “Puk Hazei Mai Amma Davar - go see what the people are doing” (Berachot 45a, Eiruvin 14b). When we really make the effort to see things up close, to ask the important questions on all sides of a public matter, the image we obtain gradually takes focus. Even more, a genuine conversation emerges. It becomes harder to talk past one another with black-and-white statements spoken from a position of ignorance or limited information.

You could say that seeing things up-close make our picture of the world three dimensional.

For me, the opportunity to apply the wisdom of Hava Nerdah, of going down and seeing things with my own eyes and hearing things with my own ears, is one I will cherish in my forthcoming role at WRT. As I see it my greatest immediate privilege and responsibility will be to see and hear you up close and personal, sharing the stories, beliefs, and values, that make WRT such a vibrant and beautiful expression of the multicolored tapestry of Reform Jewish life in America.

Bereshit 5772: Learning to STOP

2011-10-21T19:22:00.001-04:00

Shabbat Shalom, Internet!

Sukkot 5772 - Melting into the Infinite

2011-10-14T16:53:00.001-04:00

Erev Rosh Ha-Shanah Remarks

2011-09-30T22:14:00.002-04:00

Just follow this link.

Wishing all of our readers a very sweet and meaningful new year.

L'Shanah Tovah!

RJEB

Nitzavim-Vayeilech 5771

2011-09-23T17:37:00.002-04:00

SPOILER ALERT!

These are the remarks I will deliver to the congregation at 7:45 services this evening. If you'd rather hear them there, then stop reading!

Shabbat Shalom,

Jonathan

STANDING STILL & MOVING FORWARD...

The double portion of Torah we read this week, the last one before the Holidays, is called Nitzavim-Vayeilech. The portion frames some of the most inspirational verses in all of literature including the stirring passage that we will read in our community on the morning of Yom Kippur, in which Moses concludes the covenant between God and the People of Israel.

This has been a most special week for me and for Kelly; just Tuesday night I accepted the invitation of the congregation of Westchester Reform Temple to serve as its next senior rabbi, an honor held by very few rabbis in the 58-year history of this distinguished congregation, and most recently (meaning, the last 50 of those 58 years) by only two rabbis, two of the greatest rabbis of their respective generations, two men I am proud to call my rabbis, Jack Stern of blessed memory, and Rick Jacobs who has taught me so much. Really, this is, in more ways than one, kinda like trying to follow Michael Jordan after he left the Bulls. (I mean, Rick even taught me how to use a sports metaphor in a sermon! How’d I do, boss?)

As I considered the Torah portion this week, my thoughts raced from one idea to another. So many things to talk about, so many ideas I am eager to share with you! The portion begins with an image of all the people in the Israelite community standing together: “You are standing here today, all of you, in the presence of Adonai your God, your officials, your tribal heads, your elders, your magistrates, every Israelite person; your young ones, your women, and the stranger who resides among you, from the one who chops your wood to the one who draws your water…” so maybe I could talk about my vision of an inclusive community here at WRT.

It includes my favorite pep talk about the Jewish people’s encounter with our sacred tradition: “See, the Instruction I command you this day is not too wondrous for you, nor too far away. It is not in the heavens… nor is it across the sea; no, it is so very close, in your mouth, and in your heart, and you can do it”; so maybe I could talk about my vision of sacred study and sacred action here at WRT.

Or, maybe I could try to come up with something to say about the second half of this week’s reading, in which Moses announces that he’s about to depart, and that leadership will be handed over to his successor, Joshua. Moses leaves much parting wisdom for his people and his successor, three times exhorting them to “be strong and courageous.” He even puts in place a kind of transition plan, which includes downloading a lot of advice to Joshua and reminding the people to study and follow the Torah. It’s kind of like that wonderful scene in the Coen brothers’ recent movie A Serious Man in which the wizened old Rabbi Marshak whispers his final word of advice to the nervously expectant Bar Mitzvah: “Be a good boy.”

But as I read this section, I began to lose courage, especially when I got to the very end of the parasha in which Moshe Rabbeinu, the departing leader, the outgoing rabbi, as it were, says to the people that, after he leaves, “you will surely become corrupted, and deviate from the way which I had commanded you. Consequently, evil will befall you in the long run, because you did wrong by God.” Yikes.

So instead I took a deep breath and looked again at this double-parasha, and stopped short, actually, right at the title. Nitzavim - Vayeilech. As I contemplated these two words, I realized that the entire message I wanted to share with you tonight is encapsulated in these two words. Nitzavim - Vayeilech. The first word, Nitzavim, means to stand still. The second word, Vayeilech, means to go forward. It occurred to me: so much of living a meaningful life is about knowing when and how to stand still, and when and how to move forward.

I am reminded of an old teaching that compares these two dimensions of living to two different forces observable in Nature. One is the power of the wind that can sway the mighty oak. This is the power to move forward, to push things forward. The other is the power of the oak that can withstand the power of the wind. This is the power to stand still, even in the face of mighty forces.

Moving and standing still, standing still and moving: the twin dynamics of our lives. I have met rare individuals who excelled at both; people who, for instance, could stop and grieve a beloved spouse who died too soon, give thanks for the blessings of their years together, and then, when the period of their mourning had come to an end, their period of standing still concluded, somehow summoned the courage to move forward with their lives and even find happiness again, in work or play or relationships or all of the above.

Standing still and moving forward, Nitzavim-Vayeilech: the ability to stop and appreciate where you are, when you are there, before moving on to the next thing. The Torah tells us that God summoned Moses up Mount Sinai with an unusual phrase: Alei Eilai ha-hara, v’heyeh sham. Come up the mountain to Me, God says, and be there. The apparently redundant phrase--“and be there”--puzzled the Rabbis who believed the Torah to be perfect and therefore incapable of carrying extraneous words. I mean, after all, where else would Moses be after coming up the mountain? Would he not already “be there?”

Examining the phrase closely, the Kotzker Rebbe (so named for his town of Kotzk in Poland), taught that even if a person strains to climb all the way up a high mountaintop, and reaches the summit, it is nevertheless possible for him or her not to be there. “Even standing on the very peak itself, one’s head may be somewhere else.” What the Kotzker was saying is that getting up the mountain is often the easy part. The hard part is standing there, Nitzavim, not being distracted away from that place and that moment.

One of my favorite writers, the beat poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti was interviewed not long ago in the New York Times. He said, “In the 60’s, there was a famous slogan, ‘Be Here Now’…. Today, with the cellphones, the fax, the Internet, the whole schmear -- the slogan you have today is ‘Be Somewhere Else Now.’” How true! How many of us can’t even make it through dinner with our families without stopping to check our cell phones, our e-mail, the Dow Jones? How hard we sometimes find just being here. Nitzavim then Vayeilich. Stand still, then move forward.

In the coming weeks and months, together we will do both: stand still and move forward. These activities do not mutually exclude each other. Actually, if we do it right, they will reinforce each other.

We will stand still in order to discover who we are, where we are, right now. Our exceptional lay leaders have already begun this process by conducting a series of Community Visioning Conversations, hearing from congregants how they feel about WRT right now and what they might hope for the future. I will need to stand still--not only to collect my thoughts--but also to encounter who we are and what this congregation is, with open eyes, and, especially, to encounter you anew. Kelly and I are eager to be introduced and re-introduced and I look forward to sharing with you the ways in which the temple will provide such opportunities for our congregants. We will need to stand still in order to honor the two decades of devoted service that Rabbi Jacobs has given to this congregation, and to acknowledge what it feels like for all of us simply to be here after his tireless efforts to bring us up the mountain. The view is already spectacular. Nitzavim, we will stand still.

But standing still does not mean to stagnate. We will move forward. We will not fear change the way so many synagogues fear change. We will discover new ways of praying together; experiencing Shabbat and holidays together; learning Torah together, becoming an ever more inclusive and caring community, encountering our neighboring Westchester communities of faith; traveling to places in the world in which the Jewish people have made their mark; doing God’s work on earth in our commitment to a more just and equitable society; exploring the intersection between Judaism and the arts; creating a synagogue whose vitality and vibrancy continues to set a benchmark for the Reform Movement and for progressive synagogues everywhere. Vayeilech, we will move forward.

Each one of these ways of moving forward represents a piece of the vision statement for Westchester Reform Temple that I have already shared with our search committee and that I look forward to sharing with you. On selected Friday nights and at other times throughout the coming months, I will be exploring and expounding different elements of my vision for Westchester Reform Temple. Some of my words may lift you up; some may bring you down; and some may bore you to tears. But I hope to offer all of them in the spirit of what it means to be a rabbi: to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable. (More of the former, I promise.)

Nitzavim-Vayeilech: standing still and moving forward. I am overjoyed (and not a little bit overwhelmed) to accept your invitation to be here, with you, as we undertake the two dimensions of our sacred journey... together.

Amen.

Remarks Upon Accepting the Congregation's Vote

2011-09-20T23:07:00.001-04:00

REMARKS TO THE CONGREGATION ~ 09.20.11

acceptance of congregational vote

Next week we will enter a new year, a year we call 5772, adding another chapter to our storied history. I cannot say what the year will bring for the Jewish People entire, but if the proceedings before the UN this week give any indication, it will not always be easy. I do know it will be a dynamic year at Westchester Reform Temple.

For eight years I have experienced the joy of serving this kehillah kedosha, this holy congregation. Being invited into the sacred moments in our congregants’ lives has helped to cultivate within me compassion, humility, and wisdom day by day. From you I continue to learn “living Torah.” I consider it the most rewarding of blessings to accept your invitation to serve as Westchester Reform Temple’s next senior rabbi.

More than eleven years ago, I became a rabbi because I believed then as now in the power of progressive, organized religion--call it Enlightened Faith--to respond the needs of a hurting world, to imbue individual lives with purpose and sanctity, to create inclusive communities of compassion and purpose, and to bring us closer to God. Enlightened Faith, Reform Judaism in particular, gives us a powerful set of tools to transform the world from the way it is into the way it ought to be. Life is messy. Excruciating challenges and exceptional opportunities upend our expectations at every turn. Yet our continual engagement with the Jewish tradition helps to feed our souls, create space for the holy, and make meaning out of this exquisite and exquisitely complicated world.

In the coming weeks, months, and years, I look forward to sharing with you my vision for the future of WRT--both on and off the bimah, starting with the D’var Torah that I will offer this Friday night. My vision has coalesced here, in a congregation distinguished for its commitment to excellence, its wariness of complacency, its eagerness to explore new and exciting ways of being Jewish and bringing the values of our faith into the world. Loving relationships with exceptional colleagues and congregants, lay leaders and mentors, have nurtured this vision. My rabbi and cantor friends lovingly (and some not so lovingly!) covet my good fortune to work with the most exceptional clergy team in America, with Jill Abramson, Dan Sklar, and Mia Fram Davidson.

No rabbi has influenced my outlook more than my friend, my rabbi, Rick Jacobs, whose vision for WRT has inspired my own. Imagining what this congregation will become after Rabbi Jacobs departs is very hard for you as it is for me. At the same time I feel relieved that the incoming President of the Union for Reform Judaism has already agreed to take my calls. I know that you join me in wishing that God’s choicest blessings will accompany Rabbi Jacobs in his undertaking. As for me: what an incomparable honor to accept this position, standing as I do on the shoulders of Rabbi Jacobs and Rabbi Jack Stern of blessed memory -- two giants of Reform Judaism (one literally and both figuratively so).

I want you to know that the way in which the Search Committee fulfilled its responsibilities provided not only an opportunity for the congregation to share its hopes and dreams for the future, but also proved catalytic for my leadership. I am grateful for the thoroughness and thoughtfulness of their work, and especially for prompting me to articulate my outlook for the synagogue, my core convictions, and the spirituality that animates my rabbinate and my life. The process was fair, transparent, and deeply respectful of the congregation and of me. Moreover, the search process has provided me with unprecedented professional and personal growth. WRT is blessed to have capable and dedicated volunteer leaders whose love for the congregation translates into so many labors of love on its behalf--on our behalf.

Kelly and I have shed tears of joy in embracing the opportunity to continue to call WRT our home. We look forward to being introduced and re-introduced to you in the weeks to come. We happily anticipate much growth together on the journey ahead. On a personal note, I give heartfelt thanks to Kelly for her unceasing devotion. From the very first she has embraced WRT and has done everything possible to support my service to this congregation that we love so dearly, all while going full steam ahead in her extraordinary career. The Rebbetzin McCormick is a blessing not only to me and my family, not only to our WRT family, but really as an exemplar for the Jewish world.

In my innermost prayers I often return to a line from the Psalms of the Hebrew Bible: “Unless the Eternal One builds the house, its builders labor in vain” (127:1). My prayer for the coming year is that we will unite in our willingness to become instruments of the Most High. May 5772 fill us with a spirit of collaboration and hope.

Amen

PARASHAT KI TAVO: On saying, having, and being a blessing

2011-09-16T16:05:00.003-04:00

PARASHAT KI TETZE / ACCEPTANCE OF INVITATION BY THE BOARD OF TRUSTEES OF WRT TO SERVE AS SENIOR RABBI

2011-09-07T22:18:00.002-04:00

REMARKS TO THE BOARD OF TRUSTEES

OF WESTCHESTER REFORM TEMPLE

SEPTEMBER 6, 2011

I’ll say to you what I said when I appeared before the Search Committee to interview for the job: thank you for this opportunity to introduce myself.

Only superlatives featuring the prefix “over-” suffice to convey the depth of my feeling at receiving this opportunity and this welcome. Overjoyed, overcome with feeling, not a little bit overwhelmed. It is no overstatement to say that Kelly and I are overflowing with gratitude. What’s more you’ve given my mom and dad something to kvell about over and over again, so thank you.

It’s tempting to interpret your invitation to serve as the next senior rabbi of Westchester Reform Temple as a vote of confidence in the last eight years … which have nurtured my rabbinate inestimably. I choose, however, to accept your invitation as a challenge, a summons to new dimensions in my leadership and in the possibilities for this congregation. Let your vote of confidence be in the rabbi I hope to become.

As for what lies in store for us on the journey we will take together, I am inclined to repurpose words that a groom composed for his bride at the wedding I officiated just this past Sunday:

“There will, no doubt, be detours, wrong turns, even five-car pile-ups along the way. Our intended destination might change—heck, I don’t think I either of us knows what it is yet or ever will—but I can’t wait to hit the road.”

I became a rabbi out of a desire to immerse myself in the literature of sacred Jewish tradition but it is the life of sacred Jewish connection that keeps me going. Moments like the one I shared with bride and groom this weekend, on the bimah with B’nei Mitzvah, in hospital rooms, standing by the grave--these intimate encounters are where ordinary life touches the numinous. How blessed I feel to be invited into them every day.

We live in a society that zealously protects the privacy of the individual and the part of us that cherishes our freedoms should give thanks for that; but one of the sadder trade-offs of this arrangement is that very few Americans today get to see life the way a congregational rabbi does, in all its sacred, beautiful messiness.

It wasn’t always this way, of course. Our parents and grandparents lived in more intimately interconnected communities, where one person’s business often agreeably commingled with another’s, a world of mom-and-pop stores and lunch-counter conversations, where, for instance, Bar Mitzvahs were community affairs, not private life-cycle events. I say this not to romanticize the old ways, only to illustrate some of the harder compromises attendant to our pervasive pursuit of privacy.

The Torah portion this week, called Ki Tetze, shows us that the Jewish tradition seeks to find points of intersection between private and public in ways that reinforce each dimension of living, as individuals in the context of a Jewish community. Two notable examples, one negative and one positive, stand out:

The first is the infamous case of the “wayward and rebellious son,” a child so unrepentant in his bad behavior that his parents have deemed him beyond hope of rehabilitation. The Torah instructs the parents to take said wayward and rebellious son before the elders of the community, publicly declare him to be a “glutton and a drunkard,” after which all the people of the town would assemble to stone him to death. The Rabbis pay special heed to the public nature of the punishment in contrast to the private nature of the offense. This is, first and foremost, someone’s child, and what he has done only the parents know. Instead of giving him a time out or grounding him, taking away his camel for the week or whatever, the boy must appear in public and if the community wishes to dispense with the rotten egg altogether, they must join forces and cast the stones as one.

The Babylonian Talmud (Sanhedrin 71a) further suggests that no child ever went so far as to prompt the punishment, and no community could ever in good conscience have brought itself to perform their responsibility, so, crisis averted. But what endured was the understanding that in Jewish communities what one person does touches on everyone else and that kol Yisrael arevin zeh ba-zeh, each of us is responsible for every other.

In the second example, our portion permits a person to stroll into a neighbor’s vineyard or cornfield, pluck grapes off the vine or ears off the stalk, eat as much as he or she pleases, until feeling completely stuffed, so long as one stops shy of putting the grapes in a basket or taking a sickle to the corn. Can you imagine this flying in our world? But the Torah’s world envisions an ethic of “What’s mine is mine, but what’s mine is also yours,” an attitude the Rabbis would later define as the essence of religious piety (Pirkei Avot 5:14).

For me, this is what being a rabbi, and, more to the point, being a Jew is really all about: giving a community context for all the sacred, intimate, private experiences of our lives, and making every community gathering into an experience that moves us privately to the core of our being, that allows us to emerge from a prayer service, a Torah class, a social action engagement, internally transformed in the most intimate of ways.

To know that I get to do this work here, with exceptional collaborators in you, our temple leadership; and with our amazing clergy, professional, educational, and administrative staff; with the peerless wisdom that my cherished friends Rabbi Rick Jacobs and, indeed, Rabbi Jack Stern of blessed memory have imparted to me--well, that is the greatest blessing of all.

Kelly and I are so grateful to embrace WRT--the community as it is and as it could be--as our spiritual home. Thank you!

Parashat Shoftim: Blogging by WRT's Own Rabbi Dan Sklar - Last Week's D'var Torah

2011-09-07T18:41:00.001-04:00

Friends,

I'm happy to post (belatedly) this d'rash by our own Rabbi Dan Sklar.

Happy studying!

Rabbi Jonathan Blake

PARASHAT SHOFTIM

09.02.11 - Rabbi Dan Sklar

I know it’s been a rather dull week. Not much going on in these final dog days of summer. Not much except for an earthquake and a once in a hundred years event known as Hurricane Irene. Whether you thought all the coverage was much ado about nothing, or if you have iReporting relatives upstate or in Vermont, you know from the coverage of the aftermath that we dodged a bullet. My wife and I didn’t have power in Connecticut until Tuesday but the house was intact, everyone was safe and we counted our blessings. I must say that between our isolation in the woods, our well, and a delivery of a cord of firewood, I felt a bit of the pioneering spirit this week. I’m not sure that spirit would hold out very long against another nor’easter or the first frost of winter, but stacking the firewood transported me back a century or two and the whole experience has given me a greater sense of awe concerning the powerful forces of nature. It’s humbling, but even in our whizbang world of electronic gadgetry, we’re still utterly lost when the power goes out. Even with advanced weather prediction systems and satellite imagery, we still couldn’t help but whisper a prayer of protection for our loved ones and our homes. Can you imagine what the destructive force of nature must have seemed like in biblical times?

We don’t have to look very far to see the inextricable link between God and nature in the worldview of our ancestors. Our new prayerbook, Mishkan Tefilah, has even gone so far as to readmit the phrases Morid haTal and Mashiv HaRuach uMorid haGashem in the Amidah prayer- each in their season. The phrases defer to God’s power to make the winds blow and the rains fall. But the editors of the prayerbook were still disinclined to include the second paragraph of the shema that our conservative and orthodox co-religionists recite quietly at every service. The excised paragraph from Deuteronomy explains the “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” approach to God and the weather. If we’re faithful and dutiful Jews, God will provide rain and a bountiful harvest. If we’re not: drought and famine. Not so subtle subtext here- our own morality and good or bad deeds directly impact the weather. The Reform movement decided long ago that this cosmology was too problematic to include in our daily prayers and simply removed the offending passage.

But the desire to hold God accountable for the weather runs deep. Polytheistic cultures living alongside Jews had a certain advantage over monotheism. They could assign all manner of natural phenomena their own gods. Zeus himself was known for throwing lighting bolts from the sky. Judaism sought to conflate the properties of many gods onto the one God of the heavens and the earth. But the Greco-Roman influence was strong and some of the oldest synagogue floors we have yet uncovered bear witness to some old habits that were hard to break. The mosaic floors at the 4th century Hamat Tiberias synagogue and the 6th century Beit Alpha synagogue contain Jewish elements that we all know well. A scene depicting the Binding of Isaac, a seven-branched menorah and a Holy Ark. But the lions’ share of both floors is occupied by none other than a zodiac, with Hebrew names for the twelve signs and the sun god Helios smack dab in the middle of the floor. Old habits are hard to break.

The Torah portion this week Shoftim cautions any who might be tempted to worship other gods, specifically the sun or the moon or any other astrological deities. The penalty for such a transgression is, you guessed it, death by stoning but as with many of the exhortations and commandments of the Torah- if the good book says “thou shalt not...” we can bet dollars to doughnuts that many of the people were doing just that. Polytheism was popular because it was convenient. The sun god holds sway during the day, the moon god by night. If you’re traveling by sea, you appeal to the good graces of Poseidon or Neptune. It may seem to us overly simplistic, but it was orderly and it certainly made sense. Monotheism’s greatest challenge was to explain a beneficent God responsible for all- good, bad and indifferent. The prophet Isaiah didn’t mince words, yotzeir or- I form the light and create darkness; I make peace and create evil- ani Adonai oseh chol eileh- I the Lord do all these things. This statement is the dark underbelly of the shema prayer. If God is indeed one, then God is responsible for all.

But again, the liturgist stepped in to soften this severe decree. In the morning prayer Yotzeir Or, which begins with the famous line from Isaiah, the word evil is replaced so we don’t have to face this grim prospect each morning we recite the prayer. The statement, I make peace and create evil became I make peace and create everything. The change is welcomed by every denomination and is part of the traditional liturgy but those in the know, know the original verse and the word replacement is a subtle wink that is to say, of course you know what “everything” entails. The message of our portion and of our liturgy is clear: as tempting as it may seem, don’t look to other gods- our God is one. The portion goes on to prohibit consulting with soothsayers and fortune tellers. Our Torah has no patience for other gods and it isn’t in the business of telling the future, despite what the Bible Code enthusiasts would have you believe.

We’re not so different from our biblical ancestors. Psychics and Tarot card readers abound and people today as in the past are still hungry for news of the future. But today, as in the past, the future is not ours to know. Even in an age of sophisticated weather prediction systems, we still don’t know precisely the path a storm might take until it is just about upon us. Make no mistake, the evacuations this past weekend were necessary and could well have save lives, even if our region didn’t bear the brunt of the storm. Technology is a tool, but it is not a crystal ball. Medical screenings can tell us part but not all of the story. When we say the words, Who shall live and who shall die in the Un’taneh Tokef prayer in just a few weeks time, we feel a kinship with our ancestors when we ask the really big questions and come up wanting. The Torah knows full well that it is simply unhealthy to fixate on what will be. Better to make good use of the time we have and to work for a better future. In the words of another great sage, Doris Day, “Que sera sera, whatever will be will be, the future’s not ours to see, que sera sera.”

Guest Blogging: Parashat Re'eh 5771

2011-08-28T11:40:00.002-04:00

Dear Friends,

This week's (well, last week's, technically) D'var Torah comes from WRT "alumna" Sarah Weingarten who is a rising senior at the University of St. Andrews in Scotland! It was delivered to our congregation on Friday, August 26th, 2011.

Hope everyone is safe and warm post-Irene.

Shavua Tov,

Rabbi Jonathan Blake

Shabbat Shalom.

I thought I would begin by acknowledging the 900-pound gorilla in the room by pointing out that this week’s portion, Re’eh, is filled with so many incredibly important and well-known commandments that I was, at first, slightly daunted by the spiritual and secular weight this portion carries for our lives. This Shabbat evening, I hope to share with you just a small part of what I think is beautiful about this portion, especially now, when we are in between the seasons and a new Jewish year lies just ahead.

Re’eh teaches that it is a combination of personal ritual and wider social consciousness that will lead the Israelites on a path towards holiness. God first presents the Jews with a choice, commanding them with the words: “See, this day I set before you blessing and curse”. In other words, God affirms the Israelites’ freedom to choose either to obey or to disobey the laws God decrees. Re’eh, which translates as “See,” is thus, in a way, the very first commandment in the portion, and remains a constant reminder throughout that a state of holiness is not only a result of God-decreed ritual but is also a mindset – a choice from within ourselves.

That is not to say that there is any shortage of rules to which the Israelites must adhere. Later in the portion, God commands that the Israelites follow the kosher laws and grant their slaves freedom after six years of service. God also commands the Israelites to remit debts owed to them every seven years and to periodically leave a portion of their yield on their land so that the needy and the stranger in their midst can eat. Thus, in these few pages, God gives us personal rituals and a more general ethical code with the ultimate result of enabling us to instill purity on several levels – in our bodies, in our homes, and in our communities.

As I said earlier, this portion could not fall at a better time. Between end-of-summer vacations and back-to-school shopping, August is a very busy month – and a very expensive one, too. I was interested to see how often Re’eh addresses money matters with the dynamic between personal doctrine and humanitarian concerns. By the same token, I was equally surprised at the relevance of God’s financial advice to modern-day economics. God says to the Israelites, “You will extend loans to many nations, but require none yourself,” a piece of advice which certainly applies, or should apply, not only to our personal practices, but also to current events in our national and global economies. When it comes to money, however, God also advises the Israelites to “wrap up” their money before they spend it, which, according to one commentator, is meant to suggest that we must choose to rule over our money, and not have it rule over us.

It is with this in mind that I would like to explore the portion’s emphasis on charity as an individual and community-wide requirement for attaining holiness. God’s commandment in Re’eh is that we periodically leave a portion of our harvest for the needy, an act of tzedakah and organized social justice that got me wondering: How charitable are Americans? I read an article in Forbes from 2008 that claimed that Americans give more to charity than the citizens of any other nation. Most of the article sought to figure out why this was, and one line in particular caught my attention. It seems that while our wealthiest citizens give the most in dollar amounts at any given time, it is, in fact, low-income Americans who tend to give the highest portion of their income to charity. That we live in such a culture of giving, particularly among those who have the lowest income, is a testament to the choice God presents to us in Re’eh – that the act of giving is also a mindset that we, all of us, must choose in order to purify both ourselves and our communities.

As a final note, I want to mention one aspect of Re’eh that I found very unusual, but which I now understand to be an important foundation for the path to holiness prescribed in the Torah. When God commands the Israelites to give – whether it is by donating food or granting freedom to a slave – God always adds that they should “have no regrets” and “not feel aggrieved” by what they are losing. I was struck, at first, that God is here commanding not only our physical act of giving, but also our instinctive and emotional reactions to giving.

I now see, however, that it all comes back to the freedom God gave us by allowing us to choose between blessing and curse. Our responsibility is, as ever, to the purification of the community, but it is also to the purification of our minds and hearts. Between the personal ritual and the social action, in order for us to walk the path to holiness, it must be the joy we feel in performing the mitzvah that is, ultimately, the holiest gift of all.

Something, I think, that we all need to keep in mind as we approach the season of our High Holy Days and the opportunity for atonement and renewal that God offers us.

Shabbat Shalom!

Guest Blogging: Parashat Eikev 5771

2011-08-20T00:59:00.001-04:00

Dear Friends,

This week's D'var Torah comes from the remarks presented by our congregant Fran Scheffler-Siegel. Thank you, Fran!

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Jonathan Blake

D'var Torah - August 19, 2011 - Eikev

Fran Scheffler-Siegel

About six weeks ago, Rabbi Blake invited me to present this week's D'var Torah. It seemed to me that I had plenty of time to prepare, and he did say that Eikev was a particularly interesting parashah. So, off I went to prepare, and prepare, and prepare...... I have read Eikev many times, reviewed the more accessible commentaries, met with two rabbis, and thought about Eikev when I am at home and when I am away, when I lie down, and when I rise up.....

When I think about the responsibility of creating a meaningful D'var Torah, my mind goes to an meditation based on Ahavat Olam, that appears in Mishkan Tefila, our prayer book:

"As you taught Torah to those whose names I bear, teach me Torah too. Its mystery beckons, yet I struggle with its truth. You meant Torah for me: did you mean the struggle for me, too?......"

So, what follows is the results of my struggle:

Eikev is the third parashah in the book of Deuteronomy. Moses is speaking to the Israelites at the near end of their 40 year journey through the wilderness as they are soon to enter the Promised Land. Moses warns the Israelites to take note of all the evidence of God's love and to return it by keeping the covenant He made with Abraham Isaac and Jacob. After all, Moses says, God has protected you during your journey through all the hardships you have endured; God has provided manna when you were hungry; protected you from illnesses; sustained you and empowered you to fight and win many battles as you crossed through or around hostile territories. God has shown you love and has considered you above all the other people of the earth.

Moses is old, and won't be entering the Promised Land with them. Moses's speech is filled with his fears for the Israelites. He has fears about their future. Without him there to intercede with God and to teach them His laws, he fears that they will revert back to their pagan ways and become no better than the peoples they defeated. His message is a strong one filled with threats of punishments. Moses wants them to "own" his fears. He wants them to be more fearful of defying God, than of the hardships they will still endure.

Fear is a familiar experience for the Israelites. Fear of annihilation is what most likely drove them in battles; Fear for the well-being of their families is mostly likely what gave them resourcefulness during famines, or illnesses, or natural disasters. A deep and abiding feeling of fear was familiar to our ancestors in ways most of us have never experienced. Moses' message to the Israelites is, "you know what fear is - you felt fear when you battled a powerful enemy. You felt fear when you were hungry in the desert. You felt the fear of uncertainty when you were driven to construct the Golden Calf. You have been driven by fear many times in your lives. That visceral fear - fear of your powerlessness belongs only to God. God has proven many times during your 40 year journey that He can cause you to confront great and powerful enemies and then give you the tools to fight and vanquish them. He can cause the drought that starves your crops, and then produce the rains to nourish them. He can cause you tobe childless and then to produce many children. And so, you know what fear is. Fear of other people, and of the natural elements is misplaced. God is more powerful than any of those. You should fear God.

Moses tells them how to show their fear of God: That you fear God, is to go in all His ways,

And, he tells them how to show their love of God: serve God with all your heart and all your soul" (10:12).

And, so, the Israelites must fear and love God and show Him both by their deeds or be punished.

For me, fear of God is a troublesome concept. Moses suggests in Eikev that there is a direct relationship between one's actions - good and wicked - and the rewards bestowed and punishments inflicted. At first, this did not resonate with me - we all know that bad things happen to good people - there is no one to one relationship between legal, moral, and ethical behavior, and whether or not we will be healthy, or have healthy children, or achieve great wealth, or live a care-free life. I have only to remember my friend from the time I was a toddler, Gail, who died of muscular dystrophy at 32 years of age, or my college roommate, Barbara who was killed by a drunk driver at age 34, or the many children with developmental challenges I have known, or the world news that informs me about suicide bombers, or natural disasters that take the lives of innocent people - I have only to remember these tragedies to know that some things have nothing to do with living a life reflecting the covenant God made with our ancestors.

My struggle with the "fear of God" concept brought me to realize that my original interpretations of Eikev were too literal. My struggle shifted my understanding to a more spiritual level. Moses was actually telling the Israelites, "if you live by God's laws, you will acquire great strength of character. You will withstand hardships with courage, and you will flourish. You will acquire the ability to be empathetic so you can be of service to others and thereby build a strong society. And in these ways you will live with purpose. You must perform mitzvoth in every step you take and every breath you breathe."

Moses wasn't concerned with their material mundane well-being - he was concerned with their spiritual health. If they live in God's way "[they] shall be blessed above all other peoples". If they perform God's mitzvoth, God will continue to bless them - this relationship - God's blessing and their performance of mitzvoth provide them a special place in the world. If they don't follow God's teaching they will perish - essentially because they would have no place, no mission, no purpose.

So how does Eikev inform us in these modern times to elevate ourselves to become spiritual Jewish seekers of justice and truth? Mitzvoth are still the answer. Our mitzvoth may take different forms for each of us, but the message is that we must do them mindfully each day. We all do mitzvoth every day - Being here tonight is a mitzvah!

We perform Mitzvoth through acts of loving kindness toward our family, friends, and strangers. We do it by teaching our children to to respect their peers, and be gentle with animals. We do it as adults when we choose to work in the helping professions - like policeman, or teacher, or doctor, or speech-language pathologist. We do it as volunteers by donating money, or by donating time to good causes. We do it by words of thanks to those who are helpful to us.

There so many ways of performing mitzvoth that sustain us by sustaining others..... "Befriend the stranger", Moses says.

In many parts of the world, there are people who live in material fear every day. Hunger, poverty, and crime dominate them. We don't have to go far from home to see examples of abject poverty. In Mt Vernon, many people live in poverty. They live in homeless shelters, or in dilapidated buildings. They are loving parents who are unable to find work. They have children who they fear for every day as these children must walk to and from school with the fear of being accosted by other children who are worse off than they, or by adults who hang around street corners up to no good.

But there are loving parents who are members of WRT who empathize with the parents of Mt. Vernon. They take on the role of mentor, benefactor, advisor, tutor, coach. And there are high school students at Scarsdale High School, who empathize with the children of Mt Vernon, and take on the role of 'big brother" or "big sister".

In the midst of Mt Vernon, there is a school, The Edwards Williams Elementary School, where most of the children live below the poverty line. Where school is a kind of safe haven, and an after-school program is a necessity, not a luxury. There is an exemplary after school program there known as the Amazing Afternoons. This program gives 120 children in first through fifth grades a safe place to play and learn and to acquire the basics donated by others: food, clothing, household goods and appliances. There are 80 volunteers, adults and high school students, who show up Monday through Friday from October through June to help with homework, coach in basketball and chess, teach dance and music. There are parent discussion programs led by professional therapists and concerts organized by professional musicians. There have been many mitzvoth performed at Amazing Afternoons over the past 10 years.

Up until this year, the New York State Department of Education funded approximately 60% of the Amazing Afternoons. Last June, NYS defaulted. Amazing Afternoons would have to close. To many of the WRT volunteers, this was not a tolerable option.

So, they formed a SAVE AMAZING AFTERNOONS COMMITTEE and have over the past 4 months done the impossible. They raised enough funds to reopen Amazing Afternoons in the fall. They did it by requesting donations from all their friends, from many local organizations, and from foundation grants. They need to raise more money, but it doesn't seem as daunting a job now - the funds are coming in. The children will have their Amazing Afternoons. Moses would be proud!

My struggle with Moses' message elevated my understanding of a fundamental concept in Judaism ---- performing mitzvoth bring us closer to God and develop in us a sense of awe for His earth and its inhabitants. Moses tells the Israelites to remember not to forget their humility, to avoid arrogance. Stop complaining, appreciate your hardships as a test of courage, give of yourself to others: So, the choice is theirs: Follow God's laws and have a happy life; Refuse God's laws and become extinct. These are spiritual choices!

To follow God's laws does not insure material health wealth and happiness. It does something much greater! It insures us of spiritual health wealth and happiness, and a reason to live. After all, man does not live on bread alone (Deut. 8:3)! The work of living according to the laws of Torah is worth the struggle!

Shabbat Shalom!

Guest Blogging: Parashat Va'etchanan 5771

2011-08-12T17:30:00.003-04:00

Dear Friends,

I'm delighted to share with you the following remarks, to be delivered at WRT this evening at 6:15, by Melissa Fisch who recently graduated Scarsdale High School and who will enter the freshman class at Duke University in the coming days.

Melissa will be at services tonight for our annual College and College-Age Sendoff Service; please join us in the CJL!

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Jonathan Blake

"It was not with out ancestors that the Eternal made this covenant, but with us, the living, every one of us who is here today." - Deuteronomy

"This, I submit, is the freedom of a real education, of learning how to be well-adjusted. You get to consciously decide what has meaning and what doesn't. You get to decide what to worship.

It is about the real value of a real education, which has almost nothing to do with knowledge, and everything to do with simple awareness; awareness of what is so real and essential, so hidden in plain sight all around us...." - David Foster Wallace, "This is Water: Some Thoughts, Delivered on a Significant Occasion, About Living a Compassionate Life"

As I, and I’m sure my fellow graduates, begin to pack for college, I attempt the impossible, to try to fit my entire life into two duffel bags. Yet, as I stuff in shirts and desk fans, I feel as if something’s missing. Judaism has always been a large part of my life, from Sunday morning Hebrew school to Bat Mitzvah to Confirmation to today. As I stand on the bimah ready to be “sent off” to college, I know this is not a send off from Judaism as well. On the contrary, I think my Jewish education and upbringing will be more important than ever. There are so many online resources for Torah reading, or Jewish learning but if I were to remember only one Torah portion as I enter this new stage in my life, it would have to be today’s portion, Va’et’chanan. Va’et’chanan is in the book of Deuteronomy, a book which contains Moses’s final teachings and speeches as he readies his people to enter the Promised Land without him. Va’et’chanan has everything; it includes the 10 commandments, the Shema, and the V’ahavta. However, what I found most important and applicable for this send-off service as we soon part ways was Moses’s teachings on entering a new home. As it so appropriately is written in our portion, “See, I have imparted you laws and rulers, as the Eternal my God has commanded me, for you to abide by in th eland that you are about to enter and occupy.”

The first rule about which Moses reminds Moses the people is to make no graven images and to worship no false gods. As we enter the new environments ahead of us, we must remember this rule. What it boils down to is that God wants the people to be free of distractions so that they can focus on what is truly important.

With college comes new freedoms, more time, and unquestionably, many distractions. Sometimes distractions help further our education, whether it means joining a club, playing a sport or even just being social and hanging out with friends, but we must remember what is truly important. However, while God decreed that absolutely no graven images at all should be created, perhaps in college, a compromise would be more appropriate. The college student who never leaves the library except to attend class and uses every minute of his or her time to be studious is not really a college student at all. On the other hand, the student who skips every class and sees college as one big party is no student at all either. The most important thing is balance and could perhaps be the ultimate goal of our journey at college.

It so happens that the next law in our portion is to observe the Sabbath. I am not here to promote or demean the Sabbath, but I think the adaptation of this rule is God’s way of further endorsing balance. The Sabbath is the day where no work is done and people are not simply permitted, but commanded to relax. In the high stress environment of college, taking even a small break to relax is necessary for survival. With the pressure to do well in school, be social, and stay true to one’s identity all building up, a student could burst if he or she does not find some way to release their stress and tension. For some, it might mean getting out of the dorm and running around for an hour, for others it could be listening to music or talking to someone. In all cases, relaxation and stress relief is essential. Blowing off work for fun is not what this law teaches, but when we find ourselves inundated with our responsibilities, we can take a deep breath and remember that taking a break does not show weakness, but rather it is what God has commanded for us.

Finding a balance is never easy. Everyone in this room has and is constantly balancing and rebalancing their lives as the “new or unexpected” eventually comes along and impedes or ruins our balance. As a newly graduated senior, that “new or unexpected” is college or a gap year or another program that we will soon partake in; or, as a parent, that “new and unexpected” could be sending that child off to their new life, leaving a large void in that balance. As David Foster Wallace, an author and professor once so wisely said of the value of an education, “You get to consciously decide what has meaning and what doesn't. You get to decide what to worship.” Wherever our lives take us, through college and what comes after, we must enter (and constantly reevaluate) into our balance what we find meaningful, and worthy of our efforts.

While Moses was not interested in creating a spiritually balanced people after he was gone. He wanted assurances that their religious values, traditions, ad heritage would be preserved in their new home. After all, he had no guarantee that Judaism would survive after him. This is true in our lives as well. Our clergy hope that they have given us and taught us thoroughly enough that we will have a strong enough sense of self and self of religion that will carry us through our futures. So what will be do to ensure that our Judaism comes with us when we go to college. On many college campuses there are organizations such as Hillel that hold services and host events to bring together the Jewish students, and often curious students of other religions, on campus. It is a great way to meet Jewish people that might be just like you or could be the polar opposite. It’s also nice to have somewhere to go for services on the Jewish holidays that we can’t come home to WRT for. As it is written in today’s portion, “If you search there, you will find the Eternal you God, if only you seek with all your heart and soul.” In our new homes and new lands, it might not be as easy as it always has been to stay true to oneself, not only religiously but in general as well. As long as you can and are willing to put in the effort to search to find God or find yourself, He, and you, will always be there.

Guest Blogging: Parashat Devarim 5771

2011-08-05T21:40:00.003-04:00

Shalom to all our readers!

This week's remarks come from Leah Citrin, "alumna" of WRT and 2nd-year rabbinical student at HUC-JIR in Cincinnati. Leah delivered these remarks tonight at the temple and will explore these themes with us in greater depth at 9:00 AM at Torah study. Please join us in the Sifriyah as we enter a new book of the Torah (Devarim/Deuteronomy), share our insights, and celebrate Shabbat together.

Shabbat Shalom!

Rabbi Jonathan Blake

D’varim 5771

Leah Citrin

A year ago this past Monday, Rosh Chodesh Av, I was barely two weeks into my first year of rabbinical school in Jerusalem. Saying I was still overwhelmed would be an understatement. There were new people, a new school, a new city all waiting for me to get to know them. So many ways to spend my time! But I knew there was one experience open to me on that day that I did not want to miss out on. That is why I woke up at 5 o’clock, put on a skirt that reached below my knees along with a shirt that had sleeves, and set out on the forty minute walk from my apartment to the Old City. Why, you might ask? Nashot HaKotel, Women of the Wall.

It turned out to be a very eventful gathering on that July morning. After taking out a Torah in the Kotel plaza and beginning the hakafa to Robinson’s Arch, where it was to be read, Anat Hoffman, director of the Israel Religious Action Center, was pushed instead into the back of a police car, Sacred Scroll still held tight in her arms. There are so many ways to describe my first experience with Nashot HaKotel last summer: confusing, unfamiliar, frustrating, surprising, exciting. But meaningful? Important? I wasn’t sure. Was it the battle that I wanted to fight? What exactly was the battle being fought?

In this week’s Torah portion, D’varim, we read again about the battles the Israelites fought as they gained possession of the Promised Land. Additionally, we are again reminded of the request by the tribes of Gad, Reuven, and half of Menasseh to settle outside of the land of Israel. Their request is granted, under the stipulation that “ חיל בני כל ישראל בני אכיכם לפני תעברו חלוצים ” (Deut. 3:18), “as shock troops, all your soldiers, you must pass over [the Jordan], before your Israelite brothers.” In other words, they are the front line into the land that they will not share a piece of; they are going to be the first to die.

I see several options for interpretation here. Maybe, being the front line is punishment for requesting to settle outside Eretz Yisrael. Or perhaps, God is looking to establish a stronger bond between these two and a half tribes and the rest of b’nei Yisrael, reinforcing the “all in this together” sentiment. Another option is to look at this logistically: if you are in the front of the pack, you cannot retreat or abandon your fellow kinsmen. Maybe this was a concern since the land for the tribes of Reuven, Gad, and Menasseh had already been conquered.

To add even more complexity, we can look back two weeks to parashat Matot in Numbers, chapter 32, verse 17, where this request initially came up. Here, these three tribes volunteered to go as shock troops. In this week’s parasha from Deuteronomy, they are commanded to go first. What a difference two weeks can make!

In the end, where does this take us? The question I find embedded in our text this week remains the same, regardless of interpretation—it is about fights and battles. What are the battles worth fighting? Beyond that, how do we know?

According to Jewish tradition, some battles are not only worth fighting, but are commanded. In his Mishne Torah, Maimonides introduces a concept of “milchemet mitzvah”, or commanded war. Specifically, Maimonides views “milchemet mitzvah” as war that is authorized by a specific obligation in the Torah. An example of this type of war is the Israelites’ annihilation of the seven Canaanite nations that we read about (again) this week. Another, perhaps more palatable example of milchemet mitzvah is the obligation to defend a fellow Jew. While typically, this refers to defending a fellow Jew against an attacking nation, perhaps we can broaden the interpretation a little as we remove it from its physical and literal context.

There are many who believe that the fight Women of the Wall is waging is a worthy battle in the best tradition of milchemet mitzvah. It is our obligation to fight for the equality of women. Many of us in this room right now—irrespective of gender—feel that at a place important to all Jews, such as the Kotel, women should be permitted to pray donning kippot or tallitot if they choose, or singing out loud in a group, or reading from Torah. Needless to say, Anat Hoffman and her followers would also agree. In some ways, I too am in line with this way of thinking.

On the other hand, our Tradition also identifies some wars that while permissible, are not required, and therefore, whether or not they are worthwhile may also be questioned. This might fall under the category identified by Maimonides as milchemet reshut. For some, the battle being waged by Nashot HaKotel would more appropriately fit into this category.

Particularly in Israel, there are many people in the progressive Jewish world who feel that while Nashot HaKotel may valiantly be fighting for the rights of women in an Orthodox setting, this battle does little in the way of advocating for religious pluralism. They feel that in a country such as Israel, where the recognition and embrace of Progressive Judaism is still a very real and daily battle, spending efforts to further women’s rights in an Orthodox setting are efforts that may be better spent elsewhere.

So, how do we know? How do we know what battle is worth fighting?

Let me be clear, I am not questioning whether or not the battle being fought by Women of the Wall is one worth fighting. My goal in using it as an example is to get us to think about the complexity of the battles we choose. For us to consider that we don’t always know which battles to choose.

What did I choose? I’m still not sure. I returned to Nashot HaKotel the following month to welcome Elul. I even participated in services by blowing the shofar. One month later, so much felt different. I was more comfortable davening—yes davening—out of a traditional prayer book. I saw my presence and participation as a Reform Jew as its own example of religious pluralism. Nonetheless I continued—and continue—to be torn.

I don’t have the answers. But I have started to think about it.

As we enter this time of reflection and introspection that leads us to Rosh Hashanah, may we have the strength and courage to search. May we consider the complexities of the struggles we choose as well as those that we don’t choose. May we constantly strive for a deeper understanding of others as well as of ourselves. Shabbat Shalom.

Guest Blogging: Parashat Matot 5771

2011-07-23T16:59:00.004-04:00

Dear Readers:

Genocide -- Assimilation -- Existential crisis for our people: WRT congregant Andy Frankle takes us into the deep and challenging themes of Parashat Matot, in remarks shared at our synagogue on 07.22.11.

Shabbat Shalom!

RJEB

This week’s portion – Matot - has three distinct sections:

1. In the beginning of the portion we learn about the laws concerning vows and oaths and the differences between a man or a woman making a vow

2. The middle of the portion describes the war ordered by God and launched by Moses against the Midianites. The result is the total annihilation of the Midianites, as revenge for their “trickery” leading the Israelite men astray to worship their gods. The Israelites then move on to properly cleanse themselves, their clothing and their weapons, after all that messy contact while in battle. And then they count and divide the considerable spoils of victory, including paying a levy to the Levite priests.

3. At the end of the portion, the Israelites are on the verge of entering the land of Israel, and the tribes of Reuben and Gad make a controversial request to not settle in Israel, but rather stay in Jordan, where they believe the cattle grazing is better. This request at first enrages Moses, but after some negotiation and a vow by the Tribes to commit troops to the Israelite conquest of Israel, Moses relents. This section could prompt an interesting discussion of the responsibilities of those, like us, that choose to settle outside the land of Israel, but we’ll save that for next year.

Each section by itself is worthy of thoughtful discussion, but I would like to focus on the middle of the portion - the war against the Midianites, which on its face is, to me, one of the most troubling and disturbing sections of the Torah. Yet maybe we can shed some light on the purpose of this story at this point of the literature.

Some context:

The narrative picks up from the last two weeks spanned by Numbers 25, when at their last major stop before entering Israel, the people (presumably the men) “profaned themselves” by being seduced by the Moabite women, who “invited the people to the sacrifices for their god . The people partook of them and worshipped that god.” Two weeks ago there was considerable drama, as G-d was incensed at these actions and he took his revenge on the Israelites, ordering Moses to “publicly impale” the ringleaders. And Moses passed this order to the leaders of the tribes to kill their own men who had gone astray. In addition, as the Torah describes, God brings a plague that kills 24,000 Israelites, or a little less than 5% of the Israelite populations. This week we come back to the story line and the Lord says again to Moses “avenge the Israelite people on the Midianites; then you will be gathered to your kin.” I believe this means this is Moses’ final act, and in fact, this is Moses’ last battle before his death, and before the subsequent battles to conquer the land of Israel.

So the troops are assembled and Pinchas, a priest, leads the Israelites to a total victory. All the males, including the five Midianite kings, are slain, and as was the custom of the day, the women, children, livestock and treasures are captured and brought to Moses and the other leaders. But Moses is not satisfied and in anger he orders the slaying of all the women and the male children. Only the young girls are spared and they remain captive. The soldiers undergo a week of ritual cleansing and they are ready to rejoin the community.

A few troubling aspects of our story.

This is no ordinary war.

First, the battle is not about territory, resources or military gain, but about religious vengeance.

Second, it is not Moses or Joshua, but Pinchas, the priest and grandson of Aaron, who leads this battle. If you were at the beach on July 4 weekend and missed it, Pinchas made a name for himself when overcome by passion, he slays an Israeli male and Midianite woman with a single spear, loosely translated “through the belly.” God, impressed by Pinchas’ religious fervor, elects to end the plague and not wipe out the Israelites. As additional reward, God grants Pinchas and his descendants the “pact of priesthood for all-time.” The line of Aaron is established as the line of priests, not because of piety or scholarship, but rather as a result of an act of violence against arguably a defenseless target.

Third, the battle is over, yet, in what would today be a clear violation of the Geneva Convention, Moses orders complete annihilation of the Midianites, effectively genocide.

Finally, there appears no moral dilemma or remorse for Moses, the priests or the community at large.

So how do we resolve these issues and perhaps understand the lesson that is relevant to us today?

How is this massacre… this genocide… justifiable?

I understand why the Israelites are punished – they had made a covenant with God and at the verge of God making good on his part of the deal – delivering the people to the land of Israel – the Israelites sin in the a way not seen since the days of the golden calf, 40 years prior. They are about to complete their journey, settle down and presumably achieve some level of comfort in their new home. And perhaps this story sounds familiar – every time the people get a little comfortable, their attention tends to wander from God and the Commandments. Punishment is deserved and necessary so that hopefully they will fear the consequences of straying again.

But why do the Midianites suffer their fate? The Midianites made love, not war. They had no covenant with God and they did not break any vow. It does not seem that they occupied the land of Israel, so geographically, they did not stand in our way and they were not a military threat. But their attempted seduction of the Israelites was considered a more grave threat than any traditional military campaign, or even enslavement, proof being the Egyptians did not suffer a fate as severe as the Midianites. The Midianites provided an existential threat to the the Jewish people, and therefore a direct threat to God. The order by the Lord against the Midianites was not trivial, but could be argued that it was an act of self defense.

I don’t think we feel comfortable justifying genocide as an act of self defense against dilution of the Jewish community, particularly when part of the failing here is self-inflicted. I believe this is a dangerous conclusion, justifying these actions on the basis of preserving cultural purity, as you could look to the Sudan, to Bosnia and to Nazi Germany and see parallels to similar justification for the horrific actions that took place there.

Maybe we feel some solace if we view it as a lesson, albeit a gruesome one, and not a strict account of history. Perhaps, the scribes of the Torah were constructing a story or a series of stories, derived from our oral tradition, in order to drive home a point. I believe the leaders and priests, of Moses’ time or generations later when the words were written, understood this existential threat very well and this story of “shock and awe”…take no prisoners in the literal sense …was meant to emphasize that the commandment to honor only the Lord, the one God, was to be taken seriously. But that point could be achieved by punishing the Israelites directly, certainly as it had in other instances where the Israelites had strayed. I think the Midianites suffer as a warning to others, almost as a defense mechanism. “Neighbors - don’t attack us, because we have the Lord standing with us, but also don’t try to tempt or trick us, because God will punish you in a most severe way.”

An aside, in earlier chapters it was the Moabite women who were the temptresses, but it is the Midianites that suffer the consequences. This inconsistency supports the theory that perhaps this sequence is the result of merging two or more stories. The Midianites are an available foil, probably no longer around centuries later to dispute the account. In fact the Bible itself tells us that while there may have been a battle with the Midianites, there was not a total annihilation. The Midianites reappear on the scene as a powerful foe in the book of Judges, only a generation or two later.

By the way, I don’t take away that assimilation, per se, is the threat to the Jewish people and I do not think that is the direct cause of either God’s of Moses’ anger. Look at Moses – he married a Midianite woman, Zippora, and took counsel from his father- in-law Jethro, who was a Midianite priest. No, I believe the issue is that in this case, consorting with the Moabites or the Midianites, or whoever, led directly to the breaking of at least three commandments and straying to other gods. Even in Deuteronomy, when the Torah speaks out against intermarriage, it’s because of the fear that “they will turn your children away from me… to worship other gods.” This is the transgression God deems punishable by death and this is the warning given by the Torah.

So I believe this message was directed at an Israelite population that was now settled in the land of Israel, trying to maintain its identity among a land with other people worshipping other gods. Of course, life would be so much easier if we lived in a place where we all shared the same beliefs and background. But that will never be the case, not here and certainly not in Israel. Therefore in ancient Israel, our ancestors survived and preserved the Torah by not straying, at least not too far. Perhaps they feared punishment and perhaps their then-neighbors feared it as well.

Today, the challenge is similar, even if the fear of divine retribution is not. Since isolation is not an option in mainstream society, we will continue to face temptation, and of course vanquishing the tempters is not a viable option, either. We must operate in a multicultural society. It’s not a threat to live with neighbors with other beliefs, as long as we hold fast to ours, in one God, and maintain our Jewish identity. Since the exodus from Egypt, we’ve survived as a people this way and this is how we will have to survive into the future.

Shabbat Shalom.

Balak 5771: What A Talking Ass Teaches Us About Life

2011-07-08T16:16:00.001-04:00

Guest Blogging: Parashat Chukkat 5771

2011-07-01T17:15:00.002-04:00

Dear Friends:

This week's D'var Torah is presented by our congregant Elaine Rosenstein. All of us are grateful for her insights!

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Jonathan Blake

This week’s Torah portion is Chukkat, which is a multifaceted and complicated amalgamation of a few story lines and descriptions of rituals. In this portion, we learn of the ritual of purification via the ashes of a red heifer, healing of snake bites by looking at a copper serpent idol, the deaths of Miriam and Aaron, a battle between the Israelites and the Amorites, and the famous story of Moses angrily striking a rock to produce water for the people and getting punished by God for his actions. That’s a lot of stuff going on about a lot of difficult subjects! Needless to say, I had to think long and hard about the lessons this portion gives.

Many laws, rituals and stories in the Torah just don’t easily resonate with us, especially at WRT, in this day and age. I decided to take a pass on the red heifer ashes and the copper serpent and focus on a more contemporary element of Chukkat - the story of Moses’s striking a rock to get water and reaping a pretty tough punishment for the act. As the narrative goes, Miriam dies, there is no water to be found, and the Israelites begin to complain to Moses and Aaron that they and their animals are thirsty and hungry. They wonder aloud why they left Egypt when now, their basic needs cannot even be met. God tells Moses and Aaron to gather the people near a rock and order the rock to produce water for the complaining people. But instead of calmly speaking to the rock, as directed, Moses angrily says, “Listen, you rebels, shall we get water for you out of this rock?” He then strikes the rock two times with his rod, and the rock produces enough water for the people and animals to drink. God is unhappy with how Moses has used the miracle God provided. He says to Aaron and Moses, “Because you did not trust Me enough to show My holiness to the Israelites, therefore you shall not lead this community into the land that I have given them.” Moses will never see the Land of Israel and the privilege of leading his people to Israel is taken away from him.

God’s decree that Moses be punished for his momentary, angry outburst seems disproportionately unjust. The punishment does not seem, at first glance, to fit the offense. After faithfully following all of God’s directives and leading the Israelites out of bondage, out of Egypt, wandering with his community for 40 years in the desert, it seems a pretty steep price to pay to not be able to accompany the group to the final destination and well-deserved fruits of his effort, all because he lost his temper in a moment of frustration. We can all relate to Moses’s lapse in judgement. Haven’t we all been driven to the point of insanity by our children, our employers or employees, other humans? Don’t we all know how hard it is to control our anger in the face of extreme frustration or disappointment? Yes, we all do, so why is God so harsh with Moses here?

After all, the Torah tells of quite a few instances of Moses’s acting in anger. He killed an Egyptian soldier out of anger when he saw the soldier beating a Hebrew slave. He smashed the tablets of the Ten Commandments when the Israelites doubted God. What was the difference this time? When is aggression acceptable or even appropriate and when is it destructive? When Moses showed anger because of injustice or lack of faith on the part of his people, his actions, even though rash, served a purpose, to exact just revenge or to make a strong point to his wayward people. The Torah isn’t suggesting that we all be passive or unemotional. Sometimes anger is necessary, but by striking the rock in anger, Moses violated at least two ideals.

First, he failed to recognize the situation he was in and acted out of frustration, not righteous indignation or anger for a purpose. A sensitive leader must be able to differentiate between situations and know when compassion and patience are the better course. By losing his sensitivity and acting with rash anger, Moses was showing that he might not have the right emotional mindset to be the best leader for the Israelites going forward.

I’ll try to put it in a modern context. A few weeks ago, I was proceeding through the Five Corners, and I hesitated because I couldn’t remember, for a split second, if I was turning left or right. I looked in my rearview mirror and saw the woman in the car behind me furiously gesturing and screaming at me as though I had committed the greatest offense on earth. I was shaken by her extreme behavior. Was her angry outburst meant to cause me shame or fear? Did it help her get where she was going any faster? Did it really make her feel better? Probably not, nor was the behavior productive, rational or understanding in a humanly, neighborly way. My mistake did not deserve such a reaction, much the same as the Israelite’s doubts about their water supply did not deserve such an angry rebuke from Moses. It is always better to take a breath, analyze the facts, and respond in a calm fashion, whether in dealing with whining kids, confused drivers or any other anger-producing situation. And it is ever more necessary that a leader exemplify those values of patience and control.

The second ideal Moses violates is humility. By hitting the rock, Moses was making God’s miracle into his own feat of prowess. Rather than say, “Look what God produces,” he angrily says, ”Look what WE will do for you.” Although the result is the same - water is provided - the message is entirely wrong. Rather than show compassion to his frustrated people, Moses vents his anger to highlight his own power. You could say the message God intended when he spoke to Moses was for the Israelites to have faith in the principles of Judaism or the Ten Commandments, and that the false message Moses conveyed by lashing out in anger was for the Israelites to have faith in him. It’s a big difference.

So is Moses’s punishment of not being able to lead his people into Israel harsh? It is. But the lesson is still a good one. We learn, through this story, that poor choices in behavior can result in harsh consequences. We often act aggressively or hastily when we should be kind, gentle, understanding or at the very least, rational. Anger, and even violence is all right where it is righteous and purposeful. There’s lots of violence in the Torah that God condones and even approves of. But acting out of anger because of meanness, self-centeredness or even frustration has consequences, and sometimes those consequences may be disproportionate or very severe. It is best to avoid violent or angry confrontation unless absolutely necessary. Those behaviors are almost always regrettable or unproductive.

I hope that these thoughts will help you to have a calm, stressless and anger-free summer, or at least Shabbat.

KORACH 5771: Guest D'var Torah by Michele B., WRT Congregant and Torah Study "Regular"

2011-06-23T23:11:00.004-04:00

Dear Friends: I'm away this week and pleased to share with you the following remarks by Michele Braun who studies Torah at WRT and who offers this week's D'var Torah.

Yours very warmly,

Rabbi Jonathan Blake

Shabbat Shalom.

This week’s Torah portion covers Numbers chapters 16 - 18. It is called Korach, after the first [major] word in the section and after the protagonist. This is the story of a rebellion against Moses’s leadership. A rebellion that is put down completely, after which none of the rebels are left standing.

Here’s the short version, told in a few excerpts from the text:

“Korach…, Dathan…, and Abiram… took up, and they rose before Moses, and two hundred fifty men of the Israelites, community chieftains, persons called up to meeting, men of renown. And they assembled against Moses and against Aaron and said to them “You have too much! For all the community, they are all holy, and in their midst is the Lord, and why should you raise yourselves up over the Lord’s assembly?”

Shortly thereafter, “the ground that was under them split apart, and the earth opened its mouth and swallowed them and their households and every human being that was Korah’s, and all the possessions.” … “and they perished from the midst of the assembly.” … “And a fire had gone out from the Lord, and consumed the 250 men….”

On the following day, “all the community of Israelites murmured … against Moses and against Aaron, saying, “You, you have put to death the Lord’s people.” Then it appears that God unleashes a “scourge” – a plague of some sort? And, finally, to reaffirm Aaron’s authority as religious leader, God arranges a dramatic display: staffs from each tribe’s leader are collected, and Aaron’s staff -- but only Aaron’s staff -- sprouts flowers and almonds. (This latter bit is reminiscent of the trick that Moses and Aaron performed for Pharaoh back in Egypt – remember the staffs that turned into snakes and gotten eaten by Moses’s staff/snake?)

That’s the story. Reading it a few time through prompted me to start musing about the nature and value of dissent. A few questions come to mind:

1 – Why tell this story?

2 – Why rebel?

3 – Was God’s response appropriate?

First: It’s a story. Why tell it?

We don’t know if the events related here took place, took place during the 40 years that the tribes of Israel spent wandering in the desert, or if the story developed later. All we can know is that by the time the book of Numbers was redacted the story was there.

Scholars suggest that these passages may actually recount several rebellions, somewhat awkwardly compressed together. One of these rebellions would have been led by Korach, a member of the Levite tribe that served in the tabernacle. His rebellion appears directed at Moses and Aaron, at their religious leadership. These rebels, along with their families and possessions, are swallowed up by the ground that split open under them.

The second rebellion would have been led by Dathan and Abiram, of the tribe of Judah. This rebellion appears directed at Moses alone and was supported by “community leaders and men of renown.” Perhaps this rebellion reflected dissatisfaction with the civil leadership. These rebels were consumed by fire.

The most obvious reason for telling these stories is to show that God’s choice of leaders is not open to discussion and the punishment for objecting to the designated leadership is absolute. No objections are permitted. The message was delivered in a very public way: The text says that “…they perished from the midst of the assembly. And all Israel that was round about them fled at the sound of them, for they thought ‘Lest the earth swallow us.’ ” Rebels dead. Message delivered. What’s not to understand?

Not satisfied with these two accounts of rebellion followed by swift and final retribution, the text tells that the next day, all the community “murmured” against Moses and against Aaron. That is, despite the very dramatic evidence that rebellion doesn’t pay, protests continued, even spread. (Sound familiar?) The protests, this time, were about the unfair nature of the retribution. Let’s call this a third rebellion against the leadership. Because the “murmuring” is widespread, so too is the response, which comes in the form of a plague. Message reinforced: It’s not just the leaders of the rebellion who were destroyed but anyone who supported them… even if that support was limited to being appalled by the punishment.

For a second reason for these events, let’s look though the lens of political economy. Thus: this is a story about the formation of a people and its institutions. If this collection of tribes, plus perhaps some non-Israelite peoples, is to survive to become the nation so often promised in the Torah, it will need institutions, tools for continuity and permanence. God’s goal, or that of the redactor, is to create a group, a people, and ultimately a nation, unified. All effort must be toward that goal and significant attempts to undermine those goals and that unity must be suppressed. Any deviation, any distraction cannot be countenanced.

Next question: why rebel?

The text says that “Korach…, Dathan…, and Abiram… took up, and they rose before Moses….” The phrase that these three men “took up” is unresolved. A word -- a noun – is missing. We’re not told what they took up: Arms? Protests? The turn of phrase is discordant and unsettling.

The next sentence helps a bit: “And they assembled against Moses and against Aaron and said to them “You have too much! For all the community, they are all holy, and in their midst is the Lord, and why should you raise yourselves up over the Lord’s assembly?” This sounds like Moses and Aaron being accused of centralized control, of taking too much power. This could be a real – perhaps legitimate? – complaint.

Were Moses and Aaron making bad decisions? Were they keeping too much day-to-day control of rules and decisions, on issues both large and small? Were they giving prominent roles or power to only a chosen few? Were they unfairly restricting access to the tabernacles, which could be seen as limiting access to God? Remember that only certain people (Aaron’s descendants) could serve in the tabernacle, could lead the sacrifices. But this is supposed to be everyone’s god.

The rebels did ask “why should you raise yourselves up over the Lord’s assembly?” Could the rebels have meant: who are you and yours to be so special? Alternatively, was the leader of the rebellion a malcontent who wanted more power? What did the chieftains and community leaders who supported the rebellion expect to get out of it? What were they promised in exchange for their support? Status? A closer relationship with God? Something more tangible? The text provides no hints.

I’ve been using the word “rebellion” to describe these events. Rebellion is a strong word; it conjures up images of violence and revolution. However, we don’t actually know that these events were “rebellions.” Maybe a different, more nuanced, word is appropriate. How about “dissent?” Dissent is milder. It encompasses action, perhaps non-violent protests, or civil disobedience, or letters to the editor, or tweets of complaint.

Maybe our protestors just wanted a greater voice in the creation of this new entity, the “people of Israel.”

Third question: Was God’s response appropriate?

Here’s another Bible story, with a different response to dissent: This week’s Haftarah portion recounts the prophet Samuel’s answer to a leadership challenge. In the face of military threat from Nahash, king of the Ammonites, the people ask for a king. Samuel takes pains to affirm the quality of his leadership, to make sure that there are no civil, religious, or military blotches on his record. Then he anoints Saul as Israel’s first king. Although both King Saul and Prophet Samuel are beholden to God, now, for the first time, the Israelite people have separate civil and religious rulers. Although the populace does worry about God’s response, God takes no action, does not objection.

Looking again through the lens of political economy, the Samuel story shows that dissent can motivate societal change.

Sociologists and theologians like to talk about “response to modernity.” Usually, this question focuses on the last hundred years or so. Or maybe on more current -- “post modern” -- times. But response-to-modernity occurs as every generation faces the challenges and innovations of its “modern” world. Even to a now-ancient world.

In the case of Moses and Aaron, the loose-knit tribes had just faced change. The leaders were trying to build stability, structure, and permanence. The Samuel story, on the other hand, suggests that the dissent indicated a need for change; the dissent was a force motivating that change.

One final observation: Despite the rather fantastical ways in which these rebellions were put down – swallowed by rifts in the ground, toasted by heavenly flashes of fire, these stories have a ring of reality about them.

If they didn’t occur precisely as told, I would still posit that these are based on real events. Objections to leadership, dissent, protests against centralized power, complaints and murmurings… these sound credible. And familiar.

Michele Braun

June 24, 2011

INTERN BLOGGING: Parashat Shelach-Lecha

2011-06-16T23:48:00.003-04:00

Dear Readers,

I'm very happy to share with you some Torah reflections from Maqy Quartner and Anna Blitstein. Maqy and Anna served for six weeks as interns in residence at WRT as part of Scarsdale High School's mandatory Senior Options program for all graduating seniors. They assisted the clergy with preparations for Confirmation, Adult Education, and 20s/30s programming; they shadowed me for several weeks and learned the ins and outs of our synagogue behind the scenes. Most of all, they brought an eagerness to help out in any way possible, tremendous intellectual and spiritual curiosity, and a positive attitude! It was a pleasure working with them.

I join the professional staff of WRT in thanking Maqy and Anna for their contributions and service. Their remarks (below) are very kind. I promise I did not tell them what to say.

ANNA AND MAQY’S BLOG!

In Sh’lach L’cha, God instructs Moses to send some emissaries to scout the land of Canaan. Much in the same way, we—Maqy Quartner and Anna Blitstein-- have been “spies” in the temple for the past 40 days.

All seniors at Scarsdale High School must participate in internships or independent projects for the last six weeks of school. As part of this program, called “Senior Options,” we have worked with Rabbi Blake, as well as other temple clergy and administration. As such, we were much like the spies from this week’s portion. We had insights into the inside life of the temple. Some of our peers took a more typical route than we did. They found “normal” internships at places such as stores, schools, or companies. Working for Rabbi Blake was a break from the norm, as his job is far from typical.

That is not to say that Rabbi Blake does not conduct his day-to-day work-life much like anyone else. There are many aspects of his job that one could describe as typical. He has a schedule full of meetings with congregants; he attends a weekly staff meeting; he has to make copies; he has conference calls; he attends business luncheons. As we observed him in these roles, we may have received the average senior options experience. However, our experience went far beyond just this, as Rabbi Blake’s job is not limited to these mundane tasks. While his daily schedule may be packed with meetings, it is entirely possible—and likely—that this schedule will completely change on a given day, as special meetings or funerals come up. We observed how adept Rabbi Blake is to changing gears spontaneously, as new things arise that he must attend to. Additionally, Rabbi Blake’s job separates itself from others as he is able to make personal connections with people that may not be possible from other jobs. As a rabbi, he not only relates to congregants but also forms special bonds with them by sharing in the joyous as well as the unfortunate occasions in their lives. Because congregants value their connections to Rabbi Blake, they feel comfortable asking him for advice, guidance, or just a listening ear.

We have had such a memorable experience over these last six weeks and we would like to thank Rabbi Blake as well as everyone else at the temple for giving us the opportunity to work here. We hope that we have helped you to ease your load as much as possible. This has been an experience that we will never forget.

Beha'alotecha

2011-06-10T19:32:00.004-04:00

Dear Friends,

Numbers Chapter 11, from this week's portion is all about complaining! The Israelites kvetch (whine) that they miss the delicacies of Egypt -- "We remember the fish we ate in Egypt at no cost--also the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic" (Num. 11:5). Their complaining incenses Moses and God; it is a sign of shortsighted ingratitude.

My posting this week is a series of questions:

- How do our complaints get in the way of our gratitude?

- What do you most often kvetch about? How does it make you feel when you complain? How does it make others feel?

- If you could drop one complaint from your life, what would it be, and why? How are your complaints holding you back?

- When is a complaint useful?

Wishing you a kvetch-free Shabbat!

Shabbat Shalom,

Jonathan

NASO 5771

2011-06-03T18:07:00.001-04:00

NASO 5771

We are the stories we tell about ourselves. The stories that African-American communities tell about the nature of our great country differ, at least in emphasis if not in major talking points, from the stories that White Anglo-Saxon Protestant communities tell.

Because communities evolve over time to resemble their stories, the oldest stories exert the most powerful influence. This is why the Bible is so important. For almost 2,500 years we have turned to our Master Story in order to understand not only who we were long ago, but also who we are right now.

In the next few minutes I want to share with you two stories from our Master Story. Each depicts one of the most insidious conflicts in Jewish history, the clash between the Israelites and the Philistines.

The first story comes from the Bible’s Book of First Samuel. The Philistine warrior Goliath, “six cubits and a span,” about ten feet tall, emerges from the Philistine camp. “He had a helmet of bronze on his head, and was armed with a coat of mail weighing five thousand shekels of bronze,” about twelve pounds. “He wore bronze armor on his legs, with a javelin of bronze slung between his shoulders. The shaft of his spear was like a weaver’s beam, and his spear’s head alone weighed six hundred shekels [almost a pound and a half] of iron” (I Sam. 17:4-7). Goliath challenges King Saul to nix the armies, and instead present one worthy adversary whom Goliath would fight man-to-man, hand-to-hand. We remember what happens next: the boy David approaches and taunts the giant: “Who is this uncircumcised Philistine, that he should defy the armies of the living God?” (Ibid, v. 26). David suits up and runs to the line of combat, carrying a sling and a pouch. “Putting his hand in his bag, David removed a stone and slung it and struck the Philistine.... The stone sank into his forehead, and he fell on his face to the ground” (Ibid, v. 48).

This is the Bible story that we tell most often about the modern State of Israel, the story that Israel tells to encapsulate her brief and turbulent history: that she is little David while Goliath personifies the entire Arab Middle East: the mighty sea of nations hostile to Israel’s existence, who time and time again have risen up to challenge her, and have been struck down, thanks to Israel’s determination, courage, and surgical precision in battle, not unlike a stone slung square to the enemy’s forehead. We tell the story of David and Goliath especially in light of the ’67 war, the miraculous six-day siege that drove back enemies on every side and dramatically enlarged Israel’s territory to approach, irony intended here, its boundaries under King David.

It is with a further appreciation for irony that I note here that today’s Palestinians derive their name from the Biblical Philistines (by way of the Roman name for the Holy Land, Palestina). The Palestinian cause, a nationalist movement emerging in the mid-1960’s under the banner of the pointedly named “Palestine Liberation Organization,” exhibited remarkable savvy, and chutzpah, by choosing to identify their fledgling “nation” with ancient Israel’s arch-enemies.

There is another famous Biblical story about Israelites and Philistines and therefore, by extension, about Israelis and Palestinians: the story of Samson and Delilah. Samson, the Bible’s great strongman, is a Nazirite, a person dedicated to God through certain oaths: foremost, that no razor shall touch the Nazirite’s consecrated hair. The law of the Nazirite comes from this week’s Torah portion Naso and with this in mind, the Haftarah for this Shabbat tells the story of the most famous Nazirite.

You know this story, too: Samson--he of the rippling muscles and Rapunzel tresses--comes of age during a fever pitch in the Israeli-Palestinian, I mean, Israelite-Philistine, conflict. (You see how it easy it is to conflate the two.) As a young man Samson roams into enemy territory, falls in love with a Philistine woman (not Delilah), and marries her despite his parents’ objections. Given access to the enemy, he promptly ditches the wife and begins to aggravate the Philistines, burning their crops, engaging in lopsided skirmishes in which he kills up to a thousand of them single-handedly, and foiling a Philistine ambush.

He falls in love again, this time with Delilah, whom the Philistines bribe to discover the secret of Samson’s strength. After a few aborted attempts, her feminine wiles overcome him and he confesses. While Samson sleeps, the Philistines sneak in and cut off his hair, rendering him impotent as Superman in the grip of Kryptonite. The Philistines capture him, torture him, put him to forced labor.

While in captivity his hair slowly grows back. At a festival in the temple of the Philistine god Dagon, where the enemy has displayed Samson for the amusement of a jeering public, Samson grips the pillars, pulling them to the ground, destroying the temple, decapitating the Philistine elite, and martyring himself.

Many people sympathetic to the Palestinian cause have embraced this Bible story as the definitive narrative of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, depicting Israel as bloodthirsty brute, unmatchable in military strength but more easily tripped up through plots and schemes that make it easy to accuse Israel of deploying disproportionate force, answering sticks and stones with tanks and gunships. In these circles, Israel is portrayed as Samson, responding to the slightest of provocations by slaying a thousand at once.

We, of course, bristle at the comparison. We know that Israel trains its soldiers rigorously in the ethics of combat. I do believe that Israel agonizes over how to respond to rockets fired from Gaza into Sderot, how to preserve the dignity of Palestinian laborers trying to get through a West Bank checkpoint while remaining vigilant against the one rogue terrorist who could obliterate dozens of innocent civilians in the blink of an eye.

We can say to ourselves, Israel is not savage Samson, the muscleman with the itchy trigger finger; no, Israel is little David! Israel is the boy warrior with his slingshot, facing down all these other hostile countries, especially the giant Iran.

But the point is that we are the stories we tell.

And if we resent the appropriation of the Samson story to serve the Palestinian cause, we had better approach with equal caution before adopting the David story as our own master narrative.

For while both stories have much to say about Israelites and Philistines, about Israelis and Palestinians, in the final analysis all stories prove ill-equipped to address real-world complexities, nuances, and ambiguities.

In this week’s Sunday Times Review of Books, Adam Kirsch summarized some trends in recent books about World War II. In concluding his essay, he wrote: “… [T]he present is always lived in ambiguity…. It is only in retrospect that we begin to simplify experience into myth — because we need stories to live by, because we want to honor our ancestors and our country instead of doubting them. In this way, a necessary but terrible war is simplified into a ‘good war,’ and we start to feel shy or guilty at any reminder of the moral compromises and outright betrayals that are inseparable from every combat.”

Simply put, the stories we tell, particularly about great and brutal conflicts, tend to oversimplify: to speak of heroes and villains, aggressors and victims. We populate our stories with literally outsize characters like Goliath and Samson.

When it comes to Israelis and Palestinians, we need to stop with the stories. We need a major reality check. Israelis and Palestinians are enemies, no less antagonistic than the Israelites and the Philistines before them. But, as Moshe Dayan said: “If you want to make peace, you don’t talk to your friends. You talk to your enemies.” It’s a saying I wish both Netanyahu and Abbas would take more to heart; their overarching “strategy” seems to be the indefinite preservation of the status quo: the same old story.

Real peace will require that that we put our entrenched narratives aside for a moment, our parables with their accusations and recriminations, and start talking to our enemies about the real world, about borders and water rights and settlements and security and Jerusalem.

The Arabs are not Goliath. Israel is not David. Israel is not Samson. The Palestinians are not Delilah. For that matter, speak not of Israelites and Philistines but of Israelis and Palestinians: two peoples forged in the crucible of modern-day nationalist movements.

We are what we are: real-life enemies who have a lot of work to do in order to live side by side without violence, without the shroud of occupation casting a shadow upon the Middle East’s greatest democracy.

We are what we are: two peoples, with two irreconcilably different stories to tell, but only one destiny to fulfill.

PARASHAT BEMIDBAR - GUEST BLOGGING BY WRT MEMBER SARAH WEINGARTEN

2011-05-27T16:13:00.003-04:00

Dear Readers,

I'm pleased to share with you this thoughtful and important D'var Torah offered by WRT congregant Sarah Weingarten who is studying Economics and English at the University of St. Andrews in Scotland.

Shabbat Shalom!

Rabbi Jonathan Blake

BEMIDBAR

I have been living in a foreign country for a few years now with a literal ocean of distance between my life in the U.K. and my Jewish roots at WRT, but when Rabbi Blake asked me to write a piece about this week’s portion, I connected with the Torah as one connects with an old friend, and was immediately (and once again) struck by the relevance of its wisdom to the modern causes in my life, and our shared lives alike.

This week’s Torah portion, Bemidbar, is the first in the Book of Numbers, and takes place as the Jewish people are wandering in the wilderness over a year after their Exodus from Egypt. God commands Moses to take a census of the Israelite population by recording the number of males over twenty years of age from each ancestral tribe, and eleven houses of Israel are thus accounted for. The Levites, however, are not counted – God instead commands Moses to distinguish them from the rest of the Israelites as the caretakers and guards of the Tabernacle of the Pact, in which the Ark and its Tablets are kept.

The Israelites are commanded to camp around the Levites in their family groups, both to protect and remain separated from the Tabernacle. It is only after the Levites are consecrated to God that they, too, are counted, and each group is given its own sacred responsibilities. However, despite the stratification of the Israelite population both within the tribal groups and as a whole, the numbers are all added up throughout to represent one unified people, and the entire population marches as one formation.

I was very affected by this portion about ancient hierarchies and biblical rites because it carries so much meaning for the principle of social action that we, as WRT congregants, exemplify every day. This summer, I will be working for Let’s Get Ready, a non-profit company that employs college student volunteers to provide free SAT coaching and college application assistance to underprivileged youth throughout New England and the Mid-Atlantic. I have been involved with Let’s Get Ready for two years - by mentoring high school students of lower-income backgrounds who lack the financial resources and the self-confidence to pursue their dreams of attending college - and I have seen the program work dozens of times. Now, I am co-directing the White Plains site, and I am keenly aware of how easy and rewarding it can be for college students to make a real impact not only on their students’ lives, but also on the socioeconomic barriers that prevent many wonderful high-schoolers from attending our nation’s top colleges.

To me, the most obvious feature of Bemidbar was, aptly, its focus on numbers – the counting and recording of family groups and amounts of money, and the hierarchy in the Israelite population that results. I read in the Plaut Commentary that, in fact, there has historically been an ambivalence in Judaism toward counting people and recording their ages because “there was a feeling that knowing a person’s ‘number’ was equivalent to knowing his essence,” an awareness that should not belong to men, but to God. Moreover, numbering appears to “[set] a limit” where physical and spiritual growth should instead appear to be limitless.

As I read this commentary on the content of Bemidbar, I could not help but think of my students at Let’s Get Ready, who are initially fearful that, in the college application process, they will merely get tagged with a “number” – their SAT score – without getting a chance to express their “essence” as they attempt to improve their lives. They often underestimate themselves and, in perceiving themselves to be counted out because of their socioeconomic background, effectively count themselves out.

What we do at Let’s Get Ready, however, is more than just improving the ‘number’ that will, to some extent, define the students to college admissions boards. We also get to know them as individuals over the course of seven weeks, and we teach them how to express their essence with pride, strength, and hope as they undertake the difficult and potentially life-changing college application process. We do not set limits; rather, in a way similar to the spiritual ideal identified in the commentary above, our students’ horizons become limitless.

How, then, to reconcile my work with Bemidbar, a chapter in our biblical history that uses finite numbers above all else to qualify the various groups within the Israelite population? I began to look at the portion with a wider lens and to consider the significance of its setting in the desert wilderness. It seems that many commentators have explored the idea of the desert and why the Israelites were given the Torah and many sacred rites there. One passage from the Midrash suggests that it is because those who preserve the Torah “make [themselves] like the desert: set apart from the world.” Given my work this summer and the drive toward social action that WRT has instilled in me, however, I cannot agree that holiness can arise from detachment.

I am more drawn to another passage from the Midrash, which explains that the Torah and its accompanying sacred responsibilities were given in the wilderness because the desert “is open and accessible to all mankind.” This has resonated with me beyond all else as I devote myself to Let’s Get Ready, especially since it is slowly becoming more widely acknowledged by academics and policymakers that the socioeconomic divide in our country makes for a higher education environment that is often not the meritocracy we would like it to be. Many competitive colleges and universities are attended by disproportionally large numbers of high-income students, while low- and middle-income students of equal caliber are shut out because they do not have access to the financial resources that would allow them to adequately prepare and ultimately pay for their education. Ideally, our collective educational institutions should emulate the desert [Hebrew, "midbar"] of Bemidbar, in which, led spiritually by the Levites, everyone is counted equally, and all tribes, despite their size, are given the same claim to the teachings of the Torah.

Ultimately, therefore, Bemidbar projects a spirit of unity and spiritual equality that, in conjunction with its focus on numbers, suggests that there is holiness in both the individual and the group. Each family is proudly identified and counted separately, but the numbers are added up to form the Israelite population as a whole, and it is because the wilderness is an even playing field that their spiritual cohesion is possible. I hope to take this idea with me into my work this summer with Let’s Get Ready – when it comes to social action, there is just as much holiness in the ability of one person to impact the life of another person, as there is in a collective group effort in pursuit of the common good. If everyone has an equal voice and an equal chance, there will be no limits to what humanity can accomplish.

Let’s Get Ready is looking for motivated, dependable, and enthusiastic college students to join our White Plains program by becoming volunteer coaches one evening a week from mid-June to mid-August. Interested students should apply by Friday, June 10^th at

http://www.letsgetready.org/Programs/WhitePlainsNY,

or email Sarah Weingarten at lgrwhiteplains@gmail.com for more information.

The Sacred Power of If - Bechukotai 5771

2011-05-20T13:28:00.001-04:00

Help us get the word out about saving the Amazing Afternoons program at Edward Williams School.

(And learn a little Torah while you're at it!)

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Blake

Behar 5771: Westchester United!

2011-05-13T19:31:00.004-04:00

BEHAR 5771

I live 8 miles from Westchester Reform Temple. On a good day, in no traffic, it takes me 12 minutes to drive to work. On a bad day, don’t ask. The little community in which I live goes by many names. Our mailing address says Bronxville but the nearest Metro-North station is Fleetwood. The School District is Yonkers but the nearest city is Mount Vernon. If I walk ¼ miles west of our condo, I’m on the campus of Sarah Lawrence College. If I walk ¼ mile east, I’m in an apartment complex in downtown Mount Vernon.

The intersection of these communities sets their disparities into high relief. Green-and-pink flowering trees line the college walkways adjacent to the concrete sprawl of the Cross-County Mall. The green-and-pink argyle uniform of the archetypal Bronxvillian clashes with the low-slung pants and baseball cap of the Mount Vernon adolescent. As but one of countless related statistics, in 2007 the average SAT score in Bronxville was 1217; in Mount Vernon it was 838 (outranking only some districts in Yonkers which averaged as low as 794). (Scarsdale averaged 1256 that year for those of you who seek bragging rights.)

Living where I do has made me aware of pervasive, corrosive challenges in Westchester County.

WRT has been, and will remain, responsive to local concerns, even as we always stand at the ready to respond to an emergent crisis. When it comes to doing God’s work on earth, we do not take an either/or approach. When we were asked, “Does WRT stand with Darfur or with Israel?” the answer was a resounding YES. Do we stand with Haiti or with Japan? YES. Do we stand with New Orleans or with New Rochelle? YES.

Engagement at the local level does not preclude engagement in global concerns. Our generation will be remembered either for our moral grandeur or for our failure to uphold the mitzvot of responsible stewardship of our world. We will confront the threats posed by our dependence on fossil fuels. Any responsible commitment to Tikkun Olam requires both a telescope and a microscope.

Addressing the needs of Westchester County constitutes a core commitment of my rabbinate. We have big problems here, like school violence and gangs; school systems that fail to prepare youth for college and a competitive global job market; drug addiction; deadbeat and incarcerated parents; meager options for low-income housing, inadequate daycare for children of single working mothers, poorly funded after-school programs for adolescents (where they exist at all), and insufficient access to affordable, nutritious food.

Some of these problems seem unprecedented, but many date back as far as human civilization. Above all, we see with unmistakeable clarity in Westchester County a problem both global and local, modern and ancient: the growing gap between the rich and the poor, a gap that allows communities like Scarsdale to flourish alongside Mount Vernon, Rye Brook alongside Port Chester.

This week’s Torah portion, Behar, tackles head-on the gap between the haves and the have-nots. It speaks of an institution called Yovel, the Jubilee or fiftieth year, requiring a remission of outstanding debts, a cancellation of outstanding mortgages, a return of estates to original owners, a release of indentured laborers, and mandated welfare for the destitute. This parasha also reinforces the longstanding Jewish practice of interest-free loans.

Could the authorities really have enforced such a sweeping economic recalibration without widespread revolt or protest? Is the Bible’s vision the very definition of utopian, that is to say, of a society that could never exist? Apparently even by Hillel’s time in the first century BCE, creditors would refuse loans to people in need when the Yovel was approaching. Nevertheless we must admire the Torah’s moral courage to call it like it is, to identify the widening gap between rich and poor as a failed social condition requiring remedy.

That moral courage later would also find its voice in Reform Judaism. Listen to these words from the Pittsburgh Platform of 1885, the capstone principle of a generation’s definitive statement of purpose:

In full accordance with the spirit of the Mosaic legislation, which strives to regulate the relations between rich and poor [that’s a reference to this week’s portion], we deem it our duty to participate in the great task of modern times, to solve, on the basis of justice and righteousness, the problems presented by the contrasts and evils of the present organization of society.

“The contrasts and evils of the present organization of society!” Good for us for speaking with blunt force -- back in 1885. Can we summon the courage to say it again now? If you want to see those “contrasts and evils” up close, just take a twelve minute drive in any direction.

Let me repeat: WRT has never neglected our neighborhood. I am inspired every day by our congregants’ dedication, creativity, and perseverance, from Cooking for a Cause, to monthly mitzvah collections, to seasonal and sustained food drives. When I came to WRT, I developed a program to oversee student mitzvah projects. Now virtually every Bar and Bat Mitzvah completes a commitment of 18 hours of community service, and many continue well into High School. Our congregants have created opportunities like Favors for Humanity, for families to pool money that would otherwise have been spent on party favors into a communal tzedakah fund, and Food Rescue, which hygienically conveys leftovers from catered events to local institutions with limited food budgets.

WRT understands the power of tzedakah. I’m reminded of the scene in Fiddler on the Roof when Lazar Wolf sees a man begging on the streets and says, “Here, Reb Nachum, is one kopek.” The beggar says, “One kopek? Last week you gave me two kopeks!” Lazar says, “I had a bad week.” And the beggar says, “So, you had a bad week, why should I suffer?”

Even in hard times we have continued to raise the bar for charitable giving. Last year’s Confirmation class raised over $6,000 and gave $1,500 to the Edward Williams School in Mount Vernon where many of our kids volunteer. In fact, just last night, WRT congregants convened an assembly to rescue their Amazing Afternoons after-school program, whose funding the state has cut. Our annual Confirmation fundraiser is this Sunday morning, so please come with open wallets and open hearts. Dirty cars optional but recommended.

So WRT already stands out front when it comes to social action. But Parashat Behar challenges us to go way beyond the usual way of doing it. Parashat Behar challenges the status quo. It says: examine the world as it is and turn it into the world as it ought to be.

Giving tzedakah and performing deeds of lovingkindness for people in need positions us as benefactors and them as recipients. The benefits to the recipient are real and measurable, but at the end of the day, there is no shift in the fundamental power structure. If anything, the benefactor-recipient model of Tikkun Olam highlights the power differential between one community and the next. It’s us and them instead of just us.

Enter four letters that I hope you will learn and embrace and use. C.B.C.O. They stand for Congregation-Based Community Organizing. CBCO enables synagogues to build deep relationships and address entrenched challenges through thoughtful conversations and by creating powerful coalitions across lines of race, class, and faith.

Working together, congregations identify broadly held concerns of injustice and then bring their collective power to successful action to transform their communities.

Working with local community organizing groups, Reform congregations across the country, along with their diverse partner congregations, have already achieved significant victories on issues of affordable housing, health care access and affordability, nursing care quality for both patients and employees, schooling, air quality improvement, and much more. Westchester Reform Temple is proud to be one of the lead CBCO congregations in Westchester.

Many people have said, “We know that Yonkers needs better schools. We know that Port Chester needs fair treatment for its predominantly Hispanic immigrant population. We know that Mount Vernon needs more low-income housing. Why can’t we just work on those issues?” But that defeats the purpose of CBCO, in which listening campaigns allow us to cultivate buy-in and strengthen not only the coalition but also each member congregation, one conversation at a time. Only when issues emerge from the community will we authentically serve the community.

And the issues we need to address are simply too big for WRT to tackle alone. No matter how generous we are, we can’t solve them with our tzedakah alone. No matter how determined we are, we can’t solve them with our dedication alone. No matter how loving we are, we can’t solve them with our compassion alone.

We have to join with other congregations, for one purpose: to amass the power it will take to change entrenched norms in Westchester. People in power may not care when a group of leaders from a single congregation arranges a meeting to advocate for this or that cause, no matter how much thoughtfulness and passion they bring to the table. But believe me, governments and corporations will listen when 24 congregations stand together, loudly demanding change.

The Union for Reform Judaism has identified CBCO as a priority for the Reform Movement. Rabbi Jacobs and I have been involved in a Westchester-based CBCO initiative for more than three years, and WRT has spent much of this year getting ready for this hard and holy work.

Two nights ago, in the basement social hall of Greater Centennial AME Zion Church in Mount Vernon with which we share a special partnership, 25 delegates from WRT joined with representatives of a dozen other local congregations--Protestant, Catholic, Jewish, and Muslim--to become Westchester United, formally announcing our commitment to collaborate for the greater good of Westchester County. Our collaboration, which will grow to include many more congregations, will require a significant investment of time, money, and energy from both clergy and lay leaders, an investment commensurate with our deepest hopes. The diversity in that room Wednesday night was itself inspiring. The event began with an invocation from the Quran; the proceedings were translated simultaneously into Spanish for the robust Hispanic represenation. One after another, speakers testified to the power of CBCO to transform communities. We heard about the success of the low-cost Nehemiah homes in Brooklyn and about a recent victory in confronting the Ford corporation about its contribution to pollution in New Jersey. The emotion in that room gave a tantalizing preview of this coming November’s Founding Assembly: an electrifying event that, I promise you, will make local headlines.

I’m eager to join with you and our neighbors in this effort.

Together we will fulfill the precept announced in this week’s Torah portion, accompanied by the blast of the shofar:

U’k’ratem d’ror ba-aretz, l’chol yosh’veha: Proclaim equity throughout the land, to all who dwell in it.
Kein yehi ratzon.

Shabbat Shalom!

2011-05-06T17:56:00.003-04:00

Dear friends,

I am pleased to share with you this piece for your information and reflection, our own Rabbi Richard Jacobs in his own words.

This is the Shabbat that anticipates Yom Ha-Atzma'ut, Israel's Independence Day. As we gather to celebrate Israel and show our support for her, let us remember that Israel is strengthened--not threatened--by a multiplicity of viewpoints. Let a broad and diverse chorus of Ohavei Tzion -- lovers of Israel -- rise up!

Click here for the link to this important video and text of Rabbi Jacobs' speech.

Shabbat Shalom!
Rabbi Jonathan Blake

What is Holiness? A Reflection for Kedoshim 5771

2011-04-29T15:16:00.001-04:00

Pesach 5771 / Earth Day 2011

2011-04-22T11:17:00.002-04:00

Shalom everyone!

I hope all of you are enjoying the holiday week, wherever you may be (and whichever holiday(s) you might be observing!).

Did you know that the official color of the Pesach Festival is green?

It's true!

Pesach is observed in the month of Nisan -- the first month of the Hebrew calendar -- which is to say, at the advent of Spring. Symbols of spring abound on the Seder plate: the zeroa, or shankbone, commemorating the sacrifice of the spring lamb; the roasted egg, again commemorating an offering (the chagiga or Festival offering) but also representing new life; and most obviously, the karpas or green herb.

More thoughts here:

Pesach-palooza Dessert Recipes!

2011-04-11T21:44:00.002-04:00

Shalom faithful gluttons for punishment! By which I mean, faithful readers and viewers of this blog.

I am pleased to lighten our study (if not our stomachs) this week by offering a blog post entirely on the theme of recipes for Passover. Specifically, I reprint here with my Dad's permission some of his most beloved Pesach dessert recipes. Bon Appetit, B'te'avon, and enjoy!

May your Passover observance be sweet and meaningful!

Blessings,
Rabbi Jonathan Blake

PASSOVER DESSERTS from Douglas Blake

These are some of the desserts which have gained “must make” status for Seder at the Blake’s house. They are elaborations on 3 basics of the standard Pesach dessert repertoire: sponge cake, flourless chocolate torte, and nut cake. The whole idea is to not let anyone know that they are “Pesachdik!” If the use of dairy products after a meat meal upsets anyone, substitute non-dairy (like margarine and creamer) but it won’t taste as good. The separate components of the recipes can be used in other desserts. Be creative!

SPONGE CAKE
It all begins with this classic, but mine actually has great taste and moistness because of the citrus juice and rind.
All eggs used are “large.” When separating eggs, do one at a time into a small dish so that one broken yolk won’t ruin a whole bowl of whites.

8 eggs - separated
Juice and rind of 1 orange and 1 lemon to make 1/2 cup
1 1/2 cups sugar
3/4 cup matzoh cake meal
1/4 cup potato starch
1/4 tsp salt

Preheat oven to 350. Do NOT grease a tube pan
Beat the egg whites on high speed until foamy; gradually add 3/4 c. sugar while beating; stop when they are glossy and hold firm peaks. Set aside.
Beat the yolks with 3/4 c. sugar until they are pale and form a ribbon when lifting the beater. Grate the orange and lemon rind over the bowl so that the oils are captured, then juice the fruit. Add the dry ingredients (mixed together) alternately with the liquid to the yolks and sugar.
Add about a third of the beaten whites to the yolk batter and stir gently with a large rubber spatula to lighten the batter; then add that mixture back to the whites and fold the batter just until there are no white streaks (do not over stir or you will have “flat cake!”).
Pour batter into tube pan and bake at 350 for about 1 hr - check after 45 min; toothpick should come out clean when done.
Invert the pan to cool for at least 1 hr. Using a sharp thin knife, cut around the edges of the pan to release the cake, and do the same for the bottom. Flip the cake over onto a rack to cool throughly. Freezes beautifully.

TRIFLE
Of course, a piece of sponge cake with fruit and whipped cream is not bad, but this English classic is a show-stopper and can feed a crowd. Select your prettiest bowl; you may need more than one sponge cake. Make the pastry cream 2 - 3 days in advance; the trifle can be assembled a day in advance; save the whipped cream and fruit topping for the morning of Seder.

Pastry cream (adapted from Julia Child)
1 cup sugar
5 egg yolks
1/2 c matzoh cake meal
2 c boiling milk
1 tbsp butter
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 tbsp Grand Marnier or other brandy or rum

Beat the yolks and sugar until they are pale and form a ribbon. In a very thin stream, gradually pour on the boiling milk while beating (too fast and you’ll scramble the eggs!) Beat in the cake meal. Return the mixture to a saucepan and set over med-low heat; stir continuously until it comes to the boil and cook for 2 - 3 minutes more. Be careful not to let it scorch on the bottom of the pan.
Add the butter, vanilla, and GM off heat while stirring. If the cream has any lumps pass it through a fine mesh strainer. Refrigerate covered with a piece of plastic wrap on the surface.

For the trifle:
1 - 2 sponge cakes sliced in layers (3 - 4 each)
2 jars best quality raspberry preserves
2 large cans apricot halves (drained and sliced)
1/2 - 1 c dry sherry, port, or Madeira
1 c heavy cream, whipped until stiff
Assortment of the best berries and fruit, sliced with care (mango, kiwi, etc.)

Assembly:
Put slices of cake to cover the bottom of the bowl (“cut and paste to fit”)
Splash on a little booze.
Gently spread on a layer of jam; you want the jam to reach the sides of the bowl and show it’s color.
Another layer of cake; another splash of booze.
Spread on a layer of pastry cream, touching the sides.
Arrange cut pieces of apricot along the outside of the layer on the pastry cream, showing it’s color, then scatter more pieces on the middle of the layer.
Repeat, until you get to the top layer of cake, which should end at least 1 inch below the rim of the bowl. You want room for the next:
Spread the whipped cream on the top cake layer (gently so as not to mix in crumbs)
Decorate with concentric rings of berries and slices of fruit.
Chill and serve cold.

CHOCOLATE TORTE
This basic flourless chocolate torte uses finely ground almonds instead of cake meal; there are many good recipes - I use Joan Nathan’s.

1 stick unsalted butter
8 ozs imported bittersweet chocolate
5 large eggs, separated
3/4 c sugar
1 c finely ground almonds

Preheat oven to 350
Line the bottom and sides of a 9” springform pan with parchment paper cut to fit. (Spray the pan with PAM, place the parchment, spray again.)
Melt the butter and chocolate on a double boiler; cool
Beat the egg yolks with 1/2 c sugar until pale yellow and the ribbon forms.
Mix the cooled butter and chocolate with the yolks and sugar; add the nuts
Beat the egg whites with 1/4 c sugar until stiff but not dry; fold gently into the chocolate mixture.
Pour into the springform pan and bake for 45 - 50 min; a toothpick should be moist but not wet with batter. Don’t overbake.
Cool for a few minutes; carefully release the pan and remove the parchment; place on a plate upside down (the bottom is now the top).
You can serve it just like this with a little whipped cream, or get fancy like this:

CHOCOLATE GANACHE TORTE WITH CHERRIES AND MARZIPAN

1 large can unsweetened bing cherries, drained and rinsed and dried
1 tube marzipan (potato starch for dusting, or finely granulated sugar)
12 oz semi-sweet chocolate
6 oz butter
3/4 c heavy cream

Prepare the torte batter as above and place into the springform pan.
In concentric circles, starting from the outer rim, gently push each cherry into the batter about halfway, so that some of the cherry remains above the surface.
Bake as above, cool, release from the pan
Freezes beautifully at this stage, wrapped tightly. Leave the bottom parchment on.
Defrost for 24 hrs; invert onto a cake plate; place scraps of waxed paper around the edge of the plate just under the torte to catch the ganache when it drips.
Using waxed paper, trace the bottom of the 9” pan with a pencil. This is the size of the marzipan layer. Turn the waxed paper over (you still can see the line). Dust the paper with potato starch or sugar. Soften the roll of marzipan with your hands (yes, it’s sticky!) and roll it out to 1/8” thick on the waxed paper, trace around the circle with the tip of a knife, and remove the scraps (save them). Now carefully flip the paper over the torte and peel it off, leaving a perfect disc of marzipan on top.

Ganache
Melt the chocolate, heavy cream, and butter on a double boiler, whip until smooth, cool a little until pourable but not hot.
Pour the ganache over the top; use an icing spatula for smoothing the top and sides. You won’t need all the ganache to do the job. (See below for what to do with the remainder.) When set, remove the waxed paper scraps and tidy up the edge of the plate.
Using the scraps of marzipan already rolled out, with a sharp knife cut out little triangles about 1” on a side. Place one triangle, turned, on top of another to make a Jewish Star, press it together gently and decorate the top rim of the torte with stars.
Refrigerate if not using it that day; serve at room temperature.

Ganache Truffles
Refrigerate unused ganache; gently warm on a double boiler; then cool until soft but solid.
Use a small melon baller to scoop ganache and roll quickly into balls.
Roll in any of these: Cinnamon and sugar
Finely ground nuts
Coconut shreds
Instant coffee or espresso granules
Sugar mixed with a tiny bit of chili powder or cayenne pepper

Ganache dipped fruits
Soften ganache on a double boiler; dip what you like (strawberries, melon, pineapple), dry on a rack set over a cookie sheet to catch the drips, nosh on the fruit and candy as you work!

MOCHA-NUT CAKE
This cake is from Frances R. AvRutick in her book “The Complete Passover Cookbook” which is a great source of inspiration.

Line the bottom of a 9” springform pan with parchment, but do not grease the sides.
Preheat oven to 325.

6 eggs, separated
1 c sugar, divided
1/2 lemon, juice and rind
4 oz finely ground nuts (I use hazelnuts because of family allergies, but walnuts or others work, too)
2 tsp unsweetened cocoa powder
2 tsp instant coffee or espresso
1/4 c grated semisweet chocolate
2 tsp potato starch
1/2 c cake meal

Beat the egg whites with 1/2 c sugar until stiff and glossy.
Beat the egg yolks with 1/2 c sugar until light and the ribbon forms. Add the lemon juice and rind.
Combine the dry ingredients in a bowl. Into the yolk mixture alternatively fold in the dry ingredients and the beaten whites; mix only to combine and no white streaks are left.
Pour into springform pan and bake for 1 hr, cool throughly, run a sharp knife around the sides and release the pan. Delicious served this way, or.....

“MOCHA-MI-SU”
This is my version of a favorite dessert, Tira-Mi-Su, as served for Pesach.

Mascarpone Cream
8 oz mascarpone, softened
1 pt heavy cream, whipped stiff
2 egg yolks
1/2 c sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
juice and rind of 1/2 lemon

Beat together mascarpone, egg yolks, sugar and vanilla.
Add the lemon juice and rind
Fold in the whipped cream
Chill

1 cup strong coffee
Generous splash of rum, Frangelico, or favorite liqueur.
Unsweetened cocoa powder

Re-assemble the springform pan. When the cake is throughly cooled, using a thin serrated knife slice it into 3 layers. Flip the top layer over (using spatulas, plates, wire racks, whatever!) and place it into the 9” springform pan bottom.
Splash on a little of the coffee-liqueur.
With a rubber spatula, spread a layer of mascarpone cream. Go all the way to the edge of the pan.
Dust with a little cocoa powder.
Place the middle layer and repeat.
Invert the last layer so the smooth side is up and place into the pan. Press down gently, splash on the coffee-liqueur, smooth on the mascarpone, and just a few grains of cocoa powder on top.
Freeze well-wrapped. Unmold before service; garnish with a circle of beautiful raspberries along the edge.
Serve semi-frozen

Metzora 5771

2011-04-08T17:40:00.001-04:00

HELP JAPAN NOW

2011-04-03T23:20:00.000-04:00

HELP JAPAN NOW!

Donate URGENTLY needed supplies (NEW ONLY PLEASE and STICK TO THIS LIST): Diapers, Liquid Formula, First Aid Supplies, Flashlights, Tarps, Portable Radios, Batteries, Waterproof Ponchos, Toilet Paper, Toothbrushes, Toothpaste, Soap, Tampons, Sanitary Pads

At Westchester Reform Temple - COLLECTION UNTIL April 11.

Call Donna Divon at 914.761.5100, divond@ujafedny.org re. volunteering.

Tazria 5771

2011-04-01T17:04:00.004-04:00

Shemini 5771

2011-03-25T15:43:00.004-04:00

Shabbat shalom, everyone,

This week's Torah portion, Shemini, begins with the conclusion of a special ritual, the ordination of Aaron (and his sons) as the priests of Israel. The ritual describes a procedure of installation of the Israelite community's spiritual leaders, the ones who would lead the people in sacrificial worship and who would act as intercessors between the people and their God.

From the Bible's day to our own, the need of the Jewish People for inspired spiritual leadership has remained a constant. Eventually, with the destruction of the Temple, the priesthood would be relegated to a ceremonial role, and the rabbinate would emerge as the chief institution of Jewish spiritual leadership. Throughout the generations, the Jewish people has seen fit to ordain as rabbis people who exemplify deep learning and deep commitment to the highest ethical principles of our faith.

This week's Torah reading illustrates the place of primacy that our spiritual leaders have always held in steering the direction of our religious lives. The ceremony described in Parashat Shemini is one of high drama, with sacrificial blood and animal flesh, fire and smoke, sacred clothing and ritual choreography. It commanded the attention of the people, to say the least. They looked up to their priests who were invested with sacred power: the power to utilize sacrifice and offering to expiate sin, the power to marshall the people's energies and wealth to doing good, helping the needy and supporting their religious institutions, an almost mysterious power. Fortunately we do not invest rabbis with all the same powers! We do not need rabbis to reach out to God; we do not need rabbis to live vicarious Jewish lives for us. But we do rely on our rabbis to help us learn and live Torah.

This week, the Union for Reform Judaism, the synagogue arm of the Reform Movement, nominated its next President, the chief spiritual leader for over 900 Reform synagogues and 1.5 million affiliated members: Rabbi Richard Jacobs. It is a point of pride for our community in particular, because for the past 19 years Rabbi Jacobs has helmed with distinction, thoughtfulness, and a visionary outlook, the congregation that I also have the privilege of serving as one of its rabbis, Westchester Reform Temple in Scarsdale.

It is a particularly emotional development for me personally, because Rick is also the man I call my rabbi and whose mentorship and mutuality of leadership at WRT has been a signature blessing of my rabbinate.

As the Torah this week prompts us to contemplate the significance of our spiritual leaders in our midst, I invite you to read about Rabbi Jacobs and his nomination by following this link.

All of us at Westchester Reform Temple join hands and hearts in offering Rabbi Jacobs a heartfelt mazal tov and a pledge of support in his forthcoming, sacred work!

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Jonathan Blake

CHAG PURIM SAMEACH 5771 - HAPPY PURIM

2011-03-17T23:47:00.003-04:00

HAPPY PURIM!

March 19-20, 2011

My wife, the extraordinary Kelly McCormick, and I just made a whole mess of hamentaschen to celebrate Purim.

Get your triangle on all weekend long as we kick off a zany, happy holiday!

You are also invited to hear me defend the noble hamentasch in the first ever Westchester Reform Temple-sponsored LATKE-HAMENTASCH DEBATE, Friday Night, March 18th, at 7:45 PM Kabbalat Shabbat Services at WRT. I will be facing off against my esteemed adversary, Rabbi Jan Katzew, Director of Lifelong Learning for the Union for Reform Judaism.

Shabbat Shalom and B'te'avon (Bon Appetit)!

COOKIE-DOUGH HAMENTASCHEN (DAIRY)

adapted from Judy Zeidler, The Gourmet Jewish Cook. New York: William Morrow and Co., Inc. 1988, pp. 116-117

Makes 5 to 6 dozen

1/4 pound unsalted butter, softened

1/2 cup sugar

3 eggs

2 cups flour

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1/4 teaspoon salt

Cream Cheese Filling (below)

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

In the bowl of an electric mixer, beat the butter and sugar until well blended. Beat in 2 of the eggs, blending thoroughly. Add the flour, baking powder, and salt and blend until the dough is smooth.

Transfer to a floured board and divide the dough into 3 or 4 portions for easier handling. Flatten each portion with the palm of your hand and roll it out 1/4 inch thick. With a scalloped or plain cookie cutter, cut into 2 1/2-inch rounds. Place 1 heaping teaspoon of filling into the center of each round. Fold the edges of the dough toward the center to form a triangle, leaving a bit of the filling visible in the center. Pinch the edges to seal them.

Place the hamentaschen 1/2 inch apart on a lightly greased foil-lined baking sheet and brush with the remaining egg, lightly beaten. Bake for 10 minutes or until golden brown. Transfer to racks to cool.

CREAM CHEESE FILLING (this stuff is AMAZING)

adapted from Kerry M. Olitzky & Ronald H. Isaacs, The Second How To Handbook For Jewish Living. Hoboken, NJ: KTAV Publishing House, 1996. pp. 198-199.

3/4 cup brown sugar

3 ounces cream cheese

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon vanilla

1/2 cup chocolate chips (optional: add sliced almonds)

Best if chilled. Mix all ingredients. Fill dough and bake as per directions above.

Vayikra 5771

2011-03-11T15:13:00.001-05:00

Friday Night remarks by guest speaker Juliana Schnur

2011-03-07T10:08:00.003-05:00

Dear Readers,

I'm writing to post remarks delivered by Juliana Schnur this past Friday at Kabbalat Shabbat Services. Juli, who became bat mitzvah at WRT and whose family are active members, is a Projects Coordinator at the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism ("the RAC"). For 50 years, "the RAC" has been the hub of Jewish social justice and legislative activity in Washington, D.C., educating and mobilizing the Reform Jewish community on legislative and social concerns, and advocating on more than 70 different issues, including economic justice, civil rights, religious liberty, Israel and more. Her talk was entitled "Our Modern Mishkan - A Place of Grumbling."

Yours,

Rabbi Jonathan Blake

Our Modern Mishkan – A Place of Grumbling

Juliana Schnur

Take a deep breath. That is essentially what this week’s parshah, Pekudei, instructs us to do. Over the last five weeks, we have read and relived the construction of the first tabernacle in the Sinai Desert. The only task more daunting than following God’s meticulous building instructions might be that of a Starbucks barista who must constantly heed this level of extreme minutiae in satisfying his customers. There is a striking similarity between God’s “recipe” for the Israelites’ ancient Mishkan (“For the priests, I’ll have a gold, blue, purple and crimson wool ephod with connecting shoulder straps, a decorative band, shoham stones, two golden rings and a twisted pomegranate hem”) and today’s double-blended venti half-soy nonfat chocolate brownie iced vanilla double-shot frappuccino with foam. Like a coffee drinker’s palette, God’s taste is definitely “refined.”

Pekudei, which means “accounting,” is less about the accomplishment of a task than it is a reminder that our work is never finished. You see, while the culmination of a lengthy and strenuous project like building the tabernacle engenders satisfaction and an inclination toward rest, the structure is portable, so its “completion” actually marks the first stage in the process of its dismantling. “Accounting” is therefore a bitemporal word that connotes taking stock of what has been achieved in the past, while also anticipating what remains to be done in the future. Pekudei is our coffee break.

In Midrash Tanchuma, the sages highlight Exodus 40:17, which reads:

Vayehi b-khodesh ha-rishon b-shanah ha-shenit b-achad le-khodesh hookim hamishkan.

“It came to pass in the first month of the second year, on the first day of the month, that the tabernacle was erected.” The Midrash says,

“Whenever the Torah uses the word vayehi ("and it came to pass"), this connotes a woeful event. What woe was there in the Mishkan's completion? This is comparable to a king who had a contentious wife. He said to her: "Make me a purple cloak." As long as she was preoccupied with it, she did not quarrel. When her work was completed, she brought it to the king. The king saw it and was pleased with it, and began cry out, "Woe! Woe!" His wife said: "What is this, my lord? I have labored to do your will, and you cry, 'woe, woe'?" He responded: "The work is beautiful and favorable in my eye. But as long as you were preoccupied with it, you did not anger or provoke me; now that you are free of it, I fear that you will again anger me."

So, too, said God: "As long as my children were occupied with the Mishkan, they did not grumble against Me. Now they will again begin to provoke Me." Therefore it says vayehi--vy hi, "woe is it."

Although the Mishkan of the Israelites was in constant flux, being assembled and dismantled as the tribe migrated, today’s sanctuary is generally fixed (unless you take on a multi-year renovation campaign to green your synagogue). And so, with the mishkan constructed and the purple cloak project complete, we return to our grumbling.

I like the word “grumble.” It’s onomatopoeic and evokes the echo of an empty stomach gently reminding us of what our bodies are missing. And just as our stomach is part of a whole and takes responsibility for ensuring the entire body’s health, so too the Jewish people most grumble to God to ensure the wellbeing of humanity. And what more sanctified place is there to grumble, to provoke, to lobby God than in the space designated for our communion with him?

The modern mishkan is a place for grumbling. And we Reform Jews, a faith group whose religious observance is infused with a strong commitment to social justice, have a long list of issues to grumble about. I’m blessed to work in an office of professional grumblers, so in addition to lobbying God at temple, I get to do so every day at the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism (the RAC), the legislative office of our Movement. I can’t help feeling, however, that my grumbles are louder in DC than they ever were at home.

Working down the street from the Capitol, with unrestricted access to the offices of our legislators, I know my voice is heard. And while it’s no surprise that sitting in a Senator’s office and asking for his or her endorsement of a bill feels more effective than sending an electronically generated letter with the same request, I’m struck by the way in which our distance from power so greatly dilutes our sense of agency – our individual impact—in affecting the way that power is exercised, and our sense of urgency in speaking out.

I long ago noticed that friends and family from the DC area tended to be “political.” And until moving to DC, I used that word “political” pejoratively to describe someone who was always on, always pushing some issue, whose passion and drive for change made me feel guilty for my complacency. Why be political when you can just be, I thought.

Well, it turns out these “political” Energizer Bunnies are always on for a reason. From reproductive choice to religious freedom to freedom of speech, our rights are constantly under attack. While it was easy to mute the din of Washington in New York, it’s impossible for me to ignore these threats to our liberties when protecting those rights is now my job.

The Union for Reform Judaism frequently cites a quote from the Babylonian Talmud: “A ruler is not to be appointed unless the community is first consulted” (Berachot 55a). This contention emphasizes the high value Jewish tradition places on accountability in our system of governance. Despite the fact that all Americans over 18 have the right to vote, those closer to power, whether physically or financially, are consulted more often than the rest of us, making their voices more significant.

I’m not here this evening to offer up a scheme for further enfranchisement; I’m here to tell you that one already exists. In addition to the RAC, whose mission is to communicate Reform Jewish values to our federal policymakers, Reform Jewish Voice of New York State is a body modeled on the RAC that communicates those same values to our state legislators.

With so many important issues being decided in Washington and popular upheavals toppling regimes in the Arab world, state governance may not seem at first blush like the most seductive of enterprises. But consider for a moment that only our State Senators and Assembly Members can decide whether same-sex couples have the right to marry. As the Roberts court erodes years of bipartisan campaign finance reform legislation, diminishing the individual’s voice in favor of the corporation’s, it is up to the state legislature to protect its elections from a similar invasion of corporate dollars. As the religious right co-opts more politicians and individuals in its crusade against family planning, it’s up to the New York State legislature to enshrine a woman’s right to choose in our state’s constitution.

Essential questions about civil rights, health care, criminal and economic justice and the environment are being legislated up in Albany and too many of us are sitting on the sidelines. Our coffee break is over and it’s time to grumble!

Reform Jewish Voice was founded in large part to fill a void in our state’s capital. For too long the faith voice in Albany was monopolized by the Catholic Bishops Conference, a group that does not always see eye to eye with us on important social justice issues. While we frequently partner with the Catholic Bishops on economic and criminal justice issues to fight for the protection of our social safety net and the rights of youth offenders, we find ourselves in opposing camps when it comes to reproductive choice, same-sex marriage, comprehensive sex education, stem cell research and a host of other important issues. The advocates who established RJV did so with a singular intention – to highlight for our state legislators that no one group has a monopoly on faith.

Over the last nine years, RJV has partnered with congregations throughout the New York to highlight social justice priorities for our state government. From our spring lobby day to our autumn Advocacy Shabbat, the goal of RJV is to ensure that the community is “first consulted” and that all faith groups get a seat at the legislative bargaining table.

Now more than ever we see how a fragile economy and unstable international community can put our rights in peril. Our vigilance must therefore extend beyond the purview of our families and communities to our state and our nation.

This Shabbat, as on all Shabbatot, we account for our week. We reflect upon our behavior, upon our triumphs and travails, and we resolve to do better. As you anticipate the week ahead, I ask you to do so with a heightened awareness of all the resources you have available to help facilitate our pursuit of a more just world.

Reform Jewish Voice is your mouthpiece in Albany, just as the RAC speaks on your behalf in Washington. Unlike Washington, however, your access to legislators is much greater at the state level. Your representatives are waiting to hear from you, especially as Reform Jews. As the progressive faith voice in Albany, we are one of the few bulwarks preventing a monolithic religious influence on state government.

Just as the mishkan cannot contain the divine, so our grumblings cannot be limited to the walls of the sanctuary. I conclude with this final grumble, “Endow us, oh God, with the wisdom to seek justice from the doorsteps of our homes to the steps of the Capitol. Let us not tire in our pursuit of a world where peace reigns and your children grumble no more.”

PEKUDEI 5771

2011-03-04T17:43:00.003-05:00

Adapted from Reform Voices of Torah, 2008

Rabbi Jonathan E. Blake

What is the purpose of the synagogue?

The Hebrew term for synagogue is Beit Knesset. It means “House of Assembly” and thus approximates the Greek συναγωγή, transliterated synagogē, also meaning “assembly.” For centuries the synagogue functioned primarily as the ancient world’s idea of a “JCC,” a place for Jews to assemble. These institutions dotted the Jewish landscape even while the Second Temple—shrine of our ancient worship—stood. The synagogue of antiquity might have struck us as surprisingly “secular” in orientation. Originally, people may not have come to the synagogue primarily to pray or study. In the synagogue they conducted local business, promoting the general welfare of the Jewish community. Accelerated by the destruction of the Temple in 70 CE, synagogues evolved to absorb many of the ritual and religious observances of an emergent Rabbinic Judaism. Over time the beit knesset also became a beit tefillah, a house of worship, and often a beit midrash, a house of study, too.

The archetype of the synagogue, the Tabernacle that constitutes the focal point of the wandering wilderness community, completes construction in Parashat Pekudei. “In the first month of the second year, on the first of the month, the Tabernacle was set up” (Ex. 40:17). The text credits Moses with erecting the completed structure and arranging all of its fixtures, beginning with its planks and posts, and concluding with the screen covering the outermost gate.

“When Moses had finished the work, the cloud covered the Tent of Meeting, and the Presence of the Eternal filled the Tabernacle” (Ex. 40:33b-34). The Tabernacle, spiritual antecedent of the synagogue, is complete. The text signals God’s satisfaction with the work when God’s Presence enters the structure. A cloud rests over the Tabernacle by day, fire in it by night, as a constant, visible reminder of God’s nearness and as a guiding presence for the Israelites’ journeys (40:36-38).

That human beings have successfully brought God into their midst through the construction of a sacred sanctuary marks a dramatic shift in Ancient Near Eastern mythology. The Mesopotamian Epic of Creation is typical in its depiction of the gods creating their own dwelling place on earth, here to be named Babylon:

The Anunnaki [Babylonian deities] began shoveling.

For a whole year they made bricks for it.

When the second year arrived,

… They had built a high ziggurat for the Apsu [other deities] (Tablet VI, from Myths from Mesopotamia, trans. Stephanie Dalley. New York: Oxford University Press, 1989, p. 262).

The Torah, in contrast, imagines human beings teaming up to fashion earthly materials (precious woods, metals, fabrics) into a place where God’s Presence will abide. The inversion is poetic and brings God’s work of creation full circle. In the first chapter of Genesis, God creates a home for human beings to inhabit. In the last chapter of Exodus, human beings, Israelites charged with a holy purpose, create a home for God to inhabit.

This image invites us to return to our original question: “What is the purpose of a synagogue?” Ultimately the answer is, “to make God’s Presence noticeable.”

Sometimes the architecture itself can achieve this. Certain synagogues through purely physical means can elicit spiritual inspiration. Some sanctuaries through their sheer magnitude can inspire a feeling of awe; others achieve this effect through opulent materials, beautiful art, and carefully designed lighting and sound. Other spaces strive for intimacy or warmth. Natural light and windows that open to the world provide a different kind of inspiration than representational art or stained glass. Still other synagogues evoke the glory of Jewish history or images from the Bible and thus may both instruct and inspire. Many people report that a synagogue’s architecture helps them feel God’s Presence.

However, the synagogue must also make God’s Presence noticeable through other means. A famous midrash proposes that it was only through the meritorious behavior of humanity, culminating in the deeds of Moses, that God—long since alienated from the human realm by our transgressions—could return to earth and dwell among us (Pesikta de-Rav Kahana, Piska 1:1). God migrates to and from the world of human affairs in accordance with our ethical attentiveness or inattentiveness. Behavior matters more than a building. Indeed, the fulfillment of mitzvot on behalf of others, compassionate action for people in pain, and tzedakah for people in need, can all make God’s Presence more noticeable in the world. And the synagogue is the primary Jewish engine for organizing people into communities of caring.

Study, prayer, ritual observance, community building, tzedakah, concern for the welfare of all Jews and all humanity: these constitute the pillars of a thriving, inspirational synagogue. Every time I see our congregation reach out with a loving embrace, with hot meals and gentle words, to a family walking in the valley of the shadow of death, I see the synagogue making God’s Presence noticeable. Every time I see congregants awaken to a new insight during Torah study, I see how the synagogue has helped to make God’s Presence noticeable. When youth and adults from our congregation felt inspired to travel on a local Jewish relief mission to New Orleans, I saw our synagogue making God’s Presence noticeable. When we sing our Kabbalat Shabbat service on Friday night and even the people struggling with Hebrew are moved to sing along with “Lecha Dodi,” I see the synagogue making God noticeable.

Jewish mystical tradition claims that God is everywhere and in all things, if only our vision permits us to see. The shattering daily news makes it too easy to conclude that we live in a godless world. Our parasha would endorse the vital role of the synagogue in restoring our faith in a world in which God’s Presence abides. The synagogue functions as a spiritual magnifying glass. It helps us to see what has been there all along.

Mirrors & Midrash: Reflections on Parashat Vayakhel 5771

2011-02-25T12:31:00.005-05:00

“Mirror, mirror on the wall: Who’s the fairest of them all?”

So it was asked every day by the Wicked Queen of “Snow White.” And so, it turns out, it was asked by the women of ancient Israel. These women possessed mirrors of highly polished copper, and they would look into them when they made themselves up. We know this from a rabbinic tradition about this week’s Torah portion, Vayakhel. Because fresh resources are scarce in the wilderness, the Tabernacle was constructed primarily out of recycled goods: its precious stones and metals from jewelry, its curtains from fabrics already owned by the people of Israel. So generous were the people, the Torah reports, that Moses had to command them to stop bringing their goods. The artisans used mirrors donated by the women to construct the washstand of burnished copper that stood before the priest in the center of the sanctuary.

A midrash relates that when Moses saw these mirrors, he did not want to accept them. He said, “This is something that helps the Evil Inclination (that basest part of human nature, often linked to lust). These women make themselves up and then the men are led to sin! They may not be used for a holy purpose.” But God said to Moses, “Accept them. These mirrors are more precious to Me than anything else that was brought.”

To understand why is to understand our amazing power to transform the profane into the sacred. A mirror is, in fact, a fine reflection of just this point. We can use this simple tool to accomplish good or ill. We can use it to harm or to help. A mirror can be used in such a way that justifies Moses’ worst fear: as an instrument of vanity. Remember the myth of Narcissus, who stares at his own reflection forever as his body wastes away. In the words of Ovid: he “fell in love with that unbodied hope, and found a substance in what was only shadow.” Mirrors can be used to deflect and deceive: “house of mirrors,” “smoke and mirrors.” Some mirrors distort reality and convince us we are fatter, thinner, taller or shorter than we are. Mirrors can fool you into thinking a room is twice its real size. Objects in mirror are closer than they appear. But mirrors can serve beautiful, helpful, and holy purposes as well: in kaleidoscopes, telescopes, and periscopes; in cameras, solar power generators, and lasers; in flashlights and headlights. Mirrors are essential to safe driving, safe shaving, and safe dentistry. When used to catch the sun to signal for help, mirrors can save lives. You see, there’s nothing inherent about the mirror that makes it good or bad: it’s how we use it.

That’s what God recognized in demanding that Moses accept the mirrors from the women. In the next few moments, I’d like to share with you some midrash that relates a few different sacred ends toward which these mirrors were used. All of these traditions are compiled and recorded by the Me’am Lo’ez, a monumental early eighteenth-century Ladino commentary on the Torah begun by Rabbi Ya'akov Culi of Constantinople.

“These mirrors are more precious to Me than anything else that was brought.” Why? Midrash offers four reasons. (1) The mirrors were used to increase harmony in the household and build up the people of Israel. (2) The mirrors were used to help the women concentrate on the study of Torah. (3) The mirrors were used to bring reverence and decorum into the ancient house of worship. And (4) The mirrors were used to not for vanity, but for modesty and self-reflection.

The first midrash goes back to the time of enslavement in Egypt. While their husbands were out working with mortar and bricks, these women would bring them food. Each one would look at herself along with her husband. This would arouse their desire. Well, one thing would lead to another, and nine months later, the women would give birth. “You see,” God told Moses, “these women did a holy deed through these mirrors. They wanted to fulfill the mitzvah of having children, causing many Israelites to come into the world.” As a result, the righteous women in Egypt had many children and thereby caused a critical mass of faithful Israelites to arise and leave during the Exodus! Even the Torah’s word for mirrors, mar’ot ha-tzova’ot, is linked to the word tzeva’ot, which means “troops,” referring to the ranks of Israelites who went free.

A second midrash concludes that these mirrors were not used for the women to make themselves up. A disclaimer: at first, this tradition appears to apologize for the gender-bias present in classical Judaism; but if you listen closely, you’ll notice that the midrash is actually an early feminist notion. The story goes that the women felt uncomfortable coming to the Tabernacle to pray or to hear words of Torah because they were concerned that the men would be ogling them, distracting the women from the service. To prevent the men from staring, they made these mirrors and reflected the sunlight into the men’s eyes. When the washstand was built out of these mirrors, it reflected everything that was done in the Tabernacle, so that even the women who, according to custom, were seated in the rear gallery, could nevertheless pray and observe the reading of Torah.

A different midrash relates that the mirrors were made for the priest who would come to wash their hands and feet from the washstand. They would look in the mirrors to see if they had any spots or stains on their sacred garments. This enabled them to look their best before they performed any Divine service. From this midrash, Jewish tradition taught that one should look his or her best before coming to services. The Me’am Lo’ez observes: “Some people have a habit of coming to synagogue without an outer garment and without shoes on their feet in summer. This is not proper. Sometimes they place a towel over their shoulders and think that this is as good as wearing an outer garment and shoes. This is obviously not correct…. Some people come to synagogue just as they get out of bed. This shows a lack of respect for God. They do not realize before whom they are going to pray. They do not stop to think that they are going to be standing before the King of kings, the Holy One, Blessed be He.”

Well, clearly this is an issue for the Me’am Lo’ez; and though I have yet to conduct a religious service in the presence of barefoot towel-wearers, I must register no small measure of discomfort when I see students, adolescent girls in particular, wearing all-too immodest dresses, sitting in the sanctuary of WRT at B'nei Mitzvah services, or adolescent boys wearing sweatpants and baseball caps to Kabbalat Shabbat services on Friday nights.

One final midrash. Some say that the mirrors belonged to women who had actually stopped worrying about make-up, appearances, and self-ornamentation. In other words, they donated the mirrors to holy service because they simply did not have a use for them at home anymore.

They gave up their instruments of self-reflection to concentrate on true self-reflection: an evaluation of what mattered most to them and their community. This message we see reflected as well in the Jewish custom of covering mirrors in a house of shiva, so that mourners not face the continual distraction and temptation to stand vainly before our own image when honoring the life of a departed loved one. And so the mirrors left the homes of these noble Israelite women and instead adorned the holiest space in the community, a place, Torah tells us, graced with God’s Presence.

For that is the amazing power we possess: to transform the profane into the sacred. When we progress from vanity to genuine self-evaluation and self-improvement, we transform the profane into the sacred. When we cease using our tools of communication to spread gossip, sleaze, commercialism and instead communicate respect, knowledge, and love, we transform the profane into the sacred. Let today’s grim headlines instill anew the primeval lesson: when we use fire not to power weapons or for reckless entertainment, but to cook food and warm homes, we transform the profane into the sacred.

So may we become mirrors to reflect the Divine Presence that inhabits every sacred space and every sacred moment.

Shabbat Shalom and happy REFLECTING!

Ki Tisa 5771 - Video Blog

2011-02-15T14:32:00.001-05:00

Guest Blogging from Rabbi Jeffrey Goldwasser

2011-02-08T17:13:00.002-05:00

Dear friends,

My friend, colleague, and former HUC-JIR classmate Rabbi Jeff Goldwasser has begun a lovely new blog, "Reb Jeff: A Blog About Jewish Joy." Rabbi Goldwasser is the rabbi of Congregation Beth Israel in North Adams, Massachusetts.

I am happy that Rabbi Goldwasser gave permission to reprint his comments from this week's parasha, Tetzaveh and I am pleased to share them with you here.

Happy studying!

Rabbi Jonathan Blake

T'tzaveh: Keeping the Fire Burning

It's time to talk tachlis ("brass tacks") about creating joyful Judaism. What are the specific things that Jewish communities can do to create services that inspire meaning, joy and fulfillment?

My experience as a leader of Jewish worship is that prayer is most meaningful—and joyful—when it is connected to people's lives outside of the synagogue. If worship is just a ritual people go through, without any reflection or relevance to their daily lives, then it will wash away from their awareness the moment it is done and it will never really have the power to engage or move them. The challenge for the worship leader always is to connect the worshippers—to each other, to God, and to their own lives.

Here are some specific techniques I've tried that seem to work:

1) Make each aliyah in the Torah service an invitation to self‐reflection. I first saw this technique in the Renewal Movement and it seems to be spreading. Each aliyah is a group aliyah in which the gabbai (the person leading the Torah service) announces a theme connected to the reading. For example, on this coming Shabbat, there will be an aliyah in which we will hear a description of the Urim and Thummim, the ritual objects used by the ancient High Priests to discover the hidden will of God. This aliyah might become an opportunity to invite to the bimah "those who are struggling to find out what God wants from them right now." In this way, the experience of the aliyah becomes more personally meaningful and it becomes an opportunity for the worshipper to connect his or her worship experience to the events happening in his or her life.

2) Use the blessing for the month as an opportunity to reflect on the last month and on the coming month. There is a traditional prayer recited during Shabbat morning service when the new moon will occur during the following week. The words of the blessing wish the community a month of happiness, prosperity, reverence and well‐being. I take a moment before the blessing to ask people to silently reflect on their experiences during the past month before we bless the new month. Those thirty seconds of silence give people the chance to think about what is happening in their lives in the context of holiness. It also makes the blessing that follows more meaningful, because it lifts it out of the realm of abstraction and drives home the idea that the blessing actually refers to the real‐life experiences they anticipate in the coming four weeks.

3) Take a moment after group study to use Kaddish DeRabbanan as a meditation on the coming week. I conduct a text study immediately following services every Shabbat morning. I always end the study with the recitation of Kaddish DeRabbanan—the traditional prayer for the conclusion of study. Before we recite the prayer, however, I ask the congregation to think about our learning together as if it were an offering that we have placed upon the altar to send upwards. In return, I say, we are blessed to receive from above a touch of divine energy (shefa) that will sustain us through the coming week. Our challenge is to take that energy away from the study table and to use it in our daily lives. I ask the members of the congregation, each in his or her own heart, to decide on one thing they will do in the coming week—something that they had not already planned on doing—that will make the meaning of the words we have studied come to life. We stand in silence for a moment before reciting the prayer together.

I should add that, while many Jews are familiar with most of the Aramaic words Kaddish DeRabbanan—its beginning and ending are nearly the same as the Mourner's Kaddish (Kaddish Yatom)—there is one paragraph in the middle of Kaddish DeRabbanan that is unfamiliar to many. For this paragraph of difficult Aramaic, I substitute an English translation that allows people to focus on the prayer's message of sanctifying the act of study. You can download the version of Kaddish DeRabbanan that I use from the "Resources" page. (Props to my teacher, Rabbi Kerry Olitzky for this idea.)

* * * * *

These are just a few of the things that I've done to keep prayer connected to the realities of people's everyday lives. I am very interested to learn about the experiments in meaningful worship that other people have tried (and, I presume, so are you). Please think about your best worship experiences and the specific techniques or intentions that have helped you connect your prayers with your life. Please, share them in the public comments below. (You can also leave me a private comment on the "Contact Reb Jeff" page, but then I'm the only person who gets to see it!)

* * * * *

The idea of keeping worship connected to life is reflected in this week's Torah reading.Parashat T'tzaveh begins with a commandment about the ner tamid (eternal light) that was lit in the Mishkan (the portable tabernacle that the Israelites carried through the desert). Moses instructs the priests to keep the light burning continually. To the masters of the hasidic tradition, the eternal light of the Mishkan was connected to the light of our own souls. We are commanded to keep the fire burning within ourselves, not just when we are praying, but throughout all of our busy days.

This is how it is expressed by the earliest hasidic masters (Likutim Yekarim 15b, translation by Rabbi Arthur Green in Your Word is Fire):

A person at prayer is like a bed of coals,
As long as a single spark remains,
a great fire can again be kindled.
But without that spark there can be no fire.

Always remain attached to God,
even in those times
when you feel unable to ascend to God.
You must preserve that single spark—
lest the fire of your soul be extinguished.

As prayer leaders, we have an obligation to tend to the fire of people's souls, just as the priests tended to the ner tamid. Our obligation extends beyond the time that they are sitting in the synagogue, and, to do this, we must make sure that the worship experience is something they will carry into the stretches of time between their visits to the synagogue.

Tabernacle Animation 3D - Mishkan - המשכן

2011-02-07T14:47:00.000-05:00

Terumah 5771 - Spiritual Authenticity and the Ark of the Covenant

2011-02-04T11:28:00.006-05:00

Shabbat Shalom, faithful followers!

What can a little architectural detail of the Tabernacle teach us about spiritual authenticity? Watch, study, and comment below!

PS - And yes, I apologize for the error in the video: this week's portion is TERUMAH, not Mishpatim. Sorry for any confusion! -JEB

MISHPATIM 5771 - on the value of "being there"

2011-01-26T17:55:00.009-05:00

Hi everyone,

Check out this week's video presentation here, on my YouTube channel.

Happy and meaningful reflection --

Rabbi Jonathan Blake

Yitro / Ten Commandments 5771

2011-01-21T15:54:00.004-05:00

Shalom faithful readers!

Parashat Yitro brings us one of the three places in the Torah that frames the Decalogue (10 Commandments). Many rabbis throughout the ages have asked: Which is the hardest of the 10 commandments for a person to fulfill faithfully?

Of course there is no unanimous opinion, but consensus tends to lean toward the fifth commandment: "Kabed et avicha v'et imecha...": "Honor your father and your mother...." After all, some have reasoned, why else would this commandment need to be distinguished as the only one of the ten to offer the promise of a "reward" for compliance? To wit: "...so that your days may be prolonged upon the land that the Eternal your God is giving you."

Underscoring the difficulty of keeping this commandment, earlier this week I received this question from an anonymous source:

How does someone honor the commandment to "honor thy father/mother" when you've been raised with severe dysfunction and abuse at the hand of those parents?

To read my answer to this thought-provoking question, just click here.

Comments are most welcome.

Shabbat shalom and happy studying!