Tisha B'Av

This past Saturday night, as a Reform Jewish community we held a service to observe Tisha B'Av, or the 9th of Av. The 9th of Av recalls a series of tragedies that have befallen the Jewish people over the millennia.  For more information about Tisha B'Av check out the articles at MyJewishLearning.com on Tisha B'Av.  

Our big challenge as articulated by Rabbi Blake, is how do we observe Tisha B'Av as Reform Jews? The destruction of the Temple marked for the Jewish people a radical shift in how they interacted with their tradition.   The Rabbinic reformation created a Judaism that was no longer tied to the Temple Cult, and for many Reform Jews today, they cannot even conceive of a world where the Temple operates as it did 2000 years ago.

My answer throughout the evening, and in my teaching was to consider the experience of national tragedy that Tisha B'Av represents.  Tisha B'Av represents those moments where our lives are radically changed and marred by severe tragedy. The book of Lamentations in our Tanach is an written lament that describes the tragedy that was experienced in a post 586 BCE world after the destruction of the first Temple.   Lamentations Rabbah was created to respond to the tragedy of the destruction of the second Temple in 70 CE.  By writing and expressing the pain of the tragedy in a public form, there is some catharsis and the possibility for hope.  

Therefore, I shared a variety of texts that described situations that merited a lament.   Those moments that as a people, as an individual, or as a smaller community there was a need to stop and reflect, and hopefully move forward after such intense pain.   The texts have been reproduced below to spark your own thoughts about experiences that merit lament.  Those experiences that are tragic, and yet have some kernel of hope that things might get better.    

Laments through the ages

The Hittite “Prayer of Kantuzilis” Circa 1350 BCE

Would that my god might now freely open his heart and soul to me and tell me my fault so that I might learn about it! . . . My god who was angry and rejected me—let the same god care for me again and grant me life! Would that my god who forsook me might take pity on me!. . . See! I, Kantuzilis, thy servant have asked for mercy and humbled myself.

Lamentations 5:21-22 circa 586 BCE

כא  הֲשִׁיבֵנוּ יְהוָה אֵלֶיךָ ונשוב (וְנָשׁוּבָה), חַדֵּשׁ יָמֵינוּ כְּקֶדֶם.	5:21 Turn to us Adonai, and we will return, renew us as in the days of old.
כב  כִּי אִם-מָאֹס מְאַסְתָּנוּ, קָצַפְתָּ עָלֵינוּ עַד-מְאֹד.  {ש}	5:22 Unless You have utterly rejected us And are exceedingly angry with us.

There is None to Comfort: Lamentations Rabba 1:26, (Buber, pp. 61-2), Soncino, p. 96 Circa 70 CE

אין לה מנחם. א"ר לוי כל מקום שנאמר אין הוה לה, ותהי שרי עקרה אין לה ולד )בראשית י“א:ל‘(, והוה לה, שנאמר וה' פקד את שרה )שם בראשית כ“א :א‘(, ודכוותיה ולחנה אין ילדים )ש"א שמואל א' א:ב‘(, והוה לה, שנאמר כי פקד ה' את חנה וגו' )שם שמואל א' ב‘:כ“א(, ודכוותיה ציון היא דורש אין לה )ירמיה ל‘:י“ח(, והוה לה, שנאמר ובא לציון גואל )ישעיה נ“ט:כ‘( ובא לציון גואל, אף כן את אומר אין לה מנחם, והוה לה, שנא' )ישעיהו נ"א:י“ב( אנכי אנכי הוא מנחמכם.

She has none to comfort her. Rabbi Levi said: Wherever it says, has none (אין לה), it indicates that there would be in the future.* [For instance], and Sarai was barren; she had no child; [Genesis 11:30] but she did have one later, as it is said, And Adonai remembered Sarah [ibid. 21:1]. Similarly, But Hannah had no children [I Samuel 1:2] she did have them later, as it is said, So Adonai remembered Hannah [ibid. 2:21]. Similarly, She is Zion, there is none that cares for her [Jeremiah 30:17]; but she will have one later, as it is said, And a redeemer will come to Zion [Isaiah 49:20]. In like manner you may say, She has none to comfort her; but she will have later, as it is said, I, even I, am He that comforts you. [Isaiah 51:12].



Beliefs by Peter Steinfels New York Times, August 31, 2002

Where was God on Sept. 11 is an inevitable question because Sept. 11 was exceptional, something confronted. Collectively. It is a necessary and valuable question, however, because it asks about something unexceptional where was God yesterday and where is God today? - and too often confronted alone.
Contemporary religious thinkers are acutely aware that there can be no "good" answer about terrible situations just least-bad answers. The least-bad ones encompass more of one's whole experience of life than the others.
In the case of Sept. 11, not a few voices have answered that God was right in the midst of the horror, especially in the heroism and self-sacrifice.

A Lament for Baghdad by Rabbi David Levy, December 2011

My fatherland.   Cut off from me.   Torn by war. No Jews on the streets. A place that is defined by uncertainty. A place that the Jews left 60 years ago.    Why did they leave?  Why did they leave everything behind? Why did you hear calls for Jewish blood?   Some say, because of the new Israeli state.  Some say, because of the pogroms of 1941, the Farhoud.  Some say, the neighbors they had, for 2500 years suddenly became foreign to them.   Yet that place still remains a part of our memory.   That place, where Jews wrote the Talmud.  That place where Jews had been a partner in building a glorious society. That place between the two rivers. Gone was the partnership.  Gone into a century of uncertainty.    Gone are the happy Jews in a Muslim country.      Did my Great Grandfather not serve in the Turkish Army in World War I? Did my Grandfather not help build the railroad system throughout the country?   Did my Great Grandfather not invest in the Iraqi economy to help it grow? Where were these contributions when the Farhoud began? Where were the generations of Muslim and Jewish coexistence when the Moussad smuggled Jews to the fledgling Israeli state?  Where was our history, our pride in our country? We had hoped that this war would mark a turning point, that the American troops would change our city into a place which was tolerant and safe.   Chanukah candles were lit in Saddam’s palace.An American Iraqi Jewish JAG walked the streets of Baghdad, under armed guard, but could not wander on his own.  He experienced his family’s history with his own feet.

There is progress in Baghdad; there is hope for the future.   There is progress; there is free voting and free elections albeit marred by violence.  There is progress, US Troops have left.

But today only eight Jews remain.   Eight Jews in place of thousands.  The streets that my ancestors walked down, when will I be able to wander those streets? When will Baghdad be safe again? When will it be safe for me to visit one of my homes?

The Olympics

In response to the Olympics opening ceremony this past Friday, I made some remarks at Friday night services regarding what I have perceived to be a mistake that the Olympic committee is making by not recognizing the tragic murders of 40 years ago.


In Paris, on November 25th, 1892, Pierre de Coubertin stated, in his attempt to resurrect the Olympic Games: "That is the true Free Trade of the future; and the day it is introduced into Europe the cause of Peace will have received a new and strong ally..."in the Olympic Games.

This utopian vision was a huge part of the 19th century.  The wonderful ideal that we could overcome humanity’s foibles, and enter a messianic age brought about by our own actions, without waiting for G-d to do it for us.   For the Jewish people this vision was manifest in the ideals of the Reform Movement and Zionism.  Each of these were amazing visions of what the world could be, and a belief in humanity’s capacity to create that world.   

This vision of a world perfected by humanity’s activities was shattered time and again, in each moment where humanity’s capacity for evil has been presented throughout the 20th century.  Tonight marks one of the moments where the olympic vision of collaboration and as a symbol for peace was broken. Tonight marks the 40th anniversary of the 11 Israeli athletes and one German police officer slain by terrorists in Munich in 1972.   This tragedy that marrs Coubertin’s olympic vision was not officially recognized by the olympic community by a moment of silence in today’s opening ceremony.  In an attempt to provide a tikkun, a repair, for their choice not to remember these fallen men and women, before the Kaddish this evening, we will take a moment to remember those that died in munich so tragically 40 years ago.


Growing up my Rabbi, Howard Herman of Farmington Valley Jewish Congregation, included every Jewish tragedy of the 20th century along with our regular Kaddish remembrance including the 11 Israeli olympiads. By making it our minhag, our custom to recall those that died in tragedy and al kiddush haShem, for the sanctification of G-d's name he reminded us week to week that the world we live in is not yet perfected, but is one that is marred by war and turmoil. However, it is out of that ideal of the 19th century, that we can perfect the world, that we as a Jewish community still strive to make our world closer to a world perfected. For while the 20th century has taught us that the ability to perfect our world is a challenge, and far from a reality, we remember the words of Pirkei Avot,
לא עליך כל המלאכה לגמור, ולא אתה בן חורין ליבטל

It is not incumbent upon you to complete the work, but neither are you at liberty to desist from it (Pirkei Avot 2:21)

The work is hard, and the vision is vast, but we will continue to work towards a better world, in which those that have fallen will be remembered for their sacrifice.  

Parashat Matot-Masei

Below please find this week's d'var Torah by our congregant Vic Goldberg. 

Matot and Ma'sei,  this week's portions, deal with the end of the years in the wilderness,  and the things that God tells Moses to instruct the Israelite people, including "you shall take possession of the Promised Land and settle in it;"  "how to apportion it among yourselves", and the warning that "if you do not dispossess the inhabitants of the land, those who you allow to remain will be stings in the eyes and thorns in the sides, and they shall harass you in the land in which you live."   Pretty powerful  narrative, with painful relevance today.   But one wonders what the Moabite narrative might have been;  they who were to be on the receiving end of this settlement. 

Conflicting narratives about Israel came to the forefront of my life about nine years ago.  I was completing  13 years as vice chairman of the Institute of International Education...best known for administering the Fulbright scholarships and 250 other international exchange programs, ....and  I wanted to do something in gratitude for how that opportunity had enriched my life.  The CEO there asked me what was important in my life, and Israel immediately came to mind. 

As a young American Jew in 1948, (I was 15 years old), I lived in Chicago next door to immigrants with numbers on their forearms, near a parochial school whose students thought I killed Christ, and I was totally drawn to  this new nation, a safe place for Jews which embodied the cultural and moral values with which I was raised.

Now here I was in 2004, having watched nothing but strife in the Middle East for all my adult life, wondering what if anything could bring peace to this Jewish Homeland I had cherished all my life.  Clearly political leadership  had failed, ..... and maybe only work at the grassroots level could form the basis of lasting peace down the road. 

And so, I envisioned a Middle East Peace Prize.  To win it you had to have two people, one Jewish Israeli and one Arab Muslim, working together at the grass roots.  I joked that we should have called it the Don Quixote IIE Prize for Peace in the Middle East, since there was a serious possibility that we would be unable to find a Jewish Israeli and an Arab Muslim working together for peace….one of whom had had a connection to an international exchange program in which IIE was involved.  But we have done so, with no shortage of candidates, for 8 years running.

The winners of the first prize in 2005 dealt directly with this issue of conflicting narratives.  Dan Bar On and Sami Adwan were both college professors, Dan at Ben Gurion University and Sami at Bethlehem University.  They had constructed a middle school history textbook for four historical periods: the Balfour declaration, the 1948 war, the Yom Kippur War and the first Intifada.  On the left hand side of each page was the Israeli narrative, on the right was the Arab narrative, and the middle was composed of the blank lines of a workbook.  To develop the textbook they sometimes had to meet  across checkpoints; and to train 10 Israeli and 10 Palestinian teachers, they eventually had to fly them to Crete for joint sessions.  To this day, neither the Israeli Ministry of Education nor the Palestinian Ministry of Education have approved this textbook.  But with the book's intervening historical periods now complete,  it is being used at the University level, and so the work is not in vain.

The 2006 Prize went to an all Israeli team, one Jewish, one Muslim, that established an Arab Israeli Community Center In Jaffa.

The 2007 Prize to a team that established the first intregrated school in Israel, with student enrollment and faculty, each balanced 50/50  and with Jewish and Muslim Co-Directors. They have since expanded to three schools.

2008 to founders of a bereavement group called Parents Circle: a Jew who lost his daughter to a suicide bombing in Tel Aviv, and a Palestinian whose brother was released from an Israeli prison... beaten so badly that he died shortly thereafter.

2009 to the founders of a Young Professionals Alliance between Israeli Jews and Palestinians. 

2010 to a former member of an elite IDF army unit and a self described Palestinian intifada fighter who formed a group called Combatants for Peace.

2011 to two women working in Be'er Sheva for the civil rights of Bedouins.

and 2012 to two Israelis, one Jewish, one Muslim each heading an organization devoted to civil rights within Israel, who file joint briefs to the Israeli Supreme Court on civil rights issues involving women, Muslims, gays, ...and Jews striving to live their lives unrestricted by Haredeem and other Orthodox forces.

My wife Pat and I go to Israel each year to present the prize and each year are in awe of what the winners have done.  These absolutely heroic people have internalized scripture which is quite different from this week's portion:   Leviticus 19:18, "love thy neighbor as thyself."  More to the point, from Rabbi Hillel: "What is hateful to you, do not do unto your fellow man. That is the whole Torah.  All the rest is commentary: go and learn it."

In some years, the winning teams have been composed of one Palestinian and one Israeli.  In other years, both winners have been Israeli citizens.   Where both have been Israeli citizens, the work has been focused on civil rights, and it strongly evokes the civil rights struggles in the United States in the last half of the 20^th century. 

I remember as a boy on a trip to the American South seeing the water fountains and bathrooms with signs designating “white only.”  I remember the tumultuous years in which African Americans fought to get the legal right to vote; and the continuing battle for equal educational and economic opportunity. 

I also remember the active role many American Jews played in those historical efforts.  And well we should have!  Having for centuries been the victim of discrimination, it was, and is, only proper that we help others to be freed from it.  That lesson sometimes seems lost in the Israel of today, but I think that same positive progress can happen there.  And it will require very similar effort.  It will require action ....by citizens who are conscious of the disconnnect between their moral heritage and the realities of their society,… and who are willing to get out of their comfort zone and use all the tools at their disposal to pressure their government and their society for change.  All in all, however, In this area of Israeli civil rights, I am somewhat optimistic. 

In the area of finding peace with the Palestinians, however, my optimism has pretty much vanished.  In past years, the necessity and inevitability of a two-state solution seemed to be a given.  But on our trip last month, the secular Israeli liberals seemed dispirited, an increasingly powerless portion of society, ....with Mr. Netanyahu focusing on disputes with the religious parties over military service.   And a week ago, the report of a Netanyahu-appointed commission recommending that all the illegal settlements should be declared legal, could presage a disastrous turn away from the two-state solution, .....which has been the cornerstone of hope for those who seek long term peace in the Middle East.....the only solution that will allow a state that is both Jewish and democratic.

I believe that failure to establish a separate Palestinian state will still leave us with a Jewish state, ....but given birth rates of the Palestinians and the Orthodox Jews, not one that is democratic.  We cringe at the term "apartheid," but that is pretty descriptive of what will be, and what will happen. 

I don't think the Israeli government has really digested the lessons of the Arab Spring, or the ramifications of Palestinians adopting, ....not arms which the IDF could crush, ....but massive Martin Luther King-type peaceful protests.  Nor the kind of international sanctions that forced well-intentioned employers like Ford and IBM, who were hiring and promoting blacks and coloreds,.... to leave South Africa, when major pension funds threatened divestiture of their stock.  Failure to achieve a two-state solution will be very bad for Israel, for the United States, and for Jews in general.

Living alongside others has been a challenge from even before biblical times.  And sometimes whole societies have vanished.  Things don't necessarily work out okay in the end.  We're still in a wilderness, and narratives remain to be written.  But it's the Middle East;  and it's full of tribal lunatics; and the Israelis and the Palestinians continue to take turns missing opportunities for peace. I  still believe that grass roots efforts between Arabs and Jews are the best chance to one day force rational change.  I just fear that time is running out.  I hope and pray Israeli's are up to the task of peace, for it means their survival.  It will break my heart if they aren’t.

Pinchas 5772: Reflections on Interfaith Marriage

Why do we Hate Balaam? Musings on Parashat Balak 5772

As I sat on the phone formulating my response, I stewed.  I stewed with desire to unload my anger against a giant corporation that in my mind was willfully, and cruelly blocking my ability to close on my home so that I could live a normal life.  All these emotions welled up within me as finally the other end of the line picked up, and suddenly I had a human being to speak with instead of my image of what that human being would be.  Try as I might, as much as I wanted to spew the curses that had been welling up within me, as much as I desired to make her feel my pain in her very being, blessing spilled forth from my lips. Words of thanks, and appreciation  were all I could say once i was in the presence of this sweet and caring human being. As I told many people later, the woman on the other end of the phone was from the midwest, the odds were that she was going to be pretty nice on the phone.   
Moving to Westchester turned out to be much more of a journey than I had expected. My family and I spent five weeks “in between homes” on our way to our new home in Port Chester. I still do not know how or why it took five weeks to get this done, however, on that journey I had a number of experiences. This experience of interacting with a person I felt like I needed to hate, brought me back to our parashah. For it is throughout our parashah that Balaam consistently tries to curse another group of people, namely the Israelites, yet the words that come out of his mouth are consistently words of praise, as I will sing from our text:

23:5. How goodly are your tents, O Jacob, your dwelling places, O Israel!

ה. מַה טֹּבוּ אֹהָלֶיךָ יַעֲקֹב מִשְׁכְּנֹתֶיךָ יִשְׂרָאֵל:

And yet our tradition has hated Balaam even though these beautiful words came from his mouth.   Our biblical text rarely has a kind word to spare for him, and our talmudic text is scathing, where throughout the text his epithet is not simply Balaam but wicked Balaam! He is described as plotting secretly against the Israelites, and some of the allegations against him are simply appalling. 
So I wonder: What is it about Balaam that is so horrendous? How is it that a person who speaks so positively of Israel, is so vilified?  Balaam as a character has a few key traits that create this perfect storm of hatred.  However, the one I wish to focus on is that we never meet him. 
How can I say that you may ask? We read about him in the Torah, we are reading about him this week in our parashah.  Yet, how does Balaam interact with our people the Israelites in the desert? From a distance. From a vantage point where he is looking down at the Israelites, and the beautiful words that he speaks time and again, are described as being put into his mouth by G-d. Other than his death, Balaam is never described as interacting with any Israelite. (Numbers 31:8)
No it is in part for the exact same reason I was so ready to loathe the person on the other line that we as a people have been uncomfortable with Balaam.  He’s an unknown.  He’s never been in our presence, never had a conversation, he’s only talked to G-d, and in the end he barely listened to what G-d had to say.  

So I wonder what that has to say about our own perceptions of other people that we may never meet.   How often do we give ourselves the opportunity to be in someone else’s shoes rather than dissecting them based upon what we perceive? How often do we stop and take a moment to process where they are in the world before we assume certain stereotypes about them?

Susan T. Fiske, a noted social psychologist, has recently done quite a bit of research on this particular question. She argues that our perception of people stems from our preconceived view of their role in society. Her study suggests that we see most groups that we are not a part of as either envied groups, or scorned groups.  Envied groups are often seen as “ ...competent, but we view them as not on our side, so they seem cold...and untrustworthy.”(

http://www.russellsage.org/visiting-scholars/susan-t-fiske-interview)

 On the other hand, we have scorned groups.  In a recent study, Fiske showed images of characteristically scorned groups to participants who were in a Functional MRI machine, and monitored their brain patterns when seeing the scorned groups. The area of the brain that recognizes other people did not light up when the participants viewed members of the scorned groups.   “Fiske suspects that this hesitation to value the lives of those we scorn comes from not fully recognizing members of scorned groups as fellow human beings.”

(http://www.apa.org/monitor/2010/10/compassion.aspx)

It is so easy to ascribe any motive or emotion to a group of unknown people.  To say that any person, based upon their job, political allegiance, or simply their appearance makes them a caricature of everything we imagine they are capable of.   What is infinitely more challenging is to take the deep breath, and step back and try to see the people we are interacting with as far more than merely thoughtless automatons that represent everything we imagine they are.  Rather our challenge is to take a moment, and try to see the person as a human being, created in G-d’s image, and therefore worthy of being recognized as a individual regardless of their opinion, position or group affiliation.

A few years ago a book came out entitled: Why We Hate Us by Dick Meyer.   The premise of the book was deeper than the title, he argued that a deeper social shift was occurring in American society creating this erosion of trust and morality. However, his title and many of his examples throughout the book ring true: we hate us.  A short excerpt from his book provides a multitude of examples: “They loathe snails who drive slowly in the left lane. They don't like people who talk full volume about the heartbreak of their psoriasis on cell phone headsets in restaurants and quiet bookstores....They don't like it when they're talking with someone who starts thumbing their little digital personal device to answer an email from someone five hundred miles away.”
(

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=93261726)

Our challenge throughout our lives is to not reduce people to things.   To not look out at that person who is doing something that irritates us, and group them together into this faceless mass that not only irks us but enrages us.   That we don’t look out at a random stranger and see the wicked Balaam, the unknown entity, but a fellow human being created in the divine Image.

Joining this community, it is with great joy that I look forward to seeing that spark within each of you as I come to know you over the years.  I hope that I will not be a faceless Rabbi to you, and that all of you will not be a throng of congregants to me.  Rather as a Kehilah Kedoshah, a holy community we work together to know each other and continue to make WRT, our community, a place to be proud of, and most importantly, our home.   

Shabbat Shalom.

When We See Ourselves As Grasshoppers

In this week's parasha, Shelach-Lecha (Num. 13:1-15:41), a leadership team of 12 spies, each one a chieftain of the 12 tribes of Israel, is summoned by Moses into the Promised Land to determine the quality of the land, its soil, its produce, its cities and towns, and its inhabitants.

The spies agree:  The land flows with milk and honey.  The fruit is rich and plump and abundant.  The towns, however, are fortified and the people are armed and dangerous.  There are even giants living there!

Two of the spies, Joshua and Caleb, insist that the Israelites have the "right stuff" to overcome the obstacles and inherit the land.

The other ten, however, fixate on their negative appraisal, which leads to the Israelites spreading the bad report so that the people panic and insist that going back to Egypt would be better than trying to enter the Promised Land.

It's a disastrous moment in the Jewish Story, one that leads God to punish the people with 40 years of wandering in the wilderness until the entire faithless generation dies out and only Joshua, Caleb, and the young will enter the Promised Land.

Look at Numbers 13:33, in which the ten disheartened spies say, in part, "We looked like grasshoppers in our own eyes, and so we must have appeared to them [our enemies]."

What a terrible appraisal!  And how human, to conclude from their own negative self-image that everyone else saw them as weak and powerless too.  But we do this all the time, don't we?  Extrapolate from our own views of ourselves how we think others see us?  Low self-esteem can be so destructive in relationships, adolescent development, and in our abilities to rise to our fullest potential.

I am eager to hear your comments about what it means to see ourselves as grasshoppers.  How does it hurt us, and how can we overcome this tendency?

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Jonathan Blake

In All Humility - Shabbat Beha'alotkha 5772

Dear Friends,

On Friday night, Rabbi Jan and Cantor Alane "Lanie" Katzew were honored as this year's recipients of the highest honor that WRT bestows upon congregants, the Brotherhood Award.  The following remarks are the D'var Torah delivered by Rabbi Katzew upon the acceptance, on behalf of himself and Cantor Katzew, in absentia.  Lanie was at another congregation, fulfilling a special commitment to honor a rabbinical colleague upon his retirement.  

In All Humility - Anavah

By Rabbi Jan Katzew

Delivered June 8, 2012                          

Westchester Reform Temple   

Shabbat Beha’alotkha 5772

Humility, anavah in Hebrew, is an under-rated, misunderstood trait in our culture, but it is the pre-eminent virtue in Jewish thought, singled out as the trait that made Moses Moses.  In the words of a contemporary student and teacher of Jewish ethical traditions, “being humble does not mean being a nobody, it just means being no more of a somebody than you ought to be”.  Humility involves a balancing act in between selflessness and selfishness, figuring out just how much space to take up in the room, in a conversation and in a relationship.  Humility is a lifelong pursuit, a process that demands constant mindfulness, self-awareness and empathy. 

Think about the most humble person you know – not a platonic ideal, but a real person, someone in your life who embodies and ‘ensouls’ humility. What makes him or her humble in your mind? Is he shy? Is she self-effacing? A follower? If any of these associations ring true you may be surprised to learn that the greatest leader in Jewish memory, Moses, is described in this week’s Torah portion, B’ha’alotkha, as anav m’ode, very humble, more than any other person on the face of the earth. That is the only character trait attributed to Moses in the Torah and he is the only individual in the entire Bible described as humble. This extraordinary combination led Jewish philosophers to venerate humility above all other virtues. In Duties of the Heart, an 11^th Century book by Bahya Ibn Pekuda, not a household name perhaps, but arguably the finest example of Jewish ethics, wrote “all virtues and duties are dependent on humility."

Our Sages try to teach about humility  through a story that I hope will ring true here and now. Anyone who sits in a particular place to pray in the synagogue, the God of Abraham stands in his or her aid, and when he or she dies, people say about him or her “this was a humble person”.  Where is the humility in sitting in the same place every time you pray in the synagogue? The answer is that by fixing yourself to one spot you free up all the other space for others to use. A humble person knows her place and takes up only his rightful space, no more and no less.

Humility and self-esteem are intimately related. Moses was not obsequious. He stood up to Pharaoh. He even stood up to God. But apparently, his hutzpah did not nullify his humility.  Hutzpah and humility may seem to be antithetical, but they are not really opposites. They can co-exist in each of us, just like they did in Moses, albeit on a different scale. Rav Kook, former chief rabbi in Palestine, wrote, “When humility is genuine it inspires joy, courage and inner dignity.” To know how to navigate between conceit and self-effacement is the art of humility. 

In the Talmud, the difference between Hillel and Shammai came down to humility. In a debate between these two schools of Jewish thought, a voice from heaven cried out: Eilu v’eilu divrei Elohim Hayyim, these and those are words of the living God, that is both Hillel and Shammai were inspired. However, Jewish practice is determined according to Hillel.  Why? Because when the school of Hillel was teaching about Jewish life, they first cited Shammai’s opinion and then shared their own. They gave honor to their counterparts and yet managed to carry the day with their own arguments.  

In the Rabbinic mind, even God modeled humility in human creation. In the Biblical account of Creation, everything was created by divine fiat. God said, “Let there be light. And there was light.” Except for the creation of a person about which God said, “Let us make a being in our image, in our likeness.” Us? To whom was God speaking? As you may imagine, Biblical interpreters have had a field day, or more accurately, a couple of field millennia trying to answer that question.  Was God conferring with Godself? Or the angels? Or the beings God had already created?  However, one thing was clear. When it came time to create a partner in Creation, God sought a second opinion. Humility involves communication, cooperation and collaboration.  We act humbly when we listen to others.

Apparently, the Men’s club internalized this nuanced understanding of humility because they sent two representatives, Mark Lewis and Scott Silberfein, to our home to share with Lanie and me the humbling news that we were to receive the 2012 Brotherhood award. How could we claim that we did not merit such an honor when they came together and told us that they had consulted with others and that we had been chosen? So Lanie and I looked at each other and said, in all humility, “thank you."

Thank you for making Westchester Reform Temple our spiritual home for a decade. Thank you for relating to us not as Rabbi and Cantor Katzew, but as Lanie and Jan. I cannot overemphasize the difference between being a position and being a person. As we prepare for our transition to Cincinnati, where I will be privileged to serve on the faculty and administration of Hebrew Union College, Lanie and I will miss this kehillah kedoshah, this sacred community. We will miss the brilliant, insightful and inspiring sermons. We will miss the beautiful sounds that transform music into prayer. We will miss the breadth and depth of learning and programming. We will miss the wealth of talent and power of synagogue leaders and volunteer partners. We will miss the architectural grandeur and environmental aesthetic of this magnificent sacred space. We will miss the rich, close and often unpredictable nature of Shabbat morning Torah study. But, most of all, we will miss people, people who have opened their homes and their hearts to us. We will miss being here in this sacred space ready to meet God and each other. It can be a humbling experience to be members at Westchester Reform Temple, where excellence is expected. I am grateful to be standing here on this bima on behalf of Lanie and myself to accept your gracious honor as recipients of the 2012 WRT Brotherhood award. I am even more grateful, however, now to leave this bima and take my rightful place, hopefully not too prominent and not too modest, but rather my appropriately humble place, in this wonderful congregation alongside you – our haverim – our fellow members, our friends.

Shabbat Shalom!

“A small deed done in humility is a thousand times more acceptable to God than a great deal done in pride”  - (Orchot HaTzaddikim)