D'var Torah by Susan Wiener

D’VAR TORAH: PARASHAT BEMIDBAR 5770 / May 14, 2010

MEN’S CLUB SHABBAT

by SUSAN WIENER, recipient, The WRT Brotherhood Award 2010

I can still remember the day……it was Friday 11:45 pick up at from the 3’s program at the ECC. We gathered in the hallway, waiting for the door to open. Nervous moms, we all waited…..all of us still new to the ECC. Out comes my oldest, Tracey, hand-in-hand with her new friend. This new friend turns to her mom and then to Tracey and asks, “Are you coming tonight?”

I had no clue and I am thinking, “Coming to what?”

Tracey asks, “Are we?”

The new friend turns out to be Rena Singer and her mom turns out to be Rabbi Beth Singer, who explains that tonight is family Shabbat services….. at 7:30…….and we all know you don’t say no to the Rabbi.

That was my beginning at WRT……As soon as I walked into the sanctuary that night, I felt that sense of community, the sense of belonging…that my family counted.

Tonight’s Torah portion is Bamidbar. In the desert of Sinai, on the first of the month of Iyar, one year and two weeks after the Exodus from Egypt, G-d speaks to Moses. The leader of Israel is instructed to conduct a census of his people. Indeed this Book of the Torah is called “Numbers” in English because of its preoccupation with censuses and counting in general.

According to the Chassidic Masters, a census expresses two paradoxical truths. On the one hand, it implies that each individual is significant. On the other hand, a head-count is the ultimate equalizer: each member of the community, from the greatest to the lowliest, counts for no less and no more than "one." G-d repeatedly commands Moses to count the Jewish people to emphasize both their individual worth--the fact that no single person's contribution is dispensable--as well as their inherent equality.

Over the years, I have had the opportunity and privilege to participate in many activities and to be a member of, and chair of, various committees at WRT. It is here that I have learned what the words “process” and “patience” really mean…. and more specifically, what it means to be a part of a “thoughtful process.” Participating in these thoughtful processes came to mean that, in this congregation, everyone counts; everyone has an opportunity to have a voice.

But still I worry about how we reach out to the members of our community who may not feel “counted”--who many not feel they can participate--because of some disability.

This past March, I had the opportunity to attend the first Westchester Interfaith Network on Developmental Disabilities. The keynote speaker was William Gaventa, Director of Community and Congregational Support at the Elizabeth Boggs Center. Bill reminded us that by removing disabled people from the mainstream, we disempower the mainstream community and its leaders by robbing them of the opportunity for meaningful interaction with the disabled, who by definition as human beings have something to offer.

Here at WRT, our clergy make sure that each of one of us counts. They model inclusion. It is the fabric of who they are, of what WRT stands for. But still, many with disabilities, or family members of those with disabilities, don’t always feel like they can participate--even in a congregation that celebrates inclusion. For a culture change to occur, our clergy can not do it alone. It needs to be a partnership.

Many of us have no prior experience with interacting with people with different kinds of disabilities. Attitudinal barriers are the hardest to change... but they can be changed. We are often uncomfortable when we see someone in a wheelchair. Some of us are uncomfortable reaching out to a fellow congregant who may feel excluded because of his or her disability.

And these feelings of isolation don’t always occur because of a disability at all. It may be someone who may have just experienced the loss of a family member or a new cancer diagnosis….someone who doesn’t know where to turn… and who may not feel fully embraced anywhere.

How do we as a congregation ensure that ALL are given a place in our community? It is important to recognize and accept that we all have differences and to make an extra effort to include all members of our community in all facets of synagogue life, worship, community and education.

Just a few weeks ago, I had the privilege of ushering at the Bat Mitzvah Rebecca Siegel. It was probably one of the most meaningful B’nei Mitzvah services I have ever attended. Rebecca struggles with epilepsy. Rebecca’s uncontrollable seizures have caused lifelong learning deficits and developmental delays. But this did not deter her parents from wanting a Bat Mitzvah for Becca. Randy and Lisa partnered with the clergy and educational team at WRT. Together they crafted a plan. Becca began her Bat Mitzvah lesson with one of our tutors, Nancy Abraham. On Saturdays she attended the Sharing Shabbat Service. Becca loved the music and prayers in song. When Becca came to this February’s Inclusion Shabbat, I saw firsthand her love of music reflected in her eyes. I know it brought a smile to those sitting around her. A service was crafted with an emphasis on music. The day of the service the room was filled. As the music began Becca’s face beamed. The joy she felt was contagious. Each time the music stopped, she responded with, “More, please!”

When I spoke with Lisa after the Bat Mitzvah she confessed to not having felt sure about this Bat Mitzvah in the beginning of their journey. But Lisa’s and Randy’s willingness and openness to partner with the clergy allowed the amazing day to happen. Lisa recently spoke with another parent of a special needs child who was contemplating having a Bat Mitzvah…. Would her child know the difference? Lisa’s response was, “How many of us give our ‘typical’ children an option?”

Each child at WRT is treated as an individual. Each child counts. Rabbi Jacobs uses the example of the "bullseye." The child is the bullseye and we, the clergy and educational team, paint the circles around them. All children can have a Bar or Bat Mitzvah.

This is just one example of how our doors at WRT are wide open. We need to raise awareness so that everyone can feel included…so that everyone feels they can be counted the way the Torah this week demands that each one must be counted.

I challenge each of us to open our eyes, open our hearts, and open our mouths. I challenge each of us to step out of our comfort zones and reach out to all the members of our community: those in mourning, those with disabilities, those who just lost a job… those who are sitting alone at services , those who may be standing alone at the oneg , those who are afraid to come in the front door. Those who want to be—and who should be—counted.

Speaking of counting: we are in the last days of counting the Omer. The Book of Leviticus describes this ritual, instructing us to count every day for the full seven-week period between Pesach and Shavuot. Long ago, when our ancestors were farmers in the land of Israel, they counted the days from the first planting of the growing season until the first harvest, the springtime harvest. Each night we count the day out loud. This period of counting helps to make us aware of each day.

We can also use the Omer period as a time to reflect on the “seeds we are sowing” in our own lives. May we reflect on our lives each day and remember that seeds planted today become tomorrow’s harvest. We may not even see the changes right away, but like seeds planted in the earth, each act of making another person feel counted, feel deeply valued, will surely yield a harvest of goodwill, a harvest of a fruitful community, blessed by God for its inclusiveness. Simply saying “Shabbat Shalom” to someone you don’t know may, in fact, allow you to answer a person’s unspoken prayer, an innermost wish to feel acknowledged, to know that “I am not alone.” To know that none of us is alone, and that each of us counts. Shabbat Shalom!

Parashat Bo 5770 - Light from Within, Light from Without

Parashat Bo 5770

Light from Within, Light from Without

Rabbi Jonathan E. Blake

The Torah portion Bo describes the final plagues that befell the Egyptians, culminating in the death of their first-born and the liberation of the Israelites from bondage.

Scientists, archaeologists, and historians have proposed various natural explanations for the phenomena described in the narrative of the plagues. An entry on the Ten Plagues in Wikipedia reports that “The redness in the Nile could have actually been pollution caused by volcanic activity, which, due to the color of Nile silt, could make the Nile turn blood red, and would also render it undrinkable. Heavy rains in the red-soiled area of Lake Victoria could have caused reddened water to wash downstream. Alternatively, a red toxic algal bloom (red tide) could have produced large quantities of toxins that would kill fish…. Any blight on the water that killed fish also would have caused frogs to leave the river and, probably, die.” And so on.

Yet throughout the narrative of the plagues, the Torah and commentary endeavor to emphasize the supernatural features of the plagues. A “toxic algal bloom” could in no way account for the Torah’s own claim that Egyptian water turned to blood “even in vessels of wood and stone” (Ex. 7:19). The plague of hail describes “fire flashing in the midst of the hail,” an unprecedented phenomenon that the Rabbis understood as a Divine miracle, evidence that only God, Maker of Peace, can harmonize and neutralize the antithetical elements of fire and ice (RaSHI to Ex. 9:24). Every plague evinces God’s hand.

So too with the ninth plague, the plague of darkness. This was no ordinary darkness. In the space of two verses, the Torah refers to “darkness” three times, calling it “a darkness that can be touched” and “thick darkness” so oppressive that “for three days no one could move about” (Ex. 10:21-23).

In contrast, “all the Israelites enjoyed light in their dwellings” (Ex. 10:23). Midrash points out that the light, like the darkness, was abnormal, miraculous. “It does not say [that the light shone] ‘in the land of Goshen’ but rather ‘in their dwellings,’ to show that wherever a Jew went, light also went” (Exodus Rabbah 14:3). The light shone from within, not from without—not from the sun, not from torches. By inference, we conclude that the thick darkness—darkness that could be touched—arose not in the Heavens but in the debased spiritual and moral condition of the Egyptians. Egypt, mightiest empire on earth, has been laid low by the power of an invisible God heretofore unknown to them, the God of a ragtag band of Hebrew-speaking slaves. The rich households of the Egyptian masters stand entombed in darkness—their residents rendered immobile for three days—while the Jews bask in the light, moving about like free men and women. Our people may have been materially impoverished, but we were spiritually enlightened.

Light and Darkness thereby reflect conditions of interior space, the rich inner lives we rarely share with the outside world. Consider the import of this text as we interact with others. A thousand people could experience the same event and yet report its significance in a thousand different ways. For some, a beautiful sunset evokes joy and for others the same sunset evokes the pain of a long-lost love. The maker of metaphors sees the poetry in the sunset but the meteorologist sees only particles of pollution obscuring the sun.

I am often reminded that a synagogue sanctuary during services contains a microcosm of the world and every variation of the human experience. The words and melodies of our prayers do not change as they reach the ears of the worshippers, but their meanings mutate once they reach the heart. A prayer book meditation by the late Rabbi Chaim Stern announces:

Each of us enters this sanctuary with a different need.

Some hearts are full of gratitude and joy:
They are overflowing with the happiness of love and the joy of life;
They are eager to confront the day, to make the world more fair; they
Are recovering from illness or have escaped misfortune.
And we rejoice with them.

Some hearts ache with sorrow:
Disappointments weigh heavily upon them, and they have tasted despair;
families have been broken; loved ones lie on a bed of pain;
death has taken those whom they cherished.
May our presence and sympathy bring them comfort….

(Gates of Prayer for Shabbat and Weekdays).

We sit in the same sanctuary. Yet some bask in light while others sit encased in thick darkness.

Some people live with unshakeable sadness. One such woman, reflecting on the darkness in her life, was described to me by my friend Rabbi Alexis Berk. “Sometimes… she feels invisible. She feels that people bump into her … like in the grocery store or in line … like she’s not there. Sometimes they say, ‘Excuse me.’ Sometimes not. She feels this happens a lot. Also, she … often has trouble making automatic doors open. Sometimes she has to stand in front of them, and do a little dance around in order to activate the sensor. She perceives herself in darkness. She is not seen.”

How many go about their days feeling unseen? How frequently do we miss the opportunity to shed a little light? Not out of malice, but simply by being inattentive, unintentionally insensitive?

“Rabbi Yochanan said: ‘The eye is white with a black part in its middle. Out of what part would one be expected to see? Out of the white part, surely. But, no, one sees out of the black part…. You find that one who is in the dark can see what is in the light, whereas one who is in the light cannot see what is in the dark” (Midrash Yalkut 378). How ironic, and how sad! Those who dwell in darkness—elderly people shut in their apartments, sick people lying on beds of loneliness or pain, sullen adolescents who want only to feel socially included, mourners—often feel mocked by the simple pleasures of life and light. Meanwhile, we in the light often fear to peer into the dark.

I would ask you to join us in two weeks, on February 5th at 6:15 PM, when WRT will celebrate its first Inclusion Shabbat, a Friday evening service dedicated to focusing on awareness and inclusion of people with disabilities in congregational life. While WRT is already a leading synagogue in this sacred work, it remains important not only to lift up our accomplishments but also to challenge ourselves to extend and deepen our commitments to all people, including those whose physical, mental, or emotional challenges often present obstacles to their inclusion inside and outside their synagogue homes. Living too much in darkness, they can perceive all too well how those in the light often fail to meet their gaze. Our beautiful Friday evening service will feature Susan Wiener who will offer the D’var Torah. Sue has long engaged in the work of sacred inclusion here at WRT and in Westchester county and her tireless effort, optimism, motivation, and inspiration provides a beacon of light in the darkness. I know that you will emerge from Inclusion Shabbat feeling enlightened and uplifted and motivated to bring the work of inclusion into your engagements inside and outside the walls of WRT.

I would also announce with happiness that our Westchester Reform Temple community has begun an important conversation about sacred hospitality, a comprehensive re-thinking about what it means to be a “greeter” here in Temple. Any of you who has ever entered a gathering as a newcomer knows how intimidating stepping into that room can feel. We are working together with a large and eager group of lay leaders to envision and actualize a congregation in which ushering at services represents only the tip of the iceberg in the ongoing work of making every person who enters our synagogue feel as if he or she has stepped from the darkness into the light--and not the other way around.

And of course our obligations extend well outside our community to places of dire darkness, even if far away. The nightmare of Haiti continues to summon us to give generously and motivate others to do the same. We have made available notecards informing you of some of our recommended agencies who have proved most effective in using tzedakah responsibly and efficiently. We especially advise everyone to consider contributing to the American Jewish World Service, the only such aid organization to have built up a true infrastructure for mobilizing aid over years and years of work in some of the world’s darkest places, including Darfur, and including Haiti, which long before the earthquake stood out tragically as the most impoverished nation in the Western Hemisphere. You can take these cards as you leave our sanctuary tonight.

The Israelites did not enjoy light only in their dwellings. “Wherever a Jew went, light also went.” This is what it means to be a Jew. We have an obligation not only to enjoy the light we have, but to share it and spread it wherever we go.

Shabbat Shalom and Happy Studying!

Rabbi Jonathan Blake