Asking and Listening

Ernesto Sirolli is a special kind of management consultant.  He helps guide communities to fulfill their own passions, to achieve the most success possible with their own ideas. 

In a TED talk that he gave, he told a funny story about when he was in his twenties and he traveled from Italy to the Zambezi valley in Africa as part of a relief organization, the goal of which was to help the African communities grow food.

So they traveled to Africa and arrived at the valley which had beautiful soil, good sunlight, but no agriculture.  The Italian group set themselves up, had brought Italian seeds with them, said to the locals, we want you to show up and we will tell you how to plant the seeds and have successful agriculture.

The locals by and large did not show up.  The relief organization offered them with money to show up.  A few showed up.  They planted tomato seeds.  Over the next months the plants grew and produced big, beautiful tomatoes, bigger than any produced in Italy.  The Italians were so excited.

The tomatoes were just about fully ripe.   Everyone went to sleep.  

During the night, 200 hippos emerged from the river and ate all the tomatoes.  The next morning, one of the locals said to one of the leaders of the relief agency, this is why we don’t have agriculture in the valley.

The leader asked, why didn’t you tell us about the hippos?

And the local said, you never asked.

Sirolli told this story to illustrate how easy it is not to ask and not to listen, but of course, how important it is to ask.  How important it is to listen.

I want to challenge us to think carefully about our own lives, about all the times that we approach our loved ones - our spouses, our parents, our siblings, our children - with plans and expectations - without asking them what they think, what they want, what they need, or where the hippos are.

Imprisoned By Our Own Bitterness

I want to talk a bit about bitterness, specifically how our bitterness can destroy us.  I promise I’ll get there, but first, a word about my grandmother.

"Joseph and His Brothers," Anton Franz Maulbertsch, 1745

My grandmother lived with us during her final years and she used to love to come to synagogue every week.  She enjoyed following the stories in the Torah.  I sometimes sat next to her and she would would lovingly, with humor, offer advice to the characters in the stories. Of course we read the same stories each year, but she would jokingly advise the characters to act differently this time around so they would avoid their terrible fate.  

When we got to the story about Joseph each year, she would urge him, Joseph - don’t brag so much in front of your brothers. Remember what they did to you last year?

Of course each year when we read the story, it plays out the same way.  Joseph ignores my grandmother’s advice and brags to his brothers.  They throw him into a pit and sell him into slavery.  And when there’s a famine in the land of Canaan, the brothers go down to Egypt and whom do they face, asking for food?  Their brother Joseph, whom they don’t recognize because it’s been awhile and he looks different.  

He looks Egyptian.  New haircut, new outfit.

Joseph is bitter.  How could he not be?  He is looking at the people who initially left him to die and then sold him into slavery.  How could he not be bitter?

Living as a Jew in the World

Off the coast of India is an island where the inhabitants have lived relatively undisturbed for generations.  They are hunter-gatherers, they speak a language that is not comprehensible to anyone else, and they have had almost no encounters with the rest of the world.  The island was in the news recently.  It seems a young Christian missionary came to the island, tried to teach Bible, and it didn’t end well for him.  You can find the details in the media if you’d like.

Joseph in Egypt

A few days ago I told our third and fourth graders about the island, leaving out what happened to the man who visited, and I asked them, was there every a time when the Jewish community as a whole lived completely apart from other types of people?  I wanted them to think about Jewish history and if Jews as a whole were ever as isolated from outside influences as the people on this island near India have been.


One said - yes, when we were in Egypt.   And I said, it’s true that the Israelites lived in a separate area, called Goshen, but did we have anything to do with Egyptians and other people?  And the student said, “Yeah I guess we did.”

If you think about it, you will probably agree that Jews have never lived in complete isolation from other people.  Wherever we lived, we have been exposed to other cultures including: Egyptian, Persian, Greek, Roman, French, Spanish, American.

Hanukkah begins tomorrow night.  The part of the story about Hanukkah that interests me the most has to do with the way our ancestors handled a different culture, in this case Greek culture.  There was a whole range of response to Greek culture - some said, we don’t want any part of it and they tried to isolate themselves.  Some changed their names, adopted Greek culture, and barely remained connected to Jewish tradition.  Some found a way to do both - to adopt the best practices of the Greeks but to find a way to stay true to Jewish tradition.  Call it tradition and change, call it creative adaptation.

I’m going to call it living as a Jew in the world.

And I’m going to ask us to think about ourselves in the United States in 2018.  What do we do to figure out how to live in this world as a Jew?  How much of American culture to adopt?  Which aspects of being Jewish are non-negotiable.  Meaning - I dress American, I eat American foods, I listen to American music.  But I also do x, y and z as a Jew and I won’t give those up and I don’t want my children and grandchildren to give those up. What is our x, y and z?  Do we have limits?  Is everything up for grabs?

Let's Not Attack Each Other

It’s been three weeks since the Pittsburgh shooting. While the emotional impact will be lasting and there remain numerous substantive issues to discuss, what I'd like to focus on in these moments is the response of the Jewish community. Specifically I want to ask us to consider the following:  Are we going to respond in a unified way, or are we going to let attacks from without widen the rifts that exist within?

Communal prayer gathering at Great Neck Synagogue on October 29

We are challenged in these situations by what we might call the “second sentence phenomenon.” There tends to be agreement on the first sentence that we say after a terrible tragedy like this. Something like, "We are horrified, angry and saddened by this devastating attack."  

And then comes the second sentence, where the divergence sometimes appears.  About recent events I’ve heard, just as two examples, versions of “this is a result of the hateful rhetoric being spouted and supported by our president” or “this is because of Democrats who cozy up to anti-Semites like Louis Farrakhan.”   

At times like this, I turn to people I trust, people who I believe see clearly and think clearly and write clearly based on significant understanding along with good common sense.  And one person I turn to about these matters is Dr. Deborah Lipstadt, Professor of Modern Jewish History and Holocaust Studies at Emory University who successfully defeated Holocaust denier David Irving in a libel trial that he initiated.  

Thoughts Following the Pittsburgh Shooting

The following is a summary of the comments I shared at the Temple Israel of Great Neck gathering on October 29 in response to the Pittsburgh shooting:

Like so many of us, I responded to the shooting in Pittsburgh with a mixture of shock, sadness, anger and fear. We at Temple Israel know many people in Pittsburgh, including Rabbi Chuck Diamond, Rabbi Seth Adelson and their families, as well as many more. Among a host of conflicting emotional reactions as the news started to sink in, I wanted to retreat, to stay in bed and pull the covers over my head. But I realize, and I urge all of us to affirm, that we must not shut down. We must remain open. With proper security measures, of course, we must keep our synagogue open for the sacred work of praying, gathering, welcoming, celebrating, mourning, supporting and making the world a better place. We must fight hate consistently and courageously, but we also must keep our hearts open to those who are most vulnerable. We must cultivate and maintain allies who, like us, are committed to justice and freedom. We must remain alert and engaged.

When the 46-year old man entered Tree of Life Synagogue, he yelled out anti-Semitic comments before he started to shoot. Anti-Semitism, sadly and frighteningly, is a very real and rising threat in the United States. It seems that the shooter did not know if he had entered a synagogue that is Conservative or Reform or Reconstructionist or Orthodox. He just wanted to kill Jews. Despite the inevitable tendency we seem to have to break ourselves down into silos, I urge us to consider what unites us as Jews at least as much as we focus on what divides us. Our enemies generally do not expend much effort distinguishing among Jews. Why do we?

When something horrific happens, it becomes the main story that we focus on, as well it should. We must focus on the tragedy in Pittsburgh so that we can offer comfort and support to that community, shore up our own institutional security, and face the challenges posed by this kind of hatred with united resolve. But at the same time, I do not want us to to lose sight of the other stories that occur, day in and day out, at synagogues like Tree of Life and our very own Temple Israel. When people greet one another on Shabbat morning and ask, "How's your mom?" or "Can I help you get to your seat?" that's a story. When young children walk over to the Candy Man to see what treats he has in his special basket and he gives them some and they offer him a sweet "thank you," that's a story. When people show up at a house of mourning with a hug and a tray of food and say "tell me what else I can do," that's a story. Synagogues like Tree of Life and Temple Israel of Great Neck are the sum total of all of these stories and more. Let us not allow a hateful shooter to distort our overall story.

With understandable sadness, anger and fear, but with irrepressible resolve, let us acknowledge 11 beautiful lives together, fight hateful words and actions together, keep our sacred institutions secure and open together, and continue, at Temple Israel and elsewhere, to tell our glorious story together.

Seeing People as People

We have to learn how to see other people as people.  That should be simple, but apparently it’s not so simple.

There is an excellent Israeli TV series that aired a few years ago It is called Shtissel and it is about a family in Jerusalem that is Ultra-Orthodox/Haredi/“Black hat."

Shulem and Akiva Shtissel from the Israel TV Series "Shtissel"

The main character is the patriarch of the family, Shulem. He’s recently widowed.  

Shulem doesn’t talk so much about his feelings but he is hurting. He misses his wife terribly.  At one point he tells his adult son Akiva, who lives with him, that his wife, Akiva’s mother, used to get up a little earlier than him, walk into the kitchen, take the butter out of the fridge and put it on the table so that it would start to soften.  Just a nice, kind thing she did for him every day that he remembers.

Several days later (same episode), Shulem has a day that is difficult for many reasons.  He goes home, sits down at the table, cuts a slice of bread, takes butter out of the fridge, puts the knife in the butter.  The butter of course is hard; the knife doesn’t move.  And he starts to cry.  

The show is unusual for Israeli television.   Why?  Because it presents ultra-Orthodox Jews as people.  Who fall in love and sometimes out of love and are sometimes happy and sometimes sad, who mourn loved ones, rely on small kindnesses, who have conflicts and yearnings.  Who want what’s best for the people they love and sometimes find that the people they love frustrate them deeply.  You know - people.

Often Israelis, American Jews too for that matter, speak about, read about, ultra-Orthodox Jews in the context of “those people” who look different, act different, sometimes say and do things that are intolerant.  While this show presented the ultra-Orthodox community’s unique customs and behaviors, the reason why the show was so successful is that primarily it presented the ways in which they are just like everybody else.  

Amazon had a series that ran for a few seasons called Transparent.  The main character is trans.  Born with male sex characteristics, the character lives much of his life male, but has always felt female, and takes the steps necessary so that her body and her sense of herself are consistent with one another.

The show was very successful.  Yes, it showed some of the unique struggles that many trans people go through.  But it was successful because it showed all of the people - regardless of their gender identities and sexual orientations - as people.  Who fall in and out of love, who have conflicts and yearnings.  Who mourn loved ones that have died, who are sometimes happy and sometimes sad.  Who want what’s best for the people they love and sometimes find that they people they love frustrate them deeply.  

When we get to know people as people, we can’t as easily say “those people” because they have names.  And faces. And hearts.  And souls.

Engage, Don't Escape

Zog nisht.  Don’t say anything.  Frag nisht.  Don’t ask any questions.

There are a variety of Yiddish expressions that convey the same basic mindset, namely - don’t get involved.  Worry about yourself. This is universal, I’m sure - the impulse to worry about ourselves, not to get caught up in what’s going on around us because - well, it’s too dangerous or it’s none of our business or we have enough of our own troubles to worry about.  As you might imagine, there are ways to express this mindset in multiple languages. 

Yossi Klein Halevi and Imam Abdullah Antepli will be at Temple Israel on November 18

For Jews, this mindset emerged, and was strengthened, when we lived in circumstances that were very tenuous.  Jews learned the hard way - in places like Buczacz, Tiraspol, Isfahan and Fez - the dangers of speaking out too much, or of engaging too confidently with the wider community.

In the Torah there is grand precedent for this cautious, self-preserving mindset. This was the mindset of Noah and his wife. God says, I’m going to destroy the world through flood.  Build yourselves an ark, a big boat, bring representatives from the animal kingdom with you.  Float away as the downpour begins.

And what do you do?  You start building.  You don’t ask questions.  Frag nisht.

This is America 2018.  I’m here to say, in no uncertain terms, that the mindset of “don’t tell, don’t ask,” the mindset of Noah and his wife - is dangerous.  Dangerous for us and dangerous for others.  

Where We Must Begin

There are many ways that the Torah could have begun.  It could have begun with the first commandment.  It could have begun with a description of the unique role of the children of Israel.  

It begins instead with creation.  Heaven and earth, light and dark, plants and animals.  And then ha’adam.  The human.  

ויברא אלהים את האדם בצלמו בצלם דמות תבניתו זכר ונקבה ברא אתם 

“God created the human in God’s image, male and female.”

Rashi gives the following interpretation:  

בדפוס העשוי לו, שהכל נברא במאמר והוא נברא בידים

“God created humanity in a special fashion.  Everything else was created through speech, while humanity was fashioned by God’s hands.” 

The human being, according to Rashi’s understanding, was fashioned directly by God.

What does it mean for human beings to be created in God’s image, with direct attention and care?  Here is what I believe it means:

If each of us is created directly by God, in God’s image, it means that we have infinite value that is non-negotiable and cannot be measured.

If each of us is created directly by God, in God’s image, it means that all the genders that we represent, all sexual orientations, all races, all ethnicities, all religions and no religion, all abilities, are part of the divine creative force.  

And therefore no gender, no sexuality, no race, no ethnicity, no religion, no ability, is to be preferred over any other.

If each of us is created directly by God, in God’s image, it means that we each have sovereignty over our own bodies and our own souls because they are direct gifts from our creator to us.  And therefore if and when we enter into relationship with one another, whatever the duration and nature of the relationship, we must respect one another’s bodies and souls the way that we would ideally respect our creator.

Suppose we’re not sure what we think about our creator?   Then we must respect one another’s bodies and souls the way that we would want others to respect our bodies and our souls.

If you are not sure what you believe about God, if you are not sure if or how you believe in God as creator, I ask you to consider how extraordinary it is that our ancestors told a story, one that we continue to tell, that raises up the dignity of each human being in equal measure.  Each human being bears a cosmic spark that gives each one of us equal and unlimited value.

I pray that we will each commit ourselves to raising up this spark in ourselves and in one another.  I call upon us to hold one another fully accountable for any behavior that seeks to demean and diminish this spark. 

Every human being is created with unlimited value. That is where the Torah begins and where we must begin.  We must begin by recognizing everyone's unlimited value and this must remain our guiding principle.

Stop Keeping Score With Others - a Message for Yom Kippur

The home I grew up in was a cape cod house on a tree-lined street in New Jersey.  I didn’t think it was small growing up, I didn’t think it was large.  I do remember, though, that my mother thought the kitchen was a bit on the small side - specifically, that it didn’t have enough counter space, as she would occasionally tell my father.  

One day we were visiting with my aunt and uncle who lived in a larger house on the other side of town that had a larger kitchen to begin with and my aunt wanted to show my mother that the kitchen had been redone.  The kitchen was even more spacious than it had been, with two ovens and lots of counter space. 

My mother ooh-ed and aah-ed at all the appropriate moments, my aunt served a lovely meal, my mother wished my aunt Mazel Tov on her renovated kitchen and said “use it well.” And then we got in the car to drive back to our side of town.  My mother said nothing to my father in the ride home but he had a sense of what she was thinking.

A week later, a week during which my mother didn’t once mention my aunt’s upgraded kitchen, she was cooking steaks for dinner.  She pulled the tray with the perfectly cooked steaks out of the oven, balanced the tray on the small counter and, as it turned out, the tray toppled over and landed face down on the floor, every single steak upside down and marinating in whatever had been used the day before to clean the floor.

That evening I heard a few words that I didn’t know my mother knew.  And a few days later my parents started to renovate the kitchen.

On arguably the holiest day of the year, I want to talk about keeping score with other people.  I think we all do it.  We compare ourselves to other people, our houses to their houses, our kitchens to their kitchens, our lives to their lives.

We compare our accomplishments, our appearance, our relative fortune and misfortune to the accomplishments, appearance, fortunes and misfortunes of others.

We keep score when it comes to what we get and we keep score when it comes to what we give.

That would be just fine.  Except that often it makes us miserable to keep score with others. 

Try Again - a Message for the New Year

What we’ve gotten wrong in the past, we can get right today.   We have the ability, and the responsibility, to try again.

There’s an excellent TV show about two brothers and a sister called “This Is Us.”  It goes back and forth between the three of them as children and as adults.  

I want to share a beautiful scene from the show that has to do with the two brothers.  One of the brothers, named Randall, has a history of panic attacks.  As a child and as a teen, he would get overwhelmed by all of the stress in his life, freeze in place, and not be able to function.  His brother, Kevin, was busy with his own stuff and didn’t offer much support to Randall while they were growing up.

So here’s the scene.  They’re adults now.  Kevin is an actor and it’s his opening night and he’s about to go onstage.  He’s in the dressing room, feeling excited and anxious, when his cell phone rings.  It’s Randall.  He tells Kevin he is still working at the office and won’t be able to make it to opening night.  He doesn’t quite sound like himself, he says things that don’t make sense. Kevin is taken aback and realizes that his brother is probably in trouble.  

Kevin wonders what to do.  He is backstage, about to go on, and struggling with what he should do, wondering what his father would do in that situation.  The show starts.  Kevin’s costar steps out onto the stage, turns to speak to him, and he isn’t there.  He has left the theater and is running toward his brother’s office.  

While he’s running, we see a flashback to when the brothers were young teens at home.  Randall is sitting in a chair, in a full panic attack.  Kevin walks by his room and sees him rocking back and forth in his chair, practically in tears.  Kevin pauses and then continues to walk right by. 

Back to the present, Kevin arrives at Randall’s office.  He sees Randall crouched in the corner, unable to move, paralyzed by anxiety.  He sits next to his brother, hugs him tight, and his brother just cries in his arms.  Finally, as an adult, Kevin does what he didn’t do earlier in his life for whatever reasons. Finally he gets it right.

If someone were to ask me, what is the most important message of this holiday?  I would say the message is as follows:  when we have messed up in the past, we can TRY AGAIN.  We can try, this time, to get it right.  And in many situations we MUST try, this time, to get it right.  It’s basic. But it’s not easy.  

Entering the Gates Together

A few weeks ago, a group of young, enthusiastic Jews arrived in Israel on a birthright trip.  They landed, got their bags, and walked through the doors of the arrival area in Ben Gurion airport.  They started dancing and singing עם ישראל חי am yisra’el chai.  

Jews from the Abayudaya community reading Torah at the Kotel

Nothing unusual, except that all of the participants are black and come from Uganda.  This was the first Birthright trip for the Jewish community of Uganda known as Abayudaha, the Lugandan word for “people of Judah.”

The Abayudaya began their history over a century ago when a leader of a small community adopted Jewish practices. Over the next decades the group adopted more and more Jewish practices  In the early 2000’s, approximately 400 individuals went through the conversion process under Conservative/Masorti auspices and more did so during subsequent years.  In 2015, several of the inhabitants of one of the villages were converted by (Orthodox) Rabbi Shlomo Riskin.

Today there are over 2000 members of the community.  Their spiritual leader is Rabbi Gershom Sizomu, who received his ordination at the Ziegler Rabbinical School of American Jewish University.

Recently Israel’s Interior Ministry, based on a ruling of the Chief Rabbinate, determined that the Abuyadaya were not to be considered Jewish for the purpose of immigration and a member of the community was recently denied a visa for the purpose of studying in Jerusalem.  

Rabbi Andrew Sacks, a Masorti Rabbi who has worked with the Abuyadaya, said the following about the Interior Ministry’s decision:

We Must Pursue Ethics and Ritual Together

I recently read something that gave me a bit of indigestion.

Writing in the Forward, two Israeli thought leaders offered the following argument:

They were addressing Jewish liberals in the US who are upset with how Israeli political leadership is treating non-Orthodox Jews and said, in effect, listen up.  If you want allies in Israel, you need to seek out people like us who are not religious.  

People who are religious in Israel tend not to care about women’s rights and minority rights; people who care about those things tend not to be religious.  

So, goes the argument, in Israel it’s one or the other - if you care about human rights, you’re probably not religious; if you’re religious, you likely don't get so worked up when it comes to other people’s rights.

I hear a version of this about American Jews.  The Jews who are “keeping Judaism alive” are those who may not care so much about preserving democracy and minority rights unless that minority is the Jews.  As for the Jews who value feminism, minority rights, and are worked up over what’s happening to American democracy?  Well, let’s see how many of those kind will be left after a few generations.  

Let’s focus on the United States.  Is there a growing correlation between commitment to Jewish tradition and disregard for "justice for all"?  Is there a growing correlation between concern for justice and lax commitment to Jewish tradition?

No Hiding Behind The Rules

You can follow the rules and still not be doing the right thing.

The Torah describes the following scenario:

Every 7th year, debts were cancelled.  I lend money to you and when the 7th year comes around, you don’t have to pay me back.

Moses, however, tells the people the following:  If someone needs a loan and the 7th year is coming up, don’t say, since the 7th year is coming, I won’t help the person out.  The wording is so insightful:  השמר לך פן יהיה דבר עם לבבך בליעל לאמר hishamer l’kha pen yih’yeh davar im levav’kha b’liay’al lemor - Be careful that your heart doesn’t convince you not to give.  (Deut. 15:9-10)

נתון תתן לו Naton titen lo - you should definitely give.  ואל ירע לבבך מתתן לו V’al yera levav’kha mititen lo - and you shouldn’t let your heart prevent you from giving.

I want to take a few minutes to address a reality that affects people who act in the name of religion and it not a new reality, as the Torah demonstrates.

People follow the rules and are still not ultimately doing the right thing.  We’re all susceptible.  We follow the rules - we say I’m following my religion or the law of the land - but what we do ignores the larger picture of what is decent and just and so we don’t actually end up doing the right thing.

Thoughts From a Recent Trip

De and I had a whirlwind of a month, starting in Israel and followed up by a trip from Lisbon to Rome.  The entire experience informed my thinking about how Jews relate to the world, which I'll get to shortly.

Mind you, not everything we did was of Jewish interest.  We toured sites of general interest - some pagan and Christian sites like the Colosseum in Rome and the Sagrada Familia Church in Barcelona.  We sampled local beers and watched the world cup on TV screens throughout Israel and Europe.

We had a great time and observed and learned a lot of random things. Including details about the dialogue in pictures between the story of Moses and the story of Jesus that plays out in the Sistine Chapel.  

Who Have We Become?

Perhaps you’ve had the kind of experience I’m about to describe.  
When my sons were teenagers they were getting on my nerves the same day that a lot of other frustrating things were happening.  

Jewish children rescued from Vienna in 1939

I said things I shouldn’t have said in a tone I shouldn’t have used.

In a moment of clarity, I asked myself - hey, who is this guy? Who are you?  Who have you become?

There are moments when we ask ourselves who we are and who we have become.

Sometimes it’s true of us as individuals.  Sometimes it’s true of us as a community.  Sometimes it’s true of us as a nation.

We have read, seen and heard about the policy which intensified this past week to use separation of parents and children as a deterrent to people seeking asylum in the United States.  We’ve read descriptions.  We’ve seen and heard the anguish of children who were separated from their parents.

Children Belong With Their Parents

How often do liberal and evangelical Christians, Reform, Conservative and Orthodox Jews all agree about something? Recently, representatives from these groups agreed on the following:  Children should not be forcibly separated from their parents.  

In response to the immoral decision by the Department of Justice, with the full support of the White House. to wrest thousands of children away from their parents in an attempt to deter asylum seekers, religious groups across the ideological spectrum have issued intense opposition.  

The following appeared in a statement signed by the Anti-Defamation League as well as leading Jewish organizations that include the United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism and the Rabbinical Assembly:

“As Jews, we understand the plight of being an immigrant fleeing violence and oppression. We believe that the United States is a nation of immigrants and how we treat the stranger reflects on the moral values and ideals of this nation.

“Many of these migrant families are seeking asylum in the United States to escape violence in Central America. Taking children away from their families is unconscionable. Such practices inflict unnecessary trauma on parents and children, many of whom have already suffered traumatic experiences. This added trauma negatively impacts physical and mental health, including increasing the risk of early death.”

Perhaps you have heard the recorded sounds of small children crying for their parents or perhaps you have seen pictures.  This is not a time for silence, not a time for careful contemplation, not a time to weigh pros and cons.

There may be room for reasonable debate about a variety of issues pertaining to immigration, but not about the forced separation of parents and children as a deterrence tactic.  It is immoral and un-American.  And Jews, who know the perils of such actions first-hand, should be at the forefront of protest and condemnation.

If you would like to make your opinion known, I encourage you to sign this petition circulated by the ADL. 

We who have historic and personal memories of the separation of children and parents.  We who are forever grateful to the brave souls of our faith and other faiths who took steps throughout our history to rescue children and restore them to their parents.  We who annually recite the words anticipating the time when Elijah will turn the hearts of the parents to the children and the hearts of the children to the parents.  

We can’t sit this one out.  We must step up and speak out. Children are crying out to us and we must answer.  As Jews, as Americans, as human beings, we must answer their cry. 

Shared with the Temple Israel of Great Neck Community on June 20, 2018

Fear Can Be a Good Thing

A classic Bob Newhart episode features a woman speaking to her therapist (played with expert comic timing by the incomparable Bob Newhart) about her fears.  When she finishes, the therapist tells her he has two words that he believes will help her.  She asks him to share the two words and he looks her right in the eye and yells, “Stop it!”  

Moses sends 12 men to scout out the land.  10 see the beauty, but all of the beauty doesn’t matter the moment they lay eyes on the enormous people there.  It is, they tell Moses and the people, ארץ אוכלת יושביה eretz okhelet yoshveha, "a land that eats up its inhabitants."  

They say, אם חפץ בנו ה׳ im hafetz banu Adonai - if God wants us to, we will be able to enter the land.

Fear is natural, but it can paralyze.  When we feel afraid, we usually can’t just “stop it.”
  
Yet fear can also energize.  A group of ballet dancers who direct and perform with the illustrious Alvin Ailey dance troop were interviewed recently on the radio.  They all spoke about how their fear - about performing well, about following in the footsteps (literally) of such great dancers in a company with such a storied reputation - energizes them to work harder, and to dance better.

I want to ask us to reflect on something that makes us afraid and how we handle it. Do we avoid such things altogether?  Or have we learned, can we learn, to lean into the fear, to harness it in fact, and to do what we need to do with energy and resolve?

The Power of the People

Sometimes people ask me how I come up with sermon ideas. I’m not always sure if the question is meant as a compliment…

But I figured, why not share the backstory of how I came up with today’s topic which is about “the power of the people." Specifically, our power and responsibility, from a Jewish perspective and a civics perspective, to create positive change.

So here goes.  Part one of the backstory. 

I was reading about the Irish referendum on abortion and thinking - how interesting that by majority vote, a nation decided to overturn centuries of anti-abortion sentiment and policy.  I read more about that and discovered that for many people, this was part of an effort to increase women’s rights and to bring Ireland in line with the policies of more progressive European countries.  Of course it involved pushing back against Church teachings, which many found repressive in this area and others.

Part two.  The Torah reading describes a moment when Moses acknowledges how great it would be if the entire people would be prophets, filled with God’s spirit.  

In thinking about this part of the Torah reading, I imagined it would be worthwhile to explore what it means for the people - not just the appointed leaders - to participate in charting a course for the community.  

Part three. This was the cosmic clincher, a sign from above.  De and I were watching the final episode of Madam Secretary (a TV show which presents an optimistic view of what government can look like) and the climax of the final episode hinges upon the Secretary convincing the president to bring a tricky international policy to the people and to let them have their say.  The people, in turns out, support a policy that is measured and reasonable.  

I saw that and said, Fate.  Bashert.  Resmat.  This is my topic. The positive impact that "the people" can have in multiple realms, if only we are decent, well-informed and courageous.

Choosing Optimism

We choose whether or not to take an optimistic view of the world. 

I had a professor in college who was lecturing about the novel Ulysses by James Joyce.  He said, you can read the novel as highly optimistic and affirming - the world is making progress.  Or you can read it as pessimistic and cynical.  The world continues to repeat its mistakes and might even be getting worse.

On the holiday of Shavuot we celebrate God’s revelation to our people.  A classic view is that it happened on Mt. Sinai at a specific time - there was thunder and lighting, it was very very frightening, and then the revelation was basically complete.

One of the implications of this view is that the further we get from Sinai, the more generations elapse, the less insight we have into what God wants.  This concept is sometimes expressed in the phrase מיעוט הדורות miyut hadorot - the diminishment of the generations.  

I find this view depressingly pessimistic.  The notion that as time goes on we have less and less insight, we are further away from understanding the truth.  To paraphrase Paul Simon, we are dumber than we once were and smarter than we’ll be.  

This is not the only view of God's revelation to us, however. There is also a view which says that God reveals the divine will to us קמעא קמעא kim’ah, kim’ah - a little bit at a time.  The revelation didn’t all occur at once, it occurs over time, like a cosmic time-release capsule.  

I find this view considerably more affirming, more optimistic.  It suggests that the world is improving, that there is progress being made. 

I’ve spoken to number of people about what is happening in Israel lately and depending on who I talk to, it leans optimistic or pessimistic in terms of what people emphasize and what overall narratives they proffer.  

Moving Beyond Metrics

I’ve mentioned before that a few year ago we bought a stationary bicycle that allows you to join classes remotely.  

A few times a week I get on the bike, pick a class, and join in.   While you’re biking, there are indicators on the screen that tell you how fast you’re going, how hard you’re peddling and how well you are doing compared to everyone else.

The bicycle knows how old I am.  I must have told it my age in a moment of weakness.  And it knows how old everyone else is.

When I’m peddling along and I see that I’m pulling ahead of people in their thirties I feel great.  Once a few people in their seventies were ahead of me and I told Deanna, we’re getting rid of this bicycle.

Earlier this week I attended a two-day conference at the Hartman Institute’s  NY headquarters and Yehuda Kurtzer, President of Hartman North America, was talking about the challenges facing American Jewish leaders.  And he said one big challenge is that so much of what we do is judged by metrics.

How many come to services or programs?  How fast are your services?  Are you surrounded by 30 year olds or 70 year olds?

Are You With Me?

The Torah portions for this week - tazria-metzorah - often have a bad image.  Oh - those are the ones that speak about sickness and sores and mildew.  And how the kohen, the priest, would diagnose a person's condition and help the person to reenter the community.    If you have to give a talk about these portions, people may sometimes offer you their compassion. 

But the portions are actually essential.  In fact, without them, the Torah doesn’t really work, its underlying message is largely untested. These portions test whether or not the Torah works.  

I’ll come back to that.  

Vera Eden and Dr. Eva Ebin, cousins and Shoah survivors

Last week we commemorated Yom Hashoah, Holocaust Memorial Day.  Vera Eden, longtime member of the congregation, Jewish educator for decades, spoke with passion and strength about her experiences as a teenager in Auschwitz.  She described how she was taken there, separated from most of her family, what she heard and saw on typical days and atypical days, how she felt at each moment, how the Nazis tried to deceive the Jews at each point.  She conveyed the horror, the terror, and the very rare moments of hope.

I Matter and You Matter: A Passover Message

We’ve reached the end of Passover and I want to speak about some difficult challenges that are facing the Jewish people in terms of how others relate to us and we relate to the rest of the world.  

Mireille Knoll, Holocaust survivor and humanitarian, z"l

What I’ve noticed is - by and large, people older than I am emphasize the importance of protecting the Jewish people and people younger than I am take a more universal view.  

This is a generalization to be sure.  You may surely say, I’m older than you and I am very universal in my thinking.  And you may be younger and say I totally see the need for protecting the Jewish people.  And you may say, I see both sides, I get the subtlety - and I’m sure that many of us do.  I know that I’m generalizing by generation.  But still…

I want to give 2 mini-sermons.

First off - here’s the sermon that I think many younger people could benefit from hearing.  It’s based on a famous passage in the Haggadah that begins with b’khol dor vador.  In every generation.

בכל דור ודור עומדים עלינו לכלותנו 

B’khol dor vador.  Om’dim aleinu l’khaloteinu.  

In every generation, enemies rise up against us to destroy us.

Maybe you didn’t experience much discrimination for being Jewish in school, in college, and professionally.  Maybe you weren’t called names, or spat at, or worse.

Please consider - that discrimination and persecution against Jews has always been a reality, and that it is still a reality - even if it hasn’t affected your life very much or at all.  

We Must Learn How To Leap

Years ago I had an interesting conversation with a colleague of mine in West Hempstead.  He said that usually he encourages people in his community to take gradual steps when it comes to making changes in their lives.  Not to do anything all at once.

With Senator Kirsten Gillibrand

But there’s one time a year that he encourages people to leap forward.  Not to take small, cautious steps but to leap.

And that time of year is Passover.  There’s actually a basis for this - I’m not making it up!  On Passover we read Song of Songs - a series of love poems - and - as my colleague pointed out - Song of Songs speaks of a lover leaping over the mountains - מדלג על ההרים m’daleg al he’harim. 

This is the time for us to learn how to leap.  

From Shame to Celebration

Last week Rabbi Mark Borovitz spent Shabbat with our congregation and spoke to us about his story.  He was jailed for theft.  He lied repeatedly to people, including family and friends.  He is a recovering alcoholic.

For years he has been the senior rabbi of Beit T’shuva, a residential treatment center that has helped thousands of people with various addictions to manage those addictions and to lead responsible, productive, purpose-driven lives.

He and I were schmoozing Shabbat afternoon about our lives, our work and our communities.

And we identified one major theme which affects his community and our community - many communities, in fact - something which is at the root of so much of our unhappiness and which prevents us from moving forward in healthy ways.

And that is shame.  Shame is powerful, corrosive, debilitating.  And it comes from so many different places.

Shame.  The feeling you might have when you are addicted to a substance or a behavior and can’t stop.

Shame.  The feeling you might have when you are experiencing financial difficulties and can’t provide adequately for your loved ones.

Shame.  The feeling you might have if you think or know that you’re gay or trans and people around you make jokes or comments that suggest that such people are immoral or crazy or less than.

Shame.  The feeling that you might have if your friends are bragging at the kiddush about how their children are dating “nice Jewish boys and girls” and your child is dating someone of another faith and you’re wondering if you can talk about it.

Shame.  The feeling you might have if you’re in middle school or high school and you’re the last one picked for the team.  Or it’s hard for you to process the instructions that your teacher is giving to the class.  Or you don’t like the way your body looks.

Shame.  The feeling that you might have if you don’t want to take an honor in the synagogue because your Hebrew isn’t so good.  Or you struggle to walk.  Or you’re not sure if you are good enough to deserve the honor.

Shame.  The feeling you might have if your memory isn’t what it used to be and you can’t keep track of things so well and the people around you are noticing.

Shame, often, is a combination of how we feel internally and how we imagine, or know, that others around us feel about us, about our choices, our situation, our essence.