Singing and Dancing Our Vision

I imagine that each of us could identify a number of highlights from the expansive range of holidays that we shared together.   I would like to mention a few from Temple Israel’s recent celebration of Simhat Torah, the day which Rabbi Yitz Greenberg describes as the “coda of joy” at the end of the fall cycle of Jewish holidays.  More precisely, I want to reflect on the highlights that bring our vision to life. 

On Simhat Torah night, following much joyous dancing, a large group of men, women and children gathered around one of our historic Iraqi Torahs as a teen from our congregation chanted passages from the final portion of the Torah.  Everyone present had the opportunity to recite the blessings before and after he read each passage.  At one point, I took a mental snapshot of him, pointing to the words and singing the melody while surrounded by so many of Temple Israel’s children. 

Over at the Youth House, Temple Israel teens hosted residents from two local group homes for adults with developmental challenges.  Our teens paired up with these adults for a variety of activities and then we all danced together with a Torah scroll.  At one point, Youth House Director Danny Mishkin invited up everyone who wanted to come see the inside of the Torah.  We said the blessings together and read a passage from the Torah.  Following that, everyone had dinner and our teens brought their guests over to the Sanctuary to join in the synagogue-wide celebration.  I took a mental snapshot of our teens and our guests surrounding the Torah as it was read. 

We Need to Understand Each Other Better - A Message for the New Year 5774

When I was a sophomore in high school, I was in biology class taking a test and in the middle of the test I needed a Kleenex.

I walked up to the front of the class to get one when I heard my teacher ask, “Are your eyes wandering a bit, Mr. Stecker?”  Implying that I was looking at someone else’s test paper on my way to get the Kleenex.  

Now I was not looking at anyone else’s paper and I was mortified.  Had she said, are you a bit neurotic about your academic success, Mr. Stecker?  Are you dreamy and unfocused, Mr. Stecker?   Even, do you feel nerdy and unworthy from time to time, Mr. Stecker?  I would have been put off, but ultimately not as offended.  There was some truth to all of those things, certainly when I was a teenager.

But to ask if I was cheating?  That hurt.  I was not, and am not, a cheater.

Her snarky question sliced right through me not just because I was wrongly accused, but because I felt fundamentally misunderstood.  If she implied that about me, then she didn’t understand me at all.  At 16 you tend to feel that sort of thing powerfully.

But it’s not just something you feel as a teenager.

Generations Yet Unborn Are Watching

I want you to imagine the scene.  Moses looks out and sees thousands of people. He says to the people, atem nitzavim hayom kulchem:  you’re all standing here together, the leaders, the men, the women, the children, the stranger, the people who cut the trees and the people who draw water from the wells.  You’re all standing here to enter a covenant.  And furthermore, the covenant between you and God is not just with you.  It’s also with those who are not here today.  ואת אשר איננו פה עמנו היום V’et asher einenu po imanu hayom. (Deut. 29:13)

Rashi, ibn Ezra, Ramban – all interpret this the same way.  Who are the people Moses was referring to who were not there, but who were nevertheless bound by the covenant?  Gam im hadorot ha’atidim lih’yot.  The covenant also includes the generations yet to come.

Poor Moses – by his own admission he is not suited for public speaking.  And he has to consider, when he speaks, not only those standing there, but subsequent generations.

My son went down to DC with a few friends to see the 50^th anniversary of the March on Washington.

I watched it on computer, hardly the same effect, but impressive nonetheless.

I want us to rewind 50 years, to think back on the crowds that descended on Washington, DC, united by a commitment to the equal rights of all American citizens, regardless of color.

The Sound of the Circle - A Musical Offering for 5774

As the New Year approaches, enjoy this video of Israeli singer Avraham Tal singing Kol Galgal, a song which invites contemplation of the connection between our voices, the sound of the Shofar, and the continuity of life.  

"The sound of a circle rolls upwards from below, hidden chariots revolving. The sound of melodies rises and falls; it goes wandering in the world. The voice of a Shofar extends through the depths and the circle spins around. That's the sound, the sound of a circle rising and falling."

 

Can Curses Lead to Blessings?

Rabbi Shlomo Riskin told the following story about a rebbe who survived the Shoah, known as the Klausenberger Rebbe. 

When he was a child, Rabbi Riskin was praying at the Klausenberger Rebbe's shul. The Rebbe had lost his wife and thirteen children in the Holocaust. He was one of the last to leave Europe, as he told people that a captain does not leave a sinking ship before the passengers.

He eventually got out, and on the Shabbat morning that Rabbi Riskin came to pray, something unusual happened: When the Torah reader came to the passage of tochecha, "rebuke," or curses that would befall the Jewish people due to our straying from the Torah and tried to read those verses quickly and quietly - as is the custom - the Rebbe said only one word: Louder!

The Torah reader was confused that the rebbe would go against tradition and decided to proceed quickly and quietly, assuming he had heard wrong, but then the rebbe turned around to the congregation with his eyes blazing and banged on the lectern, “I said louder!” he shouted. "Let the Master of the Universe hear!  We have nothing to be afraid of. We have already received all of the curses - and more. Let the Almighty hear, and let Him understand that the time has come to send the blessings!"

Rabbi Riskin was trembling, other congregants quietly sobbed. The Torah reader then read the verses loudly and slowly. At the end of the services, the rebbe turned back to the congregation with deep love in his eyes, "My beloved sisters and brothers, the blessings will come, but not from America. God has promised the blessings after the curses, but they will only come from the land of Israel. Let us pack our bags for the last time." Soon after that Shabbat, the Klausenberger Rebbe led his congregation to Israel, where they settled in Netanya. 

This morning, we read the tochecha, the rebuke.  We did it quietly, according to the traditional custom.  But the Klausenberger Rebbe’s angry request is understandable.  As was his insistence that his flock make aliya. 

Seventy years after the Shoah, the number of people who witnessed it continues to decrease.  And it seems pretty clear that a large segment of the Jewish world population will continue to live in the Diaspora, as has nearly always been the case.

It also seems clear that blessings and curses are to be found wherever we live – Israel or Diaspora.

This morning, I want to look at the tochecha, the list of Tochecha from a different perspective.  Not as a description of what ultimately occurred, but as a way of demonstrating the value and purpose of our tradition.  In a roundabout way, the curses delineate our blessings. 

Polarized or Unified? Depends Where You Look

Deanna and I spent July in Israel.  I participated in the Rabbinical Assembly convention, as well as the first part of the Rabbinic Leadership Initiative of the Hartman Institute in Jerusalem, which describes itself as a center of transformative thinking and teaching that addresses the major challenges facing the Jewish people.

Those who have spent time in Israel know that it is teeming, exciting and dynamic. 

When I was praying on our balcony, I couldn’t concentrate so well because there was construction going on, starting at 7 am, right across from where we were staying.

But I smiled to myself when I got to the phrase Bonei yerushalayim, acknowledging God’s role in the building of Jerusalem. 

There I was, praying about building Jerusalem while the crew across the street was actually doing it.

Building is taking place everywhere you look, as it always has.  Urban planners are urging greater building within the borders of Jerusalem so that a green belt, traversed by a relatively new bike path, can be preserved.  

Neighborhoods are being built and rebuilt, new urban spaces are being constructed.  Jerusalem’s version of the high line in NYC is the walkway and bicycle path on the former train tracks.  Many people joke that travel will be much faster now that it’s taking place on bicycle, as compared with the old train that took 2 ½ hours to get to Tel Aviv.

For now, I want to address a single theme, namely:  Although it often seems that Israel is more polarized than ever, with increasing disparate elements and more animosity between different groups, if you look more carefully you see  the emergence of much cooperation despite differences.

Twenty-eight Rabbis Together in Jerusalem

What do you get when you engage 28 rabbis in creative Jewish learning and programming in the heart of Jerusalem?  For nearly four weeks, I participated in the first stint of the fifth cohort of the Rabbinic Leadership Initiative (RLI), sponsored by the Shalom Hartman Institute.  Our cohort consists of rabbis spanning at least 25 years in age and representing a broad ideological spectrum.  

Among the group are several Renewal rabbis as well as members of the faculty of Yeshivat Maharat, which describes itself as “the first institution to ordain Orthodox women as spiritual leaders and halakhic authorities."

 

In the coming months, I will be writing and speaking further about what I’ve learned so far through RLI.  At this point, I want to give some impressions and a few anecdotes as an introduction to the scope and depth of the program.