Israel’s Nation State Law

by Rob Dobrusin

Over my years as a Rabbi, I have embraced, and when necessary, defended the term: “Jewish State” in reference to Israel. But, I always acknowledged that this term means something different to each individual and that it was important that, as a Jewish people, we engage in discussion about what that term should mean.

In 2010, I delivered a Kol Nidre sermon on the subject and spoke about my own interpretation of those two words. You can read the sermon here: https://robdobrusin.com/497/

This month, Israel passed a law referred to the Nation State Law which identified Israel as the nation state of the Jewish people. I am not alone in my belief that the passage of this law was a tragic moment in the life of the country.

You can read the text of the law here: https://www.timesofisrael.com/final-text-of-jewish-nation-state-bill-set-to-become-law/

It has been argued by some that nothing changed with the passage of this law and that all that it did was put on paper what has been true all along.

But, that is not true.

It is not true for two major reasons. The first is that this law omitted any reference to equality and justice for all citizens. These thoughts were certainly found in Israel’s Declaration of Independence: ” (Israel) will foster the development of the country for the benefit of all its inhabitants; it will be based on freedom, justice and peace as envisaged by the prophets of Israel; it will ensure complete equality of social and political rights to all its inhabitants irrespective of religion, race or sex; it will guarantee freedom of religion, conscience, language, education and culture”

Many members of the Knesset urged that some echo of this language should have been included in the nation-state law but it was not and its absence is glaring. Stating that self-determination applies only to the Jewish people within Israel excludes Israel’s minority citizens, including the Druze who fight in the Israel Defense Forces, from being equal citizens within the state. The message sent was clearly an additional exclusion of Israeli Arabs who, while enjoying certain benefits that minority groups do not in other countries, including representation in the parliament, are clearly victims of discrimination. The reduction in the status of Arabic which was once an “official” language of the state sends another negative and exclusionary message.

Discriminatory and exclusive language have harmed our people through the centuries. It is shameful that the “Jewish State” should use language of this kind.

But, there is another reason why I consider the passage of this law as tragic and I referred to it earlier and in my sermon.

As long as the term Jewish State was not defined, there was always the option to “spin” the term in a very positive way: a state whose symbols were Jewish, which was dedicated to supporting and caring for endangered Jews throughout the world and one which endorsed Jewish values among them the belief in the equality of all people. That may not have been everyone’s interpretation and I respect that. But, as long as it wasn’t “codified” in law, there was at least the option to interpret it this way.

Now, with the passage of the law, the amorphous term has been defined and in a way which, I believe, is contrary to the principles of our faith and will be dangerous and harmful to the State.

It is certainly a sad moment in the history of the State of Israel.

Jerusalem 2018

by Rob Dobrusin

A personal thought on this historic day:

As a rabbi, I have given many sermons on the importance of Jerusalem to our people and our faith and how shameful it is that the US does not recognize Jerusalem as Israel’s capital. After all, a nation should be able to decide on its own capital.

But, watching today’s ceremony, I found myself terribly troubled and could not feel any of the euphoria or satisfaction that so many in Israel and in the Jewish world seem to be feeling.

Hearing the speakers praise President Trump as standing for moral values, hearing Prime Minister Netanyahu and Israel praised as following the highest traditions of human rights and justice and hearing Israel praised as a place where all religions are respected (as long as you’re not a non-Orthodox Jew) and hearing a Minister who said recently that Jews were going to hell and that Islam was by its nature an obscenely  immoral tradition offer a prayer (in the name of Jesus, by the way) just were impossible for me to tolerate.

And all of this while dozens of Palestinians were being killed and hundreds wounded on the Gaza border.

Yes, Jerusalem absolutely should be the capital of Israel (I believe of both states) and yes, the embassy should be there  but not now and not this way.

 

SERMON FOR THE SPECIAL SHABBAT OF REFLECTION AND CELEBRATION

by Rob Dobrusin

This past Shabbat, I was honored during the Shabbat morning service as I prepare to retire from the position of rabbi of Beth Israel Congregation. The service included special group aliyot and participation from members our Interfaith organization, the Interfaith Round Table of Washtenaw County. It was a truly an unforgettable morning for me.

Here is the sermon that I delivered.

FROM 1968 to 2018 

First, I want to take this opportunity to thank the members of the planning committee for your efforts in planning this morning’s service. I am truly honored and deeply appreciative.

Fifty years ago this morning, I stood as a bar mitzvah on the bima of Congregation Kehillath Israel in Brookline, Massachusetts. KI, at the time, was one of the strongest congregations of the Conservative movement and I will say some more about that during our conversation following the kiddush. However, a Bar Mitzvah at KI was not such a big production. The Bar Mitzvah said the Torah blessings, chanted the Haftarah and read an original prayer. That was all. There were no exceptions.

Compared to Beth Israel where the bar or bat mitzvah is encouraged to lead more of the service and to share his or her personal thoughts in a d’var torah, the process of writing the bar mitzvah prayer at KI was somewhat perfunctory as I recall. We had a meeting with the assistant Rabbi who, in essence, told us what to say and, more importantly, what not to say. And, each prayer was very much the same.

Believe it or not, I found my prayer a few months ago as we were going through some old family documents and I will share it with you this morning.

God, king of the universe:

         On this Shabbat as I take my place as a Bar Mitzvah, I am proud to become a part of the long and wonderful Jewish history. I pray that I may live a meaningful life based on the Torah and the Jewish traditions. As I grow older, I pray that I may be able to continue my studies so that I can become an active member of the Jewish community.

         I pray that my parents, grandmother, brother and my teachers who have taught me about my heritage and have given love and guidance, will be blessed with long life and peace.

         May I be able to help my fellowman while I strive to improve myself. I pray that the day will come when all men will learn to help their neighbors and respect one another so that there may be peace and progress in the world.

         Amen.

I love that line about becoming an “active member of the Jewish community.”

The prayer is certainly nice. But it is not very personal. It probably could have been given by any of the 30 or so b’nai mitzvah that year.

But, it was a start.

14 years later, almost to the day, I was given another opportunity to read a personal prayer as I was chosen by my classmates to write and read a prayer during our Jewish Theological Seminary ordination ceremony.

Reading it today, on this Shabbat, as I look back on 36 years as a congregational Rabbi, and 30 years here at Beth Israel, one sentence is particularly important to me.

Avinu shebashamayim, tzur Yisrael v’goalo

Our Heavenly Father, Rock and Redeemer of Israel.

We stand before You and before Your people prepared to assume the awesome responsibility of leadership. Before we take our first steps, we pause to ask that Your blessings of health and peace be upon our teachers whose dedication will be reflected in each word of Torah which we teach. We also ask Your blessings upon our families whose love and support have brought us to this day.

And, finally, for ourselves, we ask for patience, respect and dedication. May we, who began the road to this day with dreams, ideals and aspirations, remain dedicated to those dreams and goals. May you grant us the wisdom to realize that we can best achieve the goals we set for ourselves by remaining dedicated to our responsibility: teaching our communities by example the values of Torah, Avodah and Gemillut Hasadim, Torah, service to God and acts of lovingkindness.

         Amen.

The line that means the most to me, 36 years later, is “May we who began the road to this day with dreams, ideals and aspirations, remain dedicated to those dreams and goals.”

While I won’t claim that each and every hour of every day of the past 36 years has been a spiritually elevating moment and reflective of Torah, Avodah and Gemillut Hasadim, I can honestly and sincerely say to my 27 year old self that I have never forgotten that that goal is what the rabbinate is about.

And, for that, I am proud. But, more than proud, I am grateful.

I am Grateful to God and I am grateful to you.

You have inspired me to teach Torah. You have continued to make our services and religious ritual the centerpiece of the congregation and you have responded to the call to make this congregation known for acts of loving-kindness and efforts for tikkun olam, repairing the world.

I have not done it alone. I could not have done it alone. I want to thank the staff of the Congregation, present and past for all that you have done for our synagogue and the community and all you have done to inspire me personally.

I want all of you to know that when those days came when I was tired or a bit cynical or just not living up to the challenge I set for myself in that prayer, it was your encouragement, your smiles, your questions and challenges, and even the sadness that you trusted me enough to share, that reminded me of why I chose to be a Rabbi and how fortunate I am to have come to Beth Israel.

I can never put into words all that you mean to me.

I have written another prayer, a special prayer for this morning, a prayer of thanks and with that I will conclude.

Boraynu shebashamayim,our creator, modeh ani lifanecha, I am grateful to You.

I am grateful for the inspiration you have given me. I am grateful for the health that I have been blessed with and the energy and patience to continue to try to fulfill the obligations I took on decades ago.

I am grateful, O God for your Torah and for the ability to teach and inspire others with its wisdom: the most important gift we have, as Jews to share with the world.

To my family: Ellen, Avi, Mickie and all of the animals as well, Modeh ani lifnechem, I am grateful to you in more ways than you will ever know for your patience with me, your inspiration to me, for the glow in your eyes which reminds me every moment of every day that I am so fortunate. You remind me every day that life is a miracle and that we must find ways to make the most of that life every single day.

And to the members of Beth Israel Congregation, Modeh ani lifneychem, I am so, so grateful to you for giving me the opportunity to be the rabbi that I always dreamed of being.

As you take your first steps to the future with a new leader, I pray you will never forget that a synagogue is about Torah, Avodah and Gemillut Hasadim. Learn Torah together, serve God together, change the world for the better and most importantly, take care of each other and treat each other well.

 

 

 

Sermon for Yom Ha’Atzmaut, Israel Independence Day 2018

by Rob Dobrusin

 

WE MUST SPEAK

 

 

Occasionally, I have written a sermon which started out appearing to be about one subject when, in fact, it was really about something else altogether.

I used that approach on my first Kol Nidre at Beth Israel 30 years ago. My sermon began with some thoughts on prayer but it really was heading in a completely different direction.

I began by focusing on a single word which is added to one of our most familiar prayers during the High Holy Day season. In the Kaddish we usually say that God is l’ayla mikol birchata above all of our attempts at praise. But, on the High Holy Days, we say God is l’ayla u’layla, above and beyond any attempts at praise.

I discussed in that sermon why we express an increased distance from God on the days when we are supposed to be closest to God, standing in judgment.

I asked: Is this merely another paradox to wrestle with, another contradiction to add to the long list of conflicts in Judaism?

I don’t think so.

I think those words are meant to remove obstacles to prayer rather than discourage us.

Here is how I explained it then: “If we keep in mind that God is l’ayla ul’aya,if we express the idea that that the words do not do justice to praising God, it helps us to feel more comfortable to say the words in our hearts that must be said. For by admitting that nothing we say will even begin to serve as proper prayer and praise, we realize that there are no magic words and with that pressure removed, we have no excuses, we feel free to express our thoughts.”

Then, continuing with the prayer theme for just a few more minutes, I provided four excuses that people who claim to want to pray might use for not saying words of prayer, none of which I believe, are legitimate excuses.

First: “:I don’t know the words to say.” In that case, say the words in your heart.

Second: “I may say something wrong.” There are many traditional Jewish texts which teach that there can be nothing wrong when we speak the words in our heart.

Third: “I can’t say what I hear others saying so I just don’t think about God.” There is no uniform belief about God in Jewish tradition. We are all over the map in how we conceive of God and of prayer and no matter how strange you may feel your theology or view of prayer is, I can guarantee you that someone in Jewish tradition has voiced the same thoughts.

And, finally: “Who am I to say anything to God? I’m not worthy”. We have every right to praise, to scream out, to be angry, to be thankful. We are God’s creation and we can, in fact, I believe we must, speak to God.

I expressed my belief that despite all of the obstacles, we must continue to try.

But, it was at that point that my sermon took a surprising turn.

I told the congregation that although I hoped that people found that thought provoking, my goal that evening was not really to talk about prayer.

 

I pointed out that those same four excuses: “I don’t know what to say, I may say something wrong, I believe something different, I have no right to speak”, are excuses that Jews often use for not talking about another subject, near and dear to our hearts, and that is the State of Israel.

My sermon that night changed direction and became a plea for people to express their opinions about Israel. I said that not talking was a way of losing connection with something important to us: “We must speak the thoughts lest the feelings disappear. We must speak in order to keep the emotion flowing or we will begin to lose the emotional attachment to Israel”. We will, if we are silent, stop caring. And I believe that today even more strongly.

I absolutely believe that it is essential that we talk about Israel and what it means to us as Jews. We must express our pride and praise and our disappointments and concerns.

And of the many things that have brought me great satisfaction over the past 30 years, Beth Israel’s reputation as a place where people can express their thoughts on this critical part of our lives as Jews is high on the list.

I am proud that we have done what synagogues should do. We have taken 5 congregation trips to Israel, co-sponsored an interfaith tour, participated in several federation missions, given scholarships to dozens of young people to travel and study in Israel, hosted an annual Yom Hazikaron, Israel Memorial Day ceremony, for the community, taught our religious school students about Israel and proudly proclaimed our emotional connection and concern for the state. We have strengthened our connection in the face of the horrendous vigil that has been such a horrible burden for all of us.

But, through it all, we have done something else. We have provided opportunities for people to talk, freely, to each other. We sponsored a class from the Hartman Institute called Engaging Israel which addressed some of the most thorny issues facing the State and our relationship with it. We have hosted a monthly conversation with members of Zeitouna, a Palestinian and Jewish women’s dialogue group. We have brought in speakers to speak about various human rights issues facing Israel, including Rabbi Arik Ascherman who will be in Ann Arbor at the beginning of May, and I have frequently used my time on this bima to praise Israel for all of its accomplishments and it all means to us and to raise critical moral and ethical issues which we, as rabbis, as Jews, can not ignore.

I know the latter point hasn’t sat well with everyone. Some ask: why should people hear criticism about Israel in the synagogue? My answer always has been that I would much prefer that these issues be raised here in what I hope is a spirit of love and concern rather than only being raised by those who seek to defame the State. I want our young people, especially, to know that those who say that Jews all express a “party line” about Israel are wrong: that there are vibrant conversations about Israel going on in many areas in the Jewish community, including the synagogue.

That Israel is not perfect is, in and of itself, no shame.  No country is. The shame occurs when the issues are not addressed and when those who honestly feel that Israel can do better don’t say it because they don’t know what to say or they fear may cause disunity or they may say something wrong or they fear they have no right to speak. These are not valid excuses. We can and must talk. And, even more importantly, we must listen. Even if we hear words that we don’t agree with, as long as they are expressed respectfully, we must listen.

Today’s parsha begins with the words: Vayihee Bayom Hashmini“And it came to pass on the 8thday”. The 8thday, the day after the tabernacle was dedicated was a day of celebration until Nadav and Avihu offered strange fire and it consumed them.

 

As Israel begins its 8thdecade, it is time for a great celebration, so much has been accomplished, so much to be proud of.

But, as Israel enters its 8thdecade, the existence of the state is at stake. It is at stake not only because of legitimate and real external security concerns but also because of misguided internal policies. And, it is not only Jews who would label themselves progressive saying this. Ronald Lauder, president of the American Jewish Congress, wrote a piece in the New York Times a few weeks ago called “Israel’s Self-Inflicted Wounds” and was subtitled: Why I fear for the Nation I Love. This article made it clear that issues of concern, including, among others, the settlement policy, the failure to achieve a solution to the conflict with the Palestinians and the extreme power wielded by the ultra orthodox in disenfranchising non-Orthodox Jews are not left vs. right issues and are not raised only by people who are ambivalent about Israel. More and more staunch supporters and lovers of Israel are raising the same issues that some of us have been speaking about for years. I am encouraged by this trend and pray that it continues.

There is a Midrash that says that Nadav and Avihu’s sin was that they each brought incense separately and didn’t communicate with each other, standing apart from each other, each in their own world.

There is a great lesson here.

I believe that what is needed to prevent disaster in Israel is a determination on the part of all sides to talk to and listen to each other: Jews and Israeli Arabs, secular and religious Jews, Israelis and Palestinians. This is not naive. In some places it is happening and those sparks must grow in the years to come to be a positive constructive flame and to avoid destructive fire.

And, here, we must speak to each other from our hearts and be willing to raise the issues that others shy away from.

As with prayer, there are no excuses that should keep us from talking.

I hope and pray that this will always be what Beth Israel stands for.

I hope and pray that we will always talk.

And I hope and pray that more will listen.

 

Sermon for Shabbat Hagdol 5778

by Rob Dobrusin

THIS NIGHT WILL LAST FOREVER

 

Towards the end of this week, we observe the great spring holiday.

Then, a night later, we observe Pesach.

Seriously, it’s great to have baseball back.

So, in honor of that great spring holiday of opening day, let me begin with a baseball quotation.

When the Boston Red Sox won the World Series in 2007, three years after having won for the first time in 86 years, the chairman of the team, Tom Werner, was asked whether this World Series championship felt different than the one before. And, Tom Werner said these beautiful words: “2004 was for our parents and our grandparents…this one is for us and our children.”

Those words touched me deeply and made me think about my own life.

As many of you know, I recently published a book which I had been working on for 15 years. It was a book of personal stories and sermons but it really focused on looking back and was, in fact, my way of honoring the memory of my parents and my grandparents. In many ways, I felt that my late parents were pushing me to finish that project. It really was for them.

I am now thinking about writing another book, while I’m not sure what it will be. One thing I know is that it will be for me and the future.

One idea I have is to write a book about Pesach. There are, of course, a seemingly infinite number of books about this most wonderful and most important of all our holidays and I have to find the niche. But, I think it’s there somewhere.

If I do write about Pesach, there is an idea that I thought of a while ago that I know will find its way into a prominent place into the book and I want to share that idea with you this morning. I taught it before from the bima, many years ago, but I want to teach it again because to me, it represents the great meaning of the Seder night, a meaning which we don’t always consider or are even aware of.

I’ll begin with a question: what are the most important words of the haggadah? I am sure that there are at least as many answers to that question as there are people in this room: avadim hayinu, dayenu, ha lachma anya and so many others. But, I want to share my answer with you and you may be surprised because the words I think are the most important seem so incidental.

We say these words 6 times during the ritual sections of the Seder. They sound so simple. The words are: halaila hazeh, this night.

We say these words during the introduction to the 4 questions and during each of the questions themselves. Mah nishtana halaila hazeh which I like to translate as: Wow! This night, halaila hazeh, is different from all other nights and in each question, we compare halaila hazeh, this night, to all other nights.

And then in the blessing immediately before the 2nd cup of wine, we say that God brought us out of Egypt and brought us halaila zeh, brought us together on this night to eat matza and maror, unleavened bread and bitter herbs.

Why do I think these two words are so important?

Here is why. In Exodus, chapter 12, we read the instructions from God to Moses and Aaron preparing the people for the night of the Exodus. In verse 12, we read v’avarti bieretz mitrayim balaila hazeh. I will pass through Egypt on this night, the night of the Exodus. These words were said, according to the text 2 weeks before the Exodus and so God should have said: “that night” rather than “this night” and that’s what the English says. But, the Hebrew says: “this night”.

That is strange. And, what is very strange is that the phrase Halaila hazeh, this night, is only used in the Torah to describe one particular night, the night of the Exodus.

The night of the Exodus is the only “this night” in the Torah. And those words are so important that the Torah tells us that God calls the night of the Exodus halaila hazeh. In verse 42 of the same chapter, the English says: “that same night is the lord’s one of vigil for all the children of Israel throughout the age”. But, look at the Hebrew. Hu Halayah Hazeh L’ado–nai, which I will translate as: “the night of the Exodus for God is “this night”. For God, and therefore for us, the night of the Exodus has a special name: “this night”.

So, I believe that when we say these words at the Seder, we are not talking about this night of Passover 5778, we are talking about the “this night”, the night of the Exodus. When we sit at the Seder table, we are not supposed to just think of ourselves or, as some read, display ourselves as freed slaves, we are to think of the Exodus as still happening and we are part of it.

This night is unique in that it is an eternal night, one which we step back into each year, one which stands apart from time as we always experience it. The word eternal does not only mean everlasting, it also means “outside of time” and this is an eternal night not subject to the natural flow of time.

The Seder night is when we take our place with our ancestors in the first experience of closeness with God, the first time we were together, as it were. As we begin to count the Omer, we count towards the holiday of Shavuot which celebrates the moment when we entered into a covenant with God at Mt. Sinai. But this night, before the counting of the omer begins, halayla hazeh, this very special night, is the night of beginning the relationship. It is night of “falling in love” and we are all part of the glorious, miraculous beginning of the relationship.

That is why some people have the tradition at the Seder of reading from Song of Songs: the great love song which the rabbis interpret as a love song between the people of Israel and God.

And that is why, whenever I think of this idea, I think of a beautiful love song written by Billy Joel called: This Night. Part of the melody of that song was based on a Beethoven Sonata and Billy Joel did give Beethoven credit as one of the writers, but the lyrics were his and contain the words: “This Night is ours, it’s only you and I… this night will Last Forever”.

That part of the song could have been written about the Seder night.

So, halaila hazeh, this night, this special night of family, friends, food, song, wine, study, ritual and joy is even more than that. It is a night which lasts forever. It is a night when past, present and future all come together in one glorious moment.

For many things in Judaism, we can say: “That one was for our ancestors and this one is for us”.

Not the Seder night.

God redeemed us and our ancestors from Egypt says the Haggada.

This one is for all of us, we and our ancestors and our descendants are all sitting together at the table at the same time.

And what a glorious night it is.

 

 

Sermon for Shabbat HaHodesh 5778

by Rob Dobrusin

A NEW BOOK

And so, we begin the book of Vayikra, the book of Leviticus.

The first half of the book, contains, in so many ways, too much information about a tradition whose time passed centuries ago. One might ask: why do we need so much detail about the sacrificial tradition?

It is a legitimate question. Even though so many of our traditions have their roots in the sacrificial system: the Ner Tamid -the Eternal light- the Musaf service, the shankbone on the Seder plate just to name a few, we still don’t seem to need to read all these details.

And yet, we read them because they are part of our Torah and, in fact, despite the archaic details, the book holds a unique place in our tradition. It is well known that from Talmudic times right through to today in some circles that young children began the study of Torah with the book of Leviticus. They didn’t start from Bereshit, from creation, but from Vayikra, from Leviticus.

Why?

One Talmudic rabbi offers an answer. Rav Assi said: “Surely children begin with Vayikra because children are pure and the sacrifices are pure, therefore let the young children come in purity to study purity.”

On a simplest level, I understand Rav Assi as saying that there is a childlike element to the sacrificial system which children can best understand: “I will give you something if you will be my friend”.

But, many understand him as saying something deeper. I read a quotation online attributed to Rabbi Ari Israel who wrote: “Youth, who represent our past, present and future are first taught the book of purity and spirituality. Children, filled with optimism, can readily look at the world with hope. They start out sans any preconceived biases. God is pure. Children are pure. Leviticus is pure. Let them all find each other and holiness can spring forth.”

And so, according to this intepretation, the children understand more than the adults because, in their naïve optimism, they can see further or more deeply.

This is a beautiful thought. It is truly beautiful.

I don’t know when Rabbi Israel wrote this but I assume it was not recently.

I say that because our children today are not filled with optimism. They have seen too much in their young lives. They have read too many stories. They have seen too many news reports. They are not naïve. They know quite a bit and they don’t have confidence that theirs parents and grandparents, no matter how good our intentions, no matter how much we love them, have done enough to stem the horrible tide that has taken the lives of so many of their contemporaries.

And so, they closed their books and took to the street to say to us that their time of innocence and hope has been threatened and that they must be the ones to move our nation to open a new book. We must open a book which is not filled with violence, one which tells us to open our eyes to suffering and make wise decisions now, a book which seeks holiness and wholeness in a nation by doing all we can to putting an end to the horrendous plague of gun violence.

And, they have something to say to all of us.

Far from being naïve, these young people are saying to each and every one of us, that we are the naïve ones. We have sacrificed our moral compass to political expediency. We are guilty of allowing endless political squabbles focusing on technicalities to drag on interminably while more die.

I know the problem is too big to solve with good will alone. I know the epidemic won’t be stopped with catchy slogans or symbolic actions.

But, the young people know that too.

They know that walking out of school won’t solve the problem. But, they are telling us all loudly and clearly that, for their sakes, in memory of the victims and in the name of everyone whose future lies ahead: Dayenu. It’s enough. It’s time to act.

It is long since time to open that new book. And, far from telling our children to get out the way, it is time to let our children lead us to do what we, the “responsible” ones, need to do.

I’d like to ask all the young people here who walked out of class this past Wednesday and those who couldn’t do so but supported those who did to stand up so that we can recognize you and thank you. (A spontaneous burst of applause from the congregation as many middle school and high school students stood up.)

Thank God, you’ll be voting in a few short years.

More than saying thank you, we promise you to your face that we respect you, we hear you and we will act.

May you go from strength to strength and teach us what we must learn.

 

 

A Letter to the Students of Stoneman Douglas High School

by Rob Dobrusin

One of the teachers at Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida asked teachers around the country to write letters in long hand to the students of the school following the horrible attack last week. Earlier this week, I sent this letter to the students.

To the Students of Stoneman Douglas High School:

First and foremost, my deepest condolences to you on the senseless and tragic loss of your friends and your teachers. My prayers and those of my community go out to all of you and your families for comfort and healing. 

Our nation needs strong voices to bring about change. Many of us, myself included, have fought for years for changes in gun laws and have so often been met with resistance. 

But, your voices- your beautiful, strong, loud voices- are being heard and are empowering people throughout the nation. I am so encouraged that in the face of unspeakable tragedy, you are gathering strength and bringing us all with you. 

Do not give up the fight. We need your passion and your voices of hope.

May we all see a new day soon. 

Wish wishes for comfort and with great admiration and respect. And, with a promise to shout alongside you,  

Love, 

Rabbi Robert Dobrusin

 

And I extend to these words of encouragement and respect to all of our young people who are standing up for changes in gun laws and for a better path for our nation.

 

 

WE WERE AS DREAMERS

by Rob Dobrusin

SERMON FOR PARASHAT BESHALACH  JANUARY 27, 2018

 

 

There may be some words missing from this week’s parasha.

Then again, there may not be.

As the people stand desperately in front of the sea with the Egyptian army closing in, God says to Moses: Mah Titzak Alay: Why do you cry out to me? Tell the Israelites to go forward. Lift up your rod and hold out your arm over the sea and split it.

The question about missing words comes down to this. God says: “Why do you cry out to me?” but we see no evidence of Moses crying out to God.

Some commentators have argued that the Torah omitted Moses’ prayer because it showed a desperation or anger that was not appropriate for Moses. But, there are two other possibilities that would see this story as being complete without the words of any prayer of Moses.

First, in the verses before God’s words, Moses gives a short speech to the people which ends with these words: Adonai Yilachem Lachem: God will battle for you; hold your peace.

So, perhaps God is saying to Moses: “Why do you cry out about me?”, not necessarily to me. God would be interpreting Moses’ expression of faith in the divine as an indirect plea for God to act.

The other, and in my mind, more convincing interpretation is that not all cries to God are audible. Moses might have engaged in silent prayer at this time, pleading with God for help.

But any way you read this, God is having none of it. He tells Moses to act instead of praying, aloud or silently. The Midrash goes further.

One interpretation from the Talmudic tractate of Sotah says that Moses was taking too long praying and God said to him: “Yidedai Tovim Bayam v’atah ma’arich batifila, my children are drowning in the sea and you are saying a long prayer?” Apparently the people were also impatient with Moses’ prayer and were trying to escape through the sea. No one, except Moses, saw this as a time for lengthy prayer.

Then, there is another midrash, this one from Vayikra Rabbah, which contains one of my favorite expressions in any piece of rabbinic literature. God says to Moses; if you don’t do something, no one will do it, concluding with this beautiful phrase: Ayn Hasha’ah mitzapah elah lach, the hour waits only for you. Everything is set, God says, for salvation: “This moment is in your hands. Act.”

God tells Moses that he has the power to find a path forward for these people. Enough talk. Enough prayer. Enough delays. Clear the path for the people.

As all of us have watched the give and take and the frustrating, lengthy, verbose to say the least, discussions that have taken place in Washington DC over the last few weeks. Much of that has focused on the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals which offered a path to citizenship for children of those who entered our country illegally but who have grown up here, many not knowing any other home.

The plan which was rescinded by the Trump Administration is viewed favorably by the vast majority of Americans according to polls and has enabled so many young people, called dreamers, to achieve their dreams of an education and employment, benefitting them and our nation greatly.

The immigration debate is a serious one and I acknowledge that there are many sides. But, about this there should be no debate. DACA is not only advantageous for those dreamers, it is also just plain right.

Our Rabbinical Assembly and many other Jewish organizations have supported this act with the hope that a path to citizenship can be cleared for these individuals. This reflects the spirit of our nation’s dedication to immigrants and reflects the memory of our own family stories of immigration.

It is right.

God says: “This isn’t the time for lengthy prayer. It isn’t the time for lengthy deliberation and vague promises about what I can do. It’s time to act and the hour waits for you.”

As congress deliberates and shuts down the government and as the president vacillates, saying one thing one day and one thing the next or tying DACA to significant cuts in immigration and as all of the discussions drone on, the lives of so many young people hang in the balance. While they are not drowning in the sea, until the path ahead is clear, they stand desperate for hope.

The hour waits only for you, God said to Moses.

I think it’s time for all of us to say those same words to the leadership of congress and the president.

Too many lives lie in the balance while you engage in lengthy words.

It’s time to clear a path forward.

But, there will be no divine miracle. It is in their hands.

 

Moving Towards Greater Light Hanukkah 2018

by Rob Dobrusin

 

 

Hillel taught: “Light the Hanukkah lights increasing one by one each night.”

And his disciples explained: “Ma’alin b’kodesh v’ayn Moridin”. Always increase in matters of holiness, never decrease.

Shabbat Shalom and hag Hanukkah Sameach.

Let me say clearly before I begin my brief d’var Torah this morning that this is most certainly not a matter of Democrats vs Republicans. Nor is it matter of Liberals vs Conservatives.

It is a matter of the soul of a nation.

This past Tuesday, voters in Alabama, albeit by a very thin margin, took a stand against racism, against hatred and exclusion of LGBT individuals and families, against the breaking down of walls between church and state, against anti-Semitism, against hatred and persecution of Muslims and against an individual who was the subject of numerous allegations of horrible impropriety and I don’t need to be more specific. They rejected those who said that political goals outweigh horrendous statements and allegations of scandalous actions in one’s personal life.

The election was too close: much too close. The numbers of people who supported the defeated candidate and the shameful endorsements of those who were willing to overlook the actions and the statements and the allegations are more than troubling.

But, in the end, a critical statement was made.

We are in the middle of the holiday of Hanukkah. The hanukkiah, the Hanukkah menora sits, like the world, half in light and half in darkness.

Maimonides, in his laws of teshuva, laws of repentance, taught us to view our lives always as perfectly balanced between righteous deeds and sins so that we see that any one action can tip the balance.

Likewise, we must view our world as perfectly balanced between right and wrong, good and evil, destruction and redemption so that any one act can tip the balance.

I would hardly consider the election in Alabama to be the act which will lead the world or our nation to redemption. But, just like the little jug of oil which shouldn’t have been enough to light the Temple and spread light to the world, it is the raw material of something much greater.

So tonight, as we light the 5th candle, we should be eternally grateful that Rabbi Hillel won the argument about how to light the Hanukkah menora. Others wanted to light the lights in the opposite way, decresing the light each day. As we stand half in darkness and half in light, let us be thankful that tonight our ritual brings us to greater light.

Let us light the light which banishes hatred and bigotry, the light which opposes sexual harassment and abuse, the light which encourages respect and honesty, the light which teaches that religious rituals and language aren’t just actions and words but must touch the very hearts of our souls and change our lives and the life of the world for the better.

A little flame produced a major light.

We can not, we must not let the light go out.

 

Jerusalem

by Rob Dobrusin

There has been so much talk about the latest news regarding Jerusalem and, I have to admit, I am still conflicted by so many different thoughts and perspectives. All of them seem to swirl around the pragmatic and political issues surrounding the city. But, I want to approach this here from a different perspective.

The other night at services, I shared the words of Abraham Joshua Heschel which he wrote following his visit to Jerusalem in July, 1967, immediately after the six day war. Regardless of where anyone stands regarding this past week’s announcement, for me, these words capture better than any others I have ever read, the spirit of the city and what Jerusalem demands of us. I think it is worthwhile to take a moment to step back from the political discussion and think about what Heschel’s words mean to all of us, to everyone, who loves the city.

“The mystery that is Jerusalem, the challenge that is Jerusalem! How to unite the human and the holy? How to echo the divine in the shape of words, in the form of deeds?

Now that we are at home in the city of David, what is required of us? What message does this new chapter in Jewish history hold in store?

How shall we live in Jerusalem? She is a queen demanding high standards. What does she expect of us, living in an age of spiritual obtuseness, near exhaustion? What sort of light should glow in Zion? What words, what thoughts, what vision should come of out Zion?

The challenge is staggering. Let us pray that we may not fail. Let us prepare the minds and the hearts for the vision of Isaiah concerning Judaism and Jerusalem: “For our of Zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. He shall judge between the nations and shall decide for many peoples; and they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks, nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. “Isaiah 2:3-4

We must be aware lest the place of David become a commonplace.

One is terribly apprehensive. How do you live in the city of God? How do you match the infinitely holy with justice and compassion, with song and prayer? How do you live in a sanctuary day and night?… What should come out  of Zion? Renunciation of lies, compassion, disgust with violence, help to overcome the infirmity of the spirit.

Jerusalem is more than a place in space or a memorial to glories of the past. Jerusalem is a prelude, anticipation of days to come. 

How to prepare the city for such destiny? How to qualify for such calling?

It is one of the great marvels of history that Jerusalem is sacred not only to the Jews but also the Christians and to Moslems all over the world…Who will fan and force the fire of truth to spread across the world, insisting that we are all one, that mankind is not an animal species but a fellowship of care, a covenant of brotherhood?

None shall fear. None shall hurt.

There is cursing in the world, scheming and very little praying. Let Jerusalem inspire praying: an end to rage, an end to violence. 

Let Jerusalem be a seat of mercy for all men. Wherever a sigh is uttered, it will evoke active compassion in Jerusalem.

Let there be no waste of history. This must be instilled in those who might be walking in the streets of Jerusalem like God’s butlers in the sacred palace. Here no one is more than a guest. 

Jerusalem must not be lost to pride or to vanity.

All of Jerusalem is a gate, but the key is lost in the darkness of God’s silence. Let us light all the lights,let us call all the names to find the key…

From Israel: An Echo of Eternity.

 

I believe without question that Jerusalem should be the capital of Israel. But, I am not a political analyst.  I am a rabbi and Heschel’s words speak to me. This is the Jerusalem that I long for and the one our tradition inspires us to work towards.

Seek the peace of Jerusalem.