SERMON FOR FIRST DAY OF ROSH HASHANA 5777

DAYENU: A TEXT STUDY

Although the times might seem to demand it, I have decided not to dedicate a High Holy Day sermon to address the Presidential election.

I made this decision for three reasons and each of them can be summed up with one Hebrew word which you all know: Dayenu. It’s enough.

First, there has been so much press coverage, so much analysis and commentary that by now, I assume you’re saying: “Dayenu”, it’s enough. I hope you have made your wise decision for whom to vote and I certainly hope you do vote. I hope you have come to shul today to consider spiritual matters and to contemplate where you are in life as we begin this new year.

Secondly, you really don’t need a sermon. If you are still uncertain about for whom to vote or about how important this election is, just go back and re-read the prayer for the United States which we heard a few minutes ago. It expresses beautifully our ideals, values and principles as a nation of equality, respect, kindness, justice, appropriate humility and compassion.

Read the prayer. Dayenu. That should be enough.

Finally, both I and Rabbi Blumenthal have addressed political issues from the bima on Shabbat morning many times this past year. We have spoken out and will continue to speak out against words which incite hatred and racial division and against proposed policies which reflect an America which would discriminate against immigrants and Muslims and which do not reflect our values as Jews and as Americans. Many of these sermons were posted on facebook or on our Beth Israel website and some are on my blog as well. Dayenu. It’s enough from the bima.

So, today I’m not going to speak any more about politics. Instead, I am going to do what rabbis are supposed to do. I am going to teach Torah.

I love to teach Torah any time and especially at moments like this when I have the opportunity to expose everyone in the congregation to Torah study including those you who do not regularly participate in our study programs. Hopefully, some of you will be so taken by this text study that you will find your way to one of our various study groups over the year.

I made the decision a few months ago to teach Torah on Rosh Hashana but it took some time for me to decide which text to teach. And here, I’ll remind you that Torah, in this context, can mean any text from Jewish tradition, not just from the five books.

Here were my criteria for choosing a text to teach:

First, I wanted to choose a text that you were likely to be familiar with and one which carries with it positive memories and associations.

Second, the text must contain varied practical and philosophical lessons that can be appreciated by a diverse congregation of individuals who come with vastly different expectations and needs.

Finally, if at all possible, the text must be one which you wouldn’t think merited serious consideration. Finding surprising lessons in unexpected places is a big part of the magic of Torah study.

Those are my criteria and, after some consideration, I made my choice and text is in the envelopes you have in front of you so I will ask those at the end of the rows to open up the envelopes and pass the papers down to those in your row and as you do, we can all start to sing:

Eelu Eelu Hotzianu, hotzianu memitrayim, hotzianu memitzrayim, dayenu.           

I have never sung Dayenu with 800 people before. It sounds good, doesn’t it?

We just have to invite more people to the Seder.

By the way, this isn’t the only tune to Dayenu. There are others. My good friend San Slomovits wrote one for a cd of new Seder songs he and his brother Laz produced a few years back. I was honored to work on that project with San and I’ll give you a brief sample of his tune a bit later.

But, for now, let’s begin with the b’racha for Torah study remembering that study in our tradition is also a form of worship and praise.

The first question to consider with Dayenu is where it fits in the Seder.

Dayenu is the last text in the Maggid, the storytelling section of the Seder. The Mishna teaches: matchil biginut u’msayaym bisehvach, we begin with the sad part of the story and end with praise. So, if we consider the Mishna’s teaching, Dayenu, coming at the end of the storytelling, is the ultimate song of Exodus celebration. Dayenu lists 15 separate acts that we praise God for as part of the process of redemption.

And, for each of these 15 acts, we say Dayenu! It would have been enough for us. By the way, if you get bored and count the “Dayenus”, don’t worry that there are only 14. The first verse mentions two acts making a total of 15 and that number is critical as you will see.

Now, the obvious problem and the first Dayenu question: Would it really have been enough for us had God brought us into the desert and not brought us across the sea or fed us food? How could that be “enough”?

The most common answer to this question is that Dayenu means that each of these would have been a sufficient reason for us to praise God. Each one, in and of itself, would have been proof of God’s power.

Let’s think about that for a moment and consider it in the context of our own lives.

Can we ever truly say Dayenu? Do we ever really feel like we have enough to be grateful for and don’t seek any more blessings in our lives?

Most people would justifiably say: “No”. It is natural that we should not be satisfied and should want more and more good in our lives.

But Dayenu teaches us that we can and should look at our lives as made up of many specific, individual reasons to be grateful. We may not have everything we want and in some situations in life, it is difficult to muster up gratitude at all. But, it is important, each day, to ask ourselves: “What are we grateful for?”

We should seek to find something in life for which we can express gratitude every day and say that that piece alone is enough to celebrate the gift of life that God has given us. And, we should be sure to express gratitude not just to God but to the people around us who make our lives what they are. Don’t delay. Do it today.

After reading Dayenu, we might feel intimidated by the author’s effusive praise. But, remember, it was easy for him to say Dayenu about the acts of the Exodus because he was looking in retrospect and he knew that there was a happy ending to the story. In retrospect, after everything has turned out right, it’s easy to rationalize everything and truly appreciate everything that came before. But it is harder in the midst of our lives to express complete gratitude when we don’t know what the future holds. Still, living in the moment and finding the strength to express gratitude adds so much to our lives.

Let me demonstrate that. The list of miracles in Dayenu appears in another place in the traditional Haggada, right after our Dayenu.

These are the same but just in a list without the word Dayenu. It all seems so sterile, so drab compared to our song. You can’t even try to sing this. Without the expression of gratitude and praise, it is so much less satisfying.

When we express gratitude, when we recognize significant events in our lives as worthy of thanks, we add poetry and melody to our lives.

Now, when I read this other section, the one without the shout of Dayenu, I get the impression that the author prefers to see the Exodus as a total experience rather than breaking it down to individual pieces.

But, I think Dayenu’s approach is more reflective of the way we look at life.

We try to envision our life as a packaged unit but it’s so difficult. In the midst of life, we usually see events and judge each one as they are happening. Occasionally, on Rosh Hashana or perhaps on one of those dreaded but so, so welcome “special birthdays”, we take the opportunity to look back, to take stock and see events neatly fitting together. But, much more often, we see our lives as steps along a path, hopefully with some direction but in the midst of life, we are more likely focused on the step we’re on rather than seeing the entire stairway.

I began this morning by singing a tune that everyone knows and I mentioned San Slomovits. When San began to work on a tune for Dayenu, I made him promise that he would make his tune better than the familiar one in one critical way.

Our familiar tune is lacking because it leaves out the most important line of Dayenu. I refer to the introductory line. Without this line, the song is much less meaningful.

Kamah ma’alot tovot l’makom aleynu. How many acts of kindness God has performed for us! (This translation comes from the Rabbinical Assembly Haggada.)

I begged San to include it and he did, writing the following

Kamah, Kamah Ma’lot, Tovot Limakom Alyenu…

            Why is this first line so important? It is critical because it clearly was the inspiration for the entire song. The key word is Ma’alot. Ma’alot translated here as “acts of kindness” literally means “steps”.

The author of Dayenu took the 15 events of the Exodus and introduced them with the word: “steps”. What you need to know and this is proof that there is often more going on in Jewish texts than meets the eye, is that the number 15 was not arbitrary.

If you look in the book of Psalms, you will find 15 psalms that begin with the expression: Shir Ha’ma’lot, a song of steps. And, you should know that there was a certain stairway leading up to the Temple in Jerusalem which had, of course, 15 steps.

So, the author of Dayenu looked at this idea of 15 steps of the Exodus and related it to the 15 steps on the way up to the Temple itself which as you can see by the last sentence is the last of the steps of redemption as the author imagines it. The 15 acts of Dayenu correspond to the 15 “step psalms” and the 15 steps up to the final place of redemption.

Now, let’s think of our lives.

Think about the past year as a stairway. Did you climb? Did you move closer to your goals? Even if you do not know where your life is leading in the grandest sense, did you perceive some kind of a movement upward and can you picture that stairway, even with its twists and turns and its uneven steps, still moving you upward?

Not every year will provide that sense of satisfaction but we must do all we can to climb higher each year, pausing occasionally to catch our breath but always looking towards a great goal while expressing gratitude for that which we have.

Rosh Hashana is like a landing between floors, a time to look back and most certainly to look ahead as we continue to climb towards our ultimate goal.

May we all reach a bit higher this year. May we go l’ayla ul’ayla, higher and higher on our path, expressing praise and gratitude for each step, big or small.

Now, let’s look more deeply into the theology of Dayenu.

I believe that when looked at from a theological perspective, this beloved song is potentially one of the most dangerous documents that our people have ever produced. I love to sing Dayenu and will continue to sing it loudly. But, it scares me terribly.

Let me explain this by referencing a recently published book entitled: “Putting God Second” by Rabbi Donniel Hartman. In this book, the author makes a strong and so deeply needed case for the primacy of ethics in religious life, noting that our interpersonal behaviors are more important than any rituals we may perform or any faith we display. The ultimate purpose of religion is to lead to an ethical life.

I could not agree more.

But, I am particularly interested this morning in Rabbi Hartman’s formulation of what he calls the two “autoimmune diseases of religion”: aspects of religion which are self-destructive, preventing people from acting according to the moral principles and ethical values which ought to be the entire reason we engage in religion in the first place.

He calls these two diseases: God-intoxication and God-manipulation.

And Dayenu, our beloved song, is evidence of both.

Hartman defines God-intoxication as a religious viewpoint which “distracts religion’s adherents from their tradition’s core moral truths” and “consume our vision that we see nothing other than God.”

Think of Noah who ignored the plight of his fellow human beings in his zeal to do God’s will. Think of Abraham who was willing to sacrifice his son to prove his faith.

Religion has to be about more than responding to God or recounting what God has done or can do for us. We have to focus on what we can do as human beings with God and our tradition’s guidance.

So, how do we deal with Dayenu which is only about what God has done, phrase after phrase, step after step, about what God did for our ancestors and no mention of any courageous stands or acts of commitment taken by the Israelites during the Exodus? This seems like the dreaded God-intoxication and in fact is just that.

We can answer this by saying that the Exodus is an exception to the danger of God-intoxication. The Exodus is considered by our tradition to be the paradigm of God’s involvement in our world. But, once the Exodus was complete and the Torah was given, it is clear that God retreated, at least to some extent, in the background when it comes to our lives on earth to allow us to find our own paths with free will. So, we can talk in these terms at the Seder about the great experience of the past.

But it is dangerous when we do it about our lives.

From a theological standpoint, Dayenu, when left alone, is misguided. Our lives can not be a litany of what God has done for us. That takes away our responsibility as human beings.

Perhaps that is why Dayenu is written in the third person while so many other of our prayers address God directly in the second person. Perhaps that is why it is written in the past tense even though we are supposed to be reliving the Exodus at the Seder and acting as if it is happening right at our tables.

Dayenu is about what a third person God did for our ancestors, not how you, God, relate to us today.

Being intoxicated with God to the point of denying the fact that we hold the key to the quality of our lives is dangerous. This Dayenu model is not Judaism as we consider it today.

The other “auto-immune disease” that Hartman describes is God-manipulation. He teaches that “the great paradigm of God-manipulation is the myth of chosenness and the ways in which it is used to serve the self-interests of the anointed to the exclusion of all others”.

Wow.

How is that for a quotation on Rosh Hashana?

By the way, I think he’s right.

Our world is, sadly, full of “religious” people who see their faith as the only true path or, worse, who strive to advance their own faith through the oppression or destruction of the “other”. Seeing this is enough to cause anyone with any sense at all to question the value of organized religion altogether.

And so, Dayenu presents a potential problem.

Dayenu tells an honored and foundational story in which God saved our people and cemented our relationship to the exclusion of others.

You know, it’s OK to have such a story. Many, many religions do.

But, to believe that God continues to act for our people at the exclusion of others and to use our “chosenness” as an excuse to justify selfish actions which harm others and to invoke the Divine to continue to favor is, I believe, a hillul hashem, a desecration of God’s name. This sense that “God is on my side” whether reflected in selfish behavior and superior attitudes or, so much worse, in horrendous, unspeakable violence is horribly offensive. The idea that God judges by virtue of heredity rather than by moral behavior is truly a disease that can undermine any good religion can bring to this world.

Just like with God-intoxication, this attitude must be limited to the experience of the Exodus. But, if we take the attitude of Dayenu into our day and assume that God is fighting our battles in opposition to the rest of the world just because we are who are, we are guilty of what Hartman calls God-manipulation and we are moving away from what should be our goal as human beings.

I believe our rabbis knew this and that is why our liturgy refers to two different times in which God interacted directly with our world and why we make Rosh Hashana such an important holiday, as important in many ways as Pesach. This is the anniversary of creation and that concept of divine creation is as dear to our people and critical to our faith as it the redemption of the Exodus.

While I hope, God willing, to give many more High Holy Day sermons in my rabbinic career, another Rosh Hashana reminds me that there are more in my past than in my future. Lately, I’ve been thinking quite a bit about my favorite High Holy Day sermons, some of which will appear in the book that I’ve been working on for years and is now being prepared for publication.

One of the sermons that I did not include in the book was one I gave several years ago. I spoke about creation and stressed that Judaism implores us to believe in Intelligent Design, in a universe created consciously and with a purpose.

Of course I don’t believe in Adam and Eve. I believe in the Big Bang Theory and in Evolution. But, I also deeply believe that God orchestrated that creation to produce a world of thinking, creating and potentially good-doing human beings who could, if they put their minds to it, work together despite their differences to create paradise.

I believe in a divine creation not only because it gives us a sense that we are here for a purpose but also because it unites each person in the world as part of God. As important as the Exodus and Sinai are to our people, it is creation which celebrates the basic humanness of each individual In the world and I believe that if we and other people of faith would spend as much time talking about creation as we do about the specific moments in time that God established our unique faith covenants, we might find religion to be more a source for peace rather than conflict in the world.

Dayenu celebrates the Exodus and the importance of the giving of Torah and the land of Israel. They are absolutely critical to us as Jews. But they are not enough.

For each of us, our greatest expression of gratitude to God should be for the fact that against extraordinary odds, each one of us just happened to win the lottery when that one sperm and that one egg met. I believe a list of the acts we should thank God for, the ma’alot tovot, should begin with the two moments of creation, that of the world and that of ourselves.

That is what we should be grateful for. In and of themselves, they are cause for a big, heartfelt, loud, …no not Dayenu, because it is not enough. Our creation is not enough. We must make the most of the gift of creation we’ve been given. That is cause for a big, loud…Halleluyah.

We need the Exodus story. We need to remember and honor and cherish that which makes us unique and embrace the rituals and traditions which bring meaning to our lives as Jews. Those traditions can help to heal, to repair our world.

But, honoring the God of creation helps us to find commonality with all in the world and helps us to recognize the humanity of others, including to give just one example, immigrants or refugees whom we must view as fellow human beings not as threats to our sheltered lives. Thinking about creation should help us to build bridges, not walls.

So that is it: quite a bit to learn from a song that many of us first sang when we were very, very young.

The lessons are the importance of gratitude, the steps in our lives, keeping God in perspective while doing our job as human beings and seeking to unite with other people in the world rather than making religion only a divisive force. Talk about these ideas at lunch today and remember them six months from now when you sit at your Seder table and celebrate our unique covenant with God.

And, by the way, there is one more lesson of Dayenu and I would be remiss if I didn’t mention it. For the sake of those in the world who do not have enough and for the sake of our planet which must support our children and grandchildren and God willing, untold numbers of generations to follow and for the sake of our tradition which can only function in a world that works, maybe the most important message of Dayenu is that we learn to say: “it’s enough” when we know we can along with less.

But, one thing that we can never get along with less of and one thing that we should never say Dayenu about is the greatest gift we have as a people: the gift of wisdom and insight, the gift of learning and commandment, the gift of Torah.

Let us pledge to make this year of Torah learning and the life of commitment it inspires us to live as we graciously and gratefully move, God willing, to the next landing.

           

SERMON FOR PARASHAT SHOFTIM 5776

OFFICERS AND JUDGES

 

As we approach the High Holy Days, it is our responsibility to engage in teshuva, repentance- to redirect our thoughts and our actions and consider how we are going to make this new year different from those that have passed.

And, it is our responsibility as rabbis to try to find ways to shed light on the issue of teshuva, to find new texts or ideas which can provide new perspectives on the process of repentance.

Today, I want to share with you a beautiful commentary on the first verse in Parashat Shoftim. Then, I want to provide a twist on this commentary which I hope will provide an interesting thought relating to teshuva.

Our Torah portion begins with the words: Shoftim V’Shotrim teetayn licha bichal shiarecha asher ado—nai elohecha notayn licha.

Judges and officers shalt thou make thee in all thy gates, which the LORD gives you.

Clearly, this is a vital and foundational commandment for a community. The obligation to build a community based on justice, with appropriate safeguards is one of the requirements for the sacred community envisioned in the Torah. But there is more of interest in this verse.

The Torah is clearly talking about 2 different types of positions when it identifies shoftim and shotrim. Shoftim are judges but what are Shotrim? I have read many commentaries with many different ideas but for this morning, I am going to approach this from a bit of an anachronistic perspective and base my definition of shotrim, on the contemporary Hebrew word with the same root; mishtara, meaning “police”. “

       Shotrim is to be understood as those who protect the community and Shoftim are those that decide what is just and what is unjust.

Now let’s look at the second part of the verse because it is somewhat odd: “at the gates that God will give you”. While I understand the implication: that God will give the people the land in which the gates will appear, it is a difficult phrase and begs for an interpretation. How does God give us gates?

A commentary cited in the 17^th century commentary called Shnei Luchot Habrit by Rabbi Issac Horowitz provides an answer.

 

The commentary begins by quoting the early mystical Jewish work, Sefer Yetzirah, which teaches that there are 7 gates to the soul: the two ears, the two eyes, the two nostrils and the mouth.

Whatever the original meaning of this text, the commentary goes on to say that these shearim, these gates, take the external impressions of the world and bring them in to our lives. Thus, says this commentary, we must place shoftim v’shotrim before each of the gates that God has given us, that God has created for us. It explains that it is our obligation to protect ourselves from that which comes in to our gates; namely, that we should allow no negative impressions to come in through these gates, that the ears would not hear bad words, the eyes not see evil and so on.

I love the idea behind that commentary. It gives a beautiful meaning to the phrase: “the gates that God has given you” and reminds us to be steadfast against being influenced by evil of all kind.

But, I have to add a bit of a twist to the commentary. The lesson that is taught: that we should protect negatives from coming into our gates is really only about shotrim, those who protect rather than shoftim, those who judge. When he says no negative impressions come in, he is talking about our being shotrim, guarding the gates.

However, the truth is that we can not completely control what comes in through our gates. Over the year to come, just like in past years, no matter how we may try to avoid them, we will hear negative things, we will see inappropriate actions. We will experience all of these.

That is why we must focus also on being shoftim, on being judges. While we can’t completely control that which comes in, we can judge what is worthy of us.

So, let us look at the first verse of the Torah portion and consider the following. God has given us gates, gates which can be open to let in that which we must hear, the cries and needs of others, the words of wisdom shared by honored teachers, the inspiration we receive from those around us.

In truth, we need to be shotrim, we need to guard ourselves from hearing and seeing things which are not worthy of God’s image within us. We need to put ourselves in situations in which we can be more sure that we are hearing and experiencing positive, constructive words and actions.

But, let’s not fool ourselves. We live in a real world and we can not isolate ourselves from all of the negatives in the world. That is why that we need also to be shoftim, to judge that which has come into our gates and make sure to distinguish between that which is positive and that which is destructive.

May we find ways to surround ourselves with goodness this year knowing we won’t entirely accomplish that. So, when negative realities get by our shotrim, may we always be ready to judge what will lead our lives and our world to a better place.

 

 

Sermon delivered at Beth Israel Congregation, Shabbat Nachamu, August 20, 2016

 

I have spoken from the bima recently about the power of words in comments on our Presidential election. After I posted one of my sermons on the issue on Facebook, one of my Facebook friends replied with a quotation by Sigmund Freud which read in part: “Words call forth effects and are the universal means of influencing human beings. Therefore let us not underestimate the use of words”.

 

Today, I want to speak about another use of words which has been terribly difficult for many of us. These words came in a recent statement of principles issued by the Black Lives Matter movement, whose cause I have spoken about previously from the bima, which included these words: “The US justifies and advances the global war on terror via its alliance with Israel and is complicit in the genocide taking place against the Palestinian people,” It goes on to say: “Israel is an apartheid state with over 50 laws on the books that sanction discrimination against the Palestinian people.”

 

The Black Lives Matter movement, whether  or not one agrees with all of the rhetoric, is raising very significant issues, concerning racial discrimination in law enforcement, in the justice system and resulting mass incarceration of people of color. These issues should be very important to us as Americans and as Jews given our tradition’s absolute commitment to justice as the first priority for building a sacred community.

But, these words hurt and they must be clearly condemned.

I completely and utterly reject the idea that Israel is engaged in genocide. This is a horrible mischaracterization of the situation. I also believe Israel’s policies can not be compared to apartheid in South Africa and reject the comparison.

We can’t ignore these words. They matter. Even if the positions are ancillary to the basic goals of the movement, the leaders felt they were important enough to be mentioned and that is of great concern. These words are hurtful and untrue and, sadly, they do affect how I and many of us will interact with the efforts of this group.

But, our community’s zeal to condemn statements of this kind leads me to a great concern which arises whenever words like these are used about Israel from whatever source.

Too often, we concentrate too much on the words expressed in virulently anti-Israel statements so much so that we allow them to divert our attention from the reality. Granted it is not genocide or apartheid, but Israel’s policies toward the Palestinian people are gravely inconsistent with Jewish values and tradition. They must be radically changed and we as a Jewish community, dedicated as we are to justice, must continue to focus attention on these unjust policies.

No, Israel is not completely to blame. Violent terror and rejectionism is a big piece of the story. But, if we care about justice, if we care about ethics, if we care about doing what is right, we can not let the exaggerated words we hear from others divert us from our responsibility to raise our voices against policies in Israel which are unethical.

We are justified in being uncomfortable with how other groups talk about Israel and Palestine, and that includes the Black Lives Matter movement and the Boycott Divestment and Sanction groups. But, it is our critical responsibility to offer a serious, sincere and meaningful alternative to their language which will show that we are deeply concerned and sincerely committed to applying whatever pressure we can on the Israel government to move in a different direction.

I can’t ignore the language of the Black Lives Matter movement regarding Israel. But, in the end, the language doesn’t change the fact that we and every American need to stand up and speak out and take action against the biases which cause so much pain in the black community. We are one nation and this is our fight too.

And, similarly, as Jews the fight for justice for Palestinians in Israel is our fight too.

I believe that we need to dedicate ourselves to being unmistakably clear that, even as we appropriately care so deeply about Israel’s security and survival and reject extreme language, we too know that the Palestinian people are suffering. We must raise our voices clearly, using different, more accurate but serious and clear language. We must use words which convey our deep frustration and, to use an extreme word of my own, but one which I feel is totally appropriate, our heartbreak, at what we see.

 

 

                 

Shabbat Balak, July 23, 2016

When we consider the blessing offered by Bilaam, we immediately think of the verse: Mah Tovu Ohalecha Ya’akov, Mishkenotecha Yisrael: How beautiful are your tents O Jacob, your dwelling places O Israel!

However, that is not the only thing that he said. In fact, Bilaam offers 3 blessings to the people, each quite lengthy. Balak keeps schlepping him from one place to the other in the hopes that he will eventually curse the people, something that he never does.

Some of the lines uttered by Bilaam are clear and could not be understood in any way but as a blessing. But, there is at least one line in his “blessings” which pose a difficulty for me. I hear in this line a negative rather than a positive.

Bilaam says: Kee mayrosh tzurim erenu umigivaot ashurenu: As I see them from the mountain tops, gaze on them from the heights. Hen am livadad yishkon uvagoyim lo yitchashav: There is a people that dwells apart, not reckoned among the nations.

It is difficult to ascertain exactly what Bilaam intended by this statement but reading it as a blessing would lead one to, as the Etz Hayim hummash says, conclude that he meant that they were a people who lived in a secure place with a fate not subject to the whim of other nations.

The midrashic commentary in Etz Hayim delves into this verse a bit further and considers the relationship of the Jewish people with others in the world. The commentary points out that some Jews see our survival as a people stemming from our ability to set ourselves apart from those who were around us. In fact, there are those who believe that rejection of our equality in society is sometimes a positive development, keeping us separate from others. If we were to become too accepted, we would lose our uniqueness and our reason for existence.

The commentary then goes on to refer to Zionism and points out that many anti-Zionists based their opposition to a Jewish state on the idea that we would become too much like the other nations if we had to engage in politics on a world stage. The lack of a state enabled Jews to remain separate.

And yet, many Zionists believe exactly the opposite. Many believe the creation of a state in fact allows Jews to do what Bilaam suggested: to be a nation apart. Surrounding ourselves with other Jews and not having to be concerned about others is for some the goal of the state. I have on occasion shared with you my experience at Bet Hatefutsot, the Diaspora Museum in Tel Aviv in 1979 when I heard in a recording explaining one of the exhibits: “Here was a people who were redeemed from Egypt only wanting to be left alone”. I cringed at that because it wasn’t my experience growing up and not what I envision Judaism to be. I don’t see separation from the rest of the world as a blessing but rather as an inappropriate goal for our people. I still believe that without question.

The point is that what sounds like a blessing to one person: “a people remaining separate” can sound like a curse to another based upon his or her experience.

Words have power and they are not always heard the way we intend them to be heard.

In everyday conversation, we must try as diligently as possible to anticipate how others around us will hear our words and we must take care to be sensitive to how we speak. This isn’t a matter of being “politically correct”. It is a matter of proper, respectful behavior.

We don’t always get it right. God only knows how many times I have said things that were not heard the way I intended them because I was either insensitive to or ignorant of the way that people reacted to those words. We have to try but we can’t expect to be perfect.

But, in situations where the audience is larger than the average, when people are hanging on every word, and where words are considered far in advance, it is absolutely incumbent on an individual to do everything he or she can to choose words carefully. If the wrong words are used, words which are insensitive or divisive, it is legitimate to wonder whether that meaning was intentional.

What you heard on Thursday night is wrong. We absolutely can talk about political issues from the pulpit. We just can’t endorse a particular candidate.

We can’t endorse candidates but we can certainly talk about words that are said and there Were plenty of words said in Cleveland that beg to be commented on. I could speak about the exclusively Christian rhetoric of the invocation and how I, as a Jew felt excluded. I could speak about the excessive name calling which, while it has always been part of our presidential campaigns, seems to have gone far over the top.

Instead, I want to speak about one simple three word phrase which caused me to gasp when I heard it, and I thought I had heard it all over the past few months. It’s just one example to be sure but as it was emphasized over and over again on Thursday evening, I believe it is critical to point out the impact of these words.

In introducing his vice presidential choice and several times on Thursday evening, Donald Trump boasted that his campaign would be about law and order. Law and Order.

On the surface, these words are positive. We all want to live in a country where people observe the laws of the land and where there is order rather than chaos. And, we understand where this is coming from. The horrendous assaults on law enforcement officers in this country are unspeakably horrible and totally and completely unjustifiable. Those who protect our safety deserve our support, our protection and our concern. Yes, law and order sounds like a blessing.

But, when viewed in historical context, the words “law and order” carry ominous weight for many.

In her outstanding and groundbreaking book The New Jim Crow the author Michelle Alexander writes: ““The rhetoric of ‘law and order’ was first mobilized in the late 1950s as Southern governors and law enforcement officials attempted to generate and mobilize white opposition to the Civil Rights Movement. In the years following Brown v. Board of Education, civil rights activists used direct-action tactics in an effort to force reluctant Southern States to desegregate public facilities. Southern governors and law enforcement officials often characterized these tactics as criminal and argued that the rise of the Civil Rights Movement was indicative of a breakdown of law and order. Support of civil rights legislation was derided by Southern conservatives as merely ‘rewarding lawbreakers.’ For more than a decade – from the mid 1950s until the late 1960s – conservatives systematically and strategically linked opposition to civil rights legislation to calls for law and order, arguing that Martin Luther King Jr.’s philosophy of civil disobedience was a leading cause of crime.”

The author explains that these three words: law and order, are easily heard as an expression in opposition to those who have gathered, largely peacefully, to express justified concern about the shooting of African American men by police in so many instances in recent years and other examples of racism.

I hear these words not only as a call opposing such protests but as a dismissal of the legitimate concerns of so many.

These words have been used as code words for racism and division in our nation. Perhaps Mr. Trump did not intend to imply this just as perhaps he didn’t intend to imply anti-Semitism with his use of the phrase “America First” or the tweet featuring a 6 pointed star and lots of money. But, words have power and unlike in everyday conversation, there is no excuse for a presidential candidate to use words and images which are heard or seen by many in a negative light. And, when combined with other statements such as a call for a ban on Muslims entering the country or the statements about Mexican-Americans and immigrants, the choice of words seems more intentional.

Words have power. This past Thursday night, at a gathering at Eastern Michigan University, hundreds of community members stood shoulder to shoulder and face to face with law enforcement officials to reaffirm the commitment in this community to work together to address racial issues involved in law enforcement. It was a healthy, frank and productive gathering with many critical issues and many different points of view expressed. I was honored to speak at this program and to experience an open and honest discussion on the serious issues of race and law enforcement.

The words we use matter and are heard differently by different people.

We, as Americans, must make every effort to use words which inspire us to come together, not be inspired to live as a “people apart”, hiding behind walls as our divisions increase in our community and our world.

We must use words which unite not divide.

 

Chapter 7 of Bemidbar is the longest chapter in the entire Torah.
It goes on and on and on.
And, to add to that, it is so repetitive. Twelve of the Paragraphs present in detail the gifts brought by each of the tribal chieftains for the dedication of the tabernacle. These lengthy paragraphs are exactly the same except for the name of the chieftain and the tribe.
The chapter is so long and very quickly, we realize that we’ve heard these words already.
It is a challenge to listen to.
You wouldn’t think Torah commentators would have anything to say of interest about this repetitive portion. But, in fact, they do.
Let me share with you two commentaries.
First, from a commentary called otzar hamachshavah, a treasury of thoughts on the Torah from the Hasidic masters, we read the following thought: why is it that the Torah repeats these sacrificial gifts over and over again in all their detail even though they are all the same? After all, says the commentary, and rightly so, we believe that the Torah contains not even a superfluous, unnecessary letter. So, why would the Torah waste 11 paragraphs in such detail when it could have recorded the first gift and then just said the other chieftains brought the same gifts?
Dayenu, it would have been enough.
The commentary’s interesting answer to that question is that each of the chieftains was not looking at what was brought before them in order to know what to bring. Rather, each one brought what their heart told them to bring. Each was a personal gift that just looked the same but really was different because of the spiritual motivation each one felt. And that each was called: “the sacrifice of Nachshon” or “the sacrifice of Nitanel” supports that point. Each one really was a personal gift even though it was the same as the one before and that is why the Torah repeats each one.
Then we have another commentary from the 18th century rabbi Pinchas of Koretz. He notes that the entire list of sacrifices begins with the word Vayihee. “And it came to pass”. As in: “And it came to pass that the first one to bring a sacrifice was Nachshon ben Aminadav”
Rabbi Pinchas notes that there is an ancient rabbinic tradition that the word vayihee at the beginning of a section of the Tanach always means “trouble is coming” as in Vayihee biyamay Ahasveraus. And it came to pass in the days of Ahasveraus, the beginning of the story of the near annihilation of the Jews of Shushan at the hands of Haman.
So, asks Rabbi Pinchas, what is the trouble that is anticipated in this chapter of gifts to the sanctuary?
He says, the trouble is that Nachshon, the first one to make an offering didn’t really feel he was ready to be the first. “Mee Anee u’mah anee”, he says according to legend: “Who am I and what am I that I merit this responsibility”?
But Moses says: “God has chosen you”. We can picture Moses saying: “Your humility will help you. But, you must do your job.”
I had an idea to teach some Torah lishmah, some “Torah for its own sake this morning. There is a verse that is very moving to me regarding the importance and significance of studying Torah but that will have to wait for another year. We can’t just teach Torah for its own sake this morning. We have to learn something to help us through this horribly difficult time.
And so, on this first Shabbat after the terrible attack in Orlando, let us learn from each of these commentaries.
First, and permit me to take a positive commentary and use it to describe a horribly negative situation, we can use the commentary about the repetitive nature of this section to remind ourselves of a critical fact about the violent attacks we have seen all too often in our country.
They may seem the same. But they are not. Even if they appear similar, they are not.
Any attempt to lump all such attacks together is misleading, futile and wrong.
We need to accept the fact that there is no simple answer to stopping attacks that are really different, one from the next. First of all, the targets differ.
This time it was the LGBT community which was the target, a community which, despite significant and positive legal advances in recent years still suffers from bigotry and threats of violence. I only hope and pray that members of the LGBT community know that this and many synagogues and other house of worship are places not just of inclusion but places of safety and sanctuary for you. We recognize the threats and stand by you and with you.
But, on this very weekend last year, it was an African American church in Charleston, South Carolina which was targeted.
No group, it seems, is safe.
And the profiles of the perpetrators differ as well.
Yes, we need to confront the danger that supporters of ISIS or other extremist groups present. That danger is real and significant. But as these attacks are carried out by perpetrators with different horrific agendas, we can’t assume that responding to this particular threat will end violence.
There is, however, one as the Talmud would call it: “tzad hashaveh”, one aspect which links each of these tragic actions and that is, of course, the relatively easy availability of horrendous weapons of mass slaughter.
And, that brings us to the second commentary.
Our hearts are broken. Our pain is so great. We may wonder whether we are truly capable of doing what needs to be done to address this horrible plague in our society.
But, this is our job. We can not let fear get in the way. We can not let our pain paralyze us. We need to pray. We need to speak out. Most importantly, we need to act. And congress must act. And act now to address the access to weapons of mass slaughter in this nation.
This is not the time to be overly humble and to question whether we can make the changes that are necessary. We must.
Yet, some humility is necessary. We must not resort to generalizations and stereotypes, using bellicose words of hatred or suspicion. We need calm, reasoned, united, determined actions to seek sensible ways to prevent such tragedies and protect our citizens.
The problem is huge. The stakes are the highest they could be. Our responsibility is enormous.
Each and every one of us, in our own way, must do our part by raising our voices
And, even as we mourn the victims and pledge ourselves to action, we must do something else as well. We must embrace life, with concern but not fear. We need to show, as we discussed last Saturday evening at our tikkun leil Shavuot, gratitude for the blessings we have in this beautiful world. We need to teach our children who hear of these attacks that life is still a blessing and the world can be a place of beauty and joy.
In the words of a song which we will sing in a few moments, the world may be a narrow bridge but the essential part of life is that we not be afraid.
Let us do our work.
For the chapter before us is too long and we must stop allowing it to repeat itself on and on.
Please rise for a memorial prayer for the victims of the Pulse Nightclub in Orlando and for all who victims of violence.

SERMON FOR PARASHAT VAYETZE NOVEMBER 21, 2015

This morning, I want to talk with you about angels. Then, we’ll turn to the real world.

Whether you regard angels in a literary or metaphoric or mythic sense, their role as messengers of God is worthy of serious consideration. And, angels play a major role in the life of Jacob, beginning in this parasha with the story of our patriarch’s dream of a ladder reaching up to the heavens with angels ascending and descending.

A prominent traditional rabbinic interpretation of Jacob’s dream is that he is witnessing the “changing of the guard”. The angels who have protected him within the land of Canaan are returning to the heavens while those who will protect him outside the land are taking their positions. The dream is seen as an assurance by God that Jacob will be protected in his travels outside of Canaan as he was inside the land.

In the dream, the angels are ascending and descending and this brings up a question: Was there any overlap? Was there ever any moment when both sets of angels were directly accompanying Jacob? I would assume that there would have to be such an overlap even for only a short moment as otherwise, there would have been the possibility that Jacob would have been left defenseless even only for a moment.

This question of “overlapping angels” may be reflected in the song Shalom Aleichem. This song is based on the tradition that angels accompany us in our homes on erev Shabbat and therefore we must greet them properly with words of greeting. But, it is odd that in the second verse we welcome the angles with boachem lishalom, “come in peace” and then, in the third verse, we say tzeitchem lishalom, “go in peace”. Why would we give the angels the traditional greeting of farewell when they have just arrived?

There are several answers to this question but the one that I prefer is that we are in fact saying goodbye to different angels: the angels who have been with us through the week who now are returning to the heavens after the long 6 days of work. We say, “go in peace”, have a good rest and come back after Shabbat. Note though that we do not say goodbye to them until we have welcomed the Shabbat angels. There is overlap. We are never left without angels. Messengers of God are always around us.

This idea of two different sets of angels is found in another rabbinic context as well. There is a lovely legend that when God sought to create the human being, two sets of angels argued about the plan. One group said that God should create the human being because we would be capable of doing acts of kindness and justice. The other group said God should not create human beings because of the evil that would arise from our actions. God, chooses to creat the human being in hopes that the good will outweigh the bad.

There is another piece to the argument of the angels against creating the human being. The role of the angel was to do on earth what God can not do: to be messengers of God on earth. Therefore, the angels did not want the human being to be created because they sensed their role would be diminished. And, they were correct. It has been diminished Whatever you believe about angles, the fact is that we are God’s angels. Human beings are the ones who are to do God’s work. We are God’s messengers on earth. But, as was pointed out in one of the recent lectures in our Hartman Institute series on Dilemmas of Faith, the difference between human beings and angels is that human beings can say “no”. We can refuse to do God’s work while angels had no choice.

The debate between the angels about whether God should or should not create human beings is a reflection of the tension between what we call the yetzer hatov, the good inclination, and the yetzer hara , the bad inclination, a struggle that our tradition believes goes on inside each of us. This struggle accompanies us always and the strong person, according to Pirke Avot, is the one who conquers his or her evil inclination.

But, according to at least one rabbinic text, the yetzer hara is not necessarily the inclination to do evil. It is rather seen as the self-centered inclination, the self-protecting inclination. We read in Bereshit Rabbah that even the yetzer hare has its place for it not for the yetzer hara, no one would build a home or choose a profession which would provide them their needs. Yetzer hatov becomes the altruistic inclination and yetzer hara becomes the self-protecting inclination and both are needed in a life. There needs to be overlap of altruism and concern for self.

And now let us turn away from angels and turn to the real world.

I am sympathetic to the persepctive that led Governor Snyder and many other governors, politicians and private citizens to decide that this is not the time to welcome Syrian refugees into our country. I understand their fears and I do not say that lightly. Their concern that our security structures are not proficient enough to weed out any individuals or groups capable of performing the kind of horrific terrorist attacks that occurred in Paris or Beirut or Turkey or so many other places in our world is worth consideration. It didn’t take the attacks in Paris to prove that adherents of this horribly perverse way of thinking and acting are a threat to our communities and our nation as well. And, it is natural and reasonable for a Governor to see his or her role as protecting our self-interest, to listen to his or her yetzer hara rather than the yetzer hatov.

But, while it may be reasonable to be concerned, the proposal to close the doors on Syrian refugees is shortsighted, inappropriate and wrong. It is based on misleading claims and exaggerated fears concerning the refugee population. And, as this proposal has gained momentum, the rhetoric has turned increasingly racist and cruel and that is shameful.

We should care about protecting ourselves but we need to listen to our yetzer hatov, to our good and altruistic inclination as well. We need to be God’s angels on earth, doing the work of saving and enhancing lives. We need to find a way, even given our fears, to respect and continue our commitment to those in need. We cannot look into the eyes of these people who have been so horribly victimized and just close our doors. It is wrong for a country which speaks of being a source of good in the world. And, here, I want to commend our local Jewish Family Service and HIAS, the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society which has rescued so many people, Jews and non-Jews in the past for committing to continuing to support and welcome, after proper security checks, Syrian refugees to this country.

Our angels must overlap. We can honor the inclination to self-protection while not dismissing the inclination that inspires us to care for the huddled masses who have been through such horrors. We need to listen to our better angels and continue to find a way, despite our fears, to reach out our hand to those whom we can help.

We all have concerns about the state of the world but those fears can not undermine our basic sense of humanity.

We can not close our hearts. We can not close our doors.