During this fall, I am teaching an adult education class in which we study sections of the Talmud dealing with the holidays of the year. The goals of the class are both to have some exposure to the way Talmudic discussions are structured and to discuss some customs of the holidays. Some of the customs are well known, others less so but each sheds some light on the significance of the practice of the holidays.

I intend to use my blog to summarize the classes after they have been held so that those who were not able to attend could learn from the texts as well.

Our first subject was the holiday of Sukkot and we began with a study of the first section of the Mishna in the tractate of Sukkah. The Mishna begins with the statement that a sukkah which is more than 20 cubits tall is “pasul”, can not be used as a sukkah.

In the Gemara, the commentary on the Mishna, (which together with the Mishna forms the Talmud) we read 3 different ideas as to why there might be a height restriction on the sukkah.

The first, from the teacher known as Rabbah,  notes that the Torah says, about Sukkot, “l’maan yaydu dorotaychem”, that your generations should know that I (God) made you dwell in Sukkot when  I brought you out of Egypt. The word “know” leads Rabbah to explain that if the Sukkah were too high, one wouldn’t “know” that one was inside a structure since the roof was so high above one’s head that it would not feel like one were inside.

The second opinion, from Rabbi Zera, notes that we have to dwell in the shade of the Sukkah, which the Rabbis identify as meaning the s’chach, the covering of the Sukkah. This opinion reasons that if the Sukkah is too tall, one would be dwelling for most of the day in the shade of the walls and not the shade of the roof.

Finally, there is the opinion, taught by Rava,  that we are supposed to build the Sukkah as a “temporary” dwelling and that a Sukkah that was over 20 cubits high could hardly be considered “temporary”. Each of these interpretations refers to either a verse in the Tanach or a particular Rabbinic tradition.

The next discussion we studied concerned the fact that according to the mishna, a child who “does not need his mother” is obligated to be in the Sukkah. The Rabbis discuss how one determines that the child does not need his mother.

There are two opinions to this question. The first from the school of Rabbi Yannai teaches rather bluntly, that the child has to be toilet trained and does not need his mother to clean him.

The second, from Rabbi Shimon Ben Lakish,  is that a child does not need his mother if he doesn’t wake up from sleep calling: “Mother”.

In a charming comment on this idea, there is a note that many older children (the word used is gedolim and that might refer to adults as well) wake up and call for their Mother. So, the text is amended to read: the child who wakes up “calling Mother, Mother”. In other words,  the child deemed too young to be in the Sukkah is one for whom calling out  isn’t just a reflexive action but one which reflects a sincere need for the mother to come to the child’s aid. This is proven by the fact that the child calls out twice.

We discussed this at length. Either way, it is clear that the operative principle is that  men (women were exempt from being in the sukkah  according to the Mishna) did not want to have to bother with children in the sukkah, either because of the cleaning needs of the child or because of the disruption in the peaceful atmosphere of the sukkah that would come with a crying child. Either way, it seemed to reflect the reality of those times in which fathers were not accustomed to spending much time with their very young children. Obviously times have changed in many ways and we should all maintain that the youngest child, and of course, their mothers, should be in the Sukkah as often as possible.

Finally, we discussed briefly the beautiful tradition which states that when it rains, one can come in from the Sukkah when the food is ruined by the rain dripping through the roof. One Rabbi, Rabbi Yosef,  notes that he has a lower threshold and comes in even when some of the schach just happens to fall but he claims that this is because he is very fastidious. This raises an interesting point: sometimes some of us have different criteria than others regarding our observance of certain customs. While there is a clear delineation of expectation involved in halacha, Jewish law, occasionally individuals find areas in which they are less inclined to observe to the letter of the law. The implications of Rabbi Yosef’s statement are worth considering.

In regard to rain in the sukkah, the Mishna had mentioned a parable. If it rains in the sukkah, it is compared to a slave who comes to fill a cup of wine for his master and he poured the pitcher over his face.

The question asked in the Gemara is: “Who is the “he:”? Who poured wine on whom?” The answer is that it is the master who, for whatever reason, poured the wine in the face of the servant saying: “I have no desire for your service”.

In this case, it appears that the Rabbis are teaching that rain in the sukkah shows that God does not desire us to be in the sukkah. Some might see this as reflecting a failure of one kind or another on the part of the people who built the sukkah incurring God’s anger and causing rain, which is usually considered a blessing, to fall. Or perhaps it is the simple statement that God does not want us to be in the Sukkah if we’re uncomfortable in the rain and would rather have us enjoy the holiday inside the house.

Our next session dealt with Hanukkah and I will post the summary soon.

On the first day of Rosh Hashana, I opened up the New York Times to find a front page story about the changing traditions regarding Bar and Bat Mitzvah. My first reaction, before I even began to read the article, was a great sense of relief.

I had actually been considering giving a sermon for Rosh Hashana about Bar and Bat Mitzvah. Had I done so, I would have faced the nightmarish situation which all Rabbis have faced on occasion: the moment when the sermon we had worked on for so long suddenly becomes irrelevant or superfluous due to a development in the news or an article which suddenly appears unexpectedly in the press. I can only imagine the feeling of a Rabbi who had chosen to speak on the subject of Bar or Bat Mitzvah this Rosh Hashana and how he or she would have reacted had congregants approached afterwards with the news that much of what he or she had said, or didn’t say, had been in the paper that morning.

But, in a way, I  faced that situation with the release of the Pew Research Study on Jewish Americans which we have been reading about for the last week. Everyone says the news is bad. The numbers of committed Jews is decreasing, intermarriage is rising, the category of “Jews of No Religion” is growing (which, as a Rabbi, I find deeply troubling)  and movement affiliation is plummeting.

All of these are certainly cause for concern and even though there are some good signs in this report, for example: an increasing number of Jews finding issues of justice and equality to be Jewish concerns, most are saying the report should serve as a wake up call to do something to stem the tide.

But for me, there was an additional personal reaction to the Pew Report in that it seemed, at first glance, to contradict the entire basis of the sermon I had delivered on Yom Kippur before Yizkor.

I spoke that day about my belief that there has never been a better time to be a Jew than in the 21st century. I took issue with our penchant as Jews to believe that the past was always better than the present (As an illustration of this theory, I even quoted one of my favorite songwriters, Jim Steinman, who wrote in the great song Paradise by the Dashboard Light: “It was long ago and it was far away and it was so much better than it is today”. )

But, I argued, it is not true. If you think of our situation today with freedom in so many places in the world, including of course, here in this country to practice Judaism; if you think of the miracle of the State of Israel and all it means to us as a people; if you think of the growth of Judaic studies program and youth service programs and all kinds of Jewish expression throughout social media; if you think of synagogues experimenting with new ideas, dedicated to being more welcoming and inclusive, you can’t help but come to the conclusion that this is a great time to be a Jew.

So, how do I settle this contradiction?

Well, as they would say in the Talmud, it really isn’t a contradiction at all.

I was speaking about opportunity and I urged my congregants to take advantage of the opportunities that exist. The fact that many don’t is terribly disturbing but it doesn’t change the fact that the opportunity, the potential, is there for everyone and that can not be denied.

The Pew report may contain some alarming numbers but the truth is that the present and the future is exceedingly bright for American Jews. We just can’t be scared away by the idea that our best days are behind us. If the Pew report encourages non engaged Jews to do something to stem the tide the numbers might be suggesting, those who do desire to become more engaged will find a much greater variety of ways to do so than ever before.

I will admit that I would find some of those ways more positive than others. I do believe that Judaism should be first and foremost a religious faith and that the synagogue should be the center of Jewish life. I do believe that our homes should reflect a commitment to Jewish tradition. I do believe that “real communities” are preferable to “virtual communities”. I do believe that our love and support of Israel should include a passion for justice and equality within the State.

But, those are only my  perspectives and priorities. Others will believe differently and the pluralism within the Jewish world today, the many varied paths to commitment only enriches us further.

If all of us who are concerned by the numbers we read would only open our eyes to what is available to us, we will fulfill the potential that our Jewish world provides.

I wish I knew what to say. I wish I had the absolute answer. I don’t. I only know that we have to do something. And we have to do it not just because President Obama talked about a “red line” but because we can not stand idly by while so many are suffering.

I do not know if it is a matter of our “national interest” to stop the use of chemical weapons in Syria. But someone must take the responsibility to try to stop this horrendous action.

There are, to be sure, other places in the world where intervention could be justified and, yes, there is the fear that we can’t fight every battle. There is also the fear that despite any of our intentions, any kind of attack could escalate into a situation in which we needed to take more action and more action and risk more American lives. There is also the fear that even the most carefully planned attack could endanger or kill innocent children and others caught in the crossfire. There is also the legitimate concern that the rebels in Syria are themselves guilty of atrocities and that further instability in Syria would be harmful in the long run. And, of course, there is the issue of how many concerns we have here at home.

But, assuming the evidence is clear, if there is no doubt that these weapons have been used and that more exist, we must, I believe, be leaders in confronting this reality and do what we can to stop it.

I would hope that could be done without military intervention that endangers innocent people. But, if it has gone beyond that point, there is no choice.

I say this reluctantly. I say this with concern for those who will themselves be put in danger. But, we can not sit on the sidelines and watch this happen.

Someone has to do something. Hopefully, others will join and the mission will be successful with the least military action necessary to accomplish this critical goal.

Let us all pray for peace and an end to this madness.

This morning, I read in the paper of the death of singer Eydie Gorme.  Ms. Gorme was a very popular singer who, along with her husband and singing partner Steve Lawrence delighted audiences for many decades. But, this post is not about her singing.
The fact is that every time I hear her name, it brings back a memory that is one of my favorite stories from all of my times traveling in Israel.

In 1991, I was leading a group to Israel and one of our stops was at Bet Hatefutsot, the Museum of the Diaspora in Tel Aviv. I had been in the museum several times before, so after giving an introduction to the museum and walking around a bit with members of the group, I  decided to grab some time sit in the coffee shop and rest.

As I was sitting there, one of the security guards came up to me and started a conversation with me in Hebrew. He noted very quickly that I was from the US but continued the discussion in Hebrew, chatting with me about the weather and all sorts of things. Then, he pointed to the name on his ID badge and asked me if I recognized it. His name was “Gormezano”.

When I said no, he proceeded to tell me a little of his life story and ended with the proud bit of information, that he was, in fact Eydie Gorme’s cousin. He asked if I knew of her saying, in a cadence I will never forget: “Hee sharah eem haSteve hazeh”. Loosely translated: “She sings with that guy Steve”.

Then, he went on to ask me if I would do him a favor which only an American could do. In the interest of confidentiality, I won’t say what it was. It was certainly legal,  but it was clearly in the realm of chutzpah. I told him I couldn’t do it and he pressed me a bit saying: “But you’re the only American I know”.

I couldn’t resist. I said to him, in Hebrew, “Why not ask Eydie Gorme?”

His answer: “Anee lo rotzeh lihafreea otah bidavar kazeh”. I don’t want to bother her with this kind of thing.

So, I said in response: “You don’t want to bother her? But, you just met me and you don’t even know me and you’re asking me?”

He said: “You have a kind face and besides kulanu yehudim”.

Those last two words say it all: “Kulanu Yehudim”. We’re all Jews. The phrase used so often in Israel in situations of this kind. In other words, we’re all family, so why wouldn’t you help me?

He insisted I reconsider and I told him I would think about his request. He gave me his name and address and I never heard from him again.

But, every time, I hear Eydie Gorme’s name, I think of Mr. Gormezano in Tel Aviv. I’m not sorry I didn’t help him. His request was really “over the top”. But, I thank him for a charming moment of connection, the likes of which any Jew who travels to Israel seems to have every trip we take.

Reading about Eydie Gorme’s death this morning reminded me once again, it’s been too long since I traveled to Israel. God willing, I’ll go back this coming year.

The news that there is a commitment to renew peace negotiations between Israel and the Palestinian leadership is welcome news indeed. Secretary of State Kerry’s efforts should be acknowledged and appreciated by all.

Many are still skeptical about whether a “2 state solution” can really work and I, too, have concerns. But, I believe it is the best hope and in the absence of any other idea or proposal that will allow for self determination for Palestinians and a secure future for Israel as a Jewish state, I hope that both parties will vigorously pursue this possibility for a resolution to the conflict.

One of the interesting aspects of the current discussion is the decision by the Knesset to bring any proposed peace settlement to a national referendum before it is signed by the leadership. While I understand completely why such a referendum seems like a good idea, there are two aspects of it that trouble me.

First, it seems to go against the idea of representative government. In a democracy, the people elect the individuals (or the parties) that they feel can best represent their opinions and protect their interests. Those individuals are the ones who should make decisions based on their expertise, their experience and their insights  on the situation.

If a majority of the members of the Knesset felt that a peace treaty was in fact fair and provided for Israel’s security, it would seem that that would be enough. Of course, with an issue this serious and irrevocable, it might be argued that everyone should have their say but it seems to me that this decision should be made by those with the knowledge and expertise who have been granted the responsibility for decision making.

And the second aspect of this decision that interests me is: now that the decision has been made to have such a referendum,  should only Israeli citizens have a vote? Should I have a vote as well?

Now, the easiest answer to this is no and that may, in fact, be the best answer. But, let’s not be hasty.

I am not a citizen of Israel. I did not serve in the Army, I will not have to face the ramifications of the decision in terms of my daily life. All of this is absolutely and undeniably true.

However, I still believe that my voice should be heard.

As a lover and supporter of Israel and as one who has dedicated my professional (and personal life) to serving the Jewish community and the Jewish people, I believe that my voice should be heard. I would humbly suggest to the government of Israel that, even if my “vote” is not solicited or counted in the same way that an Israeli citizen’s should- and I would understand that completely-there should be some mechanism by which the voices of the leadership of Diaspora Jewry, if not all Jews, should be heard and respected and listened to should, God willing, a peace treaty actually be written.

The connection of American Jews to  Israel is not easy to characterize. But, if Israel is to truly be a “Jewish State” and if Israel expects, and rightly so, that we should continue to encourage our young people to feel a connection with the country, then somehow our voices should count for something as the most basic and fundamental decisions for the future are made.

I have no idea how the majority of Diaspora Jews will feel about a peace treaty so this opinion is not intended to make a particular outcome more likely. It is also not meant  in any way to trivialize the difference between the impact such a decision will have on Israelis as opposed to Diaspora Jews. But, I would like to know that Israel is listening to the voices of all Jews throughout the world as it makes the most important decisions concerning its future.

It has been, most certainly, an emotional 24 hours since the verdict in the trial of George Zimmerman was handed down. So much has already been written and said about the verdict and what it says about our court system and what it says about our nation. As I always try to do, I have taken time to think about what to post before I write anything and I feel that I have a lot more thinking to do. But, I want to share some of my thoughts here.

It bears remembering that this jury was not asked to rule on the presence or absence of racist attitudes in this country. They were not asked to rule on whether African Americans  get fair deals in the court system. They were not asked to judge gun laws in light of  the tragic numbers of Americans killed each year  nor were they asked to judge the laws of the state of Florida regarding self-defense or any other matter.

They were asked to judge whether, according to the laws of the state of Florida, the state had proved its assertion that George Zimmerman was guilty of 2nd degree murder or manslaughter beyond a reasonable doubt. They performed their duty and I would like to believe that they did so honorably: that they truly and sincerely felt that, at the very least, the prosecution’s case left reasonable doubt.

While I, like many of us, followed the trial carefully and have our own perspectives on the tragedy,  I was not there on the night in question and I was not in the courtroom to hear the testimony in its entirety. And therefore, I  can not say without question that justice was not done last night.

But, I can certainly say that, regardless of the verdict, our country needs to confront the racist attitudes which persist and the inequalities in the court system. The statistics show over and over again that African Americans are more likely to be convicted of crimes than whites and that is a tragedy in this country. Whatever happened on that night last year in Sanford, Florida, racial profiling does take place among law enforcement and security officials in this country. Our gun laws need to be addressed  and the “stand your ground” law and others like it need to be re-evaluated.

Each of these would have been just as serious an issue had the jury found George Zimmerman guilty.  We must seek justice in this country for all.

The family of Trayvon Martin, should be in our minds tonight. They have suffered a horrendous tragedy, losing a son, who set out to buy candy at a store and was killed on the street. The tragedy of his death and the death of so many young people like him is a national shame. Whatever happened that evening, the fact that the tragedy that the Martin family has felt has been felt by so many other families in this country is a national disgrace.

In the book of Lamentations, which we will read tomorrow evening on Tisha B’av, we read: ‘bacho tevkeh balyalyah” “She, (the city of Jerusalem), cries out in the night” with no one to comfort her.

The family of Trayvon Martin and all of the others who cry need not just our comfort and our prayers but our dedication and determination to fight racism in this country and to work to perfect our system of justice. More than they need words of comfort, they need our sincere efforts to insure that all of us can walk the streets free of fear in a nation which truly seeks justice and equality for all.

I do want to share one other thought in the face of this issue. Our son, Avi, who is a student at Emory University in Atlanta, shared some important words on facebook today. I think his eloquent words deserve to be shared:

On occasion, on long walks with our dog or on long drives, I imagine situations which might arise in my work as a Rabbi and consider how I would respond. One of the situations which I envision goes like this. A man and a woman come into my office to talk about their upcoming marriage and to request that I officiate. They fulfill all of the Jewish legal requirements for a marriage and appear to be very much in love and ready to take this step in their lives. But, just before we set the date, they tell me something that they feel I should know. They tell me that they plan to have an “open marriage” in which they can engage in extra marital sexual relationships with each other’s permission and blessing.

My dilemma: Do I agree to officiate?

As I have played this scenario out in my mind, I keep coming back to the same answer: No. I would not agree to officiate at a wedding ceremony for a couple who had decided, in advance, that marriage did not mean exclusivity in sexual relationships. The entire concept of marriage within Judaism is based upon the idea of “kiddushin” sanctification, which means to set someone or something aside as unique and special. When the groom gives the bride a ring during the traditional Jewish wedding ceremony, he says; Haray at mikudeshet le, behold you are consecrated unto me as my wife. Consecrated means sanctified, set aside as holy and is defined by the exclusivity of the sexual relationship.

Since the year 1000 Ashkenazi Jews (later to be joined by all Jewish communities) have rejected polygamy and therefore, the kiddushin now works in both directions. That is why I prefer that the bride make a similar statement during the ceremony to the husband: Haray atah mikudash li, behold you are consecrated unto me.

Exclusivity of sexual relationships, is, of course, not the only important aspect to a marriage but it is the explicit promise made by the bride and the groom and an overt, purposeful intention to not have exclusivity undermines the entire principle of marriage.

Of course, no marriage is perfect and, again, there are many more challenges to a relationship than this one. But, this is the essence of marriage: that intimacy, both physical and emotional, defines the relationship and when that promise is broken, the relationship is damaged. Going into such a relationship without this promise invalidates the kiddushin in my opinion.

So, when two Jewish men or two Jewish women walk in to my office to talk about their love, having promised each other that they will treat each other with kedusha, with holiness and sanctification, that they will love and provide for each other’s physical and emotional needs to the exclusion of all others and that they want to be married under the huppah, I will be honored to officiate at their marriage. When two people are in love and promise to love each other exclusively, physically and emotionally, they should expect no less from their Rabbi.

I believe that they should expect no less from this country.

And, the Supreme Court took a huge step in this direction on Wednesday by allowing federal benefits to same sex couples. There is much further to go but I believe it is a step in very much the right direction.

The first time I signed a marriage license for a couple, my hand was shaking as I realized what I was about to do. While my hand has stopped shaking over the years, I still realize the statement that that license is making and feel honored and priviliged that I can do this as part of my job.

I look forward to standing under the huppah with a same sex couple, and I sincerely hope that when I do, I will be able to sign a Michigan marriage license as well. I anticipate the first time that happens, my hand will shake again realizing how far we have come.

There is a tradition within Judaism that every time a couple gets married and pledges their commitment to each other, the world is improved, a piece of the “tikkun”, repair, necessary in the world is accomplished. I believe that that applies to all couples.

To me, it  is as simple as that.

I delivered this sermon at Beth Israel Congregation, Ann Arbor, Michigan on Shabbat Parashat Hukkat, June 15, 2013. It was our annual t-shirt Shabbat, a time of relaxation and informality. It is a “quirky” tradition and I thought it deserved a “quirky” but very serious sermon.

This morning, my sermon will be in the form of a eulogy. But, this eulogy is different. It is a eulogy for a fictional character. In one sense, the eulogy should have been given at the time of the character’s death in 1980. But, I wasn’t a Rabbi at the time and I doubt that I could have spoken as passionately and as emotionally then. With age comes maturity and historical perspective, and so, when the individual who portrayed this character died just a couple of weeks ago, I decided that it was my opportunity to eulogize the woman who was arguably the most universally beloved character in television situation comedy history.

         And with that in mind, let me share words this morning in memory of our beloved teacher, Edith Bunker, zichronah livracha, may her memory be for a blessing.

         The 31^st chapter of the book of Proverbs includes the section known as the Eshet Hayil, the woman of valor. While we all have known real life women of valor and while fictional television characters are not nearly as important in our lives, they still can be teachers and they merit our respect, admiration and emulation.

Eshet Hayil Mi Yimtza, “a Woman of valor, who can find?” Her worth is far above rubies. No one could argue that Edith was not a woman of strength. She put up with the constant abuse that her husband Archie heaped upon her, faced and then either tolerated or fully embraced the changes her daughter and son in law brought into her world, and fulfilled her chosen role as a housewife and a mother and grandmother with joy, enthusiasm and such love.

         Eshet Hayil continues: Batach Lev Baalah v’shalal lo echsar, The heart of her husband trusts in her and nothing shall he lack.

         Through thick and through thin, through good times and bad, Edith stood by her husband. She was uncomfortable with his bigotry but she stood by him nonetheless. She packed his lunch every day, including of course, a Twinkie, brought him his can of beer when he demanded it and made sure his white shirt was clean for work.

         But, that was only part of the story and there was so much more. When Archie was burdened with worries and concerns, she held him tight at night and stroked his hair and told him things would be all right. She often tried to sing to him but that was always a bad idea.

         And, when Gloria or Mike complained too much about Archie or spoke of him behind his back with anger or disgust, Edith pleaded with them to be a bit more patient, to be a bit more tolerant, to be a bit more compassionate and understanding.

         But, not only did others trust in her, she trusted in others and that trust was clear in so many aspects of her life as she treated everyone, as Pirke Avot instructs us to do, l’chaf z’chut, with the benefit of the doubt.

And when that trust was shattered, in two separate situations, she had the courage to confront those who disappointed her. She looked Archie in the eye when she discovered that he had been tempted to be unfaithful and uttered words which broke our hearts when we first heard them: “You were the only one I could always trust but now I can’t trust you no more”. After his eventual somewhat half hearted apology, she came back to him with love and dedication, although a bit more demanding that trust be returned.

         And, she also was a deeply religious person who found such comfort in going to church and clearly trusted in God. But, her faith was shattered when her good friend, Beverly Lasalle, was killed in a mugging, and she refused at first to go back to church. Still, she persevered asking the difficult questions, confronting the collapse of her theology and, after a struggle she returned to church, less naïve, but realizing that, like so many of us in times do in times of sadness that she was desperately in need of the spiritual support that religion and a religious community gave her.

         One of the most beautiful lines in Eshet Hayil is piha patcha bichamcha vitorat hesed al lshonah. “She opens her mouth with wisdom and her tongue is guided by kindness”. These words so beautifully describe our dear Edith.

         It goes without saying that Edith was kind. Archie called her Edith the Good and he meant it. She rarely said a bad word to anyone, opened her home to everyone regardless of race, sexual orientation, political viewpoint. She embraced every friend of Archie or the children, loved her grandson with an unlimited affection and was the epitome of fairness and justice.

         But, was she wise? Absolutely she was. You see, Edith understood people. She listened with sincerity and compassion. She never went to college but had more common sense than her graduate student son in law. In fact, one of the most brilliant scenes in the entire run of All in the Family was when Edith took Mike aside and told him that the reason Archie insulted him so often was because he was jealous of Mike. She told him that he envied the choices that Mike had in life when Archie would never be more than he was. It was a brilliant observation and the truth is that one of the underlying themes of the entire show was how much wiser Edith was than her son in law who was so busy studying for his master’s degree.

         Yes, she was prone to statements which defied common sense. Who else but Edith would suggest playing a game of twenty questions to try to figure out what famous person Archie had driven in his cab that morning and then begin the game by saying, in her characteristic voice: “Living or Dead?”

         And who else but Edith would conclude her long story about the can of cling peaches- or shall we say hmmm hmmmms- in heavy syrup-that jumped out of her carriage at the market and dented a car by saying to Archie as he sat there staring at her long convoluted story: “It was a freak accident”.

         And yet, it was Edith the good who left the note on the car with her phone number. It was “Edith the good” who offered to pay the owner of the car, Father John Majeski, for the damages. And so wise was she that two minutes after he had walked into the house, Father Majeski was confessing to Edith, a life long protestant, his deep frustration with the job he had to do every day as a priest. And Edith gave him advice. And Father Majeski listened intently.

         Edith saved a man’s life by CPR, successfully fought off a would be rapist, stood firm as the only juror to vote for acquittal of a man who was eventually exonerated of murder and, in one memorable episode, convinced Archie to perform an act of what we refer to as hesed shel emet, true sincere kindness, by having a proper funeral for his freeloading uncle who had died in the Bunker home. To top it all off, when she was bored at home, she dared to defy Archie, leave the house and embrace her volunteer work at the Sunshine Home with love and dedication.

         She appeared to be simple. Her shrill voice, off key singing and awkward gait around the house which reminded one of a servant afraid of being punished if she didn’t walk quickly enough made you think she was a nothing. But, as Gloria said very clearly after insulting her once: “Ma, I’m sorry I called you a nothing. You’re really something”.

         Some of you don’t own a TV. Some of you don’t remember All in the Family. Some of you remember it and dislike it. But, most of us who remember All in the Family, loved it. And, love it still.

         All in the Family was without a question the most influential example of American popular culture in the 1970s. And, to those who question what role Edith had to play in this, look at it this way. There were many, many American women and men in 1970, the year of the show’s debut, who were not ready either to be Gloria Stivic or to be in a marriage like Gloria and Mike’s. But, as the decade moved along, and as we all watched Edith take small but critical steps to become more of an equal partner in her marriage and to impact the world outside her home as she did inside, more and more women and men warmed up to the idea that this idea of women’s demand for equality in marriage and in the world wasn’t so bad and so dangerous after all. Many learned this from those who were passionately fighting in the public arena for more respect for women. Many learned it from the simple, daring steps that Edith Bunker took as her character changed and grew through the years thanks to the superb acting of Jean Stapleton, zichronah  livracha.

         We have all known women whom we would call eshet hayil and obviously those we know in real life are more important That goes without saying. But, turning to tv, there is, I believe, one woman who stands miles above the rest for her loyalty, her love, her generosity, her cheerful attitude, her compassion and yes, her wisdom.

         May the memory of Jean Stapleton and Edith Bunker be for a blessing and an inspiration to all of us.

I lead a study group on the Torah portion of the week on a bi-weekly  basis at Beth Israel. This morning, I had the opportunity to teach an interpretation on a text which I have been thinking about for years.

The text is found in Pirke Avot and presents the idea that a machloket, a disagreement, which is “lishem shamayim”, “for the sake of heaven” would have lasting significance while one which is not for the sake of heaven will not have lasting significance. An example of each is then given. The example of the disagreement which is not “for the sake of heaven” is that of Korach and his band while the example of the disagreement for the sake of heaven is that of Hillel and Shammai.

Korach, the main character in this morning’s Torah portion, is a Levite who, along with Datan and Aviram and 250 others complain to Moses and Aaron that they have taken power inappropriately. The entire community is holy says Korach so “why do you elevate yourselves about the community of God”? While the rebellion itself leads to many interesting questions, I want to return to the text of Pirke Avot and note, as do many of the commentaries, that it is odd that the argument is referred to as the disagreement of “Korach and his band” as opposed to Korach and his band against Moses and Aaron. This is especially noteworthy because in the other phrase, Pirke Avot notes that the example of the disagreement “for the sake of heaven” is that of Hillel and Shammai, the two Talmudic Rabbis who disagreed with each other on matters of Jewish law. So, in one part of the teaching, we have Korach and his band (listing only one of the parties of the disagreement) while in the other, we have Hillel and Shammai (giving the opposing parties). This is unsettling because mishnaic texts, such as Pirke Avot, are generally taught in very precise ways and this text is not precise because of the lack of parallelism in the language.

The dominant Rabbinic interpretation of this text is that in fact Korach and his band were constantly disagreeing with each other and in fact, while they were rebelling against Moses and Aaron, they were not unified but rather were constantly fighting with each other for their own personal gain. So, in this case, the text in Pirke Avot is in fact parallel. There is a disagreement between Korach and his band and there is disagreement between Hillel and Shammai.

But, I prefer another explanation.

I start from the perspective that Korach and his band represent only one side of the argument. They might not have been unified but their disagreement at its core was against Moses and Aaron. But, then, what about Hillel and Shammai and the lack of parallelism in the text?  I would argue that Hillel and Shammai also represent only one side of the disagreement. I would argue that Hillel and Shammai, like Korach and his band are “on the same team”. Hillel and Shammai may disagree on the specifics but they agree on the general principle that Jewish law is important, that we must seek to understand Torah and that we must seek to understand what God wants from us. They may disagree on the specifics but they are, in the long run, on the same side of the argument between those who care about Jewish tradition and those who do not.

Hillel and Shammai did not “hate” each other, they didn’t call each other names, they didn’t ignore each other. They taught what they taught and, I like to think, at the end of the day, shook hands and studied and prayed together. They were clearly approaching the “big questions” in the same way, disagreeing only about details and how to achieve the goals God set for us. The fact that both of their opinions are stated in the Talmud (and similarly opinions of other disagreeing Rabbis are stated) clearly points out that both opinions are to be respected even as one is considered the favored interpretation by later generations.

As I taught this class this morning, I referred to something I had heard many years ago. Tip O’Neill, former speaker of the house (and, by the way, my congressman when I lived in Boston), paid tribute to President Gerald Ford’s time in congress by noting that at the end of the day in congress, Democrats and Republicans would leave behind their animosity and act as friends and colleagues. But, O’Neill noted when Ford was a congressman, “there was no time clock”, in other words, he always acted colleagially even with those with whom he disagreed.

We don’t see much of that in congress today for sure and we are all less fortunate because of it. And in  our Jewish communities, we don’t see it as often as we should. Understanding that we have the same ultimate goals and are trying, each in our own way, to achieve those goals is one of the most important principles we need to remember as Jews. We are all on the same team. Let us recognize that our differences of opinion as long as they are for constructive reasons will have lasting and positive significance.