So many today are focused on the death of Carrie Fisher and rightly so. Her role as Princess Leia and in other movies were groundbreaking in many ways and her loss is another one of those far too frequent losses that we have seen recently.

I don’t have much to add to what has been said about Carrie Fisher but I noticed today in the newspaper another rather lengthy obituary which I need to recognize. I read today of the death of Richard Adams, author of one of my favorite books: Watership Down.

I haven’t read the book in years but it’s time to go back and read it again. It is a story about rabbits, their joys, their struggles, their lives and their deaths. But, in so many ways, it is a story about human beings as well.

While I haven’t read the book for many years, there is one quotation which has stuck with me since I read it for the first time so many years ago. I have used it in classes and in other settings as I think it reflects something so important in our lives.

Here is the quotation in its entirety, from the very end of Watership Down. It describes  Hazel, one of the central characters of the book:

One chilly, blustery morning in March, I cannot tell exactly how many springs later, Hazel was dozing and waking in his burrow. He had spent a good deal of time there lately, for he felt the cold and could not seem to smell or run so well as in days go by. He had been dreaming in a confused way-something about rain and elder bloom- when he woke to realize that there was a rabbit lying quietly beside him- no doubt some young buck who had come to ask his advice. The sentry in the run outside should not really have let him in without asking first. Never mind, thought Hazel. He raised his head and said: “Do you want to talk to me?”

“Yes, that’s what I’ve come for,” replied the other, “You know me, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” said Hazel, hoping he would be able to remember his name in a moment. Then he saw that in the darkness of the burrow the stranger’s ears were shining with a faint silver light. “Yes, my Lord”, he said. “Yes, I know you”.

“You’ve been feeling tired,” said the stranger, “but I can do something about that. I’ve come to ask whether you’d care to join my Owsla. We shall be glad to have you and you’ll enjoy it. If you’re ready, we might go along now.”

They went out past the young sentry, who paid the visitor no attention. The sun was shining and in spite of the cold there were a few bucks and does at silflay, keeping out of the wind as they nibbled the shoots of spring grass. It seemed to Hazel that he would not be needing his body any more, so he left it lying on the edge of the ditch, but stopped for a moment to watch his rabbits and to try to get used to the extraordinary feeling that strength and speed were flowing inexhaustibly out of him into their sleek young bodies and healthy sense.

“You needn’t worry about them,” said his companion. “They’ll be all right- and thousands like them. If you’ll come along, I’ll show you what I mean.”

He reached the top of the bank in a single powerful leap. Hazel followed; and together they slipped away, running easily down through the wood, where the first primroses were beginning to bloom. 

These paragraphs have stayed with me since I first read them. They are not only an example of exquisite writing but a hopeful vision of our common destination.

I have never forgotten them and pray I never will.

 

I am happy to announce that my book entitled: “The Long Way Around: Stories and Sermons from a Life’s Journey has been published and is available on amazon.com.

The book is a unique combination of stories about my life and the sermons that these stories have inspired. This selection from the introduction summarizes my purpose in writing this book:

This book is about who I am and where I have come from. It is about how the stories I remember, the interests I have, and the unique idiosyncrasies of my life have led to the sermons I most deeply treasure.

I hope the reader will find the stories enjoyable and engaging. They are dear to me but I’m quite sure that there is nothing so unique about my life’s stories that alone would make for an interesting book. The focus of this book is on how the stories and the sermons intersect. I believe this demonstrates the ways our personal experiences can lead to lessons that we can share with those around us.

I have been working on this book for more than 10 years as I tried to decide on the proper format that could best convey the message that I wanted to share. I am glad to be able to tell some of my stories, to pay tribute to my parents and my teachers and to share words that I have shared from the bima at Beth Israel.

I hope that those who read it will find it meaningful from a Jewish perspective and interesting from a personal perspective as well.

Thank you to all whose encouragement helped make this possible. My wife, Ellen, and my children, Avi and Mickie, have inspired me to continue to believe in this project and to see it through. Thank you to all of those who read sections of the book and gave me such good advice and thank you to Sarah Wood for her invaluable editorial assistance.

Happy Hanukkah to all and I do hope you enjoy reading my stories and sermons.

Here is the sermon I delivered just before John Glenn returned to space on the Space Shuttle in 1998. May his memory be for a blessing.

 

PARASHAT NOACH 1998

 

It has been a while since I have quoted the words of my favorite songwriter, Harry Chapin. So, let me share with you some words of his which could have been written about Noah:

“And the faces they all fade together.

And the applause it’s all gone so fast

And the story of every darkened stage

Is that the glory just does not last.”

 

Here was Noah. Righteous or not so great, it doesn’t matter. He did his job. He saved the animals. He was God’s safety valve to begin creation again.

He comes out of the ark and represents all humans to come in accepting God’s covenant. He sacrifices. He plants a vineyard. And then, the glory fades as he drinks of the wine, drinks too much and disgraces himself in his tent.

It is so sad to read. For if God had come back to Noah and had said: “I need you for another assignment”, he would not have been ready. He could not have done it again.

Why did it happen? A friend once gave a sermon which identified Noah with everyone who had ever failed to survive the letdown which comes after a “peak experience” as he called it. Noah was the paradigm for someone who had done a terrific job at an impossible task, had his 40 days of fame, let alone 15 minutes, realized his destiny in life and then walked away saying: “Can it ever be the same again? What else could there be to live for?”

It is a sad reality that so many fail to strengthen themselves for the letdown which is sure to come after having scaled the heights. We feel for Noah because we know he is familiar to all of us.

What could he have done? He started off in the right way. He turned to his family, found something else to do, to occupy himself. But he just didn’t get the breaks or just didn’t see it through. Had he paid a bit more attention to himself, had he invested the energy to try just that much harder to apply himself after a brief and well-deserved rest, had he really believed that down the road another opportunity might come along to scale the heights, maybe he wouldn’t have let himself go that far down.

So, when we find someone who learns how to keep a peak experience in perspective and is ready at all times to change a bit of the world again, we have to pay that person a great amount of respect and honor.

You may be jaded. I am not.

You may be cynical. I am not.

You may think that it is all P.R, I don’t.

All I know is that it is a tremendous lesson for all of us as to the fact that unbelievable as it may seem, the chances sometimes do come again and we have to find that as the absolute, bottom line reason to keep ourselves sharp after a peak experience.

And so, I hope it is fun for him. I hope it is everything he wants it to be.

And, most of all, I pray, God how I pray, that he come back safely.

And this comes from my heart because I tell you I remember.

I wasn’t yet 7 years old but I remember.

I remember sitting in our den, home from school because of a blizzard, holding a globe and watching on TV.

And I remember those three words.

And I remember the chill I got down my spine even though I didn’t understand them.

And I repeated them in daydreams for so many years after.

And I anticipate that same chill as I say them with so much of my heart: “Godspeed John Glenn”.

You are teaching us all such a critical lesson. I only hope we pay attention and learn from you as you scale the heights again.

 

Thanksgiving is a nostalgic time for most of us. While I don’t need an excuse to be nostalgic about New England, a thought occurred to me the other day about a favorite spot along the coast north of Boston.

In the town of Gloucester, there is a very famous statue of a sailor at the wheel of a ship. If you haven’t been to Gloucester, you’ve probably seen a picture of the statue. We would visit Gloucester once during the summer and that statue was always the landmark that I looked for to know we had arrived in this rather unique town. I was always intrigued by the statue and the inscription on the base; “Those that go down to the sea in ships”.

The statue is called the Fisherman’s Memorial and stands as a tribute to those from Gloucester who died in the course of their work. It is a sad place indeed.

But, it is interesting to note that the inscription was taken out of context and is really inappropriate for a memorial.

The phrase; “Those that go down to the sea in ships” is taken from Psalm 107. But, that psalm is in fact a psalm of thanksgiving as it mentions several groups of people who faced danger and were saved after crying out to God. The sailors mentioned in the psalm faced a raging storm but were saved as were those lost in the desert and those who were imprisoned.

Psalm 107 is an important psalm in our tradition even though it is not used as part of the standard service. The psalm inspired the concept of the “gomel blessing” which is recited by a person who has survived a difficult experience: an illness, a long journey, imprisonment and the like. The situations in which the blessing is called for are derived from the psalm. Saying the gomel blessing can be extremely meaningful for one who feels gratitude for a return to safety or to health.

But, a hasidic rabbi pointed out once that if we thank God for saving us from the storm or helping us to survive an illness, we should also thank God for the days that there were no storms and days on which we healthy. Gratitude should come not only when we survive a difficult situation but when we are in a good place.

So, yesterday during services, I led all the congregation in a gomel blessing thanking God for the good that we have in our lives. I wouldn’t do it every week but I think we are going to make it an annual tradition in the congregation. It feels good to express thanks for that which we have and what better time to do it than Thanksgiving weekend.

Enjoy the rest of the weekend and may we always find ways to express gratitude for that which we have.

Like so many, I shudder to think about the choice our nation has made.
Like so many, I worry about how this decision will affect my family and the families of so many people I know and I worry especially for those who can so easily become victims of bigotry, exclusion and persecution.
Like so many, I fear for the changes that may/will be brought by a Supreme Court which seeks to reverse advances that have been made in so many critical areas.
Like so many, I am absolutely devastated that so many in our nation either embraced or ignored statements of division and rhetoric of hatred.
But all of us must move on from here, continuing to be the most just, compassionate individuals that we can possibly be and pray that our new leadership will live up to the true ideals of our nation. Like so many of us, I have spent tonight tossing and turning and not seeing how that last part could possibly happen. But, we must hope that that will be the case and must find a way to continue to hope and work for a better future.
I pray for wisdom for our new leaders and for peace, justice and God’s blessing for this, still the greatest nation in the world.

This past Erev Shabbat, I posed a question to those gathered for services. I asked them to envision what our country would look like, what it would be like, this coming Erev Shabbat. What would our mood as a nation be? What would our future look like?

I imagined what Noah would have felt had he had the opportunity to envision what the world would be like after the flood. Perhaps he was too busy taking care of all of the animals to have even considered that question, perhaps he spent sleepless nights worrying about what lay ahead. But, one way or the other, if he did think about the future, it would have been difficult for him to conceive of what awaited him. No one had ever been there before.

In some ways, I feel that this is comparable to our situation today. There is so much that we don’t know about where we will be once this election is over. For some of us, we are just absorbing ourselves in our daily lives and awaiting the results. For others, we have, in fact had those sleepless nights, the kind that cause anxiety and fear as we consider the future.

I am supporting Hillary Clinton and hoping that she wins this election. I have been careful not to say this from the pulpit directly although I am sure that I didn’t have to say it directly for people to understand it. It is consistent with political opinions that I have expressed in the past and my grave concern about the horrendous rhetoric and the isolationist, extremist positions offered by Donald Trump leave me no other reasonable choice.  I admire Secretary Clinton and believe she is intelligent, compassionate and truly dedicated to improving the lives of individuals and bettering our nation in general, yet I am not completely enamored with her as a candidate and am concerned about many of the criticisms that have been raised and some of her actions. But, to me, this is a clear cut choice.

But, regardless of who wins the election, my question with which I began this posting remains.

Will the results of the election be accepted by the losing candidate? What will happen to the anger that has been raised throughout this election process? Can we recapture the bipartisan cooperative spirit which is so necessary to any kind of progress facing the issues of our time? Will our nation still live up to its stated principles as a nation of justice and compassion.

That last value is of paramount importance. As you know and can read elsewhere in this site, I spoke on Yom Kippur about the importance of compassion and I spoke in depth about how this election has been so lacking in compassion.

This isn’t the first mean-spirited election and it surely won’t be the last. But, the depths that have been reached and, even more importantly, the apparent willingness of so many to overlook divisive, insulting, hate-filled, immature and childish statements is so deeply troubling. Where will this lead us once the election has been decided?

The time has come for all of us to do two things: first, vote if you haven’t done so already and secondly, each and every one of us must commit ourselves to leading our nation away from the destructive nature of this campaign and move towards a brighter future.

When we see a rainbow, we are obligated to say a blessing in the spirit of the covenant that God promised at the end of the story of Noah: Blessed are You O Lord our God, Ruler of the Universe, who remembers the covenant, is faithful to His covenant and fulfills that which His promised.

Our nation is built on a covenant of justice, compassion and equality.

May we remember it, be faithful to it and fulfill the promise that our nation has always represented.

At the synagogue, we usually bring in about 50 etrogim between those congregants have ordered and those that we buy for the synagogue and the religious school. Most years, I am in the office when the etrogim arrive and often can open a few boxes looking for an extra special one.

This year, the first box I opened contained a surprise. Here it is

I fell in love with this etrog. I have never seen one like it. It looked so different and- quite frankly- it looked like it needed  a good home. As I said the bracha over the lulav and etrog, used it for hallel and for the hoshanot over the past two days, I really developed a real attachment to this rather unique looking fruit.

I can’t help but draw a comparison and I hope no one is offended. I mean it with great respect.

It reminded me of Charlie Brown’s Christmas Tree

The etrog needed me.

To my eyes, it is as the Torah says: the fruit of a beautiful tree.

May we continue to enjoy a beautiful holiday of Sukkot.

 

 

This morning, I shared three short jokes with the congregation. Each has an important message as we enter into the High Holy Days.

Joke #1  A man visits his friend in Jerusalem. He realizes his watch has stopped so he asks the man what time it is. The man goes to his balcony, looks up at the sun and tells his friend that it is 3:00 p.m. The friend is surprised that he can tell the time from the sun and his host tells him that he has learned to do so and doesn’t even own a watch or a clock.

So, his friend asks him: what do you do at night? He says: “I use my shofar, come back tonight and you’ll understand”.

So the friend comes back in the middle of the night and the man goes out to his balcony and blows the shofar.

Immediately, three people can be heard screaming: “It’s 3 a.m. and you’re blowing the shofar?”

The shofar is, in fact, a clock. It reminds us of the passage of time. One year has passed since we heard it last and we are one year closer to the time when we will no longer be able to change our lives for the better.

When the shofar is blown, realize it is keeping time.

Joke #2 A man brings his car to his mechanic and says simply: “My brakes don’t work well. Can you fix my horn?”

Too often, when we recognize faults in ourselves, we deal with them by expecting others to alter their behavior to account for these failings. Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur remind us that we all have faults, that we all have been less than we can be and that if we want to change our lives, it is up to us to make the change. To warn others about our failings and expect they will make life easier for us by changing their expectations of us is wrong. If something doesn’t work correctly, we should change it.

Finally, joke #3 A woman is frantically looking for a parking space as she is late for a very important meeting. In her desperation she calls out to God: “Dear God, if you find me a parking space quickly, I’ll give $10,000 to tzedakah.”

She turns the corner just as a truck is pulling out of a space right in front of the building she needs to go to.

She says; “That’s OK, God, I found one.”

No one can guarantee that you will experience a spiritual awakening over the holidays. No one can promise you that you will hear God’s voice or that you will be moved to the depths of your soul by the sound of the Shofar or the melodies of a prayer or words spoken from the bima.

But, if it happens, if you truly are moved deeply by something you experience, if you truly feel like you have been touched by something beyond yourself or deep within yourself that you haven’t felt before, don’t make excuses.It is a wonderful gift. Accept it, celebrate it and let it light your way in the New Year.

 

Shana Tova u’mituka to all: a good sweet year of health and peace.

Although there is so much more to say, I want to post an immediate reaction to the death of Shimon Peres Z”L

Shimon Peres was a man of principles. He was completely dedicated to his nation and sought to insure that Israel always lived by its principles and its values. He was dedicated to seeing an end to conflict and sought to make true peace.

I had the opportunity to hear him speak on more than one occasion and was impressed as all were with his wisdom and his strength.

But, there was one other thing about Shimon Peres that I always thought whenever I saw him. He just happened to look almost exactly like our next door neighbor when I was a kid.

That may not seem important and, of course it isn’t. But it is important in a symbolic way.

When I think of Shimon Peres, I immediately think of Yitzchak Rabin Z”L and of that glorious day so full of potential and promise when they stood on the White House Lawn with Yassir Arafat and President Clinton to sign the Oslo Accords. To see Rabin and Peres standing there gave me not only a sense of pride but a sense of identification. These two leaders (and in another era, I would include Golda Meir Z”L in this same thought) represented the possibility of an emotional, deep connection for Jews throughout the world and Israel. They looked like our neighbors. They were our association with the State..

Policies aside, I don’t have that feeling about Israel’s current leadership and that is a loss for all of us who yearn for deep connections with Israel.

Leadership not only means standing “above” the people but being one of the people, being a person people can look to with trust and in partnership. To me, that is the essence of leadership and one which Shimon Peres emulated throughout his life.

 

May his memory be for a blessing.

 

It’s time, unfortunately, for another blog posting in memory of a well known individual. This time, Gene Wilder.

So many roles in so many very, very funny movies: Blazing Saddles, Young Frankenstein just to name two. But, my favorite role of his was as Avram, the inept young rabbi from Poland sent to San Francisco (as far away as they could send him) in The Frisco Kid.

I haven’t seen the movie in a while and I’m not sure that as a whole it has stood the test of time but the first time I saw it (in Israel, by the way), I thought it was one of the funniest movies I had ever seen. His interactions with Harrison Ford, waiting for the sun to set so Shabbat could be over and they could continue their journey, calling the Amish farmer: “lantsman” and the whole (admittedly non PC) scene with the Native Americans were priceless.

But my favorite scene comes towards the end when Avram feels he isn’t qualified to be a rabbi any more because of some of the things he has done on his way out west. So, carefully carrying the Torah scroll he has brought all the way from Poland, the one which he has saved and has saved him, he approaches the house of the leader of the Jewish community in San Francisco and pretends to be someone else.

He tells the man’s daughter that he met the rabbi who couldn’t come but gave it to him to give to her father.

She asks what it is and in a great accent, Avram says: “I don’t know, I think it’s some kind of Torah”.

There are funnier moments in that movie and in his other roles but that line absolutely cracked me up and every time I think of it, I smile.

There is a mystery to that line, a significance that I can’t put my finger on but I just love it and all it can possibly mean.

And, I have to confess.

Sometimes, when we take the Torah from the ark to carry it around the congregation and to read the weekly portion, I catch myself looking and saying: “I don’t know, it’s some kind of Torah”.

It sums up how I feel about our most sacred possession which is so hard to describe.

Thank you Avram.

Rest in peace, Gene Wilder.