Yom Kippur Yizkor

Rabbi Philip Weintraub

Congregation Agudas Israel

September 23, 2015

YK Day: Holiness of Mundane in Loss

As my daughter approaches the age of Disney movies, the dramatic absence of parents is particularly powerful.  Think back to your childhood or of your children and grandchildren: Snow White, Cinderella, The Little Mermaid, Lion King, Bambi, Dumbo, Peter Pan, The Jungle Book, The Fox and the Hound, Beauty and the Beast, Pocahontas, Aladdin, Frozen, even Pixar with Toy Story or Up.  Mothers, fathers or both are killed or disappeared in remarkable numbers.  Some suggest this comes from a tragic accident that resulted in the loss of Walt Disney’s own mother.  Others say it is simply an effective narrative tool--if you want to talk about growth and maturity, “knocking off a parent” is useful shorthand.

http://www.businessinsider.com/why-there-are-no-moms-in-disney-movies-2014-9#ixzz3kcJ1gjFa

Whether in Disney terms or in reality, no life is complete without loss and loss can be an opportunity for growth.  At this stage of my life, I am grateful to have my parents and in-laws.  Parenting is a tremendous blessing, but no matter the child, having a resource to ask questions is a gift.  I cannot imagine the loss of any of them, and do not pretend to.  Yet empathy, the loss of grandparents, and even the loss of a potential life, makes grief no less real in my own life.

Having studied grief academically, through chaplaincy, through our shared experiences and my own personal losses, I have seen how different traditions attempt to assist people through their grief process.  I cannot say strongly enough how lucky we are to be Jewish, to choose Judaism, especially when we lose someone.  As Jews, our religion offers us a rubric, an algorithm, a language for loss that is frankly missing in much of our surrounding culture.

I don’t say this to make you feel guilty if you sat shiva for three days instead of seven.  I know that not all of you will come to Yizkor services next week for Shemini Atzeret, at Passover or Shavuot.  We do not have a daily minyan here to help you say Kaddish every day, but we will help you with a minyan for shloshim, for shiva or for a yahrzeit.  In all of those cases, we have always come together--as long as we have a week’s notice!

I stand here to affirm my message from the last week.  Every single day of our lives is one that can be filled with holiness, with kedushah,  with little points of light that can inspire us to deeper, more meaningful lives.  The lesson I have not clearly articulated over these last few days is that as modern Jews, we are all Jews by choice.  If we were born Jewish, we did not have any official conversion ceremony, but we chose to remain within our tradition.  As such, the rituals, the metaphors can speak to us, can help us make daily choices that bring God into our lives.  As I quoted the Kotzker rebbe earlier this week, “Where is God found? Wherever we let God in!”

For Passover 2014’s Yizkor, I introduced you to Superman Sam, Sam Sommer, the second child of two rabbis, Phyllis and Michael Sommer.  Sam had a difficult form of childhood cancer and his parents blogged from the beginning of his diagnosis, through remission, recurrence, and to his death.  Unlike so many health journey blogs, they did not stop at his death in December 2013.  While not as frequent, I get regular emails with new blog posts, with photos of the family and memories as they live their lives and as they remember him.  No matter the stages of grief, it is not a purely linear process.  People may be angry one day and accept another.  They may go back from acceptance to bargaining or denial all on a daily basis.

Rabbi Phyllis wrote recently:

Pouring

I was driving today, wearing sunglasses.

Because the sun was shining.

And then suddenly, it started to rain.

Pour, actually.

But the sun was still shining.

Brightly.

I looked around, thinking that if I tried hard enough, I would find a rainbow.

But I didn't.

And then the rain stopped.

The sun shone.

Sometimes that is how I feel.

The sun can be shining.

And without warning, a monsoon pours down upon me.

I am overwhelmed with grief.

I want to find a rainbow, to imagine that it's going to end.

The rain stops, but sometimes the rainbow doesn't show its face.

Sometimes I am completely overwhelmed with the realization that I'm never going to wake up and find Sam here.

I hope for the rainbow. For the light and love and blessing.

Sometimes it hides its face.

http://supermansamuel.blogspot.com/2015/09/pouring.html

That’s what life is.  Moments of joy, moments of sadness.  I especially loved the line that sometimes the rainbow doesn’t show its face.  It made me think of the rabbinic concept of hester panim, that when we feel lost, hurt, it is as if God is hiding God’s face.  Yet even when we feel abandoned by God, we may just be looking in the wrong place.

On Rosh Hashanah, I argued that we will find more meaning, more happiness, more joy if we could be more appreciative.  The same is true with our memories and with sadness.  We live in a world that is afraid of emotion.  We numb ourselves and distract ourselves from the realities of the world and the realities of our lives.  I argue that our lives our richer when we allow ourselves to mourn, allow ourselves to feel sad, to cry.

In this year, I shared with you some of my own feelings of loss.  We are grateful to Gd, no kunahuras, and hope to celebrate a new addition to our family after next Purim, [pretend to spit].  Yet, even as I find myself incredibly excited about such possibilities, I still grieve and yet am somehow a tiny bit grateful for the miscarriage Rebecca had last summer.  I mentioned earlier the great blessing of the Jewish tradition--rituals and things to do when we lose someone.  One of the biggest challenges people have around death is not knowing what to do, how to act, yet our tradition gives clear instructions--except where it doesn’t.  Miscarriage, perinatal and neonatal loss don’t have traditional Jewish rituals.  We discovered things in the back of my Rabbi’s Manual, online, and Rebecca found going to the mikvah to be a healing experience.  For me, this absence of ritual was the hardest part.  Yet I was blessed to have all of you.  Sharing our story with you, I heard so many, many stories.  Had I not been a rabbi, we might not have told anyone, which would have been so much more difficult for us.  We discovered that we were not weird alien creatures for being sad about losing a potential child, but truly part of a community, one of many who shared that experience.

It has not been easy to share the experience.  As much as I put myself in front of you all, there are some feelings I am more reserved about.  I love to share my joy, but am less excited about sharing sorrow.  Yet that sorrow makes joy so much richer.  I firmly believe that our ability to appreciate the wonders, the miracles of our lives is in direct relationship to our ability to mourn the losses of our lives and the broken world we live in.  When we recognize the sorrows of others, when we work to support them, how much more can we gain from our experience, how much more can we appreciate the blessings that we do have.  How much more can we celebrate?  In my own life, I ask for your continued prayers, as we hope to have much to celebrate in the coming year!  Every morning, Psalm 30 tells us that God turns our mourning into dancing.  I pray that this year will do so for all of us.

Thinking about Yizkor, our minds go to a place of memory, remembering important people in our lives. Whether they are parents, grandparents, children, siblings, spouses or other relatives and friends, they touched our lives deeply.  We simply would not be the people we are without their influence.  Whatever their biological role, they were our teachers and even without a physical existence, they can still teach us.

As Jews in the 21st century, obligation (or guilt) does not resonate in the ways it did for generations of Jews.  Yet you stand and sit here today.  You recognize the potential for holiness, meaning, love in our lives.  We are not simply organisms for whom living is our only goal.  Over the last few days, I have spoken of bringing the kedushah, the holiness, of today into the rest of the year.  I have spoken of the tools of gratitude, prayer, Israel, relationships, community, respect, and now memory and loss.  I pray that in the year to come, these tools will help you discover holiness, find meaning, bring gratitude and love into your life.  These are huge goals, yet we need not entirely accomplish them to reap huge dividends.  Every moment is an opportunity.  Do not waste it, let us turn now to the Yizkor service.

Kol Nidre 2015

Rabbi Philip Weintraub

Congregation Agudas Israel

9/22/15 (5776)

Kol Nidre: Holiness of Mundane in Human relationships

Before I start another sermon with a joke, I want to add a brief follow-up to my second day Rosh Hashanah sermon.  I spoke about the miracles and challenges of Israel and challenged you to come with me next May.  The flyers are at the table with your nametags and deposits are being accepted starting Thursday!  Now, to the humor:

A rabbi, a priest and a minister are fishing, sitting on a little boat in the middle of a lake.  After a little while, the rabbi says, “I think I need a soda.” So he walks across the lake and grabs a drink from his picnic basket on shore.  A few minutes later, the priest says “I could really use my sandwich,” so he walks across the lake and grabs a bite from his picnic basket.  The minister is absolutely amazed at this and decides to try it out.  He excuses himself to use the restroom, takes a step off the boat and starts splashing about in the water.  The rabbi turns to the priest and says, “Should we have told him about the stepping stones?”

What does it mean to be a community?  In the last few years, United Synagogue has stopped calling its member congregations congregations.  Instead they call them kehillot, communities.  We strive to be a kehillah kedoshah, a holy community, where we look out for one another, support one another, help in times of need and celebrate each other's simchas.  The rabbi and priest in my joke would have been a lot nicer had they just told the minister where the steps were!

As a community, we keep each other in the loop.  If someone is sick, we check in on them.  Hopefully I am told.  Every month in the bulletin I write that sometimes it is ok to gossip.  I would rather hear that someone is ill three times than not hear at all. While many value their privacy, I cannot offer a prayer, cannot visit, if I do not know in the first place!  Creating and growing a community is dependent on our interconnectedness.

One of the aspects of this shul that I love is the feeling of community.  In the last few years, I can think of quite a few moments where we really did things right.  When “my girls” had their bat mitzvah, so many of you came to support, that it looked like Yom Kippur--although the kiddush was a heck of alot better.  Together they worked with me for quite awhile (and continue to do so) and when we celebrated their accomplishments people really showed up.  At bar mitzvahs of some of the young people of this congregation, the same spirit was found.  There is a great energy in this room when we truly come together.  When my daughter was born we found that same energy at her naming.  Celebrating her birth with so many of you, we discovered the love that is in this community.  We pray for many more such occasions in the future!

On the other side of things, when we have lost members and friends, we have never been short for a shiva minyan.  Even when members had been less active in their later years, shiva minyanim have been well attended.  While it would be nice if more people attended some of those funerals, I spoke this week with a recent widow and she shared how touched she was with those from way back who came to attend her husband’s funeral and shiva.

Just this past week I had another moment of celebration.  I was talking to one of our co-presidents, recovering from back surgery.  He said, “Did you tell everyone to call me? I heard from him and her and her and him to see how I was doing?”  I said, “It wasn’t me.  They are doing it on their own.”  In that moment, if I can pat myself on the back, I realized that my teachings and sermons are truly sinking in!

As a rabbi, as a chaplain, the lesson that I have really learned is “just show up”.  This lesson does not apply only to me.  Your presence is what makes or breaks an event.  It is what changes a class from me talking to myself to a spirited discussion.  Your physical self in this room transforms a service from personal prayer to a minyan. Your presence at a funeral, a shiva, in the home of someone who doesn’t get out much can provide so much support.  

When you visit someone who is ill your presence can actually help to heal!  Tractate Bava Metzia teaches that visiting the ill removes 1/60th of the illness!  This isn’t to say that you just need sixty visitors, as the Talmud and later commentators advise not overwhelming people, not arriving at the same time as the doctor, and giving people with intestinal distress more space so that they are not embarrassed by their noises and odors. With those caveats, the rabbis understood that just showing up is incredibly powerful for people.  Even if there is nothing “to do”, keeping a family member company can be a major source of consolation in a difficult time.  Don’t worry too much about saying the wrong thing, but try to give the person you are visiting space to talk.  Try listening more than speaking and then you won’t say anything you regret!  (That is a good lesson not just in a hospital, but in a shiva home, or in many conversations!)

Now that I’ve just said presence is more important than words, let me remind you that what and how we say does matter, too. The way we speak to one another, what we choose to say, and where we choose to say those words are all incredibly important and should reflect our values.  We must be careful of the words we choose, not just in a hospital, but in all situations.

There is a famous story elsewhere in Bava Metzia (84a) about Rabbi Yochanan and Reish Lakish, two famous scholars.  Rabbi Yochanan was known for his great beauty, which helped to inspire Reish Lakish to drop his first profession (as a leader of bandit and thieves) and become a Jewish scholar!  Rabbi Yochanan taught Reish Lakish Torah for years; they became very close, chevrutas, study partners and friends.  

This close friendship was broken one day when their normally spirited arguments of details of Jewish law took a personal turn.  Discussing swords and weapons, Rabbi Yochanan believed that the manufacturing of a sword was complete when it was tempered in an oven.  Reish Lakish said it was not complete until it had been cooled in water after that heating.  They debated for awhile until Rabbi Yochanan said, “you were once a bandit, so you are the expert on swords.”  Reish Lakish was broken hearted and replied “If you still think of me as a bandit, what did you ever do for me?”  Rabbi Yochanan replied “What did I do for you?  I reformed your ways.  I brought you under God’s protection.  How dare you not appreciate this!”  The two men departed, both deeply offended and personally hurt by the other's reaction.  Reish Lakish was so upset, and so crushed internally, that he fell ill, and eventually died because of it.

One might think the story is over there.  Yet the lesson continues with the reminder that even deep relationships can be irreparably harmed by harsh words and hurt feelings.  The narrative continues:

Rabbi Yochanan was upset and grieved greatly for his departed friend.  The other Rabbis saw this and wanted to pick him up.  They knew that Rabbi Yochanan was at his happiest when he was studying with Reish Lakish, so they began a search to find the most brilliant scholar they could, and would pair the two together as new study partners.  They found a tremendously bright student, who for every teaching Rabbi Yochanan would bring, would give a long list of reasons why he was correct.  But this did nothing for Rabbi Yochanan.  "I don't need this," he said.  "What I need is for you to tell me why I am wrong.  That is what made Reish Lakish so special.  That for every teaching I brought, he would tell me 24 reasons why I was wrong.  It was through that discussion and that debate, that we each came to see the other's viewpoint, and together we were able to finally learn what a correct answer might be."

In our tradition, arguing is important.  Disagreements are important.  Yet, we have to be aware of HOW we are arguing.  We must do so with respect, with love with kindness.  Showing respect applies even in board meetings and financial discussions!  We must remember that from our tradition, from our Talmud, public embarrassment is seen as a cardinal sin.

While I could give you several sources,  Bava Kamma 90a gives several examples of huge fines for seemingly minor physical confrontations.

. צרם באזנו, תלש בשערו, רקק והגיע בו רוקו, העביר טליתו ממנו, פרע ראש האשה בשוק נותן לו ארבע מאות זוז

4) If he tore at his ear, plucked out his hair, spat at him and his spit touched him, or pulled his cloak from off him, or loosed a woman’s hair in the street, he must pay 400 zuz.

Dr Josh Kulp of the Conservative Yeshiva writes;

“These types of blows will probably not cause any damage and therefore the fines are for embarrassment only...They demonstrate that Jewish law takes publicly embarrassing another person very seriously and penalizes such a person with a stiff financial penalty.  Indeed according to Jewish tradition one who publicly embarrasses another is akin to a murderer. “ http://learn.conservativeyeshiva.org/2014/05/bava-kamma-chapter-eight-mishnah-six/

Dr. Kulp also teaches about of Bava Metzia 58b-59a where we learn

that one who publicly shames his neighbor, it’s equivalent to murdering him; wronging someone verbally/publicly is worse than robbing him; better to have potentially (but not actually) adulterous relationship that to publicly shame his neighbor AND finally, better to throw oneself into a fiery furnace than embarrass someone!  

On that note,

[Check the age of the room]:

A rabbi, a priest and a minister are playing golf together.  As they get to the third hole, the rabbi says to the priest, “celibacy, hmm,  Really, forever?”  The priest says, “well, almost, there was this one time.”  Around the ninth hole, the priest says to the minister, “I know that your denomination doesn’t allow gambling, but have you ever played the lottery?”  The minister replies, “Well, there was that one time our convention was in Vegas.  I put a nickel in the slot machine and won $100.  You are the first people I’ve ever told.”  Just as they were getting ready to play the last hole, the two of them look at the rabbi and say, “do you have any vices?”  The rabbi looks a little sheepish and the says, “I do love a great story.  I’m trying to figure out who I want to tell these to first!”  

Again, the rabbi in this joke isn’t the nicest guy.  I wouldn’t want to go to a bar with him!  Jewish values would teach him to keep his mouth shut.  While there are certain exemptions to rules of gossip--ie letting me know if someone is ill so I can visit, sharing information that would stop a bad marriage or a bad business deal, we are not to speak ill of people maliciously or unnecessarily.  

Rabbi Israel Meir HaCohen Kagan, who lived a hundred years ago, was an incredibly important and influential rabbi who focused on ethical teachings.  He was an ethicist, a halachic judge, (posek) whose commentary on the Shulchan Aruch, the Mishneh Brurah, is authoritative in many circles today.  In Jewish parlance, an author is called not by his name, but by his most important work.  He is not generally known as the Mishneh Brurah, but as the Chofetz Chaim, which was his work about pure speech, refraining from gossip, and all the laws and customs surrounding that issue.  His teachings there, reminding us to be extremely cautious about how we speak about others, overshadows his authoritative book on Jewish Law.  This tremendously popular and pious rabbi continues to be referenced as his seminal work, even as he was a prolific author!  His books on shmirat ha’lashon, guarding the tongue remain in print and online as primary sources today.  (On a side note, if you’d like to study them with me, I’m glad to do so!) As we enter into a day of contemplation, let us strive that the year to come will include far more positive speech!  What does it say about Jewish tradition that his book about talking respectfully is even more well known than his book about the entirety of Jewish law.

Ignoring my jokes, I can boil down this sermon to three lines:

1. The way to be a community is to show up for one another.
2. To be a holy community, we need to think about what we say to one another.
3. Being nice, not embarrassing one another is the hallmark of being a good Jew.

May these points remain with you not just tomorrow, but every day this year. We have so much to celebrate here, let us continue to work for the positive! L’shanah tovah.

Rosh Hashanah day 2--Israel-our hope every day

Rabbi Philip Weintraub

Congregation Agudas Israel

September 15, 2015

Rosh Hashanah Day 2

A few weeks ago Rebecca and I celebrated our anniversary at Madison Square Garden with Billy Joel.  Ok, so it wasn’t just us, way up in the nosebleeds, but tens of thousands of his screaming fans attending this concert.  He played the crowd well, brought in Yitzhak Pearlman to play for a couple of songs, to standing ovations and raucous cheers.  Yet what brought the room to the loudest applause, what brought most people to their feet was

Some folks like to get away

Take a holiday from the neighborhood

Hop a flight to Miami Beach

Or to Hollywood

But I'm talking a Greyhound

On the Hudson River Line

I'm in a New York state of mind

Wherever they came from, wherever they were going home that night, standing with Billy Joel, they were New Yorkers.  Many of you know my story, that I was born in New York, yet grew up outside Atlanta, went to Brandeis, JTS in NYC and now my home is with you all.  If I did my math correctly, this year officially pushes me over the top, I have now lived in New York more than any other state.  Yet, even as I look out over the Hudson River, there are other songs in my heart and they aren’t The Devil Went Down to Georgia or Midnight Train to Georgia. I’m not even talking about “leaving my home in Georgia heading for the Hudson Bay”. No, the songs in my heart are Yerushalayim Shel Zahav, Al Kol Eileh, Bashanah Haba’ah, songs in the back of the USY bentcher, B’kol Echad; they are songs of Israel.  They are songs longing for peace, yet unafraid to demand Jewish sovereignty,  filled with biblical allusions and verses.  For most Jews, their first steps in Israel are strangely familiar.  For many, there is an immediate connection to the land, to the people, to the very soil itself.  Something in the air is just different in Israel, a little bit holier.

There is an old joke:

The Chief Rabbi of Israel and the Pope are in a meeting in Rome. The Rabbi notices an unusually fancy phone on a side table in the Pope's private chambers. "What is that phone for?" he asks the pontiff. "It's my direct line to the Lord!" The Rabbi is skeptical, and the Pope notices. The Holy Father insists that the Rabbi try it out, and, indeed, he is connected to the Lord.  The Rabbi holds a lengthy discussion with him. After hanging up the Rabbi says. "Thank you very much. This is great! But listen, I want to pay for my phone charges." The Pope, of course refuses, but the Rabbi is steadfast and finally, the pontiff gives in. He checks the counter on the phone and says: "All right! The charges were 100,000 Lira." ($50) The Chief Rabbi gladly hands over a packet of bills. A few months later, the Pope is in Jerusalem on an official visit. In the Chief Rabbi's chambers he sees a phone identical to his and learns it also is a direct line to the Lord. The Pope remembers he has an urgent matter that requires divine consultation and asks if he can use the Rabbi's phone. The Rabbi gladly agrees, hands him the phone, and the Pope chats away. After hanging up, the Pope offers to pay for the phone charges. The Rabbi looks on the phone counter and says: "1 Shekel 50" ($.25) The Pope looks surprised: "Why so cheap!?!" The Rabbi smiles: "Local call."

Wandering in the streets of Jerusalem, it really feels like God is a little bit closer, which could explain why everyone seems a little bit crazier, and that is not even speaking of Jerusalem syndrome, when people imagine themselves to be prophets!  In my time in Jerusalem, I discovered that whenever I was stressed I would start walking and end up at the Kotel, the Western Wall. Every time I am in Israel it is harder to return, yet I know that I belong here, with my family, in America.  I am just lucky to have more than one home AND YOU DO, TOO.

Israel.

Israel is the crossroads of the world, the heart of it according to our tradition and medieval mapmakers.  It has never been an easy place to live.  Conquered and reconquered, it has always been a home to Jews, although not always comfortably (Depending on who was in charge).  Israel is a country with multiple microclimates, from skiing on Mt. Hermon to the deserts in the south.  It has taken enormous ingenuity to produce everything from Jaffa oranges to pharmaceuticals to the essential silicon chips in virtually every cell phones.  To truly boycott Israel, one would have to do without numerous medicines, and virtually all modern technology!

I stand before you on this second day of Rosh Hashanah, not to invite you to come to Israel with me in May, not to regale you with the beauty of the country, not to remind you of the miracle of its rebirth, or its antiquity, or its imperfect balance of secularism and religion (or its successes and failures in peace and war with its neighbors and citizens).  I am not standing here merely to inspire you to join me in May, to see her citizens, her miracles, or even to celebrate Rosh Chodesh, the new month with Women of the Wall, or Israeli Memorial Day and Independence Days, which are an experience like no other.  (Ok, I do tell you those things because I would LOVE to have you join me in Israel.)

The real reason that, I stand here today to share with you my thoughts about the very fabric of the universe and our place in it.  Over the next ten days and beyond, we will spend a significant amount of time together.  Yesterday, Shabbat, Yom Kippur, Sukkot and Simchat Torah are all sacred times.  We come together with deep intentions.  We choose our clothing, our hair, our kippah, our tallit, maybe even wear a white kittel to announce to ourselves and those around us that this is a time for prayer and reflection.  On these days we can sustain our attention, connect to the prayers (or the wonderful readings in the margins of our prayerbook), but what about all of the other days?

How do we sustain the prayerfulness of these days?  How do we hang onto the holiness of these days?  How do we bring the sanctity, the love, the joy, the hope, the freedom and even the awe to every other day of the year?  In our own lives, I believe that every single moment is an opportunity for us.  Every single moment.  Not just when we stand here together, but also when our toddler is having a temper tantrum, when we are talking to our loved ones, when we argue with customer disservice, or when we see the sun set over our beautiful Hudson River.  Love of Israel, of our Jewish homeland, whether yearning to return or yearning to go for the first time, is one way to connect to our heritage, to God and to one another, not just today, but every day.

One Yom Kippur, I spoke of the attempts of Temple Emmanuel in Newton to connect its community to all aspects of Jewish life.  Using the metaphor of gates, they offered an access point to our holy traditions. Throughout the building, on the website, on every page of their literature was a reference to the “Seven Gates:” “Torah, Prayer, Israel, Shabbat, Redeeming the World, Building Community, and Teaching Jewish Values.” Recognizing that we are all individuals, that we all connected to God, Torah and Israel differently, they have codified and sanctified their values for all to see.  

In our own community, these same values shape all that we do.  I won’t repeat that sermon, but I do want to return our thoughts to Israel.  Israel is many things to our people.  It is the land promised to Abraham.  It is the place where our ancestors walked, the homeland for thousands of years.  Yet for generations of Jews, it was inaccessible.  It was the memory of the destruction of the Temple, forced exile, oppression, the loss of sovereignty.  In 1867, Mark Twain wrote of Israel:

“….. A desolate country whose soil is rich enough, but is given over wholly to weeds… a silent mournful expanse…. a desolation…. we never saw a human being on the whole route…. hardly a tree or shrub anywhere. Even the olive tree and the cactus, those fast friends of a worthless soil, had almost deserted the country.”

Yet even if it was mostly desolate, for generation upon generation, we yearned to return, to escape the galut, the exile and come home.  We wanted to wander no more, to feel the rootedness the rest of the world had but we did not.  In the Middle Ages, outside of Pilgrimages or traders (like many Jews), most people lived and worked in the places of their birth.  Looking at Jewish history of the time, we were welcomed and then expelled from virtually every country in existence!

Our daily liturgy is filled with its fervent prayer for the restoration of Israel and Jerusalem, modernity brought Zionism, which offered a modern hope for a renewed State of Israel, HATIKVAH, our hope.  With diplomacy, White Papers, and facts on the ground, waves of Aliyah, brought more and more Jews back to the land (and away from European and Russian Pogroms (and eventually the Shoah)).  Establishing farms, kibbutzim, factories and other endeavors, with some spectacular failures, our brothers and sisters managed to do the impossible,to reestablish a long dormant state.  To truly make it happen they needed the UN and a military.  

For decades, Israel’s creation has been a miracle and uniter of (most of) the Jewish people.  Across denominational (and political) lines (eventually), it reminded us of our own possibilities.  If Israel could be reestablished after almost two thousand years, what else could be we accomplish?  With American progress seemingly unstoppable the fifties, sixties and seventies, were times of optimism for American Jewry and Israel. Shuls were built in every new suburb and Conservative Judaism seemed prepared to triumph over all competitors.

Yet times have changed.  For many of our brethren, Israel remains an inspiration.  While still a tiny minority in the region, a matchbox on the football field of Middle Eastern land, its military no longer seems like a David to the Arabs’ Goliath.  In today’s world, Israel is not always a unifying beacon of hope for the Jewish people.  The generation in school today has no memory of the founding of the state of Israel, of Sinai campaigns or the Six Day War.  Maybe they remember the challenges of Lebanon, the Oslo accords, or the intifadas.  Some see oppression and occupation, rather than the only democracy in the Middle East.  Our brothers and sisters might want to look to Israel’s neighbors.  Syria, Iraq, Lebanon barely exist independently.  Iran’s nuclear designs paralyzed its economy for years, but it still managed to finance terror through Hezbollah and Hamas.  Jordan, Egypt, the Gulf States, Saudi Arabia are all currently semi-stable, but no one can predict if that will last.  Israel may not be perfect, but thinking about Noah who was a tzadik bdorotav, righteous in his generation, we might say Israel is tzadikah b’makomah, righteous for its place.

As Conservative Jews, we are angered that women still cannot pray freely at the Kotel, that it is possibly illegal for me to officiate at a wedding in Israel.  Marriage, divorce and even funerals are legally under the exclusive control of the rabbanut, the official Orthodox rabbis of the state.  Israel is NOT perfect.  We have to fight to get things done, but the same is true here at home.  Just like our own country, it could treat those who are not citizens (and even those who are) with more respect and love.  Prime Minister Netanyahu could use a reminder of one of our central verses of Torah, (Deut 10:19)

יט  וַאֲהַבְתֶּם, אֶת-הַגֵּר:  כִּי-גֵרִים הֱיִיתֶם, בְּאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם.

19 Love ye therefore the stranger; for ye were strangers in the land of Egypt.

And yet, he must preside over a pretty chaotic security situation!

I love America.  It is my home.  It is a beautiful country that has more diversity of people and ideas than almost anywhere in the world.  Our wonderful, progressive nation is also plagued by gun violence, racism, classism, inequality, apathy and few who desire to thoughtfully discuss these issues.  We would rather speak AT one another than WITH one another.  Do we throw up our hands and say, America is evil or wrong or terrible because it is not perfect?  No, we demand better of our elected officials.  Eventually, we throw the “bums” out and elect people who share our values.  The same must be true for Israel.  We must work for positive change, while recognizing the security, religious and political concerns of the region.

Amidst all of this tsuris we forget two vital facts

1. Israel will always be our home.
2. Israel is not just another country.

At the end of the day, we need Israel.  If our history has taught us anything, it is that we need a place that will welcome us if the world changes again.  The fact of Israel’s existence protects us in the world.  Israel sees itself as the protector of the Jewish community throughout the world.  Israel also needs us.  It needs us to protest when our rabbis are mistreated, our women are mistreated, and our friends and neighbors are mistreated.  It requires from us a strong voice pushing for Israel to be at its best--while being aware that our words matter.

Israel is not just another country.  As the self-declared representative of the Jewish people, which we don’t always accept, it is held to standards no other nation could meet.  Its conduct in peace and in war are scrutinized like no other.  Ancient hatreds find themselves exposed in the fight against Israel.  The UN which helped found it has written scores more resolutions for supposed violations of human rights than it has against Syria, Libya, China, North Korea, Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan.  American and British generals have noted that Israel does more to prevent civilian casualties than any other nation, yet is publicly reviled for its military conduct.  Let me be clear, Israel could do much more to be a good steward for all its citizens, Jewish, Muslim, Christian, Druze. Racism and religious extremism must be fought within all its populations and policies and procedures should not be biased, yet it is the only country in the region that all can live and worship basically freely.  When the issue of Palestinian refugees is raised, we cannot forget the 800,000 Jews who were kicked out of their former homes in Iraq, Afghanistan, Egypt, Jordan, Iran, and beyond after the establishment of the state of Israel.  

I share all this with you this morning, because I want you to take more ownership of Israel.  That means understanding your history.  Take a class with me, read your Bible, keep up with current events.  It means standing up and demanding action from Israel and from America.  Protect Israel out of love.  Visit Israel with me or on your own.  Volunteer or donate with the Masorti movement, with Mercaz Olami to help push Israel to be a more democratic and egalitarian place, a real home for all Jews.  Criticize it to make it better--but know your audience.  Don’t give fodder to the anti-Semites.

Psalm 137 1-6

א  עַל נַהֲרוֹת, בָּבֶל--שָׁם יָשַׁבְנוּ, גַּם-בָּכִינוּ:    בְּזָכְרֵנוּ, אֶת-צִיּוֹן.	1 By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion.
ב  עַל-עֲרָבִים בְּתוֹכָהּ--    תָּלִינוּ, כִּנֹּרוֹתֵינוּ.	2 Upon the willows in the midst thereof we hanged up our harps.
ג  כִּי שָׁם שְׁאֵלוּנוּ שׁוֹבֵינוּ, דִּבְרֵי-שִׁיר--    וְתוֹלָלֵינוּ שִׂמְחָה: שִׁירוּ לָנוּ,    מִשִּׁיר צִיּוֹן.	3 For there they that led us captive asked of us words of song, and our tormentors asked of us mirth:{N} 'Sing us one of the songs of Zion.'
ד  אֵיךְ--נָשִׁיר אֶת-שִׁיר-ה":    עַל, אַדְמַת נֵכָר.	4 How shall we sing the LORD'S song in a foreign land?
ה  אִם-אֶשְׁכָּחֵךְ יְרוּשָׁלִָם--    תִּשְׁכַּח יְמִינִי.	5 If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning.
ו  תִּדְבַּק-לְשׁוֹנִי, לְחִכִּי--    אִם-לֹא אֶזְכְּרֵכִי: אִם-לֹא אַעֲלֶה, אֶת-יְרוּשָׁלִַם--    עַל, רֹאשׁ שִׂמְחָתִי.	6 Let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, if I remember thee not; {N} if I set not Jerusalem above my chiefest joy.

In our days together, may we continue to discover ways of connecting to God, to Torah, to Israel and to our entire Jewish community.  May the words of our mouths and the meditations of our heart help us to discover the strivings, the yearning within us all.  May we turn those yearnings into action.   אִם-אֶשְׁכָּחֵךְ יְרוּשָׁלִָם--    תִּשְׁכַּח יְמִינִי If we do not remember Jerusalem, we are incomplete.  Unlike the psalmist, we CAN sing praises of Israel outside the land.  We can work to make the country better.  We can use our yearning to re-establish the homeland we all deserve.  We can visit and advocate.  In doing so, we will bring holiness into our lives every day of the year.