Thank you JTS. RTI was amazing.

From January 7-11, 2018, I had the privilege of attending the 33rd Annual Rabbinic Training Institute.

 I am deeply grateful to an anonymous donor who helped make it possible for me to attend. Since my ordination, I’ve desired to go, but time and/or finances have never quite worked out. I cannot fully express my appreciation to them for making it happen this year.

Every year I would hear from colleagues what an amazing experience it was. I heard of colleagues who have been every year for a decade or more. They spoke highly of hevruta, of collegiality, of time for Torah that was truly Lishmah.

My time at Pearlstone was restorative. It was enriching. It was inspiring. Studying with Rabbi Dr. Jeff Rubenstein, Rabbi Dr. Joel Roth, and Rabbi Dan Liben was so powerful. The professional skills were also useful, but the Torah was simply on another plane. I am grateful for having the opportunity to put text in context with Dr. Rubenstein, to think about how to connect Talmudic sources to our modern lives. While I attempt (and regularly fail) at Daf Yomi, I enjoy the breadth of the material, of trying to think about how the rabbis would view our milieu.  Dr. Rubenstein really captured that spirit, juxtaposing modern and ancient texts in unique ways. I was especially fond of the Israeli/Bavli intermarriage and comparison to Amelia Bedelia.

Studying with Rabbi Roth is always a pleasure. His digressions are as inspiring as his texts. He finds ways of reminding us of the importance of studying from those we may disagree with, of looking at complicated and challenging issues and finding more positive solutions. He is humorous and serious in a way that shows a living Torah.

Rabbi Liben’s manner of teaching was so gentle and yet so hopeful. He brought an energy and a level of forgiveness that I needed at this time in my life. The texts and practices he shared were a reminder of how we can build a spiritual practice through our sources, our prayers, our liturgy. Again, the Torah he taught was vital, filled with a life force human and Divine.

In our daily lives as rabbis, we strive to be present for our communities and congregants. Sometimes we need a reminder to stop and take care of our own souls, our own bodies, our own spirits, our own hearts and minds. RTI was a sacred gift. It brought me closer to myself, to my friends, my Torah, and to our shared Shechinah, our Divine Presence. It was a holy experience and I returned energized and enlivened. Since I have returned, I have mentioned RTI on a daily basis. The Torah I learned there is one that will be with me always. I cannot wait to sign up for next year.

Walking with You, Walking with Hashem

Rabbi Philip Weintraub

CAI

5/17/2014

PLEASE NOTE--ITALICS are from Rabbi Daniel Nevins, http://learn.jtsa.edu/content/commentary/behukkotai/5774/walking-together-god

This week I read a very interesting D’var Torah from Rabbi Daniel Nevins, the Dean of the Rabbinical School at JTS.  He opened with a story:

I saw a strange thing on my walk to minyan the other morning. At a quiet side street with no cross-traffic in sight, a woman stood still, waiting for the walk sign. All around her people bustled by, peeking quickly to make sure no truck was barreling down the street before crossing, but she patiently waited for the light to indicate that it was her turn to walk. She wasn’t setting an example for a toddler, and she didn’t look like a tourist. This woman was content to obey a sign that others, myself included, blithely ignored.

If you don’t live in New York City, perhaps you won’t find my story strange, but let me assure you, one doesn’t see this every day. Yet with pedestrian casualties a stubbornly persistent statistic in our city, perhaps more of us should heed her example. I am often alarmed by people staring intently into their phone screens as they cross busy Broadway. We could all stand to pay more attention to how and when we walk.

In our Torah reading this morning, walking is a key metaphor.  In just the first few verses, we see that verb three times.

If you walk in God’s statutes, then many blessings will follow, culminating in Godwalking in your midst and causing you to walk upright. In the next, darker section, God predicts that the people will walk stubbornly... and in response, God too will walk stubbornly with them. What is it with all this walking?

Rabbi Nevins find that the Torah is filled with references to walking as a spiritual practice. Enoch is a saintly figure who “walked with God and then he was no more, for God took him” (Gen. 5:24). Noah is praised for walking with God (6:9). Abraham is the biggest walker of them all, covering many hundreds of kilometers in his dusty sandals. God commands him to “get up, walk around the land” (13:17), and “walk before me and be blameless” (17:1). In Exodus, God walks before Israel in a pillar of cloud, and in Deuteronomy, Moses promises that “God walks before you; he will not release you nor will he abandon you.” Prophets such as Jeremiah are told to walk on God’s command, and the Psalmist pleads with God, “show me your paths, that I might walk in your truth” (86:11). The people of Israel are expected to walk to Jerusalem on pilgrimages three times annually, and Moses famously teaches them to speak of their love for God “when you sit in your homes and when you walk on the way.” Furthermore, the prophet Micah sums up the religion of Israel as “walking humbly with your God.”

Is it any wonder that Judaism came to associate its method of religious practice with walking? The Rabbis created a normative world known as halakhah (“the walk”), and the Sage Ulla claimed that since the Temple was destroyed, the Holy One has no place in the world except for the four cubits of halakhah (BT Berakhot 8a). This could sound claustrophobic, but unlike the Temple, the halakhah is not enclosed on four sides. It has boundaries, but its origins stretch back to the mythical beginning of time, and its destination remains beyond our imagination. What matters about the Jewish walkway is not endlessly broad, but rather has defined edges that lend it coherence.

I like to think of the four cubits of halakhah as the width of the path. A cubit is said to be somewhere between 18 and 24 inches long, so a four-cubit path is six to eight feet wide. It is broader than a trail, but narrower than a proper road. It is just right for two people to walk side by side, engaged in an animated conversation as they cross the countryside.

This metaphor of walking and talking is a beautiful way to think of Jewish life. Our religion has seldom emphasized solitary meditation. The image of a monk in a cell staring at a candle and breathing deeply is not immediately recognizable as a Jewish ideal, though there is certainly room for such spiritual practices in our religion. Walking on a path together is a social, dynamic metaphor. And if you imagine, as our portion does, that God is available to join you for a walk, then religious life becomes an adventure.

As a chaplain, as a congregational rabbi, I think that walking is a beautiful metaphor for life and relationships.  I was asked recently if I thought my style of leadership was walking behind, walking with or walking in front of.  I thought about Biblical generals who led from the front of their armies and modern generals who frequently sit in headquarters.  I answered emphatically that to me, leadership is about walking with people.  It is not saying that I have all the answers, nor is it saying that I believe that you have the solutions to every life or halachic debate.  Rather, it is the philosophy that together, we can derive solutions to any situation.  Together, we can cry or celebrate.  Together, we can live deeply spiritual lives.

Our teachers, the rabbis, used the metaphor of walking because walking is life.  Whether we are trying to improve our health or just get around, we have to get off our tushes and move.  By saying that halacha is walking, the rabbis were saying that Judaism encompasses every aspect of life.  From how to eat, how to thank, how to walk, how to talk, how to relate to others, our traditions have ideas, answers and more questions.

This is what a community like CAI is all about.  Together we journey.  Together we walk. Together we find the presence of Gd and each other.  May we continue to walk together, not in front, not behind, but together.

As the camp version of the supposedly Camus line goes:

Don’t walk in front of me, I may not follow.

Don’t walk behind me, I may not lead.

Just walk beside me and be my friend

And together we will walk in the ways of Hashem.