On saying goodbye

This is a very strange month for me. As I prepare to depart from Newburgh and Congregation Agudas Israel, I am beginning to contemplate my new life in St. Petersburg with Congregation B’nai Israel. I wonder what will be the same and what will be different? What will my responsibilities entail? How will I be welcomed and how will I ensure that the synagogue there is a place of welcoming for all?


This too is a journey!

As I ponder those questions, I have been working on the challenging text of winding down here. I have been trying to keep up my normal working activities, while also making extra efforts to make phone calls, meet in person, sit down and talk to the people of CAI. For the last seven years, they have been by my side in so many different ways. We have studied Torah together, prayed together, shared celebrations and mourned together. As I go about these coffees, lunches, dinners, meetings I have become overwhelmed by the words of kindness I have heard. I have discovered that small gestures on my part have been received as larger than life by their recipients. A phone call, a text message, a Facebook post, a hospital or home visit.

For me, these are what I imagine is expected behavior from a rabbi. Our job, our career is study, prayer, inspiration, but most of all, it is to be present with the souls of those around us. The job is not just what we put down on paper or in the ether of the internet, but in the human interactions that are far harder to tally. I might have made lists of the thousands of phone calls, hundreds of visits, and far too many funerals, but instead we all have our respective memories.

Through it all, I am most grateful to my beloved. She has stood by me through interrupted dinners, evenings, nights. She has known that those “interruptions” were sacred moments, calls to be with people in their brightest and darkest moments. Being a rabbi is more than a full time position. My phone is always nearby. Even on Shabbat, we can be reached via the doorbell. None of this would be possible without her support and her love. My work is in my office and yours, in my home and yours, within the community in so many different ways. As I say my goodbyes around town, I discover that within the community I am a (very) minor celebrity, that my gestures of goodwill have been well received.

All in all, I am grateful for the time I have spent here. For me, Newburgh and CAI was a place of personal, spiritual, intellectual growth. It was a place where I took the theory of my education and turned it into practical ministry, practical rabbinics. Sometimes I made mistakes, and I hope that I took responsibility for them, that I learned from them. I have never claimed to be perfect, but am always striving to be better, to build a kesher, a connection with Gd and community.

Leaving is bittersweet. New opportunities beckon, new adventures await, yet the love I have for this community will always remain. CAI and Newburgh are holy places. They have been an essential part of my rabbinic journey. I pray for the strong, bright, vibrant future of these holy communities.

Tazria Metzora--Empathy, Medicine and OUR Rabbinical Assembly

Rabbi Philip Weintraub

Congregation Agudas Israel

4/29/17

Twenty years ago, I stood in front of Congregation Beth Shalom in Dunwoody, GA, with family and friends.  I read from the Torah, led the services, and shared words of Torah.  I suppose one might say not much has changed in the last twenty years!  Standing on that bimah I spoke about Parshat Tazria,  I still have not found my bar mitzvah speech.  I wonder if I spoke to the dermatologists in the audience or focused on the rabbinic relation to motzi shem ra, to evil speech.  I had two powerful experience this week relating to the parsha, that I would like to share with you all.

First is related to the parsha directly.  I read from my friend and colleague, Rabbi Noah Farkas.  He wrote in the LA Jewish Journal about how this parsha teaches empathy. (http://jewishjournal.com/culture/religion/torah_portion/218359/parshat-tazria-metzora-burden-gift-empathy/) He opened with a necessary theological apology.  SPeaking of this rabbinic connection between behavior and illness, he wrote of how so many feel guilt, that they somehow deserve their illness, and argued that we must break this link.  “When we graft morality too heavily onto purity and wellness, we cause more suffering while ignoring the sanctity of the sick. To be unclean is not to be immoral — ever.”  When I stand in a hospital room, I am reminded of this over and over again.  Illness comes to young and old, to innocent and guilty, to good and not so good people.   While there are some illnesses that are a consequence of past choices, they are still not punishment for sins in other parts of our life.  We may CHOOSE to try to gain strength from the suffering, but it does not mean the suffering is a consequence of our actions.  Rabbi Farkas has a Jewish bio-medical ethics group with doctors and wrote of the parallels between our modern doctors and the priests of old.  He reminds us that empathy is a necessity for medical care.  “After the priest sees them and welcomes them back to the community, a sacrificial rite is performed. The patient is brought to the literal center of the community and anointed in the same manner with the same rituals that anoint the High Priest over the people. Both priest and patient are bound together in this ritual of mutuality.” I think that as mechanized and technologicized (I may have made up that word) as medicine has become, the human connection is essential.  Some medical schools even have mock patient scenarios as part of their interviews to weed out potential doctors who have absolutely no bedside manner!  

Dovetailing with those words of Torah, were words I heard on Thursday at the Rabbinical Assembly’s Executive Council meeting.  I went perhaps unethusiastically.  How could I miss our annual meeting?  How could I be away from our community to think about the needs of the RA.  What is the purpose of the RA for me?  Yet after just a few hours, I saw great holiness.  I heard powerful Torah.  I saw an organization that is looking carefully at its past and future.  Like our congregation, the RA is over 100 years old.  Like us, it has people that are more and less connected, wondering about what comes next.

Over the two days I was at the Pearlstone Retreat Center (http://pearlstonecenter.org), we carefully considered a proposal from a Texan rabbi.  We went through a huge agenda and made significant progress.  We even changed our meeting structure for the future.  Rather than going through a standard agenda, our future meetings will only have action items.  If it is just a report, we will read it before the meeting.  Those reports will include follow-ups to ensure that previous items are dealt with.  This is called a consent agenda--we consent that we can group those reports into one agenda item and quickly move on to the things that matter!  The second day was follow-up on the RA’s strategic plan.  The last two years the board and another 30-60 rabbis have been heavily involved in considering what the RA has been successful at and what is essential for its future.  The biggest change may seem small, but has been to change the language.  Instead of saying THE RA as I just did, it is calling it OUR RA. When we speak of OUR RA, we are claiming ownership.  We remind ourselves and those around us that we are a part of that organization.  How would that work for us?  We might speak of OUR shul instead of THE shul.  Our Agudas Israel instead of just CAI.  Our home instead of just Kol.  

Returning the parsha, I want to share a verse that was mentioned in a Dvar Torah yesterday.  Vayikra 13:3 says:

וְרָאָ֣ה הַכֹּהֵ֣ן אֶת־הַנֶּ֣גַע בְּעֽוֹר־הַ֠בָּשָׂר וְשֵׂעָ֨ר בַּנֶּ֜גַע הָפַ֣ךְ ׀ לָבָ֗ן וּמַרְאֵ֤ה הַנֶּ֙גַע֙ עָמֹק֙ מֵע֣וֹר בְּשָׂר֔וֹ נֶ֥גַע צָרַ֖עַת ה֑וּא וְרָאָ֥הוּ הַכֹּהֵ֖ן וְטִמֵּ֥א אֹתֽוֹ.

׃The priest shall examine the affection on the skin of his body: if hair in the affected patch has turned white and the affection appears to be deeper than the skin of his body, it is a leprous affection; when the priest sees it, he shall pronounce him unclean

As my colleagues noted, it is strange that the priest seems to examine or look at the person or irritation twice.  The question is the focus of the second look.  Before declaring the person clean or unclean, the priest must look at the WHOLE person.  Like every hospital and medical practice claims today, they must not just look at the illness, but the entire person.  Doctors, nurses and our ancient priests recognize that the illness is not in isolation. It is not just a skin infection.  It is on a human being.  That person has needs, wants, hopes, dreams.  That person lives in their economic, social, religious context.  If the doctor sees only the irritation, she cannot do her job.  

This is a major challenge of the economics of medicine today, when doctors are required by their employers to see far too many patients.  They have no time to be patient and to do their job well are often forced to work extra unpaid hours to deal with their paperwork and computers.  While I cannot claim to have a solution for that issue, our Torah reminds us that it is a problem!  So as I declare the importance of empathy FROM the medical professions, let us also have have empathy FOR the medical professions.  They, too, are people who must have lives and possibilities.

Shabbat Shalom!

Elul day 4--Can I be joyful today?

Today is the 4th day of Elul.  In less than a month it will be Rosh Hashnah.  We blow shofar now to wake us up and remind us of the imminence of the Holy Day, but what about the most holy of days--the one that is NOW?

What if we recognized the holiness of TODAY?

 

What is special about today in your life?  

What are you thankful for?  

Who have you helped today?  

Who have you asked forgiveness from today?  

For whom have you prayed for healing today?  

With whom have you given or received a hug?

THIS is the day that God has made, let us celebrate and rejoice in it - “Zeh hayom asah Adonai, nagilah v'nismecha vo”

Right now I stand on the precipice with a loved one in surgery.  As I pray for healing, I look forward to hearing good news this evening, but where can I find joy RIGHT NOW?  

It’s time to relieve the babysitter and spend the afternoon with my almost four year old daughter after her first day back at school.  Today and everyday, I hope I am as grateful for the time to share with her!  Love to all.

Psalm for Wednesday and the Book of Esther

The Psalm for Wednesday is not the easiest psalm to recite.  Filled with calls for Divine Retribution and violent justice against those who oppress, it does not seem to trust human rulers to do their jobs. Crying out to the Holy One, in recent days and weeks, we have seen violence done in the name of God, hatred and malice among and between faithful of many traditions.  We have seen genocide against Christians and Jews in the Middle East and some of the last remaining Jews of Yemen (whose community has been there for 2000 years) fleeing to Israel.  Brussels, the seat of European government, has seen its supposedly multicultural and multiethnic city bombed and broken by terror and regular terror attacks in Israel have impacted tourism and everyday life.  Tonight we read the Megillah-the Book of Esther-where God’s name is never mentioned yet whose presence fills the book.  Mordechai and Esther play their holy roles and bring God and goodness amidst the chaos and the evil.  Haman is the most evil character of the story, bringing hatred and violence, yet Achashveros, is not exactly a good guy either.  Concerned only with his own pleasure, firing his first wife for being a proto-feminist (she didn’t want to dance naked on command), he signs on to the massacre of the Jews, and only allows them to defend themselves after realizing it might affect HIS life (with the death of his beloved wife).

We can easily cry out to God:

“1 O LORD, Thou God to whom vengeance belongeth, Thou God to whom vengeance belongeth, shine forth.

2 Lift up Thyself, Thou Judge of the earth; render to the proud their recompense.”

(1917 JPS translation from: http://www.mechon-mamre.org/e/et/et2694.htm)

Yet, one of the lessons of the Book of Esther, is that we have to act, too.  We depend on God, yet do God’s holy work HERE, NOW.

“16 Who will rise up for me against the evil-doers? Who will stand up for me against the workers of iniquity?”

The answer to the question is God--but the answer is ALSO us.  For we have God within us.  In my first interfaith chaplaincy class, students spoke about “being Jesus in the room.”  At first it sounded absolutely absurd to me, the theology did not speak to me.  Yet over time, I found so many moments when my timing was impeccable.  I found so many times when I thought my words failed me and they hit just the right note.  We all have within us Godliness.  We all have within us the possibility of a better world.  What are we doing to activate that?  How do we bring not just God’s retribution, but God’s love?

From the Jewish perspective, it’s much easier to NOT be Jewish!  Non-Jews only have 7 Noahide Laws, while we have 613 Mitzvot/Commandments.  The last of those Noahide laws demands a court system, a justice system.  It must be functional.  It must be equitable.  It cannot treat the rich and the poor differently.  It cannot treat people differently based on color or faith.  We were strangers in Egypt, so we MUST remember the stranger.

Our system of justice has major flaws.  Different drugs result in harshly different sentences.  Money allows some to face far easier terms than others.  The bail/bond system allows some to return to their normal lives while facing trial and others to remain imprisoned--losing their jobs, their lives, and even their children.  Worldwide, we do not know how to resolve terrorism.  Are we in a clash of cultures or do we ALL need better education?  How do we balance the need to remember that every soul was created in God’s image--even if that soul wants to kill us--AND remember that no one’s blood is redder than ours--that we have a right to self-defense AND should not kill innocents.

Wednesdays, we end Psalm 94 with the opening of Psalm 95, reminding us that Shabbat is coming (as it is a psalm of Kabbalat Shabbat) AND that we should sing before God, offering our Thanksgiving.

How do we offer our thanks in an imperfect world?

How do we fix the justice system?

How do we find justice for terror’s victims?

How we stop terrorism?

Do we use an iron fist or fill our quiver with love?

None of these questions have satisfactory answers.  Yet each Wednesday we ask them.  We sing the Psalm, cry out to God, and hopefully continue to improve our answers.  Justice should be swift, but mercy must also be in our arsenal.  In the interim; let us find love in all of our hearts; let us share God’s presence with all those around us; let us find hope in the words of the prophet Micah.

ח  הִגִּיד לְךָ אָדָם, מַה-טּוֹב; וּמָה-ה' דּוֹרֵשׁ מִמְּךָ, כִּי אִם-עֲשׂוֹת מִשְׁפָּט וְאַהֲבַת חֶסֶד, וְהַצְנֵעַ לֶכֶת, עִם-אֱלֹהֶיךָ.

8 It hath been told thee, O man, what is good, and what the LORD doth require of thee: only to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God. http://www.mechon-mamre.org/p/pt/pt1806.htm

Amidst the violence, the hatred, the misery in this world; there is also much love, justice and peace.  Let us build up the latter so the former does not even triumph.

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.