RH Day 1: Gd shaped hole

Rabbi Philip Weintraub

Congregation Agudas Israel

Rosh Hashanah Day 1, 2013

September 5, 2013

L’shanah Tovah, I wish you a sweet, blessed, and fulfilling New Year. May you be written into the book of life.  It is wonderful to see your faces this morning. It brings me great joy to celebrate with you, here at Congregation Agudas Israel.  I want to welcome back the sweet voice of Shoshana Friedman, a rabbinical student from Hebrew College in Boston.  Hearing her voice has elevated my prayers to the heavens and I pray the same is true for all of you.

Last night I shared a fictional story about missed connections.  Written as a story about a missed opportunity on a New York City subway, I said that I thought it could be about our relationships with Gd.  For many of us, Gd is a missed connection.  Deep in our kishkas, deep in our soul we find the seed of belief, the spark of the Divine, but we do not know how to light it up.  I call this the Gd-shaped hole.  

Within every one of us is the Gd-shaped hole.  In 1997, neuroscientists at UCSD claimed they found the Gd spot in our brains.  They argued that we were genetically programmed to believe in Gd and many atheist groups used this to argue that Gd is simply a human construct, a delusion or hallucination.  From their perspective, Gd is all in our head.  More recent studies from the University of Missouri show that spirituality cannot be reduced to one specific section of our brains, rather that various parts of our brain “light” up when we find ways to connect to the Divine.  From my perspective, the idea that we have been genetically programmed to belief is not proof against the existence of Gd, but perhaps support for the idea that we are here with a purpose, that Gd put us on this Earth.

When we talk about GD, what are we talking about?  Many different people, and many different Jews understand Gd in MANY different ways.  When Maimonides spoke about Gd, he said that we could only speak about the Divine in the negative.  We could not affirm Gd’s traits unless they were extant in rabbinic literature.  If we did not have biblical or rabbinic proof, we could say that GD is NOT evil, but without that support, we could not say that Gd IS good.  Maimonides felt very strongly that Gd was not corporeal, meaning Gd does not have a physical body like we do.  He argued that any biblical text that spoke of Gd’s hand or finger or leg was speaking metaphorically.  Yet, in his time, most Jews believed that when the Torah said we were created in the Divine Image, it meant that literally.  There is even a mystical book called the Shiur Komah which includes actual dimensions for Gd’s arms, legs, fingers, toes, head, and even more personal organs!

Within Jewish tradition, we have many names of Gd that speak of different aspects of Gd’s personality (for lack of a better word).  

When Moses saw the burning bush, Gd called Gdself  “Ehyeh-Asher-Ehyeh”, I will be what I will be, using Hebrew grammar to show that as we say on these days Adonai melech, Adonai malach, Adonai Yimloch Leolam Vaed, Gd is ruler, Gd was ruler, Gd will always be ruler.  Yet that word is from the verb “to be”, meaning that that Gd is, was and always will be, that Gd is eternal.  The sounds of that name are like the sounds we make, that Gd is part of every breath we take.

The most important of Gd’s Names is the four letter name, the tetragrammaton, Yod Hey Vav Hey (YHVH).  Called the Ineffabale Name, the Unutterable Name, it was pronounced by the high priest on Yom Kippur in the Holy of Holies and otherwise never spoken.  (Kabbalists see great meaning in the power of Divine names, claiming to change our world through the judicious use of secret names of Gd.  Some have even claimed to bring life from the inanimate, like the famous Golem of Prague.)

YHVH is often followed by the word Tzav’ot, often translated as the “Lord of Hosts” or the Lord of the Armies.  While not frequent to the Torah, the Prophets and the Psalms regularly call upon Gd this way.

The Torah opens with בְּרֵאשִׁית, בָּרָא אֱ-לֹהִים, אֵת הַשָּׁמַיִם, וְאֵת הָאָרֶץwhen Gd began creating the heavens and the earth.  This name of Gd is used in Torah to emphasize Gd’s might, creative power and attributes of justice and kingship/rulership.  We use it regularly in the Shema  --Shema Yisrael Adonai Elohenu, Adonai Echad.  Eloheinu takes Elohim from Gd in general to OUR Gd.

El Shaddai, Gd almighty, Gd who gives great benefits, is written on the outside of our mezuzot.  Some say it is an abbreviation for Shomer Daltot Yisrael, Guardian of the Doors of Israel.  Others follow a Midrash, saying it means “the one who said “dai””, which in Hebrew means “enough!” (like Dayenu).

Shechinah is often used to speak of Gd’s sheltering presence, Gd’s feminine side, mothering side.  Shechinah is used to discuss Gd’s compassion or to call upon when we need help.  Shechinah describes Gd’s immanence, the presence we feel when we need GD.

In prayer we call upon Avinu Shabashamayim, our father in heaven, Melech Haolam, Ruler of space and time or King of the universe.  On special days, like Yom Kippur, we speak of Avinu Malkeinu, our father our ruler.  In our machzor, an alternative Avinu Malkeinu is included, (p. 244) that offers another 21 names for Gd.)  We sing Anu Amecha, vata Eloheinu, anu vanecha, vatah avinu.  We are your people, and You are our God, we are your children, and you are our parent.  We are Your servants and You are our master, we are your congregaiton and You are our portion. (Machzor Lev Shalem, p.347)

Every single time we pray an Amidah, (which on the High Holidays is a LOT), we open with Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Velohei Avoteinu, Elohei Avraham, Elohai Yitzhak, V’elohai Ya’akov, Elohei Sarah, Elohei Rivkah, Elohai Rachel, V’elohei Leah.  I am happy that our Machzor translates differently than our Siddur.  In our siddur it simply says Gd of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, but our Machzor clearly says Gd of Abraham, Gd of Isaac. . .What is the major difference between the two?  The first says that each of them prayed and connected to Gd in the same way.  The second translation shows that each and every matriarch and patriarch, every single one of our ancestors connected to Gd a little bit differently.  The same is true today.  Whether you walk into a Satmar shtiebel or Belzer congregation or Reform Temple or Conservative shul, you will find that not only do our communities think of Gd in slightly or radically different ways, but every individual understands Gd just a little bit differently.

For some Jews, their image of Gd is the one we speak of regularly on Rosh Hashanah, sitting in a throne judging us like a shepherd judges his sheep.  For others, Gd is much more abstract.  It is the goodness in the world, the good we do or the good ALL do.    Some Jews speak of Gd not as a being, but as a force, or even a verb.  For some Gd is more exclusive than Gd is for others.  Some Jews relate to Rabbi Mordechai Kaplan’s rationalist view, while others find Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel’s view more inspiring. For some Jews any discussion of Gd is too much!  They would rather pray, live as Jews, and not worry too much about the precise nature of Gd.  It is too abstract or simply too much.  Many people are simply too busy to stop and ponder the nature of the Divine.

For me, I think it is important for us to have these conversations periodically. Thinking about Gd is thinking about our connection to Judaism, to life.  We were all created, placed on this world for a purpose.  We live and die on this Earth, yet with our death has our soul completed its journey?

However we think about GD, opening the door to Gd is much like the story I told last night.  If we are sitting on the subway, ignoring the person we so desperately desire to speak to, we might miss our chance.  The difference is that with Gd, Gd is always on that subway.  Gd never gets off.  Even when we feel that Gd has abandoned us, even if we do not believe in Gd, Gd is there waiting for us.

Today you have given yourself a gift.  You might not think about it that way.  You might be thinking about what time is lunch? Or when can I sneak out when no one is looking? Or how many pages are left?  Yet, even if you are thinking that, you have given yourself the gift of sacred time.  You have looked at your work, your life and said, I need to take a day to recharge, to engage my spiritual batteries.  Whether you come for the joy of a day in prayer or because it is simply what you do on Rosh Hashanah, I believe you are better off for walking through these doors today.

In the days to come, I will continue to discuss this Gd shaped hole.  I will continue to discuss ways to fill it.  You have taken the first step.  You are here.

Within every one of us is a Gd shaped hole.  It is the place that craves spirituality.  It is the place that craves the experience of the Divine, of Gd.  It is a place that craves holiness, friendship, family, food, sex, the full depth and breadth of human experience.  Some of those needs can be met in this room.  Some cannot.  To me, the synagogue, prayer is like a spiritual check-up.  Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are our yearly physicals.  Shabbat is our regular exercise and daily prayer is like our morning coffee (if that is your custom).

We can try to fill the Gd shaped hole with lots of things, some good, some bad and some just things.  We can buy new toys or cars or homes or gadgets or curtains or pillows or furniture.  We can look for love from others or from things.  We can search for comfort with food or drink or in the arms of others.  Yet at the end of the day, there is only One who can fill and fulfill this hole, this need and make us shalem, whole.  The only one that fill that Gd-shaped hole is GD.  By being here today, I pray that we help you discover the holiness within, Gd, who has been with you the entire time.

Tomorrow I will discuss joy, happiness.  How can we be happy in an imperfect world?  How can Gd and Judaism bring genuine joy into our lives, even amidst difficult times?  On Yom Kippur, I will be speaking about more ways to access our traditions, more ways to let Gd in.  In this room are many flyers and articles.  They discuss all that we are doing here.  I hope you will look at them, join us on other days and bring your holy voice and holy presence to my classes, our social events and more.  Every single one of you has the spark of the Divine within.  Every single one of you brings blessing into this holy space simply by walking through the doors.  Help us and help yourself at the same time.  Come again!  Besides, if you come any other Shabbat or Holiday, the service is quite a bit shorter.

Now I know that as soon as I close my mouth, many of you are going to walk out that door.  That’s just how it is.  I do want to let you know though, that Musaf is NOT as long as you think it is AND continues to focus on the themes of this day: holiness, judgement, tshuvah and the biggest one of all, the place of Gd in our lives.

RH Eve story/sermon

Rabbi Philip Weintraub

Congregation Agudas Israel

L’shanah Tovah!  It is wonderful to see you this evening.  This year I’m following my custom of opening Rosh Hashanah with a story that has inspired me or made me think.  However, I am adding to my custom, by using my main point in this story from now until Yom Kippur.  This year it is not a Hasidic story or a Biblical story.  It is not even a Talmudic story, but rather a modern one.  Set on the subway, it was written as a missed connection on the Brooklyn craigslist, a place where people share public encounters, hoping that their missed opportunity will be read by the one they missed and they will receive a second chance.  (Much like we hope for on Rosh Hashanah.)  Normally I explain the story after I finish, but this story cried for more explanation.  While it is a story of a man and a woman missing each other, it made me think about the way some of us yearn for Gd, but are afraid to do anything about it.  I hope this story will help you discover the yearning within AND help you find a way to satisfy that need.  With no further ado:

http://newyork.craigslist.org/brk/mis/3985247459.html

Missed Connection - m4w

I saw you on the Manhattan-bound Brooklyn Q train.

I was wearing a blue-striped t-shirt and a pair of maroon pants. You were wearing a vintage red skirt and a smart white blouse. We both wore glasses. I guess we still do.

You got on at DeKalb and sat across from me and we made eye contact, briefly. I fell in love with you a little bit, in that stupid way where you completely make up a fictional version of the person you're looking at and fall in love with that person. But still I think there was something there.

Several times we looked at each other and then looked away. I tried to think of something to say to you -- maybe pretend I didn't know where I was going and ask you for directions or say something nice about your boot-shaped earrings, or just say, "Hot day." It all seemed so stupid.

At one point, I caught you staring at me and you immediately averted your eyes. You pulled a book out of your bag and started reading it -- a biography of Lyndon Johnson -- but I noticed you never once turned a page.

My stop was Union Square, but at Union Square I decided to stay on, rationalizing that I could just as easily transfer to the 7 at 42nd Street, but then I didn't get off at 42nd Street either. You must have missed your stop as well, because when we got all the way to the end of the line at Ditmars, we both just sat there in the car, waiting.

I cocked my head at you inquisitively. You shrugged and held up your book as if that was the reason.

Still I said nothing.

We took the train all the way back down -- down through Astoria, across the East River, weaving through midtown, from Times Square to Herald Square to Union Square, under SoHo and Chinatown, up across the bridge back into Brooklyn, past Barclays and Prospect Park, past Flatbush and Midwood and Sheepshead Bay, all the way to Coney Island. And when we got to Coney Island, I knew I had to say something.

Still I said nothing.

And so we went back up.

Up and down the Q line, over and over. We caught the rush hour crowds and then saw them thin out again. We watched the sun set over Manhattan as we crossed the East River. I gave myself deadlines: I'll talk to her before Newkirk; I'll talk to her before Canal. Still I remained silent.

For months we sat on the train saying nothing to each other. We survived on bags of skittles sold to us by kids raising money for their basketball teams. We must have heard a million mariachi bands, had our faces nearly kicked in by a hundred thousand break dancers. I gave money to the beggars until I ran out of singles. When the train went above ground I'd get text messages and voicemails ("Where are you? What happened? Are you okay?") until my phone ran out of battery.

I'll talk to her before daybreak; I'll talk to her before Tuesday. The longer I waited, the harder it got. What could I possibly say to you now, now that we've passed this same station for the hundredth time? Maybe if I could go back to the first time the Q switched over to the local R line for the weekend, I could have said, "Well, this is inconvenient," but I couldn't very well say it now, could I? I would kick myself for days after every time you sneezed -- why hadn't I said "Bless You"? That tiny gesture could have been enough to pivot us into a conversation, but here in stupid silence still we sat.

There were nights when we were the only two souls in the car, perhaps even on the whole train, and even then I felt self-conscious about bothering you. She's reading her book, I thought, she doesn't want to talk to me. Still, there were moments when I felt a connection. Someone would shout something crazy about Jesus and we'd immediately look at each other to register our reactions. A couple of teenagers would exit, holding hands, and we'd both think: Young Love.

For sixty years, we sat in that car, just barely pretending not to notice each other. I got to know you so well, if only peripherally. I memorized the folds of your body, the contours of your face, the patterns of your breath. I saw you cry once after you'd glanced at a neighbor's newspaper. I wondered if you were crying about something specific, or just the general passage of time, so unnoticeable until suddenly noticeable. I wanted to comfort you, wrap my arms around you, assure you I knew everything would be fine, but it felt too familiar; I stayed glued to my seat.

One day, in the middle of the afternoon, you stood up as the train pulled into Queensboro Plaza. It was difficult for you, this simple task of standing up, you hadn't done it in sixty years. Holding onto the rails, you managed to get yourself to the door. You hesitated briefly there, perhaps waiting for me to say something, giving me one last chance to stop you, but rather than spit out a lifetime of suppressed almost-conversations I said nothing, and I watched you slip out between the closing sliding doors.

It took me a few more stops before I realized you were really gone. I kept waiting for you to reenter the subway car, sit down next to me, rest your head on my shoulder. Nothing would be said. Nothing would need to be said.

When the train returned to Queensboro Plaza, I craned my neck as we entered the station. Perhaps you were there, on the platform, still waiting. Perhaps I would see you, smiling and bright, your long gray hair waving in the wind from the oncoming train.

But no, you were gone. And I realized most likely I would never see you again. And I thought about how amazing it is that you can know somebody for sixty years and yet still not really know that person at all.

I stayed on the train until it got to Union Square, at which point I got off and transferred to the L.

This story starts out so real and then goes into the realm of fiction.  Yet I find that in the fiction we find the deepest truth.  Whether in love or in religion, it is through that yearning that we can find our deepest truth, our holiest moments.  

In life and in love, we make assumptions about others.  We project our feelings upon the objects of our affection, turning them from three-dimensional people into one dimensional objects.  This story shows this so clearly.  The narrator feels he is in love.  He feels she is in love, yet they never speak a word.  Everything is left unsaid.  Do we recognize the humanity of those we love or do we define them ourselves?  When do our expectations of our loved ones differ with their realities?

On a spiritual level, how do we see our relationship with GD?  What do we project upon Gd?  Do we see Gd reflected in our image or ourselves in the image of Gd?

To me this story shows a theme I will elaborate upon tomorrow, the GD-shaped hole.  I firmly believe that within all of us is a GD-shaped hole.  It is filled with the spark of the Divine, the image of GD that GD left within each of us at our creation, yet it must be simultaneously filled with our Jewish actions and beliefs.  For many, this whole remains empty, their yearning is unrequited.  Yet we need only reach out, live deeply and discover that the hole is now shalem, whole, and our souls are more complete.

“And I thought about how amazing it is that you can know somebody for sixty years and yet still not really know that person at all.”

For many of us, we have not changed our thoughts about GD since we were little children.  We have known Gd for 20 years, 40 years, 60 years, 90 years, yet while every other relationship in our lives has matured, one has remained the same.  As we enter into Rosh Hashanah, I invite you to think about your connection to the Divine.  What is your vision of GD?  How can you bring that vision to your present circumstances?  How can you use it to inspire yourself today and all of the tomorrows to come?

L’shana Tovah!

Fifty Years ago

Fifty Years ago an iconic speech was given by the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.  Today, the full text of the speech is copyrighted, but it can be accessed from the National Archives here:
http://www.archives.gov/press/exhibits/dream-speech.pdf

MLK's words are a prayer, a hope for a future where ALL will be free.  He famously concluded:
"Let freedom ring. And when this happens, and when we allow freedom ring -- when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children -- black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics -- will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual: "Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

Read more: http://www.foxnews.com/us/2013/08/27/transcript-martin-luther-king-jr-have-dream-speech/#ixzz2dIFQ3zfu

There is much work left to be done today.  Economic inequality, racism, anti-Semitism, misogynism and hate are still present here and abroad.  Yet, we have much to be thankful for.  Outright and institutional racism is disdained or banned in America.  If I go to a hotel, I will not be refused service as a Jew (or as an African-American).  My writings are not censored.  Progress has been made.  Some progress was incremental, some regression has occurred (see recent Supreme Court cases for both examples).

I pray that MLK's final words ring true in 2063.  May we see a day when all Americans have work that brings them reliable and steady income.  May we see a day when all children are raised in loving homes.  May we see a day when there is no need for police, as there is no violence or crime!  If we haven't made it there yet, let us see even more progress in the next 50 years.

September Bulletin article and High Holiday sermon preview

Below is what I wrote for the September bulletin--which you will see in just a few more days! Can't wait? Read on!

As I was talking to some of my rabbi friends lately, I heard emotions from ecstatic to distraught and everything in between.  The common theme was stress!  How do we prepare for the holiest time of the year?  Are we serving our communities well?  Are we inspiring people?  Are we bringing them closer to Gd, Torah, Israel, mitzvot?  Will the words we share bring people to Gd or put them to sleep?  Can we help people transform those three days into a year of sanctity?

While for most people, Rosh Hashanah is a time to reflect on the year before, a time to gather together with friends and family, for rabbis, it is a time when we see many new faces (and less-new faces that we are supposed to remember).  It is our time to inspire, to balance joy, humor and holiness.  We try to bring a sense of sanctity, of connection, while remembering that not everyone is as familiar with the liturgy as we are.

For many Jews, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, are one of the few times they find themselves in the sanctuary.  It can feel a little overwhelming!  This year I encourage you to find a friendly face.  Introduce yourself to someone new.  Introduce yourself to someone you already know.  Share a new story, discuss something you discover in our machzor.  (But please have most of the discussions outside the sanctuary, as a thousand whispers turns into a loud noise with the amazing acoustics of our holy space.)

The Machzor Lev Shalem, the prayerbook for a complete heart, is an amazing resource.  Throughout the prayerbook there are readings, poems, stories, ideas, and notes.  As you pray, take a look around it.  Do not feel pressure to be on the same page as everyone else.  If something moves you, touches your spirit, stay there for a moment.  Let it sink in.

For the first time in my rabbinic career, all of my sermons on the holidays have a unifying theme.  In different ways and in different topics, I am discussing how we can welcome Gd into our lives.  Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk, a great Chasidic rebbe and teacher once asked some of his students, “Where is the dwelling place of Gd?”  His students laughed and said “What a thing to ask! Is not the whole earth full of Gd’s glory?!”  The Kotzker Rebbe answered his own question “Gd dwells wherever we let Gd in.”  My theme this year is the Gdshaped hole.  Within each of us is a space for Gd.  We can try to fill it with many things and many ideas, but in the end, there is only one “thing” that will fit it--GD!  Our tradition offers many access points, many gates (come on Yom Kippur to hear about that!)  Over these days, I hope to inspire you to greater connection, connection to each other, to your community, to Torah, to Israel and to Gd.  

This is not a solo mission.  Your journey to Gd is not one you do alone, join us at CAI to discover the joy and blessing of YOUR Jewish life.  

ps Join us for dinner and dancing on Simchat Torah.  It is an experience you will not forget!  Keep your eyes open for Shabbat dinners in October.  Rebecca and I will be hosting the first Shabbat in October at our home for the first 10 people that sign up and we will have a shul-wide dinner later in the month!

When the rabbi mourns

On Rosh Hashanah, I am going to tell a story about missed connections. A narrative about love and loss, I use it as an example of many people's relationships with Gd. Right now though, I am thinking about it much more literally.

One of the challenges of moving to a new community is making friends. Unlike in college or when you are a child, making friends as adults is a bit more complicated. In some ways, it can feel like dating, with all the awkwardness and "should I call or text" that is involved.

Last year I met someone at a Jcc program who seemed like a genuinely nice guy. We exchanged information and said we'd get together but then never really did. A few months later, his father passed away and I went to the shiva. We spoke more substantively and made more concrete plans, which fell through.

A few weeks ago, I picked up the phone and made a call.  He was having surgery and I had a day that I couldn't move anything-and then was going out of town. I told him to call in a couple weeks and that I would come visit him at home during his recovery. I returned from vacation and started planning for the high holidays and then it was too late.  Infection set in and he wasn't recovering. I heard he was in hospice, called the hospital and was mistakenly told that even clergy couldn't visit after hours.  Tomorrow I will go to his funeral.

Now I mourn. I mourn for the loss of a young man, a teacher, of all the lost potential. I mourn for a friendship that never really was.  I mourn for my community, my city, my county, for one who had so much to give and gave his all.

As a rabbi, I strongly believe that shiva, Shloshim and yahrzeit are powerful mourning tools, allowing us to connect to our community and to Gd when we need them most. The challenge is when we are not official mourners.  What do we do when we do not fit into that system?

 I know a colleague and teacher recently wrote a book on his experiences with faith and loss of friends and community members. I guess I'll need to pick it up. https://wipfandstock.com/store/Faith_Unravels_A_Rabbis_Struggle_with_Grief_and_God

All in all, I'm not worried about my faith or my connection with Gd, I'm just sad for what could have been and of a nice guy, who had a tough life cut short.

"Oops" a prayer for the Newburgh City Council

In the City of Newburgh, clergy rotate opening meetings with a prayer.  Last night I was supposed to offer it. I offer my apologies, as with my head in preparing for Rosh Hashanah, having family around, and thinking of the recent loss of a friend, I completely forgot to deliver this blessing.  Excuses are not ideal, yet I offer this prayer with apologies for not delivering it in its proper place!

A prayer for the Newburgh City Council Meeting

Good evening, I am Rabbi Philip Weintraub and I serve Congregation Agudas Israel in the City of Newburgh.

May those that serve this fine city, serve her with wisdom.
May they serve her with insight.
May they serve her with love.
May their wisdom, insight and love lead to deeds of lovingkindness.
May these traits lead to cooperation and not consternation.
May they lead to love and not to hate.
May they bring us together and not separate us.
May they remind us that that no matter the color of our skin, no matter the way we pray or don't pray, or who we love, we all are equal under the law.
May we remember our responsibilities to our city and to each other.
May we strive for peace each and every day.
May we remember the holiness found in every human being.
May we remember that we are all brothers and sisters.
May we stand united.

Good evening.

Show some compassion and justice. (Parshat Ki Tetzei)

Rabbi Philip Weintraub

Congregation Agudas Israel

8/15/2013

Shabbat Shalom.  I will open as I have recently in the reminder that Rosh Hashanah is coming.  For many Jews (not you), this is one of the few times a year when they come to synagogue.  If you know anyone like this, please invite them to join us--whether anytime or for the holidays.  Here at CAI, we welcome everyone, and pray they will discover the holiness of our community.

This week’s parsha, Ki Tetzei, continues the legal lecture from Moses and Gd to the people Israel.  A diverse selection of seemingly unrelated laws, but I believe there is a uniting thread.  Together they are teaching that we must be an am kadosh, a holy people.  To be such a people, we must act justly AND compassionately.  This week I taught about Jewish mysticism.  I spoke of the Divine aspects of Justice (Din) and Compassion (Rachamim).  We pray that Gd will balance the two, but lean towards compassion.  Blind justice can be harsh and can even seem unfair--as we see in mandatory minimum sentences in this country.  Yet, there are also limits of compassion.  If Gd (or we) forgive every trespass, we become doormats, lacking identity or any backbone.

I would like to show a few brief examples of the laws and show how they relate to the idea of being a holy people.

Chapter 23

4 No Ammonite or Moabite shall be admitted into the congregation of the Lord; none of their descendants, even in the tenth generation, shall ever be admitted into the congregation of the Lord, 5 because they did not meet you with food and water on your journey after you left Egypt, and because they hired Balaam son of Beor, from Pethor of Aram- naharaim, to curse you. — 6 But the Lord your God refused to heed Balaam; instead, the Lord your God turned the curse into a blessing for you, for the Lord your God loves you. — 7You shall never concern yourself with their welfare or benefit as long as you live.

8 You shall not abhor an Edomite, for he is your kinsman. You shall not abhor an Egyptian, for you were a stranger in his land. 9 Children born to them may be admitted into the congregation of the Lord in the third generation.

In this selection we find harsh justice.  Those who have been particularly violent against us cannot become a part of the Jewish people FOREVER.  They showed no compassion for us and our ancestors and so they cannot become a part of our holy people.  Yet the Egyptians, those who literally enslaved us, CAN eventually become Jews.  They must learn our ways, and it takes time, but they may eventually join us.  Eventhough they were harsh masters, before that they were welcoming hosts.  They showed compassion and demonstrated their own holiness.

16 You shall not turn over to his master a slave who seeks refuge with you from his master. 17 He shall live with you in any place he may choose among the settlements in your midst, wherever he pleases; you must not ill-treat him.

The Bible assumes slavery.  As part of the economic system of the time, indentured servants or slaves were simply part of the landscape.  Yet, the Torah offers numerous restrictions and regulations, making slavery very difficult, if not impossible.  Here, we discover that if a master is harsh and the slave runs away, we are obligated to provide shelter.  Is it any wonder that Jews were involved in the Underground Railroad, when we have been commanded since the Torah to help those that needed it?  Again, we see compassion for those in need.

Chapter 24

1 A man takes a wife and possesses her. She fails to please him because he finds something obnoxious about her, and he writes her a bill of divorcement, hands it to her, and sends her away from his house;

Here we discover one source of the commandment to write a get.  In the Jewish tradition, a divorce is not simply a legal act, but a recognition that lives are changing.  As such, there is a religious aspect, a reminder that each party must acknowledge the promises they made in the Ketubah and resolve them.

6 A handmill or an upper millstone shall not be taken in pawn, for that would be taking someone's life in pawn.

If you are offering a loan to someone, you cannot take away their ability to pay you back.  You cannot take as collateral something that is literally life or death for them.  This act of compassion shows the moral foundation of the Torah.  It also shows the aspect of justice, if you take away a person’s ability to pay you back, you are basically ensuring that they will always remain in your debt--an unacceptable situation according to the Torah.

10 When you make a loan of any sort to your countryman, you must not enter his house to seize his pledge. 11 You must remain outside, while the man to whom you made the loan brings the pledge out to you. 12 If he is a needy man, you shall not go to sleep in his pledge; 13 you must return the pledge to him at sundown, that he may sleep in his cloth and bless you; and it will be to your merit before the Lord your God.

Our lesson lending and compassion continues.  Even if someone owes you money, you must respect them and treat them decently.  You cannot take away their clothing or otherwise embarrass them as a form of collateral.

14 You shall not abuse a needy and destitute laborer, whether a fellow countryman or a stranger in one of the communities of your land. 15 You must pay him his wages on the same day, before the sun sets, for he is needy and urgently depends on it; else he will cry to the Lord against you and you will incur guilt.

Fair wages and fair labor practices are seen here.  We are commanded to take care of those who work for us, not to abuse them.  Again, this is not just compassion, but justice.

16 Parents shall not be put to death for children, nor children be put to death for parents: a person shall be put to death only for his own crime.

Here we find the ultimate expression of justice and compassion.  Unlike other nations and laws of the time, we cannot exact justice or punishment upon anyone unless they themselves sinned.  In a society where the man was the master and all children and spouses were his property, our ancient neighbors would regularly exact their punishment upon other members of the family.  The Torah says this is NOT true justice.

17 You shall not subvert the rights of the stranger or the fatherless; you shall not take a widow's garment in pawn. 18 Remember that you were a slave in Egypt and that the Lord your God redeemed you from there; therefore do I enjoin you to observe this commandment.

This is the central principle that I am trying to make.  We must be a holy people.  To be so, we must think of justice, but act compassionately.  We have personal experience as slaves in Egypt, as persecuted minorities, as abused laborers, and have had violence committed against us.  We must remember this and not replicate it.

19 When you reap the harvest in your field and overlook a sheaf in the field, do not turn back to get it; it shall go to the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow — in order that the Lord your God may bless you in all your undertakings.

This verse continues with another reminder that we were slaves in Egypt and we must remember that experience.  We are commanded to recognize that there are those that need our help.  There are those who are hungry, those who lack shelter.  As we look towards Rosh Hashanah, what are we doing to help those in need?

Chapter 25

13 You shall not have in your pouch alternate weights, larger and smaller. 14 You shall not have in your house alternate measures, a larger and a smaller. 15 You must have completely honest weights and completely honest measures, if you are to endure long on the soil that the Lord your God is giving you. 16 For everyone who does those things, everyone who deals dishonestly, is abhorrent to the Lord your God.

Just as our dealings in law must be ethical, our business dealings also need justice and compassion.  If we are dishonest in business, we are not acting as the am Kadosh we strive to be.

Over and over in this parsha we are reminded where we came from.  As the entire portion is set as they prepare to go into the Promised Land, it is a lesson that for us to go where we need to go, we must remember where we have been.  If we wish to be a just people, we must be a compassionate people.  While the laws seem diverse, they reinforce this lesson.  If we want to be good Jews, we must be good people.  Shabbat Shalom.

All Torah texts are from the NJPS, taken from: http://learn.jtsa.edu/content/translations/ki-tetzei/torah-portion/ki-tetzei

Elul 7: It’s easy to be thankful when you know someone else can change the diapers.

(I wrote this for a Jewish parenting blog, but they didn't like it. Maybe you will!)

It’s easy to be thankful when you know someone else can change the diapers.  With an almost ten month old at home, I change a lot of diapers.  I am deeply and meaningfully involved in the life of my daughter and my wife.  Whenever our daughter does something new, I am simply in awe.  I find deep meaning in her babble or her attempts at piano playing or dancing.  I am deeply grateful for the gift of a (relatively) flexible career and community.  

Yet, I am a congregational rabbi.  My community is amazing.  They love my daughter as if she is their own.  They want me to be an active participant in my family’s life.  As a rabbi, I have meetings, appointments, funerals, celebrations, Torah study, Daf Yomi that all take up a significant portion of my time.  With the blessing of my community, I regularly walk home for lunch with my wife and daughter.  I change diapers, give baths, do naptime and bedtime as often as I can, and generally try to be as egalitarian as I can.  As I try to cultivate an attitude of thanks and blessings in others, I find myself regularly appreciating just how lucky I am.  Doing pastoral care, seeing the lives of other clergy people, I feel so grateful to be in my community and with my family.  I am grateful for a sense of work/life balance.

Yet, amidst all of my parenting and synagogue work, my wife’s full time job is our daughter.  No matter how many meetings or appointments I have, I know she will be available to take care of our daughter.  While I try to consult her about evening programs and the like, if I want to grow my congregation, I need to devote time to it.  My wife gladly shoulders the bulk of the childcare responsibility, but I always wonder if I am doing enough.  As thankful and in awe as she is of our daughter, what is new to me is sometimes old news to her (although I generally get a text/photo anytime anything interesting happens--which is about 10 times an hour).

My wife takes care of much of our family life.  From morning until night, she laughs, talks, plays, dances, cleans, cooks for and feeds our daughter.  It is incredibly exhausting work-as everyone on this site knows.  At the end of the day, she is grateful for me to be there and do dinner/bedtime--whenever I can!

In short, it is easier to be grateful when you aren’t changing all the diapers.  As we enter the month of Elul, this is a time of t’shuvah, of renewing, not just of repenting, but of making mental or physical lists of the blessings in our lives.  It is a time for us to consider all that we do well and all the places where we need to work a little harder.  For me, I recognize that holy work that my wife does.  I recognize the great gift I have of working in a community that cares for me and my family.  I see that it is even easier for me to have the great joy and spirit of thanks I have for my wife and daughter when I have such amazing and reliable child care (my wife).

-Rabbi Philip Weintraub

Elul Day 3--a Bar Mitzvah Video goes Viral and many cringe (but should they?)

Around the web this week have been discussions of Bar Mitzvah videos.

See this link for an example:
http://www.tabletmag.com/scroll/140726/the-evolution-of-the-bar-mitzvah-dance-video

Many looking at this video see it as over the top.  They complain of the money wasted on it, the seemingly outrageous idea of hiring professional dancers in skimpy outfit, and the lack of Jewish content.  I guess they didn't see the pre-Bar Mitzvah video--the second video on the page.  That one included friends and family, kippot, studying? his parsha, and perhaps his rabbi (or at least some shots in the shul--with the family's name on the donation wall).

As we enter Elul, it is appropriate for us to consider the words that come out of our mouths, the thoughts we choose to share with others in line, online, or anywhere.  Whether we speak, type, sign or otherwise communicate, what we share with others is a reflection of our values.  If we choose to berate 13 year olds and their values publicly, what does that say about us?

There is a classic story of an individual who comes to the rabbi after sharing a rumor about someone.  The rabbi says the person should empty a feather pillow on top of a mountain on a windy day and then come back to the rabbi's office the following day.  The next day the individual returns and the rabbis says go back to the mountain and collect all of the feathers.  The individual says that is impossible!  They have been dispersed throughout the village.  The rabbi says--yes that is the danger of speaking.  Our words can spread farther than we ever imagined.

Today that is more true than ever.  One blog can be shared and re-shared, tweeted and retweeted until it goes as viral as the video above.  Rather than seeing the internet as a way to write more and more nonsense, we must see it as a place to spread more and more holiness, kindness and love.

Yet if we do NOT speak, what does that say about us?  As Jews we are commanded not to stand idly by. We are supposed to warn/stop/prevent evil or bad behavior by our friends and compatriots. Yet, to give effective warnings and criticisms, we must know the individual and care for them.

Is this video over the top?  Of course it is.  Does it reflect what I hope for my daughter's Bat Mitzvah?  No, it does not.  I would much rather see a video of this young man's charitable works, how he volunteers his free time, how he uses his (clearly) tremendous financial resources to do good, and finally, how he studies and lives Torah.

At the end of the day though, he is a kid and none of this happened entirely through his own will or resources.  His parents participated and funded it.  Most importantly, they felt that his Jewish identity was important enough to celebrate his becoming a Bar Mitzvah.  While it may be over the top, he and his family are clearly members of a Jewish community and supporters of a congregation (see their name on the wall in the second video).  That in itself is a great mitzvah.

How do you celebrate your Jewish identity?
Do you make a viral video?
Do you speak kindly or rudely to the efforts of others?  

As we approach Rosh Hashanah, let us consider not only how we speak, but to whom we speak, where we speak and what the next person will say.  The Chafetz Chaim, the master teacher on the laws of speech tells us we should not even speak positively about someone in the presence of that person's enemy, since we will be facilitating lashon hara!  (Ie no "Bush is the best president ever" at the DNC convention or "Obama is awesome" at a Tea Party event.)

It's Elul?

It seems every rabbi I know is blogging something for Elul.  I've gotten invites for Pop (Culture) Elul or Kabbalah Elul or Spa Elul or Manicure Elul or Forgiveness Elul or Craig Taubman's "Jewels of Elul". For some Jews, this time of year is the holiest time of the year.  It is the time when they spend weeks in spiritual, mental and emotional preparation for our Holy Days.  For others, it is just August!

If you aren't hearing a shofar every day (or aren't a Jewish blogger), this month might seem like any other.  You might think, "Sure Rosh Hashanah is 'super early' this year, but what does that have to do with me?!  So I'll go to shul right after Labor Day.  Big Deal"

We can absolutely go into shul on Rosh Hashanah with no preparation.  We can listen to the rabbi and the cantor.  However, if we take a little time, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur can be days to be enjoyed, to be transformed, rather than days to be endured.

What all these rabbis and bloggers are telling us is that Elul is a special time.  Not just in the reminder that Rosh Hashanah is coming, but in the reminder that we are alive (and hopefully well).  We have just about made it another year.  While it isn't our birthday, it is the world's and as such, it is a time for reflection.  Classically, it is the time we are judged, when we pass under the scepter of heaven and it is determined if we will make it one more year.  For some this is an awe-inspiring though, for others, less so.

Elul is a time for us to consider the settings on our spiritual GPS.

• Do we know our destination?
• OR (Where are we going in life?)
• Are we set for highways or country roads?
• Have we picked a well-trodden path or one that is uniquely our own?
• Do we like adventure or quiet?
• Are we challenging ourselves?
• Do we like the music in our vehicle?
• Are the people that we spend our time with the people we TRULY want to associate with?

Some of these questions might sound a little silly, but I think they are rather germane to the time at hand.

The simple act of asking ourselves questions can change our entire experience of Rosh Hashanah.  If we prepare for that time by thinking about ourselves and our actions, Rosh Hashanah can touch our lives in ways we never imagined.