Letters from the Rabbi's Desk

February 2026

Our Greatest Strength

One of my favorite texts displaying the deep relationship between teacher and student takes place in the midst of tragedy. The Second Temple lay in ruins and despair filled the very air of the Jewish community. The world was upside down and the feeling of abandonment and uncertainty left many, including many Jewish leaders unsure of how they and Judaism would survive. In this moment the following story is told (Avot D’Rabbi Natan 11a):             Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai once was walking with his disciple Rabbi Yehoshua near Jerusalem after the destruction of the Temple. Rabbi Yehoshua looked at the Temple ruins and said, “Oy lanu! - Alas for us! The place which atoned for the sins of the people Israel lies in ruins!” Then Rabban Yochanan spoke to him these words of comfort, “My son, be not grieved. There is another way of gaining atonement even though the Temple is destroyed. We must now gain atonement through deeds of loving-kindness.” For it is written, “Loving-kindness I desire, not sacrifice.” (Hosea 6:6) The gentleness and hope that Rabban Yochanan provided to his student Rabbi Yehoshua shines through. First, he calls him affectionately “b’ni - my son” even though Rabbi Yehoshua was not his actual child. Then he opens a door to another possibility of hope and resilience - loving-kindness could both comfort but also offer a path forward for the Rabbi Yehoshua and the entire people of Israel. Loving-kindness is not bound by temples, priests, borders, or who is in power but is a soul choice that each person can make and that God desires more than all the sacrifices brought including Yom Kippur. As a caring teacher, Rabban Yochanan feels the heartbreak and despair in Rabbi Yehoshua’s cry and understands not only the larger question raised but the intimately personal struggle that Rabbi Yehoshua was feeling. His answer was not to teach halacha but instead to comfort. Grief, loss, and despair are powerful feelings because they emanate out of a place of love. We feel them so acutely because we love or loved so deeply that which we feel is lost or irrevocably changed. The comforting salve however is not indifference, apathy, or withdrawal but to summon within ourselves and others the very thing we feel missing - love and acts of loving-kindness. Indeed it seems counterintuitive that our grief is out of love but then the way forward requires love. We stand today not at the ruins of our Holy Temple but amidst a society that is more divided, vulgar, cruel, and hateful. The vision of the future has taken a dystopian turn. Instead of striving for more peace and prosperity, following our better angels, or working collectively to solve the many challenges we face it has become about the exercise of power and might, greed and corruption, and tearing down instead of building up. Over 1900 years later another rabbi would pick up the teaching passed down by Rabban Yochanan and add to it teaching:             A religious person is a person who holds God and humanity in one thought at one time, at all times, who suffers in themselves harm done to others, who greatest passion is compassion, whose greatest strength is love and defiance of despair. (Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel) And so, even though we may feel loss and lost, even though we may experience moments of despair, pain, and grief - we reaffirm our love. Our love for our country, our love for the future, our love of God, and our love for each other. Armed with the belief in a God who desires us and commands us to love and through whose grace and love the world is sustained - we call to bare and remember that our “greatest strength is love and defiance of despair.” ---------------------------------- ARCHIVES January 2026 We Lift Each Other One of the most moving stories in the Talmud is the story of Rabbi Yochanan bar Nappacha (Rabbi Yochanan) - a third century Sage of the Land of Israel. His life story is at times both heartening and terribly tragic (he & his wife lost 10 children), I would like to share one particular piece of his story that I have often found meaningful and relevant. “Rabbi Hiyya bar Abba fell ill. Rabbi Yochanan entered to visit him, and said to him: Is your suffering dear to you? Rabbi Hiyya replied: I welcome neither this suffering nor its reward. Rabbi Yochanan said to him: Give me your hand. Rabbi Hiyya gave him his hand, and Rabbi Yochanan lifted(stood) him up (and restored him to health). Time passed and Rabbi Yochanan fell ill. Rabbi Hanina entered to visit him, and said to him: Is your suffering dear to you? Rabbi Yochanan replied: I welcome neither this suffering nor its reward. Rabbi Hanina said to him: Give me your hand. He gave him his hand, and Rabbi Hanina lifted(stood) him up (and restored him to health) The Gemara asks: Why did Rabbi Yochanan wait for Rabbi Hanina to restore him to health? If he was able to heal his student (Rabbi Hiyya bar Abba), let Rabbi Yochanan lift/stand himself up! The Gemara answers: A prisoner cannot free himself from prison, (but depends on others to release him from his shackles.).”                                     - Tamud Bavli Berachot 5b There are many lessons that can be derived from this short story (no pain, no gain - is suffering worth it?, illness and moral responsibility to visit/heal, is illness/suffering a punishment from God?, etc.) but I would like to focus on the idea that - sometimes we cannot lift ourselves up but need others to help lift us up. The Gemara’s question is striking - Why can’t Rabbi Yochanan the healer of others, heal himself? The Gemara answers its own question: the healer/sage/counselor is in need of others when they are ill, suffering, and/or depressed just like a prisoner stuck in jail. We cannot always lift, heal, and/or free ourselves without help from others. No matter how independent we believe ourselves to be or how mythological the American concept of rugged individualism (“pick yourself up by the bootstraps”) seems, Judaism understands that it takes a community to care for each other. We strive to create communities where the ethical norm is to extend our love, compassion, and concern to one another’s wellbeing. We lift each other up. In Bob Dylan’s beautiful song of blessing, “Forever Young” he writes, “May God bless and keep you always, may your wishes all come true. May you always do for others, and let others do for you.” For many of us, the easier part is doing for others and the harder part is letting others do for us. Our independence, pride, and sense of self are challenged when we are ill, suffering, or depressed. We associate our state of distress with moral failing, weakness of spirit, etc. But we can learn from Rabbi Yochanan’s acceptance of help from his student Rabbi Hanina. It does not diminish his stature or cast him as weak or failed. He willingly takes Rabbi Hanina’s offered hand to pull him up because his suffering is not worth any reward. Whether on a personal level or a larger communal level, there are times when we need a hand to lift us up. And there are times when we need to be the ones offering our love and support. Creating and strengthening those bonds of mutual care are vital. In doing so, we can alleviate some of the suffering around us and fulfill our role as God’s partners in repairing the world.

December 2025

I know what you are expecting from the title of this article - a retelling of God’s miracle of the rededicated Menorah in the Temple and how the olive oil used to light it burned for eight days until new pure oil could be found. Nope - not what this bulletin article will be about. In fact, long before the story of Hanukkah, the Bible recounts another miracle centered around olive oil. In 2 Kings Chapter 4:1-7, we learn of a recently widowed mother whose debts meant the enslavement of her and her children. She cries out to the Prophet Elisha (the disciple of Elijah) for help. Elisha asks her what she has remaining in her house and she replies only “a jug of oil.” Elisha tells her to go and borrow empty vessels from all of her neighbors as many as she can. When you return, Elisha instructs, “shut the door behind you and your children, and pour (oil from your one jug) into all of those vessels, removing each one as it is filled.” The story ends with the woman having enough money to not only pay off her debt (keeping her children free) but also making enough money to live on. Two critical points to notice about this story: 1) Both God and the prophet Elisha are moved by the woman’s cry for justice and mercy, and 2) The success of the miracle depended on neighbors banding together to bring as many empty vessels as possible to help. In essence, God worked through human compassion and actions to deliver justice and mercy to this family in need. True, the olive oil did not stop until there were no more vessels left to fill but the generosity of the neighbors banding together provided the literal and figurative vessels necessary to ensure their would be enough oil to cover the debts and ensure the widow and her children could live free. The justice and redemptive miracle was therefore both a Divine and human one.

For far too many of our neighbors, it has been a number of years that have seen costs for basic necessities (food, housing, insurance, utilities, healthcare, etc.) rise while wages and benefits stagnate or are cut. We have seen a massive retreat at the Federal level from the safety net programs that traditionally helped. And whether our neighbors are seniors on a fixed income, the working poor, those unable to work or find work, young people starting out, or families struggling - there has been a collective cry of despair and anguish. We are seeing across the Lehigh Valley 40% increases in those seeking food from pantries and soup kitchens. We are witness to increasingly younger 18 - 29 year olds facing homelessness. People are having to choose between housing, food, utilities, and healthcare with many forgoing seeing a doctor or getting treatment.

As much as this is a systemic economic, legal, and financial crisis - this is a moral/spiritual crisis. God (as witness in the Torah and Bible) is deeply concerned with economic justice and the failings of a system that diminishes human dignity and thereby diminishes the Divine Name. God has blessed our country with “amber waves of grain” and abundant natural resources - indeed we are the richest nation on the face of the planet. And yet, we have not made it a moral imperative to feed our people, house our neighbors, and give them access to necessary healthcare. Charitable non-profit organizations, no matter how efficient, cannot fill the gap or meet the ultimate needs of millions of Americans who are struggling or respond adequately to the effects of devastating disasters. We are doing our best to collect the vessels (money, food, clothing, etc.) but we do not have enough.

Don’t think however, that we cannot accomplish this - it is instead that we choose not to. Yes, the problems and challenges are robust but so is the creativity, industriousness, and resources available - if we choose to apply them. If we have the will, both political and financial, and the determination to make caring for each other a priority, we can create a more just and compassionate system. Think of it as a moonshot for the Common Good. (a la - G.I. Bill, New Deal, etc.) We have enough food that could feed every man, woman, and child in this country. We have enough open space to provide homes (there are even places where population decline has led to economic decline - and therefore need people), and yes, we can make access to basic healthcare possible should we choose to.

To forge a new path forward will take both political courage and spiritual strength. It will be outlining a new vision for American greatness based on the pricelessness of human dignity and God’s teachings to care for the most vulnerable. This inevitably will be a partnership between our government, civil society, and business. It must engage corporate responsibility as an important pillar of society - not only for profits and shareholders but as vital moral participants in the success of our society. The important role of religious and secular communal educational institutions to reinforce the lessons of communal & individual responsibility, sacrifice, and human dignity. And as mentioned above, our government (national, state, local) whose responsibility is the safety and welfare of all of its citizens. The current disparities between the wealthiest and poorest shows that the current trajectory is not working. Scapegoating, xenophobia, hate and anger are not the answer and have never proven to lead to positive change/outcomes. The real miracle will not be whether there is enough figurative oil but whether we find a way to come together to share it so that every American can live with dignity and hope. Our mission is to ensure there are enough vessels so that everyone can enjoy all of God’s blessings.

November 2025

 

October 2025

Sukkot:  A Celebration of Joy and Fragility, Together

The celebration of Sukkot is known as the “Time of Our Rejoicing” (Z’man Simchateinu). Out of the three pilgrimage holidays, Sukkot is the only one where the word “joy” is used in reference to a holiday in the Torah. “…you shall rejoice before the Lord your God seven days.” (Lev. 23:40) Sukkot represents the Thanksgiving holiday, as the fall harvest of fruits and vegetables is gathered and the rainy season in Israel is about to begin. We wave the lulav and etrog, parade around the synagogue, and eat our meals in the Sukkah. We invite guests both living and spiritual (ushpizin) to join in the festivities as we raise a glass, sing songs, and give thanks to God for the myriads of blessings we enjoy. Yet, at the very same time we come face to face with just how fragile all of our comforts and lives truly are. Anyone who has waved a lulav and etrog knows that it is really easy to break off the pitam (the little remnant of the flower) from the etrog making it unable to be used. Or the willows (aravot) withering so quickly without the water they need that they shrivel up before the holiday ends. Or a range of sukkah integrity mishaps caused by driving rain, wind, cold, snow, etc. that make it nearly impossible to sit in the sukkah. Yes, the holiday that is a celebration of exuberant joy also keeps us on edge and worried that something will go wrong during the seven days we are commanded to wave, dwell, and give thanks. Even our best plans and intentions can easily fall prey to elements out of our control. As the adage goes, “Man plans and God laughs.”  So how is it possible that we should be joyful when lurking just beyond our vision lies a worrisome unknown?

Indeed, that is the point! We may not know what tomorrow will bring but right here and right now we will celebrate the joys and blessings of being alive. Of course we could come up with a long list of complaints, challenges, and grievances - but what we are asked to do instead is give Thanks. To delve deep to acknowledge our blessings and dream of God’s loving-care, protection, and peace. We celebrate Life itself by eating, drinking, gathering together to share, and gaze up at the stars from our temporary sukkot. We sing the Psalms of Hallel, shake our lulavim, and wish each other “Moadim L’Simcha!” while also reading Kohelet (Ecclesiastes) whose wisdom can be summed up as, “life is random, nothing matters, and there is nothing new.” Yet, even Kohelet acknowledges that we must live in our moment, enjoy our blessings when we have them, and that joy and fragility can and do exist in our lives at the same time. I would argue that we need to be mindful of both and that in doing so we actually unlock a deeper joy and a more humble fragility. Unmitigated joy lacks the experience of life’s ups and downs. When we account for the fragility of our health, our security, our financial wellbeing, etc. we have that much more to celebrate when we’re doing okay or well. Our human fragility reminds us to savor, share, and celebrate because as Kohelet points out, it could be gone tomorrow. Yet, dwelling only on the precariousness of life, distorts life itself. It can blind us to the countless wonders and miracles in our lives and world, rob us of the joy in connecting as a community of people, and at its most damaging paralyze us in the darkness of despair. Yes, we are fragile mortal creatures who stare into the unknown and so…let’s raise a glass and shout, “L’Chaim”, laugh together, sing together, share our bounty together, gather and hangout in huts together, and dance with palms, myrtles, willows, and etrogs together. As Jews we have done this through all of history’s triumphs and tragedies, undeterred, unvanquished, and still faithful that God will someday spread God’s sukkat shalom (shelter of peace) over all humanity. Until that great moment of Salvation arrives, we will live with joy and fragility and give thanks to The Source of all Creation.

Moadim L’Simcha!

 

September 2025

Finding Opportunities for Meaning & Transformation in (Surviving) High Holiday Services

            Over the next month our Jewish community will spend a lot of time in synagogue. For some it’s the norm, for others it’s a yearly pilgrimage of return, and still for others it is all brand new and can be filled with some anxiety. No matter which category you may find yourself, one unifying fundamental question is: “What are we meant to do here?” On the one hand, the simple answer may be to open the Mahzor, the special prayerbook we use on Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur, and pray. The words and melodies of prayer can be inspiring and beautiful. At their best they can transport us, make us think, feel, and consider God, our behavior, our feelings, and our connection to our deepest selves and others. They have the capacity to capture in words and melody our gratitude and challenges, evoke nostalgia and the tension of anticipation, and reflect both internal and external hopes and desires. But sometimes the words of prayer, don’t reflect our heart or the struggle of our minds. We may not agree with the theology, wrestle with the difficulty of the Hebrew, or just feel distant, apart, disconnected from what is happening on the bimah. I believe all of these feelings and thoughts are normal. Prayer for all of its potential is only one avenue to help us engage in the process of teshuvah and the renewal of our hearts and minds.

            While I am going to suggest a few strategies to make more meaning from our time together in prayer - I fully acknowledge that it is not always possible to hit a home run by praying. In fact, there is an argument to be made that just setting aside the time to let our minds wander and meander from thought to thought is a gift in our frenetic world. Silence is a powerful thing. Silence doesn’t mean just not talking or singing but instead gifting ourselves the opportunity to get more in touch with ourselves. Whether that turns out to be asking ourselves tough questions about: Where we have been? and Where we are going? How did we spend our time? And at the end of the day - What is important to me? What do I value? Am I living my life in the manner I hope to? Indeed prayer and silence mingle in the synagogue working together. I believe both prayer and silence allow us to open up to God’s presence and connect to the holy spark that is within each of us. There is a fount of possibility, a deep seated call for renewal and change that presents itself when we take our place in the sanctuary and make time just to connect/reconnect.

            Sitting in services on the High Holidays also presents another opportunity - the time to become an explorer. I often announce that the goal of the prayer service is not so that everyone is always on the same page at the same time. I fully understand and expect that each of us may be attracted to different prayers, Biblical texts, and commentaries. Even the speed at which we each can pray, process, and comprehend/mull over the words differs. And that’s A-Okay! We are not contestants on the “Fastest Davenner!” Instead - take your time. Find a prayer that works for you, contemplate a verse, study a commentary or just open yourself up to breathing, silence, and the special melodies of the season. We can become explorers of the holy - discovering new aspects of ourselves, the synagogue, the liturgy, etc. We can uncover gems of the past, choose to trail blaze new paths for ourselves and our lives, and reinterpret long held beliefs and assumptions. It is a new year and a new beginning. A time for reflection, change, and growth.

            Yet, as I alluded to earlier sitting (or standing) for hours in prayer is not the ultimate goal of coming to synagogue on the High Holidays. Instead we are each challenged to Return (Teshuvah) - to turn back, realign our values to how we live, account for our past actions, work to grow, improve, and create our best selves and community. There are moments during the High Holiday services when words just won’t do it. In comes the Shofar! A simple animal horn (ram, ibex, kudu, etc.) whose sounds are meant to cry out, to awaken, to tear down walls of indifference, animosity, and hopelessness. The shofar is visceral, penetrating, and can be deeply moving. For some of us this is the main event. The Torah’s name for Rosh HaShanah is: Yom Teruah! The Day of the Shofar blast. The revelation at Mt. Sinai is punctuated by God’s sound upon the mountain - like the sound of shofar blasts and lightning/thunder. In answer to “What are we meant to do here?” One answer could be to Wake Up! Let’s not let time slip away without intention, change, repentance, and hope. The shofar is a wake up call that can inspire us, remind us, and help light the fire for the new year.

            Finally, maybe prayer, study/exploration, or the shofar still doesn’t fully answer the question, “What are we meant to do here?” I will share with you that while I love the liturgy, am excited by study, and am moved by the shofar - I struggle with the “do here” part of the question because I have found the hard work of the High Holidays often lies both inside of ourselves and also in the world outside. So if I could reframe my earlier question it would be: “What do you want to take with you when you step outside the synagogue? - both for yourself and for the world” Looking at ourselves and especially our world - there is a lot of teshuvah and tikkun olam to be done. One thing I try to take from the holiday time spent in the synagogue is hope and peace. To start over with a clean slate filled with new potential and possibilities. Spending time in the synagogue can be a replenishing refuge to recharge ourselves for the life work ahead. The work which lies beyond the synagogue doors. I believe that spending time in the synagogue over the holidays can be a spark of transformation and/also an opportunity for healing and finding strength, and peace. As the Psalmist sings -

“One thing I ask the Lord for this do I yearn: to dwell in the House of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold God’s beauty and visit God’s sanctuary.” Psalm 27

May each of us be blessed to make the time we spend together over the holidays at our Brith Sholom home, a time of meaning, positive transformation, and sacred peace.

 

L’Shanah Tovah Tikateivu v’Tikateimu! - Wishing you and your family a very happy, healthy, and  blessed New Year 5786!

 

August 2025

We Are On The Same Boat

The story goes that a group of people were sitting in a boat sailing along when one person in the group pulled out a hand-drill and proceeded to drill a hole beneath their seat. The fellow passengers started screaming at the person drilling, “What are you doing?!” The person drilling the hole responded, “What do you care? I am only drilling under my seat and not yours.” The rest of the people on the boat shouted, “We are all on the same boat in the middle of the ocean together! You are sinking the whole boat!!!” This parable is not a new one but comes from the Talmudic sage Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai. Its message is timeless. Our actions though individual still impact the greater whole. We are bound up together - what effects one of us will inevitably effect us all. Furthermore, we cannot Opt-Out since inaction or attempts to disassociate ourselves off from each other does not make the challenges or problems go away but only worsens them.

Most often we use Rabbi Shimon’s teaching to argue about environmental impact, climate change, and our responsibility to sustain and take care of our planet. Indeed, the boat in the story can be substituted for our precious planet Earth and no amount of money, power, or ignorance absolve us of our collective responsibility and need to confront our changing climate. Pollution does not know state or national borders nor does infectious disease, extreme weather or global climate change. However, I would like to extend the wisdom of Rabbi Shimon’s teaching on a much narrower scale - to our Jewish community.

I believe firmly in healthy and respectful debate - after all that is how some of our greatest Torah is created. (Think the Talmud) It would be a very confining and frankly boring Jewish community if we all suffered from Groupthink and in fact could lead to atrophy and ossification that could end Judaism. Debate and diversity are good for Judaism and I would argue (pun intended) good for society whether in academia, government, science and religion, etc. However, healthy, respectful, and fact based debate is different from rabble-rousing division (ex. Korach, Datan & Abiram) which seeks power and control through dividing people, praying on fears and prejudices, and seeks instead to separate us into categories of “Us” and “Them” -   or even the insidious dehumanization of “Other”.  This type of division throughout history has led to hate, abuse, tyranny, destruction, and death.

In the Jewish community we recall such a time in the Rabbi’s account of the destruction of the Second Temple. They taught (In the story of Kamtza & Bar Kamtza), that “sinat chinam” baseless hatred among our people led to the Romans destroying the Temple, our loss of independence, exile into Diaspora, and all of the horrors which would follow from it throughout our history. They set a day of communal mourning, Tisha B’Av to recall the dangers of hating one another. Of what can happen when we are so divided, that we see each other as the enemy instead of the true challenges we face. Furthermore, they sought to dispel the fallacy that we can escape our shared destiny if we only don’t count ourselves among our people - try to “blend in” amongst the nations, renounce our heritage, give up our Tradition, or shift the responsibility and blame anyone but ourselves. The Rabbis remind us that the pious and the righteous also suffered the destruction, went into exile, and were murdered. We are all bound up together. In Mishnah Avot, Hillel taught, “Do not separate yourself from the community.” He understood that we are all on the same boat whether we like it or not.

So it deeply troubles me, that these lessons are not being remembered right now. October 7th and the wars that Israel is fighting are soul-shatteringly painful and complicated. Israel is not perfect by any stretch, nor do we have to walk lock-step with every decision the Israeli government makes. Healthy debate and criticism are necessary for a democracy. That is why, Israelis take to the streets, protest, and debate vociferously even when (and all the more so since) they send their sons and daughters into harms way or mourn their ultimate sacrifices. Yet to hear American Jews join chants “From the River to the Sea…”, or that Israel “doesn’t have a right to exist”, or that “Israel is an evil colonizer”, or that Israel “isn’t important to their Judaism” or to Judaism at all - is beyond the Pale - it is an absurd and dangerous delusion.

In the midst of the worst antisemitism which began long before the war (attacks in France, Germany, Charlottesville, VA, Tree of Life, Pittsburgh, etc.) and has normalized in both the Left and Right around the world and here in America - to believe that the “Good Jew” that denounces Israel carte blanche, separates themselves from the mainstream Jewish community, and joins or associates themselves with those who spew antisemitism will be spared or overlooked is ignorant of Jewish and world history. There is no Opt-Out as a Jew. Hitler did not care if a Jew was observant or not, had only one grandparent who was Jewish or had a Jewish mother, if a Jew had blonde hair and blue eyes or dark hair and brown eyes, light skin or dark skin, liberal or conservative, rich or poor - in the end the trains went day and night to the same destination.

We must wake up! When the NEA, the largest Teacher’s Union in the country, almost bans the ADL from helping in its antisemitism and anti-hate education and curriculums because they support Israel’s right to exist, or antisemitic acts are met with tepid condemnation or indifference because “they deserve it!” - We all have a problem. When being a part of civil rights coalitions, college clubs, or anti-hunger organizations is first met with litmus tests whether, “(Do) You support Israel?” - We have a problem. When people can be profiled, arrested on the streets, and hauled off to internment camps and deported without due process to other countries - We have a problem. When AI can be corrupted to spew antisemitic hate online and more Jews are afraid to wear a kippah or a Jewish star, or our synagogues becoming armed fortresses for fear of being attacked - We have a problem.

Now is not the time to demonize each other, to abandon the Jewish community, or to actively join with those who would see the second largest Jewish population in the world eradicated. We are all on the same boat. We should work for and advocate for justice and more peaceful solutions. We should own our failings and be accountable. We should work against all hate and bigotry and/also advocate at the top of our lungs against the scourge of antisemitism we are facing. We should not lose sight of our common history and destiny as Jews and/also as human beings. We can and must do these things together as (you guessed it) we are all on the same boat.

This Tisha B’Av (August 2nd & 3rd), we will fast and mourn for the loss of our most sacred Temples, our freedom and independence over long centuries, the persecutions, ghettos, and genocides our people endured. Let the ancient warning not come to pass, “If I forget thee O’ Jerusalem, let my right hand wither and my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth. If I forget…” Instead let us remember: We are all on the same boat!

 

June 2025

Should We Choose to Accept It

            I have not yet seen the new Mission Impossible movie with Tom Cruise but I fondly remember the classic scene where “the mission” came with a message that self destructed and the line, “should you choose to accept it!” This of course would begin the high-jinx adventure that defines the Mission Impossible series. While I can confidently say that our Torah will not self-destruct after receiving the Ten Commandments on Shavuot - we are never the less left with a pretty big life choice to make. In two famous midrashrim the weight of the choice we make to accept the Torah and live by mitzvot comes into focus.
            In Midrash Sifrei Devarim (343), God approaches the nations of the world and offers them the Torah before he offers it to the Children of Israel. Each in turn asks for an example of, “what is in it?” God reveals to each nation a particular mitzvah which they proceed to reject. After approaching nation after nation God finally approaches the Children of Israel and they respond, “We will do and we will understand! - Na’aseh v’Nishmah!” meaning that we will accept the whole Torah with all of its mitzvot. The midrash lays out two important ideas. First, the other nations should not be angry or jealous of us since they were offered the Torah but chose to reject it. In a subsequent Sifrei midrash, God even goes out of the way when revealing the Torah at Sinai by simulcasting four languages (Hebrew, Arabic, Latin(Roman), and Aramaic). Second, each of the nations while excited by the prospect of receiving the Torah, sought a Torah that was on their own terms. They wanted to pick and choose the mitzvot and in particular reject the ethical commandments which contradicted their base desires and culture. In the end, it is only Israel that is willing to strive to live up to God’s law and ethical mandate even when it is difficult and inconvenient. It is this commitment that God seeks before entrusting the precious gift of Torah to us. 
            The commitment of the generation of the Exodus sets the stage for God’s revelation at Sinai but, what will the Jewish people put up as a guarantee for receiving the Torah? The second midrash from Shir HaShirim Rabbah (1:4) imagines God asking us for a guarantor in order for Israel to receive the Torah. At first, we offered the merit of our ancestors. God however would not accept them as they had many faults. Then we offered God our prophets with their moral courage and call to justice. But once again God would not accept them as they had often failed. Finally, we pledged our children as guarantors. With this promise, God gladly accepts that our children will guarantee the Torah. “you shall teach them (Torah) diligently to your children…” One of the main points of this midrash is that God seeks neither the past nor the present as the collateral for Torah but instead that the Torah will be renewed and its mitzvot passed on to our children. It is not only that the generation of the Exodus would accept the Torah but that the Torah would be accepted l’dor vador. Indeed as we gather for Shavuot, we stand once again at the spiritual moment of Sinai, ready to hear God’s revelation and re-affirm our commitment to God’s Torah and mitzvot for ourselves and as a pledge for our children.
            The weight of carrying forth our Jewish tradition and living committed, meaningful Jewish lives that we can teach to our children is pretty intense. But not a mission impossible! The Torah itself teaches, “It is not in the heavens, that you should say, “Who among us can go up to the heavens and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it? Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, “Who among us can cross to the other side of the sea and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it?” (Deut. 30:12-13) Instead following the Commandments and living ethically is within our grasp. Difficult and with sacrifice - Yes. But, the teachings of our tradition have also preserved us throughout even the most difficult periods of our history. They have filled our lives with beauty, purpose, and connection to God and to each other. We are once again presented the sacred opportunity - Should we choose to accept it!

Chag Sameach! May you have a joyous and meaningful Shavuot holiday.

 

May 2025

“You shall count from the eve of the second day of Pesach, when an omer of grain is to be brought as an offering, seven complete weeks. The day after the seventh week of your counting will make fifty days, and you shall present a new meal offering to God.” (Leviticus 23:15-16)

One of the most interesting of the 613 Commandments in the Torah is ספירת העומר or the counting of the Omer. While the Torah does have other numbers we are asked to keep track of such as: days between ritual impurity and purity, dates of holidays or life-cycle events, weights and measurements, Sabbatical & Jubilee years, etc. - it is only the counting of the Omer where the specific mitzvah to count has become the primary obligation. From the verse we can appreciate the agricultural significance of the period between Passover (end of last years grain) and Shavuot (harvest and celebration of the new grain) even when we had yet (in Leviticus) to enter the Land of Israel and plant/reap the grain harvest. Indeed so much was riding on the success of the yearly grain harvest (both wheat and barley) that a ruined crop could spell famine and death. Yet even with this in mind, it is the spiritual act of counting of the Omer that occupied both rabbinic minds and mystic hearts. After all it is possible to just bring the required grain offering which would be waved on the 2nd day of Passover and marks the kick-off of the harvest season and then offer the Shavuot grain offering at the end - why do we need to count each and every day? Is there some significance to the counting that is separate from the grain offering?

For the Rabbis, the Peshat or simple explanation is that it took us this period of time to leave Egypt and make our way to Mt. Sinai to receive the Torah. The commandment to count therefore is both tied to a historical progression as well as the spiritual anticipation of receiving God’s revelation and the binding covenant of mitzvot which continues to guide us. In the rabbinic mind, the concept of Torah and its study is paramount. I often refer to it as the “Big Bang” of Judaism which still is expanding and shedding its light of meaning on us. Counting therefore becomes a way to shift the emphasis of the Omer (which is actually a particular measurement of grain) to the focus of Torah. The next layer for the Rabbis was the D’rash or expansion to a deeper meaning. In order to build our intellectual and spiritual excitement, we needed to count the days and busily prepare ourselves to be worthy to receive Torah much as the Rabbis imagined our ancestors did when leaving Egypt. The re-enactment of Sinai and the renewal of the Covenant which results from it requires both personal introspection and faith but also a larger communal recommitment to its values, laws, and moral obligations. For the Rabbis, this pointed to the brilliance of the commandment to make us count the days (and make every day count!)

Still there were others that sought more mystical expressions of the commandment to count the Omer. They sought a hint of the Divine Mind or Remez to unlock layers of mystical meaning. Questions buried deep within the text, such as: What can we learn from the numerology (Gematria) of the counting? How did God prepare to bring the Torah from its place in the Heavens to our keeping? What did the angels think of God giving the Torah to Israel? How would the cosmic order change (since the Universe was created through God’s Word)? While only a small sampling, the mystical heart, sought to capture the Divine Intention and what sharing God’s revelation meant both in its micro and macro sense. Counting the Omer each day could unlock deeper spiritual meaning about us, our world, God, and our interconnected relationship.

This opened the door to the most esoteric and mystical layer rabbinic interpretation - Sod or secret foundation, which begins with a connection in the Hebrew between the root ספר (a book, counting, or accounting ) which could connect the Counting of the Omer ספירת העומר and the mystical aspects of the Divine Emanation itself known as the ספירות (Sefirot). The giving of the Torah required all of the aspects of the Divine to connect in different combinations and put forth their radiance and attributes. As mere mortals we would not be able to fully comprehend or be able to be in the presence of the Divine but in Torah and the observance of mitzvot we could experience a small aspect of God’s complexity and nature. Each night of the counting reveals a new combination of the ספירות and challenges us to see God in our world, in each other, and ourselves. For most Jews, the quest to uncover the essence of the Divine Being and delve into this complex and esoteric layer had not only no appeal but also could be dangerous as it could lead to misunderstanding, apostasy, and extremism. Yet, it is popular to (on a very basic level) recall each night of the counting of the Omer, two of the Divine aspects.

For the Rabbis, the system of Torah interpretation פרדס (PaRDeS) or Orchard/Paradise - Peshat, D’rash, Remez, and Sod became a beautiful way to expand the meaning and understanding of Torah, God, our world and our place and relationship in/with it. Counting the Omer became a way of not only gathering the new grain harvest which meant Life but also gathering the fruits of our spiritual strength and connection to God, Torah, and Jewish tradition - which leads to Life. After all, “humanity does not live by bread alone,” (Deuteronomy 8:3) and “It is a tree of life to those that hold firm to it,” (Proverbs 3:18) and “Its ways are ways of pleasantness and all of its paths are peace.” (Proverbs 3:17) So let us count the Omer, gather the fruits of the orchard of Torah, and renew the Covenant with our deeds together.

Happy Counting!

 

April 2025

Let My People Go!*

Sometimes the answer to a difficult question has many complex answers with none of them alone satisfying the question. Often as a Jewish people we have raised our hands to the Heavens and wondered, “Why us?!” How is it possible that such a small people and faith be the focus of such animus, persecution, and deep seeded hate? There are many reasons given for why antisemitism existed throughout history and for why we are seeing it rise again now. In fact, even when we as a Jewish people had little political or hard power to exercise, the mere presence or thought of us was deemed a threat to those whose desire was for domination and tyranny. Obviously this in and of itself is madness and evil but again the question is “Why us?!” Why vilify and focus so much hate onto a people that for 2000 years lacked both an army and an independent nation state? My answer: The story of the Exodus. I believe there are few words that have ever shaken and continue to terrify the very foundations of tyranny and the minds of those of would be despots then, “Let my people go!” (Exodus 5:1)

The story of the Exodus stands as the central story of our people and our Jewish faith. We recall it multiple times each and every day in our central prayers, base our covenantal relationship it, and use it as the cornerstone of our eternal hope for a world not yet fully redeemed. The story of the Exodus is the foundation of many of our ethical laws as well as rituals. Even our calendar is set by its occurrence - “This month shall mark for you the beginning of the months…” (Exodus 12:2)  At its core, the story of the Exodus is that God created human beings to be free. To recognize that there is only - ONE GOD and that no object or person is God. The quote, “Let my people go…” is only part of the sentence. In full it is, “Let my people go so that they may worship Me!” (Exodus 8:16) God does not and can not tolerate a mortal human being declaring themselves: Supreme Ruler, Pharaoh, Fuhrer, etc. God’s power and might is on full display not in the service of the mighty but in the freeing of the oppressed. Those in haughty power had defiled God’s Divine Image by enslaving human beings who were created in the image with love, dignity, and holiness. Instead of following our created The story of the Exodus topples the fallacy of human domination, oppression, and idolatry and restores the dignity to God’s creation and enshrines God’s ultimate authority and primacy. The mighty Pharaoh and Egyptian empire are brought to their knees and a nation (Israel) founded on freedom emerges from the pits of slavery, injustice, and inhumanity to claim God’s revelation (Torah) and set the moral and ethical foundations of the best of humanity. Its purpose driven to be a “Light unto the Nations.”

 The idea that those who seek ultimate power, those who seek domination and oppression of others, those who would make themselves into gods and idols, those that would strip human beings of their God-given dignity and rights - would, could, and should meet their end and downfall is both an eternal bane to them, and a balm to the enslaved and oppressed throughout the world. We, the Jewish people, symbolize this story and this hope. For we believe God hears the cries of the enslaved, the orphan, the widow, and the poor. We believe that dignity and freedom are God-given to all humanity. We believe the “Earth is the Lord’s!” (Psalm 24:1) We believe that, “Justice should flow like a mighty stream!” (Amos 5:24)We proclaim, “Freedom throughout the land!” (Leviticus 25:10) We believe that God has the power to redeem and that we are partners with God in the unfolding process of redemption. We are (and should be) the stick in the eye of those who seek to corrupt, diminish, hate, and destroy God’s creation and name. And while for thousands of years we lacked an army and our own independent nation state in our sacred ancestral homeland, we still kept our faith and hope that while, “This year we are still here, next year in the Land of Israel! This year we are still enslaved - next year a free people!” (Haggadah)

I believe the antisemites of the world should fear us. We represent God’s enduring love and commitment to humanity and the world. And though they have oppressed us, condemned us, and murdered us by the millions - we are still here to bear witness and proclaim God’s word - “Let My People Go!”

*Note: As I write this there are still 59 hostages held by Hamas in Gaza. This Passover like the last - we cannot truly celebrate our freedom when they are held captive. We continue to pray, advocate, and remember them each day. You may choose to talk about them around the seder table, leave a chair and place-setting for them, or add an additional fourth matzah of hope - among many other possible rituals.

March 2025

Haters want us to Hate: A Purim Lesson

            Hate to me is like a form of toxic cancer that infects healthy cells and changes them into the very disease which will eventually destroy the very host life it corrupts. I believe what haters feed on and count on is that they fill people and society with so much hate that it overwhelms our shared sense of logic and decency thereby fracturing the relationships and connections that bind us together as human beings. Throughout the ages of Jewish history we have sadly often served as the “canary in the coal mine” when people and society become sick with hate, we have paid the ultimate price. Haters need vulnerable scapegoats to blame, lies to sustain their hate, and abject denial of the sacredness of humanity and therefore God. The hate that has been and is directed at us is emblematic of a deeper attack upon the foundations of freedom, sanctity of all life/dignity, and the very God who created us in God’s image.

            And while much can be said about our frustrating inability to stop repeating the vicious cycle of the past and learning that hate only leads us to more hate, sadness, death, and destruction - here we are nonetheless. But we are not powerless against this tide, nor are we allowed to sit on the sidelines and say/do nothing. In the Megillah, Mordechai works to save the very life of King Achashverus and prevent the overthrow of the government even when his very life (and that our our people) is almost dangling before his eyes. In irony of ironies - “Mordechai the Jew” is rewarded for saving the King’s life with a parade where Haman leads him about on a regal steed in royal robes declaring, “This is what is done for the man whom the king wants to honor!” (Megillah 6:9). Further, Mordechai appeals to Esther to do all she can to stop Haman’s hate-filled evil plot from destroying our people. In turn, Esther engages all of the Jewish people by declaring three days of fasting and prayer. She seeks to build unity, compassion, God’s grace, and steely resolve to counter Haman and his fellow antisemites hate. She then courageously beseeches King Achashverus’s love for her, the fact that he is able to see her humanity (as opposed to earlier, see Vashti), to change the course of the King’s orders. Hate is fickle, cowardly, and fueled by disinformation and lies. It can only survive if there are people unable or unwilling to recognize God’s love and the human beings God has created which embody Divine love and the basic principles of a just society. 

            Yet, hate is enduring and seeks new victims to infect. To that end, we cannot allow hatred to become both the norm and the prevailing solution to the very real challenges, disappointments, and frustrations of human life. In a famous passage in the Talmud, Rabbi Meir is so angry with a bunch of hooligans that continue to harass him that he is about to pray to God for their death. His wife, Beruriah, stops him and says, “Pray not for the death of the sinner but for the death of the sin.” (Berachot) One of the most articulate proponents of using love against hate was the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. He taught, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”

“Hatred paralyzes life; love releases it. Hatred confuses life; love harmonizes it. Hatred darkens life; love illuminates it.” Therefore, “I have decided to stick to love…Hate is too great a burden to bear.” The haters in this world want to fill the world with hate (even hate against them serves their purpose) and stifles the attributes of kindness, compassion, decency, and love.  

            Therefore we must instead appeal to the wellspring of holiness that resides within each of us. We must counter the viciousness of hateful taunts with chants of brotherhood/sisterhood and hope. To descend into responses of hate only feeds the fires. We must stand for its opposite - love & life, freedom & hope, God and not idolatry which is a desecration of the Divine spirit. The holiday of Purim gives us hope that we can stand up and make a difference. We may not be able to permanently defeat hate but we can foil its evil plans and stop the spread of this self-destroying disease. As Jews observe Purim we not only remember for ourselves the courage of our ancestors but renew our resolve to act as a Holy conscious for our society and for humanity. We must not fall for the enticements of hate - to hate but, instead drown them out with the joys of life (ie. good food and drink, family & friends, etc.), laughter, and love.

Chag Purim Sameach!

 

February 2025

Sometimes there are no words

            I admit it! I love words. Cue Rabbi jokes here…I love getting into and analyzing texts whether from the Bible, Rabbis, historians, philosophers, even complete fantasy and fiction. With my partner in crime, Alexis, our home is filled with books not to mention my synagogue office. I feel most at home surrounded by words. Yet, on my recent trip to Israel I encountered moments where words completely failed. Standing in the midst of Kibbutz K’far Aza with its homes marked by indescribable pain and inhumanity, I listened to the stories of some of the families who will never again be whole or exist only now in memory. At the same time I could see the pillars of smoke and hear the explosions in Gaza a little over a mile away. Then I went to the Nova Festival grounds. No amount of words could begin to make sense of a place where hundreds of music and dance lovers were murdered, kidnapped, and tortured. A pogrom of such horror that its magnitude is only exacerbated from the cold reality that it took place in the one small place on this planet Jews were supposed to be in control of their safety and destiny. An unofficial shrine where families of the fallen placed a stake in the ground with a picture of their loved ones, biographies, trinkets, flowers, sayings - it was holy ground where you could hear the echo of Abel’s blood crying out. Indeed shedding tears was all I could do. No words, no prayers, no intellectual conversations - only uncontrollable tears. Words would have been absurd because even if all of human language was brought to bear it would be insufficient.

            As I wrote before leaving for Israel, I knew it would be a heavy experience. But as much as I tried to prepare myself spiritually, intellectually, and emotionally to bear witness - I found that the vessel of my body and soul could only hold so much before overflowing and indeed in moments breaking. The only analogous examples I can think of is the devastation of September 11th or the loss of a beloved parent, spouse, etc. It changes our internal world and the reality around us including the society and culture. One of the primary emotions I felt and witnessed around the country was grief both unprocessed and in the early stages of expression. Sometimes it was an underlying weariness, other times a makeshift shrine, poster, yellow chair or flag. I also witnessed determination and strength exemplified through acts of kindness and resolve (free coffee & donuts for soldiers, painted bomb shelters, protests and hunger strikes). Bring them Home is not a trite saying but an existential imperative even when there is disagreement at what cost.

            I hope the next time (soon) I go to Israel the hostages will all be home and words again will be able to capture the powerful feeling of a nation healing and prospering. As the Prophet Jeremiah dreamed, “The voice of joy and the voice of gladness, the voice of the bridegroom and the voice of the bride will be heard throughout the streets of Judah and Jerusalem.” Amen

*Addendum: At the time this article was written the status of a cease-fire and hostage agreement was still not known or implemented. I hope and pray for its success.

 

For archives from December of 2015 through December 2024, please click here…