Shavuot Thoughts

Dear Friends,

During the days of early spring we were awakened at sunrise by a knocking on our window.  It was a bird that was banging his beak on the glass.  At first I thought it must be because there were some bugs on the windowsill.  I investigated to see if I could remove this food.  I discovered no such enticement.  Then I learned that he was fighting with the bird he saw in the window. That other bird was in fact his reflection in our newly cleaned windows. 

I shouted, “Stupid bird!  You are fighting with yourself.  You gain nothing in these efforts.  You impress no one by your incessant pecking.”  The bird failed to heed my advice.  I began to regret cleaning the windows.

The holiday of Shavuot celebrates the giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai.  It begins on Saturday evening.  The Torah is likened to a mirror.  In it we can perceive a vision of our better selves. The Torah is not a reflection of what we are but instead an intimation of what we can become.

Too often we look in mirrors and see only our imperfections.  How much time is spent tending to our appearances?  We scan Facebook for new pictures of our tagged selves.  “Wow, I look great in that picture.  Damn, I am so bald.”  We look again and again in the mirror, at this angle and that, to glean our most flattering pose.  We fight with our reflections. 

The bird finally stopped its pecking when I placed a piece of white paper on the outside of the window.  It was not a particularly attractive option. The paper appeared to diminish our home’s sheen.  Nonetheless it proved effective.  I reasoned, aesthetics are secondary to sleep.

There is a tradition that the white spaces of the Torah are even more important than the black, calligraphed letters.  Why?  It is there that we discover our truer selves.  It is there that we write our destiny.  We are guided by the beautiful letters.  But we find ourselves in between the writing.  We discover our path in the white spaces.

Now the bird does what birds are intended to do.  He flies.

The choice is ours.  Do we look at ourselves in the mirror and see only our imperfections.  Or do we see what we can become?  Do we imagine that we too can fly?  And then see a vision of our truer selves. 

This we discover every time we peer into the unfurled Torah.  And it is that reflection we should always hold before our eyes.

We meet for Shabbat services this evening at 6:30 pm when we will also mark the holiday of Shavuot.  Services will be held at the Brookville Reformed Church.

Chag Samayach—Happy Shavuot,
Rabbi Steven Moskowitz
rabbi@jcbsynagogue.org
www.rabbimoskowitz.com

Bamidbar Thoughts

Dear Friends,

This week’s portion begins the fourth book of the Torah, Numbers.  The English name comes from the Greek and Latin translations and has to do with what occurs in the opening chapters. The first chapter begins with a census, with a counting of the Israelites.  The Hebrew name in contrast comes from one of the first words, Bamidbar and means “in the wilderness.”

According to the accompanying Haftarah, Hosea, wilderness has both a positive and negative meaning.  It can be the place where we hunger for food, and seek to quench our thirst.  It can mean the desert.  It is also the place where two lovers can be alone, where God and Israel can be joined.  The prophet Hosea uses both of these images.

Hosea first chastises the Israelites, accusing them of disavowing their relationship with God.  “Else will I strip her naked/And leave her as on the day she was born:/And I will make her like a wilderness,/Render her like desert land,/And let her die of thirst.” (Hosea 2:5)  Later, the prophet offers a promise of redemption.  “Assuredly,/I will speak coaxingly to her/And lead her through the wilderness/And speak to her tenderly./I will give her vineyards from there,/And the Valley of Achor as a plow land of hope…” (Hosea 2:16)

The wilderness can be a place of thirst, of wanting.  It can also be a place of renewal and hope.  There we can struggle for survival.  In the wilderness we can as well discover our destiny.

The book’s English name suggests nothing of this dual meaning.  It suggests nothing of the importance of this place, of the significance of the wilderness.  But it is in the wilderness that we find meaning.  Place is open for interpretation.  There, in the wilderness, we can see little water, or the miraculous wells that sustained the people Israel.  There we can see the desert’s daytime sweltering heat and its evening chilly air, or the Torah we received on Mount Sinai and the bonds of community strengthened by our journey.

This wilderness that might be called in English a God-forsaken land is transformed by our tradition into a place of promise and hope.  It is a place where the unexpected and miraculous occurs.  Why was the Torah given in the wilderness?, the rabbis ask.  It is because this place belongs to no one.  A midbar is by definition not part of any state, it is within no country’s borders.  Therefore the Torah belongs to everyone.

The question remains.  When we venture into the wilderness of our lives, will we see the miracles that continue to dot our landscape, or will we only see the mountains’ harshness?  Will we see that there is so little water or instead the promise that we can be alone with those closest to us?  Any place is what we make of it.  Will we see the wilderness as a place of distance or a place of nearness? 

The prophet reminds us, it is often such a distant place that can bring us closer to our God. 

We meet for Shabbat services tomorrow evening at 6:30 pm when we will also mark the holiday of Shavuot and confirmation.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Steven Moskowitz
rabbi@jcbsynagogue.org
www.rabbimoskowitz.com

Meaning of Bible Sermon

On Shabbat Behar-Behukotai we presented our sixth graders with their own Tanakh.  What follows is the Rabbi's sermon marking this occasion.

This evening we will present our sixth graders with a Tanakh.  Each will receive a beautiful Hebrew Bible, containing the Torah, Prophets and Writings.  This will become the foundation for their future studies.  I am not of course only talking about bar/bat mitzvah studies.  I am speaking about their future Jewish lives.

Our lives as Jews revolve around two books.  Most people of course think that our Jewish lives revolve around one place, the synagogue, or maybe around one person, the rabbi or the cantor.  But this is not the case.  Although we are overjoyed to be sharing this sanctuary with our Jericho Jewish Center friends, this is not what makes us Jewish.

This is the place where we might feel most comfortable asserting our Jewish identity.  This is the place where we learn more about being Jewish, and where we of course pray, together, to our God.  This is where we feel most keenly the power of community.  But if our Judaism ends here, if it ends when we leave these doors, then it offers us nothing.

For our Jewish lives to have greater meaning it must be carried out of these doors.  It must be taken to our homes, to our businesses, to even the most mundane of activities, like greeting others on the streets.  This is why two books are central.  It is because these can be carried.  These two books are: the Siddur and the Tanakh.  The Siddur you received in fourth grade.  Tonight you will add to your Jewish backpack, the Tanakh.

These are meant to be carried.  They are not intended to collect dust on your shelves.  They are meant to be used; they are meant to be taken with you.  They are meant to accompany you.

While you can of course write your own prayers, and offer any prayer of the heart, sometimes (and Judaism would say, more often) it is better to offer the familiar.  It is better to stand on the shoulders of those who traveled before us.  There are many prayers for peace, for example.  But it is easier, and more comforting, to stand on the shoulders of Shalom Rav.  Then we are connected with previous generations, and future generations.  Then we are connected with Jews throughout the world, who like us offer this prayer in the evenings.

It is the same with the Tanakh, the Hebrew Bible.  Recently one of my students asked me about our different Torah scrolls.  I began by explaining the differences in calligraphy styles.  But he was curious about something different.  He wanted to know if there are different Reform and Conservative versions.  Of course not, I exclaimed.  But a good question nonetheless.  We have different prayerbooks so why not different Bibles.

Sometimes the differences in the Jewish world make one think that we are reading different Bibles.  It certainly appears this way at times.  But the point of being Jewish and calling the Jewish people our own is not the interpretations we arrive at but where we start.  And we start with Torah; we begin with the Bible.  That has always been the opening, the beginning, the gateway to a Jewish life.

People too often think that the gateway is the door to a synagogue.  But in truth it is one book, even more than that second book.  The Siddur varies from community to community, from country to country, from generation to generation.  It would not be Jewish prayer if the Shema was absent or the Amidah.  There have to be those landmarks so that all of us can find our way through Jewish prayers.  Still there are differences depending on who you are praying with.

But this book, the Torah is the same for everyone.  Jews throughout the world are concluding the Book of Leviticus this Shabbat.   All are reading Behar-Behukotai.  That is what connects us to Jews throughout the world.  While I might say that a certain verse means one thing and someone else another, we begin with the same verse, we begin with the same portion.  We begin with the same book.

The secret to our success, the secret of our survival is this book.  The fact that we could carry it with us from place to place, that it could be  handed literally from one generation to another, and that it could be interpreted differently for different times and different circumstances ensured our survival.  If everyone had to shlep to one holy place we could never have made it.  So instead we carried this Bible with us.  That more than anything else sustained us.

Two books hold the secret to our survival.  One, the siddur, we rewrite in each and every generation.  The other, the Tanakh, we reinterpret in each and every generation.  Carry them both in your backpacks and our Jewish future will be guaranteed.

Then you can stand anywhere.  And anywhere can become your Jewish home.

Rabbi Steven Moskowitz
May 18, 2012

Behar-Behukotai Thoughts

Dear Friends,

We will meet for Shabbat Services tomorrow evening at 6:30 pm at Jericho Jewish Center (430 North Broadway).  At these services our 6^th graders will receive their Bibles in anticipation of their bar/bat mitzvah studies.  The next service at Jericho Jewish Center will be held on Friday, June 1 at 6:30 pm.  Then we will celebrate Shabbat accompanied by three talented musicians: Natalie Tenenbaum on piano, Vasko Dukovski on clarinet and Mathias Kunzli on percussion.  Following services there will be a dinner and concert.  The remainder of our spring services will be held at the Brookville Reformed Church. 

Beginning in July all services will be held at Jericho Jewish Center.  Let me be clear about this emerging partnership.  While we will be sharing the same building we will remain two distinct congregations.  Although all are always welcome to attend Shabbat services our JCB services will remain the same, following Reform custom, filled with music and song.  Our Hebrew Schools as well will remain distinct.  In addition our JCB class schedule will remain the same as this year’s.  Our adult education programs will be offered to both communities.  We of course share a love of Torah.

The Book of Leviticus that we now conclude is filled with details about the sacrificial cult, the establishment of the priesthood and the maintenance of the sanctuary.  Even in ancient times maintaining the temple was an expensive undertaking.  Thus scholars suggest that the final chapter (Leviticus 27) was an addendum to the book, saying in effect this is how we are going to pay for the preceding.   Everyone was asked to make votive offerings of silver or animals to help support the temple.  In this spirit I want to thank all who participated in last night’s dinner and fundraiser.  As in ancient days we as well depend on such offerings.  Thank you!  Most of all I continue to remain grateful for our spirit of friendship and community.

Within our portion we also find details about land ownership.  “When you sell property to your neighbor, or buy any from your neighbor, you shall not wrong one another.” (Leviticus 25:14)  The Talmud expands this rule to apply to more than real estate transactions and suggests that egregious overcharging is grounds for canceling any agreement.  (Baba Metzia 47b)  Even more interesting the Midrash expands this ruling further saying that you must not wrong another with harmful words. (Vayikrah Rabbah 33:1)

Thus you are not even supposed to ask a merchant the price of something when you have no intention of buying it.  Why?  First of all you might then deceive yourself into thinking that you can afford to purchase the item.  Most important you might raise the hopes of the merchant.  He or she might come to believe that you intend to buy the item.  In fact you might just be gathering information so you can buy it for less on the Internet.   While many stand guilty of doing this (including me!) we might be better served to heed the tradition’s caution.  Piety begins with our words.  It extends to each and every situation, each and every setting.  We cannot leave our sacred words in the synagogue, or even in our homes.  They must find their way to the streets and the stores as well.

Judaism has long taught that words matter.    With them we can raise someone’s hopes.  With them as well we can ruin someone’s day.  Even when it comes to business transactions our tradition believes that words must be used fairly and wisely.  We cannot say whatever we want, bending the truth, in order to make a deal.  Words are a priceless commodity.  Our culture trades them as if they do not matter, as if their valuation is zero.  Our Jewish tradition in contrast believes that their value is beyond measure.

We cannot use our words in one way in our personal lives and another in business.  In all contexts our words must reach for holiness.  They can break another’s spirit, or lift them out of despair.  The Midrash offers a metaphor: “Ben Sira said, ‘A glowing coal is before him.  He blows upon it and it burns; he spits upon it and it goes out.’”  Such are the power of our words.

We must always remember that with our words we can both ignite and extinguish.  In the synagogue, in our homes, in our businesses, in every situation our words matter.  With them we can wrong another.  With them we can right another.

Shabbat Shalom!
Rabbi Steven Moskowitz
rabbi@jcbsynagogue.org
www.rabbimoskowitz.com

Emor Sermon

Some brief words of Torah.

This week’s Torah portion contains details about the priests.  There were extra requirements to serve as a priest.  It was not just a matter of birth.  An example: “The Lord spoke further to Moses: Speak to Aaron and say: No man of your offspring throughout the ages who has a defect shall be qualified to offer the food of his God.  No one at all who has a defect shall be qualified: no man who is blind, or lame, or has a limb too short or too long; no man who has a broken leg or a broken arm; or who is a hunchback, or a dwarf, or who has a growth in his eye…” (Leviticus 21:16-20)

This appears objectionable.  Of course we welcome the disabled to the bima.  I believe all, for example, should have a bar mitzvah.  Jewish law of course suggests that only someone who has the requisite understanding can recite the prayers or read from the Torah.  Therefore someone who is mentally incapacitated is prevented from these rituals.  But in our congregation we make sure that every child has this opportunity.  I believe that even an autistic child should have a bar/bat mitzvah.  This bima is open to all.

On the surface I therefore disagree with the Torah’s strictures.  Why should the priest have such stringent requirements? No touching the dead, marrying a divorced woman, no shaving in addition to the above.  The list goes on and occupies two chapters.

Then again, if we look not at the specifics of the list and instead at the principle, perhaps we can uncover meaning for ourselves.  We should expect more from our leaders.  Our leaders should live according to more stringent standards.  Since I focused on surgeons in my email let’s look at that again.  While we should not care if they shave their beards, we should care if we ran into them drinking and partying the night before our mother’s surgery.  Those who have extra responsibilities must live according to more exacting standards.  That is the point of the Torah’s restrictions.  For the ancients the priest was as important to a person’s and the world’s health as a surgeon is in our own age.  Extra responsibilities means extra standards.  That is the message in a nutshell.

This is why I do expect more from our politicians.  I expect them to live by higher standards.  While I am not surprised when powerful people go astray—we need only think of the Edwards trial or a past president’s indiscretions to illustrate this point. Or we can look at King David’s sinful behavior for a biblical example.  The Bible’s disappointment in David should mirror our own.  Just because we are not surprised by such behavior does not mean that it is permissible.  More responsibility means more standards.  That is the message.

It is why I also expect more of my country than of other countries.  The mission of America is not just to protect us, its citizenry, but also to rescue those in distress; we are to help the world.  Later we will look at Elie Wiesel’s speech about this mission.  In his eyes the lesson of the Holocaust is that we must reach out to those who are suffering; we cannot, we must not remain indifferent.

This is also why even though I am bothered when others, most especially our newspapers’ op-ed columnists, hold Israel to a different standard than every other country in the world, I remind myself that Israel should be held to a different standard.  If it sees itself as a leader of the Jewish people, as representative of the Jewish people worldwide, then it has responsibilities that transcend its protection of its citizens.  Both Israel and America argue that their meaning extends beyond their borders.  If we see ourselves as having more expansive responsibilities then we must live by more demanding standards.

That is the message of these lists of strictures regarding the priests.  But it is not just about our country, or about our leaders, or even our doctors.  It is actually about all of us.  When God first spoke to the Israelites at Sinai God said that the entire people must be a kingdom of priests.  That means that everyone must live by these more exacting standards.

You can object to the specifics of the Torah.  And we might as well have different specifics to add.  But I hope we will not object to the overriding message.  Every single one of us must live by higher standards.  We must live by more exacting strictures.

Our everyday moral choices really do matter.  We never know who might be watching—and who might be following us.  Each and every day every one of us is a leader.  We never know if our lives might depend on it.  We never know—the world could very well depend on us.  Everything could really depend on each of us living by these exacting standards.

That is this week’s message.  Let’s step up and not shy away from these exacting standards. Let’s do the more demanding.  Let’s live by the most stringent ideals.

Rabbi Steven Moskowitz
May 11, 2012