We are still in the period of time known as the Three Weeks. There is much to celebrate today. Thank you Risa for that opportunity. Unfortunately there are still things that are disturbing.

If you came today because you wanted me to address the Iran deal, I will but only after services and after Kiddush so we don’t spoil the Shabbat shalom moment that we create within these holy walls of the sanctuary. Similarly, if you wanted me to discuss Chattanooga and the rising threat of ISIS to our American way of life, you will have to wait, as we mourn the tragic loss of life.

Nonetheless, there are things that have happened this week, that need to be discussed. And I would like to suggest a framework to you. As I wrestled with what to say, Rabbi Shlomo Riskin, a leading, Modern Orthodox rabbi, writing in the Jerusalem Post, reminded us in his D’var Torah that Unity does not mean Uniformity.

And while he was linking this week’s Torah portion and last week’s Torah portion together, I want to share with you three separate events this week. The first one seems simple enough on the surface. Can my seminary post an job listing for a male-only shofar blower? “That’s discriminatory,” you say. It might be. But, with all deference to Risa, my seminary is an institution that prides itself on pluralism. Within that spectrum is a halachic position that says that women are not obligated to time bound mitzvot, including blowing of shofar. Since they are not obligated, then someone hearing a shofar blown by a woman has not fulfilled his obligation. I don’t like it, but that is the baseline halacha. And, in truth, this very argument has come up in my rabbinate. Multiple times in multiple contexts.

When I was studying in Israel and the victim of a violent crime, one of my rabbi’s responses was to say that it was G-d telling me that I could not be a rabbi because I was a woman. That was egregious—and not good theology. However, I once attempted to apply for a job in a small congregation and was turned down by the coordinator, himself a Reform rabbi, before I even applied, because that congregation was only taking male applicants. I chanted Kiddush at a Jewish assisted living complex, and a woman, herself a member of a Conservative synagogue, told me that it was beautiful but now could a man chant so it would count. And just last year here at CKI when we hosted a Men’s Club regional meeting someone walked in and when introduced to him, he said, “Well I hope you are not davenning and we are not counting women.”

With all due respect to Peretz who would not like me to embarrass him, he approached me this morning and said he was still angry because of something I did. “Oh, no,” I silently thought to myself. “What have I done now,” because I never like to anger Peretz. It was my sermon. He didn’t like that some Jews in Israel were saying that Reform Jews are not Jews. “I don’t agree with everything you do, Rabbi. But, you are a Jew and as a rabbi you deserve my respect. We need more respect. Those Jews are praying for the Third Beis Hamikdash. How can they ever get it if they don’t have any respect? It is just wrong. It will never be rebuilt.” He reminded me that when the Torah was given at Sinai, it was given to all the people. “It wasn’t just the men. All the people. Men, women and children stood at Sinai. Even in the Talmud it says that women wore tefilin.”

So let’s talk about that Talmud. Here is a page of it. The very page that contains the story I want to teach this morning. In the middle are the Mishnah and the Gemara. That makes up the Talmud. The Talmud is a redaction of the Oral Law. The tradition that was whispered by G-d to Moses on Sinai and then handed down generation to generation. You know what an etrog is? That lemonlike, citron fruit we use at Sukkot? What the Torah says is to take the fruit of a goodly tree. What, you might ask is the fruit of a goodly tree? An etrog. That is how Talmud works. And in the Talmud they never fully tell you the answer. All the arguments are preserved. The halachic answers appear in later law codes like the Mishneh Torah and the Shulchan Arukh. Around the traditional Talmud page are even more commentaries, including Rashi—whose daughters apparently wore tefilin and blew shofar.

On the Ark cover at the Academy for Jewish Religion, my seminary, hang these very important words: Elu v’elu. “These and these.” It come from this passage of the Talmud: “For three years the Academy of Shamai and the Academy of Hillel disputed. These said, ‘The Halacha is like us’ and those said, ‘The Halacha is like us’. The Divine Voice (bat kol) descended and said, ‘these and those are the words of the Living God…’” (B.T. Eruvin 13b)

This is the text that Rabbi Shlomo Riskin used in his d’Var Torah. And it is so appropriate for today. Whether we, as Riskin was, are talking about rabbinical courts in Israel and who has authority over conversions. Or whether we are talking about if a woman can read Torah at the Kotel. A woman was arrested this week for precisely that on Rosh Hodesh Av. Or whether it is how we post job listings.

Or maybe even more to the point, how we conduct ourselves in this congregation that prides itself on being an independent synagogue. Because this week, how we act in our “pluralistic” community was questioned too. Sorry Risa. But even Risa, who I was told when I first got here would never like the world pluralism has softened. What was the issue? Actually, there were more than one. Whether I had time to do pastoral care or adult study if my job is to grow the congregation. Whether there should be sermons on Friday night. Whether we do what we usually do because all of you are here or we try something new–even new melodies. Whether someone had enough Jewish background to serve on a committee. Whether something was Jewish or not. Oh, yes, I get these types of questions all the time.

We need to do so with respect. With careful listening. Without enflaming debate. Without knee jerk reactions. Without assuming something isn’t Jewish. Sometimes I think that the source of this tension is fear. Fear is a powerful thing. And it can be dangerous. Rabbi Nachman of Bratzlav, one of our best known chassidic rabbis taught, “All the world is a narrow bridge. The important thing. The center thing, is to not be afraid.” It isn’t easy.

I know that Jews kvetch–we’ve been doing it for a long time, since the wandering of the Israelites in the desert. But I liked the attitude of one of our senior-seniors. The one who is 99. When I called her this week, mostly to make sure she had air conditioning, even before my question, she said, “I’ve got nothing to complain about. I am better off than 99% of the world.” That’s the attitude we need. Not complaining. Because, really, we are better than 99% of the world. Could things be better? Sure. Could we grow the congregation further? Sure. Could we be more intentional about our community and deepen the relationships and connections? Sure. Does our tradition tell us how? Sometimes.

It is hard to live in the tension between “these and these.” They both can’t be right. Or can they? I believe they can. And I believe that keeping this foundational text in mind, can help us avoid the screaming, name calling, frustration that sometimes occurs when we live in the 5000 year tradition and a democracy.

Riskin went on the quote another text: “The Mishna (Eduyot 1:5) magnificently explains that the reason for including also the minority opinion within the Oral Tradition, when the law is generally in accordance with the majority, is because a later generation (with different conditions) may decide to rule in accordance with the minority.

For this reason, throughout Jewish history different religious courts existed side by side, one in accordance with the more stringent Academy of Shamai and the other more lenient in accordance with the Academy of Hillel. Nevertheless, “Those from the Academy of Shamai were not prevented from marrying women from the Academy of Hillel and vice versa” (Eduyot 4:8).

So some were strict and some were lenient. And they managed to co-exist. Co-mingle. Even intermarry.

Riskin finished his sermon quoting the first chief rabbi of Israel, Rav Kook, whose works we are going to study on Tisha B’av: “Scholars increase peace in the world”: (would that people see me as a scholar and a peace builder!) “True peace cannot enter the world without there being many different expressions leading to peace, all sides and all views… a multiplicity of ideas which emanates from different minds and different educational traditions is what enriches and spreads wisdom and establishes a true building of peace.”

Unity does not mean uniformity. It may not mean concensus. It means being able to bring more that on idea to the table and to be able to listen with respect. It means doing so without fear. It means elu v’elu, these and these are both the words of the living G-d.