There is an old series of commercials for Motel Six that ends ”We’ll leave the lights on.” In truth, it would be fair to say that Motel Six is not my favorite hotel chain, but the commercials were charming and I always wanted to like them. There is something about light that is welcoming, warm and inviting.  

Today’s portion is called B’ha’alotecha. Which Eiz Chayim translates as “When you mount” but really is more like “When you raise up.” It is from the same root as aliyah, to go up. The same word we use for coming up to say the Torah blessings or going up to Jerusalem. When you move to Israel, you make aliyah. It is a spiritual raising up. 

There is something about light that is spiritually nourishing. When the Israelites were wandering in the desert, they had a pillar of smoke to lead them by day and a pilar of fire to lead them by night. Here we learn that somehow G-d is present when we leave the light on. And this light is supposed to be lit for all time. It is a Ner Tamid, an Eternal Light. What we learn from this portion is that while Aaron raised up the light, it is all of our responsibility to keep the light on.  

Recently someone noticed that our own Ner Tamid had gone out. Despite it being an LED bulb it had simply gone out. I am glad that he had noticed, and we quickly replaced it the next day. That “we” is really the royal we, I didn’t do it. I told Gene it was out and Gene did. It takes a village. Each of us, here at CKI has a job to do to keep the lights on.  

 This portion has a lot to say about leadership and community.  

 It seems so appropriate that we had our Board Induction last night.  

Rabbi Lord Sacks said of this portion: 

“There have been times when one passage in this week’s parsha was, for me, little less than lifesaving. No leadership position is easy. Leading Jews is harder still. And spiritual leadership can be hardest of them all. Leaders have a public face that is usually calm, upbeat, optimistic, and relaxed. But behind the façade we can all experience storms of emotion as we realise how deep are the divisions between people, how intractable are the problems we face, and how thin the ice on which we stand. Perhaps we all experience such moments at some point in our lives, when we know where we are and where we want to be, but simply cannot see a route from here to there. That is the prelude to despair.”  

Despair is all too common these days. There are any number of reasons people feel despair and hopelessness. As our elected officials all know, I argue for more funding for more mental health services in every encounter I have with them. Yet, there is still a stigma for seeking help for mental illness or for announcing you have one. It is part of why I proudly say that I have a therapist. I am hoping I am role modeling something for the rest of you. 

But mental health services alone are not enough. There is a spiritual malaise that is sometimes palpable. Throughout the centuries, Judaism has provided answers to this problem. 

Perhaps, like the prayer that we say at the beginning of the services which says that G-d is the Ultimate Healer, G-d is also the Ultimate Therapist. Perhaps that is why Rabbi Nachman suggests we should be outside every day and pour out our souls to G-d.  

Perhaps that is why it takes the whole community to light the lights and keep them going. Light dispels darkness. Dispels hopelessness. “Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.” – Desmond Tutu 

Perhaps, then it is our job as leaders of a spiritual community to provide a sense of hope and optimism.  

The message that this portion is giving us is profound. As Sacks says, “Judaism is not a recipe for blandness or bliss. It is not a guarantee that you will be spared heartache and pain. It is not what the Stoics sought, apatheia, a life undisturbed by passion. Nor is it a path to nirvana, stilling the fires of feeling by extinguishing the self. These things have a spiritual beauty of their own, and their counterparts can be found in the more mystical strands of Judaism. But they are not the world of the heroes and heroines of Tanach.” 

No, he is right. But like Kushner taught in his book, even with the title, is is what we do when bad things happen, because they will, not why do bad things happen. The challenge to a community, then is to help people cope with the tragedies and trauma.  

Sacks continues: “Why so? Because Judaism is a faith for those who seek to change the world. That is unusual in the history of faith. Most religions are about accepting the world the way it is. Judaism is a protest against the world that is in the name of the world that ought to be. To be a Jew is to seek to make a difference, to change lives for the better, to heal some of the scars of our fractured world. But people don’t like change. That’s why Moses, David, Elijah, and Jeremiah found life so hard. 

Sacks is correct again. People don’t like change. And yet we know that we are on the cusp of major changes to the Jewish community and community at large. This has been happening even before the pandemic but exacerbated by it. We don’t yet know what this change will ultimately look like. I think of the song we sing on Shabbat morning, “Or chadash…Cause a new light to illumine Zion.” What will that light look like? What will Judaism be for the next several generations? It is not that people don’t want to be engaged, involved, invested. But they want to do it differently. That’s why I gave all the board members a new book to read over the summer. Judaism Disrupted: A Spiritual Manifesto for the 21st Century. Maybe we will treat it like a “One Community, One Read” book and have everyone read it. Please do and give me, as your spiritual leader, your thoughts. What we build at CKI is for you! 

Sacks continues: “The Torah is giving us a remarkable account of the psychodynamics of emotional crisis. The first thing it is telling us is that it is important, in the midst of despair, not to be alone. God performs the role of comforter. It is He who lifts Moses from the pit of despair. He speaks directly to Moses’ concerns. He tells him he will not have to lead alone in the future. There will be others to help him. Then He tells him not to be anxious about the people’s complaint. They would soon have so much meat that it would make them ill, and they would not complain about the food again. 

The essential principle here is what the Sages meant when they said, “A prisoner cannot release himself from prison.” (Brachot 5b) It needs someone else to lift you from depression. That is why Judaism is so insistent on not leaving people alone at times of maximum vulnerability. Hence the principles of visiting the sick, comforting mourners, including the lonely (“the stranger, the orphan and the widow”) in festive celebrations, and offering hospitality – an act said to be “greater than receiving the Shechinah.” Precisely because depression isolates you from others, remaining alone intensifies the despair. What the seventy elders actually did to help Moses is unclear. But simply being there with him was part of the cure.” 

Our job is to accompany people in their darkest hours, whether that is acknowledging their physical limitations and health or their mental health. Sometimes it is hard to know just what to do. We know how to visit the sick, comfort mourners and join in festive celebrations. I am glad that the CKI Cares Team is revamping so that we can expand our connections because that is really what community is all about. 

Later in the parsha, after Aaron and Miriam challenge Moses’s leadership and after Miriam is struck with some kind of skin disease, Moses prays for his sister, “El na refana La. Please G-d heal her.” The research is clear. When people know that others are praying for them, they heal faster. They feel connected to a community, even if they are isolated. Miriam was outside the camp for seven days and then brought back inside the camp. That is a metaphor for community. Sometimes that integration is smooth and sometimes it is more difficult.  

It can be hard to be a leader. You may even think yourself as a failure. You join good company, as Moses thought he was a failure. But you don’t have to go it alone. The message of today’s portion is that we raise the lights together. As community.  

Sacks in another d’var Torah said, there are two ways to live in a world that is often dark and full of tears. We can curse the darkness or we can light a light and as the chasidim say, a little light drives out a lot of darkness.” 

Come light the lights with me. Raise those lights!