Earlier this week the world marked World Refugee Day. According to the World Refugee Day site, “World Refugee Day is an international day designated by the United Nations to honour refugees around the globe. It falls each year on June 20 and celebrates the strength and courage of people who have been forced to flee their home country to escape conflict or persecution. World Refugee Day is an occasion to build empathy and understanding for their plight and to recognize their resilience in rebuilding their lives.” The theme of this year’s day was Hope Away from Home. 

Over and over again in the Torah, 36 times according to the Talmud, we are told that we should honor the widow, the orphan and the sojourner, precisely because  were slaves in the land of Egypt and then we were refugees. Wanderers. Not just our ancestors. We ourselves. We know what it is to be mistreated, to be an outsider, a slave.  We were refugees. And throughout the ages, Jews have continued to be refugees. That is part of why HIAS, the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society exists, and supports World Refugee Day. Yes, I made my financial commitment to the work they are doing. And yes, that is part of why I chose to work for Refugee Immigration Ministry as one of my rabbinic internships. That is part of why I have a Cambodian nephew rescued from the Killing Fields.  That is part of why I have a brother-in-law who is an immigration attorney and a judge. And that is part of why I went to meeting last week for Elgin leaders and Centro de Informacion to talk about what we can do as a city to welcome new immigrants. CERL leaders and city officials have a commitment to doing precisely that. 

This week, the Israelites who are wandering in the desert, who we have listened to them kvetch and complain for weeks now, do something else in this week’s parsha. One of their leaders, Korach, questions Moses and Aaron’s authority and leadership. Now questioning by itself is not bad. My father’s definition of a Jew, as I often quote is someone who questions, thinks and argues.  

Korach, a cousin to Moses, Aaron, and Miriam and a fellow member of the tribe of Levi, and who holds a position of communal prominence, but he wants more. So he rallies thought leaders and political figures to his cause, claiming to be the people’s champion. “All in the community are holy, all of them, and the Lord is in their midst,” he declares. “Why then do you raise yourselves above the Lord’s congregation?” (Numbers 16:2-3) 

What is the problem with Korach’s question? It sounds like a good point. Everyone is holy. No one should be above the people, right? We are all created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d. Acording to Rabbi Menachem Creditor, “In so doing, Korach’s assault on Moses and Aaron is really an assault on the foundations of the community, an attack on the nation he purports to defend. Beneath Korach’s lofty words lies a deep-seated desire for power. This unquenchable thirst represents a profound imbalance within him, as real satisfaction lies not in accumulating authority, but in finding purpose and meaning within oneself. Korach’s quest for power would never have led to fulfillment.” 

In contrast, we see an example of a leader who is humble. We are told about Moses that he was humble and as an expression of that humility, he falls on his face before G-d. Later, in Deuteronomy, we are told that there has never been a leader, a prophet that arose like Moses. We sing that line in Yigdal.  

What do we want in a leader? Moses is held out as an example of a good leader. Folliwing the example of G-d being merciful and compassionate, slow to anger, patient, forgiving and humble. Those seem like good attributes of a leader. Recently we had our own board induction of leaders. We called it an Induction into the CKI Leadership Hall of Fame. Some people tell me that they are not leaders. There is no one model for leadership, An old Girl Scout handbook, in taking about leadership outlined several styles. Some are Directors. Some are Delegators. Some are Coaches. Some are Supporters. Each has a unique role.  

The Talmud in Pirke Avot teaches that there are two types of arguments, those for the sake of heaven and those that are not. The example that Pirke Avot uses is the difference between Hillel and Shamai’s debates and the one of Korach. The old RSGB prayer book has a prayer for committee meetings that includes this very example. When we gather as a board or a committee we should argue for the sake of heaven, not because we want to grab more power. 

Shortly after Korach questions Moses’s authority, the earth seems to swallow up Korach and his band of 250 followers. “They went down alive to She’ol, with all that belonged to them. The earth closed over them and they vanished from the midst of the congregation” 

This seems like harsh punishment.  

Sermons are supposed to be timeless, not necessarily timely. This week, however, I feel the need to be timely, so please forgive me.  

This week we saw two examples of the sea swallowing up people. Sadly, they went down to the depths. The world seemed captivated by a mini-van sized submersible with five people on board. These were not refugees, rather they were privileged elite, who could afford just this kind of thrill ride. For their families and friends the outcome is a tragedy, and I am sure that they will be missed. Sudden deaths like this can be very difficult, because there was no time, no opportunity to fully say goodbye. Yes, the participants signed waivers, but I am not sure they could fully understand the risks.  Once I went white water rafting in New Hampshire. I too signed a waiver that included death as a possible outcome. It spooked me and still I went.  It was a thrilling 3 hours, and expensive on our budget, but not something I feel I need to repeat.  I may not be that much of a thrill seeker. 

Perhaps though what struck me as I sat from the safety of my living room, was the hubris of the CEO who felt that the satiety warnings didn’t apply somehow to him and his craft. He ignored those warnings and put people, himself included, at risk. That risk turned out to be fatal. This example is the opposite of Moses’s example. It is hubris. 

We mourn with the families, this loss of life. We applaud the international cooperation that the rescue mission, which became a search and recovery mission took. We have seen this kind of cooperation before. With the Thailand cave rescue and more recently with the Turkey and Syria earthquake. Israel, with their unique skills honed with years of responding to terrorist attacks often offers significant help. There is much that can be learned from this disaster. And it is a tragic disaster. 

Sadly, however, there was another example of people going down to the deep this week. A refugee boat with roughly 750 people on board capsized off the coast of Greece. Refugees, migrants seeking a better life in Europe sank in Greek waters. With hundreds still missing and dozens confirmed dead, Greek and European authorities are facing mounting criticism. 

The number of survivors is currently at 104 people. Many of them are Syrians, Pakistanis and Egyptians. Most of those who have been rescued were taken to a refugee camp on the mainland just outside of Athens, and if you do the math, that leaves hundreds of people still missing – up to 500, according to the U.N. 

500 people missing, not 5. Where are they? What could the leaders of European nations done differently? What kind of international cooperation could we have mustered in this case? Whaat are the failures of leadership here? According to some: 

“Well, we know that the boat capsized overnight local time on Wednesday last week. We also know the Greek Coast Guard was observing the vessel for several hours before it sank. And one question is why Greek authorities didn’t immediately intervene, given how unseaworthy and overcrowded this vessel was. According to international law experts, Greek authorities had an obligation to act even if people aboard rejected assistance, which Greek authorities claimed they did.”  https://www.npr.org/2023/06/22/1183842802/migrant-boat-disaster-has-greece-and-european-authorities-facing-criticism  

We mourn with these families too. But this may only be the tip of the iceberg. Pun intended!  

To be clear, refugee and asylum issues are not just a problem on our southern border. They are not just a problem in downtown Chicago where 10,000 new immigrants have arrived this year. Centro has served 6,000 clients this fiscal year alone. 

I don’t have the solutions to the global immigration crisis. To say that I do, would be hubris on my part. But I am willing to roll up my sleeves and work.  

We also know that the migrant and immigration problems throughout the world will only get worse as a reflection of climate change. According to the Council on Foreign Relations, “Climate migration occurs when people leave their homes due to extreme weather events, including floods, heat waves, droughts, and wildfires, as well as slower-moving climate challenges such as rising seas and intensifying water stress. This form of migration is increasing because the world has not been able to reduce greenhouse gas emissions and halt global average temperature rise, which leads to more climate disasters. Most climate migration is projected to occur within a country’s borders (internal), but cross-border migration will also rise. In some instances, extremes combined with other factors, such as natural subsidence and oil and gas activities, are displacing entire communities, forcing them to find refuge in different parts of their country or journey across borders. Some researchers project that drought-driven migration in particular could triple this century if international efforts fail to address the growing climate crisis. ) https://www.cfr.org/in-brief/climate-change-fueling-migration-do-climate-migrants-have-legal-protections#:~:text=Why%20is%20climate%20migration%20on%20the%20rise%3F&text=Climate%20migration%20occurs%20when%20people,seas%20and%20intensifying%20water%20stress.   

We look to our leaders to respond to these crises with compassion and humility, like Moses. No one, fleeing climate disasters or seeking asylum for other reasons, persecution, fear of violence, poverty, etc. should meet a fate like the refugees on that boat. As the Torah suggests, we need to protect the refugee, the sojourner, strangers, as we were once refugees too.  

We’re not done yet. The Israelites contribute to complain. The very next day the whole Israelite community railed against Moses and Aaron, saying, “You two have brought death upon the Lord’s people.” And a plague began. 14700 people were lost. Plus the 250 from Korah. That’s a lot of people. A lot more death. It almost feels like current events. 

Yet, after the plague, there is an almost magical scene. G-d told Moses to tell the Israelite people to take from them a staff, one from each new chieftain. 12 staffs in all. These staffs were placed In the Tent of Meeting and as G-d said, they would begin to sprout and produce blossoms. Which is exactly what happened. New, promising growth. A sign of hope.  

Once, we were in Rocky Mountain National Park after a forest fire. It was smoky still and the trees were all charred. It looked and smelled awful. But if you looked closely, the ground of the forest was that bright green, new growth like we have here in early spring. The forest floor has the ability to begin again.  We have the ability to begin again—even after tragedy and trauma. It takes work. A lot of work. But it is possible. With leadership and a lot of work.  Come work with me. Argue if you must–for the sake of heaven and for the people.

This is two part entry, That makes it a little long. But I think hopeful.

Part One:
Friday night we hosted, together with Hadassah, Shabbat on the Road. It is a program I’ve adopted from Rabbi Ed Friedman, now in Aurora, IL. Our version goes like this. Once a month in the summer, June, July, August, we are not in our building for Friday night. We are in someone’s home or in a park. There may be instrumental music or not. There could be some yummy food, some kind of dairy potluck or food that people bring just for themselves or their family. Or not. Sometimes at the last minute we have had to cancel because of weather. Usually, we get to enjoy davenning, praying outside the way the rabbis designed the service.  

This week we were scheduled to be a park in Elgin. In a picnic shelter that has electricity. Better for that instrumental music. Near real bathrooms and a playground. The weather was perfect. Cooler in the morning, so people kept reminding me to bundle up. But the sun had come out. It was about 72 degrees out. Not too cold. Not too hot. Just right.  

Earlier in the day, the verdict came out in the Tree of Life mass shooting. Guilty on all counts. This is a good thing. But is it a security risk for a Jewish congregation out on the road? Should we be visible? What if we are singing in Hebrew? Is it too late to get a detail? Can we afford it? Can we afford not to? 

I texted my contact at the police department who handles details. She had already seen the news and even though it was her day off, she arranged for a steady stream of police squad cars to drive by the park shelter. Every single officer waved. One came and sat with us for a while. I have never felt quite so protected. It was definitely a spiritual moment.  

Rebbe Nachman of Bratzlav who I quote often says that we need be outside alone and pour out of souls to G-d. That is definitely part of my reason for running and walking. There were two other intensely spiritual moments. At Lecha Dodi, it is traditional to rise, face the door, and greet the Shabbat bride and queen. If you are outdoors, in a picnic shelter in the round, where do you face? I watched people try to figure that out. I was reminded of the verse, “The earth is the Lord and the fullness thereof.” All the world is G-d’s home.  

As I was quietly doing my personal Amidah, the central standing set of prayers, I could hear the birds sing and the children at play. Perhaps because I am in the middle of wedding season, I was reminded of the last of the sheva brachot, the seven marriage blessings that praises G-d for joy (seven words for joy!), for loving couples and youth at play.  

It was a lovely, lovely evening that could only have been better with ice cream! 

Part Two:
The teaching of Rebbe Nachman of Bratlav: 

Kol ha’olam kulo, geher tzar me’od. All the world is a narrow bridge.
V’ha’ikar, lo lefachad klal.–The important thing is to not be afraid.  

Franklin D. Roosevelt is famous for saying, “The only thing we have to fear, is fear itself.” 

Fear can be an important emotion. The fight or flight response, necessary to keep us safe, is driven by fear. This portion has a lot to teach us about fear and hope.  

When Moses sent in scouts, one member of each tribe, to spy out the land and to give an assessment, they came back with a mostly positive report. The land is a good land, flowing with milk and honey, with abundant food, grapes and pomegranates and figs. But, 10 out of 12 of the scouts were afraid. They didn’t think they could overcome the people. Only Caleb dissented. The others thought that the people were like giants, nefalim, and they appeared as grasshoppers. Now it is true the meaning of nefalim is shrouded in mystery. Perhaps giants, perhaps fallen angels, perhaps the offspring of Seth. We really don’t know. But the affect is clear. 10 out of 12 scouts did not think they could overcome them or that the Israelites would be welcome. The whole people then questioned what they were doing there at all. Perhaps it would be better to go back to Egypt.  

I want you to think for a moment about when you have been afraid. When did you feel small? Maybe as small as a grasshopper.  

Recently I learned about a museum in New York. The Museum of Failure. In it are products that never succeeded in the market. One of them is Nww Coke. Then, as you may remember, Coca Cola went back to what it called Coke Classic. The museum spotlights 159 products. Once I went to a conference on Intellectual Property. Many universities actually have IP offices. I heard the director of the MIT office tell the workshop that they expect students and professors to fail. It is a necessary component to getting a new product from the R&D stage to being a successful product. But what if they had been afraid to try at all? No lightbulbs. No phones. (or cell phones!) No cars. No maple syrup. Who was the brave person who first tried that? Fear could have prevented many of our “advancements.” 

After a rather intense argument between Moses and G-d, Moses arguing on behalf of this stiffnecked, sttubborn, kvetching people and G-d forgives them. The people march on. That defense of the people and plea becomes the basis of much of our High Holy Day liturgy. Moses reminds G-d of G-’d essential nature—to be merciful, full of lovingkindnesss and truth,, slow to anger, and forgiving. G-d then tells Moses that G-d has forgiven them according to his word.  

But what was the sin?  What had the people done wrong? Why was G-d so angry? Perhaps it was the fear that would prevent the Israelites from moving forward. Perhaps it was not trusting G-d. Perhaps it was the kventching, the constant complaining that the Israelites seem to do. Perhaps it was all of it.  

We often joke about how the Israelite kvetch. How we kvetch. And we do. In our families. In our communities. Even right here at CKI. Maybe that kvetching comes out of fear.   

Imagine what our households would look like if we just stopped kvetching. Or our communities. This community. Maybe this shoukd be a kvetch free zone. There are plenty of memes that will tell you to stop complaining. Just google etsy or pinterest. But what is really going on? In order to stop complaining, it is helpful to understand the underlying causes. It maybe the fear.  

If we look at complaining as the misfired expression of a wish, there are three sources where it can come from: a desire for control, a need for validation or sympathy, a fear of managing a problem directly,  

What are the wishes we have? What are preventing them? 

It is our job then to motivate people. I found these suggestions helpful: 

“Ask the person what things would look like if the situation became better for them. Encourage them to describe their ideal outcome and think of three things they could do to make that happen—if they are willing, of course. Have them create an action plan and let you know how this plan works for them.” 

https://www.mindbodygreen.com/articles/what-it-means-when-someone-cant-stop-complaining  

There are a number of things that we all might be afraid of these days. Instead of kvetching, I try to do something about it, whatever it is. Rising anti-semitism. I show up, and try to be loud and proud. I know that is what Myrna did. After the Tree of Life massacre, she found CKI and has stayed. And we are grateful she has! I think of that today, since the verdict came out guilty on all counts yesterday. Increasing gun violence? Advocate for more mental health services and some kind of gun law reform. Trash around a neighborhood park? Pick it up. (And then wash your hands!) Climate issues and these increasingly violent storms? Learn what really causes climate change and what we can do about it. Healthcare issues? Keep advocating for healthcare for all.  

Does it work? Not always. Here’s my kvetch. Some of the issues I have worked on for decades seem to be worse or worsening.  

Chuck pointed out something during Torah study that I had missed. Probably because we read the triennial cycle. Later in the full portion we are instructed about tzitzit. We have short memories. We go back to kvetching quickly. So G-d gives us a tool. A memory device: 

“Speak to the Israelite people and instruct them to make for themselves fringes on the corners of their garments throughout the ages; let them attach a cord of blue to the fringe at each corner. That shall be your fringe; look at it and recall all the commandments of יהוה and observe them, so that you do not follow your heart and eyes in your lustful urge. Thus you shall be reminded to observe all My commandments and to be holy to your God. I יהוה am your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt to be your God: I, your God יהוה.” (Numbers 15:38-41) 

Why this thread? Why now in the storyline? It is to remind us of what Adonai did for us when we went forth from Egypt. Leading us out. Parting the sea. Giving us Torah. Giving us manna and water in the wilderness. So easily we forget. So easily we are afraid and then we kvetch. It would be better to go back to Egypt, right?  

There are two schemas that I know of for tying tzitzit. One is so that the knots equal 613, the number of commandments in Torah. The other so that the twists and turns equal the numerical value of Yod (10) Hay (5) Vuv (6) Hay (5). Either way, even today, when you look on the tzitzit, the original Jewish macrame, you remember G-d and the commandments. It is like tying a thread on your finger to remember to buy milk on your way home. 

One way to combat fear is with hope, Even if that hope is just a thin thread. 

A thread plays an important role in the haftarah as well. A crimson cord is used as a signal of safety. Rahab, the non-Israelite whore, is responsible for rescuing the Israelite spies, entering into an oath with them and tying that crimson cord on the window. She, as an ally, an unlikely one at that, gives me hope and lessens my fear. 

That string, tivkat choot, may have the same root as hope, I first learned of this connection from Wendy McFadden in my adult Hebrew class. She is the director of publications at the General Offices of the Church of the Brethren and a scholar in her own right. I always learn from her. This gives me hope too.  

Many of us are undergoing medical procedures. I have always liked the last verse of Adon Olam. It was Dan’s calming mechanism if he had to have an MRI. I have sung it at any number of patient bedsides and watched as blood pressures fell. Last night we sang the Craig Taubman version which was Dan’s favorite: 

B’yado afkid ruchi
B’eit ishan ve’a’i’rah

Ve’im ruchi geviati
Adonai li v’lo irah

Ve’im ruchi geviati
Adonai li v’lo irah

[Verse 2]
My soul I give to you
My spirit in your care

Draw me near
I shall not fear
Hold me in your hands 

Into Your hands I place my spirit. When I sleep and when I wake, I will have no fear. G-d with me and I will not fear.  

Rabbi Jennifer Singer taught this week: “As I remind myself, I am remembering to remind you too – to be brave in the face of the unknown, to be brave when fear holds you back, to be brave because you know that what is right must be spoken, must be supported. Be brave.” I’ll add. Remember, you are never alone. G-d neither slumbers nor sleeps. G-d walks with you. This gives me courage and reduces my fear.  

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! 

Last night I went to see a movie, Crescendo, part of the Violins of Hope Project co-sponsored by Congregation Kneseth Israel, Gail Borden Public Library, Elgin Symphony Orchestra, Chamber Music on the Fox and JCC Chicago, After the movie the EYSO Hansen String Quartet played a very complicated Shostakovich piece. 

The movie, too, is complex and it felt like it represented my entire rabbinate, my entire life. The premise is a world-renowned German conductor takes on a challenge to have a youth Israeli-Palestinian symphony perform a peace concert. Sounds simple, no?

He auditions various musicians and the rehearsals begin. He chooses the Palestinian girl violinist as concertmaster, angering some musicians from Tel Aviv. 

He brings them all to Germany to a manse to rehearse. It does not go well. And then it does. Maybe.

There is much in the movie about generational hate. Jews who are children and grandchildren of Holocaust survivors not wanting to be in Germany. Palestinians who were displaced by Israelis. Israelis whose relatives were killed by Palestinian terrorists. Palestinians who can’t get through Israeli checkpoints. There is much hate and mistrust to go around.

My rabbinic thesis was written about intergenerational trauma, sins if you will, based on the 13 Attributes of the Divine. Are there some sins that carry on to the third and fourth generation? Can you interrupt these trends? I examined domestic violence, German-Jewish relations and the Israeli Palestinian conflict. 

At some point I took a class run by Abraham’s Vision, an organization dedicated to breaking the cycle of violence. It was an important class and I can’t find my syllabus or my notes. Not terribly surprising, Probably 15 years and four moves later, they are undoubtedly in an unmarked box in the basement.

Let’s be clear. My first finance was killed by a terrorist bomb during the incursion into Lebanon. His parents were Holocaust survivors. They lost their only child to new violence. Since then I have actively worked for peace. With organizations like Parents Circle and Abraham’s Vision. Like Rabbis for Human Rights and T’ruah. Habitat for Humanity. American Jewish World Service. The list goes on. It has been my life’s work.

And I worked in Germany. For 6 years I consulted with SAP, the German software company. And because I had to be in Germany during the High Holy Days, one of the highlights of my career was being a High Holy Day rabbi in Hamln, Germany. 

While at SAP there were many late nights talking over beers about German reconciliation. The SAP managers were aghast at what their families had done in a previous generation. They worked extensively for peace. Notably with Afghanistan. They were welcoming of people like me. And at one stage I thought maybe the business world would lead the way towards a better world. Imagine a rabbinical student, a guy from Jordan and a bunch of Germans sitting in a New York office trying to figure out how to reverse engineer a piece of software. Everything seemed possible. Or a newly converted Orthodox Jew and the guy from Jordan figuring out what they could eat for lunch at a board retreat in Germany. 

You will have to watch the movie to see how it turns out. It doesn’t end the way you would expect. (Gail Borden Public Library has it on their canopy selections!)

Throughout the Violins of Hope project I have been thinking about an article we read during that class from Abraham’s Vision. It talked about whether an exposure to or an immersion with another culture was really effective. Could people really stop being afraid of the other> Could it really change the nature of peace work? The jury was out. If you go to a summer camp experience at something like Seeds of Peace and everything seems OK, what happens when you get back to your regular, segregated lives in Israel? What kind of follow up do you need to prolong the experience and truly make it fruitful?

Dara Horn in the Atlantic recently had an article about whether Holocaust education actually helps break down anti-semitism. https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2023/05/holocaust-student-education-jewish-anti-semitism/673488/

It is a critical question in this time of rising anti-semitism. If classes are mandated to teach Holocaust, and then kids get bullied after reading the Boy in the Striped Pajamas, are we really ahead. 

What writing my thesis taught me, is that it is possible to interrupt the cycle of violence. However, in order for it to work, people, on both sides need to have a sense of safety. You cannot make peace with a domestic violence perpetrator, if you are afraid you will be beaten again. You cannot reconcile with the next generation of Germans if you feel that this new generation is going to commit the atrocities of the Nazis again. 

One Sunday morning in my hotel in Waldolf near the SAP headquarters I was watching CNN (it was the only channel I understood!) and working on my thesis. Israel had just mistakenly bombed an apartment building in Lebanon. It happens, sadly. A young parent was clutching a 3 month old and explaining that it will be 20 years before anyone forgets. 20 years, a whole generation before anyone feels safe. It was a startling story.

I have staked my rabbinate, and my life on doing exactly that. I have been involved in Interfaith Dialogue since college. If they know Jews, they won’t hurt us, right? I have been president of the Greater Lowell Interfaith Leadership Alliance, and am now the co-president of the Coalition of Elgin Religious Leaders. I have opened our building for things like OpenElgin or a class that just wants to understand more about Judaism. That list goes on and on, too.

But what if I am wrong? After watching last night’s movie, I don’t think so. There has to be a place for things like a Israeli-Palestinian Youth Orchestra, or the group we met doing an Israeli-Arab theater or Seeds of Peace or Abraham’s Vision. 

There is a place for organizations like the Anti-defamation League to break down prejudice, to loudly proclaim there is not place for hate and to work to prevent those rising hate crimes.

But part of it does begin by bringing people together. To really see that we are all created ‘b’tzelim elohim, in the image of G-d.” That we all want that sense of safety and security. Because what I learned in writing that thesis, is that generational sins continue if there is not safety. I pray for a day when all will sit under their vines and fig trees and none will make them afraid. This line from Micah is one that George Washington quoted to the Jewish community of Newport, RI. But I have also learned that it is not enough to pray, we must pursue peace, actively run after it, work for it. I pray that we do this work speedily, so that little girl in Lebanon and the little boy in Tel Aviv and the ones in Elgin and the surrounding arear do not have to live in fear. 

This is the longest portion of the entire Torah at a 176 verses. Here at CKI we read thr triennial cycle and this year we are in year one.  

Our portion begins with a census. This census is a little different than the censuses that we saw in Leviticus. This one counts men between 30 and 50, men of working age, those in the service of God, in the mishkan, the sanctuary. Each of them had a personal responsibility to carry out the duties that were uniquely assigned to them that would quite literally move the mishkan forward in the service of G-d.  

Now service is an interesting word—the root avodah can mean work, worship or service. The Israelites were slaves, avodim and Moses was an aved Adonai, a servant of G-d. All the same root. Everyone counts—at least between 30 and 50 and male. Everyone has a job to do. Each of us may have a unique role to play, a calling if you will, something only you can do. It takes all of us, pulling together for the good of everyone to make this world a better place. What is your unique role? 

However, fairly quickly in this long portion, the tone switches and we are told that Moses is to instruct the people to “remove from camp anyone with an eruption or a discharge and anyone defiled by a corpse. Remove male and female alike; put them outside the camp so that they do not defile the camp of those in whose midst I dwell.” (Numbers 5:1-4) 

Not just men, this time but men and women, anyone who has come in contact with fluid that might be dangerous or with a corpse. There seems to be an underlying fear of some sort of contagion. 

We have just lived through such a period. Remember washing down groceries for fear of coming in contact with a contagion that might be dangerous, even deadly?  Remember locking nursing homes down and not letting people in or out of the camp, so to speak. There were other steps as well that we all took to minimize risk to our communities. Some of those were driven by fear. 

This weekend we have another blood drive at CKI. Blood is also something the ancients feared. However, we were told unequivocally we were not to stand idly by while our neighbor bleeds. We have a responsibility to save lives. And yet, there are plenty of people who are afraid of blood. The fear can be real.  

Not everyone can donate blood depending on some of their own underlying medical conditions. I am permanently off the donor list. And there is a real need to keep the blood supply safe. My own cousin back in the 1980s wound up with hepatitis because of some tainted blood received at the world class Boston Children’s Hospital during surgery to repair a hole in his heart. We didn’t know yet how to test blood adequately. Testing of blood for contamination has gotten so, so much better. And it continues to improve again and again as we learn more and more. Luckily, the hepatitis was discovered when he was graduating high school and about to begin college. He had one very difficult freshman year, and he is fine now.   

Many Americans will need blood at some point in their life time. The statistic is a mind-numbing, one out of three, for all sorts of reasons including natural disasters to unforeseen catastrophes, emergency hospital procedures to life-long battles with chronic diseases such as sickle cell, so the demand for blood is constant. Therefore, the donation and collection of blood is critically important. It literally saves lives. On average for every pint collected, we save three lives. The Talmud teaches us that to save one life is to save the world. This sentiment is repeated as well in the Koran. Here is your chance! 

I was lucky last year, After the bone marrow transplant, I only needed one unit. Other people, right here at CKI are not so fortunate, and I know of two who recently needed blood and one more who might this week. But we don’t host blood drives merely for ourselves. We host blood drives to live out those verses, “Don’t stand idly by while your neighbor bleeds.” and “Love your neighbor as yourself.” 

This weekend is we mark National Gun Violence Awareness Day. Based on the tragic story of Hadiya Pendeton, a young Chicagoan of much promise.  On January 21, 2013, Hadiya Pendleton marched in President Obama’s second inaugural parade. One week later, Hadiya was shot and killed on a playground in Chicago. Soon after this tragedy, Hadiya’s friends commemorated her life by wearing orange, the color hunters wear in the woods to protect themselves and others. Now I have cousins who are hunters. Cousins who own guns. In Michigan you actually get the first day of deer season off. I spent many a fall Girl Scout camping trip wearing orange. This orange is different. And the orange I am wearing today is a rainbow of color.  

Wear Orange is now observed every June. It happens to fall this weekend. Thousands of people wear the color orange to honor Hadiya and the more than 43,000 Americans are killed with guns and approximately 76,000 more are shot and wounded every year. https://wearorange.org/  

Our tradition teaches us to not stand idly by while our neighbor bleeds. Wearing orange is one way to talk about the ongoing tragedy of gun violence in this country. I have been an outspoken advocate against gun violence, having been a victim of gun violence in the early 1980s. I have stood at rallies, and vigils, as long as I can remember. But thoughts and prayers do not necessarily help. Rabbi Mark Asher Goodman said on Twitter that “in Judaism, if you say a prayer over something, then fail to do the requisite action that follows, like blessing bread and not eating it, it’s a bracha levatla — which is a sinful act.” He continued about gun violence: “If you pray for victims of gun violence but do nothing, it is a sinful act.” Bracha levatla is sometimes translated “blessing in vain.” 

So how do we solve this: 

 Another way to help is to support an organization called, “Don’t Stand Idly By” started by a Chicago rabbi (now in New York) who lost his own father to gun violence in Chicago. This organization advocates for smart gun technology that would help eliminate some of the tragic deaths. The Fox Valley Imitative has partnered with them in years past. The mayor, the city manager and the Kane County Sherriff have all signed on in years past. There are other ways to help. Call your elected officials. Advocate for more mental health services.Take a Stop the Bleed class. Give blood. Make your voices count! 

This weekend many congregations are marking Pride Shabbat as part of Pride Month. The City of Elgin is hosting its first Pride parade right now. The first one was actually scheduled for June of 2020 but was cancelled due to COVID-19. Many of the local congregations we partner with are marching, however, it conflicts with our own service. That’s a discussion for another time. Wander over to Festival Park and see what is going on. You can walk from here. You don’t have to spend any money. It can be within your normative Shabbat observance. Bring a water bottle, however. It’s hot! 

Sometimes, the LGBTQ+ community is put outside the camp, just like we read about in today’s portion. Sometimes, that is based on fear of the other. Sometimes it is based on a mistranslation of a verse in Leviticus. That too is a discussion for another time.  

 There was a time when African American blood was segregated. According to the Red Cross’s own website: “In 1942, the Red Cross made the regrettable decision to segregate blood based on race, accommodating cultural norms of the time rather than relying on scientifically based facts—resulting in civil rights organizations boycotting the Red Cross and blood donation.” They continues, “However, as the science of blood continued to evolve, we learned that there are some markers in black blood that makes it even more compatible for other African Americans and collecting blood in the African American community has become a priority for the Red Cross.” https://www.redcross.org/about-us/news-and-events/press-release/2021/the-color-of-blood–red-cross-reflects-on-its-blood-collection-hiistory.html 

There was a time when gay men could not give blood. Period. It was based on a fear of the other. Fear of spreading AIDS in the blood system. Remember when people weren’t even sure you could swim with someone with AIDS or go to school with them. Gay men were not the only possible carriers. Also hemophiliacs. It was a scary time.  

However, in December 2015, the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) moved from a lifetime ban on gay and bisexual men donating blood to a deferral of one year for any man who has had sex with another man during the past 12 months. According to the FDA, this pre-screening eliminated up to 90 percent of donors who may be carrying a blood-borne disease.   

Then again in April of 2020, the FDA tweaked the rules again, announcing that it would update its policy for gay males to a deferral from 12 months to three months.  

But wait, there’s more news. Just last month, May 2023, the FDA has updated the policy once again.  

Yesterday I called our coordinator and asked, “Wouldn’t this be a good way to mark Pride Month. We have a number of supporters of CKI who have been waiting for just this kind of announcement.” He said he would find out. 

Sadly, the new rules will not be in effect to January of 2024. And for my gay friends, this still feels like they are outside the camp. They don’t yet count fully.  

 Let me be clear, asking this question is part of allyship. The ongoing violence against the LGBTQ+ community it all too real. It is not unlike the rise in anti-semitism and hate crimes against the Jewish community. Sometimes it is even driven by the same fear.  

It is not enough to say during Pride Month that “love is love is love.” Which is important. This congregation is an open and affirming congregation, the marriage equality logo is on our website and we do have a number of people in the congregation that represent the spectrum of the LGBTQ+ community.  

For some, this entire conversation may make you uncomfortable. That’s OK. Let’s talk about it. Civilly. Let’s learn more, together. 

Our portion, in its full version, includes one of the most beautiful passages in all of scripture. Called thr Birkat haCohanim, the Priestly benediction, it was a blessing the priests offered all the people. Today we use it on Friday nights to bless our children. We use it at B-Mitzvah celebrations and weddings. It is part of the musaf service. And as we just saw it is part of an aufruf, when we shower a wedding couple with blessings and candy, so that their marriage will be sweet!  

The first line is Yiverecha v’yishmarecha. May the Lord bless and keep you, guard you and protect you. All of you. Those in the camp and out of the camp. To use a line from the U-46 Mission Statement, where I once spoke about transgender issues, “All means all.”  

Please rise for a special birkta hacohanim: 

“May God bless you and protect you, guard you and watch over you.!  

May light of G-d God shine upon you and be gracious to you!  

May God lift up God’s face to you and grant you peace!” Num. 6:22-27 

May we find a way to live out this blessing. Sharing G-d’s light and love. Finding wholeness and completeness. And making our lives, all of our lives count.  You matter. You are loved. Period.

Our potion today includes this sentence:
“Bear in mind that you were slaves in Egypt, and take care to obey these laws.” (Deut 16:12) 

But the word for “bear in mind” is really remember, zachor.

“Three times a year—on the Feast of Unleavened Bread, on the Feast of Weeks, (which is today), and on the Feast of Booths—all your males shall appear before your God יהוה in the place that [God] will choose. They shall not appear before יהוה empty-handed,” (Deut 16:16) 

Zachor. Remember. Three times a year we should remember, and we should go up. These are pilgrimage festivals: Passover, Shavuot and Sukkot and during them we remember. We remember those that came before. We remember our history. We remember. 

This weekend Is also Memorial Day. A day set aside to remember those who gave “the ultimate sacrifice.” One of the most touching things I saw on TV this week was a bi-partisan group of congressmen (and women), cleaning the Vietnam Memorial lovingly by hand. Bluff City Cemetery makes sure that each grave of a service member is decorated with an American flag. It is touching and beautiful. Happen over on Monday. I’;ll be wearing my Memorial Day shirt on Monday that says, “Keep American Beautiful. Plant a Tree, Be Kind to Nature. Conserve Energy. Volunteer.” We need to remember all of our service men (and women) who gave their lives so that all of us may be free. While this may be the unofficial start of summer and I urge all of you to have fun, but also be safe, we also need to remember the huge cost that we pay, some families more than others. I am always reminded by the song Empty Chairs at Empty Tables from Les Miserables: 

There’s a grief that can’t be spoken
There’s a pain goes on and on
Empty chairs at empty tables
Now my friends are dead and gone 

Here they talked of revolution
Here it was they lit the flame
Here they sang about tomorrow
And tomorrow never came 

From the table in the corner
They could see a world reborn
And they rose with voices ringing
And I can hear them now! 

The very words that they had sung
Became their last communion
On this lonely barricade
At dawn 

Oh my friends, my friends forgive me
That I live and you are gone
There’s a grief that can’t be spoken
There’s a pain goes on and on 

Phantom faces at the window
Phantom shadows on the floor
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friends will meet no more 

Oh my friends, my friends
Don’t ask me what your sacrifice was for
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friends will sing no more 

Les Miserables 

Judaism has lots to do with memory. The 10 Commandments, which we just read again last night commands us: “Remember the Sabbath Day and keep it holy.” As part of Kiddush, we remember the Exodus from Egypt and Creation when we sanctify Shabbat. We remember the commandments when we look upon the tztizit. We remember our patriarchs, and the matriarchs when we say the Amidah. We remember not to forget Amalek. We remember that we were slaves in Egypt so we need to take care of the widow, the orphan, the sojourner. 36 times. Several times in today’s portion alone.  

But why, why all this focus on memory? 

Memory plays an important role in grief. According to Psychology Today: 

• Memorializing loved ones who have passed is a way of exploring meaning and authenticates our part in the mourning process. 
• Memorializing allows us to galvanize relationships, sustain connections, and to recognize and honor those who have had a part in our lives. 
• How we grieve death depends on various factors, such as the nature of the relationship, circumstances, personality traits and more. 
• Grief is a testament of human resilience and we can emerge and grow from it. 

I think that is part of why the rabbis mandated that at each of our pilgrimage festivals we say yizkor, prayers of remembrance, which we will do shortly. At each of our happiest times, we pause to remember those who cannot be here to celebrate with us. There are many interpretations of why we smash a glass at a wedding. We may still be mourning, remembering the destruction of the Temples in Jerusalem. Or we may be mourning, missing those people who cannot be here. Our world seems shattered. Acknowledging those losses and griefs helps us be resilient. It is a powerful reminder of the elephant in the room, so to speak.  

There are often positive memories that we think about at times like this. Yesterday, while out for my dawn Shavuot walk, the fragrance of lilacs was palpable. I always associate lilacs with my aunt, whose yahrzeit is today. There are smells, tastes, sounds, textures that we remember. Perhaps you remember a certain cologne, or a special recipe—the taste and the fragrance of the sticky buns or the deviled eggs or the chicken soup.  Maybe it is a piece of music that your person loved that is evocative. A certain piece of clothing, a scratchy wool scarf or sweater. Something knitted just for you. Maybe it is a place, a beach, a mountain, a monument. Maybe you feel close to them at the grave. Maybe you hear a snippet of a conversation with your loved one in your head. Or you remember exactly what they would have said at a time like this.  All of these examples are examples of nostalgia and can be healthy. And maybe you wonder how you can possibly survive without them. Peter Paul and Mary wondered too as they sang, Sweet Survivor:  

You have asked me why the days fly by so quickly
And why each one feels no different from the last
And you say that you are fearful for the future
And you have grown suspicious of the past
And you wonder if the dreams we shared together
Have abandoned us or we abandoned them
And you cast about and try to find new meaning
So that you can feel that closeness once again. 

Carry on my sweet survivor, carry on my lonely friend
Don’t give up on the dream, and don’t you let it end.
Carry on my sweet survivor,
Though you know that something’s gone
For everything that matters carry on. 

You remember when you felt each person mattered
When we all had to care or all was lost
But now you see believers turn to cynics
And you wonder was the struggle worth the cost
Then you see someone too young to know the difference
And a veil of isolation in their eyes
And inside you know you’ve got to leave them something
Or the hope for something better slowly dies.
Peter Paul and Mary 

The rabbis understood grief and memory. They knew that remembering someone helps heal. That seven days of shiva, of not being responsible for your regular day-to-day tasks helps ease someone back into the normal routine. That during the shloshim period, the 30 days, the grief is a little less sharp and that by the first yahrzeit even less so. We remember our loved ones every year. They understood the role of the community, in coming together to support someone going through grief. The stories, the meals, the quiet sitting with someone. That’s part of why we need a minyan to say kaddish. 

But sometimes there is complex grief. Grief that just will not abate, for whatever reason. Perhaps the death was sudden and totally unexpected. Perhaps the person was young—a child, a young parent. Perhaps there was violence involved. Perhaps it happened in the middle of a pandemic, where all our mourning and grieving customs seemed to change. For complex grief we may need professional help. There are people who specialize in grief counseling. I particularly like Fox Valley Hands of Hope, and refer people to them often. Based in Geneva and run by Jonathan Shively, it offers free counseling and support. JCFS has grief support groups. Compassionate Friends have groups designed to help families with the loss of a child.  

We keep memory alive. We keep people alive by remembering. Peter Paul and Mary in the Chanukah song written by Peter Yarrow captures it so well: 

What is the memory that’s valued so highly
That we keep it alive in that flame?
What’s the commitment to those who have died
That we cry out they’ve not died in vain?
We have come this far always believing
That justice would somehow prevail
This is the burden, this is the promise
This is why we will not fail! 

Don’t let the light go out!
Don’t let the light go out!
Don’t let the light go out! 

We won’t let the light go out as we remember.  

Reading Before Kaddish: 

THE YOUNG DEAD SOLDIERS DO NOT SPEAK
Nevertheless they are heard in the still houses: who has not heard them?
They have a silence that speaks for them at night and when the clock counts.
They say, We were young. We have died. Remember us.
They say, We have done what we could but until it is finished it is not done.
They say, We have given our lives but until it is finished no one can know what our lives gave.
They say, Our deaths are not ours: they are yours: they will mean what you make them.
They say, Whether our lives and our deaths were for peace and a new hope or for nothing we cannot say: it is you who must say this.
They say, We leave you our deaths: give them their meaning: give them an end to the war and a true peace: give them a victory that ends the war and a peace afterwards: give them their meaning.
We were young, they say. We have died. Remember us.
Arcihibald MacLeish 

When I was growing up a new book came out, Are You There, G-d, It’s Me, Margaret? For a young adolescent it was a hard book. And that is probably why it has been banned in so many locations, including back in the day when it was a treasured companion. You see, I was Margaret. Not really, but I certainly identified with her. Recently the book has become a movie. I had the privilege of watching it with my daughter. Yes, I flew to Florida to watch my childhood unfold. All over again. And as I sat there, I knew it would become a theme for our Shavuat Study Project.  

Margaret, in the book and now the movie, is moving from Manhattan to New Jersey just as she is becoming an adolescent. (I moved from Evanston to Grand Rapids at about the same time.). Almost immediately, the first day she is in her new home, before the movers even leave, she meets her new neighbor and they run through the sprinklers. (I too met our new neighbors that first day. We probably went to the neighborhood pool, Heather Downs, that I eventually lifeguarded. Someone even brought over a cake.). They formed a club for cool girls and explored issues of their emerging, growing bodies. (I never had a club like that.) It was a confusing time for all the kids. Her teacher had everyone do a year long reseach project. Margaret chose to do one on religion. You see, her parents were letting her choose her own religion or no religion, and Margaret was confused. Her mother’s side was Christian. Her father’s mother, the only grandparent she knew, was Jewish. Who is this G-d? And why does if matter if at all?  

(Now, my family was not an interfaith family. However, as scientists, my parents were pretty sure that this is no G-d. Certainly not a G-d that made sense to their rational, scientific brains. Certainly not a G-d that could allow the Holocaust. But all my new friends talked about G-d, a lot.)  

She begins many of her questions about life, the universe and everything, with this question in her diary. “Are You There G-d, It’s Me, Margaret?” 

And so we began our Tikkun Leil Shavuot last night, “Are You There, G-d. It’s Me.”  

Since my senior year at Tufts, when I was privileged to attend my first Tikkun Leil Shavuot at Congregation Beth El in Sudbury, MA, I have found the act of staying up late, or even all night a meaningful, deeply spiritual experience. Last night was no exception.  

The first part was “Who (or what) is G-d?”. We looked at names of G-d. Thos include: El, Elohim, YHVH, Adonai, HeShem, Elyon, El Shaddai, El Tzva’ot.  And attributes of G-d. “Adonai, Adonai, El Rachum v’chanun, erech apayim, v’rav chesed, v’emet…”  We talked about what each of those words mean and whether those are things we believe G-d is. Is G-d really slow to anger? Full of love? Are these actual descriptions or aspirational? Are we supposed to be like G-d, and if so how? We debated whether an attribute could also be a name. Maybe. We read Sandy Sasso’s book, In G-d’s Name. And someone said, “but human language is limited, and G-d is limitless; so we can’t really describe G-d.”   

At that, those of us in the room, ate cheesecake and hummus and pita chips, and the guys made coffee. We then returned for Part II. Towards a Personal Theology. 

Part II: Towards a Personal Theology 

We started exactly where we left off. Talking about Maimonides, the Rambam, who said exactly the same thing. G-d is limitless. Our human language is limited. Having this discussion puts G-d in a box. And yet, the Rambam went on the pen the 13 Principlas of Faith. We sing this as Yigdal, one of our Friday night hymns. Some communities read the list as part of every morning service. And yet, some people struggle with it. This is Chabad’s translation of these principles: 

1. Belief in the existence of the Creator, who is perfect in every manner of existence and is the Primary Cause of all that exists.
2. The belief in G‑d’s absolute and unparalleled unity.
3. The belief in G‑d‘s non-corporeality, nor that He will be affected by any physical occurrences, such as movement, or rest, or dwelling.
4. The belief in G‑d’s eternity.
5. The imperative to worship G‑d exclusively and no foreign false gods.
6. The belief that G‑d communicates with man through prophecy.
7. The belief in the primacy of the prophecy of Moses our teacher.
8. The belief in the divine origin of the Torah.
9. The belief in the immutability of the Torah.
10. The belief in G‑d’s omniscience and providence.
11. The belief in divine reward and retribution.
12. The belief in the arrival of the Messiah and the messianic era.
13. The belief in the resurrection of the dead. https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/332555/jewish/Maimonides-13-Principles-of-Faith.htm

News alert. You don’t have to believe in G-d, or at least Rambam’s understanding of G-d, to be Jewish. There are plenty of Jews who do not. And there are plenty of people who devise their own understanding of G-d.  

We briefly looked at the “evolution” of G-d concepts. We noted that these even changed over time in the Torah itself. 

Here is a partial list of books that have influenced my own thinking about G-d.  

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, G-d in Search of Man
Rabbi Harold Kushner, When Bad Things Happen to Good People
Jack Miles, God, A Biography
Rabbi Arthur Green, Jewish Spirituality from the Bible through the Middle Ages
Rabbi Rifat Soncino’s Books,
Finding G-d, 10 Jewish responses.
Six Jewish Spiritual Paths: A Rationalist Looks at Spirituality
Rabbi Tova Spitzer’s Book, G-d is Here 

Other books that were mentioned included, Amazing Chesed by Rabbi Rami Shapiro and G-d is a Verb, by David A. Cooper.  

In discussing this section, one person described us as a crumb in a cake. A talented baker, she explained that if each of us has a spark of the divine and it is all part of G-d, then it is like a cake, each crumb is part of the greater whole, each crumb is G-d itself. People continued to explore this metaphor. It needs frosting, with peaks and valleys, just like life. This was a holy moment.  

Part of what we talked about is how we handle the difficult moments in life. I am pretty sure I don’t buy into the precept that G-d is all powerful, all knowing, all G-d. If G-d were, quoting my father, then G-d could have, should have stopped the Holocaust. The only thing that has worked for me, in that regard, is limiting G-d’s power. This is an idea explained in depth When Bad Things Happen to Good People. If G-d has given us freewill, and we make bad choices, like Adam and Eve, then perhaps G-d cannot retract that free will. That alone doesn’t cover the depth of this problem. But if the message of When Bad Things Happen is not about G-d as much as it is about us. How do we respond when bad things happen? Because most assuredly, they will at some point. Almost everyone in the room has struggled with this question. Those were holy moments too.  

Rabbi Maralee Gordon introduced us to Rabbi Arthur Green’s newest book, just released in February, Well of Living Insight about the Siddur, the prayerbook, which I will need to read more deeply and truly savor. As is typical of Green, the language was beautiful but late at night it was hard to absorb. In any case, it was clear that it would set us up nicely for Part III, Are You There, G-d? I had more material, but it was time for the next break. So after more treats we regathered. (Here is that extra material: https://www.sefaria.org/sheets/229735?lang=bi ) 

Part III: Are You There, G-d? 

We began by asking what people’s expectations of prayer are. Something happened on Mount Sinai. That seems to be clear. What is shrouded in mystery and midrash are lots of differing understandings of that event. The giving of the Torah at Sinai seems to suggest that we and G-d can have a conversation or some sort.  

People’s answers ranged from a sense of recentering, of better balance, of a chance to rest, an opportunity to connect, both with G-d and others. A chance to express emotions, both positive, like gratitude and some really raw anger. People come to synagogue to pray for a number of reasons including to zone out, to stare out the stained glass windows, to hear the choir (or in some places an organ or other musical accompaniment), to pray the words in the book, to feel connected to others in the room, to G-d, to past and future. And even, and this surprises me still, to hear the words of the rabbi to help make sense of this world. 

We talked about the three traditional services, morning, noon and night. We looked at a reading in Gates of Prayer, page 254 that talked about how our ancestors, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob prayed, and yes, even the matriarchs and how each had their own vision of G-d. 

We talked about Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschels understanding of keva, the fixed structure and kavanah, the intention behind the words. He was always grateful for the structure, when he couldn’t find his own kavanah.  

We looked at a Heschel quote: “Prayer invites God to let his presence suffuse our spirits, to let his will prevail in our lives. Prayer cannot bring water to parched fields nor mend a broken bridge, nor ebuild a ruined city; but prayer can water an arid soul, mend a broken heart and rebuild a weakened will.” 

“Pray as if everything depended on G-d. Act as if everything depended on you. Those who rise from prayer better persons, their prayer is answered.”  

This last quote was keenly debated, but eventually we came to the realization that it is about balance and resetting our priorities. If that moment of prayer causes us to recenter, then we rise from prayer better. This, too, was a holy moment. 

We ended the evening with Rabbi Nachman’s prayer, which expresses the idea that we should pour out our hearts to G-d, alone, outside. https://www.sefaria.org/sheets/114332?lang=bi  

At that first Tikkun Leil Shavuot, back in Massachusetts, the evening ended with me taking a Torah outside and sitting with G-d at dawn. It remains a powerful, spiritual moment.  

Today, after not being up ALL NIGHT, I was up for sunrise, outside. The lawn was dewy. The air was filled with the fragrance of lilacs. The birds were just beginning to chirp. It was again magical. This is Torah. This is Nachman’s prayer (and mine). What happened at Sinai? I cannot tell you for sure. But this, this is the moment.  

Are You There G-d? Yes! Right here, right now. 

Long Post. Its worth it.
This weekend was amazing. Words fail. For nine months a committee has been working on bringing Violins of Hope to Elgin. The CKI book group read Violins of Hope, written by James Grymes in 2018. At the time I said that while the book was important and the project to restore violins that survived the Holocaust breathtaking, I had wished I had read a kindle version and that music with these violins were embedded in the book so that we could hear them. I reread it in March as part of this process.  

This weekend I and about 1200 other people got to hear them, thanks to the muscians of Chamber Music on the Fox and The Elgin Symphony Orchestra. Local partners for this whirlwind series of events include Gail Borden Public Library, the ESO, Chamber Music on the Fox, U-46, the City of Elgin, the Elgin History Museum and Congregation Kneseth Israel. Local funders include the Seigle Foundation and the Palmer Foundation. All this was brought to Elgin by the JCC Chicago. 

We, in Elgin, did it differently. We were privileged, lucky to have these violins for 5 months. I’m told that Manhattan only had them for one week. We brought lots of people together. We hosted a dinner so people could mingle from those agencies. I guess that doesn’t happen other places. It’s just what we do.

Why is this project so important? The program, which extends through the end of August, showcases the best of Elgin. Our ability to collaborate, to work together, to host world class events. More than 10,000 people have toured the Gail Borden Public Library exhibits. They have learned about the Holocaust, about music and about “Righteous Gentiles.” those who helped some people survive the atrocities of the Nazi regime. If they have wandered upstairs as well, they have had the opportunity to learn about the history of the Jews of Elgin and Congregation Kneseth Israel for our 130 years.  

As part of the Violins of Hope project, there are the two exhibits at the library, a film, “Defiant Requiem” about the Verdi Requiem played in Terezin, the play Thin Edge of the Wedge which tells firsr person accounts of the Holocaust and was performed by U46 students. There are docent tours and 500 students saw the exhibit and heard the instruments thus far in May.  

Yet the highlight of all of the planning went into this past weekend.  

We began with a Kabbalat Shabbat service at Congregation Kneseth Israel, during the course of which we would be able to hear a few instruments and I, as the rabbi, would dedicate them. Now, to be clear, I have dedicated homes and a menorah and a library but never a violin. I wasn’t even sure how or why we would do this. But I crafted a service and wrote a prayer. The word violin in Hebrew is kinor which is the same word as the instrument that King David played. There are many mentions of kinor in the Psalms. The Sea of Galilee in Hebrew is Yam Kinneret, (same root) because it is shaped like a lyre.  

The word instrument is Klee, with were klee kodesh, holy instruments, vessels in the Holy Temple and people are described as klei kodesh. The word then is a contraction meaning Instruments of Song. Klezmer were the Jewish musicians who would wander and play this music primarily for weddings.  

Hearing Schindler’s List on the Klezmer Violin with its beautiful Star of David inlay was breathtaking. When I was the High Holy Day rabbi in Hamln Germany, the congregation had the tradition of playing Schindler’s List on the piano during Yizkor, the memorial prayers, while people would put stones around a lit yahzeit candle whil remembering their people. These participants often had no grave to visit. They had either left the former Soviet Union and emigrated to Germany or where Holocaust survivors again with no physical grave to visit. It was very powerful moment. Friday night was also powerful as we remembered. 

Here is a clip from YouTube, not of our soloist, but you will begin to understand the feeling: John Williams: Schindler’s List (violin solo) – Ellen Klodová 

As part of the Amidah, the central portion, the standing portion, there is a line that thanks God for keeping faith with those who sleep in the dust. Written by the rabbis in Talmudic times, Holocaust survivors have found it comforting as their own relatives were reduced to dust and ash. At least one of these violins when it was opened to be restored had ash in it. I kept thinking about this as part of Friday night. I am here to hear these exquisite instruments and the music of composers lost forever. Too many murdered. Their sole crime: being Jewish. .

At the end of the service, our Torah School band led us and our violinist in HaTikvah, the national anthem of Israel. HaTikvah means, the Hope. How more poignant could it be to have 4 middle school students play HaTivkah, one on the surviving cello. Voices were silenced during the Holocaust, but hope through our children still lives. My dedication poem prayer is at the end of these remarks. 

Saturday morning there was a Bat Mizvah as part of our regular Saturday morning services. This is not the most musical of families, rather they are into lots of sports and scouts. The kid did terrific . Her Torah portion and her haftarah portion included censuses. She drew from this that every person counts. That names matter and that no one should be bullied. Now the Nazis were experts at counting. But people became just a number. People didn’t really matter. They didn’t really count. They were dehumanized. One of the first steps in being able to murder them is to see them as less than human. 

Her haftarah portion from Hoea includes the promise that G-d will espouse us forever in justrice and righteousness, in faithfulness and lovingkindness. G-d also promises to “make a covenant for them with the beasts of the field, the birds of the air, and the creeping things of the ground; I will also banish bow, sword, and war from the land. Thus I will let them lie down in safety.” 

The Bat Mitzvah has chosen to create a pollinator garden at CKI to be a Monarch Waystaion to live out this haftarah in very special and direct ways.  

In safety. What is safety?. What is secure? We spend a lot of time talking about safety. Planning for safety. Hiring police officers for safety. And talking about it with the Violins of Hope committee. But even I was surprised when I got to the Hemmens and the ESO had hired a security firm to wand everyone entering. While I am not shocked by this decision, I think that many of Elgin’s residents were surprised by the necessity. In the midst of rising anti-semitism, up 36% from 2021 to 2022, we cannot be too careful.  

James Grymes, the author of the book, Violins of Hope was present at the library earlier. He is a master storyteller and an ethnomusicologist. His presentation was fascinating and it was reprised at the symphony before the concert.  

The concert itself began shockingly with me. Yes, me. Some people had complained to the ESO that we were beginning the concert before sundown, thus violating some people’s understanding of the Jewish sabbath. The ESO graciously called me and then pushed the concert back an hour. And after some discussion I did Havdalah for 1200 people in front of a professional orchestra. It sounded good as an idea. Could I pull this off? I walked out onto a stage I have stood on before. For the Women’s March notably. For a few other things. And I explained what we were going to do and why. I missed one important line.  

“Many of the people who played these violins, in symphonies, at weddings, at other joyous events were systematically murdered. The instruments survive. The musicians may not have. What stories do they tell. Can we hear their voices still? Tonight as part of Havdalah, you hear and participate in living Judaism. Judaism still continues. By participating in Havdalah we take the profane and make it holy. Please join with me” 

Yes, 1200 people from all sorts of backgrounds joined with me, at least singing the la la la part. The spices, traditional for Havdalah helped to make a bittersweet moment concrete.  

Sunday’s concert performed by Chamber Music on the Fox was a more intimate affair with over 200 people at Congregation Kneseth Israel. Some people had never been to a synagogue before. Mark Seigle did a masterful job showing people a Torah and the bimah after the concert was over. One son of Holocaust survivors got to hold one of the playable instruments and found it so meaningful.  

The music itself was phenomenal, while I am not enough of a musician to talk about the accuracy or the musicality. All three programs, Friday night, Saturday night and Sunday afternoon were played with heart. There was a spiritual component that can not be put into words. At all. I know. I’m trying.  

I found myself staring out our stained glass windows at CKI thinking about Kristalnact, the Night of Broken Glass. What did the musicians think when they grabbed their violins and dashed off with them as part of their 50 kilos of baggage? What must they have been thinking when they played in the Auschwitz orchestra and watched their own families marched to their deaths? What did these instruments eee? Hear? What stories do they tell? 

And in the background I could hear some of our Torah School kids trying to mimic the sound of the violins. One was singing the lullaby with the violins. For some that might have been annoying. For me, I thought it was very, very special.

I was trained as a Holocaust educator by Facing History and Ourselves in the 1980s. Even then I was concerned about hate groups and white supremacy. What we are seeing today in this country and around the world is a continuation of a terrible trend that has many causes. Programs like Violins of Hope, I pray are the kind that help interrupt the cycle of violence. That is one of the real beauties of Violins of Hope, the coming together of people. And the music. So much more powerful than just reading the book, to hear the music lovingly performed on violins that witnessed so much and survived.  

Sitting on my coffee table right now is a book called Precious Legacy. These are photos of Judaic treasures form the State collection of Czechoslovakia. The violins that Elgin is privileged to showcase are indeed precious legacies. The voices of the musicians were silenced, far too early. The voices of these klee kodesh will continue for generations to come. That is the beauty of Violins of Hope. That is the hope.  

Violins of Hope continues through mid-September in Elgin. Check the Gail Borden Public Library website for additional programing or to sign up for a docent tour. https://gailborden.info/violinsofhope

To hear more of the stories, here is a Youtube clip, complete with music from author James Grymes:

Stories and Music from the Violins of Hope 

My Prayer of Dediction:

David taught us.
David sang:
Mizmor shir chanukat habayit l’david,
A Psalm of David
A song for the dedication of the temple.  

We dedicate synagogues, homes, libraries.
Sacred space.
We dedicate sacred time.
We make Shabbat holy, set apart.
A form of dedication. 

David played instruments, klei kodesh:
The Psalm tells us
To praise G-d.
To praise with blasts of the horn; a shofar
To praise with harp and lyre.   

To praise with timbrel and dance;
To praise with lute and pipe.  

To praise with resounding cymbals;
To praise with loud-clashing cymbals. 

How does one dedicate a violin? A cello?
How did these very instruments help some to survive? 

How does one hear the voices of those who were lost?
Can one hear them even now? 

Sh… 

Music speaks louder than words. 

Sh… 

Hear the bow against the strings. 

Sh… 

Hear the weeping and the joy. 

Mizmor shir chanukat hakinor.
A Psalm, a song for the dedication of this kinor, this violin.
May we use this very kinor, this very violin
That once was played with joy
At a wedding
At a dance
At a simcha 

To remember and to never forget
All of the voices
The instruments
And the musicians
Those who we lost
And those who are here today 

Turn our mourning into dancing
Our sackcloth back into joy.  

Help us find our voices again
To praise and to love
To play and to dance. 

Breathe in. Breathe out.
Breathing is music
Breathing is our very soul
A gift from God.
Kol haneshama halleluyah 
Let all that breathes praise the LORD.
Hallelujah. 

Sh!  

Hear our breath. Hear the voices. 

Today I was given an award by ICASA, the Illinois Coalition Against Sexual Assault. I was nominated by Maureen Manning, the Executive Director of the Community Crisis Center. Here are my remarks accepting the award.

This is a humbling moment. As I stand here before you, I applaud the work that you all do. It is hard work. Sadly, still necessary work. I don’t need to tell you that, You live it day in and day out. One in four women experience violence sometime in their lifetime. I am one of those women. I am one in four. I was once nearly fired for uttering that phrase. I don’t think that will be the case today.  

Gretchen Vapner, the founding director of the Community Crisis Center, who many of you may know, once asked me if I thought that healing could ever be complete. I can’t answer that question. I can tell you that with organizations like this, good friends, a supportive family snd a great therapist, you can have a meaningful life.  A full life. Even a happy life.  

When I was first attacked, Rabbi Harold Kushner, of blessed memory now who I had the privilege of studying with, had just published his best-seller, When Bad Things Happen to Good People. It was tremendously helpful. I wasn’t bad. Although there were those who tried to tell me it was my fault. It was not. But it took me years to learn that.  

Kushner doesn’t answer the question why bad things happen. They will at some point to all of us. He attempts to answer the question, when. When bad things happen what will you do with your life? In the Book of Esther, there is plenty of rape culture on display. It can be a very challenging story for survivors. Yet the action changes when Mordechai, Queen Esther’s uncle, says to her, ““Do not imagine that you will escape with your life by being in the king’s palace. Rather, if you keep silent in this crisis, relief and deliverance will come from elsewhere…perhaps you were born for just such a moment.”  

No one sets out to have the life experiences that I endured that night. No sets out to be awarded the Moxie Award. And yet, I am incredibly lucky. The Talmud teaches, “Ours is not to finish the task, neither are we free to ignore it.” I believe that fully. Today I had breakfast with my state rep. I lobbied, not a hard sell in this case, for more mental health services, better gun control, better access to women’s health and more safety and security. Those are all connected to the work we are doing. Thank you for the opportunity to do just that. To continue this important wok., 

There are many to thank along the way. First to Maureen Manning and the Community Crisis Center of Elgin for nominating me. To Sean Black and his team for putting on this conference and luncheon and handling countless questions. And to my husband, Simon Klein, here today and my daughters, Sarah, Anna and Gabrielle. It is not always easy to live with a survivor. Maybe the little bit of work I have done will mean that their daughters will not need to live with this constant threat. 

Drive time thoughts: 

Springfield is FAR. I have no idea how my state rep and state senator or the new Illinois State Superintendent cope with this drive.  

It is weird to fill both humbled and proud at the same time. The other recipients of the award are amazingly accomplished and have done so much. Each of them are impressive. I am still thinking about many of the things that the judge from Christian County was talking about in terms of a holistic approach to the judicial system in his “problem solving court.” Many of the substance abusers have a history of sexual assault. Treat the whole person and some of the “criminal” behavior disappear. Each person recognized taught me something. 

Thinking about things that I have done that didn’t make my own bio that are important. My rabbinic thesis that looked at generational issues like domestic violence. How do we interrupt the cycle of violence? Creating safety is part of the answer and has been something I have worked consistently on. 

Being a rabbi gives me a pubic platform, like this blog. One of my proudest moments was lobbying congress with American Jewish World Service. Working to renew (pass?) IVAWA definitely would help with creating that safety. Sadly, I am not sure where we are with that legislative goal. Of late, there have been other priorities, at least within my circle of lobbying friends. Nonetheless, it was walking by the Capitol,, that I first made the connection between me and Queen Esther.  

I think about all those hours at Mayyim Hayyim–and how in the early stages after a particularly bad stretch (Israel at 60), they literally saved my life. How some dear, dear friends at AJR explored some of these very difficult topics with patience and compassion. How that trip back to Israel with Larry and Paul continued the healing.

I have been telling my story for a while. With BIMA at Brandeis and Mayyim Hayyim for their film seminar. In my book, Enduring Spirit, first and second edition (available on Amazon), with One Billion Rising, the Long Red Line. In small groups and in private moments. I have taught people how to tell their story without it retriggering themselves. This is my story and I still find telling it difficult. And it was a hard week for that. The recent civil trial that ended in a $5 million award for E. Jean Carroll over former President Trump, is a huge victory for women. Six men and three women served on the jury. Believe survivors. E. Jean Carroll courageous pursuit of this is a great role model for many of us. At the same time, there was a sad story in the Israel press.  

A young woman was raped when she was 14. 11 youth took part. Four days. Only four came to trial. Those four went on to be successful. I don’t know what happened to “my guys” but I sometimes wonder. This woman, after a life of poverty filled with difficulties and mental problems whe was recently found dead at 49. As I said, I am, as my therapist might say, the luckiest unlucky person. But tonight I am just very, very tired.  

Did anyone get woken up by a lawn mower? Maybe not today, a little rainy. Traditionally, Jews do not mow on Shabbat. It is considered work, but most of us here at CKI do not live in very Jewish neighborhoods so the sound of mowers on Shabbat, early morning, all afternoon, is pervasive.  

This week is a double Torah portion. We finish reading the book of Leviticus. When we do, just before we lift and dress the Torah we will stand and say “Chazak, chazak v’nitchazek. Be strong, Be strong and be strengthened.” Some people really struggle with the Book of Leviticus. They have been taught that this book is directed primarily at the priests telling them how to set up the ancient sacrificial structure. How the priests were the mediators between God and the people. What value does it have for us today?  

There are some notable exceptions. For instance, just two weeks ago we read the section that is called “The Holiness Code” that is directed to all of us. You shall be holy, for I the Lord your G-d am holy. Not just Moses, not just Aaron or Aaron and his sons, but all of us. All the children of Israel. All of the children of Israel, even us today are to be holy. 

We are told to love our neighbors as ourselves. And it is there we are told we should leave the corners of our field for the widows, the orphans and the sojourners, as I often say the most vulnerable among us. We live that out at CKI with our community garden that we give to Elgin Cooperative Ministry for their soup kettle program, feeding the most vulnerable amongst us.  

This week again our portion begins “The Lord spoke to Moses on Mount Sinai. Speak to the Israelite people and say to them.” Not just to Moses but to all of us. This week is about something radical. When we enter the land that God promised to Abraham, and Isaac and Jacob, we should observe a sabbath of the Lord. Every six years the land needs to rest. We call this a shmita year. Pretty radical that God and the Israelites understood crop rotation. Pretty radical that they had figured out a way to make sure that even in a shmita year that people would still have food to eat.  

Now here is the question. Does it still apply to us? This is Judaism. Some say yes, some say no. Some say it only applies in the land of Israel. According to Etz Hayyim, the Israeli version of the Committee of Jewish Law and Standards ruled that these laws are neither biblically or rabbinically required, however, they are a middat hassidut, an act of piety. They recommend that Israeli kibbutzim set aside one field and they give a percentage of their income to the poor because that was the original purpose of the law. (page 739) 

The shmita laws go even further. We count off seven times seven years so that In the 50th year we are to “proclaim liberty throughout the land” It is a jubilee year. Debts are forgiven. It goes to the question of who really owns the land—us or maybe G-d. In actuality, the text suggests that it is G-d. After all, we are told, “The earth is the Lord and the fullness thereof.” 

These are complicated laws—and they do have some modern implications. According to the Jerusalem Post: 

“the Israeli government owns 93% of the country’s land. This ownership structure originated in 1948, when Israel was founded as a meager nation-state. It came about amid government fears that someone would buy out the land and ultimately overrule the authorities. Today, the Israel Land Authority leases land for a period of 49 years, usually with an option to extend the lease for another 49. It does not sell it, but the state does grant property owners title to the land they live on. So practically speaking, there is no meaningful distinction between freehold and leasehold arrangements in Israel.” (Jerusalem Post, Nov 22, 2022)  

But what about us here in the United States. Last year was a shmita year here and in Israel. Our decision at CKI about the community garden was that hungry people still need to eat. We let one “field” go fallow and continued to tend the other plots. The work of Hazon in their sourcebook were ideas that we studied. https://issuu.com/hazon/docs/shmita_sourcebook_final_full  

This is not a shmita year. The community garden needs some help. Hungry people still need to eat. Next week you will hear about a Bat MItzvah project to build a butterfly garden. This seems to fit squarely with a new movement to restore prairie land to its natural state. Last year for Tu B’shevat instead of getting parsley seeds you received butterfly seed paper. We hoped you planted it. Milkweed is necessary to the prairie and necessary to ensuring butterflies and bees are around. Now we are told that this is No Mow May. An opportunity to let the land rest. 

“No Mow May” is a quick and catchy name for a movement that aims far beyond not mowing the yard for a month. It’s more than long grass and dandelion blooms. It’s a gateway to understanding how we share our lawns with many small creatures. Lawns cover 40 million acres, or 2%, of land in the US, making them the single largest irrigated crop we grow. Lawns are mowed, raked, fertilized, weeded, chemically treated, and watered⁠—sucking up time, money, and other resources. Lawns provide little benefit to wildlife, and are often harmful. Grass-only lawns lack floral resources and nesting sites for bees and are often treated with pesticides that harm bees and other invertebrates. When we think of habitat loss, we tend to imagine bulldozers and rutted dirt, but acres of manicured lawn are as much a loss of habitat as any development site. https://beecityusa.org/no-mow-may/  

Whether you choose to mow your lawn or not, we’ve given you something to think about today. Leviticus. For all of us. Even today. Now on to Numbers. Chazak.