This is a BIG Shabbat. We just read the 10 Commandments and the Sh’ma and Va’avata. It is also Shjabbat Nachamu—The Sabbat of Comfort” From the spiritual low point of Tisha B’av until the spiritual high point of Rosh Hashanah there are 7 weeks filled with haftarot of consolation, the return of instrumental music and opportunities to rejoice. Really, really rejoice and be comforted. This was a week that seemed to bring very little comfort to many. Whether you are concerned about Salman Rashdie, may he have a full, complete healing. Or climate crisis as we say more flooding in Las Vegas, Scottsdale and Tucson and as we were warned that California could have the most expensive natural disaster with a megaflood while places like Massachusetts and Europe are under severe drought. Or an attack on an FBI office in Cincinnati, or the recent vandalism at Reform and a Masorti congregation in Netanya on Tisha B’av. There is plenty to worry about, to even kvetch about.  

The haftarah begins with these words: Comfort, comfort My people says G-d. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem and tell her that her suffering is over.” 

On a very local level I am concerned about some very serious medical issues that congregants are struggling with. One family had three generations in hospitals yesterday. Their suffering is not over and the mother feels a little like Job. How do we support them adequately? I am concerned about inadequacies in the health care system and access to good, reliable mental health services. I am concerned about Elgin’s exploration of closing the Lord’s Park pool. You will hear more about that as the City Council wrestles with the issues of a shrinking pool of lifegaurds and an aging physical plant. 

We Jews. We learned how to kvetch—most certainly while we were wandering in the desert. And I am good at it too. I’ve even been known to tell people on the phone that I’m kvetching. I know I sound whiny. We even kvetch about the commandments. Why do we have to do them at all? 

This week we read the version of the 10 Commandments that states we are to “keep” or “guard”—or as our translation says “faithfully observe” Shabbat. In Exodus we learn we are to remember the Sabbath day—taken to mean to verbally sanctify it—with kiddush and candles and the signing of “V’shamru”, that reminds us that Shabbat is a sign of the covenant between G-d and the people of Israel for all times. By taking pleasure in Shabbat. 

How do we explain this difference…by saying in Lecha Dodi that “Shamor v’zachor bidibur echad. Remember and Keep were said as one.” This way there is no discrepancy, no mistake in Moses’s reporting of the commandments. While there are 39 Talmudic prohibitions on Shabbat, tied to the 39 categories of work to build the Mishkan which some people find daunting since no one likes to be told no, we are to take comfort and pleasure in Shabbat.  

One of the things we learn from Ahavah Rabbah and Ahavat Olam the prayer that thanks G-d for loving the Jewish people—recited even in the midst of suffering is that those very commandments, rules, laws that G-d gave us precisely as an example of love. Like a loving parent, G-d gave us limits and that too brings us comfort. 

As my friend and colleague. Rabbi Ariann Weitzman reminded her congregation yesterday. “Judaism is not a religion that encourages redemption through suffering.” G-d does not want us to suffer.  Her comments were a jumping off point for me. No, rather, she continued, “We are supposed to really take pleasure in life and lean into comforts.” As she tells her Tot Shabbat group, “We’ve got time to get out all our oys, (go ahead, try it now) but then we give thanks and we give thanks again.” 

That is part of the purpose of Shabbat. We are supposed to pause. To stop and give thanks. To enjoy that special Shabbat spice. To enjoy each other’s company. To experience a palace in time as Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel said, a foretaste of the world to come. 

Ron Wolfson wrote a book—The 7 Questions You’re Asked in Heaven. Five come from the Talmud, one from Reb Zusiya who on his death bed was crying, afraid he would be asked not “Why were not Moses but rather “Why were you not Zusiya. And the last, “Have you seen My Alps.” Why would G-d be asking Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, the intellectual giant of modern Orthodoxy, this question? 

“Soon, I will stand before the Almighty. I will be held answerable to many questions. But, what will I say when I am asked, ‘Shimson, my son, it is true you did many mitzvot, but did you also remember to see My Alps?” 

The explanation is that while we are commanded to keep or guard the mitzvot, we also need to experience pleasure—to enjoy all the Creation that G-d has given us—good food, good company, being outdoors in nature and being wowed by a sunset, a flower, the roaring ocean or the towering mountains of the mountains or the Alps, or the Rockies or the Tetons. It is even encouraged to have sex in the right time and place—a double mitzvah on Shabbat. 

We offer comfort to one another. Judaism commands us for instance to bury the dead and comfort the bereaved. We have a whole system for that. We host shiva minyanim and pray with them. We feed them. We remind them that even in their grief, they are loved. That they are not alone. We might stock their pantries and even tidy up their house as we are leaving. And when we do this, we discover that bringing them comfort brings us comfort too. Some of those traditions were disrupted during COVID and it has extended grief for many families.  

We do similar things for people who are ailing or for happier occasions like when babies are born with baby namings and brises or for weddings. For each of these, people feel that they are a little less alone. We need to relearn how to bring comfort to those who are hurting. We need to relearn how to comfort ourselves. Whether as Rabbi Weitzman said they divide into four categories—loving relationships, engaging with animals and nature, engaging in Jewish practice and finding joy. And I would add finding pleasure. Did you see My Alps?  

What brings you comfort? Family. Good health. A good book. A roof over my head. Parnasa.  

Following Rabbi Wetizman’s lead, this Shabbat and coming week, I’m going to pay special attention to the moments when I feel comforted and comfortable, whether that’s reading a good book, eating something I love fresh from the farmer’s market or Klein’s Farm Stand, snuggling with Caleb, wrapping myself in my tallit or calling a friend while out for a walk, or as she ends,  “knowing that I am loved in a universe that was built out of love. Shabbat shalom, and may it be one of comfort and joy.”  And then I will work to bring comfort to others.

“G-d will do battle for you.” Deuteronomy 3:22 

Today we start the Book of Deuteronomy, Devarim. It is Moses’s swan song, an ethical will if you will. It is Moses as his most reflective. He looks back and begins with some history of the Israelites wandering in the desert, just before they are ready to cross over into the land of Israel.  

As part of this, history we end our portion with this quote, “G-d will do battle for you.” It is meant as encouragement and it fits with “miracles” that the people have seen. The parting of the Sea of Reeds, the drowning of the horses and chariots, the smiting of people who stood in the way.  

Yet this idea leads to the idea that G-d is on our side—and that sense continues throughout our sacred texts: 

• Were it not for the LORD, who was on our side, let Israel now declare, were it not for the LORD, who was on our side when men assailed us, (Psalm 124:1-2) 

• “See, the Sovereign LORD is on my side! Who will declare me guilty? All my enemies will be destroyed like old clothes that have been eaten by moths!” (Isaiah 50:9)  
• “Then my enemies will see that the LORD is on my side. They will be ashamed that they taunted me, saying, “So where is the LORD— that God of yours?” With my own eyes I will see their downfall; they will be trampled like mud in the streets.” (Micah 7:10) 
• “But the LORD stands beside me like a great warrior. Before him my persecutors will stumble. They cannot defeat me. They will fail and be thoroughly humiliated. Their dishonor will never be forgotten.” (Jeremiah 20:11) 

You get the idea. There are plenty of other examples.  

We play this out in our national world too. If we go to war—then G-d will be on our side, right? Later in the Book of Deuteronomy we will learn the rules of engaging in a just war. Those rules are particularly apt this weekend as we struggle with the news coming out of Israel, where 350 missiles have rained down from Gaza. When will it ever end. We continue to pray for peace, shalom. 

When we enter football season, G-d will help us win the individual game, right? Some pray for that outcome. That has never seemed quite kosher, proper to me. Some modify those hopes and dreams by praying “May the better team win.” Or praying for no injuries.  

But then when something bad happens—we go the other direction. Questions abound. Why is G-d punishing me? Where is G-d? I feel so alone.  These are questions I get asked frequently, even this week, more than once, by more than one person.  Personally, I don’t believe that G-d punishes us. But each of you needs to come up with your own answers.  

These are the fundamental questions that we need to wrestle with and that may provide meaning ultimately in our lives. I have liked the book When Bad Things Happen to Good People. Note, the title is When Bad things Happen, not why. Explaining the why isn’t always possible. What Kushner does in the book is limit G-d’s power. G-d is loving. G-d is all knowing and beneficent but G-d gave humanity free will and we make choices that cause bad—and G-d can’t stop it because G-d gave us free will. That works for me most of the time. It is harder for me to reach this conclusion with natural disasters, another inflection point when people ask the question, why?  

Rabbi Toba Spitzer’s recent book G-d is Here begins to answer some of this question.  You will hear more about this book as we get closer to the High Holy Days.  

She says, “The religious imagination thrives on the human yearning to enter into emotional experience with some force vaster than ourselves.” 

She’s right. We want to feel connected. We want to know that we are not alone—even in the middle of the night when life might feel bleakest. We want to know that our lives matter.  

She continues that “Anthropologist Barbara J King suggested that religion evolved in our prehistory as a expression for a fundamental trait she calls belongingness—the undeniable reality that humans of all ages in all societies thrive in relation to others.” 

What if that connection frays? That is part of what has happened during the pandemic. There is something I believe is wrong in our society when we put the desires of the individual ahead of the needs of the community. When we lose touch with our friends and family and our religious communities. When we assume someone else will do it—whatever it is. There is a great series of videos developed by Temple Sholom in Cincinnati, even before the pandemic. BE SOMEONE ELSE By TEMPLE SHOLOM 

It actually isn’t Someone Else’s job. It is all of our jobs to make people feel welcome. To help people feel connected. To find community. To sustain community. To feed the hungry. To visit the sick. To take care of the widow and the orphan, just like our Haftarah this morning warns.  

We crave connection—to others and to G-d. When G-d created man, G-d then almost immediately created woman saying that it is not good for man to be alone.  

Like the quotes at the beginning that say that G-d is on our side, there are plenty of quotes to tell us that G-d is with us—a slightly different, and in my mind more positive message.  

Psalm 121 https://www.sefaria.org/Psalms.121.7?lang=bi is my favorite for that. It has echoes in the last verse of Adon Olam.  

“Into G-d’s hand I commit my spirit. When I sleep and when I wake. And with my spirit, my body, Adonai is with me, I have no fear.” 

We are not alone.  

I wrestle with Tisha B’av. For three weeks, beginning on the 17th of the Hebrew month of Tamuz we mourn the destruction of Jerusalem and the Holy Temples more than 2000 years ago. We mark the end of the Bar Kochba Revolt in 130 CE. We mourn the exile of Jews from England in 1290 CE and we mourn the expulsion of the Jews from Spain in 1492 CE. It is the saddest day on the Jewish calendar. 

We fast. We don’t wear leather. We sit on low stools. We read the Book of Lamentations. Alas! Woe is me! Oy vey! All for things that happened a long, long time ago. 

There is so much grief in this world. We need a container for it. We need to mourn. But quite frankly I don’t want to go back to animal sacrifices in centralized worship in Jerusalem. The rabbis of the Talmud, had their “Yavneh” moment, in exile in Babylonia. They re-invented Judaism. They pivoted from sacrifice to a religion of study, prayer and deeds of lovingkindness. Always with the hope that one day we would return to life as we knew it.  

Our traditional liturgy preserves that hope. “Accept the prayer of Your people Israel as lovingly as it is offered. Restore worship to Your sanctuary, and may the worship of your people Israel always be acceptable to You.” (page 36 Siddur Sim Shalom) “Help us turn to You, Adonai and we shall return. Renew our lives as in days of old.” (page 154 Siddur Sim Shalom) and the Musaf service for Shabbat which prays for a return to the land and to a return of our ancestors special Shabbat sacrifices. (page 158, Siddur Sim Shalom). Here in musaf there is an alternative reading that prays for the day when there shall be no more violence in the land or destruction within our borders. How relevant is that this week as once again missiles fly over Jerusalem this Tisha B’av? 

Why was the Second Temple destroyed? The rabbis of the Talmud teach because of Sinat Chinam, baseless hatred. Jew against Jew. A lack of respect. A lack of lovingkindness. A lack of love.  Rav Kook, the first Chief Rabbi in Palestine and then the State of Israel taught that the antidote to Sinat Chinam is Ahavat Chinam, baseless love. To quote an old song, “What the world needs now, is love, sweet love.” Lord, we need it. NOW.  

Many people, because it is in the heat of summer never even have heard of Tisha B’av, let alone observe it. My first experiences were in Israel in 1977 on a summer youth trip. It was haunting. But because we have returned to the land of Israel people only fasted until noon. At summer camp, kids may have had instructional swim but not free swim. No movies. No instrumental music.  

Every year we debate whether to hold a Tisha B’av service. We did again this year, totally on Zoom. It was well attended for us. We read the five chapters of the Book of Lamentations interspersed with appropriately mournful a cappella music.  

We looked at some modern poems.  

https://www.ritualwell.org/ritual/sackcloth-poem-tisha-b%E2%80%99av  

bclid=IwAR2IsSW6qdNSapIkFAs_V0OhRTLMwQu9t5zF2fh34mWsyCSVZ2eC-VtNtAY 

Eicha, a Lament for the Earth by Rabbi Tamara Cohen 

We read some of Betsey Stone’s new book, Refua Shlema. 

And we had a discussion. If, like the rabbis of old, we are on the cusp of something new coming out of this pandemic, what is it that you want from your community? What will Judaism look like for our children and grandchildren. How do we survive?  

And how do we get there? 

Then I taught about STAR goals, Thie are goals that are “specific, truly doable, active and relevant.” We added that they needed to be respectful as well.  

The discussion was rich.  

People mourned the loss of innocence and trust. Maybe before the pandemic we were too trusting and naïve. We can’t take everything for granted or assume that people share the same values. We need to nurture each other and take care of each other and not just look for someone to blame. We need to find ways to help everyone. We need to realize that many are stretched to the limits and that our health care system is breaking. We were a society of abundance and now we are seeing that there are shortages—not just in health care but with workers across the board. We need more patience. We need more compassion and less self-centeredness. We need to work for the common good. 

This did not get me where I was trying to go in terms of our own unique community but it was meaningful for the people who participated. 

There is plenty to mourn on this Tisha B’av. My STAR goal was to write to our city councilors about the possible permanent closing of a city pool. Ask me what that has to do with Tisha B’av and I will be happy to tell you. I have done that writing already. What will you do TODAY to make the world a better place?  

Although many traditional Jews do not read Pirka Avot on Tisha B’av, this quote is apt. “Ours is not to finish the task, neither are we free to ignore it.” Find one thing to do. Something you are passionate about. And do it.

I wanted people to leave with a sense of hope. That the world can be better. We ended with Rabbi Menachem Creditor’s Olam Chesed Yibeneh. I must build this world with love.  

https://rabbidavid.bandcamp.com/track/olam-chesed-yibaneh  

This is the sermon/d’var Torah I gave Saturday morning on this Independence Day Weekend. We must continue to exercise our Jewish values. It’s our right!

This past weekend we marked a landmark decision. Not that one. Title IX allowing for equality in women’s sports. I remember that one very well. More than I remember Roe v Wade—although I remember all the NOW rallies, I attended in my youth—and have my mom’s button collection to prove it. 

Title IX meant that suddenly I had to take shop as well as home ec in Middle School. I did a better shop of making a bowl out of walnut than sewing a purple dress. I learned “lefty lucy righty tighty.” Title IX meant that girls could run cross-country in high school. I was on the first team together with Mimi and Janet. (Never the fastest I would add and an all Jewish team) Running track and cross country are my rights as a woman, as the interview the Billie Jean King illustrated on PBS this weekend. She was talking about how Carl Schultz argued for such things by using the character of Lucy. Billie Jean King said she always preferred Lucy to Peppermint Patty. I cried while I listened to the interview.  

Who can play which sport against whom is still being debated this summer as we have seen in the swimming world with transwomen.  They say it’s complicated.  

The early seventies, “72-’73, the year we moved from Evanston to Grand Rapids, held such promise for women. The possible ratification of the ERA. Title IX. The ordination of women rabbis. The Supreme Court ruling on Roe v Wade. All things we celebrated. All things as a family continued to worry about now that we were in this more conservative community. 

The fact that we celebrate Title IX the same weekend that Roe v Wade fell as the law of the land is unsettling to say the least. 

I am angry. Not strong enough. Outraged. Enraged. Engaged. This is not new for me. I’ve been working on these issues for more than 50 years—before Roe v Wade came before the court. It was what my mother did.  I believe it is what the Girl Scouts did with their somewhat scandalous poster of a pregnant Girl Scout in her Junior uniform and the words of the Scout motto, “Be Prepared.” This vintage poster is available on Etsy for $600.  

In the simplest of terms. Women need to have autonomy over the bodies. All of these decisions are between a woman and her doctor. You’ve heard that before.  

What you may not have heard is that a woman’s right to an abortion is sanctified by Jewish law. I’ll provide the sources for that later in case you need to argue it somewhere. Thus overturning Roe v Wade violates the First Amendment. It violates what had also been true in this country, that there was a clear, documented separation of church and state. We thought we were guaranteed freedom of religion. We thought we had a voice in our nation’s governance. I thrilled with Jewish trips to Washington to demonstrate and to speak to our elected officials. Rallies to save Soviet Jews, Darfur, Voting Rights, the International Violence Against Women Act, the Million Mom March. We were making a difference—and exercising our freedom of speech and our Jewish values.  

Except maybe not. In the early days of this country, the Puritans came here for religious freedom. Their freedom. If you didn’t agree with them, you were shunned. They sent their own children to found the town of Duxbury, MA because they hadn’t had the same religious, fervent, born again experience they had had. It was called “the half-way covenant.” They were only “half-way” Christians. Later Puritans sent Roger Williams away from Massachusetts Bay colony to found Rhode Island. We all know the stories of the Salem Witch trials. When we did colonial re-enacting in Chelmsford, we learned that neither of us could have voted in 1775 because you needed to be a white, male, Christian land owner.  

Despite Washington’s letter to the Hebrew Congregation in Newport RI, https://www.facinghistory.org/nobigotry/the-letters/letter-george-washington-hebrew-congregation-newport-rhode-island and the work of Alexander Hamilton on the Constitution, there has always been an undercurrent in this country on protecting the rights of white, Christian men.  

That undercurrent hasn’t changed much. If anything, it has gotten stronger. This becomes even clearer with the recent three Supreme Court rulings. The first of these rulings was about Maine and how to provide education in mostly rural communities that do not have public high schools. On the surface it seems innocuous enough. However, in the decision itself, the Bangor Daily News reports:  

https://www.bangordailynews.com/2022/06/27/politics/supreme-court-maine-private-school-oversight/  

“In an opinion signed by the court’s six-person conservative majority, Chief Justice John Roberts reversed a federal appeals court ruling in favor of Maine and remanded the case to that court for reconsideration. He wrote that Maine’s requirement for private schools to be “nonsectarian” to receive funding violated a First Amendment right to free exercise of religion.” This one isn’t over yet, and is going to be fought in the courts over whether those religious schools can accept the money if they discriminate against the LGBTQ+ community. 

So again, I am angry. Still not strong enough. Outraged. Enraged. Engaged. 

Monday’s ruling about the coach that prayed on the 50 yard line after football games further erodes the separation of church and state. https://www.nbcnews.com/think/opinion/coach-kennedy-wins-supreme-court-case-praying-football-games-students-rcna35478 While he said he prayed as a private person, others have said they felt coerced to join him. That would be the establishment of religion in a public school. When I was growing up in Grand Rapids at the time 85% Dutch Reformed, we had people who prayed as part of sports in public school. I remember one such prayer session that I was excluded from as a Jew and consequently was not allowed to try out for volleyball, It was uncomfortable to say the least. This ruling will lead to many more students feeling marginalized. Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists. Atheists. This is another topic I have fought for many years, including a protracted fight with the Lowell City Council, started by Father Gordon White of blessed memory over the use of the Lord’s Prayer every meeting.  We argued that the Supreme Court had previously ruled that this type of prayer was not permitted. It was unconstitutional.  

This new Supreme Court ruling may have done more to erode my rights than even the ruling about Roe v Wade.  It may have set back separation of church and state and set up a loss of religious freedom for anyone who is not Christian.  

So again, I am angry. Still not strong enough. Outraged. Enraged. Engaged. 

Now let’s go back to the issue of overturning Roe v Wade. Jews rarely agree about anything. But on this one there is shocking unanimity. 83% of American Jews want reproductive choice.  83%.  

From a Jewish halacha/law perspective it is pretty simple. Jews regard a fetus as a potential life and the life of the mother takes precedence. There are arguments that permit abortion to protect the life of the mother—whether that is physical or mental.  

Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg of the National Council of Jewish Women provided a full, annotated, source sheet: https://www.sefaria.org/sheets/234926?lang=bi 

In Exodus we learn that if there is a fight and it causes a woman to miscarry, the damages are only monetary. This is not a capital case. This is not considered murder. In Yevamot 69B, a tractate of the Talmud we learn that “If she is found pregnant, until the fortieth day it is mere fluid.” Not a child. Yet.  

In Mishnat Oholat7:6 we learn: “If a woman is having trouble giving birth, they cut up the child in her womb and brings it forth limb by limb, because her life comes before the life of [the child]. But if the greater part has come out, one may not touch it, for one may not set aside one person’s life for that of another.” Again, as gruesome as this 2000 year old text is, we see that the life of the mother comes before the unborn. Now that’s precedence. Life begins when a fetus takes its first breath or is half way out the birth canal or when its head emerges. That’s what Jews argue about. Until then it is a potential life, to be protected to be sure, but not ahead of the mother’s life. 

Overturning Roe v Wade won’t eliminate abortion—it will force women to find solutions, abortions, that are less safe, dangerous.  

One of the greatest problems with some of these bills are those that prevent abortion for rape or incest, for those women whose babies will not be able to be carried to full term, for those women who might miscarry and now could be charged with a crime. For the physicians who might be chaged with a crime.  

According to the March of Dimes, “For women who know they’re pregnant, about 10 to 15 in 100 pregnancies (10 to 15 percent) end in miscarriage. Most miscarriages happen in the first trimester before the 12th week of pregnancy. Miscarriage in the second trimester (between 13 and 19 weeks) happens in 1 to 5 in 100 (1 to 5 percent) pregnancies.” 

I was lucky. As far as I know I never miscarried. I didn’t need an abortion even after being raped.  No one makes the decision to have an abortion lightly. I have sat with women through the years. One story still haunts me. As a rabbinical student I was a chaplain in a Catholic hospital. A young woman had gone to NH for a legal abortion that did not require parental permission since she was an incest victim. The NH facility missed that this was an ectopic pregnancy. She was bleeding out. The CATHOLIC hospital did what was medically necessary. She was distraught. This Protestant teen wanted to be reassured from me, the Jewish chaplain in a Catholic hospital whether she was going to hell for aborted that child. I learned a lot that day but I often wonder what happened to that teen. 

We are already beginning to hear similar stories. One haunting one from Texas which I cannot give you the full source on, the fetus was undergoing epileptic seizures in utero. The doctor explained that the child would do this for the rest of his life and recommended termination. It was scheduled. And then cancelled with the new Texas law. The mother shot herself to death. Make no mistake, we will her more stories like this. People will die.  

As Rabbi Ruttenberg sums up her source sheet. Our access to reproductive health care is guaranteed not only by the Fourteenth Amendment ━ the right to equality and privacy ━ but also by the First Amendment’s guarantee that no one religion or religious interpretation will be enshrined in law or regulation.” 

So again, I am angry. Still not strong enough. Outraged. Enraged. Engaged. 

On this Fourth of July weekend, celebrating our freedoms, I must remain engaged. I must continue to speak out. To find my voice. After all, as mother, I owe it to my daughters and granddaughters—even those yet to be. As a rabbi, I owe it to the Jewish people. Let me be clear. Part of that responsibility lies in a pastoral role. If you are a woman who feels they need an abortion, for physical or mental health reasons, for whatever reason, I will sit with you and hold your hand as you navigate this new world. If you are a parent or a grandparent whose daughter or granddaughter needs one, I will help you find safe access. If you are a woman who is brokenhearted over where we have come, I will allow you to be angry, outraged, engaged. And then help you find ways for you to be engaged. 

 After all Psalm 30 says: 

What profit is there if I am silenced
What benefit if I go to my grave.
Will the dust praise You?
Will it proclaim Your faithfulness? 

No, on this Fourth of July weekend, I need to exercise my voice so that the rights of women are protected. That is what our tradition demands.  

When the Israelites were exiled to Babylonia in 586BCE, the prophet Jeremiah commanded that the Israelites should pray for Babylon: “And seek the welfare of the city to which I have exiled you and pray to the LORD in its behalf; for in its prosperity you shall prosper.” Jeremiah 29:7 The thought was that if we prayed for Babylonia—and its leader—then it would go well for Babylonia—and the Israelites. 

In Pirkei Avot 3:2, Rabbi Chanina teaches: “Pray for the welfare of the government, for were it not for the fear it inspires, every man would swallow his neighbor alive.” 

But Pirkei Avot also teaches: Be careful [in your dealings] with the ruling authorities for they do not befriend a person except for their own needs; they seem like friends when it is to their own interest, but they do not stand by a man in the hour of his distress. (2: 3). So do we cozy up, do we remain active or as one member quoted from Fiddler on the Roof, “May G-d bless and keep the tzar far away from us.” 

Prayers for our countries became somewhat standardized in the 14th Century withavid Abudarham’s prayer book.  

In the 18th Century, British prayerbooks contained a prayer for the Commonwealth that praised G-d and the British sovereign.  

That prayer emphasized Jewish loyalty to the broader polity and asks God to “bless, guard, protect, help, exalt, magnify, and highly aggrandize,” the sovereign in the hopes that these words of praise and God’s grace would protect the local Jewish community. The prayer represents Jewish hopes that open expressions of fealty in synagogue would provide security for their communities and lessen incidences of anti-Jewish discrimination or violence. 

Yet, that is not what was needed in this new country in the late 18th century. The Jewish community of Richmond, VA in 1789 wrote a prayer that spelled out Washington as an acrostic. This prayer is enshrined in the National Museum of American Jewish History, a stone’s throw from the Constitution Museum: https://joshblackman.com/blog/2010/11/14/a-prayer-for-the-country-written-by-the-richmond-jewish-congregation-in-1789/ It is one of my favorites! 

Reform Movement prayerbooks, Conservative, Reconstructing Judaism through multiple generations of prayerbooks contain a prayer (or more) for our country. 

We are going to do something a little different tonight. If you could pray for our country today, what would you pray for? 

After 10-15 minutes of brainstorming, and some editing later, this is what emerged: 

Page Break 

A prayer for our country, written by Congregation Kneseth Israel, Elgin on the occasion of Independence Day Weekend, 2022, 5782  

O Lord our G-d, we gather to pray for our country as Jews have done for centuries. We pray as our ancestors did, Abraham, and Isaac and Jacob, Sarah, and Rebecca, Rachel and Leah and our American forefathers: George, and Thomas, and Samuel, and Alexander, Abigail, and Martha, Anne and Rebecca, each of whom had a vision of this country.  

We pray for our leaders and our democracy. Preserve our nation and our democracy. Restore its image in the world. Allow us to be a light to the nations, a shining light on the hill. Cause a new light to shine.  

Awake and arise to the knowledge that we all are made in the image of the Divine, created to pursue life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. All of us.  

May our citizens remember to do unto others as they wish others to do unto them. To love our neighbors as ourselves. To take care of the widow, the orphan and the stranger  

Enlighten our leaders. Give them insight and compassion.  

Remember our Constitution and preserve it.  

Invigorate our commitment. Empower us to work for the day when liberty is proclaimed for everyone.  

Cause them to administer justice equally to all.  

Amen! Selah. So may it be so.  

Give us strength. Give us strength to turn our anger into action, to return to the vision of this country. Give us hope. Give us joy. Give us peace so that everyone can sit under their vine and fig tree and none shall make them afraid. 

 Other modern samples: 

Another prayer for July 4th 
Brucha Ya, Ruach HaOlam
Bless Yah, Breath of the universe
Thank you for all the contradictions of Home:

Connection and Independence,
Satisfaction and Frustration
Dull Sameness and Scary Change.

Faith and Skepticism
Patriotism and Rebellion
Cosmic Glue and Holy Separation.

Trust and Disbelief
Joy and Agony
True Perception And Cruel Obtuseness

Kindness and Squabbles
Imprisonment and Picnics
Serene Nature and Fabulous Fireworks.

Home.

Modim Anachnu HaMakom.
Thank you for this place, our country, our home,
the United States of America of many voices,
land of both opportunity and disappointment.

Imperfect but sometimes incredibly glorious, home.
Where doubt can be an act of faith
And all hands are needed.

Amen 

© 2010 Trisha Arlin

May You tear out autocracy, tyranny and despotism,  

ruin those who cheat and deceive,  

and upend those who oppress the vulnerable.  

Make the reign of the arrogant disappear from all lands.  

May the people attacking democracies everywhere  

stumble and fail, and may their plans be as nought. 

Stop them, humble them, bring on their downfall,  

soon, in our days.   

May You give to all peoples of the world  

the strength and will to pursue righteousness  

and to seek peace as a unified force, 

so that violence be uprooted, and healing, good life  

and peace may flourish. (Amen.) 

Rabbi David Seidenberg 

Our God and God of our ancestors, bless this country and all who dwell within it.
Help us to experience the blessings of our lives and circumstances
To be vigilant, compassionate, and brave
Strengthen us when we are afraid
Help us to channel our anger
So that it motivates us to action
Help us to feel our fear
So that we do not become numb
Help us to be generous with others
So that we raise each other up
Help us to be humble in our fear, knowing that as vulnerable as we feel there are those at greater risk,
And that it is our holy work to stand with them
Help us to taste the sweetness of liberty
To not take for granted the freedoms won in generations past or in recent days
To heal and nourish our democracy, that it may be like a tree planted by the water whose roots reach down to the stream
It need not fear drought when it comes, its leaves are always green
Source of all Life,
Guide our leaders with righteousness
Strengthen their hearts but keep them from hardening
That they may use their influence and authority to speak truth and act for justice
May all who dwell in this country share in its bounty, enjoy its freedoms and be protected by its laws
May this nation use its power and wealth to be a voice for justice, peace and equality for all who dwell on earth
May we be strong and have courage
To be bold in our action and deep in our compassion
To discern when we must listen and when we must act
To uproot bigotry, intolerance, misogyny, racism, discrimination and violence in all its forms
To celebrate the many faces of God reflected in the wondrous diversity of humanity
To welcome the stranger and the immigrant and to honor the gifts of those who seek refuge and possibility here,
As they have since before this nation was born
Let justice well up like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream
(Jeremiah 17:8; Isaiah 16:3–5; Amos 5:24)  

© Rabbi Ayelet Cohen. This prayer was originally commissioned for Congregation Beit Simchat Torah in New York, New York.  

Page Break 

A reading before our silent, Kabbalat Shabbat Amidah: 

Siddur
Sometimes, I hold my siddur
Against my chest,
Pressed to my heart
Like a dressing on a wound.
They speak to each other
In a language as sweet as love,
As simple as hope,
As ancient as G-d’s spirit
Hovering over the endless deep,
Calling through the darkness
To summon the light,
To receive the soul of prayer,
Yearning, ever yearning,
To praise and sanctify
G-d’s Holy Name. 

© 2022 Alden Solovy and tobendlight.com. 

Judy Chicago Merger Poem 

And then all that has divided us will merge
And then compassion will be wedded to power
And then softness will come to a world that is harsh and unkind 

And then both men and women will be gentle
And then both women and men will be strong
And then no person will be subject to another’s will 

And then all will be rich and free and varied
And then the greed of some will give way to the needs of many 

And then all will share equally in the Earth’s abundance 

And then all will care for the sick and the weak and the old 

And then all will nourish the young
And then all will cherish life’s creatures 

And then everywhere will be called Eden once again 

Copyright Judy Chicago, 1979. <www.judychicago.com> Used with permission. 

Last week we looked at the phrase “El Na Refa Na La”. Moses’s prayer for his sister Miriam. Please G-d, Heal her, please.  

This simple prayer is Moses’ begging G-d. Please, heal her. Please. Now. It is very polite. This week Moses again begs G-d. The people still want to go back to Egypt. They are about to rebel (come back next week for that scene). They are questioning Moses’ leadership and they continue to kvetch. G-d is running out of patience. G-d is getting ready to strike them all dead, right there, in the middle of the wilderness, in the middle of nowhere. 

Why? Why is G-d so frustrated, so angry that G-d is contemplating just wiping them out. Right there. No more questions asked. G-d had told Moses to send 12 scouts, spies, the heads of their tribes, respected leaders into the land they are about to inherit, the land promised to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. The twelve spies go. Only two, Caleb and Joshua, say that it is possible. The rest are afraid, very afraid. They report that it is impossible to enter the land. The people are giants and the Israelites appear as grasshoppers. While the land is flowing with milk and honey they have as Ben Gilad would say, some blindspots. Why didn’t they trust G-d? They had seen G-d’s majesty and might? 

According to Rabbi Linda Shriner-Cahn there are two reasons. One was a lack of confidence and the other a fear of success. Confidence comes from the Latin, meaning, “having faith together.” They lacked that faith that they needed—as a community—to know that they were going to survive. We, too, need that hope and that assurance as we live through unprecedented times. 

Michael Walzer said,
Wherever you live, it is probably Egypt…
There is a better place, a world more attractive, a promised land…
The way to the land is through the wilderness
There is no way to get from here to there except by joining together and searching.” 

So stuck there in the wilderness with a rebellious, scared, kvetching people and a angry G-d poised to do the unthinkable, Moses prays.  

Please G-d. Remember your essential nature. You are the Lord, G-d, slow to anger, endlessly patient, filled with compassion, forgiving inequity, transgression and sin. The very words that Moses heard when he was hidden in the cleft of the rock. The very words we use during the High Holy Days beginning with Selichot. The very words that G-d responds to with these words, “Vayomer Adonai Selcati kidvarech” I have forgiven you according to your word, which we know from Kol Nidre. 

Words matter.  The Israelites words matter. Moses’s words matter. G-d’s words matter. And our words matter today.  

Today we are going to do something a little different. The first thing you have probably already noticed. We are doing the d’var Torah, the word of Torah, the sermon, before the Torah reading. That is deliberate. The second thing I am about to explain. 

This is, in many congregations in Chicagoland Pride Shabbat., tied to the big Pride Parade tomorrow. But this d’var Torah is not just about Pride. This is a congregation that proudly embraces diversity—and in previous years, even this year when the verse in Leviticus came up in rotation, I explained a different way of translating Leviticus 18. However, it is not enough to say that Leviticus does not expressly forbid homosexuality. We need to look at our words that we use today that would ensure that everyone is welcome and embraced. 

Bouncing on a bus with American Jewish World Service in Guatemala we were discussing with our Latino guide the changes Guatemalans were making in Spanish so that it was gender sensitive. We wondered how that might work in Hebrew. Hebrew, like many languages, including Spanish, is gender based. Every noun is either masculine or feminine and the verb has to agree. El Na Refa Na La. Is please G-d, masculine, heal command form masculine, heal her feminine. 

We have the same issue when we call people up to the Torah. Traditionally we use, Y’amod Ploni ben Ploni. Let Ploni son of Ploni stand. We have a feminine version. Ta’amod Plonit bat Plonit. Let Plonit daughter of Plonit stand. But what if you don’t identify as male or female or the son or daughter of someone?  

Recently the Conservative Movement’s Committee on Jewish Law and Standards addressed this very question. Approved May 25, 2022 in a decision of 24-0-1, they have introduced new language for calling someone up to the Torah for those who identify as non-binary. https://www.jta.org/2022/06/08/religion/non-gendered-language-for-calling-jews-to-the-torah-gets-conservative-movement-signoff?utm_source=JTA_Maropost&utm_campaign=JTA_DB&utm_medium=email&mpweb=1161-44937-17114 If anyone wants the full t’shuvah, responsa, I have it. 

Calling people (historically men) up to the Torah dates all the way back to Mahzor Vitry in the 13th century—but only in Ashkanazi communities. It is not Torah mi Sina, direct from Sinai or even Talmudic in origin.  

The suggested new language is really very elegant and gets around the three places that are not gender sensitive. 

Na La’amod. Please Stand. There is that Na, again. Very polite with the infinite form of the verb. It goes on to suggest that some non-binary Jews are now using, m’beit, from the house of, rather than ben or bat, son or daughter. And instead of calling up someone as shilishi or shilishit, it is really about the aliyah itself, not the person so it would be aliyah shlishit.  

So if I were being called up this way it would be Na La’amod Miriam Simcha m’beit david v’neily l’aliyah shilishit. Please stand, Miriam Simcha from the house of Don and Nelle for the 3rd aliyah.  

It makes such good sense to me. But it doesn’t quite go far enough. 

I turned around and asked a really important question—for some people who are transitioning or thinking about it or already have, they do not want to be called by their old name. I have friends like that. Not their real names: Katie became Charles. James became Rona. The fear of not passing is real. The threat of violence is real. They don’t want to be singled out as a transgender person. If we use the “traditional” formulation for most people and the new language for someone who is gender fluid, we very well may put someone at risk. “Sticks and stones may hurt my bones but names will never hurt me” is not true. Words matter. Names matter.  

So what if…instead of singling someone out as gender non-binary, we use this very elegant language for everyone. That is exactly what we are going to do today. As an experiment. Afterwards it gets referred to the Ritual Committee for discussion.  

This new language give me hope. It helps us live into our vision of embracing community and building community. I hope it leads to more meaningful observance. It does for me.  

Hope is important. It seems to be in short supply this week. There will be time in the next few weeks to discuss our role as Jews in this unfolding discussion in America. Today however, there are two things you can do. At 1 PM, weather dependent, some people will gather at Grove and Kimball to express their sadness, anger, outrage. At 8 PM, sponsored by the National Council of Jewish Women I am hosting a Havdalah at my home. You are welcome to join us. Today, however, is Shabbat, a time to rest, a time to breathe and a time to suspend the mourning. There will be plenty of time for discussion and action after Shabbat.  

Hope shows up in another place in today’s readings. The heroine of our haftarah is Rahab, the prostitute who rescues Caleb and Joshua. Help from an unlikely source. A sex worker. They are holding on by a thin thread. The word in Hebrew for hope is tikvah but the root come from to bind, kivah, from which we get thread or cord, something used to bind. Joshua 2:17-21 says, “ 

But the men said to her, “We will be released from this vow which you have made us swear unless when we come into the land, you tie this length of red thread to the window through which you let us down. Bring your father, your mother, your brothers, and all your family together in your house…She replied, “According to your words, it will be. And she sent them away and they left and she tied the crimson cord to the window.”  

A crimson cord, a thin red thread and an unlikely source. Hope abounds.  Words matter. Words bring hope. Please.

Today is the 49th day of the Counting of the Omer. It is also the day that we begin the reading of Bamidbar…In the wilderness. Or in English—Numbers. This is the Book of Numbers. It begins with taking a census. G-d tells Moses to count every male 20 years and up. Everyone who is eligible to bear arms.  

It is a measure of the strength of the community. Later in the portion they count the Levites, everyone over a month in age. Every male counts. 

Even today, we Jews count. Not one, not two, not three…up to at least 10. Here at CKI we have been very fortunate. When I first arrived 10 years ago, it was often touch and go—would we get to 10, would we have enough for a minyan? A minyan is a measure of the strength of a community. If there is a minyan, then the community can do parts of the service that are for public worship only. Kaddish, Barchu, the public proclamation of the Amidah and reading the Torah itself.  It leads to a full, complete service, marked by doing Kaddish Shalem, the full Kaddish that puts a punctuation mark on the service. 

As I said, we have been very fortunate here at CKI. We have not missed having a minyan since well before the pandemic. And I am grateful. 52 weeks a year. At least 2 services a week. Not bad for a small congregation. Other, much larger congregations are struggling to achieve a minyan week in and week out. 

Traditionally, communities would count only men over 13, past their Bar Mitzvah, the age of responsibility. This was due to the idea that women, children and slaves were exempt from time bound mitzvot. Exempt—free from the obligation—but that didn’t mean they couldn’t do them. If they chose to take on the mitzvah that was OK, but it didn’t count in the same way. We see examples of that like Michal and later Rashi’s daughter’s who took on putting on tefilin. And their actions, I believe, counted. 

At CKI we’ve been counting women in the minyan since the 1950s. Men and women have been sitting together. Women have had aliyot, since the 60s. Blossom, who just turned 101 this week, had the first one. This has strengthened the CKI community. 

And still, I can remember waiting at a shiva minyan for someone to go get the neighbor boy.  As we were waiting, the father who isn’t Jewish was trying to understand. He didn’t count. Correct. His wife, who was the primary mourner, didn’t count. Correct. I didn’t count as a rabbi, because I was a woman. Correct. But this kid. He counted. True. 

I have women here at CKI who didn’t know that women could pray. They can. In fact, they are obligated to, whatever that means. Just not necessarily to Sh’ma, because that is considered time-bound. 

Once, when leading services as a rabbinic intern at an assisted living facility, a woman came up to me after I made Friday night kiddush and said, “That was very lovely, rabbi, but can Bob now do it, so it counts?” In her mind it didn’t count unless a male did it. Since I was a woman, and hence exempt, my making kiddush did not fulfill her obligation—or maybe the whole kahals, the whole group’s obligation to make Shabbes by making kiddush. It was an uncomfortable moment.  

Currently, in most Jewish seminaries preparing people to be rabbis and cantors, the classes are 50% men to 50% women. I am proud to be the third woman rabbi here at CKI. Most of you probably never think twice about this reality. But it wasn’t always so. 

There are several who claim the title of first woman rabbi. Rabbi Sally Priesand, first woman ordained by the Reform Movement was ordained June 3rd, 1972, 50 years ago yesterday. Rabbi Regina Jonas, a rabbi ordained in 1935 Germany (and my study partner’s mother’s Hebrew teacher in Germany) who then was murdered in Auschwitz. Her young student reportedly told her mother that she liked studying with her teacher Regina, but “she’s crazy. She thinks she is going to be a rabbi.” Some people describe Bruiah in the Talmud, wife of Rabbi Meir as a rabbi. Recently there was a new book that came out, Osnat and the Dove, who sounds a little like Yentl or Rashi’s Daughter’s, except this isn’t fiction, it is real. The artwork is stunning in this short children’s book making me hunger for more! Osnat most certainly was a teacher. But here is the tale of a woman born in 1590 in Mosul, Iraq. Her father, the rabbi, taught her. Her husband became the head of the yeshiva and she taught their boys. Then when he died, she became the head of the yeshiva! She was the rabbi! 

This weekend, yesterday, June 3, 1972, as I mentioned, Sally Priesand was ordained as the first woman rabbi in the United States. It was groundbreaking. Rabbi Bob Alper describes the moment this way:
“Sally was among the last of our 30 or so classmates to be ordained (alphabetical order) that day. We all sat quietly, watching each one of us ascend the bema. But when Sally was called, we all stood. What a magnificent moment that was.”  

There was much debate about whether women could be rabbis. The arguments that I outlined above were definitely debated. My rabbi, Rabbi Neil Kominsky chaired a taskforce on women in the rabbinate during some of this volatile period for the Central Conference of American Rabbis. Yet, after she was ordained she was the last member of her class of 36 to be hired as a rabbi.  

Nonetheless her rabbinate has counted in so very many profound ways. Now we have women rabbis in all the major movements. Rabbi Sandy Sasso in Reconstructing Judaism, Rabbi Amy Eilberg for Conservative Judaism, Rabbah Sara Hurwitz in modern Orthodoxy. Yes, there are now some Orthodox women rabbis. I am grateful for each of them. 

However, there are still those who question a woman’s right to lead. There are still pay discrepancies. And perhaps the most haunting of all, there is still sexual harassment.  

For me, Rabbi Priesand’s ordination was life changing. In 8th grade I told my English teacher that I was going to be a rabbi. It was after my Bat Mitzvah and just two years after Rabbi Priesand was ordained. No one in Grand Rapids thought it was possible. I don’t even remember the conversation. I moved on to other career ideas. In college, my freshman year as part of Jewish Women’s Week at Hillel, I read Torah—but not as a full Torah service. It was done not with the aliyah blessing but with the blessing for Torah study. 

Later that year I went back to my dream of becoming a rabbi. It seemed the best way to make my life count. It still didn’t seem possible. Then Hebrew Union College didn’t accept me. Neither did Leo Baeck in London or Reconstructionist Rabbinical College. I didn’t think Jewish Theological Seminary was right for me. I wasn’t ready for tefilin, which was a requirement, now that they were prepared to ordain women. I became a Jewish educator. A Girl Scout leader. A marketing and strategy consultant for technology companies. I did a lot of volunteer social justice work. A minyan leader. It didn’t seem like I was making enough of a difference in the world. After urging by a dear friend, an Episcopal priest, I found a program that worked for second career people who needed a part time option. I am grateful to Rabbis Neil Kominsky and Albert Lewis, Dr. Rev. David Ferner and so, so many at the Academy for Jewish Religion.  

Later tonight we will begin to explore another verse, “Teach us to number our days that we may attain a heart of wisdom.” That will be the study topic for the year. It is another way to ask Mary Oliver’s question, “Tell me, what do you plan to do with this one wild and precious life.” Come explore it with me as we begin to celebrate Shavuot with havdalah, study, Yizkor and cheesecake. It is said that each person has their own Torah—their own story to unfold, unfurl. Come find your own unique purpose, your own unique revelation.  

Our job, the way to make our lives meaningful, is to make everyday count.

Update: After two Shavuot services, a hike to “Mount Sinai” and the reading of the 10 Commandments outside, it has been a very powerful weekend. I am tired but revellilng in Torah, in nature, in life itself. No longer wandering in the wilderness, I know this: My life counts. Thank you, all.  

Saturday morning I tried to continue this sense of hope even in the face of tragedy. Is it ridiculous? We are cautioned to not say a prayer in vain, a brach levatla, like saying a blessing over an apple or a piece of bread and then not eating it.  They tell you that clergy people give the sermon that they themselves need to hear. Here it is:

We are also told that if you hear sirens in the distance, you should not pray that it not be your house. It is already someone’s house. Pray for the well-being of the person who needs emergency care. Pray for the first responders. Pray for the healers to be sheltered from harm. Pray. Prayers themselves are not bad. Prayers can help calm a situation. Prayers can help us feel grounded and secure. Prayers can help us feel connected to others. And the science shows this, prayers can heal.  

This last parsha of the Book of Leviticus is a challenging one. Yet for me, it brings a modicum of hope. In the chapter we read that if the Israelites follow the commandments it will go well with them. In the first chapter of the full parsha, we didn’t read this year, that if the Israelites repent, then G-d will remember the covenant with the ancients whom G-d freed from the land of Egypt in the sight of the nations.  

If we rest the land, actually observe the shmita and yovel, the cycle of seven years and then which we have studied the past two weeks as part of the “Pursuit of Holiness” as our chumash commentary Etz Hayyim calls these four portions at the end of Leviticus, then  then G-d will remember us and the covenant made with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. 

What does it mean to rest the land? What does it mean to rest ourselves. To really observe a sabbath and allow time to sleep, to dream, to pray, to be without the pressures of our 24×7 culture.  

This is Rainbow Day. That’s why I am wearing my rainbow tallit today. No, it doesn’t mean today is the day to go get an original rainbow cone, although on a hot start of summer weekend that might be fun. https://www.rainbowcone.com/  

On the 27th day of the second month, according to Genesis 8, Noah and his family and all the animals left the ark. One lunar year and 10 days earlier, a complete solar year (other people did this math), the flood began on the day before Lag B’omer, the 33rd day of the counting of the Omer. When Noah and his famiily emerged G-d made a covenant. Another example of an if-then promise, to never destroy the world again with a flood of water. There is a spiritual hymn, No more water. Fire Next Time. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GIaFgGFVCU4  James Baldwin turned that into the title of one of his books. Rainbow Day is always the 42nd Day of the Omer.  

That day is today. Today is Rainbow Day. 

The Rainbow Covenant brings me hope.  

The Rainbow Covenant is a time to celebrate the diversity of life on Earth. It reminds us of our partnership with G-d to make sure to never destroy the earth. That we are caretakers with G-d in this glorious creation. We need to remember our part of that rainbow covenant. Part of that is to rest the land. That covenant was made with all living creatures. Not just human beings. Our early morning services echos this theme. Psalm 150 says, “Let every breath of life praise G-d. Halleluyah! “ (Sim Shalom page 100) and then that is echoed with Nishmat Kol Chai, “The breath of all that lives praises You.” (page 104) Every breath. I interpret that to mean Jews and non-Jews, every person. Humans, animals, even the trees.   Here is Cantor Arlene Jaffee singing “All the World Sings to You.” Ahavat Olam/Parshat Noach – All the World Sings to You 

 Our text ends renewing another covenant: 

“These are the commandments that the Lord gave Moses for the Israelite people on Mount Sinai—behar Sinai. “ The very last words of the Book of Leviticus. But Mount Sinai isn’t necessarily a physical place and all the laws were not given at Sinai. In fact Leviticus begins by saying that the following laws were given at the Tent of Sinai. Etz Chayim says that “Sinai is not a geographic location. It is a symbol of Israel’s awareness of having stood in the presence of G-d and having come to understand what God requires of them. Whenever a person hears the commanding voice of G-d and commits himself or herself to live by that voice, that person can be considered to be standing at Sinai.”  

Next week we celebrate Shavuot. 50 days from Passover. It too is a sign of our covenantal relationship. Several years ago we at CKI after a year of studying covenant, wrote our own covenant with G-d, a ketubah reflective of our relationship with each other and with G-d. This year, our Torah school kids added the 10 commandments to that covenant and each one signed it. Here is our list: 

The Israelites
gathered at the foot of Mount Sinai said “We will do and we will hear.” Even before they knew what was in it, they agreed.  

 On this, the 6th of Sivan 5779 and reaffirmed on this 29th of Iyyar 5782, May 1, 2022, as we reckon time in Elgin, IL, we, the members of Congregation Kneseth Israel and the Torah School are standing again at Mount Sinai ready to receive the Torah as a sign of our covenant with the Holy One. We promise to engage in 

Lifelong Learning 

• To attend the house of study  
• To learn and to teach with our adults and children 
• To teach our children diligently 

Meaningful Observance  

• To pray with sincerity 
• To remember and keep Shabbat
  To rejoice with bride and groom 
• To console the bereaved  
• To celebrate lifecycle events and holidays 
• To maintain a kosher kitchen 

Building Community 

• To honor our fathers and mothers 
• To perform acts of love and kindness 
• To visit the sick 
• To host gatherings for men and women and children 
• To be warm and welcoming to all who enter 

Embracing Diversity 

• To recognize that everyone is created in the image of G-d, b’tzelem elohim
  To love our neighbors as ourselves 
• To welcome the stranger  
• To provide hospitality to all who enter 
• To not put a stumbling block before the blind or curse the deaf 
• To provide a safe, non-judgmental space for all to learn, celebrate and grow 
• To make peace where there is strife 

And the study of Torah equal to them all, because it leads to them all. 

“Ours is not to finish the task, neither are we free to ignore it.” Pirke Avot 2:21 

Witnessed and signed this day of Shavuot, 5779 by 

All of this brings me hope. Hope for us. Hope for the next generation.  

Most weeks I give two D’vrei Torah (literally, a word of Torah, a sermon, teaching, discussion). I try to link our weekly Biblical portion to our lives today. It isn’t always easy. I wondered what I could possibly say after yet another mass shooting—this time killing 19 innocent children in their classroom together with two brave teachers. What could I possibly say a week after another mass shooting at a grocery store? My people are understandably on edge. They are frustrated, angry, sad. And scared.

Saturday;’s remarks will be posted tomorrow, Tuesday.  

All week, people had been saying that thoughts and prayers are not enough. They need. We need. Action. I agree. Yet, as a rabbi and a Jewish woman, I am a praying person.  

So I did what I often do. I opened up a discussion. What is prayer? Sounds like a simple question, no? The first person who answered said, “Abraham Joshua Heschel said that his feet were praying when he marched with King. So prayer is action—our feet and our hands.” I reminded them that I had recently read the story in Rabbi Larry Kushner’s Book of Miracles, the short story, “The Hands of G-d” where the rabbi reminds the rich man and the poor man that their hands are the hands of G-d. “Continue baking and continue taking.” We have an obligation to feed the hungry—and that very act is an act of G-d. 

Someone else said that prayer is about gratitude and that no matter what our circumstances, we still have much to be thankful for. Often, we divide the type of prayers into three sorts—prayers of thanksgiving, prayers of request or petition and prayers of praise, expressing our awe.  

Yet Heschel pointed out that “The primary purpose of prayer is not to make requests. The primary purpose is to praise, to sing, to chant. Because the essence of prayer is a song, and man cannot live without a song. Sing we did.  

Someone else said that their daily prayers and meditations ground them and enable them to feel rooted and not so alone. Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav, much like Thoreau, said that we should go out daily and spend an hour just pouring out our soul to G-d.  

Abraham Joshua Heschel had a lot to say about prayer. One of my favorites is this short quote in Gates of Prayer, before the Amidah, “Prayer cannot bring water to parched fields, or mend a broken bridge, or rebuild a ruined city; but prayer can water an arid soul, mend a broken heart, and rebuild a weakened will.” (Page 152 Gates of Prayer) That version of the Amidah ends with this Heschel quote: 

“Pray is if everything depended on G-dl act as if everything depended on you. Who rise from prayer better persons, their prayer is answered.” (Page 157, Gates of Prayer) 

A.J. Heschel “On Prayer.” 

Prayer is either exceedingly urgent, exceedingly relevant, or inane and useless. 

Prayer is meaningless unless it is subversive, unless it seeks to overthrow and to ruin the pyramids of callousness, hatred, opportunism, falsehoods. The liturgical movement must become a revolutionary movement, seeking to overthrow the forces that continue to destroy the promise, the hope, the vision. 

The world is aflame with evil and atrocity; the scandal of perpetual desecration of the world cries to high heaven. And we, coming face to face with it, are either involved as callous participants or, at best, remain indifferent onlookers. The relentless pursuit of our interests makes us oblivious of reality itself. Nothing we experience has value in itself; nothing counts unless it can be turned to our advantage, into a means for serving our self-interests. 

We pray because the disproportion of human misery and human compassion is so enormous. We pray because our grasp of the depth of suffering is comparable to the scope of perception of a butterfly flying over the Grand Canyon. We pray because of the experience of the dreadful incompatibility of how we live and what we sense. 

We are therefore back to prayer as action, and as Heschel reminds us in his book, The Prophets, “Few are guilty, but all are responsible.” 

Perhaps as Heschel said, “Prayer may not save us. But prayer may make us worthy of being saved.” (Moral Grandeur and Spiritual Audacity),  

And as we got to one of my favorite verses of liturgy, Haskiveinu, which the rabbis added to the evening service because sometimes going to bed at night can be a little scary. The world is more than a little scary, but as Heschel said, “To pray is to dream in league with God, to envision His holy visions.” 

Let us dream together. 

The Aleinu prayer towards the end of the service is a dream of what the world could be, a vision of the world as it might be one day. Often I use Judy Chicago’s prayer as a lead in, a kavanah, an intention:
 

And then all of what has divided us will merge.
And then compassion will be wedded to power.
And then softness will come to a world that is often harsh and unkind.
And then both women and men will be gentle.
And then both men and women will be strong.
And then no other person will be subject to another’s will.
And then all will be rich and varied.
And then all will share equally in the earth’s abundance.
And then all will care for the sick and the weak and the old.
And then all will nourish the young.
And then all will cherish life’s creatures.
And then all will live in harmony with each other and the earth.
And then everywhere will be called Eden once again. Amen.  

I would add to this the line from Micah, And then everyone “neath their vine and fig tree shall live in peace and unafraid.” And into plowshares beat their swords. Nation shall learn war no more.” May it be so. And may no child or teacher fear going to school.

Next Friday I am hosting a meeting about gun violence. It will include religious leaders, heads of mental health agencies and the school district, law enforcement and our local elected officials. It is a starting point again. This is a topic I have worked on consistently since before 2000 when I remember being on the Westford Common for the send off for the Mother’s Day Million Mom March. And you can bet, my feet will be praying, still. But thoughts and prayers as important as they are, are simply not enough. I will keep you posted.

Part of the function of prayer is to give us hope. My chevruta study partner, Rabbi Linda Shriner-Cahn introduced me to this poem shortly before Shabbat. It seems like the perfect anecdote to the week we are having. We read this after Aleinu and Kaddish and just before Adon Olam.

The Gates of Hope 

By Victoria Safford 

Our mission is to plant ourselves at the gates of Hope—
Not the prudent gates of Optimism,
Which are somewhat narrower.
Not the stalwart, boring gates of Common Sense;
Nor the strident gates of Self-Righteousness,
Which creak on shrill and angry hinges
(People cannot hear us there; they cannot pass through)
Nor the cheerful, flimsy garden gate of “Everything is gonna’ be all right.”
But a different, sometimes lonely place,
The place of truth-telling, A
bout your own soul first of all and its condition.
The place of resistance and defiance,
The piece of ground from which you see the world
Both as it is and as it could be
As it will be;
The place from which you glimpse not only struggle,
But the joy of the struggle.
And we stand there, beckoning and calling,
Telling people what we are seeing
Asking people what they see. 

Breaking News 

We interrupt this broadcast…again.
We don’t know all the details.
But we do.
Sadly, we do,
Again. Yet again.
We know how it happens. 

Columbine. Sandy Hook. Parkland.
JCCs, Tree of Life, Colleyville
Over and Over again. 

I am a praying person.
But thoughts and prayers
Ring hollow.
They are empty words
They deflect responsibility
They make it someone else’s problem,
They make it G-d’s problem.
They think they are bringing comfort. 

They are not.

The words.
They are a lie.
A bald-faced lie.

This is our responsibility.
All of our responsibility.

So I pledge. Again.
To continue to work for gun control.
To continue to work for mental health access.
To sit with the wounded, the hurting, the scared. 

And to not say anything.
Because words?
They are empty.
Unless they are accompanied by action.
Not tomorrow. Today.

And now for the real sermon…

Next weekend we celebrate Memorial Day, an opportunity to remember those who gave their lives in service to this country. In service to this country to protect our freedom.  

This week we read the verse that is engraved on the Liberty Bell. “Proclaim liberty throughout the land.” This is an important verse and one with historic implications. And many, many meanings. Our translation uses the word release rather than liberty. Here, then are three words we need to understand: 

Liberty, Freedom, Release.  

These are core to our values, as Jews and as Americans.  

As it says in Simon’s complied haggadah we celebrate as members of two communities, both the Jewish community and the American community and we  cherish our freedoms:
It spells out what some of those freedoms are that we celebrate: 

freedom from bondage        and freedom from oppression,
freedom from hunger          and freedom from want,
freedom from hatred           and freedom from fear,
freedom to think                 and freedom to speak,
freedom to teach                 and freedom to learn,
freedom to love                  and freedom to share,
freedom to hope                 and freedom to rejoice, 

Or as the Declaration of Independence declares that we have certain inalienable rights that among them are life, liberty,,and the pursuit of happiness. 

But as one of my rabbis once pointed out with Mi Chamocha, with freedom comes responsibility. She didn’t like any of the upbeat, happy versions of Mi Chamocha. She would say, correctly, that “We have to work for these freedoms.” The Hebrew “rodef” would tell us that, in fact, we need to pursue them, chase after them, run after them. “Tzedek, Tzedek tirdof, Justice, Justice shall you pursue.” (Deuteronomy 16:20) “Seek peace and pursue it” (Psalm 34). We can apply this concept to freedom and liberty as well. 

Rabbi Lord Sacks , of blessed memory teaches another important lesson about this portion: 

“All of this makes the social legislation of parshat Behar a text for our time, because the Torah is profoundly concerned, not just with economics, but with the more fundamental moral and human issues. What kind of society do we seek? What social order best does justice to human dignity and the delicate bonds linking us to one another and to God?”  

He sees a tension between freedom and equality. Genesis reminds us that each of us is created in the image of the Divine, b’tzelem elohim, and that we need to care for each individual—or there are consequences of G-d’s gift to humans of individual freedom. A good point. One I make frequently. Judaism sees the Divine Spark in everyone, Everyone needs to be treated as a reflection of the Divine.  

Then Exodus comes to remind us that we need collective freedom, not just individual freedom. It is very clear what happens when a people is enslaved. Over and over again we are reminded that we must treat the stranger the way we should be treated because we were slaves in the land of Egypt. 36 times. More than any other commandment in the Bible. We see that motif in today’s portion again. It is a core value. 

But the idea of equal dignity of human beings in the image of G-d and under the sovereignty of God was not realized in the biblical era. It was aspirational. There were hierarchies. Kings. Priests. Men. Yet there was no class system.  Sacks says, “In the community of the covenant envisaged by the Torah, we are all God’s children, all precious in His sight, each with a contribution to make to the common good.”  

Go ahead, sing along with me “All G-d’s children got a place in the choir.”  

“The fundamental insight of parshat Behar, namely that economic inequalities have a tendency to increase over time, and the result may be a loss of freedom as well. People can become enslaved by a burden of debt. In biblical times this might involve selling yourself literally into slavery as the only way of guaranteeing food and shelter. Families might be forced into selling their land: their ancestral inheritance from the days of Moses. The result would be a society in which, in the course of time, a few would become substantial landowners while many became landless and impoverished.” 

Our portion, as complicated as it is with far reaching consequences, is a radical way to reorganize society. It turns the world upside down. G-d’s world. This is because as Sacks points out, over and over again we are told that we don’t own the land, the land is G-d’s. So it takes this entire system out of the hands of human legislators. It rests on two fundamental ideas about capital and labor. 

“Since the land is Mine, no land shall be sold permanently. You are foreigners and resident aliens as far as I am concerned.” (Lev. 25:23) 

Second, the same applies to people: 

“Because the Israelites are My servants, whom I brought out of Egypt, they must not be sold as slaves.” (Lev. 25:42) 

This means that personal and economic liberty are not open to political negotiation. They are inalienable, God-given rights. Seems we are back to the Declaration of Independence.  

Perhaps, Sacks, of blessed memory, was a prophet, looking forward and understanding some of the economic issues facing this country today even though he lived and worked in Great Britain. What should we do with student loan debt? It seems to enslave students. Can we use this portion to talk about forgiving that debt every seven years? That would be radical. And currently being discussed. Would it be unfair to those who have already paid off their student loan debt? Is this the modern equivalent of a prozbol?  

What about medical debt? The single largest reason people are forced to file for bankruptcy in this country is medical debt. 44 million Americans have medical debt in collections, which then pay the provider only 7% of the total due.  RIP Medical Debt (RIP) is a tax-exempt charity that buys and abolishes medical debt. RIP typically works with donors, such as private foundations, to abolish debt for a specific target population. Since the debt forgiveness is considered a gift, it does not count as income and is therefore not taxable. There are many churches that are working on this very topic. Again, it would be radical. I believe, however, it would help us live out the vision of this country to protect life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. 

There are other freedoms we want. How do we explain the terror young parents face not being able to find formula? Not having to worry about supply chain issues would be a form of freedom from want. What about the very ability to go to the grocery store or the movies or the public school or even a house of worship without fear? We are just a week after the mass murder shooting in Buffalo. George Washington in his letter to the Hebrew Congregation in Newport, RI made explicit the Jewish values and the nascent American values, that “May the Children of the Stock of Abraham, who dwell in this land, continue to merit and enjoy the good will of the other Inhabitants; while every one shall sit in safety under his own vine and figtree, and there shall be none to make him afraid.” That last quote is from Micah 4:4.  

When we pause next weekend to remember our fallen soldiers, I believe that these are some of the freedoms that our soldiers were fighting for. This is the liberty and release that our portion demands. Something to think about as we enjoy our Memorial Day picnics and parades.