Yesterday I participated in a fascinating program sponsored by the Gail Borden Public Library and the Coalition of Elgin Religious Leaders. I was the Jewish panelist on a topic of Spirituality and/or Religion. I have been on this panel before and I genuinely like doing them. It gives me the opportunity to think deeply about a topic. I get to explain Judaism to a wider audience. It builds bridges and it models civil discourse. Anytime I do one it sharpens my own understanding about Judaism. But this one stymied me. I am no expert in spirituality. And people around me heard me grousing about this topic for weeks. (And I might have even suggested the topic all the way back in January as part of a brainstorming session). What was making me so uncomfortable? I wasn’t sure—but I know that when I am this nervous about a presentation there is a growing edge to it. By late Saturday afternoon, I thought I had possible answers to the questions.  

Here goes: 

1. In your faith what do religion and spirituality mean? 

First, I am here to represent Judaism which has a 5000 year tradition. It is more than a faith. Judaism is a religion, a people, an ethnic group, a tradition.  And there is never only one answer. I actually have really struggled with this particular panel because anything I say is my opinion only—today—or right now. It may change even as we go through this discussion by listening to our other panelists.  

There is even a joke—two Jews and three opinions.  

But to try to answer this question. Judaism is seen as a religion and it has deep spirituality embedded in it. Both words are from the Latin, which might be part of my problem. There is not a direct Hebrew equivalent. I see religion from the root word from the Latin, religio, to tie back up into. Ralph Waldo Emerson talks a lot about this but Jewish people not so much, yet it is there. I think that the object of religion, however is to find connection, to tie back up into the Divine or maybe to connect with other like minded people searching for community. 

• Spirituality comes from spirit—or breath. The online dictionary defines it as “the nonphysical part of a person which is the seat of emotions and character; the soul. 
• 2. those qualities regarded as forming the definitive or typical elements in the character of a person, nation, or group or in the thought and attitudes of a particular period.” 

Often times people talk about a distinction between the physical body and the spirit or soul. 

In Judaism the Hebrew word for spirit is neshama, nefesh or ruach, our souls are very breath itself. In fact, one of our morning prayers, says that “the soul that You have given us is pure, You have breathed it into me and within it You sustain me. So there is no separation between body and soul. 

2. Are they separate concepts? 

They don’t have to be. For me, the ritual of religion allows me or helps me to be spiritual, to connect with the Divine. So does music, being out in nature, and the quietude of the early morning when I can most easily write. My writing is a gift of the Divine and highly spiritual. I also experience the Divine on an early morning run. Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav, similar to Henry David Thoreau suggested that we should spend an hour alone, outdoors in nature pouring out our soul to…G-d.  

In Judaism there seems to be a pendulum swing. Sometimes we talk about G-d and we are more spiritual. Sometimes we are more rational and we don’t. When I grew up the Reform Movement of Judaism was concerned about the ethics and not the religious ritual. We didn’t alk about G-d or spirituality much. I learned, for example, that kashrut was an outmoded form of Judaism. That no one practiced it any more. But it is a spiritual discipline still practiced by many. Talking about G-d was somehow taboo. I even told my rabbi in Grand Rapids when asked to do a blessing over bread, “But Rabbi, Jews don’t believe in G-d, only Christians do” I was afraid he might actually say that at ordination.  

In the 1970s, the chavurah movement started not far from Tufts and Harvard. It was an attempt imbue Judaism with their own individual meaning—sitting in small groups in people’s living rooms. There were a series of books, The Jewish Catalogs, that was a kind of do-it-yourself Judaism. It was not just something that the rabbis told you what to do, from on high, from up on the bimah, the stage, in those large synagogue edifices that were built after World War II. It was the great search for individualized meaning and participation.  There was an emphasis on Eastern Religions and many Jews left Judaism for more mediation like in Buddhism and Hinduism, not realizing that some of those very things they were searching for existed in Judaism. 

The Institute of Jewish Spirituality was born 20 years ago which according to its website “has helped thousands of people every year to slow down, reconnect with themselves and the world, and rediscover their sense of sacred purpose. We invite you to explore our website where you will find teachings, inspiration, guided meditations, and retreat opportunities to become more mindful, more peaceful, more compassionate, and more resilient, all through the rich wisdom of Jewish tradition. Wherever you are on your journey, whether you are just beginning or you have practiced mindfulness for years, we welcome you.” https://www.jewishspirituality.org/  

Last week I went to a seminar of Spiritual Resilience sponsored by the Association of Rabbis and Cantors, the alumni association of my seminary. The presenter, Dr. Lisa Miller, who was giving us the science behind spirituality talked about a Venn diagram between Religion and Spirituality, 70% of America lives in the intersection between the two. 30% of millennials see spiritual in art, music and nature and 2/3 believe in some kind of deity. She sees this as particularly important, powerful given the high rates of depression and anxiety amongst adolescents. Having a relationship with a higher power, by whatever name you call that Power helps reduce those anxiety levels. The science teaches us this. And that transcendent relationship is 1/3 innate and 2/3 environmental. In late adolescence, teens begin to hunger for connection (we’re back to religio) and begin to search for meaning. What’s MY meaning? What’s the meaning of life? Spirituality can help to answer those essential questions. But it takes work, I would add, and in our modern society people want easy answers. That is not always possible. I was intrigued by her comment that tikkun olam, repairing the world, most strengthens the spiritual brain and provides those connections. This is of some comfort to me as someone who went into the rabbinate to be a social justice rabbi. So there is also no separation between tikkun olam and the spiritual quest. I can’t wait to read her newest book, The Spiritual Child: The New Science on Parenting for Health and Life Long Thriving.” 

The science also suggests that there doesn’t have to be a fear of the spiritual from the realm of psychology. This is good and represents a huge step forward, in my mind. In that rational world I grew up in the spiritual and emotional worlds were not seen as real and were something to be feared. Talk of G-d was not rational. Talk of a “calling” was seen as weird. My parents made me go to a psychiatrist when I first started considering the rabbinate afraid I might be crazy. Some therapists are uneasy with a discussion of spirituality, although that is softening. 

I think another word needs to be thrown into this mix and that is mysticism.  

I think as I worked through my preparation for this, I have come to this conclusion. Spirituality and religion are entwined, at least in my practice of Judaism. There is a mystical tradition within Judaism that dates all the way back to the beginning of Torah. Tikkun Olam was originally this idea about repairing the world and repairing the self that is a lovely story about how when the world was created a bright light was contained in a vessel but it was so bright it shattered the vessel. It is our job to gather those shards back together again, that’s how we repair the world. Other mystical texts permeate our liturgy: El Adon, Lecha Dodi, a Friday night hymn welcoming Shabbat. Our Tu B’shevat seder, how we celebrate Sukkot—all have mystical aspects that have been ritualized and common even in American Judaism. 

Even the time period we are in now, between Passover and Shavuot (Pentecost) 50 days later is imbued with a mystical spin. Each day is an emanation of the Divine. While Ein Sof, the Infinate One cannot be fully comprehended by mere mortal humans, we can begin to understand the 10 mystical attributes or sefirot. Some of those attributes mirror the 13 attributes in Exodus 34:6-7 that we are supposed to emulate. One of those, chesed, perhaps best translated as lovingkindness, is part of the reason I became a rabbi. (That’s a story for another time but relevant here). According to the commentaries, just as G-d showed lovingkindness by clothing the naked, Adam and Eve, we should. Just as G-d visited the sick, Abraham; we should. Just as G-d buried the dead, Moses; we should.  

The need to understand that G-d loves us is a central need and part of religion. If G-d can show lovingkindness and we are commanded to love the widow, the orphan and even the stranger, than that guides my religion and spirituality, and my practice of both. People want to know that they are loved. That is part of what adolescents are searching for as they leave for college (or whatever makes sense to them these days), become individual adults and break away from their family of origin. 

3. How would you describe yourself – either or both or something else? 

Both. Given my background as the daughter of a Jewish atheist, which was never a contradiction in his mind, I would have never described myself as spiritual. However, I have come to see myself that way. In fact. Since moving to Elgin, there is one Christian pastor who has described me as the most spiritual person he knows. That always surprises me and humbles me because I don’t see myself that way. And since I work as a Jewish professional, being religious is an occupational hazzard. Perhaps another way to think about it is how we describe some aspects of Jewish prayer. We talk about keva—the structure of the service, the words we say day in and day out, the part that is ritualized, or made into a routine, and kavanah, the intention, the meaning behind the prayer. Keva then is the religion, the connection, the part that gets us to the kavanah, the deep closeness with spirituality and the divine. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel had lots to say about this. He also famously said when marching with Martin Luther King, that his feet were praying. So it is all about those combinations.

4. When people say “I’m not religious, but I am spiritual, what are they saying? 

I think what they are saying is “I want to connect with the Divine but I don’t want the trappings of organized, institutional religion.” Let’s be very clear. Sometimes the hierarchical institutions have deeply wounded people in the pews. That is part of why the Puritans came to this country. They wanted to interpret scripture on their own and not just be told what to believe. There is a rugged individualism in this country—no body is going to tell me what to do. And while the history is important and as my colleague said we need to do a better job of teaching it and being less lazy, we need to help people find meaning—their meaning—within the tradition.  

Still, it is very common for me to hear the story of rabbis and cantors in previous generations who really hurt kids and adults. Some of those stories are just coming to light now—sadly, not unlike the Catholic Church rocked by the priest scandal, we too have had rabbis who abused. We have had rabbis who denied people marriage ceremonies if they were marrying someone who is not Jewish or came out as gay. We have rabbis who screamed at kids in Hebrew School not knowing any better pedagogical techniques.  We have congregations that have denied the right to pray to people who didn’t look like them, didn’t have the same intellectual abilities or enough wealth. It can be expensive to be a Jews. Sadly, the list goes on. The Protestants don’t escape either as we have witnessed even in our own backyard at some of the megachurches. Sadly, it seems to exist in many hierarchical structures where the power is given to a few (men). We religious leaders need to own this and meet people where they are, hear their hurt and pain and walk with them. 

So, I really liked what my colleague Rev. Dave Daubert said about wedding couples who say they are spiritual and not religious. He is right. They could have just gone to city hall or been married by a justice of the peace. But they are sitting in his office so they must at some level be religious as well as spiritual. It is our job as clergy then to help them find meaning within the tradition, the ritual, the religion.  

5. How do you express your religion or spirituality or both? 

After much thinking about this topic, it is very hard to separate them so I express my religion and spirituality with both. Some through art—I took a class this year just for me in Art and Spirituality for Women Rabbis, run by the Jewish Studio Project. I run—and for me that is a spiritual discipline. I write—again mostly spiritual but informed by my religion. I practice kashrut and Sabbath–religious expressions for my spirituality or is the spiritual expression of my religion? I think part of it is being aware. Once I was teaching an 8th grade, post B-Mitzvah class. They were bored and didn’t want to be there. We went on a tour of the building thinking that the other people in the building might inspire the kids. The question we asked was “How do you think about your Judaism?” I was hoping they would answer, “Every day.” That did not happen. The cantor said he didn’t think about it. He just sang the words on the page. The secretary didn’t think about her Judaism, she just showed up for work and typed letters, answered the phone and balanced the books. The rabbi said he didn’t think about his Judaism. We pushed back and asked him about eating. Surely keeping Kosher he would think about his Judaism every day. He said he had been doing it for so long he didn’t have to think about it. I think he missed the point. For me, keeping kosher is about reminding myself that there is something beyond, something bigger than myself. It is humbling. Maybe that is spiritual. 

 Ultimately, I think the ritual should create the awareness of our transcendent relationship. 

6. Can you be spiritual with belief in a deity?   

Yes 

7. Can you be religious without belief in a deity? 

Yes. But both these last questions are still very, very complicated. I am thinking of Karate Kid, where Mr. Miyagi taught the young Daniel karate with wax on and wax off as a form of awareness, mindfulness. That’s a form of spirituality. Buddhist who may or may not be deists are most certainly spiritual. Who am I to judge? Where I would challenge Miyagi is he made a deal with Daniel that Daniel could not ask any questions. For me…ask all the questions you want. That is part of Judaism—the religion and the spirituality. It is how we are seekers. It is how we find meaning. It is how we are Yisrael, Israel, G-dwrestlers.   

Mother’s Day can be hard. If you are missing your mom, I see you. If you are missing a child, I see you. If you had a straind relationship with your mom or your kid, I see you. If you are hoping for a child, I see you. We see you. You are part of our CKI community and we see you. You are not alone.  

I wanted to try something different today but at the last minute I changed my mind. I wrote an open letter to my daughter on Mother’s Day. But that will remain between her and me. Instead I will combine elements of it with the piece of writing that was published this week nationally as the last commitment we had to complete our Scientists in the Synagogue grant.  

An open letter to my daughter, to all our daughters: 

This week we read one of my favorite portions. Addressed to the whole people of Israel, I take that to mean the women and the men, we are told, “You shall be holy because I the Lord your G-d am holy.” It is a commandment. It is something we are supposed to do—in the future. Yet, it is something you are. Just by being you. You are holy. You are loved. Deeply, deeply loved. 

This Holiness Code is a radical reorganization of society. It is a recipe for living. And it makes sense. You shall be holy, because I the Lord your G-d am holy.  

This weekend is Mother’s Day. The very first thing we are told that you should do is to “Revere your mother and your father.” How perfect on this Mother’s Day Weekend. It seems just like the Ten Commandments, “Honor your father and your mother.” But the rabbis are quick to point out that the verb is different and the order is reversed. While Simon and I argue over what that verb means—revere or fear—and our own rabbi suggests that it can be both, what both verbs suggest is to respect your parents. That respect can be shown in a myriad of ways. You already know how to do that.  

You shall be holy, because I the Lord your G-d am holy.  

The Book of Leviticus, which we are in the middle of reading, has much to say about blood. Here is what I wrote for Scientists in the Synagogue: 

“What does holiness mean? It means to be set apart. The root of this verb in Hebrew is k-d-sh. We use that verb root for Kiddush where we set time apart for Shabbat and make it holy. We use it for Kaddish, the prayer that sets parts of the service apart almost like a punctuation mark, and makes each section of the service holy. We use it for Kiddushin – marriage – where you and your partner are set apart and made holy, one for the other. 

This portion gives us a list of things to do to be holy. We are to revere our mothers and our fathers. We are to observe Shabbat. We are to have just weights and measures. We are not to withhold the wages of a laborer or put a stumbling block before the blind or curse the deaf.  We are to leave the corners of our fields for the widow, the orphan, the stranger, the most marginalized amongst us. We are not to hold a grudge. 

And centrally, we are “to love our neighbors as ourselves.” (Lev 19:18) 

Another way to demonstrate that love is contained in this same Torah portion is that it explicitly tells us to “not stand idly by while our neighbor bleeds.” (Lev. 19: 16) 

Indeed, there is lots in the Book of Leviticus about blood (and other bodily fluids). Many people, then as now, were afraid of blood. Somehow, coming in contact with blood, the life force, was scary. It would render someone “impure” or “unclean”, not ready to perform ritual acts. They would have to remain outside the camp until they were purified in some way. 

Mary Douglas wrote a powerful book, Purity and Danger, about the anthropology of what she terms “pollution,” which includes blood. There is an entire chapter on Leviticus, including her understanding of kashrut laws around blood and other bodily emissions. All of these were seen as somehow taboo, something that should not be touched. They pollute the person who comes into contact with them, making them unfit to be part of the group or ready for ritual service.  

Blood as a life force can be scary. It can ebb and flow. We must not touch blood. We must not eat anything containing blood. Outside of the body, it is somehow out-of-place and dangerous. We see this in the kashrut laws and in the rules surrounding a menstruating woman. We see the fear with the first of the ten plagues – turning the river Nile into blood.  

Yet our verse, “do not stand idly by while your neighbor bleeds,” suggests another way. That when someone is bleeding, you need to touch them. You need to stop the bleeding. There are several ways congregations can live out that verse. You can make sure that every institution has bleeding control kits, and the training that goes with them. They are often called “Stop the Bleed” kits, designed to be used in a critical situations to help stop traumatic, life-threatening bleeding.  

Another way is to host or participate in a blood drive. Blood donations are necessary for victims of car crashes, gunshot wounds, clotting diseases, open heart surgery, and a variety of blood cancers, including lymphoma, leukemia and myeloma. 

Here is where science meets Torah. Rather than seeing blood as a source of contamination, it is now routinely screened. Donors are asked a series of questions to make sure that they are in good health and free of any disease that could be transmitted by blood transfusion. Blood is tested to make sure that the person is not anemic and for which blood type they are. After donation, the blood is tested for hepatitis B and C, as well as HIV and other diseases such as Zika and West Nile Virus.  All of that testing is science at work. Here are just some of the things that Versiti, whom we partner with, are working on in terms of blood research, and there are many more: 

• Producing monoclonal antibodies (a COVID treatment currently being researched for people who cannot receive a vaccine) 
• Research into thrombosis 
• Automated DNA sequencing 
• The genetic study of viruses 

The blood research leads to more healing of some of the world’s most difficult diseases to treat. This leads to more hope and healing, and less fear of blood as a contaminant. 

Usually, kids cannot be blood donors until they are 16 and then with guardian permission and if they meet height and weight requirements. However, kids can help at blood drives by being a welcoming presence and helping with snacks, signage, thank you notes and more. In that way, you live out the idea of not standing idly by while your neighbor bleeds. It also is a way to illustrate, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” 

Blood is vital, as the Blood Science Foundation explains. “Blood transports oxygen to our lungs and tissues, carries antibodies to fight infections, and helps to filter toxins from our bodies. It’s essential—not only to our individual health and well-being—but to our entire healthcare system. 

Only 37% of Americans are eligible to donate blood. Find some way to donate blood or work at a blood drive. It will be one way to make the words of this portion, “Do not stand idly by while your neighbor bleeds,” even more real, concrete and relevant. 

In our tradition, we are taught in the Talmud that to save one life is to save the whole world. (Sanhedrin 37a) The donation of just one pint of blood can save three lives. Don’t be afraid. Go donate.” 

And yet, I would be remiss on not commenting on the big news of the week. It too has to do with blood and saving lives.  

This week had very troubling news in this country. There have been arguments that have broken out about when life itself begins and about a women’s right to self-determination. There are not new arguments.  

Our portion today hints at the need to protect the rights of people, all people—the widow, the orphan, the stranger, the poor. We, your mothers and grandmothers, have tried to make a difference. We have fought these battles before, In all the ways that this portion suggests. Now, as our daughter, you have to once again pick up the gauntlet. There was a meme that showed up on Facebook, For Mother’s Day, my mother would like the activism of her youth to not be for nothing.” My activism will continue. I have no choice 

Because here is the deal. Once again, I need you to speak up, to be active, to protect the rights of women—and in fact everyone. That is how you revere your mother and your father this Mother’s Day Weekend. 

The texts are clear. In Judaism, abortion is permitted. In some cases, it is even required. A baby is not considered a life until halfway out the birth control, until then it is considered a potential life. The life of the mother, physically and mentally is to be protected. I can give you all the sources on this if you need them. But I will tell you this, the idea that abortion may no longer be legal in this country, not only violates the rights of women to have autonomy over their own bodies, but violates your rights to practice your religion. This becomes, at least for some but maybe not the court, a question of First Amendment and separation of church and state. 

I hope you will join me later today and throughout the coming weeks as we make our voices heard. 

I pray you never need to make a choice to have an abortion. I will work as hard as I can to make sure it remains an option. For you and for any other woman who needs to make that difficult decision. 

In the meantime, I need you to remember that you are holy because the Lord your G-d is holy. You are holy just by your very being. You are loved. Deeply, deeply loved.  

Happy Mother’s Day. 

Sources: 

Exodus 21:22-25 

(22) When men fight, and one of them pushes a pregnant woman and a miscarriage results, but no other damage ensues, the one responsible shall be fined according as the woman’s husband may exact from him, the payment to be based on reckoning. (23) But if other damage ensues, the penalty shall be life for life, (24) eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, (25) burn for burn, wound for wound, bruise for bruise. 

Sanhedrin 87b:10 

In cases of capital law, the dispute concerning such a prohibition is with regard to the issue that is the subject of the dispute between Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi and the Rabbis, as it is taught in a baraita that Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi says with regard to that which is written: “If men struggle and they hurt a pregnant woman…and if there shall be a tragedy you shall give a life for a life” (Exodus 21:22–23), the reference is to a monetary payment for the life that he took. The tragedy referenced is the unintentional killing of the mother. 

Yevamot 69b 

If she is found pregnant, until the fortieth day it is mere fluid. 

Rabbi Jacob Emden, Responsa She’elat Ya”vetz 1:43 (1739-1759) 

The questioner asks about an adulterous married woman (who is pregnant) is a good question. It appears to me to permit her (to abort)…And even in the case of a legitimate fetus there is reason to be lenient if there is a great need, as long as the fetus has not begun to emerge; even if the mother’s life is not in jeopardy, but only so as to save her from woe associated with it that would cause her great pain… 

https://www.sefaria.org/sheets/234926.15?lang=bi&with=all&lang2=en  

Warning. This sermon comes with a trigger warning. Take care of yourself. If you need to walk out into the social hall or turn your camera off, that’s fine. If you need to call me after Shabbat, or reach out to another friend, that is also fine, even encouraged. 

How many of you have seen Encanto? It is the new Disney movie with a very catchy song, “We don’t talk about Bruno.” It is really about intergenerational trauma. But they don’t talk about it. Except the whole point of the movie is about learning to talk about it. Because talking about it brings healing. And hope. And growth. 

Our portion begins with the phrase acharei mot, after the death of Aaron’s sons. In another description of this troubling scene, Aaron remains silent. It seems the only response in a stunning moment. Aaron is in shock. We know the old adage. No one should have to bury a child. We don’t even like to talk about it. It is somehow taboo. And yet it happens. In this version,  he is thrown into activity, purifying the Tent of Meeting and beginning the ritual that becomes Yom Kippur. As part of this ritual, as echoed in the Avodah service, he is instructed to make expiation, atonement for himself and his family. One could ask, may be should ask what sin did he and his family commit. But the text here is silent.  

This is the last day of National Infertility Awareness Week. As their website says, “Anyone can be challenged to have a family. No matter what race, religion, sexuality or economic status you are, infertility doesn’t discriminate. Together, we can change the conversation.” 

It begins by not remaining silent.  

Mayo Clinic estimates that “About 10 to 20 percent of known pregnancies end in miscarriage. But the actual number is likely higher because many miscarriages occur very early in pregnancy — before you might even know about a pregnancy. Miscarriage is the spontaneous loss of a pregnancy before the 20th week” 

Our matriarchs struggled with infertility. They were often “barren” We know their stories. Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, Hannah. 

Thankfully, we have learned over time. Grown. We know now that when women struggle with infertility, we should not stay silent. We should not blame the woman. We should not think that G-d is somehow causing this as a punishment or that the woman is doing something wrong. In the old days, we didn’t mark the death of a very young baby, a stillborn or a miscarriage. Now we know better. We hold funerals, shiva minyanim, all designed to help families deal with their unspeakable grief. Yes, unspeakable. There are organizations like Compassionate Friends, Hands of Hope and Jewish Childrens and Family Services that will help with the grief and emerging mental health needs. Rabbis have been trained in how to offer comfort. 

Heather Paul, on staff at University of Illinois Hillel and a talented Jewish educator, recently wrote the imagined dialogue of a support group for our matriarchs, Sarah, Rebecca, Hannah, and Rachel all of whom struggled with infertility. It ends with a prayer in the mouth of the chaplain leading the support group:  

“Chaplain: Amen. Thank you everyone. I’m going to offer a blessing.  

Creator of Light and Darkness,
Please bring the light of life
to the darkness of our wombs
so we may know the wonders
of Your creation 

Release us from this Narrow Place
where a Sea of Red will never mean
Redemption 

Heal our bodies so they can hold Your light
until it is full and bright, healthy, ready to emerge
from its own Narrow Place 

New lives greeting
the light of Your world
a shining redemption at last. 

Blessed are You, God of our Ancestors,
Creator of Light and Life, Redeemer of All” 

This is not the only thing that we used to not talk about in this week’s portion. Later in the parsha, the part we just actually read, gives us a list of “sexual sins.” Both the ritual for Yom Kippur with its scapegoat and this list of sins are ones that traditionally are read on Yom Kippur. In our congregation, even before I arrived, we read what the Conservative Movement and our machzor, the high holy day prayer book gives as an alternative reading. We read the Holiness Code from Kedoshim, the portion that we will read next week. It includes a recipe for structuring society in a positive way. It teaches us how to be holy because G-d is holy. We’ll look at it more closely next week. 

Why did Acharei Mot fall out of favor?  One reason is, It includes a difficult verse, a controversial verse,  

וְאֶ֨ת־זָכָ֔ר לֹ֥א תִשְׁכַּ֖ב מִשְׁכְּבֵ֣י אִשָּׁ֑ה תּוֹעֵבָ֖ה הִֽוא׃  

Do not lie with a male as one lies with a woman; it is an abhorrence. 

This standard translation that we have all heard. That exists in our Etz Chayim. 

Often times this is used as the prohibition against homosexuality. All of our translations into English go back at some levels to the King James version. But what if the simple meaning in English is not what the Hebrew says?  

Rabbi David Greenstein, the former president of the Academy for Jewish Religion, now retiring from Shomrei Emunah, published an article that explained that the translation should be closer to this: 

V’et zakhar: And along with another male
lo tishkav –you shall not lie
mishkevei ishah –in forced sexual intercourses with a woman;
toevah hi –it is an abomination. 

He bases this on examining the word v’et. We know that et is commonly the direct object marker. His close reading of the text and comparing it with other uses of v’et leads to this jaw dropping reading and it changes everything:  

“When we consider the first part of the verse, the part that mentions the persons involved in the forbidden act, we read the phrase “And with a man / v’et zakhar.” Now, the particle et may indicate the object of an action. Until now our verse in Leviticus has been read to mean that a male is prohibited to make another man the object of his sex act. But this word can have another meaning. The first place where it is unambiguous that the word et is being used in another way is in the verse, “And Enoch walked with (et) the Almighty…” (Genesis 5:24). In that verse it is clear that the particle does not signify an object indication. Rather it means “along with.” //www.keshetonline.org/resources/on-gaining-access-to-the-holy-parashat-aharei-mot-and-parashat-kedoshim/  

How can we do this? 

As the organization Keshet says: 

“The public reading of the Torah should never be allowed to become a tool that supports the promulgation of fear, contempt or hatred of others. Such attitudes have caused tragic injuries and death to human beings who are singled out because they seem to be “different” from   the   majority   of   the  community.” 

This is a question that our Torah Study group routinely wrestles with. Listen to Keshet’s answer: 

They go on to explain that the targum, the side by side translation of the Hebrew into Aramaic, like you might see at an international convention, so that everyone would understand the unchangeable words of Torah and keep them “eternally meaningful.. Jewish tradition and living are founded on the principle that the Torah cannot be read literally. It must be interpreted. Indeed, we celebrate the Torah because it is open to an ongoing process of such interpretation. Confronted with a new interpretation of these phrases that conflicts with the one long held, how do we know which reading to choose? We have a basic criterion. We know that the Torah is a Torah of holiness, affirming life. When we are confounded by the words of the Torah we are commanded to choose the reading that is in keeping with Her message. We choose the one that respects the humanity of others, that provides acceptance rather than condemnation. Therefore, when we read these verses in our synagogue, whether during the yearly Torah reading cycle or on Yom Kippur, this is our Targum, our interpretation for our community and, we hope, for others, as well.” Keshtt  and Shomrei Emunah have turned these into stickers for prayerbooks and chumashim.  

At is possible that this discussion has made you uncomfortable. That’s OK. Rabbi Greenstein would say that it is one way we enter the Holy of Holies. I would add that it is one way we grow. Talking about things that make us uncommittable is a way we break the silence, preventing additional generations of trauma. 

Last night we talked about growth and making our days count. Sometimes the growth is imperceptible. So hard to see. And yet, we can see growth over time, slowly, slowly. How we respond to the death of children and women’s infertility as well as homosexuality has changed over time. Thank G-d! It shows tremendous growth. May our tradition always be a source of comfort, healing and growth.  

Cleanliness is next to G-dliness. An old Puritian New England saying leading to much spring cleaning. Today is Shabbat Hagadol, The Big Sabbath, the Great Sabbath, It is one of two times the rabbi would give a sermon, the other time being the Shabbat between Rosh Hsshanah and YOm Kippur. Both were about preparation. And maybe they are linked. So today I am supposed to tell you all the ways that you are supposed to clean your homes and prepare for the celebration of Passover.. Mos tof you inow what you are doing and what level of preparation is meaningful to you. If you have specific questions, as the sign says at the Jewel in Buffalo Grove, call you local rabbi. That’s me! I am happy to answer specific questions—even things like how to clean a keurig. It involves lots of vinegar. This all fits nicely with this week’s portion which tells how the ancient Israelites purified their homes from eruptions, tza’arat mostly likely mold.  What is clean or dirty, pure or impure, titually ready or  not yet ready. Tahor and tameh. 

I don’t want to talk about that…and if you have a mold problem call a mold remediation specialist, not your local rabbi.  

Instead,  there is one verse of the haftarah for Shabbat Hagadol that jumps out. The hearts of the parents will be turned to the children and the hearts of the children to the parents. How does this reconciliation happen? Perhaps this is the real work, the real preparation of Passover.

Instead, I want to talk about what all this preparation is for. The whole seder experience is designed a a pedagogical tool to get our children to wake up and ask, “Why is this night different.” Each of us: Simon, Risa, Barry, Robin, Myrna, Gene, Ellen, Deborah, each of us is to see ourselves as if we went forth from Egypt, out of the narrow places. Whether you see that as metaphorical or actual matters not. We were slaves in the land of Egypt and the Lord, our G-d, took us out with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm. OR it may be much more recent. The Lord, our G-d took us out of Europe where we were refugees. The Lord, our G-d enabled us to change a job that had been a narrow place, get out of a difficult marriage, survive a global pandemic or a health scare. Each of these and other examples are of being rescued from a narrow place. These are our stories. Our narratives. Our family history. And they are important. These are the stories we gather to tell on Passover—the ancient and the modern. 

The cleaning, the searching for chametz, has a spiritual overtone. Looking for all sources of leavening is about finding the pieces of ourselves that are puffed up.  

So we have prepared. Our homes are gleaming. We are finally after weeks of preparation ready to sit down and hear the story of the Exodus from Egypt. And right on cue, the youngest kid asks, “Why is this night different.” And then there is an interlude before we give the kids a good answer. Allow me to sing some of it. 

The Ballad of the Four Sons

Said the father to his children,
“At the seer you will dine,

You will eat your fill of matzah,
You will drink four cups of wine.”

Now this father had no daughters,
But his sons they numbered four.
One was wise and one was wicked,
One was simple and a bore.

And the fourth was sweet and winsome,
he was young and he was small.
While his brothers asked the questions
he could scarcely speak at all.

(to the tune of “Clementine”)
wriiten by Ben Aronin in 1948

The Four Sons. The Four Children. What are they doing here. They are so troubling. How many of you competed to be the Wise child? I most certainly did as the goody two shoes. How many of you tried not to be the wicked child?  

As a curious life long learner, I wanted to understand more about this section, the Four Children. It must be a more recent addition. But no, it turns out to be an ancient piece of text, based on the Talmud, Peschaim 10:4 and from the Mekhilta, one of the oldest form of midrash. Why? Why is it here?  

Let’s look at one modern translation:  

1. The wise child asks details about the specific meaning of the laws of Passover observance: “What are the testimonies, the statutes, and laws which Adonai our God has commanded you?” to which we respond with one of the very specific laws of the Passover seder.

1. The wicked child asks, “Whatever does this mean to you?” The authors admonish this child as one who is not concerned about the laws personally, but only for others. This exchange reminds us of the importance of not separating ourselves from our community or from traditions that might seem uncomfortable or foreign to us, but rather to engage with them in ways that enable us to connect with our community.

1. The simple child asks, “What does this mean?” to which a straightforward summary of the story is given, directly from the Torah: “It was with a mighty hand that God brought us out from Egypt, the house of bondage.” (Ex 13:14).

1. In response to the child who does not know how to ask, we are instructed to “open it up” and explain, “It is because of what God did for me when I went free from Egypt” (Ex 13:8). https://reformjudaism.org/lessons-four-children-seder  

First note, that what we tell the wicked child, whatever that means, is the same as that we tell the one who doesn’t know how to ask. It seems, therefore it is a question of tone.   

I’m not alone in being disturbed by this section. In one of my favorite Hagaddot, A Different Night a Family Participation Haggadah, there are 20 different artistic versions dating back all the way to 1536. Even Psychology Today has a whole article about the Four Children. https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-intelligent-divorce/201204/passover-four-sons-five-characters#:~:text=The%20Haggadah%20tells%20of%20four,doesn’t%20know%20to%20ask

And even though Pirke Avot tells us that Hillel said, “Do not seprate yourself from the community.” (Pirke Avot 2:4), the “wicked child” is still here. He has a seat at the table. We still welcome her. And she shows up! 

Perhaps as some suggest, we are each all of these. Some years I am wise, others wicked, others simple or two young to ask. 

“Rabbi Levi Yizthak of Berdichev said: The Haggadah speaks of four children. One wise, one wicked, one simple and the one who dors not know how to ask. Lord of the world, I, Levi Yitzhak, am the one who does not know how to ask. In such a case, does not the Haggadah say that with the child who does not know how to ask, You must start with him.: Tha fathermust take the initiative. Lord of the world, are You not my Father? Am I not Your son? I do not know what questions to ask. You take the initiative and disclose the answers to me. Show me, in connection with whatever happens to me, what is required of me. What are You asking of me? God, I do not ask You why I suffer. I wish to k now ony that I suffer for You sake.” (A Pssover Haggadah, 1974, CCAR, page 33) 

Levi Yizhak. Berdichev, Ukraine. 1740-1809. 

When we say, “Let all who are hungry come and eat, we mean everyone. The wise, the wicked, the simple and the one who does not know how to ask. Each of us. All of us. With all of our learning styles. With all of our questions. With all of our doubts. 

The question, our ultimate preparation is not about the dust bunnies under the refrigeration. Rather it is about  how  we tell the story of our liberations to our children and grandchildren. What is the story we want to tell, that we need to tell. And may the hearts of the parents and the hearts of the children be turned to one another.

It is said that Rabbi Akiba had thousands of students. It is said that 24,000 students died suddenly of the plague on 33rd day of the counting of the Omer, because they did not treat each other with respect or kindness. The 33rd day of the Omer is called Lag B’omer is still celebratde as a day to recognize teachers and scholars, often with picnics and archery competitions and visits to scholars’ graves. Today we mourn for another reason. Today we mourn Rabbi Everett Gendler who taught us all so much about living joyously and about Omer. How sadly appropriate. I wonder how many disciples Rabbi Everett Gendler, z’l had. 

The memories keep flooding back. Let’s start with two basic thoughts. Everett Gendler had a profound impact on my life and the life of my family. I would not be married to Simon or the rabbi I am today without Rabbi Everett Gendler. I worked directly with Everett from 1983-1991 and remained a congregant to his retirement in 1995. 

Rabbi Gendler had an exquisite and precise use of language and the sentences just flowed dripping wisdom off his tongue. And yet, he was a consummate listener, meeting people wherever they were in their spiritual journey, whether that was a child or a seasoned adult. He loved music and was attuned to every nuance, especially if it was Mozart. 

Others have written and spoken about some of his unique ritual and liturgical events. Some of them I still practice in my own congregation as the rabbi. 

Sleep services and discussions of going to bed at night. Star services. Snow services. Ones I have loved and try to do seasonally. The annual Ya’akov Lantern service, delighting both the kids and adults with intricately carved pumpkins suitable for Sukkot, Halloween or Thanksgiving. Many thought that was a mistake, giving into the dominant culture of misappropriating it. But really Rabbi Gendler was a force for Universal Judaism. Pumpkins, grown in his own expansive garden were just one of those tools to acknowledge that if you light a candle, or many of them, it is not so scary in the dark as the nights grow longer. 

The second day of Rosh Hashanah would find a hearty band on the beach at Plum Island, savoring the Rosh Hashanah sunrise with shofar calls and seagull calls,  ocean breezes, readings and a potluck feast to welcome the New Year, the birthday of the world. Every year finds me somewhere, near water doing the same thing! 

And who can forget the sunwheel, turning each new season. Originally created for the Blessing of the Sun while turning at Endicott College on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean at dawn, it was too beautiful to lock away for 28 years. Instead, the congregation hauls out the sunwheel each Friday closest to the new season. It is a thing of beauty and a joy forever with its rainbow hues and alef bet acrostic. 

Everett was a maverick, a radical ahead of his time. He marched with King, but who remembers that it was Everett who introduced Heschel to King. He worked tirelessly for peace, causing other Jews some pain and consternation especially around Israel. I saw him booed once which made a lasting impression with my youth groupers about integrity. He was ex-communicated after an ad appeared in the New York Times signed by many rabbis promoting peace. Make no mistake, that was no accident that happened in the Holiday Inn in Tewksbury, Everett’s backyard. That did not stop him. He worked with the Dalai Lama on peace and on maintaining a community in exile. His commitment to justice mirrored my own sense of being a bridge builder and peacemaker.  

He was concerned about the environment. Many consider him the father or the grandfather of the Jewish Climate movement. While that is international, it is important to know that on a very local level, he designed an implemented the first solar ner tamid which was lit in 1978. Yes, 1978! One day, and I talk about it every year, I am hopeful that we can get it done at my congregation. This maybe the real year. 

Perhaps the event that I have carried most fully into whichever congregation I am serving is the idea of the Omer. For 50 days we count the Omer. From the second night of Passover to Shavuot. What differentiates Everett’s practice was he actually planted. Some years winter wheat. Or winter rye. Or winter barley. This is a great educational activity and quickly draws the kids in. And the adults as well. We’ve now added a part of actually feeding the cows on our prairie with this dedicated food. https://mayantikvah.blogspot.com/2019/09/earth-etude-for-elul-21-little-omer-on.html  

This year the winter rye is up and we will dedicate to the memory of Everett. 

But this is personal.  

It is Everett who introduced me to my beshlert, my destined one. It is Everett we told first when we were engaged. It is Everett who called after Sarah was born, named Sarah, (twice), celebrated Gabrielle’s Bat Mitzvah and three kids’ confirmations’ services. It is with Everett I first worked through some #MeToo moments. It is Everett who helped me mourn my first fiancé. It is Everett who kicked off a regional youth group event on ethics with a speech about someone taking jewelry from the gift counter. It is Everett who interrupted a Bar Mitzvah so that the kid could go home and get his forgotten speech, Then when that kid got lost in a later year on a ski trip, he was so compassionate instead of anger, making the kid study the map until noon. It is Everett who suggested 3-year-old Sarah blow shofar for Ne’ilah and she did. And still does. 

It is Everett who enabled me to be the wife and the rabbi I am today. 

And most appropriately today, as we begin to approach Omer, it was Everett who taught us all how to dance under the stars with a Maypole for Lag B’omer. 

This past weekend the Jewish community celebrated the 100th Anniversary of the first BAT Mitzvah in this country. Kol Hakavod to Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan who had the vision and the courage to do this. Mazel tov to Judith Kaplan his daughter who became the first woman, young adult really, to have a Bat Mitzvah ceremony.

Last Shabbat we honored this moment. Here is part of what I said.

This is an important moment in time. But let’s review a little bit of how we got here. Women are allowed, even expected to pray. They are exempt from the Sh’ma because it is time bound but required to recite the Amidah. I can’t explain it but I can give you chapter and verse. Beruiah, the wife of Rav Meir in the Talmud is quoted in the Talmud and in fact is a talmud chachma herself. Some even call her the first (woman) rabbi. (I forgot to put the word woman in that sentence!)

Some call Oznat Barzarni the first (woman) rabbi. She was born in a time when everyone believed in miracles but very few believed girls should learn to read. Her father faught her and when her husband the head of the yeshiva died she became the head and no one argued. There is a lovely children’s book, Osnat and her Dove.

Others cite Regina Jonas in Germany, ordained in1935. She was my chevruta partner’s mother’s Hebrew tutor. She loved studying with Regina but reported to her mother that she must be crazy since she thought she could be a rabbi.

Fast forward to 1974. We had recently moved to Grand Rapids and all my new friends were having a Bar or a Bat Mitzvah. Nobody thought I could because I started learning Hebrew in only 6th grade. In my Sunday School in Evanston we didn’t learn Hebrew. I studied really hard and caught up with my class. We began making plans. Mine was scheduled for Passover, so everything had to be kosher for Passover, even though we belonged to the Reform congregation, Temple Emanuel..

My Bat Mitzvah was on a Friday night, April 12, 1974. The bulletin announcement listed who ushered and who poured tea at the Oneg Shabbat, which was lovely, All decked out in strawberries. Strawberry programs, strawberry napkins, punch and pie, Big bowls of spring time strawberries and whipped cream. Only the next day we discover I am allergic to strawberries. That was the extent of the party. The next day we took a few kids to a hotel swimming pool for afternoon fun. And I had more strawberries.

The service was lovely. I read from the Torah but didn’t chant. My rabbi, Rabbi Albert M. Lewis has often said that kids get just the right portion. Mine certainly proved to be. I had Exodus 33 and 34. The aftermath of the Golden Calf. An argument with G-d about going back up the mountain to get a second set of tablets of the 10 commandments. And then the glorious 13 Attributes. Those 13 Attributes caused me to be able to answer a fundamental question. The G-d of the Hebrew Bible is also the G-d of love, not just something in the Christian Scriptures. It is the verse that I wrote my rabbinic thesis about. And then a book.

I also chanted some of the special reading for Passover, Song of Songs, again about love. I remember telling Al that I would read that in Hebrew. Kind of a racy text for a 13 year old! And of course, parts of it we used at our wedding.

But it all started on a very rainy night in Grand Rapids, in 1974, just two years after Sally Priesland was ordained. Apparently I told my eight grade English teacher that I was going to be a rabbi. I have no recollection of that. Nor can I find any photos. They must be in the basement somewhere.

This is what I know. Coming of age ceremonies are important. For boys. And girls. They give students the opportunity to rise to an occasion and to shine. I am delighted to stand on the shoulders of all those who made it possible for women to take real leadership roles in Judaism.

At CKI there have been B’not Mitzvah since the late 1950 .Late on a Friday afternoon, I had the opportunity to talk to a long time member who had the first female aliyah. She gushed at my remembering and her making history. These are important milestones.

Many women did mot have the opportunities I did. They had a two tiered system for Jewish educations, boys and girls. Or their parents didn’t think girls needed any learning at all. Or they weren’t born Jewish or they just never got around to it. We are hoping at CKI to rectify some of that. If you are interested in becoming an adult Bat Mitzvah, or a Bar Mitzvah, please be in touch. What an exciting way to mark both the 120 anniversary of CKI and the 100th anniversary of bat mitzvah.

What follows are two poems I recently wrote for Women’s History Month.

Ladders: 

“Women don’t climb ladders.” they said.
It’s not safe.
Except they do.
They absolutely do.
They climb step ladders;
They climb paint ladders;
Extension ladders, a-frame ladders, library ladders.
They climb corporate ladders
While they are on top,
They smash glass ceilings.
In sports
In business.
In politics.
In medicine.
Even in religion.
In so much more. 
They even climb Jacob’s ladders.
Reaching to the sky,
Touching the very vault of heaven.
Finding G-d.
Bringing the Presence down to us. 

     Rabbi Margaret Frisch Klein, copyright 2022 

Voices… 

In honor of the 100th Anniversary of Bat Mitzvah
In honor of the 50th Anniversary of Women’s Ordination 

“I shall sing to Adonai,”
Chanted Miriam.
 “A voice cried out,”
Mourned Rachel whose children were no more.
“If You give me a child, I will dedicate him to You,”
Hannah wept and prayed in her heart
Devorah judged
Sitting under a palm tree,
Causing the sun to stop.
“No, “said Vashti, “I will not come.”
“Save my life and the life of my people,”
Demanded Esther! 

 Every Friday night we read:
“She opened her lips with wisdom
And the law of kindness is on her tongue.”
So says Proverbs
Or maybe it is how Abraham chose to eulogize Sarah 

 Women have always prayed:
At the shores of the sea,
In the wilderness,
In the women’s court at the Holy Temple,
In their homes and on their way,
Wherever they are. 

We have their words:
Their songs,
Their laments,
Their hopes,
Their techines,
in Yiddish, In Ladino, In Hebrew,
In every language. 

 And yet,
A woman’s voice is dangerous.
Alluring.
It can’t be heard.
It shouldn’t be heard.
Even today
Some groups teach this.
Women don’t have to pray.
Except they do.
Women are exempt
Except they are not
Women can’t read Torah.
Except they can.
I can give you chapter and verse. 

But why?
Why should we?
Why do we still need to prove ourselves?
To justify ourselves
Why are we made to feel that our voices are
Less authentic
Less real
Less important 
Less necessary? 

 No rather,
I will use my voice
To make this world a better place.
To speak out against injustice.
To cry out.
To sing out.
To open my mouth with kindness.

OK, some day, I pray.
I will open my mouth with kindness.
I will listen to the still small voice within.
With all my being I will praise G-d 

As the psalmist said,
What profit is there is I am silenced?
What benefit if I go to my grave? 

Like Miriam and Rachel,
Hannah and Deborah and Esther
Like Beruriah and Gluckel
Osnat and Regina
Like countless women in every generation
My voice must be heard.
Our voices will be heard. 

     Rabbi Margaret Frisch Klein, copyright 2022 

Three times this week I have been asked how to handle being angry with G-d. This week’s portion provided a possible answer. At least mine.

Today’s Torah portion is named Tzav because it is the first key word. Many times the Torah says, “Vaydeber adonai el moshe la’mor. And G-d spoke to Moses saying,,.” Our book, Eiz Chayyim translates this as “said to Moses saying” two forms of the same verb, but the Hebrew is actually two different verbs with very similar meanings. This phrase appears so often it doesn’t really count. Therefore, Tzav is the first key word and the name of our portion.  

“Tzav! Command! Don’t just speak. Order them! Command them! It is from the same root as mitzvah, commandment. 

This is a very strong word. What does it mean to command? What is a commandment? It is not just, “tell them.” or “speak to them.” It has an edge. You better do this. Or else!  Or else? Or else what?  

The portion then goes on to describe in exacting detail how the Israelite priests should offer sacrifices. That’s what is being commandment. A system of ways to reach closer to G-d. Drawing close to G-d is the goal of religion, from the Latin word religio to tie back up into. It provides a framework. If the priests sacrifice the korban, the sacrifice described the community will be right with G-d, will draw close to G-d. Korban has the same root as close, k-r-v/  

If you do x, then I, G-d will do y. It is a covenantal relationship. We read the paragraph after the V’ahavta from Deuteronomy 11 earlier. It lays it all out. “Keep, therefore, all the Instruction that I enjoin upon you today, so that you may have the strength to enter and take possession of the land that you are about to cross into and possess,” You’ll have rain in its season and eat to contentment. But if you stray, then watch out. 

This is like an angry parent. It is a system that works. Maybe. Except when it stops functioning. And too often this kind of thinking leads to a blame the victim mentality. Even if you follow all the rules, you may not get the life you think you deserve. People who promote what as known as “prosperity gospel” are particularly prone to this line of thinking. You are destined for goodness because G-d will provide it. If you do everything right and don’t go straying after strange g-ds. If you do, then you might get events like Katrina, 9/11 even the pandemic. We’ve all heard that kind of language, even recently. Perhaps especially recently.  

More than once the Israelites have to re-invent themselves. When they are expelled from the Land of Israel by the Babylonians. Remember those great pieces of liturgy—If I forget thee O Jerusalem. And by the waters of babylon we sat down and wept. Then again during the Macabee days. Then again after the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE. 

One of my favorite stories is from Avot de Rabbi Natan, on page 68 in our siddur. Mourning the destruction of the Temple, two rabbis were wandering in the ruins. What could they do, without animal sacrifice to atone. The answer, deeds of lovingkindness is what G-d desires, not sacrifice. 

So what happens if it is you? What if you have been the rule follower all your life? It doesn’t help to tell you that the world is not fair. Yet it’s not. It doesn’t necessarily help to look for explanations. In my own case, I don’t believe, for instance, that G-d is punishing me because of some commandment I didn’t follow. It also doesn’t seem to work to look at the demographics. Most people with myeloma are older black men over 70 who handled chemicals. That’s not me. It is maybe somewhat genetic, research is not clear. The doctors’ best guess. Bad luck. Would I like a better explanation? You bet.  

So life isn’t fair.  

It is OK to be angry with G-d. Go ahead, be angry. Scream it. Punch it. Cry it out. G-d is angry too. 

Be angry that people are not being kind. Be angry that there are wildfires in Texas and earthquakes in Japan. Be angry that there is climate change. Be angry that rulers like Putin think so little of human beings and can’t see that all humans are created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d. Be angry that there are not enough slots for refugees in this country. Be angry that there are not enough mental health services in Kane County or elsewhere. Be angry that the health care system seems to be broken. Or the justice system. Or the educational system. Be angry that 25% of all kids go to bed in this country, with plenty of resources, hungry. That’s my list of what makes me angry. 

You each probably have your own list of what makes you angriest these days. In the book Finding Joy, a simple introduction to Kabbalah, which we read together as a congregation several years ago, it tells us that anger is OK—the trick is to balance it. To channel it. To use that passion for good.  The example in the book was about Alan who was angry at his long dead father for repeatedly beating him as a child. At his aged mother who didn’t stop the beatings. But he became a successful defense attorney because he refused to let anger control him. He believes that anger is a gift from G-d because it forces him to fight harder for the people who depend on him the most. 

Ager is Alan’s Yetzer Hara, his evil inclination. He has channeled it to be more effective, production, successful and yes, even happier. 

Alan, a modern day example was not alone. One of the founders of chassidut, Rabbi Levi of Berditchev, argued with G-d, using a very similar construction to Moses, demanded, commanded G-d:, It is a prayer of protest, “Din Torah mit Got” (a lawsuit with God) in which he asserts, “And I, Levi Yitzhak, son of Sarah Berditchev, say, from my stand I will not waver, and from place I shall not move until there be an end to this exile.” 

That place he refused to move from. Ukraine. When did I learn about Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev? For my own Bat Mitzvah, this very quote I used in my Bat Mitzvah sermonette.  

If Rabbi Levi Yitzhak can argue with G-d. If Rabbi Nachman of Bratzlav can go out into the fields and pour out his heart to G-d, demanding, commanding that G-d listen, we can too.  

Our Torah portion begins with “And G-d called.” Vayikra, G-d called to Moses. In every Torah the aleph at the end of Vayikra is written smaller than the rest of the word. Why? There are many reasons given by the rabbis but nobody knows for sure. 

I like to think of it as the little aleph that could. It points the way. It is like the story of the Aleph at the beginning of the 10 commandments. Rabbi Larry Kushner tells the story so well where rabbis argue about what the Israelites heard at Mount Sinai. After several iterations, they conclude that the first word of the first commandment, Anochi, which begins with the letter aleph, a silent letter, means that G-d and the Jewish people can have a conversation. It means that each of you can hear the silent voice of G-d deep in your soul, pointing the way.  

My friend, Leann Shamash wrote a poem about this small aleph linking it with the unfolding tragedy in Ukraine. 

“The small Aleph means something different to everyone. 
The small Aleph is silent but it says much. The small Aleph hovers between the Commander and the commands.
The small Aleph is wedged between beginnings and continuations.
It is a signpost between two worlds. The small Aleph is not afraid to stand between giants.
The small Aleph hovers high above the ground,
proud and defiant.
The small Aleph refuses to leave,
refuses to fail, 
refuses to surrender.
The small Aleph stands for the underdog;
the one still hanging on who won’t be defeated.
The small Aleph holds onto its place in history 
with three slender lines.
The small Aleph begins the story of sacrifice.” 

 The book of Vayikra, Leviticus, that we begin today, with that little Aleph, tells us much about sacrifice and the priestly class. It is mostly addressed to the priests, but it does break out of that mold and talk to all of us. It tells us to be holy for G-d is holy. It tells us to “Love our neighbor as ourselves” and to “Not stand idly by while our neighbor bleeds.” These are deep values in Judaism. 

This is also Shabbat Zachor. We read a special reading from a second Torah scroll.  From Deuteronomy 25:  

“Remember what Amalek did to you on your journey, after you left Egypt—  how, undeterred by fear of God, he surprised you on the march, when you were famished and weary, and cut down all the stragglers in your rear. Therefore, when your God  Adonai, grants you safety from all your enemies around you, in the land that your God Adonai is giving you as a hereditary portion, you shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget! 

The rabbis of the Talmud link Amalek with Haman. That’s why we blot out Haman’s name with boos and graggers, noisemakers and stamping of feet. Others have then linked Amalek to Haman and Hitler. In every generation an Amalek has risen up to destroy us.  

This struck me this week. The problem with Amalek is that he and his minions, attacked the rear guard, the stragglers, the women and children and old people. 

It was chilling this week to hear that a maternity hospital had been bombed in Ukraine. It was chilling to hear that Hadassah Hospital who has doctors on the ground in Poland triaging refugees escaping the horrors of war to expect even more difficult cases. People who had means got out relatively quickly. The ones coming soon, are that very ones that are portion describes, the stragglers, the women, the children, the elderly. Those are the ones who will need the most help.  

We are told to remember, to not forget, to blot out the memory of Amalek. Yet, we are also told that those who forget history are doomed to repeat it. We cannot keep it hidden. 

This week we were treated to an amazing presentation by Gale Jacoby about her family, how they escaped Germany and were able to rebuild their lives, slowly over time, here in America. Gale has been working on these stories for years. It is how she keeps the memory of her parents and the horrors of Nazi Germany alive. She has made sure that we all shall remember to never forget. Not Amalek, not Haman, not Hitler.  

However, it is not enough to remember. We must continue to act so that we also remember that we were slaves in Egypt, that our father, Abraham was a wandering Aramean, that we were strangers in the land of Egypt. In our Kiddush prayer marking Shabbat, we are told that we observe Shabbat in memory of the Exodus from Egypt. 

This week on Purim, we add an extra prayer to our Amidah. In the Hoda’ah prayer, the Modim Anachnu Lach, we add an extra paragraph. The Book of Esther is one of two books in the Hebrew Bible that never mention G-d. G-d is hidden in the action, except in folio versions of the megilah like this one, where the standard calligraphy call for writing “HaMelech”, the King, another name for G-d, at the top of every page. Even though G-d was not visible in the text of the Book of Esther, the rabbis added this prayer: 

Al hanisim v’al hapurkan v’al hagurvot…For the miracles and the redemption and for the mighty acts and for the salvation and for the wars that You have done for our ancestors in those days in this season. 

The prayer then continues telling the story of Purim: 

“In the Days of Mordechai and Esther, in Shushan, the capital, when Haman, the wicked, rose up against them and sought to destroy, to slay, and to exterminate all the Jews, young and old, infants and women, on the same day, on the thirteenth of the twelfth month, which is the month of Adar, and to plunder their possessions; But You, in Your abundant mercy, nullified his counsel and frustrated his intention and caused his design to return upon his own head and they hanged him and his sons on the gallows.” 

All year, I’ve been taking a class for women rabbis on art and spirituality. It has been a life line and a way to practice self-care. This week’s class was particularly good. The text study had to do with the hidden light of G-d. One reading from the Zohar:  

“Rabbi Yose said, The light created by God in the act of Creation flared from one end of the universe to the other and was hidden away… for the righteous in the world that is coming…Rabbi Yehudah responded, “If the light were completely hidden, the world would not exist for even a moment… Every single day, a ray of that light shines into the world, animating everything; with that ray God feeds the world. And everywhere that Torah is studied at night, one thread thin ray appears from that hidden light and flows down upon those absorbed in her.*… 

Since the first day, the light has never been fully revealed, but it is vital to the world, renewing each day the act of Creation.” 

One thin ray of light, a thread. Just a thin thread. The word for thread, kav is related to tikvah, hope. And because it can be thin, it can seem hidden, just like the face of G-d in the Purim story. Yet it is there.  

Then we painted. I was reminded of an old Girl Scout song, “there’s a web like a spiders web made of silver light and shadow spun by the moon in my room at night, there’s a web made to catch a dream hold it tight til I awaken as if to tell me that dreaming’s alright.” It was a very powerful image and it felt like I was filled with light in my bed under a chuppah. 

That thin web of light is like the ball of yarn that we used in Guatemala when I was a AJWS global justice fellow to build a tangled web between people. We are all connected by that thin ray of light, that thin thread. It may seem hidden, but it is not. It connects us all. All over the world. All the way to Ukraine and back. It gives me hope. 

Then the prayer…in the words of an old Debbie Friedman song, based on one of my favorite Psalms, Psalm 30. 

“Don’t hide Your face from me, I’m asking for Your help I call to You, please hear my prayers, O God. If You would answer me, as I have called to You, Please heal me now, don’t hide Your face from me.” 

Please heal me now. Please heal us now. Please heal the world now. 

Yesterday I participated in a Vigil on City Hall Plaza for Ukraine. Here are my remarks.

“Music speaks louder than words. It’s the only thing that the world listens to.” Words from Peter, Paul and Mary. The partnership we are exhibiting today between the Coalition of Elgin Religious Leaders and the Elgin Symphony Orchestra just illustrated the power of music when words fail to express our heartbreak and our anger. Music soothes the savage beast. May it be so. 

Your silent presence here today, makes a difference. It its silence it sends a loud message. You, in Ukraine are not alone. 

The prayer that I offer you today was sent to me by Father John Cox, OMI and in its simplicity, it captures my hopes. 

“For those who are fleeing, sanctuary.
For those who are staying, safety.
For those who are fighting, peace.
For those whose hearts are breaking, comfort.
For those who see no future, hope.” 

Poor Claire nuns of Gallway. 

The Jewish people will celebrate Purim, the story of the Book of Esther this week. Earlier today we had children (and me) in costume, recognizing our Super Heros, like the police and fire departments, who like Queen Esther in a previous era, have helped us survive this pandemic. The question could be who is helping the Ukrainians survive.  

In a month we will celebrate Passover. The story of the Passover in the Hagaddah begins with the sentence, “My father was a wandering Aramean.” Throughout our history, Jews have always been refugees. 36 times in the Torah, the first five books of the Hebrew Bible, we are told to welcome the widow, the orphan and the stranger, precisely because we were strangers in the land of Israel. Wherever we have wandered we have been strangers, the other. Sometimes that has even been from Russia and Ukraine.  It is why there are organizations like HIAS that have been working on refugee crisis for over 100 years. Hadassah Hospital already has teams of doctors and nurses on the ground. Last night 17 rabbis left for Poland to do hands on work with those fleeing the horrors of war. Make no mistake, war is a horror.  

Mayor Kaptain, I applaud you for pointing out Elgin’s diversity and promising to help settle refugees here. 

Yesterday we read in synagogue about Amalek. We are supposed to remember to never forget Amalek. What was his crime? He attacked the rear guard when the Israelites were fleeing Egypt. The tired, stragglers, the women, the children, the elderly. The images this week of a maternity ward attacked were chilling. These were the women who could not leave, the rear. I will leave it to you to decide if Putin and his minions are the next generation of Amalek. 

War is hell. It must stop. Oseh shalom bimromav. May the G-d that makes peace in the high heavens make peace here on earth and let us say, Amen. Ufros aleinu sukkat shlomecha. Spread over us, all of us Your fragile sukkah, Your fragile shelter of peace.  

The images are haunting. Women and children sleeping in a subway station with all their worldly possessions surrounding them. Some in suitcases, one a Disney bag with Mickeys and Minnies, not unlike many we saw last week at DisneyWorld, others in trash bags, only what they could carry. Men required to stay home to fight.  

We’ve played this game before. I’m leaving Egypt, Russia, Germany and I’m taking with me an apple, a banana, a canteen of water. This time it is for real and it is no game. Jews have done this before. Over and over again. Many times, they take their candlesticks or a menorah, a priceless book or a samavor. Jerry Goldstein’s family’s samovar is in my office. How you lug something like that is a mystery to me. 

This is Refugee Shabbat. A weekend dedicated to talking about refugee resettlement set up by HIAS, the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society. Our own member, Eugene Klionsky, was helped by HIAS when he left Russia as a 19 year old, with just two suitcases. My brother-in-law Fred Klein, an immigration attorney and judge in Tucson, worked for HIAS for a while.  

The history of the Kleins is tied to refugee work. How? As Fred tells the story, it was because of the United States’s response to the Holocaust. He could not believe that the SS St. Louis, destined for Cuba was turned away and then turned back to Europe. Many of those on the St. Louis were murdered in the various concentration camps. He could not sit idly by.  

Jews have always been refugees. Our Passover story begins with “My father was a wandering Aramean.” Abraham left Haran and settled in Canaan, a land that G-d would show him. Jacob sent his sons to Egypt to find food during a famine. Famine, water scarcity and climate disasters are some of the most common reasons people become refugees. The Israelites wandered in the desert for 40 years. That’s where our story picks up today. 

The mishkan, the tabernacle that the Israelites will carry with them, is completed. It is beautiful. And it remains a mystery where the Israelites found all the supplies they needed, gold, silver, copper, acacia wood, dolphin skins, fine linen, yarn of purple, blue and crimson.  

A footnote in this first weekend of Women’s History Month, it is important to know that the skilled artisans who assembled the mishkan included the women. That was the other sermon I was going to do today.  

The work was finished. The text tells us that “For over the Tabernacle a cloud of Adonai rested by day, and fire would appear in it*in it I.e., in the cloud. by night, in the view of all the house of Israel throughout their journeys.” The mishkan was a place for G-d to dwell and that Presence went with them wherever they wandered. 

For 2 years we have been hosting Shabbat services, every single week on Zoom, removed mostly from our beautiful sanctuary. Look around you. The stain glass is still here. The rainbows dancing on the pews. The purple, the blue, the gold and bronze still here. It is beautiful, Working and davenning remotely did not make us refugees. Imagine abandoning this building for all time.  

For many years, Simon and I were part of a weekly radio show, Faith Alive on WCAP in Lowell. He edited and read the news. I was the Jewish content person. There was a rotating group of Catholic and Protestant clergy. At some point the Catholic Church decided it had to close St. Peters, the large Irish Catholic Cathedral. People were up in arms, Their relatives had built that church by hand with their own sweat equity. They had quarried the granite themselves and it was beautiful. How dare the church close it. That week I was on the show with the Bishop of Lowell, who actually lived in the rectory next door to St. Peters. Now, to be clear, the bishop and I had a rule. We would not discuss abortion or birth control on air. We knew we disagreed. But in the discussion of St. Peters, I said something like, “I don’t understand. Jews have been kicked out of every country in Europe at one time or another. We don’t get attached to our buildings.” The bishop didn’t speak to me for over a year. But then our congregation merged with another in a neighboring town. Then, and only then, as the yahrzeit plaques were removed and the Torahs were carried lovingly, did I begin to understand. The bishop and I reconciled and eventually I told this story as part of one of his eulogies many years later. So I ask you again, imagine losing this building.  

Our Torah teaches us in the words of the non-Jewish prophet that “Ma tovu ohalecha ya’akov. How good, how beautiful are our tents O Jacob, our dwelling places, our sanctuaries O Israel.” So whether you are davenning here in the room or on Zoom or in a subway station in Kiyv or a basement in Maripol, G-d’s Presence is with you. 

Many people have felt paralyzed watching the news unfold. What can we do? We feel powerless. But there are things you can do. We can follow Fred’s example and help settle refugees and asylum seekers. We can advocate for refugees. We can donate money, HIAS and JUF are both options I sent out earlier in the week.  A high school classmate signed up to go to Kyiv by rented an airbnb apartment so that she could send money to a homeowner with a nice note. No, she’s not actually going. The homeowner was so touched. Airbnb is looking for people in the States to open their homes to refugees.  

We Jews, who have all too often known the pain of being refugees, have an obligation here. We are commanded, 36 times in Torah, more than any other commandment, to take care of the widow, the orphan and the stranger. The most vulnerable amongst us. Precisely because we were strangers in the land of Egypt. We have an obligation to act. We have an obligation to hope.  

G-d goes with us, wherever we go. That is the implication of that very last line of the book of Exodus which we just read. G-d dwells in us and among us. Last weekend, one of the most haunting images of Shabbat in Ukraine were Jews davenning in a subway station singing ‘Hiney Ma Tov, How good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together.” Perhaps, Rabbi Nachman of Bratzlav, Ukraine, had it right, Kol ha’olam kulo, gesher tzar m’od, The whole world is a narrow bridge, the important thing is to not be afraid. These are the messages of this Refugee Shabbat. 

A Prayer for Ukraine
by Rabbi Menachem Creditor 

God of Peace, 

We call to You, hearts pounding, as we pray for the people of Ukraine who are suffering under tyrant’s attack. Hear their prayers and ours. Support our commitment to stand with them in their time of great need. Please. 

Dear God, how can we say Never Again when bombs fall on Babi Yar, when millions must run for their lives or take shelter in synagogues and subway stations? Haven’t we learned? You Who Remembers all, do not forsake us as we relearn these painful lessons. 

In every generation there arise those who, in selfish pursuit of power, privilege might over moral right, precipitate needless earthquakes despite the tsunamis of human pain that will follow. Holy One, spoil the oppressors’ evil plans, diminish their power. 

God, We have also witnessed great heroism during these dark days, human beings pushing back against tanks with their bare hands, the brave Jewish President of Ukraine, Volodymyr Zelensky and his family, millions of Ukrainians fighting to protect their homes. This is Your Image, strong and courageous, fierce and present. This is Your Outstretched Arm. We ask that You remind us to offer our own. 

As one of Ukraine’s greatest teachers, Rav Nachman, once taught: “The Exodus from Egypt occurs in every human being, in every era, in every year, and in every day.” Holy One, may this teaching be fulfilled speedily and in our days. 

May peace rain down upon the people of Ukraine. May we study war no more. 

Amen.