Today I took a long walk. It is part of how I prepare for the high holidays. During that walk I listen to birds and I pour my own heart out.

Sometimes it is the words that come from the depth of my being. Sometimes they are the words about being outdoors in nature. Here are a few of today’s offerings:

Kol ha’olam kulo, gesher tzar me’od.
V’ha’ikar lo lefachda klal.
All the world is a narrow bridge.
The central thing is to not be afraid.—Rabbi Nachman of Bratzlav.

Please G-d, let me not be afraid. Give me the ability to embrace life. Give me the ability to reach out. Give me the ability to lead. And follow. Help me to pray. Help me to teach. Help me to convey the beauty of Your creation to all I meet. Help me to be kind and caring. To my family. To my community. To the world. Help me learn patience. Help me to be more like You—gracious and compassionate, loving, slow to anger, patient, full of lovingkindness, forgiving.

Then this one, also from Rabbi Nachman as sung by Debbie Friedman:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8N3tybnduQQ

Rebbe Nachman’s song:
You are the One, for this I pray
That I may have the strength to be alone.
To see the world, to stand among the trees,
And all the living things.
That I may stand alone and offer prayers and talk to You;
You are the One to whom I do belong.
And I’ll sing my soul to You
And give You all that’s in my heart.

May all the foliage of the field
All grasses, trees and plants,
Awaken at my coming, this I pray
And send their speech, my thoughts and my prayers will be made whole,
And through the spirit of all growing things
And we know that everything is one

Because we know that everything is You
You are the One, for this I pray
I ask you G-d to hear my words
That pour out from my heart; I stand before You
I, like water, lift my hand to You in prayer.
And grant me strength, and grant me strength to stand alone.

You are the On to whom I do belong.
And I’ll sing my soul, I’ll sing my soul to You
And give you all that’s in my heart.

You are the One, for this I pray,
And I’ll sing my soul to You.

Debbie Friedman based on the words of Rabbi Nachman of Bratzlav

It is a hard song to sing, with a range that is too big for me. But I hear it in my head—and I appreciate the opportunity to be out in nature, alone, just as Nachman and Thoreau suggested.

Then I was surprised by another song. Really symbolic of the season of turning.

Return again, return again, return to the land of your soul.
Return to where you are. Return to what you are. Return to who you are.
Born and reborn again.

Reb Shlomo Carlebach, z’l sung by his daughter, Neshama Carlebach

http://www.neshamah.net/2009/08/return-again-neshama-carlebach.html

I hear this in Neshama’s voice. She sang at the pre-ordination concert at the Academy for Jewish Religion the night before my ordination. Her father was a gifted singer/songwriter who made all of our prayers skyrocket to heaven but for years I have not sung his music. I know too many people personally caught by his magnetic personality and his wandering hands. This year Neshama has done a great amount of teshuva around this very topic after the #MeToo movement. https://www.timesofisrael.com/neshama-carlebach-writes-about-her-father-victims-and-being-molested-as-a-child/

Can I sing those songs again? They are buried deep in my soul. Can I sing them publicly? Time will tell. But this is teshuvah. True, true returning.

And very, very recently she married one of my dear rabbinic colleagues, Rabbi Menachem Creditor, who amongst other things wrote what will be the themesong of my year talking about covenant. Olam chesed yibenah—Build this world on love.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZHp-jcPlKIY

I wish them both mazel and much, much love.

Then I wound up in Lake Michigan, a full mikveh immersion singing this Hashivenu

Turn us back to you, Lord and we will return.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zy5nV9pwZ9I

And Adonai, Adonai:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DS1WYRmMCaQ

This is my Bat Mitzvah portion, the reason I became a rabbi, the verse I wrote my thesis about, the first book I wrote and the most important verse of the season. G-d taught this verse to Moses to teach us how to ask for forgiveness.

Then my family sat outside on a beautiful early fall, late summer day and wrote a family mission statement and individual positive  heshbon hanefesh.

Ready or not, here I come. Hineini.

I want to share several vignettes this Labor Day weekend. It was a busy one and they don’t fit nicely together. But each of them is important as we continue the preparations and the journey toward Rosh Hashanah.

Part One:
Saturday morning, we celebrated Shabbat and the Bar Mitzvah of a young man. The day dawned stormy. And somehow that seemed right. This Bar Mitzvah boy had a tough year. His mother had cancer and two stem cell transplants, with two hospital stays over six weeks. In downtown Chicago. When we initially set the date, we couldn’t have foreseen how complicated a year it would be—or as it progressed just how far he would come. There were some moments when I even wondered if we would all be there.

I knew that there wouldn’t be many dry eyes—but I expected the tears to come during the Bar Mitzvah boy’s speech. Instead, they came when he was reading Torah. His grandparents had just had the aliyah (Torah blessing) with the curses. We did the misheberach prayer for healing of mind, body or spirit. No one had said the mother’s name—I asked my student if he wanted to or whether she didn’t want a public fuss. He told me her name could come off the list—and I then announced that. Then between her tears and mine—somehow she had her very first aliyah. It was a real shechianu moment. The Bar Mitzvah boy chanted confidently and surely. And the tears flowed. Later, after his Haftarah from Isaiah, the sixth of consolation after Tisha B’av, providing great comfort leading up to Rosh Hashanah, my student talked about how his portion gives hope and optimism. How to turn things that are seeming curses into blessings. His optimism and his humor gives me hope.

His project for Living Well Cancer Resource Center in Geneva, IL. Part of Northwestern Medical, it provides all sorts of resources for patients and their families living with cancer. He has thus far raised over $3600. But his understanding of the issues, of his parsha, and his actions, bring me more hope.

https://www.gofundme.com/aidendonationproject-livingwell

Part Two:

For four weeks, some of us have gathered as part of Kiddush to study the Book of Jonah, the traditional haftarah for Yom Kippur afternoon. Each week we took a chapter and looked in depth. After we greeted the Bar Mitzvah family and enjoyed a nosh and drink, we again gathered to study to finish reading the book ahead of our scholar, Rabbi Steven Bob, who is coming next week. He wrote a book, two really, on the Book of Jonah.

This is a great book to study—at lots of ages—with Hebrew School this week, we turned everyone into a Jonah, as we “arose” and bought passage on a ship, and fell asleep below deck and experienced yet another Illinois thunderstorm, then were awakened and casted lots (by the way, that’s a gambling thing—not a fishing pole!), then were thrown overboard and swam through the social hall until we were swallowed by a giant fish. Then we prayed…

We prayed this week with the adults too. “Lord, I am not sure why you have chosen me to be your messenger. I’m sorry I didn’t listen the first time and tried to run away. I know now that I cannot run away from Your presence. Thank you for saving me and providing me this fish. But it is really dark and moist in here. I’m getting cold and clammy and thirsty and hungry. I’m scared, G-d. I want to die and I don’t want to die all at the same time. If You get me out of here, I promise to offer thanks—and go to Nineveh after all, even though I don’t really want to. I still think I would rather die or run away.”

And then—as the kids said—the Lord “burped” Jonah out onto dry land. The conversation was rich—exactly what text study should be. Is this a story about Jonah or Ninevah? Why did G-d pick Jonah? He’s not a very good prophet. He’s a very small minded prophet, mostly concerned about himself. Why is this connected with Yom Kippur. It seems because it repeats the 13 Attributes of G-d which we use on Yom Kippur and because it illustrates that G-d is a patient G-d, one who forgives and gives second chances. Even to Jonah. Even to us. I am looking forwarded to the discussion next week and learning even more from my colleague, Rabbi Steven Bob.

I already know this. For the 13 people who have studied Jonah with me for the last four weeks, the reading this year will be much more meaningful. It will be for me.

Part Three: Selichot

On the Saturday night before Rosh Hashanah, Ashkanasi Jews begin adding prayers for Selichot, forgiveness. This year because Rosh Hashanah begins on a Sunday evening, it is pushed earlier a week so it was this Saturday night. It is one of the ways we prepare for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. In the old days, it was held before dawn. Then the rabbis pushed it back to midnight. Now some congregations start with seudah shlishit (the third meal of Shabbat) Havdalah, some study and then selichot prayers. Some congregations show a thought provoking movie to spark the discussion.

This year I chose to show the movie Coco, the new animated Disney film. It is about the Mexican Day of the Dead. Día de los Muertos.

As National Geographic points out it is not the Mexican equivalent of Halloween.

https://www.nationalgeographic.com/travel/destinations/north-america/mexico/top-ten-day-of-dead-mexico/

As soon as I saw the movie, I immediately knew that I wanted to use it for Selichot. Why, you might ask. Because Elgin is 47% Hispanic and it might resonate. Every year I talk to someone about their desire to convert or reaffirm their Jewishness because they may be part of the hidden Jews, conversos, who were forced to flee Spain and Portugal during the Spanish Inquisition in 1492.

Día de los Muertos is a blending of indigenous Mayan traditions layered with some traditions of the Catholic Church. It is a way to honor the dead and to celebrate life at the same time. It can be a way to keep memory alive and to heal old relationships and wounds. It sounds very similar to the role of Yizkor (memorial prayers said on Yom Kippur and the three pilgrimage holidays) and Kever Avot (visiting the cemetery typically between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur).

And since it would be the Saturday night of Labor Day Weekend, after a Bar Mitzvah, it might appeal to others including families with children. And it might be fun. An opportunity to nosh on Mexican appetizers. Even have a mariachi band. Or a klezmer one playing mariachi.

The band was not to be—but we did have 27 people show up—from 8-80+ in years. There were Mexican appetizers and a coffee bar. And of course, popcorn because it was a movie and chocolate cake—because why not. There were some technical glitches. (Oy! But thank you to Sarah who helped with the appetizers, the technology and the shofar blowing!)

It is important to not engage in cultural appropriation. I said as much. What I was trying to do was to show how a different tradition addresses some of the themes of t’shuvah—return and zachor—remembrance. The emphasis on tradition and family and memory wasn’t lost on anyone in the room. And again there were more tears. There was not so much discussion afterwards—I think people couldn’t yet talk.

However, they went home with a work sheet from Rabbi Anne Brenner who wrote Mourning and Mitzvah and spoke recently at a Chicago Board of Rabbis meeting. Her concept for Yizkor, especially for the one during Yom Kippur is useful. And was another reason why I wanted to use Coco as this discussion starter.

She implores us to look at Kol Nidre as a way of releasing vows—especially when dealing with a loss and its grief.

We say that Teshuvah (return, repentance) Tefilah (prayer) and Tzedakah (acts of generosity and charity) can avert the severity of the decree as part of our High Holiday liturgy. I have often railed against this sentiment. I know plenty of good people who engage in plenty of teshuvah, tefilah and tzedakah and they still die.

Rabbi Brenner asks us:
What are the “if onlys” and the unfinished business. How do we do teshuvah—return? Can we redeem our regrets? What regrets do you have? What regrets do our loved ones might have? What are the prayers, tefilah, for sincere commitment to change. What do you want to change? And finally, what acts of tzedakah do you pledge to do or give in memory of your loved one?

Yizkor—please G-d, remember my loved one, my teacher. If you do, I will pledge to do tzedakah.

If it one of those if-then statements that is part of the covenant. If You G-d, remember then I too will remember. If I remember, then they will be ameliorated in the world to come. Because of their merit (zecut avot), I too will be remembered for a blessing—and for Your mercy and compassion. By my remembering I can begin to make my family whole.

Here is the analysis of a New York Times writer of why we cry at the end of Coco.

https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2018/08/20/arts/coco-scene.html

Certainly it is cathartic. As is Yizkor. “The restorative power of memory is a recurring theme: To remember someone is to keep their spirit alive. But it’s how one is thought of that is equally important.” That’s teshuvah. The power to return. To heal. To reconcile. Even after someone is gone. It can change the entire shared family narrative.

Then a few prayers of selichot, begging for forgiveness, in High Holiday melody and one single long blast of the shofar, a tekiah gedolah.

Part Four: Preparations Continue

Rabbis prepare for the High Holidays in lots of different ways. Some of us study. Reading books, articles, seeing movies, studying with colleagues and friends. Some of us engage in long, deep conversations. Some of us take long walks—in the woods or along the beach. Some of us meditate. Some of us immerse in a mikveh. Some of us practice music and Torah readings. Sing with a choir. Work with musicians. Choose meaningful readings. Write sermons. Prepare study sessions. Attend selichot. Blow shofar.

There is always a sense of fear and trembling, awe and humility. Will I find the right words? Will I have enough stamina? Will the people have a positive experience, a meaningful experience.

There are lots of little details. Press releases. Topics. Themes. Music. Readings. Swapping out the prayer books. Changing the linens from blue to white. Children’s services. Greeters. Security. Guests to invite. Who still needs a place?

Part of my preparation involves those long walks on the beach or the woods. A slow immersion in a mikveh (or natural body of water). Listening to a summer thunderstorm. Reading. Long conversations—preferably on those long walks. And writing. This weekend my family and I were grateful for the gift of a cottage. Right on Lake Michigan. As I write this, I am listening (and enjoying!) to a summer thunderstorm. A long conversation this morning with one of my rabbis. A walk in the woods in a primeval forest (luckily we got back before the storm) and plenty of time for writing and day dreaming and davenning.

It’s Labor Day. I chose to work today. I chose to work in a beautiful place. It makes my soul sing. It is how I prepare best. And I don’t regret it or resent it. I relish in it.

I am grateful to the people who organized in this country to make sure that there are better working conditions for us all. Much of that happened after the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire. Many of the organizers were Jews. Or women in the textile mills of Lawrence and Lowell. We need Bread and Roses, was their rallying cry.

Unions have taken a bad rap in recent years. Not from me. It is because of the Teamsters in Massachusetts that we had adequate health care coverage. More than adequate. Gold standard! For which we did not pay a dime. My husband continued to have a job when the union went to bat for him because either he was slow, old, or Jewish. It was never really clear. But the union walked him through that process. And because of that union we have a pension. I am very, very grateful.

Bread and Roses. Time for beauty and work. We need bread and roses. Pirke Avot 3:21 tells us, “Ein kemach, Ein Torah. Ein Torah, Ein kemach. Without sustenance, there is no Torah and without Torah there is no there is no parnasa, no income and visa versa. What ever you are doing today, I hope it is beautiful, filled with roses. And when we return to work, may it be meaningful, productive, safe and guarantee us “time off for good behavior”.

I am grateful that I had the opportunity to work today—to share a little Torah amongst the beauty of the world.

Did anyone get awakened last night? There was a storm. Maybe not as bad as the ones that have pounded Hawaii. Or Puerto Rico last year. Storms seem to be increasing in frequency and intensity.

Every time there is a major storm, not like last night’s thunderstorm, there is some preacher who says that it is G-d’s punishment for something or other. We’ve talked about that before.

Our haftarah addresses this directly this morning. 10 short verses packed with so much.

“For a while I forsook you, but I will take you back in great love. In vast love.”

What does that mean? What does that reference?

It is a great promise. That G-d in fact loves us. Something we Jews don’t talk enough about. G-d loves us unconditionally. No matter what we’ve done. And the example that is referenced in this Haftarah, is that even though the Israelites are in exile, G-d will take them back in love.

There are several words for love in Hebrew. This is not ahavah or rachamim although that word is mentioned as well in this portion. This is chesed, a very difficult word to translate that often is lovingkindness.

With great kindness…chesed olam. Everlasting kindness.

My colleague and friend, Rabbi Menachem Creditor wrote a song precisely about this for his daughter, right after 9/11, when it seemed like it did to the Israelites, that the world was falling about.

“Olam Chesed Yibaneh…yai dai dai dai. I will build this world from love. You will build this world from love. And if we build this world with love, then G-d will build this world from love.” He bases the text on Psalm 89:3.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZHp-jcPlKIY

It is an if-then statement. If you do this—build the world with love, then I, G-d, will build the world with love. This is an important message. It is part of the covenant. It becomes the theme song of the year, where we will be talking about covenant and what it means to live in a covenanted relationship.

And G-d, in Isaiah’s voice reminds us of that:

“For this is to Me, like the waters of Noah. As I swore that the waters of Noah would never again flood the earth, so I swear to you that I will not be angry or rebuke you.” (Isaiah 54:9)

Periodically, it seems that G-d needs to be reminded what G-d himself promised. Never to destroy the world again.

How, then, do we remind G-d? Is it presumptuous? It seems to be necessary.

You might think that the G-d who is all knowing doesn’t need to be reminded. However, it seems to be necessary. It seems to be part of the mutuality, the partnership that exists between G-d and each one of us. If you do X—in this case love Me, then I will do Y—love you and not destroy the world.

As much as we need G-d’s unconditional love, G-d needs ours.

And then G-d reminds us that there is a covenant in place. A partnership. This is really interesting language.

“Nor the mountains may move and the hills be shaken. But my loyalty shall never move from you. Nor my covenant of friendship be shaken, says the Lord, who takes you back in love.” (Isaiah 54:10)

How comforting on this seventh Shabbat of consolation. How reassuring. How wonderful. Even if there is a storm or an earthquake, G-d will love us.

G-d will offer us a brit shlomi, My covenant of friendship as the new JPS has it. I might have translated it as a covenant of My peace. How does friendship give us peace, since shalom can be translated as we know as hello, goodbye, peace, wholeness, completeness, fullness?

It seems to be that when we have friends, when we are not isolated, we feel less alone—that feeling of partnership, of community, of belonging, of being together is what, in fact brings us peace.

The text give us one other clue toward optimism. It begs us to enlarge our tent, to not stint. When Bar Mitzvah students have had this portion and we have looked at it together, they are confused by that word. What does stint mean. To not spare anything. To not hold back. My best example of not stinting is the Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island. It is large, palatial, beautiful and beautifully planted. It is so pleasant to sit on its wide veranda and rock away sipping iced tea or lemonade (or even something stronger). The service is impeccable—and so welcoming. They don’t hold anything back.

This is what G-d demands of us then—to love G-d fully, with a vast love, and G-d will love us. And the implication for us at CKI is bold. Don’t hold back love. Welcome everyone. Expand your tent. Build this world with love and G-d will honor His covenant—partner with us and build this world with love.

Today is Rosh Hodesh Elul. The beginning of the new month of Elul. We know the word Rosh, from Rosh Hashanah, the head of the new year. Rosh means head. It also means summit. So Rosh Hodesh is the head of the new month. Traditionally, it was a half holiday for women. Maybe, because as the midrash teaches, the women didn’t give up their gold for the golden calf. Maybe—but where did that gold come from? Their Egptian neighbors. Another explanation is that Rosh Hodesh mirrors women’s natural cycles of the waxing and waning of the moon.

Many of you know that I am a supporter and spokesperson for Women of the Wall, who for each Rosh Hodesh since 1988 have gathered at the Western Wall to pray. Women have an obligation to pray, no matter what the men of the Western Wall Heritage Foundation may tell you.

Rosh Hodesh Elul takes on special significance in the Jewish calendar. It is now 40 days to Yom Kippur. Let the marathon begin! Elul is seen as an acronym for “Ani L’Dodi v’Dodi Li, I am my beloved and my beloved is mine” from Song of Songs. The rabbis teach that this book, one of only two that doesn’t mention G-d is an allegory between G-d and the Jewish people. We are beloved of G-d. G-d so loves us that G-d will take us back in love. This period of renewal and reflection is about our relationship to G-d.

Today is the day that tradition says Moses went back up Mount Sinai to receive the second set of tablets. He came back down with them on Yom Kippur—40 days later.

These 40 days, then, are a period of preparation.

A friend of mine earlier today posted a picture of his last latte before break-the-fast. It is part of his preparation to give up coffee between now and Yom Kippur. Don’t worry. That’s not part of my preparation. But why does he do it?

• To get closer to G-d?
• To really feel the angst of the period?
• To be some how ascetic, giving up espresso in latte but not coffee?
• To make more time for what is really important?
• To mirror or practice the fasting of Yom Kippur?

These were some of the answers. In reality, he does it for a much more practical reason. Giving up coffee avoids that Yom Kippur caffeine withdrawal headache. Many of our congregants also give up coffee prior to Yom Kippur but for much shorter time periods.

How do we prepare then? How do we return? What do we return to?

This is a chance for reflection and introspection. It is a more internal preparation than the physical preparation that is Passover—although for many there is a physicality in preparing festive holiday meals, inviting people and hosting. And the cleaning. Oh, the cleaning. Maybe I will get the Passover dishes put away before Rosh Hashanah this year.

On Rosh Hodesh Elul we begin to add things to help us prepare.

• We begin to blow the shofar at every morning service. It works as an alarm clock. A wake up call. It also helps the shofar blowers practice.
• We add Psalm 27, the psalm recited now throughout the “penitential” season.
• On the Saturday night before Rosh Hashanah we add “Selichot” more penitential prayers. This year it falls on Saturday night, September 1^st which is also Labor Day weekend. Maybe this is the real work of Labor Day. This year we will be watching Coco, enjoying some Mexican refreshments and talking about Yizkor, the memorial prayers.

Often we talk about preparing for the High Holidays in terms of tefilah, teshuvah, tzedakah. Prayer, returning and righteous giving. You’ve started on the tefilah portion being here this morning.

Teshuvah is a complicated concept to translate. Return. Repent. Reconcile. Repair.

Rosh Hodesh Elul provides us the opportunity to “get right with G-d”, to repair our relationship with G-d. I am not sure I like that language. Does our relationship to G-d need repairing? For most of us, probably not. We just sang in Hallel, “Pitchu li sha’arey tzedek, Open for me the gates of righteousness.” That’s what is emblazoned on our ark covering. And we are assured that the Gates of Righteousness are always open. For most of us our relationship with G-d probably suffers from benign neglect. It may be a symptom that our lives our somehow out of balance. This period of preparation provides the opportunity to get the balance back.

One way of working on that relationship with G-d is to study something. Many of you are newer and may not know that I wrote a book for these 40 days. Climbing Towards Yom Kippur, the 13 Attributes of the Divine. https://www.amazon.com/Climbing-Journey-Towards-Yom-Kippur/dp/150084585X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1534080863&sr=8-1&keywords=Climbing+Towards+Yom+Kippur

It provides an opportunity to read something short each day and then journal about it. It is based on the text of the 13 Attributes of the Divine, the very attributes that Moses learned on his journey back up Mount Sinai.

“But on this very first day of Elul, Moses was scared, exhausted and more than a little angry. He seeks some Divine reassurance from God — and he gets it. It is God who will go before him and lighten his burden, giving him rest.

The first questions of the book for you to write about or ponder are:

• What does it mean to you, to have God lighten your burden?
• What burden would you put down?
• What would you give up carrying?
• What does it mean to rest?”

This year, I am pleased to announce that two of my short essays are included in a brand new book, out just in time for this season of preparation. Earth Etudes for Elul, written and edited by my friend Rabbi Katy Allen. She looks to heal our relationship with the earth as we approach Rosh Hashanah, the birthday of the world. https://www.amazon.com/Earth-Etudes-Elul-Spiritual-Reflections/dp/0990536165/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1534080952&sr=1-1&keywords=Earth+Etudes

The Talmud teaches that for sins against G-d, Yom Kippur atones but for sins against another person Yom Kippur does not (Yoma 8:9) . This period of preparation then is also about getting our relationships right with the people around us, with the people who matter most. We ask forgiveness for those we have hurt—most of the time without meaning to. If we earnestly ask three times, the obligation is fulfilled and the issue then is with the person who had been wronged. This year we may need to look at how we heal those relationships in concentric circles. In our own households and families, with our friends, with our neighbors and even with the stranger, the sojourner who lives within our gates.

Sometimes, the work of healing relationships is very painful and is not accomplished before a loved one dies. Sometimes, we believe that our loved ones who have passed on can intercede in someway for us. That is why many have the tradition of returning to the cemetery either during Elul or between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. We have a tradition here of Kever Avot on the Sunday between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur at the Bluff City Cemetery.

Use this time period to “sort out difficult relationships (with people, organizations) that drain you of your creative energy. Think about what kind of closure you need in order to move forward into the next year.” (from Journey, A Journal of Jewish Feminism, published by Ma’yan: The Jewish Women’s Project.) That will also help provide some of the balance we seek.

Others have the tradition of studying. What could be more Jewish. Our administration has the tradition of reading This is Real and You are Completely Unprepared. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B000Q67H5E/ref=dp-kindle-redirect?_encoding=UTF8&btkr=1 I read it for the first time last year and will be reading it again now. I read How Good Do We Have To Be, by Harold Kushner, https://www.amazon.com/Good-Have-Understanding-Guilt-Forgiveness/dp/0316519332/ref=sr_1_fkmr1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1534082809&sr=8-3-fkmr1&keywords=how+good+is+good+enough+kushner …every single year.

This year, we have the opportunity to do some study together. One is a in-depth look at the Book of Jonah starting this afternoon after services. The other is a Hebrew class, Rosh Hashanah 101 so that the words of the prayers will be that much more meaningful and accessible.

Many people have the tradition of giving tzedakah at this season. One thing to examine is how we spend our time and money reflect your vision—your values and your priorities. As we examine each of these areas in our lives our balance is returned and we enter the new year refreshed and reinvigorated. When we hear the sounds of Kol Nidre on Erev Yom Kippur we can stand before the heavenly court and the earthly court and know that all of our vows from this year until the next year will be forgiven.

Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakai was once walking with his disciple, Rabbi Yehoshua, near Jerusalem after the destruction of the Temple. Rabbi Yehoshua looked at the Temple ruins and said: Alas for us!! The place that atoned for the sins of the people Israel lies in ruins! Then Rabbi Yochannan ben Zakkai spoke to him these words of comfort: Be not grieved, my son. There is another equally meritorious way of gaining ritual atonement, even though the Temple is destroyed. We can still gain ritual atonement through acts of loving kindness. For it is written (Hoshea 6:6) “Loving kindness I desire, not sacrifice.” Avot D’Rabbi Natan 4:5

What do we do with Tisha B’av today. The first time I observed Tisha B’av I was a high school student in Jerusalem moved to tears by the mournful, soulful music, the tealights on the floor and us sitting cross legged also on the floor. The next day I fasted. But I also learned that some Israelis do not, recognizing the return to the land.

Recently I read a new book by Yossi Klein Halevi released on Israel’s 70^th Birthday. Letters to My Palestinian Neighbor. It is a love poem to Israel. But he too wrestles with what to do with Tisha B’av. Here is his description of one recent Tisha B’av at the Western Wall, that last remaining remnant of the Holy Temple:

“And yet for all the formal gestures of mourning, I didn’t sense genuine anguish. Some of the pious cried out the words, but that seemed to me an imitation of grief. It’s hard to mourn the exile when the exile has ended. True, not all Jewish prayers have been answered. We have returned, but the pervasive presence of Israeli soldiers protecting us at the Wall reminds us not only of our restored sovereignty but of continuing threat. Tisha b’Av has been only partly negated. Jewish tradition couldn’t imagine this limbo between return and redemption. And so we reenact the choreography of mourning but are restless, disoriented. Home, yet
not redeemed.”

Every year I think, “This is the year. This is the year I will not have to observe Tisha B’av. And then something happens. This year is no exception.

This week’s news out of the State of Israel is complex and flies in the face of observing Tisha B’av if the Second Temple was destroyed because of sinat chinam, baseless hatred.

This week’s news:
1. Hamas’ weekly Friday protests at the Gaza border took a serious turn in escalation as snipers fired at IDF soldiers patrolling the Israeli side of the border, killing one.

The IDF, calling the escalation “the most serious event since Operation Protective Edge (2014 Gaza War),” launched a series of air attacks in Gaza, hitting at least 15 targets including Hamas command and control centers and killing four Palestinians. Hamas in turn launched three rockets, two of which were intercepted by Iron Dome, and the third one falling in an open field. (Read more)

2. Israel’s Knesset passed into law the nation-state bill that for the first time enshrines Israel as “the national home of the Jewish people.” The quasi-constitutional Basic Law was approved by a vote of 62-55, two abstaining. (Read the full text of the bill)

Similar to a constitution, the Basic Laws underpin Israel’s legal system and are more difficult to repeal than regular laws. (Read more)

The nation-state bill, proponents say, puts Jewish values and democratic values on equal footing. In a video statement, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu declared that “Israel’s democracy will always continue to flourish.” Northwestern professor Eugene Kontorovich says the bill is similar to many European constitutions.

Critics fear the law opens the door to potential discrimination against minority communities, weakens religious pluralism, and complicates Israel-Diaspora relations.

3. A Conservative rabbi in Israel was awakened by police early Thursday morning and taken in for questioning for allegedly performing an illegal marriage. The action drew sharp responses fromseveral major American Jewish groups.
4. (JTA) — Haredi Orthodox protesters burned a Jewish prayer book near the Western Wall in Jerusalem on Friday to protest the monthly prayer service there by female worshippers.

The incident occurred as nearly 200 Women of the Wall activists arrived for the service in celebration of the beginning of the Hebrew month of Av. Several thousand haredi protesters greeted them with booing and shouting.

The haredim and other conservatives oppose the group’s singing and, at times, use of prayer shawls, kippahs and Torah scrolls, which are reserved for men in Orthodox Judaism. Some of the protesters set fire to a prayer book bearing the group’s logo, Arutz 7 reported.

They “laughed with pleasure as a WOW participant burned herself trying to salvage it,” the group said in a statement.

Rectifying Baseless Hatred:
Why was the Second Temple destroyed? The Sages in Yoma 9b noted that the people at that time studied Torah, observed mitzvot and performed good deeds. Their great failure was in sinat chinam – baseless hatred. It was internal strife and conflict that ultimately brought about the Temple’s destruction.

How may we rectify this sin of sinat chinam? Rav Kook wrote, in one of his most oft-quoted statements:

This call for baseless love could be interpreted as following Maimonides’ advice on how to correct bad character traits. In the fourth chapter of Shemonah Perakim, Maimonides taught that negative traits are corrected by temporarily overcompensating and practicing the opposite extreme. For example, one who is naturally stingy should balance this trait by acting overly generous, until he succeeds in uprooting his miserliness. Similarly, by going to the extreme of ahavat chinam, we repair the trait of sinat chinam.

This interpretation, however, is not Rav Kook’s line of thought. Ahavat chinam is not a temporary remedy, but an ideal, the result of our perception of the world’s underlying unity and goodness.

(Silver from the Land of Israel. Adapted from Orot HaKodesh vol. III, pp. 324-334; Malachim K’vnei Adam, pp. 262, 483-485)

At first glance, this statement seems peculiar. Why did the Sages say that those who mourn Jerusalem’s destruction will merit seeing it ‘be-simchata’ — ‘in its joy’? It would be more logical to say that they will merit seeing Jerusalem be-vinayana — when the city will be restored and rebuilt. After all, our primary wish is for the rebuilding of Jerusalem!

Rav Kook explained as follows: The Sages knew that when the time comes for Jerusalem to be rebuilt, everyone alive at that time will witness the city’s reconstruction. Even those who did not grieve Jerusalem’s destruction will see it being rebuilt.

The Sages formulated their statements with fine precision. True, many will see Jerusalem rebuilt. But only those who were pained by Jerusalem’s destruction will merit to see the city “in joy.” Only those who were grieved by its state of ruin will experience the great joy and simchah as Jerusalem is restored to its former glory.

Rabbi Arthur Waskow, using Rav Kook:

Chinam” is from chen, “grace”. that which pours out though undeserved. God’s “chen” is love that pours out undeserved. It is different from “chesed” . love that is intertwined with the loyalty due a covenant-partner . and from “rachamim” . the compassion that a mother feels [“rechem” = womb] for her child.

What is ahavat chinam in practice? I would say it is steadfast nonviolence in the Martin Luther King mode. “Love” even toward those who are imprisoning, demeaning, killing. I do not think it is “ahavat chinam” restricted to Jews alone that redeems us from the destruction that comes from “sinat chinam” . but “ahavat chinam” toward all bearers of the Image. Most especially toward those who are also children of Abraham, from the other branch of the family.

This kind of love does not require passivity in the face of injustice, hatred, terrorism, or war . no matter whether it is “our” folks or “their” folks who are perpetrating these deeds. It demands a loving concern for not shattering the Image of God even in those who do such things.

I am not calling on people to achieve this level of “ahava,” especially since I myself don’t rise to this level very often, if ever. I am simply saying that I don’t think it is really “ahavat chinam” if it is restricted to Jews alone, or those who agree with us alone. That’s not really “chinam” since it’s based not a “gratuitous” outpouring but on a felt tie, whether of family covenant or value-covenant.”

This year, my observance of Tisha B’av will be different. Often I try to spend time on Tisha B’av or the Three Weeks building while others were destroying or tearing down. Many people I know this year are making the connection between refugees and Tisha B’av. When the Temple was destroyed in 70CE that is when we as a Jewish people became refugees, exiled for 2000 years. When we gather our tzitzit together during ahavah rabbah, and sing of the ingathering from the four corners, we change the melody to Hatikvah, expressing that hope.

This year on Tisha B’av, Simon and I will be journeying to the National Havurat Institute as their Hollander Social Justice Fellow to teach my version of Tikkun Olam. And it fits with Tisha B’av. I believe that tikkun olam is better when done with others. It is more effective. It builds (there’s that word) lasting friendships and deep relationships. For me, it is the ultimate form of ahavat chinam. The day is not over yet. I challenge each of you to do some act of ahavat chinam.

Here’s what I said, more or less, yesterday at the Families Belong Together Elgin.

This morning I spoke at services about the power of speech. The important power of speech. That is what you are doing today. Speaking truth to power.

Today we read the verse of a non-Jewish prophet, “How good are your tents o Jacob, your dwelling places o Israel.” Today, here in Elgin, it is brutally hot. Too hot. In fact, I encouraged some of my seniors to not come. They came anyway. What we are doing here today is that important. But as the weather people keep telling us, it is not safe. So please, please drink your water. I don’t want to be making hospital calls later today.

Now imagine being in a tent city in Texas. Even hotter. Not safe. Without your mother or your father. Without knowing where they are or understanding the language. Without enough water. Sleeping a cement slab floor. With a mylar blanket. And no hugs. Those tents are not good.

In my tradition, all people are created in the image of the divine, b’tzelem elohim. All races, all creeds, all people. And as the U46 mission statement says, all means all. That also means that no person can be illegal.

My tradition teaches, 36 times in the Five Books of Moses, the first Five books of the Bible, that we are to welcome the widow, the orphan and the immigrant. We are to welcome, even love the stranger, because we were strangers in the land of Egypt. It is that simple. It is so simple…yet G-d has to keep telling us over and over again. It is so simple, yet I keep giving this sermon over and over again. My congregation is probably tired of it.

As Jews, who have been exiled all over the world, we know the pain of being refugees. The pain of being the other. We know the damage of being separated from our parents. We have heard these words before, “Children to the right. Adults to the left.” We know the causalities caused by not allowing Jews into the United States when they were fleeing Europe. When the USS Saint Louis was turned back.

It is why Jews all over the United States are at rallies just like this one. It is why in my own family I have a Cambodian nephew who survived the killing fields. And a Guatemalan son-in-law who was airlifted off a football field in Guatemala City in 1983. It is why my brothers-in-law are attorneys and judges in Tucson and why my sister-in-law works for the Catholic Church on refugee resettlement. It is why I worked for Refugee Immigration Ministry with asylum seekers. Why I visited for profit jails in 2001 that were housing women and children even then.

Today we stand here. We pray with our feet…and our voices…to send a clear and simple message. Reunite those children now. Welcome the widow, the orphan and the immigrant. Take care of them. NOW.

My mother used to say….
If you don’t have anything nice to say…don’t say anything at all.
And
Think before you speak.

Probably lots of mothers did. Maybe yours did. They were momisms.

Today’s d’var Torah is brought to you by my mom, and moms everywhere. It is dedicated to my mother, who was born on July 6, 1924. Her favorite quote in the Bible is in today’s haftarah. She used to explain that this Judaism thing is really very simple. She wondered why we made it all so complicated. After all, Micah said, “What does the Lord require of you? Do justly, love mercy and walk humbly with your G-d.”

Simple, no?

Let’s look at that more closely. Hagid lecha adam, Ma Tov. It has been told to you. Man, V’ma Adonai dorosh memmcha. And what the Lord seeks from you. Ci im asot mishpat, that you do justice. V’ahava chesed, and love mercy. V’hatznaia lechet, and walk modestly. Im elohecha with your G-d.

Humbly. Modestly. Does it make a difference?

What does it mean to walk modestly with G-d?

People said:    To not take up more space than you require. To be humble. To be unassuming, unpretentious, not showy or flashy, to consume a moderate amount, to dress modestly.

What is the difference between humble and modest?

People seemed to think that modesty had to do with things, like drink or dress and that humility was a spiritual quality.

Moses was humble…the most humble leader…that was one of his good qualities.

But tzniut , modesty, has a different sense. You can be modest in dress. That is a discussion for another day. Or you can be modest in drink. Or you can be modest in speech.

Today’s Torah portion is about speech. It can be seen as a funny portion. After all, it has a talking donkey. But as someone pointed out, if G-d can do anything, even part the sea, than surely G-d can make a donkey talk.

Ultimately, this portion is about a non-Jewish prophet, Balaam, who is hired by the king, Balak, to curse the Jews. Three times Balaam tries to do just that…the allure of the money is just so great, so powerful. Three times blessings come out instead.

One of those blessings is incorporated into our daily service. Ma Tovu Ohelecha Yaakov, Mishkenotecha Yisrael. How good are you tents, O Jacob, Your dwelling places O Israel.

What was so good about those tents?

The texts tells us that they are like gardens by the river, like fragrant herbs planted by G‑d . . .” But Rashi tells us that it was because the tents were arranged modestly, so that from the entrance of one tent, no one could look into another.

But speech was also modest too. It is no accident that I stand under a sign that says “Da lifney mi atah omad. Know before whom you stand.” It keeps anyone standing here humble and modest. There is something, Someone bigger than us.

Judaism has lots to say about speech—both the good uses and the bad. In the poem in Proverbs A Woman of Valor we learn the importance of keeping the law of kindness on our tongue. On Friday nights, as part of reading “Eshet Chayil”, I use it as a checklist. Still not there yet. See our mothers were right. The law of kindness should be on our tongues.

And so we read this morning as part of the end of the Amidah, “My God, keep my tongue from evil, my lips from lies. Help me ignore those who would slander me. Let me be humble before all.”

When we get to the High Holidays, more of the “sins” we recite communally are about speech. About 65% of them. Here is a book, Guard Your Tongue, by Zelig Pliskin, 237 pages of it. All on this very topic.

Yet, there is a place for good speech.

In the Psalms we read this morning, we read, “What profit if I am silenced, what benefit if I go to my grave.”

Esther is told to go to the king and speak on behalf of her people, “For if you hold your peace at this time, then relief and deliverance will arise from another place, and you and your father’s house will perish. And who knows, perhaps you are here for such a time as this.” Speaking truth to power. A good use of speech, in its correct time and place.

That’s why later today, I and many rabbis, from all the streams of Judaism, will be “praying with our feet”, speaking truth to power.

But I want to go back to this concept of modest speech…and address issues right here at CKI. Every now and then someone tells me something else that people have said to them or that they have overheard. In the social hall, in the kitchen, at a shiva house, even during a service.

Things like…I’m not sure what you are wearing is appropriate. (and that may be the kind version). Can a woman wear a sleeveless dress? What if she has a shrug or a cardigan? What about leggings? How about shorts? Building the sukkah or at a picnic or on the bimah? Can women only wear skirts? What about the rabbi? I was even asked during my demo weekend six years ago, what I would do if someone came in flip flops. I feel safe using that example because I don’t think the flip flop wearer is here any more. But even this week, someone apologized for maybe having to come in jeans. Come in jeans. And the rest of us…try not to complain.

Things like…oh, I see you just came to the shiva for the free food. It was probably said as a joke but the person didn’t go to another shiva for over a year.

Things like…I don’t like so and so’s voice. Or mine. Or the Torah School families don’t do anything…or the Shabbat morning people don’t understand what parenting is like today…or …or…or….

We are all guilty of this. Recently I picked on Simon who came to services despite appearing to have a cold, which it turned out he did not. I said, from the bimah…he probably just wants his bagel. Now Simon loves to daven…and I love watching him doing his silent amidah where you can see him imploring G-d with his fist. In truth, it is one of the reasons I married him and it is one of my favorite parts of the service. He knows before whom he stands. So that morning, when I slipped and talked about him coming for bagels….I apologized. But sometimes we don’t know the damage we inflict until well after the fact…if ever.

What if people had said instead, I am so glad you came to the shiva, you helped make the minyan. Or I am glad you are at services…it really is hot today…Or thank you for singing, your spirit helped lifted our prayers to heaven. Those would all be blessings, not curses. Let’s turn our curses into blessings just like Balaam.

Think before you speak. If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. Our moms were right.

It is summer. The longest Shabbat of the year. At Temple Emanuel of the Merrimack Valley, the sun wheel turned again last night, as it does every changing of the season.

That sunwheel is based on the El Adon prayer that we sang earlier. It was commissioned in April 1981 for Birkat Hachama, the blessing of the sun that occurs every 28 years in Judaism. The last Birkat Hachama was April 8, 2009. That’s all about the sun. Temple Emanuel decided that it was so beautiful and so meaningful to spin the sunwheel that they didn’t want to wait 28 years to do it again. So they do it every changing of the seasons and live out El Adon and Ma’ariv Aravim that talks about how G-d makes the seasons alternate.

It fits in a longstanding Jewish tradition of Mizrach, usually hung on the Eastern Wall or Shiviti, designed to focus our prayer. And for me it works. I was thrilled to find this photo of it and can envision mounting it on card stock and having a personal sun wheel.

You might have noticed the intentional elements that are included on this sunwheel. The Hebrew letters of the weekday El Adon in Aleph Bet order. The starry skies or is that water. The gold leaf and the rainbow.

This is Pride Shabbat. Perhaps some of you attended the parade in Aurora last Sunday. I know that the congregation in Aurora actually marched. Perhaps you are attending the big Pride Parade in Chicago tomorrow.

Today I am proudly wearing my rainbow tallit. And my rainbow necklace I bought in Guatemala. A rainbow, is a perfect balance between sun and rain. Keshet in Hebrew, has become a symbol of the LGBTQ community. It represents our diversity. There are two organizations called Keshet. One is the national gay pride Jewish organization headed by Idit Klein (No relation). And the other is Keshet in Chicago which works with people of varying abilities. Our member Ted Frisch is an active participant in their programming. Both organizations represent our vision statement of “Embracing our diversity” and I am proud to support both. Let me underscore this. All are welcome here. We are all children of G-d, created in the image of G-d, b’tzelem elohim. All means all.

One of my favorite parts of my job is working with our B’nai Mitzvah students. And hasn’t Mandy done a lovely job thus far leading the Torah service and Ashrei. Kol hakavod.

Earlier this week, working with another student who has Noah as his portion, we were talking about the covenant that G-d made with Noah to never again destroy the earth through water, by a flood. In the haftarah, that promise is echoed and we are told that G-d will give the Israelites a briti shlomi, My covenant of peace, of friendship. When we talked about what it would be like to be on the ark, the tevah, our student mused that maybe the whole earth is the tevah. It was a new image for me and so right for this week.

I hope that your summer journey might include spending time by water. Cool, clear, bountiful water. Perhaps Lake Michigan, on either side of the lake, or the Fox River or some small pond. Just sitting here, watching waves and the dance of sunlight on the water. Watching the sky and the clouds. Watching the quality of light. Maybe dunking in and out of the cooling, life sustaining water. Just the right amount of water. Not too much so that we have floods. Not too little. Maybe just the right balance to produce a rainbow, a sign of the covenant.

Simon and I hike a lot—he loves the mountains. I love the water. It’s a mixed marriage. Last weekend for Father’s Day, we went hiking at the Morton Arboretum to see the trolls. It was hot. We planned to be out for about an hour. We got lost—that’s a story for another time—but it was like we were wandering in the wilderness, in the desert. We were out too long and we ran out of that essential ingredient. Water.

Have you ever been really, really thirsty? What happens when you are thirsty…you get lightheaded, maybe dizzy, maybe faint, maybe disoriented. You can get leg cramps. You can get chilled. Someone said you might lose your faith in G-d.

They say when you are thirsty, it is already too late. You are already dehydrated. Last week I stood here and told you to drink lots of water. Tomorrow, like last weekend, the heat is back on and after a week with lots of rain, we all want to be outside. So again, remember, drink lots of water.

We are lucky. We have that opportunity. We can drink water. Life sustaining water. Not every one is so lucky.

Now imagine being part of the children of Israel, wandering in the desert. Miriam had just died. Miriam had a unique gift. Finding water. You are thirsty. Really, really thirsty. It is now a life or death issue. Like children everywhere you beg your parent for water.

Think of Moses as that parent. He is your parent and he is supposed to supply water to you. He, however, is frustrated. Really, really frustrated. And mourning. His sister has just died. G-d tells him to raise his staff and speak to the rock.

Instead, he strikes the rock twice and water pours out. Why did he do it that way? We will never know. But I can imagine, without Miriam, he was afraid it wouldn’t work. He wanted to make sure it would work. He went over and above what was needed. He didn’t listen to G-d. Or obey G-d. And for this, the tradition tells us. For not trusting. For not obeying. He was punished. Never to set foot in the Promised Land.

Imagine being a parent and wanting to make sure your child had access to the basic need of water. Imagine that you are afraid by the violence surrounding you every day. That you want to prevent your child from becoming a member of gang, or being killed by a gang. Imagine like Hagar who placed her child under a push and pleaded with G-d to not look on while her child died just because expelled from Abraham’s household, they were now wandering in the desert. Wouldn’t you do everything, anything to help your child?

When I was in Guatemala, as an American Jewish World Service Global Justice Fellow, I learned more about water rights. People need access to water. It is a basic human need. For years, I have been concerned about the bottled water industry. I have been concerned also about the amount of plastic we use to bottle that water. And the waste of that plastic. But the real question becomes access to water. Nestle, Coke, Pepsi. Even recently Starbucks. All buying up water rights. Including watersheds in Michigan, potentially draining the Lake Michigan watershed.

On May 11 we got word that one of the leaders of an AJWS grantee, CCDA had been assassinated. I remain deeply saddened by the assassination of José Can Xol, a human rights defender with our partner organization Comité Campesino del Altiplano (CCDA) in Guatemala. I have spoken about CCDA before. They have a cooperative fair trade kosher coffee plantation. The proceeds from the coffee and the patio container gardens and the honey pay for amongst other things letting girls go to school. It is a travesty that people would think that so threatening that they would assassinate Jose. May his memory be a blessing.

For me, this is personal. Families belong together, and children do not belong in prison. It was true in 2001 when I worked for Refugee Immigration Ministry and visited asylum seekers in the Rockingham Jail and then in for-profit jails that were detaining children with their mothers in Pennsylvania and Batavia, New York. It is truer today.

Violence persists in Guatemala, although I felt safer there then I did in Miami when I returned. My own son-in-law as a young child was airlifted off a football field in 1983. If I had been his parents, desperate parents just like the children of Israel wandering in the desert without water, I would have done anything to help my children survive. I am grateful to his parents for immigrating and risking everything. I am grateful for the work that AJWS does because it bears witness and holds people and the government accountable, reducing poverty and violence.

It brings me hope, in a week that saw lots of angry, angry people. Miriam brings us hope too. While her ability to divine water was curtailed with her death, Miriam’s well continues to travel with the children of Israel, for any of us to access. That is part of why many have added the tradition of Miriam’s cup to their Passover seders. A cup filled with clear, spring water. A cup that can nourish us all with life sustaining water of hope.

Even since the 1970’s when the ritual first appeared, there are many variations. Again that is embracing our diversity. Today we are going to pour fresh, spring water into Miriam’s Cup and each of you are going to be able to drink it. Deeply.

My childhood rabbi, Rabbi Albert M. Lewis, used to teach that each of us has a unique mitzvah to do in our lives. Rabbi Shmuly Yanklowitz teaches similarly that each of us has a unique gift to offer, that “you will spend your life giving to others. There may be no question that is more existentially and morally pressing for each of us to answer & to align our days with! Because as Rebbe Nachman taught: the day you were born was the day that God determined the world could not exist without you! We are desperately in need of your gift! Bold or humble, global or local, in the home or out of the home – your unique giving, that only you can do, is so desperately needed!”

That is what Frederick Buechner would describe as your unique calling. “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”

Then we will add water back into the cup. Water from a second bottle, representing your unique gift. Just like Miriam, your unique gift. There is enough water to go around. There is enough hope to go around. So come up here. Enjoy a cup of this water of Miriam, water to be life-affirming, water to bring us hope. Help us find the water. Help us to bring that water to all the children of G-d, all of us who are created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d.

Lyrics:
Spring up a well, and sing ye unto it
Spring up a well, and sing ye unto it

CHORUS:
Oh the water in the well and the healing in the well
The women and the water and the hope that’s in the well (x2)

When the world was created, there was heaven and dry land
And all the waters gathered, upon hearing God’s command
There was a bit of water, that was left or so they tell,
That was the water that became the water from the well

CHORUS:

It was in Miriam’s honor that the first well came to be,
To celebrate her music, her dance and prophecy,
The people came to Miriam when their spirits rose and fell
She nourished all their visions with the water from the well

CHORUS:

“Spring up a well!” the twelve tribes sang and the rushing waters flowed
High as pillars, into rivers to the oceans they would go
Surrounded by the trees and fruits so rich and bountiful
The Israelites were nourished by the waters from the well

CHORUS:

When Miriam dried, the well dried up, and Moses’ shed his tears
And God said, “Moses, touch this rock and water will appear”
Well Moses raised his staff in anger and upon the rock it fell
And out came springs of water, it was water from the well
CHORUS:

Bridge:
For the memory of the women, for the memory of the well
For the ones who came before us, their stories we must tell
We are searching for the water, where we wander, where we dwell
For Miriam and all of us, who thirst to find the well

Debbie Friedman, z”l

14,700 people. That is the number that the Torah tells us died in the field at Meribah. Today’s portion is amongst the most difficult in all of Torah. Why did those people have to die?

The usual explanation is that they weren’t loyal—to G-d or Moses. Pretty harsh stuff. That they were swayed by Korach. Korach led a rebellion. It was a real challenge to leadership. He and his two sidekicks and all their families were swallowed up, live, by the earth.

But what about the 14,700 people? Sometimes this text is used to tell us that the G-d of the Old Testament is the G-d of vengeance and the G-d of the New Testament is the G-d of Love. This philosophy was a common teaching in Grand Rapids, at 85% Dutch Reform. And it was always used as a jab at Judaism. We hear echoes of that sentiment in popular culture like throughout the musical Les Mis:

JAVERT
Now bring me prisoner 24601
Your time is up
And your parole’s begun
You know what that means.

VALJEAN
Yes, it means I’m free.

JAVERT
No! It means you get
Your yellow ticket-of-leave
You are a thief.

VALJEAN
I stole a loaf of bread.

JAVERT
You robbed a house.

VALJEAN
I broke a window pane.
My sisters child was close to death
And we were starving.

JAVERT
You will starve again
Unless you learn the meaning of the law.

VALJEAN
I know the meaning of those 19 years
A slave of the law.

He stole a loaf of bread to feed his sister’s child…and then spent 19 years in jail. This echoes today as well.

Sometimes this text of Korach is used to tell us that G-d demands loyalty. Be careful with all G-d’s commandments or you are going to be zapped. Sometimes this portion is used to tell us that we should guard our tongue. That we shouldn’t spread gossip.

This is a week that has challenged our assumptions about who can read scripture and who can interpret it. What does the Bible say? Who can teach it? How do we read it?

A few snippets of my week. A woman called the synagogue twice. She is looking for an adult Hebrew class. She wants to learn Hebrew to learn to read the Bible better. She’s not Jewish. She is Christian but hasn’t found a “home church”. She is homeless.

Her desire to learn Hebrew is no different than Governor William Bradford, first governor of Plimouth Plantation, who said, “a longing desire to see, with my owne eyes, something of that most ancient language, and holy tongue, in which the Law and oracles of God were write” (Bradford, History of Plymouth Plantation, Little, Brown, 1856) and who wrote all the marginalia in his own Bible, in Hebrew. If this interests you, I would be happy to discuss my undergraduate paper on this topic at Kiddush. The Puritans came to this country, in part, for religious freedom. In part so they could read the Bible as individuals and not through the eyes of their clerics.

Or my adult Hebrew class, which has one more week to go. They are now studying the machzor so they are ready for the High Holidays. We did the Torah blessings again and had an important discussion about what it means that G-d chose us to give the Torah. Who is the us? Is the “us” exclusively Jewish?

Or an online discussion with my alumni association about whether the Association of Rabbis and Cantors could sign a statement already signed by 26 Jewish groups about the separation of children from their parents at the border. Two members felt vehemently that the answer to that was no. Do we need consensus, a majority or unanimous motion. I expect that heated conversation to continue after Shabbat.

Judaism has never been about being unanimous. That’s why all the opinions are preserved in the Talmud. That’s why the Talmud is not a code book. That’s why I stand up here week after week explaining that Jewish tradition is a layered tradition and that there is often no one way to do something. That’s why I talk about embracing diversity. That includes the diversity of opinion and observance.

Recently I was asked to give a class in how to read Torah. Not the mechanics of chanting, although that might be good too, but how to find the right page, how to know what’s on the page, so I want to spend a couple of minutes introducing you to this book in front of you.

This is Etz Hayyim, the Conservative Movement Chumash. In it you will find the Five Books of Moses separated by weekly parsha. Following each full parsha, not just the triennial reading, is the haftarah, a selection from the Prophets, the Nevi’im. There is usually a brief introduction to the parsha and an introduction to the haftarah. The page is organized to have the Hebrew, the New JPS translation on the top of the page, some commentary at the bottom and below the line how halacha, Jewish law is derived.

Each of the major movements has its own chumash. They each have a slightly different slant and one of my favorite classes in rabbinical school was to look at each of them—which I still often do weekly—to build my d’var Torah. That’s embracing diversity.

But what if there is a moment where diversity of opinion doesn’t work.

What if the interpretation of Korach is the exact opposite of the traditional commentaries, Jewish or Christian? This is after all Judaism. Here are the words that my chevruta partner, Rabbi Linda Shriner Cahn shared with her congregation last night. She began…

“Before I was a rabbi, I was a parent. The challenge of becoming a parent was to follow in the loving caring ways my parents had modeled for me. It was a model based on caring for others, being part of a community and standing up to be counted when times called for it.”

This reminded me of a lovely story that Naomi Rachel Remen tells in Kitchen Table Wisdom.

She tells a story of hearing a prominent rabbi talk on Yom Kippur talk about forgiveness. He began by taking his infant daughter from his wife’s arms and bringing her onto the bimah. He then began his rather traditional and somewhat boring sermon. The baby girl smiled and everyone’s heart melted. She patted him on the check with her tiny hands. He smiled fondly at her and continued with his customary dignity. She reached for his tie and put in her mouth. She grabbed his nose and the whole congregation chuckled. He said, “Think about it. Is there anything she can do that you would not forgive her? Heads nodded in agreement. She grabbed his glasses. Everyone laughed. He waited for silence and then said, “When does that stop. When does it get hard to forgive. At three? At seven? At sixteen? At forty five? How old does someone have to be before you forget that everyone is a child of God?”

I would add, created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of God, with the divine spark inside. Naomi added that for her, God’s forgiveness was easy to understand but that personal forgiveness was difficult. If we are supposed to be like God and follow in God’s footsteps, isn’t this the message? It is not a lowering of standards. It is being in a family relationship. Isn’t this how we are to treat everyone, taking care of the widow, the orphan, the stranger, the most marginalized among us?

How appropriate to consider this idea, this Father’s Day Weekend.

Back to Linda’s words: “I look around and see pictures of children being torn from their parents arms in this country which provided a new life for my parents after the Shoah. I cannot begin to imagine the pain and disappointment they would feel if they were to witness what we are currently witnessing. Where is the country that took my parents in?

In this week’s Torah portion, the witnesses to Korach’s rebellion stood by and silently watched the rebellion, waiting for God to intervene. Unlike the witnesses to Korach’s rebellion, religious leaders across the political spectrum in the United States have begun to speak up. We know that it is up to us to speak up.

This is a human crisis, not a political one. The soul of our nation is at stake. I invite you to sign petitions and attend demonstrations. Unlike our Torah portion, we cannot wait for the Divine to take sides and decide who is in the right. The decision is ours, and we need to act.

To quote Dr. Shuly Rubin Schwartz “The goal of leadership should be effectiveness – not power for its own sake.”

In this case, effectiveness means taking care of the needs of others. We can find a way if we all work together.”

Linda offers a new teaching. Perhaps the reason those 14,700 people were killed were because they stood silently by.

In the coming weeks you will hear scripture quoted and misquoted. Interpreted and reinterpreted. I hope that I have given you some of the tools to understand the bigger picture. And I hope you will not stand idly by.

14,700 people. How many more?

Whoever put on a tallis when he was young will never forget:
taking it out of the soft velvet bag, opening the folded shawl,
spreading it out, kissing the length of the neckband (embroidered
or trimmed in gold). Then swinging it in a great swoop overhead
like a sky, a wedding canopy, a parachute. And then winding it
around his head as in Hide-and-Seek, wrapping
his whole body in it, close and slow, snuggling into it like the cocoon
of a butterfly, then opening would-be wings to fly.
And why is the tallis striped and not checkered black and white
like a chessboard? Because squares are finite and hopeless.
Stripes come from infinity and to infinity they go
like airport runways where angels land and take off
Whoever has put on a tallis will never forget.
When he comes out of a swimming pool or the sea,
he wraps himself in a large towel, spreads it out again
over his head, and again snuggles into it close and slow,
still shivering a little, and he laughs and blesses.

Yehuda Amichai

Have you ever been on a vacation and wanted to bring back a keepsake, a souvenir, to keep the feeling alive?

This piece of Cadillac Mountain Granite is exactly that. A piece of jewelry that I could put in my pocket to finger and remind me of the feeling of being on top of Mount Cadillac. A place where life was simpler and I felt close to G-d. It has been much loved and is, in fact, cracked. Turns out granite isn’t as hard a rock as people thought.

Souvenir, from the French for remembrance or memory, is a memento, a keepsake or token of remembrance, an object you acquire for the memories associated with it.

That’s what today’s portion is about. A souvenir, something to keep the memory alive. What is that souvenir? What does G-d prescribe? Tying tzitzit on the edges of the Israelites garments, to remind them of the mitzvoth, or of G-d Himself. To remember that they were slaves in the land of Egypt and that G-d brought them out, us out with a strong hand and an outstretched arm.

These are the ties that bind. In fact the word religion, from the Latin religio, means to tie back up into. That’s what we try to do here. To tie ourselves together. To tie ourselves to the one true G-d. To remind ourselves of the experience of being a slave, and the power of the Exodus from Egypt. And the feeling of awe standing at Sinai.

Because this is Judaism, there are a couple of different schemata for how to tie the tzitzit. In one case each of the fringes contains 8 threads and 5 knots, and the word itself, tzitzit is the numerical equivalent of 600, so each strand represents 613, the number of the commandments.

In the other system, between each knot are carefully turned twists, representing the numerical equivalents of Yud (10), Hey (5), Vuv (6) Hey, (10) so representing the Divine.

Or you could ties them so that the long thread is wound around the other three between the five know as 7, 8, 11 and 13 times. 7, 8 and 11 totaling 26, the Yud, Hey, Vuv, Hey and the 13 totaling the word for echad, one.

Either way looking on the tzitzit reminds us of G-d and the commandments. Reminds us to be holy. Ties us, quite literally to the G-d, the commandments, and the community and its accepted standard of behavior.

In the business world there is a phrase, “hitch your wagon to a star.” It means to try to succeed by forming a relationship with someone who is already successful. It is from a 1862 essay by Ralph Waldo Emerson, American Civilization. Now you have to tie yourself to the right star—not a falling star—not one that is about to crash and burn. But by associating with greatness, by tying yourself to their success, you too can be successful.

We want to bind ourselves to a leader, to the right kind of leader, just like hitching your wagon to a star implies. Before we even get to tying tzitzit, we have another example of Moses and G-d’s leadership.

G-d is frustrated. Again. With His people of Israel. They just can’t seem to stop complaining. Kvetching. It doesn’t even matter what they are kvetching about this time. The people doesn’t seem to want to be bound up with this G-d. They don’t want to be hitched to this star. G-d has had enough and threatens to get rid of them. G-d hiself is being dragged down into the much. Moses, once again, in a pattern he has already learned, in words actually taught by G-d, intercedes and reminds G-d of G-d’s essential attributes. Using the words of the 13 Attributes that G-d taught Moses on Mount Sinai, Moses has the audacity to remind G-d that G-d is merciful and compassionate, slow to anger and patient, full of lovingkindness and truth, forgiving iniquity, transgression and sin, even to the third and fourth generation. And G-d seems to suddenly remember, and says, the very words chant on Kol Nidre, Selachti Kidvachera. I have pardoned according to your word. Crisis averted.

G-d forgives. Again and again. The gates of forgiveness are always open. G-d’s love is for all time. And part of the reason for the tzitzit is to remember precisely that.

G-d seems to need to be reminded. G-d Himself wraps Himself in a tallit according to the Psalms. We know this from the Psalms and it is included in the blessing for putting on a tallit: “Bless Adonai, my soul! Adonai my God, how great You are, clothed in majesty and glory, wrapped in light like a robe. You spread out the heavens like a tent.” It is an image I have loved and part of why I decided to wear a tallit back when I was in college. When I wrap myself in my tallit, it is a powerful reminder of G-d’s presence and I am filled with light and the love of G-d.

But sometimes we forget. Or we don’t know. No one ever taught us. The message wasn’t transmitted. There is a chemical imbalance. This has been a hard week. A week that included the suicides of at least two prominent people. People who seemed like they had every thing going for them. People, who it turned out, struggled with their own demons. People who might have not felt or seen or remembered the ties that bind them—to their friends, their family, their community, their G-d. People who may not have been able to access or remember that feeling of being loved. Of not being lonely. And we may never know.

It used to be the popular wisdom, that we shouldn’t talk about such things publicly because it could cause other suicides, copycats. However, the better wisdom is that we need to talk about this very difficult subject.

There is help available…but if you are that person struggling with mental illness or addiction, it can be hard to reach out, hard to access the resources needed. You may not even know you are in that kind of pain, for you it may be normal. Or you have adapted so well and are so good at masking the feeling, it may be normal. If you are reading this, and need help, reach out. Call me. Call a friend. Call the national suicide hotline. 1-800-273-8255. It is not too late. You are worth it.

For the rest of us, it is incumbent upon us to be like Moses, to check in with friends, (even if that friend is G-d, because that is what we learned in last week’s parsha, that G-d is a friend) and make sure they really are OK—even if they appear to be happy, laughing, productive. Even if they seem to have it all.

Right now, what I want you to do is to get up, yes, out of your chairs, and make a circle. I have a ball of yarn here and we are going to bind ourselves together, making a web, with the things we need to have a healthy community, where we are bound one to another.

As we wove our web, the attributes we named were love, respect, honesty, safety, peace, patience, truth, compassion, courage, forgiveness, imagination, generosity, kidness, gratefulness, amongst others. Those are the keys, the 13 attributes that we possess, the tools we will take back into the week with us.

Carl Rogers, the famous psychologist used to say that before he would begin a session with a patient he would sit and say to himself. “I am enough” We have enough.

At the retreat this week, we were given keys to remind us of this very fact. And a beautiful poem by the Israeli poet, Rivka Miriam:

“That place, a bit above the latch
and a little to the left
no has ever touched or will anyone ever touch it
the hidden place on which no one has placed a hand
the place that does not know how to ask.

That place is like the mezuzah on our doors. Another symbol to remind us of our essential truths. We have the tools, we have the keys, we have the threads that bind that remind us. Ask, even if the person sitting before us doesn’t know how to ask.