Perhaps this is the journey of all of us. For seven weeks, those between Passover and Shavuot, we took on studying the Book of Ruth. After Shabbat morning services and then again on Sunday mornings with my confirmation girls. Seven weeks, four chapters and a lifetime.

This is an ancient text and a modern text.

The discussions were so rich; we need to preserve them. While we read the text in English—more than one translation, we learned to look at the Hebrew just to be sure our understanding was close to correct, and to see why different translations chose different words. Remember, every translation is a commentary.

What follows are our findings—and our questions. Chapter by chapter.

The Book of Ruth is traditionally read in synagogues on the holiday of Shavuot. It doesn’t have any real historical events behind it. Nor are there any miracles, per se. It is set at the time of the barley harvest and that might be the connection to Shavuot. It is set in the time of the Judges, before the Kings, although it will lay out its connection to the Kings at the end of the story.

What it memorable of the main characters according to Steinsaltz is “not their fastidiously correct behavior, but for their personal decisions to conduct themselves with kindness and generosity toward one another.”

That’s the harvest we need more of these days, kindness and generosity.

For seven weeks, it was like being back in rabbinical school with heartfelt discussions, the back and forth of a yeshiva, some laughter—OK really giggling, and a deep appreciation of this book and our tradition. It was magical.

You know the story. Now come learn the rest of the story with us as we journey through the text together.

This ancient text and this modern text.

Chapter One:

In the days when there was a famine in the land, when the judges (or the chieftains) ruled, Elimelech and his family moved to Moab. Our first question was why was there a famine, or even, what is a famine? And why was Bethlehem. Beit Lechem, the House of Bread, out of food? The text makes clear that this is Bethlehem in Judah, as opposed to the one in Galilee. In order to survive, the rich Elimelech took his family to Moab where the conditions were better.

Does this make them amongst the first refugees? Asylum Seekers? Are we reading an ancient text or a modern one? What is Moab’s responsibility to them? Hospitality is prized in much of the Middle East, even today. What is our responsibility today to welcome the stranger, the widow, the orphan? How do we handle famines? Refugees?

His sons married Moabite women. What? We thought that after wandering in the desert we were forbidden from having contact with the Moabites, let alone marrying them.

Elimelech and his sons died. Leaving Naomi, his wife, and his two daughers-in-law, Ruth and Orpah, with no one to care (or protect) for them.

They arose (from their mourning, we wondered?) and returned to the fields of Moab because she heard that the Lord (the Israelite Lord) pakad (took note, remembered, visited) G-d’s people. To give to them bread. The Hebrew is beautiful here. Lateit lahem lechem. This verbs echoes the story of Sarah, who G-d pakad, and gives Isaac.

Now that the famine is over, Naomi is going back to Judah—a scary prospect to be on the road alone as a widow. She implores them to return, each of them to their mother’s house. We were surprised that it was not her father’s house. And she blesses them, imploring G-d to show kindness to them as they have shown kindness to her.

Naomi is bitter. She is fond of her daughters-in-law but cannot provide for them and urges them to return the homes of their birth. Orpah agrees to return home but Ruth clung to her mother. Three times Naomi tries to convince Ruth. Return. Return. Return. (Verses 11, 12 and 15) Does this mirror the tradition of turning a potential convert away three times?

Naomi sees how determined Ruth is. The Hebrew is Mitametzet which could be translated full of courage. Like Moses said to Joshua, “Be strong and of good courage, chazak v’emetz.” Rashi said that this verse is derived from the Talmud (Y’vamot 47b) that we should not put additional barriers in front of potential converts to Judaism, but that they should be welcomed. Again, we have an ancient text and modern text. Fully layered.

Ruth makes a declaration… “For wherever you will go I will go; wherever you lodge, I will lodge, your people will be my people and your G-d my G-d.”

And the two of them walked until they arrived in Bethlehem. The town was abuzz about their return. In Hebrew it echoes the beginning of Genesis. It was in chaos, tahom. That couldn’t really be Naomi! And Naomi begs to be called Mara because the Lord has made her bitter.

Now despite the prohibition of referring to a convert after the conversion as a convert, the text at this stage makes clear that it is Ruth, the Moabite, who had returned from the fields of Moab.

One remaining question…what happened to Orpah? She exits stage left and is not heard from again. One of our members, wrote a modern midrash of Orpah which I may, with his permission, share later.

Chapter Two:

Naomi had a kinsman, a Gibor Cha’eil, a mighty man (soldier) a man of valor which parallels Proverbs description of a “Woman of Valor, Eishet Cha’eil”. This man, Boaz, was related to Elimelech and while we don’t know much about him from the text itself, other commentaries link him being a Judge in Bethlehem.

Ruth, the Moabite, which the text seems to emphasize still, begs Naomi to go glean. The use of the word “na” implies she is asking permission. Much like a teenager saying that she is going to the mall. We had much discussion about the tone here. Depending on the translation you get different understandings. There she is hoping to “find favor in someone’s eyes,” a classic Biblical phrase. Moses found favor in G-d’s eyes. Naomi grants her request and says surprisingly, “Go my daughter,” since Ruth is a daughter-in-law.

Cue the Hollywood music here. She went and gleaned and the field happened to be the field of Boaz. He blesses the reapers with a traditional blessing and they echo, “Yivarechecha Adonai, May the Lord bless you,” a reprise of the priestly blessing in Numbers. Boaz inquires about who the young lady is. We wondered about the use of the word “na’arah” since in truth we are not given many clues to Ruth’s age. However, while she doesn’t have children, she was married. Again we are told she is a Moabite young woman from the fields of Moab. One who has been standing in the fields from morning to night. It is surprising that Boaz didn’t know who she was. It is also surprising that she rested in a house, not a sukkah. A sukkah was used in the fields to provide shade. A sukkah was used during pilgrimage holidays. I still think this should be a sukkah, not a house!

This is an ancient text and a modern one. He commands his men not to molest her according to one translation. Not to touch her according to another. Is this a #MeToo moment. Even back then men had to be ordered not to behave. Would they?

She fell on her face and prostrated herself…she is so grateful. Wait, aren’t we commanded not to bow down? Is this how Lord, Adonai, and my master, referring to a person get confused? She wonders why she has found such favor in his sight, even though she is a foreigner, a stranger. He answers because it is what she has done for her mother-in-law. His “blessing” parallels the command to Abram. She left her father and her mother, the land of her birth to go to a people she did not go. Just like Abram who “lech-lecha,” went forth to the Land of Canaan. He prays that she will find refuge, protection, “al tachat k’nafecha”, under the shadow of G-d’s wings. (We know that language from El Maleh Rachamin, which we chant on Shavuot as part of Yizkor.)

They ate pita and hametz (in this case vinegar!) together. And she ate and was satisfied, echoing the words of Birkat Hamazon, Grace after meals. And there was food left over. Perhaps the origins of the idea that even poor people need to give tzedakah. Or the modern organization Mazon.

Boaz orders his men to leave some sheaves for her to glean without shaming her—even some of the choicest without rebuke. How we treat poor people is important. We are not to shame them or rebuke them. From this she was able to glean about an ephah of barley, which was a lot, a more than she needed for herself and her mother-in-law.

When Naomi asked who has been so kind to her daughter-in-law and told it was Boaz, she exclaims, “Blessed be he to the Lord who has not forsaken His kindness to the living and to the dead.” And so Ruth lived with Naomi and continued to glean in Boaz’s fields.

Chapter Three:
The scene music changes again. Now Naomi has decided she needs to find a husband for Ruth and hatches a plan that their kinsman, acquaintance, friend Boaz, would take note of Ruth. She tells Ruth to bathe and anoint herself and to dress in her most attractive garment. (One commentary says her “Sabbath best” Ruth Rabba 5:12).

She should go to him at night and lie at his feet. And even uncover his feet. He will then tell her what to do.

This is an ancient text and a modern text. Say what? It is difficult to imagine that a mother, or a mother-in-law, would say that to a daughter. Did she just traffic her daughter-in-law? But for Naomi, bitter Naomi/Mara these are desperate times. Ruth agrees to the plan even though it does not fit within acceptable norms of modesty.

After work, Boaz ate and drank, maybe a little too much from the phrase, “until his heart was merry.”

Cue new music here.

And it came to pass at midnight. Anyone else expect the Angel of Death to show up, or to pass over the house of Boaz? She praises him and calls him, her “redeemer”. And she told him to spread his garment over her. He then praises her and calls her an Eishet Chayil, a Woman of Valor, saying that the men praise her in the gates, the same language as Proverbs and paralleling the earlier language of “Gibor Chayil”, a Man of Valor above.

In order to protect their modesty, she slips out before dawn so that no one can recognize her, “before anyone could discern another”, similar language in the Talmud for when to say the morning Sh’ma. (Berachot)

Chapter Four:

Boaz went up to the gate (alah, aliyah. a spiritual going up to the seat of commerce) to bargain for Ruth’s release from the other, closer kinsman. He would purchase the field, and by extension Ruth (and Ruth’s family, Naomi). The other redeemer did not want to redeem her since she was a Moabite and at risk of ruining his inheritance. Israelites were forbidden from marrying converts from Moab or Amon even until the 10^th generation (Deut. 23-4-5) but the Talmud, we learned, says the prohibition only applies to Moabite men, not women, making this marriage possible if not common. The redeemer may not have been familiar with this law which is why he refused?

In any case, an agreement is reached where Boaz is to acquire the field, Naomi, Ruth the Moabite, as well as “the wife of the dead” which will perpetuate Elimelech’s name since the redeemer is worried about his own inheritance.

A complicated scene “as was the tradition in Israel” ensues where to seal the deal, the seller removes his shoe and gives it to the buyer as a testament, a symbolic expression that the deal is complete.

So Boaz, in front of everyone at the gate, acquired everything that was Elimelech’s and Kilyon’s and Mahlon’s from the hand of Naomi. And he acquired Ruth, the Moabite—still the Moabite, so that the name of Elimelech will be perpetuated and not forgotten. The people, the witnesses, blessed Boaz and Ruth, asking that G-d make her like Rachel and Leah. And Ruth bore a son. And Naomi placed that son on her bosom (was she nursing him, comforting him?) and they called that child Israel. The women called his Oved, the father of Yishai, the father of David.

The full genealogy is then listed from Peretz to David. Ruth is not heard from again, although the Talmud said that she lived to be old and to see the birth of her grandson David and great-grandson David. By linking her to Rachel and Leah, and leaving out the term Moabite, she is now fully accepted. She becomes the grandmother of David, the ancestor from whom the Messiah, the Redeemer, will come. It is perfect as a modern story and it brings us hope.

This is an ancient text and a modern text. Famine. Refugees. Hunger. Interfaith marriages. Conversion. Inheritance. Women’s rights. Land rights. And the lineage of the messiah.

Ultimately, this ancient text is about being kind. Maybe it is that very kindness that brings about the messiah.

Bibliography:

The Five Megilloth, The Soncino Books of the Bible, Hebrew Text and English Translation, Soncino Press Ltd, 1984

The JPS Bible Commentary: Ruth, Tamara Cohn Eskenazi and Tikva Frymer-Kensky, Commentary 2011, Translation, 1962, 1985, 1989, 1999 by JPS

Reading Ruth, Contemporary Women Reclaim a Sacred Story, Edited by Judith A Kates and Gail Twersky Reimer, Ballentine Books, 1994

Ruth: A Modern Commentary, Translation and Commentary by Leonard S. Kravitz and Kerry M. Olitzky, URJ Press, 2005

The Steinsaltz Tanakh, Megillat Ruth, Rabbi Adin Even-Israel Steinsaltz, Koren Publishers Jerusalem, Ltd. 2015, 2018

I always knew I would have to write this piece one day. For some of you, most of you, this may not be a popular response to recent events. You may think I am wrong. That’s OK. We’re Jews. We argue.

I thought about not writing. Not speaking. Maybe silence is better.

To my friends who are so sure. I am not. I think that this week requires a great deal of nuance. It is not black and white. This is an attempt to provide nuance, context and history. Let me be perfectly clear. Israel has a right to exist and needs to exist. But does Israel need to shoot children? And does Hamas need to use children as cannon fodder?

I am just a small town rabbi. A student of Israel politics for 40 years but I am no expert. If I thought I could solve peace in the Middle East I would go to Fletcher or the Kennedy School. But alas…

My relationship with Israel is complicated. I grew up believing in the hope of Israel. The David and Goliath version. Israel needed to exist so that no matter where Jews were persecuted they had a home to return to. Israel was home.

Like 16 of my Confirmation classmates, I journeyed to Israel in 1977 as part of a NFTY study tour. I fell in love. In 1981 I returned to Israel and learned about more the complexities. I lived there for a year. In Jerusalem. I was the victim of a violent crime and had to testify in Hebrew. I dated an Israeli soldier who was killed in 1983. We were supposed to get married. Every trip to Israel is marked with an intensity that no other travel contains. Every rock. Every trail. Every sidewalk café contains a memory. A story. These staccato sentences, my life experience, color my understanding of Israel.

When I returned I wrote an op-ed piece for a Brandeis publication justifying the “Incursion into Lebanon,” by Jewish law. It was before the internet so I doubt a simple google search will find it. Probably there is a hard copy somewhere in my basement. It does not represent my feeling any more.

Part of my rabbinic thesis was written on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. I concluded that cycles of violence cannot be quelled until people feel safe. Not in generations of domestic violence, not in German Jewish relationships after the Holocaust, not in Israel. We are now three and four generations into this conflict. Israelis don’t feel safe. Neither do Arabs.

Yesterday saw the United States open its long-promised embassy in Jerusalem. I can remember standing in front of the former embassy in Tel Aviv and wondering why it wasn’t in Jerusalem. Yesterday saw (continuing) riots in Gaza, by last count 55 people killed and over 2000 wounded, some of them children.

Those are facts. I believe they were predictable. Hamas has a proven history of using children as human shields. Israel has a history of practicing restraint. Yesterday, there was no restraint. Could there be restraint? Should there have been? Do we hold Israel to a higher standard? Should we?

For 70 years Jews have celebrated the return to having a Jewish state. It is a source of pride. Israel is technologically advanced. Has made the desert bloom. And they have created a haven for Jews from around the world. They are the first to show up at any natural disaster around the world with their excellent medical and rescue expertise. I celebrate, too.

When you arrive at Ben Gurion airport and head to Jerusalem, you go up, you make aliyah, you ascend the mountain road on the way up to Jerusalem. It is a spiritual ascension as well as a hard climb. For thousands of years, Jews have prayed to not forget Jerusalem. For thousands of years, Jews have prayed, “Next year in Jerusalem,” at the end of the Passover seder.

But in the middle of the Passover seder, we spill out some of our wine during the recitation of the plagues. Why? Because, as G-d reminds us in the midrash, we are not allowed to rejoice at the killing of G-d’s creatures. No matter what your politics, the Palestinians in Gaza or on the West Bank are people too, created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d. They have hopes and dreams for their children and their grandchildren. Many of them, most of them want to live in peace.

We have to keep that dream alive. The dream of the story I told this week of where the Temple was built, on a hill where two brothers with different life stories, came together and shared wheat. Where Hiney Ma Tov was penned, “How good and how pleasant it is for brothers to dwell together.”

Can those brothers dwell together? Can there be a path to peace? That is what I pray for every day. That is what I work for when I support organizations like New Israel Fund (NIF), Rabbis for Human Rights, T’ruah, Hadassah, IRAC. And Parent’s Circle—Families Forum, whose homepage says, “We are the only association in the world that does not wish to welcome any new members into its fold. We work towards stopping violence.”

This week, there will be new members of the Parent’s Circle.

Herzl said it, “If you will it, it is no dream.” It is echoed in the National Anthem of Israel, in HaTikvah, The Hope, “To be a free people in our land.” I share that dream. I cannot give up on that dream.

It is why we will celebrate Israel at 70 again this Friday night with a MishMosh musical Kabbalat Shabbat service featuring mostly Israeli music…some of that music that I learned bouncing on a bus in 1977. Oseh Shalom and Jerusalem of Gold will have even more meaning. They are the aspirations of what we hope for, what we pray for.

It is why we are beginning to plan a congregational trip to Israel that will feature plenty of opportunities for a first hand look and deep listening so that we have a better understanding.

I am just a small town rabbi. I don’t have the answers. But I know this. The violence must stop. On all sides.

On a day where many Jews wanted to celebrate, I feel only deep sadness.

In order to understand Israel I recommend the following books and articles:

http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/the-moral-challenge-of-gaza/

https://www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2018/05/israel-palestine-embassy-legitimacy/560291/?utm_source=atlfb

The Case for Israel, Alan Dershowitz
Lemon Tree, Sandy Tolan
My Promised Land, Ari Shavit
Not in G-d’s Name, Jonathan Sacks
Walking Israel, Martin Fletcher

And a brand-new one just out this week.
Letters to my Palestinian Neighbors, Yossi Klein Halevi, already loaded on my Kindle

If…then…

If you obey my commandments then I will….

“If you follow My laws and faithfully observe My commandments, I will grant your rains in their season… you shall eat your fill of bread and dwell securely in your land.” (Leviticus 26:3-5)

But, likewise, we are also told: “If you do not obey Me, I will discipline you sevenfold for your sins… and though you shall eat, you shall not be satisfied.”(Leviticus 26: 18, 26).

This is a tricky portion. We sit here with some severe weather alerts and downpours. I don’t really believe that if there is a tornado or hail that it is G-d punishing us for some slight. And I don’t really believe that saying this out loud will cause G-d to hit this building with lightening. That’s not how my G-d works.

There are plenty of people who do. Every time there is a natural disaster, some preacher will be on TV claiming it is G-d’s punishment for something or other. For instance, several that Hurricane Katrina was G-d’s punishment for legalizing abortion, homosexuality, not being prepared for terrorists or even the US permitting the withdrawal of Israel from Gaza. http://www.ethicsdaily.com/fundamentalists-view-hurricane-katrina-as-gods-punishment-cms-6269

All three Abrahamic traditions in their fundamentalist incarnations had their interpretations of that one.

There is a relatively new theology, prosperity gospel that is rooted in this kind of thinking. That good people will be rewarded and bad people will be punished. It doesn’t work for me. Where does that leave the hungry, the homeless, the oppressed? The widow, the orphan the stranger.

The God I believe in created us b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d, to love one another—our neighbors, the widow, the orphan, the stranger. To take care of the earth. To be partners with G-d in creation. To be a light to the nations. To provide hope. To make the world a better place.

So in my world view, I am not waiting for G-d to provide food for the hungry, I am planting the corners of my field. I am engaging in other acts of tikkun ha-olam, repair of the world.

This is a tricky text but it is a radical one. It continues the recipe for holiness, for kedusha.

It is very clear that if we do X then G-d will do y. It is the language of covenant, of brit. It is about being in a covenantal relationship. A holy relationship.

What is a covenant?

It is an agreement. It is a promise. Between G-d and people. Originally, a brit was a treaty, a contract “cut” between the Hittite rulers in the ancient Near East in the 14^th and 13^th centuries BCE to make clear the relationship between a royal suzerain and the vassals that served him. These contracts, whether between the Hittite rulers or between G-d and man, were asymmetrical, reflecting an imbalance of power and spelled out the dire consequences if the contract was not fulfilled. An oath was sworn, outlining the conditional, terrible punishments, sometimes signed in blood, to make real the terms of the covenant.

This week we marked rainbow day. The day where the midrash teaches us that G-d promises never to destroy the world again by flood. The sign of that promise is the rainbow.

“I have set My rainbow in the cloud, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between Me and the Earth.” (Genesis 9:13)

The midrash teaches that the biblical flood began on the 17^th day of the second month, exactly one lunar year and 10 days, (or a complete solar year) before Noah, his family and all the animals left the ark, on the 27^th day of the second month. That day is the 42 day of the counting of the omer. Exactly today. The day when G-d made that covenant that G-d would never destroy the world by flood again—or in the words of the Negro Spiritual—not by flood but by fire next time. The sign, the signature of that covenant is the rainbow.

Perhaps we will be surprised by a rainbow today. The weather is right for it.

G-d made a covenant with Abraham. His descendants would be a numerous as the stars in the sky and the sands of the sea. Abraham would mark his flesh—and that of his menfolk, by circumcision as a sign of this covenant. G-d renewed the covenant with Abraham, with Isaac and Jacob, promising that we would live long on the land that G-d promised to our ancestors. That covenant was signed in blood–with the ceremony of brit milah. Zipporah took matters into her own hands, when she circumcized Moses’s son.

Then we have Shabbat, which we talked about at length last week. Shabbat is the sign of the covenant between Israel and G-d. For six days G-d created the heavens and the earth and on the seventh day G-d rested and was refreshed, re-souled.

Then we have Torah, which we will celebrate more fully next week as part of Shavuot. We actually have a tradition of signing a ketubah, a marriage contract, between Israel and G-d. The sign of that covenant, the dowry if you will, is the Torah itself. If you obey My commandments, then I will give you rain in its season and provide you with enough to eat. You will eat and be satisfied. What then do we promise G-d?

Typically, these ketubot, common is Sephardic congregations, use various piyutim, poems and verses from scripture, including: “I will betroth thee unto Me for ever; yea, I will betroth thee unto Me in righteousness, and in justice, and in lovingkindness, and in compassion. And I will betroth thee unto Me in faithfulness, and thou shalt know the Lord” (Hosea 2:21-22) and “I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel” (Jeremiah 31:31).

Here today we have one more covenantal relationship to celebrate. Today we will celebrate the upcoming marriage, kiddushin or Jeanette and Chris. When you enter into a marriage, it is a holy relationship, a covenantal relationship, one of holiness, kedusha, one set apart, and unique, one for another.

The ketubah is again a sign of that covenant. There are many modern texts. Jeanette and Chris have picked one that promises each other that they have entered into the covenant of marriage, that their love will provide them with the courage to fulfill their shared dream. They will support each other for personal growth and that they will be honest, loyal and devoted to one another as they create a loving future together. They will treasure life’s joys and comfort each other through life’s sorrows. They will build a home filled with loving affection, laughter, wisdom, generosity and respect. They will weave their commitment to the Jewish people and culture into the fabric of their lives. They will act in ways that show compassion for all humanity and respect for the earth, while creating balance in their lives, practicing gratitude and being sensitive to each other’s needs.

We celebrate their covenant to one another with them as we call them to the bimah for a special blessing.

Today is Mother’s Day, and while I am proud to be a mother, I am also missing my mother. Perhaps she would have been proud of me. It was a good week. I was awarded the Betty Brown Racial Justice Award by the YWCA of Elgin. It is very humbling. I don’t do this work in a vacuum. I have lots of partners in Elgin including those at the Y.

My mother and I did lots of rallies for justice together when I was a young child in Evanston. She ran for park commissioner because when she asked why the swings were not up, she was told, “Those people might sit on them.” As a Girl Scout we did lots of “service projects” to make the world a better place. I was a leader of a troop in Grand Rapids “Center City” when I was a junior in High School. I’ll never forget being in a Brownie Ring asking for Christmas traditions and every girl knew that her mamma called “Santa’s Girls” and that’s where the presents came from.

Mother’s Day is a peace holiday. It was not started by Hallmark. There are many claims to the first American Mother’s Day. There were some observances by women whose sons were fighting on opposite sides of the Civil War. They were not prepared to lose another son to war. Ann Jarvis started a Mother’s Friendship Day in 1868 “to reunite families that had been divided during the Civil War.” Julia Ward Howe led a “Mother’s Day for Peace” anti-war demonstration in New York on June 2, 1872 which led to the first Mother’s Day Proclamation.

The first year after my mother died, I stood outside the gates of the White House leading an interfaith service for peace. This year will find me running a race shortly where the charity is Wings, an organization dedicated to preventing domestic violence.

Today is also Yom Yerushalayim, Jerusalem Day on the Hebrew Calendar. It is the day in 1967 when Jerusalem was reunited. Jersualem actually means City of Peace. Ir=City. Shalom=Peace.

This past week, as a partner with Gail Borden Public Library, Coalition of Elgin Religious Leaders, Elgin City of Peace, I hosted an event at CKI called Stories of Peace. I knew I wanted to do it this week and I knew exactly what story I wanted to tell.

We all know the story. The legend of the two brothers. Every rabbi I have ever known has told this story. It is the story of how King Solomon chose the spot to build the Holy Temple.

Once upon a time, there was a farmer who left his two sons his land. (It is always sons, never daughters except for the daughters of Zelophehad in Numbers 27, who do inherit their father’s land, but that is another story).

The two brothers each lived on the other side of a hill. One brother was married with several children. The other one lived alone. One night, the married brother lay awake thinking about how blessed he was and his brother had no one to help him with the harvest. He decided he must share his abundance. Which is exactly what he did. Under the dark of night, he climbed up the hill and down the other side with a sheaf of what and left it for his brother to find when he awoke.

Meanwhile, the other brother was also awake thinking about how fortunate he was. “I am just alone and have so much. My brother has so many mouths to feed. He surely needs some of my wheat.” Which is exactly what he did. Under the stars and the light of the moon, he hiked up the hill and down the other side and left a sheaf of wheat for his brother that he would find when he awoke.

In the morning, when each brother awoke, they were both surprised to find that each had the same number of sheaves as the previous day. So the next night, up and down the hill they went, filled with love for their brother and thankfulness for their blessings. Each night this “miracle” of the sheaves was repeated, until one night their paths crossed and they hugged. That is the exact spot that King Solomon chose to build the Temple. And as we were taught, that is the basis of the song, “Hiney Ma Tov” from Psalms. “How good and how pleasant it is for brothers to dwell together.”

That’s the end of the story, right? Maybe not. Where did this story come from? I had always assumed it was from the Talmud or the midrash. Not so fast! Louis Ginzberg has it in The Legends of the Jews, and in his footnotes he references Israel Costa’s Mikveh Yisrael (Livorno, 1851). Alexander Scheiber published a bibliography with various origins and different versions of the story. The first mention is from Alphone de Laartine who recorded it from Palestinian Arabs in 1832. I even found one mention that it was an Indian Muslim story and someone else told me it was a retelling of the Gift of the Magi.

There are at least three children’s versions:

• Brothers: A Hebrew Legend, by Florence Friedman (the version I wound up telling)
• One City, Two Brothers, by Chris Smith
• The Two Brothers, a Legend of Jerusalem, by Neil Waldman

Which ever tale you tell, pray for the peace of Jerusalem. It would be a good thing on Mother’s Day, especially this Mother’s Day. And for you mothers, step-mothers, aunts, mother figures, dad who are mothers, thank you!

Here is a full source list:

Louis Ginzberg, Legends of the Jews. In the old JPS edition the legend can be found on 4:154 and a discussion on 6:293-294.
Bin Gorion I-Micha Joseph Bin Gorion, Mimekor Yisrael, ed. by Emanuel bin Gorion, trans. I.M. Lask, intro. by Dan Ben-Amos, Indiana University Press.
Bin Gorion II-Micha Joseph Bin Gorion, Mimekor Yisrael: Selected Classical Jewish Folktales, abridged and annotated edition, ed. by Emanuel bin Gorion, trans. I.M. Lask, intro. and headnotes by Dan Ben-Amos, Indiana University Press. Although this edition has fewer legends, it has better notes and bibliographical material on each legend. See the bibliographical notes for this legend on p. 272.
Alexander Scheiber, “The Legend about the Temple Location in Jerusalem” in Essays on Jewish Folklore and Comparative Literature, Budapest, 1985, pp. 291-299.
Haim Schwarzbaum, Studies in Jewish and World Folklore, Berlin, 1968, pp. 462-463
Eliezer Segal, “The Founding of Jerusalem: A Palestinian Midrash?”
Zev Vilnay, Legends of Jerusalem, JPS, pp. 77-78.

Pizza. This morning I want to talk about pizza. And Wendy’s. Not my usual topics for Shabbat morning.

But first, let’s sing this together.

Yism’chu v’malchut’cha, shomrei Shabbat v’korei oneg.
Am m’kad’shei shvi-i, kulam yisb’u v’yitangu mituvecha.
V’hashvi-i ratzita bo v’kidashto, chemdat yamim oto karata,
zecher l’maaseh v’reishit.

Those who keep Shabbat by calling it a delight
will rejoice in Your realm.
The people that hallow Shabbat will delight in Your goodness.
For, being pleased with the Seventh Day, You hallowed it as the most precious of days, drawing our attention to the work of Creation.

Good. You know it. Although since it is part of our musaf service we don’t often sing it. Maybe we should sing it more often!

Last week we talked about the central portion of the Torah, the holiness code, where we are commanded, “You shall be holy, for I the Lord your G-d am holy. “Then it gives us a recipe for holiness. (Maybe I’m just hungry this morning!)

That recipe concludes with “Love your neighbor as yourself.” As Hillel teaches us that is all of Judaism. The essence. The central message. The ikar. The rest is commentary, go and study it.

So today, we are going to study it. Today’s portion teaches us how to make time holy, how to sanctify it and set it apart.

We do that when we make Kiddush. The Friday night Kiddush tells us,

Blessed are You, Lord our G-d, Ruler of the universe, (some prefer to translate Ha’olam as time and space, that becomes important as we continue our discussion.)

who has hallowed us with G-d’s commandments, has desired us, and has given us, in love and goodwill, G-d’s holy Shabbat as a heritage, in remembrance of the work of Creation; the first of the holy festivals, commemorating the Exodus from Egypt. For You have chosen us and sanctified us from among all the nations, and with love and goodwill given us Your holy Shabbat as a heritage.

Blessed are You Lord, who hallows the Shabbat.

Two reasons are given for Shabbat: remembering Creation—and what a glorious morning this is—and the Exodus from Egypt. That circles back to “Love your neighbor as yourself”, we love our neighbors and the strangers because we were strangers in the land of Egypt.

When bless the Sabbath and make it holy we are bringing time and space together. Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote a slim little book, The Sabbath, a great work, a must read.

“Time and space are interrelated. To overlook either of them is to be partially blind. What we plead against is man’s unconditional surrender to space, his enslavement to things. We must not forget that it is not a thing that lends significance to a moment; it is the moment that lends significance to things.”

“Sanctifying the Sabbath is part of our imitation of God, but it also becomes a way to find God’s presence. It is not in space but in time, he writes, that we find God’s likeness. In the Bible, no thing or place is holy by itself; not even the Promised Land is called holy. While the holiness of the land and of festivals depends on the actions of the Jewish people, who have to sanctify them, the holiness of the Sabbath, he writes, preceded the holiness of Israel. Even if people fail to observe the Sabbath, it remains holy.”

“The Sabbath is a reminder of the two worlds—this world and the world to come; it is an example of both worlds. For the Sabbath is joy, holiness, and rest; joy is part of this world; holiness and rest are something of the world to come.”16”
― Abraham Joshua Heschel, The Sabbath
Shabbat is a gift, something to be treasured. A sign of the covenant between G-d and the people of Israel for all time, from generation to generation—that’s what we sing in V’shamru.

“The people of Israel shall keep Shabbat,
observing Shabbat throughout the ages as a covenant for all time.
It is a sign for all time between Me and the people of Israel.
For in six days Adonai made heaven and earth,
and on the seventh day God ceased from work and was refreshed.”

But sometimes, we lose track of the gift and see it as a repressive obligation. A list of 39 prohibitions, things we cannot do. Those things, which we looked at recently are tied to the work that was needed to build the Holy Temple.

What if, instead, we adopt Heschel’s understanding of Shabbat being a delight:

“Call the Sabbath a delight: a delight to the soul and a delight to the body. Since there are so many acts which one must abstain from doing on the seventh day, “you might think I have given you the Sabbath for your displeasure; I have surely given you the Sabbath for your pleasure.” To sanctify the seventh day does not mean: Thou shalt mortify thyself, but, on the contrary: Thou shalt sanctify it with all thy heart, with all thy soul and with all thy senses. “Sanctify the Sabbath by choice meals, by beautiful garments; delight your soul with pleasure and I will reward you for this very pleasure.”

What if we switch our mindset—and see it as a joy, “a palace in time” Heschel called it?

Joseph who loved the Sabbath, a delightful children’s book from the Talmud (Shabbat 119a), about Joseph is poor but no so poor. He saves up all week in order to celebrate Shabbat and savor the best that is there. The best challah. The best fish. The astrologers told his rich land-lord that Joseph would inherit all his property. So he sold all the property and bought a big jewel (the Talmud said pearl, Marilyn Hirsch says ruby). You’ll have to read the book to see what happens.

Joseph wasn’t alone in loving Shabbat and preparing the choicest meal for Shabbat.

From the same page of the Talmud, we learn this about the special Shabbat spice:

Joshua b. Hananiah answered the emperor, “Why has the Sabbath dish such a fragrant odor?” to which R. Joshua replied, “We have a certain spice called the Sabbath which we put into the Sabbath dish which gives it it’s fragrant odor.”

Heschel said it this way: “Unless one learns how to relish the taste of Sabbath … one will be unable to enjoy the taste of eternity in the world to come.”

This idea is not limited to “religious Jews”. Ahad Ha’am, the early secular Zionist said “Just as Israel has kept the Sabbath has the Sabbath kept Israel.

So that brings me back to Pizza and Wendy’s.

In the online magazine, Kveller, aimed at young families, recently there was an article about pizza. The title: The Secret to the Best Shabbat: Pizza. I was intrigued. Kids (and adults of all ages), love pizza. It’s simple to make. Or to call your favorite delivery service. This article argues that by going to the local pizza joint, the family reconnects. They play games at the table like 20 questions and charades and they begin to reclaim holy time. There’s no candles, no Kiddush, but even in the whirl of the pizza joint there is quiet and holy time and a family enjoying being together. So Shabbat dinner doesn’t need to be a fancy meal with chicken and matzah ball soup. It can even be take-out pizza. A way to relax into Shabbat and the weekend. It is an oneg Shabbat. A delight.

Kveller, and other sources also had an article about Shabbat at Wendy’s. Wendy’s you say? Yes! You should see the video in order to be charmed. And I haven’t been to a Wendy’s in years, part of T’ruah: Rabbis for Human Rights campaign to make sure that tomato workers in this country are paid a living wage. Wendy’s is the last hold-out of all the fast food companies to pay tomato workers a penny a pound more. That’s it. A penny a pound. But in Palm Desert, CA, there is a Wendy’s franchise where older residents gather for Shabbat dinner. They arrive by golf cart and Wendy’s reserves a table for them. They light candles and make Kiddush and order off the menu. And some of the isolation they feel during the week evaporates. They make time holy. It is an oneg Shabbat. A delight.

The joy of sitting around the table is one of the hallmarks of OneTable, the brainchild of non-profit entrepreneur Aliza Kline, no relation, who has started a foundation which is “an online and in-person hub for millennials to end their week with intention and create unique Shabbat dinners. Slow down, unplug, join together, and Friday.” They actually give these young people the where with all to “make Shabbes”. As their website tells it. “OneTable brings Shabbat to people in their 20s and 30s of all backgrounds. We believe that taking a step back, connecting with others, having moments of mindfulness, and enjoying great meals on a Friday night is important.” Vogue says about OneTable and Shabbat “Shabbat is for everyone. It is an ancient antidote to our modern ailments.” This is part of what we do with our summer program, “Shabbat on the Road.”

It is an oneg Shabbat. A delight.

Last night we had a pretty full house for Teacher Appreciation Shabbat. There was much joy as we ate dinner, enjoyed our placemats lovingly created by the parents and students, sang songs, used our new CKI Student Siddur. But what happened at the Oneg Shabbat was magical. Despite tired parents (and their children), people stayed and stayed and stayed. One generation or three, talking to another, enjoying each other’s company (and a chocolate ice cream cake). Plans were shared for an Israel trip. Paper airplanes were sailing around the room. Kids were happy—and not so tired any more. It was an Oneg Shabbat, a delight.

Six stories. Two from the Talmud. Four from today. Three ages of people. May we all find a way to move from a sense of obligation in our observance to a sense of joy and delight.

Love your neighbor as yourself. Make time holy. My last Heschel quote ties it together: “The Jewish contribution to the idea of love is the conception of love of the Sabbath, the love of a day, of spirit in the form of time.”

Maybe next week, I’ll have pizza.

Today we have a double portion of Torah that we are about to read. It’s like the double portion of manna that fell on Friday—enough to feed us for Shabbat. It’s a gift. But sometimes it is hard to see the gift in the first part of the portion. We’d rather skip to dessert. But this morning we will not and we will deal with some uncomfortable truths.

The first part, Acharei Mot contains a list of sexual sins, or if you prefer sexual improprieties. Some people don’t like to talk about sins. This portion and, in fact, my sermon itself may be triggering for some. If that is the case, take care of yourself. Feel free to get up, walk around, visit the social hall, zone out. (If you are reading this, feel free to stop.)

The second part is called Kedoshim, the Holiness Code. It is exactly the mid part of the Torah and it is addressed to all the Israelites, all of us, not just the priests who are addressed in most of Leviticus.

My question, this morning, why the juxtaposition? Why put this long list of sexual sins right next to this recipe of how to achieve holiness?

(There were a couple of answers. One was that we should strive to be holy in our sexual relationships. The other was that this portion was read to keep the high priest awake the night before Yom Kippur so that he wouldn’t have a seminal emission and thus render himself unready to go into the holy of holies.)

Within Judaism, there is a debate. It’s Judaism, after all. There is always a debate. Traditionally, Jews have read this very explicit material on Yom Kippur afternoon.

Orthodox Judaism continues to read from the Torah what are commonly referred to as the arayot – the forbidden sexual relationships

Reform Judaism often bypasses this sexually explicit portion and gives us texts that highlight reconciliation, ethical behavior and social justice. For Yom Kippur it gives us the second portion—Kedoshim—telling us how to be holy.

Conservative Judaism and our own machzor, our High Holiday prayer book, gives us a choice, an alternative reading – our second portion today.

Being in the center, it is the core of Judaism. It includes the famous line, “Love your neighbor as yourself.”

We could spend a lifetime studying that verse. In fact, Hillel taught us that this was the whole of Judaism, the rest is commentary and we should go and study it.

But this preamble that we read this morning is challenging and important so we are going to read it and deal with it. Why was this the reading on the holy and reflective day of Yom Kippur in the first place? Why the debate of whether we should read it or skip it in the first place?

Is it possible that this very Torah portion, which so many rabbis and congregations have struggled with in recent years, demands a rereading in light of so many sexual abuses and allegations that have come to light this past year?

Is there a connection between Acharei Mot/Kedoshim and their pairing and the #MeToo movement?

Yes. And it is important.

Kedoshim, over and over again, exhorts us to the holy. Kadosh. What does kadosh mean? To be set apart. To be special. We know this word in lots of ways. We talk about Kiddush, the prayer over wine that separates the work week from Shabbat, making time holy. We talk about Kaddish, the prayer that separates parts of the service and sanctifies life. We talk about Kedusha, that makes us holy as we reach up on our toes trying to be like angels. And we talk about kiddushin, marriage, which is a relationship that is set apart, one for another and recognizes its inherent holiness.

Our recipe for holiness this morning includes having just weights and measures, a fairness in the courts, not withholding the wages of a laborer overnight, not putting a stumbling block before the blind or cursing the deaf, not standing by while our neighbor bleeds, treating the widow, the orphan and the stranger with care, leaving the corners of our field so that the hungry can find food.

And as I said, “Love your neighbor as yourself.”

It is about how we live in community. How we live in society. How we live in relationship. To our parents. To our neighbors. To the widow, the orphan and the stranger.

I believe that actually these two portions need to be read together. That we cannot be holy, set apart, special, unless we are holy in our sexual encounters.

When #MeToo first became a movement I was asked whether Weinstein was good for the Jews or bad for the Jews. We often have that lens and my answer, quickly on the fly that night, remains the same. Bad for women, bad for humanity and therefore bad for the Jews.

That night in an impromptu round table discussion, every single woman there had their own #MeToo story. Every. Single. One.

This week we saw the conviction of Bill Cosby. The man many called, “America’s Dad.” The man who gave us a wonderful midrash with his impeccable comedic timing about Noah. This has been a year where we have seen the uncovering of many “sins” in journalism, in entertainment, in business, in politics. And yes, in the religious world. In places where men have historically held the power.

This week I sat in a different synagogue, excited to hear one of my favorite authors. The people sitting in front of me were incredulous that there could be that much sexual harassment in the world. They didn’t know anyone who had experienced sexual abuse so how could it be true. In the moment I didn’t know what to say to them.

Let me be clear.

One in five women and one in 71 men will be raped at some point in their lives.

One in four girls and one in six boys will be sexually abused before they turn 18 years old.

https://www.nsvrc.org/sites/default/files/publications_nsvrc_factsheet_media-packet_statistics-about-sexual-violence_0.pdf

RAINN gives us the American statistics, 1 out of 6 women will experience a rape or attempted rape in their life time.

https://www.rainn.org/statistics/scope-problem

Others are now using the number 1 in 3 women. A third of all women. That includes women who are sexually harassed. A third of all women.

Statistics are hard to track. There is a range of behavior referred to. A cat call is not the same as humiliating jokes or being felt up or being raped. Yet we know that these kind of abuses happen in every socio-economic, educational, ethnic, religious group at the same rates. Yes that includes the Jewish community. Yes. I am one of the one in four.

That is the number I typically use and see most often.

Let me be clear. It is wrong. And all too common. And not the holy behavior that our double Torah portion calls for.

When I first arrived here I explained to the ritual committee that we would be reading the “alternative reading”, and that my sermon on that first Yom Kippur would explain why. I learned that my sermon made people uncomfortable. Maybe my sermon today makes you uncomfortable. The portion itself might.

Usually when congregations opt out of reading Acharei Mot they see it as challenging because the way we typically translate it, thank you King James, may not be accurate. It may appear to be condemning homosexuality. But what if that is not a correct translation? Rabbi David Greenstein, the former Rosh Yeshiva of the Academy for Jewish Religion, teaches, that actually it is a commandment for two men not to lie with a woman at the same time. He views it as a polemic against gang rape.

But even more important than his new, elegant, graceful grammatical argument is his understanding of holiness:

“How do we know whether we have been invited to enter the sphere of holiness or whether we are trespassing and defiling that sphere? Aharei Mot-Kedoshim is very much concerned with this problem. How does Aaron, or any subsequent High Priest, have the guts to enter the sacred sphere? The Torah answers, “B’zot yavo Aharon” /

“Aaron shall enter with this” (Leviticus 16:3). The text continues with a list of animals and sacrificial items. But our mystical tradition read the verse differently. “Zot” / “This”is a reference to the Shechinah, the Divine Presence. …Aaron can enter to meet the

Divine Presence because Aaron carries the Divine Presence with him already. Moreover, the word “zot” is considered an appropriate name for the Shechinah because it connotes indicative awareness. The Divine Presence dwells in our “this-ness” — in who we actually are. We are commanded to enter the sacred sphere when we can carry that conviction with us.

Subsequent tradition added more elements to this ceremony of Yom Kippur. The Mishnah tells us that the Priest would read from a Torah scroll to the people. He would read from this very portion, but he would conclude by saying: “There is more written here than what I have read to you” (Yoma 7:1). There is a double meaning here. One

point is that there is more to the Torah than any one portion or any one verse (or two). But another meaning is that there is more to the Torah than the text as written. How we choose to read a story or a verse makes all the difference in the world.”

He continues with his understanding of “troubling verse”:

Which brings me to Leviticus 18:22 and 20:13, the two verses which appear in this week’s portions and that have been read for millennia as the Torah’s condemnation of homosexuality. How should we read these verses as we enter the sacred sphere with “zot,” with our conviction that we carry the Divine Presence with us – straight or queer– as we are? I submit that we may read these verses in a new way, a way that removes them entirely from the topic of homosexuality. The verse in Leviticus (18:22) is comprised of three elements – persons (V’et Zachar), forbidden acts (lo tishkav mishkevei ishah), and a term of condemnation (to’evah hi). Let us examine each element in reverse order…

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 zachar.” 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 theword 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.” Now we may read the verse very differently:

v’et zachar And along with another male lo tishkav you shall not lie

mishkevei ishah in sexual intercourses with a woman to’evah hi it is an abomination.

There is no prohibition of homosexual acts of any kind. Rather, the Torah prohibits two males from joining together to force intercourse upon a woman. This is a to’evah because the introduction of the second man completely transforms the act from a potentially innocent act into a manipulation that degrades the act of intercourse and makes the woman subject to violence and objectification.”

http://www.on1foot.org/sites/default/files/Interpreting%20Leviticus%20-%203%20part%20lesson_0.pdf

When I first studied this with Rabbi Greenstein all I could say was WOW! Yasher koach to Rabbi Greenstein. I wonder how much pain and suffering of those in the LGBTQ community could have avoided if King James had better translators.

Some of our Biblical matriarchs had their own #MeToo moments. In those days, women were viewed as property. A bride was acquired. A husband had to provide. If a husband died than the woman had to marry his brother. We are studying the Book of Ruth which centers on what to do with three women who no longer have husbands to provide for them.

Abraham would have allowed Sarah to be called his sister instead of his wife, making her more attractive or accessible to the ruler of Egypt, not once but twice. Lot was willing to give up his daughters to the townsmen to save his (male) guests. Dinah was raped. Esther was found being ravaged by Haman. The Song of Songs tells us the watchmen that guard the city found her, hit her, bruised her and took away her veil. Boaz tells Ruth to glean in his field because he has told his men not to molest her.

The Talmud makes Jewish law very clear. Ahead of its day. Rape and sexual impropriety including within a marriage is wrong. It violates the holiness code. We could go into the Jewish law in depth but that is a subject for another day. https://www.myjewishlearning.com/the-torch/how-do-the-rabbis-in-the-talmud-address-rape/

The issue with most of these scenes is one of power and control. It still is.

The Jewish community takes these modern topics of the #MeToo movement very seriously. It has actually been a passion of mine for decades and I have written and spoken extensively on it. Two years ago I took a class through JTS’s continuing education for rabbis on Sexual Ethics for Rabbis. It should be required for all rabbis. This year, shortly after the #MeToo Movement began the Chicago Board of Rabbis and Jewish Children and Family Services sponsored a training session for rabbis which I attended. They are available to come here to facilitate a conversation. We already have policies and procedures in place here at CKI. The Community Crisis Center as part of a grant is hosting a series of conversations at Gail Borden Library on #MeToo. I am speaking on #MeToo and Spirituality later in May.

Telling these stories is important. It gives other women courage. They begin to realize that they are not alone.

Sometimes, however, telling those stories is tough. For some, there is still a sense of shame, a very powerful and destructive emotion. There is still a cost to telling the story. It can be emotional. It can be financial. I wrestled with how to do this very sermon. I found I could no longer be silent.

Sometimes hearing a particular song sung in a particular way can be hurtful. There has been a debate about whether to continue to sing some much beloved Jewish music of a known sexual predator. Sometimes the hurt can come from a poem or a reading or a time of the year. A color. An odor. A temperature. A sound.

At the beginning of this sermon I suggested that if you thought this might be triggering that you should be careful to take care of yourself. If you need resources to handle your own #MeToo moment, as the nation continues to wrestle with these topics, please reach out to me. There are many local resources available.

So here is where we are. We have entered a new world, with new mores that don’t always seem clear. A world where we are not afraid to confront uncomfortable truths. A world where we listen to each other stories with respect and love. A world where we fight for a time where no woman needs to fear her boss, her colleague, her husband. Where the kind of sexual harassment that has been uncovered will no longer be tolerated. By anyone. At anytime. In anyplace.

This week’s Torah portion forces us to confront these realities in ancient times and today. By bringing Acharei-Mot together with Kedoshim we begin to create a world where holiness exists, between one another, even in a #MeToo world. Especially in a #MeToo world.

Hope’ is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—

And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—

I’ve heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me.

Emily Dickinson

So what is hope? And why talk about it today?

Today we at a moment in between, between Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Memorial Day, and Yom Ha’Atzmaut, Israel Independence Day. So today, we must find hope. This is what Elie Wiesel said in an interview with Reform Judaism:

“We must ask ourselves the painful questions: ‘Have we survivors done our duty?’ ‘Has our warning been properly articulated?’ ‘Has our message been accurately communicated?’ ‘Have we acted as true witnesses?’ It is with fear and trembling that we often reach the conclusion: something went wrong with our testimony; it was not received. Otherwise, things would have been different…. Had anyone told us when we were liberated that we would be compelled in our lifetime to fight anti-Semitism once more… we would have had no strength to lift our eyes from the ruins. If only we could tell the tale, we thought, the world would change. Well, we have told the tale, and the world has remained the same….
And yet, we shall not give up, we shall not give in. It may be too late for the victims and even for the survivors – but not for our children, not for mankind. Yes, in an age tainted by violence, we must teach coming generations of the origins and consequences of violence. In a society of bigotry and indifference, we must tell our contemporaries that whatever the answer, it must grow out of human compassion and reflect man’s relentless quest for justice and memory.”

That’s forward thinking. That’s hope.

Elie Wiesel worked for a time where there would never be a holocaust again—to anyone, at anytime, any place. He, together with the US Holocaust Museum and American Jewish World Service was one of the leaders of the Save Darfur campaign and a massive rally in Washington DC, in 2006.

That’s forward thinking. That’s hope.

American Jewish World Service is at the vanguard of pushing for protections for the Rohinga. As one of their recent travel study tours participants, Carol Weitz “We, as Jews, have a sacred responsibility to the larger world and if we truly strive for a better world, then we cannot turn our backs on others who are denied their human rights.”

That’s forward thinking. That’s hope.

Judaism is a religion of hope. We sing—and we will sing HaTikvah, the hope, later this morning. We pray for a time when the world will be at peace—and yet for more than 2000 years the world has not been at peace. We continue to teach the vision of the prophets where the lion will lie down with the lamb, where everyone will sit under their vine and fig tree and none shall make them afraid.

It is forward thinking. It is hope.

Last night, at this liminal time, I told two stories. I told The Terrible Things, an allegory of the Holocaust, by Eve Bunting. In a forest setting, she retells the quote of Martin Niemoller. First they came for the Jews and I didn’t speak up. This week we learned that Americans don’t know about the Holocaust,

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/acts-of-faith/wp/2018/04/12/two-thirds-of-millennials-dont-know-what-auschwitz-is-according-to-study-of-fading-holocaust-knowledge/?utm_term=.dc77e027814e

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/04/12/us/holocaust-education.html

41% of Americans don’t know about Auschwitz. Two-thirds of millennials. Now I did surveying for a living before I was a rabbi, but these numbers were so compelling I felt I had to act. So I told the story and asked. And every single one of the kids who had come as part of their confirmation program at First Congregational Church knew the Niemoller quote. That provides me with hope.

Then I turned to Israel and I read most of the story, The Secret Grove, by Barbara Cohen. It tells the story of a 10 year old boy in Kfar Saba. His father lost an arm in the War of Independence but he is normal boy, going to school and playing soccer, hoping that he won’t be chosen last for the team. He is and he runs away with his ball, down a dirt road and runs into another boy…He’s scared but in a combination of Hebrew, English and little Arabic the two have a conversation. They become friends. They plant some orange seeds. The book doesn’t sugar coat it. At the end the boy, now a grown up, returns to the dirt road and the tree that grew from the seeds. He has now fought Arabs in three wars. He wonders what the boy has done.

Somehow this book gives me hope.

The Hope, HaTikvah is the name of the Israeli National Anthem. What do we know about it?
It was originally written in 1878 by Naphtali Herz Imber from Zolochiv, a city that was nicknamed “The City of Poets. When he immigrated to Palestine in 1882 he read his nine stanza poem to some of the early pioneers. It originally expressed his pride following the establishment of Pitah Tikvah and published in Barkai. It then became the anthem of first Hovevei Zion and then the Zionist movement at the First Zionist Congress in 1897. It wasn’t without controversy. The British Mandate government banned it briefly in 1919 due to Arab anti-zionist protest. And some Orthodox rabbis protested its selection as Israel’s national anthem because it doesn’t mention G-d. Instead, Rav Kook penned a different set of lyrics, Ha-Emunah, the Faith.

Both are forward thinking. They give me hope.

Jews, despite all the odds, have always found a way to hope. In exile. Words like, “If I forget, thee, O Jerusalem.” And “By the waters of Babylon,” gave our people hope. Proclaiming every year, “Next year in Jerusalem,” at the Passover seder, gave our people hope. Welcoming Elijah, the herald of the Messianic era to a seder, Havdalah the birth of a child, gives us hope. Working for Tikkun Olam, the repair of the world, bringing the shards of our world’s brokenness back together, is forward thinking and gives us hope.

In 1925 Edmund Flegg, a French Jew penned an article that appears in our prayerbook.

I am a Jew because the faith of Israel demands no
abdication of my mind.

I am a Jew because the faith of Israel asks every
possible sacrifice of my soul.

I am a Jew because in all places where there are tears
and suffering the Jew weeps.

I am a Jew because in every age when the cry of despair
is heard the Jew hopes.

I am a Jew because the message of Israel is the most
ancient and the most modern.

I am a Jew because Israel’s promise is a universal
promise.

I am a Jew because for Israel the world is not finished;
men will complete it.

I am a Jew because for Israel man is not yet fully
created; men are creating him.

I am a Jew because Israel places man and his unity
above nations and above Israel itself.

I am a Jew because above man, image of the divine
unity, Israel places the unity which is divine.

— Edmond Flegg, “Why I Am a Jew”

It is a reading with forward thinking. It fills me with hope.

Even during the Holocaust, Jews found a way to hope. Even at the gates of Auschwitz, they would sing.

Ani Maamin, ani maamin, ani maamin.
Beviat hamashiach, ani manamin.

I believe with complete faith
In the coming of the Messiah. I believe.

And even though he may tarry, I will wait for him.

While based on Rambam’s 13 Articles of Faith, I am not sure I could have sung that standing there.

Perhaps, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, Chief Rabbi Emeritus of Great Britain says it best.

“Judaism is a religion of details, but we miss the point if we do not sometimes step back and see the larger picture. To be a Jew is to be an agent of hope in a world serially threatened by despair. Every ritual, every mitzvah, every syllable of the Jewish story, every element of Jewish law, is a protest against escapism, resignation or the blind acceptance of fate. Judaism is a sustained struggle, the greatest ever known, against the world that is, in the name of the world that could be, should be, but is not yet. There is no more challenging vocation. Throughout history, when human beings have sought hope they have found it in the Jewish story. Judaism is the religion, and Israel the home, of hope.”

Jonathan Sacks http://rabbisacks.org/future-tense-how-the-jews-invented-hope-published-in-the-jewish-chronicle/

To underscore what Sacks himself has said, “Judaism is humanity’s faith in the future tense; the Jewish voice is the voice of an inextinguishable hope.”

It is a powerful statement. It also carries with it great responsibility. Hope is not the same as optimism, which is “passive and accepting.” Hope requires us to work together to make things better.”

https://www.jweekly.com/2012/12/07/the-column-judaisms-message-of-radical-hope/

Elie Wiesel ended his interview with the magazine with these words:

So despite your disappointment and bouts of pessimism, you remain hopeful.

Yes. One must wager on the future. I believe it is possible, in spite of everything, to believe in friendship in a world without friendship, and even to believe in God in a world where there has been an eclipse of God’s face. Above all, we must not give in to cynicism. To save the life of a single child, no effort is too much. To make a tired old man smile is to perform an essential task. To defeat injustice and misfortune, if only for one instant, for a single victim, is to invent a new reason to hope.

Just as despair can be given to me only by another human being, hope too can be given to me only by another human being. Mankind must remember too that, like hope, peace is not God’s gift to his creatures. Peace is a very special gift–it is our gift to each other. For the sake of our children and theirs, I pray that we are worthy of that hope, of that redemption, and some measure of peace.

https://reformjudaism.org/jewish-life/arts-culture/literature/god-indifference-and-hope-conversation-elie-wiesel

Come work with me for a better world, a vision of what the world can be. Come find hope.

“Do you love me?
Do I love you. With our daughters getting married and there’s trouble in the town, your upset, your worn out, go inside, go lie down.
Maybe it’s indigestion.
Goldie…I’m asking you a question. Do you love me?
You’re a fool.
I know.
For 25 years I’ve washed your clothes, cooked your meals, cleaned your house, given you children, milked the cows, after twenty five years why talk about love right now.”

Milked the cows is where I drew the line. You know, he had a dairy farm in the UP.
But…love…we don’t talk about it enough. We assume, like Goldie, it’s there. That it will always be there. That’s a mistake.

Love needs to be nurtured. Love comes in different forms. There is the old love, like Tevye and Goldie. Like Isaac and Rebecca which is the first mention of love, ahava in the Bible. It’s comforting. It is comfortable. But maybe it is just too easy to take for granted.

Then there is the love between G-d and the people of Israel. Between G-d and each of us individually. We know G-d loves us because it says so in the second blessing of our service. G-d show love, like a loving parent, by giving us Torah, a set of rules that provides structure and boundaries.

On Shabbat Pesach, if it were an intermediate day and not the last day like today, then we would have read about G-d hiding Moses in the cleft of the rock and all of G-d’s goodness passing before Moses. Moses, hidden, would have heard that essential truth—Adonai, Adonai, el rachum v’chanun, erech apayim, v’rav chesed v’emet. Noseh chesed v’alaphim, noseh avon, v’pesha, v’chatata v’nakeh. The Lord, The Lord G-d is merciful and gracious, patient, and full of lovingkindness and truth. Extending lovingkindness to the thousandth generation…forgiving iniquity, transgression and sin.

That is an Eternal truth. An Eternal love.

But today we talk about another kind of love. Today we read –and hopefully sing—the text the Song of Songs. It’s a pretty racy text. And it was my Bat Mitzvah haftarah. I told my rabbi then, that I wasn’t going to read it in English—as was the custom there—I would read it in Hebrew. Not going to read that text in front of my 13 year old classmates. Especially not those boys. Yuck!

The rabbis included it in the cannon even though it is one of two books in the Bible that never mention G-d. The other book is Esther, where G-d is hidden. (Esther is a word that means hidden as well.)

They saw the text as an allegory of the love of G-d for G-d’s people Israel

That’s nice. And thank G-d Rabbi Akiva felt that way and became the champion for its inclusion. “while all of the sacred writings are holy, the Song of Songs is the holy of holies!” (Mishnah, Yadayim 3:5).

The allegorical nature went on to fuel later commentaries, like the Zohar, the Jewish mystical text and Maimonides who said:

“What is the proper form of the love of God? It is that he should love Adonai with a great, overpowering, fierce love as if he were love-sick for a woman and dwells on this constantly… And it is to this that Solomon refers allegorically when he says: ‘For I am love-sick’ (Song of Songs 2:5) for the whole of Song is a parable on this theme.” (Hilchot Teshuvah, 10:3) “

OK, still nice. But not enough.

Rabbi Emil G. Hirsch, the first rabbi of this congregation, and Simon’s father’s rabbi at Congregation Sinai,

Wrote the original Jewish Encyclopedia article on the Song of Songs. Where he explores the Mishnah and Rambam and points out that the allegorical interpretation passed over to the Christian Church as well. Which is the way it has been until almost the last 100 years.

He also looked at the dating of the text. Was it really Solomon who wrote it? That’s nice but probably not true. Was it later? Probably. We’re Jews after all, so we debate everything, even in scholarly circles. So date estimates range from the 10^th century BCE to the 2^nd century BCE. A careful look at language and syntax as well as surrounding literature puts it most likely at 3^rd century

Again that’s nice. Does that really add anything to our understanding?

Was it a metaphor of a rustic wedding? A week-long festivity celebrating the bride and groom with a complicated, carefully orchestrated sword dance? Or a love poem between Tammuz and Ishtar? Hirsch thinks maybe.

http://www.jewishencyclopedia.com/articles/13916-song-of-songs-the

What if we read it as a dialogue—between young lovers. Then how does it read?

When I first read this in Rabbi Arthur Waskow’s book, Godwrestling, I was blown away. But it works. Many of us recited these words as part of our weddings. It hangs in my bedroom and it encircles my wrist.

Let’s try it. Women you read the first line and then men you read the response.

Remember —don’t stir up love until it please.

In a more modern piece, Waskow asks an unasked, fifth question of Passover…”Why is there charoset on the seder plate? No haggadah actually gives us this answer. We pass it down from generation to generation by word of mouth. You know the story. The charoset is supposed to represent the mortar that the Israelite slaves used to build the pyramids.

But Rabbi Waskow argues that it makes no sense. It is sweet. “If it mimics the mortar of slavery, it must also remind us that slavery may taste sweet, and this is itself a deeper kind of slavery.”

I had to think about that for a while. How can slavery be sweet? But remember how the Israelites kvetched in the desert? They wanted to go back to Egypt—for the cucumbers and the onions as the text will tell us—but really for the certitude. They knew what to expect.

Sometimes, we have a similar issue in this country with prisioners who do their time, get released and then commit a new crime because somehow being in jail is easier. Safer. They want to go back. Three square meals a day, heat, a roof over their heads. Predictability. Safety. Security.

The night before Passover began I attended an important program at Gail Borden Library sponsored by Gail Borden and the Elgin Police Department. Called the If Project, the founder, a tough cop from Seattle, Kim Bogucki, asks the question—maybe this is the real Fifth Question of Passover,

“If there was something someone could have said or done that would have changed the path that led you here, what would it have been?”

As their website states: “We are a collaboration of law enforcement, currently and previously incarcerated adults and community partners focused on intervention, prevention and reduction in incarceration and recidivism. Our work is built upon–and inspired by–people sharing their personal experiences surrounding the issues of incarceration.”

Watching this documentary and learning from this cop, representing the clergy of Elgin was important. It was a perfect way to spend the night before Passover, thinking about incarceration and freedom.

If there was something or someone that could have said or done something that changed the path that led you here, what would it have been?

After lots of mentoring and classes and writing, it almost always comes down to feeling loved. For me, this was a really important, significant, powerful program. http://www.theifproject.com/

If each of us is to see ourselves as having been led out of Egypt, freed from the narrow spaces of Mitzrayim with a strong arm and an outstretched arm, with discipline and love, each of us needs to confront the If Project’s question.

But back to the Song of Songs. Back to the charoset:

Waskow explains that there is a deeper truth to the charoset, transmitted not by word of mouth by taste of mouth, kisses of the mouth, the very text we read this morning, Song of Songs and he contends that the recipe is in the Song itself. The first time I read this, years ago, it was mind-blowing.

So charoset is not the mortar. It is the sweet taste of G-d’s love for each of us. It is the sweet taste of freedom. It is the sweet taste shared between lovers.

It is the hidden recipe for love. Enjoy! Happy Passover.

Rabbi Arthur Waskow’s Charoset Recipe, based on the Song of Songs:

“Verses from the Song:

• “Feed me with apples and with raisin-cakes;
• “Your kisses are sweeter than wine;
• “The scent of your breath is like apricots;
• “Your cheeks are a bed of spices;
• “The fig tree has ripened;
• “Then I went down to the walnut grove.”

So the “recipe” points us toward apples, quinces, raisins, apricots, figs, nuts, wine. Within the framework of the free fruitfulness of the earth, the “recipe” is free-form: no measures, no teaspoons, no amounts. Not even a requirement for apples rather than apricots, cinnamon rather than cloves, figs rather than dates. So there is an enormous breadth for the tastes that appeal to Jews from Spain, Poland, Iraq, India, America.
Nevertheless, I will offer a recipe.

Take a pound of raw shelled almonds, two pounds of organic raisins, and a bottle of red wine. On the side have organic apricots, chopped apples, figs, and dates (no pits), and small bottles of powdered cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves.

Assemble either an electric blender, or your great-grandmom’s cast-iron hand-wound gefulte-fish chopper brought from the Old Country. If it’s the blender, put it on “chop” rather than “paste” frequency.

Start feeding the almonds and raisins into the blender or mixer, in judicious mixture. (How do you know “judicious”? Whatever doesn’t get the whole thing stuck so it won’t keep grinding.) Whenever you feel like it, pour in some wine to lubricate the action. Stop the action every once in a while to poke around and stir up the ingredients.

Freely choose when to add apricots, apples, figs, and/or dates. Taste every ten minutes or so. If you start feeling giddy, good! — that’s the wine.

Add in the spices. Clove is powerful, sweet and subtly sharp at the same time; a lot will get you just on the edge of dope.

Keep stirring, keep chopping, keep dribbling wine — not till the charoset turns to paste but till there are still nubs of nuts, grains of raisin, suddenly a dollop of apricot spurting on your tongue.

You say this doesn’t seem like a recipe, too free? Ahh — as the Song itself says again and again, “Do not stir up love until it pleases. Do not rouse the lovers till they’re willing.”

Serve at the Pesach Seder, and also in secret on your wedding night. And on every wedding anniversary. And every once in a while, but not too often, on a night when you want to celebrate and embody your love.” https://theshalomcenter.org/node/1265

A seder is a journey. Step by step by step. Told in the Hagaddah, it has morphed through the centuries and resonates even today.

Today’s Torah portion from the Book of Exodus tells us that our children should ask why we are celebrating Passover. The text answers its own question,

This is the origin of the Passover seder. You should tell your children on that day. What the Lord did for you when you went forth from Egypt.

It is about memory. Remembering we were slaves. Remembering that moment we became free. Each of us. Each and every one of us. The whole mixed multitude that went with us. Still later in the chapter, with one law for citizens and one for the resident aliens, the stranger amongst us, because again, we remember what it was like to be a stranger.

And we learn that our children are supposed to ask questions. “What is this?” Today we have Four Questions that our students dutifully learn, “Why is this night different from all other nights.” Everything we do at the seder is different from a regular dinner. It is designed to get our children to ask “Why.”

But the seder and the hagaddah are not carved in stone. In the Cairo Geniza, according to the book, Sacred Trash, there were hagaddot found that had two questions or three. There was one with five questions. So my question today, is what other questions would you ask?

I might ask, why did G-d have to harden Pharaoh’s heart. Wasn’t there another way? I might ask how the Sea of Reeds parted. I might ask where is the rest of Miriam’s song. I might ask when will Elijah come.

Each of us is to see ourselves as though we went forth from Egypt, out of the narrow spaces. How are each of us reborn? What narrow space are you escaping?

As part of Judaism Rocks, our interactive family program, we asked our children what other symbols today would they put on the seder plate. The answers may surprise us. One wanted to put a dog collar on for dogs that don’t have homes. Still another wanted a lego piece for children who don’t have parents. Still another wanted bitter kale for remembering those we have lost.

The single recurring theme this year, was adding a strawberry. Why a strawberry you might ask. Because they bleed. To remind us of gun violence, a modern plague. Six families added something to the seder plate about gun violence. It is what our children are thinking about. They want to be free from the terror of gun violence and school lock down drills. That is powerful stuff. As I have said before, quoting the Talmud, much I have learned from my teachers, even more from my colleagues and the most from my students.

Other things have been added to the seder plate. We have many additions on ours at home. An orange for inclusivity (there are two stories of the orange!). Olives for peace. Coffee beans and tomatoes for fair wages. This year we added strawberries for gun violence and white coconut to continue the conversation about racism.

In our service in which our service is more of a discussion, one congregant argued that by adding to the seder we dilute the story of the Exodus. His own granddaughter argued with him that she is afraid of gun violence in her public school and so it makes sense to her.

I would prefer to see it as enriching the seder, rather than diluting it.

But back to our hagaddah. One of the more energizing portions of the Maggid, the story is the story of the Four Sons (I would prefer the Four Children!). The earliest mention is in Mechilta, an early midrash on Exodus. It is also in the Talmud Yerushalmi. http://learn.conservativeyeshiva.org/introduction-to-rabbinic-midrash-10-lesson-10-the-four-sons-of-the-haggadah/

As a child I would always angle to be the Wise Child. Even then I railed against the Wicked Child, how dare we cast him out! How dare we assume he or she might not want to come back in? Or that a person couldn’t change?

As an adult I appreciate the midrash that each of the children is a part of us at different times in our lives. That helps. Some. I love the Family Participation Hagaddah: A Different Night, for collecting art work of the Four Children all in one place. And I enjoy the song set to the tune of Clementine (which I made everyone sing).

The Four Sons are based on the idea that four times in Torah we are told to tell our children.

• The Wise Child comes from Deuteronomy 6:20-23. “What are the testimonies, the statures and the ordinances which the Lord our G-d has commanded you?”
• The wicked child is found in Exodus 12:26-27, today’s portion: “What is this service to you?” To you and not to him or her. We’ll come back to that in a minute.
• The simple child in Exodus 13:14 says simply, “What is this?” You shall say to him, “With a mighty hand did the L-rd take us out of Egypt, out of the house of bondage.
• And the one who doesn’t know how to ask, you must take the first step according to Exodus, saying, “And you shall tell your child on that day, saying, “Because of this, the L-rd did [this] for me when I went out of Egypt.”

Chabad does a good job explaining it here:

https://www.chabad.org/holidays/passover/pesach_cdo/aid/490677/jewish/What-Is-the-Biblical-Source-for-the-Four-Sons.htm

And here: https://www.chabad.org/holidays/passover/pesach_cdo/aid/1486118/jewish/The-Four-Children-Explained.htm

The Chabad Rebbe Menachem Schneerson actually taught that there was a Fifth Child, the one not even present at the seder, who maybe completely unaware of his or her Jewish heritage. We then have an obligation so seek those out. It is part of why there are always guests at our seder table.

So Chabad adds to the seder!

Another explanation can be found here: http://www.tanach.org/special/4sons.htm comparing the midrash, the hagaddah and the Torah.

For modern Israeli poetry, art and song about the Four Children, try this: https://www.theicenter.org/resource/four-sons-haggadah

But none of those explanations answer my puzzle. Why is the answer the same for the Wicked Child and the One Who Doesn’t Know How to Ask? “This is what the Lord did for me…” So how are these different?

I studied this very text with one of my colleagues in New Jersey this week and decided that really it was a question of tone. The Wicked Child emphasizes, almost sneers or mocks his question. So the tone for the Wicked Child emphasizes what G-d would do for me when I left Egypt. For me and not for him or her. Had he or she been there they would not have been redeemed.

Someone in the congregation argued persuasively that it is because there is only one story of the Exodus. It was a good argument. But then I am left with the issue of the Avot prayer. In explaining the repetition of the G-d of Abraham and the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob (and let’s not forget the matriarchs!), since there are no extra words, it is because each had a different experience of the Divine. So each person experiencing the Exodus would have had a different experience.

I have a collection of Hagaddot. Some I bought for the beautiful artwork. Some I bought for the language. Every year I buy a new one. Last year it was Harry Potter. The year before it was one about baseball. This year it was Rabbi Kerry Olitzky’s called the Welcome Seder. There are those about Israel and those about the Holocaust. There are ones aimed for young children and others for women. Rabbi Arthur Waskow compiled the Freedom Seder the year after Martin Luther King was assassinated. We experienced some of that last year in the Black-Jewish seder we hosted here. Tonight, in Israel there will be another Freedom Seder to highlight the plight of asylum seekers facing deportation by the Israeli government. Almost every Jewish organization I know publishes a seder supplement. HIAS about refugees, T’ruah about a women’s place to stand up. The Religious Action Center about gun violence. Bend the Arc about poverty. Mazon about hunger. These enrich our seders.

Each of us, going forth from Egypt, from the narrow spaces, has a different experience. That is what keeps the Hagaddah fresh and new and important from generation to generation. That is why we sing, “B’chol dor vador…in every generation.” That is why Passover is the most celebrated of all the Jewish holidays in America, because it is still very relevant to us today. May your seders sparkle with questions and answers, joyous song, children of all types. And Freedom.

LORD PREPARE ME TO BE YOUR SANCTUARY
PURE AND HOLY TRIED AND TRUE
IN THANKSGIVING
I’LL BE YOUR LIVING
SANCTUARY FOR YOU
(Exodus 25:8)

V’ah-su lee mik-dash v’sha-chantee b’to-ham…
Va-anakhnu n’varaykh Yah may-atah v’ahd olam.
(Psalm 115:18)
Build Me a Sanctuary that I might dwell among them.
And we will bless G-d from now until forever.

What are we preparing ourselves for? What does it mean to be a sanctuary? This is Shabbat Hagadol…the BIG Shabbat, the Great Shabbat and in the old days the rabbi would only give a sermon twice a year. Today, to teach you how to prepare for Passover and Shabbat Shuvah between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur to teach you how to do teshuvah, repentance, so that you were prepared for Yom Kippur.

The special haftarah from Malachi this morning talks about what will happen if we are prepared.

“But for you that fear My name the sun of righteousness shall arise with healing in its wings; and you shall go forth, and stamp your feet and march.

So being angry and stamping your feet and marching seems to be appropriate for this day of preparation.

Remember, you, the law of Moses, My servant, which I commanded him in Horeb for all Israel, even statutes and ordinances.

Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and terrible day of the LORD.

And he shall turn the heart of the parents to the children, and the heart of the children to their parents; lest I come and smite the land with utter destruction.

That’s what we are preparing for. The GREAT day. Elijah the prophet is coming…just like Elijah the prophet will be there at each of our Passover seders, just like Elijah the prophet is present at every brit milah, ritual circumcision.

How do we know when Elijah comes? When the hearts of the children and parents are turned to one another.

There are lots of stories about Elijah. One of my favorites:

“Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi met Elijah while the prophet was standing at the entrance to the cave of Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai. Rabbi Yehoshua asked him, “Do I have a place in the world to come?” Elijah replied, “If the master desires it.”

As Elijah spoke, Rabbi Yehoshua looked about in wonderment. Perhaps it was only the echo from the cave before which he stood, but later on when he would speak of this meeting with Elijah, he would say, “I saw two of us but I heard the voice of a third.”

Rabbi Yehoshua asked Elijah another question about the future time: “When will the Messiah come? Elijah answered, “Go and ask him, himself.” Rabbi Yehoshua was amazed: “You mean I could find him, talk to him—now? Where is he?” Elijah said, “You can find him at the gates of Rome.” “How will I recognize him at the gates of Rome?” asked Rabbi Yehoshua. Elijah told him, “There he sits among the lepers whom you will find unwinding all of their bandages at the same time and then covering their sores with clean bandages. The Messiah is the only one who unwinds and rewinds his bandages one at a time, thinking, ‘I want to be ready at a moment’s notice if I am called’.”

Rabbi Yehoshua traveled from the cave of Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai all the way to Rome—a journey that seemed to take him only a few steps. He was not frightened by the strong gates of the enemy nor the pitiful condition of the lepers. Keeping in mind Elijah’s advice of how to identify the Messiah in the most unlikely of places among the most wretched of people, he quickly spotted the one poor sufferer who was unwrapping and rewrapping only one sore at a time.

Rabbi Yehoshua approached him and said, “Peace be upon you, my master and teacher.” The leper looked knowingly at him and replied, “Peace be upon you, son of Levi.” Rabbi Yehoshua asked him, “When will the master come?” “Today,” said the leper.

Rabbi Yehoshua returned to Elijah in the blink of an eye. Elijah said to him, “What did the Messiah say to you?” Rabbi Yehoshua replied, “He said, ‘Peace be upon you, son of Levi’.” Elijah said, “Ah! As to your first question of me, he assured you that both you and your father have a place in the world to come.” Rabbi Yehoshua said, “But he lied to me, saying, ‘Today I will come.’ But he has not come.” Elijah said, “No, he did not say that he would come ‘today’. Rather, he was quoting a Psalm verse to you: Today—if only you will listen to His voice (Psalm 95:7). (from the Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 98a)”

When will Elijah come? Today, if we listen to his voice.

And we know that Elijah taught that the voice of G-d will not be the thundering voice but that of the still, small voice.

How do we let Elijah in?

Another favorite Elijah story is in the children’s book, Just Enough is Plenty, where a peddler or a beggar arrives at a home for Chanukah. Despite their own poverty this year, the family warmly invites him in, saying that they have enough but not too much. They have just enough and it’s plenty. They enjoy latkes together. The guest delights the children by giving them coins to play dreidl and then sits on the floor to play. They all go to bed for the night. In the morning he has gone, leaving his peddler’s sack—filled with beautiful cloth for the father, a tailor and a book of Elijah’s Stories for the children right on top.

How do we let Elijah in here? When we open our doors to the hungry. When we invite everyone to our Passover seder. When we listen to the voices of our children.

This all seems appropriate as later today I will be at the Elgin Township Hall with other members of the clergy, elected officials and our own Peg reading names killed by gun violence. I am standing with the children, who are leading us. Children should not be afraid to go to school, to the mall, to the movies.

A few years ago I attended a Chicago Board of Rabbis meeting where Rabbi Joel Mosbacher was speaking. Just six months after he was ordained, his father, Lester, was murdered as he opened his check-cashing business on the South Side of Chicago. He wrestled with his grief for several years and eventually founded an organization, Don’t Stand Idly By. http://donotstandidlyby.org/ He explained his brother had a different response. He went out and bought a gun. What was most striking, shocking about the meeting was almost every rabbi in the room had a personal story to share about gun violence in their own lives.

About two years ago, without knowing that I know Rabbi Mosbacher, I was asked by a local group to approach our mayor and our police chief to sign on to the principles which includes a commitment to smart gun technology of Don’t Stand Idly By. We did so and both the mayor and the police chief signed on.

In today’s Torah portion we read about the wellbeing offering, the Zevach shlomim. The translation, well being doesn’t quite capture the Hebrew. Shlomim carries with it the sense of shalom, peace, wholeness and maybe that is what well being is, a sense of wholeness.

The world is not whole—any check of any news media would tell us that. It wasn’t whole when Rabbi Yehoshua spoke to Elijah. It is our obligation to work for justice. It is our obligation to not stand idly by while our neighbor bleeds as we will read shortly in Leviticus. It is our obligation to work for a time when we can each hear Elijah’s voice.

Sung:
For our teachers and their students and the students of the students
We ask for peace and loving kindness here and everywhere.
May they be blessed with all they need.
And let us say Amen… (Debbie Friedman, z”l)

I woke up Friday morning silently crying and singing that song. It is part of the Teacher’s Kaddish, a prayer that Jews recite when mourning. And today I am very, very sad. I am sad for our students who go to school in fear. I am sad for our African American neighbors who fear a routine traffic stop.

And I am angry. Very, very angry. Because I don’t believe this needs to keep happening. After losing Yuval I have worked on these issues. In 2000 we attended a send-off rally on Westford Common for the Million Mom March. In 2003 a neighbor in 5^th grade brought his family’s gun to school. The girls in my Girl Scout troop talked about where they would hide. Under the stage in the cafeteria if the locks didn’t stick. The school didn’t think there were any problems and did not do lock-down drills.

So today I am so very, very proud of our students. The rabbis of the Talmud teach, much have I learned from my teachers, even more from my colleagues and the most from my students. Today we learn from our kids—thank G-d.

I pause to I offer this Kaddish…a painful Kaddish for the people I know that were impacted directly by violence. Enough is Enough. The time is now to answer the question, “How many deaths will it take till they know that too many people have died.” Too many. Too many.

• For Yuval Berger, my first love, killed in the line of duty in Israel.
• For an unnamed Jewish woman in Grand Rapids, MI who was shot to death in her store just before my parents’ bookstore opened on the same block
• For Lester Moshbacher, Rabbi Joel Moshbachers’ father
• For all those killed in violence in Chicago including Paul ONeal.
• For Olivia Marchand, killed by her own father as she stepped between her mother and her father arguing over college tuition, the day I presented my thesis on domestic violence
• For Columbine, where a friend of mine was awaiting back surgery in which the hospital that the victims arrived. Soon afterwards they moved to Israel to be safer
• For Aurora, CO where they moved back, again to be safer, and their daughter was in the next movie theater.
• And for Aurora, IL that experienced their own terror of guns just this week.
• For Tucson, where Simon’s family shopped at that grocery store every day and knew many of those killed and wounded when Representative Gabby Giffords was shot at a Congressman on Your Corner event.
• For Sandy Hook, where my college roommates’ son was 6 that fateful day. He was in the other elementary school but he lost friends that day.
• For all those in Parkland—especially Ben Wikander the grandson of former congregants of mine at Congregation Shalom and for my friend Susan, who is a retired guidance counselor there and the daughter of a New York City police officer.
• For DeCynthia Clements

For our teachers and their students and the students of the students
We ask for peace and loving kindness here and everywhere.
May they be blessed with all they need.
And let us say Amen…

Our feet are praying. Our thoughts and prayers are not enough.

LORD PREPARE ME TO BE YOUR SANCTUARY
PURE AND HOLY TRIED AND TRUE
IN THANKSGIVING
I’LL BE YOUR LIVING
SANCTUARY FOR YOU

(Exodus 25:8)
V’ah-su lee mik-dash v’sha-chantee b’to-ham…
Va-anakhnu n’varaykh Yah may-atah v’ahd olam.
(Psalm 115:18)
Build Me a Sanctuary that I might dwell among them.
And we will bless G-d from now until forever.

A sanctuary is a place where G-d’s presence dwells. A sanctuary is a safe place, a place where there is no fear. Where brothers and sisters can dwell together in unity. Where G-d can dwell among us. That is what we are building. That is what we are preparing. That is the vision of Malachi. The shopping and cooking and cleaning can wait. This is real. This is now.