The challenge for any rabbi, any teacher really, is take old stories, and find something new to teach. When you find that moment of insight, of clarity, it is wonderful. It is that aha moment. That light bulb. This portion is one of those portions. There is so much in it and we know the stories so well. But we read them every year to plumb their depths. To go deeper. To have that aha moment.

Abraham is sitting at the opening of his tent at the heat of the day. Not like today which began with snow here in Elgin. He is recovering. He is hurting. This is right after his circumcision.

From this we learn that even G-d, in the guise of a messenger, an angel comes to visit Abraham when he is sick, recovering from his circumcision. We therefore, in striving to be like G-d, have an obligation to visit the sick.

He looks up and he sees three men approaching. He warmly welcomes them. And races to serve them together with his wife Sarah.

From this we learn the importance of audacious hospitality. Serve everyone. Because some of your guests may be angels, messengers.

From this we learn that each messenger only has one job to do. A discreet task. Do one job and do it well. One came to visit the sick—Abraham after the circumcision. One came to announce the conception and birth of Isaac and one is sent to warn Sodom and Gemorah.

From this we learn, we too should find one thing to do and do it well. Find one thing you are concerned about and concentrate on that. Focus. Gather your energy. Work on it passionately. Frederick Buechner says that the place that G-d calls us “is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” Find that place.

From this portion we learn that G-d shades the truth in order to be kind. Sarah laughs when she find out she will have a child. “Really,” she asks, when I and my husband are so old?” When G-d repeats this story to Abraham, G-d omits the part about Abraham being too old. We learn that anything is possible with G-d. We also learn a way of communicating. Is it necessary? Is it truthful? Is it kind? If it is not all three we don’t have to say it. In fact, using G-d as our model, we shouldn’t say it.

And all of this is just in the first chapter of our portion this morning.

What I really want to teach is about Abraham arguing with G-d. How many of you have ever been angry, really, really angry with G-d? It is OK. We learn this from Abraham. What we also need to learn is how to channel that anger and use it constructively.

We know that Noah was a righteous man in his generation but that Abraham was a righteous man for all the generations. He wasn’t perfect and that shows up later in our story. But right here, right now, he has the audacity to argue with G-d.

My father’s definition of a Jew is something who questions, thinks and argues. That starts right here. Abraham is passionate about arguing for the safety of Sodom and Gemorah. He negotiates with G-d. If there are 50 righteous people, will you destroy the cities? What about 40? Twenty? What about 10? If there are 10 righteous people will You still destroy the city?

Abraham is not the only person who argues with G-d.

Moses argued with G-d after the sin of the Golden Calf. He had the audacity to challenge G-d and remind G-d that these were G-d’s people, and if G-d destroyed them, what would the Egyptians think. Yep, the old “what will the neighbors say” argument. And it worked.

Like Abraham, Moses was a righteous person.

Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev did. He challenged G-d to a law suit one Rosh Hashanah, to an actual beit din, court of Jewish law, where he put G-d on trial. He argued that G-d had no right to prolong the Jewish people’s exile from the land of Israel when other more sinful nations lived in peace:

“I do not know how to ask You, Lord of the world, and even if I did know, I could not bear to do it. How could I venture to ask You why everything happens as it does, why we are driven from one exile into another, why our foes are allowed to torment us so. But in the Hagadah, the parent of the “one who does not yet know how to ask” is told “it is incumbent upon You to disclose it to the child.” And Lord of the world, am I not Your child? I do not ask You to reveal to me the secret of Your ways—I could not stand it! But show me one thing, show me what this very moment means to me, what it demands of me, what You G-d are telling me through my life at this moment. I do not ask You to tell me why I suffer, but only whether I suffer for your sake.”

Like Abraham, Levi Yitzchak was a righteous person.

Eli Wiesel uses this for his basis of “The Trial of G-d” in which he describes a scene he witnessed as a teenager in the concentration camps. Three sages put G-d on trial for the Holocaust and found G-d guilty. After announcing their guilty verdict, they announced that it was time for mincha, the afternoon prayers.

Like Abraham, Eli Wiesel was a righteous person.

From this, we have learned that my father was right. It is OK for Jews to argue. Even to argue with G-d.

But we learn more.

From this we learn that we need 10 adult Jews to make a minyan, for a community. This summer when we drove through Nebraska, we drove through a town with 14 residents. I don’t think I could live there. Too small. Way too small. I’m not sure what that magic number is, but 14 is too small.

Based on this very portion, in traditional Jewish law a minyan, a community, is a minimum of 10 adult Jewish men. Over the age of 13. You need 10 for a full service, To say Barchu, To chant the Amidah outloud. To recite Kaddish. To read Torah.

Today, and for decades, this congregation has counted women as full members of the kahal, of the congregation. If we have 10 Jews present at a service, male or female, we do all the parts. Yet at least once a year a visitor will ask if we are counting women. I have developed a stock answer, which is that we do count women and not just because I am a rabbi who happens to be a woman, but if you only count men I am sure there will be enough. Occasionally, since we embrace diversity, we will have a member who only is comfortable counting men for a shiva minyan or something and again we make sure that happens.

But what if the number is not 10? I am not talking about the tradition of counting the Torah as the 10^th a younger child holding a chumash. What if we look at this teaching from Pirke Avot,

“Rabbi Chalafta the son of Dosa of the village of Chanania would say: Ten who sit together and occupy themselves with Torah, the Divine Presence rests amongst them, as is stated: “The Almighty stands in the congregation of G‑d” (Psalms 82:1). And from where do we know that such is also the case with five? From the verse, “He established His band on earth” (Amos 9:6). And three? From the verse, “He renders judgment in the midst of the tribunal” (Psalms 82:1). And two? From the verse, “Then the G‑d-fearing conversed with one another, and G‑d listened and heard” (Malachi 3:16). And from where do we know that such is the case even with a single individual? From the verse, “Every place where I have My name mentioned, I shall come to you and bless you” (Exodus 20:21). (Pirke Avot 2:6)

Noel Paul Stookey, the Paul of Peter, Paul and Mary, seems to draw on this verse for his Wedding Song,

“For whenever two or more of you are gathered in his name. There is love. There is love.” Love is another name for G-d.

And it is in this very parsha that the word love, ahava first appears in the Torah. At another moment, when you might think Abraham would argue with G-d, he seems to be silent. “Take your son, your only son, the one you love, take Isaac…” The one you love. Asher ahavta. Jews, Muslims, and Christians have argued about this passage, just 19 verses for millennium. I am still reading the book, But Where is the Lamb. Does it show Abraham’s obedience to G-d? His unconditional love for G-d? What kind of G-d would make such a horrific demand? What kind of father would comply? The midrash argues that Abraham DID question G-d. It is a dialogue. Take your son. But I have two sons. Take your only son. But they are each the only son of their mother. Take the one you love. But I love them both. Take Isaac.

My colleague, Rabbi Tom Samuels taught this weekend in the name of Rabbi Kula, “There’s madness in imagining what we would be willing to give in order to finally and unambiguously prove our love. And there is madness in imaging what we would need in order to clearly and unequivocally know that we are loved.” Samuels continues to ask the hard questions, “Are we all not similar, at least in some ways, to both Abraham and to God, in our own relationships? In our own need to both prove our love to someone else, as well as to assure ourselves of someone else’s love for us? Rabbi Kula continues that ultimately, our basic human condition requires of us to “embrace the fear that we may burn-up in our giving and in our receiving of love.” In the end of the Biblical story, Abraham and God come to their senses. They figure out a compromise, a solution, to save both Isaac’s life as well as their sense of selves. With this in mind, let us work towards finding that ever-elusive balance that straddles being both the giver and the receiver of love.” This is Kula’s and Samuel’s chidush.

This is about relationships. G-d’s to Abraham. Abraham to G-d. Abraham to Lot. G-d’s to the earth. Us with G-d. Rabbi Michael Rothbaum argues about Abraham arguing with the “no less than the Throne of G-d,” that G-d must not slaughter the guilty if innocent are present.” Rothbaum points out that Abraham’s argument is as relevant today as it was then. And the argument is preceded by a speech by G-d, “a speech both to nobody and directly to us, a soliloquy sent on the wind to spread seeds of justice throughout time. “Should I hide from Abraham what I’m going to do” to Sodom and Gomorah, God asks. But — yadativ. “I know him. I’ve built a relationship with him.” And why him? “For the purpose of obligating his children and his household to keep the path of God.” Derech HaShem. The path of God. And what is the path of God? La’asot tzedakah umishpat. To do justice. To make righteousness. The purpose of Abraham’s existence, of Jewish existence? According to God, in the Torah, it’s la’asot tzedakah umishpat. To make justice and righteousness.” This is Rothbaum’s chidush, his new teaching.

Rabbi Heidi Hoover offers this new teaching:

“One of the interpretations of why Abraham doesn’t argue about the Akeidah is that he trusts God that God will somehow take care of Isaac. But how did Abraham develop that trust? If you read the Sodom and Gomorrah conversation as being not Abraham challenging God and demanding that God live up to a standard of justice, but Abraham being shaken and disturbed at the thought of all that destruction, and asking questions to understand God’s intention and what justice is for this God. God reassures Abraham that even a tiny minority of innocent people would be saved, even though it would leave a much huger number of wicked people alive. In my reading, God would have done this anyway, and is not agreeing to requests from Abraham, but giving Abraham information about God’s intention. So Abraham learns about what God means by “justice” in that conversation, and that God will go to great lengths to save the innocent. That’s what develops the trust that allows him to follow God’s command re: Isaac. Knowing Isaac is innocent, he knows God will somehow save Isaac.” This is Hoover’s chidush.

From this portion we learn one more thing. At least. Here Is my chidush. Abraham argued to save Sodom and Gemorah just because they were human beings. They were not Israelites. They were not Jews. They were human beings created in the image of G-d. Abraham was arguing not to protect his own self-interests. He was arguing to save the guilty and the innocent. Everyone. Every body.

So what do you do on a cold winter’s night for Kabbalat Shabbat, Friday night services when you have eight adult Jews and two pastors? One of those pastors had recently lost his wife and he came because he wanted to say Kaddish, to experience Kaddish? I knew them personally and knew them to be righteous. What I did was teach the Pirke Avot text I just shared and talked about the Abraham arguing to save Sodom and Gemorrah for everyone. Then we said Kaddish. That was the chidush, the new teaching.

Recently a congregant approached me. He had been asked to give a talk at his wife’s church on his faith journey and he was perplexed. “Jews don’t have faith journeys,” he told me.

We met for lunch and I helped him prepare his speech. I love this kind of thing. It is one of the best parts of my job. Helping people understand that they are on a journey.

We are talking about this this morning because we are about to read about Abraham. Abraham was on a journey.

“Now the Lord said to Avram: “Go. Go forth. Get out of your country and from the land of your birth and from your father’s house, to the land that I will show you. And I will make you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great and you will be a blessing. And I will bless those that bless you and I will curse those that curse you. All through you all the families of the earth will be blessed.” (Genesis 12:1-3)

It seems to start in the middle of the story. Who is this Abraham? Where did he come from? Why him? Why now? Those are questions worth thinking about.

Abraham is a universal figure, sacred to Jews, Christians and Muslims. I still love Bruce Feiler’s book, Abraham: A Journey to the Heart of Three Faiths. And a new one to me, referenced on the High Holidays, and loaned to me by a congregant, But where is the lamb, about another journey Abraham was on later. I encourage all of you to read that one.

Abraham is not a perfect figure, none of us are. Twice he goes down to Egypt. Twice he pretends that Sarah is his sister, not his wife, putting her at risk. We read one of those incidents today. His relationship with Hagar is, shall we say, interesting. And then there is his relationship with his sons, one he sends out in the desert with only a days worth of bread and water. One he takes to the top of a mountain and almost sacrifices. It is all part of his journey.

Nonetheless, he gave birth to something greater than he. He was the first person to recognize that there is only one G-d. In every middle school history book in America, we learn that Abraham is the father of monotheism. Most Jewish kids hearts’ swell with pride.

The start of that journey wasn’t easy. Let’s look at those three phrases:

Lech lecha. Go forth. Leave. Go to yourself. Perhaps the first “find yourself moment”.
Me’artzecha, From your land, your country.
Me’modeleta, from the place of your birth.
Me beit avicha, from the house of your father. From your family. From everything you know.

Concentric circles. Think about that for you personally. Leave everything you know behind. What would you need to leave behind? In increasingly difficult circles.

This journey is actually backwards from a normal journey. Usually first you leave your house, then your city, then your country. It is hardest to leave your own family. It is one of the Erik Erikson stages of psychological development. You have to be able to differentiate from your parents. You have to become independent.

To a land that I will show you. Yep. You don’t even know where you are going. You’ll know it when you get there. How does he even pack for this kind of jounrey? This is not quite like leaving for college—although that has some of these elements. This is a deeper leaving. A deeper person. Abraham is becoming “self actualized..” This then is the deeper meaning of the words “your land, your birthplace, your father’s house.”

But we can go still deeper. We can dig the wells of the words of Torah still deeper. We learn from the Chassidic commentators that Eretz, the Hebrew word for land, is related to the Hebrew word, ratzon, will and desire. So this is about leaving your natural desires and rising above them. Your birthplace, moledtecha, is about leaving home and the security. Beit Avicha, your father’s house is about being a mature person with transcendent intellect. In the Kabbalah, the intellect is from the “father within man” and rules over feelings and behavior. Being able to master these three areas leads to the pinnacle of achievement, the top of Maslow’s pyramid.

But still higher, off the charts, is a higher self. The highest self. The spark of the Divine, the core of our soul, that G-d breathes into us. That is what G-d wanted to show Abraham. That is the land, the eretz that G-d will show Abraham.

When we look at this deeply, the order now makes sense. When we go through this journey, step by step, then G-d will bless us and make our name great.

Not everyone is on the same journey. Not everyone has the same experience of G-d. And that is OK. We even talk about it in the amidah itself. In the Avot prayer we say, “v’elohei Avraham, v’elohei Yitzchak, v’elohei Ya’akov, the G-d of Abraham, and the G-d of Isaac and the G-d of Jacob. Of course, I add the matriarchs too. English professors want to take a pen to this. Why the extra words? We could just say, “And the G-d of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.” The rabbis teach because each of them, each of us have a different experience, a different understanding of the one G-d.

We are all on a journey. I invite you to think about yours as you listen to one person’s personal journey.

Then we sang Debbie Friedman’s song, “Lechi Lach”:

Lechi Lach
L’chi lach, to a land that I will show you
Lech l’cha, to a place you do not know
L’chi lach, on your journey I will bless you

And (you shall be a blessing) l’chi lach
And (you shall be a blessing) l’chi lach
And (you shall be a blessing) l’chi lach

L’chi lach, and I shall make your name great
Lech l’cha, and all shall praise your name
L’chi lach, to the place that I will show you

l’chi lach
(L’sim-chat cha-yim) l’chi lach
(L’sim-chat cha-yim) l’chi lach

That’s it. The journey is what brings us joy.

I am out of words but I won’t be silent. (On poster board, held up phrase by phrase).

This is the way a YouTube video clip by Alex Bryant https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3JAx99g9P74 began this summer. It went on to say…

Who am I?
Who are we?
Whose side am I on?
The police or the people? Black or white?
Do we have to pick a side?
Both sides have made mistakes.
But the fact remains we are all Americans.
We are all G-d’s children.
We each have each other

Perfect questions for this Kol Nidre. We are all God’s children. Or as we might say, we are all created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d. The challenge is to find that divine spark. Sometimes it is easier than other times.

Show Upstander Cup from Starbucks.

I won’t be silent because our words matter.
Our words matter because we are a people full of words.
Words can hurt or heal. We need to use our words to heal. To bring this fractured world together.

We just chanted the haunting melody of Kol Nidre. All vows. All promises. Are forgiven. From this day until next Yom Kippur. Or from last Yom Kippur until now. Our words matter. Either way. Either translation of those tenses, our words matter.

What is the power of those words? What is the power of my words….

Our words matter. Yet I am out of words. Sometimes the power of Kol Nidre is in the very music itself. Not in the words of this contract.

65% of the sins we will confess with the Al Chet prayer have to do with speech. It is easy to say, “Guard your tongue.” It is another thing to do so. Every week when we read A Woman of Valor, I have done most of the checklist. Every week I feel I have failed at “She opens her mouth with wisdom and the law of kindness is on her tongue.” Just ask my husband about getting ready for guests for Passover at our house. I am not always easy to live with.

I told this story at Selichot and again in Hebrew School this week. Once there were two women gossiping. They went to the rabbi to complain about the other. He, it is always a he, directed them to take a feather pillow into the market place and cut it open and scatter the feather and then return. They did as they were told. They returned to the rabbi. He directed them to go back and collect all the feathers. But that is impossible. So it is with words. Once they are out, they can never be recaptured.

Sometimes it seems impossible to have the law of kindness on my tongue. Sometimes then it is useful to have a structure, a set of rules to make difficult conversations productive and not turn them into screaming matches. This summer I attended a NewCAJE, a professional development conference for Jewish educators, together with Heather and Earl.

My all day Sunday session was on how to have conversations about Israel. At the very beginning, they handed out rules for dialogue from the Hartford Seminary, Building Abrahamic Partnerships:

1. We agree to listen in a way that promotes understanding, rather than listen with the goal of countering what we hear.
2. We agree to listen for strengths so as to affirm and learn, rather than listening for weaknesses so as to discount and devalue.
3. We agree to speak for ourselves from our own understanding and experiences, rather than speak based on our assumptions about others’ positions and motives.
4. We agree to ask questions to increase understanding, rather than asking questions to trip up or to confuse.
5. We agree to allow others to complete their communications, rather than interrupting or changing the topic.
6. We agree to keep our remarks as brief as possible and invite the quieter, less vocal participants in the conversation to speak.
7. We agree to concentrate on others’ words and feelings, rather than focusing on the next point we want to make.
8. We agree to accept others’ experiences as real and valid for them, rather than critiquing their experiences as distorted or invalid.
9. We agree to allow the expression of real feelings (in ourselves and in others) for understanding and catharsis, rather than expressing our feelings to manipulate others and deny that their feelings are legitimate.
10. We agree to honor silence, rather than using silence to gain advantage.

These rules work—whether we are in a classroom, a synagogue board meeting, a parking lot meeting, or building bridges in the wider community. They work, whether we are talking to our spouse, our friends, our neighbor, an employee, a boss. Whether it is a conversation with someone we love or someone we don’t know well or even mistrust. Whether it is Cubs fans and Sox fans, Michigan and Ohio State. Democrats or Republicans. Whether you agree with me personally or not. Here at CKI we strive to create a safe, non-judgmental space.

Once there was a man who left his country under a load of hay with his bride.
Once there was a man who was about to be conscripted. He took someone else’s name and fled the country. This is not the tale of a recent refuge, but it could be.

It is the tale of the original Simon Klein, the one Simon is named for. The one who founded Klein and Mandel Brothers on State Street, that became Mandel Brothers. The one who founded Chicago Sinai. His rabbi, Rabbi Emil Hirsch, who actually used to take a stage coach out from Chicago to help start this very synagogue, was famous for making his congregants uncomfortable.

Hirsch said about the role of the rabbi: “The world waits once more the prophet, would once more hear the word of a nobler view of life than gain and profit and greed…We need once more to feel that humanity is more than a pack of wolves fighting for the carcass by wayside. We need once more the stern sacramental words of duty and obligation, of righteousness and justice. Justice, mark you, not charity…justice we need. Social justice everywhere.” Imagine being an industrial mogul and hearing these words from the rabble rousing rabbi: “Sweatshops are an expedient of hell….your duty is stamp out this barbarous system.“

I stand before you tonight with nothing left to say. With my heart breaking.

I stand before you tonight, like Jonah, an unwilling prophet. Like Isaiah who had a vision of a world redeemed. Like Rabbi Emil Hirsch.

In the Hagaddah that Simon, my Simon compiled, he includes the quote we use every year…for decades…

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.
Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

Rev. Martin Niemoller

So on a night when we talk about speech I am pained that maybe I didn’t speak out enough. How do I live with that?

On Yom Kippur, Yom Hakippurim, as it is called in Hebrew, we learn from the rabbis is a day like Purim. Yom, Day, Ha, the, ki, like or as, Purim. How is that possible? Partly because Esther fasts and repents, she puts on sack cloth and ashes and tears her clothes. But maybe more because after some persuasion of Mordechai, she finds her voice. Mordechai tells her that she has to speak up and save her people:

“Do not think that you will escape in the king’s house more than all the Jews. Because if you hold your peace at this time, then relief and deliverance will arise for the Jews from another place…who knows, perhaps you are in this place for such a time as this.”

This congregation, and me as your leader did speak out:

• What if….we had remained silent and we didn’t speak up when widows, orphans and strangers need to welcomed, fed, housed, treated fairly as the Torah tells us 36 times.
• What if…we had remained silent and we didn’t speak up when children were bullied or women were abused
• What if….we had remained silent and we didn’t speak up when people denied the Holocaust.
• What if…we had remained silent and we didn’t speak up when people were massacred in a nightclub in Orlando
• What if…we had remained silent and we didn’t speak up about mass incarceration or systemic racism
• What if…we had remained silent and didn’t speak up when the Black Lives Matter organizers added BDS to their platform
• What if …we had remained silent and we didn’t speak up when people at school board meetings think that this is a Christian nation and that there is only one interpretation of scripture.
• What if we had remained silent and we didn’t speak up about sexual assault and the fact that 1 in 4 women in this country will be assaulted in her lifetime.
• What if….we had remained silent and we didn’t speak up when the Nazi flag appeared at the Kane County Flea Market
• What if….we had remained silent we didn’t speak up when Confederate flags appeared in my neighborhood of South Elgin

What if none of this matters? But it does.

In each of these cases, we followed the path of Esther. We built strong coalitions to work on each topic. We are not alone. Let’s just look at one example. The case of the Nazi flag.

The beginning of the story sounds like a joke. “A rabbi, a priest and a minister walk into a flea market.” But this is not a joke. It is all too real. And every one showed up. On 4^th of July Weekend. On Independence Day The power of their speech brings hope not hatred.

Let me set the stage. On July 3^rd, just after writing about Eli Wiesel’s death and his legacy for Elgin. I was called because a Nazi flag had appeared in Kane County. “Do something!” the caller urged. So I did. I contacted the business by email and requested, firmly and calmly the removal of the flag. It was. Maybe that should be the end of the story. But it is not.

I wrote to the Coalition of Elgin Religious Leaders, our police department and our elected officials. And to the Anti-Defamation League and the Southern Poverty Law Center. That is protocol. Well established protocol both here developed by our safety and security committee and nationally. The people selling the flag have every right to display the flag and sell the flag. That is law. Guaranteed by their first amendment rights.

This is actually the beginning of the story. And it is what makes Elgin great. A Lutheran pastor wrote an impassioned letter. An Episcopal priest showed up at my house and held my hand while we painstakingly researched white supremacists in Kane County. The Catholic chaplain called his friend at the Kane County Fairgrounds, the landlord. A Muslim leader who spoke at our recent vigil for the victims of Orlando sent a simple note, “Repression, Suppression and Oppression can’t be tolerated. May God give guidance to those who are misguided.” A Brethren pastor showed up with raspberry pie and the message delivered with tears in her eyes, that she would lay down her life to protect me and my congregants.

Our Resident Police officer told me, he was already aware and had stepped up patrols. Our mayor and his wife contacted me. Our elected officials, and their staff workers, all reached out.

Keep in mind, this was in a very short time period, less than 24 hours, over a holiday weekend, filled with parades, picnics, barbecues, fireworks, family time. Celebrating this great nation. No one needed to do so because it was in a job description. They did it because it is the right thing to do. Each one played a vital and important role.

The next day was the parade. That a synagogue can walk in the Elgin Fourth of July parade and not worry about safety. Together with a Lao temple, a Hispanic horse troupe, a Unitarian Church, the Boy Scouts, the YWCA, the Boys and Girls Club, high school marching bands. The Democrats and the Republicans running for office. The Fox Valley Citizens for Peace and Justice. 12,000 in the parade. 12,000 watching. As diverse a crowd as you can imagine, reflecting the diversity of Elgin and what is great about this nation.

I wish the story ended there.

Unfortunately, the story doesn’t quite end there either. There is much work still to be done, as a quick glance at Facebook and social media will tell you. This flag was not just war memorabilia being sold but something more sinister if you scratched the surface. There is no doubt that the purveyor is a white supremacist. There is no doubt that recent events in this country have unleashed unparalleled fear and hatred.

We need to continue building bridges. To continue combating hate. In all its forms. Wherever it is. Be it social media or the news media. Or the political arena. We need to speak out wherever there is hate speech. Whether it is a from a political candidate a local business or your neighbor. Whether it is against Jews, Muslims, Blacks, Hispanics, the LGBTQ community. We need to conquer fear with love. Fear with hope. This is the legacy of Eli Wiesel. He said,

“The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it’s indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it’s indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it’s indifference.”

Pirke Avot teaches us,“Lo alecha hamlacha ligmor, v’lo ata bein horin libatel mimena” One is not obligated to finish a task, but one is not free to ignore it” (Pirke Avot 2:21)

There is still plenty of work to do.

When I was struggling to find my voice, like Esther struggled to find hers, I reached out to other rabbis to see what they were planning to say. Many were facing the same struggle. The Chicago Board of Rabbis even had an extra sermon seminar to deal with this. One rabbi, Rabbi David Steinberg, helped me find my voice. He pointed out that the Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur versions of the Amidah some additions. One of those additions is:

“Then will the righteous see and be glad, the upright rejoice, and the pious celebrate in song. For the mouth of injustice shall be shut, and all evil will vanish like smoke — when you remove the dominion of arrogance from the earth.”

This prayer will be my focus for the next 25 hours because it would be arrogant to think that because we have spoken out against injustice the work is done. There is a great deal of work still to be done to heal ourselves, to heal our country and to heal our world, from racism, from anti-semitism, from fear and hatred.

My vow this Yom Kippur is to find the courage to be like Esther. To build bridges. To build hope. To be that Upstander. To not stand idly by while our neighbor bleeds. To use my speech for good.

There is one more way where you opinion counts. At the voting booth. I had threatened to give the shortest High Holiday sermon on record. My directive remains the same. We have an obligation to vote. Go vote.

The Youtube clips ends here:

Now is our time
Our lives are connected
Who are we?
Who are we becoming?
The truth is it is not black or white.
It is dark versus light.
The dark side:
Fear leads to anger.
It doesn’t have to be this way.
Love leads to forgiveness.
Let’s start again.
For us.

That is what Yom Kippur is about. Starting over. Reconciliation. Renewal. Hope. Love. That is what the power of speech can do. That is what finding your voice can do.

Gmar chatimah tovah. May the words of our mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to You. May the power of our speech allow us to combat injustice everywhere. And may our words be as light and gentle as a feather.

Tonight there is a service of healing and meditation that was planned before the election to be held regardless of the results at the First Congregational Church in Elgin, 256 Chicago Street at 7PM. I had planned to be there whatever the results. As the Rev. Paris Donohoo stated there are great divides in this country. He is hopeful that this will become a monthly series, with each church (and my synagogue) taking a month. I welcome that challenge.

Last week I was at a conference on Jewish leadership. We studied Jewish texts, Bible, Talmud, codes. We talked about our own leadership styles and the challenges that face us in our own leadership. More on that shortly. But in journalism class we learned to lead with the most important.

Yesterday my phone started ringing at 6:45AM. Even for me, an early bird, that is an early hour to be on the phone. Especially after a late night. Calls like that continued throughout the day. Some sad. Some fearful. Some happy. I wondered what I would say to the Hebrew School kids.

Here is a synopsis of what I shared with my Hebrew School students yesterday.

Today is Kristalnacht, the beginning of the Holocaust 78 years ago. So we are lighting a candle to remember. And to hope. And to work for a day where it will never happen anywhere. To anybody. Today is also the day after the election. Some of your parents voted for Clinton. Some of them voted for Trump. Some voted for someone else. Some may not have voted at all. Today that doesn’t matter. What matters is this. As Jews we are told to improve the world around us, to work for tikkun olam, repair or fixing of the world. We are told that we are all created “b’tzelem elohim”, in the image of G-d. That means the Trump supporter and the Clinton supporter and even the one who didn’t vote. We are told—you just sang it—that we have a covenant with G-d, a brit. G-d made a promise to Noah to never destroy the world again with a flood. The rainbow is the sign of that covenant. G-d made a covenant with Abraham to make him as numerous as the stars in the sky and the sands of the sea. G-d made a covenant, a brit with the people of Israel and Shabbat is the sign of that covenant. With a covenant comes a responsibility. We have to do something in return. What we have to do is be responsible for one another. As adults—rabbis, teachers, the police officer who was just here—we have a responsibility to protect you. Many of you have told me that you have been picked on in school because you are Jewish. That is never OK. Continue to tell us if that happens again. You have another responsibility too. You have to take care of your parents. It is a very special task for tonight. Many of your parents stayed up very late into the night. They are tired. They maybe cranky. They may be sleepy. Talk to them in the car on the way home so they don’t fall asleep! (there was some laughter at that one, and that was good)

So this candle is the sign of our covenant with you. That sign of remembrance and hope.

Then we sang Hiney Ma Tov. “How good and how pleasant it is for people to dwell together.” That is our hope. That is what matters.

Back to leadership. I spent time with my study partner, Rabbi Linda Shriner Cahn and our dear friend Rabbi Eliana Falk, looking at the first two chapters of Genesis. In the beginning G-d began to create. That’s leadership. What else do we learn from G-d’s leadership?

That G-d can be a collaborative leader, for instance when G-d says, “Let us make man in our image.” That G-d sets boundaries. “Don’t eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.” That G-d is like a parent. That G-d trusts us enough to give us free will. That G-d cares about us. “Where are you?” That G-d evaluates the project. “And G-d saw that it was good.” That G-d rests. Remembering to take that time is important. These are essential leadership qualities.

The study was eye opening. We saw things in this text that none of us, including our professors, had noticed before. And it was so good to do this in person, rather than on the phone.

Recently we completed reading Deuteronomy and began reading Genesis again. When I was a college freshman I went to the Tremont Street Shul in Cambridge. There was dancing in the street . Rabbis who were funny and led the service to different tunes like Jingle Bells. There was a song, The High Holiday Blues, written by a Wellesley College music professor. There were snacks and l’chaims. It was fun. It wasn’t like anything I had ever seen before. I decided that night that I wanted to be a rabbi. I wanted to be a part of it. Up close and personal. The Joy. The Enthusiasm. The Passion. I wanted to help create it for others.

The end of Deuteronomy talks about the death of Moses. The text tells us that never again there arises a leader like Moses. But in addition to starting the cycle over, we also read the haftarah, about Joshua. Joshua was the leader that followed Moses. The text tells us “Chazak v’emetz. Be strong and of good courage.” That was a huge leadership transition.

We are heirs to that tradition. Pirke Avot begins by saying, “Moses received the Torah from Sinai and transmitted to Joshua. Joshua to the Elders, the Elders to the Prophets and the Prophets to the Men of the Great Assembly.” Those are leadership transitions too.

That is what we are called on to do. Be strong and of good courage. And to transmit our vision of a world redeemed with hope.

Come join me this evening as we pray and meditate for healing. Tomorrow we begin again to work toward that vision.

We live in a democracy. And for this I am very grateful. It is imperfect. It is messy. It is confusing. And it works. Better than most systems.

When Simon and I used to do colonial re-enacting in Chelmsford, I used to think I was somewhat disingenuous. You see, back in the day we were portraying, I would not have been able to vote. You needed to be a white, male, Christian land owner. As a Jewish woman, I could not have participated. My voice would not have counted.

For thousands of years, since Jeremiah’s time, Jews have prayed for their governments, their leaders and advisors. My favorite one of these is from the Jewish congregation in Richmond, VA, welcoming the newly elected president, George Washington. It is an acrostic, with Washington’s name spelled out in the Hebrew. The current prayer book my congregation uses includes a prayer for our country at the conclusion of the Torah service. It lays out the vision of leadership that we hope for our country.

My mother died on Election Day in 2008. Her favorite reading, what she read at her own Confirmation in 1939 at Shaare Emeth in Saint Louis was “Grant us peace.” She read it again at my own daughter’s Bat Mitzvah in 2003. It too gives us a vision of the world we would like to see. That I work tirelessly to try to achieve. I still hear it in her preferred version with the “Thees and the Thous.”

Most prayer books do not have a ready made prayer for elections. That has not stopped friends and colleagues from writing their own, which is a very good practice. It brings a certain level of kavanah/intention to the prayer and to the action. It elevates something that could be ordinary and makes it extraordinary.

Today I offer a few of them. I have arranged them first in the singular and then in the plural. The singular ones seem perfect for the act of casting those individual votes. The ones in the plural seem written to be read by a community.

Read them all or just one. Read them online. Print them out. Take them with you to the polls. Reflect on this responsibility, this obligation, this right. Pray for discernment, for wisdom. Meditate. Enjoy the whole experience and remember that there are still many all over the world who are not privileged to enjoy this right.

Whatever you do, vote. Your vote counts. Your vote is your voice. It matters. It is vitally important. Do it today. Tomorrow will be too late.

Tomorrow, when we wake up, we have to roll up our sleeves and get back to work. To fulfill the vision that the prophets exhorted us to. To recognize that everyone, even those on the opposite side, were created “b’tzelem elohim” in the image of G-d. Everyone.

Here they are:

For Wisdom During U.S. Presidential Elections
God of Justice,
Protector and Redeemer,
Grant guidance to our nation
As we select leaders,
Senators, Congresspersons and a President,
The men and women who promise
To uphold the Constitution,
To uphold our values,
To serve and to govern,
To bring prosperity to our land,
To protect our homes and secure our future.

Grant wisdom and courage to voters
To select a visionary President
And steadfast leaders,
People who will serve our citizens,
And all who reside within our borders,
With honor and integrity
To forge a flourishing and peaceful future.

Bless our future President with
Wisdom and strength,
Fortitude and insight,
Balanced by a deep humanity
And a love of peace,
Leading us to a time
When liberty and equality will
Reign supreme throughout the land.

God of Truth,
Source and Shelter,
Grant safety and security to all nations,
So that truth and harmony will resound
From the four corners of the earth.
Let the light of our U.S. democracy
Shine brightly,
A beacon of hope
For every land and every people.

Alden Solovy

With my vote today I am prepared and intending
to seek peace for this country,
as You taught through Your prophet:

“Seek out the peace of the city
where I cause you to roam
and pray for her sake to God YHVH,
for in her peace you all will have peace.”
(Jer. 29:7)

May it be Your will that votes
will be counted faithfully
and may You account my vote
as if I had fulfilled this verse
with all my power.

May it be good in Your eyes
to give a wise and listening heart
to whomever we elect today
and may You raise for us a government
whose rule is for good and blessing,
to bring justice and peace
to all the inhabitants of the world
and to Jerusalem, for rulership is Yours!

Just as I participated in elections today
so may I merit to do good deeds
and repair the world with all my actions,
and with the act of. . .[fill in your pledge]
which I pledge to do today
on behalf of all living creatures
and in remembrance of the covenant
of Noah’s waters,
to protect and to not destroy
the earth and her plenitude.

May You give to all the peoples of this country
the strength and will to pursue righteousness
and to seek peace as unified force
in order to cause to flourish,
throughout the world, good life and peace
and may You fulfill for us the verse:

“May the pleasure of Adonai our God
be upon us, and establish
the work of our hands for us,
May the work of our hands endure.” (Ps. 90:17)

     Rabbi David Seidenberg

Prayer for the Electorate
May the One who graces
each person with knowledge
and teaches humanity understanding,
bless and protect the voters of this land
on the upcoming presidential election,
so that they may place in all their gates
leaders of thousands and leaders of hundreds
leaders of fifties and leaders of tens,
people of valor who revere God,
people of truth who despise corruption.

The One who sustains nations
on order, on truth, and on peace:
may it be Your will
that no misfortune occur by their hands,
and may the nation rejoice
when the righteous abound.
Save them from a wicked path,
from those who speak perversely.
Send wisdom into their heart
and make knowledge pleasant to their soul,
as it says, “Then you shall understand
virtue and justice; equality and every good path.”
And may it be Your will.
And let us say: Amen.

David Zvi Kalman

Grant us peace, Your most precious gift, O Eternal Source of peace, and give us the will to proclaim its message to all the peoples of the earth. Bless our country, that it may always be a stronghold of peace, and its advocate among the nations. May contentment reign within its border, health and happiness within its homes. Strengthen the bonds of friendship among the inhabitants of all lands, and may the love of Your name hallow every home and every heart. Blessed is the Eternal God, the Source of peace.

Gates of Prayer

A Meditation on Voting

Have you ever played with legos or blocks and been so angry you knocked every thing over, smashed it all down? That’s this portion. G-d is really, really angry. G-d created humanity and then wasn’t happy with the result. It is not exactly clear why and Rashi asks that question. Why does G-d want to destroy the world? What is that word, “hamas” that gets translated as corruption or violence?

Some say it is that the people didn’t listen to G-d. They disobeyed the Divine will. Yet, so far there weren’t many orders, “Be fruitful and multiply. Stay away from that tree. Take care of the earth.” Maybe G-d is figuring out that they need even more rules, that free will isn’t all it is cracked up to be.

Some say that G-d was frustrated because in giving us free will, G-d surrendered some of G-d’s control.

Some say that it goes back to when G-d said, “Let us make man in our image.” Since we don’t know, can’t know what that image is and are commanded in the 10 Commandments not to make an image of G-d, somehow this is idolatrous on the angels part. Some midrashim actually say that G-d actually makes 974 worlds before this one. It seems maybe G-d has an anger management problem.

Yet, G-d is a compassionate G-d. He finds Noah. Noah walked with G-d. Noah was a righteous man (in his generation). Blameless. Flawless. Perfect. However you translate taam.

Tzedek. He was righteous. Just. What does it take to be righteous? What motivates an individual to stand up in life-threatening circumstances and behave exceptionally? Barbara Binder Kadden, a noted Jewish educator, asks that question in a d’var Torah about this very topic and looks at the definition on Yad V’shem’s website.

“In describing the Righteous Among the Nations, “attitudes towards the Jews during the Holocaust ranged from indifference to hostility. The mainstream watched as their former neighbors were rounded up and killed; some collaborated with the perpetrators; many benefitted from the expropriation of the Jews’ property. In a world of total moral collapse there was a small minority who mustered extraordinary courage to uphold human values . . . these rescuers regarded the Jews as fellow human beings. . . “

Because that is how we are taught to see “b’tzelem elohim”, created in the image of G-d. We are all created in the image of G-d. Righteousness, is therefore, having the moral courage to stand up to those who are marginalized, precisely because they are created in the image of G-d.

And that is where Noah falls down. He is righteous in his generation, not for all times. He fails to speak up. He fails to argue to save humanity. To save the world. That is what next week’s Torah portion about Abraham teaches us. Abraham walked before G-d. Abraham argues with G-d to save Sodom and Gemorah.

Rabbi Lord Sacks says it this way…

“Noah is the classic case of someone who is righteous but not a leader. In a disastrous age, when all has been corrupted, when the world is filled with violence, when even God himself – in the most poignant line in the whole Torah – “regretted that He had made man on earth, and He was pained to His very core,” Noah alone justifies God’s faith in humanity, the faith that led Him to create mankind in the first place. That is an immense achievement, and nothing should detract from it. Noah is, after all, the man through whom God makes a covenant with all humanity. Noah is to humanity what Abraham is to the Jewish people.”

Remember those legos at the beginning of our discussion. G-d takes the building blocks and begins to rebuild. It isn’t perfect. It is good enough. It reminds me of our trip to South Dakota this summer. We learned that behind Lincoln’s head at Mount Rushmore, there is a secret room, the Hall of Records. And in the Hall of Records there is a titanium vault and inside that vault is a teakwood box. And inside that box are all of the charter documents of this country. Etched on the capstone is this:

“…let us place there, carved high, as close to heaven as we can, the words of our leaders, their faces, to show posterity what manner of men they were. Then breathe a prayer that these records will endure until the wind and rain alone shall wear them away.”

Learning about this secret room gave me goosebumps.The sculptor who dreamed of creating Mount Rushmore wasn’t perfect. He may not have even been righteous, even in his generation. Yet, he left us a lasting legacy and a dream of the future. That room means that, if necessary, the generations that come after us will have the ability to restart this great nation, just like G-d pushed the reset button on the world.

But there are two other things in this week’s portion to give us hope.

The first is the root word, kaf—pay—raish. We know this word. We just celebrated Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. The root of Kippur is this word. But here it shows up in a different sense entirely. Why did G-d tell Noah to spread k-p-r on the ark. What is this substance? Usually it is translated as pitch or tar.

At this week’s Academy for Jewish Religion’s retreat, I heard another interpretation. That both represent G-d’s compassion.

G-d is a compassionate G-d. Sacks says that “G-d created humanity because G-d has faith in humanity. Far more than we have faith in God, God has faith in us. We may fail many times, but each time we fail, God says: “Even to old age I will not change, and even to grey hair, I will still be patient.” I will never give up on humanity. I will never lose faith. I will wait for as long as it takes for humans to learn not to oppress, enslave or use violence against other humans. ..God has patience. God has forgiveness. God has compassion. God has love. For centuries, theologians and philosophers have been looking at religion upside down. The real phenomenon at its heart – the mystery and miracle – is not our faith in God. It is God’s faith in us.”

Our group thought hard about that connection. One woman said that maybe like Yom Kippur seals us for a blessing the k-p-r seals the ark, keeping the water out. That was an aha moment!

We thought about Noah’s wife, mentioned five times in the Bible but never named. The midrash gives her the name Na’amah. Rabbi Sandy Sasso has written a lovely children’s story about that midrash (Bereshit Rabbah 33:7). Na’amah was a woman of beauty, musical talent, and a doer of good deeds. The rabbis of the Talmud found that threatening. But what if we think about her this way. Her music tamed the savage beast creating peace amongst all those animals and preventing the original cabin fever. Her song enabled her family to pray. She inspired her husband and her children to work together allowing them to dream, to plan and to rebuild the world.

Sh…I’ll tell you a secret. We don’t have to go to New York to learn (although it is nice). We have everything we need right here in Elgin! People who are willing to wrestle with the texts and come up with their own meaning.

This gives me hope. And it makes sense. After the Flood, G-d regains equilibrium and promises never to destroy the world again with a flood. The sign of that promise, the sign of that covenant is the rainbow, the perfect balance of sun and rain.

Have you ever gone looking for a rainbow. You think the conditions are right. It is late afternoon, the sun is out and it is raining. You won’t find one. Or at least I haven’t. No, I think you have to be surprised by a rainbow. And then it is time to say the blessing. Yes, there is a special blessing for seeing a rainbow. Like all blessings, it begins, Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech Ha’olam. Blessed are You, Lord our G-d, Ruler of the Universe, Zocher Habrit. Who remembers the covenant.

Debbie Friedman, of blessed memory, has a lovely setting of it. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bw_XdHboBMI&feature=player_embedded

This is a covenant. And the reason that a rainbow appears is to remind us of that covenant. A covenant is a promise, a legal contract. If you do x I will do y. G-d promises to never destroy the world again.

What is our responsibility? What then is our y?

To make sure that happens. To partner with G-d. To be like G-d. To be compassionate. To be kind. To love our neighbors as ourselves. To love every living creature and recognize that each is created in the image of G-d. To find the Divine spark in everyone.

That is the hope that the rainbow brings. That we can be partners with G-d. That we have everything we need. Because of G-d faith in us and G-d’s unlimited compassion, we can begin again.

Today is Bereshit, perfect for a weekend of baseball. Because it is the answer to an old Jewish joke. What is the first mention of baseball in the Bible? In the BIG inning. Which we will read shortly.

This is not the only Biblical connection between baseball and Judaism. “We also read in the Torah Eve stole first, Adam second; Joshua sent a blast to the wall; Rebecca went to the well with the pitcher. Abraham tried to sacrifice Isaac; and Goliath was struck out by David.”

While I have known these jokes for decades, and saw them again recently from another rabbi, apparently they came originally from an old Keeping Posted magazine that we used to get as kids in religious school.

But seriously, with apologies to the Sound of Music, the beginning is a very good place to start. Why? What is so important in these first few chapters, we just read the first chapter this morning of the Book of Genesis? It is not especially good science. But that is a sermon for a different time.

I think there is a message there. Rabbi Harold Kushner who wrote When Bad Things Happen to Good People wrote a book I find I need to reread every year. How Good Do We Need To Be. He argues that these opening chapters of Genesis teaches us that G-d loves us, even if we don’t listen, even if we disobey, even if we are not perfect. He argues that the purpose of Judaism, of any religion, is not to be perfect but is to be whole, and to know that we are loved by G-d and there is enough love to go around. Even if you are jealous of your siblings, you squabble with you spouse, you place unreasonable expectations on your children. And he does it with a baseball metaphor.

Life is like the baseball season, where even the best team loses at least a third of its games, and even the worst team has its days of brilliance. The goal is not to win every game but to win more than you lose, and if you do that often enough, in the end you may find you have won it all.
Kushner, How Good Do We have to Be

Works for me! When we lived in Evanston, I had a little white radio, AM/FM that looked like a baseball. My brother had the red one. I would hide under the covers, listening to WGN and the Chicago Cubs. It was on that radio that I heard about the death of Robert Kennedy and on that radio that I heard of the plane crash carrying Roberto Clemente. So, yes, I was a Cubs fan in my youth. Then we moved to Grand Rapids. My brother became a Tigers fan. I remained a Cubs fan. Danny played T-ball. My father coached. Then he had a heart attack and I became his proxy, helping the other coach. There is nothing better than sitting outside on an early, warm spring day watching kids play baseball. In this wonderful creation.

In college I became a founding editor of the Tufts Daily, the sports editor. With my precious press pass, I could attend opening day at Fenway Park, which back in the day the opening was against the Tigers, not the Yankees. A Red Sox fan was born. It is a hard life, a Jewish life to be a Cubs fan, a Tigers fan and then a Red Sox fan. My spiritual director used to say, and I checked with him this year, that G-d could never allow a Cubs-Red Sox world series because someone would have to win and then the world would have to come to an end. It would be of epic proportions, it could usher in the messianic era. And since that is not the series we have this year, maybe he is right.

Seriously, there has been much written about the Cubs and Judaism lately.

The Israeli ambassador to the US Ron Dermer, made a stop at Wrigley this month, saying “The Cubs might be the most Jewish team in America. They’ve experienced a long period of suffering and now they’re hoping to get to the promised land.” 108 years is a long time to wander in the desert. Even longer than the Israelites. A Jerusalem Post columnist, Rabbi Stewart Weiss called the Cubs, “The Jews of the sports world. “long-suffering, mocked and maligned, preyed upon by Giants, Pirates, even birds and fish, always seeking the Promised Land of postseason play yet never quite making it there. For 2,000 years, Jews wandered the world, hoping that one day they’d reach the Promised Land, the land of Israel. And so, we finally did. For 108 years, the Cubs have wandered the baseball world, hoping that one day they’d reach the Promised Land, the World Series. And God willing, one day they will! Maybe this will be the year.”

My college thesis advisor, Sol Gittleman, who wrote, “Reynolds, Raschi and Lopat: New York’s Big Three and the Great Yankee Dynasty of 1949-1953.” He paid for his first year of college on the proceeds of betting on his first world series. He knew that “Baseball’s not just baseball. It’s integration, immigration, law, transportation, travel, Manifest Destiny, race, labor and business relations, ethnicity, technology – a whole series of topics that really represents American history.”

Now Sol has always been a Yankees fan, never a Dodgers fan. And he could talk to you about the power of rivalries. There exists a strong rivalry between the Red Sox and the Yankees. Some would say bitter. But when that rivalry spills over to physical violence, which it has, in Connecticut for example. That is not OK. That is NEVER OK. A better model is when Simon and the Phelans, both rabid fans for their college teams can sit calmly side by side at breakfast discussing tomorrow’s game. Because it is only a game. And you have to play the game.

It’s math too. A way to learn multiplication tables of threes.

And spirituality.

Theologians have recognized its metaphysical qualities. The Wall Street Journal said, “That slow pace requires fans to pay close attention for hours in the hopes of a transcendent moment.” Sol and I would say it teaches us about meditation, prayer, patience, grace and greatness, compassion.

Irwin Keller, in an article that a congregant sent me this week, said, “Because being a Cubs fan has something to do with faith. Not faith in a specific outcome, but faith for its own sake. Faith as practice…Whereas the theology of the Cubs fan had (and has) something to do with our embrace of the “is” rather than the “might be.” It is the belief without proof. Without promise of reward. Patience just because…If only we could live our lives this way! With such constancy. With exquisite endurance, faith that doesn’t flag, joy even in the waiting.”

There is even a book by John Sexton, Baseball as a Road to G-d.” I have added it to my goodreads reading list.

And hope—which brings us back to today’s Torah portion. Shortly we will read about mikveh mayyim, the ingathering of the waters, where we get the word mikveh from. But the work mikveh and the word tikvah, hope are related.

And ritual—think about how a baseball player comes to the plate and makes all sorts of hand motions before actually hoisting the bat to his shoulder. That’s ritual. Think about all the things you’ve heard about billy goats and lucky shirts, Chicago dogs, watching or not watching. Those are rituals too.

And about family—for many watching sports together is that “dor v’dor”, from generation to generation moment that we sing about. I know that Simon says he feels closer to his father sitting in the Michigan stadium with 100,000 other people than any other place. I know that there are many in Chicagoland who have waited for this moment their whole lives and want to share it with family, parents, children, grandchildren. L’dor v’dor!

And abut this very place. When standing at the Field of Dreams diamond in Iowa thinking about the main hope of that movie, “If you build it, they will come.” It is not unlike Herzl whose belief “If you will it, it is no dream.” So my prayer this morning, is, please G-d, no more wait until next year. If you will it, it is no dream.” Please G-d, let this be the year.”

One last joke. From Aish.com with a change of names. Manny and Maurry, both in their 90’s, had played professional baseball together and, after they retired, had remained close friends. Manny suddenly fell deathly ill. Maurry visited Manny on his deathbed. After they talked a while and it became obvious that Manny had only a few more minutes to live, Maurry said, “Listen old friend. After you die, try and get a message back to me. I want to know if there’s baseball in heaven.”

With his dying breath, Manny whispers, “If God permits, I’ll do my best to get you an answer.”

A few days after Manny died, Maurry is sleeping when he hears Manny’s voice.

Manny says, “Maurry, I’ve got good news and bad news. The good news is, yes, there IS baseball in heaven. The bad news is, you’re scheduled to pitch the top half of tomorrow’s double-header.”

In the BIG inning. Let’s go read it. And go Cubs.

The anecdote to my last post and my sermon from Shabbat Chol Mo’ed Sukkot.

To every thing…turn turn turn
There is a season…turn, turn, turn…
And a time for every purpose under heaven…
A time to be born, a time to die…

We know this book. Ecclesiastes, Kohelet. We just read excerpts of it. We know it from popular literature—and music. Shakespeare. Lincoln. Tolstoy. The Byrds. Thomas Wolfe. There is nothing new under the sun, so says Kohelet.

But read on Sukkot? Surprising, no? Here comes this book that seems like such a downer, right in the middle of “the time of our joy.” Why?

They say that every rabbi writes the sermon they need to hear. Since we have been working on Joy for all of the High Holidays, for 40 plus days maybe this is the culmination. See what you think.

The book’s name in English comes from the Greek ekklesiastes, a translation of of Kohelet, meaning something like “one who convenes or addresses an assembly”. In fact, the book’s opening verse tells us that it was written by Solomon in his old age. The rabbis agreed that it was Solomon. This is not the Solomon of his youth when tradition says he wrote Song of Songs. Here, he sounds like an old, cranky, bitter man.  (My husband, older than I am disagrees with that analysis)

Of course, this is Judaism, so there is an alternative reading. That this was written or edited by Hezekiah. The same king who may have also written Isaiah, Proverbs and Song of Songs. Because of the Persian loan words and some Aramaic it cannot be “really” be earlier than 450BCE and since Ben Sira quotes from it in 180 BCE it cannot be later.

And while I get fascinated by the linguistics, I am not sure I really care. This is beautiful and important poetry. Poetry and wisdom we need to wrestle with the meaning.

Why is it read during Sukkot? I think it is like why we recite Yizkor during the Pilgrimage festivals, Sukkot, Passover, Shavuot. At the times of our greatest joys we are keenly aware of those we miss. At a wedding we break a glass to remind us of the sadness we feel, that our world is not yet complete. The Israelites picked up the shattered pieces of the tablets of the 10 Commandments and put them In the Ark to remind them of their dreams not yet fulfilled. Kohelet is like that. We need to remember not to get too caught up in the joy, in the festivities and to carry over the joy we do have to the rest of the year.

We want that sense of joy. We crave the sense, the knowledge that we are loved. Part of the reason this seems like a bitter old man is the translation we use. We just read, “Futility, futility, all is futility.” Other translations, including the one Thomas Wolfe used is “Vanity, vanities.” That doesn’t sound very encouraging.

But what if we go back to the Hebrew. Hevel. Breath. All is breath. That is much more encouraging. Sure, breath seems to flutter away. It was a cold morning. Who saw their their breath today? I hope so! It’s a good thing. My mother, she had COPD, a chronic lung disease. Every breath was precious. She even had a t-shirt, “Remember to breathe.” Breath is life. Breath is G-d. Breath is everything. Without breath, there is no life. No ability to praise G-d.

Our liturgy is filled with these connections to breath. Elohai neshama… O my God, the soul which You have given me is pure. You breathed it into me.

Kol haneshma, Let every living soul, everything that has breath praise G-d. Nishmat kol chai, The soul of every living being shall bless Your Name,

So we are going to take a couple of minutes and do something different. We are going to concentrate on that breath and the sukkah. I have taken a guided meditation by Shimona Tzukernik who writes for Chabad.org and expanded it to emphasize breath. So sit comfortably.

Close your eyes. Breathe in deeply. Breathing in, breathing out. It is a cold morning. You can see your breath. Notice it float away. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in love. Breathe out stress. Everything is breath.

U-lekachtem lachem ba-yom ha-rishon pri eitz hadar, kappot temarim, va-anaf eitz avot, ve-arvei nachal

“You shall take for yourselves on the first day of Sukko) the magnificent fruit of a tree, the fruit of a a goodly tree, what we call an etrog, together with the leaf of a date palm, fragrant boughs myrtle and willows of the brook.” (Leviticus 23:40)

Imagine that you are sitting in a sukkah. Its walls are panels of fragrant wood. On the floor beneath you dance patterns of light and shade, cast by the sechach, the scented roof of leaves above your head. Take another deep breath. Imbibe the peace within your sukkah’s walls. Ufros aleinu sukkat shlomecha. God spreads over you a gentle sense of peace. Breathe in that peace.

The sechach, the roof through which you can see the sun, the moon, the stars, is a shadow cast by a heavenly tree. It is ancient, wide, alive. Nestled within the inner branches, you notice a fruit—a citron, an etrog. It is the heart within the heart of the Tree of Life, and pulsates with G‑d’s infinite love—for you.

You long to internalize this love. Breathe in deeply. Feel your spine stretch and open. Sit up straight and tall. It is the shape of a palm frond, a lulav. Its pointed tip tapers beyond you, transcending your rational mind, reaching above you, beyond the sechach, into the heart of the tree. Feel the point quiver as the lulav and etrog make contact. G‑d’s love begins to flow down your lulav-spine: downward between your shoulder blades, down, down to its base of your spine, Breathe in that love.

You feel the warmth of that love at the base of your spine. The love begins to rise up. Radiating. Filling you. It reaches your heart. Look inward at the ventricles of your heart, the corners you reserve for love and hatred, forgiveness and grudges, abundance and stinginess; surrender your need to control the myriad emotions of life to a Higher Being, to the Divine Being, to the Shechinah. Feel the love of the lulav penetrates your heart, as it pieces your heart, your very soul. It awakens you to your higher self. It allows you to let go of the pockets of darkness you use in defense of your ego-I. The darkness gives way to light and love . . .

Your heart has become one. Whole. Complete. It too is an etrog pulsating with love—for G‑d, for the G‑dly spark within your soul and for the world. Joy surfaces as this hidden, innate love is released. Breathe in that wholeness, that sense of peace

The love and joy flow outwards, filling your lungs, enabling you to breathe deeply. Rising upward toward your mouth. Your lips are the shape of a willow leaf. Silent leaves fluttering on the winds of love and joy. You have no need to speak; simply being bespeaks the loftiness of your soul.

The energy flows ever upwards, entering your eyes and seeping into the center of your forehead. Illuminated myrtle eyes. Take a moment to envision your life through the lens of abundance and joy. Observe the way you awaken in the morning, interact with others, the way you pray and play when drenched in love and joy.

Elohai neshoma. The soul that You, O God have given me is pure. You breathed it into me.

Sit in your sukkah, spray of etrog, palm, willow and myrtle. You are in a circle of love; you are a bouquet of joy. Breathe in that sense of love, joy, peace, hope. Everything is breath. It is not futile. It is not vain.

Last Sunday I started a blog post that I didn’t yet share. I will now, with some edits since then. For 40 days and then some we have written about joy. For 35 years I have tried to find joy during Sukkot. This is yet again not that year.

The sukkah is up. It is quiet in the house. Sukkot has begun. The quiet is a welcome respite.

This Sukkot is unlike any other. It always comes just 5 days after Yom Kippur, barely giving rabbis and congregants a chance to catch our breaths.

This year was no exception to that. Since taking off my white robe on Wednesday, we’ve had two Shabbat services, Hebrew School out at Pushing the Envelope Farm with 3 other synagogues, Sukkah building and brownie baking. Even a baby naming, definitely one of the best parts of my job as a rabbi.

Then the Crop Walk together with local churches to support our soup kettles and food panties, Church World Service and American Jewish World Service. I was asked to pray at the beginning of the walk.

It was a nice honor. I talked about the walkers being our harvest, our crop and I tied it into Sukkot. I reminded people that the harvest starts with a seed, some sun and water, a little hope. And I taught Ufros Aleinu Sukkat Shlomecha. Spread over us the shelter, the sukkah of Your peace. One of my favorite songs. Because peace, like a sukkah is so fragile.

Then we walked. Mighty humid for a mid-October day. The car thermometer read 79 when I got back to it. This is the kind of work I do all the time. Build bridges between people. Create safe, non-judgmental spaces. This is the kind of work I love to do.

When I finally got home it was time to get our own sukkah up. But shalom bayit, peace in the house is hard to maintain. It’s up. But not without some fights at the house. This may seem odd to you who know me.

On Friday morning I was honored with a Partner in Peace award by the Community Crisis Center. It seems like a lifetime achievement award. For 35 years I have worked for peace and for safety of women everywhere. The fact that it is almost Sukkot adds to the joy and pride that I feel with this award. Listening to my own biography brought me to tears and I was speechless when I began to make my speech. I speak in public all the time. It is part of the job of rabbi and teacher. So I was surprised when I forgot what I was planning to say. I wanted to tell people there that while I received the award, I don’t do this work in a vacuum. It represents the work so many of us have put in to make the lives of women better, safer. And I really mean that. This award is a group award.

Instead, I told a piece of my story. And why I do the work that I do.

You see, 35 years ago, on the very day I received this unexpected award, on the 2nd Night of Sukkot, which would be Monday this year, I became one of the 1 in 4. One in four women who are sexually assaulted at some point in their lifetime. That was me.

I have read this past week that every woman has their story or one or two or three. And it is not OK.

• It is not OK that I was gang raped on a kibbutz while celebrating Sukkot, the harvest festival, known as the time of our great joy.
• It is not OK that as part of this election cycle we have been subjected to discussions of “locker room banter” that is anything but locker room talk, having spent lots of time in locker rooms as a woman athlete and as a sports journalist.
• It is not OK that men in power think they have the right to do anything to any woman they want, because they have power or money or celebrity.
• It is not OK that some worry about transgender people will attack some unsuspecting woman in a bathroom, when in fact, the statistics are precisely the opposite. Trans people worry that they will be the ones attacked. I was attacked just outside a bathroom because I went into that bathroom.
• It is not OK to joke about sexual assault.
• It is still not OK.

I have spent the next 35 years dealing with it. And sometimes not dealing with it. And I still deal with it. And it is still not OK.

I have worked on it by working for women and girls everywhere.

• I have been a domestic violence and rape counselor in Boston.
• I have worked to end gun violence, all the way back to the Million Mom March
• I have worked for peace in the Middle East
• I have served on the Jewish Domestic Violence Taskforce in Massachusetts.
• I allowed my story to be told as part of a film made by Bimah at Brandeis students about Mayyim Hayyim, the Community Mikveh and Education Center in Boston which has been instrumental to my healing.
• I chair the Faith Committee of the Family Violence Coordinating Council for the 16th and 23rd Circuit Courts here in Illinois.
• I have partnered with the Community Crisis Center and the Long Red Line—One Billion Rising.
• I even wrote part of my rabbinic thesis on domestic violence.

And none of it is enough. If people continue to joke about sexual assault, none of it is enough. If people will not believe survivors, then none of it is enough. If people continue to think that rape culture is funny or isn’t real, then none of it is enough.

When this first happened to me, I was told not to talk about it, because there was shame attached with being a rape victim. Newspapers didn’t print victims names for that reason. That is slowly changing by each individual the survivor’s choice. We, as survivors, get to choose how we tell our story and when. And I know that for me there is always a personal risk and cost, that I have learned how to manage over the years.

This past week has been brutal. I thought I had worked through most of it. Over and over and over again. I have had very good counseling and a very good network of friends and a wonderful support team at home. The news this week about sexual assault has been troubling at best. Triggering at worst. It has no place in the election. The worst, for me, was a high school classmate claiming, joking on Facebook that he was assaulted by Hillary. He may not be a Hillary supporter. He may support Trump. As I told him, those are his rights in this democracy. But joking about sexual assault is not funny.

There are now 9 women as of this writing that have come forward to claim that Donald Trump made unwanted sexual advances. He claims he didn’t know them or that they fabricated their stories or that they were put up to it by the Clinton campaign or that they simply were not attractive enough. Those are not acceptable responses. Those responses are a blame the victim (or anyone else) stance.

Some have never told their stories before. They are not unlike Holocaust survivors or army veterans. They wondered who would believe them and if they would they be vilified in the press.

I am like Michelle Obama. These events have shaken me to my core. This is not the world I want for my children and grandchildren. This is not the world that I have worked tirelessly for.

I can no longer remain silent. I cannot be silent.

I liked the meme that was posted by a friend who is a Church of the Brethren pastor months ago.
“They came for the Mexicans and I didn’t speak up I wasn’t a Mexican. They came for the Muslims and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Muslim. They came for the disabled and I didn’t speak up, I wasn’t disabled.” It is based on a Niemoeller quote that I used as part of my Yom Kippur sermon on the power of speech.

I didn’t post it at the time, because I am a congregational rabbi and I am not allowed to tell people from the pulpit who to vote for. I worried about each of those groups and worked quietly behind the scenes. I couldn’t find my voice. I felt paralyzed. Then I felt ashamed for being late to the debate. As I type those sentences I realize that is the feeling that many sexual assault victims have.

I can no longer be late to this debate. I can no longer feel paralyzed. I can no longer remain silent.

I have watched the election get more and more heated. More and more bizarre. I live in a neighborhood with Confederate flags, one nearly on my block that I see every day. I wonder what they are teaching their children in that house. I helped take down a Nazi flag at a flea market that was being sold as “war memorabilia” by a documented white supremacist. I spoke up quietly and behind the scenes.

But now, they came for the women and now I have to speak up. I cannot remain silent any more. I am one of the one in four.

There have been moments of peace this Sukkot. We have enjoyed warm weather, lots of meals in our sukkah and guests. But this is not yet the time of my joy.

I pray that the taste of blood disappears again but fear it will not until after the election. I pray that one day I can truly sit in my sukkah and none will make me afraid. Unfortunately, that night isn’t tonight. This is not yet, the time of my great joy.

Our next guest blogger, Ken Hillman, has become a dear friend. He had a student in our religious school. He now teaches in that very religious school, serves on the education committee, the prayerbook subcommittee and chairs our tikkun olam committee. He and I often spend Sunday mornings on our way to the synagogue, debating the issues of the day—global, national or very local. Recently he attended a KickStart training session where he had the opportunity to study with master liturgist and poet Alden Solovny. What Ken’s poem is really talking about is finding joy in belonging, in having friends:

I’m in.

I am here and I am in.
This was just not some arbitrary accident of birth nor rationalizing my sense of worth
Nor a flimsy tentative act of faith shaken by scientific evidence of the age of the earth.
Taking action for a friend who wants me to transcribe the reasons why even though I know not what tribe…

I’m in.

I’m in
the stories I’m in the  book
Im in the history
I’m in my goodly tents
Chosen and blessed
And blessed and Cursed

I’m lost but I know where I am

I’m here.

I’m here.
I’m here and it’s quiet

The outside quiet broken up by the staccato sounds of life and ritual, The musical cacaphony quietly blanketing The insanely loud sound of nothingness… it is the quiet of the nothingness that I fear. Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow nothingness I will fear no nothingness… but I search for somethingness something something I cannot concentrate/it’s just too quiet in here

It’s quiet
It’s quiet and I am afraid.
I am afraid that my nothingness speak up and expose me. I am afraid that might unmask show itself to be emptiness. I am afraid of emptiness.

I am afraid
i am afraid but I am not alone
I open my eyes and I see it is always light.
I look around and see my fight

To keep my nothingness from turning into emptiness

I find myself surrounded by those with whom I share
My journey my searching my soul to bare
I adorn myself in ritual and find myself rising above the din

Nothingness.

I’m in

I’m here and I’m in

Ken Hillman