I have a friend in Israel. Yosef Abramowitz. He is the son of a dear friend in Massachusetts, Devora Abramowitz, who we have known for years at Temple Emanuel of the Merrimack Valley. Yossi is a writer, an entrepenuer, having started Babaganewz when he still lived in Newton. Now he is selling solar panels all over the world, a lot in African countries. He is putting Israel on the map and increasing relations between peoples. He has been named by CNN as one of the six leading “green pioneers on the planet as CEO of Energiya Global Capital and last year he ran for President of Israel

He had an article in Friday’s Jerusalem Post about the connection between Passover and Earth Day (http://www.jpost.com/Opinion/When-Passover-and-Earth-Day-meet-451978 ) and he laid down a challenge. What rabbi would take up the charge? I said I would gladly do it!

We all know that I didn’t go to synagogue when we lived in Evanston. We spent most weekends at some political rally or other. So this social justice stuff, making the world a better place, is something I come by, you might say, genetically. And that might be the point….you see my father, the geneticist, first worked for a man named Barry Commoner, who I gather was quite the character. He even ran for president of the United States at one point. But I digress. Barry’s office in Saint Louis, coined the phrase ecologist And so it should come as no surprise that I was actually at the first Earth Day celebrations.

And the science on climate change really is irrefutable, What may be less clear is the connection between Earth Day and Passover. So let me explain and be perfectly clear.

We are told in Genesis that we are to be partners with G-d in Creation. That we are to be caretakers of this earth. That G-d will not destroy the world again. That is the covenant G-d made with Noah after the flood. That is why I am wearing this rainbow tallit this morning.

For you early birds, as we went through the first part of the service, I pointed out the parts of the service that praise G-d for this glorious Creation. And what a beautiful morning we have for this.

I want to look at two other prayers. The second paragraph of the V’ahavata says that we are entering a good land where G-d will give rain to your land, the early and late rains, that you may gather in your grain, your wine and your oil.” If, and there is an if, we are partners with G-d by loving G-d and fulfilling G-d’s commandments. I would add, however, we interpret that.

Those early and late rains is part of what connects this first morning of Passover to Earth Day. Today we add the prayer for Tal, dew, at the beginning of the Musaf service. At the end of Sukkot we will add the prayer for rain. These are prayers that cantors love. They are beautiful piyyutim, poems that have had gorgeous music written for them.

They remind me of Honi the Circle Drawer. We know two Honi stories, both from the Talmud. But they bear repeating.

Honi was bothered by a verse, “When God returns us to Zion, we will have been as dreamers.” (Psalm 126:1). Could it be that a person can sleep for 70 years continuously? One day, as he was walking he saw a man planting a carob tree. “How long will it be before this tree produces fruit?” “Seventy years,” the old man answered. “Will you still be alive then?” Honi questioned. The man answered, “Just as my ancestors planted for me, so I plant for my children and my children’s children.” (B Ta’anit 23a)

Usually we tell this story on Tu B’shevat, sometimes called the Jewish Arbor Day. But when Passover and Earth Day collide, it make sense to tell it again. All of Passover is set up to tell our children stories. It is the great “lador v’dor”, from generation to generation. We want our children to ask questions so that we can tell them what the Lord did for us, for me, when I went forth from Egypt. We want that there is a land, a good land, one flowing with milk and honey as our Haftarah portion alludes to, that our children can inherit, just as G-d promised to Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca, Jacob, Rachel and Leah.

And there is a second Honi story, one we don’t tell as often.

It once happened that they said to Honi ha-M’aggel, the Circle Drawer: “Pray that rains may fall.” He said to them: “Go out and bring in the [clay] ovens for the Paschal sacrifices so that they will not dissolve.” He prayed, but rains did not fall. What did he do? He drew a circle and stood within it and he said before Him: “Master of the Universe! Your children have turned their faces to me, for I am like a member of your household. I swear by Your great Name that I will not move from here until You have mercy on Your children.” Rains began to come down in drops. He said: “I did not ask this, but rains [to fill] pits, ditches and caves.” They began to come down angrily. He said: “I did not ask this but [for] rains of benevolence, blessing and generosity.” They fell in their normal way, until Israel went up out of Jerusalem to the Temple Mount [high ground] because of the rains. They came and said to him: “Just as you prayed for them that they should fall, so pray that they should go away.”…Shimon ben Shetach [the Nasi, or chief officer of the Sanhedrin] sent for him: “If you were not Honi I would decree a ban upon you. But what shall I do to you, for you act like a spoiled child before God and yet He does your will for you, as a son who acts like a spoiled child with his father and yet he does his will for him? And about you the verse says: “Your father and your mother shall be glad and she who bore you shall rejoice.” (M. Taanit 3:8)

So today we begin to pray for dew. We recognize that in Israel, this is the beginning of the dry season. We recognize that these stories and prayers are about the land of Israel in particular. However, I believe we have an sacred obligation to take care of the land of Israel, our obligation extends to the whole earth. That is why this celebration of Earth Day, falling as it does during Passover, is so critical.

The organizers of Earth Day say, “Let’s make big stuff happen. Let’s plant 7.8 billion trees for the Earth. Let’s divest from fossil fuels and make cities 100% renewable. Let’s take the momentum from the Paris Climate Summit and build on it.” http://www.earthday.org/#sthash.VBq88cir.dpuf

Then they proposed a series of things that we CAN do. Things that if we take them on as individuals or as a congregation really will make a measurable difference. Things that if we do them, we can be like Honi the Circle Drawer so that there will be carob trees in the next generation, lador vador and beyond.

What are these things? Here are Four Ways, to echo the Four Questions, Four Cups of Wine and Four Children for this Passover Earth Day.

1. Eat less meat (I know—it is a meat Kiddush today, and I thank you for that!)

Why does this make a difference?

It reduces our carbon footprint. (A side note, trying to type carbon and carob is hard as a dyslexic, but maybe that is important too!) Simon’s old More with Less Cookbook, which we used extensively during the SNAP Challenge reminds us that for every pound of beef, it takes 11 pounds of grain. Something to think about the next time I cut into my beloved steak. The UN Food and Agriculture Organization estimates that the meat industry generates nearly one-fifth of the man-made greenhouse gas emissions that are acceleration climate change worldwide.

It minimizes water usage. An estimated 1800 to 2500 gallons of water go into a single pound of beef. Soy tofu produced in California requires only 220 gallons of water per pound.

It reduces fossil fuel dependence. About 40 calories of fossil fuel energy are needed for every calorie of beef in the US compared with only 2.2 calories of fossil fuel for plant based protein.

I am not suggesting that we give up meat completely. Others can make that argument. But what if we declare one day meatless.

2. Buy local produce—one of the best things about Elgin is the Harvest Market. And our local CSAs. Use them. Tonight as part of the seder, every family will go home with a packet of seeds. Grow them. Bring the produce here and we will donate them together with the produce from our community garden produce to Food for Greater Elgin.

3. Start composting

Since we now have a thriving community garden, I am bringing the composting bin back. I think I have located a spot closer to the kitchen so it is easy and becomes second nature. Similarly, we are going to get a rain barrel and have the Torah school students decorate it so that we can use the rain water for watering the community garden.

4. Use less fossil fuels and reduce our carbon footprint

I have talked about this before and I am sure Yossi will love this one. The congregation that Simon and I met in, Temple Emanuel of the Merrimack Valley, has the first solar Ner Tamid, Eternal Light, in the country. Rabbi Everett Gendler, quite the visionary, felt stronger that as a symbol the Ner Tamid should be driven by solar power. They dedicated that Ner Tamid on Chanukah 1978 http://gendlergrapevine.org/solar-ner-tamid/

Since the sun is eternal, we most certainly hope, especially on this Pesach Earth Day, It is a simple process and fairly inexpensive. Commit with me to get this done by Chanukah 2016. There are other ways that we at CKI can reduce our carbon footprint.

Why does this matter? How are these Jewish issues?

Because, as I said early, we are Jews are commanded to be stewards of the earth, caretakers with G-d in this glorious creation. We cannot just rely only on G-d. We must be partners.
The underlying principle is Bal Taschit, to not destroy. This comes from the verse in Deuteronomy, part of Sarah’s Bat Mitzvah Torah portion that says, “Justice, Justice shall you pursue.” It then gives us the rules for engaging in war. “When you besiege a city for many days to wage war against it, to capture it, you shall not destroy its trees by wielding an ax against them, for you may eat from them, but you shall not cut them down.” (Deut 20:19-21).

As Yonatan Neril of Chabad explains, “The general prohibition is against needless destruction, derived from the verse on fruit trees, concerns not destroying directly or indirectly anything that may be of use to people. It applies to wasting energy, clothing, water, money or more. According to the Talmud, this prohibition includes wastefully burning oil or fuel. Many rishonim (commentators between c. 1000 and 1500 CE) conclude that wasting any resources of benefit to humans is a Torah prohibition. For example, Maimonides (1135–1204, Spain) explains that a Jew is forbidden to “smash household goods, tear clothes, demolish a building, stop up a spring, or destroy articles of food.”3 Rabbeinu Yerucham (1280–1350, Spain) rails against wasting water when others are in need. The Talmudic sage Rabbi Yishmael makes another logical inference: if the Torah warns us not to destroy fruit trees, then we should be even more careful about not destroying the fruit itself.4 Currently, in Israel, Rabbi Moshe Yitzhak Forehand notes that all rabbinic authorities agree, based on this teaching, that it is forbidden from the Torah to destroy edible fruit. This applies to all food that is fit to be eaten, and not only the fruit of trees.” (http://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/1892179/jewish/Judaism-and-Environmentalism-Bal-Tashchit.htm)

This not wasting is important. So Simon and I are working on another challenge following up on the SNAP Challenge. The Zero Waste Passover Challenge started by my friend and colleague, Rabbi Cindy Enger. We are using stuff up, We are not wasting food.

Because really, we realized in doing the SNAP Challenge and again in preparing for the study session yesterday on Birkat Hamazon, that there is enough food to go around, if we did a better job distributing it and managing it.

Birkat Hamazon has a seemingly inexplicable line. “I was young and now I am old and I have never seen a just man hungry or his children beg for bread.” (Psalm 37:25) This verse has puzzled me since I was in college. How is it possible to say this line when so clearly there is hunger—and it has only gotten worse? Some people just delete it. They just don’t say it. Which is exactly what my Hillel rabbi did and what the editors of our prayer book did. They simply don’t include it.

What if, instead of past tense, this is future tense? That it is aspirational and full of hope? What if, as has been suggested, there really is enough food to go around, so that it is not G-d’s fault, rather we need to be better partners, better stewards, in figuring out global distribution channels. I am proud to have played a small role getting Congressman Peter Roskam to sign onto the Global Food Security Act. I consider that the highest outcome of the SNAP Challenge. He was the last congressman of either party to do so in Illinois. But that is only a start. We need to exercise a collective will to end hunger, right here in Elgin with its 19,000 food insecure people, in America and around the world.

Part of that fits squarely with this message of Earth Day Passover. Again, from Yonatan Neril, “According to a 2011 study commissioned by the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, “Roughly one-third of the food produced in the world for human consumption every year—approximately 1.3 billion tons—gets lost or wasted. In the United States, less than three percent of this waste was recovered and recycled…The environmental impact of this waste occurs not only in the garbage dumps where it is deposited, but also in the resources used to produce it. Fossil fuels, water and land are all required to produce food..By heeding the Torah’s call not to waste, we can therefore generate ecological, social and financial benefits.”

So this Earth Day Passover, commit to live out our Judaism more fully. By being that very caretaker of the earth that G-d demands. Then our children and our children’s children can continue to gather around the seder table and tell the story of what the Lord did for me, for each of us, when we went forth from Egypt. Then our children and our children’s children will continue to reap the benefits of Honi’s carob tree.

Picture this, a bottle of kosher for Passover ketchup, a gift this year from one of my congregants. Something I have to have every year, because as my daughter points out, every year, that’s how I raised her. What makes kosher for Passover ketchup, kosher? Or kosher for Passover Coke—a former must have? It is the lack of corn syrup. Long before the health nuts have tried to get corn syrup banned, it was not permissible for Passover. But we will get back to that.

And picture this. The phone rings. It is a 91 year old dynamo. Someone who thinks she can solve poverty in Elgin–and she probably can–who has decided that this year she needs a new hagaddah. Something fresh, that explores modern issues. What could I tell her about one she found online, from Evanston? (I actually think my parents wrote the pre-cursor to that one and I have the original but that is another story.) We went through my collection and she selected one, ordered it from amazon and is giving one to each attendee of her seder. It is her legacy. That level of engagement is how we make the Passover story our own.

This past Shabbat was Shabbat Hagadol, one of two Shabbatot rabbis would give a sermon. This Shabbat I am supposed to tell you all the ways to prepare for Passover, a complicated task in many households, one that ideally we Kleins begin the day after Purim. But some years not.

The Torah, and the Hagaddah, tell us that we are to see ourselves as if we were all slaves in the land of Egypt and that we are to tell our children on that day—which day? Next Friday night, the 15^th of Nissan—what the Lord did for us, when G-d led us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm. Not those people back then. Us. Each one of us today. So think for a moment what narrow place you have been brought out of? What difficulty have you overcome? When have you felt G-d’s redemptive power?

Because Egypt, Mitzrayim in Hebrew means narrow place.

In some families, the telling of that story rivals that of the “Maggid” the telling of the Passover story, at the seder. In some families, some Sephardic families they re-enact the Exodus. They might whip each other with green onions or they might tie a piece of matzah on their backs and walk around the table, a kind of Exodus musical chairs. In our family we might play a children’s game, I am leaving Egypt and I am taking with me…an apple…a bottle of water…a camera, etc.

This year, some of us have been meeting to learn with the Chai Mitzvah program. In their Passover lesson, there is a poem by Rabbi Lynn Gottleib that is so relevant for today as we prepare:

Spring Cleaning Ritual on the Eve of the Full Moon Nisan

Removing the Hametz In the month of nisan with the death of winter and the coming of spring our ancient mothers cleaned out their houses.

They gathered brooms, mops, brushes, rags, stones, and lime
they washed down walls
swept floors

beat rugs
scoured pots
changed over all the dishes in the house.
They opened windows to the sun
hung lines for the airing out of blankets and covers using fire
air
and water
in the cleaning.

In the month of nisan
before the parting seas
called them out of the old life
our ancient mothers
went down to the river
they went down to the river
to prepare their garments for the spring.

Hands pounded rock voices drummed out song there is new life inside us Shekhinah
prepares for Her birth.

So we labor all women cleaning and washing
now with our brothers
now with our sons cleaning the inner house through the moon of nisan.

On the eve of the full moon we search our houses
by the light of a candle

for the last trace of winter
for the last crumbs grown stale inside us for the last darkness still in our hearts.

Washing our hands
we say a blessing
over water…
We light a candle
and search in the listening silence search the high places

and the low places
inside you
search the attic and the basement the crevices and crannies
the corners of unused rooms.
Look in your pockets
and the pockets of those around you for the traces of Mitzrayim.

Some use a feather some use a knife
to enter the hard places.

Some destroy Hametz with fire others throw it to the wind others toss it to the sea.
Look deep for the Hametz which still gives you pleasure and cast it to the burning.

When the looking is done we say:

All that rises up bitter
All that rises up prideful
All that rises up in old ways no longer fruitful All Hametz still in my possession
but unknown to me
which I have not seen
nor disposed of
may it find common grave
with the dust of the earth
amen amen
selah . . .(—Rabbi Lynn Gottlieb)

I knew this poem for a long time, but I like Chai Mitzvah’s questions. Too often we read poems and don’t think about them deeply enough. Four questions:

• What line/s in the poem resonates with you as you begin to think about your own preparation for Passover?
• What does it mean to “search the high places and low places inside you”? What are we searching for as we prepare for Passover?
• What do you think the poet means when she asks us to look in our pockets for “traces of Mitzrayim?
• According to the poet, what renews us during Passover?

Ultimately she is asking, How do we leave Mitzrayim and enter the Promised Land? How does each of us do this from within our own narrative, our own story, our own maggid. And for me, that is why the poem works. It is the spiritual preparation I need as I do the real physical, back-breaking work of preparing for Passover.

My mother, the proud, classical Reform Jew that she was, honored our own celebration of Passover. That first year, after we had been married just two short weeks, dishes arrived. They were our Passover meat set and we still use them. Another year when Sarah was quite young, she sent Sarah a set of plastic play dishes so she could change her dishes over too. Yes, that’s how I raised her.

So every year, we have a debate. It starts the day after Purim. What are we going to do about kitinyot this year. I’ve read the responsas, the teshuvot. I understand why the ban was put in place—to make a fence around the Torah, so that we could not possibly make a mistake and violate the prohibition of eating chametz. I know better than ever that it is even possible to make corn bread and during the SNAP Challenge Simon made bean bread. Yet, I understand why even 800 years ago the rabbis objected to the ban on kitinyot. I know that Simon’s family, with a great grandmother who was born in Italy and lived in Spain for a time, can claim Sephardic heritage.

Yet the ban has persisted. It is hard to throw away 800 years of history—and Sarah’s contention that it is not Passover without the Kosher for Passover ketchup. After all, all of Passover is designed to teach our children. My child!

Several years ago, Rabbi David Golinkin ruled about this for Masorti Jews living in Israel. http://www.cjvoices.org/article/the-kitniyot-dilemma/

This past November, the Committee on Jewish Law and Standards for the Conservative Movement ruled on kitanyot. They have decided in a well-thought out, well reasoned document that the 800 year ban for Ashkanasi Jews should be lifted. And I support them 100%. I read the document from the bimah. The introduction and the conclusion about what it actually means practically for families. https://www.rabbinicalassembly.org/sites/default/files/public/halakhah/teshuvot/2011-2020/Levin-Reisner-Kitniyot.pdf

What it means for the synagogue, since we span a full range of observance, is we will continue to observe the ban on kitniyot.

What it means for the Klein household is contained in the very last sentence. “Even those who continue to observe the Ashkenazic custom of eschewing kitniyot during Pesah may eat from Pesah dishes, utensils and cooking vessels that have come into contact with kitniyot and may consume kitniyot derivatives like oil.” We have always worried that every Jew should be able to find a welcome place in our home. That is one of the prime drivers for keeping kosher home. So we will continue to buy kosher for Passover ketchup—because it has meaning (and taste) for Sarah, even if Sarah is not coming home, because it is tradition. We will observe the ban for the first two nights so that everyone feels welcome in our home. And we will not worry as much for the last six nights—because the dishes cannot be “traifed.” It is a well reasoned position that I and Sarah can live with.

Because ultimately, this goes back to teaching our children on that day what the Lord did for me when I went forth from Egypt, out of the narrow places.

So the next question—how do we make Passover relevant today? Every year, organizations send me various Hagaddah supplements. Every year you can find new music, new videos that try to capture the spirit of the holidays—that you can either use in your seders or use to help you prepare.

Here is the best of this year’s crop:

Perhaps my favorite piece of preparation was some learning that happened with our youngest students. There were four of them in class. So we talked about the Four Questions, the Four Cups of Wine or Grape Juice or even milk and then the Four Children. The wise, the wicked, the simple and the one who doesn’t know how to ask. And we agreed that we could each be all of those people at some point. One girl said she is wise when she goes to Chinese class (and she does). One said he was bad when he argues and fights with his brother. All of them agreed that babies are the ones who do not know how to ask. We filmed it. It’s coming.

American Jewish World Service, has produced a Global Justice Haggadah, https://ajws.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/03/AJWS-Passover-Supplement.pdf Filled with beautiful, four color pictures that explore a very diverse world, it has been so popular, they are out of the first print run (I am lucky to have a couple of copies that we will use to supplement our own seder), it is available for download from the link above. Separate from the Hagaddah, they also have a message this year from Mandy Patimkin!

HIAS, the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society, which works still with immigrants, Jewish and non-Jewish, published these resources about refugees: http://www.hias.org/passover2016

I particularly like their opening the door for Elijah.

Our students, as part of the SNAP Challenge participated in a Hunger Seder. Just matzah, marror, charoset and apple juice (we have one student allergic to grapes!) http://www.jewishpublicaffairs.org/Hagaddah/HungerSederHagaddah.pdf We are all ready to perform the mitzvah of “Let all who are hungry come and eat.”

JTA collected five of them here: http://www.jta.org/2016/04/17/life-religion/5-seder-supplements-to-make-your-passover-relevant-this-year

They include one from Keshet on LGBTQ issues, one on Black Lives Matter, one on human trafficking from the Religious Action Center, one on sexual assault on campus from Hillel International and the HIAS one.

Last year, T’ruah, the American organization of Rabbis for Human Rights, published this Hagaddah against modern day slavery: http://www.truah.org/images/OTHER-SIDE-OF-THE-SEA-web-rev16.pdf

The Washington Post did a great job of assessing some of the newest parodies. Looking for Hamilton—it’s here! https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/acts-of-faith/wp/2016/04/18/adele-bieber-michael-jackson-hamilton-the-best-2016-passover-parodies/

I admit I have a soft spot for Debbie Friedman (And the women dancing with their timbrels) and the Maccabeats (Dayenu https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CZgDNPGZ9Sg and Les Mis https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qmthKpnTHYQ ) as music to enrich seders.

All of this is how we teach our children on THIS DAY. Enjoy the preparations. Don’t feel burdened by them. Don’t become enslaved to them. Remember, no services at CKI on Friday night. I am hoping each of you is enjoying a seder somewhere. Maybe in a tent on the floor, or with Dr. Seuss, or with the stories of your own narratives. Let us know what are the most meaningful parts of the seder to you. And yes, enjoy the ketchup.

Our SNAP Challenge is drawing to a close. We made it through. We get to go back to our normal routine tomorrow. What were the key learnings?
• SNAP benefits are not enough to cover ALL the needs that food insecure families face. People who do this day in and day out have to scramble to meet other basic needs. Things like soap, toiletries are not included on SNAP. Fast food is not included on SNAP.
• This program works better is you have a well appointed kitchen, people who like to cook and support. Without Simon, I would not have eaten several meals.
• The biggest problem for me was an unpredictable schedule and lack of planning. Even when I planned that plan might not work, adding stress into the mix.
• The fear of where is the next meal coming from is real.
• I remain concerned about the social implications of being poor, on SNAP or otherwise. We actively sought out opportunities like the potluck dinner and like coffee with Ruth Messenger. For many, those social interactions would be just one more stressor.
• I am rethinking my program Java and Jews. It seemed like a cheap way to be out in the community and visible. But are we excluding some people for the cost of a cup of coffee? What other ways can I do that kind of thing?
• That 4PM headache? Probably coffee related. Going from a latte to just one cup of home brewed coffee…not enough caffeine.
We are sure there are other learnings but we are still processing the experience.

Today we wrapped up with our program at Hebrew School, Judaism Rocks. The kids made houses out of matzah and candy decorations. They were really cute. They made their own matzah, the bread of affliction, the bread of poverty and their own charoset. Then we gathered for a Hunger Seder. No fancy place settings. No extra food. Just apple juice, matzah, marror and charoset.

Based on a seder created by the Jewish Public Affairs Council, http://www.jewishpublicaffairs.org/Hagaddah/HungerSederHagaddah.pdf
We asked the four traditional questions, “Why is this night different from all other nights?” and then four new ones…
1. Why is this year different from all other years?
2. Why a Hunger Seder?
3. Why are there so many people hungry when there are government programs to support them?
4. How can we talk about hunger and ignore the obesity epidemic in the United States?

The families made four promises to go with the four cups of wine:
1. We will feed our communities today.
2. We will seek out those in need and act to nourish ourselves and our neighbors
3. We will use our power to persuade our leaders to abolish hunger in our communities
4. We will create a world where all Americans and all people are free from hunger.

So how do we take these learnings and move it into our usual life?
• We are committed to eating more meals at home and less on the go.
• We are committed to wasting less food in our house.
• We are committed to eating at least one vegetarian dinner a week.
• We are committed to creating the ongoing awareness and advocacy needed to end hunger. We have begun that already as we send Simon off to his annual Walk for Hunger in Boston.

I was reminded several times this week of the quote from Rabbi Tarfon in Pirke Avot. “Ours is not to finish the task. Neither are we free to ignore it.” Hunger is real in America. We must continue to work for the day when people will have enough to eat and none shall make them afraid.

And on the seventh day, G-d rested.

On the sixth day the Israelites received a double portion of food when they were wandering in the wilderness so they wouldn’t have to collect manna on Shabbat. Manna is seen as a gift from G-d. In fact the word manna means gift.

Shabbat is also a gift. A gift of time. A chance to catch our breath. To rest up. To set a different pace.

As a rabbi, Shabbat for me is a work day. I jokingly asked Simon if he thought anyone would notice if I didn’t show up. He reminded me that this was a three Torah morning. So I went.

As I prepared yet another breakfast and raced out the door, I thought again about all those single parents sometimes working more than one job just to make ends meet who do not have the luxury of Shabbat. While it is luxury at some levels, much has been written about why having a day off a week (two days are even better), actually helps people be more productive. Yet, despite the efforts of many groups, especially unions, this is still considered a privilege, not a right. If you are juggling more than one job, it is even less likely that you will have a real day off. You might be off from one job and not the other.

Every week we sing at services we sing “V’shamru”, joyfully proclaiming the words from Exodus 31, “The people of Israel shall keep the Sabbath, observing the Sabbath for all generations. It is a sign of the covenant between Me and the people of Israel for is six days Adonai made heaven and earth and on the seventh day G-d rested.”

Ahad Ha’am, the early Zionist said that “Just as Israel has kept the Sabbath, so has the Sabbath kept Israel.”

There is another prayer that says, “Those who keep the Sabbath and call it a delight shall rejoice in Your kingdom. The people that hallow the Sabbath will delight in Your goodness. For being pleased with the seventh day, You hallowed it and made it the most precious, special of days, to remember the work of Creation.

That sense of Oneg Shabbat—the delight, the joy of the Sabbath—I definitely experienced this week. We loved having our potluck dinner and opening our home. The food was good—and the conversation even better. We all left full, delighting in each other’s company.

Oneg Shabbat has also come to be the term for the food following the Friday evening service. It too was a delight. Plentiful and varied. And something for which to give thanks. The Sisterhood who sponsors it each week. The shoppers who make sure the food appears. And Susan who artfully arranges it, serves it and cleans up after us.

On Saturday morning following services there is more food. Kiddush. Which is really the term for the blessing over the wine, which sanctifies time and space. (More on that later since that is exactly what I talked about this week!). This week we had a sponsored Kiddush in honor of someone’s 80^th birthday. Those are almost a luncheon with bagels, lox, cream cheese and all the fixings, egg salad, two kinds of herring, veggies and dip, and lots of sweets. It is fun to celebrate happy events in community this way. And more to be thankful for.

Shabbat afternoon there is actually a third meal. Seudah shlisheet. We were able to join with Ruth Messinger again for a discussion of the book “In the Shadows of the Banyan” about Cambodia and her most recent trip to Cambodia. When we walked in, she asked how our food challenge was going. We said that we were doing fine and in fact had saved $10 for precisely this event. However, we wound up not spending any of it, enjoying instead, just the good conversation and people’s reflections on Cambodia. We did not feel deprived since there was pastries and coffee available. I just didn’t feel like I needed more carbs or more coffee at 4PM. Nonetheless, like every day this week, I had my 4PM headache.

Places like synagogues, coffee houses, libraries, provide low cost or no cost entertainment and good intellectual stimulation. There must be other options too but we didn’t have time to find them this week. My mother swore by playgrounds. All of these are other ways to stretch budgets.

And all too soon, Shabbat was over and it was back to the real work world. Prepping for Hebrew School, readying flyers for a program at Costco called Matzah in the Aisle and sadly counseling a family that had just lost a loved one. A very late dinner of lentil stew, the stuff Jacob and Esau fought over. Ours was only 100 calories and $.55 a serving. And again, luckily for me and my schedule Simon made it. Healthy, hearty, warm on a cold spring night. Time for bed.

Up really early to make an appearance on WindyCityLive that will air on Friday, April 8. I am amazed that people are this interested in this challenge. And make no mistake, it is a challenge, it is not a game.

There are a few things from yesterday that are worth commenting on.

I left the house 20 minutes later than I intended because I made my breakfast—two eggs, cheese and a scallion scrambled, served in a whole wheat tortilla, which I ate in the car. While I was not late to Harper, I never felt like I caught up all day.

Parking at Harper was an issue. It always is. That’s why I thought I needed those 20 minutes. I talked a campus police officer into NOT ticketing me because I was speaking. But that seemed not quite right. (I parked in a staff lot beyond the guest lot which was full)

The coffee that people were drinking looked excellent. Well, actually I didn’t see the coffee just the cups. I’m going to have to rethink Starbucks.

My appointment after Harper was late. 45 minutes. Even though I had tangerines with me, this put me at a house disadvantage for the rest of the day. I did actually “cheat” meeting her at yet another coffee shop because it was closer to where I was going to have to be and ordering an apple fritter which I think the manager discounted it calling it the SNAP discount–$1.75 which actually fits in my remaining food budget. Real people living on SNAP all the time must also get caught in these scheduling “nightmares.””

Thank G-d for my husband, Simon, who is a willing partner and a really good cook. He brought me the lunch I had carefully planned out, cottage cheese and chopped vegetables. He threw in a little box of raisins we had around the house and I “stole” potato chips from the Hebrew School. Later even though I said I would make corn chowder, he turned a cheap cut of meat into Chinese stir fry and rice. Again, it was a timing question.

I got lost in time when WindyCityLive called and wanted to do a feature on me. As many times as I say this challenge is not about me, it is about awareness and advocacy, people are intrigued by what I could possibly eat for $4.44. So I will be traipsing into Chicago to tape a segment. That meant finding pictures and getting out the seder plates.

Hebrew School. These late afternoons are the hardest. It is hard to teach when you are hungry. And really, I am not really hungry. But why then do I have a headache? Yes, late afternoon hot chocolate seems to help. At least temporarily—and we didn’t really plan for that. And yet, we had some in the house and in my office.

I have a colleague, Rabbi Cindy Enger, who opted not do the SNAP Challenge this time. Her approach instead as she prepares for Passover is a Zero Waste Passover. I know that my New Year’s Resolution was to waste far less food then we do. Most Americans waste a lot of food. 70 billion pounds of food in America, according to Feeding America. That’s 70 billion! Like Rabbi Enger, and many other Jews, I try to use up open packaged food before Passover. This year, with the SNAP Challenge I am even more aware (and more committed to Zero Waste. Really, remember the open containers of olives in my fridge? There were actually six. Two black olives, 2 Spanish olives. One green olives stuffed with blue cheese. One kalamata.) We have finished one, a jar of raspberry jam, the last of the soy sauce and a container of SmartBalance.)

I am also not spending money on other things. For instance, this morning, I opted to take the train into Chicago. Paying to park (again, thanks to my husband, because I could not figure out how that machine works and I am hoping my credit card did not get debited seven times!) and walking from Union Station to the television studio. On SNAP I couldn’t have afforded a cab!

When I emerged from the train I was immediately approached by someone who hoped I would help him buy a sandwich. I explained I couldn’t. I did pack a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for the trip home that I might have given him but after yesterday I was worried I would be short—and I did in fact eat it on the way home. So many people, so many very hungry. Am I helping any of them? Should I have given my sandwich away to someone who really needed it?

Similarly, one of my non-food rewards is a massage. After running a race on Sunday, that might have been nice Tuesday. But no massage on SNAP.

And while I walked from Union Station to State and Lake, I am not getting the same amount of exercise I got last week even. Again, I think it is the constant focus on food and timing. I am hopeful that I can today. Maybe today…

It really bothers me that people are so interested in can I make it on the SNAP Challenge. Perhaps it does make a good human interest story. Perhaps it does raise awareness. But it is not so important: What am I eating? Is it enough? Are you hungry? Can I give you food? This story was not supposed to be about me.

It is supposed to be about the hard work that many people do on the front lines, day in and day out. Gretchen, Maureen, Kerri, Ruth, Kim, Michelle, Debbie, Amit and Judith and David. The ones who work tirelessly to make sure that people do have enough food. That smile. That offer compassion. That work for the systemic changes necessary. So, so many, too many to name them all.

And the real story is that people have to do this day in and day out. And SNAP benefits alone often don’t cut it. People who are on SNAP often have to scrounge for food and other necessities in other places. They rely on food banks, the Community Crisis Center, Food for Greater Elgin, Salvation Army, Red Cross, United Way, individual churches and synagogues, soup kettles and all the volunteers who serve.

Recently I received a phone call from someone who had been part of my global justice fellowship with American Jewish World Service. “Are you still in Peter Roskam’s district?” Yes, I answered. She is now working on global food insecurity issues and needed someone for a panel honoring the Congressman’s work on hunger. I readily agreed and it turned out to be this week. So on a rainy morning, I schlepped to Harper College to join a small panel from the Global Poverty Project to speak about global food insecurity. What follows are my remarks…

As David said, I am Rabbi Margaret Frisch Klein, the rabbi at Congregation Kneseth Israel in Elgin. I am honored to be on this panel to honor Representative Peter Roskam with whom I have worked on several issues already. Hunger is an issue I have been working, dare I say on a college campus, for 30 years. It is shocking to me that hunger has gotten worse, not only globally, but right here in Elgin. There are 19,000 food insecure people in Elgin and despite good work by agencies like the Community Crisis Center, Food for Greater Elgin, United Way, Salvation Army, PADs, and others who we at Congregation Kneseth Israel partner with, food insecurity remains an intractable issue..

Our congregation works on food issues doing several things. We have our own little food bank which members can take food with no questions asked. We grow fresh produce in our community garden, just a simple 8×16 plot from which we delivered 1100 pounds of fresh produce to Food for Greater Elgin last year. We host an annual food drive during our high holidays, and then again the citywide Martin Luther King Day food drive. We volunteer with Food for Greater Elgin, PADs and the Elgin Cooperative Ministries which provides the weekly soup kitchens. Last summer we worked weekly with ECM to deliver lunches to children who otherwise without their school lunch program might have gone hungry. We are a partner with Mazon, a Jewish response to hunger, Part of the reason we like supporting Mazon, is their commitment to advocacy. While it is important to feed the hungry person sitting before you today—it is critical that we solve the systemic problem of hunger in America and around the world. Otherwise we are just putting on bandaids.

This comes naturally to us. We are commanded to take care of the widow, the orphan, the stranger amongst us, or as I say the most marginalized amongst us. 36 times it tells us to do this. We are to leave the corners of our fields so that the poor can glean. Most of us don’t have fields, but that is the exact reason, the root you might say, of why we put in a community garden.

It is also the reason I am currently doing the SNAP Challenge, living this week on a food stamp budget to call awareness to this growing problem in this country. Others in the congregation and the wider community are doing it with me and while we are only on Day Three, the learnings have been many. Yesterday I spent a lot of time thinking about how one is social on a limited budget. How do you celebrate a child’s birthday? Because buying a store bought birthday cake would have put us over our budget.

And while there are 19,000 food insecure people in Elgin, hunger is a global problem. That’s why it is so important to support the Global Food Security Act, introduced into Congress by Representative Christopher Smith, Republican from NJ and co-sponsored by 123 members of Congress including almost all the representatives from Illinois.

According to the World Health Organization, poor nutrition causes almost half, 45% of all deaths in children under 5. One out of six children in the developing world is underweight, about 100 million. One in four children is “stunted”, that number grows to 1 in 3 in the developing world. We could sit here and discuss statistics all day. And they are alarming.

We know unequivocally from the research that children who are malnourished have a harder time learning. We know that children who are malnourished can suffer from Failure to Thrive. My own rabbi’s wife, Dr. Deborah Frank, is the Director of the Grow Clinic at Boston Medical Center. She recently won the AMA’s Leadership Award presented here in Chicago at their annual convention. She said, in accepting that award that, “As a pediatrician I can never forget that the policies enacted in the capitals of our nation and our states will be written ultimately on the bodies and brains of our young children,”

Her recent research as the director of the Children’s HealthWatch team has uncovered alarming evidence about the increasing risk of hunger among young children nationally, ever since budget cuts have been made to SNAP. In Boston, particularly they have found more and more families of infants and toddlers who are homeless or having difficulty maintaining secure housing. Recent work of Children’s HealthWatch also uncovered that within groups of poor families, those whose children have chronic health problems are even more likely than their peers to struggle with hunger.

If you need more details and more correlation from her work, I have electronic links to her actual academic and professional articles available. When I told her I was speaking this morning and asked whether she had any particular message, she said she didn’t know as much about global food insecurity but what concerns her, having just returned from yet another hunger summit, is the connection between violence and hunger. “War causes hunger. That’s what we are seeing in Syria. People don’t have reliable access to food. If they don’t have access to food, the children can’t go to school. They can’t learn. The families become refugees. It is that simple.” She couldn’t have been any clearer.

She also worries about scorched earth issues. If people can’t farm, they can’t eat. These are the kinds of things I saw when I was a Global Justice Fellow with American Jewish World Service last summer when I was in Guatemala. Guatemala is only one example of many of the 19 countries that AJWS works in. The unique specifics are horrific. In Guatemala, 200,000 people, mostly indigenous people, were murdered or “disappeared: in the 1980s as part of a civil war. Make no mistake, there was nothing civil about it and there are still leaders being disposed and tried for genocide.

One of the real issues remaining as is that access to land is denied. Mining companies have been brutal is stripping away land from indigenous people. One of AJWS’s grantees, CCDA, use coffee and advocacy to secure land rights for indigenous people. Leocadio Juracan, the coordinator recently was elected to Congress. He said, “we’re not just in the business of buying and selling coffee. We are using resources we have to work for justice in our communities.” What impressed me the day we were on the coffee plantation, was how they use education to improve the lives of women. Many of whom have never been to school but are learning to grow food on their patios in container gardens, not unlike CKI’s own community garden. One woman told us that with the proceeds of her patio garden and the one chicken she was able to send her daughter through high school. Wow! Access to land, to food, to education.

But there is a problem. Despite the good work that CCDA is doing, there are arrest warrants out for many of the leaders. No matter how heated our current political season has become, we are not rounding up and arresting our leaders.

Moral leadership is about taking risks. If I am not challenging my people to work on issues like hunger, I am not doing my job. Although frankly, I don’t understand how anyone could argue that children should go to bed hungry. Nonetheless, sometimes, I make people angry with my activism. Sometimes, maybe even often, the congressman and I do not agree on individual policy. However, if I don’t agree, I can’t have him arrested. I can’t have him disappeared. I have to work with him, and he with me. But on this I think we do agree, stopping violence, through strong legal measures as suggested in the book the Locust Effect by Gary Haugen is critical to stopping world hunger. Recently there were two murders in Honduras of AJWS grantees. Berta Cáceres and Nelson García, leaders of the Civic Council of Popular and Indigenous Organisations of Honduras (COPINH). These two defenders of human rights were assassinated because they led an organization and a broader movement fighting to protect the land rights of the Lenca indigenous communities in Honduras.We have asked our US elected officials to demand justice in Hondoras.

Moral leadership is why I have to support the Global Food Security Act which puts some of those strong measures and food assistance in place. So that more Guatemalas, Hondorases, Darfurs, Syrias cannot happen. So that as the prophet Isaiah said, “Every one neath their vine and fig tree can live in peace and unafraid.” So that every child can have a birthday cake.

Today was the day I knew would be long and complicated. Once a month I have a program called Java and Jews. I sit at various local coffee shops and discuss the issues of the day with whomever turns up.

I explained to each of the managers what I was doing last week and that while I would be there, I would not actually be eating or drinking. I ate my oatmeal at home and set off.

My first event of the day was at Starbucks. I walked in with my carefully brewed coffee from home in its bright purple Starbucks travel mug. I sat down and waited. No one said anything to me. I looked just like every other Starbucks customer, checking email on my laptop. My usual baristas smiled at me. Asked how my day was.

I enjoyed my conversation with a new congregant and for the two hours we sat there I never once was hungry or worried about SNAP.

I realized, I could hide there all day. No one would think I was poor or on SNAP. I could be “normal”. I could pass. And I know people who do precisely that, particularly in New York.

But then I had other thoughts. I wondered how people who are on SNAP handle social engagements. After the economy tanked in 2008 friends and business associates of mine curtailed meeting for lunch and instead met for coffee. It was cheaper with less strings attached. Less commitment. It seemed natural to extend that to my rabbinate. Easier often to meet someone for coffee at Starbucks or Blue Box than to open my office. Safer (but that is another story). I usually offer to buy but do some people decline for financial reasons?
Do I need to rethink this?

I have heard from people I know well. People who have been on SNAP or Food Stamps. People who did not qualify who live on $30 of food a week because they did not qualify. People who did not qualify because one live-at home adult kid was making too much or because they had health insurance. People who were on SNAP during college or graduate school. People who are just barely getting by now who say they do this every week.

So much of eating is social. How does this happen if on a SNAP budget? Can we entertain? If it is a potluck, maybe? Should we try to do one this Shabbat? Have we budgeted for it? We could do spaghetti…

How does someone have a birthday party for a child? Can they bake a cake? Because a purchased cake from the bakery section of the grocery store would have put us over budget. Cupcakes? Goody bags?

I rushed home. My oatmeal was holding me but I needed to be at Blue Box in an hour. Too early for lunch. I poured orange juice in my cup and left. The owner of Blue Box asked, “Is this the week I can’t give you any food? Can I refill your coffee at least?” I explained that yes, this was the week I was doing the SNAP Challenge, and no, my cup runneth over and I was fine. Several people met me. Great conversations. But I couldn’t take my eyes off the young boys’ potato chips.

Most of the time I never eat potato chips. This week it seems to be all I want.

After “lunch”, remember I was not eating at Blue Box, I went to make a hospital call to someone about to have surgery. By then, 2PM, I was starving. I raced home and made lunch. Cottage cheese with green pepper, tomato and cucumber. It was filling.
I raced off to the third of these coffee klatsches. One person, a fellow rabbi, came. She also offered to buy me coffee. Truth is, I can’t do three coffees in one day and I am not accepting these offers these weeks. But I knew I also had choir coming. We chatted away, me sipping my afternoon, home brewed hot chocolate, she her Panera coffee.

By the time I got back to the synagogue I was a little woozy and helped myself to an English muffin that the school has on hand. I rationalized that they would just go bad and someone should eat them. And I begin to figure out how people need to stretch SNAP benefits. How they must use other resources, like food pantries. How all of this takes so much time and energy. Someone nicely sent me a list of resources available in Elgin most of which I knew about and use to refer people to. You’ll see that list tomorrow.

Dinner was stew in a crock-pot, using up the last of the rice and beans from last night. It was good and warm and filling, particularly on this cold, rainy night. And there are still left overs. But I am not like Simon. Simon eats the same breakfast day in and day out.. Without fail. I crave variety. I suspect that people on a SNAP budget have much less variety. That would be hard for me. That and how it might curtail social interaction.

I realize how fortunate I am. This works, for this week at least, because I have a husband who is doing most of the cooking, a good, well appointed kitchen, the love and know-how of cooking myself.

This week we read, as Etz Chayyim puts it, “The Initiation of Formal Worship”, how to offer sacrifices and the ordination of Aaron and his sons. The entire sacrificial system was set up to recreate the experience of Sinai and to allow the people to draw close to G-d. Even the name of one of the offerings, “Korban” shares a root with “draw close.”

It was smelly, messy, bloody. I can’t imagine Moses—or my ordaining rabbi—anointing me with oil and then smearing blood on my right ear. I can’t imagine that G-d wants the burnt offering with its pleasing odor, a gift to the Lord-as the Lord had commanded Moses. (Lev. 8:21)

It is not how we do it today. It is important to talk about this chapter this weekend, precisely because it is this weekend. Christians believe that Jesus is their sin offering. That somehow, Jesus’s blood atones for their sins. The language is rooted from the Hebrew Scriptures. From right here. It is essentially Christian midrash. But there are some important differences as the two religions continued to evolve.

And that is important. When Jesus was killed, he died a Jew. Christianity emerged later. My colleague, Rabbi Evan Moffic, has just written a book about the Jewishness of Jesus. I have read several of these and this one has an interesting twist. He explores Jesus from within his Jewishness with more of a spiritual vantage. Shortly after Jesus was killed, Judaism went through its biggest transition ever, from a religion of sacrifice to a religion of prayer and study.

Today, in Judaism we don’t need an intercessor. You do not have to pray to Jesus or through Mary or the saints to have a relationship to G-d. In Judaism today you don’t need sacrificial offerings. You don’t need blood. In fact, since the destruction of the Temple in 70 CE, there has not been animal sacrifice. And as I often say, I am not planning to start having weekly barbecues in the synagogue parking lot—although they might be tasty and the Men’s Club does own a Weber Grill.

Instead we need deeds of lovingkindness.

The story is told that Rabban Yohanan Ben Zakkai and Rabbi Joshua were walking by the ruins of the Temple. Rabbi Joshua said, “Woe to us that the place where the atonement for the sins of Israel was made has been destroyed!” But Rabban Yohanan Ben Zakkai replied, “Do not be grieved, my son. Do you not know that we have a means of making atonement that is as good as this? And what is it? Gemilut hassadim – acts of loving-kindness, as it is said, ‘For I desire hesed – lovingkindness – and not sacrifice!'” (Hosea 6:6). Avot d’Rabbi Natan 4:21.

Instead we need prayer. We need prayer because it offers us a way to connect with something bigger than ourselves. We need prayer because it can be centering, grounding, balancing. We need prayer because it brings hope. We need prayer because it offers community.

Now prayer can be a very difficult topic. I am currently reading a great book, Making Prayer Real, which lays out what some of the difficulties are. For him, “When I participate in a typical traditional service most anywhere in the world, I have two problems:
1. The prayers are said too fast.
2. It takes too long.”

We want to make sure we are doing services right. We can’t miss any word. So we tend to rush through services because while we want to do it right, we have lots of other places to be. I actually had people get up and move around the room. Using the four corners, I asked people to select one of these statements:
I come to synagogue for services:
1. Because I have to…a sense of obligation, commandment
2. Because I like to connect with the community
3. Because I want to experience/connect with the Divine in some way
4. Because I want to experience some balance in my life. It centers me. It grounds me.

The groups were pretty evenly split. Why do you come to synagogue?

__I come for the rabbi’s sermon
__I come for the words on the page in the Siddur
__I come to say Kaddish or Misheberach
__I come to make sure others can say Kaddish
__I come for the Torah
__I come for the music
__I come for the cookies

While the book, the siddur, is a wonderful historical document, and many of the prayers were crafted 2000 years ago, it was not meant to be the only form of prayer. The prayer book is the structure, the keva. The kavanah, the intention, the thoughts/words behind the words maybe even more important. The words that the heart prompts. But for Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, the keva provides a framework to see him through the days when he is just not feeling it. “How grateful I am to God that there is a duty to worship, a law to remind my distraught mind that it is time to think of God, time to disregard my ego for at least a moment! It is such happiness to belong to an order of the divine will. I am not always in a mood to pray. I do not always have the vision and the strength to say a word in the presence of God. But when I am weak, it is the law that gives me strength; when my vision is dim, it is duty that gives me insight” (“Man’s Quest for God,” page 68).

There is much, much more to be said about prayer and sacrifice and we will do that as we work our way through Leviticus this year.

At the end of Making Prayer Real, there are a series of exercises that can help with individuals who are searching for something and not finding it in their synagogue worship service. If that is you, you are not alone. Only 17% of synagogue members join in order to attend services. And those who do come regularly, come out of a sense of obligation, to make sure others can say Kaddish, because they want to say a misheberach, to hear Torah, (thankfully) for the sermon, but mostly to be part of community.

There is a delightful children’s book where the grandmother takes her granddaughter to services for the first time. The young child gets squirmy. The grandmother assures her that “G-d loves cookies too.” Many of us show up, not expecting to meet G-d or connect with the Divine, but to enjoy a little nosh and some good conversation after the service is over. And that is OK.

But what will it take to make services inspiring, so that people want to be there for the service itself? Stay tuned. That is what we will continue to explore.

In the meantime, I had just such an experience this weekend, knowing that I was going to be talking about this very topic. I had a clergy colleague friend come Friday night. Three weeks ago he unexpectedly and suddenly lost his wife while they were traveling back to Elgin from seeing family. His grief has been profound and public. His faith has been real and poignant. His courage extraordinary. But it surprised me that he would be coming to synagogue on Good Friday, one of the holiest days of the Christian calendar. I introduced him and his mother. Then I began services like always. Talking about the two angels as we sing Shalom Aleichem to welcome each other and Shabbat. Thinking about what peace really means to someone who works for the Church of the Brethren, a peace church. On the day his wife died, a Friday, I paid a condolence call on her boss, my neighbor. The first thing I saw when I walked in their house was a giant wood sign. Just one word. Shalom.

When we got to the first Mourner’s Kaddish I was moved to tears. Written in Aramaic, the vernacular of Jesus’s day so that everybody could understand it, it never mentions death. Instead, it praises (and extolls, and glorifies) G-d for life itself. How profound to be able to say these very words any time–but especially with my friend there on Good Friday.  That is what prayer is all about. I hope he found some comfort in it too.

Remember not to forget….
This is the Shabbat we are told to remember not to forget Amalek. We read this just before Purim because we are also told that Haman is a descendent of Amalek. Let’s read it together.

Remember what Amalek did to you on your journey, after you left Egypt. How, undeterred by fear of G-d, he surprised you on the march, when you were famished and weary, and cut down all the stragglers in your rear. Therefore, when the Lord your G-d grants you safety from all your enemies around you, in the land that the Lord your G-d is giving you as a hereditary portion, you shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget! (Deuteronomy 25:17-19)

And yet, since we just celebrated Saint Patrick’s Day I found this on my Facebook feed posted by a congregant. Old Irish words of wisdom:

Always remember to forget
The things that made you sad.
But never forget to remember
The things that made you glad

Always remember to forget the friends that proved untrue.
But never forget to remember those that have stuck by you.
Always remember to forget the troubles that passed away.
But never forget to remember the blessing that come each day.

It would seem to be the exact opposite. We Jews spend a lot of time talking about memory. Zachor. Remember. Yizkor, the Service of Remembrance. Remember that we were slaves in the land of Egypt. Remember, as this week’s portion tells us, never to forget.

What then is the role of memory? I think it has to be to remember the bad and the good. It keeps us grounded. It keeps us connected to the generations that came before. It brings us comfort.

But what is the difference between memory and nostalgia. I think sometimes people want to return to that day when they walked to school in the snow storm, up that giant hill. And then walked home in the snow storm—up that same giant hill. Or those who want to return to the shtel. That is somehow glamorized by Fiddler on the Roof. But make no mistake it was no picnic. Or that commercial on now for Direct TV with the settlers. Little House on the Prairie was no picnic either. And how many of you long for a time here where all 216 seats were full? Perhaps Elgin in the 1950s. The world might have seemed simpler then, but was it really better?

Sometimes, what is too painful to remember we choose to forget. I stole that line from
Barbra Streisand, The Way We Were. Remember the whole song?
Mem’ries,
Light the corners of my mind
Misty water-colored memories
Of the way we were
Scattered pictures,
Of the smiles we left behind
Smiles we gave to one another
For the way we were
Can it be that it was all so simple then?
Or has time re-written every line?
If we had the chance to do it all again
Tell me, would we? Could we?
Mem’ries, may be beautiful and yet
What’s too painful to remember
We simply choose to forget
So it’s the laughter
We will remember
Whenever we remember…
The way we were…
The way we were..

The way we were. How were we? What if our memory starts to fade? Or blur. Or is too painful to remember.

Shortly after my mother died I returned to Grand Rapids, to moderate a book discussion on the last book she had chosen for her book group. The Madonnas of Lennigrad is a haunting book that moves between war torn, besieged St. Petersburg and her present day Alzheimers. She had kept herself vibrant by remembering her docent speech at the Hermitage. Now she was struggling to remember who she was today. I was struck by the discussion. How did we know that the siege of Lennigrad was as bad as it was portrayed. Others present answered that one. It was worse. Why wouldn’t she have told her children about how bad it was? I tried to explain that many people who undergo that kind of stress do not tell their children of the horrors—Vietnam vets, from who we first learned about PTSD, rape victims, Holocaust survivors. They don’t want to relive those painful memories or burden their children with them. Then a person asked how did we know that the Holocaust happened.

Because Hitler documented everything, I wanted to scream. Because we are taught to remember. To never forget. To keep telling the stories. To interview the survivors. To keep that memory alive. Just like today’s portion commands. Remember to never forget.

But it is not enough to remember. And here is where the Irish blessing comes back in. Because in order to survive. In order to thrive, we need to forget the little things We need to in the words of this blessing,

Always remember to forget
The things that made you sad.
But never forget to remember
The things that made you glad.

That is what Rabbi Bradley Shavit Artson said recently, “Holy Forgetting: the ability to let go of the trivial, the toxic, and the entrapping. Cultivate the capacity to selectively forget in order to truly inhabit the present….It is good sense to overlook an offense.” Proverbs 19:11.

Yet it seems there is a difference between a garden variety offense and the sin of Amalek, attacking the hungry, weary rear, or Haman or Hitler.

Perhaps there is one more song. Peter Yarrow wrote Light One Candle. In fact, as Simon and I pause to celebrate our anniversary, we remember that we sang this as part of Havdalah at the rehearsal dinner. We remember, with nostalgia the daisy petals from heaven that fell that morning. But these words tell us what we must do.

What is the memory that’s valued so highly
That we keep it alive in that flame?
What’s the commitment to those who died
That we cry out they’ve not died in vain?
We have come this far always believing
That justice would somehow prevail
This is the burden, this is the promise
T
his is why we will not fail.
Keeping that memory alive only works for me if we work for a time when the rear guard is not attacked, where an evil despot does not try to wipe out an entire people, where no longer will there be a genocide, any time, any place, against any people. This is why we must remember to never forget Amalek. To spur us to memory and action.

I am still having a hard time getting writing done. We had a fabulous trip and most of this was done but needed polishing. Here it is…

I was going to start with the theme song from the Love Boat. After all, Helen and Manny have enjoyed cruising and we are here to celebrate that love is in the air. Instead, it is almost baseball season so, instead, look around you. If you build it they will come. And all the more so, if you feed them they will come. And that is appropriate for this celebration also. This is our field of dreams.

Last week as we left the sanctuary and entered the social hall, Helen said to me, “You know next week Manny and I will celebrate our 60th anniversary. I think I’ll sponsor Kiddush.” That was the starting point. And it is nice. Sweet. Generous. And we are delighted that people want to sponsor Kiddush for happy events as well as yahrzeits.

It turns out that her timing is everything. Beshert. Destined.You see this week’s portion is about two things. Two portions really. This is a day with an extra reading. The first reading is as Heschel explains about building a palace in time and space—Shabbat celebrated in the Mishkan and that is what we are doing here, celebrating Shabbat in this beautiful building. Our own fields of dreams.

But the extra reading is about bringing a half shekel. Why were the Israelites commanded to bring a half-shekel to build the mishkan, the Tabernacle?

Because everyone could do it. Whether you were rich or poor you could add a half shekel. And together you create a beautiful place for the dwelling of G-d. That in dwelling presence of G-d we talked about last week, the Shechinah. The Shechinah is related to Mishkan. They have the same root. The In Dwelling Presence of G-d lives in the Miskhan, the Dwelling Place for G-d. The Shechinah dwells in each of us.

In this way, we all have a stake in what happens here. We all have access to the Divine. And that is pretty darn important. Simon’s childhood temple, Congregation Sinai, used to proclaim proudly the words of Isaiah, “My House Shall Be A House of Prayer For All People.” right over the majestic entranceway. That is exactly what we are building here. That is that wide-open tent we talk about, warm and welcoming to all who enter. That beautiful tent. Make no mistake. This building. This very building. Our building.The one that the Franks and the Lindows and others from previous generations had the vision to create and maintain. It is that lovely tent. That beautiful dwelling place. The one that you all have built with your shekels. “Ma tovu ohalecha Ya’akov. Mishkanotecha Yisrael.” How lovely are your tents O Jacob; your dwelling places, Your Mishkan—O Israel.” It is a dwelling place for G-d and for us. A beautiful legacy.

And why just a half-shekel? Maimonides begins to answer that question. “everything that is for the sake of G-d should be of the best and most beautiful. When one builds a house of prayer, it should be more beautiful than his own dwelling. When one feeds the hungry, he should feed him of the best and sweetest of his table. . . . Whenever one designates something for a holy purpose, he should sanctify the finest of his possessions, as it is written (Leviticus 3:16), ‘The choicest to G-d’” (Mishneh Torah, Hil. Issurei Mizbe’ach 7:11).

We still do that. There is a concept of hiddur haMitzvah, the beautification of the mitzvah. That’s why there are so many different seder plates that you can buy in our gift shop. And it extends beyond ceremonial art. Don’t laugh, but when I was first here, some one bemoaned that we were buying cheaper toilet paper. Shouldn’t we buy the very best toilet paper since this was a house for G-d? Why should we settle for second best? That expectation of excellence is something this portion is trying to imbue us with. For our synagogues and our homes.

Because our homes become a mikdash me’at, a little sanctuary. When we celebrate Shabbat at the synagogue and in our homes, Shabbat becomes a palace in space and time, a foretaste of the world to come.

That is what we are doing here today, bringing our whole selves to this mishkan, building a home for G-d on earth, a palace in time and space. We give ourselves fully to G-d and to each other—in this community so carefully built and to our partners. We realize that without this gift of the half-shekel we are incomplete. It was Robin Williams who said, “I used to think that the worst thing in life was to end up alone. The worst thing in life is to end up with people who make you feel alone.” We are better here, together, with G-d and the people we love.
But why a half and not a whole? If everything is supposed to be the best?
It goes back to the first wedding. We are better together than apart. We need a helpmate. As the text says, “It is not good for man to be alone.” But even in the first marriage—Adam to Eve—we are told in the midrash that G-d bedecked and bejeweled Eve. It is a sweet story. Yet, it is more than sweet. It is, as the Kabbalists teach, destined. Beshert. When G-d created humans, the first pair, was a single soul separated. Ideally, if we are lucky enough, a marriage is the reunification of that single pair, the ying and the yang borrowing from another tradition. The reunion necessitates our taking a deep breath, experiencing tzimtzum, the Divine room for the other, to experience ourselves as not whole but being completed by the other half, that half-shekel, that partner that makes us whole again, just like in the beginning.
But that is not all. Where else does that measure turn up—a half shekel? And here is where it becomes “Bashert”, destined, that we talk about this this morning. I owe the insight to Chabad. Now some of you are thinking, Chabad, that is not your usual source. But in fact, it can be a very good source, and one I read every week, together with AJR’s D’var Torah, Rabbi Lord Sacks, USJC Torah Sparks and URJ’s 10 Minutes of Torah. I guess you can say…I myself am a pluralistic Jew, plumbing the depths for all 70 faces of Torah. But Chabad seems especially appropriate today since Helen and Manny have a son that is a Chabad rabbi! In fact, Helen and Manny should be proud of all their children and grandchildren who are so active and so knowledgeable. Shortly we will have their son Gene honor his parents by chanting Haftarah.

But back to the question. Where else do we find a half-shekel? In the story of Eliezar finding a wife for Isaac. Who remembers the story?

Abraham sends his servant to find a wife for Isaac. Eliezar stops at the well. Rebecca rushes to draw water for him—and for his camels. In fact, all the verbs are active, rushing verbs.

The man took a golden ring, a half-shekel in weight; and two bracelets of ten shekels’ weight of gold for her hands. (Genesis 24:22)
The story continues and reads like a Hollywood script. He is welcomed into Laban’s home. Rebecca is consulted. She actually says yes. In fact, we derive the Jewish law that the woman has to say consent. She has a right of refusal. More gifts. Dinner. They set out on the caravan. They reach the field where Isaac is meditating. She lifts her eyes. She asks who is that man. She falls off her camel. He takes her to his mother’s tent and he loves her. The first mention of love in the Bible. And is comforted after his mother dies.
To this day a ring, perfectly round and unbroken is part of our wedding ceremony. Look at your hands…look at that ring…think of the promise you made to each other. Now I invite Helen and Manny to stand. And everyone else who is here with their partner to stand as I chant the Sheva Brachot, in memory of that day long ago when you gave each other a half-shekel.