This week I did something that unfortunately very few Americans get the opportunity to do. I traveled to Washington DC to speak truth to power. I went to the American Jewish World Service Policy Summit on Reducing Violence against Women, Girls and the LGBT community worldwide.

When we arrived in Washington, we counted the omer and were reminded that like the wheat our actions count. Congressman Engel told us “Don’t ever think you can’t ever make a difference. Your voice counts.”

Think globally. Act locally. I had a chance to do both. Act locally and globally.

I am a Global Justice Fellow for American Jewish World Service. It is part of my rabbinic professional development. It helps me learn a global context that I can then apply locally to my congregation and my town. It allows me to meet other rabbis and lay leaders who are committed to Tikkun Olam, repairing the world, which is one of our highest Jewish values.

I have long supported American Jewish World Service. Since my friend and colleague Rabbi Katy Allen traveled with them to El Salvador as a rabbinical student I have been aware of the fine work that AJWS does on the ground. Currently in 19 countries. They were instrumental in Haiti because they were already there. They are working diligently in Nepal, because they are already there.

Their method is to vet local partners to deliver the services necessary to reduce poverty. What they discovered is that in order to deliver services, it is critical to reduce violence first, especially against women and girls and the LGBT community.

When I applied for the fellowship, I didn’t fully understand what their current focus was. I thought I would go on the international travel portion of the fellowship and build a wall or dig a well. It would be like my version of the Peace Corps. But they have discovered that middle-aged rabbis are not so good at wall building and well digging. We are good at listening, storytelling and spreading the world. We build bridges that way.

The topic of the reduction of violence against women and girls in particular is one that I have worked on for a long time, locally. I wrote part of my rabbinic thesis on it. I have staffed a rape and domestic violence hotline. I worked as a mikveh guide and educator at Mayyim Hayyim. I produced a film about Mayyim Hayyim. I served on the Jewish Domestic Violence Taskforce and currently am the chairperson of the 16^th and 23^rd Circuit Court Faith Committee on Domestic Violence.

One in three women will be abused sometime in their lifetime. It is a staggering figure. I know that in every congregation I have served there are people that have wrestled with this issue. They come to me and they tell me their stories. They are the victims. The survivors. I do this work for them.

So yet again I got trained.

We heard people speak passionately about why this matters.

We heard the painful stories, like the one from Haiti. After the earthquake, girls in the refugee camps had to walk quite some distance to go to the latrines at night. Frequently they were attacked and raped on their way. They started wearing three pairs of jeans because they figured that if they were attacked, and they screamed, someone would come to their help before all the layers could be removed. AJWS heard their plight and began providing lights for the camps. The girls then began to organize patrols and the violence was reduced.

We learned how to write an op-ed and a letter to the editor. About the lede (or lead), the nut graph, the kicker, the devils advocate. I hope that coaching will help also with sermon writing and my blog.

We met with our lobby captain for Illinois and I helped plan our strategy for speaking to members of Congress. Not all our meetings would be easy, but we would have the opportunity to thank Senator Kirk for being a co-sponsor of the International Violence Against Women Act (IVAWA). My congregation had already made valentines back in February to thank him. Maybe we could even convince Congressman Roskam’s office to take another look at the bill and become a co-signer, like Kirk and Gibson. Gibson, as a Republican spoke to us powerfully about his experiences in Iraq. He explained we need this bill for all our mothers, daughters and wives. For him it is a national security issue.

On Wednesday morning, we left our hotel and walked to Capitol Hill. It is always thrilling to speak truth to power. I have been to Washington for this reason before. On behalf of Soviet Jews. To save Darfur (which started as an AJWS and US Holocaust Museum project). For Israel. As a Girl Scout.

Seven Congressmen joined us for breakfast on the Hill. I was in the second row. We were told by Representative Deutch, D. FL that “The work that you will do today is as important as any you will do in your life. Rep Deutch. Check. Do not stand idly by while your neighbor bleeds. Welcome the widow, the orphan the stranger. Check. This is important work.

Judaism places a high value on saving lives. If you save one life it is as though you have saved the world. Rep. Debbie Wasserman Schulz was late for our breakfast meeting because as she explained, she was at a hearing to put local laws in place for swimming pools in DC that will save young lives. And she joked about speaking to a room full of curly haired women! Jan Schakowsky dazzled us with her commitment and her passion. A freshman congressman from New York explained that his rabbi told him he had to go to the meeting.

This trip was different. As I walked across the street to get my Starbucks, I could see the Capitol dome. I was going to Congress to speak on my issue. In that instant, I had an epiphany. I figured out the language I could use to make my voice count. To give this issue the necessary gravitas.

Not everyone gets to go to Washington and speak to members of the Congress and the Senate. Not everyone gets a chance to speak out on the issues that matter most. Not everyone gets to make a difference locally and globally.

It was simple.

I am passionate about the Congress passing the International Violence Against Women Act (IVAWA) because I am one of those one in three.

And in that instant I realized how far I have come in my own personal journey and my own healing. And I cried. My voice counts.

Thank you AJWS for your passion and compassion and commitment to Tikkun Olam. Thank you for giving me the courage to find me voice (again). And thank you to Congregation Kneseth Israel for understanding how this professional development benefits CKI, Elgin and the world.

May 4, 2015: Building Community With a Funeral

The phone call came late Friday afternoon. The funeral home needed a burial plot number. There were no children, no relatives, no service. After all no body knew him. Just a quick burial. No need for me the rabbi to show up.

I explained to the surprised funeral home director, not Jewish, that I would be there. Just a couple of quick words, no big deal but the person, who I had never met deserved at least that much. I got off the phone. Called the chair of our cemetery committee. He said, “Rabbi, I’ll be there.” I got off the phone and resumed my weekly meeting with the president of our board. “Well, of course you’ll be there. It is only right. That’s what Jews do.”

And I stopped to think about it. He’s right. That’s what Jews do. So I sent an email to my professional organization, the Association of Rabbis and Cantors, ARC. How do you do a funeral for someone you didn’t know, with no one present. Every single answer was “Of course.” And in the process you build community.

After Shabbat I sent out an email to our community. I explained that I was doing a funeral for someone who died who left no one and that not many if any knew the person. I asked for people to show up. To be counted. To perform that last act of compassion with no hope for “pay back.” To make a minyan. And they did. We had 18 people present. Including his next door neighbors, his legal guardians.

Our person had been a member for years. He was a bachelor. Never married. Never had children. Born in England. He and his parents bought the house in 1947, right after the war. He loved Snookers. His mother had been a member. Played cards and canasta with some of our older members who still remember her—and her son. He had worked at the post office. He celebrated holidays with his neighbors. Loved television and video games. Played with the neighbors kids. Occasionally he went to Men’s Clubs meetings.

I sang psalms from the hearse to the grave. I did a couple of more Psalms. The funeral director’s father had worked with him at the post office. Someone remembered picking him up for Men’s Club. The legal guardians had a couple of stories. I recited El Maleh Rachamim. We lowered the casket. We said Kaddish. We gently filled in the earth, backwards shovelful by backwards shovelful. We didn’t want to break the cover on the cloth casket.

It occurred to me, the old midrash that Abraham died alone and it was only after he died that Isaac and Ishmael came back together. This man died alone. But he was not buried alone. We say that it takes a village to raise a child. Sometimes it takes a village to bury the dead. That village becomes community.

18 of us stood there. 13 of us, roughly, were Jews. No matter. 18 means life. 13 reminded me of the 13 Attributes of the Divine, which include compassion, grace, full of lovingkindness and truth. We are told we need to be like G-d. Like G-d clothed Adam and Eve we should clothe the naked. Like G-d visited Abraham when he was sick, we should visit the sick. Like G-d buried Moses, we should bury the dead.

The 13 Attributes reminds me of the book, The Thirteen Petaled Rose. I hadn’t read it in years. For me, as a college student it was an obscure work of Kabbalah. It was not accessible to me. Now gathered at a cemetery with 18 people, 13 Jews I realized just how relevant it was—especially since we were burying a man named Rose! Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz, a pre-eminent Talmud scholar, teaches us about the four worlds, action, formation, creation and emanation and the angels that travel between the worlds. Then he explains how when we do mitzvot, we create new angels to raise up the universe’s energy.

We are taught that angels are messengers. 18 angels showed up yesterday so that this man could be buried with dignity. With honor. With kavod. In the process of completing that mitzvah, we created new angels. In the process, we created community. Kol hakavod. And thank you.

A Postscript. We had a professor, Rabbi Regina Sandler Phillips, at the Academy for Jewish Religion. She was our professor for death and dying. She taught a class in forgiveness. She offered an “intensive” in funeral practices. She currently teaches other congregations how to form “chevre kadisha,” a holy society, a burial society. Her favorite Talmudic quote is “In cities of diversity…we organize ourselves and our money…to sustain the poor…and visit the sick…and bury the dead…and comfort the bereaved…for these are ways of peace.” (Jerusalem Talmud, Tractate Gittin)Every class she began by talking about her love of cream soda. When we went to the Blue Box Café afterwards, there it was: cream soda. I don‘t think I have seen it anywhere else in Elgin. It seemed beshert, destined. And part of this wider community, this wider village, reaching back to AJR. Obviously, that’s what I had to drink. And as Regina said, “Sweet.”

I was asked to give the prayer at an Earth Day event for a new friend. She is a charismatic, Baptist minister, a chaplain at a local hospital, and the sister of a congregant. My response? Who me? Surely with all of her friends there might be someone else better suited, better equipped to pray. But she is a new friend and it is at Morton Arboretum. I love the Morton Arboretum. And I don’t like to disappoint.

What could I say that would be meaningful? She described the group as a fourth Jewish, a fourth Christian and a fourth heathen. How could I bridge all those gaps?

My father loved places like this. He was a scientist. He was a biologist, a botanist, a geneticist. We spent more Yom Kippurs in the woods reveling in nature than in synagogue. He worked for Barry Commoner, who coined the term ecology, so my father was one of the first ecologists and together we celebrated the first Earth Day in Evanston in 1970. But he was not someone who prayed. So again, what could I say as the daughter of a Jewish atheist on this beautiful Earth Day.

And then the prayer fell into my lap.

Rabbi Karyn D. Kedar wrote a called Counting Omer. In the back of the book there are prayers for special days. Here is the one for Earth Day:

Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai said:
Three thins are of equal importance—
Earth, humans and rain.
Rabbi Levi ben Chiyata said:
To teach that without earth, there is no rain
And without rain, the earth cannot endure.
And without either
Humans cannot exist. (B’reisht Rabah 13:3)

Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakki…used to say:
If you have a sapling in your hand
And someone should say to you that
The Messiah has come,
Stay and complete the planting and then go
To great the Messiah (Avot D’Rabbi Natan 31b)

When you reap the harvest of your land,
You shall not reap all the way
To the edges of your field or gather
But you shall leave them
For the poor and the stranger
I the Eternal am your God (Leviticus 19:9-10)

But ask the beasts and they will teach you
The birds of the sky and they will tell you
Or speak to the earth and t will teach you
The fish of the sea, they will inform you.
Who among all these does not know
That the hand of the Eternal has done this? (Job 12:7-9)

Compiled by Rabbi Karyn D. Kedar

Look around you. Earlier this week looking at what I now believe is an ornamental pear tree in full blossom etched against a bright blue sky, I was reminded of the Louis Armstrong song:

I see trees of green, red roses, too,
I see them bloom, for me and you
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world.

I see skies of blue, and clouds of white,
The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world.

Look around you. What a wonderful world.

Appreciating nature is the first step. Being inspired by it. Awed by it. Wowed by is the second step. The third step, as we are doing today, is to fulfill the sacred obligation to take care of it.

We have an obligation to take care of this wonderful world and to take care of the people who take care of us. That is why we are here today. To raise money for a scholarship in the name of a teacher, Jerry Hart, a teacher of science, who brought many to this deep appreciation of nature.

So I added to Karen Kedar’s prayer. I used the words of an old Girl Scout grace.

“Back of the bread is the flour and back of the flour is the mill and back of the mill is the wind and the rain and the Father’s will.”

And the one line blessing from the Talmud: Brich rachamana, malka d’alma, marei d’hei pita. You are the source of life for all that lives and Your blessing flows through me.

Thank you for this amazing day. For the food we are about to eat. For Olive who called us all together. For the connections between all of these people. For friends and family. For the people who serve the food. For the people who prepare it. For the truckers who brought it. For the farmers who planted and sowed and watered and hoped and prayed and for the G-d who brings forth bread from the earth for all.

And it was a glorious day. But there is more. A woman came up to me afterwards and thanked me for speaking. Not at the Arboretum, but at an event back in February. Because I spoke at the Long Red Line Billion Women Rising event at the Gail Borden Library, she got the courage to go get the help she needed. Not me alone but also Mary who spoke powerfully about trauma and how to overcome it. Not me alone but together with the Community Crisis Center and others like Vicky and Denise, who helped organize that event. The midrash and the Koran both teach if you have saved one life it is as though you have saved the world. On Earth Day, we received the gift of knowing. Because of this I have the strength (and the courage) to complete the next book on Hope and Healing.

On the way to the Arboretum, I heard a radio program I love, On Being with Krista Tippett. http://onbeing.org It, too, seemed focused on Earth Day. And I confess, I didn’t hear the whole program with Margaret Wertheim. A physicist, she is making crocheted coral reefs http://crochetcoralreef.org/about/index.php to so that we have a model of the coral reef it were to die out. This week there was an announcement from NOAA scientists that the coral reef might die out if we don’t stop releasing so much C02 in the air. The very thing that my father had worried about when we were celebrating the first Earth Day.

All that by itself was intriguing. It is a constructive response to a desvesting problem. She says that people are totally freaked out by climate change. But what captured my imagination the most was what she said about community. When billion of corral polyps coming together they can build the Great Barrier Reef. The crocheted corral project is a human analog of that. Look what we can do together. Individually we are insignificant and powerless but together, look what we can do. She said that alone we would be overwhelmed by climate change and alone we can do little if anything about it. The power and greatness of the coral project. Insignificant alone but look what we can do together. But together as community we can.

We have a sacred obligation to repair the world. We call that tikkun olam. It comes right at the beginning of Genesis. We have a sacred obligation to be caretakers of the earth. To be partners with G-d. Again right from Genesis. To not destroy, bal taschit.  But no one can do this alone. “Ours is not to finish the task, neither are we free to ignore it.” It takes the power of community.

I have been writing a lot about community lately. On Earth Day, we learn (or more accurately relearn) the power of community. Coming together as community saves lives. Coming together as community saves the planet.

And that is one of the beauties of Congregation Kneseth Israel. We build community by planting winter wheat and counting the omer. We build community when we volunteer for Habitat for Humanity. We build community when we volunteer for PADs and the Crisis Center. We build community when we collect non-perishable food for the Kol Nidre food drive and for the Martin Luther King food drive. We build community when we plant our community garden and feed the hungry, playing out the words from this coming week’s Torah portion. We don’t glean to the edges of our field. We provide for the widow, the orphan, the stranger, and in that process we build our own community.

Then I walked back up the hill with my new friend Olive and we reveled in our commonality and the beauty of the bright yellow daffodils and the bright green new growth. It seemed the world was bright, covered with new leaves just coming out, looking like lace against the bright blue sky. Louis Armstrong was right—what a wonderful world. Our job is to protect it, to guard it, to guide it—in community. I am filled with hope.

Today’s Torah portion is long and it is a double portion. Don’t worry. It won’t be a double sermon.

On the surface, it doesn’t seem to have much to teach us. But that’s when you need to go deeper. Who has driven by the spray painted sign on Irving Park Road that simply says, “You are beautiful.” Go do it. Or who has heard the expression “Beauty is only skin deep.” Or maybe you have seen the commercials or the specials for Dove. Choose Beautiful. Which would you choose? To go through a door marked average or one marked beautiful. http://www.dove.us/Our-Mission/Real-Beauty/default.aspx

Most women choose the average door. And when they stop to think about it and go through the beautiful door, even the woman in the wheelchair, they are empowered. Their self-esteem improves.

So let’s start with some basics. My father, who was balding, used to say that bald was a four letter word. The correct term would be sparse. How many of you have been uncomfortable because you might be balding? How many of you see yourselves as beautiful?

The Torah this morning teaches that someone who is bald is tahor. Now tahor is a difficult word to translate. Sometimes it gets translated as pure or clean. Mayyim Hayyim, the mikveh, the ritual bath in Boston translates it as ritually ready. But whether you think being bald is beautiful or not, no one in this room would see it as a reason that you cannot be part of the community.

Then the parsha goes further and explains all the rules and regulations for curing leprosy. Or some other skin disease because it is not clear that the scaly, white flakes are really leprosy although that is how we usually translate it. Maybe it is eczema, or psoriasis or dandruff, or fungus. Maybe what it actually was doesn’t matter. If there were a Bar Mitzvah this week, the student’s first response to this parsha would be revulsion. That’s gross. We don’t usually talk about skin diseases. And while it was the priest’s job to cure it, it is not the rabbi’s job. I will refer you to a dermatologist.

But remember, whatever this disease is, it is only skin deep. Everyone is created in the image of G-d. Everyone. Even the one with the skin disease. And so after a period of being ritually unprepared, and staying outside the camp, the person is brought back in, welcomed back in and made tahor again, ritually ready.

There is a ritual to help them, and the community prepare. And part of it involves mayyim hayyim, living waters. The washing in living waters helps marks that transition between being tamei, ritually unready and tahor, ritually ready.

This parsha has a lot to teach us about how we welcome people back.

Are there modern day lepers today? People that make us so uncomfortable, or who are so uncomfortable themselves that they are “outside the camp” for a period of time?

We brainstormed a list. People who have removed themselves from the community but want to rejoin. People who have served their time in jail and are trying to re-integrate into society. People who have had some kind of illness. Big ones like AIDS or Ebola that get shunned in the paper. Cancer. Illnesses that are not explainable or curable.

But wait, someone said, Jews don’t put people outside the camp. It is not like we excommunicate. Or do we. We talked about Spinoza. We talked about the chief rabbi in Israel who excommunicated another chief rabbi. We talked about Rabbi Everett Gendler and the other rabbis who were excommunicated after signing a letter in the New York Times.

We added to the list. In some parts of the world, women and girls who have their periods. People in the LGBT community. People who are developmentally delayed. People who have a mental illness. People who are financially challenged. People who lost a job. Or a divorcee. A single mother. An unwed mother. Someone who chose to marry someone not Jewish. Someone who doesn’t believe in G-d.

Each of these feel that somehow they are outside the camp. Maybe they themselves think they are not worthy to be inside the synagogue. I would tell them unequivocally, “No. You do belong. There is space for you inside this tent. Inside this house of meeting. Right here at Congregation Kneseth Israel.”

How do we welcome them back in?

First let’s be careful with our language. It is not an us and them. Maybe all of us spend sometime during our lives outside the camp—for a variety of reasons. Maybe it is more like the wicked son at Passover who separates himself from the community. Part of the message of the wicked son, the wicked child, is that we should not separate ourselves from the community. And yet, we are also told that each of us is each of the children. Sometimes wise, sometimes wicked, sometimes simple and sometimes too young to ask the questions.

Second, let’s be careful to meet someone where they are. Someone coming back from an illness maybe happy to be back. Maybe grateful to have survived. Maybe glad to see friends again. Maybe relieved to return to a certain normalcy. Or maybe afraid. Could this happen again? What if the community has forgotten about me? What if everything has changed? Or maybe angry. Why did this happen to me? Why did I suffer and my friends did not? Where were my friends when I needed them most? Where was G-d?

Thirdly, we could find ways to publicly acknowledge someone’s return. Our tradition has ways of welcoming someone back. Birkat Hagomel, the blessing of thanksgiving for deliverance is one such way. Typically recited after surviving a danger: a flight over an ocean, a journey through the desert, major illness, release from prison, childbirth. And I learned in preparing this that a woman is obligated to recite it! When I first learned Birkat hagomel I was uncomfortable with it. At the insistence of our rabbi, Simon recited it after he fell off the loading dock at UPS. I did after a serious car accident. Both incidents required hospitalizations. But in my case, I wasn’t sure that G-d had dealt kindly with me. And while I was grateful to survive, I was conscious of all those who do not survive tragedies. Why did I survive when so many perished in the Holocaust, in the Twin Towers, in war? Until this year, surviving a trans-Atlantic flight seemed like no big deal. But maybe it is and it should be acknowledged. And so despite my own reservations, I frequently have people up to the bimah who are returning to the community in order to publicly acknowledge them.

People who recite Birkat HaGomel are encouraged to do two other things. Give tzedakah and sponsor a celebratory meal. Here at CKI we could host an oneg Shabbat or Kiddush in gratitude or in someone else’s honor. Giving to CKI is always appropriate. As are other charitable organizations—American Cancer Society, Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, various hospices. One vision I have is CKI sponsoring a road race where half the proceeds go to CKI and half to some other organization.

Mayyim Hayyim’s commitment to using mikveh at times of transitions is another way. Starting chemotherapy, ending chemotherapy, before surgery, after surgery, after shiva or shloshim, or a year of mourning, after losing a job or finding one or retiring, after ending an abusive relationship. And while mikveh itself is a very private moment, it can be marked alone or with friends. It is a way to acknowledge coming back. And if you are that person sitting there, that feels “outside the camp”, Mayyim Hayyim’s book, Blessings for the Journey, may help. While the subtitle is a Jewish Healing Guide for Women with Cancer, I find it to be one of the best treatments for acknowledging anger. It comes with practical suggestions for the individual wanting to get back in. Journaling, meditation, yoga, and yes, mikveh. That same Mayyim Hayyim our portion will discuss, updated and modern.

Sometimes welcoming someone back in doesn’t work well. I am reminded of the book Ladies Auxiliary, where an unconventional Orthodox widow from New York arrives in Memphis with her 5 year old daughter. She becomes the scapegoat for all that is bad in the community. She is a convert. She likes to sing loudly at shul. She wears flowing clothes which show off her figure. She even goes to the mikveh even though she no longer has a husband. She is talked about behind her back. She is gossiped about. She is blamed for the community unravelling.

This is when we have to go even deeper with this text this morning. Because what the rabbis say is that this text is not about skin disease at all. It is powerfully about community. This text is about another scourge. It suggests that our very words are the source of the contagion. It begs us to ask as the book Text Messages suggests, what if our words become contagious. What if this text is really about gossip?

Hard to see the connection? You have to learn to pun in Hebrew. Metzora comes from two words. Motzei, who brings forth, like the blessing for bread, and ra, bad. Who brings forth bad. That bad is gossip. The rabbis teach a lot about lashon hara, evil speech, or gossip. I am not going to sit here and read you this whole book, Guard Your Tongue, but preventing gossip is exactly what the Chofetz Chayyim was attempting to do. In fact, there are more references to sins in the AL Cheyt that have to do with speech than with any other category of sin. Most of us don’t commit murder. But it is easy, too easy to commit slander, or shade the truth, or gossip. Today it is even easier to allow that gossip to slip into bullying and cyberbullying. And once it is out in cyberspace, on our walls and Facebook pages it is almost impossible to get it back. And it spreads like a virus and just as quickly. No Purel or Dove soap will prevent its malicious spread.

We have to go back a little bit. Miriam, for whom I was named and so I always identify with her, didn’t like the woman Moses married. The Cushite woman, the black Ethiopian, the other. She speaks out about it. Rails against her and is struck with leprosy, those white scales. Oh the irony. Doesn’t like the black woman, speaks out, her skin becomes even whiter. Not a pretty scene! So she is put outside the camp. But our tradition gives us another explanation. Miriam and Aaron did speak out—not against Moses marrying Zipporah but against him not returning to her after receiving the law at Sinai. Miriam was worried that Moses was not performing his marital duties. So you see how easy it is to spread gossip. By telling these two stories about Moses, you could argue we just did it here.

Moses’ response to Miriam’s illness is quick and certain. In very simple language, he prays for her recovery. El na refana La. G-d, Please. Heal her.

So that is my prayer. El na refana lehem. G-d Please. Heal us. Please heal us from this scourge of leprosy, of gossip. Of hitting the send button on an email too quickly. Of reposting something on Facebook that doesn’t belong there. Of spreading rumors without checking facts. Of talking behind someone’s back. Grant us the ability to think before we speak. Or not speaking at all. Of walking away when gossiping starts. Or, as the rabbis suggested, turning our earlobes up as earplugs when gossip begins. And once the gossip happens, because it always does, I pray that like G-d, we learn to forgive, ourselves and others, and welcome the gossiper back in.

Then, when we welcome people back into our community, we will be able to build the community. And the beauty will be more than skin deep.

Yesterday at WeighWatchers I learned something interesting. Polar bear is a power food. So is squirrel. Now that doesn’t necessarily mean that I want to eat them or that they are kosher. They are not. Although you can find kosher gummy polar bears. But the leader went on to talk about clean eating. All the rage these days. Eating things from the outside edges of the grocery store. Fruits, vegetables, lean proteins, fish, chicken, beef, lean dairy, whole grain bakery. Foods that are not processed. Some extend that to organic, or non-GMO. Some say that paleo or gluten free or dairy free are better forms of clean eating.

Maybe. We talked about how keeping the synagogue kitchen kosher means keeping the community alive, unique, set apart, holy. We talked about other traditions that make Judaism unique and yes sometime isolated. Mezuzah on the door, kippah on your head, observance of Shabbat, circumcision. These keep the community set apart and it is harder to assimilate. That can be either good or bad.

When Sarah was little, there was another rabbi who she said put people in little boxes. Either you were Jewish or not. Or you kept kosher or not. And if you kept kosher, how kosher were you. He used kashrut to divide people. Here at CKI kashrut has also been used to divide. Is the warmer kosher? What about asparagus? What about bourbon with honey? What about Coke? Lamb for Passover? The general state of our kitchen? My job as the mara d’atra requires me to spend a lot of time thinking about kashrut and ensuring the kashrut of our kitchen. I view it as a sacred obligation.

And a way to unite people? To build community.

So what does kashrut mean? What does it mean to you? Why bother?

It is more than not eating pork or shellfish. And what is that animal we will read about later today that crawls on the bottom. Is it really a lobster—not kosher but no one really knows. Or not mixing meat and milk. Or having separate dishes.

It means fit or proper.

Some translate it as clean. It is the Weight Watchers power foods. When I was a 7^th grader my Hebrew School class was no picnic. We were children of board members, the synagogue president, vice-president, rabbi, synagogue administrator. We thought we owned the building and we did. The parents stepped in and took over the teaching in mini-courses all the rage back in the day. My mother, the classical Reform Jew, taught the section on kashrut which consisted mostly of a trip to the kosher deli, long gone. We learned from the rabbi that kashrut was an outmoded form of Judaism and about blue and red soap. That deli is long gone but the rabbi keeps kosher now. It wasn’t until I went to college that I learned that some people really do do this. I bought dishes for my room, yellow ones and white ones and marked the backs with nail polish for meat and dairy. I wanted anyone that visited my dorm room to be comfortable eating there. It is about I’ve been keeping kosher ever since. At some level or other.

But why? Why does any of this matter today? Do we care about polar bears or squirrels? Pork, camels, horses, dogs? Grasshoppers and locusts? Keeping meat and milk separate?

What modern questions might we ask about the food we eat? USY asked these questions:

• Is it organic? Is it local?
• Is it healthy?
• How were the animals treated in the production of this food?
• What impact does this meal have on the environment?
• How were the farmers, factory workers, and grocery store employees treated during the production line?
• Is this a Fair Trade product?

These questions are not a lot different than what we found in the Talmud.  USY used this text to propel our questions and our understanding: Rabbi Yohanan and Resh Lakish both explain: At the time when the Temple stood, the altar used to make atonement for a person; now a person’s table makes atonement for him.” – Talmud Bavli, Masekhet Chagigah 27a.

It is an important text because from it we learn that our houses are little mishkans, little sanctuaries. And how we eat can make us whole, can make us holy. It is like the old question do we eat to live or live to eat?

Some answers that can be drawn out the text include eating the proper foods, and that those food choices are in line with other Jewish values like not wasting, bal taschit, not destroying and protecting the environment, inviting guests like Abraham and Sarah did, so that no one is alone and we have community, and studying words of Torah. Pirke Avot, the very Pirke Avot chapter that we will study later today says that if three people have eaten at one table and spoken words of Torah, then it is as if they had eaten from the table of G-d, from the altar of the Divine. It’s like that line in Les Mis. To love another person is to see the Face of G-d. Maybe it is to eat with another person is to see the face of G-d.

But kosher is more than food. We talk about kosher Torah scrolls. Ones that are fit to read from. We talk about kosher soap, ones not made with lye. We can even talk about kosher sex. But that is next week. So what are the modern questions about Kashrut?

Rabbi Arthur Waskow asks four questions:

1. Are tomatoes grown by drenching the earth in pesticides “kosher” to eat, at home or at the synagogue’s next wedding reception?

I would add are they kosher is they tomato field owners refuse to pay a penny more a pound and thus exploit the tomato workers?

2. Is newsprint made by chopping down an ancient and irreplaceable forest “kosher” to use for a Jewish newspaper?

I would add is it kosher to eat beef that requires 14 pound of grain for every pound of beef?

3. Are windows and doors so carelessly built that the warm air flows out through them and the furnace keeps burning all night — are such doors and windows “kosher” for a home or for a Jewish Community Center building?

I would add is it Kosher to use Styrofoam for synagogue functions, even though the “kashrut” is more reliable than washing dishes that may be confused with milk and meat?

4. Is a bank that invests the depositors’ money in an oil company that befouls the ocean a “kosher” place for me or for a UJA to deposit money?

I would add is it kosher to use kosher meat when the animals are not treated ethically even if they are slaughtered according to Jewish law? What if the workers are not treated ethically? Or as is debated in our house frequently, is veal ever kosher?

This group of questions sets up a new kind of kashrut. Eco-kashrut. Kashrut that includes the traditional laws that we will read this morning. But beyond that. Ways of living fit and proper. Clean eating. Local sourcing. Organic and non-GMO foods. Fair trade. Responsible eating. Responsible use of power and water. The word eco-kashrut was coined in the late 1970’s by Rabbi Zalma Schachter-Shalomi, of blessed memory, founder of the Jewish Renewal movement. He saw the siddur, the traditional Jewish prayer book, like a cookbook. A guide to eating but not the food itself. A siddur is a guide to praying but not the prayer itself. So as Waskow teaches, Schacter-Shalomi saw the code of kosher food in much the same way. He asked is electric power generated by a nuclear plant, “eco-kosher?” And so these are really important questions, particularly as we approach earth day. As an aside, my father worked for Barry Comoner at Washington University in Saint Louis. Barry is the one who coined the term ecology, so I grew up with all this language—if not the kashrut part!

So this is where our Bible text that we will read today becomes meaningful in a modern world. This week we will hear lots about climate change and global warming. We will hear much about Earth Day. About protecting water resources. And cleaning up the land. We talked about sh’mita last week. About letting the land rest.

It seems to me kashrut comes to set personal boundaries and community boundaries. We know enough about what we should eat. We agree that clean eating and power foods are the way to go. We know that there is enough food in the world to allow everyone to eat if we could only distribute it equitably. Yet we still have hungry people.

So why do I care if we at CKI have a Kosher Kitchen? Is it to make it more complicated for people out here who can’t get into Skokie or Buffalo Grove? No, for me it is more fundamental than that.

It is about living consciously. Thoreau said that he went to the woods to learn to live deliberately. Kashrut is a way that I live deliberately, mindfully, with purpose.

But Thoreau lived in a cabin that just had room for three people. I choose, deliberately, to live in a community that is bigger than that. Keeping kosher and having these very debates helps me to do that. It keeps the Jewish community alive.

You all know that I am a meat and potatoes girl. And while I think that ethically vegetarians have a lot of important points, even from a kashrut standpoint, I am probably not going to give up my steak. It is even a Weight Watcher power food! And yet, I like a new designation, Magan Tzedek, for meat that is being raised ethically. I like some colleagues who have gone to using locally raised, grassfed beef as being more kosher than the large meat packing plants in Iowa that got caught up in a sting a couple of years ago.

I thrill when I can answer questions like where to find Kosher cheese—and find local sources: Meijers, Jewel, Trader Joe’s, Costco, all have some. Trader Joe’s has Israeli Kosher Feta. It is a like a treasure hunt and I love it! It doesn’t have to be difficult. I can buy fair trade, organic kosher coffee for my Keruig and use recyclable K-Cups. Messy but then I can use the grinds in the compost bin. I can buy my kosher coffee at Starbucks—or even at McDonalds. And I can choose to use my own cup which is better for the environment, making my double latte doubly kosher. I can choose to buy my kosher wine at Binny’s or from my favorite Jewishly owned vineyard in northern Michigan. I can go to the Elgin Harvest Market and buy the most perfect summer tomato or peach, locally grown and supporting local farmers. And that reminds me.

Ultimately, keeping kosher—Biblical Kosher, Rabbinic Kosher, eco-Kosher, is a way is a way to connect with the Divine. To remember at every meal to be grateful. To be thankful for what we have.

I am glad that we are CKI have a kosher kitchen. Quite simply, it helps builds the community.

April 14, 2015

On Shabbat, the last day of Passover, we read the rules of Sh’mita. The reading began with the idea that we should give 10% of our assets to support the community.

“Set aside a tenth of all that your fields produce each year.” Deuteronomy 14:22.

This is radical stuff. Then it becomes even more radical as it tells us that every seven years we need a rest. We need release. This is definitely tied in the land and into Passover with its theme of Passover.

And it is relevant today. It felt like a bookend. Just before Passover began, a small group of us gathered to study, and I had chosen the rules of Sh’mita since this is a Sh’mita year in Israel. We carefully looked at all the Biblical references, about 15 of them. Ultimately Sh’mita is about how to organize a society after the “high” of walking through the Sea of Reeds and experiencing the miracle of freedom. How to organize a society after the “high” of receiving the 10 Commandments at Mount Sinai. And how quickly do those Israelites slip! They need these other laws. They need these practical how-tos. Not about how to approach the Divine. Not about how to see wonder but how to live together.

Because the Israelites, they kvetch. They complain. Almost from moment one. I told the story on Saturday from Rabbi Larry Kushner about Reuven and Shimon. No not my husband Simon. Reuven and Shimon are the Talmudic names attached to the ordinary guys. These two regular guys are walking through the Sea of Reeds. And they complain. They don’t see the miracle. All they see is the mud on their feet.

Then the Israelites complain that they are thirsty. That they want to go back to Egypt to eat onions and leeks. Really? Onions and leeks. I love them. But exchange freedom for slavery with onions and leeks? Not so fast.

So we studied the sh’mita laws, using a guide book, a source book that Hazon put together specifically for this year. http://hazon.org/shmita-project/educational-resources/shmita-sourcebook/

The first text is from Exodus and tells us that part of sh’mita is not gossiping. It is about protecting the needy. It is about a Shabbat for the land. Simply, as the people gathered told us, it tells us “Be a mensch” After the high of Sinai it teaches us how to live in community, the practicality of how to set up society. Not gossiping is a critically important rule for building a community. And it happens all too often. Even in communities that think they are warm and welcoming.

The next set of texts is from Leviticus 25. These are the core of the sh’mita rules. What we noticed is that what it teaches is the need to trust G-d. Trust G-d and you will be rewarded, even when the land lies fallow. G-d will provide. Like the manna. It is a gift. A continuing gift. You can eat the gift. You can and should share the gift. With the poor, the widow, the orphan, the stranger precisely (again) because we were strangers in Egypt. But you cannot store the gift.

This means we cannot worry about whether there is going to be enough. There is enough. Period. And since we are good Jews we come up with good questions. The land rests. The people rests. This frees us. It frees us up. The question becomes what do we do with that extra time. There is a responsibility that comes with freedom.

We learned that it is not a loss. It has something to do with security. Preparing a long time in advance. And again, it is not us doing it, it is G-d doing it.

So if we are called to trust and it is G-d that is providing, not necessarily we alone, how does that effect us today? How do we trust that people will really give gifts of their hearts? Freewill offerings?

We talked about our role in terms of nuclear disarmament and climate change. We need to take the long view. What does 25 years from now look like? What about 50?

What about our own congregation? What does 25 years from now look like? What about 50?

Let’s go back to that first text. What if we do give 10% or even just 2.5% to sustain the community? What if it is not called dues? What does it mean to be a member? These are the questions that Rabbi Kerry Olitzky and his son Rabbi Avi Olitzky wrestles with in their new book. Like the laws of sh’mita, this book has radical implications for setting up community in a synagogue.

One of the initial they use is a sh’mita text: “You should not appear before God empty-handed. Every person should give in accordance with how he [or she] has been blessed by God.” (Deuteronomy 16: 16b– 17) Gifts to the mishkan were gifts of the heart. But everybody gave. Something. At least a half-shekel. Nonetheless, Olitzky said, “We also want to change the way synagogue leaders and members think about dues, to drop the image of dues as a form of taxation— which few people actually enjoy paying— and to promote the notion that dues are an expression of philanthropy, giving from the heart, which has the potential to elevate the soul.”

Elevate the soul. That’s what we want. A way to connect with each other and with G-d. We don’t want to pay to pray, although we need someone, anyone to pay for the infrastructure so that we can pray.

We then had a discussion about why people come to synagogue. Some come because they need others—at least 10 in a minyan—to be fully religious. They agreed that group is getting smaller and smaller. Our own focus group study conducted before I came concluded that only 17% come for religious services. Some come because they want community. For them it is a chance to catch up and see friends. To share the news of the week. To rejoice and be comforted. Synagogue is a touchstone. A place that is warm and welcoming. A place that you can refocus. A place that provides moral guidance. A place you can learn.

Those ideals, that vision is not much different from Olitzky quoting Wolfson. He asks “Does my synagogue:

1. Change my life?
2. Strengthen my family?
3. Give me a community of friends to celebrate the ups and downs of my life?
4. Teach me how to use Jewish study and practice to enhance my life?
5. Connect me to both a sacred and a civic Jewish community in a significant way?
6. Give me a sense of belonging to the Jewish people?
7. Deepen my relationship with the State of Israel?
8. Lead me to do the work of repairing the world?
9. Help me to build a relationship with God, however I define God?”

Quite simply synagogues exist “to meet three basic human needs: the need to belong, the need to believe, and the need to become.”

At CKI we have figured that out. It matches our vision statement of lifelong learning, meaningful observance, embracing diversity and building community. Based on our conversation at services it still serves us well.

The trick is figuring out how to pay for that in equitable ways. This new book is a must read for every rabbi, every Jewish communal leader and every synagogue board member. I am ordering multiple copies.

Taking our vision and making it a reality, is the hard part. By studying the Biblical laws of Sh’mita and Olitzky’s book, I believe we can get there.

At Congregation Kneseth Israel we have a four part vision statement. Meaningful Observance, Life Long Learning, Embracing Diversity and Building Community. Since signing my contract, I have written my vision of how this vision plays out. Here is the fourth part on building community. When we engage in meaningful observance, life long learning and embracing diversity, we build community. It is the pillar on which all the other planks stand.

Here is what I just emailed to my congregation:

Building Community:

For me, building community is about deepening the relationships between people. This concept is precisely what the focus group studies showed and the book Relational Judaism. People want to feel connected to one another. That is what Buber was talking about when he spoke about an I-Thou relationship. That is part of the gift of religion and as I am fond of saying what the root of the word religion means, religio, to tie back up into.

Here at Congregation Kneseth Israel we are fortunate, because we have a core of a great community. People want to be here. We don’t seem to have any problem these days having a minyan—even in an emergency or even on those weekends when the regulars are out of town and the weather is questionable.

However there are things we can do to continue to build on community—which in turn will grow our community and make it stronger, as a support network and a financial base.

1. Deepening the conversation

• I do this with my blog and by asking members to guest blog sometimes
• Our presence on Facebook and the sharing of relevant articles, like recent ones on Interfaith weddings, on membership structures, on Bar Mitzvahs. This promotes dialogue and discussion. It gives us the opportunity to look at best practices as well.
• Java and Jews and Kiddush Roundtable also extend these conversations. So do the people who just want to hang out after services for Oneg Shabbat and Kiddush.
• Tikkun Olam also builds community. Sid Schwartz in his book Finding a Spiritual Home makes it clear that in each of the four successful congregations he profiled each had a successful Tikkun Olam program where people became friends while working at a soup kitchen, etc. Our participation in PADs and Habitat for Humanity is a starting point.

2. Providing more support for our members when they need it most

• Lifecycle events, making sure they are customized, not out-of-the-box and meet peoples’ needs
• A combination of bikkur holim (visiting the sick), chevra kaddisha (burial society) and pastoral care. We need to train more people to do these functions so that in a time of emergency we can respond appropriately and quickly. We have taken recent steps to make sure that we have some emergency meals in the freezer.

3. Providing four events a month. Two aimed at our own internal, existing members and two aimed externally. Those external events must be accompanied by press releases. They should be varied including things like the Purim Carnival and Wine Tasting and the Passover Seder. Some can be in the synagogue. Some should be in more visible places like Gail Borden Library, Blue Box Cafe, others

4. More social events for our members. We need to become “the destination” place. Reviving the Forever 29 club and learning from the Diamonds could help. So can the new PJC Youth Group and the planning that happens with the Torah School parents during Torah School.

5. Partnering with organizations that extend our reach. Prairie Jewish Coalition, Keshet, Jewish United Fund, Interfaith Family.com, Big Tent Judaism are all organizations with whom we can and do partner and can help us build our community here in Elgin.

Building community is also about creating a positive space. That space means that we do not gossip or spread rumors. That is called lashon hara, evil tongue. That space means we don’t say bad things about other people. Any of us. We are non-judgmental. That space is a safe space. That space means it is warm and welcoming for everyone. That space means that we accept everyone’s gifts. Debbie Friedman said it so well in her song, Holy Place:

These are the gifts that we bring
that we may build a holy place.
This is the spirit that we bring
that we may build a holy place.
We will bring all the goodness
that comes from our hearts
And the spirit of God will dwell within…..

These are the colors of our dreams
we bring to make a holy place.
This is the weaving of our lives
we bring to make a holy place.
We will bring all the goodness
that comes from our hearts
And the spirit of love will dwell within…..

These are the prayers that we bring
that we may make a holy place.
These are the visions that we seek
that we may build this holy place.
Let our promise forever be strong,
let our souls rise together in song,
That the spirit of God
and the spirit of love, 
Shechinah,
will dwell within.

That is my vision of building holy space, of building community, of building CKI.

Exodus 8:23: “We will go three days’ journey into the wilderness, and sacrifice to the LORD our God, as God commanded us.”

Happy Passover. The entire holiday is designed to get children to ask questions so that learn what this holiday is about. So I ask you, “why is this night different from all other nights? Why are we doing this? What is this about?” As we read in today’s parsha, from Exodus 12: “And you shall observe this thing as a commandment to you and to your children for all times. And it shall come to pass when you come to the land which the Lord will give you according to God’s promise, that you will keep this service. And it shall come to pass, when your children say to you, “What do you mean by this service?” that you shall say, “It is the sacrifice of the Lord’s Passover, for God passed over the houses of the children of Israel in Egypt when God smote the Egyptians and delivered our houses.” And the people bowed their heads and worshipped.”

Two examples of the people worshipping. They went out into the wilderness to sacrifice and they bowed their heads and worshipped.

This is a holiday about freedom. About not being slaves. About being free to worship God. To teach our children. To be on a journey. It is about religious freedom.

I spent much of my week being angry. Here we were on the cusp of celebrating this holiday about freedom and not one single Jewish organization seemed to be taking a stand about legislation with the name Religious Freedom Restoration Act.

I take religious freedom very seriously—and it has to be for all people in this country, not just a privileged few or those who think they are in the majority who may in fact now be in the minority.

There was an uproar this week over the signing of a piece of legislation, in Indiana, called a Religious Freedom Restoration Act. It appeared to be targeted to discriminate against the LGBT community and that alone would cause me to speak out. It has now been revised.

According to the governor of Indiana: “There will be some who think this legislation goes too far and some who think it does not go far enough, but as governor I must always put the interest of our state first and ask myself every day, ‘What is best for Indiana?’ I believe resolving this controversy and making clear that every person feels welcome and respected in our state is best for Indiana.” Is it resolved? I don’t think so.

According to the Indianapolis Star, bill would only offer anti-discrimination protections for gays and lesbians in 11 Indiana communities where such protections already exist, legal experts say. The amendment, which  Gov. Mike Pence signed Thursday, would prevent Christian bakers, florists and other similar businesses from denying services to same-sex couples who are seeking to get married. But only in communities, such as Indianapolis and Bloomington, that already have local ordinances that prohibit discrimination based on sexual orientation, legal experts on both sides of the debate agree.”

But Indiana alone is not the problem. It is far more widespread than Indiana! There are 55 pieces of legislation in 28 states in this country, pending or passed, like the one in Indiana.

What is the problem with them? What is the problem with the Jewish community? When I got my first call about this, I went looking for a national Jewish organization that had taken a stand. I could find nothing. Individual rabbis, yes. But not a national organization. By Tuesday I had gotten three calls from congregants wanted to know my position. I never get three calls on any topic! Where was the national Jewish voice? What could I say to my congregants? As I began ranting and raving this week, one friend begged, don’t speak ill of our brethren. She wanted to make sure it passes the “is it good for the Jews or bad for the Jews.” As my rant continued, one rabbi in Israel even suggested that I would have to write my own. So here it is:

So here’s where I come out. No, not that kind of coming out. I am not gay. But I am an ally. For me I see no conflict between being gay and the Jewish tradition. We’ll come back to that, but I don’t think that is what these bills are about.

We are celebrating Passover. Yesterday the group that gathered to study shmita, release, were reminded over and over again that we were slaves in the land of Egypt, so that we have an obligation to treat the widow, the orphan, the stranger, the sojourner with compassion. As I usually add, these are the people that are the most marginalized amongst us. 36 times, more than any other Jewish law, we are told we need to take care of them and not discriminate against them. Why, precisely because we were slaves in Egypt. We knew, and unfortunately still know what it was to be discriminated against.

When we left Egypt we were a mixed multitude. Not everyone was an Israelite, and we found room for them. When the Holy Temple stood, not everyone was an Israelite. And we found room for them. There was actually a court at the Holy Temple, for the ger, the stranger, the sojourner. They worshipped with us.

There was a debate earlier in the that seemed to continue from last year, Can non-Jews have a place at the seder? Halachically sometimes Jews were forbidden from including non-Jews because then we might have to cook for them on Yom Tov. But then there is this little clause about welcoming the community’s dignitaries because it is good for peace. Even Chabad goes with this second reading. I am glad we had non-Jews, as we have always done, at our seder last night—and we will again tonight at CKI.

Yesterday I sold the synagogue’s chamatz, and 10 of our synagogue families as well to the Rev. Don Frye, an openly gay Episcopal priest. This relationship and the execution of this kind of contract is good for me personally as I have developed a deep friendship with Don, good for CKI, good for interfaith relationships, good for the world as it brings peace. And while we sat there signing, we talked a little about these bills. The national Episcopal church has also not taken a stand, believing that since they sanction gay marriages and ordain gay priests they have addressed it.

So are these bills good for the Jews or bad for the Jews, these 55 pieces of legislation? I believe ultimately they are bad for the Jews. Why? Because while they are designed to protect some people’s religious freedom, they are not designed to protect all. They are not designed to protect mine—or I fear yours. So as your rabbi I have an obligation to speak up.

This country was founded on the premise of religious freedom. The Puritans came to this land in order to worship as they saw fit. The other hand they then turned around oppressed other. Even their own children had to establish their own community, Duxbury with its own church part of a half-way covenant because they did not have the same religious zeal as their parents. Anne Hutchinson and Roger Williams were expelled from Massachusetts for not having the right beliefs. Later, the US Constitution was enacted party to guarantee our right to worship in freedom. Two clauses in the First Amendment guarantee freedom of religion. The establishment clause prohibits the government from passing legislation to establish an official religion or preferring one religion over another. It enforces the “separation of church and state.” But it is complicated, and even here in Elgin, I worry when the U46 school district has a clergy council, or the 16th Circuit Court has a faith committee on domestic violence. I serve on both, even chair the court committee but I wonder about separation of church and state issues. The difference is neither is legislated. And they are both represented by a broad base of the religious traditions in Elgin and Kane County.

So this is what I say to you:

If you are part of the LGBT community and you are here, I welcome you. Later this month we will read the troubling verse from Leviticus. And the reason it is troubling is not its seeming prohibition against homosexuality as one of the sexual immoral acts, but because more than likely it has been mistranslated for thousands of years. Every translation is a commentary and this verse is no exception. We will explore that topic more fully later this month.

You own a business or a store and you don’t want to be open on Sunday. Don’t. Hobby Lobby and Chik-fila already are not. Neither is Blue Box Café. That is their choice based on their religious preference. You don’t want to work on Saturday because it is Shabbat and it is your day of rest? Terrific. I applaud you. And I am glad you are here and chosen to spend your morning with us. But we don’t need to return to the blue laws of my youth—not the ones in Chicago, (really I can’t buy a car on Sunday in Illinois, still? Or liquor before 8AM?) Grand Rapids, where we couldn’t mow a lawn on Sunday or buy liquor, or Boston which had the strongest blue laws in the country, reflective of our Pilgrim heritage. Do I think people deserve to take a day off of work—you bet. That is what Shabbat is. Do I want your right protected to do so—whichever day you choose? Absolutely, Shabbat, a sign of the covenant between God and the children of Israel, our gift to the world, is part of what being free is about.

You want to wear your kippah in a grocery store? Great. I don’t want you to be afraid to do so. You shouldn’t need to cover it with a baseball cap as many have done. Or be compelled to remove it since in this country we have the custom or removing hats as a sign of respect.

You want to be able to purchase birth control or have an abortion? I want that for you too, and these laws put both of those at further jeopardy. Birth control and abortions are protected choices under normative Jewish law. There is a fundamental difference in understanding between Judaism and Christianity about when life begins, and so these bills are bad for us if it limits our access to birth control or abortion.

By the end of the week, the organizations I expected to see at the beginning of the week had made statements. The Central Conference of American Rabbis strongly reiterated their position taken in October. http://ccarnet.org/ccar-statement-misusing-religious-freedom-justify-discrimination/?preview The Religious Action Center published this: http://feeds.rac.org/~r/racblog/~3/zGdey3TLkt0/ They have made statements about North Carolina, Georgia and Arkansas as well. Perhaps the most important pressure has come from the business community. As a businesswoman who has had Apple and Salesforce as clients, thank God, for Tim Cook, CEO of Apple who spoke out passionately as a Baptist in a Wall Street Journal editorial. WalMart, Acxion, Yelp, PayPal and Angie’s List have all joined their voices. So has the State of Connecticut and the University of Connecticut Basketball coaches who promised to not travel to Indiana.

Perhaps the most powerful words came from Rabbi Josh Heller in Georgia. Speaking at the State House, he said, “I admit I am an unlikely speaker here today. There are others amongst my colleagues standing here who have established themselves as advocates on issues of concern to many joined here today. And I will admit that I have not done so. I was ordained in a denomination within Judaism that is still wrestling with those issues. I serve a congregation that is among the five largest in Georgia, of any denomination, and among those five we are among the most traditional. And yet, I have chosen to come and stand before and with you today, because I see a wrong being contemplated. I see a wrong being contemplated in the name of God, in the name of people of faith, and I cannot be silent and let that wrong come to pass. Not in my name, not in our name, and not in God’s name. I stand here today, knowing that there are voices in our Jewish tradition and our community that debate, sometimes stridently, questions of gender and sexuality, questions that begin in Leviticus – and I’ve read those passages of Leviticus. But I have also read Leviticus 19:18, that says, ‘V’ahavta l’reacha camocha’ – ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ And I’ve read Leviticus 25:17: ‘Lo tonu ish et amito’ – ‘Do not oppress your neighbor.’ And I can be no less serious about those verses than any other in the Scripture that I hold dear. And so when I see someone citing Judaism, citing the holy Torah, to exclude people from our larger society, to impede human beings trying to live in dignity, I must say: Not in my name, not in our name, not in God’s name.”

This became his refrain. Not in my name, not in our name, not in God’s name. The full text of his remarks were picked up by Sojourners http://www.sojourngsd.org/blog/heller and AJC.

Keshet, the organization dedicated to inclusion of everyone, especially the LGBT community, had a lighthearted approach that made me smile. Passover is best when ALL our peeps are included!

We as Jews are not alone in opposition. We have been joined by the United Church of Christ, the Episcopal Church, the Islamic Society of North America and others. These words of the Rev.Tim McDonald, senior pastor of the First Iconium Baptist Church:

“I am a person of faith. And I take my faith very seriously. And that’s why I cannot turn over my faith to people who in the past have thought it was all right to discriminate against African-Americans, people who in the past thought it was all right to support slavery in America, people who in the past thought it was all right to support Jim Crow and segregation-America. Some of those same people are the ones who are behind Senate Bill 129.”

Later tonight at our seder we will read the words of the Rev. Martin Niemoller,

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.

In a year that has seen me go to Ferguson to fight discrimination, where Simon went to Selma to commemorate the 50^th Anniversary of Bloody Sunday. When we have hosted the 2^nd Baptist Choir and participated in Martin Luther King jr events as a congregation. When we have worried about the rising tide of anti-semitism—in Europe, in the Middle East and even in places like Overland Park, Lombard and the North Shore, then we need to add our voice here.

When I think about Esther and how she found the courage to speak out. When I read the texts of the Psalm of Dedication of the Temple, “what profit is there if I am silenced? What benefit if I go to my grave?”

And that’s where I come out. I come out needing to speak strongly—maybe more strongly on this than any other issue I have ever advocated for. Precisely because it is Passover. Precisely because Passover is about religious freedom—all religious freedom and protecting the rights of the widow, the orphan and the stranger. Protecting all of us.

April 2, 2015

The carpets are washed. The floor is steam cleaned. The counters are boiled. The groceries are purchased—from the Men’s Club wine sale, the Jewel in Buffalo Grove, Costco, Mariano’s, Meijer’s, the Jewel in Evanston. Everything has to be just so.

Eggs have been boiled. A lamb bone roasted. Soup simmering. We are almost there!

It is probably the most physically demanding Jewish holiday. And when done right, one of the most spiritually uplifting. That’s the harder part because with all the physical demands, there is hardly time to sit, let alone think.

In fact, even as I sat down to write this, I got interrupted.

So how do you prepare spiritually and emotionally while wielding a vacuum cleaner? Perhaps the first question is where is there? Passover is designed so that each of us feels as though he or she went forth from Egypt, out of the narrow places, into freedom. So the first question is to what are we enslaved?

When I asked this question this week at an assisted living center they really understood. They said that they are enslaved to time, since meals and medications are only served at specific times. They are enslaved to their wheelchairs because they struggle with mobility issues.

When I asked the question of middle school students, they said that they were enslaved to school, to getting homework done on time, to their parents who demand they clean their rooms, to their after school schedules and extra curricular activities.

When I asked them to tell the story of Passover, it was quite simple. “We were slaves in Egypt. Then we left. Then we were free. That’s all you really need to know.”

So part of how I prepare is to help others prepare. We practice the Four Questions. We learn new songs. We trade recipes. We debate the differences between Ashkanazi practices and Sephardic practices. Rice and beans or no? Some of this has gotten easier with the Internet.

Every Jewish organization adds readings for the seder. Part of that is a fundraising appeal (clever!) and part of it is to make us really think about the modern part of the seder.

Last Shabbat as part of Shabbat Hagadol I gave out parts. Here are some of the ones I liked:

http://ajws.org/who_we_are/news/archives/press_releases/us_supreme_court_justice_ruth_bader_ginsburg_offers_reading_for_passover.html about the role of women and girls. So feisty.

http://truah.org/resources-general/676-haggadah-on-fighting-modern-day-slavery.html A full Hagaddah to look at modern day slavery, including trafficking, immigration reform, from the people who are sometimes known as the Tomato Rabbis!

10 Modern Plagues: http://www.rac.org/sites/default/files/The%20Ten%20Plagues.pdf

Why is there Charoset on the table? The R-rated version: https://theshalomcenter.org/purim-to-pesach/why-there-charoset-seder-plate This is part of a collection of readings between Purim and Pesach about the earth and Passover. My own reading was included here. https://theshalomcenter.org/purim-to-pesach/knowing-where-you-are-going-box-hike-family-activity

CLAL always has an interesting take. This year they are talking about three little words, At Your Service. http://www.clal.org/cms/node/3720

Looking for more ways to make Passover inclusive: http://www.interfaithfamily.com/holidays/passover_and_easter/Tips_for_Interfaith_Families_How_to_Make_a_Seder_Inclusive.shtml

And of course, I always read books. Finished Rabbi Kerry Olitzky’s Preparing Your Heart for Passover. The best tip, amongst many good ones was writing your own Dayenu. If G-d would have done x, it would have been enough. Dayenu…He suggests writing in only ten steps, like the 10 emanations of G-d. I tried doing my own. My last one was If G-d had brought me out of Massachusetts and to Elgin, it would have been enough, Dayenu….thus far.

I am now reading Rabbi Evan Moffic’s book, What Every Christian Needs to Know about Passover. And Bitter Fruit about the uprising in Guatemala.

Ultimately that is what Passover is about. As my colleague Rabbi Maralee Gordon said recently, all you need for Passover is joy, gratitude and action. Joy that we are free, gratitude that we have made it thus far and action so that we continue to make the world a better place.

However you celebrate, keep it simple. Ultimately this is about freedom. And rest since it is also Shabbat.

May it be so for each of you. Chag Samayach

You never know the connections you build. While I was on vacation in Orlando, I got an email from someone at Oakton Community College, who had gotten my name from Women of the Wall. Could I speak on a panel in March on Feminism and Religion? Me? Aren’t there other women in Chicagoland more qualified than me? You go all the way to Israel to come back to me in Elgin? You just never know how this networking stuff works. Of course I will. Every time I serve on a panel and say I am Rabbi Margaret Frisch Klein from Congregation Kneseth Israel, I build the congregation. There are still people who do not know that there is a synagogue in Elgin, even after 123 years. So Friday morning found me driving to Oakton. Having attended Oakton Elementary School in Evanston, it felt a little like coming home. More on that later.

There were five women on the panel. A Catholic who lives in Evanston and works for Women’s Ordination of Priests, http://www.womensordination.org an attorney who works for child protective services for the state and calls herself a feminist Morman, a Buddhist woman who with her husband opened a meditation center and a Muslim who founded the Side Entrance, http://sideentrance.tumblr.com

There were three questions that we were asked to prepare. I joked that in this season of Passover, I would expect FOUR Questions.

This is a topic that is near and dear to my heart. When I decided to be a rabbi, I didn’t set out to be a woman rabbi, but as you might have noticed, that is what I am. No escaping or ignoring it. My first week of rabbinical school I got a mikveh question from the rabbi’s wife. I routinely get questions about domestic violence, rape, nursing, weaning, menopause. I think women are not necessarily comfortable asking their male rabbis these types of questions.

I started my discussion with props: an orange on a seder plate in order to show how Judaism is a layered tradition and to tell both parts of the story, a picture of Barbie wearing tefilin and my Woman of the Wall tallit.

I felt both underprepared and over prepared. I was glad I went to the plenary session entitled Glitter Science to put this event in a context. How do we market science to girls? How much pink and purple and glitter? How do we make sure that girls stay interested, are nurtured, are encouraged, are prepared and stay involved? The research is clear. The more diverse a workplace is, the more likely it is to be successful at problem solving and EVEN at making more money.

So the questions:

1. How does your faith tradition nourish you as a woman?

I found this question challenging. So did the other panelists. There is no question that my faith nourishes me, in all sorts of ways. But as a woman. It felt like reading a page of Talmud. There are even some times where instead of nourishing me, it is an impediment.

Nonetheless, when I thought about it I found that the traditions that are unique to women to be nourishing.

I love lighting Shabbat candles and the peace that can envelope a house when we prepare for Shabbat.

I like baking challah—even if I rarely get to do it anymore. Again that sense of shalom bayit, peace of the house with the pleasing smell of baking bread can be transformative in a busy week.

I like mikveh, the Jewish ritual bath. It has been the source of much solace and healing in my own life, particularly as a violent crime that was perpetrated on me—precisely because I am a woman. There is something about immersing monthly that enabled me to see myself as loveable and holy once again. I could talk about that aspect at length—and have on a different panel at a national mikveh conference hosted by Mayyim Hayyim in Boston where I chaired the panel on mikveh for healing and hope. It wasn’t one single immersion, that helped heal for me; it was the rhythm of going every month. However, others would argue, including my own mother, that the use of mikveh is how women are still enslaved in Judaism—or at the very least it is a misogynist religion. (And during the panel the convener had to define misogynist since more than one panelist used the term.)

I realize that part of what I love about Judaism is that it is rooted in tradition—all the way back to the matriarchs, Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel and Leah. However, this is a tradition that has continued to evolve so that it is flexible enough to meet the spiritual needs today. Those matriarchs did not used to be included in our daily service. Now for denominations they are. People are writing new rituals that include a girl’s baby naming, or a Bat Mitzvah or a ceremony to mark learning to read, getting a driver’s license, leaving for college or becoming menopausal. And some of these are even happening in the Orthodox world.

Prayer nourishes me as a woman. One of the first classes I taught a fifth grade girl argued with me that God is never male nor female so why was I using masculine pronouns. She was right. And this was 1983—early in Jewish feminism. There are even ample examples of God as neither male nor female or having female imagery. El Shaddai, HaRachamim, Shechinah to name a few.

On the panel I heard similar themes. The Muslim reminded me that God is neither male nor female and that it wasn’t Eve who tempted Adam. Hagar is a good role model for providing for her child. The Buddhist talked about the argument to ordain women going all the way back to the Buddha’s aunt who argued for women’s ordination. After that there were Buddhist nuns.

2. What does it mean to be a feminist in your religious tradition?

This week Gloria Steinmen celebrated her 81st birthday. This is Women’s History Month and we observed International Women’s Day and Girl Scout Week earlier this month so it seems appropriate that this panel finishes out March. And so I wonder–what does this picture of Barbie wearing tefilin, the Jewish leather prayer straps usually the domain of men mean? It could mean that as Jewish women we have made it in America. Or it could mean that we as Jews have made it in America. Or could it be something else, because as feminists, is it the image of Barbie we want for our daughters?

As the Jew on the panel, I get to claim Gloria Steinem, and many of the early feminists as Jews. Or at least secular New York Jews and that is a category by itself. Bella Abzug, Rachel Adler, Susan Brownmiller, Merle Feld, Betty Friedan, Debbie Friedman, Letty Cohen Pogrebin, Marge Piercy, Judith Plaskow. So many household names. And my own mother who worked tirelessly for women’s rights, equal pay for women and gave up a promising scientific career because she got pregnant with me. Yes, I am the reason my mother did not win a Nobel prize for medicine although her office at Columbia did! There are many women whom I stand on their shoulders. Beruiah, the wife of Rav in the Talmud who also was a teacher, Gluckel of Hamlin, who owned her own business in the 1600s and went all over Europe to fairs to sell her wares and to marry off her children. And she kept a journal so we have a record of it all. Rabbi Regina Jonas, the first modern woman rabbi ordained in Germany in the early 1940s and was killed at Auschwitz. Rabbi Sally Prieslan, the first woman rabbi ordained in the Reform Movement in 1972, Dr. Susannah Heschel, who edited On Being a Jewish Feminist, Blu Greenberg, who wrote How to Run a Traditional Jewish Household, and On Women and Judaism, Rabbi Dr. Judith Hauptman, author of Rereading the Rabbis and ordained by the Academy for Jewish Religion, while being a Talmud professor at JTS, Dr. Rivka Haut, one of my professors and one of the founders of the Women of the Wall, Anat Hoffman, the executive director of Israel Religious Action Center and the director of Women of the Wall and so, so many others.

Unlike other people on this panel, my tradition has been ordaining women for seven decades and roughly half of all rabbis in the United States are women. Having a Bat Mitzvah is standard. Baby girls have a baby naming to welcome them into the covenant. Men and women sit together in many congregations and even in the Orthodox world you can find women’s minyans, prayer groups, Bat Mitzvahs, baby namings and discussions to rival this one. There are even a few women in the Orthodox world who have been ordained as rabbis, using the term Rabbah or Maharat, and I applaud Rabbi Avi Weiss and Rabbah Sarah Hurvitz for having the courage to do this. There is even the JOFA, The Jewish Orthodox Feminist Alliance, not an oxymoron. https://www.jofa.org You might even want to use the old phrase, “You’ve come a long way, baby.”

It makes me feel good to think about each of them. But it is not as simple as that. Judaism is a 5000 year tradition that prides itself on having more than one answer to any question. Let’s take Judith Hauptman’s book. Were the rabbis of the Talmud misogynist? In some ways they were ahead of their time and the surrounding cultures. They allowed for divorce and remarriage, for abortion, for punishment for rape. They allowed for women to pray—even required it. Women read Torah, some wore tefilin, some even blew shofar or were mohels (people who perform circumcision.

Yet today in some places in Judaism, those are not the case. When I lived in Israel there was not a word for woman rabbi in Hebrew, just for a rabbi’s wife. That was NOT what I was planning to be. Then there was the rabbi who told me I couldn’t be a rabbi because I was a woman and that is why G-d had allowed me to be attacked. It took years to recover from that and when I was in Israel just prior to ordination I cried when an Orthodox rabbi blessed me at the Ramhal synagogue in ancient Akko.

55 women have been arrested in Israel for wearing a Woman of the Wall tallit. Others have been beaten for wearing tefilin. In my own synagogue when we hosted a Men’s Club event, a visitor came in, complemented the breakfast that obviously the Sisterhood must have provided, (they did not, it was the Men’s Club) and demanded after being introduced to me as the rabbi, that we not count minyan. I explained that at my congregation we do count women, but that I was sure we would have more than 10 men and he would be welcome to just count those. Then I asked my ritual chairperson to add peppermint schnapps to my morning coffee.

So while we may have come a long way—there are still mountains to climb.

3. How are men and women treated differently in you tradition?  Why?  How has this changed over the course of history?

For the beginning of written “history”, men and women have been treated differently. If you look at the story of Adam and Eve, Eve becomes known as the temptress. Even Rashi, one of our leading Jewish commentators said about Eve that you should be careful about women because Eve was a “gadabout.” Hagar, the concubine of Abraham, at Sarah’s own suggestion, is thrown out of Abraham’s camp even though she is the first person, male or female to name G-d. Sarah is left out of the decision to take Isaac up the mountain to be sacrificed. Rebecca is responsible for ensuring the covenant continues but through trickery and the rabbis accuse her of not having enough trust. God tells Moses to tell the people of Israel consecrate the people and have them wash their clothes and be ready for the third day so that they can receive the 10 Commandments. Moses adds to this and says “Prepare yourself for the third day. Do no go near a woman.”

Historically in the Talmud, women, children and slaves were not obligated to any of the time-bound positive mitzvot, commandments. So they did not have to lay tefilin, or pray three times a day or many other things. We were told that it was because we didn’t need the structure of those time-bound obligations. We had a higher spirituality. But it left us out. What was seen as an exemption became known as a prohibition. One who is exempt cannot be the agent of one who is required. So for instance, men are required to recite birkat hamazon, the blessing, grace after meals and Kiddush, the blessing over wine that sanctifies time. Working at an assisted living facility as the rabbi, I made Kiddush one Shabbat and this nice older woman came up to me, told me I chanted beautifully and now could a real man make Kiddush so that it would count and it would really be Shabbat?

Originally men and women both had to immerse to be purified after an seminal emission or after a woman’s menstrual cycle. Every one had to immerse before going up to the Holy Temple in Jerusalem and there is ample archaeological evidence that there were many mikva’ot surrounding the Temple. There was a large “women’s court” at the temple and that is where the second night of Sukkot and the water drawing ceremony was observed. After the destruction of the Temple, in 70 CE, it was just the woman after her period and that seemed oppressive to some. No matter how many times people (men?) would tell women that they would feel like a bride again, it always seemed to be unequal and harder on the woman.

In the morning blessings there is a traditional blessing that men recite in the synagogue that thanks G-d for not making me a woman. Most Conservative and Reform prayer books have changed that language to make it more palatable. I am intrigued by a version that appeared in the Cairo Genizah that changes the formulation to “…who has created me a human and not beast, a man and not a woman, an Israelite and not a gentile, circumcised and not uncircumcised, free and not slave.” There are scholarly arguments that this is the prayer the Apostle Paul was referring to when he declared that there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female.” And there are other scholars who believe that Rabbi Judah was reacting to Paul’s words. So I am much more comfortable when I daven (pray) the language that the Conservative Movement instituted with the positive affirmation of what we are: free, Jewish and created in G-d’s image, neither male nor female. In any case, you see just how layered this tradition is, and why many have seen it as misogynist.

As Judaism reinvented itself to be a religion of prayer and study and not sacrifice at the Temple, men’s spaces became dominant, and men’s leadership became paramount. This led to a lessening of the role of women. Nonetheless women were tasked with the education of the young and for personal status—for example the lineage of Judaism is passed down through the mother—the matrilineal argument, still in effect in most Jewish communities.

However, by the 19^th Century, with the Enlightenment and with the growing role of women in society in general, people began to re-evaluate women’s roles in the synagogue and bring them back into the main worship space and in leadership roles. Mixed seating happened in the early 1840s. In 1890 Ray Frank was the first woman to “preach” from the pulpit. The first Bat Mitzvah was held in 1922, the daughter of Rabbi Mordechai Kaplan, the founder of Reconstructionist Judaism. Counting women in the minyan. Women’s organizations such as Women of Reform Judaism and the Women’s League for Conservative Judaism, (Sisterhoods), Hadassah and women’s campaigns of Jewish federations all taught leadership skills to women. All of these have expanded the role of women in Judaism.

Some things seem like we have always done them. When I was a college freshman, for women’s week, I was asked to read Torah. I had always done that and assumed that in most congregations this was true. It was not. So the decision was that I would read Torah on Friday night without the traditional blessings, just for Torah Study. The issue with Torah reading for women frequently gets confused with blood. (Why are men so afraid of blood?). It was told to us that women cannot touch a Torah while menstruating because the impurities would be passed to the sacred scroll. Not true we learn later. Like the waters of the mikveh, the Torah cannot be made impure by a menstruating woman. Women were encouraged in the Talmud to not read Torah, although again it was permissible, because women had time to practice and might show the men up! And yet this is the very issue that is still being fought over by the Women of the Wall who have been denied having a Torah scroll on the women’s side of the Western Wall.

Much of what has been used to “keep women down” is about modesty. It is stated that the voice of a woman, Kol Isha, can be so alluring that women cannot sing in public or sometimes even teach. In Israel this can be taken to ridiculous levels. So in a country where there is mandatory army service, even for women, there are battles about whether women can sing in army shows or accept awards for academic scientific research! Some of it is about modesty of dress. Married women in the Orthodox world are expected to cover their hair, again to not be alluring. They also where long sleave shirts, longish dresses and some groups require women wear pantyhose, even in the hottest of weather. Just this weekend a picture was banned in Israel of a 2 year old girl’s feet. Really. Touch is another issue. Some Jews are “Shomer nagiah”, again because of the fear of touching a woman who might be menstruating. There are even some bus routes that do not let women sit with men on the bus, despite a Israeli Supreme Court injunction against this prohibition.

Some of these battles—over woman’s dress, voice, bus routes, etc are not unlike what we see in the Catholic Church or in very traditional Muslim Circles. I was amazed to hear of the work of Side Entrance and allowing Muslim women and girls access to Muslim prayer spaces. And she was interested to learn of the work of Women of the Wall.

We are preparing now for Passover. On my seder plate there will be an orange. Why is there an orange? There are two stories. Only one of which is true but both of them are relevant. The first goes like this: Dr. Susannah Heschel was given a speech in Miami Beach. On old man stood up and angrily said that a woman belongs on a seder plate like a woman belongs on the bimah. That would have been important enough. And that was the story that was told for a generation. But it is not what happened. And we confirmed it in person with Susannah herself this year when she, my husband and my best friend, a Catholic priest were in Selma earlier this month to mark the 50^th anniversary of Bloody Sunday. The real story goes like this: At Oberlin College in a hagaddah written by Oberlin students to bring a feminist voice to the seder, a young girl asks a rabbi what room there is in Judaism for a lesbian. The rabbi rises in anger and shouts, “There is as much room for a lesbian in Judaism as there is for a crust for bread on the seder plate.” Heschel was inspired by the idea but bread was going too far. It would invalidate the plate, the meal, the holiday, the very question itself. It would reflect that lesbians themselves are somehow impure and a violation of Judaism itself. The next year, Heschel put an orange on her family seder plate because it “suggests the fruitfulness for all Jews when lesbians and gay men are contributing and active members of Jewish life.” Today the orange symbolizes all people who feel marginalized, the widow, the orphan, the stranger, the LGBTQ community. And yes, women. Some day we may all be free to celebrate within the Jewish community this holiday of freedom in the way that makes sense to us.

There will also be a Miriam’s Cup. The Miriam’s Cup was added to the seder in the early 1980s by a Rosh Hodesh group in Boston. By the mid 80s it was already a part of my seders. There is a midrash that there was a well that only Miriam could find, of fresh, living waters, Mayyim Hayyim. After Miriam’s death it disappeared and it is our job to find it again. And so a Miriam’s Cup is added to the seder table. We add spring water to it from each person’s water glass. For me, that fresh, living waters and our need to search it out is what feminism and religion is all about. An oxymoron? No. It is ours to discover and make our own.