The news this morning is not encouraging. More women, school-aged girls really, were kidnapped in Nigeria. Why is this OK? Why is the world not up in arms…literally and figuratively. I just want to find them, rescue them and hug them. NOW.

Why does the world have a problem protecting women? Don’t get me wrong, I am enough of a feminist that as I type those words I am thinking maybe we are women need to protect ourselves. Why is it that the Torah says 36 times that we need to protect the widow, the orphan and stranger? Because they are the most marginalized amongst us. Because they are the ones who historically could not protect themselves.

One of the books on my reading list for Africa is Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women by Nicholas Kristoff and his wife, Sheryl WuDunn. I am rereading it actually. The stories are painful. Real. Raw. They will touch a nerve.

It is a powerful book. It delineates issues all over the world with how women are treated. As the introduction says, “So let us be clear about this up front: We hope to recruit you to join an incipient movement to emancipate women and fight global poverty by unlocking women’s power as economic catalysts.”

No problem. I’ve been recruited. I understand the advantages of micro-financing. I have heard Yunnis speak and have supported Heifer International for years. I believe in women’s education and programs like Room to Read. I deplore the amount  of trafficking. I am too aware of the statistic that one in three women will be sexually assaulted in her lifetime. I am one of those statistics. I am fully invested in the work that American Jewish World Service does on a global level and that the Community Crisis Center does locally.

This book is the first step. It makes us aware of the issues facing women worldwide. Make no mistake, some of it is brutal. It details topics like female circumcision, why women still die in childbirth, what a fistula is, almost unheard of in the West and 90% of which are repairable for about $300.

It explains that 60% of the women in South Africa have been raped, higher than the worldwide average.That rape is a weapon of war recognized by the UN in 2008. That it was prominent in the genocides of Rwanda and Darfur.  That the Congo is the “world capital of rape.” “Militias discovered it is risky to engage in firefights with other gunmen, so instead assault civilians. They discovered that the most cost-effective way to terrorize civilian populations is to conduct rapes of stunning brutality.” Most cost-effective way.

The book explains, “That one impediment for women planing to run for political office in Kenya is the cost of round-the-clock security. That protection is needed to prevent political enemies from having them raped…the result is that Kenyan women candidates routinely carry knives and wear multiple sets of tights to deter, complicate, and delay any attempted rape.” (page 62)

It also empowers us to make a difference. At the end of the book, the last chapter is “Four Steps You Can Take in the Next Ten Minutes.” After awareness, the second step is action.

1. Go to www.globalgiving.org or www.kiva.org and open an account that will provide micro financing assistance.

2. Sponsor a girl or a woman through Plan International, Women for Women International, World Vision or American Jewish World Service.

3. Sign up for email updates on www.womensenews.org

4. Join the Care Action Network, www.can.care.org

I had done these before, but then I moved, so I have done them again. In addition, I have set up google alerts on Kenya so that I can keep up to date with the latest news.

After becoming aware and beginning to act, the next step is advocacy. What can we really do to make a difference and who can we get to help? Read the book. Then act. Ours is not to finish the task. Neither are we free to ignore it.

Today, the 20th day of the Omer, is also Yom Ha’atzma’ut, Israel Independence Day. The day before is Yom HaZikaron, Israel Memorial Day when Israel marks the death of 22,000 Israelis who have given their lives protecting and defending Israel. In Israel everyone knows someone who has been killed. I am no exception. My first love was killed serving his country in 1983.

Israel was born out of the Holocaust. It is no accident that the week before Yom Ha’atzma’ut is Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Memorial Day. Integrating Holocaust survivors and refugees from Arab and northern African countries was no easy task. Martin Fletcher in his book, Walking Israel, said this: “When these emaciated and traumatized victims finally landed in the arms of their Jewish brethren, they were regarded as unwelcome reminders of the ‘lambs who went to the slaughter,’ an embarrassment, just as Jews in Israel were reinventing themselves as farmers and warriors, as fighting Jews. True, their bodies were welcomed. New immigrants from Euro[e contributed half the Jewish fighters in Israel’s War of Independence, and a third of the dead. But the part of them that most needed help, their souls, was ignored and silenced…David Ben-Gurion, a legend of bluntness, famously lumped Holocaust survivors and immigrants from North Africa into one dismissive phrase: avak adam–human dust. He wondered what they did to survive and once said that the best had died.”

Harsh words indeed but it explains so much. When I was a student living in Israel I did a sociology primary research study about Moroccan Jews living in a development town, Kiryat Gat. Kiryat Gat was a planned town. It was known for making Chanukah candles for a worldwide Jewish market. It had 70 different synagogues organized by country of origin. It had three high schools. One secular, one traditional Ashkanasi and one traditional Sephardi. My research was done in the classrooms and then in the evenings in homes of the Moroccan families.

I learned I could only do two interviews with families a night. They always served food, roughly 15 courses, and if you finished a course, they would refill your plate. (And the food was yummy–ask me about the carrots another time!) I learned that they didn’t understand the difference between religious and observant. That Judaism was black or white. Either you observed everything or nothing. THat they had never heard of anything as ridiculous as a woman rabbi, but that was out of scope. I was trying to understand how the next generation of Moroccan Jews would observe Judaism. At that I failed.

And yet, it is critical to understand that Israel has done much with/for the Jews of Africa. Golda Meir believed that the lessons learned by Israelis could be passed on to Africans who, particularly during the 1950s. were engaged in the same process of nation building. “Like them, we had shaken off foreign rule; like them, we had to learn for ourselves how to reclaim the land, how to increase the yields of our crops, how to irrigate, how to raise poultry, how to live together, and how to defend ourselves.” Israel could provide a better model for the newly independent African state, Meir believed, because Israelis “had been forced to find solutions to the kinds of problems that large, wealthy, powerful states had never encountered.”

These efforts by a young Israel should be highlighted and celebrated. Israel airlifted Jews from Morocco, Tunsia, Libya after Israel became a state. The Ethiopian community, Beta Israel, was airlifted again to Israel. It is now common to see black Israelis, Ethiopians serving proudly in the Israel Defense Forces. They may not have wanted to but they took their responsibility as a refuge with its door open to any Jew who wanted seriously. In today’s world, sadly, we still need that refuge.

Israel has been the refuge for many Africans seeking asylum, some 60,000 people who have walked from the Sudan and other sub-Saharan countries. Again, in the wake of the Holocaust, Israel understands its role in protecting the citizens of all countries against genocide.

It is not easy to integrate all the cultures. My experiences in Kiryat Gat with its 70 synagogues as a young college student taught me that. Recent news about Israel deporting illegal immigrants have sent chills down some Holocaust survivors spines. Protests have been held in Tel Aviv–both for and against illegal immigrants. However, I wonder how different the government of Irsrael is reacting compared with some US policy.

As early as December 2011, the Mayor of Tel Aviv, Ron Huldai, addressed Netanyahu and demanded, “immediate emergency actions” against the immigrants since they are not an “existential threat.” The threat seems to be in his mind, economic, taking away jobs from Israelis. He cites a rise in crime in South Tel Aviv and a fear of illegal immigrants being a security risk, passing information to terrorist cells. Yet, in May of 2012, a thousand Israelis showed up in the Hatikva Quarter to protest how illegal immigrants are treated by the Israeli government, some now subjected to forced deportation. Unfortunately that demonstration turned violent. Again in late December another protest was held with thousands of marchers from Levinsky Park to the city center, demanding that detention of African refugees with trial has to stop. How this tension will ultimately play out is not clear.

Tonight, however, is the chance to pause and celebrate all that Israel has accomplished. Israel has turned 66 today. The traditional Jewish blessing is Ad Meah Esrim. Until 120–and beyond!

While Sterling still seems to be a lead story in the US press, the Malaysian plane has not been found and bodies are still being found in the ferry in South Korea, there is another story that I am more concerned about.

276 school girls were abducted by terrorists in Nigeria. 53 have escaped leaving 223 girls in captivity. It is not the lead story. It is buried in the press. Secretary of State Kerry made a comment about it in Eithiopia. There were finally rallies in several western cities yesterday but still, it was not the lead story this morning. http://www.cnn.com/2014/05/03/world/africa/nigeria-abducted-girls/

Why do I care? How is this part of counting the Omer? Because our Amidah, the central, standing portion of our service describes G-d as the one who frees the captive. However, it is not enough to pray. Our tradition teaches that we have an obligation to set aside money to rescue those who are captives. It is one of the most important mitzvot. Pidyon Shvuyim is called a “mitzvah rabbah,” a great mitzvah in the Talmud (Bava Batra 8b) and not redeeming captives is considered even worse than starvation and death.

It is the motivation behind keeping the awareness of Gilad Shalit who was an Israeli soldier captured by an terrorist organization. Many people kept Gilad’s picture as their Facebook picture as negotiations progressed. Today is Yom HaZikraron in Israel. Israeli Memorial Day. How can we forget?

Remember the sense of pride we had on the 4th of July, 1976 when we woke to the news of the raid on Entebbe. Israel had swept in while we slept and rescued the hostages of a hijacking. It was their Independence Day! It was driven by this commandment.

Traditionally, Pidyon Sh’vuyim applies to rescuing Jews by Jews. However Maimonides wrote that  “The redeeming of captives takes precedence over supporting the poor or clothing them. There is no greater mitzvah than redeeming captives for the problems of the captive include being hungry, thirsty, unclothed, and they are in danger of their lives too. Ignoring the need to redeem captives goes against these Torah laws: “Do not harden your heart or shut your hand against your needy fellow” (Deuteronomy 15:7); “Do not stand idly by while your neighbor’s blood is shed” (Leviticus 19:16). And misses out on the following mitzvot: “You must surely open your hand to him or her” (Deuteronomy 15:8); “…Love your neighbor as yourself” (Leviticus 19:18); “Rescue those who are drawn to death” (Proverbs 24:11) and there is no mitzvah greater than the redeeming of captives.” (Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Matanot Aniyim 8:10-11^]

The Shulchan Arukh strengthens it: “Every moment that one delays in freeing captives, in cases where it is possible to expedite their freedom, is considered to be tantamount to murder.” (Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De’ah 252:3)

Despite the importance of this mitzvah, it comes with a limitation.  “One does not ransom captives for more than their value because of tikkun o’lam,  as a precaution for the general good) and one does not help captives escape because of Tikkun Olam.” (Mishna Gittin 4:6)

I understand the rationale behind this caveat is to prevent negotiating with terrorists. Paying a ransom opens many ethical debates both in for the Israeli government in the case of fulfilling this mitzvah on behalf of someone like Gilad Shalit or in this case:

How do you put a value on a captive? How do you explain to a mother that her girl is not coming home because of this terrorism? How do we capitulate to terrorists? How do we say that a group of schoolgirls is worth less than victims of a plane still missing or another group of school children killed in a ferry that capsized? I can’t. My tradition commands that I keep working for their release. That is how I will mark Yom HaZikaron. Bring our girls home.

What was he thinking? This is the question that I have been asked over and over again this week, starting with Mark Seigle on Sunday when it was breaking news and continuing at the Lions Club where I spoke Thursday night and at Weight Watchers. What was Sterling thinking? And in truth, I think he wasn’t. I am not going to try to explain it or excuse it. It was wrong. Period. There is no place in Judaism for racism. It is sad to have to call him Jewish, but we do. At least as someone who self-identifies as a Jew but who changed his name to sound less Jewish.

On the other hand, Adam Silver, the NBA commissioner, made me proud this week. Happy to call him a Jew.

Members of the congregation actually wondered why we were exploring this. “A waste of time” said one, as he rolled his eyes. “Oh, no,” said another.

So what is going on here? Why do people ask the question, “Is it bad for the Jews or good for the Jews?” What does it mean that this is a shonda, a shame?

The discussion centered on some expected answers. There are good apples and bad apples in every bunch. You can’t hold all Jews to a higher standard. What he did was wrong but he didn’t do it acting as a Jew so why should we care.  We don’t need to claim another bad guy (which I didn’t hear correctly and it sounded like black guy and that just sounded wrong. So glad I made that person repeat!)

Why this is important comes from this week’s Torah portion. We tend to gloss over it. It says that “you must treat them as holy,” referring to the priests. Now, I remember a very funny scene at a ritual committee meeting, where one member when we were talking about traditional duchening, the giving of the priestly benediction, thought that I meant a Catholic priest was coming to bless the congregation. Truth be told, we don’t have many functions for cohainim any more. They may duchen, have the first aliyah and officiate in a pidyon haben, the redemption of the first born. There are those who would argue that we should do away with all of that because no one can trace their lineage well enough to be called a cohain, and in this day and age we are not so big on hierarchies. That is a discussion for another day.

So since the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem, a mere 2000 years ago, much of this portion, since the priests don’t offer bread to G-d, is irrelevant. And yet, and yet…

We are told that we are to be a light to the nations, a kingdom of priests and a holy nation. That’s all of us. A kingdom of priests and a holy nation. We are told that “Synagogues, study houses, and even homes are called mikdash me’at, a small temple. According to the Talmud (Megilah 29a), God will dwell in the holy spaces we create, for those small spaces are the Temple in miniature.

So our small spaces are to be holy. We are commanded to make the home a safe place (Deut 22:8) Not only physically safe, but emotionally safe. Our homes and our synagogues should be filled with Shalom Beit, peace in the home. Like Abraham and Sarah’s tent, open to all four sides to welcome guests, they are places of hospitality. We mark our homes and our synagogues as holy, set apart by putting a mezuzah on the door to remind us of the commandments and of G-d’s oneness. Our homes are a place where G-d dwells within, just like the Holy Temple.

For us, in this building, this mikdash me’at, it means we need to refrain from being judgmental of others. It means we need to refrain from gossip, of speaking badly of others. We are all in this game together. We are all volunteers striving to create a Jewish community dedicated to being a sacred community, a holy community, a diverse community of life long learners and meaningful observance. At its center is community, Kneseth Israel, an assembly of Israel.

I say all, including me, because I am not a priest. I am a rabbi. And while the portion says that you must treat priests as holy, “Rabbis and cantors are no different from other Jews. They have no special powers, no obligations devolve on them that do not apply to all Jews. “Ten shoemakers can make a minyan but nine rabbis can’t.” Nonetheless, they are considered klei kodesh, instruments of holiness because, through their knowledge and teaching, life character, and commitments they show the way to a life of holiness.” (Eitz Chayyim, page 718)

So I must strive to lead my life by example. I must be klei kodesh. But unlike the rest of the portion which specifies that a priest must be without blemish, I don’t have to be perfect. I am no different than any of you. Together we are all a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.

The problem with Sterling was his house was not a mikdash me’at, it was a not a holy place. And his speech was not lashon hakodesh, holy speech but lashon ha’ra, evil speech.

Coming out of this week’s portion we learn from the Mishneh Torah, “we are obligated to act in a way that reflects well on G-d, the Jewish people and our tradition (Kiddush hashem sanctification of the name) and to refrain from acting in a way that would bring dishonor to God, our people and its traditions Chilul Hashem (MT 5:1)”

Our tradition is very clear. We read it last week. We are to be holy because the Lord our God is holy. We are to welcome the widow, the orphan, the stranger, the most marginalized among us precisely because we were strangers, slaves in Egypt. We are not to put a stumbling block before the blind or curse the deaf. We are not to stand by while our neighbor bleeds. We are to have just weights and measures. We are not to withhold the wages of a laborer overnight. We are not to show deference to the rich or favor the poor in judgment.

Sterling thought because of his wealth he was above the law. He was arrogant. Silver did exactly what he did according to Jewish law—he did not favor the rich. Megal in his article on Sports on Earth, summed it up this way: Silver is Gold.

“There have always been hateful, immoral people like Donald Sterling within every ethnic group. But to see him out front, the most famous man in the news right now, and that he can be called Jewish, with particular glee from those with hateful attitudes toward Jews, is deeply disturbing. But this isn’t just a story with a Jewish antagonist. The protagonist is Jewish as well. Adam Silver, commissioner of the NBA, is Jewish. I won’t claim that he is a spokesperson for all Jewish people; neither did he. But on Tuesday afternoon, before a packed ballroom at the Hilton in Manhattan and an international audience, Adam Silver spoke for me.” He spoke for me too:

“The views expressed by Mr. Sterling are deeply offensive and harmful; that they came from an NBA owner only heightens the damage and my personal outrage,” Silver said. “I am personally distraught that the views expressed by Mr. Sterling came from within an institution that has historically taken such a leadership role in matters of race relations and caused current and former players, coaches, fans and partners of the NBA to question their very association with the league.”

Lord Rabbi Sacks, writing before this story was breaking news, said this in his weekly message about this parsha:

We are God’s ambassadors to the world.

Therefore when we behave in such a way as to evoke admiration for Judaism as a faith and a way of life, that is a Kiddush Hashem, a sanctification of God’s name. When we do the opposite – when we betray that faith and way of life, causing people to have contempt for the God of Israel – that is a Chillul Hashem, a desecration of God’s name… When Jews behave badly, unethically, unjustly, they create a Chillul Hashem. People say, I cannot respect a religion, or a God, that inspire people to behave in such a way… No nation has ever been given a greater or more fateful responsibility. And it means that we each have a share in this task.

When a Jew, especially a religious Jew, behaves badly – acts unethically in business, or is guilty of sexual abuse, or utters a racist remark, or acts with contempt for others – it reflects badly on all Jews and on Judaism itself.

We are all, like it or not, ambassadors of the Jewish people, and how we live, behave and treat others reflects not only on us as individuals but on Jewry as a whole, and thus on Judaism and the God of Israel.

“Be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon ‘em,” wrote Shakespeare in Twelfth Night. Throughout history Jews have had greatness thrust upon them…

God trusted us enough to make us His ambassadors to an often faithless, brutal world. The choice is ours. Will our lives be a Kiddush Hashem, or God forbid, the opposite? To have done something, even one act in a lifetime, to make someone grateful that there is a God in heaven who inspires people to do good on earth, is perhaps the greatest achievement to which anyone can aspire. Shakespeare rightly defined the challenge: Be not afraid of greatness.

My hope is that this story will go away quickly. Not because it is bad for the Jews, it is. But because there are so many more important things in this world. How are we going to feed the hungry? What has happened to the 200 girls kidnapped in Nigeria? How do we make peace in Israel?  And maybe most importantly here this week, how do we create a mikdash me’at, a holy community, right here, within these four walls and beyond. We are all ambassadors of Judaism. As Shakespeare and Sacks admonish, “Be not afraid of greatness.”

The Shulchan Arukh, Jewish law code teaches, “We bury non-Jewish dead and comfort their mourners so that we follow the ways of peace” YD 370.1.2010. This week I did something that seemed natural to me. I facilitated and officiated at my first non-Jewish funeral. I didn’t hesitate. The 90 year old was the mother-in-law of my ritual chairperson. She wasn’t Jewish. She was supportive of her son-in-law and her daughter raising her grandchildren as Jews. She had attended Bnei Mitzvah, weddings, funerals. Even the annual Chanukah latke lunch and the 120th anniversary brunch. She hadn’t been to church recently although she was anointed in the hospital.

When I learned she was in the hospital last week, taken unresponsive while we were in services last Saturday, I knew I would spend Saturday night or Sunday morning at the hospital with them. When my ritual chair asked me to say a few words, well actually uncharacteristically more than a few words, I didn’t hesitate. Whatever you need.

Then I thought about the consequences. Would people judge us? I decided I didn’t care. Would people assume that they got better care than someone I know less well? Again I didn’t care. I would do this again, again under the right circumstances.

Our tradition teaches that “These are the ways of the Holy One: “gracious and compassionate, patient, abounding in kindness and faithfulness, assuring love for a thousand generations, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin, and granting pardon.” (Exodus 34:6). This means that just as God is gracious, compassionate, and forgiving, you too must be gracious, compassionate, and forgiving.” (Sifre on Eikev) It continues, “Follow the Lord your God” (Deuteronomy 13:5). What does this mean?…The verse means to teach us that we should follow the attributes of the Holy One…As He clothes the naked, you should clothe the naked. The Bible teaches that the Holy One visited the sick; you should visit the sick. The Holy One comforted those who mourned; you should comfort those who mourn. The Holy One buried the dead; you should bury the dead. (Sotah 14).

It doesn’t say, only the Jewish sick, only the Jewish bereaved, only the Jewish dead. This, then, is the definition of compassion: visiting the sick, comforting the bereaved, burying the dead. This, then is what community does, reaches out and offers comfort.

After I offered or accepted, then I started to think. “What would the neighbors say?” “How could I make everyone feel comfortable?” “What would be most meaningful to the family–all the family?” I called my good friends, a UCC pastor and an Episcopal priest, a senior rabbi. All of them have been ordained for some 40 years each, so lots of experience. None of them had been asked to do a funeral service for someone not in their tradition. All of them thought it was possible. No one thought it was wrong. All were helpful.

Do you know that the outline for a funeral service is nearly the same. “Use Psalm 23, the Lord is my shepherd, and Psalm 121, I lift up my eyes to the mountains.” I was told, “Sometimes I use, “There is a time to be born and a time to die,” or a Woman of Valor.” There is a committal prayer. I chose to use “The Lord’s Prayer”, the prayer that Jesus taught his disciples and which is based on traditional Jewish prayers. I figured that would comfort the Catholics that were sure to be present. I have had it memorized since a 7th grade Hebrew School retreat where we learned a rock version. Of course, I stumbled over which is the Catholic version and which is the Protestant version. I am still not sure I picked the right one.

In all traditions, part of the function of the funeral is the eulogy, the telling of the stories about the person who died. It is part of how we keep their memories alive. It is part of how we keep them close.

Judaism teaches that burying a loved one is the last act of compassion, since it cannot be repaid. My hope is that by my congregation and me opening our hearts to people who were grieving we showed compassion, compassion without judgment and that we brought the family comfort.

Was it easy? Not entirely–more because I was worried that it would be comfortable for everyone. One person did say, “I didn’t realize she was Jewish.” another said, “I have never seen a rabbi lead the Lord’s Prayer.” The preparation took me a little out of my own comfort zone. Would I do it again? You bet. It was compassion. It was comfort. It was the right thing to do.

I spoke at the Lions Club tonight. The topic was Social Justice in Judaism. This speech is easy for me. So much of what I do, as a person, as a rabbi, centers around tikkun o’lam, healing the world. So much of the social justice agenda comes from last week’s portion, the Holiness Code. I began by quoting “Don’t put a stumbling block before the blind or curse the deaf.” It seemed like the right place for a group that is dedicated to helping people with sight issues. The organization is the embodiment of this verse. I talked about welcoming the stranger and taking care of the widow and the orphan. About feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, housing the homeless. This group gives money to FISH a local food pantry and to the Community Crisis Center.

Then it happened, I was asked about Sterling and about anti-semitism. I told them that anti-semitism is on the rise. That we have only to look at an incident like Overland Park to see the results in this country or fire bombings of synagogues in the Ukraine to see it in Europe. I explained that all of my middle school students, in three different school systems, U46, District 301 and District 300 feel bullied, isolated, teased because they are Jewish. That groups like FaithBridge in McHenry County and CERL the Coalition of Elgin Religious Leaders and organizations like the Anti-Deflamation League of Bnai Brith and the Southern Poverty Law Center actively work on these issues and do a better job of tracking such things than I do. That in Elgin, we feel pretty safe, but never entirely. That we actively partner with the police and our ROPE officer.

I clearly said that Sterling’s comments were wrong and not representative of Judaism, that we were at the forefront of the Civil Rights movement with the Civil Rights Act and the Voting Rights Act being signed on the conference room desk of the Religious Action Center in Washington and the NAACP was founded with help from Kivie Kaplan. That the African American community and the Jewish community share the experience of the Exodus from Egypt, having been slaves and becoming free. That Adam Silver, the commissioner of basketball is more representative than Sterling and that Sterling is a “shonda” a shame for the Jewish people.

I explained that Jews and African Americans still partner on social justice projects. That the JCUA hosts an annual seder that is usually sold out.

And then it happened. Someone said, when he was a youth, he was a member of an anti-Semitic group and how could I say that anti-semitism is on the rise. He wondered if the cause is economic and that maybe a piece of the puzzle. Someone else said that the world is so different than it was in the 50s. His brother had married a Jew and serving that Catholic wedding mass as an altar boy was a nightmare. I let the comments go. I think I was too shocked. No one has ever admitted to me in public that he belonged to an anti-Semitic group. However, that was not the punch line. Later he told me he is sure that anti-semitism is lower. How does he know? He was widowed two years ago and his new girlfriend that he met online through a classical music website is Jewish.

It is true that Jews have experienced unprecedented assimilation and that in this country we experience freedom, including freedom to choose whom to date and marry. It is true that there are not quotas at major academic institutions, hospitals and law firms. It is illegal to discriminate in housing or hotels.

Our ancestors fled Europe rather than being persecuted or killed. They escaped conscription into the Tsar’s army by leaving Russia under hay in a wagon. They came in steerage in ships that left Germany, France, Italy rather than face pogroms and to make it in America, the goldeneh medinah. We, their children, grandchildren and great grandchildren have access to our elected officials. With that freedom, with that access comes responsibility.

There is a responsibility to speak out, to speak up so that the terrors of antisemitism in Europe that led to the Holocaust do not happen again, anywhere to anyone. There is a responsibility to work for peace as the leaders of CERL do, to work for an age without hunger, homelessness, poverty, racism., A world where our environment is protected and we are partners with G-d in this glorious creation. To protect the widow, the orphan, the stranger. To not put a stumbling block before the blind or curse the deaf. To not stand idly by while our neighbor bleeds. To love our neighbors as ourselves.

I am glad I went last night–but it illustrates just how much work there is to be done.

Tonight is Rosh Hodesh Iyyar, the beginning of the new month of Iyyar. In the middle of counting the omer, day by day by day, Rosh Hodesh seemed to sneak up on me. It almost seems to be a missing month.

Every month has a theme, usually tied to the holiday of the month. For instance, Kislev with Chanukah is about light, Sh’vat, with Tu B’shevat the new of the trees is about growth, planting, trees. Adar is about joy. Nissan is about freedom. But Iyyar? What is it’s spiritual theme?

Maybe after the frenetic pace of Nissan with all of the Passover preparations and then celebrating Passover itself, it is about rest. Our calendar seems to do that with Heshvan as well. Right after all of the four fall holidays are celebrated, then comes Heshvan without any holidays. A chance to catch our breath. Maybe Iyyar is another chance to catch our breath.

This second month also has Pesach Sheni, a second Passover. For those who missed the opportunity to celebrate Passover on the 15th of Nissan, here is a second chance. It is a mandated make-up day. Lag B’Omer the 33rd day of the counting of the Omer is the 18th of Iyyar. And maybe that is why the month of Iyyar seems to get lost. We have had the frenetic pace of Passover and the daily counting of the Omer. Each week of the Omer has its own special flavor, its own attribute. This week is about tiferet, compassion.

On the first day of Iyar following the exodus, the thirsty Israelites reached a well of bitter water. Moses cast a rod into the water and it miraculously became sweet. God promised that if Israel followed commandments: “The diseases I have placed on Egypt I will not place upon you, for I am the Lord your Healer.” Mannah, the food that was a gift from God, began to fall during Iyyar. The Hebrew letters Iyyar form an acronym of I am the Lord your Healer, therefore Iyyar is an especially propitious time for healing.

Iyyar has another name in the prophets. It is referred to as Ziv. “Now it came about in the four hundred and eightieth year after the sons of Israel came out of the land of Egypt, in the fourth year of Solomon’s reign over Israel, in the month of Ziv which is the second month, that he began to build the house of the LORD.” (Kings I:6:1). On the exact same day, hundreds of years later, Ezra began the construction of the Second Temple (Ezra 3:8). So this is the month that the construction of the Temple was begun.  Maybe the theme then is about building.

In much more modern times, despite the omer being a period of semi-mourning, we celebrate Israel Independence Day, Yom Ha’atzma’ut on Iyyar 5 and Jerusalem Day on Iyyar 28. While these real historical events are worthy of celebrating, they seem to pull focus away from the traditional counting of the omer and our ability to number our days to make them holy.

So Iyyar is a time of healing, meditating on God and being ready for the revelation at Sinai. It helps to develop our mental and spiritual capacities.  It is about building, and about Israel. Tonight is Rosh Hodesh Iyyar and I am listening to the sound of birds and the sounds of men and the sounds of women all praying at the Kotel, at the Western Wall. The sounds are beautiful. Perhaps that is what we are building, finally. Beauty.

Last night we had dinner in Evanston at a lovely Italian restaurant. It seemed a little surreal. Small plates of pasta laden with black truffles or butternut squash, bruschetta with tuna, capers, lemon and fennel, gourmet Italian cheeses, good bread, roasted garlic. Good conversation. Time seemed to stop. We could have sat there all night into the wee small hours of the morning.

We were meeting with the organizer Amit Smotrich, for Chicago with American Jewish World Service. Our conversation covered easy topics like what to pack for the trip to Kenya. What the balance might be between hands on service projects, meeting with partners and government officials, and would we get to go on a safari. Serious life or death topics like 19,000 food insecure people in Elgin and why U-46 may not be able to provide school breakfasts any more. Really–while eating black truffle pasta!  How do we talk about peace in the Middle East without being polarizing?

How to pass the International Violence Against Women Act in the US House of Representatives when my sitting congressman voted against the domestic bill. Why the rights of women have been linked to abortion. Why in order to deliver poverty services in Africa with AJWS and its NGO partners you need to end violence against women. Duh! Check out their campaign. It is a no brainer and you can sign a petition to your own congress person supporting this action.

http://webelieve.ajws.org

Let’s be clear. I know a lot about the topic of forgiveness. It was a chapter in my rabbinic thesis. I got an A in the class Justice, Forgiveness and Reconciliation in Jewish and Christian Thought and I passed another class entitled Forgiveness. (that professor only graded such a topic pass/fail!).

Forgiveness is tough. It became really clear to me as I read Gated Grief. It became increasingly clear as I sat through the various presentations that were offered last week at the domestic violence conference specifically on this topic.

Today is not only the 12th day of the Omer but it is also Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day. How can we forgive? Should we forgive? Can we ever forgive such atrocities? Simon Wiesenthal wrote a powerful book, the Sunflower, which wrestles with that very question. During the war when he was interred as a Jewish prisoner in a forced labor camp, he was brought to a dying SS officer who demanded precisely that–to forgive the SS officer for burning Jews alive in a synagogue. Wiesenthal spends the rest of his life wrestling with what he did. Read the book, it is important!

What I learned is that Jews and Christians, probably others have a way of using the words just slightly differently–and then expecting each other to understand. That is why I wanted people at the conference to wrestle with real texts of our various faith traditions. How I understand a passage may be very different than how someone else who is Christian understands the very same text.

We heard from the Baptist minister using the Holman Bible Dictionary that forgiveness is “an act of God’s grace to forget forever and not hold people of faith accountable for sins they confess; to a lesser degree the gracious human act of not holding wrong acts against a person.” Later in the day we heard the Merriam Webster definition: “To stop feeling anger toward, to stop blaming, to stop feeling anger about, to forgive someone for, to give up on resentment of or claim to requital.” Those are very different working definitions.

We differentiated between forgiveness, amends and reconciliation. And to be clear, according to that speaker, is “not forgetting, reconciliation, excusing, or tolerating abusive/controlling behavior. And it is NOT required. It is optional.”

Looking at the story of Luke Chapter 5:17-25 where Jesus heals the paralyzed man, we learn that it is really a story of healing and forgiveness. The Lutheran bishop suggested that forgiveness is really the freedom to move forward. However, he cautioned that there are really two outcomes of forgiveness. Reconciliation when the abuser admits his wrong doing, makes amends and his behavior changes so that the abusive behavior is not repeated. He has mended his heart and his actions. This enables a victim to eventually to set the offender free–but only once the offended one feels safe.  Another outcome is release, where the offender is confronted with the truth but he cannot or will not acknowledge guilt, feel remorse or change. The offended is set free from the responsibility to forgive. Maimonidies, the twelfth century Jewish philosopher would counsel a similar thing. The two who were together can now lead separate lives–maybe even from a different zip code.

Forgiveness is not about forgetting. It is about letting go. And while I heard the theme song of Frozen which seemed so apt, it seems too easily said and not easily done. Hope of letting go of a better past. Hope of a better future. Getting rid of the if onlys. Getting rid of anger. Letting go.

The Lutheran bishop argued that there is a price of non-forgiveness. “No one gets to the Promised Land without leaving Egypt.” I would say, “We need to leave the narrow spaces of Egypt to reach freedom and the hope that comes with it.” That is the gift of Passover which we just celebrated. That is the gift of forgiveness.

I can buy into a lot of this. Until I listen to a survivor say that all domestic violence victims need to forgive or they have not fully healed. That made me angry. How dare she. She can speak for herself but cannot speak for all the women I have worked with. Until I remember the Holocaust. Simon Wiesenthal argues that according to Judaism only the wounded party has the power to forgive the offender. So Wiesenthal couldn’t forgive the SS guard. The only people who could were dead. We who survived am not obligated to forgive the Germans, and we certainly don’t have to forget what the Germans did. Then we are doomed to repeat what they did. And repeat the world seems to do. Breaking these cycles of violence seems to be almost impossible.

What then can we do? The question that Rabbi Harold Kushner asks is not why do bad things happen to good people but when. How do we respond when bad things happen to good people? What is our responsibility when we are free? If forgiveness makes us free, what are we free for? The Lutheran bishop argued compassion, justice, gratitude, outreach. I would concur.

We have a responsibility, those of us who survived, the Holocaust, domestic violence, other trauma, to be compassionate, to work for justice, to be grateful. To figure out what this thing called forgiveness is. To break the cycles of violence. To work for a world without genocide, without domestic violence. It is a daunting task.

When I think of Africa, I think about Darfur. I think about Sudan. I think about Rwanda. I wonder what my people’s cry of “Never again!” means. I think about ethnic violence in Kenya, in the slums of Kibera. Can we prevent another Holocaust? I think I must learn to speak out. Pirke Avot teaches, “Ours is not to ignore the task, neither are we free to ignore it.”

As you know, yesterday I presented at the conference on domestic violence. Too much trauma this week between preparing for the conference and Yom Hashoah and my trip to Kenya. But here comes Shabbat. And this Shabbat in particular. This Shabbat we read Kedoshim, the Holiness Code, the very center of Leviticus in the very center of the Torah.

So what is holiness? The text says, “You shall be holy because I the Lord your God am holy.” Chapter 19 then goes on to quote some of the most famous verses of scripture. It details how we become holy.

Holy means to set apart, to separate. We have lots of words we use with this root, kuf, dalet, shin. Kadosh, Holy. Kiddush, the prayer over wine that separates Shabbat from the rest of the week, Kaddish, the prayer that separates or demarcates different parts of the service, and kiddushin, marriage because when we marry we are set apart, one for the other and no other. Ironic, since one of the words for prostitute is kadasha, because she is living without the bounds of marriage.

So kedusha, holiness, has something to do with boundaries. Setting boundaries. Which is exactly what G-d does before the 10 commandments are given. G-d tells the Israelites not to come up the mountain, to set bounds around the mountain. Then they will become an am segulah (a treasured nation) and an Am Kadosh, a holy nation.

The Torah, a system of rules and laws is a boundary. It separates for us right from wrong. It is what allows us to be an Am Kadosh and an Or hagoyim, a light to the nations. The Torah is that light. Being that light is what God chose us for–after, according to the midrash G-d went to all the other nations first and each one rejected the terms in turn. Only the Israelites were will to do and to hear.

Our portion after telling us that we shall be holy, kadosh because G-d is holy, then goes on to tell us how to separate ourselves, how to distinguish right from wrong, how to live morally and justly, how to become holy. It is a balance between how to worship G-d and how to live with other people.

It tells us that this is for all the people of Israel, not just the priests, the cohanim. In the middle of the Torah, in the middle of Leviticus, the text breaks away from its instruction to the priestly class. This law is for all of us. It repeats some of the 10 commandments. Fear your mother and father, observe Shabbat, don’t turn to idols or make graven images, don’t murder, don’t steal don’t deal falsely with your neighbor.

But it extends beyond that to create a just society. Leave the corner of your field and your vineyard. Don’t oppress your neighbor or rob them. To not curse the deaf or put a stumbling block before the blind. Do not stand idly by while your neighbor bleeds. Do not take vengeance or bear a grudge. Love your neighbor as yourself.

It is easy to type the words. It is harder to do them. When it says to Love your neighbor as yourself, isn’t that what Love Elgin Day is about. If we are observing Shabbat which we are, does that mean we cannot participate in Love Elgin Day?

If we don’t have a field or a vineyard how do we give the corners of our field to those who need them? Does the community garden fulfill that function? Is it enough?

If we have members who cannot hear or cannot see or cannot walk how do we remove the obstacles so that they can participate fully?

This last one we tackled in situ this morning. We brought the Torah down from the bimah so that everyone could have access that wanted, then we rolled the podium up the aisle. We brought the Torah to the people. One man cried because he hadn’t had an aliyah in 5 years and thought he would never again.

This action was creating sacred time and space, exactly what Shabbat is about. It was holy time. It was Shabbat at its best. And it was exactly the antidote I needed about my week about domestic violence, Holocaust and the slums of Kenya. May we continue to create holy moments, that way we will fulfill the promise that we are a holy people, am kadosh and a light to the nations.