When Simon and I lived in Massachusetts, we would participate in doing some colonial re-enacting. He would be a farmer from Chelmsford; I would be a farm wife. I’m pretty good at entertaining little ones with a cup and ball game and cooking over an open fire, even in long dresses and petticoats. He was great at sewing, building a fire and lining up with his musket. But we were playacting. The truth is, if I had lived in Chelmsford in 1775, I could not have been a land owner. You needed to be white, male and a Christian to own land.Things changed by the time we moved to Chelmsford.

This week we started reading the book of Leviticus. For many moderns, it can be a difficult book. The idea of the cohanim, the priests, sacrificing animals on my behalf does not express my spirituality very well. And while I admit that I love a good steak, I am not interested in having a barbecue in the synagogue parking lot as how I collect my pay. So what is Leviticus about? Rabbi Nehemia Polan talks about it being a reset button. The Israelites want to recapture the experience they had at Sinai. They want to “draw close” to God. That is the root of Korban, one of the sacrifices being offered. It is also the root word that appears most frequently in this first parsha of Leviticus.

Religion in Latin comes from the word religio, to tie back up. That is the purpose, to re-create, to re-enact the experience of connecting with the Divine. To feel that Divine presence, that Divine Love. The Israelites, commanded by God do exactly that by re-creating all of the elements. Smoke, Fire, a Pleasing Odor, A Boundary that could not be crossed, intermediaries (the priests), washing of clothes, purifying bodies, staying ritually ready. Everything that happens in Chapter 19 of Exodus happens again here in Leviticus.

I am still not ready to sacrifice an animal in the synagogue parking lot or return to sacrifices on the Temple Mount if and when a Third Temple is erected. That’s not how I think I am going to draw close to God.

In 70 CE, the Second Temple was destroyed, centralized worship and animal sacrifice game to an abrupt end. Judaism had to re-invent itself again or go the way of other civilizations. And so it did. It became a religion of study and prayers. “A story is told about Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai that he was walking along the road when Rabbi Joshua ran after him and said to him: Woe to us because the house of our life has been destroyed, the place which used to atone for our sins. He answered: Do not despair we have another atonement instead of it. He asked; what is it? Johanan answered: ‘For I desire loving kindness and not sacrifices’. (Hos. 6:6) (ARN 8:38.)” The evening prayer, ma’ariv and the morning prayer, shacharit and replaced the “one in the evening, one in the morning sacrifices of the priests. Our homes became known as a mikdash ma’at, a little sanctuary.

This was a huge and radical shift. As one of my students said this week after reading this story, she wasn’t sure that would have been her response looking at the burning smoldering mound that had been the Temple. She might have been seriously depressed and lack any words what so-ever. “Oh woe is me.” or “Oy vey” might have been the extent of it. And for many that would probably be about it.

Some have argued that we in American Judaism are at precisely this kind of shift. The Pew Study (which until now I haven’t written about but have been thinking about) has made communal Jewish leaders once again depressed. “Oh woe is me” “Oy vey” the intermarriage rate is up. A category of Jews who are millenials and see themselves as Jewish but not as a religion. That trend exists in the Christian world too. There is even a name for them, “Nones”. Truth be told, depending on how you read Pew you can draw those conclusions. http://www.pewforum.org/2013/10/01/jewish-american-beliefs-attitudes-culture-survey/

I used to craft surveys for a living. The Pew Study is not especially well crafted. People answered the questions asked, and no more. Which is exactly what people do. Jewish leaders have been bemoaning trends in the Jewish community for decades. But what if the question is wrong. What if instead of asking “Who is a Jew?” or “What kind of Jew are you?” or “How do you practice being Jewish?”, we ask, “Why are you Jewish? What do you like about being Jewish? What do you want to pass down to your children or children’s children?” What if instead of yelling at someone who is considering marrying someone not Jewish we say, “Mazel tov!” and “How can we help you explain Judaism to your significant other?” or “How do you want to celebrate life’s milestones.”

I work in a congregation that is at least 50% intermarried. That is not news. Most of the synagogue leadership, including the president, the president of Sisterhood and the president of the Men’s Club, the secretary, the treasurer, the VP of Education, the chair of the ritual committee are married to someone who wasn’t born Jewish. Some chose to convert. Others did not. All of them raised their children as Jews. It would seem disingenuous to me to sit down with one of those children, now adults contemplating marriages of their own and say they can’t marry someone who isn’t Jewish. Their parents already have and the world did not come to an end. In fact, they are now sitting before me as JEWS and mensches. Their parents must have done something right!

There are lots of books out right now telling us how to get through this new seismic shift. Relational Judaism by Dr. Ron Wolfson talks about the need to deepen our connections to people, to build community. Playlist Judaism by Rabbi Kerry Olitzky talks about the idea that people today only want to pick the part of the album they want to hear. IPods have fundamentally changed how we purchase music. That needs to be true of synagogue membership. Want Hebrew School, great, that is fee x. Want pre-school? That is y. Want High Holidays? That’s z. Want the full subscription, soup to nuts, that is a. In the process, we may deepen people’s commitment and relationship. Jewish Megatrends, Finding a Spiritual Home, even a book on the difficulties and changes of modern parenting, All Joy, No Fun have pieces of the answer. But the truth is, we are on the cusp of something new. This has never been done before. And so NO ONE has all the answers. It is beyond ALL OF US.

This week there was a fascinating d’var Torah published by Punk Torah. http://punktorah.org/is-judaism-programming-itself-to-death-parshah-vayikra-by-rabbi-patrick/ He makes the case, much like All Joy No Fun, that we are over programming. Judaism is going to die by over programming. One in the morning, one in the evening may just be too much. I think he is right. He also thinks, like Relational Judaism, that it is about the community, about the people. He is right. He identifies three questions:

• “How are we doing as a community to serve other people?”
• “How can we help people’s hearts be overwhelmed spiritually?”
• “How can we help create the kind of world that others want to live in?”

Those are great questions. I think he missed the fourth. “How do we relate to God?” Back to Leviticus, that is what they were trying to do–relate to God, find God’s presence. We can build community in lots of places–at our children’s schools, with the parents in PTO, on the soccer field, performing in a musical, at Girl Scout camp, at our places of employment, at the health club or Kiwanis, Rotary, WeightWatchers. What sets a synagogue community apart is creating a safe, non-judgmental space to discuss the big issues of the day, from within a Jewish context. Why are we Jewish?

If we keep the focus there and not on saying, “We can’t do that. It has never been done that way before.” Then I am very optimistic about Judaism. Will it sound like Sinai? No. Will it look like Leviticus? No. Will it be like the Talmud? No. Will it smell like the shtel? No. Will it taste like your bubbe’s kitchen? I doubt it.

So my answer, is stop bemoaning our fate. Celebrate every Jew and every potential Jew that walks through the door. Find a place for everyone at the table. Welcome everyone who wants to be a part of Judaism, who wants to be a part of our community–because they were born Jewish, because they are raising Jewish children, because they are curious and want to explore, because they are searching, whatever it is.

Together, we will continue to build a community to discuss the meaning of life, why be Jewish, and how be Jewish. To explore something so essential, so existential. To talk about God.

I just returned from the happiest place on earth. From Walt Disney World. And it seems important to try to gain some perspective on that while marking Adar 11, the month that Purim falls in, the month when we say, “Be happy; it’s Adar.” We all love good fairy tales—and both the Book of Esther and the usual Disney fare are precisely that.

What is it about Disney that makes the magic work for me? Does it always? Disney frequently gets slammed for being anti-semetic (see recent article in the Chicago Jewish News, http://chicagojewishnews.com/2014/01/22/was-walt-disney-anti-semitic/) But after reading the article I am not sure whether he was or wasn’t. Disney also gets slammed for painting a picture of “prince to the rescue, live happily ever after.”  It doesn’t fit for some feminist agendas.

And maybe that is why the Princess Half Marathon drew me in so excitedly. Here was a chance to live out my fantasy of being a princess (I don’t fit the Disney or Barbie specs), wear a tutu and be strong and smart.

Maybe because at Disney it seems that wishes, that dreams can always come true. The fireworks at the Magic Kingdom stress that message, whatever your dreams are. It is inspirational, aspirational. I stood there wishing on a star to finish rabbinical school. I did that. I finished rabbinical school. Surely if I could accomplish that I could return to running. “Any wish is possible. All it takes is a little courage to set it free.”

This youtube clip is 11 minutes long, but it is so beautiful and so powerful. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cRIzFNeEMqs    I love how they string all the lyrics about wishes and dreams from all of the Disney movies together. It makes you believe. It is what I would call Disney spirituality.

When you look closely at the Disney princesses, they each possess their own characteristics:

• Belle likes to read (she is probably still my favorite even if I don’t think I look good in yellow!). She teaches about the importance of reading to the Beast and she doesn’t just want to be wife to Gaston and mother to his children.
• Jasmine isn’t willing to settle for whomever her father presents in marriage. And Aladdin, perhaps the most Jewish of all the characters shows compassion in the market place to someone who has even less bread than he.
• Pocahontas is strong and understands the role that nature plays.
• Ariel, the Little Mermaid, wants to be “part of this world,” and is willing to defy her father to follow love. She learns how to communicate without a voice.
• Elsa and Anna, in Disney’s newest, Frozen, work together eventually and become best of friends as sisters.

Did I finish the race? No. But there are other races that can be run.  Am I at a perfect weight? No. But healthier than I have been and stronger too.  Am I as nice as I would like to be all of the time—cue “Human Again” from Beauty and the Beast. No. But I begin to understand the internal voice that drives that.

I have had lots of wishes and lots of dreams and lots of goals. I did not leave Orlando setting the next goal. I am excited about my upcoming fellowships, with American Jewish World Service and with Renewed Jewish Leaders. I still want to climb Mount Katahdin.

I struggled a bit with my costume for this race. I wanted to wear a tutu, seemed like fun. I wanted it to be hot pink, fits with the Energizer Rabbi motif. But I felt I was too old to be a princess and I really wanted to be the Fairy Godmother (or Fairy Grandmonster, a long story, but because I make magic happen).

What I discovered somewhere along the way is that I am my own person. Somewhere along the way I became a queen. That is part of what the holiday of Purim is about. The action in the Purim story changes in Chapter Four. Mordechai begs, “Do not think that because you are in the king’s house you alone of all the Jews will escape.  For if you remain silent and keep you peace at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?”

Esther agrees. Esther becomes the empowered queen, not the princess waiting for someone else to rescue her. A queen is beautiful, compassionate, strong, able to make her own decisions. With just a little glitter thrown in. But the sparkle doesn’t have to be glitter that washes off. It needs to be deeper. Sparkle in your eyes, in your conversation, in your spirit. That’s what I take away from this trip, the desire to live with sparkle, with enthusiasm, with grace, with love. The desire to pretend and then to go back to being me.

Be happy, it is Adar. A month full of changing weather, maybe spring will come! A month of renewed love and renewed commitment. Of new dreams and new wishes. A month of fun, and make believe and pretend. But more importantly, a month of finding our voices and standing up for what we believe in, like some of the Disney princesses and like Esther.

PS: This post would not be complete without thank yous–To Sarah, my daughter, my princess and my running partner who pushed me to get there, in a good way. To Simon who came along for the ride and wanted to be the perfect cheer squad. Not sure how he found me at Mile 8 and to all those who contributed to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. You took your obligation to speak out and to give from the heart seriously. http://pages.teamintraining.org/vtnt/dipihalf14/mfrischklein#home Together, we raised $5400 and saved lives. That is more important than finishing the race. We saved lives, just like Esther.

Welcome to President’s Day Weekend. How many of you built a Lincoln Log house for your dining room tables this week? We honor our presidents—Lincoln, the son of Illinois, Washington, others.

This celebration fits nicely with this week’s Torah portion. The parsha is a study in leadership. We have several examples—some good, some bad. So before we begin, what is a leader? What is a good leader?

People had good answers to those questions—a leader is a guide, a teacher, someone with vision, sometimes someone who is charismatic although you can be a charismatic leader who is a good leader but is immoral like Hitler, someone who carries out the will of the people or who has the courage to stand up to the people and say no.

As I explained, that seems to be exactly the point of this week’s parsha. We have Moses, G-d. Aaron and Bezalel.

Bezalel is the architect of the mishkan. He takes the design instructions that G-d gave to Moses and the gifts that the people offered, used his skill and his wisdom and built the mishkan. That’s where our parsha begins. Bezazel creating holy space, taking the vision and carrying it out, in all of its nitpicky details. He is a good leader and deserves to have his name remembered.

But then the story goes awry. Moses is still up on the mountain. The mountain was quaking and shaking, smoking and appeared on fire. The people were scared. He hasn’t been heard from in 40 days. Remember, no cell phone to call Tzipporah and say, “Honey, I’m fine, but G-d hasn’t finished talking with me. I’ll be a little late, dear. Don’t worry.” Moses must have died. He was their leader, their caretaker, their conduit to the Divine. He took them out of Egypt, made the Red Sea part, gave them manna and water in the wilderness. Without him, how could they survive? What kind of G-d would do this? What kind of leader would bring them out into the wilderness to die? They wanted to go back to Egypt, where they were safe—even if they were slaves. They wanted to build a golden calf, like the idols they knew in Egypt.

“When the people saw that Moses was so long in coming down from the mountain, they gathered round Aaron and said, ‘Come, make us a god who will go before us. As for this man Moses who brought us up out of Egypt, we don’t know what has happened to him.’ Aaron answered them, ‘Take off the gold earrings that your wives, your sons and your daughters are wearing, and bring them to me.’ So all the people took off their earrings and brought them to Aaron. He took what they handed him and he fashioned it with a tool and made it into a molten calf. Then they said, ‘This is your god, Israel, who brought you up out of Egypt.’ (Ex. 32: 1-4)

So what kind of leader is Aaron? At this juncture he finds a way to do what the people want. But then, like Adam and Eve, he makes excuses. He denies responsibility. He blames the people. He didn’t really make the calf. He just threw the gold into the fire and out came the idol, fully formed.

Rabbi Lord Sacks in his weekly message teaches that “Leaders can fail for two kinds of reason. The first is external. The time may not be right. The conditions may be unfavourable. There may be no one on the other side to talk to…Sometimes despite your best efforts, you fail. Such is life.

The second kind of failure is internal. A leader can simply lack the courage to lead. Sometimes leaders have to oppose the crowd. They have to say No when everyone else is crying Yes. That can be terrifying. Crowds have a will and momentum of their own. To say No may be to put your career, even your life, at risk. That is when courage is needed, and not showing it can constitute a moral failure of the worst kind.”

What about G-d as leader. He becomes angry. Very, very angry. He wants to deny that the Israelites are His people. Watch the pronouns as Moses pleads with G-d to spare them.  Suddenly they are Moses’s people or just the people. He wants to destroy them all.

What about Moses as leader? He pleads for his people. He is audacious enough to remind G-d that they are G-d’s people. His argument is successful and the Israelites are spared. This is Moses’s finest hour some have said. It becomes the basis of how to plead with G-d for forgiveness and sets up much of the liturgy for Selichot and Yom Kippur. A good strong leader.

A midrash from Berachot 32a teaches us about leadership. “And the Lord spoke to Moses, ‘Go down at once!'” (Exodus 32:7): What is the meaning of “Go down at once”? Said R. Eleazar, “Said the Holy One, blessed be he, to Moses, ‘Moses, go down from your position of greatness. Have I made you great for any reason other than for Israel? Now “Immediately Moses grew weak and did not have the power to speak.” When he said to him, ‘Leave me alone that I may destroy them’ (Deuteronomy 9:14), Moses thought, ‘This matter now depends on me.’ “Immediately he stood and become strong in prayer and sought mercy.” The matter may be compared to the case of a king who grew angry with his son and was giving him hard blows. The king’s friend was sitting before him, afraid to say anything to him. The king said, ‘Were my friend not here, sitting before me, I should have killed him.’ “The other realized, ‘This matter depends on me.’ Immediately he stood up and saved [the son].”

Rabbi Michael Pitkowsky says that this is “how a leader should react when he or she is faced with a crisis. According to this midrash, leaders should not remain aloof and above the people, rather, they must “go down” from their greatness. While it may be easier for a leader who is facing a crisis to try and stay above the fray, Moses’s success was based upon his ability to lower himself in order to help lift up others. “

A good leader then is one who humbles himself, (or herself!) is able to be on the people’s level and see what they want. It is like we learn in the Talmud, “Puk Hazei Mai Amma Davar – go see what the people are doing” (Berachot 45a, Eiruvin 14b).

But more to the point it is what the community needs. What happens when what a community needs is in conflict with what they want?  When Moses returns down the mountain, he is angered. Like G-d he is angered. Very, very angry. He smashes the 10 Commandments. He grinds the calf to dust and makes the Israelites drink it. He kills 3000. This leadership makes us uncomfortable. It should.

How does this relate to us? Each of us has the potential to be a leader. To be a Bezalel, building something out of the free will gifts the people offer. To be an Aaron and listen to the will of the people. To be a Moses, and bring a vision to the people. Each of us has the opportunity to be angry or to be a peacemaker.

I have said often that we are on the cusp of a paradigm shift in Judaism. Our models of how we organize Judaism are changing. We can be angry leaders saying things like the young people don’t understand, they are not really being Jewish, they don’t care, they don’t give, they don’t volunteer. OR we can figure out how they want to engage, what they want to do, how they want to give and build our community, our structures and infrastructures. Recently I read an article written by Daniel Gordis about the problems in the Conservative Movement. His contention is that the problem in the Conservative Movement began when the rabbis were able to justify driving on Shabbat. The article is worth the read (and it is long). http://jewishreviewofbooks.com/articles/673/cognitive-dissonance/?utm_source=%22Cognitive+Dissonance%22+and+Its+Uses+%28Jewish+Review+of+Books%29&utm_campaign=Cognitive+Dissonance+%28JRB%29&utm_medium=email

His initial point, “Conservative Judaism was never sufficiently aspirational. Instead of insisting that halakha might give congregants aspirational ideals, it recalibrated Jewish practice for maximum comfort. It failed to recognize that the space between the “is” and the “ought” is where we grow deeper,”is right on target. What the Israelites wanted when they demanded a golden calf was reassurance, comfort and a connection with the Divine who seemed hidden and distant. That’s what we all want. That was the point of the whole sacrificial system, according to Rabbi Nehemia Polen, when I was honored to study Leviticus with him. When the Temple was built, it was to reassure the people, to combine the elements at Mount Sinai, smoke and fire, mountain, the Presence of the Divine. When the Temple was destroyed, the rabbis had to revamp. Judaism became a religion of halacha and study.

However, in the end, I think he misses the point. A return to a strict halacha is not the answer. The people don’t want it and wont’ do it. As Rabbi David Mark says in his comments to the long article, “Every Jew writes her own Shulchan Aruch, her own “Code of Jewish Law.” It doesn’t have to make sense. Faith, Religion, folkways– they aren’t supposed to make sense. When Jews come together in a congregation, they decide on which customs and laws make them feel holier as a group.”

Our job, then as Jewish leaders is to educate, educate, educate, (on this point I agree with Rabbi Gordis) so that people can write their own Torah, write their own Shulchan Arukh. So that we can feel connected with the community, the Jewish community. So that we can feel connected to the long chain of Jewish tradition. But most importantly so we can reconnect with the Divine.

Rabbi Lord Sacks said, “It is easy to be critical of people who fail the leadership test when it involves opposing the crowd, defying the consensus, blocking the path the majority are intent on taking. The truth is that it is hard to oppose the mob. They can ignore you, remove you, even assassinate you. When a crowd gets out of control there is no elegant solution.”

Ultimately, tradition dealt kindly with Aaron. He received the honor of becoming the High Priest. He is portrayed as a man of peace. As we learned, there is more than one kind of leadership. Priesthood requires following the rules and not being swayed by the people. Moses and Aaron were not leaders in the same mold. Our synagogue president and I are not leaders in the same mold. And that’s OK. Neither Moses or Aaron are failures. Neither Joe or I are failures either.  We have different roles. The synagogue president has to deal with the finances and maintaining the building. I have to deal with people’s ethics and their pysches and their spirits. I have to find ways to be aspirational to everyone who walks through the doors of this building. Everyone. Both Joe and I have an obligation to uphold the vision of the community, which is based in Jewish tradition. Both Joe and I have an obligation to try to lead from a position of compassion and to be slow to anger. However, when we get angry, and it happens occasionally, we need ways of working it out. That is why our weekly meeting, face to face, like Moses and G-d did, is so critical to our leadership.

Rabbi Zuziya had it right. When he gets to heaven, he will not be asked, “Why were you not Moses?” The question will be “Why weren’t you Zuziya.” None of us are called upon to be Bezalel, Moses or Aaron. We are called on to be ourselves, our best selves. Sometimes we need leaders who can stand up to the crowd. Sometimes we need peacemakers. Sometimes we need builders. Sometimes we need quiet dreamers. No one person can do everything.

So it is a question of both/and. We need leaders who will humble themselves and go down among the people. They are the ones that will have the courage to stand up and say, “That is not right, we cannot do that.” And we need leaders who will build consensus and follow the will of the people. They can become the peacemakers. In this room we have many different kinds of leaders. Each of you in this room (or reading this on the blog) are a leader. The challenge of this week’s parsha is to figure out what kind of leader are you?

63% of Lake Michigan is frozen. Temperature this morning was -10 when I got up. Chicagoland has had 60+ inches of snow when the average is 36.7 at O’hare and only 19 inches in Elgin! This year even the pets have cabin fever. They want to go outside and run. Too cold!

So what do we do? We gripe about it, and while that gets old quickly we gripe some more. We plan trips away from Chicagoland to some warmer climate. That is expensive. We cook more soups and stews and comfort foods. That can cause weight gain. We learn winter sports–skiing, hockey, skating. And we watch the Olympics.

Every year I have children read the Wise Men of Chelm story “Snow Falls in Chelm”,about the diamonds that fall from the sky. Last year, my first year in Elgin, it was actually on the Illinois fifth grade standardized test. The kids thought I knew the test in advance. Then I have the kids write blessings for snow. There is not actually a blessing for snow in Judaism, although we have the word–shelig in Hebrew. The kids get it. They usually include things like thanking G-d for the beauty of the individualized snowflakes or for hot chocolate and sledding and snow days. They see the beauty and the wonder. (But then they don’t have to drive in it!)

I am not alone in this, both Rabbi Harold Kushner and Rabbi Larry Kushner describe similar phenomena in their Hebrew School classes.  During that first snowfall of the year, “As you might expect, there was suddenly great excitement in the room. “Look! It’s snowing outside! Winter is here!” And they all lept out of their places and ran over to the window, completely oblivious to the fact that the rabbi was trying to tell them a story….He realized that for the children, there was no reason to recite the blessing. Their spontaneous reaction, their excitement, was an even stronger affirmation of the wondrousness of nature than any adult’s blessing could ever be….There’s no way that adults can appreciate the wonders of snow as much as kids can.” As Rabbi Larry Kushner writes, “There are places children go that grown-ups can only observe from afar.”

According to the Midrash on Job 37:6, G-d made the Earth from snow. “From where was the dry land of the earth made? From the snow that is under G-d’s Throne of Glory.” According to Maharal, the 16th Century rabbi of Prague, snow is an illuminating force tantamount to spiritual light. (Wait until you see the picture at the end of this post!) “That is why God made the earth from snow, because people on earth need to be reminded of God’s involvement in man’s affairs,” Rabbi Boruch Leff wrote in 2001. “Snow descends and covers the grounds as if to shout, ‘Remember that it is God that is constantly covering the ground and providing everything in our life.'”

Rabbi Everett Gendler used to have a snow service once a year where he would add poetry about snow and beautiful photos from the American Museum of Natural History. A similar resource is Kenneth Libbrecht’s book of photography, The Snowflake. As a CalTech physicist, he has spent his entire career studying snow crystals and his photography is gorgeous.

This year my birthday got snowed out. No services. No party. No dinner out. Just snow. One of my Boston friends suggested I build a snow sanctuary. “Why not?” I said. We are in the middle of reading the directions for building the tabernacle in the desert. They had lots of sand. We have lots of snow as a natural resource.

So on Wednesday at Hebrew School, we built a mishkan out of snow. We looked at pictures and building plans. We shoveled out the courtyard. We made snow walls. We went on a treasure hunt in the building. We spray painted a cardboard box to make the Ark of the Covenant. We found the tablets of the 10 Commandments and a brass pot for the brazen laver. We found a seven-branched menorah in gold. We found a challah for the “showbread”. We put of a Tent of Meeting. We used purple, blue and crimson. We turned a tallit into the veil separating the Holy of Holies. We used a rock for the altar. We built a fire. Then we had hot chocolate and popcorn and we talked about inviting the Presence of the Divine to join us.

It was a good day. I think the kids will never forget the winter they built a snow sanctuary.

They say that clothing makes the man, and jewelry makes the woman. Today’s Torah portion is all about clothing and jewelry. But there is a point to these instructions.

Remember those bands from a few years ago that said WWJD. No, it did not mean as someone suggested, “Worldwide Jewish Domination.” It stood for “What would Jesus Do,” and if you looked at the bracelet on your wrist you might remember what you were supposed to do—be like Jesus, act like G-d. In Latin, Imitatio Deo, imitating G-d.

We have a tradition of imitating G-d too. Sifre Eikev, which we read this morning says,  “To walk in God’s ways” (Deuteronomy 11:22). 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.” The text continues that as G-d clothed the naked, we should clothe the naked. As G-d visited the sick, you should visit the sick. As G-d fed the hungry, you should feed the hungry. As G-d buried the dead, you should bury the dead.” So walking in G-d’s ways is imitating G-d.

We know the expression, “I’ll be there with bells on….”, meaning something like I am excited and pleased to come. I will be there to celebrate, wearing my finest. It first appeared in a F. Scott Fitzgerald novel. But its roots go much deeper. Some say that it is a reference to the bells that teamsters would tie on their horses that were transporting goods. If their wagon broke down, then another teamster would ask for their bells as a reward. Arriving to their destination “with bells on,” was a source of pride. Some say it is a reference to the bells or knobs that were on beds in England. Or it is a reference to the bells on a jester’s costume. Or to the bells that told the time in a naval watch.

There are lots of popular cultural references to bells and faith. In the movie, It’s a Wonderful Life we are told that “Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings.” While I don’t think that is true, I love the movie. For George, the bell becomes a reminder to be grateful for his life, his wonderful life. Something he didn’t understand until his guardian angel showed him what the world would be like if he hadn’t been in it, thus earning his wings.

In another Christmas story, Polar Express, a boy, from Grand Rapids no less, has lost his love of Christmas. He is whisked away to the North Pole and because he is a good kid and helps other kids on the train, is given the privilege of receiving the first gift of Christmas from Santa—a bell—, which then falls through the hole in his robe pocket. Santa finds the bells and delivers it all wrapped up. When he opens his gift, he and his sister can hear the bell, but his parents cannot and assume it is broken. Chris Van Allsburg ends the book with  “At one time, most of my friends could hear the bell, but as years passed, it fell silent for all of them. Even Sarah found one Christmas that she could no longer hear its sweet sound. Though I’ve grown old, the bell still rings for me, as it does for all who truly believe.”

So the bell has to do with belief, with faith.

But many say it comes from this week’s Torah portion. The cohanim, the priests, needed to sew gold bells and pomegranate-shaped tassels of blue, purple and scarlet, onto the hems of their robes.

Why? Like the phrase “with bells on” the text does not give us an answer. The pomegranate is easy. Pomegranates grow in Israel, one of the seven species. They have 613 seeds and are a reminder of the commandments.

But the bells. They are more complicated. Some say the bells are so that when the High Priest, the Kohain HaGadol entered the Holy of Holies on Yom Kippur, the sound of the bells would signal that he was still alive. Some say that the sound of the bells chased away danger—noise often does. Some say that they were to summon the presence of the Divine. Some say the bells were a necessity to keep him alive, lest he die.

I think all of the clothing and the jewelry that this portion commands are to remind the cohanim, the priests of how they were to behave. Clothing makes the priest. The names of the twelve tribes were inscribed as a reminder. Each of the jewels on the breastplate was one of the tribes, as a reminder. The Talmud itself teaches something similar. Each of the pieces of clothing reminds the priest to avoid specific sins. The breastplate was to prevent miscarriages of judgment. The me’il, the jacket would prevent gossip, lashon hara, an evil tongue, with those noisy bells, which would drown out the sound of gossip. The three colors of the tassels remind us that there are three people who are injured when lashon hara is spoken—the speaker, the listener and the one who is spoken about. The Ephod would prevent succumbing to idolatry. The tunic, like Jacob’s coat of many colors would remind us against spilling blood in jealousy and murderous rage. The robe, against sins of sexual impropriety, the headdress against arrogant thoughts (BT Zev 88b)

Even the colors, the purple, the blue, the crimson. They too served as reminders. Rabbi Emil Hirsch, who helped found this congregation, who drove out on a stagecoach—probably with bells on and is a source of pride for Simon for his commitment to social justice, wrote an article for the Jewish Encyclopedia about color. The white was the color of purity, the purple, the lower animal level, the crimson, the human level and the blue of the sky, Godliness. A more modern commentary added to it and said they represent the four worlds and that human beings reflect a combination of those four levels. It is all of us.

Rashi deduced a law for all the priestly vestments: “From the negative one can derive the positive: if he will have them he will not be liable for death; thus, if he enters lacking one of these garments he is liable for death at the hands of Heaven.” While that would seem a pretty severe punishment, Maimonides rules the same way. Getting too close to the Divine can be scary, even dangerous.

I think that is the point. Not only is the High Priest consecrated to G-d but every Israelite man and woman is, every Jew is. We are told that we are to be a light to the nations, a kingdom of priests and a holy nation. As Jewish law developed, The development of Jewish law and observance has produced numerous instances of obligations and prohibitions that originally were intended only for the kohanum, democratically extended to all Jews so that we are a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.

We typically don’t wear bells. But we do have a uniform of prayer, of service, as it were tallit and tefilin. These too are set up as reminders. They remind us what our behavior is supposed to be. When you look at the tzitzit on the tallit you are reminded of the 613 commandments or the Presence of G-d or both. When you wrap yourself in tefillin you make the word Shaddai, one of the names of G-d, with the straps. When I wear a kippah, it reminds me to be humble, to “know before whom I stand.” It is like my version of the WWJD bracelet and if I drive through McDonalds or go shopping at Jewel it keeps me honest in some way. I wear other things as well. I always wear the 10 Commandments. I wear a wedding ring that is inscribed, “Live Contented.” I wear a bracelet that is inscribed, “Ani l’dodi v’dodi li,” I am my beloved and my beloved is mine to remind me of Simon’s love.

So for each of you, I have a gift. A little gold bell. Something you can put in your pocket, or tie on a ribbon of purple or crimson or blue. Something to remind you of how to behave, of the 613 Commandments, of how to be a holy person, of the very Presence of the Divine.

Yesterday was Super Bowl Sunday. It is also known as World Wide Wrap by the Federation of Jewish Men’s Clubs. It is an opportunity to “teach our children diligently” and explain the commandment to “bind them as a sign upon your arm and as a sign before your eyes.” What does that phrase mean? To put on tefilin, phylacteries, strips of leather with these very words in little boxes. To wrap yourself.

At Congregation Kneseth Israel, we wrapped. The men did tefilin and the older Hebrew School students, 4th through 8th grade did tallit. Why? Because we are commanded to wrap ourselves in fringed garments too. Most kids will wear a tallit for their Bar or Bat Mitzvah. They may never attend a weekday morning service where tefilin are used.

I struggle with this event every year. While I like the commandment to wrap yourself with fringes (tzitzit), tefilin just don’t speak to me. So much so, that when I was applying to rabbinical school after college I ruled out Jewish Theological Seminary because they were going to require women to wear tefilin.

Let’s be clear. As I read halacha, women are exempt from the commandment to wear tefilin but they are not prohibited from wearing them. If a woman wants to, she can and should be able to. One year for the World Wide Wrap I began my discussion with a picture of Tefilin Barbie. http://www.hasoferet.com/bar/barbie.shtml What does this doll say about where we are in American Jewish society? That we have made it? Is it good for the Jews or bad for the Jews? That it is OK for women to wear tallit and tefilin? That I want to be like Barbie? Because usually the answer to the last one is, “No, I don’t want to be like Barbie.” Ultimately I think it is mixed.

This year there has been a lot of chatter about Orthodox girls being allowed to wear tefilin. At one Jewish day school in Riverdale, two high school girls have now been permitted to wear tefilin. http://forward.com/articles/191256/modern-orthodox-high-school-in-new-york-allows-gir/ Rabbi Lookstein, at Ramaz on the Upper East Side has said that girls would be granted the opportunity to daven with tefilin if so requested, but he has yet to receive such a request. http://www.haaretz.com/opinion/.premium-1.571258

This is exciting big news. 

However, these decisions have come with quite a bit of controversy in the Orthodox community. One of the best pieces of writings was in Ha’aretz: http://www.haaretz.com/opinion/.premium-1.571258

I have seen these arguments before, used on both sides. While I like the intellectual stimulation and challenge of following these arguments, I don’t like what it does to spirituality. It actually breaks the spirit. Here are some girls, who want to do something that has been permitted in the past arguing for their halachic rights. If it enhances their spirituality and their meaning and doesn’t really break halacha, let them do it. Similarly, the Men’s Club looked a series of videos on youtube about how to correctly wrap tefillin–and how not to! The language employed in some bashing the other methods were cruel and bullying. That can never be appropriate. That can never be halachic.

Neither is calling a woman an abomination. Several years ago, Noa Raz was physically assaulted by an ultra-Orthodx man in Beersheva’s Central Bus Station. According to the press release, the man asked Raz twice if the imprints were from tefillin. When she told him they were, he began to kick and strangle her while screaming “women are an abomination.” Raz, who practices Conservative Judaism, and is studying at the Fuchsberg Center, broke free from the man and boarded her bus. http://jta.org/news/article/2010/05/13/2394791/conservative-woman-attacked-for-tefillin-imprint

Traditionally, it is clear that tefilin have been the domain of men. Something men are obligated to do, required to do. Women can–as long as they are consistent with it, take it on as a commandment. And from the earliest times we know that some have. We learn in the Talmud that “Michal, daughter of the Cushite wore tefilin and the sages did not protest.” (Eruvin 96a) In another place it states that “Michal, daughter of King Saul laid tefilin.” (JT Eruvin 10:1, 26a) But just as quickly we are told that “Women, slaves and minors are exempt from the recitation of Sh’ma and from tefilin but are obligated for the Amida prayer, mezuza and birkat hamazon.” (Berachot 3:3). This last mishnah plus the idea that tefilin are men’s clothing (also prohibited) is what gives credence, despite the references to Michal, to the prohibition of women donning tefilin according to the Shulchan Arukh and other sources.

Maggie Anton contends in her wonderful series of books, Rashi’s Daughters, that Rashi’s own daughters wore tefilin. I love these books. They are great novels and Maggie has done substantial historical and textual research. They make medieval Jewish France and Germany come alive. Nonetheless, while stories of Rashi’s daughters wearing tefilin existed before Maggie Anton’s novels, apparently there is no good historical evidence of their accuracy. Other women in the time period did.  Fazonia, the first wife of Rabbi Haim ben Attar, wore tallit and tefillin, as did Rabbi Haim’s second wife. The Maid of Ludomir (Hanna Rachel Werbermacher) in the 19th century also wore tefillin.

Poet Ruth Brin describes Winter this way:
Falling, deeply fallen, the snow,
continuous, silent, covers the ground,
the roots of plants and trees, seeds, spores,
cocoons, the various multitude of living cells,
covers completely, persistently
the white face of earth,
spreading relentlessly,
continuously,
as we who are masking, always masking,
deeply masking ourselves.

This is Shabbat Terumah. It is also Rosh Hodesh Adar 1, Chinese New Year’s, a black moon and my birthday. That is a lot of celebrating. It was also a snow day, in itself a gift. No where to go. No Shabbat services to lead. Just quiet. Breakfast in bed. Long run on the elliptical. Shoveling. Long bubble bath in the late afternoon light, enjoying the view of snow laden evergreens. It was beautiful.

I am intrigued by this confluence of events. I learned that a black moon is when two new moons appear in the same month. It is an auspicious time. It is also a SuperMoon, appearing 14% bigger, even though it is a new moon.

In Judaism, we can’t have a “black moon” since all of our months start with a  new moon. We have a lunar calendar and because there are only 28 or 29 days in a lunar month periodically we need to adjust the calendar so that holidays continue to appear in their seasons. (Remember how crazy it seemed to have Chanukah before Thanksgiving?) Every so often we correct and add not just a day but an entire leap month–Adar 1. This is one of those years.

I always think that Adar 1 is a gift, a gift of a whole month. But not everyone feels that way. Some see Adar 1 as the invisible month, representing the invisible Dinah, maybe the masking, the hiding of ourselves as Brin described. Maybe that is a gift of winter, as we hide.

Yesterday I met with the seniors at the Victory Center and explained this odd calendaring. They knew Dinah only from “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad” and a song I had never heard (written in 1925) about Dinah in Carolina. I read them the story of Dinah in the Bible. It is not a pretty one. Chapter 34 outlines it: “And Dinah, the daughter of Leah, whom she bore to Jacob, went out to see the daughters of the land. And Shechem, the son of Hamor the Hivite, the prince of the land, saw her, and he took her, and he lay with her by force and he humbled her…Now Jacob heard that he had defiled Dinah his daughter, and his sons were with his cattle in the field, and he was silent until they came.”

The text is not explicitly clear what happened to Dinah and then she disappears. She is invisible. Jacob is silent. Jacob cares more that the sons created a problem for him rather than caring for Dinah. Anita Diamant wrote a whole book, the Red Tent, on the New York Times bestseller list for years, to tell the story from Dinah’s point of view. One of the women yesterday said, “He raped her.” She then went on to say, “I was raped when I was 12 and I was invisible. I never talked about it again.”  And that is the gift of Adar 1, to make the invisible, visible. To feel safe to say the unspeakable. To gather strength and courage in the dark of winter. To be able to see the new moon.  It is a gift.

The women understood the importance of gifts. It is about life, health, children, education, kindness. A doll, a drum, a soccer ball are less important. Fleeting.

Our Torah portion today begins, “G-d spoke Moses, saying, Speak to the children of Israel, have them bring Me an offering, a gift. Take My offering from everyone whose heart compels him to give.” What are these gifts? Does G-d require gifts? The Torah mentions gold, silver, copper, fine linen, ram’s skins, purple, crimson, blue yarn, jewels, even dolphin skins. Where did they ever find dolphin skins in the desert? Why the detail?

Sometimes I have students try to build a model of the mishkan. They read the text, give me a shopping list and I go to Michael’s. I buy leather, “jewels”, gold and brass rings, balsa wood. I’ve never found dolphin skins. Sometimes they build a model out of legos. This year the kids seem to want to build it in MineCraft.

Ruth Brin in her poem “Building” has it right:
Out of the cedars of the forests
the ores of the mountains
the stones of the hills
the copper of the desert,
from the earth itself,
the metals hidden in the earth
and the life that springs from the earth,
they built the Temple
where they came to worship
the Creator of the earth.
The Temple was a psalm of stone.

Building a tabernacle is about making holy space. It is about the gift of the spirit. Our homes are to be a mikdash me’at, a little sanctuary, a little tabernacle. I am grateful for the gift of my home. How lovely are our dwelling places, “mishkanotecha Yisrael.” It has heat and light and warmth and that wonderful spa tub with a view of the evergreens.  I admit I am not much of a builder. But every year we would build a Lincoln Log cabin for Lincoln’s birthday (also in February). We would make a cherry pie for Washington’s birthday. It was a tradition; a ritual. Of course we used to joke if we did it once it became a tradition. You try it. Those rituals are about making holy space too.

Today I received a gift. Not a material gift. It was a bright red cardinal that perched outside in the snow. It seemed to watch me while I was running on the elliptical. I remember the first year after my mother died, Simon and I were in Ogunquit for my birthday, and a bright red cardinal appeared against the bright blue sky. They have appeared other times too. Earlier today someone had said, “A cardinal is a representative of a loved one who has passed. When you see one, it means they are visiting you. They usually show up when you most need them or miss them. They also make an appearance during times of celebration as well as despair to let you know they will always be with you. Look for them, they’ll appear.” My mother was a cardinal. She grew up in Saint Louis. She rooted for the Cardinals all her life. She collected cardinals. I have one that peeps in my office. And here it was, a perfect gift on a snowy morning.

My mother tried to celebrate every day, especially in February. My birthday, ground hog’s day, Lincoln’s Birthday, Valentine’s Day, her anniversary, Washington’s Birthday, Girl Scout Thinking Day. And then, the days would be longer, March would be here and spring would arrive. That was a gift too.

Life itself is a gift. Again, from Ruth Brin, her translation/poem of Shehiyahnu:

We thank You, Eternal G-d
for telling us,
“My love around you,
My blessings on you
have surely brought you to this day.”

Someone told me yesterday that birthdays are to be celebrated, because they mark the day you came into the world, that you enriched the world, just by being born. May we each hear the Divine telling us, “My love around you. My blessing on you.” That love is a gift. May it be so for each of us.

When the police chief of Elgin cancelled his monthly community meeting because it is so cold it is dangerous to be outside, I decided that we needed to cancel a special yahrzeit meeting. It was a hard decision and disappointing to those who wanted to say Kaddish. But with the U46 District Schools and the Chicago Public Schools and now the police chief canceling everything, I didn’t think we had a choice. It was going to be -18 degrees, before we got to the wind chill factors.

For me it was a pekuach nefesh issue. I wasn’t willing to put people at risk to say Kaddish. Kaddish, we have all said, is for the living. It praises G-d for life. The people who wanted to say Kaddish, on the actual day of the yahrzeit had all been in shul this weekend when their loved ones names were read. We would have a minyan on Wednesday. We were just not going to go out in last night’s cold.

Then I had an idea. What if we did a virtual minyan? What if we set up a dial in number like a conference call. People could stay in their toasty living rooms with whatever siddur they had at home and we could davven remotely.

The use of technology to enhance worship is not new to Judaism or to me. When Sarah was little and I was doing a lot of business travel, she would call me at bedtime and sing the Sh’ma. I miss those days. When my mother couldn’t get to shul, Sarah would blow shofar on the phone, or sing the Four Questions. When she went to college we frequently sang the candle blessings Friday night together. It was a special moment. When I was the rabbi at a Jewish assisted living residence we used a videotape of Kol Nidre for our Kol Nidre service/program. For one wedding with the parents of the groom in another country, I had them call in on their cell phone one of the sheva brachot. That way they could participate too.

Just today there was a story on Here and Now on NPR about a congregation in Kansas reaching out to Latin America on cyberspace: http://hereandnow.wbur.org/2014/01/28/rabbi-virtual-synagogue I knew that the Reform Movement have been broadcasting services, first on radio, then television, now live streaming for decades. I know that some funeral homes will help stream funerals to out-of-towners. I personally watched Debbie Friedman’s funeral remotely.

I remembered an article that appeared in Voices of Conservative Judaism about Skyping a Minyan, http://www.cjvoices.org/article/skyping-the-minyan/ Our congregation will videotape (yes, still VHS!) a Shabbat morning service so the Bar/Bat Mitzvah family will have  a record of it and can share it with out-of-town family.

I know that some Orthodox have been asking about the halachic implications of using an iPod or other digitally recorded music on Shabbat because you aren’t creating anything new. I knew that there were a couple of completely virtual congregations, http://ourjewishcommunity.org and http://punktorah.org most notably.

But would ours feel like a community? Would it count? Would people be “yotzei”, fulfilling in their obligation to say Kaddish.

I decided to try it. In an hour and 15 minutes, I had set up a conference call line, sent out emails, posted it to Facebook, called the people who were actually observing yahrzeit, and ran through a service from Siddur Sim Shalom picking extra readings from A Minyan of Comfort. At 8:10PM I dialed in. By 8:14 we had a minyan on the line. We davvened. I sang. I read. We didn’t all have the same books, but we had the same words in the Hebrew. There seemed to be a brief delay. We were not all on the same pace. I missed seeing people’s faces (but that is true when I davven Sephardic style in the center of the people as well).

Would I change some things? Yes. I would give more notice. Would I try Skype? Maybe. But there are still delays on Skype and it is harder to set up because people need to download the application first. Anyone can dial into a conference line. Would I try some other conferencing program or maybe Google. Perhaps. Did I go back to look at what the Conservative Movement says after the fact. You bet. Here is what I found:

In 1998 Rabbi Avraham Reisner and the Committee on Jewish Law and Standards (the halachic body of the Conservative Movement) wrote a responsa entitled “Wired to the HaKadosh Baruch Hu.” Accepted in 2001, it concluded that the internet could not be used for creating a virtual minyan. The full Teshuva is available here: http://rabbinicalassembly.org/sites/default/files/public/halakhah/teshuvot/19912000/reisner_internetminyan.pdf

It is best to require a group of ten people in close proximity. It builds community. However, it is permissible to consider oneself “yotzei” if walking by a shul and hearing a shofar. It is also permissible if 10 are gathered for someone to call in.  They concluded that in terms of Mourner’s Kaddish, a mourner  may recite it from a distance, but must be accompanied by a physical participant (a member who is physically present) in the minyan. This preserves community. Without this concluding statement, individuals might take it a step further and recite Mourner’s Kaddish on their own. Rabbi Reisner really wanted, according to Rabbi Miller, to conclude that virtual minyanim could be halachic. He wanted people to be able to fulfill their obligations. And he wanted people who are not able to attend because they are homebound or traveling to be able to participate.

The Teshuva raised some good points. However, it has been more than a decade since its decision. Rabbi Jason Miller asks some good questions here: http://www.thejewishweek.com/blogs/jewish_techs/virtual_minyan_revisited

But for us it worked. On a cold, life threatening night, we met, each in our own living rooms, safe. We had the intention, the kavanah of having a service and so we did. We had knowledgeable people and that helped. Someone mentioned my strong voice carried it. The people saying Kaddish felt comforted by their community–even though they couldn’t get hugs. Virtual hugs are just not the same. However, as one member said, “Virtual? Maybe, but hearts and minds and spirit all together in one place, albeit in a digital manner. If G-d is all-knowing — knowing what was, what is, and what will be — that minyan was acceptable!”

I have written about Martin Luther King junior before in this blog. Most recently I compared Mandela’s writing with King’s after Mandela’s death. Today I am overwhelmed with optimism watching the CIty of Elgin mark King’s birthday weekend.

Our synagogue, Congregation Kneseth Israel, has a long tradition of observing King’s birthday by bringing in a gospel choir to aid our worship. We did it last year and it was a great way to celebrate my birthday as well. The music is upbeat, joyous, a wonderful way to praise G-d and we have a lot to learn from this style of worship. But I worry about tokenism. If that is the only thing we do together, then what kind of partnership is it? Is it real or does it just feel good, we can check off the box that we did something and we don’t really improve the world? This year I tried a different approach.

We participated in the Citywide collection of food in honor of King. The city goal was 12,000 pounds to be used to support the Community Crisis Center, Food for Greater Elgin and the Westside Pantry. Our goal was 40 bags. Our small congregation delivered 67 bags. I haven’t heard the citywide total but kudos to Joe Wars and his team for getting this done. Next up–some of the systemic and economic changes around hunger issues so that no one goes to bed hungry in this country. I commit myself to that part of King’s dream.

Saturday morning we were joined by Ron Raglin, the Assistant Superintendent of the U-46 School District for Secondary Education and Justice and Equity. What a title. I want that one. Just the justice and equity piece. He spoke about his growing up on the south side of Chicago, the fact that having a mentor made all the difference in his life, working in California and then coming back to Chicago Public Schools, eventually to U-46. He and I arrived at about the same time in Elgin–and we share some fundamental beliefs about the need for community organizing, for spending money locally, for mentoring, for the power of education. The meeting that he hosts monthly, the U46 Clergy Council, is my favorite meeting of the month. He spoke powerfully about all of those topics and the need to share leadership, tying it nicely into the portion this week, where Jethro tells Moses the same thing. None of us can do this work alone. Then he pulled up a chair, and he sat, and listened, and swapped stories, and he ate his first pickled herring. He stayed, like he had no place else to go, on a snowy Saturday afternoon, long after most speakers would have left.  Dayneu, it would have been enough.

Later in the day, in a quiet moment at home, Simon and I watched a movie. What did we choose? The Butler. It was powerful, poignant, appropriate for this Martin Luther King, jr. weekend. It helped explain history I lived through, participated in, through the eyes of one African American family. Cecil Gaines grew up as a sharecropper who watched his father shot by the white son of the family whose land they worked. He became a domestic servant, a “house n______”. They use that phrase in the movie! He leaves Georgia behind and becomes a hotel valet who is both efficient and discreet. He is noticed and is hand-picked to become a butler in the White House where he serves eight administrations with distinction.  The reviews call him a “passive witness of history with the American Civil Rights Movement gaining momentum even as his family has troubles of its own. As his wife, Gloria, struggles with her addictions and his defiant eldest son, Louis, strives for a just world, Cecil must decide whether he should take action in his own way.” While passivity was a necessary component of the job of butler, discreteness and invisibility might be better words, many of the presidents checked in with Cecil to see how his son, arrested multiple times, was doing. There was this obvious tension between us and them, privilege and poverty, black and white. Cecil, and the rest of the White House staff, was “them” the presidents and their advisors knew. Quietly, behind the scenes, the Civil Rights Act and the Voting Rights Act got done because the presidents knew people like Cecil, real people. So this is a fictionalized account? Yes. But there were people like Cecils, and Louises, Real people like Nancy and Alyn Rovin, Rabbi Everett Gendler, my parents, the people at the Religious Action Center in Washington and the people at Western College for Women where the Freedom Riders trained, all those who fought for Civil Rights. Real people who lost their battles: James Earl Chaney, Andrew Goodman and Michael Henry Schwerner,Rev. James Reeb. Addie Mae Collins, Denise McNair, Carole Robertson and Cynthia Wesley. The Southern Poverty Law Center gives biographical sketches of all the Civil Rights martyrs, http://www.splcenter.org/civil-rights-memorial/civil-rights-martyrs .We stand on their shoulders. Dayenu. It would have been enough.

Sunday morning, my sixth and seventh grade students were studying Ashrei. One line, says, “You give them their food in its time. You open Your hand and satisfy every living thing [with] its desire.” Many people struggle with this verse. Really, G-d opens His hands and satisfies every living thing? G-d gives everyone food? What about the 19,000 food insecure people in Elgin? Where is G-d. But the kids got it. They explained that there is enough food  in the world, but we need to figure out how to distribute it. One student explains that there is a classmate in his public school class that every Friday he gets a backpack full of food to take home to his family.  We then talked about who is a prophet and we agreed that a prophet is a messenger of G-d, a spokesperson of G-d, a leader. Sometimes prophets can be unwilling, like Moses and Jonah. Sometimes they worry that they won’t be able to do what G-d wants, that they don’t have the skills or the resources. Then we talked about whether Martin Luther King was a prophet. They thought yes. Then they wrote their own version of the dream.

“We have a dream. That there will be no body, no child who goes to bed hungry. That parents don’t have to choose between having a home and paying for food or medicine, heat or clothing. That there is no homelessness. We have a dream. That there are enough jobs for everyone who wants one. That parents won’t be stressed about day care and working. We have a dream, that everyone ‘neath their vine and fig tree can live in peace and unafraid. that we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like water and righteousness like a mighty stream.” Yes, they decided, Martin Luther King, jr, was an example of a modern day prophet. Dayenu, it would have been enough.

Then we had Judaism Rocks, focusing on the Song at the Sea. The theme was “G-d is My Strength and My Song.” We learned that song, Mi Chamocha, danced with timbrels, made bird feeders, watched the parting of the Sea of Reeds according to the Midrash, the movie the 10 Commandments, and planted parsley connecting  Tu B’shevat, the new year of the trees to Passover, connecting Martin Luther King to the freedom of Passover. Maybe, just maybe, we will have karpas for the Passover seder. Dayenu, it would have been enough.

However, the signature event that I attended was the city-sponsored event at the Hemmens Center. I was there to read a litany as a religious leader. The reading was: “We the Religious Leaders of the greater Elgin Area, recommit ourselves to the principles and philosophies championed by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr of freedom, justice and equality for all. We are thankful for the life and legacy of Dr. King.” The community leaders read: “Cowardice asks the question “Is it safe?” Expediency asks the question “Is it politic?” And Vanity comes along and asks the question “Is it popular?” But Conscience asks the question “Is it right?” And there comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but he must do it because Conscience tells him it is right. As community leaders and advocates in Elgin, we commit to furthering the dream of Dr. King.”

Even before we walked in, as we walked in from the parking garage with my colleagues Revs Dave and Maureen Daubert, I knew this was going to be high-energy event. In the basement of the Hemmens there was a gospel choir praying before taking the stage, there were community leaders gathering in another room. I was amazed at how many people–in the few short 18 months I have been here that I already know. I was warmly welcomed to this group, to this city. After a few brief instructions, we were led to the stage, where I was seated in the front row.

The mayor began by quoting me–he says that when he came for the Thanksgiving service I said that the congregation had been divided (I think what I said is that Judaism is a 5000 year tradition and that there are opinions on everything, and every opinion is correct and preserved) but that no matter who you are or where you come from or what your background is, you are welcome. He thinks that has to be the attitude of the city of Elgin.

The first musical number, Total Praise, captured what I was trying to teach the Hebrew School students. We sing, “G-d is my strength and my song.” They sang,
“Lord, I will lift my eyes to the hills
Knowing my help is coming from You
Your peace You give me in time of the storm
You are the source of my strength
You are the strength of my life
I lift my hands in total praise to You” by Richard Smallwood.

There were scholarships given out, the president of Elgin Community College on the spot, upped the amount. There were connections made, like the young woman who won one of the scholarships who wants to be a nurse with the new president of Advocate Sherman hospital. There was more music–high energy gospel, New Orleans jazz and a rousing rendition of “We Shall Overcome.” The keynote speaker, Orlando Ceaser, spoke about standing on the shoulders of parents and grandparents. He was talking about the Jewish concept of zechut avot, the merit of our ancestors, and asked the question whether the struggle worth the cost. I heard echoes of Peter, Paul and Mary singing “Sweet Survivor.” He talked about leadership. That vision is where you are now to a place that is better, powered by a dream, excited by a dream. But to be a leader you need to know the rules of the game. You have to understand people. You have to have high standards. And excellence has to be the expectation. He wanted all of us to know that we “are loved, deeply, deeply loved.” It was extremely powerful. Dayneu, it would have been enough.

Monday, Martin Luther King jr. Day, I was at the synagogue early. We painted two classrooms. The student volunteers went to have lunch with the mayor and we planned this year’s community garden. Dayenu. It would have been enough. Except it never seems like enough. Pirke Avot teaches, “It is not incumbent upon you to complete the work, but neither are you free to ignore it. The day is short, the labor vast, the toilers idle, the reward great, and the Master of the house is insistent.” (Avot 2:21).

Come work with me. Carry out the dream. Be excited by the dream. Build the vision. Expect excellence.

My sermon this week was not well received. I dared to say I struggle with parts of the Song at the Sea. Don’t get me wrong. I love some of it. I like the idea that this is Shabbat Shira, the Sabbath of Song because we sing the same song that the Israelites sang at the parting of the Red Sea and then we sing Deborah’s song as the Haftarah. I love how the sofrim always right this portion in a sefer Torah so it looks like the bricks the Israelites made as so the very last line has the people of Israel walking through the sea on dry land–just in the calligraphy! I love the fact that we are commanded to feed the birds on Shabbat Shira because they give us the gift of song. I love the fact that Miriam took a timbrel in her hand and all the women followed her and she sang (or chanted) the same song that the men sang.  I love the idea that we learn from Mekhilta that even a lowly bondswoman had a direct experience of G-d while Isaiah and Ezekiel only had visions of G-d. I love the fact that Mi Chamocha says, “Zeh Eli, This is my G-d.” together as one, that all of us need to see how G-d is our own personal redeemer. I love the fact that while most of our prayers are recited in the plural, this one is in the singular.

I understand that the Israelites experienced a very important and powerful miracle and that they were inspired by this awesome sight. They were rescued. Saved. Redeemed. Delivered. Words fail to express the fear, the joy, the freedom, the responsibility. Yet that is exactly what the Song of the Sea is. Trying to express that ineffable.

So I told the story of Nachson ben Aminidav, which was new material for most. Nachson who put his toe into the water and then, only then, did the waters of the Sea of Reeds part. Nachson who waded into the water up to his nostrils, who exhibited such courage. Mechilta, Beshalach 5; Pirkei d’Rabbi Eliezer 42; Exodus Rabbah 13; and others. Do I have that courage. Could I ever?

And I told the story of Reuven and Shimon, that Rabbi Larry Kushner tells in his Book of Miracles. They never looked up. They were whining. They only saw the mud. They missed the miracle. How could they miss the miracle? Would we? Would we be just looking at our cell phones and miss what is going on around us? What miracles do we miss?

But that is not my problem. My problem is with the words themselves. If I were rescued, redeemed, freed, I don’t know that I would be singing that G-d is “a man of war; the LORD is His name.” I am such a peacenik that I don’t want G-d to throw the horses and riders into the sea. I have bought into the idea that we teach at the Passover seder as we take a drop of wine out of our goblets as we recite the plagues, that while the angels were rejoicing, G-d mourned what had to happen. And so our joy is diminished as well.  I don’t want to believe in a G-d which leads others to use these verses as justification for war, as G-d is on my side. And then Miriam–my hero, for whom I am named sings: “Sing  to the LORD, for He is highly exalted: the horse and his rider He has thrown into the sea.” Exactly the same words as Moses. Where is the feminine imagery of G-d. Really, G-d is a warrior? 

But this is why we do Torah discussions, not just lectures as sermons. My congregation taught me. G-d is both. There are plenty examples–maybe too many for me–of G-d as the vengeful, zealous, angry G-d. Destroying the world and saving Noah, Sodom and Gemorrah, the first born of Egypt, after the Golden Calf, the Cannainites, the Hittites, the Amalekites. Examples can be found in Exodus 23:27, Deuteronomy 7, Joshua 8.  Over and over again, G-d is seen as the warrior and destroys the people who stand in the Israelites way–or even the Israelites if they rebel. In this case, G-d is still proving himself. The text says, “Mi Chamocha ba’elim Adonai, Who is like You, among all the gods that are worshipped?” Later, the answer  is clear, “Ain Kamocha, No one is like You.” However, when the Israelites were standing at the shore of the sea, they were amazed, they were awed, they were empowered. It was a WOW moment. This G-d, whom the Israelites didn’t know very well yet, is stronger than Pharaoh, who was seen by the Egyptians as a god.

I don’t get the opportunity to pick and choose what is in the Bible, in the Torah. My congregation told me this emphatically. This G-d warrior is there. A necessary component. As one congregant said, “Deal with it.” And so I am. I need the G-d of love that we see in the 13 Attributes, my Bat Mitzvah portion. And the ‘The LORD, the LORD, God, merciful and gracious, long-suffering and patient,  abundant in lovingkindness, goodness and truth; keeping mercy to the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin.” But from time to time, I need the other parts of G-d. I need Tzur Yisrael, the Rock of Israel, I need Magain Avraham, the Shield of Abraham. I need Atah Gibor, the strong one who picks up the falling, heals the sick, frees the captive and keeps faith with those who sleep in the dust.

What saves the Song of the Sea for me, is the verse, Ozi v’zimrat Yah, vayhi l’yishua. G-d is my strength and my song. G-d will be my salvation.” It is with G-d that I have strength to do the things that I do. Only with G-d. It is G-d who protected me in the wilderness. No one else came to my aid.  Not with Pharaoh or the modern day Pharaohs in our lives. We are told in Psalm 146, “Put not your trust in princes, nor in the son of man, in whom there is no help.” and in Psalm 33, “No king is saves by the power of his arms, no warrior by reason of his strength. The war-horse will not help you, for all its strength it cannot save. Therefore we trust in the Lord. G-d is our Help and our Shield…Let Your steadfast love (chesed) rest upon us, as we put our trust in You.”

Ozi v’zimrat Yah. G-d is my strength and my song. I will keep singing of this G-d. On this Shabbat Shira, I echo these words from the morning service, with Anita Diamant’s excellent lyrics:

If my mouth was filled with song
Like the ocean tide is strong
If my tongue could but give praise
Like the roaring of the waves

Chorus:
It would never, ever be enough
There could never, ever be enough
We will never ever say enough
To thank you, amen.

Verse 2:
If my ears were tuned to hear
The Heavenly music of the spheres
If my heart could rise and reach
Like the crashing on the beach   (Chorus)

Bridge:
So let us praise and let us shout
Breathing in and singing out
Hear the joyful noise of voices
Joined in song

For the gifts that came before us
And for all those yet to come
We thank you,
Amen.

May we continue to be amazed and awed by the big miracles, like the parting of the Sea and the little ones day by day by day, so that we are not like Reuven and Shimon. May we continue to jump in and show courage and strength and faith like Nachson. Now G-d can be both my strength, my song, my warrior and the One who provides unending love and patience. Zeh Eli. This is my G-d. Thank you Congregation Kneseth Israel for reminding me, for teaching me how.