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.

Ariel Sharon, former prime minister of Israel, former minister of defense, died. For me it is personal. When you live in Israel, everything is personal, everything is intense. My response is not rare. It is not an exception.

Some history. Ariel Sharon was the minister of defense when my first fiance served in the Israeli army. He knew Sharon personally as a hands on manager and through him I met Sharon. He was known as Arik, short for Lion of G-d because of his courage and his military prowess in the Six Day War and then the Yom Kippur War.

Because of his military accomplishments and his skill as a general, he became the defense minister. That’s who he was when I met him in 1981. That’s when he became the most controversial. In 1982, there was a massacre of Palestinians at the Sabra and Shatila refugee camps in Lebanon. Sharon was accused of war crimes. In the inquiry that followed, he was found indirectly responsible for not stopping it and not preventing it. The last phone call I received from my friend serving in the Israeli army was to assure me that he was not involved in Sabra and Shatila. It was during break-fast after Yom Kippur.

In 1982, I wrote a paper for a Brandeis student organization about why the war in Lebanon could be justified as self-defense.  Then the unthinkable happened. In early 1983, my fiancé was killed in Lebanon by a terrorist bomb he was trying to disarm, rather than allowing his men to do it. He was following the Israeli strategy of Kadima, “Follow me”. It was the same leadership style Sharon exhibited in the Six Day War. My fiancé died a hero, saving other people’s lives. Six thousand miles away, finishing up my college degree, that was little comfort. The life we were planning was ruptured.

For years I held Arik Sharon personally responsible for his death. I could not forgive him. I followed the news of Sharon intently. He was found indirectly responsible for Sabra and Shatila and resigned as defense minister. He was called the Butcher of Beirut. He sued Time Magazine for libel–the charges were dismissed. The victims of Sabra and Shatilla tried to charge him as a war criminal in Belgium, the case was dismissed. And still i grieved. And still I was not able to forgive.

Sharon became known as the Bulldozer, because he ordered the demolition of Palestinian houses on the West Bank. He promoted the growth of Jewish settlements in what I might call disputed areas of the West Bank. There are those who would argue that his lasting legacy is that he always had the security of Israel first. He was a defender of Israel. But from my vantage sometimes his strategy was ill-advised and he made more enemies, thus risking the security of Israel. That is a subject of much debate, out of scope of this post. I joined Rabbis for Human Rights to support their work stopping the demotion of houses and planting new olive trees. I joined Parents Circle/Family Forum which works on issues of reconciliation between families that have lost loved ones on both sides.

He visited the Al-Asqa Mosque. I wanted to scream, “What were you thinking?” He said it was not a provocation. However, it became the flashpoint for the Intifada. More enemies of Israel made. More people killed on both sides.

Then, Sharon had a change of heart, an about face. After years of supporting the settlements, in 2005 now as Prime Minister, he ordered the removal of Jewish settlers on 25 settlements. He broke with the right-wing Likkud party and formed his own party, Kadima so that he could carry out his plans to disengage in Gaza. Again, we could have much debate about whether leaving Gaza helped create peace, which I think was Sharon’s intention, or provided a platform for more terrorism, which is also true.

We have just spent the last few weeks reading about Pharaoh and his heart. I explained my discomfort with the idea of G-d hardening Pharaoh’s heart. Aren’t the gates of forgiveness always open? Isn’t that exactly what we say during Ne’ilah on Yom Kippur. How could this man who I probably hated have this big a change of heart? Is it real? Could it be trusted? After all these years, could I forgive?

The answer to that, on a very personal level, is yes. Sharon was not personally responsible for my fiancé’s death. He was not a war criminal as others suggested. He was not the Butcher of Beirut as some have called him. He was Arik. Simply Arik, the Lion of G-d, a man of courage.  It takes tremendous courage to change your heart. That is precisely what Sharon did. And in the process he taught me about forgiveness. For me, that is his lasting legacy.

Today my baby turns 24. She is not a baby anymore. She is a capable, competent, confident adult. She is enjoying her emerging life in Los Angeles and I am enjoying watching her. She is full of enthusiasm and optimism. She can conquer the world. She has dreams and aspirations. She has plans for an apartment, for pursuing her acting career, for a new business of her own. She is training hard for the Disney Princess Half Marathon and ran 10 miles today on the elliptical. Far too cold here in Chicago to run outside today!

Yet she still has that child-like wonder and amazement. She can see the beauty hidden in the world. Today we ventured out to see the movie Frozen. It is visually stunning with great music. Listening to her sing, “Do you want to build a snowman,” my own heart melts. An act of true love will melt a frozen heart. But that act doesn’t have to come from a knight in shining armor. In this case, it could be a sister or a smelly iceman, but I don’t want to ruin the plot. It was the perfect way to celebrate her birthday on the coldest day in Chicagoland history. We then had a princess high tea complete with radish sandwiches and hot chocolate (her choice!) and an elegant dinner of duck a l’orange and chocolate soufflés that she cooked. Then a heated game of boggle. Which she won. Of course. I used to be able to beat her but not for several years. And that is the way it should be.

So even with bitterly cold, dangerous conditions, we managed to make her birthday special, joyous, magical. And that is the point. Some people think that celebrating birthdays is a not a Jewish thing. It seems some Jews think to call attention to someone on their birthday might attract the evil eye. Seriously? Yes, seriously. Some even would rather not because the only person in the Torah who celebrates a birthday is Pharaoh. They would rather celebrate the anniversary of starting school, their Bar Mitzvah, their marriage. Or the yahrzeit of a loved one. However, even Chabad http://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/481087/jewish/How-Do-Jews-Celebrate-Birthdays.htm  has ways that birthdays can be celebrated in Judaism. And yes, Jews like cake and ice cream (or soufflés and gelato) too!

Giving tzedakah. Davening and giving thanks for your life. Finding a new fruit to experience and saying Shechiaianu. Learning the Psalm of your year. The number of the Psalm plus one (so for my daughter that would be Psalm 25. Use it as a mini-retreat and contemplate your past year and where you want to go. Study Torah. Teach some Torah. Do a good deed. Take on a new mitzvah. Have an aliyah in the synagogue either on the SHabbat before or after or on the day itself if it is a Torah reading day. Celebrate your birthday on the Hebrew calendar. Mine falls on Tu B’shevat. So I do something with trees or ecology or the environment.

My list includes remember and honor your parents. They created you. They created you in love. My mother, after my father died, used to go to one of my favorite restaurants on my birthday, and toast me with one of her friends. I never knew until after she died that she had this tradition.

Chabad says it this way: “Your birthday commemorates the day on which G-d said to you: ‘You, as an individual, are unique and irreplaceable. No person alive, no person who has ever lived, and no person who shall ever live, can fulfill the specific role in My creation I have entrusted to you…'”

Psalm 139 says “You know my sitting down and rising up. You understand my thoughts from afar. You measure my going about and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways. There is not a word on my tongue that You O Lord knows it all….You have made my reins; You have knit me together in my mother’s womb. I will give thanks unto You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are Your works and that my soul knows that right well.” That is the spirit in which I celebrate birthdays. You do not have to be Moses, or David, or even the Biblical Sarah. You need to be you because you are you.

That is exactly why birthdays are important. Because you are you. So Sarah, my baby, my love, my partner in crime. We celebrate you. Because you are you. We love the person you are becoming. We are proud of you. We love you. We love you for no other reason than because you are you. We look forward to many, many (and maybe warmer!) birthdays.

So have your cake and your ice cream too. Have your champagne. Give tzedakah. Make the world a better place. Wonder and marvel at the world.  L’chaim.

One of the best parts of my job is empowering lay leaders to take their religion, their spirituality, their responsibility seriously. Congregation Kneseth Israel does precisely that and is committed to the process. This past Shabbat was Men’s Club Shabbat. There were 16 men who took an active role in leading the service. Some of them pushed themselves to learn new material or pushed beyond their comfort zones. One lead Ashrei for the first time. One lead the Torah service for the first time. And in mastering the material and wrestling with the language they learned something new, deepening their spirituality. One demonstrated a deep, resonate voice in his Torah blessings that I hadn’t noticed before. He jokes that is the only song in his songbook. One chanted the haftarah, his Bar Mitzvah portion, out of the Federation of Jewish Mens’ Clubs traveling Haftarah scroll, a thing of real art and beauty. And one delighted me with his D’var Torah on Parshat Bo. He delighted me because he taught me some things I hadn’t considered before. And his teaching strikes me as being right on target because it forces me to ask some questions at the end. He is our guest blogger today. Here are his words, unedited:

“SHABBAT SHALOM
Preparing for Men’s Club Shabbat is a real treat for me because I always learn so much and I am going to try today to convey some of that knowledge to you.  For today’s Parsha I learned that our God is very literate and a delightful writer of systematic prose.  I also learned from the story of the plagues how patient he or she can be, but how terrible can be the result of God’s exasperation with mortals.  I also had to face the terrible moral dilemma of the retribution directed against the first born of the Egyptians in the final plague.    Lastly, the phrase “Let my people go” has for me taken on quite a different meaning and import. There is a lot here to contemplate.

                                                     COME VS. GO

One of the first things I learned is that nuanced speech can be lost in translation and the story of the plagues is among the best examples of that.   Today’s parsha is called “Bo’ which in Hebrew really means “come”.  The word “Go” in Hebrew is “lech” and both Bo and lech are used in the recitations about the plagues.   Yet whenever God tells Moses to meet with Pharaoh, no matter the correct Hebrew word, the English translation in your Chumash is always “go”.    But, based on the English translation, I wondered why if God always tells Moses to go to Pharaoh and if Moses always tells or asks Pharaoh to “let my people go”, how come this Parsha is called “Come” rather than “Go”? 

 The answer can be found only in the Hebrew words and not in the English translations you have before you.   When you discern the differences, a whole new and astonishing systematic prose is presented that makes sense.

 Once you recognize the original Hebrew words, the symmetry of the passages not only becomes clear, but then they display a beautiful literary brilliance not possible to discern in the English translations.   Unfortunately, as we read the parsha today, you will be able to look in the first line of the eighth plague for God’s direction to Moses with the correct Hebrew word Bo.  But if you a moment to look at Chapter 7, verse 15 relating to the first plague, the blood plague, you will find lech is the right word for go.  

            The three systems of the nine plagues

Once I understood the difference between “come” and “go”, I could see a startling and unique system of very literate prose.  It becomes a kind of acrostic, which you recall is a poem or other form of writing in which the first letter, syllable or word of each line, paragraph or other recurring feature in the text spells out a word or a message.   Our familiar Ashrei is just such an acrostic.   

Bear with me as I try to explain how Bo and Lech are used when God tells Moses to go or come as the case may be.   I have handed out a list of the plagues just so you can follow me.  

First one divides the nine plagues into three subsets of three plagues each, leaving the 10th aside for the moment:

1. Blood                                                                         Go =Lech= 7:15

2. Frogs.                                                                         Come=Bo=10:1

3.  Lice

**********

4. Wild beasts

5. Pestilence

6. Boils

************

7. Hail

8.  Locusts

9.  Darkness 

**************

10.  Death of the Newborn

 Using this analytic device, we are able to discern certain patterns of characteristics of the plague system as a whole.  The first pattern is that Lech    “go to Pharaoh” as the English translations shows, appears only in the first plague of each of the three subsets.  That is regarding plagues 1, 4, and 7.  

 Then we can see that Bo  “come to Pharaoh”  appears in the second plague of each of the three subsets, covering plagues 2, 5 and 8.  See the symmetry?  It’s “Go” in 1, 4 and 7 and it’s “Come” in 2, 5 and 8.   We then can recognize that whenever “come” Bo is used it really means God says to Moses “come with me” and the action always is in Pharaoh’s palace with God at hand.  Whenever “go” Lech is used, the action takes place outside of the palace with Moses on his own.  

These two little Hebrew words translated properly really put the meat on the bones of the stories.

That leaves the third plague in each subset to be accounted for and what we then see is that there is no “come” Bo  or “go” lech, because in the third plague in each subset, there is no warning to Pharaoh to afford him the opportunity to avoid the punishment and Pharaoh is not involved.  The last plague is each subset is simply punishment for ignoring the first two plagues in each subset, and the third does not happen in any particular location.  Remember 1, 4 and 7 are Lech and 2, 5, and 8 are Bo.   3, 6 and 9 are without confrontation or warning and so no Bo or lech.

There are a number of other non-random literary patterns regarding which of the plagues are public nuisances and which are private to the affected persons or when Moses show respect for Pharaoh and when Pharaoh is considered by Moses as an ordinary person.   Okay, that is enough of this discussion of a unique and very interesting systematic description of the nine plagues by a gifted writer, no matter whom you think is that writer.

                                           God’s patience

Concerning God’s patience, a matter we discussed to some extent last week in connection with an earlier parsha, it was not at all clear to me when God hardened pharaoh’s heart or why, until I recognized that is was Pharaoh who hardened his own heart and was obstinate through the first five plagues.  Only when Pharaoh did not change his mind when he was free to do so, did God harden his heart so that the remaining five plagues would get the job done.   God wanted pharaoh at that point not only to let the people go, he wanted what ultimately happened and that is that pharaoh begged all of the people to leave with their flocks, also permitting great treasures to accompany them.  Yes, God said early on that he would harden the heart of pharaoh, but he did permit free will until Pharaoh proved he could not change his mind during the first five plagues.

                                     One crime for another

Next in connection with today’s Parsha, how do we rationalize the killing of the innocent new-born Egyptians as retaliation for the past wrongs of Pharaoh and his Court?  There really are awesome moral, theological and intellectual dilemmas presented within today’s parsha.  Obviously, there are no sins committed by those Egyptian babies to justify the punishment of death, and even Pharaoh should be given some slack particularly when it was our God who hardened his heart during the final four plagues preceding the murder of the newborn.  Moreover, neither God nor Moses warned Pharaoh or the Egyptians about this final calamity.    

This gruesome infanticide is a heavy price for the liberation of our people, but I can only leave you with the question of what heinous crime justifies another.   In the biblical history, we have seen God’s actual or threatened vengeance in the stories of the plagues, the Golden Calf, and Noah’s flood.   Now, in our lifetimes, given the worldwide atrocities of recent years and the bombing of Hiroshima and then Nagasaki, it is a question we and our leaders should pose daily.

LET MY PEOPLE GO

Finally, let’s talk about letting my people go   I am going to take the liberty of reading a Chabad sermonette that captures the theme better than I could say it:

Not surprising it’s called Let My People Go      By Rabbi Yossy Goldman

“The words ring out again and again in the biblical account of the Exodus story, as Moses repeatedly demands of the unrelenting Pharaoh that he grant the Jewish people their freedom.

Actually, the precise words that Moses conveys to the stubborn monarch in the name of God are, “Shalach ami v’yaavduni,”

“Let My people go so that they may serve Me.”

“It is interesting to see how some expressions and phrases become memorable and popular, while others just don’t seem to catch on. “Let My People Go” became the theme song for the story of Egypt and the Exodus way beyond the Jewish community.  It has been used as a catchphrase for a variety of political causes. Unfortunately, the last Hebrew word of the phrase somehow got lost in the shuffle: v’yaavduni  —“that they may serve Me”—never quite made it to the top of the charts.  The drama of the Exodus captures our imagination, while the fact that that the purpose of leaving Egypt was to go to Sinai, receive God’s Torah and fulfill Jewish destiny is less emphasized.  The call to freedom excites the human spirit; the challenge of service and commitment, by contrast, doesn’t seem to elicit as much enthusiasm.”

Goldman then recalls days back in the early ’70s, when Jews the world over were demonstrating for their oppressed brethren in the then Soviet Union, demanding of the Russian government that they allow Jews the freedom to leave the country. Their rallying cry was, “Let My People Go!”   Sadly, they left out the v’yaavduni.    The demonstrators were so concerned about political liberties that they forgot a primary purpose of being free: to enjoy religious freedom and live fulfilled Jewish lives.

Indeed, for so many Russian Jews, obtaining their exit visas and acquiring freedom of movement did little to help them reclaim their spiritual heritage and identity. Seventy years of organized atheism behind the Iron Curtain left their toll. Goldman is delighted that they can live in Israel (or Brighton Beach), but the fact remains that far too many remain outside of the Jewish community and its spiritual orbit.

In South Africa, where Goldman now lives, this situation became blatant.  Blacks have now enjoyed decades of democracy. There have been four free and fair elections where all citizens have had the opportunity to cast their ballots.  It was a long, hard struggle, but political freedom has been achieved. And yet, while confidence levels in South Africa’s future are high, millions of people living there are still suffering from the very same hardships they endured under apartheid—ignorance, poverty and poor health.  The masses remain impoverished and HIV/AIDS is still public enemy number one.

Goldman then observes that political freedom minus spiritual purpose equals disillusionment.  Leaving Egypt without the vision of Sinai would be getting all dressed up with nowhere to go. It is not enough to let our people go. We have to take them somewhere. “That they may serve Me” means that we need to use political freedom to experience the freedom and fulfillment of faith, and a life of spiritual purpose dedicated to God’s service.

I end on that thought.”

So here are my thoughts. THANK YOU for explaining the “Come and Go” scenario because while I knew the words I had not cracked the puzzle and it helps. This is precisely the kind of puzzle that we as Jews, as children of Israel, G-dwrestlers are supposed to struggle with. You leave the moral questions–why does G-d harden Pharaoh’s heart, why does G-d kill innocent Egyptian children hanging in the balance, unanswered. Those we will need to wrestle with further and I invite people to wrestle with them here.  However, thank you for bringing the last piece of the teaching from Goldman. It is not merely “Let My people go.” It is “Let My people go to serve Me.” If we forget the last part of the verse then we remain enslaved to some false gods or we run the risk of idolatry. Freedom comes with responsibilities. A responsibility you have taken quite seriously with this wonderful D’var Torah.

This week we celebrated Rosh Hodesh Shevat, the new month of Shevat which means that Tu B’Shevat, the 15 of Shevat, the new year of the trees is a mere 15 days away, even less now. Perhaps Rosh Hodesh Shevat took a back seat to our secular new year celebrations. Perhaps it got lost in coping with this long Chicagoland winter and several more inches of snow and now bitter cold. Usually I love winter. I like taking walks in fresh powder. I like coming in and sipping hot chocolate. I like ice skating and sledding and skiing. I like grilling steak or smoking a turkey in the snow. I like making snow ice cream. I like cooking soup or roasts or sauerbraten, pumpkin bread or gingerbread and filling the house with yummy smells. I grew up in New York and Evanston and Grand Rapids. I spent years in Boston. I am used to winter. I have coping skills.

This year I admit it, I am struggling with it. My coping skills are starting to fail. Really, drive in the snow to visit someone in the hospital? Really, shovel the driveway again? Really, do I have to train for my half marathon today? Can’t I just go back to bed and wake up when the storm is over? Really, should we cancel services for bitter cold or not? Really. When will spring come?

But then Rosh Hodesh Shevat comes. And I am reminded. The trees will bloom in Israel. The almond trees are blooming. There is a special blessing for seeing fragrant trees blooming. Blessed are You, Lord our G-d Ruler of the universe, who has withheld nothing from the world, and has created lovely creatures and beautiful trees for the children of Adam to enjoy. Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha-olam shelo ḥiseir ba-olamo k’lum uvara vo briyot tovot v’ilanot tovim l’hanot bahem b’nei Adam.

How many of you made a New Year’s Resolution? I don’t any more. I write goals. They are similar but I see them as mile markers. Some years I write something I am looking forward to each month.

This year one of my goals is to run//walk the Disney Princess Half Marathon in February. I am raising money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Too many relatives and friends have been touched by this horrible disease. If you want to contribute go to http://pages.teamintraining.org/vtnt/dipihalf14/mfrischklein#home . In addition to this great cause, the training is making me physically stronger and mentally tougher. I am hopeful it will help me lose weight and get back in shape. I am hopeful that it will help me heal: from the attack in Israel long ago, from the car accident six years ago and from being a Type 2 Diabetic. While I train on the elliptical I sing to myself. On my play list are these phrases: Ozi v’zimrat Yah, v’hi yeshua. Frequently translated: “The Lord is my strength and my might; He is my deliverance.” But there is a pun there with zimrat–it also means I sing of G-d my deliverer.
Eleh chamda libi, chusa na v’al natitaleh. “These my heart desires. Have mercy on me and do not forsake me.”
And my favorite is “V’taher libenu l’ovdecha b’emet, Purify our hearts to serve You in truth.

With each day my heart gets cleansed. No more plaque hardening the arteries. G-d is somehow helping with the process. This knowledge makes the miles fly by. G-d loves me and wants me to be healthy and will be my strength.

But this past week we read a troubling verse. In Exodus 7:3, it says G-d hardens Pharaoh’s heart. What? I thought the gates of repentance are always open! That’s what we read on Yom Kippur. How can G-d harden Pharaoh’s heart? How can G-d punish all the Egyptians for the sins of one person, one ruler? Where is G-d’s compassion here?

In Exodus 7:14 and 7:22 we read that Pharaoh’s heart was hardened, although the text does not say by whom. Then, in Exodus 8:15, 8:32, and 9:34 it is revealed that Pharaoh hardened his own heart by “sinning yet again” and refusing to release the Israelites. Only as the plagues grew worse and Pharaoh became more stubborn does the text begin to say God hardened Pharaoh’s heart. What is going on here? The classical commentaries don’t help me much. Although I was delighted to find this d’var Torah by my thesis advisor, Rabbi Bernard Zlotowitz: http://www.ajrsem.org/teachings/journal/5765journal/zlotowitz5765/. He asks many of the same questions I do. Is this some kind of predestination–smacking more of Dutch Calvinism and my growing up in Grand Rapids? What happened to free will? Doesn’t Pharaoh have a choice? This is some kind of three strikes, five plagues and you’re out rule? Does it help that Pharaoh was warned and he chose to put his people at risk? Can we say that Pharaoh was just plain stubborn? What are the implications for us?

Cassuto teaches that this is just a Hebrew idiom. There is no difference between “Pharaoh hardened his heart” and “G-d hardened Pharaoh’s heart” since all actions are ultimately attributed to G-d. I’m not buying it. As no English teacher/professor with a red pen would. “Use the active voice.”  Sforno seems to suggest that the hardening of Pharaoh’s heart was the only way to ensure free will.

In the face of such impressive miracles and signs, had not Pharaoh’s heart been hardened, the latter would have let the Israelites go, but his action would not have then been motivated by sincere repentance and submission to the Divine will, but merely because he could not bear the suffering of the plagues…. But God hardened his heart, fortified his resistance to enable him to endure the plagues and refrain from letting the Israelites go… so that they might thereby acknowledge My greatness and goodness and turn to Me in true repentance. (Sforno on Exodus)

It is Nechama Leibowitz who makes the most sense to me. She shows that there is a pattern in the verses. In the first five plagues Pharaoh hardens his own heart. Only after the sixth plague, boils, does the Torah state “vayechazek et lev Paroh” (“And He hardened Pharaoh’s heart”). So this is what we learn:
At first, Pharaoh sets his own course. However, with every plague, it becomes more difficult for him to change his pattern. His reactions become habitual, until gradually it is impossible for him to change. She bases this teaching on the Talmudic passage: “Said Reish Lakish: What is the meaning of the verse (Proverbs 3:34) ‘If to scorners He will scorn, but to the meek He will show favor’? If a person tries to defile himself, he is given an opening; if he tries to purify himself, he is helped (from Above)” (BT Shabbat 104a).

We learn in Weight Watchers that we need to make our goals routines. Pack a snack. Plan your space. Get up and move. They need to become habits. Good habits. As we celebrate New Year’s Day, with or without the making of resolutions or goals, may we choose good habits, may our hearts be purified not hardened, and may we be helped by the Eternal.

Thoughts and actions eventually form our habits, personalities, and world views. May we each make an effort to direct our thoughts and actions to the way we would wish them to be, permanently.

I just signed a letter, a thank you note and struggled over how. I have many names: Margaret, Joy, Frisch,  Klein, Miriam Simcha Bat David v’Neily, Mom, Mommy, Rabbi, Fawn, Princess. Our Torah portion this past week is like that. Last week we began reading the book of Exodus, in Hebrew Sh’mot, because it begins, “And these are the names.” But in Chapter One, there are no names. Slaves lack an identity. They are interchangeable cogs.

This past week we received a genealogy. We can begin to put these people into time and space. They become real. Chapter 6 begins with the story of Reuven and Shimon, tells us about Levi so that Amram who we meet in Chapter One can take a wife, Yocheved and together they can give birth to Aaron and Moses. Jerome Chanes, a professor at the Academy for Jewish Religion, teaches us “In the chapter six genealogy, verses 16-25 give us a full description of the Levite family, a full explanation.  At this point Moses, who was introduced to his “father” at the seneh (the bush)-“I am the God of your fathers Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob”-knows fully who his family is, and who he is. The text is telling Moshe, in effect, “You are a covenantal child.”  Moses has an identity, and his job now is to tell Benai Yisrael who they are, to give them an identity.”

As always when I read the Academy D’var Torah, this got me thinking. Names are important. But why? Knowing someone’s name as we learn from the Odyssey creates a certain power. More importantly I think it creates a certain intimacy. You know me well enough to call me by name. Any of my names. Those who know me really well call me by my middle name–which is the name I call myself. It seems more familiar, more intimate.

This week’s portion expands upon the names of G-d as well. Yes, G-d tells Moses at the burning bush, “I am the G-d of your fathers, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.” Yes, G-d is Eheyeh Asher Eheyeh, however one translates that. I will be who I will be. I am that I am.  But here, at the very beginning of Chapter Six we learn more. G-d appeared to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob as El Shaddai, but did not make Himself fully known. Now we know that the name of G-d is YHVH.

There are many names for the One G-d. Each name teaches us something more about G-d. Each one allows us more intimacy with G-d and a deeper relationship. Sometimes G-d is just El, G-d. Elah, the Aramaic form is related to the Arabic word Allah, the Muslim name for G-d. Sometimes G-d is El Shaddai. Sometimes G-d is Elyon, G-d on High. Hagar the first to name G-d, El Roi, The G-d of Seeing. Sometimes G-d is YHVH, which we pronounce as Adonai and translate as Lord or Master. Sometimes G-d is Rachum, the Compassionate One, coming from the root for womb. Others call G-d, Rofeh Cholim, Healer of the Sick, or Matir Asurim, Freer of Captives. Others call G-d Yotzer Or, Fashioner of Light, or Borei et HaKol, Creator of Everything or Oseh shalom, Maker of Peace. Sometimes G-d is Tzur, Rock or Rachaman, Merciful One. Sometimes G-d is all of those and more!

Other names include Shechinah, the Divine Presence, frequently seen as the feminine side of G-d. Or Avinu Malkeinu, Our Father, Our King. And while I believe G-d is neither masculine or feminine, Hebrew is a gendered language and it is hard to express the totality of G-d. Some call G-d HaMakom (the Place or the Omnipresent One). Some call G-d, the Eternal One, striving for gender-neutral language which is easier done in English than Hebrew.

So now we know the names: Amram, Yocheved, Moses, Aaron, Miriam, Shifrah, Puah, Reuven, Shimon, Levi, Nachson ben Aminidav. Even Pharaoh’s daughter is named in the mid rash: Batya. We are rooted in that history. And we know the names of G-d. On any given day I can find a name for G-d that fits the image I need. Knowing all these names makes my relationship with G-d deeper and richer. I think that is what is happening with Moses when G-d reveals more of G-d’s nature to him. It allows Moses, who is slow of speech, to call on all the parts of G-d Moses needs. In the process it allows all of us to do that as well. In the process we receive an identity and we are no longer slaves. We leave the narrow spaces.

Jeremiah was a bullfrog, was a good friend of mine…singing Joy the world.” What does this song have to do with today’s Torah portion? Why is Jeremiah compared to a bullfrog? What is a prophet?

“Before I formed you in the belly I knew you; and before you came out of the womb I sanctified you and I ordained you a prophet to the nations.” Jeremiah 1:4

This sets up this week’s haftarah portion—if you are Sephardic and which we will read this week. It ties into this week’s Torah portion because they are both about call. What do we mean that Jeremiah and Moses were called? Who is called today?

While there is a lot written about Moses and Jeremiah, I want to compare this verse to another one from Psalms. Psalm 139: “O Lord, you have searched me and known me…For You have formed my reins; You have knit me together in my mother’s womb.” Psalm 139:1, 13

This is “Relational Judaism” as we have been studying at its best. This is that I-Thou relationship that Buber and then Wolfson have been discussing. While we talk about prophets and rabbis and priests and ministers being called or having a calling, this verse means that each of us is known by God, even before we are born, and set apart and make holy, consecrated, sanctified for something. What is that something?

The use of the word womb is common to both, as is the idea that the Lord has known someone before birth.  Is this a common metaphor in the Tanakh or is it unique to these two sources? Is there a connection between G-d’s mercy and compassion frequently linked to word rechem, meaning womb, and knowing someone before birth?  Is this knowledge a source of comfort or of fear? Because it is talking about womb, a uniquely feminine image, are there any feminist interpretations of this imagery?

Jack Lundbom explains that there is “an inclusio” of major importance we find by comparing verses 1:6: with verse 20:18 when Jeremiah laments, (and Jeremiah always laments!) “Why from the womb did I come forth to see trouble and sorrow and have my days end in shame?”  He believes that it is natural when contemplating one’s death to reflect on one’s birth as well. it can be read, “Why did I come forth from the womb? Answer: Because Yahweh called me before I came forth from the womb.”[1] (page 28-29). Despite the despair of this classic lament, it answers with “affirmation and hope.” Jeremiah was born because G-d called him forth to be born.

It would seem that the new Jewish Publication Society translation of verse 4 makes yet another point by arranging the spacing as it does, emphasizing the three verbs associated with Jeremiah’s call:

“Before I created you in the womb, I selected you
Before you were born, I consecrated you;
I appointed you a prophet concerning the nations.”[2]

There is the sense that G-d needed or required Jeremiah, that G-d knew him and that he was set aside and made holy.

Only Jeremiah is told that he will be a prophet to the nations. While many of the commentators point out that it is predestined that G-d will call Jeremiah, it is critical to note that Jeremiah, like Moses objects and says that he is too young and cannot speak. This makes both of them what we call “reluctant prophets” like Jonah who did not want to go to Nivevah and tried to run away, as far as he could, all the way to Tarshish. Not until God reassures Jeremiah that G-d will be present can Jeremiah accept what he must do. Only then could Jeremiah accept his appointment, his task to be a prophet to the nations.

Holladay points out that the verb y-tz-r is usually taken to mean formed or fashioned. However, it could be a ‘near miss’ with the verb tz-v-r, to summon as in Psalm 77:3. “It is striking that in Isa 49:1, 5 we have ‘from the womb he has called me and ‘shapes me from the womb,’ two phrases within Isa 49:1-6 which may reflect the expected verb and the actual verb in the present phrase.”[3] He believes that “I summoned you” makes more sense, “given the diction of Psalm 139:13..All five verbs then point to Jrm’s being called. In Jrm’s case his birth and his vocation are coterminous: there was never a time he was not summoned.”[4] Based on this work, it would seem that Holladay is correct that these calls of Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Moses and Gideon follow a formula of commission, objection, reassurance and sign of G-d’s presence.

Ellen Davis Lewin She argues that Jeremiah has a dual role, both that of prophet—G-d’s messenger and of mediator.  But she pushes the point further. “His life is intolerable because he is G-d’s prophet to a faithless people and cannot himself forsake that commission. Jeremiah’s desperate question, ‘Why did I come out of the womb?’ points directly to the answer given before it was ever posed: ‘To be a prophet to the nations.’ (1.5).” It is Jeremiah’s use of his own personal struggles to inform his prophecy and to enhance his authority. “He submits the record of his own struggle as both a contrast to the easy lies spoken by the prophets of hope and an aid to the community’s interpretation. Jeremiah offers the prophetic process itself as the validation of his message…Like the people he addresses, Jeremiah has faced G-d as Enemy. Only that personal confrontation substantiates his claim that G-d is Deliverer, for Israel as for himself, and provides the basis on which the argument for authority must finally rest.”[5]

Yehoshua Gitay argues in his article in Prophecy and Prophets published by Scholars Press that there is a difference between the private vision of Jeremiah and his call with the fact that this experience has been published.  Publishing it makes it public and accessible to all. “The call of the prophet is apparently a dramatic moment in his life, and one could expect a vivid description of Jeremiah’s call in the book ascribed to him. However, the narrative uses a stereotyped stylistic structure (Habel); and one should question whether this formulaic approach concealed any expression of personal feeling that might reflect the prophet’s intimate religious experience. The act of publishing contradicts the intimate tone of a private affair; it indicates that the narrator seeks to turn the personal affair of Jeremiah’s call into a public event.”[6]

“The reference to beten, (belly) connotes not the physicality of formation. The belly is the place of emotions, thus conveying the intimate relationship between G-d and the chosen one..”[7] Not only was Jeremiah called before he was born, but G-d promises in verse 9 that he need not fear, for like Moses and Gideon, G-d’s presence will go with him. These are words that are meant to comfort Jeremiah.; the phrase ‘I will be with you’ appears in Exod. 3:12 in the call to Moses and in Judg 6:16 in the call to Gideon.”[8] Lawrence Boadt links the calls of Moses and Jeremiah together by pointing out that with both there is a divine meeting, a call, an objection, a reassurance and a sign.”[9]

But what about for the rest of us? Do we have to be selected and chosen, set apart and made holy by G-d before we receive that reassurance? I don’t think so. Psalm 139 has been much beloved throughout the centuries as a promise of G-d’s omnipresence and omniscience.

Psalm 139 begins with the idea that G-d searches us and knows us as individuals. Although the object “me” is not included in the Hebrew it is understood in most translations. The verb form kh-k-r has the dual sense of “to search” and “to examine.” The same verb khokair is repeated in Jeremiah 17:10, when it says, “I, the Lord search the heart” Both the Soncino edition of Psalms and Rabbi Freehof have linked these verses together. As we have said earlier, this kind of knowing denotes an intimate form of relationship. Freehof sees this as “One of the most intimate and spiritual of the psalms. The psalmist is so conscious of G-d’s nearness, that he feels that G-d knows his every thought. But G-d though intimate and near, is also omnipresent, filling the universe. There is no place where we can escape G-d’s presence. It is no wonder that G-d knows our every thought since He is our Creator…It is not strange that G-d knows man so well. He has created him and formed him even in the womb.”[10]

This explanation takes it out of the specific call of a specific person Jeremiah and makes idea that G-d knows each of us before our birth accessible to us all.  The psalm continues with the emphasis on the word You, that is repeated in the Hebrew, implying that only G-d can know us that well, that intimately—in our hearts, thoughts, feelings, our whole being.

The Soncino edition of Psalms quotes Maimonides as saying, ‘This is the noblest utterance in the Psalter of pure contemplative theism, animated and not crushed by the thought of G-d’s omniscience and omnipresence.’…The writer’s realization of G-d is most intimate and personal, the effect of religious experience rather than of rational meditation.” [11]  It cites Ibn  Ezra as declaring this psalm ‘the most glorious on the theme of the ways of G-d and is unequalled in the five Books of the Psalter..[12]

Weiser in his commentary on Psalms teaches that more important is the idea that this is not an impersonal account “in abstract theological definitions” but rather his personal experience of the reality of G-d. This view he shared with his readers and imparts “fresh, lively tones which even today still directly touch the heart of the reader.”[13] God did not stop speaking with the deaths of Ezra and Nehemiah. It is still possible to discern God’s presence and God’s call today! That fills us with hope.

The analogy between Psalm 139 and Jeremiah’s call “It also implies that G-d will take care of Jeremiah, that his special love for him runs deep, deeper than even that of the parents who conceived and gave birth to their son. This piety echoes the trust expressed by the psalmist in Ps 22:10-11 that G-d had watched over him and cared for him since his conception in the womb. In Hebrew, knowing carries the sense of experiencing intimate friendship and strong loyalty. Consecration comes from the same Hebrew word that expresses holiness. It will not just be a dedication, it will be a religious commitment of a special kind.”[14]

It is also important to understand the root of the word for womb. Like the G-d who is accessible even when hidden in the dark and can create even in darkness, the womb is a dark place but full of compassion and warmth. The mystery of creation of the world by G-d is likewise echoed by the personal creation of a person by G-d in his or her mother’s womb. G-d is not limited to any physical space nor is G-d limited in G-d’s ability to create.

So what is a call? How do we see this as modern Jews? How does it differ from what Christians use in terms of a minister being called or feeling called?

When I was applying to rabbinical school, I was told to avoid the phrase. Too Christian. People would look on you with skepticism, even fear. Maybe you are crazy. God is talking to you. If someone told me they saw a bush burning unconsumed, I might think they were crazy too. But I think something is going on—something deep. Something profound.

Perhaps Frederick Buechner, a Presbyterian Theologian, has it right: “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”

So how do we find out where that intersection is—a place where we are happy, joyful and we can do something to make the world a better place? There is one book that I routinely buy two at a time, because I loan someone a copy and it won’t come back. That book begins to help each of us answer that question, sort of a Jewish What Color is Your Parachute. Jeffrey Salkin who wrote Putting G-d on the Guest List about Bnei Mitzvah, wrote, Being G-d’s Partner and finding the spiritual connection to our work.

He begins by telling the story of his move from Pennsylvania to Long Island. He was impressed with the head of the moving crew, a big, burly, enthusiastic guy, as Salkin said, “a dead ringer for Willie Nelson,” but someone who saw the connection between is work and what God wants him to be doing. He was enthusiastic precisely because as he said, “Moving is hard for most people. It’s a very vulnerable time for them. People are nervous about going to a new community and about having strangers pack their most precious possessions. So, I think God wants me to treat my customers with love and to make them feel that I care about their things and their life. God wants me to help make their changes go smoothly. If I can be happy about it, maybe they can be, too.” Salkin suggests in his book, and I agree, that each person has a unique call, a unique role to play that will make the world a better place while being happy. For me, I have found that in the rabbinate.

Many people spend this quiet period, call it what you will, Winter Break, Christmas Vacation, the week between Christmas and New Year’s reflecting and setting goals for the new (secular) year. Some think about work and their connection to it. If that is the case for you, feel free to borrow the book. It will sit up here on the bimah. It will guide you through thinking about the connection between spirituality and work and help you find more meaning—either in what you are doing now—or in what you might like to be doing.

We see then, in the case of both Psalms and Jeremiah, we learn that G-d can know a person before birth and therefore is in intimate and personal relationship with him. I think perhaps what is most significant then is that while the call of Jeremiah represents a personal experience made public by its publishing, the fact that the psalmist is able to describe a similar sense means that it is possible for any of us, not only those called to be prophets. We, then, have a decision to make about whether to accept our call or our relationship to the Divine as did Jeremiah or whether we will turn a deaf ear and walk away. If we accept our call, and make the world a better place, then we will find joy. Joy to the World. May all our celebrations be merry and bright and may the new year dawn with a renewed ability to hear that still small voice of God so that we can find our place in the world and find our call.