Before Moses went back up the mountain, he had been angry, really angry and he smashed the first set of tablets of the Ten Commandments, the Ten Sayings. There are many interpretations of why he does this. Some say that Moses lost all patience with the Israelites who had demonstrated by dancing around the Golden Calf that they are unworthy of God’s covenant. Or, just as the tablets are broken, so too is Moses, a broken, discouraged and angry man. He is all alone, cut off from the people he is leading. Others say he protected the people. By smashing the tablets before the people heard the commandments, they could not be responsible. Despite his visible anger, and G-d’s anger, the most amazing thing happened. Moses got to experience the Divine Presence and understand G-d’s attributes. He could understand who G-d is:

The Lord! The Lord! A God compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in kindness and faithfulness, extending kindness to the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity, transgression and sin, yet He does not remit all punishment, but visits the iniquity of the fathers upon children and children’s children upon the third and fourth generation.

How wonderful and how hard to understand the depth of this. How do you count to 13. The rabbis, in fact puzzle over it. I am not sure that ultimately it matters. What does matter is that G-d IS compassionate and gracious, abounding in love. G-d is also slow to anger. What does that mean? What does that mean in terms of how we as individual people handle our own anger? Moses got angry. So angry he smashed the tablets. G-d got angry and flooded the world, destroyed Sodom and Gemorah and is threatening to cut of the Israelites right there. Moses, despite his anger, pleads for them.

Our first guest blogger, Rabbi Peg Kershenbaum teaches us:

However you count these 13 attributes, you’re helping God to count to 10. There are certainly times during the 40 years wandering that some of the traits seem to be in eclipse from the point of view of the Children of Israel. Of course, there are at least as many times when they (we!) were rather provoking. There is a tradition (reported in Rosh haShanah 17b) that if ever we should need forgiveness, we should recite these traits in order before God and God will forgive. Well, not “recite,” but rather “do” them in order.

Here’s how I understand this tradition. When I, wearying of the stubbornness that keeps me from admitting that I’ve slipped from the path I’d hoped to be following by this time of life, finally need motivation to drop the pretenses and get on with finding the wherewithal with which to turn, I read these attributes to remind myself of how I’d like to be. Of course a mere human cannot “do” all these things. But, oh! I really do want to be merciful–not filled with harshness and suspicion. It galls me that I haven’t remembered to thank all the people who have been kind, or picked up the phone to say how much I enjoyed the party you invited me to. I used to think of myself as patient, but there’s no self-deception that can disguise the fact that I’m on a much shorter fuse than I used to be. Abundant in goodness? There are days that I’ve settled for not actively nasty! And there have been times when truth was more of a bludgeon than the delicate instrument it should be.
Recently, after being plagued by neighborhood woes, I suddenly got very tired of being angry, outraged and insulted. Like Beruriah, I counseled myself to pray for my antagonists to change (rather than go up in smoke liberally scored with stick-pins!) I was quite surprised when I began to see them as fellow humans who were just missing the mark, not thorns in my side. As I calmed down and began to think of them almost fondly again, I think I even felt some of the other traits give themselves a shake. Getting those vexing thoughts out of my head and heart and mouth felt good! Now, if I could start at the beginning of the list (following one line of interpretation) I might give some of the people a “pass” before they start in on me again, and I could let go of the insults after they’ve been flung. You get the picture.
So, if I say these attributes aloud, I buy myself some time to calm down, to reflect on actions that I’m not proud of and to remind myself of my better nature. Perhaps in awakening those regrets and motivating myself to change I also call on God to help get me the rest of the way.

Rabbi Peg Kershenbaum is the rabbi of Congregation B’nai Harim in the Pocanos. She also is linguist and a classics major working on a dictionary of Greek, Latin, Hebrew, with my thesis advisor, Rabbi Bernard M. Zlotowitz. At Rabbi Zlotowitz’s request she helped edit and proofread my thesis on the 13 Attributes. She was my presenter at ordination and is a signer on my smicha document.

Tonight is Rosh Hodesh Elul. The beginning of the new month preceding the new year. It is a time of reflection, of introspection, of review and renewal. It is said that on the first of Elul, Moses climbed back up Mount Sinai, to receive the 10 Commandments a second time. He received much more than that. He would have a very intimate encounter with the Divine. But on this very first day of Elul, Moses was scared, exhausted and more than a little angry. He seeks some Divine reassurance from G-d—and he gets it. It is G-d who will go before him and lighten his burden, giving him rest. What does it mean to you, to have G-d lighten your burden. What does it mean to rest. What would you give up carrying?

This is an auspicious time. Tonight we begin a project of looking at the 13 Attributes of the Divine, those very soul-traits that Moses heard, felt, experienced when he was back on that mountain top. I have asked many of you to wrestle with this text. What does it mean to you? How do they speak to you?

Tonight a small group of us met at Congregation Kneseth Israel. We talked about Rosh Hodesh. How the women did not give up their gold for the golden calf and so the women have this half-holiday just for women. We talked about whether there is still a difference between women’s spirituality and men’s. We looked at several books aimed at helping us prepare for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Each person selected something to read to the group. One had us puzzling. We all decided we needed to do more thinking about it. Neshama Carlebach in Dr. Ron Wolfson’s book, the Seven Questions You’re Asked in Heaven asks, “Did you betray who you are or did you do what you hoped.” Wow! Such a big question. That is what Elul is for, wrestling with the tough stuff, ahead of asking to be inscribed and sealed in the Book of Life.

During the next 40 days we will go on a journey, a journey together to our deepest most selves. Come journey with me. Be assured by G-d that G-d will give you rest. The rabbis teach that the word Elul, the name of this month means search in Aramaic. We will search together. It also is an a acronym for Ani L’Doi V’Dodi Li. I am my Beloved and my Beloved is Mine. Come with me and experience the G-d who calls us Beloved. Then we will be ready to greet Rosh Hashanah, the New Year, living a life that matters.

“Your mother wears army boots!’ This is the way I started the conversation at Congregation Kneseth Israel this past Shabbat. I wasn’t even sure I could say it outloud. And while, this was the curse that was most frequently shouted, hurled on my playground growing up, I am not sure it is any more. Why is it a curse? Because army boots aren’t feminine, as one of my members pointed out. On the other hand, now we have women who actively serve in the military and maybe it is now a blessing!

This week’s portion, was about blessings and curses. Ultimately the litany concludes with this powerful thought, “See I have set before you today a blessing and a curse. Choose life, that you may live.”

In two weeks, again we will read a series of blessings and curses. The tradition is to read the curses quickly and in a whisper, as if merely saying them out loud will cause them to happen to each one of us. Do we really think that is how curses work?

In four weeks, we will again stand here and sing Avinu Malkenu, the haunting litany that is central to the High Holidays. There is lots to say about Avinu Malkenu, but most of that will wait too. For now, know that it is an ancient prayer that asks for G-d’s blessings in the case of drought. Rabbi Akiva said it and his prayer was answered. Now we don’t seem to have a drought here in Elgin—but there are plenty of places around the globe that do. Do we assume that if a place is undergoing a drought it is because people weren’t praying hard enough? Hardly.

Avinu Malkenu is not said on Shabbat, because we don’t ask G-d for things on Shabbat. Even G-d gets to rest.

Choose life that you may live. How do we choose life? Who would choose curses over blessings? One of the things I am enjoying most about the congregation is that now people are willing to talk about these things and to think deeply. Even more so, they seem to be looking forward to what others are saying and are really listening, deeply listening. This enriches all of our understanding. It energizes me and it is like watching holy sparks fly.

What is the blessing of choosing life? Remaining positive. Acting in this life to assure a place in the world to come. Choosing a life that matters so that our actions mirror what our mouths are saying. Making the world a better place. As someone said, it is sort of like the Nike commercial. You do it. You just do it. We have a choice or more accurately as was pointed out, a series of choices. Little ones lead to bigger ones—in either direction. Sometimes in fact we have too many choices—and it is not just about Chinese food or Mexican food, or which color shirt to wear. If we make enough of the right choices, then we are in fact choosing life and a life that matters.

But sometimes, people choose death. Those people maybe struggling with mental illness or severe, debilitating pain. Or sometimes it is like Pharaoh whose heart G-d hardened. Each choice he made brought him closer to the last plague the death of the first done. Who would choose death over life? So maybe this is about choosing a life that matters. We talked a little about that last week. That G-d requires of us to do justly, to love mercy and to walk humbly with our G-d. Or in last week’s formulation, to fear (or revere G-d) to walk with G-d and to love G-d. That is the life we are choosing. By choosing that, then we receive G-d’s blessings.

This week’s portion gives us a blueprint for leading that meaningful life. It talks about the smita year, the seventh year when all the debts are cancelled and the land lays fallow. As Eitz Hayyim tells us, “Much of this chapter is concerned with ensuring that there not emerge in Israel a permanent underclass—persons unable to lift themselves out of poverty. Such a condition would be unfair to human beings, fashioned in the image of G-d and dangerous to society as a breading ground for lawlessness and irresponsibility.”

The first step is cancelling debts in the seventh year. Wow. This is what Rabbi Arthur Green might call Radical Judaism. The Kleins have had an interesting summer, shopping for housing. While we had read about the housing crisis in America and even know friends who lost homes in the economic downturn, it did not make much sense until we started looking at property. I think it has been like looking at the underbelly of the beast. And while the Kleins may benefit, I wonder about a child named Daniel whose home we may soon occupy. His stick picture self-portrait is colored in black crayon on the dry wall in the basemet, his height in 2002 and then again in 2010 is duly recorded by a proud parent. A black crayon dropped at the entrance to the garage. What happened to Daniel? Where is he now? Do we, as a society, have an obligation to Daniel? This portion would suggest yes!

The portion promises that if we forgive debts, there will be no needy among you. This strikes me as some precursor to Maslow’s pyramid. If you have housing, clothes, food, love, security, if you are not poor; then you can work on higher level issues. If there are no needy among you, then G-d will bless you. HOWEVER, and here is what made me incredibly sad. If there are needy people among you, and the text tells us there will always be, “For there will never cease to be needy ones in your land, which is why I command you to open your hand to the poor and the needy kinsmen of your land.” Ours is not to finish the task, neither are we free to ignore it, according to Pirke Avot. The issues existed in Biblical times. They are still very real today.

Thank G-d we have the haftarah as a balance. Isaiah teaches, Ho, all who are thirty, come for water, even if you have no money. Come buy food and eat. Buy food without money. Wine and milk without cost. Why do you spend money what is not bread, Your earnings for what does not satisfy….

So the question becomes what satisfies? What is a life that matters? Do we need all the things that our materialistic culture buys? Or should we be spending some of it on other things?

Dr. Ron Wolfson wrote an interesting book, the Seven Questions You’re Asked in Heaven. Now we Jews don’t have nearly as well formed an idea of what heaven might be like so the title of this book intrigued me. We talk about Gan Eden, the Garden of Eden, as a type of Paradise (both Hebrew phrases). We talk about olam ha’ba, the world to come. But we don’t dwell on what that world will be like. We talk about the reward being in this world, not the next world. And yet, we have a strong tradition of stories about the next world.
As I child, I loved the stories of Zlateh the Goat, an IB Singer collection illustrated by Maurice Sendek. The first story was called, A Fool’s Paradise.” There is the famous story of Zusiya Lying on his death bed, Reb Zusya was very upset and crying, tears streaming down his face.
His students asked with great concern, “Reb Zusya, why are you upset? Why are you crying? Are you afraid when you die you will be asked why you were not more like Moses?”
Reb Zusya replied, “I am not afraid that the Holy One will ask me ‘Zusya, why were you not more like Moses?’ Rather, I fear that the Holy One will say, ‘Zusya, why were you not more like Zusya?’”

We don’t have to be Zusya. We don’t have to be Moses. We just have to be ourselves, working for the good of all, as this portion suggests, for the widow, the orphan, the stranger. If we celebrate the holidays then we will see G-d, we will receive G-d’s blessing and know unlimited joy. We don’t have to finish the tasks, but we are not free to ignore them. In the next few weeks we will look more at this question of what is a life that matters.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about why are we here. Oh, yes, you are thinking, that is a BIG question. And it is. Each of us comes here to synagogue for different reasons I am sure. But I am talking about an even bigger question. Why are we here? Not just why are we here in this synagogue, or in Elgin, or in Illinois, in the United States. Why are we here on this earth? Why do we matter? What meaning do our lives have?

Our Torah portion starts to answer it. “And now, Israel, what does the LORD your God require of you, but to fear the LORD thy God, to walk in all His ways, and to love Him, and to serve the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul.” Deuteronomy 10:12

Sounds easy no? Fear G-d. Walk in G-d’s ways. Love G-d. But I am not sure that I want to fear G-d. I am not sure that I want to be scared of G-d. So what does fear mean in this sense? It is something my husband and I argue about. Other translations use “Revere G-d.” Does that help us? It seems to me that it is softer, kinder, gentler.

It is not just G-d we are told to fear. In the 10 Commandments we are told to honor our fathers and our mothers. But in Leviticus, we are told to fear our mothers and our fathers. The rabbis ask why the verse changes the order and the verb. What do we learn from this? They answer that typically it is the father who does the discipline. How many of us heard or have even used the phrase, “Just wait until your father gets home.” That inculcates a natural fear of children of their fathers. An old Yiddish proverb teaches that G-d couldn’t be everywhere so G-d created mothers. Did G-d create mothers so that we should be afraid of them or because they provide something else? It is an interesting question. Need we be so bound to these typical gender roles? Or by reversing the verse did G-d already say the gender roles don’t make much sense? I am sure that I don’t have the answer but it is interesting to wrestle with.

The phrase in our text is Yirat Hashamayim. Fear of the heavens literally. It carries with it a sense of awe, that mysterium tremendum. Perhaps we overuse the word awesome. It was awesome. That meaning I think means something is cool, inspiring, amazing. Struck by profound marvel and beauty. Standing at the shore of the ocean and watching the waves during a storm, standing on a mountain top can create that sense of awe. However, in that construction I don’t hear the sense of fear.

But sometimes I am afraid. Probably we all are. Over and over again the tradition teaches us to be not afraid. The last verse of Adon Olam says, “Into G-d’s hand I commit my spirit. When I sleep and when I wake. And with my spirit, my body, The Lord is with me. I shall not fear.” Similarly Psalm 121 reassures us that “The Guardian of Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps.” Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav teaches, “All the world is a narrow bridge. The central thing is to not be afraid.” That is because G-d is with us.

In Proverbs we are given a sense of what a good woman is, a woman of valor. At the very end it says, “a woman who fears (or reveres) G-d shall be praised. So this is the ideal, a woman who fears the Lord. In this case fear or reverence is good.
This verse gave us three things—fear G-d, walk with G-d and love G-d. What about “walk with G-d.” How can we walk with G-d? Sifre Eikev teaches us “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). All who are called in God’s name will survive.(Joel 3:5) How is it possible for a person to be called by God’s name? Rather, God is called “merciful”—so too, you should be merciful. God is called “gracious” as it says, “God, merciful and gracious” (Psalms 145:8)—so too, you should be gracious and give gifts for nothing. God is called “just” as it says, “For God is righteous and loves righteousness” (Psalms 11:7)—so too, you should be just.” God is called “merciful”: “For I am merciful, says the Lord.” (Jeremiah 3:12) so too you be merciful. That is why it is said, “And it shall come to pass that all who are called in God’s name will survive.” This means that just as God is gracious, compassionate, and forgiving, you too must be gracious, compassionate, and forgiving. [Translation by Rabbi Jill Jacobs]”

It is not so much that we are walking in G-d’s ways, it is that we are imitating G-d. How do we imitate G-d? The Talmud in Sotah 14a asks this very question, What is the meaning of the verse, “You shall walk after the Lord your G-d?” Is it, then, possible for a human being to walk after the Divine, which is described as a “devouring fire”? But the meaning is to follow the attributes of the Holy One. G-d clothes the naked, as it is written: “And G-d made for Adam and for his wife coats of skin, and clothed them” (Genesis 3:21); so should you, too, clothe the naked. G-d visits the sick, as it is written: “And G-d appeared to him by the Oaks of Mamre”; so should you, too, visit the sick. G-d comforts mourners, as it is written: “And it came to pass after the death of Abraham, that G-d blessed Isaac his son” (Genesis 25:11); so should you, too, comfort mourners. G-d buries the dead, as it is written: “And He buried him in the valley” (Deuteronomy 34:6); so should you, too, bury the dead.
So this then is what it means to walk with the Divine. It is a social action agenda. Imitate G-d by clothing the naked, visiting the sick, comforting the mourning and burying the dead. That is something I can do. That we can all do. It gives us a recipe for success. It tells us exactly what our purpose is and how we create meaning.
There is another verse that talks about this in almost identical terms. It happens to be my mother’s favorite verse from Micah. “It has been told to you, what is good, and what the LORD requires of you: only to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your G-d. (Micah 6:8).
What is different here? To do justly. To love mercy. And to walk humbly. We’ve spoken about the need to do justly. We need to act righteously. And it balances that with mercy, compassion. Justice without compassion is rarely justice. And it demands that we walk humbly.
I’ve been thinking a lot about humility (see my previous post on Humility Through Mini-Golf). Sometimes this verse gets translated as modestly. Modestly or humbly I think it is about creating the space for G-d to be G-d while maintaining our own space to be who we are. It is about not strutting like a peacock. It is about being in the moment. In doing my reading on humility this week I was struck by this idea that sitting in the same place in shul, something I often tease our regulars about, is actually not a sign of pride and entitlement but a sign of humility. Surprised! I was. “To sit in the same place is to fix yourself to one spot, thereby freeing up all the other space for others to use…Humility is occupying just the right amount of space in life that is appropriate for you, while making space for others.” (Rabbi Alan Morinis) That was one of those Wow moments.
Rabbi Susan Freeman developed a meditation about walking with G-d for the Jewish Healing Center, taking us through the various stages of life. Noah walked with G-d, blameless in his generation. (Genesis 6:9). Abraham walked before G-d and was blameless. (Genesis 17:1). Malachai wonders what is the point. What have we gained by keeping God’s charge, and walking in mourning, before the Lord of Hosts?” (Malachi 3:14). But we are not to fear because we remember the purpose of our journey. As we age, however, the journey and the walking get harder. However, we are comforted by the verse from Ecclesiastes, “Ki holech adam el olamo: For [we set out], we walked to [our] eternal abode.” (Ecclesiastes 12:5). She explains that there is a calm stillness when we stop walking. God is with us, right behind us, as always. Gam ki-elech b’gey tzalmavet lo-ira ra ki-atah imadi: Though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no harm, for You are with me.” (Psalm 23-4)

This walking humbly with G-d leaves space for others and for G-d. It is about an I-Thou relationship. It is about not putting ourselves first.
These two similar verses we have looked at sound almost the same in English but there is one key difference in the Hebrew verbs. In the second verse it says l’derosh, to seek out. This is the verb that is used to describe Rebecca when she went to l’derosh the oracle to see what was happening in her womb. It is the verb that gives us the word midrash, to seek out a deeper meaning in the text. It is what we have done here, l’derosh the meaning, the purpose for our lives.
We are told to love G-d, with all our hearts, with all our souls, with all our might. This is the kind of G-d I can love. One who demands that we do justly, love mercy and walk side by side with G-d, humbly, modestly. This is a G-d that I can discuss when I am at home or on my way, when I lie down and when I rise up. I hope you will join me in this ongoing discussion.

I am working on a new project, the study of mussar. Mussar is a form of Jewish literature that looks at character attributes. Developed in the 19th century by Rabbi Salanter and others, it was about elevating the soul and putting the pieces back together to cause a sense of shlemut, wholeness. It combines spiritual practices of meditation, silence and diary writing. It reminds me of Benjamin Franklin and his journal about his own character where he would work on one attribute a week. He had thirteen of them. (See the connection with the 13 Attributes of the Divine?) http://www.school-for-champions.com/character/franklin_virtues.htm On the list, humility, the first one practitioners of mussar study. He felt he should imitate Jesus and Socrates.
So what about Judaism and humility? Moses was humble. Even as I write that, I am almost chuckling. I remember a Bible exam in rabbinical school. The exam turned on this very phrase about Moses. Was Moses humble, humbled or was humbled. It is an interesting grammatical differential and changes our understanding of Moses completely. The phrase in English is “And the man Moses was very anav (humble), mare than any other men who were upon the face of the earth.” Numbers 12:3.
The point of mussar is to become aware of the character trait, or soul-trait in you as you go about your day. My phrase for the week is “No more than my place. No less than my space.” You reflect on it in the morning and then journal about it at night. I did the assigned reading. Finished a couple of boxes to sort before packing and moving. I was struck by some things in the reading. While humility has the same root as humiliation, it does not mean we are to see ourselves as worthless nothings. We need to see ourselves as others do, without self-aggrandizement or self-loathing. That is hard for me. I go towards either extreme. However the reading continued that we need accurate self-assessment of both strengths and weaknesses. That’s where humility comes in.

Perhaps the most important part for me was about “humility is occupying just the right amount of space in life that it is appropriate for you while making room for others.” Routinely I get told I talk too much, or I talk too much about myself and that can be off-putting. I don’t mean to. And I am actively trying to control it. I think that is what the mystical concept of tzimtzum is. When G-d created the world, G-d had to take a breath, to inhale, so that there was enough room in which the world can exist. So it is with being a rabbi. It is not about me. It is about leaving enough space so that others can thrive in their own spirituality.

As a treat for finishing some of the packing on a gorgeous summer day we went to play mini-golf. Now I bet you are wondering, what is the connection between humility and mini-golf. At some point during the course I missed an easy shot–and I said outloud, “That’s to keep me humble.” I also was just having fun with my family and didn’t feel the need as I have in the past to make it super competitive. It was more fun to cheer each of us on, where we were in our abilities, not worry about first, second and third place finishes. However, I enjoyed getting a hole-in-one even as I realized that it was more luck on that particular hole than any particular skill I possess. Eventually, with enough focus and without some distractions, I wound up winning. I could have gloated. My daughter said I did smirk. So yes, I learned more about humility through mini-golf. I guess this process is working. We will see what else come up organically as I continue to think about humility.

Today is Tu B’av, the 15th of the month of Av on the Hebrew calendar. The moon will be full tonight. In ancient Israel this was the day that young women would go out and try to find a husband. It is a day of great optimism and hope coming after Tisha B’av. It also means that in just two weeks it will Rosh Hodesh Elul, 30 days before Rosh Hashanah. Preparations are well underway at Congregation Kneseth Israel. We have an outline of the services with times, honors to be assigned, music to be sung, sermons to be written. The silver will be polished and the bimah transformed to white. The wall will be open. Chairs will be set up. We know how to do all this. None of this comes without work, hard work.
And yet, there is interior work that needs to be done. One year I spent the 40 days between Rosh Hodesh Elul and Yom Kippur blogging about forgiveness since that is a big part of the season. I had guest bloggers talk about when or how they have seen forgiveness in their professional lives. There were some haunting responses. One in particular, on the 10th anniversary of 9/11 talked about losing a high school classmate on 9/11 and not going to her funeral. Could she forgive herself?

This year I want to try something a little different. After Moses smashed the 10 Commandments, G-d told him to go back up the mountain a second time. Moses did not want to go. Why should he lead this stubborn, stiff-necked people? Who was going to help him? G-d answered that G-d would go with him and lighten his burden and give him rest. Wow! That would have been good enough for me I think. But Moses wasn’t satisfied. He wanted to more deeply understand G-d. He demanded to see G-d face to face. G-d replied that no person can see G-d face to face and live but that G-d would hide Moses in the cleft of the rock and pass before him. In Exodus 34:6-7 we learn about the 13 Attributes of the Divine as G-d passed before Moses and whispered them.

“The Lord, The Lord, God, merciful and gracious, slow to anger, abundant in goodness and truth, showing compassion to a thousand generations, forgiving iniquity, transgression and sin”

This is the central part of the slichot service. It is how we Jews ask for forgiveness. But what does it mean? What does it mean that God abounds in lovingkindness or is compassionate, merciful, full of grace. How is that G-d is slow to anger, patient or long-suffering? What does any of this mean to us today? Or was it only for Moses?

I believe it was for all of us. That we need to understand that G-d is a G-d full of love and compassion and that G-d forgives our mistakes. While we can’t really limit G-d, having this list helps our understanding. This was my Bat Mitzvah Torah portion. The reason I became a rabbi. I wrote my rabbinic thesis on these very words. It is a verse that has sustained me for almost (egads!) 40 years!

The midrash teaches us that Moses was on Mount Sinai for 40 days. From Rosh Hodesh Elul to Yom Kippur. For those 40 days we are going to study, discuss, wrestle with maybe even argue about these 13 Attributes. I will be studying mussar with my chevruta partner, Rabbi Steve Peskind. More about this later. Each day, I will post something about one of the 13 Attributes, either something I have written or something you have written. I am hoping we will get as many of you as possible to write something, to wrestle with the text and derive meaning as I have done from it. Send me your writings by August 1st to be included. Pick one attribute, or all of them. Tell us why they are important to you. Include a personal story of how you understand them or what they mean to you. Make it 250-500 words. In this way you will help enrich all our understanding and the celebration of Rosh Hashanah.

Rabbi Margaret Frisch Klein
Congregation Kneseth Israel
330 Division Street
Elgin, IL 60120

www.theengerizerrabbi.org

Yesterday I tried a different kind of D’var Torah. We actually looked at sections of the Talmud. It ran longer than I expected but I think that is because people were interested and it was hard to draw the conversation to a close.
Yesterday was the portion that included the 10 Commandments and the Sh’ma. That is a lot of material in one week. I chose to focus just on the Sh’ma. One piece of Talmud that has always fascinated me is the idea of whether someone who is reading the Torah out loud fulfills his obligation for reciting the Sh’ma when this section is read in the Torah. Exactly what we would be doing.

“If someone was reading (the Shema) in the Torah when the time for its recital arrived, he has fulfilled his obligation (to recite the Shema) if he had the intention (to read the Shema from the Torah scroll beforehand).” (Mishnah Berachot 2:1, 13a)

The answer then is yes, it counts in order to fulfill the obligation of saying Sh’ma—but only if the reader has the intention, the kavanah. So I asked the question—what is intention? People answered that it has something to do with the heart, it is something you want to do, not simply because you have to but because you want to. When I am talking about it in a prayer context, it is the opposite of keva, structure. For me it is the thoughts that go on behind the words on the page, that draw me closer to G-d. So as long as you have the intention, the kavanah of fulfilling your obligation, you are fulfilled.

What is this about obligation? Why are we obligated to say the Sh’ma two times a day. What is with this specific prayer? Is it a prayer at all? It seems like a statement.

The Talmud teaches that we are obligated to say the Sh’ma both in the evening (the beginning of the Jewish day which starts at sunset) and in the morning. It asks the question, “From when”.

From what time may one recite the Shema in the evening? From the time that the priests enter [their houses] in order to eat their terumah until the end of the first watch, the words of Rabbi Eliezer.The sages say: until midnight. Rabban Gamaliel says: until dawn. Once it happened that his sons came home [late] from a wedding feast and they said to him: we have not yet recited the [evening] Shema. He said to them: if it is not yet dawn you are still obligated to recite. And not in respect to this alone did they so decide, but wherever the sages say “until midnight,” the mitzvah may be performed until dawn…Why then did the sages say “until midnight”? In order to keep a man far from transgression.
We learn a couple of important things here. That somehow our prayers are connected to what used to happen in the Temple. They are our obligation just like the sacrifices used to be so we are under the same timeframes. We learn that parents then are not much different than parents now. The father was sitting up waiting for his sons to return after an evening of partying and reminded them that they still have obligations. Can’t you just imagine that conversation with your own teenagers who are out past curfew? “Glad you are home. Hope you had a good time. Don’t forget you still have to do your homework, and your chores. You are still obligated to say the Sh’ma.” And we learn about the concept of putting a fence around the Torah so that there is no danger of violating, transgressing its laws. Yes, we can say Sh’ma until dawn. Better to have finished by midnight so we aren’t in danger of making a mistake. One of our members, an attorney, asked how they would know when midnight was. That maybe why the original answer was until dawn. We can tell when that is. Or can we?
FROM WHAT TIME MAY ONE RECITE THE SHEMA IN THE MORNING? FROM THE TIME THAT ONE CAN DISTINGUISH BETWEEN BLUE AND WHITE. R. ELIEZER SAYS: BETWEEN BLUE AND GREEN. AND HE HAS TIME TO FINISH UNTIL SUNRISE. R. JOSHUA SAYS: UNTIL THE THIRD HOUR OF THE DAY, FOR SUCH IS THE CUSTOM OF KINGS, TO RISE AT THE THIRD HOUR. IF ONE RECITES THE SHEMA’ LATER HE LOSES NOTHING, BEING LIKE ONE WHO READS IN THE TORAH. GEMARA: What is the meaning of BETWEEN BLUE AND WHITE? Shall I say: between a lump of white wool and a lump of blue wool? This one may also distinguish in the night! It means rather: between the blue in it and the white in it. It has been taught: R. Meir says: [The morning Shema’ is read] from the time that one can distinguish between a wolf and a dog; R. Akiba says: Between an ass and a wild ass. Others say: From the time that one can distinguish his friend at a distance of four cubits. (Berachot 9b)

Apparently we need to be able to distinguish day from night in order to meet our obligation to say the day time Sh’ma. This section I used to debate with myself driving to New York for rabbinical school. When exactly, precisely, is dawn, is sunrise. Notice that we have in Hebrew different words for the beginning of the day, like we have in English. There is Hanetzh hahamah (the glittering, the sparkling of the sun, just as it is about to come over the horizon about a tenth of an hour before “sunrise.” I love this image and think about it when I am up that early. The glittering of the day. Full of promise and hope. Holy sparks flying. Sunrise is Amud hashachar, literally the standing, the rising of the sun.
When you can distinguish blue from white? That’s easy and car headlights make it much simpler. When you can distinguish blue from green? Harder. Much harder but I was always intrigued by the green highway signs. Why did we pick green for this if it is so much harder to do? What about these animals. Can you tell a dog from a wolf? A dog from a coyote? Between a sand hill crane and a deer? Not always. You need light to do so. What about the subtlety between a wild ass and a domesticated one? I am not sure I could do that at midday. So what is this about? What is it that you need light for? I like the idea that you need to be able to recognize a friend. For me that is about building community. Prayer, therefore, is about community, not just me driving in my car somewhere between Boston and New York. However, is it OK if you are driving and it becomes sunrise to stop the car to davven?

The school of Shammai says: In the evening all people should recline and recite [the Shema], and in the morning they should stand, since it says [in the verse (Deut. 6:7)], “When you lie down and when you arise.” But the school of Hillel says: Each person may recite it in his usual way (posture), since it says (ibid.), “When you walk on the road.” If so, why does it say “when you lie down and when you arise”? [It means:] at the time when people are lying down, and at the time when people are arising. Said Rabbi Tarfon: “I was once traveling on the road, and I reclined to recite [the Shema] in accordance with the view of the school of Shammai, and [by doing so] I put myself in danger of [attack by] bandits.” They [the other Sages] said to him: “You would have deserved to be guilty for your own fate, since you went against the view of the school of Hillel.”

In times of “great need” like leaving early on a trip, a person may read Sh’ma after Amud Hashahar, after sunrise. Maybe stopping on the Merritt Parkway to recite Sh’ma while watching Hanetz hahamah is a violation of halacha? This portion makes the case that safety comes first! Nonetheless, watching the distinction between hanetz hahamah and amud hashachar surely was pretty and connected me more closely with the Divine and these very passages that talk about saying these very words in your home and on your way. Way, path, road is the real translation of halacha. Think about all of this, the next time you are racing to get out of the house for that early morning, 6AM flight. I think that is why you sometimes see Chasidim davvening at the airport just as sunrise is starting.

Why this level of precision? Because we want to race to fulfill the obligation to pray. If we start the Sh’ma just before dawn, at hanetz hahamah, we can be like the vatikin, the alterkochers of the shul, the pious ones. They want to finish exactly on time so that they can begin the tefilah, the amidah at the earliest possible moment. Not so they can get out on time but so they can be right with G-d, whatever that means. BUT nonetheless, if we delay our own recitation until after sunrise, like the kings, until the third hour, when the kings had the luxury of arising, that is also OK and our obligation is still fulfilled. Ultimately, this time between hanetz hahamah and amud hashachar is an auspicious time.

Nonetheless it is important for your ear to hear what your mouth is saying, in order for you to fulfill your obligation.

MISHNAH. IF ONE RECITES THE SHEMA’ WITHOUT HEARING WHAT HE SAYS, HE HAS PERFORMED HIS OBLIGATION. R. JOSE SAYS: HE HAS NOT PERFORMED HIS OBLIGATION…GEMARA: What is R. Jose’s reason? — Because it is written, ‘Hear’ which implies, let your ear hear what you utter with your mouth. The first Tanna, however, maintains that ‘hear’ means, in any language that you understand. But R. Jose derives both lessons from the word.

We have two important lessons here. The first is that there is something really important about not just reading the words silently to yourself. The Sh’ma is about witnessing G-d is One. That is why the Ayin at the end of Sh’ma and the Dalet at the end of Echad are written larger. G-d is One. Saying it out loud so your own ears can hear what your mouth is saying is part of that witnessing. The other very important lesson here is that you should say these words in whatever language you understand best. Is it good to learn Hebrew? You bet. You learn so much of the subtlety that way. But your ears need to hear and understand what your mouth is saying. Therapists will tell you that part of what makes therapy effective is that patients say out loud what they are feeling in their hearts. Their own ears hear the words that their mouths are speaking. There is a subtle difference between “Hear” and “Listen”. We don’t always hear what we are saying. We don’t always listen. This is a command form. Hear! O Israel. The Lord is One.

The Talmud introduces one other problem for me however. Am I obligated to recite the Sh’ma, even though I am a woman?
Women, slaves, and minors are exempt from the obligation (to fulfill the mitzvot) of the recitation of the Sh’ma (keri’at Sh’ma) and of t’fillin, but they are obligated to fulfill (the mitzvot of) prayer, mezuzah, and the recitation of the grace after meals (birkat hamazon). (Berachot 23a)

I spent a semester on this chapter of the Talmud. It is a complicated concept. It is important to note that women appear to be exempt but not forbidden. The argument is that saying Sh’ma is a positive, time bound commandment. But as we have just seen, it is not entirely clear what the timing is. What we do know: The Sh’ma should be said twice a day, when you lie down and when you rise up. Even if women really are exempt, it is permissible for a woman to say the Sh’ma. Even the Talmud in Kiddushin 34a cautions us to not draw any conclusions about who is exempt from time bound mitzvoth, precisely because there are so many exceptions to what a person is obligated to. Nonetheless, prayer, in this case specifically the tefilah is not considered time bound. People—men, women, children, slaves, strangers, are entitled to do it any time because as the Gemara later teaches it is because of the compassion of G-d that we have access to prayer.

Because it was a discussion, a study session, where I divided the group into chevruta, small groups of friends, it ran long. It takes longer for people to wrestle with the text themselves and be able to teach something to the whole group. But it also creates a deeper sense of mastery and ownership. When we finally read the words, “Sh’ma Yisrael Adonai Eloheinu Adonai Echad” out of the scroll, we knew what we were were saying. It was a holy moment, full of kavanah, intention.

So we are obligated to recite the Sh’ma, when we lie down and when we rise up. When we can distinguish between blue and green and the faces of our friends. We need to say these very words out loud so our ears can hear what our mouths are saying and we need to do it with intention—because we want to not because we have to.

Hear! O Israel. The Lord. Is our G-d. The Lord is One!

This past Sunday I participated in Congregation Kneseth Israel’s second annual build day for Habitat for Humanity. I have done lots of Habitat projects through the years. In Massachusetts I drywalled a closet on the day after 9/11. The clergy of Lowell, through the Greater Lowell Interfaith Leadership Alliance had scheduled a build day as a show of unity and solidarity. We could not have imagined just how much we would have needed it. As all the world seemed to be collapsing and it was, we were actively building something together. It remains one of the most powerful moments of my life.
I have built in North and South Carolina as part of a trip to Clemson to visit my good friend, the Rev. David Ferner. I have built in Indiana and participated in a unique winter fundraiser, the SouperBowl, where various potters donate soup bowls and local restaurants make soup to taste. I cherish the memories and my two soup bowls from that event.
I have built in New Orleans, three times since Katrina. Twice was with Microsoft and I applaud their willingness to give back to a community that was hosting a convention. The first time I graded a garden to become a pocket park playground in the 9th Ward, badly damaged by Katrina. This neighborhood would become a musicians’ village and it was great fun and back braking labor to move dirt back and forth in wheelbarrows. But the heat didn’t matter because it was so joyous listening to the jazz and interacting with the residents. The second time Linda Gilmore, a native of New Orleans and a dear friend of mine from Chelmsford framed part of a house. Who would think that we could? Certainly not me. Again it was hot. Again the music flowed. The brightly colored houses that Habitat is creating in the 9th Ward should last for a long, long time. Up on pilings, they should not flood again. They remind me of the rainbow and G-d’s promise never to destroy  the world again by flood. Habitat for Humanity is definitely fulfilling the role of being partners with G-d in this creation.

This brings me up to this past Sunday. Bastille Day. A day where the French people stormed the Bastille because they were denied basic needs. Bread is a need. Housing is a need. The ability to provide for a family is a right. Egality. Liberte. Fraternite.  Les Mis is one of my favorite shows. The music is haunting. The lyrics sublime. “To love another person is to see the face of G-d.” gets me every time and fits with the idea that we are all created in G-d’s image. “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables” makes me cry every time thinking about some of the people with whom I have done social justice work. We have worked on issues around jobs, education, hunger, homelessness, quality housing. During my tenure as a board member, one of my favorite organizations started the Merrimack Valley Project, The Middlesex County Housing Court, Refugee Immigration Ministry, the Merrimack Valley Housing Partnership and a Habitat for Humanity affiliate. Did any of our work really matter? Have we ever made a difference?

So Sunday, bright and early while the rest of Elgin slept and my husband once again proposed to me as he did 28 years ago on Bastille Day, we got up, put on our t-shirts and shorts (IT IS HOT HERE!) and joined other Congregation Kneseth Israel members to help build a house. In our 8 hour day with 11 volunteers we managed to build a floor. Really. An entire floor. When we arrived we could see from the stone basement all the way to the ceiling of the roof. No first floor. No second floor. Just lots of lumber and plywood. Somehow with lots of teamwork, lots of measuring, some extra cutting, lots of joking, lots of water, we got a floor built. Is it enough? No. Does it make a difference? You bet.

There is a funny short film, West Bank Story, that is a take off on West Side Story. The Arab  hummus hut owner laughs at the Israeli next door when he starts to build a wall between the two stores. “Jews in construction, ha!”

Now it is Tisha B’av–the saddest day on the Jewish calendar. In 586 BCE the First Temple was destroyed. In 70 CE the Second Temple was destroyed. In both cases large parts of the city of Jerusalem were destroyed, ransacked and the people exiled. They no longer had a home. For two thousand years Jews longed to return. To have decent housing where they could worship G-d they believed best. This year as I continue to search for my dream home in the Fox Valley, I have been thinking a lot about housing and exile. The numbers of foreclosures, pre-foreclosures, bank owned houses, vacant properties, is staggering. While I may wind up being the beneficiary of one of those homes, each home has a unique and sad story. Sometimes people lose a house because of health reasons or because they lost a job. Our society does not provide much of a safety net. One of my partners in social justice was always fond of saying that most Americans are only one paycheck away from homelessness. It is a scary thought.

Habitat for Humanity is doing something right. It is taking the dreams of ensuring affordable, safe housing, through a process of owner sweat equity, volunteerism and no-interest loans to new heights. Thus far they have built 600,000 homes worldwide and helped house 3 million people. I am proud to be a small part of Habitat for Humanity. This build, like all others before touched me deeply. It is about giving back to my new community. It is about building community, both in my own synagogue and the wider Elgin community. It is about building.

What I said to my congregation on Shabbat:

Today is known as Shabbat Hazon—the Shabbat of Vision. It is taken from the first word of today’s haftarah which we will chant shortly. This is the vision of Isaiah…

That vision is a terrifying one, one of Jerusalem being destroyed and the Temple along with it. He urges immediate repentance so that his vision is avoided. This is the portion we read every year on the Shabbat before Tisha B’av which we will observe as a congregation on Monday night and Tuesday.

One of the connections between today’s parsha, the beginning book of D’varim and the haftarah is the use of a single word. Eicha. How. Eicha is also the opening word of the Book of Lamentations. At first it would appear that by pairing our Torah and haftarah the vision is just one of impending doom. We should only be focused on tragedy and mourning. And sometimes, especially at this season, that seems to be all we Jews talk about. Or is it?

Let’s look at the question Moses and Isaiah are each asking.
Moses says, Eicha, How can I do this alone? How can I bear alone your stress and your burden and your quarrelling? How can I lead this people. This is the beginning of his long farewell address, his ethical will, if you will. He has been doing it for 38 years and he is tired. Worn out. Exhausted. This is a stiffnecked, stubborn people that do nothing but complain and kvetch and believe that they can’t get to the Promised Land. They would rather be back in Egypt. Change is always difficult.

Isaiah painfully observes and asks, Eicha / How it has (or How has it) become as a harlot, a faithful city ”full of justice, in which righteousness would lodge; and now murderer.”
Rabbi Regina Sandler Phillips points out that Moses’s question, Eicha, How can I bear this alone can be understood two ways. One is rhetorical. It is a lament. I can’t do this. The other is the way of problem solving. How can I do this? Let’s find a way. The answer is I can. I would add, together we can. Together we can figure this out.
Isaiah’s question can also be understood two ways. One is lamentation—How terrible it is; the world as we know it is coming to an end. The other way, as Regina points out is one of analysis: How has it become so terrible and what can we do to fix it.
She argues that we need both ways of reading the questions. We need the lamentation and the grief and the mourning. We need to feel our feelings before we can rush into to fix something. She cautions, using Isaiah’s own later words, that our analyzing often leads to sh’lach etzba, literally fingerpointing, where no one takes personal responsibility. Hey, after all, it’s not my fault.
Lamentation is not all bad. The challenge of this question Eicha, How, is to understand the vision and the need for lamentation. G-d understood our need to mourn and saw it as a communal responsibility.
Thus says the Eternal-One of Hosts: Consider, and call for the mekonenot/ lamenting-women, that they may come; and send for the wise-women, that they may come. And let them hasten and raise a wailing over us, that our eyes may run down with tears, and our eyelids gush waters….So hear, women, the word of the Eternal-One, and let your ear receive the word of God s mouth; and teach your daughters wailing, and every woman teach her neighbor lamentation. (Jeremiah 9:16-17, 19)

I want to underscore that: Hear the word of the Eternal One, and let your ear receive the word of G-d’s mouth. Next week when we study the Sh’ma in depth we will read about the need to hear what the words of your mouth is saying in order for the Sh’ma to “count,” in order for us to be “yotzei,” fulfilled in our obligation. We also therefore need to be able to hear our cries, our mourning, our lamentations.

The Mishnah asks What is lamentation? That one (woman) speaks and all the rest respond after her… as it is said, quoting this verse from Jeremiah, teach your daughters wailing and every woman teach her neighbor lamentation. (Moed Katan 3:9) So lamentation was a call and response, a repeat after me kind of song and it was part of women’s leadership. Women knew how to lament, how to mourn and they taught it to their daughters, to their neighbors from generation to generation.

Nevertheless I don’t want to mourn. I am uncomfortable with it. I want to live in the present. I want to enjoy this beautiful summer weather. I don’t necessarily even want to plan for the future, to figure out how to execute the vision that this congregation has worked so hard to develop. I came to Elgin because I was impressed with the process of visioning that this congregation intentionally went through. It was hard work. There were complaints along the way. I sometimes feel like Moses, Eicha, How can I do this alone. But you were seeking a partner, not a solitary leader. I don’t have to. Together, you and I with G-d can figure this out.

Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev gives us a deeper meaning to this idea of vision.
A father once prepared a beautiful suit of clothes for his son. But the child neglected his father’s gift, and soon the suit was in tatters. The father gave the child a second suit of clothes; this one, too, was ruined by the child’s carelessness. So, the father made a third suit. This time, however, he withholds it from his son. Every once in a while, on special and opportune times, he shows the suit to the child, explaining that when the child learns to appreciate and properly care for the gift, it will be given to him. This induces the child to improve his behavior, until it gradually becomes second nature to him—at which time he will be worthy of his father’s gift.
On the “Shabbat of Vision,” says Rabbi Levi Yitzchak, each and every one of us is granted a vision of the third and final Temple—a vision that, to paraphrase the Talmud, “though we do not ourselves see, our souls see.” This vision evokes a profound response in us, even if we are not consciously aware of the cause of our sudden inspiration.
G-d presence is everywhere. It is a basic principle of our faith in the One G-d. The entire earth is filled with His presence” (Isaiah 6:3) and “There is no place void of Him” (Tikkunei Zohar 57). Nonetheless, G-d is closer to us in Jerusalem. I remember being in Jerusalem just before Tisha B’av one year where an Orthodox rabbi explained to me that you can encounter G-d anywhere, but here is where G-d dwells and you can meet Him (always a Him) with his newspaper and bedroom slippers. It was an image that worked for me. Somehow in the intensity of the July heat in Jerusalem it is just easier to find G-d.
Chabad.org said it this way: “The Holy Temple was a breach in the mask, a window through which G-d radiated His light into the world. Here G-d’s involvement in our world was openly displayed by an edifice in which miracles were a “natural” part of its daily operation and whose very space expressed the infinity and all-pervasiveness of the Creator. Here G-d showed himself to man, and man presented himself to G-d.” In Jerusalem we can see G-d, we can meet G-d. That is part of the vision.
Twice we were given the gift of the Holy Temple. Twice that Temple was destroyed and we were exiled and the Divine Presence was banished. Or was it? The Shekinah is referred to as the manifest presence of G-d in the Tabernacle and the Temple in Jerusalem throughout Rabbinic literature. It is present in the acts of public prayer, “Whenever ten are gathered for prayer, there the Shekinah rests” (Talmud Sanhedrin 39a); in righteous judgment,”when three sit as judges, the Shekinah is with them.” (Talmud Berachot 6a), and personal need “The Shekinah dwells over the headside of the sick man’s bed.” (Talmud Shabbat 12b).
We are told that “Wheresoever they were exiled, the Shekinah went with them.” (Megillah 29a). Some say that the doves that live at the Kotel are a sign of the Shcehinah’s ongoing dwelling. In our musaf service we pray for a return to Jerusalem and a return of the Temple. Midrash tells us that G-d will build us a third temple. It won’t be human construction and therefore it will be eternal and invincible. We will read a story Monday night about this Temple to be. For now, the midrash teaches that G-d has withheld this gift, this third suit of clothes, keeping it in a higher, heavenly sphere.
We get glimpses of it. Shabbat, according to Heschel, is a foretaste of the world to come where we will have easier access to the divine presence. And once a year, this week, on the Shabbat of Vision, we are able to see this third temple. We perceive a vision of the world at peace with itself and our Creator. What would that look like to you? How do you perceive this vision?
Why does Levi Yitzchak use a metaphor of a garment. It is so personal. Why not stick with the metaphor of G-d dwelling in His house, the Holy Temple? We had a good discussion here. A suit is something that you can grow into or out of and back into again, like being close to G-d’s presence. It is very personal, created just for you, fitting you just right. It has various compartments, pockets, hiding places. It can be beautiful or threadborn. It was like the sparks of Torah were flying and I could see our own communal sense of vision.
Then I explained what Levi Yitzchak meant. G-d chose to reveal His presence in our world in a “dwelling”—a communal structure that goes beyond the personal to embrace an entire people and the entire community. Yet the Holy Temple in Jerusalem also had certain garment-like features. It is these features that Rabbi Levi Yitzchak wishes to emphasize by portraying the Holy Temple as a suit of clothes. This goes back to our vision of embracing diversity—or dare I say it pluralism. The temple itself embraced diversity—it had separate sections for men, for women, even for the stranger among us. It had a special room, the Holy of Holies, just for the high priest and only for once a year, on the Day of Atonement. In fact, while we know about the Pharisees and Saducees and the Essenes, at the time of the destruction of the temple there were some 70 different sects. Each practicing Judaism as they saw it. Each having a different vision. Although the Temple expressed a single truth—the all-pervasive presence of G‑d in our world—it did so to each individual in a personalized manner. Although it was a “house” in the sense that it served many individuals—indeed, the entire world—as their meeting point with the infinite, each and every individual found it a tailor-made “garment” for his or her specific spiritual needs, according him or her a personal and intimate relationship with G-d. Levi Yitzchak’s teaching parallels the midrash that we all stood at Sinai and that G-d created a special voice for each person so that each person could hear just they needed to during the awesome experience of the revelation of Sinai. Hearing and seeing, listening and vision. That is what this week’s Torah and Haftarah portion are about.
For me then, Tisha B’av becomes a day not of lamentation and looking back, but looking forward and acting today to make the world a better place, a better place for the indwelling of G-d. Our parsha ends with hope. Joshua will lead the people and is told not to be afraid because G-d is with him. Moses is instructed to encourage him and strengthen him. None of us has to go it alone. We have our community and we have G-d. We do not need to be afraid. In the end, that is the vision.

“By the waters, the waters of Babylon. We sat down and wept, and wept for thee Zion. We remember, we remember, we remember thee Zion.”

Tonight marks the Jewish holiday of Tisha B’av, one of the saddest days on the Jewish calendar. On this day we commemorate the destruction of both Temples in Jerusalem.. According to the Talmud, in Taanit 4:6, there were actually five tragedies that happened on the 9th of Av.
• The twelve spies that Moses sent to scout out the Land of Israel returned with their report. Only Joshua and Caleb had a positive report.
• The First Temple, built by King Solomon was destroyed in 586BCE and the Israelites sent into exile in Babylon
• The Second Temple was destroyed by the Romans in 70CE.
• The Romans crushed the Bar Kochba revolt and destroyed the city of Betar, killing 10,000 Jews in 132 CE
• The Roman commander Turnus Rufus ordered the site of the Holy Temple plowed under in 133CE.

2000 years later we are still mourning. It is a bad day, and the tragedies on this day have continued throughout history.
• The First Crusade began on this day in 1096. 10,000 Jews in France and the Rhineland were killed that first month alone and in the end 1.2 million Jews perished.
• Jews were expelled from England in 1290 on July 25
• Jews were expelled from France in 1306 on July 21
• Jews were expelled from Spain in 1492 on July 31
• Heinrich Himmler received approval for the Final Solution in 1941 on August 2.

• The fall of the Warsaw ghetto and the deportation of Jews to Treblinka in 1942 on July 23.

While each of these happened on a different secular day, amazingly, they each happened on Tisha B’av. More recently, the bombing of the Jewish Community Center in Buenos Aires took place on the 10th of Av (the day the Second Temple was still burning!) killing 85 people.

There are plenty of reasons to be sad on Tisha B’av. There may even be reasons to be wary on Tisha B’av. It is important to remember, never to forget. But what do we do with that collective memory? What do we do with the reality that Jews have been gathered from the four corners of the earth and that the State of Israel is again a reality?

When I first went to Israel, in 1977, we observed Tisha B’av. It was a very meaningful service. We sat on the floor. We sang haunting songs. The room was lit by candlelight and there were no electric lights. As teenagers we were given the option of fasting the full day, a half day or not at all. Why a half day? Because now that the State of Israel has been restored, our mourning for the exile might/should be suspended. I opted to fast the full day. There is nothing quite like fasting in Jerusalem in the heat of the summer. You really get that sense of burning heat, burning thirst. There is nothing quite like visiting the remains of the Holy Temple, the Kotel in the evening of Tisha B’av and then going to Yad V’shem in the morning. There is nothing quite like that long walk back from Yad V’shem to the center of Jerusalem with no water and no Coke.

Today only 22% of Israelis themselves fast a full day or at all according to a 2010 poll. Others observe the day by avoiding entertainment, visiting with friends or going to the beach.
The half-day fast makes the most sense to me now. First you might ask, why fast at all? Israel exists. We should be happy. We even sing Ahavah Rabbah when it talks about the ingathering to the tune of Hatikvah, Israel’s national anthem. Ismar Schorsch, the former chancellor of the Jewish Theological Institute said it this way:

“But one day of remembrance, enacted wholeheartedly is sufficient. Three weeks of escalating mournfulness, beginning with the fast day on the 17th of Tammuz, threatens to turn martyrology and victimhood into a world view. The creation of Israel has endowed the Jewish people with an unprecedented degree of power that is ill-served by a festering sense of resentment, an abiding angst over insecurity and a messianic zeal to right past wrongs. To brood on our long history of impotence can only blunt our political judgment in an age when so much has changed and obscure the ideals of justice and righteousness that were to mark the descendants of Abraham and cast a beacon for the world.”

I tend to agree. I get frustrated, even angry, who can only see the world in terms of “Is it good for the Jews or bad for the Jews.” While it has been said that in every generation a new Amalek arises, I can’t look at the world that way. Maybe I am naïve. This past year I read a drash about the difference between Passover Jews and Purim Jews. Yossi Klein Halevi writes:

Jewish history speaks to our generation in the voice of two biblical commands to remember. The first voice commands us to remember that we were strangers in the land of Eypt, and the message of that command is: Don’t be brutal. The second voice commands us to remember how the tribe of Amalek attacked us without provocation while we were wandering in the desert, and the message of that command is: Don’t be naive.

The first command is the voice of Passover, of liberation; the second is the voice of Purim, commemorating our victory over the genocidal threat of Haman, a descendant of Amalek. “Passover Jews” are motivated by empathy with the oppressed; “Purim Jews” are motivated by alertness to threat. Both are essential; one without the other creates an unbalanced Jewish personality, a distortion of Jewish history and values. http://www.hartman.org.il/Blogs_View.asp?Article_Id=1103&Cat_Id=275&Cat_Type=Blogs

So we need both. We need the hope of liberation and welcoming the strangers in a strange land and we need to remember not to forget.

Tisha B’Av in light of all the other calamities is still mournful and fasting is how Jews express their sadness. And while the State of Israel exists, it is not perfect. No human government can be perfect. There are plenty of problems still to be addressed in the modern state of Israel. We are told that the Second Temple was destroyed because of Sinat Chinam, baseless or senseless hatred. This year it seems to be that there are plenty of examples of sinat chinam. This is what I will be mourning on Tisha B’av:
• The baseless hatred that some Jews have shown the Women of the Wall. The fact that eggs were thrown at these women, women just like me, who wish to daven at the wall wearing a tallit or reading from Torah, on Rosh Hodesh Av when we talk about sinat chinam necessitates mourning.
• The baseless hatred that some Jews feel toward the other Jews: Jews that don’t look like Eastern European Jews, Jews that are LBGTQ, Jews that have intermarried. There is no place in Judaism for sinat chinam
• The baseless hatred that some Jews feel toward the other responding out of that place of fear: towards Palestinians, towards Muslims in general. This week we saw the verdict in a trial in Florida. No matter what you think of the not guilty verdict, there is no place in Judaism for the baseless hatred (and fear) of blacks, Hispanics, immigrants. We were once all part of immigrant families.

So yes, I will be mourning this Tisha B’av. However, for me, it is not enough to fast, to refrain from bathing, swimming, entertainment. For me Tisha B’av is a call for action, a call for Tikkun Olam. Last Shabbat was called Shabbat Hazon, the Shabbat of Vision. We have been given a vision of what the world can be. We are partners in G-d’s creation in implementing that vision, a vision of peace, of comfort, where no one will sit under their vine or fig tree and make them afraid. I was pleased to spend yesterday working at a Habitat for Humanity build project, building a house with my fellow congregants. That is part of that vision. And yes, when Tisha B’av is over, I will return to my sense of hope and renewal and comfort that we find in the prophets and in our actions for Tikkun Olam.