Today we read the Song at the Sea, the song that the Israelites sang when as I say week after week they sang with Moses when they reached the other side after the Sea of Reeds parted, after the Israelites walked through, after the Egyptians drowned, the chariots, the drivers, and yes, the horses.  

“We just lived through a miracle, we’re going to dance tonight,” Debbie Friedman, z’l wrote as part of her song. And dance they apparently did. And sang. With their tambourines. The women remembered to bring them with them when they fled from Egypt. I don’t know that I would have remembered mine. And yet even before having participated in Violins of Hope last year, we know that people fleeing the ravages of the Holocaust most certainly carried their instruments with them. Maybe not a piano, and only a very few cellos, but my tamborine might have fit.  

Last night we brainstormed what we would be feeling, now that we have escaped out of the narrow places: 

Relief, joy, anxiety, fear, trepidation, amazement, awe, determination. There may be even more. 

Yet they all sang. Together but In the singular. Az yashir, Then Moses…Ze eli, this is my God. 

Last night we listened to a variety of Mi Chamocha songs that represent many of those emotions we could name and imagine. (Some are at the end of this writing.) 

At Torah Study I said that I have a hard time with this text. Once I said that in this congregation and people were surprised that a rabbi would have a problem with Torah text. We should just accept it as written. The sense was it came from God and therefore we can’t question it. But Jews are Godwrestlers, so wrestling and questioning the text is appropriate.  

As a woman I am not comfortable with the idea of G-d as a G-d of War. Usually, I don’t think that there is much of a difference between women’s images of G-d and men’s.  But here “Miriam took her timbrel in her hand and all the women followed her, just as she had planned.” The text tells us they sang the same song, or at least the beginning of the song. Or as some sources say, it was really Miriam who wrote the whole thing.  

Mekhilta teaches us that while Ezekiel and Isaiah had visions of the Divine, “even a lowly bondswoman  at the shore of the sea, saw directly the power of the Almighty in splitting the sea unlike Isiah and Ezekiel who only saw visions of the Divine. All recognized in that instant their personal redemption and therefore all of them opened their mouths to sing in unison. 

And still maybe not everyone saw the miracle: 

Rabbi Larry Kushner tells the midrashic story of Reuven and Shimon. They kept their heads down complaining about the muck. While the sea parted and was safe to walk on, (I imagine it like the walk to Bar Island in Bar Harbor), it wasn’t completely dry, more like a beach at low tide. “This is just like the slime pits of Egypt!” replied Reuven. “What’s the difference?” Complained Shimon. “Mud here, mud there; it’s all the same.”  

And so, it went for the two of them, grumbling all the way across the bottom of the sea. And, because they never once looked up, they never understood why on the distant shore, everyone else was singing and dancing. For Reuven and Shimon the miracle never happened. (Shmot Rabbah 24:1) 

I have wrestled with this text for so long, I wrote a paper about it in rabbinical school. What saved it for me then was the line, “Ozi v’zimrat Yah, v’hi lishu’a. G-d is my strength and my might and my song, G-d is my deliverer.” I need strength, Lord, Oh, do I need strength. You might too. Strength and courage and fortitude: determination and perseverance to face whatever comes next, to come out on the other side, just like the Israelites walking through the sea. I once sang this song riding a bicycle in a fundraising event. I don’t ride bicycles and I was petrified. Note again, this song is in the singular, that we sing as a collective. 

But this text needed to be looked at again, particularly this year as the war in Israel and Palestine continues. I don’t pray that G-d is on our side and this feels dangerously close to that. I don’t pray that Michigan wins a football game either. I may pray for a clean game with no injuries and no penalties. But not usually. (in case you are wondering) 

This weekend we mark the yahrzeit of Yuval Berger. You will hear his name later on the Kaddish list. He was my boyfriend in high school. He was part of a Reform Movement exchange program and spent six months in Grand Rapids. The night he was heading back to Israel I got a flat tire in his host family’s driveway. We started up our relationship again when I lived in Israel as an undergraduate. We spent time hiking and swimming as many young Israeli couples do. We planned to get married after I finished Tufts. I would become a rabbi and he would be a shliach, an emissary. Six months we would live in the States. Six months we would live in Israel, working with American kids falling in love with the land, the people, the state of Israel. That dream was not to happen. There was no miracle for Yuval. But I didn’t blame G-d, and I didn’t blame Lebanon, and I didn’t blame Israel. He died a hero making sure the men under his authority were not also killed. I worked for peace so that no family would have to experience the pain that I endured. I even wrote part of my rabbinical thesis about the Israel Palestine conflict. That section is sadly very much in play. 

I looked at the 13 Attributes of the Divine. You know them and we will explore them again at Passover. The Lord is G-d, merciful and gracious, slow to anger and full of lovingkindness. This is the G-d of love, the opposite of the zealous, jealous G-d of war. BUT the verse doesn’t end there. It continues that G-d visits the sins of the parents on the children and the children’s children to the 3rd and 4th generation. How can that be? It would seem we are seeing it now in the very context I explored in my thesis.  

I don’t have the answers. But I do know this. In order for there to be forgiveness and reconciliation, prerequistes for peace, there needs to a sense of safety. At the moment, no one in Israel or Palestine feels safe. Whatever happens next I fear that there has been damage to the next two or three generations. On both sides. Full stop. I fear that something even worse will emerge after Hamas. I fear. I am sad, angry, disappointed. And yet, I find hope. Hope is in the Kibbutz Be’eri planting wheat again, Hope is in the volunteers rising to keep Israel’s rich agricultural industry going. Hope is in people making breakfasts for soldiers, providing protective gear, stepping up- in all sorts of unimaginable ways. Hope is providing help for those suffering from PTSD and trauma, because make no mistake this is trauma. And hope is finding people who continue to work for peace. 

God is a God o War? I am not so sure. People are people of peace or war. Ecclesiastes teachs that there is a time for everything. A time for peace and a time for war. I pray it is not too late. I will continue to work for peace as part of Yuval’s legacy. 

So the Israelites are safe on the other side and they are singing,  

In the Hagaddah  we learn a teaching from the Talmud. As we are spilling out a drop of wine one for each plague, : 

“The angels rejoicing and breaking out into song (Isaiah 6: 3) when the Israelites are finally safe. The Holy One isn’t pleased with their rejoicing. “My creatures, the work of my hands, the Egyptians are drowning in the sea and you sing songs.” This indicates that God does not rejoice over the downfall of the wicked. Rabbi Elazar said that this is how the matter is to be understood: Indeed, God Himself does not rejoice over the downfall of the wicked, but He causes others to rejoice. (Megilah 10b) 

 I am not alone in wrestling with this verse that God is a God of war. Rabbi Evan Schultz also wrestled with this text:
“As they continue on, however, as they get closer to the shores of the sea, the Israelites shift their song. They begin sing of God’s love and compassion. How can God be both? Which one is it? Is God a God of war or a God of love? Perhaps it is both. In so many ways we humans emulate the divine. There are times, most painfully, as we see right now, that we are people of war. I know, too, that we are, and have the potential to be, people of love and compassion.” 

May we be like G-d, finding love and compassion for all God’s creatures. For Israelis and Palestinians. For all those grieving, whether recently or in times gone by.  

 May we hear the words of Joanne Fink, the poet artist who said this week: 

Grant me the courage to enter
the waters of the unknown,
and the faith to believe You will always provide a path.
When I am stumbling across the desert of uncertainty and despair,
help me remember that You accompanied my ancestors
as they journeyed from slavery to freedom—
and that You are with me, too. 

OPEN MY EYES
to the beauty and miracles surrounding me. 

OPEN MY LIPS
that my soul may burst forth in song. 

OPEN MY HEART
that the notes I sing may become part
of the canvas of my prayer. 

Amen. 

Some links to Mi Chamocha:

Nefesh Mounttain:

Ashira L’adonai: Formal

Debbie Firedman:

“And when your children ask you, ‘What do you mean by this rite?’ 

you shall say, ‘It is the Passover sacrifice to YHVH, who passed over the houses of the Israelites in Egypt when smiting the Egyptians, but saved our houses.’ (Exodus 12:26-27) 

The earliest “seder” was simple. It was lamb, unleavened bread (matzah)and bitter herbs. That’s it. No two entrees. No matzah ball soup and giilte fish. No competition on who can make the tastiest kosher for Passover dessert. It was designed to get children to ask this very question. “What do you mean…” 

In other parts of the Exodus there are other answers. We know this language. It is part of the Hagadah, the telling of the story of the Exodus from Egypt, the story of our people’s very beginning.  

Ms nishtanah…why is this night different? It is because of what G-d did for ME when I went forth from Egypt.” But really was I there? The midrash would say yes. We all participated in the Exodus, even those not yet born. We all walked through the Sea of Rees. We all stood at Sinai, 

But how do we tell the story?  

Once upon a time…no that’s not quite right. This story is not yet over…we are still completing it and all o the story does not end happlily ever after. 

The Hagaddah itself gives us clues: 

“In every generation one is obligated to see oneself as one who personally went out from Egypt. Just as it says, ‘You shall tell your child on that very day: “It is because of this that God did for me when I went out from Egypt.” ’ (Exodus 13:8) Not only were our ancestors redeemed by the Holy One, but even we were redeemed with them. Just as it says: ‘God took us out from there in order to bring us and to give us the land God swore to our ancestors.’ ” (Deuteronomy 6:23) 

 Rabbi Shmuly Yanklowitz , in article for the Jewish Journal said: “Such spiritual work is never simple. The esteemed 20th-century Musar teacher Rabbi Shlomo Wolbe explains: “We see ourselves in the other, as if every person we encounter is simply a mirror in which we see ourselves! … [W]e have not yet freed ourselves from the self-centered perspective to see that the other is not identified with us…. [I]t is incumbent upon us to focus on the way the other differs from us and see that which the other needs, not that which we need.” (Alei Shur 2:6) Rav Wolbe teaches powerfully here that to understand the other, we must transcend the self. While it is difficult to understand another’s trauma and impossible to grasp the extent of another’s suffering, we can create the spaces to listen, to cultivate empathy and respond to others’ needs. We must go beyond the notion that we tend only to our own needs — that is not ethical Judaism. Rather, it is essential that we tend to the needs of the other in our midst.” 

 Each of us is to see ourselves as though we came out of the narrow places because that’s what Mitzrayim, Egypt means. Each of us have had narrow places we have been in. Telling those stories, both the ancient Exodus from Egypt and our own stories is what this parsha is about. 

How do we do that? Some people compile their own hagaddah. Some people write their own cookbook and tell family history through the recipes. Some people write an ethical will, which we talked about a few weeks ago.  Some people sit around the Passover table during the meal itself and tell these very stories.  

And some people write a memoir. Memoirs are an important style of writing. There are fill in the blank books to help you with this. Bruce Feiler provides a template in the extras of his book, Life is in the Transitions. The same format he used with his own dad. One of my favorite quotes is “Everybody has a story, and not always the story the listener or teller expects to hear. The sharing is what brings out the surprise.”  

There are other online guides. Gareth used to teach a class at Gail Borden. Others may at various other places. 

Here are some suggested seven steps from one online source: 

1. Narrow your focus 
2. Include more than just your story
3. Tell the truth 
4. Put your readers in your shoes
5. Employ elements of fiction 
6. Create an emotional journey 
7. Showcase your personal growth 

https://thewritelife.com/how-to-write-a-memoir/  

What is the story we want to tell our children? And what is the story our kids want to hear. One in the congregation this Shabbat said, “What are the tips that you can give us to get through our B’nei Mitzvah.” Another said, “What mistakes did you make? What did you learn from them and how do we avoid them.” Thos mistakes may be talking about how we got out of our own narrow spaces, our own Mitzrayim. Is it any wonder as we sit her on a cold Shabbat morning when the spring holiday of Passover seems so very far away that Passover is the most celebrated of American Jewish holidays? It is all about the story telling!  

This weekend marks the 100th day of Israelis in captivity in Gaza. There are still 129 people being held. Let me perfectly clear, the attacks on Israel on October 7, 2023 were reprehensible. They need to be condemned in the strongest possible terms. We were asked to particularly keep Hersh Goldberg in mind, so as I kneaded my challah this week that is who I was thinking of. #bring_hersh_home. Bring them all home now.  

This week we will be treated by a presentation of Alden Solovy, a poet who writes as he calls them poem prayers. He was here at CKI last year on Tisha B’av. I read his material regularly because I would call him a modern day piyutan, a poet who writes liturgical prayers. For example…You need a prayer for healing of breast cancer? He’s got one. You need something about fetal demise? He’s got one. Almost any modern day crisis? He’s got one.  

But he discovered early in the war he had no words. What happens when a poet has not words? Perhaps we will find out. And then he did find some. Here is one example fitting for today: 

The Court of the Captives
One day,
The court of the captives
Will convene
Before the halls of power.
They will bring
Their torment and suffering
As evidence against us,
As evidence of our failure
To protect them,
As evidence of our failure
To redeem them
With speed and urgency. 

On that day,
The court of the innocent
At the gates of heaven
Will join the chorus –
The newly murdered,
Babies and dreamers,
Parents and children –
Bringing their blood
As evidence against us,
As evidence of our failure
To protect them,
As evidence of our failure
To secure our land and our people. 

On that day,
The court of the captives,
And the court of the innocent,
Will minister to each other
At the gates of righteousness,
Both in heaven
And on earth,
Offering torn cloth
Soaked in tears
To bind their wounds,
To bless the living,
And to console the lost. 

Today,
Yes, today,
The court of the captives
And the court of the innocent in heaven
Convene,
Arraying the charges
Before us,
And wait,
Still wait,
For us to answer. 

© 2023 Alden Solovy and ToBendLight  

This week we learn from our parsha: 

Pharaoh hardened his heart. Pharaoh was stubborn. 

Our parsha today is set up for us to like the Israelites and dislike Pharaoh. After all we want Pharaoh to release the Israelites. As I type this I want to scream and I want Hamas to release the hostages.  

We see Pharaoh’s stubbornness as negative. G-d apparently does too because in the later plagues, it is G-d who hardens Pharaoh’s heart. That makes many ask the question what happened to free will? In genesis  

What does it mean to be stubborn. The dictionary definition says:  

having or showing dogged determination not to change one’s attitude or position on something, especially in spite of good arguments or reasons to do so. 

“a stubborn refusal to learn from experience” 

 The word stubborn implies a negative trait. Someone’s inability to give in, to change his or her ways, rules, ideals, beliefs. Dogged determination is good. It is how I got through rabbinical school. It is what enables me to run a marathon. Persistence is good. 

As a leader, Pharaoh seems to do two things. He is interested in protecting his power. And he lacks an empathy for his people. Any of his people. When he turns around and goes back inside his palace, he does not seem to care about his people not having clean drinking water. As was pointed out in Torah Study this week, sadly. we can see echos of this in modern day leaders.  

There are many styles of leadership, and many qualities good leaders should possess.  

What qualities do good leaders possess: We could brainstorm that list:  

• Dynamic 
• Courage 
•  Knowledgable and smart 
• Life long learner 
•  Visionary 
•  Good listener 
•  Good Communicator  
• Lifelong learner 
•  Sense of humor 
•  Integrity 
•  Team player 
•  Accountable 
•  Respectful 
•  Solicits opinions 
•  Humble 
•  Sympathetic 
•  Empathetic and compassionate 
• Kind 
•  Honest 
• Authentic 
• Self-aware 
• Creative 
• Flexible 
• Accountable 
• Resilient 

Many of those characteristics are words you chose as your word last week to represent your year. (See last week’s post) They are also on the list from Vistage of leadership competencies.
But being stubborn is not on the list! 

https://www.vistage.com/research-center/personal-development/leadership-competencies/20230725-what-makes-a-great-leader/?ls=Google%20AdWords&lsd=DEPT_PMAX_Google_Performance%20Max_Prospecting_Member_NAMER_US_SQL_CPL_Test_pMax&utm_source=google&utm_campaign=acqmember&utm_medium=cpc&gad_source=1&gclid=Cj0KCQiAhomtBhDgARIsABcaYylHlnemio4umzfecgLs_Lts_F8yQG80wPeaD80C2_iDTfp_-dQO5yQaAshKEALw_wcB 

One of the older Junior Girl Scout Handbooks had several leadership styles. Each of you gathered today may be one of them, or a combination of them. Each of the leaders we see in today’s parsha, Moses, Aaron, Pharaoh, G-d also may fit these patterns: 

Director: Gives very good direction and makes sure everyone does his or her job. Makes certain that rules are clear and that everyone is expected to follow them. 

Coach: Uses a style that provides both direction and supervision but encourages the involvement of everyone. Will explain the work that lies ahead, discuss decisions and answer questions. 

Supporter: Works with other members of the group to set goals and list steps to achieve the goals. Encourages everyone to make decisions and gives each member the help they need. 

Delegator: Gives everyone a share of the work. Lets group members make decisions and take on as much responsibility as they can handle. Is there to answer questions, but wants them to take as much responsibility for their actions as possible
(Previous definitions from the The Guide for Junior Girl Scout Leaders, copyright 1994, New York, New York 

Convener: Calls the group together, inspires, organizes 

But again, stubborn is not on the list.  

I believe I have a collaborative leadership style. I may have an opinion about what should be done but I try to bring people along with me. That’s why the decision today was made in conjunction with Robin and Gene for example. It’s why when there are halachic issues such as instrumentation on Shabbat on interfaith burials at Jewish cemeteries or even the use of Zoom, I write a teshuva, a responsa that I vet with other rabbis, at least three then I submit to the ritual committee for further discussion and opinions. That is one style of leadership. 

Friday night I read a part of a charming children’s book, Snow in Jerusalem. It is a PJ Library offering and it features a Jewish boy and a Muslim boy both of whom live in the Old City of Jerusalem. Both of them are feeding a cat. Both of them think that the cat is their own. One of the best parts of PJ Library is the supplementary material that comes with it. In addition to some material on treating animals well which is a Jewish value, and information about Jerusalem, Yirushaliym, it contains a useful page on helping children deal with conflict. Perhaps this book and these our children will be the ones to find solutions to peace. Both our traditions pray for it, hope for it, demand it.  

Later in the weekend I was studying the Song at the Sea with my Chai School students. I was reminded that while G-d is depicted as a G-d of war and G-d drowns the Egyptian chariots (and yes the horses), there is a midrash that teaches about the angels rejoicing and breaking out into song when the Israelites are finally safe. G-d isn’t pleased. With their rejoicing. “My creatures are drowning in the sea and you sing songs”. 

What is happening in Gaza is tragic. There will be another two generations that will live in fear and something even worse than Hamas may emerge. .” 

Sometimes I think there is no way that I can solve the crisis in the Middle East. I am just a small town rabbi. Then I think as a woman I do have the solution. So, here is my plea. It’s simple. Everybody. And I mean everybody. Put down your arms. Don’t be stubborn. Release the hostages. Now. Don’t be stubborn. Bring them home now. Don’t be stubborn. 

Heather ends many of her classes with the phase, “Make good choices.” Make good choices. Now. Make peace now. Work for peace. Now. Please. 

Any of you make New Year’s Resolutions? How’s that going for you on January 6th, almost one week into the new year? 

Today’s portion contains an unforgettable scene. Moses, shepharding his father-in-law’s flock of sheep, sees something odd. A bush that is burning but is not consumed. It is not burning up. Why is this? What is going on? He is curious and instead of backing away or running away, he draws closer and hears a voice calling, “Moses, Moses!” “Hineini, Here am I.” Whose calling? Who’s there? That voice continues to call. 

“And [God] said, “Do not come closer! Remove your sandals from your feet, for the place on which you stand is holy ground!” and continued, “I am the God of your father’s [house]—the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God.” 

Later: 

“Moses said to God, “When I come to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers’ [house] has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is [God’s] name?’ what shall I say to them?”  

And God said to Moses, “Ehyeh-Asher-Ehyeh,” continuing, “Thus shall you say to the Israelites, ‘Ehyeh sent me to you.’” 

Vayikra…and He called is language that is sprinkled throughout the Torah.  

What does it mean to hear the voice of G-d? We have different understandings of that. For the Psalmist it was a powerful voice able to shatter ceders of Lebanon. For Elijah, it was a still small voice. Can we even hear it at all today? What does it mean to be called. 

As I have written before, “When I first thought I wanted to become a rabbi, I tried to talk about it in the language of call. After all, I grew up in Grand Rapids and I had friends who felt “called”. At that stage, people closest to me thought perhaps it was a mental health issue. That I was hearing voices (I was not) and the Jewish community at that stage was not comfortable with this language, having ceded it to Christianity. Often times in theology that there is a pendulum that swings and now it is more acceptable to talk about the rabbinate this way. But calling is not limited to professional clergy.” 

Each of us is called to do something. To be something. Each of us can hear that call. There is something that is uniquely ours to do, some unique role we play. Figuring out what that call might be adds meaning to our lives.  

Teachers often describe their work as a calling. Doctors, nurses, first responders. But not just those. Rabbi Jeffry Salkin in his book Being God’s Partner that I describe as What Color is Your Parachute for Jews tells this story:  

“The boss of the moving crew was a delightful, crusty gentleman, a dead ringer for Willie Nelson. I had never met anyone so enthusiastic about his or her work, and I asked him the source of that enthusiasm.  

“‘Well, you see, I’m a religious man,’ he answered, ‘and my work is part of my religious mission.’  

“‘What do you mean?’ I asked.  

“‘Well, it’s like this. 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’” (Jeffrey Salkin, Being God’s Partner). 

Frederick Buechner, of blessed memory,  said that “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”  

Our calling may be our work. It may be something as Buechner suggests we are passionate about whether that is paid work, our vocation or our avocation, those things that we do as our volunteer work. It maybe working on hunger and homelessness issues. It may be working with kids in Girl Scouts or mentoring. It may be literacy work. The possibilities are endless. Many of us in this group are retired. We might not want to be defined by our “work.”  

Yesterday we began a process of listening. It is holy work. It is wholy work.  

In my weighwatchers group, now WW,  we have been asked for the last several years to choose a word to represent our year. Last year my word was “Hineini. Here am I.” Just like Moses said in today’s portion. “I am here. I am still here.” This year I surprisingly chose a different word. 

It seems to me that this is setting an intention, a kavanah or the year. 

Kavanah is the Hebrew word for direction, intention, or purpose. It is often used in connection with prayer. I describe kavanah as the words behind the words as opposed to keva which is the fixed order or structure of the service. But it also is the intention when doing a ritual act. How do you intend your spirit, your neshama, when you light shabbat candles, for example. It is not supposed to be rote or mechanical.  

Abraham Joshua Heschel, whose birthday was Jan. 11, we will talk more about him next week, in his classic work God in Search of Man, explains that performing a mitzvah without proper kavanah is inadequate because while it might have a positive effect on the world, it leaves the doer of the mitzvah unaffected. The purpose of Jewish practice, he writes, is transformation of the soul. 

“A moral deed unwittingly done may be relevant to the world because of the aid it renders unto others. Yet a deed without devotion, for all its effects on the lives of others, will leave the life of the doer unaffected. The true goal for man is to be what he does.” 

He also said as quoted in Gates of Prayer: “Prayer cannot bring water to a parched field, nor mend a broken bridge, nor rebuild a ruined city, but prayer can water an arid soul, mend a broken heart and rebuild a weakened will.” 

So, what then is our intention for the year? Your personal intention for the year. What if we just choose one word, rather than making a new year’s resolution. There is a new book, One Word that will change your life. It recommends three steps to finding your unique word and living it out. That is a calling.  

Here is my summary: 

Step One: Look in. Find some quiet time. No phone. No television. No barking dog. This might be early in the morning before everyone else gets up or late at night or out on a walk by yourself. It is about preparing your heart. (We sing this verse) 

Ask yourself, what do I need, what is in my way, what needs to go. 

Step Teo, Look up 

Just like Moses, G-d has a place in this. What is G-d calling you to do.  Each of us, created in the image of the divine, with that divine spark has a unique place in this world, a unique thing that we can contribute. Part of the challenge of finding our word is slowing down enough to see the burning bush, to discover what our contribution might be. Moses’s one word might have been Hineini. I am here. Or it might have been Go!  

G-d too has a word. G-d reveals G-d’s name here. Eyehe asher Eyeye. The Hebrew is uncertain but something like I will be what I will be. I am what I am. I will be. What will you be? How will you incorporate G-d in your life? 

Finding your word is more than finding a good word, it’s a G-d word, just like Moses at the burning bush. Here’s the trick. I can’t tell you where or when you will receive it. Sometimes, most times? It comes as a surprise. You might be out for a walk. You might be going to sleep at night, or getting up in the morning. You might be journaling. You might be watching TV. You might discover a burning bush! It may feel like that when you find it.  

Step Three: Look Out 

Once you find, discover your word Then it is about living out your word. Suddenly you may see it everywhere. Tell your friends, your family, your co-workers what your word it. Put it up in places in your house to remind you. Put it on your computer. Make a One Word file. Soon you will see it everywhere and it will provide a focus, an intention. It may even change your life.  

Last night we began to brainstorm our words: 

Family, independence, heal, kindness, empathy, compassion, joy, resilience 

Anyone know immediately what your word might be? 

We added peace, smile, grow, thrive, pay attention, determination, respect, listen, learn, responsibility. (We may have forgotten one or two! Feel free to tell me in the comments your word.) 

May this be year of hearing, of focus, of kavanah, of growth.  

Last week I got the call I knew would come but was still unprepared. Alyn Rovin, now of blessed memory died. He was so instrumental in my life that I quickly rescheduled my own medical procedure, covered the staffing of the blood drive and found flights that would work to Florida. I don’t have the luxury to do this often but as I told people who Alyn was every single person said, “yes, you have to go.”  I wasn’t even “doing the funeral” I was just going to lend support to his kids, also longtime friends. As it turned out, they hoped I would do a eulogy. What follows is essentially what I said:

You’ve  heard some of the biographical bullet points but let me fill in some of the stories  I’m not here as a rabbi today, but merely as an almost life long friend.  

Quite simply, Alyn was a mensch. He was a class act.  

He was a sea scout, and that motto of “Be Prepared” and leave a place better than you found it, were ideals he lived by.  

When my husband and I were about to be married, we went to tell Alyn and Nancy the good news. We weren’t sure how they would respond. Nancy was digging in the upper garden. She wiped off her muddy hands and said, “Alyn, go get the champagne.”. I tell this story every wedding talk I do because it teaches us that you should always be prepared. Always have a bottle of bubbly, alcoholic or not, to toast the big moments or the little moments, day by day by day. They were prepared. Always prepared. And yes, I have a bottle on ice in Illinois, just waiting for the right moment.  

Another example of his being prepared. The year before we got married, we wanted to host a Shabbat dinner before Thanksgiving, a Friendgiving before it was even called that. I called Alyn in advance to carve the turkey. He came prepared, with his own knives. I think my soon to be husband was a little chagrinned and a little crestfallen.A fter all, he could carve a turkey. But Alyn came prepared.  

Alyn and Nancy really wanted to make the world a better place. They were at the March on Washington and heard King give his famous  “I have a dream speech.” Somehow, it seems beshert that we are here today as we approach both Martin Luther King, junior’s and Abraham Joshua Heschel’s birthdays. It was Heschel that said his feet were praying when he marched with King.  That was certainly true of Alyn. Wherever he went, his feet were praying. And he went lots of places. Wherever he went he brought his respect, his desire to learn, and his unique sense of humor. They were in the first group of Peace Corp volunteers, making life long friends in Malaysia. They always marked John F. Kennedy’s yahrzeit. And there were seemingly little ways that they made the world a better place. Like taking care of the first solar ner tamid, the eternal light, anywhere in the country. Alyn used his electrical engineering background to craft something so unquie that had been a vision of Rabbi Everett Gendler, also of blessed memory, who would remind people that the sun is the original ner tamid. It should never go out. Alyn was the president of Temple Emanuel of the Merrimack Valley. He and Everett had a special bond as rabbi and president. They would have breakfast every Friday and that relationship and those discussions were important to both of them. I learned much about the roles of the rabbi and the-president by listening to Alyn. I learned much about business too. He had much to teach, much to model and much to mentor. Especially for women under his tutelage. Whether that was physics to the girls in Maylasia or women on his staff at Polaroid Or me. (And who else could you call in the middle of dinner at the Waldorf Astoria,  if the restaurant had a tip line for the maitre de, the sommelier and the waiter? What was I supposed to do with that on a business trip to New York?I figured only Alyn would know! And of course, he did. 

Most Sundays after Nancy and I would finish teaching religious school, the staff would go out to eat. We loved trying new restaurants and we were especially fond of Amici in Billerica where we were first introduced to tiramisu and Yankee Cajun where Alyn ordered Gerstermeiner to go with the spicy food. And of course, there were many lovely meals in that screened in porch in Carlisle of Malaysian hot pots and swimming in the pool.  

Entertaining was something they did seemingly with ease. Whether it was a Shabbat dinner, a pool party, or seders with lots of singing, rhythm instruments and of course gathering around the grand piano to sing every song from Fiddler. And I remember fondly clarinet and piano klezmer duets. Music was so integral—classic. Klezmer, Handels messiah or Peter Paul and Mary. How many Peter Paul and Mary concerts did we go to together? I can imagine that those duets are continuing. If Alyn can find his clarinet.  

Lifecycle events, Kailah’s Bat Mitzvah, my husband’s and my wedding where Alyn was a ketubah signer that still  hangs over our bed. Nancy famously siad that morning, the irst day of spring, that the snowflakes were just daisy petals from heaven. Maybe that will be true tomorrow morning too as i head into more snow in Chicagoland. Sarah’s naming. Kailah and Marc’s wedding and dancing to lots of Sinatra. But there was one I didn’t attend and that one was very special. Olivia’s bat mitzvah where the requirement in this very congregation aa explained to me was to chant the Torah as well as do the aliyah blessing. He didn’t want to disappoint Olivia and so he mastered that skill sitting at my dining room table Oh, how proud he was of you. And I was so proud of him. My ordination. There were few who thought I could become a rabbi. Alyn was quite sure I could. He was prepared, present and invested for all of those. 

At some point they moved to Acton and I did a house dedication nailing up the mezuzah. I still use that outline. But really, they wanted to be close to the grandkids. So they sold the place in the keys and moved here. They loved picnics and going to all of your sporting events soccer, swim meets, track. No call was complete without a rundown of what the grandchildren were doing. He was interested in everything and everyone. 

That included me. In the last couple of years, I received a diagnosis of multiple myeloma, one of the many issues that plagued Alyn, too. I knew he was on dialysis and had a sense of how draining that can be. But I somehow had missed this piece. He would call while he was on dialysis and I would drive to or from treatments. I think dialysis was boring and maybe lonely. We would swap treatment plans and side effects. He was amazing and up on all the research.  

I got through rabbinical school on musical theater lyrics. One that seems particularly apt is one from Les Mis. Alyn and Nancy attended my daughter’s high school production of Les Mis and were amazed that there was a student conductor. These words seem to appropriate for today. 

There’s a grief that can’t be spoken
There’s a pain goes on and on
Empty chairs at empty tables
Now my friends are dead and gone 

Here they talked of revolution
Here it was they lit the flame
Here they sang about tomorrow
And tomorrow never came 

From the table in the corner
They could see a world reborn
And they rose with voices ringing
And I can hear them now! 

The very words that they had sung
Became their last communion
On this lonely barricade
At dawn 

Oh my friends, my friends forgive me
That I live and you are gone
There’s a grief that can’t be spoken
There’s a pain goes on and on 

Phantom faces at the window
Phantom shadows on the floor
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friends will meet no more
Lyrics by Alain Boublil

 He really cared about everyone. He was always prepared. That light he guarded will never go out. He was a mensch. The world is a better place because he was here. But we are not done yet. There is a line from Pirke Avot, “Ours is not to finish the task. Neither are we free to ignore it.” Alyn, and Nancy, set the bar high, accomplished much but did not finish the task. Our task then is to continue to make the world a better place.  
There are many many stories. Make sure you tell them to Fern, to Josh and Peggy, Olivia and Asher, Kailah and Marc, Maddox and Mason. That’s how we keep the memory of Alyn alive.

Many times there emerges a person, or in this care several people who are the primary caregivers. I heard the story first from Kailah in her initial call and later at dinner last ngiht. The pulminologistt said that people don’t generally live for five years on dialysis. I believe that the rabbis of the Talmud had it right, that the body is a finely balanced network . But what held him together was the love and the support from all of you. He lived for his family. He loved his family, And you so clearly loved him, So I offer you this:

A Prayer for the Caregiver 

Unknown and often unnoticed, you are a hero nonetheless
For your love and sacrifice is God at his best.
You walk by faith in the darkness of the great unknown.
Your courage, even in weakness gives life to your beloved.
You hold shaking hands and provide the ultimate care:
Your presence, the knowing, that you are simply there.
You rise to face the giant of disease and despair.
It is your finest hour, though you may be unaware.
You are resilient, amazing, and beauty unexcelled,
You are the caregiver and you have done well! 

Bruce McIntyre 

“And he lived.” 

This is how our Torah portion begins in the full cycle. It seems an appropriate verse especially coming as it does at the end of Bereshit, Genesis and the end of the year 2023. Many people had a hard year this year. Many of you on the screen. But as we move into 2023, it is good to pause and talk about “What does it mean to live?” 

Once, when my daughter was beginning kindergarten my father wrapped up a beautiful gift. He loved to do intricate gift wrapping. There was a box in dazzling paper and inside that box was another box also wrapped beautifully and inside it was still another wrapped box and inside that was a bag of all the refrigerator magnets, both the English ones and the Hebrew ones. And note that this was her legacy. Now she had to put it together to find meaning. 

One of my favorite poems is by Mary Oliver, A Summer’s Day: 

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life? 

—Mary Oliver 

What will you do with your one wild and precious life? That is the question of what it means to live. 

Today’s Torah portion is the first recorded ethical will. An ethical will is not about how to distribute physical property. It’s not an advance directive or a power of attorney. You need those too. If New Year’s is about putting your affairs in order, I recommend using this form called the Five Wishes: https://www.fivewishes.org/for-myself/  

An ethical will is a document that passes down ethical values from one generation to the next. In today’s portion Jacob calls all his sons together and blesses them and then tells them that they should not bury him in Egypt, rather he wants to be buried in Ca’anan in the cave at Machpeleh, with Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca. In Deuteronomy, which is often described as Moses’ swan song, Moses instructs his people how to be a holy people and the importance of teaching their children. 

From that humble start, it is a tool that has been used by rabbis and Jewish people until today.  

The early rabbis urged people to “transmit the tradition’s ethical teachings” and they communicated orally to their sons. Later they were written as letters. Eleazar ben Samuel HaLevi of Mainz, Germany, who died 1357, wrote to and instructed his sons to “Put me in the ground at the right hand of my father.” 

We looked at some examples that are included at the end. The American Bar Association has said that an ethical will can be a help in estate planning. In addition, writing an ethical will can be an aid in spiritual healing in health care and hospice.  

However, I wouldn’t wait until you are in hospice. Simon wrote a beautiful one for our daughter on the occasion of her Bat Mitzvah.  

There is no formula for writing an ethical will. They often include the following: 

• Lessons learned and meaningful family and personal stories from the past 
• Values, beliefs, and expressions of gratitude from the present 
• Advice, hopes, and requests for the future 

 Today we are going to try something different. We are going to write a group ethical will aa a gift to our descendents. It will be our legacy.  And hope that I can remember what we all said by sundown! 

 Here is what we said:
If I were talking to the next generation, I might say that Torah teaches us in Genesis that we are to be caretakers of this earth but that we haven’t done such a good job so we hope that your generation will do better. 

• May you respect, listen and learn. 
• May you greet everyone with respect 
• May you learn that there is no place for violence anywhere in the world. 
• May you show kindness and compassion to everyone 
• May that kindness and compassion be especially true of those who are displaced by war or famine. 
• May you do acts of lovingkindness by volunteering. 
• May you look inward, and listen to your bodies! 
• May you learn to dance and sing. May you know fun and joy.  

 Chazak, chazak v’nitchazek. 

 Additional resources for writing your own ethical will: 

Giving Children Your Blessing: A Rabbi’s Tips for Ethical Wills by Ronnie Caplane (J Weekly, September 15, 2000). 

Ethical Wills: Putting Your Values on Paper by Barry K. Baines, M.D. (Da Capo Press, 2006). Baines also publishes a website. He provides basic information for creating an ethical will with real examples of ethical wills written by people of different ages. 

Everything I Know: Basic Life Rules from a Jewish Mother by Sharon Strassfeld (Scribner, 1998). A spiritual-ethical will written by Strassfeld to her daughter as she leaves home for college. A combination of stories expressing family and cultural values, direct instruction, and apologies for pain she caused her. 

The Measure of Our Success: A Letter to my Children and Yours by Marin Wright Edelman (William Morrow Paperbacks, 1993). In this spiritual-ethical will for her sons, Edelman recounts her experience and perspective on life in essays variously addressed to her own children, to all children, and to parents. 

The Memoirs of Gluckel of Hameln translated by Marvin Lowenthal (Schocken Books, 1987). The only extant pre-modern spiritual-ethical will written by a woman, from 1690. 

So That Your Values Live On: Ethical Wills and How to Prepare Them edited and annotated by Jack Reimer and Nathaniel Stampfer (LongHill Partners, 2009). A collection of traditional ethical wills, which includes a guide to writing an ethical will, with suggestions for topics to be covered and a brief consideration about informing others about what you have written in it. 

https://www.sinaichapel.org/tools-resources/writing-ethical-will.aspx  

https://cdn.sanity.io/files/zzw4zduo/production/498f796abb5578d66c785b541c18f94a908dce6a.pdf 

Additional books about growing older: 

Wise Aging: Living with Joy, Resilience, & Spirit by Rachel Cowen 

Getting Good at Getting Older, Richard Siegel and Laura Geller 

From Age-ing to Sage-ing, Zalman Schacter Shalomi 

 Reading before Kaddish. The Dash by Linda Ellis: 

I read of a man who stood to speak
at the funeral of a friend
He referred to the dates on the tombstone
from the beginning…to the end. 

He noted that first came the date of birth
and spoke the following date with tears,
but he said what mattered most of all
was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time
that they spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved them
know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own —
the cars…the house…the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
and how we spend our dash.

So, think about this long and hard.
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left
that can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough
to consider what’s true and real,
and always try to understand
the way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger
and show appreciation more,
and love the people in our lives
like we’ve never loved before. 

If we treat each other with respect
and more often wear a smile,
remembering this special dash
might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy is being read
with your life’s actions to rehash,
would you be proud of the things they say
about how you spent YOUR dash? 

Linda Ellis 

 Some examples of ethical wills:

 Judah Ibn Tibbon to his son, Samuel, est. 1190 

My son!  Make thy books thy companions, let thy cases and shelves be thy pleasure-grounds and gardens.  Bask in thy paradise, gather their fruit, pluck their roses, take their spices and their myrrh.  If thy soul be satiate and weary, change from garden to garden, from furrow to furrow, from prospect to prospect.  Then will thy desire renew itself, and thy soul be filled with delight! 

…Let thy expenditure be well ordered. It is remarked in The Choice of Pearls, “Expenditure properly managed makes half an income.”  And there is an olden proverb, “Go to bed without supper and rise without debt.”  Defile not the honor of thou countenance by borrowing; may thy creator save thee from that habit! 

Samuel Lipsitz, New England businessman, written in 1950 

Somewhere among these papers is a will made out by a lawyer. Its purpose is to dispose of any material things which I may possess at the time of my departure from this world to the unknown adventure beyond. I hope its terms will cause no ill will among you. It seemed sensible when I made it.  After all, it refers only to material things which we enjoy temporarily. 

I am more concerned with having you inherit something that is vastly more important. 

There must be purpose in the creation of man. Because I believe that (as I hope you will some day, for without it, life becomes meaningless), I hope you will live right. 

Live together in harmony! Carry no will will toward each other. Bethink of the family. Help each other in need. Honor and care for your mother. Make her old age happy, as far as in your power… 

From So Your Values Live On, edited by Jack Riemer and Nathaniel Stampfer 

 A one paragraph ethical will by a mother to her children 

I fully expect that I will live for a very long time, to see you well into adulthood and to share your future with you. There is much to look forward to and I am planning on being part of all the adventures and all the challenges and all the joys. But if for some reason I am not, the most important thing you need to know is how much my love for you created the person that you will remember as me. I made you quite literally, in my womb, but you made me, too. I am so proud of you and so grateful to you.  When the time comes, and none of us can answer the question of when that will be, you need to know that without a doubt, I was fulfilled in my life. I have had a wonderful life and I don’t want you to mourn me – maybe a little, but not too long!  Carry me forward by re-creating the net that I was for you and be it for others. Carry me forward in your kitchen with oatmeal scones and casserole bread and pie, warm from the oven and made for your own delectable pleasure, or for those you care about.  Carry me forward with an optimistic outlook and tenacious devotion to what you know is best. Carry me forward and I will be with you always. 

Shared with permission from the author. 

 And one that appeared on the front page of the New York Times. Sholem Aleichem’s: 

https://sholemaleichem.org/community/ethical-will/index.html  

Last week some Hamas operatives were arrested in Germany and Denmark. Robin called and suggested that we have “Solidarity Shabbat.” Gene added to that and suggested HaTikvah Shabbat. 

I looked up the definition of solidarity: 

: unity (as of a group or class) that produces or is based on community of interests, objectives, and standards (Merriam Webster) 

agreement between and support for the members of a group, especially a political group: (Cambridge Dictionary) 

I would have said standing together. 

Then I looked up hope:  

to cherish a desire with anticipation : to want something to happen or be true 

to desire with expectation of obtainment or fulfillment 

to expect with confidence : TRUST 

HaTikvah is of course, the national anthem from the State of Israel. And it means the hope. It can be hard to find hope in times like these but that is where I am going to start. 

• This week Robin and I signed a letter of thanks to Holy Trinity and Zion Lutheran. They sent part of their Christmas offering for our security fund. Thus far I believe we have gotten four such donations. They stand with us. 
• We also delivered bagels, 8 dozen to the Elgin Police Department. 3 shifts, 6:30 AM, 2:30 PM and yes, Robin and I made the 10:30 PM shift. It was a little way for saying thank you to the officers who sit in our parking lot, or Holy Trinity’s or the funeral home, carefully watching our building, being a deterrent and keeping our people safe. We got thank you notes for our thank yous! They stand with us. 
• This past weekend, sadly, the United States saw somewhere between 200 and 400 swatting incidents. Fake bomb threats that pull attention away from police departments who have to respond to each and every one of those events. Did you know that we have a bomb policy? It was written many years ago as part of JCFS’s Safer Synagogue program together with the Elgin Police Department. Let’s review. If we get such a call, we will ask all of you to leave the building, out the door you came in. Go across the street to the funeral home parking lot and then we will go into Holy Trinity. Simultaneously, we will call EPD and they will come and clear the building.  Again, Holy Trinity and the EPD stand with us. 

People who stand with us, bring me hope. 

• This week I had a positive meeting with Mary who runs Occupy Elgin and Fox Valley Citizens for Peace and Justice. These are the people who stand on the Kimball Bridge near the library. Depending on the legislative issue, you (and I) may have stood with them. However, they are unapologetically pro-Palestinian. After much discussion and a yummy lunch I think she understands better while some view her position as not only anti-Zionist but anti-semetic. However, she doesn’t really want Jews destruction. I pointed her to Noa Tishby’s Israel, a book I have given several times to friends and family. The polite, civil conversation brings me hope.  
• I spoke with Dr. Suzanne Johnson, the supervenient of U46 about some of the “incidents” i have heard about in U46. Look for more programming with them after Winter Break. 
• I spoke with Apostle Larry Henderson about the Boys and Girls Club. They are not teaching that Israel stole the land in U46 schools. 

Each of these conversations brings me hope. 

• And perhaps the most touching thing, is that even in these times, people still want to become Jewish. Last night we were joined by one such person, who for the first time could say the Sh’ma as a Jew. In the next few weeks we will be welcoming formally a few more people just like him For each person, the reasons they want to join the Jewish people differ. It is worth having a conversation to learn how varied the Jewish people are. But once someone publicly declares there Jewishness, we are not allowed to talk about it again. A person who joins the Jewish people is dearer to G-d. This brings me hope.  
• Saying Mi Shebeirach brings me hope—and it brings hope to those for whom we are saying it. 
• Gathering in a shiva minyan brings me hope. 
• Community brings me hope. 

Earlier this year I asked our confirmation class to interview the people in our building that day about why they are Jewish. The number one answer was “the food.” Number two was community. After winter break we will be studying the words of Edmund Flegg which he wrote in1927: 

I am a Jew
I am a Jew because my faith demands of me no abdication of the mind.
I am a Jew because my faith requires of me all the devotion of my heart.
I am a Jew because in every place where suffering weeps, I weep.
I am a Jew because at every time when despair cries out, I hope.
I am a Jew because the word of the people Israel is the oldest and the newest.
I am a Jew because the promise of Israel is the universal promise.
I am a Jew because, for Israel, the world is not completed; we are completing it.
I am a Jew because, for Israel, humanity is not created; we are creating it.
I am a Jew because Israel places humanity and its unity above the nations and above Israel itself.
I am a Jew because, above humanity, image of the divine Unity, Israel places the unity which is divine. (After Edmond Fleg, “CCAR Rabbi’s Manual”, page 203-4) 

The Jew hopes.  

I first learned this poem in Israel in 1977 as part of a Tisha B’av service. Like we talked about all those many years ago, we are still here. That brings me hope. 

Our song today, HaTikvah is about hope: 

As long as in the heart, within,
The Jewish soul yearns,
And towards the ends of the east,
[The Jewish] eye gazes toward Zion,

Our hope is not yet lost,
The hope of two thousand years,
To be a free nation in our own land,
The land of Zion and Jerusalem 

The text was written in 1878  by Naftali Herz Imber, a Jewish poet from Zolochiv . It expresses the hope of return. In 1882, Imber emigrated to Ottoman-ruled Palestine (remember that’s what it was called then!) and read his poem to the pioneers of the early Jewish villages—Rishon LeZion, Rehovot, Gedera, and Yesud Hama’ala. In 1887, Shmuel Cohenwith a musical background, set the poem to a musical tune he knew from Romania. 

Our Torah portion today begins, “Enough!” said Israel. “My son Joseph is still alive! I must go and see him before I die.” The Torah itself brings me hope.  

I am hopeful that like Jacob would see his son Joseph, we will see the hostages. It can be hard to hang onto the hope but I remain hopeful that we will see the hostages still alive. 

I am hopeful that like Joseph and his brothers, we can find ways to reconcile, with each other, with our families, our communities and the world. 

I am hopeful that we will come to know, deep in our hearts, deep in our bones, in our kishkes, that like G-d’s promise to Jacob, that G-d goes with us. Always. That is the ultimate message of today’s portion. And it brings me hope. So much hope.  

So as we move into 2024, what do we dare to hope for. We have used this poem of Judy Chicago’s before, but it captures the vision: 

And then all that has divided us will merge
And then compassion will be wedded to power
And then softness will come to a world that is harsh and unkind 

And then both men and women will be gentle
And then both women and men will be strong
And then no person will be subject to another’s will 

And then all will be rich and free and varied
And then the greed of some will give way to the needs of many 

And then all will share equally in the Earth’s abundance 

And then all will care for the sick and the weak and the old 

And then all will nourish the young
And then all will cherish life’s creatures 

And then everywhere will be called Eden once again 

Copyright Judy Chicago, 1979 

An ode to Joe Wars. 

There was a famine in the land. So begins our portion today. 

Joseph and the Egyptians had prepared for this. During the seven years of plenty they had stockpiled food. It was a tale of delayed gratification. Joseph was a dreamer; and this was a fulfilment of his interpretation of Pharaoh’s dream, his prophesy. Like Herzel, “if you will it it is no dream.” Or maybe even better Yoko Ono said “A dream you dream alone is only a dream. A dream you dream together is reality.” Joseph converted Pharaoh’s dream into reality. Or maybe Walt Disney: “You can design and create, and build the most wonderful place in the world. But it takes people to make the dream a reality.” Joseph was able to rally the people and create a reality that included feeding people even in the bleakest of famines. 

The rest of the world? Not so much and people were hurting. Jacob sent his remaining sons to Egypt, hoping to find food, not knowing that Joseph was there. Yet he held Benjamin back. How could he risk losing another son? Losing Joseph earlier had been painful enough. 

When the sons came back to Jacob, needing to take Benjamin to Joseph, Jacob still balked. But then said, “If it must be so, do this: take some of the choice products of the land in your baggage, and carry them down as a gift for the man—some balm and some honey, gum, ladanum, pistachio nuts, and almonds.” So, there was still some food left in the land of Israel and Jacob was willing to share it. I am told that percentagewise, the people who are the least wealthy contribute the most to non-profits. People who have gone without are more likely to share what they do have.  

Imagine needing to pick up everything you have and move because you don’t have food. That is what is happening in today’s story and that is what is happening today in many parts of the globe. 

As the climate crisis become more pronounced, there are continuing discussions about mass migration. However,  “Most climate change- and natural disaster-related movement is internal rather than cross-border, and temporary rather than permanent. The likelihood of migration also depends on communities’ vulnerability to the impacts of climate change, which can be mitigated by adaptation measures such as building sea walls or other defenses, as well as individuals’ access to resources to move (including transportation, social networks, and legal pathways). There were 33 million natural disaster-related displacements in 2022, but the biggest displacement situations—from floods in Pakistan to droughts in East Africa—saw people move within their countries, at least at first. And by the end of the year, most disaster-displaced people went back to their homes. Over time, a bigger issue may be migration prompted by slow, gradual climate change impacts. Hotter temperatures can threaten agricultural livelihoods, sea-level rise can make floods more severe, and desertification can foster conflict over water access, all of which can lead to migration.” https://www.migrationpolicy.org/article/climate-migration-101-explainer  

Living in a desert environment is tricky to say the least and you need access to food and water. Critical. Think oasis. Egypt was known as the breadbasket of the Roman Empire. Israel was able to make the desert bloom again by using innovative technology like drip irrigation, increasing yields all over the world. They still actively consult on this topic. 

This year we saw tornados impact Elgin and at least several families at Del Webb force to evacuate. That was not a food insecurity issue, but a housing issue. And people had enough money, resources, friends and family to come out all right, except for the emotional trauma of being displaced, even temporarily.  

It is an example of it just doesn’t happen over there somewhere, but right here at home. 

Everyone needs nutritious food to thrive. And, while people are working hard to provide for themselves and their families, approximately 49 million people—that’s one in six people in the U.S.—still relied on food assistance from charities like Feeding America in 2022. According to Feeding America, one in five children in this country goes to bed hungry without knowing where their next meal is coming from. 

https://www.feedingamerica.org/hunger-in-america/child-hunger-facts  

It can seem overwhelming. Yet there is something about this portion that brings me hope. That someone who was foreign born and had been falsely imprisoned rose to be a great leader. That he could rally people together who did what needed to be done, allowing people. All people, even the “migrants” to survive. There’s a lot of hope in that.  

There is also something about our community right here that brings me hope, in a sad way. This week Elgin lost a good one. Joe Wars served on the Martin Luther King Celebration Committee with me. He was all about the kids and the scholarships that the committee would give to deserving students in U-46. But more than that he spearheaded the Martin Luther King Food Drive for years. His goal was always to bring in 40 tons of food which were then distributed to the various food pantries in Elgin. I spent many an early, cold Martin Luther King, junior Monday morning, sorting food with Joe at the Church of the Brethren headquarters, with countless teen agers, eating a donut and watching Joe be a cheerleader as the food would roll in. His sense of optimism was outstanding, impressive. His ability to bring people together: U46, the library, the fire department and the City of Elgin itself was amazing, And if you thought you couldn’t do something, anything, he would remind you that “G-d got you.” He was a man of deep faith. And excellence. His definition of excellence according to the Chicago Tribune, “If people are seeing you do your very best, hopefully you will influence others to do better in life,” he said. “Do the best you can to make the world a better place.” 

Soon, in our Jewish calendar, we begin the Book of Exodus, which states that there arose a leader who knew not Joseph. We in Elgin can’t allow that to happen here. Sure, we need to remember our patriarch Joseph. AND. We need to remember Joe Wars and his commitment to the kids, to ending hunger and to building bridges throughout the city. 

By the way, did you know that CKI has its own little food pantry. Just when you walk in, there are some green pantry doors. I peaked in at the beginning of December when we were making blessing kits for Centro. Someone had cleaned it all out. Perhaps, the food was expired. Perhaps someone came in need. We do have members that sometimes take. And we have members who sometime contribute. It is very useful for someone who is not quite making it. Like Jacob, I have seen at least one person put something in that perhaps they couldn’t use and take something out they needed. I have seen the police department ask if we have anything they can offer someone.  

We can’t solve global famine, but we can participate in helping those in need by replenishing our own food pantry and when the details come out helping with the Martin Luther King food drive. This year’s goal for the MLK food drive is 50 tons of food. Let’s make both Joseph and Joe War’s dream a reality.  

https://lf-forms.cityofelgin.net/Forms/MLK-Food-Drive?fbclid=IwAR35-oRrFGSbi3IhJ6P6kzul9saFwxhUzaRia6vf2ir72TQbkwz47GuWOOo  

List of foods for CKI Food Pantry: 

Easy open cans (some people don’t have can openers!)
Peanut butter and jelly
Tuna
Canned protein, meat meals, chili, etc.
Pasta
Tomato sauce
Rice in 1 pound bags
Pinto beans
Oatmeal in small packets
Saltines or other crackers
Mac and cheese in boxes or individual servings
Baby food

This is a story about this menorah, a Chanukiah, purchased as a gift for my parents by their landlords when we lived in Evanston on Ridge in the apartment. This couple, born in India, had made it in America. They were now homeowners and landlords and wanted to make sure our family could celebrate Chanukah. This was circa 1966. It is beautiful and I still love it. Project Menorah is like that today. https://www.projectmenorah.com/ Designed to encourage non-Jews to celebrate Chanukah, or at least put a menorah in the window so that Jews feel safe celebrating Chanukah. It is similar to the book I often teach, the Christmas Menorahs.  

Look around you. You will see many menorahs. The kids counted last week and I think we were at 30. I’ve added another 11 as I’ve decorated so that brings us to 41. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. That’s why there are so many different styles. What is beautiful to me may not be to you and visa versa. We have a term in Hebrew for this, hiddur hamtizvah. The beautification of the commandment.  

The pictures we have seen of chanukiot–at your homes, in public spaces, around the globe have been heartwarming. And beautiful. Keep them coming.

Today’s haftarah has a vision, a dream of what the original menorah might have looked like in the Holy Temple. The menorah with 7 branches. The one that this holiday of Chanukah is all about. After the description of the menorah comes the interpretation of that dream and the story ends with the phrase, “Hain, Hain. And it shall be called ‘Beautiful, Beautiful.’”  Hain is an interesting word. Translated here as beautiful, it is from the same root as one of the 13 Attributes of the Divine. El rachum v’CHANUN. The Lord, compassionate and gracious.” In the Woman of Valor prayer, Eishet Chayil, it is translated as charm or grace.  

At Chanukah, we are often surrounded by memories and traditions with a healthy dose of nostalgia. Those latkes? Old family recipe. The menorah? One passed down through the generations? That song? One you sang years ago. It is all evocative.  

This tallit? It is my Women of the Wall tallit. Women of the Wall was founded Rosh Hodesh Chanukah 1988, the same year Simon and I were married. I had friends who were at the original service at the Wall. For our 25th anniversary we bought each other these tallitot. Because we support the rights of women to daven at the Wall. To have their voices heard. The prohibition of that in modern Israeli society and even sometimes even right here in Elgin, is often traced to today’s Torah portion.  

Close every door to me,
Hide all the world from me
Bar all the windows
And shut out the light 

Do what you want with me,
Hate me and laugh at me
Darken my daytime
And torture my night 

If my life were important I
Would ask will I live or die
But I know the answers lie
Far from this world 

Close every door to me,
Keep those I love from me
Children of Israel
Are never alone 

For I know I shall find
My own peace of mind
For I have been promised
A land of my own 

I grew up singing this song in Grand Rapids. No I wasn’t Joseph, I was just a kid in the chorus at Temple Emanuel; but I found the melody and the words haunting so I would dance around the living room singing it. The words and the melody are still haunting and relevant to today’s portion.  

Today’s portion is considered by some another Text of Terror. Last week we learned about Dinah. Why was that text even there? The question remains.  Today, we learn about Tamar in our triennial cycle and then about Joseph in Potiphar’s house in the full cycle. In both texts there is some perceived crime committed of a sexual nature that first Tamar and then Joseph are punished for. In both cases, there is some trickery going on. First the seemingly lovely Tamar becomes a zonah, a lady of the evening, a prostitute, a whore, a sex worker.  Is she tricked? Is Jacob tricked?  

Two books, Texts of Terror by Phyllis Trible and The Harlot by the side of the Road by Jonathan Kirsch, which I first read in an interfaith clergy book discussion group are worth adding to this discussion. They may give us modern clues and interpretations as to why these troubling stories are included. (Thank you, Father John Cox for initially recommending it. That’s a memory too!)  

Perhaps this parsha comes to remind us that women have rights. That they can only marry with consent. That they can’t be tricked into becoming sex workers. That false imprisonment on charges of sexual violations is wrong.  

Our tradition has much to say about justice. “Tzedek, tezedk tirdorf. Justice, justice shall you pursue.” That we should “do justly, love mercy and walk humbly with G-d.” But we are not to seek revenge. That vengeance is G-d’s, not ours.  

Recently we have been hearing a lot about the word nekamah. Revenge. It is a powerful word and a powerful impulse, born as one rabbi said this week, “of raw pain, deep fear and inconsolable anger.” But he adds that it goes beyond self-defense. It’s self-perpetuating—the “re: in revenge isn’t there for nothing. Nekama’s intentionally disproportionate terror and violence fuel wars and inflict traumas lasting generations…Nekamah. I hurt, so you will hurt. I suffered, so you will suffer more.” 

Tamar doesn’t choose nekamah. Joseph, falsely imprisoned, doesn’t choose nekamah.  

The prayer that we add at Chanukah, Al Hanisim, talks about nekamah.  “It poetically describes how God took up the Israelites’ grievance (“ravta et ribam”), judged their claim (“danta et dinam”), and avenged their wrong (“nakamta et nikmatan”), decisively defeating the wicked Greeks.” I’ve never been comfortable with calls for revenge. I’ve never been comfortable with prayers that beg G-d is on our side. Or that we are deserving of some miracle. https://truah.org/resources/ian-chesir-teran-vayeshev-moraltorah_2023/ 

This is Human Rights Shabbat so deemed by T’ruah and by American Jewish World Service, two organizations I support. This is the closest Shabbat to Human Rights Day, Dec. 10, which this year is the 75th anniversary of.  When the Universal Human Rights Declaration was signed 75 years ago, I believe it carried much weight, much fanfare and was the cause of celebration. There were other declarations that year as well, like the founding of the State of Israel 

These days the Universal Declaration of Human Rights feels tarnished. As we continue to watch the events unfold in Israel, where is the Red Cross checking on the hostages? How long did it take to decry the sexual crimes against the women in Israel on Oct. 7? I want those hostages back. That would be a Chanukah miracle. I want the war to stop. To have no more killing. It shouldn’t be complicated but it is. It involves trust which may be the opposite of fear. 

But I believe the promise of the declaration was real then, and I believe it can be again. Perhaps this is what we need to rededicate ourselves to at this Chanukah. We have much work to do. False imprisonment, here and around the globe… 

I don’t have all the answers, but I return to the words of this morning’s haftarah. Not by might, not by power but by My spirit alone shall we all live in peace. That is the ultimate vision of Chanukah. Not military force. Perhaps that is what we need to rededicate ourselves to. Then truly it will be called “Hain, Hain. Beautiful, Beautiful.” When every old person can dream dreams and the youth shall see visions. When everyone, everyone can sit under their vine and fig tree and none, none shall make them afraid.  

There is so much that happens in this week’s portion. It starts with Jacob and Esau “reconciling” after 20 years. That’s a full generation. They now have “made it” in their individual worlds, but in both cases they not only have animals and wives and children and servants; they have a great deal of fear. Fear is a powerful emotion. The brain science tells us that fear is designed to keep us safe. Neither Jacob nor Esau feel safe.  

Jacob tries to manage his fear by separating himself from his family. He is alone, on the other side of the river. I can imagine him meditating, taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself, trying to sleep. It is probably quiet. But if you have ever camped in the desert, it is not completely silent. The desert sounds seem magnified at night. Often causing more fear. Every noise startles. 

He then has an encounter with a being…a man, an angel, himself, G-d, the text is not clear. Is it a dream, Jacob is a dreamer after all. He wrestles with this being and his name is changed to Israel, which he is told means he has striven, wrestled with beings divine and human and prevailed. Jacob, now Israel, is a G-dwrestler. We are all, descendants of Jacob Israel, G-dwrestlers.  

In the morning, he has a different encounter. This time with his brother Esau who arrives with 400 armed men. Is Esau trying to impress? Keep himself safe? If it is just that it is hard to explain that Esau runs to greet him, falls on his neck, embraces and kisses Jacob. Is this real? Did the 20 years heal the tension between these siblings. The last time we saw an angry Esau, he threatened to kill his brother for stealing his birthright and his blessing. And Jacob, at the urging of his mother Rebecca, ran away, in fear. 

Jacob is afraid. He divides his camp, saying that if Esau attacks, perhaps half will be saved. And he also trying to impress. He offers his brother lots of gifts. 200 she-goats and 20 he-goats; 200 ewes and 20 rams; 30 milch camels with their colts; 40 cows and 10 bulls; 20 she-asses and 10 he-asses. That’s a lot of gifts. Does it assuage his guilt at stealing the birthright? Does it limit his fear? 

 At the end of this encounter, they go their separate ways. (Perhaps this is the original two state solution) 

And then there is an interlude. We almost have to ask why is it here? What is the text trying to teach us? 

 Jacob seems to now be settled with his 12 sons, the 12 tribes of Israel. And his daughter Dinah. This is not the stuff of Torah School bible stories. It needs a trigger warning, because this is tough stuff. When I tried to talk about it with someone this week, they told me flat out they didn’t want to hear about it. So if you need to leave the room, or turn off your Zoom screen for a while, that’s OK, but I do need to say this. In the Psalm that we say towards the beginning of the service, Psalm 30 it says, “A psalm of David. A song for the dedication of the Temple, hanukat habayit l’david” and later it says,
“What profit is there if I am silenced?
What benefit if I go to my ggrave?
Will the dust praise You? 

Will it proclaim Your faithfulness?” (Page 81 of Siddur Sim Shalom), 

This Psalm is one of the guiding principles of my life.   

This story of Dinah is the stuff of much midrash. That is because the text itself is sparse. It leaves too much to the imagination. Dinah went out. That’s it. What does that mean? Why did she go out? Something happened. What exactly happened? Our translation on Sefaria says, “Shechem son of Hamor the Hivite, chief of the country, saw her, and took her and lay with her and disgraced her.” But there is an asterisk on disgraced her. Heb. wa-y‘anneha, lit. “and violated her.” NJPS “by force,” but whether Dinah consented is not stated, and is not at issue; regardless, by the norms of the ancient Near East, she was disgraced. OJPS “and humbled her.” There is a big difference between disgraced her, took by force, violated her or humbled her.  

That is the basis for a long modern midrash. The much beloved by women today, Anita Diamant’s famous Red Tent. Diamant concludes that Dinah is not raped. That it was consensual. That she loved Shechem.  

The ancient rabbinic tradition slams Dinah. She went out. She shouldn’t have. It makes her out to be what we might call a “loose woman.” It seems to be a blame the victim response. If only she had stayed home. When Jacob learns what has happened to his daughter, he remains silent. He waits for his sons to come home from the fields. That silence is deafening.  

 But that silence continues today. As someone who has worked extensively as a rape and domestic violence counselor on the front lines of this topic for decades, I thought we were making progress with the birth of the #MeToo movement. If a woman tells you she has been raped, believe her. It is that simple.  

Sadly, recently, there was an article in Newsweek that gave me pause. After the brutal attack by Hamas on October 7, many women were raped, in the fields, perhaps just like Dinah, but the international community not only remained silent on this part of the story but actually denied it. https://www.newsweek.com/silence-international-bodies-over-hamas-mass-rapes-betrayal-all-women-opinion-1845783?fbclid=IwAR1H5x61fu-72iNnSpY7XzF5r46tHxbQ_PKHj7aF6K1dY1dGQAx34FomfDQ 

 It is our responsibility to reject this silence. Sadly, rape is now recognized as a tool of war. Even the UN recognizes it as such. Here is one such article. https://www.un.org/en/preventgenocide/rwanda/assets/pdf/Backgrounder%20Sexual%20Violence%202014.pdf  

And again, there are glimmers of light. Only glimmers thus far. Assita Kanko, a member of the European Parliament has said, “You can never call yourself a feminist again,” if you deny these credible reports of rape of Israeli women.  

In Riverdale, NY on December 5th there is a meeting to discuss these horrendous crimes. Sponsored by a number of the leading Jewish organizations, it will feature Dr. Cochav Eliyam-Levy, the chair of the Civil Commission on October 7th Crimes by Hamas Against Women and Children. Hosted at a Conservative Synagogue this doesn’t quite feel like enough. We need women from other traditions to understand what happened and to speak out.

Finally, after much pressure, the UN itself is hosting an special session on Monday, Dec. 4th to address this very issue.  

We need to bear witness to this horror. We need to continue to break our silence. So that no woman stands alone in these difficult, impossible, horrific moments. We need to continue to build and rebuild our coalitions. It is painful. But I cannot be silent.  

At the very end of  our full portion today, Rachel dies on the road in childbirth. At that very spot there is a church/mosque, which has seen too much violence through the years.  

There is a reference to this spot in Jeremiah: 

Thus said GOD:
A cry is heard in Ramah —
Wailing, bitter weeping—
Rachel weeping for her children.
She refuses to be comforted
For her children, who are gone.
Thus said GOD:
Restrain your voice from weeping,
Your eyes from shedding tears;
For there is a reward for your labor
—declares GOD:
They shall return from the enemy’s land.
And there is hope for your future
—declares GOD:
Your children shall return to their country. 

I can hear this prophecy of Jeremiah as modern day news ripped from the headlines. Rachel is still weeping for her children. All her children. And we can be silent no more. It is what I will rededicate myself to at this season of increasing light.