Personal reflections and some needed history 

When I was pregnant, my husband and I went to Israel on a group tour. He had never been and it seemed the easiest way to see much of the country that I had lived in, in the limited time we had. My relationship to Israel is complicated, because of having lived there. We will come back to that.  

One day we went to Yad V’shem. I am always moved as you are exiting the museum the one baby shoe encased in glass. It gets me every time. I felt strongly that that this child not yet born would not have to face the atrocities of the era we call the Shoah, the Holocaust. In the gift shop, (I love museum and hospital gift shops), a menorah for as yet unborn child due during Chanukah that year. I raced to the bus breathless and showed it to the rabbi leading the tour. He promptly pointed out that I had bought a menorah, not a chanukiah and that there was no time to go exchange it. The next day, while everyone else was at an archaeological dig, I did go back to Yad V’shem and pick out a real Chanukiah. That candelabra is still my daughter’s who is now 33 this Chanukah. 

I have been thinking a lot about that chanukiah. In the 1930s and 1940s, there were people, not just Hitler, who wanted there to be no more Jews. The term genocide did not exist in 1944. It has a very specific definition.  

https://www.ushmm.org/genocide-prevention/learn-about-genocide-and-other-mass-atrocities/what-is-genocide  

Lots of people have been using this on both sides of the Gazzan-Israeli War. The Hamas charter calls for the utter destruction of Israel, from the river to see. So if you see signs reading “Free Palestine.” that is a call for genocide and the destruction of all Jews living in the land of Israel. That’s what makes it not only anti-Zionist but also anti-semetic  if you prefer anti-Jewish. And yes, there are some who don’t want to stop at the borders of Israel but the worldwide destruction of Jews. That would be genocide. 

Others have said that the bombardment of northern Gaza isn’t war but it Is genocide. I would rgue that it is not. It is not when Israel leafleted in advance and tried to get people to move to the south. It is not when Israel moved infants from Al Shifa to Egypt. What do you do when your military enemy uses schools and hospitals as shields as they have for decades? I am not sure. 

The scenes are impossibly difficult to watch. I want to scream, “The children, the children, the children.” 

And this morning, let me be perfectly clear. Children in Israel. Children in Gaza. Children in the United States. No 6 year old Palestinian child living in Illinois should be murdered by his landlord for being Palestinian. Three students near the University of Vermont should not be gunned down. Period. Fulls stop.  

That complicated history with Israel. My father would tell the story of staying up listening to the radio in 1948, the night the UN partioned the land of Israel. For him, it was thrilling. My mother was not a Zionist. Growing up as a Reform Jew, she believed that Israel did not recognize her Judaism and so was not a place she could support. My husband’s mother felt similarly. Yet, the Reform Movement started something called ARZA, The American Reform Zionist Association, so some Reform Jews were Zionists. There was a time when the Reform Movement sent more kids to Israel in the summer than any other organized Jewish group. I was one of the lucky ones. In 1977, I was bouncing on a bus in the Negev, learning much about the history of the land and how to be a songleader. And falling in love. With Israel and with a certain individual. The leader of that trip, an American, has lived in Israel now for decades. I reconnected with him at a J Street conference. 

Sadly, that person who I had hoped to marry was killed in 1983 as part of the incursion into Lebanon. My last phone call with him, around Yom Kippur of 1982 was that he was not involved in the massacre of Shaba and Shitila. For years I held Arik Sharon personally accountable for his death. Somehow, I never held Hezbolah or Lebanon accountableI still miss him and wonder what would have been.  

I don’t always support the policies of the modern State of Israel. That does not make me an anti-Zionist.  I have been a champion of Women of the Wall since its inception in 1988 arguing that women should have the same access to praying at the Western Wall as men. I have donated money and time to organizations like Parents Circle—Famiy Forum because no one should have to go through the pain I endured. https://www.theparentscircle.org/en/pcff-home-page-en/ Peace is the only option. How we get there, I don’t know. 

My daughter had the Torah portion that includes the verse from Deuteronomy that explains how to make war. It includes a verse that when you siege a city you cannot cut down fruit trees. Yet this has been a policy of the IDF especially on the West Bank. Therefore, I have supported Rabbi for Human Rights in Israel that plants new olive trees after Israel destroys ancient ones.  

The question of settlements on the West Bank is complicated. It is all complicated. In 2010 when I was in Israel on a interfaith clergy call, then Vice President Biden was also there. His message to Israel was that friends need to tell friends when they are wrong. He, and I assume Obama, felt that expanding settlements in the West Bank was a dangerous policy. I watched as the Damascus Gate was closed. Having lived there, I didn’t even know it was possible. It was a scary moment. 

Jews have lived in the land of Israel continually for millennium. They did not start living there in 1948. The history is complicated. I have read extensively on this topic. 

Here are my favorite of the books: 

• Noa Tishby’s Israel, currently reading and already seems out of date after Oct 7.but worth it. 
• Martin Fletcher’s Walking Israel, written by NBC’s former chief Isarel correspondant  
• Shavit, My Promised Land 
• Yossi Klein Halivni, letter to my Palestinian neighbor 
• Tolan’s Lemon Tree (also exists as a movie) 
• Friedman’s From Beirut to Jerusalem (I was once told if I only had one book to read that year it should be this one but may be dated) 
• Dershowitz, The Case for Israel (not my favorite, not objective enough)
  Junaid Afeef is recommending, 100 years war on Palestine.
  Someone else recommended Israel/Palestine,  

This is the list I gave to ECC. But since there is some confusion about whether you can be anti-Zionist without being antii-semetic, I would add two on anti-semitism: 

• Rabbi Evan Moffic’s First the Jews 
• Bari Weiss’s How to Fight Anti-Semitism. 

I said this earlier in this current crisis. I wrote my thesis on the topic of the 13 Attributes of the Divine. It too Is out of date because I dared to write about the Israel-Palestinian conflict. The conclusion remains the same. In order to make peace, in order to forgive, people need to feel safe. Generationally, no one, especially the children, feel safe.  

I pray for the children, All the children. I pray for peace, I pray for a return to a dream of the prophets, where everyone can sit under their vine and fig tree and none will make them afraid. I pray for a time where in the words of the Chanukah haftarah, “Not by might and not by power but My spirit alone, shall we all live in peace.” That chanukiah will gleam brightly this year. And I will continue to work for peace, for a time when no one lives in fear. 
 

Today’s Torah portion has a lot to teach us about strength. Stamina and resilience. We know the story. Isaac loved Esau and Rebecca loved Jacob. How many of us have said, “Mom loved you best.” In this case apparently it was true. But we know that it isn’t a very good way to parent. We also know that the power of the press belongs to he who owns it. So this story becomes a pivotal story in our history. But it also forces us to look at a really big question, what is truth? Is seeing (or in this case feeling) really believing? It would appear not. This question has serious echos today. As a former journalist I think about this a lot. How do we tell the story of the modern state of Israel. Do we celebrate Yom Ha’atzmaut or mourn the Nakhba?  How do we distinguish misinformation particularly on social media? In the early days, even Biden and Netanyahu were fooled. Do we know what is really happening at the Shifra hospital? How do we respohd. Isaac thought he was really touching and then really blessing Esau. It turns out it was Jacob, living up to his name, who tricked him. 

This portion is about generations. And we see in this portion, repeated pattens from one generation to the next. Abraham told Abimelech that Sarah was his sister. Not once, but twice. Isaac does the same thing. Rebecca is his sister, right? The ruse didn’t go well for Abraham and it doesn’t go well for Isaac either. Ultimately, Abimelech, himself recognizes the ruse and Abraham, and then Isaac, come out alright. (No real word on the long term effects on Sarah or Rebecca!). 

Then Isaac and his men dig wells.  

But the Phillistines became envious… And the Philistines stopped up all the wells which his father’s servants had dug in the days of his father Abraham, filling them with earth. 

Isaac dug anew the wells which had been dug in the days of his father Abraham and which the Philistines had stopped up after Abraham’s death; and he gave them the same names that his father had given them. 

But when Isaac’s servants, digging in the wadi, found there a well of spring water, the herdsmen of Gerar quarreled with Isaac’s herdsmen, saying, “The water is ours.” He named that well Esek, because they contended with him.  

And when they dug another well, they disputed over that one also; so he named it Sitnah.  

He moved from there and dug yet another well, and they did not quarrel over it; so he called it Rehoboth, saying, “Now at last יהוה has granted us ample space to increase in the land.” 

Eventually Abimelech and Isaac cut a covenant, a treaty, a pact. And they sat down and they feasted.  

This is not modern day news ripped from the headlines. But it could be. Those well have to be dug again and again and again. Acfess to water is even fought over. Place names remain the same. Be’er Sheva, Seven Wells for example.  

Water is a critical resource, especially in the desert. Just listen to how some American states argue over water rights with the Colorado River.  

Rabbi David Wole, now the Rabbinic Fellow for ADL said this week,  “My father once wrote a letter to all four of us (I am one of four boys) telling us that over the course of his life the single quality he believed was essential was stamina.  Struggling once, succeeding once, creating once – it was not enough in life.  You had to do it over and over again.” 

Isaac and his men had to dig those wells over and over again.  

Like Issac we are at a moment where we seem to be doing things over and over again. Yes, agreeing with Wolpe’s father, it demands stamina. It requires us to renew all sorts of things that we thought maybe we were past. Fighting against anti-semitism, Wolpe thought that was his father’s rabbinate, not for our day. Routing out Hamas. Didn’t we do that before?. Justifying the very right for Israel to exist, for Jews to exist? Making sure that people have water—both physical, clear drinking water, and the deep mystical mythical healing waters, mayyim chayim, living waters.  All of this takes courage, dedication, and determination.  

As Wolpe points out, “In mystical teachings, Isaac’s digging of the wells is an indication that he was seeking the depths of existence, the buried secrets of spirit. One of those secrets is that the world is still being formed and we, all of us, have a hand in creating it.  Hatred is on fire across the globe and the end of the war will not end the hatred.  We in the ADL together with our allies, no matter how tired we may be, must take a shovel in hand to redig the wells that our ancestors dug. To dig new wells is to produce living waters demanded yet again in a parched and needy world.” 

This story is not the only story of wells and hope. When Abraham banished Hagar and Ishmael and they ran out of water, she cried out, “Don’t let me look on while the lad dies.” Let me be clear. No one wants to watch their child die. No one should have to. No Israeli mother. No Palestinian mother. Not here in Illinois. Not there.  

Yet the story of Hagar doesn’t end there. She puts the child under a bush. G-d hears the cry of the lad, opens Hagars eyes and she sees the spring that was there all along. It is about finding another way. Doing something again and again and again. This fills me with hope.  

We saw some of that hope on Tuesday. Regardless of how many people were in Washington, 290K, 300K, 350K, which ever number you use, since the National Park Service is no longer doing official crowd counts, t is estimated that one out of three American Jews were present on the mall. This brings me hope. 

Hope is what I feel when even when the world seems pitted against Jews, again, people want to formally join the Jewish people. Some even right here at CKI.  

Hope is also what I feel when people reach out to us and ask what they can do to help. Hope is what I feel when you all show up. When we continue to plan for the Chanukah extravaganza. When we teach our littlest kids. When we create joy and light. 

So let’s keep digging those wells and looking for other ways to share our birthright not to sell it.

This portion is called Chayeii Sarah, the life of Sarah, and it begins, these are the year of the life of Sarah. Sarah was 100 and twenty and seven. And Sarah died. These is much to say about that. How she was in Kiryat Arba and Abraham comes to bury her. How he buys a burial place. How he eulogizes her. But that’s not the part we are reading today. Come back another year for that part. 

Today I want talk about one verse. 

Isaac was walking in the field toward evening. Some say that is meditating. We learn from this that meditating has a place in Judaism. Even walking meditation, whicn is a form that resonates with me. 

Last week we talked about prayer. Abraham prayed. Abraham prayed with Abimelech. Praying as we learned is about going to yourself, finding yourself. As the Artscroll siddur (Siddur Kol Yaakov) teaches,in its introduction,  “The Hebrew verb for praying is מתפלל; it is a reflexive word, meaning that the subject acts upon himself. Prayer is a process of self-evaluation, self-judgment.” 

Mediating is without the judgement. It is about just being. It can be about connecting with the Divine. Meditation is a practice that focuses your mind and gain greater awareness of your: 

• self 
• thoughts and inner experience 
• surroundings 
• moment-to-moment needs 

What you choose to focus on may depend on the type of meditation you practice, and the various types of meditation may offer slightly different benefits. 

Isaac’s walk is the basis for our afternoon service, mincha. Abraham arose early in the morning. That’s shacharit, our morning service. Isaac meditated in the afternoon, mincha and Jacod dreamed at night, that’s maariv.  

Let’s remember Issac. Isaac, whose father was willing to kill him, was never quite the same. How could he be? Today we would call it PTSD, Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. His experience, left untreated, led to generational trauma as we will see as the coming weeks. Whatever happened to Isaac and whatever label we might give it now, it is clear that he suffered. 64% of Americans according to one CDC study suffer from at least one Adverse Childhood Experience, an ACE. While trauma-informed care, in schools, in other settings with children can help, meditation can play a role too.  

This is Veteran’s Day. Much of what we know about PTSD comes from studying veterans and Holocaust survivors. Many of the leading experts in PTSD are in Israel. A 2013 pilot study of 42 veterans with PTSD, a small sample size, but still, suggests the loving-kindness meditation, sometimes called the metta meditation that I taught last week can boost positive emotions, ease depression and promote self-compassion. It can help counterbalance feelings of anxiety, irritability, sadness and self-criticism. 

Is that what Isaac was doing in the field? It’s not clear. But when he lifted his eyes, he saw Rebecca, discovered love and was comforted on his mother’s death.  

We could do well to try it in these anxious times. 

Repeat each phrase after me:
May I be happy. May I be well. May I be safe. May I be peaceful. 

Think about a friend, a neighbor, a relative.
May you be happy. May you be well. May you be safe. May you be peaceful. 

Now think about someone you don’t like, maybe even hate, maybe even an enemy.
May thay be happy. May they be well. May they be safe. May they be peaceful. 

May it be so. Ken yehi ratzon. 

There is so much important moments in this portion. Abraham, Hagar and Ishmael. Abraham and Isaac. Fighting over wells. But today I want to focus on just one phrase. 

“Abraham then prayed to God, and God healed Abimelech and his wife and his slave girls, so that they bore children.” (Genesis 20:17) 

This is the first use of the word “to pray” in the Torah. In Hebrew the verb is l’hitpalel.” It is a reflexive verb, meaning that it is something you do to yourself. (My Frisch teacher would be pleased, but don’t worry, this will not be a grammar lesson!) 

But what does it mean to pray? To whom is Abraham praying? And for what? In earlier parshaas, we have our patriarchs offer offerings, some kind of burnt meat to G-d. Apparently G-d is hungry and needs a pleasing odor. This idea of praying, however, seems to be a new concept. How does Abraham even know what it means? Or how to do it. 

A dictionary definition of pray is “to address a solemn request or expression of thanks to a deity or other object of worship. “the whole family is praying for Michael”” 

In Judaism there are 3 traditional forms or prayer:  

• prayers of thanksgiving, and we have done some of those this morning.  
• Prayers of praise: like psalms that include hallelujah.  
• Prayers of request, those that ask for things. 

Some say praying is like having a conversation between yourself and that deity. We have an example of just such a conversation in earlier part of this parsha. The great debate between Abraham and G-d about saving the cities of Sodom and Gemorah. If there are 50 righteous people will You spare the cities? Abraham bargains G-d down to just 10. That is the reason usually cited for needing a minyan. Ten righteous people. Ten adult Jewish males. Ten adult Jews. Those provide a sense of community, connection and support. It’s what we need for a full service. But that doesn’t mean we can’t pray as individuals on our own.  

We don’t ask for things from G-d on Shabbat. G-d is resting too. Except we do. We prayed the Mi Sheberach prayer, for healing of mind, body and spirit. And many of our prayers pray for peace. It is throughout our liturgy. Oseh Shalom, Sim Shalom, Shalom Rav all hope for peace. Pray for peace. Even on Shabbat.  

Recently, however, I was at a clergy meeting. Another rabbi, citing Ecclesiastes said that he would not pray for peace. He could only pray for a successful war. The other clergy in the room were pretty stunned. We quickly moved the agenda to talk about other things, like the Interfaith Thanksgiving Service. Just like Abraham and Abimelech, we Jews can sit down (or stand up) and pray with other people. I would argue that this is not the time to cancel interfaith services. It is a time to be more visible not less. It is, in fact, a time to pray for peace. 

But back to my brief grammar lesson. L’hitpalel is a reflexive verb. It something that we do to ourselves. Maybe in community and maybe alone. What does it DO? What change does it affect? I think it is about balance. About being calm. About being grounded. About being peaceful. It changes us in fundamental ways.  

When we first meet Avram, he is told to Lech L’cha, to go forth. from his native land . Some argue about the formulation. There seems to be an extra lamed, Perhaps it really means to go towards yourself, to find yourself. 

That is part of why meditation can be so important. It is a chance to go to yourself.  

I like the Buddhist metta meditation, sometimes called the lovingkindness meditation: 

For ourselves:
May I be happy. May I be well. May I be safe. May I be peaceful and at ease. 

For our families, neighbors, friends:
May you be happy. May you be well. May you be safe. May you be peaceful and at ease. 

For our enemies:
May they be happy. May they be well. May they be safe. May they be peaceful and at ease. 

I first learned this in Guatemala when I was there with American Jewish World Service. We were standing in a rose garden that unbelievably was started in 1983, the year of the “scorched earth.” It is estimated that between 1982-1983, 70,000 of Guatemala’s indigenous population were killed or disappeared. Inhabitant were raped, tortured and murdered. Over 300 villages were completely razed. Crops and drinking water polluted. What did it mean to be standing in this beautiful rose garden, praying for peace for my enemies?  

This is a difficult time for Jews. Very difficult. In Israel. Even right here in the States with rising anti-semitism. There is a place for prayer in all of this. But I will not be praying for war, successful or otherwise. I will continue to pray for peace. To pursue peace. To run after peace, just as Abraham did. Right here at home. 

Last night we talked about blessings. What does it mean to be a blessing. How do you know you are a blessing? Everybody left with a blessing, given by someone present, either in the room or on Zoom. We learned that ia blessing is something we are grateful for, It can be something unique that you offer the world. The world is a better place because you are in it. Each of you is a blessing.  Each of you brings me joy. Even in a time of war. 

I saw this post recently, a Mary Oliver poem about joy.

If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, 
don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty 
of lives and whole towns destroyed or about 
to be. We are not wise, and not very often 
kind. And much can never be redeemed. 
Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this 
is its way of fighting back, that sometimes 
something happens better than all the riches 
or power in the world. It could be anything, 
but very likely you notice it in the instant 
when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the 
case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid 
of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.
Mary Oliver

Last week we debated whether we could do an update form of Adon Olam. I argued, yes argued, that yes…if Israelis can do weddings. We can sing. Joyfully. Even in our sadness.

 Abraham in this week’s portion is told that he and his descendants will be a blessing. He will be as numerous as the stars in the sky and the sands of the sea. 

At the High Holy Days I stood here and said come back for Lech Lecha and I would talk about Isrrael, I figured we would be discussing judicial reform. I figured it would be complicated. I figured that we would not all agree and that I would feel like I don’t know enough. I still don’t but it is an important conversation. A critical one. I did not imagine that we would be at this moment. 

Many rabbis this week have shared how the Torah portion today fits the moment that we are in.  

G-d tells Avram, not yet Abraham, to go, to leave his country, the land of his birth, his father’s house, and go to the land that G-d would show him…to Canaan, now the land of Israel. There he would be.a blessing. A great nation. 

This is the land that G-d swore to give to our ancestors, to Abraham, to Isaac and to Jacob, throughout the Torah. This reference here then is the first claim that Jews are in the land. Hebrews, Israelites, Jews, whatever term you call us, have lived continually in the land since Abraham’s time. Perhaps, in the continual barrage of misinformation, you may have read or seen a meme that Jews or Israelis have no claim to the land because they haven’t lived there bwfore 1948. That would be false. Even after the destruction of the Second Temple some Jews remained. That’s why there are two Talmuds, the Babylonian Talmud and the Yerushalmi, The Jerusalem Talmud. That’s why there are photos from the 1800s of men and women both standing at the Western Wall that I like to use to talk about a woman’s right to daven at the Kotel equally with men—but that is a sermon for another day. Sometimes we need to refute misinformation.  

Back to today’s story. There was a famine in the land and once again Avram and his family became refugees. He went down to Egypt. In the Zohar we learn that this is also a spiritual going down, the opposite of going up, making aliyah which is a spiritual aliyah. A measure of that going down is how Avram treated Sarai. She was a beautiful woman, and he was willing to sacrifice her to the Egyptians to save himself by calling her his sister. This is the end of National Domestic Violence Awareness Month. Every year I say something about this topic. Today I will merely say that our patriarchs and our matriarchs were not perfect people. This was not Avram’s finest moment. And it is a clear example of domestic violence. And he uses this trick, this ruse twice!  

 Domestic violence exists in roughly the same proportions regardless of educational level, economic level or ethnic origin. It exists in the Jewish community, Roughly, 1 in 4 women will experience rape or domestic violence at some point in their lifetimes. It is wrong. Period. And it still exists and the numbers show that it went up during the pandemic by roughly 40%. That is why I am so proud of the work that organizations like Shalva do and closer to home our own Maureen Maning and the Community Crisis Center. It is why it is important that the Elgin Police Department works to eradicate domestic violence and part of why I am a police chaplain.  

Back to our story, Sarai is carried off to the Egyptian palace because she is so beautiful. There she becomes a captive in the Pharaoh’s own home, and she becomes his wife. She is rescued by G-d when G-d unravels Avram’s plan and Pharaoh dismisses them. Rescuing captives, hostages is a very high value in Judaism. We pray for it as a blessing in those first morning blessings, who releases the bound or the fettered. It is part of the second paragraph of the Amidah, when we acknowledge that G-d, “matir asurim,” frees the captives. It is emphasized in the Talmud. 

The Talmud actually calls pidyon shvuyim, rescuing captives a “mitzvah rabbah”, a great mitzvah because captivity is seen as even worse than starvation or death. (Bava Batra 8b)  

Maimonides then writes, “The redeeming of captives takes precedence over supporting the poor or clothing them. There is no greater mitzvah than redeeming captives for the problems of the captive include being hungry, thirsty, unclothed, and they are in danger of their lives too. Ignoring the need to redeem captives goes against these Torah laws: “Do not harden your heart or shut your hand against your needy fellow” (Deuteronomy15:7); “Do not stand idly by while your neighbor’s blood is shed” (Leviticus 19:16). And misses out on the following mitzvot: “You must surely open your hand to him or her” (Deuteronomy 15:8); “…Love your neighbor as yourself” (Leviticus 19:18); “Rescue those who are drawn to death” (Proverbs 24:11) and “… there is no mitzvah greater than the redeeming of captives.” (Mishnah Torah, Hilchot Matanot Aniyim 8:10-11) 

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

In Europe, congregations and communities maintained funds just for the rescue of those seized unlawfully.  

We have witnessed the power of this in what we call modern history with the Raid on Entebbe, executed by Netanyahu’s brother Yoni and the even more recent release of Gilad Shalit who was held captive by Hamas for five years and was only released in exchange for 1,027 prisoners including 280 prisoners serving life sentences for planning and perpetrating previous terror attacks. I fear that some of those events are part of how we got to this very moment. 

 Surely there are limits to our need and our desire to bring every captive back. Rabbinic scholars and military strategists debate this. Does exchanging one prisoner for many lead to more captives? Does it embolden terrorists? I know that I do not have the answer. I do know that every life has value. Every life is created b’tzelem elohim. In the image of G-d. Bring them home now. I do know that if I thought I could have solved peace in the Middle East I would have chosen a different career with perhaps the State Department.  It is also important to note that the Israeli policy is different from the US policy. Officially,  the US policy is we don’t negotiate with terrorists. Full stop. 

After Sarai’s release, Avram and Lot wander back up to the Negev, but their possessions were too great and “the land could not support them.” So, they divided the land in two. Avram said, Is not the whole land before you? Let us separate: if you go north, I will go south; and if you go south, I will go north.” Haven’t we heard that language before? Is this the original two state solution? 

 Yet again there is a repetition of the promise of the land: 

And יהוה said to Abram, after Lot had parted from him, “Raise your eyes and look out from where you are, to the north and south, to the east and west, for I give all the land that you see to you and your offspring forever.  

I will make your offspring as the dust of the earth, so that if one can count the dust of the earth, then your offspring too can be counted.   

Up, walk about the land, through its length and its breadth, for I give it to you.”  

And Abram moved his tent, and came to dwell at the terebinths of Mamre, which are in Hebron; and he built an altar there to יהוה. 

The land. This very land. His descendants, what became known as the children of Israel and the children of Ishmael both are blessings. Both lay claim to the land. Both are created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d. 

Yet sibling rivalry is real and this solution is not good enough, a twelve-year war ensues. [The invaders] seized all the wealth of Sodom and Gomorrah and all their provisions, and went their way. They also took Lot, the son of Abram’s brother, and his possessions, and departed; for he had settled in Sodom.  

Lot is captured. Our second hostage.  

And [God] said to Avram, “Know well that your offspring shall be strangers in a land not theirs, and they shall be enslaved and oppressed four hundred years; Foreshadowing before there was a literary term for it.  

As I write this, we don’t know what will be or what the fate of the hostages will be. Apparently, Israel rolled into Gaza overnight. It is clear that more people will die. More children will die. Our tradition teaches to seek peace and pursue it. To run after it. I know I don’t have the solutions. My heart is breaking.  

Yet, there is another promise, given to Isaiah:
“I the Lord have called you. I hold your hand. I create you and appoint you a covenant people, a light of nations, opening the eyes of the blind, rescuing prisoners from the jail and those who sit in darkness from the dungeon.” (Isaiah 42:6-7) 

As part of our Torah service for the past few weeks we have been adding to our mi sheberach prayer, the prayer for those in captivity. There have been a number written recently. We have been using this one:

Our God, the One who raised Joseph up from the pit, be “a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble.” (Psalm 9:10)   

Send complete rescue and full redemption to all those held captive by the enemy. Strengthen their spirit and bring them our prayers that they be protected from all harm.  Implant understanding in the heart of the enemy that they may return the captives in wholeness of body and spirit.   

Grant wisdom to the Israel Defense Forces that they may secure freedom for the captives without loss of life.   

Grant strength of spirit and courage of heart to all the sons and daughters of Abraham, Sarah, and Hagar to release bonds of captivity and allow us all to live in freedom.   

“They shall call upon Me, and I will answer them; I will be with them in distress; I will rescue them, and honor them.” (after Psalm 91:15) 

Rabbi Ofer Sabath Beit-Halachmi (Translation: Rabbi Rachel Sabath Beit-Halachmi) 

We are in an in between stage. This year, in a congregation that reads the trienniel cycle, we are in year 2. We know the stories of this parsha, Parsha Noach, so well. G-d was not happy with the world G-d created. And once again thinks about destroying the whole world. G-d picks Noah, a righteous man in his generation, to build an ark, a tevah, to house Noah’s immediate family and a pair of every animal. The rains came and flooded the earth. That is the short version of what we read last year. Next year we read about the Tower Of Babel and how all the languages got confused. But right now, we are in the in between stage.  

Currently, it seems that the world is in an in between stage as well. We are waiting for the next big announcement. What will be the fate of the hostages? Will Egypt allow the Rafah border crossing to open allowing aid in and refugees out. Will Isrrael invade Gaza, destroying Hamas once and for all. Is that even possible, I feel like we are holding our collective breath, even as we celebrate the release of two hostages.  

I have always loved the symbolism of the rainbow. The sign of the covenant, G-d’s promise that G-d will never destroy the world again. You need the perfect balance between sun and rain to see a rainbow. They always make me smile. I learned this week that it resembles a hunter’s bow. But it is upside down. It is the opposite therefore of a symbol of war.  It rains down G-d’s mercy and love.  

But there are two other symbols. The dove and the olive leaf. I wondered why. Why choose those symbols. I discovered that there is less written about this topic than I might have guessed. This leaves it ripe for midrash. Isaac Bashevis Singer wrote a short story, “Why Noah Chose the Dove.” which became a children’s book illustrated by Eric Carle who also did the Very Hungry Caterpillar. We’ll look at that, but first we’ll explain some of what I gleaned.  

Some of it has to do with speech. Both trees and animals speak in the Torah. The trees asked the olive tree to be king of the trees. (Softim 9:8) The Talmud tells us that the raven spoke (Sanhedrin 108b) and today’s parsha tells us that the dove told Noah a message.  

“The dove came to him at evening time, and in her mouth was an olive leaf torn off, so Noah knew that the waters had abated from off the earth.” (Genesis 8:11) 

Rashi explains that in her mouth means that a word was in her mouth, ie, she was speaking. And it was a torn olive leaf because she preferred the bitter to the sweet. It reminds me of Naomi Shemer’s song “Al Kol Eleh” https://israelforever.org/interact/multimedia/Music/the_bitter_and_sweet_song_of_prayer_and_promise_naomi_shemer/ which seems even more poignant in this moment. Over the bitter and the sweet. I cry yet again as I watch and listen to this version.  

Where did the olive leaf come from? Some say from the Garden of Eden and not just floating on the water. (Midrash Bereishit Rabbah 33:6) From the same midrash, some say from the Mount of Olives. Perhaps it didn’t rain in the land of Israel itself and so the trees endured. (Ramban on Genesis 8:11). This offers us a sense of protection for the land of Israel itself.  

And as I learned one year in Israel long ago, the Shechinah rests on the Western Wall, symbolized by the dove. The congregation of Israel is compared to both the dove and the olive. The Rabbi often compared the Jewish people to the dove, “Just as the dove is only saved by its wings, so too Israel is onlu preserved by the mitzvot, (Berachot 53b) 

But this is modern too. Joshua Heller wrote a beautiful commentary published by JTS in October, 2000. It is as apt today as it was then. He compares the terms Doves, Hawks and Ravens. We know that hawks are men of war and doves, people of peace. “A hawk is warlike, relying on its talons to attack its prey. Powerful, world-dominating nations from ancient Rome to our own country have included eagles or hawks as symbols of their military might.” But what about the raven? We know the Poe poem, “Quote the raven never more.” and Heller points out that Reish Lakish teaches in Sanhedrin 108b that the raven’s coming and returning was not an exhaustive search but a series of verbal repartees.  

“Recent events have prompted a shift in our political aviary. Doves have become hawks, and there is a strong temptation to portray the other side as the rabbis did the raven. The raven tried to evade responsibility making false accusations and claims of discrimination. Similarly, Palestinian spokespeople and sympathizers in the media present wildly exaggerated or falsified claims of injustice….in the beginning days of the conflict, the Palestinian authority offered rewards to the families of each child that might be martyred in the conflict. This type of demonization is tempting but profoundly dangerous. If indeed the other side is so completely evil, how can there ever be peace? Why should the Israeli government have trusted them in the first place.”  

These words written in 2000 are haunting today.  

However, Heller ends his d’var torah with these words: Let us hope that it is not too long before the deep wellsprings of hatred dru up and Jews and Palestinians can share not only the olive branch of peace, but the bread and meat of Elijah.” 

And Isaac Bashevis Singer? How does he picture the dove? As the one who is modest. Who doesn’t boast or brag and who kept silent. That is why Noah chose the dove.  

I’d like to think that the dove is still perched there on top of the Wall, still crying and still offering us hope. May there be peace one day. And may the shechinah and the dove lead the way. 

Recently I spoke at Gail Borden Public Library on the topic of gratitude. It was a multi-generational, multi-lingual event. And a lot of fun. Here are my remarks:

I gratefully accepted a speaking engagement for our local, award winning public library, even though it is on a Saturday afternoon. And even during an exceptionally busy weekend. Or that Israel would have been attacked just a week ago. Can we find gratitude in the midst of a war? So thank you for the opportunity to teach a little bit about gratitude. That’s what rabbis do. We teach. 

Judaism has a lot to say about gratitude. The rabbis of the Talmud say tnat we should say 100 blessings a day. 100. Cien. That’s significantly more than the contemporary idea that we should make a list, a journal of 3 things we are grateful for before we go to sleep. You have the opportunity to do that, right here today. In the back of the room. I was grateful to be able to do my three in English and Spanish.  Comida. Agua. Vida. Food. Water. Life. I am grateful for Duolingo Spanish. And I am working on it!

When we wake up, we first sing Modah Ani, I thank you G-d for restoring my soul to me. So every body stretch, yawn, and be grateful that we are here, right here, right now.  

Our morning services help us begin to get there, with an ancient list of fifteen blessings. In the prayerbook that we use at Congregation Kneseth Israe, the list is on page 65.. They all follow the same formula. Praised are You who… A blessing is something we are grateful for, that we are praising G-d and thanking G-d for.  

The first one says “Praised are You, Adonai our G-d who rule the universe enabling us to distinguish day from night. If you know the Hebrew it really says who gives wisdom to the rooster. Because a rooster crows to wake us up. Everybody crow. Cock-a-doodle-doo! 

All of these blessings are about waking up in the morning. Opening our eyes, putting on clothes, getting out of bed, One in particular I want to underscore, Praised are You who frees the captive. It is something we pray for every morning. 

But the list can feel a little too perfoma, a little too trite. So if we were building a list of 100 things, what would you put on the list. We’ll take that list and inscribe them on a pumpkin and use it as a centerpiece for Elgin’s annual Interfaith Thanksgiving Service, November 19 at 4:00 PM. 

(Build list) 

We have a prayer that expresses our thanksgiving. Modim Anachnu Lach. Sometimes while I am leading this prayer, I say to myself, just come up with one thing that I am grateful for, just one thing.  

This has been a hard week. But I remain grateful. 

Here’s my list. Today. 

1. I am grateful for the number of people who have reached out to me personally or to the congregation. That list alone could be 100 at this stage. Each of you is a blessing and someone I am grateful for.  

1. I am grateful for the Elgin Police Department who has vowed to keep us safe and keeps showing up. Often more than one officer in the parking lot of the synagogue. 

1. I am grateful for the board member who brought me kleenex when I choked up during my sermon this morning. 

1. I am grateful for modern technology and communications that enables us to keep informed and connected. 

1. I am grateful for Congressman Raja’s office who is working to get Americans out of Israel and Gaza. 

1. I am grateful for the weddings, the B’nei Mitzvah, the brises that happened this week, here and in Israel. These bring me hope. 

1. I am grateful for a young person who led part of the service and an intellectually challenged woman who read. These are generation to generation moments. 

1. I am grateful for the smile of that little one in the back of the room. Her smile, her giggles, her wave delights me and brings me hope. 

1. I am grateful for the colors of autumn, intensified on this cloudy, raw, rainy day. It is beautiful.  

1. I am grateful for the library, the symphony, Elgin’s diversity and commitment to welcoming all people. Our elected officials, even the ones I don’t always agree with.  

These blessings don’t fit in that traditional formula…but I am grateful nonetheless. They bring me hope. You all bring me hope.  

This is personal. For all of us. It is gut wrenching. As others have said this week, including Rabbi Wendi Geffen at the gathering of solidarity in Glencoe, Israel is 6208 miles from here. And while we often talk about 6 degrees of separation, for us, this is just one or two. Everybody knows someday directly affected. Who has family in Israel? Who knows someone injured or captured? Who knows someone who was killed? Who knows someone in Gaza? That includes me. So, this is personal. Currently we have two family members in Israel. One is the cousin of our Israeli niece who is one of the hostages. One is my grandnephew who is a lone soldier. You don’t have to agree with me. But you do have to listen.  

Once, I drove down the Merritt Parkway in Connecticut. The song “Ha Milchama Ha Achronah, The last war” written about the Yom Kippur War, was playing on the radio. Ani mavtiach lach, yalda sheli k’tanan, I promise you my little girl, this will be the last war. I found myself sobbing. What about my little girl? Would it ever be the last war? Could I make this promise? I got off the highway.  

The Yom Kippur War, 50 years ago, was not the last war. Nor was the incursion into Lebanon 40 years ago. An almost war when I lost my first finance, my first love, to a terrorist bomb. Nor were the “intifadas”. If a generation is 20 years, it has been 2 generations already since Yuval was killed. 40 years. 

Lador vador. From generation to generation. It is often a rallying cry.  

40 years is also considered the age of wisdom. At 40 you can begin to study mysticism. (If you are male and married).  

40 years. What have we learned? The young people murdered look like we looked. They could be our children and our grandchildren. They would be the third and fourth generation 

Once, I was sitting in a Holiday Inn in Waldorf, Germany on a Sunday morning. CNN was on in the background. It was the only channel I could understand. I was working on my rabbinic thesis. On the 13 Attributes of the Divine. Adonai, Adonai, El Rachum v’chanun…The Lord, the Lord G-d is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, filled with lovingkindness and truth, extending love to the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity, transgression and sin. That’s what we say for the selichot prayers that begin the High Holy Days and continue throughout Yom Kippur at a fever pitch. That’s what we chant on festivals before the open ark. That was my Bat Mitzvah portion and why I became a rabbi. We are told we are to be like G-d. We are to walk in G-d’s ways. We are to clothe the naked like G-d clothed Adam and Eve. We are to visit the sick, like G-d visited Abraham. We are to bury the dead like G-d buried Moses. This week I saw a plea to show up at three cemeteries in Israel to help dig graves. Burying the dead is considered chesed shel emet, lovingkindness of truth, two of those 13 attributes.  

But there is more to this verse: “yet not remitting all punishment, but visiting the iniquity of parents upon children and children’s children, upon the third and fourth generations.” (Exodus 34:7) 

Once, before there were terms like “trauma informed care” and “generational trauma” I sat in that hotel room listening to CNN. Israel had just “accidentally” by everybody’s analysis just bombed an apartment building in Lebanon. A young parent clutching a 3-month-old was being interviewed. He repeatedly said he was not angry with the Israelis but he worried about his young daughter. What would she think in 20 years? 

Once I finished that thesis. I became a rabbi. Something Yuval and I had dreamed of. After much study of domestic violence, German-Jewish reconciliation and yes, even audaciously the Israeli-Palestinian conflict I concluded that there are “sins” that are passed down generation to generation. In order, to break the cycle of violence, someone needs to feel safe. In order to forgive, you need to be safe, to know that the cycle is not going to be repeated. The cycle is repeating itself. 

Today I stand here and wonder where that daughter is. Is she in Lebanon? Is she part of Hezbolah? Does she look like the images of the children mowed down at a music festival? Is she gearing up for a war? Is she going to attack my daughter? 

Today we read Bereshit. In the beginning G-d created. Or if you prefer, When G-d began to create. G-d created us all b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d. As I often say, “All means all.” 

The Talmud teaches that to save a life is to save the world. To destroy a life is to destroy the world. It is repeated in the Koran. We are taught that we are created from one person, Adam, so that no one can say that my lineage is better than yours.  

When did we lose our humanity, G-d? When we learn to devalue human life?  

In our Torah portion this week, Cain kills Abel. He asks, famously, “Am I my brother’s keeper.” The answer is yes. The same Talmudic story about being created from one person also teaches that the spilling of blood (in this case a plural Hebrew noun), means that Cain is responsible not just for Abel’s blood but for all the descendants as well. Lord, there has been too much blood spilled for too long.  

As I stand here today, my heart is so very shattered. On this Shabbat Bereshit we remember the story from the Zohar. When G-d began to create, G-d made it full of light. G-d placed the light in a vessel but it was so bright, the vessel shattered. Our job is to gather those shards back together again. That is tikkun olam. Our job is to repair the word.  

We have collected other shards in Judaism. The shards of the first set of 10 commandments that the Israelites collected and placed next to the full set in the ark as they wandered through the desert. They were keeping the memory of their dreams unfulfilled alive. At a wedding we smash a glass, symbolic of our mourning. Some collect those shards as a reminder to create beauty out of brokenness. 

Somehow, there were weddings in Israel this week. Weddings, B’nei Mitzvah, brises. Acts of defiance and hope.  

 Lord as I stand here today, I am angry. It says, O-G-d, that you are slow to anger, erech apayim. But I am really, really angry. There can be no justification, no moral equivalency for the murder of babies, the mowing down of children at a music festival, the kidnapping of women in wheelchairs, the deliberate slaying of entire families. There is no justification in rape. There is no justification in taking hostages. Period.  

Yet You tell us that “Vengance is Mine.” Lord it says we are to forgive but surely there are sins so heinous that we cannot forgive. Do I need to forgive? How can I possibly forgive?  

Help me to remember that all people are created b’tzelem elohim. Help me to see the humanity in terrified children hiding in hospitals and schools. Help me to achieve balance in a world that does not seem balanced.  

HaRachamin, the Merciful One, a name both Jews and Muslims call You, help me to mourn. Our dead, our dreams, our hope. Help us to find the glimmers of light, the shards of glass, the helpers. Help us to find our way back to You so that we can put our lives, our world, back together again. Help me to find hope. HaTikvah.  

Please rise for HaTikvah. 

How does the rabbi prepare… 

• When her former spiritual director and his wife, long time friends from Chelmsford say they are driving through Elgin on the way back from the Western National Parks, you say yes. What a lovely weekend with long in-depth conversations, good food, lots of laughter, walks and a hike at Carl Hansen Woods to see the Kame, ice cream, a trip to Gail Borden and the chance for us to do a dialogue about “teshuvah” for Shabbat Shuva. A very stress free weekend. May need to do this every year. 
• A mikveh experience 
• Lots of reading and writing 
• Lots of phone calls, emails and text messages 

In the old days, a rabbi would give two sermons a year. On Shabbat Shuvah, teaching people how to do teshuvah, returning, repenting. And on the Shabbat before Passover to teach people how to prepare for Passover. Here is what I said on Shabbat. May each of you be inscribed for a blessing in the Book of Life. 

Ha’azzinu! Give ear! Listen up! Wake up! 

As we near the end of Deuteronomy and listen to the reassurance of our haftarah as the seasons change, (yes, it is fall!) we are reminded of a number of things as we move into the weekend that also contains Yom Kippur. 

Return, O Israel, to the ETERNAL your God, (Hosea 14:2) 

Generously will I take them back in love; 

For My anger has turned away from them. (Hosea 14:5) 

This is hope. This is reassuring.  And we all need reassuring. 

As Fantine sings in Les Mis:
“I dreamed a dream in time gone by
When hope was high
And life worth living
I dreamed that love would never die
I dreamed that God would be forgiving.” 

 She has been hurt by life, deeply, deeply hurt and she is not sure about love or that G-d will be forgiving. Many of us have been too and have the same doubts about G-d and love. 

 Our portion this morning is part of Moses’s swan song. His ethical will. He knows he is about to die and he is trying to impart all of his knowledge to his people.  

 The central message of our portions today is that G-d loves us. Still loves us. Still today. And G-d is with us. Still today. 

If we return. What does that mean? 

This period of time between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur is a great reset button. We get to start again. Last night Rev. Dr. Dave Ferner and I spoke about how to do that. 

I echoed Maimonides from the 12th century who gave us 12 steps. I quip that it is the original 12 Step program. Rabbi Paul Kipnes distilled it to 6 steps: 

1. Regret: We can’t return unless recognize our mistakes. We have to have some remorse. (Yes, remorse. I have very few regrets in life. I once told Dave I didn’t have any remorse so it has become a joke between us. But I do have remorse for hurting people, often unintentionally,) 

1. Renounce: We need to admit thst our actions were wrong. No excuses. No rationalizations, No blaming the other person. 

1. Confess: We need to confess our sins. Not in some Catholic, go to confession before mass kind of way. Not in one of those pro forma memes you might see on facebook this weekend covering all your bases but not being specific or personal. Rather out loud. So that our ears hear what our mouths are saying.  

1. Reconcile: We have to “make up’ with the person we have hurt, wounded. This may be the hardest step. It begins with an apology. We’ll talk about that more shortly. 

1. Make amends: It could be financial compensation. It could be therapy for ourselves or others. It could be volunteering, giving back to others. 

1. Resolve: Teshuva is complete when we resolve to not do it again—and do not repeat the same hurt.  

Sounds easy no? Just 6 steps. If you want to read Rabbi Kipnes’s full understanding, it is here: 

https://www.paulkipnes.com/6-steps-of-teshuvah/  

But then Kipnes attempts to answer another question: What does G-d have to do with this? He maintains it is ALL about G-d. As we said last night, Yom Kippur atones for sins between a person and G-d but for sins against each other, Yom Kippur does not atone until they have made peace with each other. 

G-d gives us the courage and the strength to recognize the mistake, to find the remorse and be vulnerable enough to admit it and apologize.  

Why do we do this? Rabbi Harold Kushner said: 

“If you have been brave enough to love, and somtimes you won and sometimes you lost; if you have cared enough to try, and sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t; if you have been bold enough to dream and found yourself with some dreams that came true and a lot of broken pieces of dreams that didn’t, that fell to earth and shattered,then you can look back from the mountaintop you now find yourself standing on, like Moses contemplating the tablets that would guide human behavior for a millenia, resting in the Ark alongside the broken fragments of an earlier dream. And you, like Moses, can realize how ful your life has been and how richly you are blessed. ” 

How then do we apology? There is a lovely children’s book for Yom Kippur called the Hardest Word. G-d sends this giant bird, Zizook to find the hardest word. Zizook brings back several words as ideas. None of them are quite right. Finally, Zizook finds the word “sorry.” It really is hard to say sorry. 

It is said that we clergy types only give the sermon we ourselves need to hear. My daughter thinks that I don’t apologize well. For that I am sorry. So here goess:

An apology is a statement with two key elements. It must begin by saying, “I’m sorry.” It must show that you feel remorse over your actions and it must acknowledge the hurt that your actions caused to that person.
I would add it cannot contain excuses or blame the other person. I’m sorry that you feel that way about what I did shifts the onus back to the person you’ve hurt.
It needs to be authentic and not proforma. And it requires listening, deep, active listening, Remember, that this portion began with the phrase “Give ear.”  

Why is it so hard? It is hard to admit we made a mistake. It is hard to go to someone and say we are sorry, to admit it to the person, to admist it to ourselves. It is hard to give up a grudge, although we are commanded to do so:
“You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against members of your people. Love your fellow [Israelite] as yourself: I am Adonai..” (Leviticus 19:18) 

But perhaps the hardest part of this equation is to forgive those who have hurt us. Atonement, both Simon and I learned in our Reform Religious Schools, can be broken down to At One Ment. The object of Yom Kippur then is to find that sense of At One Ment. It is a sense of balance and peace and joy. It is about knowing, really, really knowing that G-d, who we call One, Echad, is with us and loves us and give us joy. 

 People often ask me if Yom Kippur is a sad holiday. And there are elements of that. Some see it as a rehearsal for our own death. Some see the fasting as hard. Some find Yizkor painful. Ultimately, it is a joyous holiday where we begin the new year fresh and recommitted to our authentic selves, ready to begin again.  

Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel said: There were no days more joyous than the 15th of Av (Tu B’Av) and Yom Kippur, for on those days the daughters of Jerusalem would go out in borrowed white clothing, in order not to embarrass those who did not have…and the daughters of Jerusalem would dance in the vineyards.” (Mishna Ta’anit 4:8).  

Forgiving others, forgiving ourselves, even forgiving G-d can be like an onion. It doesn’t happen all at once. Sometimes it can take years. Sometimes we need to feel safe, to truly be safe before we can do that. But as someone said to me this week after some brothers reconciled, it can feel like a great weight has been lifted. Sometimes forgiving someone is not for the person who hurt you. It is a gift you give yourself. 

O children of Zion, be glad, 

Rejoice in the ETERNAL your God. (Joel 2:23) 

This gives us hope. Will we get it right? Maybe? Is it easy? Not always. Can we do it? You bet. If G-d is a forgiving G-d, then we can be forgiving individuals. If G-d told Moses that 

The Sound of Holiness 

When God, in creating,
Began to create,
Silence hovered over the face of the deep.
And God said,
T’kiah. T’ruah. T’kiah. 

Holiness has a sound.
Part swoosh of blood in the veins,
Part hum from the edge of the universe,
Part stillness, part vibration,
Part life entering a newborn,
Part life leaving the deceased,
Part dissonance, part resonance,
A sound that can only be heard
With the heart. 

When God, in creating,
Began to create,
God spoke in music,
Giving us the shofar
As a vessel to hold the divine voice,
And as an instrument
To summon awe and wonder,
So we might become,
In our own lives
And in the world,
T’kiah g’dolah. 

Alden Solovy

Do not separate yourself from the community, Today, we celebrate the birthday of the world.  

Five thousand seven hundred and eighty four years ago, the world was created. I am aware that our story of creation does not match our scientific understanding. Yet this story has much to teach us, even today.  

Perhaps this wasn’t the first creation. Maybe 974 worlds or perhaps a 1000 depending on which midrash you read and subscribe to. Perhaps G-d was angry. Perhaps G-d was looking for perfection. Perhaps, G-d created other things before G-d created this one. Perhaps G-d did not create alone. G-d said, “Let us make Adam in our image.”
Perhaps G-d didn’t want man to be alone. Already G-d was creating a community. 

On the sixth day, God saw all that God had made, and found it very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day. 

 But G-d didn’t just create man. Or man and woman. G-d created many things, a great variety of things. G-d and the world needed that diveristy. We still do. Yesterday we spoke about how diverse our small community is, and how still we are connected, part of one community. You all belong. Right here, right now. 

Today I thought I just wanted to teach you one text. This is the text, based on “Do Not Separate yourself from the community, the congregation as anyone who separates themselves will not see the congregation consoled.” Consoled might become the key word here.  

(4) “Do not separate yourself from the congregation”: but rather share in their troubles. As anyone who separates from the congregation will not see the congregation consoled (Taanit 11a). 

And it is taught in a baraita: A Torah scholar is not permitted to reside in any city that does not have these ten things: A court that has the authority to flog and punish transgressors; and a charity fund for which monies are collected by two people and distributed by three, as required by halakha. This leads to a requirement for another three people in the city. And a synagogue; and a bathhouse; and a public bathroom; a doctor; and a bloodletter; and a scribe [velavlar] to write sacred scrolls and necessary documents; and a ritual slaughterer; and a teacher of young children. With these additional requirements there are a minimum of 120 men who must be residents of the city. They said in the name of Rabbi Akiva: The city must also have varieties of fruit, because varieties of fruit illuminate the eyes. (Sanhedrin 17B;10 

All summer, as I prepared to teach about community, this text was my favorite text. 

We have most of those things. We have courts, both secular of the government and the ability to form a beit din, a court of rabbis, used here mostly for conversions. Thank you, Rabbi Gordon for being part of many of those. A rabbi’s discretionary fund that is used for a wide variety of needs for individuals and the community at large. A synagogue, right here. Access to the Community Mikveh in Wilmette, Doctors and dentists and so many health care professionals. Access to our sofer, scribe, And I am pleased to tell you that Sofer Neil Yerman is coming back with our Torah for Simchat Torah. Access to kosher food. So, so, much variety in kosher food. And at least 120 Jews, many more than that in fact.  

But I love this verse, According to Rabbi Akiva, a Jewish community also needs to have varieties of fruit, because varieties of fruit illuminate the eyes. This is the second day of Rosh Hashanah. In many Sephardic communities, especially Morocco, they host a Rosh Hashanah seder on the second night. Filled with symbolic foods, it really represents that idea of varieties of fruit (and vegetables) which are symbolic and illuminate the eyes.  

It is based on this verse from the Talmud: “A person should always be accustomed to seeing these on Rosh Hashanah: Squash, and fenugreek, leeks, and chard, and dates, as each of these grows quickly and serves as a positive omen for one’s actions during the coming year.” (Tractate Horyaot 12a) 

The exact order for this seder and even the varieties of symbolic foods may vary from community to community. For example, according to Rahel Musleah who wrote a delightful children’s version of this seder, Apples and Pomegrantes, Jews from Libya mix sugar and sesame seeds instead of using fenugreek or string beans. 

Each blessing over the simanim, signs or symbols, begins with “Yehi ratzon milfanecha Hashem eloheinu v’elohei avoteinu May it be Your will, God and God of our ancestors.” This is followed by a hope for something that will happen in the new year. 

Dates: The Hebrew word for dates, tamar, resembles the word for end, yitamu. Dates represent our desire for our enemies to end their hateful conquests. 

יString beans, fenugreek or beans: The Aramaic word for fenugreek, rubia, is similar to the Hebrew word yirbu, increase.  

יLeeks: In Aramaic, leeks are called karti; the Hebrew term for cutting off is karet. Leeks represent our hopes that our enemies will be “cut off.” 

Swiss chard or beets: Selek is the term for beets in both Hebrew and Aramaic, and it sounds like silek, or “depart.”  

Squash or gourd: The Aramaic word k’ra is reminiscent of the Hebrew words kriah (to tear) and kara (to proclaim/announce). The blessing recited before eating squash or gourd at the seder reflects this dual connection. 

 Pomegranate: In addition to being one of the seven species of Israel, pomegranates have a long history of being symbolic in Judaism. At the Rosh Hashanah seder, their many seeds represent the 613 mitzvot. The seeds can also symbolize the many blessings that we hope will manifest in the coming year. 

Apples dipped in honey: Apples eaten with honey represent our hopes for a sweet new year. 

Fish or sheep head: Rosh Hashanah literally translates as “head of the year,” which is reflected by putting a literal head on the table. I have also seen people use gifilte fish or Swedish Fish.  

Anyone eat red beans and rice for secular New Year’s? What about black eyed peas? It is a similar idea.  

In the back you will find all the “treats” for which you could say Shehechianu. Blessed are you, Lord our G-d, Ruller of the Universe, who has kept us alive and sustained us and enabled us to reach this very moment.  

In planning for this and thinking about the varieties of fruit that make a community, an entire world so wonderful I hear echos of Louis Armstrong: 

I see trees of green
Red roses too
I see them bloom
For me and you
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world 

I see skies of blue
And clouds of white
The bright blessed day
The dark sacred night
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world 

The colors of the rainbow
So pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces
Of people going by
I see friends shaking hands
Saying, “How do you do?”
They’re really saying
I love you 

I hear babies cry
I watch them grow
They’ll learn much more
Than I’ll ever know
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world
Yes, I think to myself
What a wonderful world
Ooh, yes 

 It is a wonderful world, in all its varieities.

People actively look for things for which to say Shehechianu over. Yesterday we said Shehechianu as a community for Zach’s Torah lifting. Today I am wearing a new skirt, just so I would have something to say Shehechianu over. 

But sometimes it is hard to say Shehechianu. Why am I still here and others not? That question hangs in the air today. 

Today’s Torah portion is challenging. Why does G-d feel the need to test Abraham?  Where does the angel come from? How old really was Isaac? Why does Abraham not consult Sarah? Where is her voice? And why, why does Abraham not question G-d? 

 Sure< one of the most famous midrashim tells us it is a dialogue. Take your son. I have two sons. Take your only son. They are both the only son of their mother. Take the one you love. I love them both. Take Isaac.  

 But that is not completely satisfying because we know from a previous text that Abraham does question G-d. He even has the chutzpah, the audacity to argue with G-d. Remember Sodom and Gemorah? G-d is again angry and is going to destroy Sodom and Gemorah for some perceived infraction. The whole community! But no, Abraham argues. Would you still do it for 50 righteous people? He bargains G-d down to 10. From this we learn the importance of having a minyan. 10 people is the bare minimum for a community. It is what is needed to say Barechu, to read Torah and yes, to say Kaddish.  

I was going to teach more about how saying Kasddish is part of being in community, on Yom Kippur.  

However, I made an early morning decision that I needed to do it this morning instead. Our community has been hit with a number of deaths recently, including two this morning.  

It is said when a person dies on Rosh Hashanah they are a tzadik, or a tzedeket. A righteous person. We learned that when Ruth Bader Ginsberg died on Rosh Hashanah, a perfect designation for someone who was a justice, since tzedek also means justice. But right here in the congregation, we mark the yahrzeits today of Jospeh Zimmerman, Chuck’s father, Paul Sitz, Gaeth’s husband and Lucas Jacob Schwartz.  

Today we mourn with Barb Maring and Ted Frisch who lost Bob this morning. And with Myron and Sarah and Dave Goldman who lost Charlene. 

Our job as a community is to “bury the dead and comfort the bereaved,” We do a good job of this at CKI. We show up. We make sure the community is there. Present. To take care of the needs of the people who are mourning. We meet people where they are. Some people want or need a full experience, with all the rituals, starting with how to prepare a person for burial. Ritual washing, tahara and sitting with the person saying Psalms, bring some comfort. Their person is not alone. Some need to get people from out of town. Some people want a graveside service. Some want a chapel service. Some want no service at all. Some want to participate in the burial by shoveling earth. Some don’t want to see that at all. My tradition is that I always stay until the grave is completely filled as final act of chesed shel emet, an act of lovingkindness that cannot be repaid by the deceased and so the family doesn’t have to worry. For me it is a spiritual discipline. Some want a full shiva, complete with covering mirrors. Some find that too jarring. Some people may be angry. Some people may be relieved. Some people may be estranged from other family members or from the Jewish community. Some people may need silence. Some may need to cry. Some may need to scream. 

This is Rosh Hashanah. It seems clear to me, what I was preparing to say at Yom Kippur, is that part of how we build community is through Kaddish. This prayer, written in Aramaic so that everyone could understand it, never mentions death. It praises G-d for life. People find it incredibly comforting, sometimes even uplifting to be surrounded by members of the community so that they can say Kaddish. Remember we need 10 people for that. In this community, it is defined as 10 adult Jews, men or women. 10 people over the age of 13. There is comfort in the rhythm of the words, in the connections to those who have come before.  

This is Rosh Hashanah. As we spoke about on Erev Rosh Hashanah. it is about change. It is about reflection on the things you have done well and the places you would like to make a change.  

The Dash Poem (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? 

Often times, part of my spirituality is to greet the new year with that first sunrise. It is my opportunity to say Shehechianu. It echos years of greeting the sun and the new year on Plum Island with dear friends. Today’s rain precluded that, although I was most certainly up and awake. The rian seems to fit my mood better. However, one of my relatives posted a quote yesterday, “I hope you realize that every day is a fresh start for you. That every sunrise is a new chapter in your life waiting to be written.” 

– Juansen Dizon 

For that we could say shehechianu. Let’s remember that.  

Our job is to meet people where they are…wherever they are. Our job is to be kind. Incredibly kind. As I have said too often this year. Keep watching your emails. You will have the opportunity, too soon, to perform these acts of lovingkindness. When you get those emails, know that you help community, just by showing up.