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.  

L’Shanah Tovah. Happy New Year. The word shanah comes from the same root as the word for change, so wishing someone a L’shanah tovah is hoping that they will have a good year and a good change. No ,not pennies and nickels and dimes. A change in attitude. A change in perspective. A change in behavior. A change to be the best you that you can be.  

This period of time is about reflection and meditation, prayer and music, family and foods that may make us nostalgic. It can be about fear and trepidation. It can be about awe. It is about joy and celebration and hope.  And it is about change. What are the changes YOU want to make in your life? How can YOU be the best YOU that you can be? 

This year our Torah School families set the theme for this coming year, “Coming Together Again: Do Not Separate Yourselves from the Community” The quote comes from Pirke Avot. It was Hillel who said: do not separate yourself from the community.” Other translations are “from the congregation.”  

 We know that the nature of community is changing. The Jewish community and the sociwty at large. That was true even before the pandemic.  

It is changing in a myriad of ways. We could do a deep dive into the Pew Research Study of 2020. https://www.jewishtogether.org/2020pewstud Some high level highlights. Don’t worry. There won’t be a test. 

We are growing. There are more Jews today in the United States, roughly 7.5 million in 2020 compared with 2013, 6.7 million. We tend to feel that being Jewish can be a matter of religion, ancestry or culture or a combination. More say it is about culture. (55%) Which explains why one way we connect, our key word, remember, is through food. 70% of you like “traditional” Jewish food, which as the Pew Study people point out is an elastic term. Apples and honey anyone? Soon. Right here. Again. With a chance to vote for your favorite! And what about those briskets that I heard about all week? You are quite the treasure hunters. And that builds community. How about a full Sephardic Rosh Hashanah seder, with lots of symbolic foods for good luck! We’ll explore that on Sunday. 

American Jews continue to “feel connected” to the Jewish people. 85% feel a great deal or some sens of belonging to the Jewish people. 79% feel a great deal of responsibility to help Jews in need. 76% say being Jewish is very or somewhat important to them. But here are the kickers—only 15% say that observing Jewish law is important. And only 35% of those who identify with a Jewish denomination or movement of stream of Judaism are synagogue members. And yet, 62% prioritize sharing holidays or cultural events with non-Jews. 57% visit synagogues and other historic Jewish sites while traveling. Some of you did that this summer. I certainly enjoyed all those pictures! And as I have said before, the most popular religious expression is attending a seder. 62%. Followed by attending a Jewish life cycle event, lighting a yahrseit candle or fasting on Yom Kippur.  

So, if it is about connection…and people are not necessarily joining synagogues, what do people want in a community? What sets this community apart from other places you may belong? Those are the kind of things that we will explore in the next 10 days. 

Now I may be preaching to the choir, because you are the ones who are here. Fully engaged. All of this has implications for us, right here, right now, at CKI as we embrace diversity and serve the Jewish community, here in the Fox River Valley.  

Over the next 10 days, the next year we are coming together to explore what it means to be a community. To be in community. To belong.  

Do you belong? Do you feel you belong here? Anywhere? 

You may belong to a health club, a soccer or baseball team, a PTO, a dance troupe, an online forum or interest group, even a political party and even those form some kinds of community. But it is not the same as being connected here. 

The Talmud (Shevuot 39a), teaches in discussing the domino effect of sin, concludes with the Aramaic phrase, Kol yisrael arevim zeh bazeh, meaning all of Israel, all Jews are responsible for each other. But is more than worrying about sin. It is about taking care of one another, in good times—like the birth of a baby or in bad, like helping families mourn when tragedy strikes. 

Let’s start with some basic definitions: 

Belong:
to be attached or bound by birth, allegiance, or dependency. usually used with to. they belong to their homeland. to be a member of a club, organization, or group. 

Community: 

• a group of people living in the same place or having a particular characteristic in common. “the scientific community” attitudes, interests values and goals.  
• a feeling of fellowship with others, as a result of sharing common attitudes, interests, values and goals.  “the sense of community that organized religion can provide.” 

Both have a sense of connection. And that seems right. What people seem to want from community and from religion is a sense of connection. The word religion comes from the Latin, religio, to tie back up into, or to be connected. Emerson talked about this in one of his essays. The idea that when we leave our homes of origin, we go searching for something to replace that sense of love and belonging. 

Psalm 27 which the Bromets will read shortly, has a verse that says, “Though my father and mother leave me, the LORD will take me in.” Let that sink in. G-d will take you in. G-d loves you. G-d created you. And G-d will take you in. That brings us hope. But not just G-d, but your community. This community. Religion and the Jewish Community are an opportunity to find YOUR place, Your home, Your meaning in the world after the security (we hope) of being a child with your mother and your father.  

 And then we offer such hope and consolation to the person sitting next to us—or maybe even on Zoom. Our technology communities are one way, or many ways we stay connected. Community is about being kind. It is about being present. It is about being non-judgmental, About safe spaces. It’s about meeting people where they are, wherever they are on their journey. 

 Hillel also teaches, “If I am not for myself, who will be for me. If I am only for myself, what am I and if not now when,”  

 So maybe what distinguishes the Jewish community from other communities, is being there for one another, in good times and bad. New opportunities to engage with Judaism, with G-d, with other Jews and community keep emerging. Perhaps you like meditating. Try Institute of Jewish Spirituality. Perhaps you like Shabbat dinner with friends. One Table will be happy to supply you with all the things you need. Perhaps you are concerned about rising anti-semitism. Check out organizations like the ADL or Stop the Hate whose buttons are on the back table. Perhaps Israel is your core focus. Check out any number of Israel focused organizations and agencies. Perhaps you have young children or grandchildren. PJ Library, Kveller, are great places to start and I am especially proud of our Chai Babies group. They are really building community. So do the Torah School parents, every week they sit here and schmoze and drink coffee while their kids are in school. 

One of the new organizations to emerge has edgy billboards. One is up on 294, near Dempster. “So you eat bacon. G-d has bigger things to worry about. JewBelong.” They want to appeal to a younger crowd that may be as they say disengaged Jews. Their website and their billboards are captivating. 

https://www.jewbelong.com/why-jewbelong/  

 Each of us brings something to the community. Each of us has a gift to share. Each of us helps build this place. But what if we don’t share.  

 There is a Jewish folktale that illustrates this: 

 “There was once a king who was visiting a town. In preparation for the king’s visit the town decided to fill a giant barrel with wine and present it to the king upon his arrival. Where were they going to get so much wine to fill the giant barrel? They came up with a brilliant idea; each family of the town would bring one flask filled with wine and pour it into the giant barrel and this way the barrel would fill with wine. 

They placed a Giant barrel in the center of the town with a ladder reaching to the top and every day people lined up to pour their flask of wine into the barrel. 

The day finally arrived and the king visited the town. The people were so excited to present the king with this wonderful gift. The king was shown the barrel and was given a kingly goblet. They filled his goblet with wine from the giant barrel. The towns people were shocked by the look on the king’s face as he drank the wine, the king was obviously very unhappy. When asked why he was so unhappy he responded, “It’s just plain water”. 

It turns out that each family thought to themselves why should I be the one to pour in a flask of wine I will pour in water instead, I am sure no one will notice if there is just one flask of water among all that wine. Everyone in the town made the same calculation and so no one poured in wine but rather water instead. Everyone was relying on someone else” https://www.chabadofmv.com/templates/blog/post_cdo/aid/1086982/postid/17549  

There are several versions of this story. Sometimes it is a King. Sometimes it is rabbi, It doesn’t matter, although king seems appropriate for Rosh Hashanah, since we talk about this being the day where we coronate the king. 

There are many gifts we bring to build this Holy Place, our community. We may bring wine. We may bring challah. We may bring apples or honey or table clothes or even toilet bowl cleaner and toilet paper. We hope that we may bring the gift of ourselves. Debbie Friendman, of blessed memory wrote a song, Holy Place, to illustrate this: 

These are the gifts that we bring
that we may build a holy place.
This is the spirit that we bring
that we may build a holy place.
We will bring all the goodness
that comes from our hearts
And the spirit of God will dwell within….. 

These are the colours of our dreams
we bring to make a holy place.
This is the weaving of our lives
we bring to make a holy place.
We will bring all the goodness
that comes from our hearts
And the spirit of love will dwell within….. 

These are the prayers that we bring
that we may make a holy place.
These are the visions that we seek
that we may build this holy place.
Let our promise forever be strong,
let our souls rise together in song,
that the spirit of God
and the spirit of love,
Shechinah,
will dwell within. 

If community is about connection, then we build connection one person at a time, one story at a time, one life cycle event at a time. It’s like the old bar Cheers where everyone knows your name, but more than your name. Your story, your essence, your Torah.  

On the back table you will find friendship bracelets. Little pieces of yarn to remind you that you are connected. That you belong. That you have a friend. Please feel free to take one and wear it proudly.  

Pirke Avot also teaches, “Ours is not to finish the task. Neither are we free to ignore it.” When you move to the back of the room to enjoy apples and honey and vote for your favorite one, you will be building community and connection. Sure, say shana tova to your friends who you may not have seen in too long. But make sure that you also introduce to someone you may not know.  

It is no secret that I like the little service of the High Holy Days. The private moments. The more intimate experiences. Last night a group of us gathered both in person and on Zoom to begin selichot services. Typically held late on the Saturday before Rosh Hashanah, it is one way we “get in the mood.” There are differences between how the Sephardic communities and the Ashkenazi communities do selichot. And most liberal Jewish communities have no fixed liturgy.

Sometimes it features some of the upcoming tunes, the nusach you will hear during the course of the season. Sometimes it features a dinner. Sometimes it features readings or a workshop, writing or art. So much of the concepts of the High Holy Days is so cerebral it can be hard to understand. Music, art, poetry are ways to get us out of our heads and perhaps into the emotions of the prayers themselves. Some congregations show a movie. That has had mixed responses in this congregation but that was the direction the ritual committee and I chose to use this year. 

 The first part of the evening was changing the blue linnens to white. It is always a special moment when that is completed. It was lovely to have five of us working together to make the sanctuary look beautiful.  

 There is something magical about selichot, the late night, the dim lights, the approaching holiday all seem to be evocative. It gives me a chance to focus, to center, to really prepare.  

We began with havdalah with people bringing their own lighted, separate candle to one another and to light the havdalah flame. It was beautiful. Then it was my intent to show the movie, “Lilies of the Field.” But while havdalah worked on Zoom, the Zoomers couldn’t hear the audio on the video so we went to the remaining part of the selichot service. That full service follows. 

One of our members brought a lovely reading from Rami Shapiro about Hineini that I will have to track down. You might hear it again later in the season. 

But what about Lillies of the Field. If you never saw it, it came out in 1963 starring Sidney Portier. It seems like an improbable movie to show on the wall of a Jewish sanctuary. Even projecting a cross or having nuns bless themselves. But nobody raised those objections.  

By now you might be wondering, why did I pick this movie. It is about a community—a diverse community coming together to build a church. Isn’t that what we do at CKI—we come together to build our Jewish community. Not a church, but in this case a synagogue. 

The movie has many diverse people, Sidney Portier is black and even points that out. He’s a poor itinerant handyman whose car runs out of water. There are five German nuns who have escaped over the wall in Berlin to land in this G-dforsaken desert. There is an Irish Catholic itinerant priest. Juan, the Hispanic restaurant owner, a host of Hispanic “villagers” and there is the white owner of the road construction company. And all of the languages, with no subtitles to go with it, English, German, Spanish and even southern English!  

 The head nun, The Mother, eventually called Mama, wants Homer to help fix their roof. (Can you say Fiddler on the Roof? Or our own roof campaign?) He does that and then wants to be paid. She wants him to sleep there and do more. Some tension—a lot of tension–about what it means to be paid and when. One egg and a cup of milk is a “Catholic breakfast” and not really payment and not nearly enough food.  

But the ice seems to break when he offers English lessons, rather than listening to the “phonograph” on a record. Much better and more fun than the staid lesson. The younger nuns even smile. 

One of those lessons included “I build the church. You build the church. HE builds the church. We build the church.” The idea was that they all build the church together. Or maybe G-d will provide and HE will build the church. Is it faith in G-d. Faith in the one individual? Faith in the community? Or just insurance?  

This movie has much to say about racism and diversity and welcoming people. Much to say about building community. And for me it was a piece of lifelong learning this year.  

What are the implications for us? I remain enthralled by thinking about this. It is worth the watch and a great kick off to the High Holy Days.  

Selichot and Welcome Back Havdalah 5783 

Welcome  

Heveinu Shalom Aleichem
Heveinu Shalom Aleichem,
Aleichem Heveinu Shalom
Hiney Ma Tov U Manaim
Shevet Achim Gam Yachad. 

 Ashrei
Ash-rei yosh-vei vei-te-cha – od y’-ha-l’-lu-cha se-la.
Happy are they who dwell in Your house; they are always praising You. (Psalm 84:5)  

 Or zarua
Or zarua latzadik uleyishrei lev simcha.
(light is sown for the righteous and joy for the upright in heart) 

 Havdalah
Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech ha’olam borei prei hagafen.
Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the Universe, Creator of the fruit of the vine. 

Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech ha’olam borei minei v’samim.
Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the Universe, Creator of varied spices

Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech ha’olam borei m’orei ha’esh.
Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the Universe, Creator of the lights of fire. 

Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, hamavdil bein kodesh l’chol, bein or l’choshech, bein yom hashvi’i l’sheishet yamei hama’aseh. Baruch atah Adonai hamavdil bein kodesh l’chol. 

Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the universe who makes distinctions between holy and everyday, between light and darkness, between Shabbat and the six days of work. Blessed are You, who distinguishes between holy and everyday. 

Eliyahu hanavi
Eliyahu hatishbi
Eliyahu hagiladi
Bimheirah b’yameinu
Yavo eilenu
Im Mashiach ben David 

A good week, a week of peace
May gladness reign and joy increase. 

The Gates
The gates are opening. 
A transition in time:
notice and walk through. 

Tonight we open ourselves
to possibility, to becoming
better than we were before.
Tonight we prepare
to breathe into our changes
and begin anew. 

Tonight we turn from despair
and open toward hope, even if
we aren’t certain,
even if we feel wobbly as fawns
learning to bound
across an open summer field. 

 Tonight we turn from inattention
and open toward awe, even if
we don’t remember the way. 

The gates are opening
above a sapphire floor.
God waits. Will we come in?
     Rabbi Rachel Barenblatt 

 Selichot 

Rosh Hashanah 17b:5
The verse states: “And the Lord passed by before him, and proclaimed” (Exodus 34:6). Rabbi Yoḥanan said: Were it not explicitly written in the verse, it would be impossible to say this, as it would be insulting to God’s honor. The verse teaches that the Holy One, Blessed be He, wrapped Himself in a prayer shawl like a prayer leader and showed Moses the structure of the order of the prayer. He said to him: Whenever the Jewish people sin, let them act before Me in accordance with this order. Let the prayer leader wrap himself in a prayer shawl and publicly recite the thirteen attributes of mercy, and I will forgive them. 

 Adonai Adonai 

יְהֹוָ֣ה ׀ יְהֹוָ֔ה אֵ֥ל רַח֖וּם וְחַנּ֑וּן אֶ֥רֶךְ אַפַּ֖יִם וְרַב־חֶ֥סֶד וֶאֱמֶֽת׃ (ז) נֹצֵ֥ר חֶ֙סֶד֙ לָאֲלָפִ֔ים נֹשֵׂ֥א עָוֺ֛ן וָפֶ֖שַׁע וְחַטָּאָ֑ה וְנַקֵּה֙ 

 Adonai, Adonai, Eyl rahum v’hanun, ereh apa-yim v’rav hesed ve-emet. No-tzeyr hesed la-alafim, nosey avon va-fe-sha v’hata-a v’nakey. 

Adonai, Adonai You tube video

 Avinu Malkeenu:
Avinu Malkeinu chaneinu va’aneinu, ki ein banu ma-a-sim,
aseih imanu tz’dakah vachesed v’hoshi-einu. 

 Avinu Malkeinu, be gracious and answer us, for we have little merit. Treat us generously and with kindness, and be our help. 

Eternal One of forgiveness
Searcher of hearts
Revealer of deep thoughts
Proclaimer of righteousness
Good and benevolent to Your creatures
Knower of all secrets
Provider for the righteous
We have sinned before You
Be merciful with us. 

Sh’ma Koleinu 

שְׁמַע קוֹלֵֽנוּ יהוה אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ, חוּס וְרַחֵם עָלֵֽינוּ, וְקַבֵּל בּרַחֲמיִם וּבְרָצוֹן אֶת־תְּפִלָּתֵֽנוּ. הֲשִׁיבֵֽנוּ יהוה אֵלֶֽיךָ וְנָשֽׁוּבָה חַדֵּשׁ יָמֵֽינוּ כְּקֶֽדֶם. הֲשִׁיבֵֽנוּ יהוה אֵלֶֽיךָ וְנָשֽׁוּבָה חַדֵּשׁ יָמֵֽינוּ כְּקֶֽדֶם. אַל־תַּשְׁלִיכֵֽנוּ לְעֵת זִקְנָה כִּכְלוֹת כֹּחֵֽנוּ אַל־תַּעַזְבֵֽנוּ. 

Sh-ma ko-lei-nu A-do-nai E-lo-hei-nu, chus v’ra-cheim a-lei-nu, v’ka-beil b’ra-cha-mim, uv-ra-tson et-t’fi-la-tei-nu. Ha-shi-vei-nu A-do-nai e-le-cha v’na-shu-vah, cha-deish ya-mei-nu k’ke-dem. Al tash-li-chei-nu, l’eit zik-nah kich-lot ko-ch-einu, al ta-az-vei-nu. 

Hear us, Adonai our God, have compassion upon us and with that compassion, accept our prayer.
Help us to return to You, O God; then truly we shall return. Renew our days as in the past.
Consider our word; look into our inmost thoughts.
Do not cast us away from Your presence; do not remove Your holy spirit.
Do not dismiss us when we are old; as our strength diminishes, do not abandon us.
Loving God, do not abandon us; do not be far from us.
For You, O God, do we wait; and You, our God will answer. 

 Hashiveinu
Return O Israel, to your Eternal God;
return, all who have stumbled.
For this says the Eternal God,
the Holy One of Israel;
In returning, in peace shall you triumph;
in calm trust you shall find strength.
You are a stronghold to the poor,
a shelter from the storm,
a shade from the heat.
Infinite God, reach out to me;
let me return to You,
let me come to You.
I am alone.
Alone.
Empty-handed.
Afraid of myself.
Let me come to You.
Reach out to me.
You are a shelter from the storm,
a shade from the heat.
Return O Israel, to your Eternal God.
Behold how the Eternal One does great things with this people!
Behold the Most High, who heaps miracle upon wonder!
Return O Israel, return!
You are a stronghold to the poor,
a crown of glory to all who stumble and fall,
to all who rise and return! 

הֲשִׁיבֵ֨נוּ יְהוָ֤ה ׀ אֵלֶ֙יךָ֙ ונשוב [וְֽנָשׁ֔וּבָה] חַדֵּ֥שׁ יָמֵ֖ינוּ כְּקֶֽדֶם׃ 

Take us back, O LORD, to Yourself, And we will come back; Renew our days as of old! (Lamentations 5:21) 

 Summer 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 

Shofar
Baruch ata Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha-olam asher kidshanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu lishmoa kol shofar. 

Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the universe, who has made us holy with commandments, and who has commanded us to hear the voice of the shofar. 

 Baruch ata Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha-olam shehecheyanu v’kiyimanu v’higiyanu lazman ha-zeh. 

Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the universe, for giving us life, for sustaining us, and for enabling us to reach this season.

Oh Lord, let this new year be for us and for our children a year of awe and amazement, blessing, courage, compassion and creativity. May we dream boldly, exhibit empathy, enjoy families, friendship and fun. May we be generous, gracious and grateful, honest and hopeful. May we be blessed with intelligence and ingenuity, joyfulness and justice. May we be kind. May we love and be loved. May we experience music and motherhood and nature. May we be optimistic. May we be patient and persistent. May we experience quietude, respect and reverence. May we be sincere and spiritually fulfilled. May we embrace your Torah. May we be united in Your service to improve the world around us. May this be a year of vigor and wisdom, yearning and zeal for good causes. May we be blessed as we go on our way
Rabbi Margaret Frisch Klein

With many thanks to the Bayit for some of these modern words.

. 

“Surely, this Instruction which I enjoin upon you this day is not too baffling for you, nor is it beyond reach. It is not in the heavens, that you should say, “Who among us can go up to the heavens and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it?” Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, “Who among us can cross to the other side of the sea and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it?” No, the thing is very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart, to observe it (Deut. 30:11-14).” 

This morning I asked each of you to come up here, on the bimah, to ascend the bima. You should be right here. That’s because each of you should have access to Torah. Each of you stood at Sinai. Each of you is standing here today. Each of you is a part of what we do. Each of you is a part of the Jewish people. Is part of the Jewish community. Is part of this community. 

All of us…we are all here. Standing together. 

According to Rabbi Menachem Creditor: “Just as the Israelites in the desert transitioned from one generation’s experiences to the next, each generation has a mandate to ensure the resilience and strength of the next. As we witness the challenges of today… we recognize the importance of preparing them for the responsibilities they will inherit after our best attempts. We are called to give what wisdom we’ve received and to do the good we can, knowing all the while that our biggest mandate is to become less necessary for our descendants’ welfares. Our role, as the current generation in charge, is to equip them with the lessons of the past and the courage, conviction, and wisdom they will need to navigate their complex world.” 

This portion is about hope. Hope for the future. Recently, I sat with a family that was told there is no more hope. There were many tears. Fear seems to be the opposite of hope. Fear of the unknown. Fear of being alone. Fear of not knowing what will come after. 

This week we will mark the anniversary of September 11th. Do you remember the fear? Do you remember the questions in the aftermath? One of them was “Where was G-d.” At one of the many services in Boston (two of those planes had left from Logan), the Rev. Larry Zimmerman attempted to answer that question. He said that G-d was with the first responders who rushed in. G-d was with the people who stood on street corners handing out peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. G-d cried as all of us cried.” 

This week we also the beginning of football season. Sometimes people pray that G-d is on their side. That’s never my prayer. I pray for a clean game, for a fair game and for no injuries. 

This portion promises us that G-d will be with us.  

Being with G-d means we are not alone. We are never alone. That gives us strength and courage. It gives us hope.  

During the month of Elul we read Psalm 27 as part of our preparation for Rosh Hashanah.  It begins with telling us not to fear and it ends with hope: 

Look to the LORD;
be strong and of good courage!
O look to the LORD! (Psalm 27:14) 

Last night we read some poetry about this psalm. But today’s Torah portion also tells us to have to be strong and courageous:: 

“Be strong and courageous
Do not fear them or be in dread of them.
For it is indeed your G-d who marches with you, and will not fail you or forsake you.” (Deut. 31:6) 

 Then Moses calls Joshua and, before all the people, says to him: 

 “Be strong and courageous…
G-d will be with you and will not fail or forsake you.
Fear not and do not be dismayed.” (Deut. 31:8)

Later, G-d charges Joshua: 

 “Be strong and courageous:
for you shall bring the Israelites into the land that I promised them on oath,
and I will be with you.” (Deut. 31:23) 

The Book of Joshua soon commences with G-d delivering the same message to Joshua: 

 “Be strong and courageous for you shall apportion to this people the land…
You must be very strong and courageous to observe faithfully all the Teaching that my servant Moses enjoined on you…
Be strong and courageous.
Do not be terrified or afraid.
For G-d, your G-d, is with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:6-9) 

This seems to be the perfect lead up to the High Holy Days, often called the Yamim Noaraim, the Days of Awe, The Days of Fear and Trembling. Maybe we don’t have to have so much fear. G-d is with us. All of us. All of us together. 

Life is complicated. Messy. Filled with things that don’t fit our preconceived notions of what we were supposed to do.  

Rabbi Lord Sacks said, “Things happen. We are blown by passing winds, caught up in problems not of our making, and we drift. When that happens, whether to individuals, institutions, or nations, we grow old. We forget who we are and why. Eventually we are overtaken by people (or organisations or cultures) that are younger, hungrier, or more driven than us. 

The only way to stay young, hungry, and driven is through periodic renewal, reminding ourselves of where we came from, where we are going, and why. To what ideals are we committed? What journey are we called on to continue? Of what story are we a part?” 

So as we stand here today, all of us. Our leaders, our young ones, the strangers within our gates, the wood choppers and water drawers. All of us. What do we want to be? What kind of community are we building? What world are we leaving behind for our children and our children’s children? 

It is not so far into the heavens or across the sea. It is right here, right now.  

Adon Olam ends with this verse: 

B’yado afkid ruchi
b’et ishan v’a’irah.
V’im ruchi g’viyati,
Adonai li v’lo ira. 

 Into Your hand, I place my spirit
When I sleep as when I wake
And when my spirit leave
G-d is with me. I shall not fear.  

 We can do it. Together.  

As we enter the Yamim Nora’im:

May you be strong and courageous,
And not fear,
Secure in the knowledge
that G-d is with you.
You are not alone. 

(It took a while to write this one up!)
This past week I attended the Parliament of World Religions which was held at McCormick Place in Chicago. The first Parliament was held in 1893 in Chicago. I remember that one of my husband’s great aunts spoke at the very first one so I was excited to go. I have been engaged in interfaith dialogue since I was in college. I am currently the co-president of the Coalition of Elgin Religious Leaders.  

At this year’s Parliament there were 200 religions and 80 countries represented.  

Getting from Elgin to McCormick Place is not the easiest, however I managed to get there (and back!) Those are stories for another time. For me, this brought a lot of parts of my rabbinate together. It was worth the effort. 

My first session was listed in room 271b. I couldn’t find that one at first, so I stopped in 271e. It was about a call to conscience through liminality of a global ethic.  The premise is that this is liminal time, something talk about a lot. The best part of the session was a discussion on what they called reverent listening. Like active listening, this takes it to another level making listening something to be done with respect. It becomes a holy action. It was very affirming. 

Next, I wandered over to the session I had really wanted to go to about why the interfaith movement is crucial in this time. The presenters were the Chief Rabbi of Ireland and a professor of Hindu from India who was talking about the need for religious diversity. While his example of the work he is doing in the UAE building a synagogue, church and mosque was welcome by the participants, she had a answer questions about what some called Hindu Nationalism and the persecution of Muslims in India. That part was quite uncomfortable. And while she maintained her composure and assured those gathered that the political aims in current day India are not normative Hinduism, people were not at all happy. 

I was thrilled however to meet the chief rabbi of Ireland and snap a selfie. He was warm, personable and recognized my rabbinate as a women even within his Orthodox world. One of the things that he said that I found so affirming, is that people who do this kind of interfaith relations are most often secure in their faith. That would be true for me. I find that when I engage in these kinds of deep conversations about religion, it is not about convincing someone that my way is better, it is about sharing some of the things that are most important. Every religion talks about kindness and compassion. Understanding how is important.  

Next, I wandered through the women’s village. They had a Red Tent created with beautiful weavings and tapestries. There was a tree made up of corrugated cardboard as the truck and post-it notes that you could write a wish for the planet and your intention for some action to heal the world. That was a very powerful experience for me. I wrote that it is my intention to continue to heal my community. There was an opportunity to create a crown. So for those of you who asked whether I would be wearing a tiara, I now have a new one. And there was an opportunity to be interviewed, which I did. 

They asked three questions: 

How does your faith inspire you toward this year’s Parliament theme of a Call to Conscience? 

My faith includes the idea that we are all created b’tzelem Elohim. In the image of God. All means all, using U-46 School District’s Mission Statement. The idea of tikkun olam, repairing the world, comes from an old story of the Zohar. When G-d created the world, the light was initially in a clay jar. The light was so bright, it exploded the vessel. Finding those sparks and bringing the pieces back together, is what we need to do. We all need to do. Finding and seeing the divine spark in every person is part of recognizing that we are all created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d. Meeting people where they are and fighting for justice for all, welcoming the widow, the orphan, the sojourner, the most marginalized amongst us is central to my core. This week, our liturgial calendar, includes a very famous line from Torah, “Tzedek, tzedek tirdoff, justice, justice shall you pursue.” This is something that we have to actively pursue, chase after, run after. I welcome the opportunity to pursue justice.  

How does your faith inform you to protect the dignity and human rights for women? 

I’ve worked tirelessly to protect the rights of women. That includes rights of women to worship as they see fit with organizations like Women of the Wall in Israel, fighting to maintain the rights of women to worship at the Western Wall. To work for equal access to health care for women, including rights for reproductive freedom and abortion rights. I actually, and still surprisingly to me sit on a local Catholic Hospital board for precisely this reason. I am a member of NCJW, T’ruah, and the Community Crisis Center. I have served on a rape crisis hotline. And as a sexual assault survivor I have written a book called Enduring Spirit that helps survivors of domestic violence and sexual assault use the spiral of the Jewish year to help with healing so that they can, we hope, thrive again.  

What is your responsibility as a woman of your faith to protect our next generation of children? 

Maybe because we are sitting here, near the climate tree, I am reminded of the story about Honi. Honi was walking on a road and he spied a man (it’s alwys a man in these stories, right?) planting a tree. He asked when it will bear fruit. The man answers not for 70 years. Honi wonders why bother, then since you won’t get to use it? The answer is “Just as my ancestors planted for me, so too do I plant for my children and grandchildren.” We all have an obligation to do what we can to protect this world for the generations yet to come. I am proud of this year’s B-Mitzvah students, two of whom are actively engaged in projects to help the environment, That is part of my responsibility too.  

After filming my interview, I wandered through the exhibition hall and then found my friend Ziona Zelazo who was in from New Jersey. We attended a session on Jewish and Hindu storytelling. Really, they are not so different!  

We went to a booth that was helping people made art work out of pieces of guns. And then, living out the quote from Micah, I pounded the barrel of a gun into a flat piece that later will be turned into gardening tools. 

“And everyone ‘neath their vine and fig tree shall live in peace and unafraid. They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.” 

I have sung it in Washington. I have sung it with Peter Paul and Mary. At any number of youth group events. George Washington quoted it in his letter to the Jewish community of Newport Rhode Island, It is part of our weekly prayer for our country. It, too, is core to my being.  

Yehudah Amichai added to that verse: 

Don’t stop after beating the swords
into plowshares, don’t stop!
Go on beating
and make musical instruments out of them.
Whoever wants to make war again
will have to turn them into plowshares first.
– Yehuda Amichai
p. 777, Kol Haneshemah (Wyncote, PA: The Reconstructionist Press, 1996) 

There was a musicality and a rhythm to my pounding. It was just an amazing feeling. It felt like many of the social justice things I have worked on came together in that brief moment,  

Then I walked on a labyrinth which helped cement my commitment to my path. I love labyrinths. I eagerly look forward to walking the one at the University of Michigan Botanic Garden. It is part of my High Holy Day prep. If you haven’t tried one to enrich your own spirituality, I highly recommend it, There are several labyrinths in the Elgin area. One at Saint Joseph hospital. One at St. Alexius. One at the UU church on Highland.  

After that, with a nod to my beloved Lake Michigan, it was time to find a cab, a train and my way back to Elgin. So glad I found my courage to go.  

Did you enjoy the hazy sunrise this morning? It was beautiful. But it belies a sad fact. Yesterday morning, I awoke to the news that one of my running friends in Canada was being evacuated because of one of the Canadian wildfires. The video was terrifying.  

All summer we have been plagued. Yes, plagued by Canadian wildfire smoke. By the horrendous tragedy in Maui. By flooding and tornados right here. Oppressive, dangerous heat which will be back this week. Repeat after me. Hydrate. Hydrate. Hydrate. A tornado in Rhode Island yesterday and now a hurricane or tropical storm about to hit the Los Angeles area. They haven’t seen one in something like 84 years. What’s going on here? 

I am a lifelong Girl Scout. My love of the out-of-doors comes from many years camping, hiking, canoeing at Girl Scout camps throughout the Midwest, New England and yes, Canada.  All summer I have been haunted by an old camp song, known as “Canadian Wilderness” or “The Life of a Voyager”. 

One verse sings: 

“The call of the lonely loon
coyotes howling at the moon
wind rustling through the trees
that’s our Canadian breeze
smoke rising from the fire
up through the trees in a stately spire
breathe a sigh in the evening glow
sun goes down, those north winds blow” 

It paints a picture of canoeing from town to town and the beauty of the wilderness. 

This has been the summer of smoke. Smoke from Canada. Smoke from wildfires. Beautiful sunsets. But those sunsets belie the fact that the smoke is dangerous.  Air quality alert days. Hard to breathe. Apocalyptic looking photos. Must stay inside. 

This is not a new problem. Years ago, Canada was not happy with the United States for sending acid rain to Canada. Now we hear some Americans unhappy with Canada for the smoke. The American government has sent aid. Still, it is not enough. Those fires, multiple fires may not even be fully out until after the first snowfall. And now there are fires in Washington, Montana.  

It is not Canada’s fault alone. Climate change is real. It is hard to deny it, although some do, even in this the hottest summer ever recorded. Whatever you call it, the truth is that there have been ocean water temperatures in Florida of over 100 degrees. More than 15 days of scorching heat in the desert southwest of more than 115 degrees. Athens at 111 degrees—and Greece has fires too. Drought in Illinois leading to early fall leaves falling off trees in June. Tornados and floods and other storms. This is a global problem. It demands a global solution. Not years from now. Right now. 

It also demands spiritual discipline. My friend, Rabbi Katy Allen considers herself an earth chaplain. She has been working on helping to preserve the earth for decades. I have spent Shabbat out in nature with her. Hiked with her. Harvested cranberries from a cranberry bog. Commuted to New York together to save gas. Listened to her story of her hand crocheted rainbow kippah and how she considers it a symbol of the climate crisis. Every year she publishes a series of readings during the month of Elul called Earth Etudes for Elul. Mine which includes much of today’s talk, will be published on Thursday, August 24th.  

She is not the only Jewish leader working on our climate crisis.  

Why are we talking about this topic today? Because while this portion contains one of the most famous quotes in Torah, “tzedek, tzedek tirdof, Justice, Justice shall you pursue,” But the full portion today also has the concept of bal taschit. Do not destroy or waste unnecessarily 

Based on the quote, later in our portion: “When in your war against a city you have to besiege it a long time in order to capture it, you must not destroy its trees, wielding the ax against them. You may eat of them, but you must not cut them down.” You must not destroy. The Talmud makes this more universal than just a prohibition during wartime in order to include other forms of senseless damage or waste,  

The Talmud applies the principle to extend to preventing the wasting of lamp oil, the tearing of clothing, the chopping up of furniture for firewood, or the killing of animals. In his explanation of this law, the Chinuch (Mitzvah 529) writes that “it is the practice of very righteous people not to waste anything, even a grain of mustard”. 

The logic behind this principle is that if even in a time of war one could not destroy fruit trees, all the more so,  one should not destroy or waste anything under normal circumstances. This talmudic principle of exegesis is called a kal v’homer, and is recongized in American jurisprudence as well. The Talmud even goes so far as to state that “…one who tears his clothes or breaks his vessels or scatters his money in anger should be considered like an idol worshipper (Shabbat 105b; and .Shabbat 67b).” 

The Rambam in the Mishneh Torah says it this way: 

“And not only [does bal taschit apply] to trees; rather, anyone who destroys dishes, or tears clothes, or demolishes a building, or stops up a spring, or destroys food in anger– [that person] transgresses the law of bal taschit.” 

There are modern day applications of this including the growing field of Jewish environmentalism, and Jewish vegetarianism.  

We are now in Elul, preparing for the Yamim No’raim, the Days of Awe. Yesterday as part of my weekly Weight Watchers meeting, we reviewed the concept of takling an awe walk. I love that tradition and I often snap a photo of some piece of beauty, a sunset, a flower. But awe also carries with it a sense of fear and trembling. The dictionary definition is “a feeling of reverential respect mixed with fear or wonder.”  

One of the first steps in teshuvah, returning, repentance is confessing our sins. 

Part of the Yom Kippur liturgy is reciting Al Chet, “ For the sin which we have sinned…” Here are few new verses for this emergency: 

For the sin which we have sinned by not taking care of the earth.
And for the sin which we have sinned with our haughtiness. 

For the sin which we have sinned by not listening to and believing scientists
And for the sin which we have sinned by denying what is happening. 

For the sin which we have sinned by not realizing how interconnected we are.
And for the sin which we have sinned by not recognizing that our individual actions impact others, 

 For the sin which we have sinned by our reliance on fossil fuels.
And for the sin which we have sinned by not developing and using alternative energy sources.  

 For the sin which we have sinned by not protecting our waterways.
And for the sin which we have sinned by not providing drinkable water. 

 For the sin which we have sinned by continuing to purchasing to excess
And for the sin which we have sinned by using too much packaging. 

For the sin which we have sinned by wanting food at any time from anywhere.
And for the sin which we have sinned by not supporting local farms and buying food “in season.” 

For the sin which we have sinned by refusing to act.
And for the sin which we have sinned by refusing to protect our inheritance for the next generations. 

For all of these sins, O G-d of Creation, pardon us, forgive us, grant us atonement
For all of these sins, Ruler of the whole Universe, inspire us, strengthen us and give us the courage to repair Your world. 

This week I attended the Parliament of World Religions. It was founded right here in Chicago in 1893. If you go to the Art Institute, you will find a plaque over the door commemorating the first one. This year there were 200 Religions and 80 countries represented. As part of the events, I was asked to film an interview in the women’s tent. I ended my thoughts with the story of Honi.   

We’ve told this story before—and it also reminds me of the story of the starfish.  

One day, Honi Hame’agel was walking along a road. He came upon an old man planting a carob tree. Honi asked him when he thought the tree would bear fruit. The man replied not for 70 years. Honi asked if he thought he would live for seventy years and he would benefit from his planting. He answered, just as my ancestors planted for me, so too do I plant for my children and grandchildren. 

 Think you can’t make a difference? Our B-Mitzvah kids are. One is putting in a butterfly garden. Another is raising money for Surfrider.  Come plant with us!