When you live in a small town and work as a rabbi, you get to do some really unique things. Amongst them, I spoke last night at the First Ron Raglin Scholarship Dinner. I am grateful to his wife, Tena, for her friendship and this opportunity,

During the appetizers, I had the opportunity to see people I hadn’t seen  since before the pandemic. One person asked me if I am still doing and Diversity, Equity and Inclusion work. (DEI). I realized the answer is yes. Yes, when I work with ADL to reduce anti-semitism and racism in a neighboring school district. Yes, when I sit on the Chief’s Advisory Council. Yes, when I attend the Mayor’s Community and Fair and Impartial Training. Yes, as part of the Coalition of Elgin Religious Leaders. Yes, when I teach a course in Comparative Religion. Much of what I do I realize is about DEI. The work most certainly continues.

It comes out of my believe that we are all created b’tzelem elohiim, in the image of the Divine, a belief that Ron and I most certainly shared.

Here is what I said about Ron and the his “Foundation fo Faith:”

Tonight I am supposed to talk about “The Foundation of Faith.” Ron’s faith. Our faith. All of our faiths—whatever they may be. This is the time period where Jews count up from Passover to Shavuot, the feast of Weeks or Pentecost. Each of the 50 days has a special spiritual meaning. This week we actually counted Yesod shel Chesed, The foundation of Lovingkindness. That was Ron, Everything he did was grounded in faith and lovingkindness. Now foundation is an interesting word. One of my teachers, Rabbi Zlotowitz, of blessed memory, my thesis advisor, told the story of one of his teachers (we rabbis are really good at footnoting sources!), who would say, “Boychiks (back in the day only men studied to be rabbis). Boychicks, today we are going to study the basement of Judaism.” He had gotten the word basement and foundation confused. And I can understand that.  

A foundation is the lowest load-bearing part of a building, typically below ground level. (I might add, the place you are supposed to go during a tornado warning. I recently led a service during one!) And a foundation is an underlying basis or principle. Ron’s foundation was faith.  

 The first phone call I got when I came to Congregation Kneseth Israel and Elgin, not from someone who is affiliated with CKI was from this guy at U46, He was the assistant superintendent with this very cool title about equity and justice and it turned out that it was his first week on his new job too. His office wasn’t far from mine, in fact we could see our buildings from our windows. We were the same age. We had the same love of education. Yes, that person turned out to be Ron Raglin.  

We both worked hard, probably too hard, and we cared passionately about kids. So that meant that I didn’t ever get to see him often enough. But he was a presence. I knew he was there and we could walk and meet half way between our offices, or meet at Blue Box for coffee. Make no mistake, his smile could light up a room. 

What you may not know is that Ron was a man of deep faith-it was his foundation. His rock. -It was part of what drove him to excel. (that and Arnie Duncan’s mother! Every one needs a Jewish mother!) We had many conversations about faith and scripture. Boy, did he know his Bible! I appreciated that he would include me, the local rabbi, in his thinking and I always had a seat at the table in his U-46 Faith Leaders Council. 

There is one morning that is seared in my brain. One Shabbat morning, a Saturday, not unlike today, I happened to be up preparing to lead services when the phone rang at 4:30AM. It was Ron. I was afraid someone died, Why else would the Assistant Superintendent be calling at that hour on a Sat? No, thank G-d, Ron was just working on something for the board and he wanted to get it right. Remember that quest for excellence? He was working on a policy about bathrooms and he heard that maybe Judaism had a different understanding of gender. What could I send him to help him understand. After Shabbat I sent him many things. If anyone needs it, I have an article about the Talmud outlining 8 potentional genders, outlined 2000 years ago. I just sent it to a Catholic priest this week. 

Another time, there was a quiet, non-official meeting at Arabica, I can say this now, to talk about how and when and if one teaches religion at all in a public school setting. You can’t talk about the emergence of writing without talking about religion. Or the emergence of cities. You can’t talk about the printing press, or the Reformation or the Pilgrims or Northern Ireland or the Holocaust without talking about religion. You can’t teach Shakespeare without Biblical allusions. There has to be some context. All of these things I learned about in my public school. 

Then there were all those times when there would be some big public speaking joh and I would be nervous. Ron would be right there at my side. He would remind me that I could do it. We would pray–a black evangelical and a Jew. Together. And the speech would be fine and I never actually threw up, I promise not to tonight. More than once I think those prayers helped. Tonight, I am sure he is present and so very proud of all that you, Tena, Marissa and Mattew have done, how the work continues.  

A rabbi is a teacher. So tonight .I want to teach you just a little bit of Talmud. In Pirke Avot, the Wisdom of the Ancestors we learn:  

There are four types of students. Those who are quick to understand but quick to forget; their gain is cancelled by their loss. Those who understand with difficulty but forget with difficulty; their loss is cancelled by their gain. Those who are quick to understand and forget with difficulty; they are wise. Those who understand with difficulty and are quick to forget; they have a bad portion (i.e., bad fortune). — Pirkei Avot 5:14  

That was Ron. making sure that all students could learn. All means all. And you better have the data to prove that all the students  were succeeding. You better pray that you got an email back. Checkmate. 

And we all better never forget that all of Ron: his commitment to excellence, his commitment to all, his commitment to data and even his use of educational jargon that I would tease him about unmercifully was all driven by his deep abiding faith, his foundation of faith. 

If Ron were here, it would seem appropriate that we now pray: The first is an old Girl Scout grace that gives thanks for the food and reminds us of the gratitude for those who prepared the meal, served the meal, the people who decorated and schlepped and God. We have certainly enjoyed this meal and all the work that went into it. 

“Back of the bread is the farmer, and back of the farmer is the mill, and back of the mill is the wind and the rain and the Father’s will.” 

The second is the short version of Birkat haMazon, the Grace After Meal:s  

Brich rachamana malka d’alma, malchi d’hi pita. You are the source of life for all that is and Your blessing flows through me. 

May that blessing from above and the blessing that was Ron continue as we keep his memory alive. His name will always be for a blessing. 

For the Rev. Ginny McDaniel

As Passover wanes and our journey to freedom continues, I want to take a moment and try to answer another puzzle question. Just before Passover a dear friend and colleague called. Ginny McDaniel is a retired UCC pastor who has been called on to preach for four weeks. She and I go way back. I attended her ordination. She was the president of the Greater Lowell Interfaith Leadership Alliance (GLILA) when I was vice president. She moved to Florida and I became president. GLILA was formed one Maundy Thursday, the Thursday before Easter, partly to combat rising hate in that decade. (The 80s maybe?)  We wrestled through the Passions of the Christ together. Tough movie! She sent me her rainbow tallit which I proudly wear on some Shabbat mornings

Here is her question. Explain the difference between “freedom from” and “freedom to.” 

Freedom from and freedom to. Let’s add “freedom of” to that mix.  

Passover is called Zeman Heruteinu, the time of our freedom. Another word for freedom is hofesh, which I usually think of as break or vacation. Hafsakah is another word meaning break.  

What does Zeman heruteinu look like? I spent the next couple of weeks thinking about this, studying it and asking everyone I knew. 

I still love the reading from Simon’s compiled Haggadah, which is what I immediately sent Ginny: 

“Tonight, we participate as members of multiple communities. As Jews, the Exodus is our heritage, and equality, justice and peace are our dreams… 

Freedom from bondage and freedom from oppresion
Freedom from hunger and freedom from want
Freedom from hatred and freedom from fear
Freedom to think and freedom to speak
Freedom to teach and freedom to learn
Freedom to love and freedom to share
Freedom to hope and freedom to rejoice.” 

Freedom includes the ability to ask questions, central to the Passover seder. People who are not free cannot question authority. Freedom includes the ability to rest, to take a nap, People who are not free cannot take time off work, cannot take a nap if they are tired, cannot celebrate Shabbat. Freedom includes the ability to wear what you want when you want to. It is about having choice, freewill and self determination.  

There was a robust discussion about the whole topic as part of our Friday night service. Freedom from are the negative things, things we run away from. The Israelites were running away from Pharaoh and slavery toward freedom. As the reading above illustrates, we hope for freedom from bondage, oppression, hunger, want, hatred, fear.  

Freedom to things are more positive. We have the freedom to teach and learn, to ask questions, to rest, to practice religion how we want, freedom to love (yes, still, at least for now in this country!) 

This parallels a discussion of Isaiah Berlin’s negative and positive freedom. (Thank you to Doug and Melissa, a Lutheran couple in Grand Rapids, MI, for introducing me to this writing).  

“Negative liberty is defined as freedom from–the freedom from restraint on one’s actions, enshrined in such concepts as human and civil rights. Positive liberty is defined as freedom to­­–the freedom to pursue a good life personally and communally, expressed in such rights as the right to vote, the right to organize, the right to education, and the right to pursue economic stability.” 

A fuller analysis of Isaiah Berlin from a Jewish perspective can be found here: https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/negative-and-positive-freedom/  

Our US Constitution guarantees some freedoms as well. Freedom of religion. Freedom of the press. Freedom of assembly. Freedom of speech. And yes, even the freedom to bear arms. But we are not totally free. We cannot yell fire in a theater if there is none and claim freedom of speech as a defense. 

Freedom seems like such a good idea. We can do whatever we want, whenever we want.  Not so fast. We have a moral code, the Torah and as we move from Passover and count up to Shavuot, we celebrate freedom and know we need Torah.

With freedom, as was quickly pointed out, comes responsibility. We have a responsibility to ensure these freedoms, to take care of the widow, the orphan, the stranger, the most marginalized among us precisely because we were slaves in Egypt and did not have the freedom to do so. We knew what it was like to be a stranger so 36 times in Torah it exhorts us to take care of the stranger the same way with the same laws we take care of each other.   

The Jewish Funder’s Network says it this way: “Judaism understood that true freedom is not the absence of bondage, but the presence of justice and purpose. Martin Luther King, Jr. paraphrased the prophets when he wrote that “We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny.” 

“True freedom is the experience we feel when we can live up to our full capacity and potential. The discipline it takes for one to live by the morals and standards with which God has tasked him or her is the greatest liberating experience. One who lives by the whim of his or her desires and impulses is not liberated but enslaved to his natural inclinations and does not have the capacity to truly be free,” says Rabbi Mendel Polter in the Detroit Jewish News. 

As part of our community seder, we wore our neon x-ray glasses to search for freedom. Rabbi Lord Sacks of blessed memory taught that in order to understand the structure of the seder. These x-glasses help us to search for freedom. Our own individual freedoms. We are taught that G-d led us out of Egypt, out of the narrow places with a strong hand and an outstretched arm. We need both. Strength and compassion. Each of us is to see ourselves as we left Egypt, out of the narrow places. In a sense we are reborn into freedom.  

On Sunday we took our Torah School students on a search for freedom. We found our neighbor, Vicar Andrea across the street and we learned that we have the freedom to say, “Happy Easter,” even if that is not our holiday. She sees freedom as water. She called me back. She also sees the flowers that three congregations planted, daffodils, on our corner as a symbol of freedom. We had the freedom to stop and smell the flowers. We even had the freedom to take that walk and be outside, even without coats on a beautiful spring day. We have the freedom to run, and skip, and jump and even do cartwheels. We have the freedom to sing and dance. To sing at the shores of the Sea of Reeds. Mi Chamocha or something else. 

Moshe Dayan said, and this resonated with me, “Freedom is the oxygen of the soul.” May we be enriched with ours search for freedom. Whether freedom from or to. 

https://www.frontiersin.org/articles/10.3389/fpsyg.2019.01193/full  

https://www.bu.edu/sph/news/articles/2017/freedom-to-vs-freedom-from/  

49 years ago today on the Hebrew calendar I became a Bat Mitzvah. It was chol mo’ed Pesach. My rabbi used to say that every student gets just the right portion for them. I am no exception. The Torah portion, which seems odd for Pesach, continues to enrich me and I continue to learn. How is it possible that there is anything more considering this portion caused me to become a rabbi, I wrote my thesis about it and then a book? Sit back. I have found something new to teach.  

This portion picks up the story just after the golden calf. Just after Moses has smashed the 10 Commandments. God and Moses are both tired and angry. God wants Moses to go back up the mountain and get a second set of 10 Commandments. Moses doesn’t want to go. He wants to know why he should lead this stubborn, stiffnecked people. God assures him that God will go with Moses and lighten his burden and give him rest. Moses wants to understand who this god is and demands to see this invisible voice. God reminds Moses that no one can see God’s face and live but that God will hide him in a cleft, a cranny, a crevice of the rock and all God’s goodness, God’s essential nature will pass before him.  

We know that essential nature. Those are the 13 Attributes of the Divine. Adonai, Adonai, el rachum v’chanun. The Lord, the Lord, God, merciful and gracious. Full of lovingkindess.  

For me there has been a puzzle. There are at least two words for love in Hebrew. Ahavah—like in V’ahavta et Adonai Elochecha, You shall love the Lord your God. Or V’ahavta et rayecha kamocha, Love your neighbor as yourself. But our word today, Chesed, is often translated as lovingkindness. This is a puzzle to me. What is the difference between ahavah and chesed? Today, just today I think I solved it! 

Ahavah is emotive. Just like when Isaac took Rebecca to his mother’s tent and he loved her.
“Isaac then brought her into the tent of his mother Sarah, and he took Rebekah as his wife. Isaac loved her, and thus found comfort after his mother’s death.” (Gen. 24:67) 

Chesed as love is an action, even though it is a noun.  

We talk a lot about chesed this week. As we count the omer, 49 days, 7 weeks, the first week is all about chesed. Today is the second day of the counting of the Omer, as we did last night. Mystically it is seen as Gevurah of Chesed, the strength of lovingkindness.  

“Chesed grows in those who do deeds of Chesed.  At the same time Chesed needs to be balanced with Gevurah.  Chesed is G-d Giving Himself unrestrictedly.  If He were to do that then Chesed would totally overwhelm creation.  So G-d Balances His Chesed with Gevurah (restraint).  We need to find this balance in our lives. To perform an act of kindness, without personal gain, is the highest degree of pure and enduring human worth.  Kind deeds between one person and another induce a corresponding flow of kindness from G-d that sustains the world.”  Maharal of Prague Pirkei Avos Artscroll page 17 

Like Benjamin Franklin did in his journals by working on 13 character traits, some Jews do the same thing with the study of mussar. One of those traits is chesed.  

For this morning I want to dive deeper into chesed. How are loving, how are we kind, how do we act with lovingkindness. 

Micah explained it: God has told you what is good! What does your God ask of you, that you do justice, love loving kindness, and walk humbly with your God. – Micah 6:8 Sometimes this is translated as “love mercy” but the idea of loving lovingkindness I think is closer to the Hebrew and makes the point stronger. 

The Talmud teaches: “To walk humbly with your God”; this is referring to taking the indigent dead out for burial and accompanying a poor bride to her wedding canopy, both of which must be performed without fanfare. The Gemara summarizes: And are these matters not inferred a fortiori? If, with regard to matters that tend to be conducted in public, as the multitudes participate in funerals and weddings, the Torah says: Walk humbly, then in matters that tend to be conducted in private, e.g., giving charity and studying Torah, all the more so should they be conducted privately.” (Sukkah 49b) 

This then begins a list. Lovingkindness, We need to take care of the needy bride and bury the dead as acts of lovingkindness.  

We know that Pirke Avot 2:1 teaches us that the world is sustained by three things. We just sang this as we took the Torah out—on Torah, on Avodah, service or worship, and on gemilut chasadim, acts of lovingkingness.  

It is a balancing act. You need all three legs of the stool. The fact that chesed is one of the three pillars on which the world itself stands underlines how very important this soul-trait must be. One of those pillars is ACTS of lovingkindness.  

Doing gemilut chasadim, acts of lovingkindness is the way we emulate God. It is how we walk with God. Two of my very favorite quotes, precisely because they are about our verse in Torah today are from Sifre Deuteronomy Ekev and Sotah 14: 

To walk in God’s ways” (Deuteronomy 11:22). These are the ways of the Holy One: “gracious and compassionate, patient, abounding in kindness and faithfulness, assuring love for a thousand generations, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin, and granting pardon.” (Exodus 34:6). All who are called in God’s name will survive.(Joel 3:5) How is it possible for a person to be called by God’s name? Rather, God is called “merciful”—so too, you should be merciful. God is called “gracious” as it says, “God, merciful and gracious” (Psalms 145:8)—so too, you should be gracious and give gifts for nothing. God is called “just” as it says, “For God is righteous and loves righteousness” (Psalms 11:7)—so too, you should be just.” God is called “merciful”: “For I am merciful, says the Lord.” (Jeremiah 3:12) so too you be merciful. That is why it is said, “And it shall come to pass that all who are called in God’s name will survive.” This means that just as God is gracious, compassionate, and forgiving, you too must be gracious, compassionate, and forgiving. [Translation by Rabbi Jill Jacobs] Sifre Deut Ekev 

Rabbi Samlai taught: With regard to the Torah, its beginning is an act of kindness and its end is an act of kindness. Its beginning is an act of kindness, as it is written: “And the Lord God made for Adam and for his wife garments of skin, and clothed them” (Genesis 3:21). And its end is an act of kindness, as it is written: “And he was buried in the valley in the land of Moab” (Deuteronomy 34:6). (Sotah 14a) 

But lovingkindness is not just charity or warm sympathy as Alan Moranis, the father of modern day mussar points out,  

“The English “kindness” suggests a warm sympathy, a benevolent feeling. The Greek word charis, which denotes kindness (and is the root of the word “charity”) is treated by Aristotle (in his Rhetoric) as one of the 15 emotions. Chesed, in contrast, is not an emotion but an act of benevolence. In fact, if a person does something that is helpful for someone else, and yet does so reluctantly, resentfully, or even spitefully, the deed nevertheless remains an act of chesed because the definition revolves around the benefit done (or at least attempted), not the feeling behind the action…. Chesed involves stretching beyond your current comfort zone to be a source of benevolence to others. It guides our behavior in ways we might not have chosen if we allow ourselves to be guided only by our own inclinations and feelings as they currently steer us. And that is how we grow… We need to be cautious [] around the almost universal translation of the word chesed as “lovingkindness.” To my ear, and maybe to yours, too, loving-kindness suggests being nice. . . Chesed involves acts that sustain the other. This is a dimension of the notion that doesn’t come through so clearly when [we translate chesed as loving-kindness. In the Jewish view, it isn’t enough to hold warm thoughts in our heart or to wish each other well. We are meant to offer real sustenance to one another, and the ways in which we can do that are innumerable: we can offer . . . time, love, empathy, service, an open ear, manual assistance, a letter written, a call made, and on and on… [Action] is the key to opening the heart. It is too easy to think good thoughts and say the right things but then just continue to be stuck in the same old ways. We’re too easy to deceive, especially self deceive. Action is required. Then, through experience, the heart learns and opens, setting off a chain reaction of hearts opening and connecting leading right up to openness and connection to God.” – Alan Morinis, Everyday Holiness 

We will end on this note: 

The word Pesach, I learned this year maybe broken into two words. Peh meaning mouth and Sach meaning conversation.  

“And Rabbi Elazar said: What is the meaning of that which is written: “She opens her mouth with wisdom, and a Torah of kindness is on her tongue” (Proverbs 31:26)? The Gemara asks: Is there, then, a Torah of kindness and a Torah that is not of kindness? Rather, it is Torah studied for its own sake that is a Torah of kindness, as one studies it wholeheartedly; and it is Torah studied not for its own sake but for some ulterior motive that is a Torah that is not of kindness. Some say that it is Torah studied in order to teach it to others that is a Torah of kindness; it is Torah studied with the intent of not teaching it to others that is a Torah that is not of kindness.” (Sukkah 49b). 

I try, I do honestly try to open my mouth, my peh with wisdom and with kindness. I am still working on it. This, then is a public apology to Simon, who bears the brunt of my not being kind when I come home too tired or too hungry. This why mussar and counting the omer and trying to be like G-d is not just a one and done. We work on it every day and every year as we count the omer.  

Let us open our mouths then with these words from Psalms, taught in the melody by Rabbi Menachem Creditor:  

Olam Chesed Yibenah. The world will be build on love. (Psalm 89.3) 

I will build this world on love. You will build this world on love. And if we build this world on love, then G-d will build this world on love. 

Zeh Hayom Adonai, Nagilah V’nismacha Bo.
This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.  

Mizmor shir chanukat habayit.
A psalm of David. A song for the dedication of the House.
I extol You, Adonai, my God,
for You have lifted me up,
and not let my enemies rejoice over me. 

Adonai, This is Your house, a house of books, a library, a sacred space
A place where great futures are made.
Where we come to read 
To dream and explore
To Learn and to teach, to teach and to learn.
May this space, Your holy space be filled 
With quietness and noise,
May it be filled with books and computers
Questions and answers,
Knowledge and Wonder,
Safety and security,
Laughter and joy.
May it be filled with children and staff.
May it be filled with love. 
Your love
And the love of staff for children and children for staff.
May those children learn that books are fun.
They are magical. They inspire. Transform. Transport.
Books offer hope.
That reading is “fundamental.”
That reading is essential. 
That reading helps us understand the mystery of the universe
Filling us with knowledge of the world. 
Bless this library and all who enter it with Your peace.
Amen
     Rabbi Margaret Frisch Klein
     Congregation Kneseth Israel 

 Yesterday I was asked to dedicate the library of the Boys and Girls Club in South Elgin. It is the 5000th club house in the country. I was honored to participate. The new club sparkles. It is filled with light, springtime sun streaming in. It is bright, airy, filled with warmth and love. It is spotless. I’m ready to move in! 

Jews are known as the “People of the Book,” and as the daughter of booksellers, it was thrilling to dedicate this inviting space. We are used to dedicating houses. We place mezuzot on our homes, our synagogues, sometimes our businesses. There are mezuzot on the gates of Jerusalem. These dedications are based on the verse from Deuteronomy that tells us to inscribe these words on our doorposts and on our gates.  

“You shall love Adonai your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your everything. Teach them diligently to your children. Speak of them in your homes and on your way. When you lie down, When you rise up. Bind them as a sign upon your hand and as a symbol before your eyes. Inscribe them on the doorposts of your house and upon your gates.” (Deut. 6:5-9)  

I often tell kids that talking about G-d and Judaism and spirituality can happen anywhere. At home, at Torah School, on the soccer field or the car pool, swinging through the fast food drive through to grab a quick dinner. And the Boys and Girls Club.   

I’ve never been asked to dedicate a library before. I figured someone must have done this and that there would be words, prayers, already written. I found a couple of Catholic ones that didn’t seem quite appropriate so I wrote my own. I wonder whether in a non-sectarian organization it is even appropriate to gather clergy together and pray publicly. However, if the organization is doing so then it feels important to be included. My theology may not completely align with all of those present. However, there was enough that did that I could enthusiastically respond amen to most of the others prayers.  

We all hope that these children feel safe, feel love, be inspired, grow into confident adults. As the Boys and Girls Club website says “It means an hour of help with homework to ace a test. It means a warm, nutritious meal – maybe the only one of the day. It means time with a caring adult to build confidence.” We all want that. We all believe that every child and every adult is created “b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d.” We want these kids, all kids to thrive. 

Great futures begin here.

We want the staff to be kind, compassionate, caring and full of patience.  

The whole experience reminded me of two stories.  

When my daughter, who now works for the Boys and Girls Club of Martin County, Florida as their training specialist, learned to read, at age four, we hosted a party for her. We invited her friends on a Saturday evening, gave each kid a book and our daughter her first library card. It was a magical evening. 

 When she was five and just starting school, my father, a retired medical school professor and bookseller, sent her a magical present. It was a beautifully wrapped box. And inside the box was another box and inside that there was another box and finally a zip locked plastic bag. It was his collection of refrigerator magnets. Both the English alphabet and the Hebrew alef bet and a note: “Herein is contained all the ancient Jewish wisdom plus all that accumulated in American/English tradition all reduced, of course, to the essential components” It is our job to reassemble those letters and make meaning. 

That’s what I imagine the kids at the Boys and Girls Club will do in this library. They will read or be read to. They will ask questions and find answers. They will veg out and dream. They may even sleep. They will find a safe respite in their day. They will find caring adult who care about them.  

This is indeed the day that Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.  

Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech Ha’olam shehechianu v’kiyimanu v’higianu lazman hazeh. Blessed are You, Lord our G-d Ruler of the Universe who has kept us alive and sustained us and enabled us to reach this moment.  

This is Shabbat Hagadol. The Great Sabbath. The Big Sabbath. This is the week in days of yore that the rabbi would give one of two sermons a year. This one to help you prepare for Passover. So, to be clear: Passover begins Weds night at sundown. In this community it lasts for eight days. (In Israel and the Reform Movement it lasts for 7 days which is the Biblical mandate.) Our community seder is back to pre-pandemic levels and we are excited about welcoming you home. It is a pilgrimage festival, when all the Israelites would have a family reunion of sorts in Jerusalem to offer the paschal sacrifice. It was centralized worship. So welcome home.  

Let’s think more about this. In even days of older yore, Passover was about three things. Matzah. Lamb, and bitter herbs. That’s it. No chocolate covered matzah. No charlotte with wine cream. No Passover blintzes. No carefully purchased cakes from the kosher Jewel. It was all about the matzah. 

The poor bread. The bread of affliction. Just wheat flour and water. Carefully watched. The bread that didn’t rise because the Israelites hurried to flee Egypt. No rye. No spelt. No gluten free. And certainly no egg matzah (my favorite) or that with grape juice or apple juice.  

It was all about getting the children to ask a question. “Why are we doing this?” 

And the response is to be: “It is because of what the Lord did for me, when I went forth from Egypt, out of the house of bondage.” (Ex. 13:8).  

Mitzrayim in Hebrew means Egypt, the narrow places. Each of us, even today, has been freed from some narrow place. This makes the telling of the story of Passover, the maggid section of the Haggadah rich with layers of meaning and discussion. Praised are those who linger over the telling, as the Haggadah itself says. The rabbis of Bnei Brak had to stop their seder to go say the morning Sh’ma! Also a story in the Haggadah. And if you know Simon, his ideal seder goes to midnight with lots of discussion. (Don’t worry, it rarely goes that long!) 

Today’s Torah reading is a little obtuse to our modern sensibilities. We no longer have centralized worship in Jerusalem. We may not care at all about animal sacrifice or the priestly class. Some of that seems to be the focus of today’s Torah portion. Unleavened cakes, yes, that’s matzah, make an appearance in today’s portion.  

Yet there are still implications for us today. Priests were born into the priestly class. After the destruction of the Temple, we don’t have a priestly class per se. Rather, the rabbis taught that each home was a mikdash me’at, a small sanctuary, and that we re-enacted the ritual that priests did. Each of us, then is a priest (pr a priestess) in our own home. That is clear during the Friday night table service, with candles, kiddush and motzi. Perhaps it is even clearer during the Passover seder. 

We are also told that Shalom Bayit, peace of the house is an important Jewish value.  

Today’s haftarah has an important verse that relates to how we tell the story to our children.  

“Lo, I will send the prophet Elijah to you before the coming of the awesome, fearful day of the LORD. He shall reconcile parents with children and children with their parents, so that, when I come, I do not strike the whole land with utter destruction.” 

This is a verse that hints at the messianic age, where everything and everyone will be at peace. We hint at this at the seder when we open the door for Elijah and welcome him to every seder. We hint at it when we welcome Elijah to havdalah and most especially to brises and baby namings with a special Elijah’s chair. We pray at those moments that Elijah will turn the hearts of parents to children and children to parents. 

On Wednesday morning, we will explore another aspect of the Haggadah, the Four Sons, or as I prefer, the Four Children. (Spoiler alert, We’re back to the same verse, Tell you child on that day…and I have a new interesting interpretation.)  It is again about how we tell the story. What did G-d do for me, for you, for each of us as we went forth from Egypt, out of the narrow places.  

In our Saturday morning service we have a reading between Ein Keloheinu and the Aleinu. “Rabbi Elazar taught in the name of Rabbi Hanina: Peace is increased by disciples of sages: as it was said: When all of your children are taught of Adonai, great will be the peace of your children. (Isaiah 54:13)” It goes on to explain why there are two mentions of the word children. They explain that the peace of our children will be great if we teach peace and if we have “true understanding.” It adds, “May there be peace within your walls, security within your gates.” (Berachot 64a) 

Often times I hear things like “the younger generation just doesn’t understand.” Or “we don’t have to listen to them. What do they know, anyway? “ Or “They don’t care.” 

But these texts make clear that we have an obligation to tell our children. To teach our children.  

And then to listen and respond to our children. They are our legacy. Like Honi, before us, it is our obligation to plant for our children—and our children’s obligation to grow those gifts. That’s what stewardship is. That’s what Passover is all about. Leaving a legacy for our children—the story of what G-d did for our ancestors, and for each of us as we went forth from Egypt, out of each of our narrow places. 

I think I may have used this quote recently. Some say it is apocryphal, but it is sourced at leat of Goodreads.com as follows: 

“When peace comes we will perhaps in time be able to forgive the Arabs for killing our sons, but it will be harder for us to forgive them for having forced us to kill their sons. Peace will come when the Arabs will love their children more than they hate us.” 
― Golda Meir, A Land of Our Own: An Oral Autobiography 

Earlier this week, there was yet again another school shooting. Three staff people killed. Three children, nine year olds murdered. I don’t have all the answers. It seems clear to me we need to limit access to guns, enact red flag laws and do background checks. It seems clear to me that we need more access to mental health services. There is no one solution. I will continue to advocate for less violence in general and less gun violence in particular. 

In the predictable responses, one stood out because it parallels what Gold Meir said. “I want to live in a country that loves its children more than it loves guns.” 

I want to live in a country where children are not afraid to go to school. I want to live in a country where we listen to our children. Where a dear friend doesn’t tell me there is no place that is safe and she is afraid to go anywhere. She still does.  

My friend Rabbi Menachem Creditor teaches Torah on youtube and Facebook every morning for UJA-New York. Citing his teacher Rabbi Bradly Shavit Artson from the University of Judaism talks about another part of our extended Torah reading this week. In Chapter 8 of Leviticus, we learn about the ordination of priests. It is a messy, bloody mess. It is not how rabbis today are ordained. Part of what was done was to put blood on the right ear, the thumb of the right hand and the big toe of the right foot. Judaism teaches that faith is what our body does. He didn’t say this, but I am reminded of the verse “We shall do and we shall hear.” The doing comes before we even know what we are supposed to do.  

They cite Philo who explained that the fully consecrated, the priests must be pure in words and action and life because words are judged by hearing. (Reminds me of the Girl Scout law!) For Philo, deeds, actions and our lifes’ journey must be how I devote myself. That’s how we show our service. our faith. Ibn Ezra centuries later said that we must attend to what one has been commanded and that the thumb is the origin of activity. I have to listen well. My feet must walk this earth with purpose, until we take responsibility. Pesach is a journey of freedom. And Tzav tells us we must listen well, we must use our bodies for good and we must keep going.  

Our obligation then, from this Torah portion is to listen, to do and to journey.  

Tell the story. Make peace where there is strife. Listen to our children. To do. And to march. To leave this world a better place.  

Last week, our ritual chair, Gene Lindow, taught some Torah that he noticed because of the calligraphy of the Torah scroll itself. Each paragraph began with “and if.” I am grateful for his noticing and his teaching. And if. What if we live in a world of “And if” or as Judy Chicago put it in a poem I know I have used before.: 

And then all that has divided us will merge

And then compassion will be wedded to power

And then softness will come to a world that is harsh and unkind

And then both men and women will be gentle

And then both women and men will be strong

And then no person will be subject to another’s will

And then all will be rich and free and varied

And then the greed of some will give way to the needs of many

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

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

And then all will nourish the young

And then will cherish life’s creatures

And then all will live in harmony with one another and the Earth

And then everywhere will be called Eden once again.

Go tell the stories, of our ancestors’ liberation and your own. Go listen to your children. Go make peace.

This is no joke. Heed the weather warnings for your area. There are isolated thunderstorms, hail and yes, even some tornados. No, I don’t believe these are plagues. Even though we are a week out from Passover and this Shabbat is called Shabbat Hagadol, the Great Passover. 

Tonight, we are going to look at how our tradition treats weather phenomena. Precisely because we have had lessons in it right here, right now, this week. 

Some of you are in my adult Hebrew class. We’ve been looking at the prayer Ma’ariv Aravim. The rabbis of the Talmud who codified this prayer and its parallel one in the morning service Yotzer Or. The language is beautiful. Poetic. The rabbis knew that for many people the way into G-d is being wowed by creation. That could be a mountain top (hard in Illinois), an ocean or an inland sea, a sunrise, a sunset, So many possibilities. This week, at the continuation of the changing of the seasons and the beautiful display of planets, I just want to call to your attention one line: You open the wisdom the ages of dawn…set out the succession of the seasons and arrange the stars in the sky.” Tonight, before sunset I took a picture of buds. Spring really is coming! How many of you were able to see the five planets aligned. A rare astrological occurrence. It was awesome! That’s the kind of thing this prayer is talking about.  

If we were to rewrite this prayer for our modern times, it might be full of awe and gratitude. 

Blessed are You, Ruler of the Universe, of time and space, who creates human beings who appreciate nature and are inspired by the changing seasons and the stars in the sky. How ineffable. How mysterious. We cannot fully express our gratitude for the beauty of Your creation. We have the capacity to be loved and give love and give back to the universe and strive for peace. Blessed are You, creator of darkness and light, night and day.  

(During the service there were numerous interruptions as weather alerts kept happening. People said that their sirens were going off. I calmly told people if they needed to go to their basement or find another safe space, they should. We wondered if we should even log off entirely. It was the scariest service I have ever led and I would not want to do it again!) 

Now let’s go back. The kabbalat shabbat service is arranged with 7 psalms, one for each day of the week. Many have something to say about G-d’s creation. Let’s look at snippets of them,  

Psalm 95: “In God’s hand rest the world, God fashioned. Seand and land, abyss and mountain peak. All are God’s. This seems to parallel the beginning of Yotzer Or which praises God for all things. Blessed are You…who forms light and creates darkness, who makes peace and creates all things.” Really? Tornados? Murderers? We’ll have to keep thinking about this! 

Psalm 96: “Let the heavens rejoice. Let the earth be glad. Le the sea and all it contains exalt. Let field and forest sing for joy.” How do we know when the heavens are rejoicing? On a beautiful sunny day? During a beautiful sunrise or sunset? Many of you have told me know during a snow storm but they can be quite beautiful and awe inspiring!  

Psalm 97: God’s lightning illumines the earth. (Trust me, God, I could use a little less lighting and a little less thunder right now. My dog would appreciate that, too ((that may be a prayer!))…Light is stored for the righteous, the tzadikim and joy for the upright in heart.”  

Psalm 98: Let the sea roar, and all its creature; the world and its many inhabitants. Let the rivers applaud in exaltation, let the mountains all echo earth’s joyous song. 

Psalm 29 which we also use during the Torah service talks about the voice of God seven times. This is the powerful, booming voice of God, reminiscent of the 10 Commandments. This is a voice that thunders, roars and echoes. It can shatter cedars and split rocks and strips a forest bare. This is a God to be feared. And yet, it ends on a re-assuring note. God will bless God’s people with strength and with peace. 

Then we get to Psalm 92—the Psalm for Shabbat itself. It praises God, saying “Your works, Adonai make me glad; I sing with joy of Your creation. How vast works, Adonai. Your designs are beyond our grasp! And that may be the point. The Psalmists and the rabbis of the Talmud were right. Being outside in nature is to have a WOW! Moment. To be inspired. To be awed. By the power, the might, the beauty.  

It is especially true after hurricanes. Often some Evangelical Christian pastor will blame a group of people—gays, Jews, blacks, for not living up to God’s word as he (it’s always a he, right?) interprets it and so God is punishing an entire community. Sadly, it is not just Christians. We’ve seen it with some segments of the Orthodox rabbinate too. This logic has been applied to COVID-19 as well. I don’t want to give them any additional air time, so I am not footnoting these references, but you can search for them if you must.  

However, it is not hard to see how they draw conclusions based on our common scripture. In the second paragraph of the V’ahavta which we recite every day from Deuteronomy 11, we are told that if we heed the commandments then G-d will favor our land with rain at the proper season. In autumn and spring we will have an abundance of grain, wine, and oil (All the things we need to make Shabbat!). We will eat to contentment. (I’ve always liked that line!) BUT, if we stray and worship false gods, then God’s wrath will be directed against us.  

Some have argued that this is only for the land of Israel. Others have argued that it is a very early warning about climate change. I have a hard time, as I said at the beginning blaming people for causing the wrath of God. Thinking that God is punishing us for some sin or other.  

Back then, the writers of our sacred liturgy that we use today didn’t have the scientific knowledge that we have today. Do I think that God is sending tonight’s weather as a punishment for something we have done, or not done? No. Absolutely not. 

But I am still wowed by the view from a mountain top or a sunset over Lake Michigan and I add my voice to rabbis of long ago. “Could song fill our mouth as water fills the sea and could joy flood our tongue like countless waves. Could our lips utter praise as limitless as the sky and could our eyes match the splendor of the sun. Could we soar with arms like an eagle’s wings and run with the gentle grace as the swiftest deer, never could we fully state our gratitude.” That’s awe.  

(More wind. Lights flickering. Remember to breathe. Ruach, is breath is Hebrew. It is also spirit. Ruach. Remember to breath.) 

Hannah Shenesh penned a poem much more recently than the rabbis of the Talmud or the Psalmists:
O Lord, My G-d, I pray that these things never end.
The sand and the sea.
The rush of the water.
The crash of the heaven.
The prayer of the heart. 

This is my prayer tonight! 

(If the only Torah I taught tonight was pekuach nefesh, preserving a life, I think I succeeded. I hope I was a non-anxious presence, through the wind, rain and hail. We were lucky. We had no damage. We never lost power. I have some friends in a neighboring town with significant tree damage and a fence. We mourn the loss of live in Belvedere when a roof collapsed, killing one and injuring 40. Two remain in critical as of this writing.) 

Vayikra. And God called. (He actually because Hebrew is a gendered language and this is a masculine, singular past tense verb. Yes, today you may learn some Hebrew grammar) Usually, as Myrna will tell you the Torah uses a different verb here. “Vayomer Adonai el Moshe la’mor. And the Lord said to Moses saying.” or “ Vaydaber Adoani el Moses. And the Lord spoke to Moses.”  

Why then is this Vayikra? We use this verb to also mean Proclaim or Read. This morning we are going to read Torah, we are going to publicly proclaim Torah, to call it out. We use the same word for saying the Sh’ma outloud, when we recite the Sh’ma it is called It is called Kriat Sh’ma, in Hebrew. 

This verb ends in an aleph—the first letter of the Hebrew alef bet, and as we know a silent letter. In every Torah as part of the scribal art the letter is written as a little letter. I call it the little alef that could. 

This silent letter is so important. There are a number of midrashic interpretations about why it is small. Perhaps because it points to Moses’ humility. Perhaps it shows a compromise between Moses and God. Moses apparently wanted to write Vayikar, and he happened which is what occurred in the description of Balaam. But this was no chance occurrence. It denotes a meaure of affection and intimacy. Therefore God wanted an aleph, so they compromised; and it was written small. (Bereishit Rabbah 52 and Leviticus Rabbah 1) 

Rabbi Avi Weiss echos that thought when he says, The small aleph of vayikra: Infinite love between God and the Jewish people” 

But what is God calling Moses to do? God calls out of the tent of meeting, the tabernacle, the mishkan to tell Moses to tell the people to draw close to God by offering sacrifices. Leviticus is often complicated for us today. We are not so into animal sacrifices in the mishkan or in the Temples that were destroyed thousands of years ago. And yet, we may long to draw close to God. We may feel called to do so.  

We began this discussion last night. Moses is called. He has a unique job, to lead the people of Israel out of Egypt and to lead them wandering in the wilderness. It appears that he did not get to complete his task, we will learn much, much later in Deuteronomy. Pirke Avot teaches, “Ours is not to finish the task; neither are we fee to ignore it.” 

Moses is not the only person in the Torah who is called.  

וַיִּקְרָ֛א יְהֹוָ֥ה אֱלֹהִ֖ים אֶל־הָֽאָדָ֑ם וַיֹּ֥אמֶר ל֖וֹ אַיֶּֽכָּה׃  

God יהוה called out to the Human, Adam, and said to him, “Where are you?” 

And their answer, they did not draw close to God, instead, Adam and Eve run away from G-d and hide.  

Hearing the silent sound of aleph can be hard. There is another important alef. Rabbi Larry Kushner tells this story in his book, The Book of Miracles, “No one really knows for certain what happened at Mount Sinai. Some people believe that G-d dictated the entire Torah word for word. Others believe that it included the Oral Law as well. Some believe that G-d inspired Moses. In Makot 23a and b, the rabbis of the Talmud were having just such an argument—what happened at Sinai. It teaches us that G-d didn’t give the ten commandments, but only the first two sayings. One who remembers that there is a G-d who frees people and who has no other gods will be religious. Another rabbi argued that it was just the first saying. Still another said that it was just the first word of the first saying, Anochi. But Rabbi Mendl Torum of Rymanov said, “Not even the first word. All G-d said was the first letter of the first word of the first saying, the first letter of the Alef-bet, alef” Now this is somewhat problematic, since Alef is silent. Almost but not perfectly. You see alef makes a tiny, little sound that is the beginning of every sound. Open your mouth (go ahead, do it). Stop! That is alef. G-d made the voice of Alef so quiet that if you made any other noise you wouldn’t be able to hear it. At Sinai, all the people of Israel needed to hear was the sound of Alef. It meant that G-d and the Jewish people could have a conversation.” 

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

Each of us is called to do something. Each of us can hear the silent sound of aleph. Something unique just for us, some role we play. Last night I talked about how for Ken that might be his shofar playing. (He’s still thinking about that) For Gale it might be telling the stories of her parents and Ken’s who were Holocaust survivors. She agreed. 

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

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

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

“‘What do you mean?’ I asked. 

“‘Well, it’s like this. Moving is hard for most people. It’s a very vulnerable time for them. People are nervous about going to a new community, and about having strangers pack their most precious possessions. So, I think God wants me to treat my customers with love and to make them feel that I care about their things and their life. God wants me to help make their changes go smoothly. If I can be happy about it, maybe they can be, too’” (Jeffrey Salkin, Being God’s Partner). 

A Hasidic disciple once asked his master: “Rebbe, where is God to be found?” And the rebbe answered, “God is found wherever he is allowed in.” The possibility to live a meaningful and spiritual life is right there for the asking. We only have to decide to take the step and open that door in our lives. 

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

Our calling may be our work. It may be something as Buechner suggests we are passionate about whether that is paid work, our vocation or our avocation, those things that we do as our volunteer work. Many of us in this group are retired. We might not want to be defined by our “work.” 

Work in Hebrew is a word that fascinates me. Avodah. It also means service and sacrifice. The Israelites were avadim—slaves and Moses was an eved Adonai, a servant of the Lord. Service and sacrifice helps us to draw close to God.  

Our calling could be being a Girl Scout leader, coaching a soccer team, serving on the board of a non-profit—or even a synagogue, maybe even this synagogue. It maybe donating blood. Or working to eradicate hunger or homelessness or to address environmental issues. It could be bringing the gift of music to life. Or working as an election judge. (Did you know that suburban Cook County still needs 1000 election judges for next month’s election, according to the Chicago Tribune?) For much of Simon’s family it revolves around refugee work coming out of their understanding of how the US treated Holocaust refugees here and the mission from Torah of welcoming the widow, the orphan and the stranger because we were strangers in Egypt. A perfect pre-Passover message. 

Our vision statement includes a plank about meaningful observance. That is a complicated phrase. What is meaningful to you may not be meaningful to me or to the person sitting next to you, in the room or on Zoom. Striking a balance so that most people at CKI can find meaning is part of my calling.  

Finding your unique calling helps you find meaning. 

Victor Frankl, himself a Holocaust survivor having been in four concentration camps himself, wrote Man’s Search for Meaning and discovered that those who had a sense of purpose did better in concentration camps. He concluded that “We can discover this meaning of life in three different ways: (1) by creating a work or doing a deed; (2) by experiencing something or encountering someone; and (3) by the attitude we take toward unavoidable suffering.” And while he is most known for his work on logotherapy and his work on meaning. The Viktor Frankl website points out that he had a thriving career before the war. “In 1930, at the age of 25, he organized free youth counseling centers in Vienna that successfully combated the epidemic of teen suicides occurring around the time of report cards. Within a year, suicides dropped to zero.” https://viktorfranklamerica.com/viktor-frankl-bio/ That is quite some calling. A purpose. A mission.  

Our recent book group book, Defending Btitta Stein, hints at this search for meaning. Emma, Britta’s granddaughter in debating with co-counsel whether to ask for a continuance of a trial to prove that Britta’s allegations and graffiti are true and thus not defamatory about a “Nazi collaborator” says, “I know, but she doesn’t want us to continue the trial date [She’s 92 and in the hospital]. In some ways I think the trial is giving her energy. It has focus. It’s become her mission.” (page 293) 

Each of us has a niche, like the moving man. A mission like Britta. A calling, a vision, a purpose. It is what gives us meaning and helps draw us closer to God.  

Figuring out what our calling is can be hard.  It can be hard to hear that silent letter Alef. However, if we can be quiet enough, we can hear it.  

Today’s portion continues the description about building the miskhkan. The sanctuary. The tabernacle that went wandering with the Israelites. It nd was a home for G-d. 

Recently our congregation learned an old  Shaker hymn,  

Lord prepare me to be a sanctuary,
Pur an holy, tried and true.
In thanksgiving, I’ll be a living sanctuary for you.  

It can be a msh up with
Ve’asu li mikdash veshachanti betocham
Ve anachnu nevarech yah Me Atah ve Ad olam 

Note the change in person here. Prepare ME, first person singular with V’anachnu, First person plural. We will bless You. It takes each Indvidual pulling together for the good of the whole to make a community, to build a sanctuary. Then, and only then we can praise G-d.  

Our story unfolds in exacting repetitive detail—but don’t try to build it yourself at home. Any number of years of building fourth grade models tells me that it isn’t possible. And my brother the architect would agree.  

Nor does it answer the question of why we are building this in the first place —or why G-d needs a home.  

In this mishkan, in the Holy of Holies we are to place the 10 commandments. The whole set, and the broken pieces of the first set. Estelle Franke in her book Sacred Therapy quotes a midrash: 

She notes that the original tablets may reflect many of the dreams and hopes, and even spiritual structure of our youth. Then we live our life. Reality sets in and we learn. This story “teaches us that it is important to hold on to the beauty and essence of dreams that we once held dear, for our initial visions contain the seed of our purest essence. Gathering up the broken pieces suggests that we must salvage the essential elements of our youthful dreams and ideals and carry them forward on our journeys so that we can find a way to realize them in a more grounded fashion.  For ultimately the whole and the broken live side by side in us all, as our broken dreams and shattered visions exist alongside our actual lives” ( “Sacred Therapy” p. 43) 

We are building sacred space as a home for G-d, as a home for the Israelite community, for a home for the 10 commandments and for our hopes and dreams—those that we realize and those that we could not realize—yet. 

Today, we call this very space our sanctuary. It is a refuge. A holy space. And we similarly say that our homes should be a mikdash me’at, a little sanctuary. After the destruction of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem, our homes became the holy of holies, a source of Shalom Bayit, peace of the house. That our Friday night table service to start Shabbat with its hlessing of candles, wine and bread, makes Shabbat time holy time. Holy time and holy space. 

Today we read again about keeping Shabbat. It adds that we are not to kindle fire on Shabbat. Abraham Joshua Heschel called Shabbat a palace in time and space, a foretaste of the world to come. It is both holy time and space. 

Holy in Hebrew is k-d-sh. To be set apart. We call Shabbat Kadosh. We call G-d Kadosh. We call the prayer over the wine, kiddush. We call a prayer Kedusha…Kadosh, Kadosh, Kadosh, Holy, Holy, Holy. .We call another prayer Kaddish. We call marriage kiddushin.  

In the opening line of our very long parsha today, the opening word is Vayakhel. And we were convoked, we were called together. We are more used to that word in its noun form, convocation. call together or summon (as in an assembly or meeting). 

We may know the Hebrew word vaykahal from the word kahal. Or kehila kadosha. We are a kahal, a group of people that are called together, or a kehila kedosha, the holy community. 

Ultimately, that is what we are building. A kehila kadoshal Yes, the old joke is true—Goldstein comes to the Beit Tefilah, one Hebrew word for synagogue to talk to G-d—and for some of us, it is easier to do so in this beit. But Goldberg comes to Beit Kneset to talk to Goldstein. 

This building, our sacred space, is a beit tefilah, a house of prayer, a beit kneset, a house of assembly and a beit midrash, a house of study. Our vision statement of being a Jewish community for lifelong learning, building community, meaningful observance and embracing diversity lives out those terms. For each of you there maybe different reasons you come to shul, to this very house, your home. It maybe for services, just like this morning. It maybe for social programs, for community, to talk to Goldberg or Goldstein or even Goldman whose here this morning. It maybe you come to learn more about Judaism and you enjoy things like book group, Torah study, Hebrew or even these weekly discussions. 

Building sacred space,, in sacred time, building a kahila kedosha a sacred community, includes.a little bit more. It includes  

• creating a safe, non-judgmental space, where no one feels threatened, or bullied, or picked on. Where the words of our mouths and the mediations of our heart are kind. Where we open our mouths with wisdom and the law of kindness is on our tongues. I’m still working on that one.  

• Building a sacred space that is accessible to all.  
• Treating peoples, all people with the knowledge that they are created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d 
• Celebraing and mourning with people, all people, in times of simcha, joy, and when times are tougher, by showing up for celebrations or for funerals and shiva minyanim. 
• Helping with other life cycle events, births, Bnei Mitzvah, weddings.  
• Contributing at least a half-shekel as we learned last week or the offering of your heart to keep the place going.  

We know that the nature of community continues to change. But community is still about connection between people, and between people and G-d. That’s what a kehila kadosha is sacred connection between people. That’s what they were really building in the desert. That’s what we are building here. 

Each of you has a skill, a craft as we learn in this portion. Each of you counts. Each of you can help to build this mishkan and make it a sacred place, a holy place in time and space.  

Then as Isaish explained “This will be My house, a house of prayer for all peoples.” Isaiah’s prophecy continues, “I will gather still more to those already gathered.” Come help us gather the people, all people, together, as we build this house.  

Today is the last reading from the Book of Exodus. Next week we move onto Leviticus. As we do when we conclude any book of Torah, we say, “Chazak chazak v’netchazek. Be strong, be strong and be strengthened.”

“And in the circle of our little village, we have always had our special types. 

Nahum, the beggar

[NAHUM, spoken]
Alms for the poor, alms for the poor

[LAZAR, spoken]
Here, Reb Nahum, is one kopek

[NAHUM, spoken]
One kopek? Last week you gave me two kopeks

[LAZAR, spoken]
I had a bad week

[NAHUM, spoken]
So, if you had a bad week, why should I suffer?” Fiddler on the Roof Lyrics, from the song, “Tradition.” 

This week we lost one of the favorites of Broadway, Chaim Topol, most famous for his portrayal of Tevye in the film version of Fiddler on the Roof. In the Forward, the obituary began with these words: “Fiddler on the Roof is a landmark piece of Jewish culture. It has shaped the way Jews are perceived by others, and how we understand ourselves.”  

However, the last time I saw it on Broadway, my cousin, who definitely is in family who can be described as one that has made it in America, was uncomfortable with how the movie portrays Judaism and Jews. “We’re not really like that any more. It’s not relevant. It will only increase anti-semitism.” And while I was uncomfortable with the conversation, she had or maybe better has some valid points. Maybe she was even prophetic.  

In this age of rising anti-semitism, we don’t necessarily want to see the bumbling, joking dairyman . But maybe, just maybe he is like struggling with how the world around him is changing. Maybe we are all a little bit a fiddler on a roof, just trying to eek out our existence, even here in America. 

Tevye, through Shalom Aleichem’s prose and the stage and screen adaptation, has much to teach us. He is still relevant, and he will live on in our ability to quote Topol and hear that resonant voice. I know I hear that voice, that cadence, even as I deliver this d’var Torah. 

The beggar, in our opening scene today, has much to teach Tevye, Topol and us about today’s Torah portion, which opens with a census. All men of 20 years and up must pay a half-shekel as a way of counting. Not more for the rich or less for the poor. A half-shekel. It is what keeps the mishkan, the sanctuary going.  

This is not tzedakah, not charity. This is everyone’s obligation. A half-shekel. Yet, Nahum the beggar, is teaching us about tzedakah. It is everyone’s obligation, whether you have had a bad week or not. No one should suffer. 

Maimonides, the Rambam in his work identified 8 levels of tzedakah. 8 levels of righteous giving. It is a kind of ladder. 

[1] The highest rung, is to support another, with a gift or a loan or giving him (or HER) a job. It is that old maxim. Give a man a fish and he’ll fish for a day. Teach a man to fish and he’ll fish for a lifetime.  

[2] A lower rung of tzedakah is to give to the poor without knowing to whom one gives, and without the recipient knowing from who he received. This is a mitzvah solely for the sake of Heaven. This is like the “anonymous fund” that was in the Holy Temple [in Jerusalem]. There the righteous gave in secret, and the good poor profited in secret. It is also like the rabbi’s discretionary fund. Where people give to the fund, then I distribute it based on needs.  

[3] Still lower is when one knows to whom one gives, but the recipient does not know his benefactor. The greatest sages used to walk about in secret and put coins in the doors of the poor. It is worthy and truly good to do this, if those who are responsible for distributing charity are not trustworthy.  

[4] Still lower is when one does not know to whom one gives, but the poor person does know his benefactor. The greatest sages used to tie coins into their robes and throw them behind their backs, and the poor would come up and pick the coins out of their robes, so that they would not be ashamed. 

[5] Still lower is when one gives to the poor person directly into his hand, but gives before being asked. 

[6] A lesser level is when one gives to the poor person after being asked. 

[7] A lesser level is when one gives less than one should, but gives gladly and with a smile. 

[8] The lowest rung on Rambam’s ladder is when one gives unwillingly. 

The story of Nahum the beggar reminds me of a story that Rabbi Larry Kushner tells. It could be set in Anatevka, or any small village where miracles might happen. Could it happen right here in Elgin? The richest man in town fell asleep during the rabbi’s rather boring sermon. Any of you ever fallen asleep during services? I have. All our rich man wanted to do was figure out how to make even more money. The rich man woke up, and thought that he heard G-d commanding him to bring 12 loaves of challah and put them in the ark. He was amazed. Is that all G-d wants? He would be sure to do it. And he did. 

Later the shul shamash arrived to clean the building. He was poor and hungry. He stood before the ark pleading with G-d for food to feed his family. “O G-d,” he prayed, “we are out of food and we will soon starve if You don’t help us.” And then he thought he smelled challah. He opened the ark to dust, and wow, right there were the 12 loaves of challah. He thanked G-d, and went right home incredious. The family ate six, sold four and gave two to tzedakah.  

The rich man was feeling a little foolish, went back to the shul to retrieve the bread. But when he opened the ark, miracle of miracles, it was gone. G-d had eaten the challah! He promised he would make twelve more and with raisins, too.  

This exchange went on for years. One day, the rabbi was so tired he fell asleep in the back pew. But he woke up just in time to see this routine. He (it’s always a he in these stories, right?) brought the two men together. The rich man said sadly, “I should have known that G-d doesn’t eat challah.” And the shamash said, “I should have known that G-d doesn’t bake challah,” even sadder. For them there was suddenly no miracle.  

The rabbi explained that they were correct. “G-d doesn’t eat challah or bake challah. Yet there is still a miracle. Look at your hands. Yours are the hands of G-d. Continue baking and continue taking. Yours are the hands of G-d.” 

There is another miracle. We may not have the half-shekel census any more. And Topol may never sing here on earth again, explaining “what the good book says,” but the Jewish people are still here. CKI has survived. For 130 years. Recently, CKI announced a match grant. It would be a miracle if we managed to turn $15,000 into $30,000. The message of today’s portion is that everyone counts. Everyone, even the beggar, even the shul shamash, can give tzedakah, is obligated to give tzedakah. You count. You make a difference.  Look at your hands. Yours are the hands of G-d.  

Many of you have asked how you can support the work that we do at CKI. Here’s your chance: https://www.ckielgin.org/  

 Remember…not to forget…remember…this is the message of Shabbat Zachor, just before Purim. We are to remember not to forget what Amalek did to us. He, or rather I imagine, his men on his command attacked our stragglers after the parting of the Red Sea. The women with kids, the old people, struggling to walk yet another step, the most vulnerable amongst us.  

Later when Saul was told to wipe out all of the Amalekites, when he was commanded to essentially commit genocide, he left the King of the Amalekites alive. For that, Saul lost his own kingship and David became King. 

There are those who see a direct line from Amalek to Haman. And those who see a direct line from Amalek and Haman to Hitler, even some of our modern despots. In the recent book group book, Thread of Grace, the scribe who has been sequestered away, hidden from the Nazis in a small town in Italy, remembers and enacts what his mentor had taught: 

““Before beginning our task, we blot out the name of Amalek, the biblical enemy of Israel. Thus, we remember the prophesy: our enemies shall pass, and we live.” Humming absently, Giacomo selects a tiny piece of parchment from among the remnants. Inscribes on it, in the vowelless Hebrew, the consonants of Amalek’s name. Crosses them out with two lines, crushes the parchment in his palm. This much is tradition, but he takes up a second snippet of parchment. Smiling grimly at his innovation, Giacomo Tura writes four more letters: HTLR. These he crosses out three times, and then he burns the scrap.” 

A rabbi I know in Boston with dual Israeli citizenship had this to say about Shabbat Zachor: 

“Shabbat zachor (this Shabbat) is always challenging for me because it highlights and glorifies the desire for revenge. I am finding that challenging on the best of days. These are not the best of days. There are people out there who consider Amalek, not as a non existing Biblical enemy of times long gone, but as everyone who disagrees with them, everyone who is not part of their religion. Everyone they hate. And they use this Biblical call to blot out the memory of Amalek to justify their acts of hate and violence today. These people use a prayer book similar to the one I use, and we generally are thought of as part of one religion. But I have come to understand that we are not. So I don’t wish to remember Amalek this Shabbat. Let it be a Shabbat of forgetting Amalek instead. Of leaving old grudges and past injustices behind and returning to a tzelem, image, of the divine, that is loving, not hateful, embracing, not avenging.” 

Memory is tricky. Complected. Important. Last night we talked about happiness and joy. I explained very briefly, that part of the reason we break a glass at a wedding is because even at our most joyous moments, there is some sadness. We miss those who we would have liked to be there. We are still mourning the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. Four times a year we recite Yizkor prayers, Yom Kippur, Sukkot, Passover and Shavuot. The Bible tells us to remember.  

It tells us to hear the shofar which Is called zihron t’rua.. In fact we add a section of liturgy for Rosh Hashanah called Zichronot precisely to remember. And the haftarah that day tells us that G-d remembered Hannah. (I Samuel 1:19) 

Perhaps Passover is the holiday where we are told over and over again that we should remember and tell our children on that day what G-d did for us as we went forth from Egypt. We quote Rabban Gamliel in the Haggadah: “In each and every generation, a person is obligated to see himself (or herself, I add) as if he left Egypt, as it is stated (Ex. 13:8): ‘And you shall explain to your child on that day: For the sake of this, did the Lord do [this] for me in my going out of Egypt.’ Not only our ancestors did the Holy One, blessed be God, redeem, but also us [together] with them did God redeem, as it is stated (Deut. 6:23): ‘And God took us out from there in order to bring us in, to give us the land which God swore unto our ancestors.’” 

We don’t stop by remembering that G-d took us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm. (We need both:  the power of the mighty hand and the compassion of that outstretched arm.) We remember that we were slaves in Egypt so we are commanded to remember that we were slaves and to take care of the widow, the orphan and the stranger. It is not just the happy memories of past triumphs and previous journeys. It is not just the old joke, “they tried to kill us, we survived, let’s eat”. As My Jewish Learning reminds us, “Our memories shape us and guide our mission to build a better world. Our memories of bondage should remind us to wipe out slavery and to treat all people with dignity. Our memories of leaving the corners of our fields untouched should remind us to take care of “the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow” both within and outside our community. Our memories of Amalek should remind us of our role to blot out evil in the world. Ours is an active existence: We do not live in a state of forgetfulness or “forgottenness” but in a state of memory and consciousness that induces us to seek to make the world a better place. By doing so, we help realize the Baal Shem Tov‘s words that “in remembrance lies the secret of redemption.”  https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/remember-dont-forget/ 

In remembrance lies the secret of redemption. Let’s underscore that.  

And yet, memory is tricky, I said. In his book, The Body Keeps the Score, Bessel Van der Koek, one of the leading thinkers on PTSD makes the point that the body holds on to past trauma. For healing to take place, for real change to take place, the body needs to learn that the danger has passed and to live in the reality of the present. As I have said, trauma can become generational, unless people learn that they are safe. 

When I was in Heidelberg, working on my thesis about this very topic, what we now call generational trauma, and watching CNN (It was the only channel I could understand!) Israel had just accidentally hit an apartment building in Lebanon. While there were no injuries, miraculously, it was striking to hear a resident clutching his two month old daughter saying he didn’t blame the Israelis but that it would take 20 years for people to heal emotionally. A full generation. He wondered what message his two month old was receiving. People need to feel safe.  

In 1994, an American Israeli physician Baruch Goldstein, used our text today to justify a massacre he perpetrated on the Muslim worshippers at the Tomb of the Patriarchs. He was beaten to death by some of the survivors on the scene.  

This week we saw at least two terrorist attacks in Israel, causing the deaths or Hallel and Yagel Yaniv and then Elan Ganeles, a 27 year old from West Hartford, back in Israel to attend the wedding of a friend. These attacks led to riots and protests in the town of Huwara where one Palestinian was killed, and much property was destroyed. The IDF then prevented a solidarity visit to Huwara on Friday afternoon that had been organized by an organization Standing Together and other peacenik organizations Friday afternoon. What messages did this next generation of Palestinians and Israelia receive? Do they feel safe? From a quick glance at Israeli media the answer is emphatically no. On any side.  

Recently we read the section of the Torah that includes the suggestion that punishment should be eye for eye, tooth for tooth. We talked about whether that commandment had actually ever been carried out. While the Talmud teaches that if capital punishment once in 70 years it was a bloodthirsty court, it is not clear that it never happened. And we are reminded again that we should not hold a grudge or carry out vindictive punishment. “Vengeance is Mine,” says God. 

This model isn’t working. It’s like the fights in the sandbox. If you hit me, I’ll hit you back. Then you’ll go get your mother and I get my father. Soon the whole neighborhood is involved.  

What if there is another way? When I was a college student, I was madly in love with an Israeli. We were engaged. We were going to get married and spend half the year in Israel and half in the United States, working with the Reform Movement youth movement helping other students learn a love of Judaism and Israel. Sadly, those dreams ended when he was killed by a terrorist bomb serving as an IDF officer. The year, 1983. 40 years ago. Two generations. Rabbi Harold Kushner’s book, When Bad Things Happen to Good People, and his subsequent works, helped me heal from that trauma. But the memory was reawakened this week. When will the victims’ families heal? Will they ever? There has to be another way.   

An organization that also helped me in my own journey is Parents Circle Family Forum. https://www.theparentscircle.org/en/pcff-home-page-en/ They bring Israelis and Palestinians together who have lost loved ones to the ongoing conflict. No one should have to endure the pain I endured as a 22 year old. Their work, however, is under attack. Yet again. Dialogue is not in vogue at the moment. I gave to them again this week. In memory of Yuval, the three Israelis killed and the Palestinian.  

Yossi Klein Halevi wrote an important article several years ago detailing the fact that there are two kinds of Jews. Purim Jews and Passover Jews. I have talked about this before. I thought he had found the description of my own home. You see, Simon hates Purim. I always thought it was the chaos that ensues, but he posted an important article about the underside of the Purim story published by the Reform Movement. https://reformjudaism.org/jewish-holidays/purim/adult-look-less-savory-truths-purim?fbclid=IwAR1dqGhgOTRqbGSCBhLbw1YH69CcpX22lUlU0B77rRJkAhUW5_oi6I-Nc0k 

Simon loves Passover. The food, the language, the expanded time to sit at dinner and discuss the issues of the day. 

Yossi , however, is teaching something different. Some Jews get the message of Purim—the world is a scary place. They are always out to get us. There are always Amalekites. Be afraid. Be very afraid. And then there are Passover Jews, those who believe that we have to welcome the widow the orphan the strangers because we were strangers in the land of Egypt. We know what it is to be a slave. 

I think there is a third way. I have said we need to have both philosophies at the same time. It is a both/and. A balancing act. 

Perhaps we also need to remember Esther this weekend. Mordechai told her emphatically that perhaps she was in that time and place precisely to find her voice in order to help the Jewish people survive. Maybe we all need to find our voices today. The protests that have happened in Israel almost every Saturday night since the election are heartwarming. They are finding their voices. The air force generals who are speaking out have found their voices. 

“The Jewish past is always present – we invoke it and remember it as a guide for our actions today; this is our transgenerational obligation. Thus, at the beginning of the Amida prayer, we invoke our biblical ancestors. 

Golda Meir reminds us of this challenge when it comes to remembering the past: “One cannot and must not try to erase the past merely because it does not fit the present” (My Life, p. 231). 

https://www.jpost.com/judaism/torah-portion/article-733182  

My friend from Boston ended her post with an Israeli poem. I will leave you with his words: 

“Order of the Day” by Yitzhak Laor 

Remember
That which
Amalek did,
to you
of course, 

Over.
Do unto Amalek
what Amalek
did, to you
of course, 

Over. 

If you can’t
find yourself
an Amalek, call
Amalek whomever
you want to do
to him what
Amalek did,
to you of course, 

Over. 

Don’t compare
anything
to what Amalek
did, to you
of course, 

 Over. 

Not when
you want to do
that which
Amalek did,
to you of course, 

Over and out, 

Remember.