Yesterday, my study partner in New York, sent me a picture of her new, baby grandchild. The first of her generation. It’s an unremarkable picture of a tot on a playmat on the floor clutching a stuffed giraffe. Except that she is not unremarkable in the least. Nor is the photo. She is the great-grandchild of Holocaust survivors. And she lives. And someday, she will tell the story. That fills me with hope.

And yet…I stand before you today with some deep concerns. One Jewish response to the Holocaust has been, “Never again.” For some that means never again to Jews. They find peace in knowing that Israel is once again a homeland for the Jewish people, a safety and security net despite the wars and all the people sworn to destroy Israel and push it into the sea. For others, they mean “Never again, to anyone, at anytime.” And yet…there have been more wars and more genocide. I was asked to participate in a call today about the genocide of Rohingas in Myanmar.

And yet…my parents didn’t want me to be a rabbi. They were afraid I would be too visible. Too easily a target. People would just know where to get me. I rebelled, and so here I stand. They were not ready to forgive Germany, or the German people. Ever. We didn’t buy German products yet somehow, my first car, a used Volkswagon Rabbit was OK, precisely, because it was used. And when I went to work for a German software company, they were not at all happy.

Recently, I was again asked if it was smart for me to wear my kippah, this keppah, even sitting in a coffee shop in downtown Elgin. Right here in downtown Elgin.

And yet, I continue to wear my kippah. Proudly. Hineini, Here am I. I stand before you today, wearing this kippah that clearly identifies me as a Jew.   It too fills me with hope.

Two weeks ago, a man walked into a synagogue in California and shot a woman to death. It is the seventh armed attack on a Jewish organization in 10 years. The Elgin Police Department sent an officer before we at Congregation Kneseth Israel even knew an attack had happened. That fills me with hope.

Can we draw the line between what happened in Poway and what happened in Germany and Europe. Perhaps, when we read the perpetrators manifesto. Or we read the accounts of a different Holocaust Memorial event this time in Arkansas where some neo-Nazi white supremacists chanted “Six Million More.” Anti-semtism is real. It still exists. It is, as Rabbi Lord Sacks, the Chief Rabbi Emeritus of Great Britain says, the canary in the coal mine.

As part of becoming a rabbi, I wrote a thesis on the 13 Attributes of the Divine. The Lord, The Lord G-d is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, full of lovingkindness, extending kindness to the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity, transgression and sin. And then it adds but visiting the sins of the parents to the children and the children’s children to the 3^rd and 4^th generation. That little baby is the 4^th generation. What sin did she commit? How will she think of forgiveness and reconciliation in her generation?

Rev. Martin Niemoeller, a German Lutheran pastor said after the war:

First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist.
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out— because I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

How will each of us speak up? How will we prevent the next Holocaust from happening. How will we be Upstanders instead of Bystanders?

On the Friday night after the Poway shooting, I opened the doors of the synagogue and we had 15 guests join us who wanted to share Shabbat with us and extend their support and solidarity. Those people that joined us, despite their busy schedules. They were Upstanders. That fills me with hope.

It fills me with hope that I have been given the key and the code to the church across the street, by another Lutheran pastor, because sadly, what if? That church, and many in Elgin are Upstanders.

At that service, I played this song. Ani Od Chai, Still I live. It was sung by 600 Holocaust survivors, children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. (Play song) https://www.theicenter.org/resource/koolulam-am-yisrael-chai

That song fills me with hope. Still I live. Yet I live. We sitting here today, all do. It is a solemn responsibility and task, to not forget our past and remember the vision of the future, where no one is afraid to sit under their vine and fig tree.

My confirmation class will read this quote of Edmund Flegg, a French Jew who saw the approaching hoofbeats. He wrote it for his grandson. When my students read it in two weeks, it will a dor v’dor, a generation to generation moment. It fills me with hope too.

I am a Jew because born of Israel and having found it again, I would have it live after me even more alive that it is within me.
I am a Jew because the faith of Israel requires no abdication of my mind.
I am a Jew because the faith of Israel asks any possible sacrifice of my soul.
I am a Jew because in all places where there are tears and suffering the Jew weeps.
I am a Jew because the message of Israel is the most ancient and the most modern.
I am a Jew because Israel’s promise is a universal promise.
I am a Jew because for Israel the world is not finished; we will complete it.
I am a Jew because for Israel humanity is not yet completed; we are completing it.I am a Jew because Israel places humanity and its unity above nations and above Israel itself.
I am a Jew because above humanity, the image of the Divine Unity, Israel places the unity which is divine.
I am a Jew because in every age when the cry of despair is heard the Jew hopes. (Edmund Flegg)

 This reading fills me with hope.

You serve at a hospital. The best one I visit. And last year I visited 12 area hospitals to visit congregants. There are roughly 6000 Holocaust survivors in Chicagoland. Perhaps you have treated some. I would imagine you have done so with skill and with care and compassion. Your attendance here today fills me with hope as we remember. I hope you will also remember to stand up for victims everywhere. That you will become Upstanders.

And that picture of the baby on the playmat…that fills me with great hope.

Tomorrow we read the portion, Kedoshim, Holinesses. The first commandment of this portion, the central portion of the central book of the Torah, is “Revere your mother and father.” Not “Honor your father and mother” Not “Love your parents”. What’s with this construction?

The rabbis answer that saying that fathers were the ones who metted out punishment so they were more feared. Mothers need to be on an equal footing.

How appropriate that we read this section this weekend. This weekend is also “Mother’s Day.” Now I have said this before. Mother’s Day is not an invention of Hallmark. It was designed as a peace holiday by women during the Civil War who didn’t want to send one more son (child) off to war. Celebrating our mothers, revering and respecting them is important. And it can be fun. I am looking forward to going to a paint night and to running a race with my husband and my daughter.

Mother’s Day can be a tough holiday. If you haven’t been able to conceive and want a child. If you’ve chosen not to have a child. If you have lost a child. If you are a single parent. Or a step-mom. If your children are not living at home. If you are estranged. If you are waiting for that phone call that never comes.  If you have lost your own mother. This year or decades ago. If your relationship with your mother was “complicated.” If you are part of the LGBTQ community.

Not always, but it can be. Very tough.

Recently I have been doing a series of study sessions on the piece of Talmud, “These are the obligations without measure whose reward too is without measure.” The first one is honor your father and mother. We talked about how that works in a congregation. In some cases it  about making sure that our senior seniors are taken care of. By the congregation. For some, it is in visiting new moms and providing play spaces and play dates. For some, it is about making sure that the synagogue is accessible to all and recognizing the unique role that women can play. .

But our group also talked about how that works when the situation is complicated, like described above. The commandment doesn’t say, “Love your parent.” It is about honor and respect. For those that gave you life. Or maybe those that adopted you or fostered you. In the Fox River Valley we are painfully aware of what happens if that goes awry. Little AJ Freund is alleged to have been murdered by his own parents. It appears his parents and the system failed him. That is part of why we are delivering baby supplies to the Community Crisis Center on this Mother’s Day. Baby Moses was rescued by his adoptive parent, Batya, Pharaoh’s daughter.

After reading a story told by Rabbi Harold Kushner, about whether someone who been emotionally abused by a parent had to go to his funeral, we agreed that it is OK to mourn for a relationship you might not have had.  There are readings that I include as part of Yizkor, if you are mourning such a relationship.

Whatever feelings you are having today, feel them. Acknowledge them. If you want to cry, cry. You are not alone. You are never alone.  You are honored.. You are respected. You are loved. And I hope that you are surrounded by family and friends, flowers and good food of your choosing.

We are at the Shabbat between Yom HaShoah and Yom Ha”atzma’ut. Between Holocaust Memorial Day and Israel Independence Day. It has been a difficult week with more updates daily on safety and security. We take threats to the Jewish people very seriously and we cannot thank the Elgin Police Department enough for their proactive service, their professionalism and their compassion.

But what the injured rabbi, Rabbi Israel Goldstein has demanded is that we bring more light. That’s exactly what we did when lit candles last night and we were joined by 15 guests, friends of the community, who joined with us for our usual Kabbalat Shabbat service. They were people who showed up. Who wanted our community to know that they stand (and sit) with us. And we thank them too.

“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.”

or

“Peace will come when the Arabs will love their children more than they hate us.”

Both quotes attributed to Golda Meir and quoted in A  Land of Our Own : An Oral Autobiography (1973) edited by Marie Syrkin, p. 242, we can’t fully source the quotes but they stand nonetheless.

Today I want to talk about forgiveness and reconciliation.

Next week we will read the Holiness Code, Kedoshim. It demands that we be holy because the Lord our G-d is holy. We know this. We quote it often. We should not stand idly by while our neighbor bleeds. We should welcome the stranger, the widow, the orphan. We should leave the corners of our field, and the central part, from the central portion of the central book of the Torah, quoted by Hillel and Jesus, Love your neighbor as yourself. As Hillel said, the rest is commentary, go and study.

Apparently, the world has a lot of studying left to do. Maybe that is why we say this verse every week as part of our Shabbat morning service.

That was the portion that was open last week as we welcomed 50 people to CKI as part of OpenElgin, a self-guided architectural tour sponsored by the Chamber of Commerce. The Torah, our most prized possession, was open to that very portion, because it is Abigail’s Bat Mitzvah portion and we had been practicing it together.

We practice Love Your Neighbor as Yourself when we leave the corners of our field, when we serve food to the hungry, when we partner with the Community Crisis Center, when we join together for Unity on Division Street, when we open our doors.

Every guest that made their way to the bimah last week, I read that verse from the Torah. With many I talked about our concerns about safety and security and the challenge of being warm and welcoming, open. I talked about the love we feel knowing how neighbors have supported us.

Today’s portion is a little different. It tells us that we should heap our sins on a goat and send it out. That is the origin of the concept of scapegoat. There has been a lot written this week again about ant-semitism. Anti-semitism is real. On the left and the right. As Rabbi Lord Sacks says in his book, Not in God’s Name, it is the canary in the coal mine. It is the leading indicator that society is in trouble. Real trouble. It is often the first way people scapegoat. The numbers coming out of the FBI and the ADL are clear. In Illinois there were 15 reported anti-semetic hate crimes in 2015. In 2018 there were 59. Those are the ones that were reported. https://www.adl.org/audit2018

https://chicago.suntimes.com/columnists/anti-semitic-incidents-rising-illinois-high-levels-u-s-new-adl-audit/

This week I had the opportunity to speak to many people about all of this. Whether it was a Torah School parent, our own safety and security team, someone thinking about conversion, fellow clergy, friends in the wider community, the congressman’s office, every conversation involved some part of safety and security. Every. Single. One.

One person I spoke with was Tony Sanders, CEO of u-46, headquartered on Chicago Street. I can see Tony’s office from mine and I consider him a friend. I called him because every single one of our students or their parents have expressed that they have experienced some kind of anti-semitic incident—a joke, teasing, bullying, taunting, a push, a shove on the playground,. Every Single One.

This isn’t new. It is just more brazen. Tony assured me that he would check with John Heiderscheidt, the Director of Safety and Culture at U-046. I explained to him that many of these incidents are not reported, never reported. Most. But I would be waiting for that report.

We agreed that we would continue to work together—and he ended the call by saying “I love you.” Really.

Next week, every single one of the superintendents will get a letter from me expressing our concerns. I will provide that letter to our Torah School families as well.

It is not limited to our Torah School families. I was at a party on Sunday afternoon. As often happens I was introduced as Rabbi and then someone proceeded tell a joke that was not appropriate. How do we handle such moments?

To be clear, an anti-semitic joke is not the same as walking into a synagogue with an automatic weapon with the intent of committing mass murder. Yet we teach our children, based on the Facing History and Ourselves curriculum to be Upstanders, not to be Bystanders.

Back to Rabbi Goldstein. He is an Upstander. His response to darkness, to terror is to say that he will be more brazenly Jewish.

“From here on in I am going to be more brazen. I am going to be even more proud about walking down the street wearing my tzitzit and kippah, acknowledging God’s presence. And I’m going to use my voice until I am hoarse to urge my fellow Jews to do Jewish. To light candles before Shabbat. To put up mezuzas on their doorposts. To do acts of kindness. And to show up in synagogue — especially this coming Shabbat.” https://www.nytimes.com/2019/04/29/opinion/rabbi-chabad-poway-antisemitism.html

So we will do Jewish too. Just as we always have. Just as you’ve done by showing up today. Just as I do as I sit in a meeting at a coffee shop wearing a kippah.

But what about the forgiveness piece? A little bit of midrash:

It once happened that Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai was leaving Jerusalem with Rabbi Joshua, and they witnessed the destruction of the Temple. Rabbi Joshua said, “Woe to us, for the place where the sins of Israel were atoned for has been destroyed.” Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai said, “Do not be bitter, my son, for we have another form of atonement which is as great, and this is gemilut hasadim; as the verse states, “for it is kindness I desire and not burnt offerings” [Hos. 6:6]. Avot DeRabbi Natan, chapter 4

After the destruction of the Temple the rabbis taught that it was destroyed because of sinat chiman, baseless hatred. Rav Kook the first chief rabbi of Israel said the answer to sinat chinam is ahavat chinam, baseless love.

The answer to weeks like this is exactly what Rav Kook and Rabbi Goldstein teach. Love your neighbor as yourself. Perform acts of love and kindness. Practice ahavat chinam.

That’s what we will continue to do here at CKI. May this be a Shabbat of love and peace.

Today is Earth Day. And Passover. It is the third day. Today I want to talk about the theme of water that runs through the Passover story. In fact, throughout the celebration of Passover itself.

Saturday night we held a Community Seder at Congregation Kneseth Israel. I have become uncomfortable with the celebration of the plagues. It worked for me for a while. Masks, finger puppets, hopping frogs, cute songs. No question, these can entertain the kids. BUT, the real plagues were scary. Really, really scary. People suffered. All the Egyptians. We can’t just make light of them. In fact, we pour out a drop of wine for each plague to diminish our joy. I would need something else to make this seder special.

If Passover is about getting our children to ask why so that we can explain what G-d did for us when we went forth from Egypt, from Mitsrayim, out of the narrow places.

Not only did the Angel of Death pass over the Israelite houses, we passed through the water and emerged on the other side, free. Let’s celebrate that.

So that’s what we did. Everyone who entered the synagogue walked through the sea. We lined both sides of the entranceway with blue tablecloths of varying shades of blue and streamers that moved like waves. And those waves parted. Thanks to my daughter, it was beautiful.

But many missed the miracle.

So did some of the people who walked through the parting of the Sea of Reeds. This gave me the opportunity to tell two stories. The story of Nachson ben Aminidav who was the first to put his toe into the water. He waded in up to his belly button and then up to his nostrils. Only then did the sea part. Because Nachson ben Aminidav had courage, only then did the sea part. (Mechilta, Beshalach 5; Pirkei d’Rabbi Eliezer 42; Exodus Rabbah 13; and others.)

Still others walked through without seeing. Rabbi Larry Kushner tells the story in his Book of Miracles. Reuven and Shimon only see the muck. Today we might be too busy looking at our cell phones or taking selfies.

Then we created a beach on the floor of the synagogue. A yellow tablecloth, a bunch of beach stones, a pomegranate tree, books about Passover, bubbles for the kids. And fun inner tube pool floats as afikomen prizes. The kids loved hanging out on the beach.

We washed our hands in order to be ritually ready. Not once, but twice. We dipped parsley, karpas, in salty water to remind us of the tears the Israelites shed as slaves and how some people are still enslaved.

We talked about Miriam and Batya rescuing the baby Moses. He could have been drowned in the Nile but instead he was plucked out by Batya, Pharaoh’s daughter. Defying his orders to drown all the Israelite boys. So we are going to collect baby items for the Community Crisis Center to help rescue other babies who are in danger, filling a “Moses’ basket”.

We talked about Miriam and her timbrel, and knowing enough to take a musical instrument so that the women could celebrate. And how even though her name means bitter waters she was able to find living waters. We poured spring water, fresh clear, mayyim hayyim, living waters into a Kos Miriyam, Miriam’s Cup. And we wondered about drinking water in places like Flint and even in Chicago Public Schools and right here in Elgin.

And we talked about our community garden. Our centerpieces were lovely tulips and some little gardens. Lettuce and herbs. That will go into our community garden. That will feed people that otherwise would not have access to fresh veggies. That garden does many things. Not only does it provide vegetables but it provides hope. It gives us the opportunity to live out our covenant, to leave the corners of our field (Lev. 19). It requires the perfect balance between sun and rain. Our garden will have a rain barrel this year.

On Passover, there is one more connection to water. On the first day of Passover we add the prayer for “Tal”, dew. We pray for dew to fall in Israel, in its season. This season. “For lo, the rains are over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth.” (Song of Songs, sung on Passover). The prayer for Tal, recognizing G-d blessing, end this way:

“You are Adonai our God
who causes the wind to blow and the dew to fall.
For a blessing, not for a curse, Amen.
For life, not for death, Amen.
For abundance, not for famine, Amen.”

And we pray for rain, beginning in the fall.

Our tradition teaches us that we are to be caretakers of the earth. Partners with God in this ongoing, beautiful Creation. The midrash teaches that G-d said to Adam and Ever: “See my handiwork, how beautiful they are. Be careful not to ruin and destroy my world, for if you do, there is no one to repair it after you.” The rainbow is the sign of G-d’s promise and G-d’s covenant: “and I will remember My covenant, which is between Me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and never again shall the water become a flood to destroy all flesh. “When the bow is in the cloud, then I will look upon it, to remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth.” (Genesis 9:15-16)

How appropriate then that Earth Day and Passover, with all of its water connections come together this year.

Isaiah taught us:

Thus says God the LORD, who created the heavens, and stretched them forth, who spread forth the earth and that which comes out of it, who gives breath to the people upon it, and spirit to them that walk there:

I, the LORD have called you in righteousness, and have taken hold of your hand, and kept you, and set you for a covenant of the people, for a light of the nations;

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you, and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you; when you walk through the fire, you shalt not be burned, neither shall the flame kindle upon you. (Isaiah 42-43)

On this Passover that is Earth Day, let’s remember our end of the covenant and take good care of this earth, especially the water so that we have enough for every generation to come. L’dor v’dor, from generation to generation.

Recently there was an article that appeared in Forward, a now online only publication for liberal Jews . It questioned how to be a feminist and celebrate Passover. “Passover Prep as a Feminist Can Be Enraging.
https://forward.com/life/422378/passover-prep-feminist-rage/?fbclid=IwAR0fvSBAEitspBMm_x1vm5iUcEK208dh8JBOgR-dhR0w2FkW2XoeRRWGMZw

It challenges the unfair burden on women in the Passover preparation.

I disagree. As a feminist. It can be enraging. But it doesn’t have to be.

I posted the article to my Facebook page and set off a long discussion amongst women friends. Some agreed. Some disagreed with the article.

To be clear, some of the traditional preparation is hard work…perhaps it is designed to make us feel like slaves. The Haggadah itself says that our story begins in degradation and ends in glory. That each of us is to see ourselves as though we went forth from Egypt, out of Mitzrayim, out of the narrow places. Some see that narrow place as the birth canal. We are reborn at Passover, into freedom.

Each of us. Men, woman and children. All means all.

So Passover can be work. Hard work. Not just for women. For all of us. When I was in college, it was the men on the Hillel board who were the most “machmir” the most strict about the cleaning of our kosher kitchen. It was they who taught me how to clean out the schmutz in the refrigerator gasket, how to boil counters, how to clean the oven, how to tape sections of the cabinets closed. But they were right there with the women. Doing it themselves.

There is a difference between schmutz (dirt) and chametz (leavened food). As I often say, “don’t worry about the dust bunnies under the refrigerator; you weren’t planning to eat them anyway!” I know people who wash their walls with vinegar for Passover. That has never been part of my tradition. If that is too physically demanding for you, this year. Don’t. Let it go. It is the same principle as the dust bunnies. This year that extends to my carpet. We have vacuumed. I would have liked to steam clean or at least spot clean, but it is not going to happen.

While I joke that Passover cleaning is like New England Spring Cleaning on steroids, it doesn’t have to be. I usually think it is good for my house to be really, really clean at least once a year. I enjoyed polishing my grandmother’s candlesticks yesterday. They are shiny bright now. It is nostalgic. Passover should be nostalgic as we pass this story down, from one generation to another. As we create lifelong memories.

My issue as a woman rabbi, is that this holiday is my husband’s favorite. It is his job to lead the Passover seder because he compiled our version of the Haggadah and he is justifiable proud of it. He loves the words. This one night a year I practice tzimtzum, contraction. I give him the space he so rightly deserves. Like the candlesticks I just polished, I make him shine.

Here’s why this discussion is important. When the Israelites left Egypt, all of them, it included the women. The women played a central part in the story. That’s why I am proud to be doing a learning session on the Women of the Passover Story as my offering for the Fast of the First Born. It was the women who offered their husbands hope. It was the women, especially Shifrah and Puah, who rescued the baby boys. It was women who rescued Moses, himself. It was Miriam who watched her baby brother float down the Nile and Batya who plucked him out of the Nile. It was women who carried their tamborines with them because they knew, somehow, that they would need them to celebrate freedom. It was Miriam who led the women in song on the other side of the sea and who found the living waters. Even the unnamed bondswoman who experienced the parting of the sea had a direct experience of God, rather than the visions that Ezekiel and Isaiah experienced, so teaches Mekhilta.

Passover can be physically demanding. Schlepping dishes, cleaning, shopping, cooking, serving. Make sure that you have help. That the burden doesn’t fall unfairly on you as a woman. So when we sit town at the seders remember what Rabbi Y.M, Epstein, Poland 19^th Century, “It is haughty and arrogant to order one’s wife to serve him wine. After all he is no more obligated to drink wine than she. Therefore we ask that everyone pour for him or herself. Then we all move from slavery to freedom, from degradation to glory, from oppression to joy.

With apologies to Dr. Ora Horn Prouser, Frank Sinatra and Cole Porter:

“I’ve got you under my skin
I have got you, deep in the heart of me
So deep in my heart that you’re really a part of me
I’ve got you under my skin.”

You know the song. Sing it with me. What does it have to do with today’s portion? Today we continue talking about skin disease and mold. So what is it that is under the skin, and what is it a symbol of?

The rabbis teach that the skin disease is not an illness, but rather a punishment for lashon hara, evil speech, gossip. Miriam was struck with it when told tales about Moses. Moses was able to pray on behalf of her and heal her.

Speech is important in Judaism. The world was created with speech. In the beginning God said, “Let there be light.”

So important that most of the sins that we publicly proclaim on Yom Kippur are related to speech.

Rabbi Lord Sacks, the chief rabbi emeritus of Great Britain in his weekly post, Covenant and Conversation, points out that the “idea at the heart of Judaism: brit, covenant, is nothing other than a mutually binding promise between God and human beings. What defines the special relationship between the Jewish people and God is not that he brought them from slavery to freedom. He did that, says the prophet Amos, to other people as well: Did I not bring Israel up from Egypt, the Philistines from Caphtor and the Arameans from Kir?” (Amos 9:7). It is the fact that at Sinai, God and Israel entered into a mutual pledge that linked them in an everlasting bond.”

So it is about the Exodus from Egypt…how appropriate as we hear the echoes of “Let my people go,” as part of Passover. But much more than that!

Lord Sacks continues that “Covenant is the word that joins heaven and earth, the word spoken, the word heard, the word affirmed and honoured in trust. For that reason, Jews were able to survive exile. They may have lost their home, their land, their power, their freedom, but they still had God’s word, the word He said He would never break or rescind. The Torah in the most profound sense, is the word of God and Judaism is the religion of holy words.”

But what if it is not. As we prepare for Passover, I am wondering about the speech and the language of the Haggadah itself. I have often been intrigued by the language of the Four Children. One wise, one wicked, one simple, on who doesn’t know how to ask. (yet!) How many of you clamored to be the Wise Child? Any one feel left out because you are sure you were the wicked one? Who is simple? Who is too young to ask? Each child gets an answer according to their ability. Good pedagogical protocol. That methodology is even hinted at in Pirke Avot.

But who are those children? And what do we do with them now? In our discussion we learned that some people skip them entirely, I am not quite ready to do that.

Dr, Ora Horn Prouser, the Executive Vice President and Dean of the Academy for Jewish Religion, and my academic advisor, wrote a book called Esau’s Blessings, looking at our Biblical hero’s through the lens of disability.

She said in a recent d’var Torah about this morning’s portion,

“In the disability community there is a strong emphasis on the role of its members telling their own stories. The motto is “nothing about us without us.” We cannot understand those living with various ailments and disabilities if we don’t hear from them directly regarding their feelings, their understanding of their lives, and their needs. This is remarkably absent not only in the cultic texts, which is not surprising, but in the biblical narrative texts as well. We get Aaron’s response to Miriam’s skin ailment, but hear nothing from Miriam herself.” https://jewishweek.timesofisrael.com/hearing-from-jews-with-disabilities/

So rather than kick out Miriam or exile the “wicked child” we need to hear their stories.

Maybe “the wicked child” is the one with ADHD who can’t sit still at the table. But I am uncomfortable with labeling that child. Maybe we are uncomfortable with his question, “to you and not to me.” He seems to be excluding himself from the community.

In looking at contemporary Haggadot we find a number of interesting thoughts about these children. A Family Haggadah, the one we use at Congregation Kneseth Israel for the Community seder suggests that at one time or another, we each are one or another of the children. It asks us to complete these sentences:

• I am like the wise child when…
• I am like the wicked child when…
• I am like the simple child when..
• I am like the child unable to ask when…

It asks, “Are there other missing children? Those who are unaware, apathetic, disengaged and how can they be brought back to the table?”

A Night of Questions, the Reconstructionist Haggadah suggests that maybe “yet we know that no child is all wise, all wicked, all simple or incapable of asking anything. At different points in our lives we have been all of these children: Four Children should be

• One who is eager
• One who is hostile
• One who is passive
• One who is bewildered

The marginalia in this Haggadah gives us much to think about. It continues to use the lens of the Four Children through the beginning of the storytelling so that no voice is missing.

Chaim Stern’s Haggadah includes a quote of Rabbi Levi Yitzchat of Berditchev, “The Haggadah speaks of four children, the wise, the wicked, the simple, the one unable to ask. I am the one unable to ask. But the parent of one unable to ask is told, ‘You must take the first step.’ Ruler of the world, am I not Your child? I do not ask to be told the secret of Your ways—I could not bear it! But show me one thing: what You are telling me through my life at this moment. I do not ask You to tell me why I suffer, but only whether I suffer for Your sake!” (Chasidic)” page 17

Another Haggadah edited by Chaim Stern and the Central Conference of American Rabbis quotes Albert Einstein as a Wise Son to others before the monument to the martyred Jews of the Warsaw Ghetto. And Elie Wiesel saying, “The Jew who repudiates himself, clamining to do so for the sake of humanity will inevitably repudiate humanity in the end. A Jew fulfills his role as a man only from inside his Jewishness. Only be accepting his Jewishness can he attain universality” Pirke Avot teaches “Do not separate yourself from your community.” For me, this is the real message of the “wicked son.”

A Different Night, The Family Participation Haggadah has 10 pages of artwork to illustrate the Four Children and many provocative questions and a screen play. I have used the artwork as a bulletin board.

Tone matters. We use the same answer to both the wicked child and one who does not know how to ask. But it feels different. The tone is different.

Over and over again, each of this haggadot urges us not to push any of these children away. We need to confront each of them and teach them where they are. We need to meet all people remembering that they are created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d. We cannot afford to lose a single one. That is the power of the Four Children and the parsha this week. Be careful, be very careful how we speak to everyone. Tone matters.

On Sunday, we let our children, all of our children make puppets of the four children. I hope that families have fun with them at their seders and that they have meaningful discussions as well.

“You are free to ask
You are free to question
Free to learn the answers of tradition
Free to add answers of your own.”—Chaim Stern, Gates of Freedom

The entire Passover seder is designed to get a child to ask, “Why?” Why is this night different. On that day you shall tell your child what the Lord did for you when you went forth from Egypt. (Exodus 13:8)

We Jews are good at this. We are encouraged to ask good questions. My father’s definition of a Jew was someone who questions, thinks and argues. What good question did you ask in school today?

Yesterday at Congregation Kneseth Israel, our award winning family education program Judaism Rocks, was designed to get the next generation to ask questions. We had four stations, because Passover is all about the number four. Why? Four cups of wine, four seasons (yesterday was WINTER with 8 inches of unexpected snow!), Four Questions (maybe), Four Children (Sons).

Four Stations:

• Write new questions for the Passover Station. Use chrome books to look up answers.
• Tell the story of your family on digital media. In partnership with Gail Borden Public Library and Dr. Rise’ Jones based on the questions on a wider program. What is a family? What is community?
• Make paper bag puppets to illustrate the Four Children that you can use at your own seder.
• EDU Break Out. How will you get out of Egypt? Thanks to Linda Sonin and the Chicago Bureau of Jewish Education.

Then we came back together for Jewpardy. Four categories. People, Places, Numbers, Seder Plate (and a fifth, Mishmosh), singing the Four Questions and trying to stump, me the rabbi.

We stumped them on Jewpardy—What is the orange? (an additional seder plate symbol to recognize the LGBT and women’s role on the bimah, both!) Who is the only person to celebrate a birthday in the Torah? (Pharaoh) Although I will give an honorable mention on reflection to Isaac whose weaning at age 3 was celebrated.

I got stumped as well. “Who created G-d?” A great week to ask that question. Can you say, “G-d created G-d?” Is this like the chicken and egg question, which came first? I can tell midrashim about how there were worlds before this world. I can talk about G-d and the angels. G-d and the alef bet. I can argue with my father, even posthumously, that there is a G-d and that we don’t have to reconcile the beginning of Genesis, the Creation story with evolution or what we can see in a microscope.

But this week. This week. How supercool to finally see a black hole. A real black hole. Some of the research done by people I know. And a fabulous photo. https://www.nytimes.com/2019/04/10/science/black-hole-picture.html

Maybe that big question of how did the world begin is being answered. It is awesome. For sure.

Our kids did ask good questions. Here they are:

1. Why is there an egg on the seder plate?
2. Why do some use a potato instead of parsley?
3. Why does Passover take place in the spring? (and how do we know it happened in the spring?
4. Why is charoset made differently in different parts of the world? How do you make charoset? Why do some people make charoset into bricks?
5. Why is horseradish red?
6. Why do Ashkanazi families not eat legumes during Passover?
7. Why are some Haggadahs written in different languages?
8. Why does the first born male and not female fast on the day of the first seder?
9. Why do we ask questions on Passover?
10. What happened to spring? (8 inches of snow!) Is snow one of the plagues?
11. Who created G-d?
12. Can there be any type of egg on the seder plate?
13. Why don’t we put more symbols on the seder plate?
14. What new symbols have been added to the seder?
15. How did they kill the first born?
16. Why do we pour a glass for Elijah and welcome him?
17. Where did the tunes of the songs come from?
18. Why are there only four questions?
19. Why do we hide matzah?
20. Are there rules for hiding the afikomen?
21. Can you eat lamb at the seder?
22. Where are the missing socks? (In the black hole?)

As part of this, we actually came up with a midrash for a question that has always bothered me. The Israelites did not have enough time to even let their dough rise. However, the women knew enough to pack their tamborines. How did the know to do that?

They brought them with them because they knew they were going to celebrate a festival to the Lord (Exodus 5:1). If you are going to celebrate and be joyous you need your musical instruments. A timbrel is easy to pack. And it can be used as a tray to carry other things. So the women took their timbrels with them so that they could sing and dance!

You can share this at your own seders.

Here are my answers to the kids’ questions:

1. Why is there an egg on the seder plate?

There are several answers. It’s Judaism. Some say it represents the offering in the Temple. Others say it represents spring and rebirth and renewal. In our house we have egg soup to start the meal. A hard boiled egg, in a custard cup with salt water. YUM! Only once a year.

2. Why do some use a potato instead of parsley?

Some people use a potato who came from Eastern Europe. It was plentiful and cheap. And bitter. Have you ever tasted a raw potato? Others use romaine lettuce.

3. Why does Passover take place in the spring? (and how do we know it happened in the spring?)

The Torah tells us that it happened on the 14^th of Nissan which is the first month of the year. It is called Hodesh Ha’aviv, the month of spring. Bigger question is do we know it happened at all. There is no good archeological evidence for it. However, it is an important story of how we became a people. Whether it happened exactly as written or some other way, it is a meaningful way to bring people together.

4. Why is charoset made differently in different parts of the world? How do you make charoset? Why do some people make charoset into bricks?

Some say the recipe of charoset is in the book, Song of Songs. However, people have been making charoset to represent the mortar to build the pyramids for generations. It is usually a combination of apples, wine, cinnamon and nuts. In different parts of the world people add other things depending on what is available. Last year our family made a charoset bar so that people could make their own. https://www.kveller.com/four-hacks-to-make-your-passover-seder-more-fun/

It was lots of fun.

5. Why is horseradish red?

It’s not. It is a root vegetable that when peeled is creamy white. We add beet juice to make it red and a little less spicy. On our seder plate we have both kinds. You can make it yourself in a food processor. Just don’t sniff it—it will hurt your nose and make your eyes water!

6. Why do Ashkanazi families not eat legumes during Passover?

For about 500 years Ashkanasi families have refrained from eating legumes—beans, seeds, rice, corn. It was in order to make sure that we didn’t accidently eat chamatz.. In the last decade or so, the Conservative Movement, beginning with Israel declared that legumes (kitinyot) are OK for all. This year’s story: https://www.jta.org/2019/04/09/culture/the-passover-kitniyot-argument-isnt-worth-a-hill-of-beans

The actual teshuva/responsa: https://www.rabbinicalassembly.org/sites/default/files/public/halakhah/teshuvot/2011-2020/Levin-Reisner-Kitniyot.pdf

7. Why are some Haggadahs written in different languages?

Because Jews live around the world. Check out the book about the Four Questions in different languages. This year I think we will have Greek, Spanish and Chinese at our seder table.

8. Why does the first born male and not female fast on the day of the first seder?

These days both might fast. Because the first born Israelites were spared when the Angel of Death passed over their houses. OR they might finish studying something and have a siyyum hasefer, a party to celebrate completing something. This year’s siyyum will be on the Women of the Passover Story at 8:00 AM on Friday.

9. Why do we ask questions on Passover?

Why not? Seriously, to get kids thinking, to teach the story of Passover and remember and to illustrate that we are free. Slaves can’t ask questions.

10. What happened to spring? (8 inches of snow!) Is snow one of the plagues?

Maybe it is a plague! Seriously, there is a blessing for hail in Judaism in Hebrew but not for snow. Maybe today’s snow storm is to make the warmer weather for Passover even more sweet!

11. Who created G-d?

See above.

12. Can there be any type of egg on the seder plate?

From a kosher bird. So no eagle’s eggs. A friend was just looking for an emu egg.

13. Why don’t we put more symbols on the seder plate?

We can and some do. See below.

14. What new symbols have been added to the seder?

There are all sorts of new symbols that have been added. An orange for inclusivity. Miriam’s Cup. A beet instead of the shankbone. Olives for peace. Tomatoes, coffee beans or chocolate for workers’ rights. Artichoke for interfaith families. Last year our students added a strawberry because it bleeds to be against the plague of gun violence!

15. How did they kill the first born?

The text itself doesn’t tell us. Only that the Angel of Death caused it.

16. Why do we pour a glass for Elijah and welcome him?

Elijah will herald, announce the messiah. So we welcome him to our seder, hoping the time is near.

17. Where did the tunes of the songs come from?

All over the world! New ones get written and composed every year.

18. Why are there only four questions?

There aren’t. At first there was one. “What does this mean to you.” The Cairo Geniza has evidence that there were 3 questions and 5 questions. We all just wrote (and answered!) 22 new questions!

19. Why do we hide matzah?

To show that we are still searching—for more chamatz, for more freedom, to get out of Egypt, Mitzrayim, the narrow places.

20. Are there rules for hiding the afikomen?

This is in the category of minhag, custom and not halacha, law. Different families have different rules.

21. Can you eat lamb at the seder?

This is Judaism. Some say yes, some say no. It seems you can’t roast a whole lamb. That would be too similar to the paschal offering/sacrifice. Can you do lamb chops? Depends on the custom of your family.

22. Where are the missing socks? (In the black hole?)

My best guess? Behind the dryer!

What remaining questions do you have? Remember, it is OK to ask new questions! Have fun with it. And try to stump me. That’s fun too!

Friday night I spoke about mezuzah.and about putting these very words on your doorposts…it is appropriate. This week we read about Passover and how the Israelites put blood on their doorposts, mezuzot, so that the Angel of Death would pass over their houses. Both are about making your house right and drawing close to G-d. But also words for the journey. Place these very words on your doorposts. Speak of them when you lie down and when you rise up, in your homes and on your way…

The third paragraph of the V’ahavta, the paragraph from Numbers about tzitzit. We put tzitzit on our clothing to remember the Exodus from Egypt and how G-d led us out with a strong hand and an outstretched arm. But the rabbis wondered, should we say this at night, when we can’t look upon the tzitzit. and why we would say it at night? In A Minyan of Comfort that we use in shiva houses, it explains what the rabbis decided on page 35:

“In the end, an ingenious interpretation of one of the words led to the decision that the passage should indeed be included in the evening service. In the house of mourning it is reassuring to read this passage which concludes with a reminder that God brought our ancestors out of Egyptian bondage. In the dark night of suffering, God “saw” our people’s afflication and “heard” their groaning. The Lord who liberated our ancestors from their burdens of pain and suffering is the God of love who can liberate us from our burdens of grief and sorrow. In the dark night of bereavement, our faith in God can strengthen our hope that mourners too shall experience an exodus from suffering, and more toward the promise land of healing.”

Today’s first portion (it is a week with 3 Torahs!) has to do with skin eruptions and mold. Things that the ancient Israelites thought were signs that you weren’t right with G-d. Things from which you need to be healed. Things for which you need to be outside the camp. For seven days. Usually. What’s going on here?

Frequently I joke that if you have mold in your house, don’t call me; call a mold specialist. It will cost you big bucks. Mold is very difficult to get rid of! And if you have a skin eruption, don’t call me. Please go the dermatologist.

And yet…

Later in Numbers, when his sister Miriam is struck with something like leprosy, how ever that is translated, she is put outside the camp. Moses himself prays on her behalf. El na refana lah. Please G-d, heal her. A simple prayer of healing. An early form of misheberach, the prayer for healing of mind, body or spirit. And she is healed.

How do we think prayers like that work?

“More things are wrought by prayer
Than this world dreams of.” (Alfred, Lord Tennyson; from Morte d’Arthur)

“Different types of meditation have been shown to result in psychological and biological changes that are actually or potentially associated with improved health. Meditation has been found to produce a clinically significant reduction in resting as well as ambulatory blood pressure,[2,3] to reduce heart rate,[4] to result in cardiorespiratory synchronization,[5] to alter levels of melatonin and serotonin,[6] to suppress corticostriatal glutamatergic neurotransmission,[7] to boost the immune response,[8] to decrease the levels of reactive oxygen species as measured by ultraweak photon emission,[9] to reduce stress and promote positive mood states,[10] to reduce anxiety and pain and enhance self-esteem[11] and to have a favorable influence on overall and spiritual quality of life in late-stage disease.[12] Interestingly, spiritual meditation has been found to be superior to secular meditation and relaxation in terms of decrease in anxiety and improvement in positive mood, spiritual health, spiritual experiences and tolerance to pain.[13]”

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2802370/

So the science is becoming clearer. Prayer and meditation help in healing.

Often I sing the last paragraph of Adon Olam in the hospital with something. I use a Debbie Friedman version that is like a lullaby…

B’yado afkid ruchi
b’et ishan v’airah. V’im ruchi g’viati
Adonai li v’lo irah.

I have stood with nurses in the ICU and watched in amazement as someone’s blood pressure has stabilized.

Besides growing scientific evidence that prayer works, really really works to provide or aid in physical healing, it seems to do something else. It helps a person know that people care about them, that they are part of a community. Do not underestimate the power of prayer.

But back to our mezuzot, our doorposts.

In some Christian traditions, sometimes the priest or the bishop gets called in to perform an exorcism, to cast out a devil or an evil spirit. To return a person to being right with G-d. Not every one is authorized to perform this ritual because it is a specialized, niche practice.

Twice in my own rabbinate, I have had people think they need something like this. After consulting with other rabbis, in both cases, I helped the family hang a mezuzah. It seemed to work. The family felt they were listened to, taken seriously, part of a community and back to being right with G-d. It works.

Some believe that the mezuzah has a certain protective quality. It works as an amulet of sorts. There are even car mezuzot now to protect you in your car. Some have thought that checking the mezuzot could help prevent terrorist attacks in Israel, or avert a health crisis. We saw this most recently when there was a campaign to deliver a mezuzah to every Jewish house in Pittsburgh after the attack at Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh.

I have had friends who had their mezuzahs checked when a child had a serious and undiagnosed health crisis and others who had them checked when facing infertility.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not the kind of person who thinks that if something bad happens you should check the words in the mezuzah and make sure nothing has been rubbed out. And even back to the Middle Ages, Rambam ruled that while writing letters (like the Shin) on the outside of the mezuzah, still the custom today, writing angelic names on the inside would cause the scribes to lose their place in the world to come.

And yet…

The mezuzah offers something. It is reminder that when you cross the threshold that you are crossing between public space and private domain. It marks liminal time, the time in between, even if just for an instant. Some people have the tradition of kissing the mezuzah when exiting or entering, just to remind themselves of G-d’s loving presence, even in the liminal. Especially in the liminal.

To be effective in this world, you need to move between the inside and the outside, between the private and the public. That is part of what the V’ahavta teaches, to place these very words on your doorposts and to talk about them when you lie down and when you rise up, in your home and on your way. The word mezuzah comes from zuz, to move.

The function of the mezuzah, then is to change the culture, the very fung shei of the house. It heals the inside and the outside world as you cross over the threshold. It causes you to remember the exodus from Egypt.

Changing the fung shei seems an appropriate topic as we get closer and closer to Passover. Recently I began reading Marie Kando’s book, The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up. It’s a New York Times Best Seller. And it has much to say about Passover cleaning. Now ordinarily I will tell you—you don’t need to wash your walls for Passover or clean the dust bunnies under the refrigerator. You weren’t planning on eating them…I hope. We’ve made Passover cleaning very complicated.

And yet…

I explain Passover cleaning as New England Spring Cleaning on steroids.

On the other hand…we all seem to have too much stuff. It is an American societal problem. So this year…all year, we’ve been participating in a project called 52 Bags in 52 Weeks. Our hope is that we would be more organized, less cluttered and feel lighter, happier. It would be freeing. Really, I don’t need those torn jeans that are too big.

Jews are not alone in this wanting to clean in the spring. Every wonder why some people eat pancakes before Lent? They are cleaning out the chamatz, even if they don’t call it that! Some people have a newer Lent tradition of called 40 Days – 40 items, and it’s premise is just what it sounds. During the Lenten season you commit to giving up one item each day for 40 days to donate to charity..

Marie Kondo would tell you that is the wrong approach. I am not yet sure I agree. For her, the “tidying up” will in fact change the fung shei, but rather than doing it a little at a time, you should do it all at once. By category. So she starts with clothes. Then books. She thinks you should only keep 12 books. That’s where it breaks down for me. But her idea that you should touch each item and see if it still brings you joy—and if not thank it for its service and then donate it. That part works. It literally makes us freer, lighter.

Mezuzah. Our doorposts. Helping us to remember. Helping us to cross over. To Passover. Helping us to get our relationships right, with G-d and with the public and private spheres of our life. Healing us.

“You are what you eat…” Do you eat to live or live to eat? Much of our time in modern America is spent talking about what to eat, when to eat, where to eat. Worrying about what we are going to have for dinner.

And then there is all the conflicting nutritional information. Should you try the keto diet? The grapefruit diet? Apple cider vinegar? Eggs? Red wine? Coffee? This week we learned that tea may or may not be bad for you.

According to a 2017 study the most popular diets are the Atkins Diet, Zone Diet, Keto Diet, Vegetarian Diet, Vegan Diet, Weight Watchers, South Beach, Raw Food , and the Mediterranean diet. Which is right for you?

Judaism has much to say about food too. It elevates it. We celebrate with it. We turn food into symbols. Just think about the upcoming Passover. Bitter herbs, salt water, karpas, (parsley), charoset, all are symbols. Even the matzah itself. Especially the matzah itself.

Let all who are hungry come and eat…this is the bread of affliction, lechem oni, the poor bread.

This week in the parsha we learn more about keeping kosher. On the surface it would seem nonsensical. When I was in 7^th grade Hebrew School, I learned that keeping kosher was an outmoded form of Judaism. Then we were taken to an antiquated deli and taught about blue soap and red soap. There must be someone who still kept kosher or there wouldn’t be red soap and blue. It wasn’t until college that I knew anyone who kept kosher.

One year when I was teaching 8^th grade, I had a class that was really tough, as that age can be. They were not motivated at all to be there. Eventually we went to visit all of the professionals in the building asking them how they thought about their Judaism every day. I was surprised as we visited the secretary and janitor and the ed director and the cantor and the rabbi. No one thought about their Judaism. It just was. In desperation and exasperation, I said to the rabbi, “But you daven every day, must think about Judaism.” And he said, no. And then I asked about kashrut, that must make him think about Judaism every day. Now remember, this was the 90s. His answer, his wife took care of that.

Why these outdated laws about food? Why does it matter?

• Some argue that it is a commandment, so it is our obligation to just do it. There doesn’t have to be an underlying reason.
• Some argue that it was about food safety. If you don’t eat pork you can’t get trichinosis. Many are allergic to seafood. Creepy crawly things, well, just yuck.

There are a couple of other arguments. Because we’re Jews; we argue about everything:

• We are told that we as humans are sentient beings. We think. We feel. Keeping kosher is a way to be mindful. It provides a kavanah, an intentionality. It keeps us aware of our food. It reminds us that there is something higher out there. That we are dependent on others and G-d. It is a partnership.
• It turns meals into holy time. Time set apart. It slows us down. That’s why we say a blessing before we eat…and after.
• Keeping kosher, like mezuzah, Shabbat and circumcision, keeps us separate in another way as well—keeps us separate from others. It is harder to mingle with your non-Jewish neighbor if you are keeping kosher.

For me, it is about awareness. Mindfulness. And about welcoming anyone who may wish to eat in my home. And by extension, the synagogue. That was my initial reason for keeping kosher in college. So anyone could eat in my dorm room. And I still have those first plates, still with nail polish on the bottom marking the meat and dairy ones.

But that is not true for everyone. Kosher Nation, published in 2010 by Sue Fishkoff, we learn about the growing trend of keeping kosher. Here is the review:

“Kosher? That means the rabbi blessed it, right? Not exactly. In this captivating account of a Bible-based practice that has grown into a multibillions-dollar industry, journalist Sue Fishkoff travels throughout America and to Shanghai, China, to find out who eats kosher food, who produces it, who is responsible for its certification, and how this fascinating world continues to evolve. She explains why 86 percent of the 11.2 million Americans who regularly buy kosher food are not observant Jews—they are Muslims, Seventh-day Adventists, vegetarians, people with food allergies, and consumers who pay top dollar for food they believe “answers to a higher authority.””

So 86% of people buying kosher food aren’t observant Jews. What’s going on here? Muslims are looking to make sure there is no pork. So are the Seventh Day Adventists. Vegetarians are making sure there is no meat. When the doctors thought that maybe Sarah was lactose intolerant, we were told to purchase only parve food, food that would not include any dairy products and would be labeled as such. And then they added, “You already know about that.”

In this modern world, there are lots of reasons to focus on the spiritual aspects of food. Did you know that we are supposed to feed our animals first, before we sit down to eat? (Berachot 40a)

How many of you ate at least one meal in your car this week. I know I did. But Judaism tells us that we should not eat while we are standing. There are many explanations of this, https://judaism.stackexchange.com/questions/15580/forbidden-to-eat-while-standing-up

These days, there is much we can focus on about spirituality and eating. There is a whole movement toward ethical kashrut—across all the spectrum of Jewish religious observance. That modern day kashrut that may include considerations of

• The ethical treatment of both farm workers and animals
• Using fair trade when appropriate. That’s why I really only drink fair trade, kosher coffee and try to require it here in our kosher kitchen.
• Hosting a zero waste Passover
• What about the packaging we use? Or the dishes and the table clothes? What do we do with compostable waste?
• Making sure we really “let all who are hungry come and eat” be that our work with the Elgin Cooperative Ministries and the upcoming Soup Kettles, the Community Garden where we literally leave the corners of our field
• Exploring vegetarian and vegan options
• Recognizing the changing nature of wheat and providing gluten free options

What I have prepared for you to study are five different rabbis’ opinions about kashrut and why they are important to him (or her!). Divide yourselves into two groups and see what resonates. (The Source material follows)

Things we learned:

Rabbi Richard Israel: Kashrut makes me confront important questions about the ethical issues around food. That turns eating into a holy experience. That makes me holy, each of us holy.

Rabbi Harold Kushner: G-d cares about me, and the choices I make. Choosing to keep kosher makes me a little less than divine. Choosing to eat kosher makes us holy.

Rabbi Donin: It gives us a little bit of control. A little bit of balance and a way to begin to understand the divine mind. That makes us holy.

Rabbi Yankovitz: We have an obligation to treat animals and workers ethically. We have a unique responsibility here. Kashrut helps us understand the spiritual potential that food has. The kosher laws have a unique charge to holiness.

Rabbi Ruth Sohn: Kashrut is a spiritual discipline that connects us to G-d and to our past, to our tradition. Kashrut is our unique path to holiness: “for you are a people consecrated to your God.

One last reason…it enables us to be grateful. For the soil. For the seeds. For the sun and rain. For the very food that nourishes and sustains us. And for G-d and our relationship with the divine. For this we give blessings.

Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha’olam, hamotzi lechem min ha’aretz. Blessed are You, Lord, our G-d, Ruler of the Universe who brings forth bread from the earth.

Let all who are hungry come and eat, as we continue to prepare for Passover.

My Jewish Learning:
https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/keeping-kosher-contemporary-views/

Rabbi Richard Israel:

I find that whether I like it or not, kashrut brings me into contact with a series of rather important questions: What is my responsibility to the calf that I eat, or to the potato? Is the earth and the fullness thereof mine to do with as I will? What does it mean that a table should be an altar? Is eating, indeed, a devotional act? Does God really care whether I wait two or six hours before drinking milk after a meat meal? If kashrut makes me ask enough questions, often enough, I discover that its very provocative quality is one of its chief virtues for my religious life.

Rabbi Harold Kushner
Let’s go back to my hypothetical lunch with a friend. Watching me scan the menu, he may suspect me of thinking, “Oh, would I love to order the ham, but that mean old God won’t let me.” But in fact, what is probably going through my mind at the moment is “Isn’t it incredible! Nearly five billion people on this planet, and God cares what I have for lunch!” And God cares how I earn and spend my money, and whom I sleep with, and what sort of language I use. (These are not descriptions of God’s emotional state, about which we can have no information, but a way of conveying the critical ethical significance of the choices I make.) What better way is there to invest every one of my daily choices with divine significance? There is nothing intrinsically wicked about eating pork or lobster, and there is nothing intrinsically moral about eating cheese or chicken instead. But what the Jewish way of life does by imposing rules on our eating, sleeping, and working habits is to take the most common and mundane activities and invest them with deeper meaning, turning every one of them into an occasion for obeying (or disobeying) God. If a gentile walks into a fast-food establishment and orders a cheeseburger, he is just having lunch. But if a Jew does the same thing, he is making a theological statement. He is declaring that he does not accept the rules of the Jewish dietary system as binding upon him. But heeded or violated, the rules lift the act of having lunch out of the ordinary and make it a religious matter. If you can do that to the process of eating, you have done something important.

Rabbi Hayim Halevy Donin
The faithful Jew observes the laws of kashrut not because he has become endeared of its specific details nor because it provides him with pleasure nor because he considers them good for his health nor because the Bible offers him clear-cut reasons, but because be regards them as Divine commandments and yields his will before the will of the Divine and to the disciplines imposed by his faith. In the words of our Sages, “A man ought not to say ‘I do not wish to eat of the flesh of the pig’ (i.e., because I don’t like it). Rather he should say, ‘I do wish to do these things, but my Father in Heaven has decreed otherwise.’”

Although “the benefit arising from the many inexplicable laws of God is in their practice, and not in the understanding of the motives” (Moses Mendelssohn), nevertheless the Jew never tires of pursuing his quest to fathom the Divine Mind and to ascertain the reasons that prompted the promulgation of God’s laws. For the man of faith is sure that reasons do exist for the Divine decrees even if they are concealed from him.

Rabbi Shmuly Yanklowitz, https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/ethical-kashrut/
The first act of food consumption in the Bible is also the Torah ’s first foray into ethics. God instructed Adam and Eve to eat from any tree but the Tree of Knowledge. The human inability to restrain desire led to the possibility of sin. The first human beings ate the forbidden fruit, and the need for ethical standards was born.

Since then, halacha (Jewish law) has functioned to make its adherents understand the spiritual potential that food can have in one’s life. By legislating various practices such as making berakhot (blessings) before and after eating food, distinguishing between dairy and meat meals, separating dishes, and drinking wine and eating bread on holidays, Jewish law highlights the significance of food in life.

In the first decade of the 21st century, a growing movement emerged focusing not only on ritual, but also on ethical kashrut . This movement emphasizes not only the traditional rules, but also takes into account issues such as animal treatment, workers conditions, and environmental impact, taking its cue from a number of supporting biblical sources:

How do these new “rules” of ethical kashrut relate to the traditional rituals, blessings, and separation of dishes? Many of those who observe kashrut believe that the values of ethical kashrut may have been the original intention for how religious food consumption was prescribed in the Torah. For others, these values are a positive expansion or evolution from the traditional rules. For still others, the contemporary values of ethical kashrut can replace the old, harder-to-understand rituals.

The Torah and other Jewish literature lend support for ethical kashrut initiatives. Nahmanides, a 13th century Spanish rabbi, argued (Leviticus 19:1) that if people consume food that is technically kosher from a ritual perspective but do not embrace the ethics that come along with consumption then they are naval birshut haTorah(despicable with the permission of the Torah). They have broken no formal kashrut prohibitions but their act is shameful, and they have not lived by the moral and ethical intentions of the Torah. Nahmanides is referring to eating in moderation but his value certainly lends to broad extension. Simply put: permissible consumption does not necessarily mean good consumption.

1.The Jewish community has already demonstrated immense success using money and power to build the kosher certification system. This infrastructure and model can just as easily be used for ethical certification and awareness.

2. As Jews, we have ownership and responsibility over the kashrut industry.

3. The laws of kashrut have a unique charge to pursue holiness. 

Rabbi Ruth Sohn https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/the-purpose-of-kashrut/
“You are what you eat’ the common expression goes. I sometimes think of this saying in relation to kashrut (that is, keeping kosher). What do the choices that we make about what we eat reveal about who we really are? Many Jews today view kashrut as an outdated vestige of ancient Israelite practice, expanded upon by rabbinic Judaism, bur no longer relevant to modern day life. ..However, the presentation of the prohibitions associated with kashrut in Parashat Re’eh challenges us to consider anew the purposes of kashrut. Deuteronomy 14 tells us what animals, fish, and birds we can and cannot eat. It instructs us not to boil a kid (a young goat) in its mother’s milk, an injunction that became the basis for the rabbinic separation between milk and meat (Deuteronomy 14:21; see also Exodus 23:19 and Exodus 34:26). While many Jews today believe the biblical prohibitions against certain meat and fish to be for health reasons, Parshat Re’eh makes no such claim. In fact, if this were the case, the explicit permission to give the stranger and the foreigner the foods we are forbidden to eat (Deuteronomy 14:21) would be frankly immoral. Rather, Parshat Re’eh, as the Torah does elsewhere, identifies the articulation of eating prohibitions strictly as part of the Israelites’ particular path to holiness: “for you are a people consecrated to your God Adonai” Deuteronomy 14:21). What is it about these prohibitions that can make us holy? Interestingly, the prohibited foods are identified as tamei … lachem–ritually impure “for you” (Deuteronomy 14:7, 8, 10). For this reason, it is perfectly acceptable for other people to eat them, just not for the people Israel.

A Spiritual Discipline

Traditional and modern commentators have offered various explanations as to why particular fish, poultry, and animals are considered tahor (“ritually pure”) and therefore acceptable to eat. But perhaps more important than the meaning of each of the details of the prohibitions is the simple fact that we are given a list of dos and don’ts that govern what we are to consume daily. According to the Torah, God asks that we abstain from eating certain foods, not because they are unhealthy or intrinsically problematic, but simply as an expression of our devotion. As with other chukim (laws that the rabbinic sages define as being without rational explanation), these prohibitions are like the requests of a beloved: we may not understand them, but we are, in essence, asked to follow them purely as an expression of our love. Daily, the observance of kashrut calls us back to a personal relationship with God. The laws of kashrut offer a Jewish spiritual discipline that is rooted in the concrete choices and details of daily life — to be practiced in an area that seems most “mundane.” In fact, part of the beauty of kashrut is that regardless of our age, personal interests, or geographic location, we all eat, and most of us do so several times a day. While we may sometimes choose to dine alone, eating is almost universally enjoyed as a social activity. A spiritual discipline around eating is one that carries the clear message that spirituality is about far more than what we do in synagogue and on holidays; it extends into every area of our lives, every single day.

Kashrut reminds us again and again that Jewish spirituality is inseparable from what one might term “physical.” It teaches us that Jewish spiritual practice is about taking the most ordinary of experiences — in all aspects of our lives — and transforming them into moments of meaning, moments of connection. Kashrut provides a model for doing just that, around issues of food preparation and eating. It’s time to cook dinner: What will we make, and how will we prepare it? Will we be driven by an empty stomach or considerations that extend beyond it as well? In these moments, kashrut can connect us to Jewish tradition, to other Jews, and to God. We are hungry and sit down for a meal, but before digging in, we recall that Jewish tradition offers us the practice of pausing for a blessing and a moment of gratitude. We may take this a step further and decide to put aside tzedakah regularly at dinnertime, as some of us try to do. This can be seen as a practice similar to the tithing performed in ancient times, as outlined in the verses immediately following the rules of kashrut in our Torah portion (Deuteronomy 14:22-29). Instead of just wolfing down our food and moving on to the next activity, we can learn from Jewish rituals to pause and turn the act of eating into a moment of heightened spiritual awareness.

Bringing Contemporary Concerns to Kashrut

Increasing numbers of Jews today are expanding their kashrut practice to incorporate additional ethical and environmental considerations. Was the food produced under conditions that respect persons and the environment? Were the workers who picked or prepared the food paid a living wage? Did the processes of production treat animals humanely? In addition to allowing these questions to influence our choices about what to eat, we can direct our tzedakah money to organizations that address these issues, like environmental and farmworker advocacy groups.

From the time of the Torah onward, Jewish tradition teaches us that the spiritual realm encompasses all of life. Kashrut and the other Jewish practices related to eating exemplify this teaching and extend beyond themselves: they stand as daily reminders to look for additional ways to turn the ordinary into moments of deeper connection and intentionality. Every moment has the potential to be one of connection. Through other mitzvot, such as the laws governing proper speech and interpersonal ethics, as well as through the less well-known but rich Jewish tradition of cultivating middot (personal qualities such as patience and generosity in judgment), we can seek to deepen our connections with each other and with God. A Jewish spiritual discipline around eating, practiced with intention, can set us on this course every day. “You are what you eat.” That is, what you choose to eat and how you choose to eat it says a lot about who you are and what kind of a life you are striving to achieve.

No man is an island entire of itself; every man
is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;
if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe
is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as
well as any manner of thy friends or of thine
own were; any man’s death diminishes me,
because I am involved in mankind.
And therefore never send to know for whom
the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

John Donne

Last night we were exhorted that “We are One.” I am always grateful to spend time with Pastor Nat Edmond. He is, bar none, the best preacher I have ever heard. Last night was no exception. Not only are we one, all created in the image of G-d, that alone would be enough, but African Americans and Jews have a similar history. We have worked together for decades. We have been partners to create a more just society. For all of us. Because we are all created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d.

He is right. We have work to do. Lots of work. To create the type of society that we read about in Leviticus. My professor Dr. Rabbi Nehemia Polen used to explain the Book of Leviticus, which we begin to read today, as a reset button. It was G-d’s attempt to get the Israelites to draw close to G-d. To live with G-d. To bond with G-d. To be one with G-d. To repeat, to recreate the experience of the Israelites standing on the shores of the sea and the foot of Mount Sinai. Leviticus is all about sacrifice. Offerings. That’s how we draw close to G-d. The root of the word, sacrifice, Avodah, is the same as the word for work—Avodah. Make no mistake. Serving G-d is work. Hard work. Sacrifice. Creating the kind of society that G-d demands in Leviticus, is work. It is work to “Be holy, for I the Lord, your G-d am holy.

That work entails feeding the hungry, housing the homeless, clothing the naked. That work is the work of our community garden and our participation in Elgin Cooperative Ministry’s Soup Kettles. That work includes making sure that we welcome the widow, the orphan, the stranger, the most marginalized amongst us. That work means making sure that there is a seat at the table for everyone. Sometimes it means making that table longer. That work means making sure that the justice system is fair, neither favoring the rich or showing deference to the poor. That work means paying the wages of the laborer on time, every time. It is all in the book we are beginning today.

That lesson comes straight out of the Book of Leviticus, from the Holiness Code, Kedoshim, which commands us that we must “Love our neighbor as ourselves.” That’s why after Charleston, I called Pastor E. We had a long discussion about safety and security that day. That’s why yesterday I reached out to every Muslim leader I know. It is part of being in the covenant. It is part of doing G-d’s work. It is part of being one.

But we have another lesson today, also. Today is Shabbat Zachor, the Shabbat before Purim. We read three difficult verses. Today we are to remember not to forget—that is strong language, Amalek, to blot out Amalek’s name, to completely and utterly destroy him.

King Saul lost his kingship when he didn’t obey. When he had the opportunity to wipe out the King of the Amalekites, to kill the King of the Amalekites, he hesitated and he spared him.

Who were the Amalekites and why is the punishment so harsh? The Amalekites attacked the rear guard, the women, children and elderly—the most vulnerable, when the Israelites were fleeing Egypt.

There are many ways to look at this text. It is Judaism after all. Rabbi Irwin Huberman, my colleague in New York, asks this question:
“What were the elderly, the physically and mentally challenged, single mothers and parentless children doing back there alone in the first place?”  There is a fine line here-and we must take care not to blame the victims for their own tragedy-but let us consider, as members of a civilized society, “What is the responsibility of the strong and healthy to ensure that the weak and defenseless among us are protected?”

This is not to blame the victims but instead an opportunity to look at our responsibility and accountability. To the widow, the orphan, the stranger, to those with disabilities, who may not move as fast as the rest of the group, to those who are different, who may not look like us or talk like us, to those struggling with mental illness or substance abuse or….or….This is part of being in the covenant too! All are welcome here.

We read this portion this week because it is just before Purim. You see, Purim celebrates the victory of the Jews, of Queen Esther, over the wicked Haman—a descendent of Amalek. In every generation, we are to see that there is an Amalek. Some even see Hitler as an Amalek.

Yossi Klein Halevi wrote an important article 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 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 Amalekitse. 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.

It is clear to me that we live in scary times. The events in Oak Creek, WI make that clear. The events in Charleston make that clear. The events in Charlottesville make that clear. The events in Pittsburgh make that clear. Sadly, and yet again, the events in Christchurch make that much more real.

Make no mistake. This is important. Today. Again. Sadly. Anti-semitism and white supremacy are on the rise. Hate groups and hate crimes are on the rise. Globally. The FBI and organizations like the ADL and Southern Poverty Law Center have statistics to go with that statement. I have ordered two books this week. One by Rabbi Evan Moffic and one by Deborah Lipstadt, both on anti-semitism.

But the response to events like that—or bombs reigning down in Tel Aviv in Tel Aviv this week, is not to lash out. The danger of the Purim story, is its apparent license to kill. To blot out Haman and all the Amalikites.

In 1994 Dr. Baruch Goldstein walked into the Cave of the Patriarchs, into Machpella, on Purim. He killed 29 Muslims in prayer. The Israeli government of the time immediately condemned the massacre, and responded by arresting followers of Meir Kahane, and criminalized his Kach party.

This is important. Today. Again. As we approach the upcoming election in Israel, the current prime minister has embraced the descendents of the Kahanists. It seems it may be the only way he can preserve his fragile coalition. At what price? Have we become Purim Jews alone?

Words matter. We have an obligation as Jews to call out racism and anti-semitism, Islmaphobia and anti-gay sentiment wherever we hear it. From our friends in a casual joke, in our government, whether it is on the right or the left.

This week I received this statement of the Conservative Movement:

“Words matter. The Torah teaches that God created the world through words. We remember as much in the daily prayers, “Praised is the One who spoke and the world came to be.” The responsibility rests with the words we choose whether we build or destroy worlds. And how we respond to the words of others matter. Words matter everywhere in the ongoing work of creation. A week does not go by when we don’t hear from Jewish kids in local public schools who are bullied for being Jewish or about a political or religious leader who spews hate. Living with the trauma of anti-Semitism is part of our complicated reality. How we talk about that, without being offensive, is a struggle we navigate even within the Jewish community.”

It went on to decry the words of Representative Omar and to decry death threats against her. Both/and. I decry the spray painting of the poster in the Brooklyn subway with anti-semitic graffiti. I decry the sentiments that led to the mass murder in Christchurch. Both/and.

All of this is a balancing act. How do remain warm and welcoming and protect our members? How do we assess what is a real threat when there have only been 5 shootings at Jewish institutions in 20 years? You are more at risk driving home from shul than sitting in our pews.

And yet, on a morning like this, our anxiety rises. The answer is in having policies and procedures that are well thought out and detailed. In practicing and drilling. In being, as the Boy Scouts and Girls Scouts would say, “Be Prepared.” At CKI we are, to the best of our ability. We have a safety and security committee. We have had ALICE training, fire and tornado drills. And we have a well established, deep partnership with the Elgin Police Department.

When we think about Amalek this morning I offer you these words of another professor at Hebrew College, Nehama Leibowitz: “Evidently the criterion of God-fearingness (yirat Elohim, awe of God)…may be measured by the attitude of the subject to the weak and the stranger. Where the fear/awe of God is lacking, the stranger who is homeless in a foreign land is liable to be murdered…In this context, Amalek is condemned for killing the weak and smiting the feeble because “he feared not God.”. This is evidently the reason why we were commanded to blot out the memory of Amalek, since they came and fell upon the defenseless and weary without any pretext whatsoever… “Amalek” against whom the Almighty declared eternal war is not any more an ethnic or racial concept, but is the archetype of the wanton aggressor who smites the weak and defenseless in every generation.”

This morning, I want to remember, not to forget the words of my friend and Muslim leader, Kiran Asani, in yesterday’s Daily Herald, “Our faith has to be stronger than our fear. Not just on Friday. Not just today. But especially on Friday. And especially today.”

This morning, I want to remember not to forget the unsung heroes. Today, I want to remember not to forget, the first responders who rush in. To places like Pratt in Aurora or to the Tree of Life Synagogue. I want to remember not to forget Pastor Jeff, who stood outside with me at our own vigil after Pittsburgh. I want to remember not to forget how the Muslim community rose after Pittsburgh and my colleagues all over the country who rose yesterday and spent their Friday afternoons at mosques. I want to remember not to forget organizations like the Community Crisis Center and Ecker and Food for Greater Elgin who do the work day in and day out of taking care of the most vulnerable. I want to remember not to forget the words of my partner and my friend, Pastor Nat Edmond who exhorts us that we have work to do. Soon. After Shabbat.

My reading before Kaddish:
We are one.
Created in the image of the One G-d.
We are one.
We stand.
We stand for the Amidah, the standing prayer.
We stand for Kaddish, the prayer that praises G-d for life.
For all life
We recite these words, when we lie down and when we rise up.
We stand.
We stand with school children. In Columbine, Sandy Hook and Parkland.
In the United States, in Norway and Brazil.
We stand with those in Charlottesville.
We stand with those in a Siek temple in Wisconsin
In a black church in Charleston
In the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh.
We stand with a McHenry County Sheriff’s family.
We stand with the family of Decynthia Clements.
We are taught, “To save one life is to save the world.”
They are taught, “To save one life is to save the world.”
So we stand.
Still we stand.
Together.
Tonight
We stand with those in mosques around the world.
In Christchurch and in Elgin.
We are one.
We stand.
Together as one.