The sermon I tried to give.

There is much in this week’s portion. I wrote one sermon, and there are two more I could give. Do you want Door Number 1, Door Number 2 or Door Number Three?

Our story is about a journey. It starts with very familiar words, ones we just sang at the beginning of the Torah service:

“V’hi ben soa aron, v’yomer Moshe..kuma Adonai…And it came to pass, when the ark went forward, Moses said, Arise, Adonai.”

The object of this journey is to move forward. Then G-d will arise. G-d will rise up. G-d will be present. We are calling G-d to be present.

This portion is about the kind of community we want to create so that we move forward and G-d is present. But it isn’t always so easy. Those Israelites kvetch. They want to go back to Egypt. Back to what is familiar. Like leeks and cucumbers. And meat. And Moses is tired of listening to their kvetching. G-d tells him exactly what Jethro had told him back in Exodus. You can’t do this alone. Find 70 elders. 70 grey beards. Let them help you. Delegate. That’s part of leadership.

Let’s talk about what happens when Miriam and Aaron confront Moses. What is the issue here? They seem to be unhappy that Moses married a Cushite woman. Who is this Cushite woman? The daughter of a Midianite priest. So is the issue that this is an interfaith relationship? I don’t think so.

The text says that Moses was a humble man, more humble than anyone else. It is an important quality in a leader and one that often gets lost. As an act of humility, which then automatically negates the act of humility, I want to say that years ago, when taking a Bible comprehensive, this was the text I had to translate. And I did it wrong. I translated the verse as “Moses was humbled” as opposed to “Moses was humble” above all the men on the earth. I then spun it that Miriam and Aaron had humbled him with their comments. I was reading a midrash book at the time that could justify that reading. They lowered him by complaining about Zipporah. On that very translation, I flunked that exam.

Last week I made a mistake too. We were a little short on having a minyan. I told the shliach tzibbur to begin the Amidah with a silent one. Then I told him to start before everyone was done with their individual silent Amidah. This angered a member who thought that the shliach tzibbur did it on his own initiative Ordinarily, we allow everyone to finish. Almost everyone. Usually I start while Simon, my husband is still standing. That’s not fair to him. I explain before we start that this is your moment with G-d and to take as much time as you need. Later that evening, I did some research. Did you know that there are 7 acceptable, halachic ways to do a repetition of the Amidah? I was merely doing what I had seen done in another Conservative synagogue. In the process I violated our own established minhag hamakom, custom of the place, our place. And for that I am sorry. Truly sorry. So today, we will make sure everyone finishes their own individual Amidah before continuing. Everyone will get their private moment with G-d. That is part of the journey.

G-d punishes Miriam (but seemingly not Aaron) for speaking out about Moses. With some skin ailment that is white as snow. Why? Because it seems rather than going directly to Moses with whom she had a problem, she was engaging in “lashon hara” evil speech, tale bearing, gossip. This is a big sin in Judaism. Much of the sins that we proclaim on Yom Kippur have to do with not using our tongues wisely. And Miriam did not. So she is put outside the camp. For seven days. And Moses prays for her healing. With very simple (and effective) words. El na Refana La. Please G-d, please heal her. Teaching about the misheberach, our own prayer for healing is yet another sermon.

Only after Miriam is healed. And she is allowed back in the camp. Only then do the Israelites pick up and move forward. It is a journey. A journey of healing. Of completeness and wholeness. May it be so for this community as well. May we remember to guard our tongues. May we remember to treat others fairly. To not jump to conclusions. To not be afraid to admit when we don’t know. May we not long for the days of Egypt. May we not kvetch. May this be a place of wholeness and peace.

In Memory of Myra Becker. It was only a year ago when Myra and I went to visit our congressmen. When we stood outside at a rally about separating children at the border.

This is the sermon I didn’t give on Saturday, because I had something even more important to say…watch for that tomorrow. This is the sermon that makes me angry. Really, really angry. You may not agree with me. It may make you angry too. Good get angry. Then put that energy to work and find  a solution.

This week we marked World Refugee Day. A designation from the United Nations in 1980. I know, we Jews don’t always like the United Nations. Let’s save that for another time.

I just finished reading Escape to Virginia. It was this month’s book group book. It is the powerful story of how some teens, not enough, ever, were rescued from Germany in the late 1930s as Europe was becoming…unhinged. Is that strong enough? Some people had the foresight to get their teens out of Germany, then out of Holland etc. We know that story. But by following just these two students, Eva and Topper, it made it all the more real. A little like Anne Frank. Only they were the lucky ones. They survived. Barely.

Let me tell you another story. The story of Greta. Greta was a teenager when she arrived in Saint Louis. My mother’s own words, “My first recollection of Greta Westerfeld was her German accent and her long braids. She was the first of the children sent for safety in St. Louis to escape the War in Europe. I imagine she was terrified. She came to live with the Friedmans who were not related and a middle-aged shildless couple. When they took her to my stepfather, the pediatrician, he said, “I have a kid her age. We must get them together.” The Friedmans didn’t know much about ten year olds, but always made me feel welcome in their house…At first Greta was very shy. And even her clothes were different. She word dark skirts with white blouses and long wool stockings. I guess my mother helped Mrs. Friedman buy American clothes like the other kids wore. Greta went to our school, joined our Girl Scout troop, went camping with us and became part of the group. We all knew she worried about her family who were still in Germany and dreaded their fate.”

The Jewish community of Saint Louis in the 30s and 40s certainly knew what was happening in Europe, and tried, despite closed borders, to desperately rescue as many people as possible. Greta’s family did not survive. Greta eventually married and moved to New Jersey to begin her new life. She died in the late 1960s. Much like in the novel Sarah’s Key, some said of a broken heart.

We remember and we vowed never to forget and never to allow what happened to us as Jews to happen again. Any time, any place. That is why I did an internship with Refugee Immigration Ministry. That is why I am an active supporter of American Jewish World Service and HIAS, the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society, the very group that helped so many of our ancestors immigrate to this country.

When the original Simon Klein emigrated from Kerzenheim, Germany in the 1840s, yes, the 1840s, he escaped Germany under a load of hay. Legal? Probably not. Documented, for sure not. He went on to found Klein and Mandel with his cousins also from Kerzenheim. You may know it as Mandel Brothers on State Street.

Currently there are 70 million refugees world wide. Some of them come here as asylum seekers. Trying to escape violence in their home countries.

This week has seen a battle of words about our southern border. It is hard to sort out fact from fiction. First hand accounts from people I trust, including Rabbi Shmuly Yanklowitch and my own sister-in-law report deplorable conditions for children.

Others report: No soap. No clean clothes. Sometimes no beds with kids sleeping on concrete floors. Still children being separated from their parents. If this were a family reported to DCS, they would be charged with child endangerment or neglect.

https://www.pbs.org/newshour/show/a-firsthand-report-of-inhumane-conditions-at-a-migrant-childrens-detention-facility?fbclid=IwAR3vAsR7ziYRz7Z9CdFdvEWsl5m2qKDgvsLJ5ITizG3MO047IiSk1P0XQyA

Reports of rampant sexual abuse of children in detention.

USA Today reporting 4556 children were sexually assaulting in federal custody dating back to 2015. The New York Times used the same number. https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/politics/2019/02/26/thousands-migrant-children-report-sexual-assaults-us-custody-border-detain/2988884002/

New York Magazine is using the number 5800 children. https://www.thecut.com/2019/02/5-800-children-alleged-sexual-abuse-while-detained-by-u-s.html

The response? The ICE Detention Center as part of a suit filed by the ACLU has said that they are not responsible for sexual misconduct of its staff. https://www.aclu.org/blog/immigrants-rights/immigrants-rights-and-detention/ice-detention-center-says-its-not-responsible

This is not the America that our ancestors dreamed of when they immigrated to this country, legally or sometimes even illegally. These are not the values that the Torah demands that we should welcome the widow, the orphan and the stranger. 36 times in the Torah it demands no less. In fact, it also demands that we love the stranger. The sojourner. The resident alien. You have heard me on this topic before.

This week there was more debate. I don’t want to engage in that here. It is Shabbat. Actually, I don’t want any more debate. Period. Let me be clear. Children should not be held in detention centers. Period. Whatever you call them. Prisons should not be for profit. Period. I fought against this in the early 2000s.

Perhaps George Takei says it best: “I was inside two of them, in America,” he tweeted. “And yes, we are operating such camps again.” “internment camps” or “relocation centers,” these terms are euphemisms. The Trump administration has used terms such as “federal migrant shelters” and “temporary shelters for unaccompanied minors.” The definition of a concentration camp is “a place where civilians are confined for military or political purposes based on their identity.” In terms of Japanese internment camps, they were “outside the criminal justice system, designed to detain Japanese Americans based solely on their racial and ethnic identity, sites like Manzanar and Tule Lake were absolutely U.S. concentration camps,” said Nina Wallace on Huffington Post, https://www.huffpost.com/entry/george-takei-concentration-camps_n_5d0be29fe4b0aa375f49b69f

The response of the Jewish community, and even of the camp survivors themselves have been mixed. However, I do not believe that the Jewish community alone owns the phrase “concentration camp.”

https://www.latimes.com/opinion/readersreact/la-ol-le-concentration-camps-immigrant-detention-20190615-story.html

https://nypost.com/2019/06/24/us-holocaust-museum-denounces-aocs-concentration-camp-remarks/

https://www.washingtonpost.com/outlook/2019/06/19/never-again-means-nothing-if-holocaust-analogies-are-always-off-limits/?noredirect=on&utm_term=.c665fc0eab5d

I had heard the news that ICE was planning a major round up of undocumented refugees in Chicago this weekend. They were hoping to find 2000 immigrants who have had deportation orders finalized. This news should also be chilling to us as Jews.

Round ups. Deportations. Internment camps (or whatever you want to call them.) We have heard this language before. We have vowed never again. The time to be aware is now. The time to act is now.

If you have friends that are immigrants, know their rights. They do not have to open their door to an ICE agent. An ICE agent cannot enter their abode without a signed warrant from a judge. They do not have to answer any questions. They have the right to an attorney. https://immigrantjustice.org/know-your-rights/Preparing-for-ICE-Enforcement-Actions

What does this have to do with our portion today? Our portion begins the words B’ha’alotecha. It is the instructions of how to light the lights, the menorah. Literally to “Raise up the lights.” You. Raise the lights. It takes all of us being responsible. Together.

It comes from the same root as aliyah, to go up, to Israel or to go up on the bimah for the Torah blessings. It is a spiritual going up. A spiritual high. Lighting the lights is that too. You might expect the word to be l’hadlik, to light, like the Shabbat and Chanukah candle blessing. But it is more than to light, it is to raise up that light.

All of this makes me think of the poem on the Statue of Liberty. You know the words.

The New Colossus

BY EMMA LAZARUS

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

It seems directly connected to the words of today’s portion. Raise the light. “I lift my lamp beside the golden door.” We Jews have been so proud of these words of Emma Lazarus, the daughter of Jewish immigrants who penned them as part of a contest. What happened to that hope. That promise.

But there is more to it. Maybe it needs to be reset into its historical context.

““The New Colossus” emerges at a pivotal moment in history. The year before Lazarus’s poem was read at the Bartholdi Pedestal Fund Art Loan Exhibition in New York, in 1883, the Chinese Exclusion Act became the first federal law that limited immigration from a particular group. Though set to last for 10 years, various extensions and additions made the law permanent until 1943. The year after Lazarus’s poem was read, the European countries met in Berlin to divide up the African continent into colonies. “The New Colossus” stands at the intersection of U.S. immigration policy and European colonialism, well before the physical Statue of Liberty was dedicated. The liberal sentiments of Lazarus’s sonnet cannot be separated from these developments in geopolitics and capitalism.”

https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2018/01/the-story-behind-the-poem-on-the-statue-of-liberty/550553/

We Jews must continue to keep Emma Lazarus’s vision of America alive. We Jews must never forget the lessons of the Holocaust and the pain of closed borders. We Jews must never forget the mandate of the Torah to welcome the widow, the orphan and the stranger. We Jews must never forget. The time to act is now.

A few weeks ago we “installed” the new board of Congregation Kneseth Israel. Here are my remarks on leadership and courage and stepping up to the plate or into the water:

Today we will finish reading the Book of Leviticus. The full reading begins:
“If you follow My laws and faithfully observe My commandments, I will grant your rains in their season, so that the earth shall yield its produce and the trees of the field their fruit…. I will grant peace in the land, and you shall lie down untroubled by anyone; I will give the land respite from vicious beasts, and no sword shall cross your land.”

It is covenantal language. If you do my commandments, I will take care of you. And as was pointed out to me, none shall make us afraid. The difference between a covenant and an ordinary contract, according to Myron, according to Rabbi Lord Sacks, is love. Love is that special ingredient. People who rise to the occasion and go into synagogue leadership is because they love. They love Judaism. They love the institution of the synagogue, They love this very building. They love their children. Next week we celebrate the connection between covenant and love as we celebrate Shavuot, the marriage between G-d and the people of Israel.

Our portion today ends with:

“These are the commandments that the LORD gave Moses for the Israelite people on Mount Sinai.”

We hold these commandments in sacred trust. They are our legacy that we give to our children and our children’s children. Much like the story of Honi whose ancestors planted for him, and he planted for his children and his children’s children, so do we choose to plant for our children and children.

When we finish the reading we will say, chazak, chazak v’nitchazek, be strong, be strong and be strengthened.

The Book of Leviticus is addressed mostly to the priests who were tasked with sacred service, with the leadership of the people before G-d. But is also repeated says to Moses, Speak to the whole Israelite people and say. Those sections are amongst the most important, and the most beloved, because they are addressed to all of Israel. And not just to those standing there that day, but even to their children and their children’s children to a thousand generations. To those yet unborn. To us today. It tells us how to set up a kehilah kedosha, a holy community. That is the business that we as a synagogue is engaged in.

One section in particular is called the holiness code and it tells us that we should be holy because I the Lord your G-d am holy.

There is a wonderful book of essays, by Rabbi Larry Kusher, I’m G-d and You’re Not, Observations on Organized Religion and Other Disguises of the Ego. It talks a lot about what the function of a synagogue is. It also talks a lot about leadership and what the function of a board is. Basically, it is to make sure that we are a “house of prayer for all people”, a house of study and a house of assembly, the three main functions of a synagogue. That’s our vision statement, to provide lifelong learner, meaningful observance, building community and embracing diversity. When the board spends too much of its time on ancillary tasks—worrying about the mortgage or how many photocopies people are making, Kushner’s examples, necessary questions, maybe the priorities are wrong.

As leaders, you have set the priorities, lifelong learning, meaningful observance, building community and embracing diversity. The devil is in the details. You are tasked with carrying out the details. But, you don’t have to do it alone.

When Jethro, Moses’s father in law and a Midiante priest was worried about Moses doing too much, he told Moses that he could not do what he was doing alone. He told Moses to appoint people under him. Which is exactly what Moses did. Moses learned to delegate. It was only then that they came to the foot of Mount Sinai ready to receive the Torah.

Even then, leadership was a difficult thing. The people got scared. They begged Aaron to build a golden calf. Aaron, being a peacemaker, did. Moses was aghast when he came back down the mountain and saw the people dancing around the cow. He was angry, really, really angry. He smashed the tablets. G-d told him that he had to go back up the mountain. Moses argued with G-d, demanding to know who will go with Moses. G-d answered, “I will go with you and give you rest.” No less than G-d will lighten Moses’s burden. Any of our burdens.

Rest is important as a leader. None of us can do the task of leadership alone. Pirke Avot teaches that “Ours is not to finish the task; neither are we free to ignore it.”

So to those of you who are going off the board, or who are taking a break from a formal leadership role, we say thank you. Thank you for your vision and your courage. Your willingness to say, “We will do and we will hear.”

To Dick, who stepped up, or maybe like Nachson Ben Aminidav, you stepped into the water, you waded into the water, we say thank you. You never thought you would be a synagogue president and you led us through a difficult time period with grace and compassion. It is now time for you to sit under your vine and fig tree, and enjoy that new patio—and maybe another long run, bike ride or swim. You were the very first person I met at CKI. You were the one Sue sent to O’hare to pick me up and we bonded before we left O’hare over marathoning. No more, what does Sue call it, PI. You can rest now.

And to your partner, your life partner, your beloved, who you married almost 50 years ago this month, right in this very room, Sue, who is also going off the board after long service, we also say thank you. Thank you for being you. Thank you for being there day in and day out. Thank you for Thursday morning phone calls and endless cups of coffee brainstorming. For all the little things you do—too numerous to count and some of which you will continue to do.

To Jana, who has edited HaKol for 14 years (I think) and the chaired the kitchen. Thank you for all the little details because both require such attention to little details. You kept me on task. Thank you.

It isn’t always easy to be a leader. Sometimes when just beginning, you may be afraid, perhaps even be quaking. Someone else, please raise your hand? Why do I have to do this? But like Abraham and Moses, you have said Hineni, here am I. That requires courage.

There are different forms of leadership in the Bible from our leaders that demonstrate courage, emetz lev. Abraham and Moses argue with God, Abraham on behalf of Sodom and Gomorrah, Moses after the golden calf when God again gets angry. Shifrah and Puah defy Pharaoh and deliver the baby Hebrews. Nachson ben Aminidav first puts his toe in the water and then wades up to his nostrils. Queen Esther overcomes her own fear and figures out a way to speak up and save her people.

At the very end of Deuteronomy and at the beginning of the Book of Joshua G-d tells Joshua, chazak v’emetz, be strong and of good courage. Three times G-d repeats it at the beginning of Joshua. First about leading the people. Second about keeping Torah and then about entering the land of Israel.

First about leading the people. That’s what we are going to explore this year together. How do we lead the people. The Torah might answer that by saying with Torah as our guide. With deeds of lovingkindness.

The Torah says about keeping the Torah, “Be strong and very courageous to observe and do in accordance with all of the Torah that Moses My servant has commanded you. Do not stray there from right or left, in order that you succeed wherever you go…then you will succeed in all your ways and then you will prosper.” This message is for Joshua and for all of us and brings us comfort as we transition leadership.

We echo this promise of chazak, strength, when we finish reading a book of the Torah as we will do today. Chazak, chazak v’chazaik. Be strong, be strong, be strengthened. We will chant as we raise the Torah high and finish reading Leviticus. We are linking ourselves all the way back to Moses and Joshua.

Pirke Avot tells us at the very beginning about leadership change, Moses received the torah at Sinai and transmitted it to Joshua, Joshua to the elders, and the elders to the prophets, and the prophets to the Men of the Great Assembly. (Pirke Avot 1:1) We are a link in that chain. We preserve Torah for our children and our grandchildren and our great grandchildren, just as I will say to our Bar Mitzvah next week. That is why we are Jewish leaders. To transmit this holy tradition.

In the Talmud, it tells us that there are four areas where we must strengthen ourselves. The first two are Torah and good deeds. “Be strong” refers to Torah and “courageous” means we should do it with gemilut chasidim, acts of love and kindness. (Likkutei Sichot volume 25 p. 474)

It is my job, as rabbi and teacher, to support you in this holy work, this holy service. Just as there were differences between Moses and Joshua, between the time of the desert and the time in Jerusalem, the time with the Holy Temple and the time of the exile. We are at a moment in the Jewish community that is another sea change, a moment of profound transformation. It will require new leadership, new ideas, new energy and new models to take us forward into a great future. Moses knew when he said chazak v’emetz to Joshua that the road would not be easy, that leadership is not easy. It requires, as Ron Weinberg said, bravery, clarity of vision and strength of conviction.

We repeat the words chazak v’emetz as part of the Psalm leading up to the High Holidays. Psalm 27 ends with the words, Chazak v’ya’ametz libecha, be strong and strengthen your heart.” This is a personal charge to each of us here today. As Jewish leaders that’s what we must do. Be strong and strengthen our hearts.

The Hasidic master Rabbi Nachman of Breslov is known for his famous teaching: Kol haolam kulo gesher tzar me’od, vehaikar lo lefached klal. “The whole world is a very narrow bridge, and the main thing is not to fear at all.”

Today you have stood here and taken on the mantle of Jewish leadership. You have passed the baton, just like in a relay race, from one to another. That baton is Torah. You have stood here and like Abraham and Moses, you have said, Hineini, Here am I.

Please join with me in the Shehechianu:

Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech Ha’olam Shehechianu v’ki’imanu 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 very moment.

Last week we began reading the Book of Numbers with a census. And our Bar Mitzvah student talked about how we all count. He reminded us that in the days of slavery in this country slaves only counted as 3/5 of a person and that is wrong.

There has been much talk about the American census again in the news this week. There is already a committee in place here in Elgin to make sure that everyone is counted. In fact, there is a subcommittee of religious leaders to make sure that happens. Our schools, our social service agencies, our libraries depend on accurate counting. Those committee meetings are a volunteer effort, headed by the Chamber of Commerce.

Today is about a different kind of counting. Today it is about how we count, tribe by tribe, for sacred service. What the tribal heads brought as an offering. How much of each thing. Down to the weight of the silver. How much flour and oil. It is a real accounting.

For “avodah”. It is said the world stands on three things, on Torah, on Avodah, on Gemilut Chasadim, acts of loving kindness. We know the song,

Al shlosha devarim..al hatorah, al ha’avodah, v’al gemilut chasadim.

But what is avodah? One name of the sacrificial offerings that the Israelites made was Avodah. It gets translated as service or sacrifice or work. You might know the song Zum gali, gali, gali, the Israeli folk song that praises work as a way to peace. Avodah in its root noun form can mean both slave, like avadim chayeinu, we were slaves in the land of Egypt. Or servant, as Moses was eved Adonai, servant of the Lord. This has always fascinated me. When we left Egypt did we trade slavery to Pharaoh for servitude of G-d?

But we don’t have a sacrificial system any more. So what relevance is today’s portion? How do we find meaning in it?

There was just such a conversation amongst the ancient rabbis. It is included in our siddur. Let’s listen in:

Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakai was once walking with his disciple, Rabbi Yehoshua, near Jerusalem after the destruction of the Temple. Rabbi Yehoshua looked at the Temple ruins and said: Alas for us!! The place that atoned for the sins of the people Israel lies in ruins! Then Rabbi Yochannan ben Zakkai spoke to him these words of comfort: Be not grieved, my son. There is another equally meritorious way of gaining ritual atonement, even though the Temple is destroyed. We can still gain ritual atonement through acts of loving kindness. For it is written (Hoshea 6:6) “Loving kindness I desire, not sacrifice.” Avot D’Rabbi Natan 4:5

Lovingkindness. Rather than an avodah sacrifice, what G-d requires, actually desires is acts of lovingkindess. G-d is looking for us to volunteer. And to be kind while we are doing it.

When I thought about what it means to volunteer, I found this quote on the City of Elgin website:

“The spirit of volunteerism among the residents of Elgin is one of the city’s greatest assets of our community! No matter what your talents, gifts or interests, there are many rewarding ways you can give back to your community through volunteerism. Whether you are interested in helping at a one-time event, or looking for a regular volunteer job, there are many opportunities available.”

So what is volunteering? You know I enjoy linguistics and etymology. Volunteer as a verb was first recorded in 1755. It was derived from the noun volunteer, in C.1600, “one who offers himself for military service,” from the Middle French voluntaire. Now we are back to last week’s portion and taking a military census. In a non-military sense it was first recorded in the 1630s. In more recent usage has a sense of community service. Volunteering is often considered an altruistic activity where an individual or group provides services for no social gain “to benefit another person, group or organization.”

But what I want to suggest today is that very act of volunteering here at CKI is sacred service. It is avodah. It is, in fact, what G-d desires of us. Sacred service is elevated in some way—because it is the work that is required for the worship of G-d. Sacred service is called Avodat HaKodesh. There is a wonderful book about Jewish liturgy called Service of the Heart by Evelyn Garfiel that covers this transition from sacrifice to prayer.

Ernest Bloch wrote an entire Jewish service called Avodat HaKodesh. The history of that sacred music composition is fascinating:

https://www.milkenarchive.org/videos/category/documentaries/ernest-blochs-sacred-service-avodat-hakodesh/

Sacred service here includes opening the building and turning the lights on. Setting the Torah to the right portion. Being a gabbai. Reading a haftarah. Leading a part of the service. Sacred service can be visiting the sick. Bringing a meal to them. Or blowing shofar for them. Consoling the bereaved. Going to a shiva minyan. Helping to make a minyan. Singing in the choir or with MishMosh. Sacred service can be sharing your unique talent. Teaching in our Torah School or other adults. Sacred service can be volunteering in our kitchen. Baking challah as we are learning through the book, Spiritual Kneading. Preparing other food. Growing other food. Here at CKI or for the hungry. Sacred service can be moving tables and chairs. It can be making sure the heat or the air conditioning is working. It can be vacuuming or steam cleaning the carpets. It can even be taking out the garbage.

Sacred service is a blessing. Just before our portion begins,the verse immediately before where we pick up our reading,  is the priestly benediction.
Yiverechecha v’yishmarecha,
May the Holy One bless you and keep you.
Ya’ar Adoani Panav elecha v’chunecha,
May G-d’s face shine light upon you and be gracious to you.
Yisa Adonai panav elecha, v’yasem lecha shalom,
May the Eternal One’s face turn to you and grant you peace.

May G-d smile on you! What a lovely blessing. So sacred service brings us closer to G-d. Sacred service makes us smile.

Here at CKI, we have a number of tasks that you can volunteer for—and most of you in the room do. If you are looking for other ways to volunteer, see Risa, I’m sure she has ideas. However when you choose to volunteer, just like the tribes we are about to read, do it with lovingkindness, do it to draw closer to G-d, do it with a smile. Just do it.

Pride. Proud to be Jewish. Proud to wear my kippah or my Star of David. Proud of the work I have done with groups that often feel marginalized because I view that as part of my Judaism. A very important part.

Pride is a feeling of deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one’s own achievements and the confidence and self-respect expressed by members of a group.

Last year I spoke at the National Havurah Institute annual convention. I was the Social Justice Fellow and in a series of presentations I was talking about how social justice is better together. How building bridges and alliances makes the work of tikkun olam, repairing the world better and easier. One session was on the difficult nature of intersectionality. I used an example from two years ago when Jewish lesbians were invited out of the Chicago Dyke march because they were carrying an LGBTQ Pride flag with its colorful rainbow with a Jewish star. It might be triggering for Palestinian lesbians. I was shocked by the initial response of the Chicago organizers. This seemed a clear example of anti-Semitism on the left. The LGBTQ has been one of the most welcoming, diverse communities I have been allied with. How could this be happening?

I was taken to task by some of the women that were in my presentation. Did this mean that I supported Israel over the Palestinians? Did it mean I support Israeli violations of human rights which would be against Jewish law? How could I take this stand?

Well, I am taking it again. Because it has happened again. This week at the national Pride parade in Washington DC the organizers denied the display of the Pride flag with a Jewish star. This is wrong. This is anti-semitic. Period.

https://www.haaretz.com/us-news/.premium-like-a-swastika-how-the-dyke-march-turned-the-star-of-david-into-a-hate-symbol-1.7358755

https://www.nbcnews.com/think/opinion/d-c-dyke-march-barred-jewish-pride-flag-lgbtq-space-ncna1015786

Also wrong. And haunting. Another Pride Parade. The one in Detroit, where Neo-Nazis showed up with a Nazi flag and allegedly urinated on an Israeli flag. The photos of the Nazi flag over Detroit is shocking. This is wrong. This is anti-Semitic. Period.

https://www.detroitnews.com/story/news/local/detroit-city/2019/06/10/detroit-chief-nazis-wanted-charlottesville-no-2-detroit-gay-pride-event/1410945001/

https://www.haaretz.com/us-news/armed-neo-nazis-disrupt-detroit-pride-parade-appear-to-urinate-on-israeli-flag-1.7346132

This is complicated. This is about intersectionality. About being part of two communities (or more) at the same time. And since I am a rabbi and a teacher and a life-long learner, let’s define intersectionality, as “the interconnected nature of social categorizations such as race, class, and gender as they apply to a given individual or group, regarded as creating overlapping and interdependent systems of discrimination or disadvantage.” It is like a Venn diagram. The term was coined by Kimberle Williams Crehnshaw in 1989 intersectionality) to describe interlocking forms of competing discriminations, such a being a woman of color. There was a famous case about women of color who were discriminated against at one of the Big Three automakers. Were they because of the color of their skin or their gender? The answer is both.

Do women who identify as lesbians have the right to march carrying a Gay Pride flag with the Jewish star?

I would argue yes. They identify as both. The Star of David, while it is on the Israeli flag is an ancient symbol, usually as a decoration or architectural detail on synagogues. There is one that I saw at an archeological site near a church in the Galilee at Capernaum. It has also been used in medieval cathedrals like Brandenburg and Stendal and the Marktkirche in Hanover which I have also seen.  The Lennigrad Codex from 1006, the earliest complete Masoretic text of the Hebrew Scriptures has a beautiful illuminated Star of David. I even have a Star of David made out of ancient Roman glass that I purchased in Israel. I have another one from the Metropolitan Museum in New York that is a copy of a medieval one with a garnet in the center.

The Star of David is not just a symbol of Israel. It is a symbol for all Jews. However, it is the most recognizable Jewish symbol. AND, it is the symbol that Jews were forced to wear in the early Roman ghetto in 1555 by Pope Paul the IV. This was the same symbol that the Nazis forced Jews to wear during the Holocaust. Wearing one today is an act of courage and defiance. It is an act of pride.

In Judaism we believe that people, all people, are created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d. I often add, as I did just last week, that “all means all.” Whether you are straight, gay, bisexual, black, white, brown, male or female, any other permutation or combination. All means all. Women who identify as Jews and lesbians have just as much right to march in the Dyke parade as Palestinian women. Anything less is less than we are as human beings.

That is exactly what happened in Warsaw, ironically. Israeli flags together with Palestinian flags at the Pride Parade. (thanks to R. Michael Rothbaum for spotting the photo)

Perhaps, you think, that as a straight woman I have no right to speak up. Perhaps, you think, that I should not talk about human rights violations in Israel either. But here is another one of those intersections. I can use my understanding of Hebrew scriptures, Jewish law and Jewish values to talk about both. And you have a right to disagree.

Recently I read Rabbi Evan Moffic’s book, First the Jews, which addresses anti-semitism on the right and the left. He does a good job of outlining the history, including the painful parts of Christian history which some, but not yet all Christians have acknowledged. I am delighted that he will be joining us in Elgin on July 21^st at 4:00 PM. This program came about because of the vision of the Rev. Don Frye who read the book and insisted we make it happen and the generosity of the Rev. Michael Montgomery and the Rev. Lois Bucher who are opening the doors of First Congregational Church to make it happen.

Recently, with the documented rise in anti-Semitism in this country, parents have expressed concern about kids wearing Jewish jewelry at school. About talking about upcoming Bar Mitzvah celebrations. About inviting non-Jewish kids to those celebrations. I have written to each of the 12 superintendents of the school systems my students attend.

Recently, others have expressed concern about my own safety if I wear my kippah out in public. About whether they would even sit with me if I was wearing one. If I was putting my local baristas at risk if I am wearing one. I have spoken with each of them.

Here is my answer: I am wearing my kippah. I am wearing my Star of David. I am wearing my rainbow tallit, when and where I want to. I am calling out anti-semitism in all its forms, on the right and the left. I am speaking out and pursuing peace wherever and whenever I can. It is a matter of pride and I will not be intimidated. If I live in fear, then they win. Period. I hope you will stand with me and wear yours too. With pride.

Pride in Three Parts
Part 1: My remarks at Open Door Clinic’s Long Term Survivor Day, June 5, 2019

So without comparing notes in advance, I bring to you a message of hope, and surviving and thriving. I was going to talk about lighting a candle, and we already have:

Open Door. What a great name. When others wouldn’t open their doors. You did. You made it possible for people to be here. To be alive. To survive. To thrive. When no one thought that was possible.

am not sure why I am your closing speaker. I consider myself an ally. Is that enough? Maybe. Hopefully. I really struggled with what to say. Now we know.

In my tradition there is a blessing for this moment. This very moment. Allow me. Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech Ha’olam, shehechianu v’ki’imanu, 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 very moment. And we might end with Lchaim, to life. Let’s all say that together. And loudly. And proudly. L’chaim!

Last night I saw Falsettos. It whitewashed the fear of the initial AIDs crisis or epidemic or whatever. Thank you to Hugh for bringing some of that history back. In real terms. GRID. I forgot I remembered that.

I remember. I remember the fear. I remember sitting at friend’s bedsides. I remember trying to figure out how to educate our kids. I remember the unnecessary theological debates. Even with 4^th graders. I remember the news media wondering whether it was safe to go to public swimming pools. Or to public school. Or to someone’s home. I remember worrying about blood transfusions. I remember Matthew Sheppard. I remember getting my own AIDs tests as a sexual assault survivor. Every six months. Until the week before I got married.

I remember working with Julie House, a Catholic Hospice Shelter for AIDs patients, in Lowell, MA. I remember the 5 year old who was born with AIDs and who all she wanted for Christmas was a caboodle. My own five year old daughter gave her hers. On Christmas Eve. She died on Christmas Eve. I still get teary eyed. I remember going to buy pot for another resident. Remember when pot was illegal? Imagine that headline, priest and rabbi arrested in drug sting. He’ll deny it but there were enough of us around who remember the story. We were lucky. And naïve. We didn’t get caught.

That’s part of what we are here today to do. To remember. To never forget. And to celebrate.

You are here. You have survived. You are continuing to survive. Our prayerbook contains these words, “Merely to have survived is not an index of excellence. Nor, given the way things go, Even of low cunning.” (Page 331, Gates of Repentance). No, surviving is not enough. My wish and my prayer for you. (I get to do that. I’m a rabbi) My real hope is that you are thriving.

Peter Yarrow in a song written about a different survival sang these words of hope about lighting a candle:

What is the memory that’s valued so highly
That we keep it alive in that flame?
What’s the commitment to those who died
That we cry out they’ve not died in vain?
We have come this far always believing
That justice would somehow prevail
This is the burden, this is the promise,
This is why we will not fail.
Peter Yarrow

He wrote another one. Don’t worry. I’m not going to sing it:

Carry on sweet survivor
Carry on my lonely friend
Don’t give up on the dream
Don’t you let it end.
Carry on my sweet survivor
Though you know that something’s gone
For everything that matters, carry on

You remember. You never forget. You are forever changed. And because of that you practice audacious hospitality. Your door is open to everyone. Whether it is in Elgin, or Aurora, Jolliet or DeKalb. Wherever you need to be. Whenever you need to be there.

One of my favorite readings is a poem about opening the door of a synagogue. I’ve changed it for today:

May the door of this organization be wide enough
to receive all who hunger for love, all who are lonely for friendship.
May it welcome all who have cares to unburden,
thanks to express, hopes to nurture.
May the door of this institution be narrow enough to
shut out pettiness and pride, envy and enmity.
May its threshold be no stumbling block
to young or straying feet.
May it be too high to admit complacency, selfishness and harshness.
May this be, for all who enter, the doorway to a richer and more meaningful life.
From Mishkan T’Filah

Moses lived to be 120 years old. Another traditional blessing in Judaism is may you live to be 120. My prayer is no. My prayer is that OpenDoor doesn’t have to live to be 120. That we eradicate AIDS and other sexually transmitted diseases and you can afford to go out of business. That would be the best.

Part 2:
I feel like I have been an ally for a long time. When I was at Tufts and people in the Gay_Straight Alliance wore blue jeans one day to make the point that you can’t tell who is gay or straight. To some of the work I did early on with AIDs patients. To hosting a vigil after the Pulse Night Club shooting. To speaking at a U-46 School Board meeting about transgendered bathrooms.

But why. It is simple. In the Torah, in Genesis it says, that we are created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of the Divine. And as I usually say, quoting the u-46 mission statement “All means all.” That’s right. There is a spark of G-d in each of us. All of us. Period. So gay, straight, bi-sexual, trans, intersex, whatever. Who am I to judge? Who am I to care? Period.

Recently there have been two news stories (really more, but two I am going to address directly.

The first: In February, the United Methodists voted to not have LGBTQ+ clergy or to allow people to get married in the church. The Illinois conference is voting again this week. Where any of that will lead I don’t know nor can I really weigh in on it.

The second: At a liberal Orthodox yeshiva, the rosh yeshiva, the head person made a decision to not ordain a young man who is openly gay. Again, it is not for me to speak about the Orthodox world. But I am proud to say that with many other rabbis, we funded this young man’s trip to Israel to be ordained there by an Orthodox rabbi,

First openly gay Orthodox rabbi ordained in Jerusalem

There must be room for every one in the BIg Tent of Judaism. Everyone. All means all. That is the symbol of the rainbow. The sign of the covenant that G-d would never destroy the world.

Part 3: Leviticus

We just finished reading the book of Leviticus this week. In Chapter 18 there is a verse that some consider “the troubling verse”. This is the reason many believe that homosexuality it banned. But what if it is not. With thanks to Rabbi David Greenstein who was the Rosh Yeshivah at the Academy for Jewish Religion, who taught these verse, let’s look at them. He believes by looking deeply at the grammar of the verse, it really is a polemic against gang rape. See your high school English teacher was right; it pays to know grammar!

It is really an elegant graceful, grammatical argument and the authors of the King James translation missed it. So for over 500 years there has been needless pain and suffering for LGBTQ folk.

I have quoted his argument before. But it needs repeating. Again. This very week.

“Leviticus 18:22 and 20:13 have been read for millennia as the Torah’s comdemnation of homosexuality. How should we read these verses as we enter the sacred sphere with “zot,” with our conviction that we carry the Divine Presence with us – straight or queer– as we are? I submit that we may read these verses in a new way, a way that removes them entirely from the topic of homosexuality. The verse in Leviticus (18:22) is comprised of three elements – persons (V’et Zachar), forbidden acts (lo tishkav mishkevei ishah), and a term of condemnation (to’evah hi). Let us examine each element in reverse order…

When we consider the first part of the verse, the part that mentions the persons involved in the forbidden act, we read the phrase “And with a man” / “V’et zachar.” Now, the particle et may indicate the object of an action.

Until now our verse in Leviticus has been read to mean that a male is prohibited to make another man the object of his sex act. But this word can have another meaning. The first place where it is unambiguous that the word et is being used in another way is in the verse, “And Enoch walked with (et) the Almighty…” (Genesis 5:24).

In that verse it is clear that the particle does not signify an object indication. Rather, it means “along with.” Now we may read the verse very differently:

v’et zachar And along with another male lo tishkav you shall not lie

mishkevei ishah in sexual intercourses with a woman to’evah hi it is an abomination.

There is no prohibition of homosexual acts of any kind. Rather, the Torah prohibits two males from joining together to force intercourse upon a woman. This is a to’evah because the introduction of the second man completely transforms the act from a potentially innocent act into a manipulation that degrades the act of intercourse and makes the woman subject to violence and objectification.”

http://www.on1foot.org/sites/default/files/Interpreting%20Leviticus%20-%203%20part%20lesson_0.pdf

When I first studied this with Rabbi Greenstein all I could say was WOW! Yasher koach to Rabbi Greenstein. I wonder how much pain and suffering of those in the LGBTQ community could have avoided if King James had better translators.

So this month be proud. Be clear that you are created in the image of G-d. And that you are loved by that G-d with an infinite love. Period. All means all.

This weekend marks Memorial Day in the United States. Decoration Day as it used to be called. We are to remember our fallen service men and women. Typically there are parades, picnics and trips to the cemetery.

Judaism has a lot to say about memory. A lot to say about making war and peace. On this Memorial Day Weekend, I thought it might be appropriate to explore some of it.

First, there are wars. Nobody wants to go to war. It seems to be inevitable. And there are some that are even justifiable. (gasp.) I once wrote a paper published by Brandeis when I was in college justifying the incursion into Lebanon (gasp again).

Yet we send our young men and young women into harms way. Sometimes without thinking about the consequences deeply enough. Serving in our armed forces is hard work. And comes with real consequences. Dire consequences.

I am grateful to the men and women who have served in the armed forces so that we can enjoy the freedoms we hold so dear. That we are entitled to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That we cherish the freedoms, guaranteed in the Bill of Rights, freedom of religion, freedom of the press, freedom to assemble, even freedom to bear arms.

Those freedoms, like the Torah itself I taught about on Shabbat of Memorial Day Weekend are designed to bring peace, not war. Our founding fathers, George Washington in particular, quoted Isaiah extensively, praying for a time where every one could sit under their vine and fig tree and none would make them afraid as he stated in his letter to the Jewish community of Newport, RI:

“It is now no more that toleration is spoken of as if it were the indulgence of one class of people that another enjoyed the exercise of their inherent natural rights, for, happily, the Government of the United States, which gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance, requires only that they who live under its protection should demean themselves as good citizens in giving it on all occasions their effectual support…

May the children of the stock of Abraham who dwell in this land continue to merit and enjoy the good will of the other inhabitants—while every one shall sit in safety under his own vine and fig tree and there shall be none to make him afraid.”

https://www.tourosynagogue.org/history-learning/gw-letter

Fear, all too often leads to the opposite of peace. It can lead to war. On this Memorial Day Weekend, I pray for peace. I actively work for peace. I “seek peace and pursue it.” In my home and in my land. In my city and in another place.

This weekend, I taught a class on Elu Devarim, these are the obligations without measure whose reward too is without measure. One of them is to make peace where there is strife. That is what we studied Shabbat afternoon. As happens with Jews while studying Talmud there was a fair amount of debate, even arguing. Even US Constitutional Law.

Here are the texts we used:

“He who establishes peace between man and his fellow, between husband and wife, between two cities, two nations, two families or two governments…no harm should come to him” (Mekhilta Bahodesh 12)

“All that is written in the Torah was written for the sake of peace” (Tanhuma Shofetim 18)

“By three things the world is preserved, by justice, by truth, and by peace, and these three are one: if justice has been accomplished, so has truth, and so has peace” (JT Ta’anit 4:2)

“All falsehood is forbidden, but it is permissible to utter a falsehood for the purpose of making peace between a man and his fellow” (Derekh Erez Zuta, loc. cit.).

We also looked at a piece written by Rabbi Amy Eilberg, the first Conservative Movement woman rabbi who was a chaplain in Minnesota and then went on to do a lot of work in restorative justice. She wrote an important book, From Enemy to Friend, about peacemaking and a blog post of the Times of Israel, https://blogs.timesofisrael.com/10-ways-to-practice-peace-on-the-9th-of-adar/

“The Rabbis observed that most of the legislation in the Torah is case law. If we find a lost object, we are to return it to its owner. If we own property, we must take precautions to ensure the safety of those who enter it. If we see our enemy’s animal struggling under its load, we are to help him. When Shabbat or a holy day comes, we are to observe it.

Notably, two commandments are explicitly articulated not as responses to a particular situation, but as imperatives to be followed—indeed, pursued—at all times. We are not only to act in accordance with these imperatives passively when the occasion arises. We are to actively seek out opportunities to engage in them. The two cases are the pursuit of justice, of which it is said, “Justice, justice shall you pursue” (Deut. 16:20) and the pursuit of peace, of which it is said, “Seek peace and pursue it” (Ps. 34:15).

The Rabbis ask why the verse employs two verbs (“seek” and “pursue”) when one would have sufficed. Their answer: “Seek it in your place and pursue it in other places.” The two verbs, they suggest, convey different elements of the command: seek peace when conflict comes to your doorstep, but do not stop there. You must energetically pursue opportunities to practice peace, near and far, for it is the work of God.

This rabbinic teaching insists that we must reach beyond our homes and comfort zones in the pursuit of peace. What is called for is not passive or occasional practice, but a constant, relentless seeking after opportunities to respond to the command of peacemaking.”

Perhaps what I should have also taught were the rules for making war as outlined in Deuteronomy:

“When you go forth to battle against your enemies and you see horses and chariots and a people greater than you, you shall not be afraid of them for the Lord, your G-d is with you, who brought you out of the land of Egypt. And it will be that when you draw near to war, that the priest will approach and speak to the people and will say to them, “Hear O Israel, as you draw near this day to battle against your enemies, do not let your heart faint (go down). Do not be afraid not be alarmed, nor be fearful before them. For the Lord your G-d goes with you, to fight for you against your enemies, to save you. And the officers shall speak to the people saying, “Who is the man that has built a new house but has not dedicated it, let him go and return to his house lest he die in war and another man dedicate it. And who is the man that has planted a vineyard and has not used the fruit yet, let him go and return to his house, lest he die in war and another man use the fruit. And which man is there that has betrothed a woman and has not taken her? Let him go and return to his house, lest he die in war and another man takes her. And the officers shall speak more to the people saying, Who is the man who is fearful and faint-hearted, let his go and return to his house, lest his brother’s heart melts as his heart….when you come hear to a city to fight against it, proclaim peace to it…however, when you besiege a city a long time, you shall not destroy the trees by wielding an axe against them. You may eat of them, but you may not cut them down. (Deuteronomy 20)

So I will sit on my deck, wearing my Memorial Day t-shirt, purchased years ago for a Memorial Day parade. It reads, “Make America Beautiful. Plant a tree. Be kind to nature. Conserve energy. Volunteer.”

For those who are hurting this Memorial Day, for those who have lost a loved one to the ravages of war, I offer this from Peter, Paul and Mary:

You have asked me why the days fly by so quickly
And why each one feels no different from the last?
And you say that you are fearful for the future
And you have grown suspicious of the past

And you wonder if the dreams we shared together
Have abandoned us or we abandoned them
And you cast about and try to find new meaning
So that you can feel that closeness once again

Carry on my sweet survivor
Carry on my lonely friend
Don’t give up on the dream and don’t you let it end

Carry on my sweet survivor
Though you know that something’s gone
For everything that matters, carry on

You remember when you felt each person mattered
When we all had to care for all was lost
But now you see believers turn to cynics
And you wonder was the struggle worth the cost

Then you see someone too young to know the difference
And a veil of isolation in their eyes
And inside you know you’ve got to leave them something
Or the hope for something better slowly dies

On this Memorial Day, I revert back to one of my favorite readings in Gates of Prayer, written by Archibald MacLeish:

The young, dead soldiers do not speak
Nevertheless they are heard in the still houses: who has not heard them?
They have a silence that speaks for them at night and when the clock counts.

They say, We were young. We have died. Remember us.
They say, We have done what we could but until it is finished it is not done.
They say, We have given our lives but until it is finished no one can know what our lives gave.
They say, Our deaths are not ours: they are yours: they will mean what you make them.
They say, Whether our lives and our deaths were for peace and a new hope or for nothing we cannot say: it is you who must say this.
They say, We leave you our deaths: give them their meaning: give them an end to the war and a true peace: give them a victory that ends the war and a peace afterwards: give them their meaning.
We were young, they say. We have died. Remember us.

Today, we remember.

A teaching in honor of Dr. Ora Horn Prouser, Executive Vice President and Academic Dean of the Academy for Jewish Religion

“Do not stand idly by while your neighbor bleeds. Do not put a stumbling block before the blind nor curse the deaf. Love your neighbors as yourself. I the Lord, your G-d am holy.” (Leviticus 19)

These verses are part of the Holiness Code, Kedoshim in Hebrew. They are in the central portion of the central book of the Torah. Right smack in the middle. And as such, they are given more weight. They beg us to behalf in a holy manner, for no other reason that G-d is holy.

Holy. Kadosh. What does that mean? It is not some kind of holier than thou, sanctimonious behavior. It is behavior that makes for an organized society. It demands that we treat others the way that we want to be treated. All people. Because all means all and we are all created in the image of the Divine, b’tzelem elohim. It sets us apart. Not from each other necessarily, but from animals, who cannot organize themselves this way.

Last Shabbat I was scheduled to lead a discussion and a walk at SEBA Park on these very verses. Unfortunately we had a thunderstorm. A big Midwestern thunderstorm. No one came. The event was part of the 613Blitz program for the Academy for Jewish Religion of which I am a proud graduate. Please consider a donation here.

https://www.crowdrise.com/donate/project/613-blitz-campaign/academy-for-jewish-religion

The Holiness Code lists many commandments that G-d commands to all the people of Israel, not just the priests, that we need to make a just society, a holy society. Some you might expect. Honor the Sabbath, Revere your mother and your father. However, it is not only a repetition of the 10 Commandments.

We went to SEBA Park in South Elgin because this portion demands that we not put a stumbling block before the blind, that we not curse the deaf. That, in fact, we are accessible and open to all. Later in Deuteronomy, we are reminded that “For the commandment which I command you this day is not too hard for you, neither is it far off. It is not in heaven so that you should say, “who shall go up (aliyah) to us in heaven and bring it to us, and enable us to hear it so that we can do it. Nor is it across the sea, that you shall say, “who shall cross over the sea for us and bring it to us and make us hear it so that we may do it. But the word is very near to you, in your mouth and in your heart that you may do it.” (Deut 30:11-14)

SEBA Park is a remarkable place, a place that I love hosting events. Nestled along the Fox River, it boasts a one-of-a-kind “universally accessible” playground:

It has a swing that a child in a wheelchair could use. Kids with balance can make it to the top of the structure. It has things to touch and feel if you are blind. It has

It is always busy. Except in a thunderstorm. The voices of children at play remind me of the Sheva Brachot, the marriage blessings that hope that we hear the voice of the bride and the groom and the voices of children at play.

Here is an article written by my friend Janelle Walker:

https://www.chicagotribune.com/suburbs/elgin-courier-news/ct-ecn-south-elgin-seba-park-st-0505-20160504-story.html

One of the things we would have studied is this checklist from Seeds of Change, Creating a Culture of Inclusion at Your Synagogue by Shelly Christianson. She was one of the presenters at an inclusion workshop hosted by Jewish United Fund.

She asked what does inclusion mean to you. For me it is about living out our vision statement that includes “Embracing Diversity.” All are welcome here. With all our varying abilities and disabilities.

She asked: “Inclusion supports people to live the quality of Jewish life that they want to live. How is this reflected in what your congregation does now? How is it different than what your congregation does now?”

She taught: “The Mishnah in Sanhedrin (4:5) teaches: “A human being mints many coins from the same mold, and they are all identical. But the Holy One, Blessed be God, strikes us all from the mold of the first human, and each one of us is unique.” “

How does this relate to us at CKI? Recently we were awarded a grant by Jewish United Fund (JUF) to make us even more accessible. We are putting in a sensory room for kids (and adults) who need a quieter environment. With the sensory room, we have designed some programming for Chanukah, Purim and Passover. It is great that we have Heather Weiser as our educational director because with her Masters in Special Ed she really understands what is needed. We are upgrading our sound system to make it easier for people to hear. We are hopeful that there will be money do work on the women’s bathroom.

Lastly, we are actively searching for a new shtender, a Torah reading table. Currently we have one on wheels that we can wheel anywhere in the building. (Downstairs) So that anyone can have a Torah aliyah. We used it recently at a Bat Mitzvah to accommodate one of the grandfathers who is in a wheelchair and on oxygen. The Bat Mitzvah and I talked about it in advance. We did all of the Torah reading “down low” so that the Torah was accessible to all and so we didn’t call attention to the disability of her grandfather. We didn’t want him to feel embarrassed or separate. So that morning, everyone had their aliyah from the floor.

The new shtender should be wider than the current one, to make it easier for the readers and to accommodate books and papers and the Torah itself. It should be adjustable to any height…wheelchair or little kid, or one of our tall 6’4” gabbaim or me as the rabbi at 5’4”. This shtender will be dedicated in memory of Saul Mariasis, z’l, our beloved gabbai who died last July. We’ve been looking. We haven’t found it yet. It might be a drafting table or a podium of some sort. Then we will truly make the Torah accessible to all.

Much have I learned from my teachers, including Dr. Ora Horn Prouser who wrote a book, Esau’s Blessings about how the bible embraces those with special needs, and even more from our B’nei Mitzvah students like Abigail who honored her grandfather by not putting a stumbling block before anyone. May this be a Shabbat of accessibility and welcome.

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.