Our Torah portion begins with “And G-d called.” Vayikra, G-d called to Moses. In every Torah the aleph at the end of Vayikra is written smaller than the rest of the word. Why? There are many reasons given by the rabbis but nobody knows for sure. 

I like to think of it as the little aleph that could. It points the way. It is like the story of the Aleph at the beginning of the 10 commandments. Rabbi Larry Kushner tells the story so well where rabbis argue about what the Israelites heard at Mount Sinai. After several iterations, they conclude that the first word of the first commandment, Anochi, which begins with the letter aleph, a silent letter, means that G-d and the Jewish people can have a conversation. It means that each of you can hear the silent voice of G-d deep in your soul, pointing the way.  

My friend, Leann Shamash wrote a poem about this small aleph linking it with the unfolding tragedy in Ukraine. 

“The small Aleph means something different to everyone. 
The small Aleph is silent but it says much. The small Aleph hovers between the Commander and the commands.
The small Aleph is wedged between beginnings and continuations.
It is a signpost between two worlds. The small Aleph is not afraid to stand between giants.
The small Aleph hovers high above the ground,
proud and defiant.
The small Aleph refuses to leave,
refuses to fail, 
refuses to surrender.
The small Aleph stands for the underdog;
the one still hanging on who won’t be defeated.
The small Aleph holds onto its place in history 
with three slender lines.
The small Aleph begins the story of sacrifice.” 

 The book of Vayikra, Leviticus, that we begin today, with that little Aleph, tells us much about sacrifice and the priestly class. It is mostly addressed to the priests, but it does break out of that mold and talk to all of us. It tells us to be holy for G-d is holy. It tells us to “Love our neighbor as ourselves” and to “Not stand idly by while our neighbor bleeds.” These are deep values in Judaism. 

This is also Shabbat Zachor. We read a special reading from a second Torah scroll.  From Deuteronomy 25:  

“Remember what Amalek did to you on your journey, after you left Egypt—  how, undeterred by fear of God, he surprised you on the march, when you were famished and weary, and cut down all the stragglers in your rear. Therefore, when your God  Adonai, grants you safety from all your enemies around you, in the land that your God Adonai is giving you as a hereditary portion, you shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget! 

The rabbis of the Talmud link Amalek with Haman. That’s why we blot out Haman’s name with boos and graggers, noisemakers and stamping of feet. Others have then linked Amalek to Haman and Hitler. In every generation an Amalek has risen up to destroy us.  

This struck me this week. The problem with Amalek is that he and his minions, attacked the rear guard, the stragglers, the women and children and old people. 

It was chilling this week to hear that a maternity hospital had been bombed in Ukraine. It was chilling to hear that Hadassah Hospital who has doctors on the ground in Poland triaging refugees escaping the horrors of war to expect even more difficult cases. People who had means got out relatively quickly. The ones coming soon, are that very ones that are portion describes, the stragglers, the women, the children, the elderly. Those are the ones who will need the most help.  

We are told to remember, to not forget, to blot out the memory of Amalek. Yet, we are also told that those who forget history are doomed to repeat it. We cannot keep it hidden. 

This week we were treated to an amazing presentation by Gale Jacoby about her family, how they escaped Germany and were able to rebuild their lives, slowly over time, here in America. Gale has been working on these stories for years. It is how she keeps the memory of her parents and the horrors of Nazi Germany alive. She has made sure that we all shall remember to never forget. Not Amalek, not Haman, not Hitler.  

However, it is not enough to remember. We must continue to act so that we also remember that we were slaves in Egypt, that our father, Abraham was a wandering Aramean, that we were strangers in the land of Egypt. In our Kiddush prayer marking Shabbat, we are told that we observe Shabbat in memory of the Exodus from Egypt. 

This week on Purim, we add an extra prayer to our Amidah. In the Hoda’ah prayer, the Modim Anachnu Lach, we add an extra paragraph. The Book of Esther is one of two books in the Hebrew Bible that never mention G-d. G-d is hidden in the action, except in folio versions of the megilah like this one, where the standard calligraphy call for writing “HaMelech”, the King, another name for G-d, at the top of every page. Even though G-d was not visible in the text of the Book of Esther, the rabbis added this prayer: 

Al hanisim v’al hapurkan v’al hagurvot…For the miracles and the redemption and for the mighty acts and for the salvation and for the wars that You have done for our ancestors in those days in this season. 

The prayer then continues telling the story of Purim: 

“In the Days of Mordechai and Esther, in Shushan, the capital, when Haman, the wicked, rose up against them and sought to destroy, to slay, and to exterminate all the Jews, young and old, infants and women, on the same day, on the thirteenth of the twelfth month, which is the month of Adar, and to plunder their possessions; But You, in Your abundant mercy, nullified his counsel and frustrated his intention and caused his design to return upon his own head and they hanged him and his sons on the gallows.” 

All year, I’ve been taking a class for women rabbis on art and spirituality. It has been a life line and a way to practice self-care. This week’s class was particularly good. The text study had to do with the hidden light of G-d. One reading from the Zohar:  

“Rabbi Yose said, The light created by God in the act of Creation flared from one end of the universe to the other and was hidden away… for the righteous in the world that is coming…Rabbi Yehudah responded, “If the light were completely hidden, the world would not exist for even a moment… Every single day, a ray of that light shines into the world, animating everything; with that ray God feeds the world. And everywhere that Torah is studied at night, one thread thin ray appears from that hidden light and flows down upon those absorbed in her.*… 

Since the first day, the light has never been fully revealed, but it is vital to the world, renewing each day the act of Creation.” 

One thin ray of light, a thread. Just a thin thread. The word for thread, kav is related to tikvah, hope. And because it can be thin, it can seem hidden, just like the face of G-d in the Purim story. Yet it is there.  

Then we painted. I was reminded of an old Girl Scout song, “there’s a web like a spiders web made of silver light and shadow spun by the moon in my room at night, there’s a web made to catch a dream hold it tight til I awaken as if to tell me that dreaming’s alright.” It was a very powerful image and it felt like I was filled with light in my bed under a chuppah. 

That thin web of light is like the ball of yarn that we used in Guatemala when I was a AJWS global justice fellow to build a tangled web between people. We are all connected by that thin ray of light, that thin thread. It may seem hidden, but it is not. It connects us all. All over the world. All the way to Ukraine and back. It gives me hope. 

Then the prayer…in the words of an old Debbie Friedman song, based on one of my favorite Psalms, Psalm 30. 

“Don’t hide Your face from me, I’m asking for Your help I call to You, please hear my prayers, O God. If You would answer me, as I have called to You, Please heal me now, don’t hide Your face from me.” 

Please heal me now. Please heal us now. Please heal the world now. 

Yesterday I participated in a Vigil on City Hall Plaza for Ukraine. Here are my remarks.

“Music speaks louder than words. It’s the only thing that the world listens to.” Words from Peter, Paul and Mary. The partnership we are exhibiting today between the Coalition of Elgin Religious Leaders and the Elgin Symphony Orchestra just illustrated the power of music when words fail to express our heartbreak and our anger. Music soothes the savage beast. May it be so. 

Your silent presence here today, makes a difference. It its silence it sends a loud message. You, in Ukraine are not alone. 

The prayer that I offer you today was sent to me by Father John Cox, OMI and in its simplicity, it captures my hopes. 

“For those who are fleeing, sanctuary.
For those who are staying, safety.
For those who are fighting, peace.
For those whose hearts are breaking, comfort.
For those who see no future, hope.” 

Poor Claire nuns of Gallway. 

The Jewish people will celebrate Purim, the story of the Book of Esther this week. Earlier today we had children (and me) in costume, recognizing our Super Heros, like the police and fire departments, who like Queen Esther in a previous era, have helped us survive this pandemic. The question could be who is helping the Ukrainians survive.  

In a month we will celebrate Passover. The story of the Passover in the Hagaddah begins with the sentence, “My father was a wandering Aramean.” Throughout our history, Jews have always been refugees. 36 times in the Torah, the first five books of the Hebrew Bible, we are told to welcome the widow, the orphan and the stranger, precisely because we were strangers in the land of Israel. Wherever we have wandered we have been strangers, the other. Sometimes that has even been from Russia and Ukraine.  It is why there are organizations like HIAS that have been working on refugee crisis for over 100 years. Hadassah Hospital already has teams of doctors and nurses on the ground. Last night 17 rabbis left for Poland to do hands on work with those fleeing the horrors of war. Make no mistake, war is a horror.  

Mayor Kaptain, I applaud you for pointing out Elgin’s diversity and promising to help settle refugees here. 

Yesterday we read in synagogue about Amalek. We are supposed to remember to never forget Amalek. What was his crime? He attacked the rear guard when the Israelites were fleeing Egypt. The tired, stragglers, the women, the children, the elderly. The images this week of a maternity ward attacked were chilling. These were the women who could not leave, the rear. I will leave it to you to decide if Putin and his minions are the next generation of Amalek. 

War is hell. It must stop. Oseh shalom bimromav. May the G-d that makes peace in the high heavens make peace here on earth and let us say, Amen. Ufros aleinu sukkat shlomecha. Spread over us, all of us Your fragile sukkah, Your fragile shelter of peace.  

The images are haunting. Women and children sleeping in a subway station with all their worldly possessions surrounding them. Some in suitcases, one a Disney bag with Mickeys and Minnies, not unlike many we saw last week at DisneyWorld, others in trash bags, only what they could carry. Men required to stay home to fight.  

We’ve played this game before. I’m leaving Egypt, Russia, Germany and I’m taking with me an apple, a banana, a canteen of water. This time it is for real and it is no game. Jews have done this before. Over and over again. Many times, they take their candlesticks or a menorah, a priceless book or a samavor. Jerry Goldstein’s family’s samovar is in my office. How you lug something like that is a mystery to me. 

This is Refugee Shabbat. A weekend dedicated to talking about refugee resettlement set up by HIAS, the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society. Our own member, Eugene Klionsky, was helped by HIAS when he left Russia as a 19 year old, with just two suitcases. My brother-in-law Fred Klein, an immigration attorney and judge in Tucson, worked for HIAS for a while.  

The history of the Kleins is tied to refugee work. How? As Fred tells the story, it was because of the United States’s response to the Holocaust. He could not believe that the SS St. Louis, destined for Cuba was turned away and then turned back to Europe. Many of those on the St. Louis were murdered in the various concentration camps. He could not sit idly by.  

Jews have always been refugees. Our Passover story begins with “My father was a wandering Aramean.” Abraham left Haran and settled in Canaan, a land that G-d would show him. Jacob sent his sons to Egypt to find food during a famine. Famine, water scarcity and climate disasters are some of the most common reasons people become refugees. The Israelites wandered in the desert for 40 years. That’s where our story picks up today. 

The mishkan, the tabernacle that the Israelites will carry with them, is completed. It is beautiful. And it remains a mystery where the Israelites found all the supplies they needed, gold, silver, copper, acacia wood, dolphin skins, fine linen, yarn of purple, blue and crimson.  

A footnote in this first weekend of Women’s History Month, it is important to know that the skilled artisans who assembled the mishkan included the women. That was the other sermon I was going to do today.  

The work was finished. The text tells us that “For over the Tabernacle a cloud of Adonai rested by day, and fire would appear in it*in it I.e., in the cloud. by night, in the view of all the house of Israel throughout their journeys.” The mishkan was a place for G-d to dwell and that Presence went with them wherever they wandered. 

For 2 years we have been hosting Shabbat services, every single week on Zoom, removed mostly from our beautiful sanctuary. Look around you. The stain glass is still here. The rainbows dancing on the pews. The purple, the blue, the gold and bronze still here. It is beautiful, Working and davenning remotely did not make us refugees. Imagine abandoning this building for all time.  

For many years, Simon and I were part of a weekly radio show, Faith Alive on WCAP in Lowell. He edited and read the news. I was the Jewish content person. There was a rotating group of Catholic and Protestant clergy. At some point the Catholic Church decided it had to close St. Peters, the large Irish Catholic Cathedral. People were up in arms, Their relatives had built that church by hand with their own sweat equity. They had quarried the granite themselves and it was beautiful. How dare the church close it. That week I was on the show with the Bishop of Lowell, who actually lived in the rectory next door to St. Peters. Now, to be clear, the bishop and I had a rule. We would not discuss abortion or birth control on air. We knew we disagreed. But in the discussion of St. Peters, I said something like, “I don’t understand. Jews have been kicked out of every country in Europe at one time or another. We don’t get attached to our buildings.” The bishop didn’t speak to me for over a year. But then our congregation merged with another in a neighboring town. Then, and only then, as the yahrzeit plaques were removed and the Torahs were carried lovingly, did I begin to understand. The bishop and I reconciled and eventually I told this story as part of one of his eulogies many years later. So I ask you again, imagine losing this building.  

Our Torah teaches us in the words of the non-Jewish prophet that “Ma tovu ohalecha ya’akov. How good, how beautiful are our tents O Jacob, our dwelling places, our sanctuaries O Israel.” So whether you are davenning here in the room or on Zoom or in a subway station in Kiyv or a basement in Maripol, G-d’s Presence is with you. 

Many people have felt paralyzed watching the news unfold. What can we do? We feel powerless. But there are things you can do. We can follow Fred’s example and help settle refugees and asylum seekers. We can advocate for refugees. We can donate money, HIAS and JUF are both options I sent out earlier in the week.  A high school classmate signed up to go to Kyiv by rented an airbnb apartment so that she could send money to a homeowner with a nice note. No, she’s not actually going. The homeowner was so touched. Airbnb is looking for people in the States to open their homes to refugees.  

We Jews, who have all too often known the pain of being refugees, have an obligation here. We are commanded, 36 times in Torah, more than any other commandment, to take care of the widow, the orphan and the stranger. The most vulnerable amongst us. Precisely because we were strangers in the land of Egypt. We have an obligation to act. We have an obligation to hope.  

G-d goes with us, wherever we go. That is the implication of that very last line of the book of Exodus which we just read. G-d dwells in us and among us. Last weekend, one of the most haunting images of Shabbat in Ukraine were Jews davenning in a subway station singing ‘Hiney Ma Tov, How good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together.” Perhaps, Rabbi Nachman of Bratzlav, Ukraine, had it right, Kol ha’olam kulo, gesher tzar m’od, The whole world is a narrow bridge, the important thing is to not be afraid. These are the messages of this Refugee Shabbat. 

A Prayer for Ukraine
by Rabbi Menachem Creditor 

God of Peace, 

We call to You, hearts pounding, as we pray for the people of Ukraine who are suffering under tyrant’s attack. Hear their prayers and ours. Support our commitment to stand with them in their time of great need. Please. 

Dear God, how can we say Never Again when bombs fall on Babi Yar, when millions must run for their lives or take shelter in synagogues and subway stations? Haven’t we learned? You Who Remembers all, do not forsake us as we relearn these painful lessons. 

In every generation there arise those who, in selfish pursuit of power, privilege might over moral right, precipitate needless earthquakes despite the tsunamis of human pain that will follow. Holy One, spoil the oppressors’ evil plans, diminish their power. 

God, We have also witnessed great heroism during these dark days, human beings pushing back against tanks with their bare hands, the brave Jewish President of Ukraine, Volodymyr Zelensky and his family, millions of Ukrainians fighting to protect their homes. This is Your Image, strong and courageous, fierce and present. This is Your Outstretched Arm. We ask that You remind us to offer our own. 

As one of Ukraine’s greatest teachers, Rav Nachman, once taught: “The Exodus from Egypt occurs in every human being, in every era, in every year, and in every day.” Holy One, may this teaching be fulfilled speedily and in our days. 

May peace rain down upon the people of Ukraine. May we study war no more. 

Amen.  

Love is in the air. “What the world needs now is Love” Sung by Dione Warwick and penned by Burt Bachrach, it was a song I sang in choir at Temple Emanuel in Grand Rapids as part of Jewish Music Month, which happens to be February. 

“What the World Needs Now is Love”   Dionne Warwick HD –  with Lyrics 

  This is the weekend we celebrate Valentine’s Day in the United States. Some would argue that it is not a very Jewish holiday, named after all for Saint Valentine. But maybe there are elements that are very Jewish. Valentine was apparently a matchmaker. He made sure that women could be married and that there was enough dowry for each girl to marry. That’s very similar to our text from the Talmud:
“These are the obligations without measure, whose reward, too, is without measure: To honor father and mother; to perform acts of love and kindness; to attend the house of study daily; to welcome the stranger; to visit the sick; to rejoice with bride and groom; to console the bereaved; to pray with sincerity; to make peace where there is strife…and the study of Torah is equal to them all, because it leads to them all.”  

We are told to perform deeds of lovingkindness, gemilut chasadim. What are these deeds? Certainly the list I just read. And also from Sukkah 49b, a text I quote often, we should walk in the ways of the Holy One. As G-d clothed the naked, Adam and Eve, we should clothe the naked. As G-d visited the sick, Abraham after the circumcision, we should visit the sick. As G-d buried the dead, Moses, we should bury the dead. Those are all deeds of lovingkindness. And we should provide for the needy bride. 

There are two words for love in the Torah. Chesed, often translated as lovingkindness as we’ve just talked about and ahavah. The first mention of Ahavah is with Isaac and Rebecca. It reads, as I have said before like a Hollywood script. It was love at first sight. Abraham sends his servant to find a wife for Isaac. The servant finds Rebecca, who in an act of chesed watered not only the servant but also all the camels.  And only after she consents brings her back on a camel. She wonders who the man is wandering or meditating in the field. The camel bends its knee. She alights. Isaac raises his eyes and inquires who he is seeing. Then the text says: “Isaac then brought her into the tent of his mother Sarah, and he took Rebekah as his wife. Isaac loved her, and thus found comfort after his mother’s death” (Gen 24). 

In Judaism we are commanded to love. We are told to love G-d. We are told to love our neighbor and to love the stranger. While it is difficult to command an emotion, I think the actions that we display is how we show love. It’s about walking the walk and talking the talk. 

The rabbis of the Talmud set out much of the order of service we have today. They blanketed the Sh’ma, the watchword of our faith, the proclamation that G-d is One, with love. Before the Sh’ma we get a prayer that reminds us that G-d loves us. How do we know this, because G-d gave us Torah. Like a loving parent, G-d sets limits for us. Then we witness that G-d is One when we proclaim the Sh’ma. Then we remind ourselves that we should love G-d with all our heart, with all our soul, with all our being.  How do we show that love? Again with our actions. By putting these very words on our doorposts in a mezusah and before our eyes in tefilin. By talking about these words when we lie down and when we rise up. By teaching our children diligently. 

We’ve come full circle. We know G-d loves us because of Torah. Our children know we love them because we set limits for them and teach them diligently. 

And we show our love to G-d, our neighbors and the stranger by doing deeds of lovingkindness. Now I am off to find some chocolate and maybe a tulip. I like them better than roses. But Bette Midler’s the Rose captures love so beautifully:
Bette Midler – the Rose 

I watched some of the Olympic opening ceremony Friday morning. I always thrill to watch the Olympics. Perhaps the first time I watched the Olympics was the winter of 1972 from the old Pheasant Run in Saint Charles. It was my birthday weekend and it was too cold to do all those outdoor winter sports they advertised. So we huddled in our hotel room watched the Olympics all day in color! When the Olympic flag went up this morning, I knew what my opening to this message would be. Those Olympic rings on that flag are to represent the five continents. I had been taught they represented the five races. For me, there has always been such optimism watching the Olympics, such hope for the future. And they used the Beatles “Imagine” as part of the ceremony.  

But the modern Olympics have been fraught with controversy. I loved the movie Chariots of Fire—a real story about anti-semitism in the 1924 games in Paris. I can tell you as a runner, you can sing the Sh’ma to the theme song from the movie. And the last hymn, Jerusalem, is one that was always used at High Holy Days in the congregation that Simon and I met in, even though it is a “Christian” hymn. 

The 1936 Berlin games were particularly difficult. Hitler was in power and these games were going to prove Hitler’s racial theory. That the Aryan race, blond and blue eyed was the best. Then came Jesse Owens smashing the myth. 1972 Summer Olympics with the tragic massacre of the Israeli athletes remains unfathomable to me. Still. Even after watching it live. And even after the movie Munich. Boycotting the 1980 Olympics in Russa left US athletes who had trained out of competition. It goes on and on and this year seems to be no exception as I watched Putin watching the Ukrainian team enter the stadium. 

And yet those rings on the flag. So let’s talk about race. Race is a western civilization construct. In truth there is only one race. The human race. At the very beginning of Maus, on the title page, Hitler is quoted as saying, “The Jews are undoubtedly a race, but they are not human.” This was part of Hitler’s campaign to dehumanize Jews. Race is not just black and white. Filling out my own census form, I found the race question difficult. Simon and I even talked about it. Not really white, but not any of the other choices provided. So, Whoopi Goldberg, who I have long admired got this part wrong. And then apologized. And is still learning. I am not sure she should have been removed for two weeks from ABC. And yet. And still. This is complicated. 

In 8th grade my Hebrew School class had a year long debate. Are we Jewish Americans or American Jews. Which word modifies which? Are we a religion, a faith, a race, an ethnic group? I’ve settled on a people. We can’t just be a religion or a faith alone because we have Jews who do not believe in any god. We have cultural Jews. Lox and bagel Jews. Hidden Jews. We are not a race because, even in our own congregation we have multi-racial Jews, Black Jews, Hispanic Jews, Asian Jews. We have Jews that converted in. And even if you tell me you did your DNA test and that you are 98% Ashkanazi Jew that does not mean Judaism is a race. We are not just an ethnic group. Jews in Israel and Morocco eat different foods for holidays than those of eastern Europe. Synagogues in China look like pagodas; in Spain they have Moorish architecture. Language, one measure of culture and ethnic groups vary. We have Hebrew, Yiddish, Ladino and the language you speak (here mostly English), wherever you grew up. 

So, we are all of that—and more. So, people: Jews are a people. 

Banning Maus is problematic for a number of reasons. It whitewashes history. As one editorial wrote if we only read The Boy in the Stripped Pajamas or Anne Frank, it pajamacizes history. The good gentiles stepped up to the plate and saved Jews. It’s not messy. It’s not dirty and it doesn’t allow us to hear from Jewish survivors. It assumes that kids can’t handle anything difficult. Banning books is not new. My family has been involved with National Banned Book week for decades. https://bannedbooksweek.org/ The list of banned books is LONG, not just Maus and not just Holocaust literature. Take a look at it.  

Maus is important this week for another reason. Part of the story actually focuses on Parsha Teruma which we read this weekend. Artie’s father has a dream that he will be released on the Shabbat we read Parsha Teruma. Spoiler alert. He is. And later he marries his wife this weekend. And later his son, the author is born this week. And later the author has his Bar Mitzvah this week. Hidden in the pages of this graphic novel are the seeds of hope.  

Anti-semitism has been around for a very long time. Some refer to it as the canary in the coal mine. Attacks on Jews are rising according to both ADL statistics and FBI hate crime statistics. ADL cites a statistic that 84% of Jews have experienced anti-semitism but many fail to report it. The ADL has good resources around anti-semitism education: https://www.adl.org/education/antisemitism  

Jonathan Greenblatt’s new book, It Could Happen Here talks about the Pyramid of Hate. We have a need to interrupt it. Hate is a learned behavior. You don’t start out telling anti-Jewish jokes. You don’t start out painting swastikas or breaking windows. It escalates. Sadly, we saw our own anti-Jewish behavior in Chicagoland this week. Luckily not here in Elgin. But I am not so naïve to think it cannot happen. The incidents I am aware of are low on the pyramid of hate model. We at CKI take all of this very seriously.  

Things that we do around this topic at CKI: 

• All of our students have some Holocaust education 
• We recently hosted the ADL for a presentation on the State of Hate. 
• We are an ADL Signature Synagogue 
• We actively attend various trainings on safety and security led by JUF, ADL, SCN, Homeland Security, the FBI and FEMA 
• We write and receive and administer Homeland Security grants. We’ve had three years in a row of upgrading facilities. And I learned recently that 1/3 of applicants don’t get any. (Thank you, Robin!) Some of those enhancements are visible and some are deliberately not visible.  
• We provide training to our members on some of these topics. 
• We are writing to all 11 superintendents about this growing problem and asking also about Holocaust education. 
• We have built really good relationships with our neighbors, area congregations and the Elgin Police Department. 

That last one brings me hope. The number of people who have reached out to CKI, some of which we captured in HaKol, brings me hope. The Elgin Police Department’s willingness to provide extra coverage brings me hope.  

What can you do to fight anti-semitism? 

• If you see something, say something.  
• Interrupt a joke. Explain it isn’t funny.  
• Call me.  
• Call the police department in your town. 
• Report it to the ADL. 

• Talk to your children about what to do if they are bullied at school or just made to feel uncomfortable. Tell them to tell you. Find a responsible and trusted adult at school. Call me. 
• Read a book: Greenblatt’s It Could Happen Here or Bari Weiss’s How to Fight Anti-Semitism. Try the 1619 Project or Caste.  
• Call your elected official and ask to have Deborah Lipstadt confirmed as the Anti-Semisitm envoy. 
• Have fun watching the Olympics. 
• Remember that there is always hope. 

This Shabbat we read Parsha Teruma, about how to build the Mishkan, the portable sanctuary in which we placed the Tablets of the 10 Commandments in the ark. Both the shards of the first set and the whole set. They represent our dreams, both broken and whole. Psalms teaches us to build a world on love. Olam Chesed Yibeneh.Two of my good friends, Rabbi Menachem Creditor (the composer) and Rabbi David Paskin, recorded this version: https://rabbidavid.bandcamp.com/track/olam-chesed-yibaneh    That is what we will continue to do. We will continue to be a light to the nations and build this world on love.  

I had a highly spiritual service on Shabbat morning. Psalm 30 says “What profit if I am silenced. What benefit if I go to my grave. Will the dust praise You?” Ahead of my birthday and perhaps in honor of it, I felt like if I never could give another sermon, this one, this one is important.

Today’s portion is called Mishpatim. Laws. After the heights, literally the heights of last week and our receiving the 10 Commandments, the 10 Sayings, we get all the details of how to create this society. The rules, the laws, the commandments. All of them, or at least most of them.  

In the prayer Ahavat Olam, which we sing in the evening sing, Torah u’mitzvot, chukim umishpatim. Stew describes this prayer as the ultimate love song. G-d loves us. I’ll add, we know this, because G-d gives us limits, just like a loving Parent. But are these words just synonyms?  Not exactly. 

• Torah, can mean the Torah scroll, the 5 Books of Moses, or Instruction or Teaching 
• Mitzvot, Commandment, or good deed (in Yiddish) 
• Hukim, rules, law that we don’t seemingly know the reason for, for example not mixing wool and linen, shatnes, or in last week’s portion not using iron to shape stone.  
• Mishpatim: Mishpatim are those laws for which we know the reason. They make sense.  Examples are the prohibition of stealing and of taking bribes. These are laws that any normal and decent society would enact. They are part of the Noahid laws. Today we are going to talk about just two of them. And this sermon might need to come with a trigger warning. So if this sermon starts to get to you, do what you need to do. Walk away for a bit. Turn your camera off. Call a friend. Call me later. Whatever you need to do for you.  

וְגֵ֥ר לֹא־תוֹנֶ֖ה וְלֹ֣א תִלְחָצֶ֑נּוּ כִּֽי־גֵרִ֥ים הֱיִיתֶ֖ם בְּאֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרָֽיִם׃ 

You shall not wrong a stranger or oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt. 

כׇּל־אַלְמָנָ֥ה וְיָת֖וֹם לֹ֥א תְעַנּֽוּן׃ 

You shall not ill-treat any widow or orphan.
 אִם־עַנֵּ֥ה תְעַנֶּ֖ה אֹת֑וֹ כִּ֣י אִם־צָעֹ֤ק יִצְעַק֙ אֵלַ֔י שָׁמֹ֥עַ אֶשְׁמַ֖ע צַעֲקָתֽוֹ׃ 

If you do mistreat them, I will heed their outcry as soon as they cry out to Me, 
וְחָרָ֣ה אַפִּ֔י וְהָרַגְתִּ֥י אֶתְכֶ֖ם בֶּחָ֑רֶב וְהָי֤וּ נְשֵׁיכֶם֙ אַלְמָנ֔וֹת וּבְנֵיכֶ֖ם יְתֹמִֽים׃ {פ} 

and My anger shall blaze forth and I will put you to the sword, and your own wives shall become widows and your children orphans. 

The text is a command. An imperative. And negative. And very clear!  Don’t do it! You just had this experience of being a stranger, of being a slave.  Do not put it on others. 36 times in the Torah it tells us to take care of the widow, the orphan the stranger—the most marginalized amongst us. I have talked about this frequently. In the Talmud, which tells us it is 36 times, it then argues with itself, may it is really 46 times. (Bava Metzia 59b) But unlike most Talmud texts so good at giving us the footnotes, it does not supply the list. One year I built the—if you need my annotated bibliography on this topic, which we used for Shavuot one year, I’ve got it. 

But why—why 36 or 46 times? Much more than “don’t eat pork.” Much more than “love your neighbor as yourself.” If something is repeated, we know it is there for emphasis. We really, really (see the emphasis) need to do this! Perhaps it is because we really, really need to do this. And perhaps it is because we need the constant reminder precisely because it is so hard to do.  

Two weeks ago, a rabbi opened a door for a stranger. He gave him tea. I might have too. The safety and security team has met. We have reminded ourselves that this is not so simple. How do we balance the need for safety and security with the commandment to welcome the stranger? How do we remain warm and welcoming? It is an ongoing process. And I have given this sermon before. Quoting Yossi Klein Halevii, there are two kinds of Jews. Purim Jews, where we are afraid of everyone because anyone might be Amalek. And Passover Jews, where we welcome the stranger because we were strangers in Egypt. That sermon is here: 

https://www.theenergizerrabbi.org/wp-admin/post.php?post=91962&action=edit 

But actually, as important as that is message is, it is not what I want to talk about today.  My chevruta partner, my study partner, Rabbi Linda Shriner Cahn and I are studying Rabbi Jonathan Sack’s Lessons in Leadership. He talks about why Mishpatim follows the 10 Commandments. It is the difference between the vision—the 10 Commandments and Mishpatim, the details—the actual rules. The devil is in the details. I would add that it is like the guy who has a great idea, the vision, for start-up and then needs to step aside to grow the company.  

And in the story. The story is important here. Each law has a story behind it and why it is enacted. Perhaps some of this is YOUR story. 

This story is all of our stories. We are all to see ourselves as if we went forth from Egypt, out of the narrow places, out of the birth canal. We all walked through the parted sea, exclaiming, “This is my G-d.” We all stood at Sinai. 

The story is important. Both in our parsha and in our American judicial system. 

It is no accident at all that I am drinking out of a mug today, that one of you gave me. Women belong in all the places where decisions are being made. Ruth Bader Ginsburg. There has been a lot of discussion this week about women and justice. We’ll leave that for media and for the president, the Supreme Court and the Senate. However, this month also marks the 49th anniversary of Roe v Wade, for which RBG was instrumental in ensuring. That’s worth commenting on, especially this week. 

This week we mark something called Repro Shabbat. Started by the National Council of Jewish Women which was founded in Chicago during the World’s Columbian Exposition in 1893, just one year after the founding of Congregation Kneseth Israel in 1892.  

Judaism—where we fight about everything—permits abortion. For many reasons, including the life of the mother. This includes the mental health of the mother. In Judaism we talk about the potential life. There is a difference between potential life, and life itself. Judaism usually regards life beginning not at conception—the Catholic understanding, but when the infant is halfway out the birth canal. Or when the baby takes its first breath. 

What is clear, is that the strongest argument in Biblical argument for permitting abortion comes this very parsha, right from Exodus, Chapter 21, Verse 22-23,  “If people are fighting and hit a pregnant woman and she gives birth prematurely but there is no serious injury, the offender must be fined whatever the woman’s husband demands and the court allows. But if there is serious injury, you are to take a life for a life.” It continues with the famous quote eye for eye, tooth for tooth. However, these were always seen as monetary damages. (That’s a sermon for another time.) 

In this passage, “gives birth prematurely” could mean the woman miscarries, and the fetus dies. Because there’s no expectation that the person who caused the miscarriage is liable for murder. This proves that the fetus not considered (yet) a soul. Rather there is a distinction made between life and potential life.  

The Talmud is also helpful when discussing abortion. The Talmud explains that for the first 40 days of a woman’s pregnancy, the fetus is considered “mere fluid” and considered part of the mother until birth.  

Now, no one usually wants to be in a position to have to choose an abortion, but the fact that it is permissible is very different than the understanding in Catholicism which believes that life begins at conception, for instance. They argue that Roe v Wade infringes on their freedom of religion. Several years ago, I was asked to serve on Saint Joseph’s Hospital Community Leadership Board. When Ed Hunter came to ask me to serve, I laughed. I reminded him that I was a rabbi. He said he knew. And a woman rabbi at that. He said that was obvious. I added that as such I might feel compelled to be outspoken about abortion and birth control (which I have been for a long time). He responded that it was precisely that reason I was being asked. Then we both laughed, and I agreed to serve. So far, my biggest contribution seems to be around access to mental health services. 

The question is really a bigger question than a woman’s right to abortion or contraception. I stand in a long line of Biblical women concerned about women’s access to health care and reproductive choices. Sarah who wanted Hagar to be a surrogate. Shifra and Puah, the midwives who delivered the baby boys in Egypt under threat of death. Miriam with her skin disease being put outside the camp. Hannah praying for a son. Naomi and Ruth. Esther.  

The real issue, it seems to me, is back to the question of taking care of the widow, the orphan, the stranger and needing to have one set of laws, mishpatim for both stranger and citizen.  

How? How do we do that?  

We know that even if Roe v Wade is overturned, (sadly) women of certain means will continue to get safe abortions when they feel they need them. It really becomes a question of access to health care for all women and so this morning I proudly drink out of my mug that says a woman belongs in all places where decisions are being made. 

This week we will mark Rosh Hodesh Adar 1. Rosh Hodesh, a half holiday dedicated to women. Adar, Be Happy, It’s Adar, when we celebrate Esther, the woman who saved her people. “If you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance will come from another place. And who knows perhaps you are in this time and place for such a time as this.”  

As your rabbi, ordained to preach, teach and judge in Israel, I am proud to serve as your rabbi and I will continue to speak out so that we take care of the women, the orphan and the stranger, precisely because of this week’s Torah portion and this mug.  

Take a deep breath. And another one. It is Shabbat. Time to rest.  

When do we feel safe? When do we feel insecure? 

We talked about this last week. Sitting under a tree enables us to feel safe. Sitting on our porches, in our houses, in our synagogues should make us feel secure. Sitting allows us to rest, to day dream, to hope. Sitting enables us to connect, to ourselves, to our family, to our community, to our G-d. 

Ufros aleinu sukkat shlomech. Spread over us the shelter, that fragile sukkath of Your peace. Every week I talk about how peace is a fragile shelter. Shabbat, too is a container, a place to sit, to hold our anxiety and our worry. A place to put it down. Shabbat is a palace in time, as Abraham Joshua Heschel used to say.  

But what if something shatters that fragile peace? What if our homes are not not filled with Shalom Bayit, peace of the house. Or oifour greeting of Shabbat Shalom is anything but peaceful? 

 How do we tame our own anxiety?  

Last week, the peace that we create on Shabbat was shattered. First you should know that from the moments the events of last Shabbat were becoming known, our safety and security team, our police department, our FBI, ADL and JUF contacts were all in touch with us. We have heard from many in the wider community. Individuals, churches, all levels of governmental, black, white, Christian, Muslim, Hindu, the Elgin Police Department. I can’t say enough about our police department. They have been doing extra patrols—at CKI, at Bluff City Cemetery and even at our house.  

But how do we handle our own anxiety? By being loud and proud. By showing up. Even on Zoom. By doing all the things we can do to protect ourselves—some of which by plan we don’t even discuss  in order to keep us more secure. By interrupting anti-semitism with programs like Sunday’s presentation on the State of Hate by the ADL. That was set up in early December because of some other local events. Clearly the need for it is now. I hope you have registered.  

And by leaning into our tradition. Our tradition talks about this very topic in this week’s parsha. Come back tomorrow. Those Israelites standing at the foot of the mountain were afraid. And yet they said, “We shall do and we shall hear.” They promised to do things even before they knew what they would be.  

This is Mental Health Shabbat. Sponsored by JCFS and the Chicago Board of Rabbis. That was also set up long before the events of last weekend. There is a real need to talk about mental health. To make sure that it is not stigmatized. To give you resources that might be helpful. To let you know that I, as your rabbi, stand with you. There Is no question that COVID has exacerbated mental health issues. Whether you are struggling with grief, anxiety, loneliness, substance abuse, feelings of inadequacy or guilt, frustration, suicidal ideation, there are resources to help you. Tonight, we have with us Dr. Biana Kotyar Castro who spoke as part of our Kol Nidre service. Her talk was published recently by the Chicago Board of Rabbis as a resource to all. She is here tonight as a member and as a resource person. At the end of this d’var Torah I have put more resources available.  

Tomorrow we will read the 10 Commandments. The 10 Sayings. One of those is the commandment to rest. Keep the Sabbath day.  

Shabbat is itself one of those resources. A time to cease. Even G-d needed to be v’yinafash. So I invite you to set down your worry, just for now. To cease. To take a deep breath. Look around you, Look at those eyes. 

Our Breath is our very soul. G-d breathed it into us. We sing this in the morning service. Elohai neshama shnatat bi tihorahi. “My God, the soul that you have placed within me is pure.” Knowing that G-d created our souls purely and breathed them into us calms me down. It reduces my anxiety.  

There is a technique called 4 square breathing or box breathing that we are going to try right here. Close your eyes. Gently. Breathe in for four counts. Breathe out for four counts. Breathe in two three four, breath out. Two three four.  

Another technique that I find useful is to ground yourself. Feel the floor under your chair. That’s grounding. Now open your eyes, look for something that is beautiful in the room. Now take another deep breath. Smell the aroma of the room. Maybe Shabbat dinner is cooking, or i can smell my gingerbread cookies and the hyacinth. Taste the sweet wine. Soon we will hear the beautiful sounds of Stew’s music as he tinkles the keyboard. Relying on the five senses keeps us grounded and present in the moment. 

Taking a moment to be fully in the present is one way of handling our rising anxiety. Our Mi Shebeirach prayer is another way. It asks for a full, complete healing of mind, body or spirit. Or even better, mind body AND spirit. Early this week, Ken Jacoby sent me this version. I offer it to you now. 

“Heal Us Now”  – A Musical Prayer 

Mental Health Resources Available in the Fox River Valley and Beyond: 

Jewish Children and Family Services:
https://www.jcfs.org/  

Many of their programs have pivoted online including individualized telehealth and support groups including grief. Peg, Al and Karen were recently trained as Care Ambassadors. 

Family Services of Greater Elgin 

https://fsaelgin.org/  

Vern Tepe serves on the board. Lots of good quality options, including school issues and family counseling 

Ecker Center:
https://www.eckercenter.org/  

Ecker Center runs many options for mental health services, and merged with the Renz Center which does much of the substance abuse therapy. Ecker runs emergency mental health services both at Sherman Hospital and St. Joes. Both for adults and adolescents. 

Fox Valley Hands of Hope 

https://www.fvhh.net/  

This organization specializes in grief counseling. It is an amazing, caring, compassionate group. They also maintain a medical equipment lending library.  

Reach out for help. Other Specific Resources exist. For example, things like Compassionate Fiends, if you have lost a child. There is an organization in Saint Charles that just deals with the aftermath of a suicide.   There are many private therapists, licensed clinical social workers, psychologists, psychiatrists working in the area, and on Zoom. Sometimes it takes a while to get the right match. Keep trying. You are worth it! 

 Shabbat Morning:

“Let everyone ‘neath their vine and fig tree live in peace and unafraid. And into plowshares beat their swords”…we sang this last week as the end of my sermon.  

Today’s parsha can be divided into three parts. First, we have the story of Yitro, Jethro, Moses’s father-in-law, the Midianite priest who teaches Moses a very important lesson. He teaches Moses that Moses cannot do this work alone. None of us can. He needs to delegate. It is good leadership. It is what we try to do here at CKI. Much has been written about that.  

But this week, in particular, I want to point out that Yitro was not an Israelite. He was an Other. He is the one who teaches Moses how to praise G-d. Baruch Adonai. We recognize that formulation. He continues “Baruch Adonai asher hitzil etchem miyad mitzrayim, Blessed is the Lord, Who has rescued you from the hands of the Egyptians and from the hand of Pharaoh. It is so similar to the blessing that we all said as we exhaled our anxiety and our fear when Rabbi Charlie and the three other hostages were rescued last week.

In Pirke Avot we learn that one who is wise is one who learns from all people. We learn this from this week’s portion. We learn this from our lives this week. 

When we gathered for Shabbat last week, the world seemed different. By 2 o’clock on Shabbat afternoon as the events were unfolding in Texas, we knew that this week would be different and a lot scary. Many of us prayed. Many of us recited Psalms. And then, just before the 10:00 news we were able to recite a blessing, “Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech Ha’olam, matir assurim, Blessed are You who frees the captives.” Thank G-d. But not G-d alone. There were many people whose actions contributed to freeing those hostages. I am grateful for the calm leadership that Rabbi Charlie displayed and for the other 3 hostages. I am grateful to the local Colleyville Police Department and to the FBI. To our own Elgin Police Department. I am grateful to the wider Jewish community. I am grateful to all who sprung into action, even on Shabbat afternoon, because saving a life, and rescuing captives is more important than Shabbat observance. I am grateful to CKI’s security team who really wrestles with these issues and then takes action so that we are safe as we can be. There will be more—not all of which, by design in visible. And I am grateful for all we learned. Even when those learnings make us uncomfortable or anxious. 

I cannot tell you not to be anxious. That would be inappropriate. I share some of those feelings with you. I really struggled with what to say to you this morning and I knew you would want to hear words of comfort. Perhaps the comfort is in knowing that I believe we are no less safe today than we were a week ago. Perhaps even safer since so much attention has been raised to this very topic, nationally and locally. 

 Yet, as our verse teaches us, we cannot do this work alone. We need to learn from all people. We as a community have learned from our homeland security people, from the FBI, from the EPD and from JUF. We have had trainings and there will be more.  

I am, like many of you alarmed by rising anti-semitism. It is here. It is everywhere. It is often described  as the canary in the coal mine. It’s an old metaphor but it works. I urge you to learn some more, tomorrow with ADL who is presenting its presentation, The State of Hate. Please register.  

In preparation,  I am reading Jonathan Greenblatt’s book, It Could Happen Here, is the need to interrupt the Pyramid of Hate. Kid bullied on the playground? Report it. Teacher make an anti-semitic joke or comment to a student? Report it. At a dinner party—remember those? And someone says something that makes you uncomfortable—interrupt it. Watch social media algorithms Social media seems to be the largest way that people are being radiicalized..  

But I want to go back to our text. The non-Jewish priest, called a cohain in the text, Yitro, teaches us that we cannot go it alone. And we here in Elgin have not. We have heard from many, many friends of CKI, and me personally, black, white, brown, Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Elected officials, just people in the pews. All reaching out. What do you need? How can I help?  You all too, just be being here, even on Zoom, help by showing up. It is an act of defiance. It is an act of hope. It says that the terrorists and the anti-semites won’t win. As I said to someone yesterday, I wore my kippah everywhere this week—loud and proud (not that I went many places but that is a different story). I am not afraid to wear a Jewish star—although I know some of you are. I understand the fear. I grew up in a home where we were always told not to rock the boat. Not to be too Jewish. You have to go with what is right for you. When JCFS helped us write our “Safer Synagogue” protocols, you will notice that it is not “Safe Synagogues.” No one can promise you 100% safety, nor matter where you go. I do believe, however, we are safer today than we were last week, precisely and sadly because of the nationwide attention.  

Later in this week’s portion—G-d tells Moses that the Israelites are to be a kingdom of priests and a holy nation. We are to be a treasured possession and a light to the nations. Some believe that is the very root of the choseness concept. Some have seen the choseness concept as the roots of anti-semitism itself. (That is a long history lesson in the making that will have to wait for another time!) Is that we are better than everyone else? I don’t think so. Rather, I think in our role as priests, we are to be role models. Role models of good behavior. That’s why what follows next is the 10 Commandments, the 10 sayings. These 10 are the bare minimum of how to set up society in a way that is positive and healthy and good.  

One year early at CKI one of our Bar Mitzvah students in wrestling with this idea of choseness said that maybe we did the choosing, we were the ones who chose to accept the Commandments, to accept G-d. Debbie Friedman’s song echoes that sentiment: 

“We all rejoice ‘cuz the Torah’s ours
To study, teach, and quote.
Had we not made a promise to be chosen and to choose,
Remember that there wouldn’t be a people called the Jews!” 

So, my question for you today, to think about, is how are we a kingdom of priests and holy nation. How do we bring forth that light? How are we role models. How do rise up on our toes as we learn from the Haftarah and say, “Kadosh, Kadosh Kadosh. Holy, Holly, Holy.”? 

Last night we talked about mental health and I led you through some tools for reducing anxiety. The world lost another great teacher yesterday who has impacted the practice and study of mindfulness. https://tricycle.org/trikedaily/thich-nhat-hanh-dies/ 

Just before Shabbat we learned that Thich-nhat Hanh died. He was a well known Buddhist monk who brought the whole concept of mindfulness to the world. He was a peace activist and marched with King, and my own rabbi, Rabbi Everett Gendler.  

Rabbi Gordon participates extensively with the Institute of Jewish Spirituality. It brings a great deal of mindfulness into modern Jewish practice. I have taken several of their courses. Their Executive Director, Rabbi Josh Feigelson, had this important lesson to say about the portion: 

“Just after the Divine speaks to the Israelites at Sinai, full of pyrotechnics and dazzling spectacle, Parashat Yitro ends with what feels like a bit of an anticlimax: God instructs Moses about the technicalities of building an altar. One of those instructions is not to use hewn stones, “for by wielding your tool upon them you have profaned them” (Ex. 20:22). Commenting on the verse, Rashi, citing the Mekhilta of Rabbi Yishmael, understands the instruction symbolically: “For the altar brings peace between Israel and their parent in Heaven, thus one should not bring upon it something which will cut and destroy.” An altar of hewn stones would signify separation when, in fact, the reality is we are not separate—from the Divine or each other. Thus, the midrash concludes, if in the case of stones which cannot see nor speak, we are instructed not to use any iron tools on them and thereby bring about separation, then how much more so can we understand the blessings that accrue to “one who makes peace between spouses, between family and family, between two human beings” Our separation is an illusion; peacemaking is the work of helping us recover and maintain our awareness of communion—with one another, with ourselves, with the Holy Blessed One.”–Rabbi Josh Feigelson 

In our concept of learning from everyone, I want to offer another form of mindfulness, Metta Meditation. It again helps to reduce anxiety and spread that sense of wellbeing to others.  

https://www.healthline.com/health/metta-meditation#benefits  

Repeat each phrase after me: 

May I be happy. 
May I be safe. 
May I find peace. 

Now look at those eyes in their Zoom rooms and repeat after me: 

May you be happy
May you be safe
May you find peace 

Now think about the difficult people in your lives, we all have them, or maybe even your enemies and repeat after me: 

May they be happy
May they be safe
May they find peace. 

Take another deep breath. 

I can’t promise you a rose garden, although I first learned this form of meditation on Shabbat in a beautiful rose garden in Guatemala as an AJWS Rabbinic Fellow. I can’t guarantee you 100% safety. I can say that together we will keep learning from each others and others and that will lead to wisdom. And there is much to learn from our tradition and from this very practice of Shabbat. Thanks for showing up and being counted. This week and always. 

Reflections of Mi Chamocha and Martin Luther King, jr

Tonight we celebrate Shabbat Shira, the Sabbath of Song. This weekend it happens to be the confluence of three events. Shabbat Shira, Tu B’shevat and Martin Luther King, jr. Weekend. So today, there is going to be very little words from me, and more from music and song. It is called Shabbat Shira because this is the week we read the Song at the Sea. Moses, and then Miriam led all the people in song once they got to the other side. We do part of that song every service. You know it as Mi Chamocha. I asked people to bring their favorite tunes for Mi Chamocha—and there are many. But first. How did they get there: 

Peter Paul and Mary:
Peter Paul & Mary – A Man Come into Egypt 

There was one brave soul, Nachson ben Aminidav, who saw what was happening at the shores of the sea. The midrash teaches us that he put is toe in and then waded into the wate—up to his nostrils. Who among us would be brave enough? This next song, Rabbi Gordon , Father Jack Lau and I sang in the pouring rain in Ferguson. It is an old African American Spiritual that perhaps captures the mood of Nachson: 

Wade into the Water: 

Wade in the Water: Live | The Spirituals (Official Music Video) 

 Not everyone saw the miracle. Rabbi Larry Kushner tells the midrashic story of Reuven and Shimon. They kept their heads down complaining about the muck. While the sea parted and was safe to walk on, (I imagine it like the walk to Bar Island in Bar Harbor), it wasn’t completely dry, more like a beach at low tide. “This is just like the slime pits of Egypt!” replied Reuven.“What’s the difference?” Complained Shimon. “Mud here, mud there; it’s all the same.” 

And so it went for the two of them, grumbling all the way across the bottom of the sea. And, because they never once looked up, they never understood why on the distant shore, everyone else was singing and dancing. For Reuven and Shimon the miracle never happened. (Shmot Rabbah 24:1) 

And yet, the Mekhilta also tells us that even a lowly bondswoman could see G-d. Zeh Eli they all exclaimed together. This is my G-d. Unlike Isaiah and Ezekiel that only had distance visions of G-d.  

So what feelings would you have as you walked across to the other side? How would you express that thanksgiving? Awe, gratitude, joy, relief, apprehension, what’s going to happen next, fear. 

The tune we often do on Friday nights as part of Shabbat Zimrrah was composed by David Propis and captures many of those emotions, including pointing and singing Zeh Eli: 

Propis: 

https://open.spotify.com/track/6nCTT6RQOsEy5Yhom1DOTV 

The men were not alone in singing. Miriam the prophet took a timbrel in her hand and led the women in song and dance. This version of Mi Chamocha is based on Debbie Friedman’s “Miriam’s Song.” The cadeence of this upbeat version fits perfectly. I often use this one during Passover. It captures the song and the dancing: 

Friedman:
Mi Chamocha (Friedman) 

I worked with a rabbi who did not like the joyous ones. She believes, and she is correct that with freedom comes responsibility. This fits with our responsibility as Jews as we approach Martin Luther King Day as well. The Rev. Martin Luther King had a dear friend, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel. In fact they shared a birthday. In 1963, Heschel met King at a conference on Race and Religion. Here are his introductory remarks:
“At the first conference on religion and race, the main participants were Pharaoh and Moses. Moses’ words were: “Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel, let My people go that they may celebrate a feast to Me.” While Pharaoh retorted: “Who is the Lord, that I should heed this voice and let Israel go? I do not know the Lord, and moreover I will not let Israel go.” 

The outcome of that summit meeting has not come to an end. Pharaoh is not ready to capitulate. The exodus began, but is far from having been completed. In fact, it was easier for the children of Israel to cross the Red Sea than for a Negro to cross certain university campuses.” 

He then marched with King famously saying his feet were praying. How will we enable our feet to pray, today and every day? That is what our freedom demands. That level of responsibility.  

So I offer you Hannah Tiferet Siegel ‘s version which captures a more reflective emotion: 

Hannah Tiferet – Mi Chamocha (Judea Reform Congregation) 

Lastly for these times, I offer you the upbeat and even newer Nefesh Mountain version, recorded in Memphis. Listening to Eric’s introduction, this one seems just right for a weekend that celebrates freedom and Martin Luther King, Jr. It was filmed in Memphis, the place where Martin Luther King, jr, was assignated. The night before King died, he gave his famous “Moutain top” speech. https://www.afscme.org/about/history/mlk/mountaintop  

His dream, however, didn’t die with his death. It is still the work and the responsibility that we all need to do, the responsibility that comes with freedom. When we experience that exhileration that we have finally crossed over to the other aide.  

  Nefesh Mountain: 

Nefesh Mountain perform “Mi Chamocha” on DittyTV 

Shabbat Morning: 

Every journey of liberation
Crosses the sea,
Pursued by a vicious past,
Surrounded by fragile miracles,
On a steady march
To an unknown destination.
Every journey of liberation
Begins at midnight,
In the darkest hour of oppression,
With the blood of a sacrifice,
With secret signs
And anxious anticipation.
Let us sing a song of salvation.
A song of absolution, benevolence, and compassion,
Of deliverance, freedom, and emancipation,
Of power, rescue, and release,
Of pardon, restoration, and reprieve,
Of the might and the mercy of our Maker,
Of God’s generosity and grace. 

!מִי כָמֹכָה בָּאֵלִם, יי! מִי כָּמֹכָה נֶאְדָּר בַּקֹּדֶשׁ, נוֹרָא תְהִלֹּת עֹשֵׂה פֶלֶא 

Mi chamochah ba-eilim, Adonai!
Mi kamochah, nedar bakodesh,
Nora t’hilot, oseih feleh! 

Who is like You, O God, among the gods that are worshiped?
Who is like You, majestic in holiness,
Awesome in splendor, working wonders?
Let every journey of liberation
End on the opposite shore,
Exhausted but jubilant,
On the edge of an undiscovered land,
With shouts of joy and delight,
When our struggle leads to redemption. 

© 2021 CCAR Press from “This Precious Life: Encountering the Divine with Poetry and Prayer” 

 “And they came to Elim, where there were twelve springs of water and seventy palm trees; and they encamped there beside the water.” 

Tomorrow afternoon we will celebrate Tu B’shevat, the New Year of the Trees. Last night we looked at what you would feel if you had walked through the walls of water: amazement, awe, anticipation, apprehension, joy, relief.  

And since you left Egypt quickly, so very quickly, you might also be tired. Fast forward to this scene,  

You need to rest. You’ve just run for your life. You still need basic necessities. Food, water, housing. It is like Maslow’s pyramid. Or Risa’s list: Eat, drink (water), exercise, sleep, take your meds. Right now you just need to rest. Take a deep breath and another. You have come to an oasis with 12 springs of fresh, clear water, enough for each tribe and 70 palm trees providing shade from the desert heat, one for each of the elders to sit under as we’ll see soon. It is idyllic. A little like Gan Eden. The Garden of Eden. Paradise. This is freedom. The freedom to rest. The freedom to be secure. Take another deep breath. Drink it in. Hear the birds in the trees. Smell the date palms. Feel the breeze, Breathe. 

There are other trees. Abraham sat under the oak at Mamre. Saul sat under a pomegranate of Migron. Deborah, who we will read about later, judged under a date palm. She was one of the seven women prophets, Sarah, Miriam, Hannah, Abigail, Huldan and Esther. She was the wife of Lappidot, because she furnished wicks for the sanctuary lamps. She brought out the light.  

In later kabbalistic/mystical work, Rabbi Moshe Cordovero, wrote a book called Tomer Devorah, the Palm Tree of Deborah. Trees are often seen as mystical. They even breathe and in their own way draw close to G-d. Tomar Devorah explores a mystical understanding of the mitzvot, commandments and teaches us to emulate G-d in everything we do which then gives us a sense of purpose and responsibility according to one review.  

From these two portions, The Song at the Sea and the Song of Deborah, two of the oldest sections of scripture, we learn that women’s voices were not shunned. Rather, they were listened to deeply.  Here is Debbie Friedman’s Devorah’s Song: Devorah’s Song” – HUC-JIR Debbie Friedman Memorial Concert 2012 

So sitting under a tree is a chance for renewal, and rest. A chance to dream. A chance to administer justice. And a chance to draw close to G-d. 

Another prophet, Isaiah, said, there will come a time where we can sit under our vine and fig tree and none shall make us afraid.  I dream of spending Shabbat afternoon resting, sitting under a tree, reading a book, 

Eternal Protector— 

Grant me the courage to enter 

the waters of the unknown, 

and the faith to believe 

You will always provide a path. 

When I am stumbling across the desert 

of uncertainty and despair, 

help me remember that  

You accompanied my ancestors 

as they journeyed from slavery to freedom— 

and that You are with me 

on my journey, too. 

As I reflect on my journey 

and pause in awe of  

the wonders it continues to hold,  

my soul, unbidden, 

begins to unfold the melody  

my heart whispers– 

a song of belonging, awakening,  

gratitude, hope and love. 

Joanne Fink 

May the Source of Strength 

Bless you  

With health and wholeness 

And also all those who’ve been exposed  

To the pain of this pandemic. 

May you be blessed with fortitude and patience,  

Courage and love, 

As you allow capitulation to the coronavirus 

To overwhelm your usual intentionality and intensity. 

And holding onto hope, 

May you move speedily 

Through the depths of disease, 

That saps strength and stamina, 

Down the road to recovery 

As you are renewed to fullness and healing. 

May you be blessed with 

refuah shleimah – 

A complete healing –  

A healing of body and a healing of spirit 

Now go on and say,  

[Amen] 

Paul Kipnes 

For the New Year~ 

God of time and space,
Hand of rhythm and grace,
You’ve granted me moments and breaths,
Life like a river,
Rapids and flats,
Deep narrow canyons
And bright open skies,
Thundering, churning waters
And calm gentle flows.
A life of beauty and wonder
Beyond my understanding,
Beyond my wildest dreams.
And yet,
And still, Heavenly Redeemer,
You also give me choices,
To live in grief or joy,
Fear or awe,
Tears or laughter.
To lift my life in glory and radiance,
A shining light of kindness and love. 

     Alden Solovy, copyright 2017 

Also from Alden:
https://tobendlight.com/2013/12/a-new-year-begins/  

The poem reminds me of the quote from Maya Angelou: “Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.” Or the song from Rent, Seasons of Love:

“Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty five thousand moments so dear
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure? Measure a year? 

In daylights,
In sunsets,
In midnights,
In cups of coffee,
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.” 

And the idea that when we get to heaven we will be asked, “Did you see My Alps?,” (Samson Raphael Hirsch). Did you make every day count? Did you find pleasure even when it is difficult. The very question brings me hope.   

For New Year’s Eve and Kabbalat Shabbat I asked my congregation what they wished for the New Year. Not to come up with resolutions or even goals. What do you hope for, down in your kishkes, your soul. A wish for you and a wish for the congregation. The congregation is about to kick off celebrating 130 years. No easy accomplishment. We were the 5th oldest congregation in Illinois when I got here. Now I think we are the fourth, since the one in Quincy, IL closed last year. 

What do you wish? What do you hope for? For most people it was a sincere wish for kindness. And for health. For meaningful relationships. No even mentioned prosperity. I think the pandemic has caused people to reorder their priorities. Often people talk about a return to normal or that this is a new normal. I am not sure that is what I am looking for.  

This past week I wrote my own hopes, dreams, wishes. I couched it in terms of having a magic wand. I have collected wands, lost wands, dream about wands, given wands as thank you presents and bought more wands.  

Here is what I wrote:
“Let’s acknowledge it. The last two years have been hard. The losses have been immeasurable. That language isn’t even strong enough. We need the space to mourn. To acknowledge our loses. And yet, we have persevered. We have survived. Some have even thrived. It hasn’t been easy. 

What if we had a magic wand… 

What if we had a magic wand and we could wave it and we could make COVID-19 and all of its variants disappear? 

But we don’t. What we do have is each other and the ability to build a world that we want to see. For us, for our children and our children’s children. 

What is the world we would build? 

What if…we could sing with gusto Eitz Chayyim Hee? “It is a tree of life to them that hold fast to it. “ 

What if…we could heed the wisdom of our tradition today? That song, Eitz Chayyim, continues “Hashivenu Adonai Elohecha. Return to us and we will return. Renew our days as of days of old.” What does it mean to return to days of old? 

What does it mean to return? To reappear? To turn back? Was G-d missing? Were we? Can we meet somewhere halfway? Don’t hide Your face from me, I plead! And I will not hide mine from Yours. Together, partners again, we begin to create. We begin to build. To rebuild.  

What if…instead, we create a world, a whole new world with our magic wand? 

What if…we create a world where, as partners with G-d, we protect Creation and preserve it for our children and grandchildren? 

What if…we create a world where services are meaningful and available to all. So that G-d will accept the prayers as lovingly as they are offered and worship will be restored in the streets of Jerusalem and around the world? 

What if…we create a world where children and adults are encouraged to learn, to wonder, to dream, throughout their lifetimes so that we embrace lifelong learning? 

What if…we create a world where we support each other as community, where we build community by loving our neighbors as ourselves and not standing idly by while our neighbors bleed or putting a stumbling block before the blind or cursing the deaf. 

What if…we create a world that embraces diversity and treats our fellows as equals so that we remember that we are all created in the image of the Divine and that all means all? 

What if…we create a world where we refuse to trample the rights of the widow, the orphan, the stranger, the most marginalized amongst us? 

What if…we create a world where people are allowed to thrive, not just survive? 

What if…we create a world where there is equal access to medical care including mental health services? 

What if…we create a world where community is based on chesed, lovingkindness and not on judgement? 

What if…we create a world, where bullying is a thing of the past and kids are not afraid to go to school? 

What if…we create a world where people can disagree but don’t settle a dispute with weapons and violence? 

What if…we create a world as Isaiah talks about where we might fast but we recognize that this is not the fast that G-d desires but rather we feed the hungry, clothe the naked and house the homeless?  

What if…we create a world where everyone can sit under their vine and fig tree and none shall make them afraid? 

What if…we create a world where even with so much to do, we can sit and breathe and know that our very breath is our soul itself, created by G-d and breathed into us and given to us a pure gift? 

What if…we then create this world and build this world on love?  

Sadly, that magic wand does not work. We cannot just make COVID disappear. COVID has pointed out the inequities that already existed. When people talk about wanting to return, to return to normal or to days of old, we need to be careful. Return to what? To our overscheduled, too busy lives? Instead, we can re-imagine the world as we want it to be.  What is your vision of the world you want to build, the world you want to leave to your children and grandchildren. Then, we can begin to rebuild the world. Together. The lesson of the pandemic seems to be that we need to do this work together. That is how we build community. That is how we sustain our world. That is how we make a difference. Won’t you join me? Together we can build this world, for the better.” 

And so, like Mary Oliver, I wonder, “What will you do with your one wild and precious life?” 

Before we got to the Aleinu, the hope for a world redeemed, the hope for a world repaired where we say, L’taken olam b’malchut shadai”,  to repair the world under Your sovereignty.” I read Amanda Gorman’s new poem: 

May this be the day
We come together.
Mourning, we come to mend,
Withered, we come to weather,
Torn, we come to tend,
Battered, we come to better.
Tethered by this year of yearning,
We are learning
That though we weren’t ready for this,
We have been readied by it.
We steadily vow that no matter
How we are weighed down,
We must always pave a way forward. 

* 

This hope is our door, our portal.
Even if we never get back to normal,
Someday we can venture beyond it,
To leave the known and take the first steps.
So let us not return to what was normal,
But reach toward what is next. 

* 

What was cursed, we will cure.
What was plagued, we will prove pure.
Where we tend to argue, we will try to agree,
Those fortunes we forswore, now the future we foresee,
Where we weren’t aware, we’re now awake;
Those moments we missed
Are now these moments we make,
The moments we meet,
And our hearts, once all together beaten,
Now all together beat. 

* 

Come, look up with kindness yet,
For even solace can be sourced from sorrow.
We remember, not just for the sake of yesterday,
But to take on tomorrow. 

* 

We heed this old spirit,
In a new day’s lyric,
In our hearts, we hear it:
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne.
Be bold, sang Time this year,
Be bold, sang Time,
For when you honor yesterday,
Tomorrow ye will find.
Know what we’ve fought
Need not be forgot nor for none.
It defines us, binds us as one,
Come over, join this day just begun.
For wherever we come together,
We will forever overcome. 

May our wishes, our dreams are hopes for the new year 2022 become clear, become true.  

Va’era 5782, Shabbat New Year’s Day Morning: 

V’tahair libenu l’avdecha b’emet. Cleanse our hearts to serve You in truth. 

This is new year’s day morning. Last night we talked about wishes for the congregation and for each of us. Today I want to talk about routine and habit. This is a challenging portion. Why was Pharaoh so stubborn? Why did he put his needs ahead of his people’s? What (or who) caused the plagues? 

Cabad lev, Pharaoh had a heavy heart. Pharaoh’s heart was hardened. Pharaoh was stubborn. Anyway we translate that phrase is difficult. And yet we use that same phrase in Kol HaKavod. Because it also means honor.  

Pharaoh’s heart was stubborn. Over and over again, this parsha uses this language. What does it mean to be stubborn: “having or showing dogged determination not to change one’s attitude or position on something, especially in spite of good arguments or reasons to do so.” 

Perhaps the reason that G-d hardens Pharaoh’s heart is because Pharaoh continues to make bad choices and those habits show his stubbornness. So on this New Year’s Day morning when so many people make New Year’s Resolutions that then get broken by the middle of January, we should talk about forming good habits and breaking bad ones, rooting out our own stubbornness.  

The New York Times says that there are several steps to building a new (good) habit: https://www.nytimes.com/2020/02/18/well/mind/how-to-build-healthy-habits.html  Let me summarize:
Stack your habits: Link the new behavior to an existing one.
Start small: For instance, if the goal is to take a daily walk, which then could be the beginning of an exercise habit. Try putting your running shoes by the door. Or, if eating healthy is the goal try putting an apple in your bag every day could lead to better eating habits. 

Do it every day: When Anita Diamant heard I wanted to write a book, she told me I would need to write every day. I did. The rest is history, as they say. Keep in mind that while prevailing wisdom is that a habit can be formed in 21 days, some take much less and some take longer.  

Make it easy: There is a reason for Amazon Prime and click to buy now. It’s easy. It becomes habit forming. Stand in line recently at the post office, wondering why? I know I did.  

Reward yourself: There is a need as part of self-care, to reward yourself for good behavior. It reinforces the habit we are trying to build. (I wrestle with this one because so many of our rewards have to do with celebrating with food. Even our New Year’s celebrations! 

There is actually a book called Good Habits, Bad Habits: The Science of Making Positive Changes That Stick, written by Dr. Wendy Wood, a research psychologist at the University of Southern California, that I am adding to my Goodreads list of books I want to read.  The review of this book gives us more detail: 

“We spend a shocking 43 percent of our day doing things without thinking about them. That means that almost half of our actions aren’t conscious choices but the result of our non-conscious mind nudging our body to act along learned behaviors. How we respond to the people around us; the way we conduct ourselves in a meeting; what we buy; when and how we exercise, eat, and drink–a truly remarkable number of things we do every day, regardless of their complexity, operate outside of our awareness. We do them automatically. We do them by habit. And yet, whenever we want to change something about ourselves, we rely on willpower. We keep turning to our conscious selves, hoping that our determination and intention will be enough to effect positive change. And that is why almost all of us fail. But what if you could harness the extraordinary power of your unconscious mind, which already determines so much of what you do, to truly reach your goals?” 

The review continues: Her clear and incisive work shows why willpower alone is woefully inadequate when we’re working toward building the life we truly want, and offers real hope for those who want to make positive change. 

Habit and achieving goals seem to come down to mindset. Something we talk about a lot in Judaism. When we talk about ritual, we are really talking about habit. When we talk about tradition, we are really talking about habit.  

“A ritual is a sequence of activities involving gestures, words, actions, or objects, performed according to a set sequence.[1] Rituals may be prescribed by the traditions of a community, including a religious community. Rituals are characterized, but not defined, by formalism, traditionalism, invariance, rule-governance, sacral symbolism, and performance.” These rituals give us mindset and a sense of rootedness. Even how we celebrate New Year’s. Good food, making noise, New York Time Square Ball Drop.” Each of those are rituals. Shabbat has rituals too. Candles, Kiddush Motzi. Family dinner. Kabbalat Shabbat services are all rituals. The Torah service, taking the Torah from the Ark. When we stand and when we sit, how we parade the Torah, how we dress the Torah, even how we do a Torah blessing aliyah are all rituals. Those are powerful. They give us comfort and strength.  

Despite our rituals, in the Harvard Business Review https://hbr.org/2021/02/what-does-it-really-take-to-build-a-new-habit  we learn that there is a difference between routine and habit: 

A habit is a behavior done with little or no thought, while a routine involves a series of behaviors frequently, and intentionally, repeated. A behavior has to be a regularly performed routine before it can become a habit at all.” So we are back to intentionality, what we might call kavanah.  

Echoing what we heard in the New York Times, creating a habit may not take 21 days. But the Harvard researchers say no. It varies from person to person. They give as examples: eating chocolate for breakfast may only take one day while exercising every day at 5 PM may take much longer than the 21 days. What they agree on  is that we need to set an our intentions: Again that sounds like mindset as they say: 

“Set your intentions 

Keep in mind that some routines may blossom into habits, but not all of them can or will. Some things, while quantifiable, require too much concentration, deliberation, and effort to make the transition. For that reason, playing an instrument, cleaning your apartment, or journaling don’t fall into the habit category; they’re not effortless behaviors that can be done without conscious thought. 

The point is: Pick the behavior you want to turn into a habit wisely. Maybe you want to drink more water throughout the day or skip checking your email first thing in the morning. Whatever you choose, be realistic about the process. It will take patience, self-discipline, and commitment.” 

Prepare for Roadblocks.  This stuff isn’t easy. There will be set backs. You will lose focus. You will be stubborn.  

Start with nudges. Keep reminders near you. That too can be broken down into smaller bits: Make a schedule. Set microhabits. Pick someone you trust or who has a higher station to be an accountability buddy. It is part of why WW works. Showing up to meetings helps. Having an exercise buddy helps.  

Show yourself compassion. This is the opposite of being stubborn.  

Together, we will get through this New Year and not become like Pharaoh, too stubborn to change, whose heart was hardened by his own actions. And maybe like the lyric at the beginning, with a little help from G-d our hearts will be cleansed to serve G-d in truth.  

Today’s portion is about birth, and calling and hope. It seems especially apt on a morning where the world is focused on a different ancient birth. It seems necessary when the world is focused on a global pandemic that has taken so many lives, over 800K in the US and almost 5M worldwide.  

Of course, in today’s portion, there is the obvious call of Moses and the story of the burning bush. G-d says to Moses, Eyeh asher Eyeh—I will be what I will be or I am that I am. Hebrew that is very difficult to translate—but that provides an expansiveness that G-d is everything. That is hope. Those are the very words that Moses heard when he stood on holy ground.  Then G-d insists that Moses go back to Egypt to demand that Pharaoh let the Israelites go. No easy task. And not one Moses wants to do. 

But our story begins before that. And it begins with smaller characters that rise above and do the unexpected, the unthinkable, the unimaginable. That they existed and rose to the occasion, provides hope, even today. 

After a 400-year interlude between last week’s portion and today’s, our story at the very beginning of Exodus, begins with the Israelites being enslaved. “A new ruler arose who knew not Joseph.” This new Pharaoh decreed that every baby boy born to an Israelite woman, be killed.  But two women, Shifra and Puah, did not do as the king commanded and let the boys live.  

They have a bit part in the Torah. And their names have come down to us, Shifra and Puah. There are other women who make the birth of Moses and the continuation of the Jewish people possible. Yochebed, Moses’s mother, Miriam, his sister, Batya, the daughter of Pharaoh, Zipporah, his wife. Each of them rose up and did something courageous and brave.  

Did they hear a calling? Did they have an internal sense of what they needed to do? 

Yocheved risked everything by getting pregnant despite the risks. She hid baby Moses from the authorities and then as he grew and she could no longer conceal him, she gave him up to save him and then she became his nursemaid. 

Miriam hid that baby Moses, then watched as Pharaoh’s daughter, Batya found him in the basket, drew him out of the water and rescued him, raising him as her own. Zipporah, not born an Israelite, grabbed a flint and circumcised her son, not even knowing what circumcision was.  

These women risked all. This brings me hope. 

In the book, The Light of Days, which the book group just finished reading this week, other women during the Holocaust, also rose up and seemed to do the unimaginable, Were they courageous and brave or did they just do what had to be done in order to survive?  

We are living through unprecedented times. Are we called to do something courageous and brave, something unexpected, unthinkable, unimaginable. I believe we are. Like the women we have been discussing, and in the face of ongoing fear and tragedy, we are called on to live with hope.  

When a new baby is born, there is that sense of hope and optimism. We have so many dreams for this new child. Sometimes in the Jewish tradition, we even think, this child will be the one. This child we be the moshiach, the messiah, the anointed one, the one chosen to be the savior, the one who rescues us and who redeems the world and makes the world whole and at peace.   

Any one of us could be that baby, that child. But we lose that hope as the child grows. The task seems too big, too daunting, too impossible. Perhaps the message then is that each of us has a role to play—and no role is too small. 

So let’s think back to these women who rose up and just did their part. Their small part. Say their names—Shifra, Puah, Yocheved, Miriam, Batya, Zipporah. Each of them took matters into their own hands and rose above the expectations of the day. Each of them made life itself possible. 

Do we have modern equivalents? I believe yes. Health care workers, research scientists, teachers, police and fire, even grocery store clerks. The people who have put their own lives at risk to make sure that life is possible. 

Sometimes teachers, doctors, nurses use the language of calling to describe their work. It is a sacred calling, a noble profession. But calling is not limited to those types of professions. Each of us has a unique role to play, a unique calling, one important task that can be completed only by us. 

When then do we know what it is that G-d wants us to do? That G-d wants us to be? How do we know if we are hearing G-d’s voice, like Moses at the bush? Or Jeremiah in today’s haftarah? 

Jim Wallis, the founder of Soujourners and now a professor at Georgetown’s Center on Faith and Justice, asks this very question  

Is there a reliable guide to when we are really hearing the voice of God, or just a self-interested or even quite ungodly voice in the language of heaven? I think there is. Who speaks for God? When the voice of God is invoked on behalf of those who have no voice, it is time to listen. But when the name of God is used to benefit the interests of those who are speaking, it is time to be very careful.”
― Jim Wallis, Who Speaks for God? 

He provides one answer. A prophet is someone who speaks out for the marginalized. The widow, the orphan, the stranger. So when we work at the Soup Kettle or donate blood we being prophets. Even more so if we work on advocacy for the food insecure or for access to healthcare.  

Sometimes Jews say that prophecy ceased with Ezra and Nehemiah, that way we don’t have to deal another prophet whose birth is celebrated today. How then can we hear G-d’s voice today? 

Psalm 29 talks about G-d’s powerful voice 7 times. We know that song…Havu L’adonai. Seven times it repeats, Kol Adonai. We sing it on Friday night and as part of the Torah service. This is G-d’s booming voice thundering above all, shattering cedars and splitting rocks. We also have “bat kol” in the Talmud, the voice of G-d swooping down in some kind of “deus ex machina” manner. 

I prefer a gentler voice, one that is harder to discern:  the example of Elijah’s still, small voice, something internal, eternal, something inside of us. 

That seems to be what Jeremiah heard in today’s haftarah:
“Before I created you in the womb, I selected you; Before you were born, I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet concerning the nations.” Jeremiah 1 

That sense of being called to something special even before we are born is echoed in Psalm 139:
“You shaped me inside and out. You have made my veins; You have knit me together in my mother’s womb.”  

Psalm 30, one of my personal favorites, pleads with G-d and demands: 
What profit if I am silenced. 
What benefit if I go to my grave in the pit? 
Will the dust praise You? 
Will it proclaim Your truth and faithfulness? 

It would suggest that we each have something important to say, just like Shifra and Puah. And if we die we can no longer speak truth to power. 

It ends by saying:
You turned my mourning into dancing,
My sackcloth into robes of  joy, 
That my whole being might sing hymns to You unceasingly
That I might praise You forever.  

That can seem difficult to do in the middle of a health care crisis, to praise G-d unceasingly. Yet that is one measure of what we are called to do. And it brings me hope. We’re not finished here. We have a job to do, a role to play. 

Sometimes people have the sense that there is something G-d wants them to do. That they were fortunate to be born with certain intrinsic traits. Frederick Buechner talks about call this way: “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” Let me repeat that, “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” So our job is to figure out where the intersection between the world’s great need and our own joy intersect. That is our individual calling. 

Rabbi Jeffrey Salkin, author of Putting G-d of the Guest List for Bar Mitzvah families and Being G-d’s Partner, the What Color is Your Parachute for Jews. tells an important, poignant story,  

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

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

“‘What do you mean?’ I asked. 

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

The mover plays a small role in a person’s life. But it does it with compassion and empathy. With love. He has found his unique niche. His calling. 

What does life want from me? For each of you? Figuring out the answer to that question is figuring out what your unique call might be. Figuring that out is what this week’s Torah portion and haftarah portion are about. 

A baby was born. People worked to make sure that that baby lived. That is all part of our call. That is what brings me hope.