Last Friday night was a beautiful full moon. And it was Friday the 13^th. Are you scared? I addressed it fully as part of my Friday night sermon. Our Friday night service starts on page 13 in our book. With words of welcome to the Shabbat angels…Shalom Aleichem, we bid them. Shalom Aleichem to you as well.

For some reason, 13 became associated with being unlucky. Why is that? Perhaps, it is from the Mayans who thought that the 13^th Baktun on their calendar was superstitiously feared as a harbinger of some apocalypse. That might be why office buildings and hotels skip the 13^th floor. It might be because of the Last Supper, where there were 13 people gathered around the table, Jesus and his 12 apostles. Judas, the 13^th to be seated is the one who “betrayed” Jesus making that him the unlucky one. Or on Friday the 13^th in October 1307, King Philip the IV of France ordered the arrest of the Knights Templar. Or in a year with 13 full moons instead of 12 the Christian monks had a hard time designing the calendar appropriately.

But in Judaism, it is quite the opposite. It is actually a lucky number. Or at least as one source said, a “spiritually significant one.”

13 is the age of responsibility. The age of being responsible for the commandments, the mitzvot, celebrated with a Bar Mitzvah. We learn this from Pirke Avot 5:21.

Abraham entered into 13 covenants with G-d with Brit Milah, the covenant of circumcision. We know this from the repetition of the word “brit” when G-d commands Abraham 13 times. (Genesis 17:1-21 and Berachot 49a)

There are 13 rules of hermeneutics, the principles by which the rabbi interpret the Torah.

There were 13 shofrot, shofar shaped tzedakah boxes in the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. (Mishnah Shkalim 6:1) And while we only prostrate now on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, in the Temple period there were 13 prostrations as part of the Temple service.

In the Messianic era, the Land of Israel will be divided into 13 tribal sections instead of the original 12 during Joshua’s day. (Talmud, Bava Batra 122a)

Maimonides formulated 13 principles of faith in his commentary of the Mishnah, Sanhedrin chapter 10). I have often thought this was in response to the Christian Nicene Creed recited as part of a Catholic Mass. (But I haven’t gotten around to writing that academic paper!). However it is included in traditional siddur as part of the daily service and you will recognize it when we sing Yigdal at the end of the service if you read the English.

For those of you who love Jewish math, Gematria. Ahava, love and echad, one both equal 13.

In the Kabbalah, Jewish mystical tradition, 13 represents the ability of the Jewish people to rise about the 12 signs of the Zodiac, and the influence of the Cosmos.

Rabbi Adin Steinsalz, the leading modern expert on the Talmud with a masterful translation of his own, wrote a book, the Thirteen Petalled Rose. The title comes from the opening of the Zohar, also a text of Jewish mysticism, comparing the Jewish people to the rose which has….13 petals!

However, at this season of teshuvah, returning and repair, perhaps the luckiest 13 of all, is the 13 Attributes of the Divine.  These attributes which are what Moses heard on Mount Sinai, after he smashed the 10 Commandments, and after he went back up to receive a second set, are the very words that we learn help us ask for forgiveness, for selichot. They are repeated over and over again. You guessed it, 13 times during Ma’ariv and Ne’ilah, the evening and then the final service of Yom Kippur. They remind us, and G-d that G-d is merciful and compassionate, slow to anger and patient, full of lovingkindness and truth, extending that love to the 1000^th generation (that would include us!) and is forgiving of transgression, iniquity and sin. Just the anecdote we need!

The 13 Attributes I think I know a lot about. It was part of my Bat Mitzvah portion. The verse, Exodus 34:6-7 is why I became a rabbi. I wrote my rabbinic thesis on it and then a book, Climbing Toward Yom Kippur. Every time I think I can’t learn anything more about this topic, I do! I, too, am a life long learner.

While I have oft thought about the number 13 in Judaism and even was given a surprise party for my 13^th birthday based on the number 13 and the usual superstitions, I didn’t have this full list. Credit goes to the Torchweb for adding to my knowledge. https://www.torchweb.org/torah_detail.php?id=226

May this be a Selichot season full of all 13 Attributes of Divine Mercy, Compassion, Love and Forgiveness.

Hashivenu, hashivenu Adonai elecha
Venashuva venashuva
Hadesh Hadesh yamenuke ke dem

Turn us back, turn us back, O LORD to You
and we will turn, and we will turn
renew, renew our days as before.
Lamentations 5:21

This song, from the Book of Lamentation, links our season, from Tisha B’av and destruction to Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur with its promise of renewal, reconciliation and redemption.

“Uvchesed olam richamtich. I will take you back in love.” This is the 5th Shabbat of comfort, consolation after Tisha B’av. And as we draw closer, ever closer to Rosh Hashanah, these words are of great comfort.

I will take you back in love. What does that mean? That no matter what we have done, G-d will take us back. Even though we as a community and as individuals may have sinned, gone after strange gods, G-d, in G-d’s ever present mercy and love will take us back.

Even though as our haftarah suggests, G-d was angry with us for a moment, G-d will take us back and love us, with an unending love. As a community and as individuals.

It is a two way street. If G-d loves us, then we should love G-d. We know this from the structure of our siddur, prayerbook. G-d, much like a loving parent, gave us Torah, a system of laws and commandments, limits. That’s Ahavah Rabbah. And unending love. Then we are told we should love the Lord our G-d with all our heart, with all our soul, with all our everything. That’s the prayer we know as V’ahavata.

There is a catch. Rav Elazan ben Azariah taught in the Talmud about this season, “For sins between people and G-d, Yom Kippur atones, but between one another, Yom Kippur does not atone until one appeases his or her friend.” (Yoma 85b)

Love…

Love your neighbor…love the stranger…love your enemy. Say what? I thought, from the business world that the goal was to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. But that is not what we find, necessarily.

In today’s Torah portion, not the section we read today, we learn, that
“If you see the donkey of one who hates you lying helpless under its load, you shall refrain from leaving it to him, you shall surely release it with him.” (Exodus 23:5)

How many of you stopped on your way here to jumpstart a donkey? How many of you helped that ass of a stranger get back up on his feet?

Proverbs 24:17-20 expands this thought:

Do not rejoice when your enemy falls, And do not let your heart be glad when he stumbles; Or the LORD will see it and be displeased, And turn His anger away from him. Do not fret because of evildoers Or be envious of the wicked.”

We know this one…as we pour out a drop of wine for each of the 10 Plagues at the Passover seder, we learn the midrash: Why are you rejoicing, G-d cries? These are My creatures that are drowned.

If G-d can do weep, how can we not?

This is the season for trying to make up, to return, to repair. How many of you as part of your preparation for Rosh Hashanah are engaged in the debate about whom you will invite for holiday meals. How many of you remember being slighted when you were not invited to the first grade birthday party, or the middle school Bar or Bat Mitzvah or the wedding. You remember that feeling. Still. All these many years later.

So why would the Torah take the time to advise us to assist someone who we are at odds with? The key, according to our ancient rabbis, is found within in one important phrase: “help him.”

Nachmanides, the Ramban (1194-1270), notes that if you help another person, your enemy in particular, you may ultimately ” forget your enmity, and remember that he is your fellow.” Now we are back to this idea that we should love our neighbor, our fellow as ourselves. Today’s portion reads a lot like a recapitulation of the Holiness Code in Leviticus. We will be reminded to have just weights and measures, to pay our laborers on time, to be kind to the widow, the orphan, the stranger amongst us. We will be told to leave the corners of our field…just as we have done here at CKI.

But as my colleague, Rabbi Irwin Huberman points out, “Too often, when a crisis or disagreement occurs within a family or a circle of friends, bad feelings can be triggered, and — left unattended — can last a lifetime. This is particularly true during these fractured political times where lifelong friendships and family ties are often stretched, if not broken.”

The rabbis ask, debated, “Why did G-d allow the destruction of the Second Temple in Jerusalem.” The Talmud answers with a story of a wealthy man who lived in the 1^st Century in Jerusalem. He sends his servant to deliver an invitation to a party to his friend Kamsa. However, the servant delivers the invitation to Bar Kamsa, an enemy of the wealthy man. The host is furious at seeing Bar Kamsa at his party and orders him to leave. Bar Kamsa tries to make peace. He offers to pay for the food he eats, then for half of the expenses, then for the entire party. Each offer is rejected. All of this in front of the rabbis who sit passively. (Later Maimonides, the Rambam, will teach that if you ask forgiveness three times and are rejected, it is on the person rejecting, but that is a story for another time!) Bar Kamsa vows revenge for his humiliation against the rabbis who did not speak up and intervene to spare his embarrassment. Remember that embarrassment is a high sin in Judaism. If you embarrass someone in public you lose your place in the world to come. So Bar Kamas goes to the local Roman official to tell him that the Jewish community is disloyal to Rome. (That is a sermon for another time too!). Caesar agrees and destroys the Temple and all of Jerusalem. So the sages ask, “Why was the Temple destroyed?” Because of Sinat chinam, senseless, baseless hatred.

Rabbi Abraham Kook, the first chief rabbi of Israel taught that the anecdote to sinat chinam is ahavat chinam, baseless love. Lets think about this while we are arranging Rosh Hashanah dinner and who to invite, while we are searching for the white Torah covers, while we are practicing music and crafting sermons.

Shortly we will read the stories of Abraham our father. Abraham who kicked out Hagar and Ishmael. Abraham who was willing to sacrifice Isaac. What doesn’t appear in the Rosh Hashanah cycle, is that Abraham died alone. Only after his death did Isaac and Ishmael came back together. Life is short. Often too short. I relearned that lesson again this week. For many, too painful and too lonely.

Perhaps, then, what this morning’s portion has come to teach, is to open the gates wide. To build that temple and this synagogue without stint. That we need to be like G-d and take people back in love. This is the message of this season of teshuvah, of repair and return. Often it is up to us to take the first step.

Another Psalm echoes this message, with almost the same language of our verse in the haftarah, which Rabbi Menachem Creditor set beautifully to music. “Olam Chesed Yibaneh. I will build this world on love. And you must build this world from love. And if we build this world from love, then G-d will build this world from love.” (Psalm 89:3)

May this be a season of turning. Of repair and renewal. Of ahavah and chesed.

May it be so. May it always be so.

In memory of Ron Raglin:

My words at the funeral:

On Tuesday morning, The sun came up. The school buses rolled. Kids went to school. Teachers taught. Learning happened. Just like it was supposed to. But the world seemed a little dimmer in the bright sunlight.

In my tradition, our job, according to the Talmud, is to bury the dead and comfort the bereaved. That’s what we are trying to do today. But it is so, so hard. No one wanted to be here today.

Let us pray. (In my tradition, you can either sit or stand. Do what is comfortable for you!)

We are assembled here with our friends and Ron’s family in the darkness that has fallen upon us. We raise our voices together with the Source of Life, asking for comfort and strength. We need light when gloom darkens our lives. We need fortitude and courage when pain and loss assail us. May we find these in God. Let us find them, too, in loved ones and companions, who do God’s work by binding up the wounds of the stricken.

We mourn with you Tena, and Matthew and Marissa, with all who loved Ron, because quite simply Ron loved you.

First you cry
We are crying, Lord
We are weeping, Lord
We know You are crying too.
We miss our friend, our colleague, our teacher, our mentor,
Our husband, our father, our Papi, our brother, our family
Our lives will never be the same.
We know that You cry with us.
That You walk with us.
Help us, O Lord.
Help us to carry on
Hold our grief and our tears.
Wrap us in a big Ron bear hug.
Let us hear that big Ron laugh.
Then help us remember
Help us to be like Ron
To smile that wide Ron smile
To be compassionate
To be passionate
To live with integrity
To live with authenticity
To believe,
To really know deep in our souls
That every child matters
That every child can succeed
To care about every student
To care about every person
Because we are all created in Your image
Because
All means all.

To know that ours is not to finish the task, neither are we free to ignore it.
To share his vision, Martin Luther King’s vision
Of a world where all of G-d’s children,
Black and white,
Brown and Asian,
Jew and Gentile,
Protestant and Catholic,
Muslim and Hindu and even seekers
Unbeleivers, agnostics, atheists alike
One day,
All will be able to join hands and sing.
Free at last! Free at last! Thank G-d Almighty, we are free at last!”
But first, we cry!

Ron, you are free at last, walking with the Holy One of Blessing. Your job here on earth is finished, but ours is just beginning, continuing. Look over Well done, good and faithful servant. Well done.

El Maleh Rachamin, God, full of mercy and compassion, grant infinite rest, in Your sheltering Presence under the protecting shadow of Your wings among the holy and the pure to the soul of Ronald Raglin, who has gone to his eternal home. Merciful One, we ask that our loved one find perfect peace in Your eternal embrace, May his soul be bound up in the bond of life. May he rest in peace. And let us say, Amen.

The Kaddish is a special prayer in Judaism that often called mourners prayer. Because even when someone dies, still we praise G-d for life. Originally it was created to honor scholars, rabbis and teachers. Originally it was written in Aramaic, the language of day, the language that Jesus spoke, so that everyone could understand it. Here is Kaddish D’rabbanan, the Scholar’s Kaddish, in English, for Ron, for all of U-46 staff so that we all can understand:

For our teachers, and their students, and the students of the students,
We ask for peace and loving kindness.
And let us say, amen
And for those who study Torah, here and everywhere,
may they be blessed with all they need.
And let us say, amen.
Chorus: We ask for peace and loving kindness.
And let us say, amen (6x)

Lyrics by Debbie Friedman, z”l

At the rising sun and at its going down in with those early morning phone calls and late night text messages;
We remember him.
At the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter whether there is a snow day or not;
We remember him.
At the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring; with a long jump shot or at a Socratic Seminar
We remember him.
At the blueness of the skies and in the warmth of summer and a slightly but only slightly more relaxed administrator’s schedule;
We remember him.
At the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of the autumn as the first school buses roll;
We remember him.
At the beginning of the year and when it ends;
We remember him.
As long as we live, he too will live, for he is now a part of us as We remember him.

When we are weary and in need of strength;
We remember him.
When we are lost and sick at heart;
We remember him.
When we have decisions that are difficult to make;
We remember him.
When we have joy we crave to share;
We remember him.
When we have achievements that are based on his;
We remember him.
For as long as we live, he too will live, for he is now a part of us as,
We remember him.

Based on a Reading from Gates of Repentance

My thoughts: (Not given)

Every now and then the phone rings and it is not what you think. That’s what happened a week ago when Tony Sanders called and told me that Ron Raglin, the assistant superintendent of schools died. It was shocking. It was painful. It did not seem real.

Ron was the first person outside of my congregation I heard from when I moved to Elgin 7 years ago. We started the same week. He wanted to make sure I knew that I was invited, expected to attend his U-46 Clergy Council. I wondered how a public school system could have such a committee but if we do and since we do, I knew wanted a seat at that table. It was never a question.

Ron and I would go on to do many things together through the years. Most notably coffee or lunch. Neither schedule was conducive. He always made time. He spoke at CKI for Martin Luther King, jr. Day one year. He and I served on the Martin Luther King Celebration committee together. We shared books we were reading. I gave “Leaving Microsoft to Change the World” I still have one of his on trauma informed care. We had long conversations about educational philosophy, social justice, and faith. Always faith. He was a devoted Christian and a man of deep faith. He was prone to earlier morning phone calls for a Biblical citation or late night text messages. I am not sure that man ever slept!

He was committed to equity and justice. That was his title when he arrived at U-46. I joked he had the title I always wanted. He believed he could make a difference. He believed in mentoring. He believed that trauma-informed care would help make up some of the differences. You can’t learn if you worry about where your next meal is coming from, or if your parents are fighting or you don’t have a place to lay your head.

He worked tirelessly to achieve the mission of U-46. “U-46 will be a great place for all students to learn, all teachers to teach, and all employees to work. All means all.”

I used that phrase, All means all, when I would be called upon to speak at school board meetings. Not often but on some important topics. How to celebrate African American History Month. Policy around transgender bathroom and locker usage. How to teach religion in public schools. It is important to the study of emergence of alphabets, It is necessary when talking about the history of Europe like the Protestant Reformation or the arrival of the Mayflower and the establishment of the 13 Colonies. Or wars in Northern Ireland between Protestants and Catholics or the evil that was the Holocaust.

We worked on issues of racism and anti-Semitism. We helped with a rally after Charlottesville and a vigil after the massacres at the Pulse Night Club and the Tree of Life Synagogue.

He was always present, often behind the scenes, working for justice and providing his deep data dives. He always had a kind word, a deep respect and a real love, a passion for every single person, because all means all. He understood that every single person was created in the image of the Divine. Every. Single. Person. And he would be sure to remind you of that. He knew that G-d loved him. That G-d loves each of you. Period. For him it was simple. For me, it was never simple. He held himself to very high standards and had high expectations for everyone around him. And yet, he was one of the most forgiving people I know.

He had a big heart and big smile and a big laugh. I will miss this gentle giant greatly. There has not been a day this week where I have woken up without a Ron story or a Ron song. While I am honored, deeply touched to have played my behind the scenes role this week, it is a fitting tribute to Ron. A black evangelical man of deep faith and a rabbi. A rabbi helping plan a funeral for this man, down to the praise music. My playlist and Ron’s were very different. But when I thought about music, I came up with several for me.

Long Road to Freedom which I learned at Girl Scout camp and it turns out to be Christian Gospel. Who knew? Probably Ron.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=txK5ZazkJBU

No More Tears in Heaven, Eric Clapton

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tPm2Fye3Eu4

Carry On Sweet Survivor by Peter Paul and Mary

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=daIyK_gG08E

I Believe from Spring Awakening

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SY1VLM2pTqY

And several versions of the Kaddish.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_lodtbXUZTM

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BF2u7AFPPMo (At 21:19)

Tena came up with Blessings by Laura Story. It was perfect. I pray for blessings and peace.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XQan9L3yXjc

People wanted to know why? Why did G-d need Ron? Why did G-d call him home? That is not in my theology. But over and over again I was called upon this week to answer. This is what I said. Rabbi Harold Kushner wrote a book, “WHEN Bad Things Happen to Good People.” The title is not Why, it is When. What is up to us is how we respond. I choose to answer the call of G-d, “Where are you” with Hineini, Here I am, Lord. I will rededicate myself to the work that Ron and I were doing. Dedication in Hebrew has the same root as education. How appropriate for Ron. Also appropriate for a man who really understood love, I was moved to tears this weekend while leading services by Ahava Rabbah, the prayer that tells us that G-d loves us with an unending love. We know that love because like a good parent, G-d gave us Torah, a system of rules and limits. Something that Ron and I studied together. The prayer continues, to tell us that we that we should lilmod v’lilamed, we should learn and teach…both, learn and teach, two sides of one coin. That’s what Ron did. He learned and taught. And he made sure that every single child could. Every. Single. One. All means all.

“Just as Israel has kept the Sabbath, so has the Sabbath kept Israel.” Ahad Ha’am

What does that mean? That observing Shabbat has helped the Jewish people survive.

Who was Ahad Ha’am? He was an early Zionist and not especially religious or observant but he knew the power of Shabbat and its ability to allow people to regroup, renew, refresh that is so important to all of our survival. It is like the Midrash teaches:

“Moses saw that they had no rest, so he went to Pharaoh and said: ‘If one has a slave and he does not give him rest one day in the week, the slave will die. These are your slaves—if you do not give them one day a week, they will die.’ Said Pharaoh: ‘Go and do with them as you say.’ So Moses ordained for them the Shabbat day for rest.” (Shemot Rabbah 1:32)

But Shabbat is more than survival. There is an argument recorded in the Talmud between Caesar and Rabbi Joshua ben Chananya. He wanted to know why he should bother to give the Israelites a day off a week. Then he asked, “Why do Shabbat foods smell so good? Said he to him: We have a special spice, ‘Shabbat’ is its name . . .” (Talmud, Shabbat 119a)

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel in the mid-twentieth century called Shabbat a palace in time and a foretaste of the world to come.

And perhaps that is the place to start this sermon, which I offer in memory of Ron Raglin, assistant superintendent of U-46. Several weeks ago, there was a call for Chicago rabbis to work Labor Day into our sermons this weekend as Chicago Public Schools is in a heated contract negotiation. I sent the email to Tony Sanders, CEO of U-46 to tell him what I was planning to do. I had no idea how much time I would be spending with Tony this week. But this I am sure of, if Shabbat is a foretaste of the world to come, with a special spice, then Ron is enjoying the real thing. So for Ron…

This weekend we celebrate Labor Day. A national holiday for our workers. A chance to pause and reflect on the role of work and rest in our lives. A last burst of summer before people return the more rigorous schedules that after Labor Day brings. One more burger on the grill. One last vacation weekend. One last family reunion.

And yet…more and more people have to work over Labor Day. Remember to thank:

• Your grocery store clerk—if it isn’t a self-check out lane,
• Your hair dresser, mine is working today, Sunday and Monday, the boss might close at 5 instead of 7 so people can have a barbecue or a picnic.
• Your Barista
• Police, fire, hospital employees all have to work this weekend.
• I’ll remember to thank the grave diggers and the rest of the grounds crew, the sound crew and the janitors.

Some who work over a holiday will get time and a half. Others will see no increase in their pay. Some will trade Labor Day for Christmas or Thanksgiving. But the essential services we have come to depend on will continue to function right through Labor Day. As a police chaplain, I pray for an uneventful weekend, although I am not on call this weekend as a chaplain.

The roots of Labor Day go back to some very important events in our nation’s history. Ones that are even later than 1776 for those of you who think I only know colonial New England history. The roots, I knew, go to Lawrence, MA and the Bread and Roses Strike.

As a life long learner, I learned that there was a connection to Chicago:

The first mention of “Bread and Roses” appeared in the American Magazine in September of 1911. Helen Todd described a group of women from the Chicago Women’s Club, organizing an automobile campaign, remember those were new then, around the State of Illinois, to campaign for the right of women to vote. The women were Catherine McCulloch, an attorney, Anna Blount, a physician, Kate Hughes a minister (you better watch those clergy!) and Helen Todd, a state factory inspector, and Jennie Johnson, a singer.

Rose Scheiderman, a nice Jewish girl, worked tirelessly to improve wages, hours, and safety standard for American working women. Hearing echoes of Pirke Avot, “Ain Torah, Ain Kemach, without Torah no sustenance, no bread, Ain Kemach, Ain Torah, without bread no Torah.”

“What the woman who labors wants is the right to live, not simply exist – the right to life as the rich woman has the right to life, and the sun and music and art. You have nothing that the humblest worker has not a right to have also. The worker must have bread, but she must have roses, too. Help, you women of privilege, give her the ballot to fight with.” Rose Schneiderman, 1912.

Improved wages, safety and hours are the “bread,” the very basic human rights to which working women were entitled. But she also campaigned for “roses”: schools, recreational facilities, and professional networks for trade union women, because she believed that working women deserved much more than a grim subsistence. 

https://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/schneiderman-rose

Another good Jewish boy wrote a poem, entitled “Bread and Roses” that was later set to music by John Denver. John Oppenheim was not only a poet but the principal of the Hebrew High School in Minneapolis.

Bread and Roses
As we come marching, marching, in the beauty of the day,
A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill-lofts gray
Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,
For the people hear us singing, “Bread and Roses, Bread and Roses.”

As we come marching, marching, we battle, too, for men—
For they are women’s children and we mother them again.
Our days shall not be sweated from birth until life closes—
Hearts starve as well as bodies: Give us Bread, but give us Roses.

As we come marching, marching, unnumbered women dead
Go crying through our singing their ancient song of Bread;
Small art and love and beauty their trudging spirits knew—
Yes, it is Bread we fight for—but we fight for Roses, too.

As we come marching, marching, we bring the Greater Days—
The rising of the women means the rising of the race.
No more the drudge and idler—ten that toil where one reposes—
But a sharing of life’s glories: Bread and Roses, Bread and Roses.

— James Oppenheim, 1911.^[40]

After the tragedy of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire, more Jews led the labor organizing effort. It led to legislation mandating factory safety standards and the 40 hour workweek with accepted and legislated breaks. The birth of the International Ladies’ Garment Workers’ Union gave rise to other unions, including the Teamsters, which at one point saved Simon’s job at UPS.

There are more Chicago connections. Emma Goldman, who amongst other things could be described as our own Medina’s stepmother, championed the rights of workers. Rabbi Emil Hirsch whose picture hangs in our social hall and rode the stage coach out from Chicago to officiate at various Jewish functions and Memorial Day, championed the rights of workers and organized labor, even risking his job at Chicago Sinai to preach on this topic when well-heeled business owners sitting in the front row were exhorted to treat their own workers better.

How does that relate to this week’s Torah portion?

This week we read of an extension to Shabbat observance. A radical way to organize society. A release or a cancelling of debts and freedom for slaves. Every seven years. In other places we are told to rest the land as well. This is the Shmita year that the Torah describes. During shmita, the seventh year, debts are cancelled, slaves are released and the land lays fallow. No plowing, planting, pruning or harvesting.

During the time that organized labor was growing in America, Shabbat observance was decreasing. It was a spiritual practice that was slipping, a steep price to pay. Shabbat was a regular work day. It is part of the reason that Chicago Sinai’s main worship was on Sunday morning, not Shabbat. “Blue laws” abounded, forbidding the opening of businesses on Sunday and in some places even mowing grass. The vestiges here in Illinois include not being able to sell liquor Sunday morning. Many Jews felt that they could not earn a living in America without working on Shabbat; others saw it as a hindrance to the dream of assimilation within, and acceptance by, American society. The Jew’s thousands-year-long tenacious hold on the Shabbat was slipping. In some congregations Shabbat clubs began to keep the Sabbath alive.

So as we approach this Labor Day, think about the role, the real leadership Jews played in fighting for worker’s rights. For ensuring that you could choose to sit in that pew today. That you have the freedom to do so. That you could enjoy Shabbat as a palace in time and a foretaste of the world to come. For me, these Jewish values translate into working for equity and justice as Ron Raglin has always fought for, equal pay for women, workers rights and a safe working environment. And a living wage, however that get defined.

And as I said at the beginning. To not forget to thank the people who work this weekend.

The musical Legally Blonde got me through rabbinical school. You may find that surprising, but it is true. One of the musical numbers says, “Love, I’m doing it for love. And love will see me through. With love you can’t lose.”

Today’s Torah portion includes some of the most known commandments. We read the Sh’ma and V’ahavta and the 10 Commandments. Wow! As part of Moses’s farewell address, he wants to make sure the Israelites get the core of Judaism. That even we today get it. This is Moses at his leadership best.

It also is 50 years since Woodstock. Perhaps some of you were there. Many claim to have been. I only know one for sure who was. Peace, love and rock and roll. Revolutionary, no? An example of leadership. Maybe yes and maybe no.

Yesterday was Tu B’av.

Tu B’av is a little holiday mentioned in the Talmud, a joyous day after the tragic day of Tisha B’av marking the beginning of the grape harvest. The unmarried girls of Jerusalem dressed in white, would go out to the vineyards to dance. (Ta’anit 30b-31a) It has become something like a modern day Israeli Valentines Day or Sadie Hawkins day. I can imagine them out in the fields singing Dodi Li:

Dodi li va-ani lo, ha-roeh
Bashoshanium dodi li

I am my beloved and my beloved is mine.

Or perhaps, in fitting with the Woodstock theme:
“Where have all the flowers gone…long time passing…gone to young girls passing…”

Or perhaps “Kisses Sweeter than Wine”…the chorus of which also comes from Song of Songs…Oh Lord, sweeter than wine.

According to the Talmud, no holiday was a joyous as Tu B’av and Yom Kippur. Yes that’s right, Tu B’av and Yom Kippur, perhaps like Woodstock, helped along a little with that grape harvest and some free love. This was also the day that the wood-offering was brought and Josephus referred to it at the Feast of Xylophory Wood bearing.

Wood offering, wood bearing, Woodstock. This pilgrimage anniversary to a dairy farm in rural New York all starts to make sense. Love…I’m doing it for love.

This morning, therefore I want to talk about love. The portion tells us, V’ahavta. You shall love the Lord your G-d. B’chol levacha, with all your heart and intellect, b’chol nafesha, with all your spirit and soul, b’chol me’odecha, with all your everything, with the most you you can muster.

What does it mean to love? (One woman answered something you cherish)

The psychologists will tell you that you can’t legislate a feeling. So how can the Torah, or G-d command us to love? Rabbi Jack Abramowitz suggests that we flip it around. Many people will say they hate Hitler. Why? Even though we have never met him, we are familiar with his evilness, his genocidal leadership. On the other hand, how can we be commanded to love G-d? This requires getting to know G-d and G-d’s actions first. Once we do, we will then love G-d.. https://www.ou.org/torah/mitzvot/taryag/mitzvah418/

It is like the Torah portion itself. After repeating the 10 Commandments, the people are reported to say “we will hear and we will do.” The classic version is “We will do and we will hear.”

This is probably why the rabbis of the Talmud set the order of the Siddur just as we have it today. There is a Sh’ma sandwich. We start with Ahavat Olam or Ahava Rabbah praising G-d for loving us and giving us Torah, like parents love their children by giving them rules and limits. Then we proclaim the Sh’ma, the watchword of our faith, this revolutionary idea that G-d is one and only one and then that is followed by the V’ahavta, the commandment to love. Once you know G-d loves us and that G-d is one, you can’t help but love G-d. Stew Levin says this is the ultimate love song.

It’s a little like the Bob Marley song, “One love, one heart. Let’s get together and feel alright.” Sing it with me. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vdB-8eLEW8g

Perhaps more relevant today that we even realized.

But what if you don’t. Last week we had a very rich discussion at Kiddush about whether G-d is a G-d of vengeance. Some of the Hebrew Bible stories of war and destruction seem at best harsh. How can we love a G-d that does these things? We talked at length about a book I recommend, G-d, a Biography which traces the development of G-d as a literary character.

Part of that question is to attempt to answer the age-old question why do bad things happen to good people. That’s a good question. Even better is when bad things happen to good people. Bad things will happen. The question becomes how do we respond when they do.

The V’ahavta prayer gives us the how to love G-d. It is a love that is active, engaging and full of commitment. Otherwise, promising to love G-d is just an empty promise, G-d tells us how to show our love by telling us, commanding us exactly HOW to love G-d. How to demonstrate it. You might call it a great honey do list.

Teach these very words to your children.
Speak of them in your homes and on your way.
When you lie down and when you rise up. Basically all the time.

Don’t forget these words, these very words. Keep them very close at hand. Write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates. Put them between your eyes.

Rabbi Scott Hausman Weiss said it well:

• Be someone whose actions teach your children of goodness and greatness by way of your deeds more than your words.
• Be someone whose family would affirm that you are as decent at home, as your colleagues think you are at work. And, vice versa.
• Be someone whose life could be worthy of being chanted, like words of Torah. (Just like we are about to do)

http://jhvonline.com/vahavta-love-is-just-the-beginning-p15438-290.htm

This is revolutionary too.

Then the V’ahavta gives us the answer to another question. Why? Why does this matter? Why should we bother? And G-d reminds us that we were slaves in the land of Egypt. And G-d remembered us and took note of us and took us out. That showed G-d’s love of us.

There is another use of the word V’ahavta in the Torah. V’ahavta l’reyacha kamocha. Love your neighbor as yourself. (Leviticus 19:18) Both Hillel and Jesus taught that this was really the central teaching of the Torah. If we could study this verse and master it, all the rest of the Torah is commentary. It too is rooted in remembering that we were slaves in Egypt and that G-d took us out with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm.

Not only are we commanded to love G-d and love our neighbor as ourselves but to love the stranger. “Love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt”. There the word is V’ahavtem, in the plural you form. But that is next week’s Torah portion.

It is simple, no? On this weekend of Woodstock, of free love, we are told, commanded, Love G-d, Love your neighbor. Love the stranger. It’s what the Bible tells us to do. It’s revolutionary. Peace, love and rock and roll.

.And the old shall dream dreams, and the youth shall see visions,
And our hopes shall rise up to the sky.
We must live for today; we must build for tomorrow.
Give us time, give us strength, give us life.
Debbie Friedman based on Joel 2:28 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wahrvf_uAYc

Let the peace of Oseh Shalom settle over you. Dan did a great job of leading it this morning. Today’s sermon feels decidedly unfinished. And it is guaranteed to make none of you happy.

Today is Shabbat Hazon, the Shabbat of Vision, the Shabbat just before Tisha B’av, which we observe tomorrow because in fact today is Shabbat and we don’t mourn on Shabbat.

We’ve spent several weeks talking about prophecy and call. Today I want to talk about vision and Isaiah.

At CKI we have a vision statement that was developed by the vision committee and adopted by the entire congregation, almost 10 years ago. That statement says that we are a Jewish congregation dedicated to lifelong learning, meaningful observance, building community and embracing diversity.

What does vision mean to you? People answered that it was more than sight. It had to do with seeing into the future with hope and aspiration. It is what we can and should become.

Vision means at its basic level sight. The second definition according to Merriam Webster is “something seen in a dream, trance, or ecstasy especially : a supernatural appearance that conveys a revelation, b: a thought, concept, or object formed by the imagination, c: a manifestation to the senses of something immaterial”

For the prophets it meant something more. It meant the ability to offer hope for the future while looking at the past.

Today we begin to read the book of Deuteronomy. The entire book can be seen as Moses’ farewell address, where he reminds people of the covenant and repeats the 10 commandments. It is beautiful Hebrew. It gives us the Sh’ma and the V’ahavta and promises us a good land, one flowing with milk and honey. And it assures us that even though Moses is not going with us, somehow we will be alright. It transitions the leadership to Joshua and then it tells us never again would there arise a navi, a prophet like Moses who knew G-d face to face.

Today we also read about another prophet, Isaiah. Isaiah too had a vision. We know part of Isaiah’s vision, “Every one ‘neath their vine and fig tree, shall live in peace and unafraid. And into plow share beat their swords, nation shall learn war no more.”

George Washington quoted this very verse to the members of the Hebrew Congregation in Newport RI. It is part of the Isaiah Wall at UN Headquarters, designed by Ralph Bunche, the first African American to win a Nobel peace prize in 1950. It is the basis for Yehudai Amichai’s poem:

An Appendix to the Vision of Peace
Tosefet Lachazon Hashalom
Don’t stop after beating the swords
into plowshares, don’t stop! Go on beating
and make musical instruments out of them.
Whoever wants to make war again
will have to turn them into plowshares first.
– Yehuda Amichai

What is your vision of sitting under your vine and fig tree? There was actual silence. Unusual in my place. Then one brave woman said, “It is hard to even imagine these days. I’m scared. All the time.” Chilling.

I was fortunate. I lived it out last night, sitting on my new deck, watching the sunset while some ducks swam and sipping a glass of Shabbat wine.

This was a hard week. This was not a week of Isaiah’s vision. Far from it. Since we gathered last we learned of the horrors of El Paso, of Dayton, of Chicago, where last weekend alone 7 were killed and 46 were wounded. This was a week that saw Elgin’s first shooting, a homicide, in over a year, that began over a dispute. A senseless dispute.

This was a week where I spent more hours as a trusted advisor to the city in my role as rabbi and chaplain watching the police shooting video from last year. And then more conversations about it with more to come next week.

And I have homework. To read a book written by Dave Grossman, On Killing, The Psychological Cost of Learning to Kill in War and Society. I’ll be honest. I’m not looking forward to it, but when the deputy police chief recommends it, you listen. This week we also lost (lost is never the right word here. He was murdered.) a young man, a 19 year old stabbing victim clutching a different Dave Grossman book as he died. He was bringing it to his rabbi to discuss peace on the West Bank.

This is what I know. I am angry. Outraged. Scared. I know we have to do something. Because doing nothing is no longer an option.

This is what I didn’t know. Knives are actually more dangerous than guns. They are more “personal” but guns can kill more people more quickly. I didn’t know that bulletproof vests don’t stop knives. I should have but I didn’t. I didn’t know that the ambulance had been called but was being held by the state police back where 90 was closed until the scene was “secure”. I didn’t know that the officers had seen two knives. I didn’t know she had slit her throat and her wrists. I didn’t know until this week that she did have two feet on the ground, pointed toward the officers not away from them. That she died clutching both knives.

This is what I know. These events are never as clear as they may at first appear. They are very, very nuanced. Causing us to ask again, what is vision? How do you know even what you have seen? For months I had said I couldn’t see the second knife. Now I can. And had I been there would I have seen it sitting on the seat? Would I have wondered if there was also a gun? Would I have worried about that car on fire would blow up?

That burning car with its fuel tank changed everything.

This is not me doing apologetics for the EPD. This police shooting fits a national pattern. Sadly. A national problem. This is me having spent hours, too many to count, watching, and listening and asking really hard questions. Is the lieutenant a racist? Or exhibiting implicit bias? Would waiting another second, two, three, four make a difference. Would more mental health training and not screaming at her produced a different outcome? What is the difference in verb choice between charge, stumble, fell out, exited the vehicle? What do you see?

And I am coming to a possible new conclusion. This is me thinking about our tradition of teshuvah and forgiveness and healing. We believe in yeshivah, that the gates of repentance are always open. I am uncomfortable when someone stands up at a meeting and states that the city can never heal. As painful as it is, the city has to heal. Somehow. At some point.

And I don’t know. I don’t know what the answers are.

What I do know: events like National Night Out and Soccer for Peace work. They decrease the violence. That guns kill. That this, too, is a national problem. That too many black and brown people die. That too many people devalue human life and turn into killers. That we have too much easy access to guns. That the desire (?) to kill cannot be attributed to one factor. It is too easy to say it is violent video games, or mental illness.

On a special on the Today Show a psychiatrist said that hostility, anger, bigotry, craving infamy, blaming others for the their problems and easy access to weapons are some of the causes. I would add a history of domestic violence. We as a community also need to concerned with the documented rising anti-semitism. Yet that fits in the category of bigotry.

https://www.today.com/video/is-there-a-link-between-gun-violence-and-video-games-65829445509

She cautions however, while we maybe feeling anxious, “We cannot let these examples of mass violence steal our joy.”

This is what I know too. In Isaiah’s vision in today’s portion, he says:

“Your rulers are rogues and cronies of thieves, Every one avid for presents and greedy for gifts; They do not judge the case of the orphan, And the widow’s cause never reaches them (Isaiah 1:24).”

Some say the definition of insanity is to keep repeating the same thing. We can no longer afford to do that. Thoughts and prayers are not enough. They ring hollow. Even from this rabbi. Especially from this rabbi.

I have been too close to too many of these shooting for too long. I too am a victim of a violent crime that involved guns, legally issued guns by the Israeli army. Because of that I have spent decades working on this very issue. And then…my sister-in-law was the district director for Gabby Giffords’ predecessor. That is their grocery store. My other sister-in-law was at that very mall to get her nails done that morning. They knew everyone shot. And then…my college roommates kid was a 6 year old in Newtown, CT that fateful day. He was not harmed but he lost friends that day. And then…a friend of mine from Israel, who made aliyah because of Columbine, moved back to the Denver area because it would be safer, only to have a daughter at the movie theater the night of that shooting. And just last year, one of my students from Chelmsford, was wounded in Parkland. This insanity has to stop. Isaiah’s vision includes being able to go to school, to the movies, to the grocery and yes, here to synagogue without fear.

We have spent lots of time thinking about safety and security here at CKI. There are no perfect answers. There will be police for the High Holidays. We are continuing to beef up other options. The reality is that hiring the police costs $213 every single time. That is not a sustainable model, even if we do get the homeland security grant. While having an officer maybe a deterrent to some, it does not stop someone hell-bent on committing these kinds of mass murders, as we sadly learned from Gilroy and Dayton.

Our own rulers seem unable to recognize that what we are doing as a nation isn’t working. I am not talking about dismantling the Second Amendment. I am talking about it being more difficult to obtain guns, high powered assault rifles with large magazines, designed as instruments of war, only to kill people. That’s why I have been proud to support Rabbi Joel Mosbacher’s organization, Don’t Stand Idly By, which advocates for Smart Gun Technology. His own father was killed by a gun in a robbery in Chicago. The mayor of Elgin and the former police chief have both signed on.

This is what I still don’t know. I don’t know how get people to understand one of the central messages of Deuteronomy. “I have set before you blessing and curse. Choose life that you may live.” Let us all choose life that we may live.

Reading before Kaddish
The words that the rabbi in Dayton used, words of my good friend Alden Solovy, professor of liturgy at Hebrew Union College:

After a Deadly Rampage
Author of life
Source and Creator,
Grant a perfect rest under Your tabernacle of peace
To the victims of the massacre
In _________________________ [add place of the event],
Whose lives were cut off by violence,
A rampage of witless aggression beyond understanding.
Their hopes were severed.
Their dreams were lost to brutality.
May their souls be bound up in the bond of life,
A living blessing in our midst.
May they rest in peace.

G-d of justice and mercy,
Remember, too, the survivors of this attack,
Witnesses of shock, horror and dismay.
Ease their suffering and release their trauma
So that they recover lives of joy and wonder.
Grant them Your shelter and solace,
Blessing and renewal.
Grant them endurance to survive,
Strength to rebuild,
Faith to mourn,
And courage to heal.

Remember the families and friends
Of the dead and the wounded.
With comfort and consolation.
Grant them Your protection,
Your wholeness and healing.
May they find hope and renewal.

Heavenly Guide,
Source of love and shelter,
Put an end to anger, hatred and fear
And lead us to a time when
No one will suffer at the hand of another,
Speedily, in our day.© 2012 Alden Solovy and tobendlight.com. All rights reserved.

What a lovely tradition this is. Thank you for including me and welcoming me. And thank you for bringing us the idea of co-sponsoring the event last month on Rabbi Evan Moffic’s book, First the Jews. This kind of join programming is important. I think it actually saves lives. And make no mistake, the friendship that has developed between Father Don and I, between Don and David and Simon and I has helped to save lives. He told you about my showing up at the hospital. But who do you think showed up the first morning of chemo for my husband, with a Saint James prayer blanket?! And who do you think would drive him home if I had to work?

This program in particular reminds me of the early days of the kibbutzim, where young halutzim really understood the connection to the land. The land is important. It is an honor to be here today, to share this message. You see, my father, when he was a medical school professor at Northwestern, was part of the first national Earth Day in 1970. We referred to our home in Evanston as Dandelion Acres. Because even back then we were “organic,” we weren’t using those harsh chemicals that might destroy the environment.

Look around you. This is beautiful. Be quiet and hear the birds. Marvel at the notion that at 6 AM it was pouring, then there was a rainbow and now this. Enjoy the breeze. Wind, and spirit are both ruach in Hebrew. Wind is the very breath of G-d.

From the beginning of the Bible, the Torah, as you have just read, G-d created the world and saw that it was good and as Bishop Tutu said, smiled. And the Ruach Elohim, the spirit of G-d, merachefet, fluttered over the water.

This is very good, man woman and child. All are good.

Rabbi Chaim Stern edited the Reform Movement Gates of Prayer and included his prayer that became a song:

When G-d made the world, G-d made it full of light.
The sun to shine by day
The moon and stars by night
G-d made it full of life
Lilies oak and trout
Tigers and bears, sparrows, hawks
And apes. (laughter, as anticipated)

And God took clay from earth’s four corners to give it the breath of life,
And God said:
This is very good. This is very good. This is very, very good.
Man , women, and child: all are good.
Man woman and child resemble god.

Like God, we love, like God we think, like God we care.
Man, woman and child all are good.

Just as the song and the Bible itself suggests, each of us is created, b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d. And each of us has an obligation to be a partner with G-d in the works of a creation. As co-creators, caretakers, partners.

This is a covenantal relationship. A covenant is a promise. It can be a legal contract or a treaty. If you do x I will do y. This past year, Congregation Kneseth Israel spent the year looking at covenant. There are 346 mentions of covenant in the Bible, (don’t worry, we are not going to do all of them!) 270 mentions in the Hebrew Scriptures alone. There are several different covenants in the Bible:

The covenant of creation, which we are enjoying right here, right now today, out here in this beautiful setting, of the Garden of Eden where G-d commands Adam and Eve to be fruitful and multiply and while they have dominion over the earth, they need to be caretakers of the earth and G-d’s partner in creation.

The covenant with Abraham, and of Moses, where circumcision and Shabbat are the signs of the covenant.

Perhaps most relevant to us today is the covenant with Noah. where G-d promises never to destroy the world again by flood. The sign of that covenant is the rainbow which some of us were treated to early this morning. There is a Jewish blessing for a rainbow. Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech Ha’olam, zochair habrit. Blessed are You, Lord our G-d, who remembers the covenant.

That promise that G-d makes to never destroy the world again. Listen carefully. Never again through water.

“And I will remember My covenant, which is between Me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and never again shall the water become a flood to destroy all flesh.” (Gen. 9:15)

The words of the Gospel spiritual says. Anyone know it? I promised not to try to sing this one. Perhaps if I had been totally on my game, Luke could have amplified the Youtube clip. I’ll send Father Don the link.

It’s gonna rain (2x),
you better get ready and bear this in mind.
God showed Noah by the rainbow sign,
no more water, but fire next time.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6GdL8i6QQAQ

But fire next time. It is happening now. July was the hottest July on record. This is an indisputable fact. https://www.noaa.gov/news/july-2019-was-hottest-month-on-record-for-planet?fbclid=IwAR1t-OiI7ZP5TPLWoKn6U2a61-swJY1aZFDX6CUmoFRb86-SZ6oTezQcgas

Today is Tisha B’av. A Jewish fast day commemorating the destruction of the two Holy Temples in Jerusalem. Anything bad that happened to the Jews happened on Tisha B’av. The first set of tablets of the 10 commandments were smashed. The two temples destroyed, the expulsion of the Jews from England and then later from Spain. That was in 1492 and that is a different story for another time but very relevant to those of us who live in the Elgin area.

Since the 1970s, Jewish rabbis have been talking about Tisha B’av with its fires of destruction as a way to talk about two much more recent issues. The bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. And the issue of scorched earth policy.

This earth, this very earth that we are standing on today, is our Holy Temple. If we destroy it by fire, we will have nothing. If we destroy it with our dependence on fossil fuels and we destroy the ozone layer, the very thing my father was worried about back in the 70s, we will have nothing. If we destroy it by refusing to listen to the prophet/scientists warning on climate change, we will have nothing.

We are the generation that stands
between the fires:
Behind us the flame and smoke
that rose from Auschwitz and from Hiroshima
And from the burning of the Amazon forest;
Before us the nightmare of a Flood of Fire,
The flame and smoke that could consume all earth.

It is our task to make from fire not an all-consuming blaze
But the light in which we see each other fully.
All of us different, All of us bearing
One Spark.

We light these fires to see more clearly
That the earth and all who live as part of it
Are not for burning.
We light these fires to see more clearly
The rainbow in our many-colored faces.
Blessed is the One within the many.
Blessed are the many who make One.

Here! I will send you
Elijah the Prophet
Before the coming
of the great and terrible day
of YAHH, the Breath of Life.
And he shall turn the heart
Of parents to children
And the heart of children to their parents.
Lest I come and
Smite the earth
With utter destruction.
(From Malachi 3)

Here! we ourselves are coming
Before the great and terrible day
of smiting Earth —
For we shall turn the hearts
Of parents to children
And the hearts of children to their parents
So that this day of smiting
Does not fall upon us.

Rabbi Arthur Waskow

https://theshalomcenter.org/content/flaming-fire-consuming-everything-tisha-bav-time-climate-crisis

Yesterday, Jews around the world began reading the book of Deuteronomy. Later in the  book, we are told Tzedek, tzedek tirdof, justice, justice shall you pursue. It is not just something we can wait for in our pews and our homes. It is something we have to run after and work for. It is something we have to actively seek out. It is said that there are no extra words in the Torah, so why then does the word justice repeat. For emphasis, surely. But that extra word also reminds us that we need to seek out justice, here in our own communities, and out there in communities further away.

Later in that very reading, we are given the rules for waging war. It was my daughter’s Bat Mitzvah portion. It tells us to bal taschit, don’t destroy. Specifically don’t destroy a fruit tree. Do you grow any fruit trees here? If so don’t destroy them! What the text says, if you are sieging a city, don’t destroy the fruit trees. The people in the city must not be deprived of their food source. This principle of bal taschit, don’t destroy is then applied to the whole range of environmental justice.

We have an obligation therefore, as part of our covenant to never destroy the world. To do no harm. Like we learned at Girl Scout camp, to leave a place better than we found it. This very world we need to leave better than we found it.

A story from the Talmud as retold by Peninah Schram:
One day, Honi the Circle Maker was walking on the road and saw a man planting a carob tree. Honi asked the man, “How long will it take for this tree to bear fruit?” The man replied, “Seventy years.” Honi then asked the man, “And do you think you will live another seventy years and eat the fruit of this tree?” He answered, “Just as my ancestors planted for me, I must plant for my children and grandchildren.” I tell this story at least once a year. Usually at the Jewish holiday of Tu B’shevat, the New Year of the Trees. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be back out here for that? Never mind. That’s usually January!

As part of our exploration of covenant this past year, the Hebrew School used the book, A Kid’s Mensch Handbook, A Step by Step Guide to a Lifetime of Jewish Values. Scott Blumenthal argues on the very first page that our actions matter. That if you throw a rock into a pond, a lake, an ocean, there is a ripple effect. Maimonides, centuries earlier make a similar argument…that our individual actions can tip the scale.

Both say that your actions matter. It is like the starfish story that I often retell:

A grandfather and his granddaughter are walking on the beach. Every so often she picks up a starfish and throws it out into the water. He stops her and says, “Why are you doing that? You can’t possible save them all.”

She bends down, picks up another starfish and throws it into the sea, “It makes a difference to this one.” Her grandfather then joins her, hurling starfish back into the sea. (Adapted from the Star Thrower by Loren C. Eiseley)

At Girl Scout Camp, we learned graces, prayers that were said before meals to thank G-d for the bounty of the earth. My favorite was one that goes like this:

“Back of the bread is the flour and back of the flour is the mill and back of the mill is the wind and the rain and the father’s will.”

What we learn from these stories is that the Father’s will, is not enough. It has to be G-d together with us, committed to being partners and co-creators in a covenantal relationship that will help save this precious Creation.

But perhaps the song I should leave you with is one written by Hannah Shenesh. Hannah lived on a kibbutz near Caesaria. She was a poet and she was a paratrooper. During WWII she was parachuted behind enemy lines in Hungary where she was captured and murdered in Auschwitz. This is her song,

Eli Eli
Shelo v’gamer l’olam
Hachol v’hayam
Rishrush shel hamayim
Barak hashamayim
Tefilat ha’adam

Oh Lord, my G-d
I pray that these things never end
The sand and the sea
The rush of the water
The crash of the heavens
The prayer of the heart.

Together, as part of our covenant with G-d, we can make that so. We must. It is part of our covenantal relationship. You can make that difference. You can tip the scale. Amen!

10 Ways You Can Help the Planet: The Ripple Effect

1. Use less water. Turn off the water while you are brushing your teeth. Fix the leaky toilet or sink. You can save 200 gallons a day. Or try a low flush toilet like they have at the Morton Arboretum. Install a rain barrel as we will here to water the community garden.. Try tap water—or filtered water rather than all the plastic bottles. Wash your clothes in cold water.
2. Leave your car at home. If you can stay off the road just two days a week you can reduce greenhouse gas emissions by an average of 15,90 pounds per year according to the EPA. So combine your errands. It will save gas and time.
3. Walk or ride your bike to work. Do what Pastor Katie from Highland Avenue Church of the Brethren does. Bike. All over town. Great for health as you burn some calories. If you can’t walk or ride (or run)—try mass transit or carpooling. One of the great things about Elgin is the Metra—quick and easy way to get into Chicago and now the Pace Bus over at Jane Addams. Also the series of bike trails. Try the one along the river.
4. It reduces pollution just by remembering to put the bottle or can in the recycling bin. Here at CKI we have single stream recycling—and we have bins in the office and the kitchen.
5. We used to have compost here at CKI. It would be great to start up again as a way to feed our community garden and keep additional “trash” out of our landfill.
6. Look up. The lights above you are now LEDs, using on average 2/3rds less energy. Our newest appliances at CKI are Energy Star rated. Energy Star estimates that since December 2013 it has helped families and businesses save $295 billion on utility bills and prevented more that 2.3 billion tons of greenhouse gas emissions from being released in the past two decades. My dream is to one day have a solar ner tamid, our Eternal Light. My teacher Rabbi Everett Gendler, installed and dedicated the first solar ner tamid in 1978 at Temple Emanuel of the Merrimack Valley. The sun is eternal—or at least we think. This is an important symbolic act—because our actions matter.
7. Make your home—and CKI—more energy efficient. It saves money. Clean your air filter. Get a programmable thermostat—as CKI has already done. Reduce the temperature when you are sleeping.
8. Maintain your car. Underinflated tires decrease fuel economy and increase air pollution. And underinflation increases tire wear, so you will save money—on gas and new tires. While you are at it:
9. Drive smarter. Drive slower. Save more gas. Save more money.
10. Turn off lights when you are not in the room and unplug appliances when you are not using them.

https://science.howstuffworks.com/environmental/green-science/save-earth-top-ten1.htm

Sometimes my congregation wonders when personal time and work time differ. Sometimes it isn’t clear. Sometimes I do things that are “rabbinic” for the greater good or because as a rabbi I am asked to do so, I feel called to. This is one of those weekends.

Tisha B’av is the saddest day on the Jewish calendar. We mourn the destruction of both Holy Temples, the expulsion of the Jews from England and then from Spain. Personally I mourn the death of my mother-in-law which also occurred on Tisha B’av.

Traditionally this is a day marked with fasting, not wearing leather, singing dirges in low tones on low stools. Since the founding of the State of Israel, some of that has seemed less mournful. Sometimes there are other things we also mourn: the Holocaust, Hiroshima and Nagasaki, climate change, various incursions and intifadas in modern day Israel. Some years I think why are we still mourning; it has no relevance. Then every year there is something that makes me continue the tradition.

This is one of those years.

Part One:
Shabbat suspends the 3 weeks of mourning. Nonetheless the Shabbat before Tisha B’av is called Shabbat Hazon, the Sabbath of Vision. This past week we saw the mass shootings in El Paso and Dayton, 7 killed and 46 wounded in Chicago and the first and I hope only murder of the year in Elgin. How could I not, as we move into Tisha B’av, as we read the words of Isaiah, talk about violence.

Part Two:
My husband and I attended a service at a neighboring synagogue. The premise was to read parts of the Book of Eicha and then a discussion group of “From Victimhood to Victory: The Dilemma of Suffering and Forgiveness.” It was a rich evening of exploring how working the 12 Step Program from Alcoholic Anonymous can help people overcome personal trauma and not feel like a victim.

Part Three:
I was asked to preach at Rogation Sunday, a Sunday in the Episcopal Church set aside to bless the soil, water and seeds. In some places you actually bless the tractors. The priest, Don Frye, a good friend wanted me to talk about our connection to the land and our responsibility as caretakers of Creation to partner with G-d to live out the covenant. Many have made the connection between climate change, the burning up of the earth and mourning for those Temples that burned. I was happy, yes, even on Tisha B’av, to bring a message of covenant, partnership and responsibility. It was a very meaningful morning. (And I am very appreciative of the daisy plant I received since Margaret means daisy pearl.)

Part Four:
My husband came to me sometime last week and asked if I knew about this event in Kankakee about refugees and Tisha B’av. It seemed like the appropriate way to mark his mother’s yahrzeit since his mother had done so much around refugee resettlement. In fact all of the Kleins have, coming out of our uniquely Jewish experience. I tried not to laugh. I was on the planning committee and had a small speaking part. Because really, where else would I be on Tisha B’av, a holiday dedicated to mourning how we as a people became exiled.

Turns out Kankakee is further than we thought and we were late. But we ran into lots of friends and colleagues from the wider Jewish community. There were tears as stories were told of unspeakable tragedies forcing other immigrants to leave their countries, the homelands, the land of their birth, the parents home (hear the echoes of Abraham and Sarah? It was deliberate!) and came to this country some of who have faced unspeakable tragedies here. But speak them we must. I hear the most haunting was Rabbi Maralee Gordon chanting some of those stories in Eicha trope.

I spoke briefly. Said that my family has worked on refugee resettlement for decades and that I have a Guatemalan son-in-law that was airlifted off a football field in 1983 and a Cambodian nephew rescued from the killing fields. They are both American citizens now. And they are the lucky ones.

For me, the most uplifting and affirming was singing Hashiveinu which comes out of Eicha/Lamentations and is central to the Torah service and to the High Holiday liturgy.

Turn us back, turn us back, O LORD to You
and we will return,
renew, renew our days as before.

Then I blew shofar with four other shofar blowers.

That’s the spirit in which I return from Kankakee, ready to prepare for the High Holidays. (In truth that preparation is already underway, way underway.)

We turn now to Tu B’av and are reminded that the solution of sinat chinam, baseless hatred is ahavat chinam, baseless love. Love your neighbor as yourself. Love the sojourner. Don’t stand idly by while your neighbor bleeds. Love.

(The words of this weekend’s d’vrei Torah will be available shortly. But first rest.)

Today we were treated to an example of leadership. Leadership by example. Today I helped celebrate a Bar Mitzvah of a special young man. He chose as his project to host a soccer scrimmage game for an organization called Soccer for Peace. And then he role modeled that peace. For Ein Keholenu he taught one of his teammates the Hebrew words and they led it together. For Adon Olam, he taught one of his teammates the Hebrew words and they led it together. A Jewish American Mongolian Bar Mitzvah and an Indian American. A Jewish American Mongolian Bar Mitzvah and a Latino. Peace through prayer. Peace through soccer. For one shining moment.

We talked extensively about “Love your neighbor as yourself,” as we plan for National Night Out. As we “borrow” our neighbors’ church parking lots and the funeral home’s lot across the street.

While we were singing, there was another mass shooting. This time at a WalMart in El Paso. I’ve been to a Bnei Mitzvah at the synagogue in El Paso. My twin niece and nephew. That was a day of peace too. I know the rabbi in El Paso. He has done a lot of research and work with “hidden Jews”, the descendants of Jews who came to the New World escaping the Spanish Inquisition. Every year, in a community that is 47% Hispanic, someone sits in my office and tells me they think they might be Jewish because their grandmother lights candles on Friday night or they fast on one special day in September or they never eat pork. And I think of Rabbi Stephen Leon.

I know the rabbi in Las Cruces, Rabbi Larry Karol from when he was the rabbi in Dover, NH. He was only 48 miles away from the shooting. He was worked extensively with refugees and asylum seekers. In Las Cruces and in Dover.

I spoke words this morning about the connection between peace and land. I even told a Mongolian coming of age story. You see, this morning’s Bar Mitzvah is the child of a mother born in Mongolia and a father from Long Island. Her father came to the United States, like many to follow the American dream.

What I didn’t talk about, choosing instead to celebrate this young man, was the idea of sanctuary cities. I have spoken about them before. How we need to have one law for citizen and sojourner alike. How we need to protect the widow, the orphan and the stranger. All of that was in today’s Torah portion. Instead, I talked about inheritance. The Torah is his inheritance. However his words and his actions give me hope on a very dark day.

My remarks:

Take a deep breath. Look around. Smile. You did it…but that was never in doubt, was it?

Your Torah portion, was you’ve just taught us, is about the daughters of Zelophefad. Now Zelophad had no sons, and back in the day, his land would just revert to common property. No one to inherit, right?

Wrong. The daughters of Zelophefed stood up for themselves. Spoke out to Moses who then questioned G-d and the daughters inherited their father’s land.

Today is about your inheritance. When we passed down the Torah to you, from generation to generation, you received an inheritance. You are a link in that chain. When we practiced that on Thursday, there were tears from your grand parents. I can’t say for certain, but I imagine that those were tears of joy and pride, naches in Yiddish. I know that you are the only grandchild who had a Bar or Bat Mitzvah and you then have become that chain.

When Israel stood to receive the Torah, the Holy One said to them: “I am prepared to give you My Torah. Present to Me good guarantors that you will observe and study the Torah and I shall give it to you.”

They said: “Our ancestors are our guarantors.”

The Holy One said: “Your ancestors are not sufficient guarantors. Bring Me good guarantors, and I shall give you the Torah.”

They said: “Our prophets are our guarantors.”

The Holy One said: “The prophets are not sufficient guarantors. Bring Me good guarantors and I shall give you the Torah.”

They said: “Indeed, our children will be our guarantors.”

The Holy One said: “Your children are good guarantors. For their sake I give the Torah to you.”

You are that guarantor.

I often tell another the story, that of Honi the Circle Drawer. Peninah Schram tells it this way:

“Honi the Wise One was also known as Honi the Circle Maker. By drawing a circle and stepping inside of it, he would recite special prayers for rain, sometimes even argue with God during a drought, and the rains would come. He was, indeed, a miracle maker. As wise as he was, Honi sometimes saw something that puzzled him. Then he would ask questions so he could unravel the mystery. One day, Honi the Circle Maker was walking on the road and saw a man planting a carob tree. Honi asked the man, “How long will it take for this tree to bear fruit?” The man replied, “Seventy years.” Honi then asked the man, “And do you think you will live another seventy years and eat the fruit of this tree?”

The man answered, “Perhaps not. However, when I was born into this world, I found many carob trees planted by my father and grandfather. Just as they planted trees for me, I am planting trees for my children and grandchildren so they will be able to eat the fruit of these trees.”

You are the inheritor of two traditions…there is a lovely little book, The Blue Sky, about the coming of age of a little (the book doesn’t say how little) boy born in Mongolia. Tucked high in the Altai Mountains, the nomadic Tuvan people’s ancient way of life is colliding with modernity. Sound familiar? The young Sheppard boy, Dshurukuwaa (I can’t pronounce his name either, Yuna!) goes through a coming of age challenge. His older siblings leave the family yurt to attend boarding school. His grandmother dies and they lose the connection to the ancient traditions and their deep relationship with the land. And then his dog dies, what he believed was “all that was left to him.” The boy keeps asking despairing questions, like why is this happening to me. And the Heavenly Blue Sky only answers in the silence of the wind.

That is either very Buddhist or very Jewish. Or both. My father used to say that a good Jew is someone who questions, thinks and argues. Keep asking those deep questions and listening for the answers and making them your own.

These were a nomadic people. People who wandered. Not in the desert like the Israelites, but wandered in the mountains. Today you completed reading the Book of Numbers, Bamidbar, in the wilderness. On the land. Soon, in our sacred story telling, the Israelites wandering will be over. But that wandering brought the Israelites closer together and gave them strength! It taught them and unified their traditions which became their inheritance.

When you play soccer under a deep blue sky, you have a connection to the land, as you run up and down the field. That connection to your teammates, and the land and your love of the game, led you to explore Soccer for Peace, an organization that promotes peace in the Middle East by allowing boys and girls to play soccer in war torn towns. Places where they are fighting over the land. Who owns it? Who gets to inherit it? Even who gets to play soccer on it.

Wednesday night, I encourage any of you to come out to play soccer, even if you’ve never played before. We’ll just have fun kicking a ball around. No headers though—we don’t need any more concussions!

The Torah is your inheritance—and you are our guarantor.

Brandon, you have a deep connection to your people. You have a deep connection to the land and to soccer and to your friends. Like Honi and the little boy in Mongolia, you ask deep questions. Keep asking those questions, Keep listening for those answers.

Last week I didn’t think my Torah discussion went well. Every now and then it just doesn’t flow.

This week we are going to continue our discussion of haftarah and prophesy. During the discussion, one of you asked a really important question. How do we recognize a prophet—as opposed to maybe a quack. And while there is a history of false prophets, distinguishing that voice can be difficult.

Distinguishing that voice is important. Later in the week I saw a quote about if the voice is telling you to champion the widow, the orphan, the stranger, then it is real. Otherwise, it is false. I went back to the person and got the original source:

“Sometimes in history the name of God has been invoked on behalf of actions and movements that have ennobled the human soul and lifted the body politic to a higher plane. Take the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., and the American civil rights movement, or Archbishop Desmond Tutu and the struggle against South African apartheid, as examples. Other times religious fervor has been employed for the worst kinds of sectarian and violent purposes. The Ku Klux Klan, the troubles in Northern Ireland, the wars in the former Yugoslavia, and David Koresh’s Branch Davidian standoff in Waco, Texas, are frightening examples.

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?

That is one answer. A prophet is someone who speaks out for the marginalized. The widow, the orphan, the stranger.

A few months ago, in a class on “Finding Meaning” one member of the class objected to a reading by Lord Rabbi Sacks, the Chief Rabbi Emeritus of Great Britain who talked about teaching as a calling. This former teacher had never thought of teaching that way and didn’t think that Jews used that term. It led to an interesting conversation about whether the pastor across the street is called and whether I as a rabbi am called.

This week we read about Jeremiah beginning with Jeremiah’s call. Jeremiah was a historical figure. One of the reasons we know he was real, is that we have found the seal of Baruch, Jeremiah’s scribe. Now some have argued that it is a fake…and you are welcome to read all that material online, but if you conclude that you are arguing with the chief archeologist of Israel, a professor at Tel Aviv University and the Israel Museum where it is displayed. Me, I find the seal, called a bulla, thrilling.

We have a timeline. In 627 BCE Jeremiah received his call. In 622 Jeremiah explained the covenant and the Israelites obligations. In 609 Jeremiah proclaimed that the covenant was indeed broken and that dire things were about to happen if the Israelites didn’t “return”, perform teshuvah. And, he was there to witness the fall of Jerusalem, just as he predicted in 586 BCE.

The history fascinates me, but what do we mean when we say some one like Jeremiah is called?

During the discussion there were a number of answers, ranging from everyone has gifts to share and that is their calling. No one is really called. A sense of the difference between being compelled or being obligated to do something. It is that sense you can’t do anything else. (I joked about second career rabbis!) But maybe that word should be impelled and that it is the difference between an external driver and an internal driver. And one person who explained that scientists who warn about climate change might be the modern day prophets, scientifically based. It was a very rich discussion. It is actually the kind of moment that thrills me as a rabbi and brings joy. And it mirrored some of the other material I had studied for the purpose of this very discussion:

The sense of call is, in fact, very Jewish, Biblical, but we have often surrendered that language to Christians. When I was applying to rabbinical school people actually warned me NOT to use the language of call because I should sound too Christian or too crazy, even if I had that internal sense.

Yet the very beginning of the Book of Leviticus, Vayikra is Hebrew means, “And G-d called.” That’s what Vayikra means. It is important to note that in every Torah scroll the last letter of Vayikra, aleph is written smaller than the other letters. Every single scroll. Why a little aleph?

Now aleph is a silent letter. It is almost impossible to hear the silent sound of aleph. Rabbi Larry Kushner tells a wonderful midrash in his book, The Book of Miracles, where he explains that the Aleph is what enables us to have a conversation. The commentary on Vayikra however, the sages teach us that the word can either mean “He encountered or he chanced upon,” or “And he called.” Rabbi Sacks, continuing our discussion from last week, says, “What is the difference between the prophets of Israel and the prophets of the pagan nations of the world? . . . R. Hama ben Hanina said: The Holy One blessed be He reveals himself to the pagan nations by an incomplete form of address, as it is said, “And the Lord appeared to Bilaam”, whereas to the prophets of Israel He appears in a complete form of address, as it is said, “And He called to Moses.”

So the question becomes, if prophecy ceased with Ezra and Nehemiah as we talked about last week, can we hear G-d’s voice today?

Psalm 29 talks about G-d’s powerful voice 7 times. We know that song…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.

On the other hand, we have Elijah’s notion of the still, small voice, something internal, eternal, something inside of us.

This seems to be echoed in the words of Jeremiah’s call:
“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

Which seems to be echoed in Psalm 139:
“You shaped me inside and out. You have made my veins; You have knit me together in my mother’s

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. I have used this following quote so often, it may be familiar to many of you. 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.”

However Lord Rabbi Sacks points out that there is a difference between vocation and gift. You can be a gifted pianist but that isn’t necessarily what you are called to do. He goes on to talk about Viktor Frankl, the therapist that survived Auschwitz by searching for meaning. As Sacks explains, “There in the camp he dedicated himself to giving people the will to live. He did so by getting them to see that their lives were not finished, that they still had a task to perform, and that therefore they had a reason to survive until the war was over. Frankl insisted that the call came from outside the self. He used to say that the right question was not “What do I want from life?” but “What does life want from me?

What does life want from me? Figuring out the answer to that is figuring out what your unique call might be.

Rabbi Amy Eilberg, the first woman Conservative Rabbi talks about call in these terms:

“You have to look more closely to find the individual sense of mission or calling in the Jewish texts, but it is there. One example from the Hasidic mystical tradition is the concept of shlichut, which means agency or mission, from the word “to send.” The language of sending in the book of Isaiah says to God, “Here I am. Send me.” So this language speaks to each person having a particular shlichut of something that they’re sent toward.”

Rabbi Michael Strassfeld the author of the Jewish Catalog, and one of the founders of Jewish Renewal said this:
“Though work is our vocation, it has the potential to accomplish tikkun olam, “repair of the world.” Every job, every work interaction has value. There are those who believe that each of us is chosen for a particular task to perform in the world. Rav Zutra said: What is the meaning of this verse: ‘God made everything beautiful in its time’ (Ecclesiastes 3:11)? This teaches that the Holy One made everyone’s craft appear beautiful in their eyes” (Babylonian Talmud, Berakhot 58a).

Rabbi Jeffrey Salkin, a Reform rabbi who wrote Putting G-d of the Guest List for Bar Mitzvah families wrote Being G-d’s Partner, the What Color is Your Parachute for Jews. It is the book that if I loan it out, it won’t come back. He tells an important, poignant story, especially today as Simon and I are in the middle of a move:

“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, its 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’”

There you have it…a sense of call from Orthodox, Reform, Conservative and Jewish Renewal rabbis. That’s good for our vision of “Embracing Diversity.”

Clearly some of calling or vocation is about your work identity. But what if you are no longer working? What if you have retired? What happens now?

The Talmud teaches us that it is necessary to balance work and Torah study (Pirke Avot). But perhaps, just perhaps, retirement is a kind of Shabbat, which is also a calling. We are called to rest. We are called to observe Shabbat. That is an entire sermon in itself.

In another important book, Wise Aging, by Rachel Cowen, z’l, she reminds us that each of us has a purpose. Perhaps then purpose = calling.

Frankl believed that “Every human person constitutes something unique; each situation in life occurs only once. The concrete task of any person is relative to this uniqueness and singularity.”[5] The essence of the task, he argued, is that it is self-transcending. It comes from outside the self and challenges us to live beyond mere self-interest. To discover such a task is to find that life – my life – has meaning and purpose.

Our challenge then:
What is that one task you are uniquely here to do?