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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In my tradition there is a blessing for this moment. This very moment. Allow me. Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech Ha’olam, shehechianu v’ki’imanu, v’higianu lazman hazeh. Blessed are You, Lord our G-d, Ruler of the Universe who has kept us alive and sustained us and enabled us to reach this very moment. And we might end with Lchaim, to life. Let’s all say that together. And loudly. And proudly. L’chaim!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

First openly gay Orthodox rabbi ordained in Jerusalem

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

Part 3: Leviticus

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here are the texts we used:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today, we remember.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here is an article written by my friend Janelle Walker:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 This reading fills me with hope.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not always, but it can be. Very tough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When peace comes we will perhaps in time be able to forgive the Arabs for killing our sons, but it will be harder for us to forgive them for having forced us to kill their sons.”

or

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

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

Today I want to talk about forgiveness and reconciliation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But many missed the miracle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And we pray for rain, beginning in the fall.

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

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

Isaiah taught us:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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