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

What do we do with Tisha B’av today. The first time I observed Tisha B’av I was a high school student in Jerusalem moved to tears by the mournful, soulful music, the tealights on the floor and us sitting cross legged also on the floor. The next day I fasted. But I also learned that some Israelis do not, recognizing the return to the land.

Recently I read a new book by Yossi Klein Halevi released on Israel’s 70^th Birthday. Letters to My Palestinian Neighbor. It is a love poem to Israel. But he too wrestles with what to do with Tisha B’av. Here is his description of one recent Tisha B’av at the Western Wall, that last remaining remnant of the Holy Temple:

“And yet for all the formal gestures of mourning, I didn’t sense genuine anguish. Some of the pious cried out the words, but that seemed to me an imitation of grief. It’s hard to mourn the exile when the exile has ended. True, not all Jewish prayers have been answered. We have returned, but the pervasive presence of Israeli soldiers protecting us at the Wall reminds us not only of our restored sovereignty but of continuing threat. Tisha b’Av has been only partly negated. Jewish tradition couldn’t imagine this limbo between return and redemption. And so we reenact the choreography of mourning but are restless, disoriented. Home, yet
not redeemed.”

Every year I think, “This is the year. This is the year I will not have to observe Tisha B’av. And then something happens. This year is no exception.

This week’s news out of the State of Israel is complex and flies in the face of observing Tisha B’av if the Second Temple was destroyed because of sinat chinam, baseless hatred.

This week’s news:
1. Hamas’ weekly Friday protests at the Gaza border took a serious turn in escalation as snipers fired at IDF soldiers patrolling the Israeli side of the border, killing one.

The IDF, calling the escalation “the most serious event since Operation Protective Edge (2014 Gaza War),” launched a series of air attacks in Gaza, hitting at least 15 targets including Hamas command and control centers and killing four Palestinians. Hamas in turn launched three rockets, two of which were intercepted by Iron Dome, and the third one falling in an open field. (Read more)

2. Israel’s Knesset passed into law the nation-state bill that for the first time enshrines Israel as “the national home of the Jewish people.” The quasi-constitutional Basic Law was approved by a vote of 62-55, two abstaining. (Read the full text of the bill)

Similar to a constitution, the Basic Laws underpin Israel’s legal system and are more difficult to repeal than regular laws. (Read more)

The nation-state bill, proponents say, puts Jewish values and democratic values on equal footing. In a video statement, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu declared that “Israel’s democracy will always continue to flourish.” Northwestern professor Eugene Kontorovich says the bill is similar to many European constitutions.

Critics fear the law opens the door to potential discrimination against minority communities, weakens religious pluralism, and complicates Israel-Diaspora relations.

3. A Conservative rabbi in Israel was awakened by police early Thursday morning and taken in for questioning for allegedly performing an illegal marriage. The action drew sharp responses fromseveral major American Jewish groups.
4. (JTA) — Haredi Orthodox protesters burned a Jewish prayer book near the Western Wall in Jerusalem on Friday to protest the monthly prayer service there by female worshippers.

The incident occurred as nearly 200 Women of the Wall activists arrived for the service in celebration of the beginning of the Hebrew month of Av. Several thousand haredi protesters greeted them with booing and shouting.

The haredim and other conservatives oppose the group’s singing and, at times, use of prayer shawls, kippahs and Torah scrolls, which are reserved for men in Orthodox Judaism. Some of the protesters set fire to a prayer book bearing the group’s logo, Arutz 7 reported.

They “laughed with pleasure as a WOW participant burned herself trying to salvage it,” the group said in a statement.

Rectifying Baseless Hatred:
Why was the Second Temple destroyed? The Sages in Yoma 9b noted that the people at that time studied Torah, observed mitzvot and performed good deeds. Their great failure was in sinat chinam – baseless hatred. It was internal strife and conflict that ultimately brought about the Temple’s destruction.

How may we rectify this sin of sinat chinam? Rav Kook wrote, in one of his most oft-quoted statements:

This call for baseless love could be interpreted as following Maimonides’ advice on how to correct bad character traits. In the fourth chapter of Shemonah Perakim, Maimonides taught that negative traits are corrected by temporarily overcompensating and practicing the opposite extreme. For example, one who is naturally stingy should balance this trait by acting overly generous, until he succeeds in uprooting his miserliness. Similarly, by going to the extreme of ahavat chinam, we repair the trait of sinat chinam.

This interpretation, however, is not Rav Kook’s line of thought. Ahavat chinam is not a temporary remedy, but an ideal, the result of our perception of the world’s underlying unity and goodness.

(Silver from the Land of Israel. Adapted from Orot HaKodesh vol. III, pp. 324-334; Malachim K’vnei Adam, pp. 262, 483-485)

At first glance, this statement seems peculiar. Why did the Sages say that those who mourn Jerusalem’s destruction will merit seeing it ‘be-simchata’ — ‘in its joy’? It would be more logical to say that they will merit seeing Jerusalem be-vinayana — when the city will be restored and rebuilt. After all, our primary wish is for the rebuilding of Jerusalem!

Rav Kook explained as follows: The Sages knew that when the time comes for Jerusalem to be rebuilt, everyone alive at that time will witness the city’s reconstruction. Even those who did not grieve Jerusalem’s destruction will see it being rebuilt.

The Sages formulated their statements with fine precision. True, many will see Jerusalem rebuilt. But only those who were pained by Jerusalem’s destruction will merit to see the city “in joy.” Only those who were grieved by its state of ruin will experience the great joy and simchah as Jerusalem is restored to its former glory.

Rabbi Arthur Waskow, using Rav Kook:

Chinam” is from chen, “grace”. that which pours out though undeserved. God’s “chen” is love that pours out undeserved. It is different from “chesed” . love that is intertwined with the loyalty due a covenant-partner . and from “rachamim” . the compassion that a mother feels [“rechem” = womb] for her child.

What is ahavat chinam in practice? I would say it is steadfast nonviolence in the Martin Luther King mode. “Love” even toward those who are imprisoning, demeaning, killing. I do not think it is “ahavat chinam” restricted to Jews alone that redeems us from the destruction that comes from “sinat chinam” . but “ahavat chinam” toward all bearers of the Image. Most especially toward those who are also children of Abraham, from the other branch of the family.

This kind of love does not require passivity in the face of injustice, hatred, terrorism, or war . no matter whether it is “our” folks or “their” folks who are perpetrating these deeds. It demands a loving concern for not shattering the Image of God even in those who do such things.

I am not calling on people to achieve this level of “ahava,” especially since I myself don’t rise to this level very often, if ever. I am simply saying that I don’t think it is really “ahavat chinam” if it is restricted to Jews alone, or those who agree with us alone. That’s not really “chinam” since it’s based not a “gratuitous” outpouring but on a felt tie, whether of family covenant or value-covenant.”

This year, my observance of Tisha B’av will be different. Often I try to spend time on Tisha B’av or the Three Weeks building while others were destroying or tearing down. Many people I know this year are making the connection between refugees and Tisha B’av. When the Temple was destroyed in 70CE that is when we as a Jewish people became refugees, exiled for 2000 years. When we gather our tzitzit together during ahavah rabbah, and sing of the ingathering from the four corners, we change the melody to Hatikvah, expressing that hope.

This year on Tisha B’av, Simon and I will be journeying to the National Havurat Institute as their Hollander Social Justice Fellow to teach my version of Tikkun Olam. And it fits with Tisha B’av. I believe that tikkun olam is better when done with others. It is more effective. It builds (there’s that word) lasting friendships and deep relationships. For me, it is the ultimate form of ahavat chinam. The day is not over yet. I challenge each of you to do some act of ahavat chinam.

Here’s what I said, more or less, yesterday at the Families Belong Together Elgin.

This morning I spoke at services about the power of speech. The important power of speech. That is what you are doing today. Speaking truth to power.

Today we read the verse of a non-Jewish prophet, “How good are your tents o Jacob, your dwelling places o Israel.” Today, here in Elgin, it is brutally hot. Too hot. In fact, I encouraged some of my seniors to not come. They came anyway. What we are doing here today is that important. But as the weather people keep telling us, it is not safe. So please, please drink your water. I don’t want to be making hospital calls later today.

Now imagine being in a tent city in Texas. Even hotter. Not safe. Without your mother or your father. Without knowing where they are or understanding the language. Without enough water. Sleeping a cement slab floor. With a mylar blanket. And no hugs. Those tents are not good.

In my tradition, all people are created in the image of the divine, b’tzelem elohim. All races, all creeds, all people. And as the U46 mission statement says, all means all. That also means that no person can be illegal.

My tradition teaches, 36 times in the Five Books of Moses, the first Five books of the Bible, that we are to welcome the widow, the orphan and the immigrant. We are to welcome, even love the stranger, because we were strangers in the land of Egypt. It is that simple. It is so simple…yet G-d has to keep telling us over and over again. It is so simple, yet I keep giving this sermon over and over again. My congregation is probably tired of it.

As Jews, who have been exiled all over the world, we know the pain of being refugees. The pain of being the other. We know the damage of being separated from our parents. We have heard these words before, “Children to the right. Adults to the left.” We know the causalities caused by not allowing Jews into the United States when they were fleeing Europe. When the USS Saint Louis was turned back.

It is why Jews all over the United States are at rallies just like this one. It is why in my own family I have a Cambodian nephew who survived the killing fields. And a Guatemalan son-in-law who was airlifted off a football field in Guatemala City in 1983. It is why my brothers-in-law are attorneys and judges in Tucson and why my sister-in-law works for the Catholic Church on refugee resettlement. It is why I worked for Refugee Immigration Ministry with asylum seekers. Why I visited for profit jails in 2001 that were housing women and children even then.

Today we stand here. We pray with our feet…and our voices…to send a clear and simple message. Reunite those children now. Welcome the widow, the orphan and the immigrant. Take care of them. NOW.

My mother used to say….
If you don’t have anything nice to say…don’t say anything at all.
And
Think before you speak.

Probably lots of mothers did. Maybe yours did. They were momisms.

Today’s d’var Torah is brought to you by my mom, and moms everywhere. It is dedicated to my mother, who was born on July 6, 1924. Her favorite quote in the Bible is in today’s haftarah. She used to explain that this Judaism thing is really very simple. She wondered why we made it all so complicated. After all, Micah said, “What does the Lord require of you? Do justly, love mercy and walk humbly with your G-d.”

Simple, no?

Let’s look at that more closely. Hagid lecha adam, Ma Tov. It has been told to you. Man, V’ma Adonai dorosh memmcha. And what the Lord seeks from you. Ci im asot mishpat, that you do justice. V’ahava chesed, and love mercy. V’hatznaia lechet, and walk modestly. Im elohecha with your G-d.

Humbly. Modestly. Does it make a difference?

What does it mean to walk modestly with G-d?

People said:    To not take up more space than you require. To be humble. To be unassuming, unpretentious, not showy or flashy, to consume a moderate amount, to dress modestly.

What is the difference between humble and modest?

People seemed to think that modesty had to do with things, like drink or dress and that humility was a spiritual quality.

Moses was humble…the most humble leader…that was one of his good qualities.

But tzniut , modesty, has a different sense. You can be modest in dress. That is a discussion for another day. Or you can be modest in drink. Or you can be modest in speech.

Today’s Torah portion is about speech. It can be seen as a funny portion. After all, it has a talking donkey. But as someone pointed out, if G-d can do anything, even part the sea, than surely G-d can make a donkey talk.

Ultimately, this portion is about a non-Jewish prophet, Balaam, who is hired by the king, Balak, to curse the Jews. Three times Balaam tries to do just that…the allure of the money is just so great, so powerful. Three times blessings come out instead.

One of those blessings is incorporated into our daily service. Ma Tovu Ohelecha Yaakov, Mishkenotecha Yisrael. How good are you tents, O Jacob, Your dwelling places O Israel.

What was so good about those tents?

The texts tells us that they are like gardens by the river, like fragrant herbs planted by G‑d . . .” But Rashi tells us that it was because the tents were arranged modestly, so that from the entrance of one tent, no one could look into another.

But speech was also modest too. It is no accident that I stand under a sign that says “Da lifney mi atah omad. Know before whom you stand.” It keeps anyone standing here humble and modest. There is something, Someone bigger than us.

Judaism has lots to say about speech—both the good uses and the bad. In the poem in Proverbs A Woman of Valor we learn the importance of keeping the law of kindness on our tongue. On Friday nights, as part of reading “Eshet Chayil”, I use it as a checklist. Still not there yet. See our mothers were right. The law of kindness should be on our tongues.

And so we read this morning as part of the end of the Amidah, “My God, keep my tongue from evil, my lips from lies. Help me ignore those who would slander me. Let me be humble before all.”

When we get to the High Holidays, more of the “sins” we recite communally are about speech. About 65% of them. Here is a book, Guard Your Tongue, by Zelig Pliskin, 237 pages of it. All on this very topic.

Yet, there is a place for good speech.

In the Psalms we read this morning, we read, “What profit if I am silenced, what benefit if I go to my grave.”

Esther is told to go to the king and speak on behalf of her people, “For if you hold your peace at this time, then relief and deliverance will arise from another place, and you and your father’s house will perish. And who knows, perhaps you are here for such a time as this.” Speaking truth to power. A good use of speech, in its correct time and place.

That’s why later today, I and many rabbis, from all the streams of Judaism, will be “praying with our feet”, speaking truth to power.

But I want to go back to this concept of modest speech…and address issues right here at CKI. Every now and then someone tells me something else that people have said to them or that they have overheard. In the social hall, in the kitchen, at a shiva house, even during a service.

Things like…I’m not sure what you are wearing is appropriate. (and that may be the kind version). Can a woman wear a sleeveless dress? What if she has a shrug or a cardigan? What about leggings? How about shorts? Building the sukkah or at a picnic or on the bimah? Can women only wear skirts? What about the rabbi? I was even asked during my demo weekend six years ago, what I would do if someone came in flip flops. I feel safe using that example because I don’t think the flip flop wearer is here any more. But even this week, someone apologized for maybe having to come in jeans. Come in jeans. And the rest of us…try not to complain.

Things like…oh, I see you just came to the shiva for the free food. It was probably said as a joke but the person didn’t go to another shiva for over a year.

Things like…I don’t like so and so’s voice. Or mine. Or the Torah School families don’t do anything…or the Shabbat morning people don’t understand what parenting is like today…or …or…or….

We are all guilty of this. Recently I picked on Simon who came to services despite appearing to have a cold, which it turned out he did not. I said, from the bimah…he probably just wants his bagel. Now Simon loves to daven…and I love watching him doing his silent amidah where you can see him imploring G-d with his fist. In truth, it is one of the reasons I married him and it is one of my favorite parts of the service. He knows before whom he stands. So that morning, when I slipped and talked about him coming for bagels….I apologized. But sometimes we don’t know the damage we inflict until well after the fact…if ever.

What if people had said instead, I am so glad you came to the shiva, you helped make the minyan. Or I am glad you are at services…it really is hot today…Or thank you for singing, your spirit helped lifted our prayers to heaven. Those would all be blessings, not curses. Let’s turn our curses into blessings just like Balaam.

Think before you speak. If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. Our moms were right.

It is summer. The longest Shabbat of the year. At Temple Emanuel of the Merrimack Valley, the sun wheel turned again last night, as it does every changing of the season.

That sunwheel is based on the El Adon prayer that we sang earlier. It was commissioned in April 1981 for Birkat Hachama, the blessing of the sun that occurs every 28 years in Judaism. The last Birkat Hachama was April 8, 2009. That’s all about the sun. Temple Emanuel decided that it was so beautiful and so meaningful to spin the sunwheel that they didn’t want to wait 28 years to do it again. So they do it every changing of the seasons and live out El Adon and Ma’ariv Aravim that talks about how G-d makes the seasons alternate.

It fits in a longstanding Jewish tradition of Mizrach, usually hung on the Eastern Wall or Shiviti, designed to focus our prayer. And for me it works. I was thrilled to find this photo of it and can envision mounting it on card stock and having a personal sun wheel.

You might have noticed the intentional elements that are included on this sunwheel. The Hebrew letters of the weekday El Adon in Aleph Bet order. The starry skies or is that water. The gold leaf and the rainbow.

This is Pride Shabbat. Perhaps some of you attended the parade in Aurora last Sunday. I know that the congregation in Aurora actually marched. Perhaps you are attending the big Pride Parade in Chicago tomorrow.

Today I am proudly wearing my rainbow tallit. And my rainbow necklace I bought in Guatemala. A rainbow, is a perfect balance between sun and rain. Keshet in Hebrew, has become a symbol of the LGBTQ community. It represents our diversity. There are two organizations called Keshet. One is the national gay pride Jewish organization headed by Idit Klein (No relation). And the other is Keshet in Chicago which works with people of varying abilities. Our member Ted Frisch is an active participant in their programming. Both organizations represent our vision statement of “Embracing our diversity” and I am proud to support both. Let me underscore this. All are welcome here. We are all children of G-d, created in the image of G-d, b’tzelem elohim. All means all.

One of my favorite parts of my job is working with our B’nai Mitzvah students. And hasn’t Mandy done a lovely job thus far leading the Torah service and Ashrei. Kol hakavod.

Earlier this week, working with another student who has Noah as his portion, we were talking about the covenant that G-d made with Noah to never again destroy the earth through water, by a flood. In the haftarah, that promise is echoed and we are told that G-d will give the Israelites a briti shlomi, My covenant of peace, of friendship. When we talked about what it would be like to be on the ark, the tevah, our student mused that maybe the whole earth is the tevah. It was a new image for me and so right for this week.

I hope that your summer journey might include spending time by water. Cool, clear, bountiful water. Perhaps Lake Michigan, on either side of the lake, or the Fox River or some small pond. Just sitting here, watching waves and the dance of sunlight on the water. Watching the sky and the clouds. Watching the quality of light. Maybe dunking in and out of the cooling, life sustaining water. Just the right amount of water. Not too much so that we have floods. Not too little. Maybe just the right balance to produce a rainbow, a sign of the covenant.

Simon and I hike a lot—he loves the mountains. I love the water. It’s a mixed marriage. Last weekend for Father’s Day, we went hiking at the Morton Arboretum to see the trolls. It was hot. We planned to be out for about an hour. We got lost—that’s a story for another time—but it was like we were wandering in the wilderness, in the desert. We were out too long and we ran out of that essential ingredient. Water.

Have you ever been really, really thirsty? What happens when you are thirsty…you get lightheaded, maybe dizzy, maybe faint, maybe disoriented. You can get leg cramps. You can get chilled. Someone said you might lose your faith in G-d.

They say when you are thirsty, it is already too late. You are already dehydrated. Last week I stood here and told you to drink lots of water. Tomorrow, like last weekend, the heat is back on and after a week with lots of rain, we all want to be outside. So again, remember, drink lots of water.

We are lucky. We have that opportunity. We can drink water. Life sustaining water. Not every one is so lucky.

Now imagine being part of the children of Israel, wandering in the desert. Miriam had just died. Miriam had a unique gift. Finding water. You are thirsty. Really, really thirsty. It is now a life or death issue. Like children everywhere you beg your parent for water.

Think of Moses as that parent. He is your parent and he is supposed to supply water to you. He, however, is frustrated. Really, really frustrated. And mourning. His sister has just died. G-d tells him to raise his staff and speak to the rock.

Instead, he strikes the rock twice and water pours out. Why did he do it that way? We will never know. But I can imagine, without Miriam, he was afraid it wouldn’t work. He wanted to make sure it would work. He went over and above what was needed. He didn’t listen to G-d. Or obey G-d. And for this, the tradition tells us. For not trusting. For not obeying. He was punished. Never to set foot in the Promised Land.

Imagine being a parent and wanting to make sure your child had access to the basic need of water. Imagine that you are afraid by the violence surrounding you every day. That you want to prevent your child from becoming a member of gang, or being killed by a gang. Imagine like Hagar who placed her child under a push and pleaded with G-d to not look on while her child died just because expelled from Abraham’s household, they were now wandering in the desert. Wouldn’t you do everything, anything to help your child?

When I was in Guatemala, as an American Jewish World Service Global Justice Fellow, I learned more about water rights. People need access to water. It is a basic human need. For years, I have been concerned about the bottled water industry. I have been concerned also about the amount of plastic we use to bottle that water. And the waste of that plastic. But the real question becomes access to water. Nestle, Coke, Pepsi. Even recently Starbucks. All buying up water rights. Including watersheds in Michigan, potentially draining the Lake Michigan watershed.

On May 11 we got word that one of the leaders of an AJWS grantee, CCDA had been assassinated. I remain deeply saddened by the assassination of José Can Xol, a human rights defender with our partner organization Comité Campesino del Altiplano (CCDA) in Guatemala. I have spoken about CCDA before. They have a cooperative fair trade kosher coffee plantation. The proceeds from the coffee and the patio container gardens and the honey pay for amongst other things letting girls go to school. It is a travesty that people would think that so threatening that they would assassinate Jose. May his memory be a blessing.

For me, this is personal. Families belong together, and children do not belong in prison. It was true in 2001 when I worked for Refugee Immigration Ministry and visited asylum seekers in the Rockingham Jail and then in for-profit jails that were detaining children with their mothers in Pennsylvania and Batavia, New York. It is truer today.

Violence persists in Guatemala, although I felt safer there then I did in Miami when I returned. My own son-in-law as a young child was airlifted off a football field in 1983. If I had been his parents, desperate parents just like the children of Israel wandering in the desert without water, I would have done anything to help my children survive. I am grateful to his parents for immigrating and risking everything. I am grateful for the work that AJWS does because it bears witness and holds people and the government accountable, reducing poverty and violence.

It brings me hope, in a week that saw lots of angry, angry people. Miriam brings us hope too. While her ability to divine water was curtailed with her death, Miriam’s well continues to travel with the children of Israel, for any of us to access. That is part of why many have added the tradition of Miriam’s cup to their Passover seders. A cup filled with clear, spring water. A cup that can nourish us all with life sustaining water of hope.

Even since the 1970’s when the ritual first appeared, there are many variations. Again that is embracing our diversity. Today we are going to pour fresh, spring water into Miriam’s Cup and each of you are going to be able to drink it. Deeply.

My childhood rabbi, Rabbi Albert M. Lewis, used to teach that each of us has a unique mitzvah to do in our lives. Rabbi Shmuly Yanklowitz teaches similarly that each of us has a unique gift to offer, that “you will spend your life giving to others. There may be no question that is more existentially and morally pressing for each of us to answer & to align our days with! Because as Rebbe Nachman taught: the day you were born was the day that God determined the world could not exist without you! We are desperately in need of your gift! Bold or humble, global or local, in the home or out of the home – your unique giving, that only you can do, is so desperately needed!”

That is what Frederick Buechner would describe as your unique calling. “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”

Then we will add water back into the cup. Water from a second bottle, representing your unique gift. Just like Miriam, your unique gift. There is enough water to go around. There is enough hope to go around. So come up here. Enjoy a cup of this water of Miriam, water to be life-affirming, water to bring us hope. Help us find the water. Help us to bring that water to all the children of G-d, all of us who are created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d.

Lyrics:
Spring up a well, and sing ye unto it
Spring up a well, and sing ye unto it

CHORUS:
Oh the water in the well and the healing in the well
The women and the water and the hope that’s in the well (x2)

When the world was created, there was heaven and dry land
And all the waters gathered, upon hearing God’s command
There was a bit of water, that was left or so they tell,
That was the water that became the water from the well

CHORUS:

It was in Miriam’s honor that the first well came to be,
To celebrate her music, her dance and prophecy,
The people came to Miriam when their spirits rose and fell
She nourished all their visions with the water from the well

CHORUS:

“Spring up a well!” the twelve tribes sang and the rushing waters flowed
High as pillars, into rivers to the oceans they would go
Surrounded by the trees and fruits so rich and bountiful
The Israelites were nourished by the waters from the well

CHORUS:

When Miriam dried, the well dried up, and Moses’ shed his tears
And God said, “Moses, touch this rock and water will appear”
Well Moses raised his staff in anger and upon the rock it fell
And out came springs of water, it was water from the well
CHORUS:

Bridge:
For the memory of the women, for the memory of the well
For the ones who came before us, their stories we must tell
We are searching for the water, where we wander, where we dwell
For Miriam and all of us, who thirst to find the well

Debbie Friedman, z”l

14,700 people. That is the number that the Torah tells us died in the field at Meribah. Today’s portion is amongst the most difficult in all of Torah. Why did those people have to die?

The usual explanation is that they weren’t loyal—to G-d or Moses. Pretty harsh stuff. That they were swayed by Korach. Korach led a rebellion. It was a real challenge to leadership. He and his two sidekicks and all their families were swallowed up, live, by the earth.

But what about the 14,700 people? Sometimes this text is used to tell us that the G-d of the Old Testament is the G-d of vengeance and the G-d of the New Testament is the G-d of Love. This philosophy was a common teaching in Grand Rapids, at 85% Dutch Reform. And it was always used as a jab at Judaism. We hear echoes of that sentiment in popular culture like throughout the musical Les Mis:

JAVERT
Now bring me prisoner 24601
Your time is up
And your parole’s begun
You know what that means.

VALJEAN
Yes, it means I’m free.

JAVERT
No! It means you get
Your yellow ticket-of-leave
You are a thief.

VALJEAN
I stole a loaf of bread.

JAVERT
You robbed a house.

VALJEAN
I broke a window pane.
My sisters child was close to death
And we were starving.

JAVERT
You will starve again
Unless you learn the meaning of the law.

VALJEAN
I know the meaning of those 19 years
A slave of the law.

He stole a loaf of bread to feed his sister’s child…and then spent 19 years in jail. This echoes today as well.

Sometimes this text of Korach is used to tell us that G-d demands loyalty. Be careful with all G-d’s commandments or you are going to be zapped. Sometimes this portion is used to tell us that we should guard our tongue. That we shouldn’t spread gossip.

This is a week that has challenged our assumptions about who can read scripture and who can interpret it. What does the Bible say? Who can teach it? How do we read it?

A few snippets of my week. A woman called the synagogue twice. She is looking for an adult Hebrew class. She wants to learn Hebrew to learn to read the Bible better. She’s not Jewish. She is Christian but hasn’t found a “home church”. She is homeless.

Her desire to learn Hebrew is no different than Governor William Bradford, first governor of Plimouth Plantation, who said, “a longing desire to see, with my owne eyes, something of that most ancient language, and holy tongue, in which the Law and oracles of God were write” (Bradford, History of Plymouth Plantation, Little, Brown, 1856) and who wrote all the marginalia in his own Bible, in Hebrew. If this interests you, I would be happy to discuss my undergraduate paper on this topic at Kiddush. The Puritans came to this country, in part, for religious freedom. In part so they could read the Bible as individuals and not through the eyes of their clerics.

Or my adult Hebrew class, which has one more week to go. They are now studying the machzor so they are ready for the High Holidays. We did the Torah blessings again and had an important discussion about what it means that G-d chose us to give the Torah. Who is the us? Is the “us” exclusively Jewish?

Or an online discussion with my alumni association about whether the Association of Rabbis and Cantors could sign a statement already signed by 26 Jewish groups about the separation of children from their parents at the border. Two members felt vehemently that the answer to that was no. Do we need consensus, a majority or unanimous motion. I expect that heated conversation to continue after Shabbat.

Judaism has never been about being unanimous. That’s why all the opinions are preserved in the Talmud. That’s why the Talmud is not a code book. That’s why I stand up here week after week explaining that Jewish tradition is a layered tradition and that there is often no one way to do something. That’s why I talk about embracing diversity. That includes the diversity of opinion and observance.

Recently I was asked to give a class in how to read Torah. Not the mechanics of chanting, although that might be good too, but how to find the right page, how to know what’s on the page, so I want to spend a couple of minutes introducing you to this book in front of you.

This is Etz Hayyim, the Conservative Movement Chumash. In it you will find the Five Books of Moses separated by weekly parsha. Following each full parsha, not just the triennial reading, is the haftarah, a selection from the Prophets, the Nevi’im. There is usually a brief introduction to the parsha and an introduction to the haftarah. The page is organized to have the Hebrew, the New JPS translation on the top of the page, some commentary at the bottom and below the line how halacha, Jewish law is derived.

Each of the major movements has its own chumash. They each have a slightly different slant and one of my favorite classes in rabbinical school was to look at each of them—which I still often do weekly—to build my d’var Torah. That’s embracing diversity.

But what if there is a moment where diversity of opinion doesn’t work.

What if the interpretation of Korach is the exact opposite of the traditional commentaries, Jewish or Christian? This is after all Judaism. Here are the words that my chevruta partner, Rabbi Linda Shriner Cahn shared with her congregation last night. She began…

“Before I was a rabbi, I was a parent. The challenge of becoming a parent was to follow in the loving caring ways my parents had modeled for me. It was a model based on caring for others, being part of a community and standing up to be counted when times called for it.”

This reminded me of a lovely story that Naomi Rachel Remen tells in Kitchen Table Wisdom.

She tells a story of hearing a prominent rabbi talk on Yom Kippur talk about forgiveness. He began by taking his infant daughter from his wife’s arms and bringing her onto the bimah. He then began his rather traditional and somewhat boring sermon. The baby girl smiled and everyone’s heart melted. She patted him on the check with her tiny hands. He smiled fondly at her and continued with his customary dignity. She reached for his tie and put in her mouth. She grabbed his nose and the whole congregation chuckled. He said, “Think about it. Is there anything she can do that you would not forgive her? Heads nodded in agreement. She grabbed his glasses. Everyone laughed. He waited for silence and then said, “When does that stop. When does it get hard to forgive. At three? At seven? At sixteen? At forty five? How old does someone have to be before you forget that everyone is a child of God?”

I would add, created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of God, with the divine spark inside. Naomi added that for her, God’s forgiveness was easy to understand but that personal forgiveness was difficult. If we are supposed to be like God and follow in God’s footsteps, isn’t this the message? It is not a lowering of standards. It is being in a family relationship. Isn’t this how we are to treat everyone, taking care of the widow, the orphan, the stranger, the most marginalized among us?

How appropriate to consider this idea, this Father’s Day Weekend.

Back to Linda’s words: “I look around and see pictures of children being torn from their parents arms in this country which provided a new life for my parents after the Shoah. I cannot begin to imagine the pain and disappointment they would feel if they were to witness what we are currently witnessing. Where is the country that took my parents in?

In this week’s Torah portion, the witnesses to Korach’s rebellion stood by and silently watched the rebellion, waiting for God to intervene. Unlike the witnesses to Korach’s rebellion, religious leaders across the political spectrum in the United States have begun to speak up. We know that it is up to us to speak up.

This is a human crisis, not a political one. The soul of our nation is at stake. I invite you to sign petitions and attend demonstrations. Unlike our Torah portion, we cannot wait for the Divine to take sides and decide who is in the right. The decision is ours, and we need to act.

To quote Dr. Shuly Rubin Schwartz “The goal of leadership should be effectiveness – not power for its own sake.”

In this case, effectiveness means taking care of the needs of others. We can find a way if we all work together.”

Linda offers a new teaching. Perhaps the reason those 14,700 people were killed were because they stood silently by.

In the coming weeks you will hear scripture quoted and misquoted. Interpreted and reinterpreted. I hope that I have given you some of the tools to understand the bigger picture. And I hope you will not stand idly by.

14,700 people. How many more?

Whoever put on a tallis when he was young will never forget:
taking it out of the soft velvet bag, opening the folded shawl,
spreading it out, kissing the length of the neckband (embroidered
or trimmed in gold). Then swinging it in a great swoop overhead
like a sky, a wedding canopy, a parachute. And then winding it
around his head as in Hide-and-Seek, wrapping
his whole body in it, close and slow, snuggling into it like the cocoon
of a butterfly, then opening would-be wings to fly.
And why is the tallis striped and not checkered black and white
like a chessboard? Because squares are finite and hopeless.
Stripes come from infinity and to infinity they go
like airport runways where angels land and take off
Whoever has put on a tallis will never forget.
When he comes out of a swimming pool or the sea,
he wraps himself in a large towel, spreads it out again
over his head, and again snuggles into it close and slow,
still shivering a little, and he laughs and blesses.

Yehuda Amichai

Have you ever been on a vacation and wanted to bring back a keepsake, a souvenir, to keep the feeling alive?

This piece of Cadillac Mountain Granite is exactly that. A piece of jewelry that I could put in my pocket to finger and remind me of the feeling of being on top of Mount Cadillac. A place where life was simpler and I felt close to G-d. It has been much loved and is, in fact, cracked. Turns out granite isn’t as hard a rock as people thought.

Souvenir, from the French for remembrance or memory, is a memento, a keepsake or token of remembrance, an object you acquire for the memories associated with it.

That’s what today’s portion is about. A souvenir, something to keep the memory alive. What is that souvenir? What does G-d prescribe? Tying tzitzit on the edges of the Israelites garments, to remind them of the mitzvoth, or of G-d Himself. To remember that they were slaves in the land of Egypt and that G-d brought them out, us out with a strong hand and an outstretched arm.

These are the ties that bind. In fact the word religion, from the Latin religio, means to tie back up into. That’s what we try to do here. To tie ourselves together. To tie ourselves to the one true G-d. To remind ourselves of the experience of being a slave, and the power of the Exodus from Egypt. And the feeling of awe standing at Sinai.

Because this is Judaism, there are a couple of different schemata for how to tie the tzitzit. In one case each of the fringes contains 8 threads and 5 knots, and the word itself, tzitzit is the numerical equivalent of 600, so each strand represents 613, the number of the commandments.

In the other system, between each knot are carefully turned twists, representing the numerical equivalents of Yud (10), Hey (5), Vuv (6) Hey, (10) so representing the Divine.

Or you could ties them so that the long thread is wound around the other three between the five know as 7, 8, 11 and 13 times. 7, 8 and 11 totaling 26, the Yud, Hey, Vuv, Hey and the 13 totaling the word for echad, one.

Either way looking on the tzitzit reminds us of G-d and the commandments. Reminds us to be holy. Ties us, quite literally to the G-d, the commandments, and the community and its accepted standard of behavior.

In the business world there is a phrase, “hitch your wagon to a star.” It means to try to succeed by forming a relationship with someone who is already successful. It is from a 1862 essay by Ralph Waldo Emerson, American Civilization. Now you have to tie yourself to the right star—not a falling star—not one that is about to crash and burn. But by associating with greatness, by tying yourself to their success, you too can be successful.

We want to bind ourselves to a leader, to the right kind of leader, just like hitching your wagon to a star implies. Before we even get to tying tzitzit, we have another example of Moses and G-d’s leadership.

G-d is frustrated. Again. With His people of Israel. They just can’t seem to stop complaining. Kvetching. It doesn’t even matter what they are kvetching about this time. The people doesn’t seem to want to be bound up with this G-d. They don’t want to be hitched to this star. G-d has had enough and threatens to get rid of them. G-d hiself is being dragged down into the much. Moses, once again, in a pattern he has already learned, in words actually taught by G-d, intercedes and reminds G-d of G-d’s essential attributes. Using the words of the 13 Attributes that G-d taught Moses on Mount Sinai, Moses has the audacity to remind G-d that G-d is merciful and compassionate, slow to anger and patient, full of lovingkindness and truth, forgiving iniquity, transgression and sin, even to the third and fourth generation. And G-d seems to suddenly remember, and says, the very words chant on Kol Nidre, Selachti Kidvachera. I have pardoned according to your word. Crisis averted.

G-d forgives. Again and again. The gates of forgiveness are always open. G-d’s love is for all time. And part of the reason for the tzitzit is to remember precisely that.

G-d seems to need to be reminded. G-d Himself wraps Himself in a tallit according to the Psalms. We know this from the Psalms and it is included in the blessing for putting on a tallit: “Bless Adonai, my soul! Adonai my God, how great You are, clothed in majesty and glory, wrapped in light like a robe. You spread out the heavens like a tent.” It is an image I have loved and part of why I decided to wear a tallit back when I was in college. When I wrap myself in my tallit, it is a powerful reminder of G-d’s presence and I am filled with light and the love of G-d.

But sometimes we forget. Or we don’t know. No one ever taught us. The message wasn’t transmitted. There is a chemical imbalance. This has been a hard week. A week that included the suicides of at least two prominent people. People who seemed like they had every thing going for them. People, who it turned out, struggled with their own demons. People who might have not felt or seen or remembered the ties that bind them—to their friends, their family, their community, their G-d. People who may not have been able to access or remember that feeling of being loved. Of not being lonely. And we may never know.

It used to be the popular wisdom, that we shouldn’t talk about such things publicly because it could cause other suicides, copycats. However, the better wisdom is that we need to talk about this very difficult subject.

There is help available…but if you are that person struggling with mental illness or addiction, it can be hard to reach out, hard to access the resources needed. You may not even know you are in that kind of pain, for you it may be normal. Or you have adapted so well and are so good at masking the feeling, it may be normal. If you are reading this, and need help, reach out. Call me. Call a friend. Call the national suicide hotline. 1-800-273-8255. It is not too late. You are worth it.

For the rest of us, it is incumbent upon us to be like Moses, to check in with friends, (even if that friend is G-d, because that is what we learned in last week’s parsha, that G-d is a friend) and make sure they really are OK—even if they appear to be happy, laughing, productive. Even if they seem to have it all.

Right now, what I want you to do is to get up, yes, out of your chairs, and make a circle. I have a ball of yarn here and we are going to bind ourselves together, making a web, with the things we need to have a healthy community, where we are bound one to another.

As we wove our web, the attributes we named were love, respect, honesty, safety, peace, patience, truth, compassion, courage, forgiveness, imagination, generosity, kidness, gratefulness, amongst others. Those are the keys, the 13 attributes that we possess, the tools we will take back into the week with us.

Carl Rogers, the famous psychologist used to say that before he would begin a session with a patient he would sit and say to himself. “I am enough” We have enough.

At the retreat this week, we were given keys to remind us of this very fact. And a beautiful poem by the Israeli poet, Rivka Miriam:

“That place, a bit above the latch
and a little to the left
no has ever touched or will anyone ever touch it
the hidden place on which no one has placed a hand
the place that does not know how to ask.

That place is like the mezuzah on our doors. Another symbol to remind us of our essential truths. We have the tools, we have the keys, we have the threads that bind that remind us. Ask, even if the person sitting before us doesn’t know how to ask.

Perhaps this is the journey of all of us. For seven weeks, those between Passover and Shavuot, we took on studying the Book of Ruth. After Shabbat morning services and then again on Sunday mornings with my confirmation girls. Seven weeks, four chapters and a lifetime.

This is an ancient text and a modern text.

The discussions were so rich; we need to preserve them. While we read the text in English—more than one translation, we learned to look at the Hebrew just to be sure our understanding was close to correct, and to see why different translations chose different words. Remember, every translation is a commentary.

What follows are our findings—and our questions. Chapter by chapter.

The Book of Ruth is traditionally read in synagogues on the holiday of Shavuot. It doesn’t have any real historical events behind it. Nor are there any miracles, per se. It is set at the time of the barley harvest and that might be the connection to Shavuot. It is set in the time of the Judges, before the Kings, although it will lay out its connection to the Kings at the end of the story.

What it memorable of the main characters according to Steinsaltz is “not their fastidiously correct behavior, but for their personal decisions to conduct themselves with kindness and generosity toward one another.”

That’s the harvest we need more of these days, kindness and generosity.

For seven weeks, it was like being back in rabbinical school with heartfelt discussions, the back and forth of a yeshiva, some laughter—OK really giggling, and a deep appreciation of this book and our tradition. It was magical.

You know the story. Now come learn the rest of the story with us as we journey through the text together.

This ancient text and this modern text.

Chapter One:

In the days when there was a famine in the land, when the judges (or the chieftains) ruled, Elimelech and his family moved to Moab. Our first question was why was there a famine, or even, what is a famine? And why was Bethlehem. Beit Lechem, the House of Bread, out of food? The text makes clear that this is Bethlehem in Judah, as opposed to the one in Galilee. In order to survive, the rich Elimelech took his family to Moab where the conditions were better.

Does this make them amongst the first refugees? Asylum Seekers? Are we reading an ancient text or a modern one? What is Moab’s responsibility to them? Hospitality is prized in much of the Middle East, even today. What is our responsibility today to welcome the stranger, the widow, the orphan? How do we handle famines? Refugees?

His sons married Moabite women. What? We thought that after wandering in the desert we were forbidden from having contact with the Moabites, let alone marrying them.

Elimelech and his sons died. Leaving Naomi, his wife, and his two daughers-in-law, Ruth and Orpah, with no one to care (or protect) for them.

They arose (from their mourning, we wondered?) and returned to the fields of Moab because she heard that the Lord (the Israelite Lord) pakad (took note, remembered, visited) G-d’s people. To give to them bread. The Hebrew is beautiful here. Lateit lahem lechem. This verbs echoes the story of Sarah, who G-d pakad, and gives Isaac.

Now that the famine is over, Naomi is going back to Judah—a scary prospect to be on the road alone as a widow. She implores them to return, each of them to their mother’s house. We were surprised that it was not her father’s house. And she blesses them, imploring G-d to show kindness to them as they have shown kindness to her.

Naomi is bitter. She is fond of her daughters-in-law but cannot provide for them and urges them to return the homes of their birth. Orpah agrees to return home but Ruth clung to her mother. Three times Naomi tries to convince Ruth. Return. Return. Return. (Verses 11, 12 and 15) Does this mirror the tradition of turning a potential convert away three times?

Naomi sees how determined Ruth is. The Hebrew is Mitametzet which could be translated full of courage. Like Moses said to Joshua, “Be strong and of good courage, chazak v’emetz.” Rashi said that this verse is derived from the Talmud (Y’vamot 47b) that we should not put additional barriers in front of potential converts to Judaism, but that they should be welcomed. Again, we have an ancient text and modern text. Fully layered.

Ruth makes a declaration… “For wherever you will go I will go; wherever you lodge, I will lodge, your people will be my people and your G-d my G-d.”

And the two of them walked until they arrived in Bethlehem. The town was abuzz about their return. In Hebrew it echoes the beginning of Genesis. It was in chaos, tahom. That couldn’t really be Naomi! And Naomi begs to be called Mara because the Lord has made her bitter.

Now despite the prohibition of referring to a convert after the conversion as a convert, the text at this stage makes clear that it is Ruth, the Moabite, who had returned from the fields of Moab.

One remaining question…what happened to Orpah? She exits stage left and is not heard from again. One of our members, wrote a modern midrash of Orpah which I may, with his permission, share later.

Chapter Two:

Naomi had a kinsman, a Gibor Cha’eil, a mighty man (soldier) a man of valor which parallels Proverbs description of a “Woman of Valor, Eishet Cha’eil”. This man, Boaz, was related to Elimelech and while we don’t know much about him from the text itself, other commentaries link him being a Judge in Bethlehem.

Ruth, the Moabite, which the text seems to emphasize still, begs Naomi to go glean. The use of the word “na” implies she is asking permission. Much like a teenager saying that she is going to the mall. We had much discussion about the tone here. Depending on the translation you get different understandings. There she is hoping to “find favor in someone’s eyes,” a classic Biblical phrase. Moses found favor in G-d’s eyes. Naomi grants her request and says surprisingly, “Go my daughter,” since Ruth is a daughter-in-law.

Cue the Hollywood music here. She went and gleaned and the field happened to be the field of Boaz. He blesses the reapers with a traditional blessing and they echo, “Yivarechecha Adonai, May the Lord bless you,” a reprise of the priestly blessing in Numbers. Boaz inquires about who the young lady is. We wondered about the use of the word “na’arah” since in truth we are not given many clues to Ruth’s age. However, while she doesn’t have children, she was married. Again we are told she is a Moabite young woman from the fields of Moab. One who has been standing in the fields from morning to night. It is surprising that Boaz didn’t know who she was. It is also surprising that she rested in a house, not a sukkah. A sukkah was used in the fields to provide shade. A sukkah was used during pilgrimage holidays. I still think this should be a sukkah, not a house!

This is an ancient text and a modern one. He commands his men not to molest her according to one translation. Not to touch her according to another. Is this a #MeToo moment. Even back then men had to be ordered not to behave. Would they?

She fell on her face and prostrated herself…she is so grateful. Wait, aren’t we commanded not to bow down? Is this how Lord, Adonai, and my master, referring to a person get confused? She wonders why she has found such favor in his sight, even though she is a foreigner, a stranger. He answers because it is what she has done for her mother-in-law. His “blessing” parallels the command to Abram. She left her father and her mother, the land of her birth to go to a people she did not go. Just like Abram who “lech-lecha,” went forth to the Land of Canaan. He prays that she will find refuge, protection, “al tachat k’nafecha”, under the shadow of G-d’s wings. (We know that language from El Maleh Rachamin, which we chant on Shavuot as part of Yizkor.)

They ate pita and hametz (in this case vinegar!) together. And she ate and was satisfied, echoing the words of Birkat Hamazon, Grace after meals. And there was food left over. Perhaps the origins of the idea that even poor people need to give tzedakah. Or the modern organization Mazon.

Boaz orders his men to leave some sheaves for her to glean without shaming her—even some of the choicest without rebuke. How we treat poor people is important. We are not to shame them or rebuke them. From this she was able to glean about an ephah of barley, which was a lot, a more than she needed for herself and her mother-in-law.

When Naomi asked who has been so kind to her daughter-in-law and told it was Boaz, she exclaims, “Blessed be he to the Lord who has not forsaken His kindness to the living and to the dead.” And so Ruth lived with Naomi and continued to glean in Boaz’s fields.

Chapter Three:
The scene music changes again. Now Naomi has decided she needs to find a husband for Ruth and hatches a plan that their kinsman, acquaintance, friend Boaz, would take note of Ruth. She tells Ruth to bathe and anoint herself and to dress in her most attractive garment. (One commentary says her “Sabbath best” Ruth Rabba 5:12).

She should go to him at night and lie at his feet. And even uncover his feet. He will then tell her what to do.

This is an ancient text and a modern text. Say what? It is difficult to imagine that a mother, or a mother-in-law, would say that to a daughter. Did she just traffic her daughter-in-law? But for Naomi, bitter Naomi/Mara these are desperate times. Ruth agrees to the plan even though it does not fit within acceptable norms of modesty.

After work, Boaz ate and drank, maybe a little too much from the phrase, “until his heart was merry.”

Cue new music here.

And it came to pass at midnight. Anyone else expect the Angel of Death to show up, or to pass over the house of Boaz? She praises him and calls him, her “redeemer”. And she told him to spread his garment over her. He then praises her and calls her an Eishet Chayil, a Woman of Valor, saying that the men praise her in the gates, the same language as Proverbs and paralleling the earlier language of “Gibor Chayil”, a Man of Valor above.

In order to protect their modesty, she slips out before dawn so that no one can recognize her, “before anyone could discern another”, similar language in the Talmud for when to say the morning Sh’ma. (Berachot)

Chapter Four:

Boaz went up to the gate (alah, aliyah. a spiritual going up to the seat of commerce) to bargain for Ruth’s release from the other, closer kinsman. He would purchase the field, and by extension Ruth (and Ruth’s family, Naomi). The other redeemer did not want to redeem her since she was a Moabite and at risk of ruining his inheritance. Israelites were forbidden from marrying converts from Moab or Amon even until the 10^th generation (Deut. 23-4-5) but the Talmud, we learned, says the prohibition only applies to Moabite men, not women, making this marriage possible if not common. The redeemer may not have been familiar with this law which is why he refused?

In any case, an agreement is reached where Boaz is to acquire the field, Naomi, Ruth the Moabite, as well as “the wife of the dead” which will perpetuate Elimelech’s name since the redeemer is worried about his own inheritance.

A complicated scene “as was the tradition in Israel” ensues where to seal the deal, the seller removes his shoe and gives it to the buyer as a testament, a symbolic expression that the deal is complete.

So Boaz, in front of everyone at the gate, acquired everything that was Elimelech’s and Kilyon’s and Mahlon’s from the hand of Naomi. And he acquired Ruth, the Moabite—still the Moabite, so that the name of Elimelech will be perpetuated and not forgotten. The people, the witnesses, blessed Boaz and Ruth, asking that G-d make her like Rachel and Leah. And Ruth bore a son. And Naomi placed that son on her bosom (was she nursing him, comforting him?) and they called that child Israel. The women called his Oved, the father of Yishai, the father of David.

The full genealogy is then listed from Peretz to David. Ruth is not heard from again, although the Talmud said that she lived to be old and to see the birth of her grandson David and great-grandson David. By linking her to Rachel and Leah, and leaving out the term Moabite, she is now fully accepted. She becomes the grandmother of David, the ancestor from whom the Messiah, the Redeemer, will come. It is perfect as a modern story and it brings us hope.

This is an ancient text and a modern text. Famine. Refugees. Hunger. Interfaith marriages. Conversion. Inheritance. Women’s rights. Land rights. And the lineage of the messiah.

Ultimately, this ancient text is about being kind. Maybe it is that very kindness that brings about the messiah.

Bibliography:

The Five Megilloth, The Soncino Books of the Bible, Hebrew Text and English Translation, Soncino Press Ltd, 1984

The JPS Bible Commentary: Ruth, Tamara Cohn Eskenazi and Tikva Frymer-Kensky, Commentary 2011, Translation, 1962, 1985, 1989, 1999 by JPS

Reading Ruth, Contemporary Women Reclaim a Sacred Story, Edited by Judith A Kates and Gail Twersky Reimer, Ballentine Books, 1994

Ruth: A Modern Commentary, Translation and Commentary by Leonard S. Kravitz and Kerry M. Olitzky, URJ Press, 2005

The Steinsaltz Tanakh, Megillat Ruth, Rabbi Adin Even-Israel Steinsaltz, Koren Publishers Jerusalem, Ltd. 2015, 2018

I always knew I would have to write this piece one day. For some of you, most of you, this may not be a popular response to recent events. You may think I am wrong. That’s OK. We’re Jews. We argue.

I thought about not writing. Not speaking. Maybe silence is better.

To my friends who are so sure. I am not. I think that this week requires a great deal of nuance. It is not black and white. This is an attempt to provide nuance, context and history. Let me be perfectly clear. Israel has a right to exist and needs to exist. But does Israel need to shoot children? And does Hamas need to use children as cannon fodder?

I am just a small town rabbi. A student of Israel politics for 40 years but I am no expert. If I thought I could solve peace in the Middle East I would go to Fletcher or the Kennedy School. But alas…

My relationship with Israel is complicated. I grew up believing in the hope of Israel. The David and Goliath version. Israel needed to exist so that no matter where Jews were persecuted they had a home to return to. Israel was home.

Like 16 of my Confirmation classmates, I journeyed to Israel in 1977 as part of a NFTY study tour. I fell in love. In 1981 I returned to Israel and learned about more the complexities. I lived there for a year. In Jerusalem. I was the victim of a violent crime and had to testify in Hebrew. I dated an Israeli soldier who was killed in 1983. We were supposed to get married. Every trip to Israel is marked with an intensity that no other travel contains. Every rock. Every trail. Every sidewalk café contains a memory. A story. These staccato sentences, my life experience, color my understanding of Israel.

When I returned I wrote an op-ed piece for a Brandeis publication justifying the “Incursion into Lebanon,” by Jewish law. It was before the internet so I doubt a simple google search will find it. Probably there is a hard copy somewhere in my basement. It does not represent my feeling any more.

Part of my rabbinic thesis was written on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. I concluded that cycles of violence cannot be quelled until people feel safe. Not in generations of domestic violence, not in German Jewish relationships after the Holocaust, not in Israel. We are now three and four generations into this conflict. Israelis don’t feel safe. Neither do Arabs.

Yesterday saw the United States open its long-promised embassy in Jerusalem. I can remember standing in front of the former embassy in Tel Aviv and wondering why it wasn’t in Jerusalem. Yesterday saw (continuing) riots in Gaza, by last count 55 people killed and over 2000 wounded, some of them children.

Those are facts. I believe they were predictable. Hamas has a proven history of using children as human shields. Israel has a history of practicing restraint. Yesterday, there was no restraint. Could there be restraint? Should there have been? Do we hold Israel to a higher standard? Should we?

For 70 years Jews have celebrated the return to having a Jewish state. It is a source of pride. Israel is technologically advanced. Has made the desert bloom. And they have created a haven for Jews from around the world. They are the first to show up at any natural disaster around the world with their excellent medical and rescue expertise. I celebrate, too.

When you arrive at Ben Gurion airport and head to Jerusalem, you go up, you make aliyah, you ascend the mountain road on the way up to Jerusalem. It is a spiritual ascension as well as a hard climb. For thousands of years, Jews have prayed to not forget Jerusalem. For thousands of years, Jews have prayed, “Next year in Jerusalem,” at the end of the Passover seder.

But in the middle of the Passover seder, we spill out some of our wine during the recitation of the plagues. Why? Because, as G-d reminds us in the midrash, we are not allowed to rejoice at the killing of G-d’s creatures. No matter what your politics, the Palestinians in Gaza or on the West Bank are people too, created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d. They have hopes and dreams for their children and their grandchildren. Many of them, most of them want to live in peace.

We have to keep that dream alive. The dream of the story I told this week of where the Temple was built, on a hill where two brothers with different life stories, came together and shared wheat. Where Hiney Ma Tov was penned, “How good and how pleasant it is for brothers to dwell together.”

Can those brothers dwell together? Can there be a path to peace? That is what I pray for every day. That is what I work for when I support organizations like New Israel Fund (NIF), Rabbis for Human Rights, T’ruah, Hadassah, IRAC. And Parent’s Circle—Families Forum, whose homepage says, “We are the only association in the world that does not wish to welcome any new members into its fold. We work towards stopping violence.”

This week, there will be new members of the Parent’s Circle.

Herzl said it, “If you will it, it is no dream.” It is echoed in the National Anthem of Israel, in HaTikvah, The Hope, “To be a free people in our land.” I share that dream. I cannot give up on that dream.

It is why we will celebrate Israel at 70 again this Friday night with a MishMosh musical Kabbalat Shabbat service featuring mostly Israeli music…some of that music that I learned bouncing on a bus in 1977. Oseh Shalom and Jerusalem of Gold will have even more meaning. They are the aspirations of what we hope for, what we pray for.

It is why we are beginning to plan a congregational trip to Israel that will feature plenty of opportunities for a first hand look and deep listening so that we have a better understanding.

I am just a small town rabbi. I don’t have the answers. But I know this. The violence must stop. On all sides.

On a day where many Jews wanted to celebrate, I feel only deep sadness.

In order to understand Israel I recommend the following books and articles:

http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/the-moral-challenge-of-gaza/

https://www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2018/05/israel-palestine-embassy-legitimacy/560291/?utm_source=atlfb

The Case for Israel, Alan Dershowitz
Lemon Tree, Sandy Tolan
My Promised Land, Ari Shavit
Not in G-d’s Name, Jonathan Sacks
Walking Israel, Martin Fletcher

And a brand-new one just out this week.
Letters to my Palestinian Neighbors, Yossi Klein Halevi, already loaded on my Kindle

If…then…

If you obey my commandments then I will….

“If you follow My laws and faithfully observe My commandments, I will grant your rains in their season… you shall eat your fill of bread and dwell securely in your land.” (Leviticus 26:3-5)

But, likewise, we are also told: “If you do not obey Me, I will discipline you sevenfold for your sins… and though you shall eat, you shall not be satisfied.”(Leviticus 26: 18, 26).

This is a tricky portion. We sit here with some severe weather alerts and downpours. I don’t really believe that if there is a tornado or hail that it is G-d punishing us for some slight. And I don’t really believe that saying this out loud will cause G-d to hit this building with lightening. That’s not how my G-d works.

There are plenty of people who do. Every time there is a natural disaster, some preacher will be on TV claiming it is G-d’s punishment for something or other. For instance, several that Hurricane Katrina was G-d’s punishment for legalizing abortion, homosexuality, not being prepared for terrorists or even the US permitting the withdrawal of Israel from Gaza. http://www.ethicsdaily.com/fundamentalists-view-hurricane-katrina-as-gods-punishment-cms-6269

All three Abrahamic traditions in their fundamentalist incarnations had their interpretations of that one.

There is a relatively new theology, prosperity gospel that is rooted in this kind of thinking. That good people will be rewarded and bad people will be punished. It doesn’t work for me. Where does that leave the hungry, the homeless, the oppressed? The widow, the orphan the stranger.

The God I believe in created us b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d, to love one another—our neighbors, the widow, the orphan, the stranger. To take care of the earth. To be partners with G-d in creation. To be a light to the nations. To provide hope. To make the world a better place.

So in my world view, I am not waiting for G-d to provide food for the hungry, I am planting the corners of my field. I am engaging in other acts of tikkun ha-olam, repair of the world.

This is a tricky text but it is a radical one. It continues the recipe for holiness, for kedusha.

It is very clear that if we do X then G-d will do y. It is the language of covenant, of brit. It is about being in a covenantal relationship. A holy relationship.

What is a covenant?

It is an agreement. It is a promise. Between G-d and people. Originally, a brit was a treaty, a contract “cut” between the Hittite rulers in the ancient Near East in the 14^th and 13^th centuries BCE to make clear the relationship between a royal suzerain and the vassals that served him. These contracts, whether between the Hittite rulers or between G-d and man, were asymmetrical, reflecting an imbalance of power and spelled out the dire consequences if the contract was not fulfilled. An oath was sworn, outlining the conditional, terrible punishments, sometimes signed in blood, to make real the terms of the covenant.

This week we marked rainbow day. The day where the midrash teaches us that G-d promises never to destroy the world again by flood. The sign of that promise is the rainbow.

“I have set My rainbow in the cloud, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between Me and the Earth.” (Genesis 9:13)

The midrash teaches that the biblical flood began on the 17^th day of the second month, exactly one lunar year and 10 days, (or a complete solar year) before Noah, his family and all the animals left the ark, on the 27^th day of the second month. That day is the 42 day of the counting of the omer. Exactly today. The day when G-d made that covenant that G-d would never destroy the world by flood again—or in the words of the Negro Spiritual—not by flood but by fire next time. The sign, the signature of that covenant is the rainbow.

Perhaps we will be surprised by a rainbow today. The weather is right for it.

G-d made a covenant with Abraham. His descendants would be a numerous as the stars in the sky and the sands of the sea. Abraham would mark his flesh—and that of his menfolk, by circumcision as a sign of this covenant. G-d renewed the covenant with Abraham, with Isaac and Jacob, promising that we would live long on the land that G-d promised to our ancestors. That covenant was signed in blood–with the ceremony of brit milah. Zipporah took matters into her own hands, when she circumcized Moses’s son.

Then we have Shabbat, which we talked about at length last week. Shabbat is the sign of the covenant between Israel and G-d. For six days G-d created the heavens and the earth and on the seventh day G-d rested and was refreshed, re-souled.

Then we have Torah, which we will celebrate more fully next week as part of Shavuot. We actually have a tradition of signing a ketubah, a marriage contract, between Israel and G-d. The sign of that covenant, the dowry if you will, is the Torah itself. If you obey My commandments, then I will give you rain in its season and provide you with enough to eat. You will eat and be satisfied. What then do we promise G-d?

Typically, these ketubot, common is Sephardic congregations, use various piyutim, poems and verses from scripture, including: “I will betroth thee unto Me for ever; yea, I will betroth thee unto Me in righteousness, and in justice, and in lovingkindness, and in compassion. And I will betroth thee unto Me in faithfulness, and thou shalt know the Lord” (Hosea 2:21-22) and “I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel” (Jeremiah 31:31).

Here today we have one more covenantal relationship to celebrate. Today we will celebrate the upcoming marriage, kiddushin or Jeanette and Chris. When you enter into a marriage, it is a holy relationship, a covenantal relationship, one of holiness, kedusha, one set apart, and unique, one for another.

The ketubah is again a sign of that covenant. There are many modern texts. Jeanette and Chris have picked one that promises each other that they have entered into the covenant of marriage, that their love will provide them with the courage to fulfill their shared dream. They will support each other for personal growth and that they will be honest, loyal and devoted to one another as they create a loving future together. They will treasure life’s joys and comfort each other through life’s sorrows. They will build a home filled with loving affection, laughter, wisdom, generosity and respect. They will weave their commitment to the Jewish people and culture into the fabric of their lives. They will act in ways that show compassion for all humanity and respect for the earth, while creating balance in their lives, practicing gratitude and being sensitive to each other’s needs.

We celebrate their covenant to one another with them as we call them to the bimah for a special blessing.

Today is Mother’s Day, and while I am proud to be a mother, I am also missing my mother. Perhaps she would have been proud of me. It was a good week. I was awarded the Betty Brown Racial Justice Award by the YWCA of Elgin. It is very humbling. I don’t do this work in a vacuum. I have lots of partners in Elgin including those at the Y.

My mother and I did lots of rallies for justice together when I was a young child in Evanston. She ran for park commissioner because when she asked why the swings were not up, she was told, “Those people might sit on them.” As a Girl Scout we did lots of “service projects” to make the world a better place. I was a leader of a troop in Grand Rapids “Center City” when I was a junior in High School. I’ll never forget being in a Brownie Ring asking for Christmas traditions and every girl knew that her mamma called “Santa’s Girls” and that’s where the presents came from.

Mother’s Day is a peace holiday. It was not started by Hallmark. There are many claims to the first American Mother’s Day. There were some observances by women whose sons were fighting on opposite sides of the Civil War. They were not prepared to lose another son to war. Ann Jarvis started a Mother’s Friendship Day in 1868 “to reunite families that had been divided during the Civil War.” Julia Ward Howe led a “Mother’s Day for Peace” anti-war demonstration in New York on June 2, 1872 which led to the first Mother’s Day Proclamation.

The first year after my mother died, I stood outside the gates of the White House leading an interfaith service for peace. This year will find me running a race shortly where the charity is Wings, an organization dedicated to preventing domestic violence.

Today is also Yom Yerushalayim, Jerusalem Day on the Hebrew Calendar. It is the day in 1967 when Jerusalem was reunited. Jersualem actually means City of Peace. Ir=City. Shalom=Peace.

This past week, as a partner with Gail Borden Public Library, Coalition of Elgin Religious Leaders, Elgin City of Peace, I hosted an event at CKI called Stories of Peace. I knew I wanted to do it this week and I knew exactly what story I wanted to tell.

We all know the story. The legend of the two brothers. Every rabbi I have ever known has told this story. It is the story of how King Solomon chose the spot to build the Holy Temple.

Once upon a time, there was a farmer who left his two sons his land. (It is always sons, never daughters except for the daughters of Zelophehad in Numbers 27, who do inherit their father’s land, but that is another story).

The two brothers each lived on the other side of a hill. One brother was married with several children. The other one lived alone. One night, the married brother lay awake thinking about how blessed he was and his brother had no one to help him with the harvest. He decided he must share his abundance. Which is exactly what he did. Under the dark of night, he climbed up the hill and down the other side with a sheaf of what and left it for his brother to find when he awoke.

Meanwhile, the other brother was also awake thinking about how fortunate he was. “I am just alone and have so much. My brother has so many mouths to feed. He surely needs some of my wheat.” Which is exactly what he did. Under the stars and the light of the moon, he hiked up the hill and down the other side and left a sheaf of wheat for his brother that he would find when he awoke.

In the morning, when each brother awoke, they were both surprised to find that each had the same number of sheaves as the previous day. So the next night, up and down the hill they went, filled with love for their brother and thankfulness for their blessings. Each night this “miracle” of the sheaves was repeated, until one night their paths crossed and they hugged. That is the exact spot that King Solomon chose to build the Temple. And as we were taught, that is the basis of the song, “Hiney Ma Tov” from Psalms. “How good and how pleasant it is for brothers to dwell together.”

That’s the end of the story, right? Maybe not. Where did this story come from? I had always assumed it was from the Talmud or the midrash. Not so fast! Louis Ginzberg has it in The Legends of the Jews, and in his footnotes he references Israel Costa’s Mikveh Yisrael (Livorno, 1851). Alexander Scheiber published a bibliography with various origins and different versions of the story. The first mention is from Alphone de Laartine who recorded it from Palestinian Arabs in 1832. I even found one mention that it was an Indian Muslim story and someone else told me it was a retelling of the Gift of the Magi.

There are at least three children’s versions:

• Brothers: A Hebrew Legend, by Florence Friedman (the version I wound up telling)
• One City, Two Brothers, by Chris Smith
• The Two Brothers, a Legend of Jerusalem, by Neil Waldman

Which ever tale you tell, pray for the peace of Jerusalem. It would be a good thing on Mother’s Day, especially this Mother’s Day. And for you mothers, step-mothers, aunts, mother figures, dad who are mothers, thank you!

Here is a full source list:

Louis Ginzberg, Legends of the Jews. In the old JPS edition the legend can be found on 4:154 and a discussion on 6:293-294.
Bin Gorion I-Micha Joseph Bin Gorion, Mimekor Yisrael, ed. by Emanuel bin Gorion, trans. I.M. Lask, intro. by Dan Ben-Amos, Indiana University Press.
Bin Gorion II-Micha Joseph Bin Gorion, Mimekor Yisrael: Selected Classical Jewish Folktales, abridged and annotated edition, ed. by Emanuel bin Gorion, trans. I.M. Lask, intro. and headnotes by Dan Ben-Amos, Indiana University Press. Although this edition has fewer legends, it has better notes and bibliographical material on each legend. See the bibliographical notes for this legend on p. 272.
Alexander Scheiber, “The Legend about the Temple Location in Jerusalem” in Essays on Jewish Folklore and Comparative Literature, Budapest, 1985, pp. 291-299.
Haim Schwarzbaum, Studies in Jewish and World Folklore, Berlin, 1968, pp. 462-463
Eliezer Segal, “The Founding of Jerusalem: A Palestinian Midrash?”
Zev Vilnay, Legends of Jerusalem, JPS, pp. 77-78.