On the morning before the first day of Passover, several of us gathered at Congregation Kneseth Israel to study something in depth. Those of us who are first born are supposed to fast the day before the seder in recognition that our lives were spared when the Angel of Death passed over the houses of the Israelites in Egypt. BUT, if we complete studying something, then we are obligated to celebrate and we cannot fast. A legal fiction? Yep, but a nice tradition and one that forces me to study something. Studying something, mastering it, making it my own is part of what I love about being a rabbi.

This year I chose as the topic, Zipporah. Truth be told I am not sure that in an hour session and my preparatory work I am really done with this topic.

Who was Zipporah? The wife of Moses, daughter of Jethro the Midianite priest (cohen). Or daughter of Reul as one of texts names him. The mother of Gershom and Eliezer. She circumcised Gershom on the road to freedom. She is identified as the Cushite woman. Her name means little bird.

She only appears in three Biblical texts: Exodus 2:18-20 where Moses meets Zipporah at the well. Always at a well. Exodus 4:26 where Zipporah circumcises Gershom thus preserving the covenant and maybe in Numbers 12:1 when Miriam complains about the Cushite woman. None of these texts are particularly easy. Zipporah seems to play a bit part. So why do we care?

We care because Zipporah becomes a role model for us today. Daughter of a Midianite priest, she was not an Israelite, perhaps if she is a Cushite, she is even African, black skinned. Yet she is the one responsible for passing down the covenant, by taking matters in to her own hands and circumcising her son.

When reading all of the midrashim (yes, I did that amount of pre-reading first, plus a modern midrashic novel, Zipporah Wife of Moses by Marek Halter), we learn that Miriam was struck by leprosy by speaking out against her brother. The rabbis talk about it as gossip because she is questioning whether Moses is fulfilling his husbandly duties. Ultimately Miriam is told essentially to mind her own business. How many times have we had people wonder in our community if someone is Jewish, or Jewish enough, or can be attending religious school. My advice, based on reading these texts? Mind your own business! Eventually it will sort itself out (and it is part of my job as mara d’atra, master of the place, to help people sort it out for themselves!)

Studying these texts on the morning before Pesach was thrilling. There were two men studying to be Catholic priests from Africa. There two women who are married to non-Jews that are raising their children as Jews. One is in a bi-racial marriage. They broke into four groups and really wrestled with the texts. Holy sparks flying. It stretched all of us. And that is precisely the point of Torah study. To stretch us. To become G-dwrestlers.

One modern day sermon I read in preparation was my Rabbi Stephen Kahn, “For Officiating at Intermarriages: The Voice of Zipporah”. He describes sitting in his office listening to a Bar Mitzvah parent trying to prepare with her son on the phone. None of her family will be participating in the service. They are not Jewish and she has not converted. As he said, “Yet again I am confronted with the reality that this woman, who is sharing in the most meaningful way in raising her son to become a Jewish adult, is not Jewish herself. She tells me that she and her husband sit hour upon hour studying with him at home learning a language she had never been exposed to as a child herself. Taking on the commitment of v’shinatam l’vanecha, of teaching our children.” She is a modern day Zipporah.

He goes on to explain that for seven years he had chosen not to participate in interfaith weddings. But in looking at Zipporah and watching his congregation, he is changing his mind. “According to the midrash (teaching story), the rabbis suggest that God was angry with Moses because he had not immediately circumcised his son. Therefore, God sought to kill him. The midrash claims that had it not been for Zipporah’s dedication to the mitzvah (commandment) of circumcision, Moses would have died and the Jewish people would never have been savedOn a very deep level this small editorial note on Moses’ journey from Midian back to Egypt is filled with a very powerful message. That his non-Hebrew wife fulfills the mitzvah of circumcision is no small matter. After all, it is traditionally a commandment upon the father of a Jewish child. Studying this text has inspired me to make both the emotional and intellectual transition in my life.”

For me, I believe that in certain cases performing an interfaith wedding makes sense. I am not sure my congregation is there yet. But as I write these words on Erev Easter I am aware that we will have Hebrew School tomorrow and that only half our children will show up. The other half, fully the other half will be celebrating another holiday at their grandparents’ homes. Interfaith marriage is here to stay. Perhaps it is better to say it has always been here. Rebecca, Rachel, Leah, Pharaoh’s Daughter, Zipporah. Non-Jewish women. All were instrumental in ensuring that the next generation were part of the covenant. The research in Boston shows that if we are welcoming to non-Jewish spouses, rather than pushing them away, they become involved, invested, engaged. Some convert. Some do not. Many are instrumental in passing down Judaism to their children. Just like Zipporah. For me that is the take-away from my in-depth study of Zipporah. I am glad I had the opportunity.

My sermon from Shabbat Chol Mo’ed Pesach:

I have a question today. What is truth? People came up with various definitions: emet, (or emes as someone said), something that can be proven, something that is absolute, something that is real, not fantasy, a fact.

This week we mark the 450^th anniversary of the birth of Shakespeare. A known anti-semite. Or so we “know”. But what if he is not. We all know this passage from Merchant of Venice:

“To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and indered me half a million; laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies; and what’s his reason? I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject

to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by

Christian example? Why, revenge. The villany you teach me, I will execute, and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction.”

What’s going on here? We can read it like we read Torah. On the simple level, the pashat level, Shylock appears to be a despicable character and Shakespeare anti-semetic in his portrayal. But we need to go beyond that to uncover truth. We need to look at the midrashic level, the remez level, providing a hint of what is going on and the sod level, the hidden level. Then we will find the truth. And then, like when we study Torah, we will enter Pardes, paradise.

Shakespeare himself probably didn’t know many Jews. It is a fact that Jews were expelled from England in 1290. They were allowed back into England only in 1655, not in Shakespeare’s lifetime. Could he have known some hidden Jews? Certainly possible.

Michael Radford, who directed the film version of Merchant of Venice asks important questions: “Would you call Do the Right Thing a racist film? Or Bend It Like Beckham? Or Ken Loach’s new film A Fond Kiss? All these films deal with the tense relationships between immigrant communities and the broad majority, but none of them would be considered racist just because of the subject matter.”

I have heard the same thing about West Side Story, written by Leonard Bernstein when compared with In the Heights. Radford continues: “Why then has Shakespeare’s play The Merchant of Venice, which deals with the relationship between the Jews and the Christians in sixteenth century Venice, been tainted with accusations of anti-Semitism? Is it because we know the Nazis took the play and used it for their own purposes?  Yet we know that any great play is susceptible to being coloured by the age in which it is performed…”

Yep I learned this too. Any film is more reflective of the time period it is written in than that it is written about. Take the movie Munich. Many people said that Speilberg was anti-Semitic in his making of it. Speilberg, really? The one who has done so much to document the Shoah in film of survivors’ first hand accounts? Just because Munich questions Israel policy of political assignations? I don’t think so. If you look really carefully at the end of the movie, there are the Twin Towers gleaming on a bright sunny day, a stark reminder of the world before 911. No, I think Speilberg was writing a polemic about US Government policy and retaliation after 911.

As Radford says, “Of course we shall never know what Shakespeare really intended, nor in the long term does it really matter. We have the play before us now, and, if we respond to it, we can only do so through the eyes of our own society. We do know certain facts however. We know that the play was written in and about the time of the execution of Roderigo Lopez, Queen Elizabeth I’s doctor, one of the few Jews in London, and a man wrongly accused of conspiring against her. We know that there was an outburst of anti-Semitism in London at this point. There is no doubt too that historically, Christians were intolerant of the Jews both for their perceived part in the death of Christ and for their money lending activities. They were an immigrant community who kept their own customs and were therefore to be treated with the darkest suspicion.” Radford concludes that a man who could write,  “If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die…?” or “You, that did void your rheum upon my beard, and kick me as you spurn a stranger cur over your threshold–money is your suit. What should I say to you? Should I not say: Hath a dog money? Is it possible a cur can lend three thousand ducats?” or “You have amongst you many a purchased slave. Shall I say to you: Let them be free…?” possibly be an anti-Semite? The answer is of course no. It is absolutely impossible. This is not just a nice bar of music written by a man who hated Jews (as Wagner did). This is not just a poem in the abstract, written by a Nazi sympathiser (like Ezra Pound). This is a deeply considered piece about humanity, written from the core of his soul. Could such a man be a racist? I don’t think so.”

So after careful consideration, this oft quoted piece to document Shakespeare’s anti-semitism is not in itself anti-semetic. Where is the truth?

Truth is even harder than that to find. Who really wrote Merchant of Venice? For years, scholars have speculated that there must be more than one person who wrote under Shakespeare’s name. Personally, I was intrigued by an article that appeared in Reform Judaism in 2010. It suggests that maybe one of the Shakespeares was a Jewish woman!

In 1922 the Shakespeare Authorship Trust was founded,  “to seek, and if possible establish, the truth concerning the authorship of Shakespeare’s plays and poems,” It has identified a dozen or so possible candidates including: Francis Bacon, Edward de Vere Christopher Marlowe, Mary Sidney, Roger Manners and Henry Neville. Or perhaps, like we sometimes say about the Torah itself, there were many hands, many authors, a group of editors.

In April 2007, the Trust added a new name to the list: Amelia Bassano Lanier (1569-1645), daughter of a Venetian-born court musician and converso (a Jew who is forced to convert to Christianity but remains secretly Jewish). The major proponent of Ameilia Bassano Lanier being Shakespeare is John Hudson , a graduate of the Shakespeare Institute at the University of Birmingham, England. He has written an 800-page dissertation in support of his contention that if Amelia Bassano did not author all of the works, she was a major collaborator, influenced them all, and contributed their underlying allegorical plots.

At first I was unconvinced, and in truth, I haven’t read the full manuscript but several of the articles. What was most convincing to me was the fact that Shakespeare, whoever that is, seems to quote the Mishnah, Tractate Nedarim, in A Midsummer’s Night Dream, by using the same terms and in the same order to annul a marriage, beauty, fairness and height. It also alludes to the apocalypse in very Jewish terms, citing dew, which appears in the Zohar. How could Shakespeare know of this?

For me this is all interesting, fascinating stuff but why are we talking about it here today?

Let’s go back to my original question. What is truth?  It is true that there is still anti-semitism in the world. We have seen dangerous examples of it this week. In Kansas City and in the Ukraine.

But what really happened in the Ukraine. We all saw the documents posted on social media telling Jews that they needed to register, pay $50 or face deportation. JUF put out a release late yesterday afternoon. Listen carefully:

“On the evening of April 15, official-looking documents were circulated in the eastern Ukrainian city of Donetsk, calling on Jews to register with the Nationalities Commissioner and pay $50 or lose their citizenship and face deportation. Three individuals wearing ski masks and the flag of the Russian Federation were seen distributing the flyers near the Donetsk synagogue.  The flyers were signed in the name of Denis Pushilin, the leader of Donetsk’s pro-Russian separatists, who led the takeover of several government buildings and claimed the city as the Donetsk Republic.

NCSJ has contacted the Donetsk Jewish community leaders, who called the flyers a provocation. They said that all authorities have denied any connection to the flyers, and that Pushilin has denied authorship.  Several members of the community went to the Nationalities Commissioner, who repudiated the flyer, and said that the leaflets were distributed to cause unrest among the Jewish population.  Similar leaflets were distributed targeting international students at the local university.

In addition to the local community, NCSJ has been in regular contact with the State Department and the U.S. Embassy in Kiev on the issue of the flyers.  NCSJ will continue to monitor the situation in Donetsk and throughout Ukraine.”

A similar article appeared in New Republic and on Snopes. I have never seen Snopes put out something so quickly.

So again, what is truth? Those of us who have a paranoia streak, and that includes me, we  did exactly what the thugs in ski masks wanted us to do. We jumped to a conclusion that this story must be true. We posted and reposted it on social media and it spread like wildfire as if it were true. Even Secretary of State Kerry got into the mix calling the flyers grotesque. While we cannot be naïve. Anti-semitism is on the rise in Europe, including the Ukraine and Russia, France and Hungry as well as here in the US, just look at Kansas City, we cannot panic either. We have systems in place. We, here in Elgin, have a police force that cares, as evidenced by their response to my phone call earlier this week.

This raises huge questions for me about how we get our news. In a previous life I was a journalist. For me journalism failed this week. As journalists, and even as private citizens, we need fact check. We need to determine what is true, even if we happen to be a national official. On the other hand, that any flyers were passed out, even as one media outlet called it, a hoax, it is reprehensible, grotesque and we should all be aware. We should all speak out.

So again, what is truth and how do we know it. This week’s Torah portion—really I am getting there, gives us a clue. This week we chant the 13 Attributes of the Divine. This is a portion I know very well. 40 years ago today it was my Bat Mitzvah Torah portion. It is the reason that I became a rabbi. It sustains me as a leader. G-d will go with Moses and lighten his burden and give him rest. When Moses argues with G-d, G-d hides Moses in a cleft of the rock. G-d made G-d’s goodness pass before Moses.

G-d has a face, that Moses can’t see. A hand, which shelters Moses, and a backside, whatever that means. G-d has a nose, erech apayim which we translate as slow to anger or endlessly patient, really means long in the nose—apparently that’s what anger looked like. Good journalism? A first hand account? Truth? Anthropomophic? Anthropopathic. You bet, but the Torah is trying to describe something beyond language. Maybe even reminiscent of the Skylock monologue. Hath not G-d eyes? Hath not G-d hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Apparently even though we believe that G-d does not have a body and isn’t male or female, here G-d has a face which cannot be seen, a hand, a backside and a nose.

We know these Attributes: Adonai, Adonai, El Rachum v’chanun. Erech al payim, v’rav chesed v’emet….Full of lovingkindness and truth. Truth there it is. G-d is true. The word itself is one of my favorite words, Aleph, Mem, Tav. Another name for G-d, the first the last the middle letter of the Hebrew alef bet. Taking all together they are truth.

Emet can be translated as “faithfulness” The root of Emet is also the root for the word Amen. So be it. So may it be true. The Conservative Movement’s defining document is called Emet v’emunah, Truth and Faithfulness. Etz Hayim, the Conservative Movement chumash that we use here says that, ḥesed v’emet often appear together to “emphasize a single concept. ḥesed involves acts of beneficence and obligation that flow from a legal relationship…. Emet, usually translated ‘truth’ encompasses the notions of reliability, durability, and faithfulness. When used together, the two words express God’s absolute and eternal dependability in dispensing His benefactions.”

Therefore, in this pairing of attributes, we see there is a connection between ḥesed, the obligation that comes with beneficence and mercy and emet which brings with it the obligation of justice

 And maybe this then is the point. There is something beyond us that is beyond description that is ultimate truth. That ultimate truth is G-d.

We Americans are used to filtered news. There has been much written about the difference between CNN or NBC and Fox. And that is an important debate. I personally like to get my news from a range of sources, including print and social media, main stream outlets like CNN, NBC, NPR and Fox as well as those outside of the US. That was important yesterday as people were rushing to repost what was happening in the Ukraine to the Jewish community. Even Secretary of State Kerry commented on it. If it appears on CNN, USA Today and our officials discuss it must be true. Right? Maybe yes and maybe no. It is hard to know for sure what is happening in the Ukraine. It seems clear that there were some leaflets handed out to the Jewish community demanding that they register themselves and their property. Who handed them out and why, less clear. Anti-semetic? It certainly seems so.

As my Omer project continues, people have begun to send me clippings. Here is one from yesterday’s New York Times:

“In Nairobi, the Kenyan capital, normal levels of fine dust (meaning particles less than 2.5 micrometers in diameter, about 1/30 of the width of a human hair and a significant health threat) are usually five times as high as those in Gothenburg, Sweden, according to Johan Boman, a professor of atmospheric science at the University of Gothenburg. The Nairobi pollution doubles near the central business district, he said, reflecting high pollution from vehicle exhaust.”

People describe having perpetual cold symptoms from living in Nairobi. The comments that it is not as bad as China do not help me, because they do not help the world. (Cue It’s a Small World music here) How can we help this global problem that until yesterday I was not aware existed? I know “Ours is not to complete the task,” however, that verse ends, “Neither are we free to ignore it.”

Thanks Amit, for sharing the article.

Yesterday I wrote about coffee and the impact Keurig cups have the environment. Today I have been reading in the book “On the Way to War.” I haven’t learned much about Kenya yet. Originally the author wanted to go to Rwanda. It seems incredible to me that we are 20 years out from the Rwandan genocide. It seems incredible to me that people, any people, still call for the destruction of another people. How is that possible. And yet this is a week filled with such reports. A gunman, a known white supremacist, kills three outside of two Jewish institutions in Kansas City. We mark the first anniversary of the Boston Marathon bombing. It is also, sadly, the anniversary Waco, the bombing Oklahoma City, and Columbine. There are also conflicting reports out of the Ukraine of some Jews being told they must register as Jews or risk deportations. Yes, this is happening today. 2014. 5774 in case you need to look at a calendar to believe these things.

The author of the book I am reading says that what he sought was a short, intense life that made a bold impact and live beyond him. His greatest fear was an ordinary life. Perhaps if more people tried to make a difference we could be free from the fear of genocide, poverty, terrorism, gun violence. With freedom comes responsibility. The responsibility to make the world a better place. He quotes Margaret Mead, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.” Something to think about this Passover.

Sitting sipping my kosher for Passover, fair trade, Kenyan coffee from Starbucks seemed like a good time on this first day of the omer to think about my Kenyan project. First, I like the coffee. Dark but not too bitter. Just right.

I’ve been thinking about the use of Keurig pods. Thanks to Rosa Kramer Franck who posted this article http://qz.com/193138/the-worlds-growing-love-affair-with-the-most-wasteful-form-of-coffee-there-is/ I have learned how much the use of K-cups have grown and how wasteful and bad for the environment they have become.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my Keurigs. Yes, I have two. Both gifts. One at home and one in the office. It is nice to be able to offer a warm drink to someone who stops in to see me. My machines are easy to use. The coffee keeps better than opening a full bag. It is convenient. Not messy. I can provide lots of choices so everyone gets what they want. I can buy fair trade coffee from Green Mountain which is important to me.

We’ve tried recyclable keurig cups. They are messier and more time consuming. But for Passover that is exactly what we are using. And with practice we are getting better at it.

We have a commitment to use fair trade coffee. Why is this important? Truah, Rabbis for Human Rights has a good position paper on this: http://www.truah.org/images/stories/PDFs/hrs_teaching_fair_trade_principles.pdf

But for me, it is simple. Because as Jews, we are compelled to treat the widow, the orphan, the stranger with respect and dignity. Precisely because we were strangers in the land of Egypt. We were slaves in the land of Egypt. The big businesses that buy most of the United States supply of coffee and chocolate do not pay the farmers in the “Global South” a living wage. They treat them like slaves. So for years we have only been buying fair trade coffee. Either from Dean’s Beans, where you can check out their recent Fair Trade Audit: http://www.deansbeans.com/coffee/fair_trade_roadmap/audit.html  (Simon likes to roast their green beans. Come have a cup with him!). And by the way, Dean has now developed a ReCup! Or from Thanksgiving Coffee because they buy from a collective in Uganda of Jews, Christians and Muslims that is fair trade, kosher and organic called, “Delicious Peace” http://www.mirembekawomera.com/coffee.  Or frankly from Green Mountain or my beloved Starbucks.

In a similar vain because of the commandment repeated 36 times in Torah to support the widow, the orphan the stranger, we contribute to American Jewish World Service and Heifer International because they support micro financing for women. This is long before I applied to be an AJWS Global Fellow.

So what to do about the K-Cups? I think that at least for me, after Passover, I will continue to use our recyclable pods at home. I tend to only buy one kind of coffee for me anyway. All of the benefits of single pods, none of the waste and they are cheaper. It is the right thing to do. We are even saving the grinds now for our garden. It is the beginning of composting at the Kleins.

Back to my cup of Kenyan coffee.

This week there has been a lot of chatter of whether Christians hosting seders for themselves or Jews inviting non-Jews to seders or Jews helping churches to lead their own seders is a good idea or a bad idea. Here are two links:

http://sicutlocutusest.com/2014/04/11/no-christian-seders-please/

At first I thought I agreed with J. Mary Luti. And I even felt guilty for being complicit in helping churches, even some of her beloved United Church of Christ churches have a Passover seder. I agree. I don’t want my symbols reinterpreted into something they are not. I want to recognized as an authentic Jew, as an authentic religion. I don’t believe that Christianity superseded Judaism and I don’t hope that I will eventually “see the light.” I do understand that Judaism has continued to evolve and a seder today does not look much like a seder in Jesus’s day–or that of the rabbis of the Talmud.

Then I started thinking more. I was pleased when Rabbi Evan Moffic wrote this piece. seemingly in response:
http://www.religiondispatches.org/dispatches/guest_bloggers/7794/why_christians_should_have_a_passover_seder__a_rabbi_responds/

For me, having non-Jews at a seder, is something we have always done, as far back as I can remember. The Haggadah says clearly, “Let all who are hungry come and eat.” Growing up my father would invite lots of people from Northwestern where he was a professor and there were always non-Jews. In the 60s, there were lots of community seders. Opportunities for Jews and African-Americans to explore their common heritage of the Exodus and freedom from slavery.

In Grand Rapids, the pattern of inviting people , Jews and non-Jews, whomever did not have a place to go, continued (except the year he was in the hospital and we went to someone else’s house). In Grand Rapids, Good Friday was much more observed. Everything was quiet. Everything was closed. People either went to church (we did not) or stayed indoors from 12-3. In my family, we were painfully aware of how dangerous Good Friday had been for the Jews especially in Europe. We were always fearful that something like that could happen to us. It was ironic that my Bat Mitzvah was the Friday night of Passover–Good Friday.

Throughout my married life we have hosted seders in our home and led seders in any number of churches. There have always been non-Jews invited frequently members of the clergy, who are amongst my best friends. My father was never entirely comfortable with how open I was about my Jewishness. While he never denied his, and our home was open, he worried about my safety. I think that part of why I do as much interfaith dialogue work as I do is precisely from this fear.

If we are open and welcoming, then non-Jews come to know us on our terms, for who we are today, as real people. It takes some of the mystery and fear out of it. If G-d forbid there is an anti-Semitic incident in one of our towns, then we know who to call on and they show up. Fast. One year there was some graffiti spray painted on the synagogue in Lowell, just before Chanukah. We called the police, the ADL (standard) and I called the leaders of the Greater Lowell Interfaith Leadership Alliance. GLILA members showed up before the police got there. They were instrumental in rededicating the synagogue.

I would love to say that anti-Semitism doesn’t exist any more. I would love to say that we don’t need to be vigilant. The horrific events of this past week prove otherwise. I would love to think that it doesn’t happen here in Elgin. It does. There is not a student in our middle school program that doesn’t feel that he or she has been bullied, picked on, teased because he or she is Jewish. The local clergy council in McHenry is actively working on responding to an incident in one of the local schools.

Along the way, I have learned things about leading interfaith seders. They always enrich my own observance. When I can explain my faith, my practices, my celebrations to non-Jews, in language they can understand, it deepens my own celebration. The conversations are more meaningful. The casual exchanges over the meal itself are important.

This year was no exception. We had guests at our home seder from a noviate in Godfrey, IL. Catholics training to become priests from Zambia and India. They had never spent time with an American family. They had never met a Jew before they met Simon and me several weeks ago. We had an Episcopal priest and his partner. We had an attorney who had just returned from Tanzinia and an English professor who had taught there. We had Jews, non-Jews, blacks and whites, 16 of us in all.

At the synagogue community seder we had 65 people. We had Jews, people who were not born Jews but have converted, people in the process of converting for whom this was their first seder, people who were born in the congregation and people who just found us this year, non-Jews, the Lutheran pastor who bought our chametz and some of his congregation, people who found us on the internet, the police officer tasked with keeping the building safe.

Some longtime members were surprised to find non-Jews. They can’t remember other years where this had happened. They thought it was unique and meaningful to have visitors join us. One delighted in showing off the sanctuary and the Torahs after the seder ended. Perhaps previous spiritual leaders learned in the codes, as did I, the following Teshuvah in my codes class in rabbinical school:

There is a general prohibition against inviting non-Jews for Yom Tov meals, which is because of a decree, lest one cooks for him on Yom Tov (which is forbidden; see Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chaim 512:1). However, in certain cases Chazal were lenient, for instance where he came uninvited. This is certainly true today for the night meal, which is never cooked after nightfall, and everything is ready in advance. In particular, one can be lenient for a non-Jew studying to become Jewish, as we find many matters for which we are lenient in such circumstances (see Minchas Yitzchak Vol. 3, no. 8). Another special leniency is for a housemaid etc. (Rema, Yoreh De’ah 113:4).

However, the Teshuvah concludes with this: “Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach also records that the custom of old was to invite non-Jewish dignitaries to the Pesach Seder; this was apparently important to promote good relations between the Jews and their non-Jewish neighbors or hosts (see Shulchan Shlomo, Yom Tov Vol. 1, p. 207, note 8).”

So yes, I will continue to invite non-Jews to our seders. And I will do it unapologetically. My hope is that it brings peace into the world. My hope is that it makes the world a better place. It makes my world better.

Have you ever made a snow angel or gone sledding down a hill? When the Chicago Board of Rabbis met recently for a study session prior to Passover, those were my definitions of freedom. Being totally in the moment. Laughing.

I didn’t think that we would experience freedom that way for Passover. This is a spring holiday. Then I heard the forecast. I bought the pansies anyway. This is a spring holiday. We had corrected the calendar by adding Adar II. We added the month of Adar. Then the flakes fell. I bought white tulips. Then the flakes really fell. We set the table. We got an inch and a half. It snowed through the entire evening.

Every time we read about spring in the Haggadah, we laughed, we joked. Dip the parsley in salt water to represent spring? Really? For lo the winter is past? Not so much. We drink four cups of wine to represent the four seasons? Maybe. Did we make snow angels? No. But we did take pictures on the deck. And we did make a snow woman wearing a talit and a kippah (an upside down pansy flower!) Maybe she was Miriam.

With freedom comes responsibility. Perhaps this snowfall is a reminder of climate change and our responsibility to be caretakers of the earth. We are partners with God in creation. If the goal is to create Jewish memories, this is one Passover we will never forget!

Today is Shabbat Hagadol, one of only two times a year where the rabbi would traditionally give a sermon. Today I am not. You will create it yourselves. Eventually. After you prepare. Because that is why the rabbi would give a sermon on Shabbat HaGadol, so that you would have all the knowledge, tools, abilities to prepare for Passover correctly. So you could find the chamatz in your house. So you could be ready for Passover. It can be physically demanding and technically complex. But what if it is not.

Based on the recent Torah portions, we’ve talked a lot in the last few weeks about being ready. Being ritually ready. In a state of ritual purity. Today’s Torah portion continues that theme. It is about how to purify the sanctuary after the death of Aaron’s sons (at first I wrote sins and maybe that was not a typo!) Later about the two goats of atonement for Yom Kippur. It is about all of the sexual sins. Who may sleep with whom. And who may not. Traditionally this portion is also read on Yom Kippur. Like many Reform and Conservative shuls we don’t read it here. We read the alternative reading, the Holiness Code. About the ways we should behave. About loving our neighbor, our friend as ourselves.

Already I have answered questions this year about how to prepare physically: how to kasher a keurig, a dishwasher and a stand mixer. Whether the bottled water is kosher. What about pine nuts and quinoa? What about kitinyot? It makes me feel like the wise child.  And these are indeed important questions. If there are more of those, I am happy to answer them. If I can’t there is this wonderful book 1001 Answers and Questions for Passover. See you are not alone.

Today we are going to prepare for Passover another way. Not by searching for chametz under the refrigerator (I’ll probably still do that tonight) but by searching for spiritual chametz, by preparing our hearts to leave the narrow places, to exit Egypt.

I, too, am a lifelong learner. I come by it naturally. My father’s definition of a Jew is someone who questions, thinks and argues. So what are the big questions of Passover? What are the questions that never get asked? Why is this day different from the others?

The first question I became aware of…when do we eat? We have solved in our house by adding a platter of vegetables after karpas, the parsley, and letting people nosh during the rest of the service. I thought this was brilliant all on its own. A modern day solution. But in reading Sacred Trash, I learned, it was common in the 2^nd Century and spelled out in one of the Haggadot that were unearthed in the Cairo Geniza.

The second question of my year, sitting at the Chicago Board of Rabbis meeting I heard a verse we all know with new ears: “So the Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, with great terror and with signs and wonders.” Deuteronomy 26. I had always heard the translation “awesome power.” What, then, is the difference between awesome power and great terror? What were the implications for the Israelites? What about us today?

The third question ties in nicely with today’s Torah portion. Why is there charoset on the seder plate? Think about it. We tell the kids it is to represent the mortar or the bricks that the Israelites used to build the pyramids. But other than using it for the Hillel sandwich, traditionally we don’t tell the meaning of the charoset at the seder itself. Why? Rabbi Arthur Waskow has an interesting answer….perhaps you caught it on Huffington Post this week. He describes it as the R-rated answer. We’ve explained the oral tradition (How fitting for something that tastes so delicious, he adds). He says that charoset is a full-bodied, full tongued, “Kisses sweeter than wine” taste of mouth. At first I thought he was dating himself with the reference to the song. But that song is even older than the Weavers song. It goes back to the Song of Songs which we read next Shabbat and is precisely his point. Song of Songs, that most racy of Biblical books, provides the recipe for charoset. Here are his proof texts from the Song:

“Feed me with apples and with raisin-cakes”
“Your kisses are sweeter than wine.”
“The scent of your breath is like apricots”
“Your cheeks are a bed of spices”
“The fig tree has ripened”

He concludes that Passover is about freedom. Included in that freedom to love. He gives a recipe, well sort of a recipe. Because he says that love is freeform and that the book itself says, “Do not stir up love until it pleases.” Keep urges us to keep tasting the charoset until it pleases. Or makes us giddy. That’s the idea. Love and freedom should make us giddy. So enjoy. Don’t worry about the chamatz so much. This is about freedom. For me this was a thrilling midrash. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rabbi-arthur-waskow/innermost-secret-of-passover-seder-charoset_b_5111719.html

The fourth question came from attending the Chicago Board of Rabbis meeting. Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg who was at Tufts Hillel and then Northwestern, is now working for Hillel International. They have a project called, askbigquestions.org. They distinguish between big questions and hard questions and they are ways to engage students on campus and the rest of us in ways that are meaningful. Hard questions require real knowledge and emphasize intelligence. They are best answered by experts. They might use technical language. They can be directed at an object. They close space and lead people to feel like spectators. The answers can be debated, argued. They lead to an either/or approach. Big questions are ones anyone can answer. They focus on wisdom and experience. They use plain language. They invite personal story telling. So in order to really prepare for Passover. To really feel as those we are each exiting Egypt, standing at the shores of the Sea of Reeds, wandering in the desert and standing at Sinai, we are going to ask the Big Questions. Divide yourselves into four groups.

Here are the questions:

When have you not been free?
When have you become free?
What are you thankful for?
For whom are you responsible?

And like there is a fifth cup of wine…there is a fifth question.
What now?

http://askbigquestions.org/sites/default/files/conversation_guides/Are%20we%20free-%20Ask%20Big%20Qs%20guide.pdf

QUESTION 1: WHEN HAVE YOU NOT BEEN FREE?

The traditional Haggadah offers several ways of thinking about what it means not to be free. “We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt” is one way. “Our ancestors worshipped idols” is another. “An Aramean sought to destroy my father” is a third. In the first approach, the lack of freedom can be understood mainly as political: a slave isn’t free to make his/her own decisions, to own property, to live the way they want. In the second approach, the lack of freedom comes in not having spiritual freedom, of living in the service of false ideals. In the third, an outside oppressive force causes a loss of freedom.

Below are some images that reflect each of these approaches. Take a look at them and take some time to reflect on them. As you do, consider a couple of questions:

• Is there a difference between these different approaches to understanding a lack of freedom?
• When in your own life have you not been free? Does it follow any of these approaches?

QUESTION 2: WHEN HAVE YOU BECOME FREE?

The Haggadah tells the story of the Israelites’ exodus from Egypt using the following passage from the book of Deuteronomy (ch. 26):

5 My ancestor was a wandering Aramean. He went down into Egypt with a few people and lived there and became a great nation, powerful and numerous.
6 But the Egyptians mistreated us and made us suffer, subjecting us to harsh labor.
7 Then we cried out to the Lord, the God of our ancestors, and the Lord heard our voice and saw our misery, toil and oppression.  8 So the Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, with great terror and with signs and wonders.
9 The Lord brought us to this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey.

As you read this passage, here are some questions to consider:

• Why do verses 6 and 7 use several words to describe what the Egyptians did to the Israelites?
• In verse 8, why are there multiple words used to describe what God did for the people to liberate them?
• Why is verse 9 a part of the story? Would it be enough to conclude with verse 8?
• Have you ever been set free, or freed someone else? How did it happen?

QUESTION 3: WHAT ARE YOU THANKFUL FOR?

When the ancient Israelites realized they were free, the Torah recounts that they sang out by the shores of the Red Sea. Since that time, Jewish tradition has made singing a basic way of showing gratitude for freedom. In more recent times, singer- songwriter Natalie Merchant created a song called Kind and Generous. (You can listen to the song and see the video at alturl.com/7tpjg.] Here are some of the lyrics:

You’ve been so kind and generous
I don’t know why you keep on giving
For your kindness I’m in debt to you
For your selflessness—my admiration
For everything you’ve done
You know I’m bound—I’m bound to thank you for it

You’ve been so kind and generous
I don’t know why you keep on giving
For your kindness I’m in debt to you
And I never could have gone this far without you For everything you’ve done
You know I’m bound—I’m bound to thank you for it

Oh I want to thank you for so many gifts
You gave me love and tenderness
I want to thank you
I want to thank you for your generosity,
The love, and the honesty that you gave to me I want to thank you, show my gratitude,
My love and my respect for you
I want to thank you

Oh, I want to thank you, thank you, Thank you, thank you…

Lots of thank-yous! As you listen to the song, here are some questions to think about:

• What do you think Natalie Merchant is so thankful for?
• What do you think she means when she sings, “For your kindness I’m in debt to you / And I never could have gone this far without you / For everything you’ve done / You know I’m bound–I’m bound to thank you for it”? Why is she in debt? Why is  she bound? Who is she bound to?
• Have you ever experienced gratitude on this level?
• What are you thankful for right now? To whom are you grateful for your freedom?

QUESTION 4: FOR WHOM ARE WE RESPONSIBLE?

The seder doesn’t end with the meal. It ultimately takes us from looking at our own enslavement and liberation to expressing thanks and looking outward. By the end of the seder, we should be asking this fourth question: For whom are we responsible? How do we act on our freedom and bring freedom to the lives of others?

Below is a story by Rabbi Herbert Friedman, an American Reform rabbi who died in 2008. Friedman grew up during the Great Depression. His family was poor. One night, his mother attended a meeting of her synagogue sisterhood, where a representative of the U.S. National Refugee Service made an urgent plea for Jewish families to “take into their homes German-Jewish children whose parents were willing to let them emigrate to the United States, not knowing if they would ever see those children again.” Here is the rest of the story:

Of the more than 100 women assembled, all mothers, no more than a dozen raised their hand. My mother stood and announced that she would take three children. God has been good to her, she said, giving her three healthy sons; this was her opportunity to repay. She added without embarrassment that her family was living in a small apartment, with only two bedrooms, because their house had been foreclosed by the bank during the Depression. Hence, she could take only boys, who could sleep mixed in with her sons.

Mother came home with the affidavit forms, placed them under my father’s nose at the kitchen table, and told him of her commitment. Signing the forms, as far as she was concerned, was only a formality. He saw it differently, because of the legal obligations his signature would impose… He could not envision for an instant how they could handle the additional expense of food, clothing, school, etc., for three more persons.

My mother answered him quietly, but with great passion. Even though we were poor, how could we refuse to save Jewish lives if we were given the chance to do so? She was ashamed of the other sisterhood members. All of them should have volunteered, and she would not hesitate to tell them so at the next meeting. “If we have enough food for five of us,” she asked, “why can’t we simply make it enough for eight?” If I must wash shirts for six boys instead of three, what’s the difference?”…

The parental argument raged all night—the only time I remember my parents raising their voices in anger and disagreement. She won. In the morning, my father signed the affidavits, and she proudly took them back to the sy nagogue.

As I mulled over the matter, I decided that my mother’s fight with my father symbolized the whole problem, and the only conclusion was therefore to act according to moral Jewish values, without permitting rationalization, delay, or any other diluting factor. “When history knocks, you answer.”

~ Quoted in Noam Zion and Barbara Specter, A Different Light (2000), pp. 79-80

As you reflect on this story, here are some questions to consider:

• How do the characters in this story understand whose freedom they are responsible for?
• How do they act on their sense of responsibility?
• Are there people they feel more responsible for than others? How do they prioritize? If you were in the same situation, would you do the same?
• How do you decide for whom you are responsible?

A FIFTH QUESTION: WHAT NOW?

The seder is the longest-running symposium on the meaning of freedom in history. For over 2,000 years, families, neighbors, and groups of citizens have gathered together for this uniquely Jewish exploration of universally human questions. The experience of the seder (like much of our learning) should help us achieve a sense of gratitude for what we have, a wider feeling of responsibility for others, and a commitment to act on those sentiments. As we conclude this conversation, here are some final questions to consider:

• Has this experience helped you come to any new insights about your own freedom?
• Has it helped you feel a deeper or wider sense of responsibility?
• What is one thing you want to do in the next 24 hours to act on something you discovered in this conversation?
• What could we do together to improve our community based on what we’ve talked about here?

Every year I take on a project during the 50 days between Passover and Shavuot. Some years it is really basic: remember to buckle your seatbelt every time you get in the car. Some years it is more difficult: sort a box of paper in the basement. One year it was actually “Kiss Simon every day.”

Since I will be going to Kenya this summer with American Jewish World Service as one of 18 Global Justice Rabbinic Fellows, I realized how little I know about Africa. I didn’t even know what language they use in Kenya. (It’s Swahili! duh!) In order to prepare for this trip, in this season of preparation, I will undertake one of my most complex projects for Omer ever.

Every day I will learn something new to me about Africa. Here’s where you can help. Become my clipping service. If you see something about Africa, especially Kenya forward it to me. If you think there is a book I should read, tell me. If you, yourself spent time in Africa, come join me for coffee. I bought Kenyan, fair trade Kosher for Passover whole bean coffee at Starbucks!  Our seder will feature some Kenyan and other African food, like Moroccan carrots in addition to the usual ones. Several of the guests live in Africa or have taught in Africa or have just come back from a safari.

During the seven weeks I will read seven books (starting now!) about Africa. My current list includes:

I started this sermon a couple of different ways. But let’s do it the most traditional way. Let’s look at the text. Leviticus 14:8 says, “The one who is to be cleansed must wash his clothes, shave off all his hair, and bathe with water; he is clean. Afterward he may enter the camp, but he must remain outside his tent for seven days.” Last week we also talked about purity and impurity, being ready and not yet ready. We learned amongst other things the baldness is not a sign of impurity. Good to know. My father, balding, used to say that bald is a four-letter word. The correct term is sparse. And many people are uncomfortable with it, try to avoid it, go through treatments to prevent it. Traditionally Jewish men are prohibited from shaving their beards, so what is going on here? Why the need to shave in order to be pure, to be ritually ready, to resume your place in the community?

An interesting discussion ensued. Maybe it is like when a baby is born with no hair, this is like being reborn. And this is why Torah discussions are so important. They create holy moments!

What if you chose to be bald? A young girl in Colorado also recently shaved her head to support a friend battling cancer and losing her own hair because of the chemotherapy treatments. That decision caused her to be suspended from her school which has a policy of no shaved head. Kamryn Renfro told the Today Show yesterday, “I was pretty sad that they didn’t let me go to school. I was feeling that I was punished.” The school after much public outcry and an emergency school board meeting relented and let Kamryn back into school. She illustrated the mitzvah of “Love your neighbor as yourself.”

That is precisely what happened this week. 73 rabbis, in Chicago for the Central Conference of American Rabbis chose to “Shave for the Brave.” To go bald to support children undergoing cancer treatments who are being so very brave and to support pediatric cancer research. Never did they think their actions would have been so inspiring. Yet they raised over 570,000 for cancer research. I am proud of them because their actions speak louder than words. They brought comfort, caring, and real tachlis attention and organizing to real problem. They fulfilled the mitzvah, “Do not stand idly by while your neighbor bleeds.” They may have even saved a life.

And while these are both feel good stories, what do they have to do with this week’s Torah portion which focuses on purity again. Last week I spent a lot of time talking about the mikveh as a way to be spiritually ready. Again, picking up on what was said, coming out the mikveh is like being reborn.

As I have said before, I don’t ask members of my congregation to do anything that I am not willing to do as well. One of the spiritually transformative things in my life is water. It can be Lake Michigan, either side. It can be Walden Pond. It can be the coast of Maine.

Or, it can be a mikveh. So after talking about it last week and knowing that is a part of my traditional Passover preparations, to rid myself of spiritual chamatz, it was time to go again. Yesterday morning was the appointed hour. Now in order to be ready to enter the mikveh there are seven preparatory steps, matching the seven steps that lead into the water. For me, this is a chance to slow down, think deeply and sigh audibly.

My preparations began at dawn. I chose to do most of the preparations at home. It gave me the opportunity to listen to “mikveh music”. Yes, I have an entire playlist of it. And it gave me the opportunity to write.

One of my insights was about hair. There can be no barriers between you and the water. No clothing, no jewelry, no bandaids, glasses, hearing aids. Even nail polish comes off. You shower or bathe. Even a single strand of loose hair is a barrier. A separation between you and the Divine. An imperfection. An impurity.

A single strand of loose hair is a very fine line. Think about it. Touch your own hair. A single strand of loose hair can be the difference between being tameh, ritually not ready and tameh, ritually ready, pure.

But what is this really about? Why did they have to shave their hair? More holy moments. Maybe it is because hair hides the impurities or itself is impure. Or maybe hair is really dead cells so somehow it is connected with death itself.

The rabbis of the Talmud teach that the impurities discussed in this week’s Torah portion are really about impurity of speech. They draw a connection between the leper and the sinner, between the physically marginalized and morally culpable. They resort to a play on words, metozra, the leper is like motzi shem ra, one who slanders another. And they use Miriam in Numbers Chapter 12 as their prooftext. Miriam is seemingly punished after she speaks evil of her brother for marrying the Cushite woman (stay tuned, that will be part of the Fast of the First Born study session!) She was punished with leprosy, whatever that is, and put outside the camp. But something remarkable happens. Moses, the very one she slanders, prays to G-d for her healing. El na, refana la. Four words. Very simple. Please G-d, heal her. Sing it with me.  And she was healed.

It can be a very fine line between lashon hara, evil speech and lashon hatov, good speech. Lord Rabbi Sacks’ D’var Torah this week was about that. There is power in speech. Evil speech can hurt for a long, long time making it difficult to heal. Good speech, praise, can help build up people and create leaders. What I realized while thinking about that tiny strand of hair, is that when I slip over to lashon hara, when I yell at Simon or Sarah (and I sometimes do) or when I say something mean about someone who aggravates me (and they sometimes do), it is when I am out of balance.

Ultimately I think that is what this complex recipe for achieving purity, for removing imperfections, for removing a single strand of hair, is about achieving balance.

The sooner we return to balance, to equilibrium, the sooner we find the strand of hair the easier it is to fix. The Talmud teaches that the kiss of death, the most gentle form of death, the one that Aaron, Miriam and Moses each experienced is so gentle it is like removing a hair from a glass of milk. (Berachot 8a)

Still thinking about strands of hairs and cracks in walls, I was reminded of the story of a king.  This king once had a prized jewel, a perfect diamond. So perfect, so beautiful, he kept it under wraps and locked away. One day it would be part of his royal crown but not yet. Not until the setting could be achieved with equal perfection. Every morning he arose and would carefully unwrap the precious treasure to make sure it was still perfect. One morning the king awoke, and in his morning ritual to check the perfection that glinted from every luminous facet, he found a single think crack descending down one facet. His precious diamond was ruined. It was no longer perfect.

He called in all the best jewelers of the entire kingdom, hoping someone could fix it. Nothing could be done. The crack was so deep that any effort to remove it would make it worse. But one craftsman, from a neighboring kingdom thought he could save the diamond. The king laughed. Everyone else said it was not possible. How could this simple man hope to save it? However, seeing that there was nothing else that could be done, nothing else that could be lost, the king said that the jeweler could spend a single night with the diamond. If he succeeded in fixing the diamond, there would be a great reward. If not, he would be put to death.

The jeweler took the diamond and locked in his room, examined the diamond carefully. It was beautiful, sparkling like the fire of the sun on the surface of the water. But the crack, even though as thin as hair, could not be removed without destroying the diamond further. What could he do? He worked all night and emerged in the morning with the diamond and a look of triumph on his face. The entire royal court, the king, the queen, the ministers, even the jester, gasped. The scratch had not been removed. Instead it had become the stem of a beautiful rose, etched into the diamond, making the diamond even more unique and beautiful. The king embraced the simple jeweler. “Now I have my crown jewel. The diamond was magnificent until now. The best. The most perfect. But it was no different than the other stones. Now I have a unique treasure.”

This is true in our lives too. What we learn from this story is that we cannot just remove imperfections. We need to learn to incorporate them into our own lives. We need to integrate them. We tend to shun the lepers, put them outside the camp. And yet, we are taught that all human beings are created in the image of G-d. If we take this teaching to heart, we need to be the warm and welcoming community we talk about. We need to welcome the marginalized into our community. That is part of what Passover is about. Let all who are hungry come and eat. 36 times in the Torah, more than any other commandment it tells us to welcome the orphan, the widow the stranger, the marginalized because we were slaves in Egypt, so we remember what being marginalized is like.

Once a leper is cured and once that person becomes purified, he or she is welcomed back the community with all the privileges of social acceptance. Shimon be Azzai said, “Do not disdain any person or underrate the importance of anyone, for there is no person who does not have his hour and there is no thing without its place in the sun. (Avot 4:3). There are people in our midst we treat as lepers. Modern day lepers. Who are they? People who are tragically marginalized. People with physical deformities. People with mental illness. People who are different from us. Immigrants. Other categories that we could brainstorm at Kiddush. Since we all like the diamond, have cracks and imperfections, it is time to incorporate those into our lives and welcome those lepers back into the camp. That is exactly what the young girl who shaved her head did for her friend and exactly what the 73 rabbis who shaved for the brave did. Now how do we do it here? By using our speech for good and not for evil, to build people up. And maybe our actions speak even louder than our words.