This is a story about this menorah, a Chanukiah, purchased as a gift for my parents by their landlords when we lived in Evanston on Ridge in the apartment. This couple, born in India, had made it in America. They were now homeowners and landlords and wanted to make sure our family could celebrate Chanukah. This was circa 1966. It is beautiful and I still love it. Project Menorah is like that today. https://www.projectmenorah.com/ Designed to encourage non-Jews to celebrate Chanukah, or at least put a menorah in the window so that Jews feel safe celebrating Chanukah. It is similar to the book I often teach, the Christmas Menorahs.  

Look around you. You will see many menorahs. The kids counted last week and I think we were at 30. I’ve added another 11 as I’ve decorated so that brings us to 41. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. That’s why there are so many different styles. What is beautiful to me may not be to you and visa versa. We have a term in Hebrew for this, hiddur hamtizvah. The beautification of the commandment.  

The pictures we have seen of chanukiot–at your homes, in public spaces, around the globe have been heartwarming. And beautiful. Keep them coming.

Today’s haftarah has a vision, a dream of what the original menorah might have looked like in the Holy Temple. The menorah with 7 branches. The one that this holiday of Chanukah is all about. After the description of the menorah comes the interpretation of that dream and the story ends with the phrase, “Hain, Hain. And it shall be called ‘Beautiful, Beautiful.’”  Hain is an interesting word. Translated here as beautiful, it is from the same root as one of the 13 Attributes of the Divine. El rachum v’CHANUN. The Lord, compassionate and gracious.” In the Woman of Valor prayer, Eishet Chayil, it is translated as charm or grace.  

At Chanukah, we are often surrounded by memories and traditions with a healthy dose of nostalgia. Those latkes? Old family recipe. The menorah? One passed down through the generations? That song? One you sang years ago. It is all evocative.  

This tallit? It is my Women of the Wall tallit. Women of the Wall was founded Rosh Hodesh Chanukah 1988, the same year Simon and I were married. I had friends who were at the original service at the Wall. For our 25th anniversary we bought each other these tallitot. Because we support the rights of women to daven at the Wall. To have their voices heard. The prohibition of that in modern Israeli society and even sometimes even right here in Elgin, is often traced to today’s Torah portion.  

Close every door to me,
Hide all the world from me
Bar all the windows
And shut out the light 

Do what you want with me,
Hate me and laugh at me
Darken my daytime
And torture my night 

If my life were important I
Would ask will I live or die
But I know the answers lie
Far from this world 

Close every door to me,
Keep those I love from me
Children of Israel
Are never alone 

For I know I shall find
My own peace of mind
For I have been promised
A land of my own 

I grew up singing this song in Grand Rapids. No I wasn’t Joseph, I was just a kid in the chorus at Temple Emanuel; but I found the melody and the words haunting so I would dance around the living room singing it. The words and the melody are still haunting and relevant to today’s portion.  

Today’s portion is considered by some another Text of Terror. Last week we learned about Dinah. Why was that text even there? The question remains.  Today, we learn about Tamar in our triennial cycle and then about Joseph in Potiphar’s house in the full cycle. In both texts there is some perceived crime committed of a sexual nature that first Tamar and then Joseph are punished for. In both cases, there is some trickery going on. First the seemingly lovely Tamar becomes a zonah, a lady of the evening, a prostitute, a whore, a sex worker.  Is she tricked? Is Jacob tricked?  

Two books, Texts of Terror by Phyllis Trible and The Harlot by the side of the Road by Jonathan Kirsch, which I first read in an interfaith clergy book discussion group are worth adding to this discussion. They may give us modern clues and interpretations as to why these troubling stories are included. (Thank you, Father John Cox for initially recommending it. That’s a memory too!)  

Perhaps this parsha comes to remind us that women have rights. That they can only marry with consent. That they can’t be tricked into becoming sex workers. That false imprisonment on charges of sexual violations is wrong.  

Our tradition has much to say about justice. “Tzedek, tezedk tirdorf. Justice, justice shall you pursue.” That we should “do justly, love mercy and walk humbly with G-d.” But we are not to seek revenge. That vengeance is G-d’s, not ours.  

Recently we have been hearing a lot about the word nekamah. Revenge. It is a powerful word and a powerful impulse, born as one rabbi said this week, “of raw pain, deep fear and inconsolable anger.” But he adds that it goes beyond self-defense. It’s self-perpetuating—the “re: in revenge isn’t there for nothing. Nekama’s intentionally disproportionate terror and violence fuel wars and inflict traumas lasting generations…Nekamah. I hurt, so you will hurt. I suffered, so you will suffer more.” 

Tamar doesn’t choose nekamah. Joseph, falsely imprisoned, doesn’t choose nekamah.  

The prayer that we add at Chanukah, Al Hanisim, talks about nekamah.  “It poetically describes how God took up the Israelites’ grievance (“ravta et ribam”), judged their claim (“danta et dinam”), and avenged their wrong (“nakamta et nikmatan”), decisively defeating the wicked Greeks.” I’ve never been comfortable with calls for revenge. I’ve never been comfortable with prayers that beg G-d is on our side. Or that we are deserving of some miracle. https://truah.org/resources/ian-chesir-teran-vayeshev-moraltorah_2023/ 

This is Human Rights Shabbat so deemed by T’ruah and by American Jewish World Service, two organizations I support. This is the closest Shabbat to Human Rights Day, Dec. 10, which this year is the 75th anniversary of.  When the Universal Human Rights Declaration was signed 75 years ago, I believe it carried much weight, much fanfare and was the cause of celebration. There were other declarations that year as well, like the founding of the State of Israel 

These days the Universal Declaration of Human Rights feels tarnished. As we continue to watch the events unfold in Israel, where is the Red Cross checking on the hostages? How long did it take to decry the sexual crimes against the women in Israel on Oct. 7? I want those hostages back. That would be a Chanukah miracle. I want the war to stop. To have no more killing. It shouldn’t be complicated but it is. It involves trust which may be the opposite of fear. 

But I believe the promise of the declaration was real then, and I believe it can be again. Perhaps this is what we need to rededicate ourselves to at this Chanukah. We have much work to do. False imprisonment, here and around the globe… 

I don’t have all the answers, but I return to the words of this morning’s haftarah. Not by might, not by power but by My spirit alone shall we all live in peace. That is the ultimate vision of Chanukah. Not military force. Perhaps that is what we need to rededicate ourselves to. Then truly it will be called “Hain, Hain. Beautiful, Beautiful.” When every old person can dream dreams and the youth shall see visions. When everyone, everyone can sit under their vine and fig tree and none, none shall make them afraid.  

There is so much that happens in this week’s portion. It starts with Jacob and Esau “reconciling” after 20 years. That’s a full generation. They now have “made it” in their individual worlds, but in both cases they not only have animals and wives and children and servants; they have a great deal of fear. Fear is a powerful emotion. The brain science tells us that fear is designed to keep us safe. Neither Jacob nor Esau feel safe.  

Jacob tries to manage his fear by separating himself from his family. He is alone, on the other side of the river. I can imagine him meditating, taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself, trying to sleep. It is probably quiet. But if you have ever camped in the desert, it is not completely silent. The desert sounds seem magnified at night. Often causing more fear. Every noise startles. 

He then has an encounter with a being…a man, an angel, himself, G-d, the text is not clear. Is it a dream, Jacob is a dreamer after all. He wrestles with this being and his name is changed to Israel, which he is told means he has striven, wrestled with beings divine and human and prevailed. Jacob, now Israel, is a G-dwrestler. We are all, descendants of Jacob Israel, G-dwrestlers.  

In the morning, he has a different encounter. This time with his brother Esau who arrives with 400 armed men. Is Esau trying to impress? Keep himself safe? If it is just that it is hard to explain that Esau runs to greet him, falls on his neck, embraces and kisses Jacob. Is this real? Did the 20 years heal the tension between these siblings. The last time we saw an angry Esau, he threatened to kill his brother for stealing his birthright and his blessing. And Jacob, at the urging of his mother Rebecca, ran away, in fear. 

Jacob is afraid. He divides his camp, saying that if Esau attacks, perhaps half will be saved. And he also trying to impress. He offers his brother lots of gifts. 200 she-goats and 20 he-goats; 200 ewes and 20 rams; 30 milch camels with their colts; 40 cows and 10 bulls; 20 she-asses and 10 he-asses. That’s a lot of gifts. Does it assuage his guilt at stealing the birthright? Does it limit his fear? 

 At the end of this encounter, they go their separate ways. (Perhaps this is the original two state solution) 

And then there is an interlude. We almost have to ask why is it here? What is the text trying to teach us? 

 Jacob seems to now be settled with his 12 sons, the 12 tribes of Israel. And his daughter Dinah. This is not the stuff of Torah School bible stories. It needs a trigger warning, because this is tough stuff. When I tried to talk about it with someone this week, they told me flat out they didn’t want to hear about it. So if you need to leave the room, or turn off your Zoom screen for a while, that’s OK, but I do need to say this. In the Psalm that we say towards the beginning of the service, Psalm 30 it says, “A psalm of David. A song for the dedication of the Temple, hanukat habayit l’david” and later it says,
“What profit is there if I am silenced?
What benefit if I go to my ggrave?
Will the dust praise You? 

Will it proclaim Your faithfulness?” (Page 81 of Siddur Sim Shalom), 

This Psalm is one of the guiding principles of my life.   

This story of Dinah is the stuff of much midrash. That is because the text itself is sparse. It leaves too much to the imagination. Dinah went out. That’s it. What does that mean? Why did she go out? Something happened. What exactly happened? Our translation on Sefaria says, “Shechem son of Hamor the Hivite, chief of the country, saw her, and took her and lay with her and disgraced her.” But there is an asterisk on disgraced her. Heb. wa-y‘anneha, lit. “and violated her.” NJPS “by force,” but whether Dinah consented is not stated, and is not at issue; regardless, by the norms of the ancient Near East, she was disgraced. OJPS “and humbled her.” There is a big difference between disgraced her, took by force, violated her or humbled her.  

That is the basis for a long modern midrash. The much beloved by women today, Anita Diamant’s famous Red Tent. Diamant concludes that Dinah is not raped. That it was consensual. That she loved Shechem.  

The ancient rabbinic tradition slams Dinah. She went out. She shouldn’t have. It makes her out to be what we might call a “loose woman.” It seems to be a blame the victim response. If only she had stayed home. When Jacob learns what has happened to his daughter, he remains silent. He waits for his sons to come home from the fields. That silence is deafening.  

 But that silence continues today. As someone who has worked extensively as a rape and domestic violence counselor on the front lines of this topic for decades, I thought we were making progress with the birth of the #MeToo movement. If a woman tells you she has been raped, believe her. It is that simple.  

Sadly, recently, there was an article in Newsweek that gave me pause. After the brutal attack by Hamas on October 7, many women were raped, in the fields, perhaps just like Dinah, but the international community not only remained silent on this part of the story but actually denied it. https://www.newsweek.com/silence-international-bodies-over-hamas-mass-rapes-betrayal-all-women-opinion-1845783?fbclid=IwAR1H5x61fu-72iNnSpY7XzF5r46tHxbQ_PKHj7aF6K1dY1dGQAx34FomfDQ 

 It is our responsibility to reject this silence. Sadly, rape is now recognized as a tool of war. Even the UN recognizes it as such. Here is one such article. https://www.un.org/en/preventgenocide/rwanda/assets/pdf/Backgrounder%20Sexual%20Violence%202014.pdf  

And again, there are glimmers of light. Only glimmers thus far. Assita Kanko, a member of the European Parliament has said, “You can never call yourself a feminist again,” if you deny these credible reports of rape of Israeli women.  

In Riverdale, NY on December 5th there is a meeting to discuss these horrendous crimes. Sponsored by a number of the leading Jewish organizations, it will feature Dr. Cochav Eliyam-Levy, the chair of the Civil Commission on October 7th Crimes by Hamas Against Women and Children. Hosted at a Conservative Synagogue this doesn’t quite feel like enough. We need women from other traditions to understand what happened and to speak out.

Finally, after much pressure, the UN itself is hosting an special session on Monday, Dec. 4th to address this very issue.  

We need to bear witness to this horror. We need to continue to break our silence. So that no woman stands alone in these difficult, impossible, horrific moments. We need to continue to build and rebuild our coalitions. It is painful. But I cannot be silent.  

At the very end of  our full portion today, Rachel dies on the road in childbirth. At that very spot there is a church/mosque, which has seen too much violence through the years.  

There is a reference to this spot in Jeremiah: 

Thus said GOD:
A cry is heard in Ramah —
Wailing, bitter weeping—
Rachel weeping for her children.
She refuses to be comforted
For her children, who are gone.
Thus said GOD:
Restrain your voice from weeping,
Your eyes from shedding tears;
For there is a reward for your labor
—declares GOD:
They shall return from the enemy’s land.
And there is hope for your future
—declares GOD:
Your children shall return to their country. 

I can hear this prophecy of Jeremiah as modern day news ripped from the headlines. Rachel is still weeping for her children. All her children. And we can be silent no more. It is what I will rededicate myself to at this season of increasing light.  

Personal reflections and some needed history 

When I was pregnant, my husband and I went to Israel on a group tour. He had never been and it seemed the easiest way to see much of the country that I had lived in, in the limited time we had. My relationship to Israel is complicated, because of having lived there. We will come back to that.  

One day we went to Yad V’shem. I am always moved as you are exiting the museum the one baby shoe encased in glass. It gets me every time. I felt strongly that that this child not yet born would not have to face the atrocities of the era we call the Shoah, the Holocaust. In the gift shop, (I love museum and hospital gift shops), a menorah for as yet unborn child due during Chanukah that year. I raced to the bus breathless and showed it to the rabbi leading the tour. He promptly pointed out that I had bought a menorah, not a chanukiah and that there was no time to go exchange it. The next day, while everyone else was at an archaeological dig, I did go back to Yad V’shem and pick out a real Chanukiah. That candelabra is still my daughter’s who is now 33 this Chanukah. 

I have been thinking a lot about that chanukiah. In the 1930s and 1940s, there were people, not just Hitler, who wanted there to be no more Jews. The term genocide did not exist in 1944. It has a very specific definition.  

https://www.ushmm.org/genocide-prevention/learn-about-genocide-and-other-mass-atrocities/what-is-genocide  

Lots of people have been using this on both sides of the Gazzan-Israeli War. The Hamas charter calls for the utter destruction of Israel, from the river to see. So if you see signs reading “Free Palestine.” that is a call for genocide and the destruction of all Jews living in the land of Israel. That’s what makes it not only anti-Zionist but also anti-semetic  if you prefer anti-Jewish. And yes, there are some who don’t want to stop at the borders of Israel but the worldwide destruction of Jews. That would be genocide. 

Others have said that the bombardment of northern Gaza isn’t war but it Is genocide. I would rgue that it is not. It is not when Israel leafleted in advance and tried to get people to move to the south. It is not when Israel moved infants from Al Shifa to Egypt. What do you do when your military enemy uses schools and hospitals as shields as they have for decades? I am not sure. 

The scenes are impossibly difficult to watch. I want to scream, “The children, the children, the children.” 

And this morning, let me be perfectly clear. Children in Israel. Children in Gaza. Children in the United States. No 6 year old Palestinian child living in Illinois should be murdered by his landlord for being Palestinian. Three students near the University of Vermont should not be gunned down. Period. Fulls stop.  

That complicated history with Israel. My father would tell the story of staying up listening to the radio in 1948, the night the UN partioned the land of Israel. For him, it was thrilling. My mother was not a Zionist. Growing up as a Reform Jew, she believed that Israel did not recognize her Judaism and so was not a place she could support. My husband’s mother felt similarly. Yet, the Reform Movement started something called ARZA, The American Reform Zionist Association, so some Reform Jews were Zionists. There was a time when the Reform Movement sent more kids to Israel in the summer than any other organized Jewish group. I was one of the lucky ones. In 1977, I was bouncing on a bus in the Negev, learning much about the history of the land and how to be a songleader. And falling in love. With Israel and with a certain individual. The leader of that trip, an American, has lived in Israel now for decades. I reconnected with him at a J Street conference. 

Sadly, that person who I had hoped to marry was killed in 1983 as part of the incursion into Lebanon. My last phone call with him, around Yom Kippur of 1982 was that he was not involved in the massacre of Shaba and Shitila. For years I held Arik Sharon personally accountable for his death. Somehow, I never held Hezbolah or Lebanon accountableI still miss him and wonder what would have been.  

I don’t always support the policies of the modern State of Israel. That does not make me an anti-Zionist.  I have been a champion of Women of the Wall since its inception in 1988 arguing that women should have the same access to praying at the Western Wall as men. I have donated money and time to organizations like Parents Circle—Famiy Forum because no one should have to go through the pain I endured. https://www.theparentscircle.org/en/pcff-home-page-en/ Peace is the only option. How we get there, I don’t know. 

My daughter had the Torah portion that includes the verse from Deuteronomy that explains how to make war. It includes a verse that when you siege a city you cannot cut down fruit trees. Yet this has been a policy of the IDF especially on the West Bank. Therefore, I have supported Rabbi for Human Rights in Israel that plants new olive trees after Israel destroys ancient ones.  

The question of settlements on the West Bank is complicated. It is all complicated. In 2010 when I was in Israel on a interfaith clergy call, then Vice President Biden was also there. His message to Israel was that friends need to tell friends when they are wrong. He, and I assume Obama, felt that expanding settlements in the West Bank was a dangerous policy. I watched as the Damascus Gate was closed. Having lived there, I didn’t even know it was possible. It was a scary moment. 

Jews have lived in the land of Israel continually for millennium. They did not start living there in 1948. The history is complicated. I have read extensively on this topic. 

Here are my favorite of the books: 

• Noa Tishby’s Israel, currently reading and already seems out of date after Oct 7.but worth it. 
• Martin Fletcher’s Walking Israel, written by NBC’s former chief Isarel correspondant  
• Shavit, My Promised Land 
• Yossi Klein Halivni, letter to my Palestinian neighbor 
• Tolan’s Lemon Tree (also exists as a movie) 
• Friedman’s From Beirut to Jerusalem (I was once told if I only had one book to read that year it should be this one but may be dated) 
• Dershowitz, The Case for Israel (not my favorite, not objective enough)
  Junaid Afeef is recommending, 100 years war on Palestine.
  Someone else recommended Israel/Palestine,  

This is the list I gave to ECC. But since there is some confusion about whether you can be anti-Zionist without being antii-semetic, I would add two on anti-semitism: 

• Rabbi Evan Moffic’s First the Jews 
• Bari Weiss’s How to Fight Anti-Semitism. 

I said this earlier in this current crisis. I wrote my thesis on the topic of the 13 Attributes of the Divine. It too Is out of date because I dared to write about the Israel-Palestinian conflict. The conclusion remains the same. In order to make peace, in order to forgive, people need to feel safe. Generationally, no one, especially the children, feel safe.  

I pray for the children, All the children. I pray for peace, I pray for a return to a dream of the prophets, where everyone can sit under their vine and fig tree and none will make them afraid. I pray for a time where in the words of the Chanukah haftarah, “Not by might and not by power but My spirit alone, shall we all live in peace.” That chanukiah will gleam brightly this year. And I will continue to work for peace, for a time when no one lives in fear. 
 

Today’s Torah portion has a lot to teach us about strength. Stamina and resilience. We know the story. Isaac loved Esau and Rebecca loved Jacob. How many of us have said, “Mom loved you best.” In this case apparently it was true. But we know that it isn’t a very good way to parent. We also know that the power of the press belongs to he who owns it. So this story becomes a pivotal story in our history. But it also forces us to look at a really big question, what is truth? Is seeing (or in this case feeling) really believing? It would appear not. This question has serious echos today. As a former journalist I think about this a lot. How do we tell the story of the modern state of Israel. Do we celebrate Yom Ha’atzmaut or mourn the Nakhba?  How do we distinguish misinformation particularly on social media? In the early days, even Biden and Netanyahu were fooled. Do we know what is really happening at the Shifra hospital? How do we respohd. Isaac thought he was really touching and then really blessing Esau. It turns out it was Jacob, living up to his name, who tricked him. 

This portion is about generations. And we see in this portion, repeated pattens from one generation to the next. Abraham told Abimelech that Sarah was his sister. Not once, but twice. Isaac does the same thing. Rebecca is his sister, right? The ruse didn’t go well for Abraham and it doesn’t go well for Isaac either. Ultimately, Abimelech, himself recognizes the ruse and Abraham, and then Isaac, come out alright. (No real word on the long term effects on Sarah or Rebecca!). 

Then Isaac and his men dig wells.  

But the Phillistines became envious… And the Philistines stopped up all the wells which his father’s servants had dug in the days of his father Abraham, filling them with earth. 

Isaac dug anew the wells which had been dug in the days of his father Abraham and which the Philistines had stopped up after Abraham’s death; and he gave them the same names that his father had given them. 

But when Isaac’s servants, digging in the wadi, found there a well of spring water, the herdsmen of Gerar quarreled with Isaac’s herdsmen, saying, “The water is ours.” He named that well Esek, because they contended with him.  

And when they dug another well, they disputed over that one also; so he named it Sitnah.  

He moved from there and dug yet another well, and they did not quarrel over it; so he called it Rehoboth, saying, “Now at last יהוה has granted us ample space to increase in the land.” 

Eventually Abimelech and Isaac cut a covenant, a treaty, a pact. And they sat down and they feasted.  

This is not modern day news ripped from the headlines. But it could be. Those well have to be dug again and again and again. Acfess to water is even fought over. Place names remain the same. Be’er Sheva, Seven Wells for example.  

Water is a critical resource, especially in the desert. Just listen to how some American states argue over water rights with the Colorado River.  

Rabbi David Wole, now the Rabbinic Fellow for ADL said this week,  “My father once wrote a letter to all four of us (I am one of four boys) telling us that over the course of his life the single quality he believed was essential was stamina.  Struggling once, succeeding once, creating once – it was not enough in life.  You had to do it over and over again.” 

Isaac and his men had to dig those wells over and over again.  

Like Issac we are at a moment where we seem to be doing things over and over again. Yes, agreeing with Wolpe’s father, it demands stamina. It requires us to renew all sorts of things that we thought maybe we were past. Fighting against anti-semitism, Wolpe thought that was his father’s rabbinate, not for our day. Routing out Hamas. Didn’t we do that before?. Justifying the very right for Israel to exist, for Jews to exist? Making sure that people have water—both physical, clear drinking water, and the deep mystical mythical healing waters, mayyim chayim, living waters.  All of this takes courage, dedication, and determination.  

As Wolpe points out, “In mystical teachings, Isaac’s digging of the wells is an indication that he was seeking the depths of existence, the buried secrets of spirit. One of those secrets is that the world is still being formed and we, all of us, have a hand in creating it.  Hatred is on fire across the globe and the end of the war will not end the hatred.  We in the ADL together with our allies, no matter how tired we may be, must take a shovel in hand to redig the wells that our ancestors dug. To dig new wells is to produce living waters demanded yet again in a parched and needy world.” 

This story is not the only story of wells and hope. When Abraham banished Hagar and Ishmael and they ran out of water, she cried out, “Don’t let me look on while the lad dies.” Let me be clear. No one wants to watch their child die. No one should have to. No Israeli mother. No Palestinian mother. Not here in Illinois. Not there.  

Yet the story of Hagar doesn’t end there. She puts the child under a bush. G-d hears the cry of the lad, opens Hagars eyes and she sees the spring that was there all along. It is about finding another way. Doing something again and again and again. This fills me with hope.  

We saw some of that hope on Tuesday. Regardless of how many people were in Washington, 290K, 300K, 350K, which ever number you use, since the National Park Service is no longer doing official crowd counts, t is estimated that one out of three American Jews were present on the mall. This brings me hope. 

Hope is what I feel when even when the world seems pitted against Jews, again, people want to formally join the Jewish people. Some even right here at CKI.  

Hope is also what I feel when people reach out to us and ask what they can do to help. Hope is what I feel when you all show up. When we continue to plan for the Chanukah extravaganza. When we teach our littlest kids. When we create joy and light. 

So let’s keep digging those wells and looking for other ways to share our birthright not to sell it.

This portion is called Chayeii Sarah, the life of Sarah, and it begins, these are the year of the life of Sarah. Sarah was 100 and twenty and seven. And Sarah died. These is much to say about that. How she was in Kiryat Arba and Abraham comes to bury her. How he buys a burial place. How he eulogizes her. But that’s not the part we are reading today. Come back another year for that part. 

Today I want talk about one verse. 

Isaac was walking in the field toward evening. Some say that is meditating. We learn from this that meditating has a place in Judaism. Even walking meditation, whicn is a form that resonates with me. 

Last week we talked about prayer. Abraham prayed. Abraham prayed with Abimelech. Praying as we learned is about going to yourself, finding yourself. As the Artscroll siddur (Siddur Kol Yaakov) teaches,in its introduction,  “The Hebrew verb for praying is מתפלל; it is a reflexive word, meaning that the subject acts upon himself. Prayer is a process of self-evaluation, self-judgment.” 

Mediating is without the judgement. It is about just being. It can be about connecting with the Divine. Meditation is a practice that focuses your mind and gain greater awareness of your: 

• self 
• thoughts and inner experience 
• surroundings 
• moment-to-moment needs 

What you choose to focus on may depend on the type of meditation you practice, and the various types of meditation may offer slightly different benefits. 

Isaac’s walk is the basis for our afternoon service, mincha. Abraham arose early in the morning. That’s shacharit, our morning service. Isaac meditated in the afternoon, mincha and Jacod dreamed at night, that’s maariv.  

Let’s remember Issac. Isaac, whose father was willing to kill him, was never quite the same. How could he be? Today we would call it PTSD, Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. His experience, left untreated, led to generational trauma as we will see as the coming weeks. Whatever happened to Isaac and whatever label we might give it now, it is clear that he suffered. 64% of Americans according to one CDC study suffer from at least one Adverse Childhood Experience, an ACE. While trauma-informed care, in schools, in other settings with children can help, meditation can play a role too.  

This is Veteran’s Day. Much of what we know about PTSD comes from studying veterans and Holocaust survivors. Many of the leading experts in PTSD are in Israel. A 2013 pilot study of 42 veterans with PTSD, a small sample size, but still, suggests the loving-kindness meditation, sometimes called the metta meditation that I taught last week can boost positive emotions, ease depression and promote self-compassion. It can help counterbalance feelings of anxiety, irritability, sadness and self-criticism. 

Is that what Isaac was doing in the field? It’s not clear. But when he lifted his eyes, he saw Rebecca, discovered love and was comforted on his mother’s death.  

We could do well to try it in these anxious times. 

Repeat each phrase after me:
May I be happy. May I be well. May I be safe. May I be peaceful. 

Think about a friend, a neighbor, a relative.
May you be happy. May you be well. May you be safe. May you be peaceful. 

Now think about someone you don’t like, maybe even hate, maybe even an enemy.
May thay be happy. May they be well. May they be safe. May they be peaceful. 

May it be so. Ken yehi ratzon. 

There is so much important moments in this portion. Abraham, Hagar and Ishmael. Abraham and Isaac. Fighting over wells. But today I want to focus on just one phrase. 

“Abraham then prayed to God, and God healed Abimelech and his wife and his slave girls, so that they bore children.” (Genesis 20:17) 

This is the first use of the word “to pray” in the Torah. In Hebrew the verb is l’hitpalel.” It is a reflexive verb, meaning that it is something you do to yourself. (My Frisch teacher would be pleased, but don’t worry, this will not be a grammar lesson!) 

But what does it mean to pray? To whom is Abraham praying? And for what? In earlier parshaas, we have our patriarchs offer offerings, some kind of burnt meat to G-d. Apparently G-d is hungry and needs a pleasing odor. This idea of praying, however, seems to be a new concept. How does Abraham even know what it means? Or how to do it. 

A dictionary definition of pray is “to address a solemn request or expression of thanks to a deity or other object of worship. “the whole family is praying for Michael”” 

In Judaism there are 3 traditional forms or prayer:  

• prayers of thanksgiving, and we have done some of those this morning.  
• Prayers of praise: like psalms that include hallelujah.  
• Prayers of request, those that ask for things. 

Some say praying is like having a conversation between yourself and that deity. We have an example of just such a conversation in earlier part of this parsha. The great debate between Abraham and G-d about saving the cities of Sodom and Gemorah. If there are 50 righteous people will You spare the cities? Abraham bargains G-d down to just 10. That is the reason usually cited for needing a minyan. Ten righteous people. Ten adult Jewish males. Ten adult Jews. Those provide a sense of community, connection and support. It’s what we need for a full service. But that doesn’t mean we can’t pray as individuals on our own.  

We don’t ask for things from G-d on Shabbat. G-d is resting too. Except we do. We prayed the Mi Sheberach prayer, for healing of mind, body and spirit. And many of our prayers pray for peace. It is throughout our liturgy. Oseh Shalom, Sim Shalom, Shalom Rav all hope for peace. Pray for peace. Even on Shabbat.  

Recently, however, I was at a clergy meeting. Another rabbi, citing Ecclesiastes said that he would not pray for peace. He could only pray for a successful war. The other clergy in the room were pretty stunned. We quickly moved the agenda to talk about other things, like the Interfaith Thanksgiving Service. Just like Abraham and Abimelech, we Jews can sit down (or stand up) and pray with other people. I would argue that this is not the time to cancel interfaith services. It is a time to be more visible not less. It is, in fact, a time to pray for peace. 

But back to my brief grammar lesson. L’hitpalel is a reflexive verb. It something that we do to ourselves. Maybe in community and maybe alone. What does it DO? What change does it affect? I think it is about balance. About being calm. About being grounded. About being peaceful. It changes us in fundamental ways.  

When we first meet Avram, he is told to Lech L’cha, to go forth. from his native land . Some argue about the formulation. There seems to be an extra lamed, Perhaps it really means to go towards yourself, to find yourself. 

That is part of why meditation can be so important. It is a chance to go to yourself.  

I like the Buddhist metta meditation, sometimes called the lovingkindness meditation: 

For ourselves:
May I be happy. May I be well. May I be safe. May I be peaceful and at ease. 

For our families, neighbors, friends:
May you be happy. May you be well. May you be safe. May you be peaceful and at ease. 

For our enemies:
May they be happy. May they be well. May they be safe. May they be peaceful and at ease. 

I first learned this in Guatemala when I was there with American Jewish World Service. We were standing in a rose garden that unbelievably was started in 1983, the year of the “scorched earth.” It is estimated that between 1982-1983, 70,000 of Guatemala’s indigenous population were killed or disappeared. Inhabitant were raped, tortured and murdered. Over 300 villages were completely razed. Crops and drinking water polluted. What did it mean to be standing in this beautiful rose garden, praying for peace for my enemies?  

This is a difficult time for Jews. Very difficult. In Israel. Even right here in the States with rising anti-semitism. There is a place for prayer in all of this. But I will not be praying for war, successful or otherwise. I will continue to pray for peace. To pursue peace. To run after peace, just as Abraham did. Right here at home. 

Last night we talked about blessings. What does it mean to be a blessing. How do you know you are a blessing? Everybody left with a blessing, given by someone present, either in the room or on Zoom. We learned that ia blessing is something we are grateful for, It can be something unique that you offer the world. The world is a better place because you are in it. Each of you is a blessing.  Each of you brings me joy. Even in a time of war. 

I saw this post recently, a Mary Oliver poem about joy.

If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, 
don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty 
of lives and whole towns destroyed or about 
to be. We are not wise, and not very often 
kind. And much can never be redeemed. 
Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this 
is its way of fighting back, that sometimes 
something happens better than all the riches 
or power in the world. It could be anything, 
but very likely you notice it in the instant 
when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the 
case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid 
of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.
Mary Oliver

Last week we debated whether we could do an update form of Adon Olam. I argued, yes argued, that yes…if Israelis can do weddings. We can sing. Joyfully. Even in our sadness.

 Abraham in this week’s portion is told that he and his descendants will be a blessing. He will be as numerous as the stars in the sky and the sands of the sea. 

At the High Holy Days I stood here and said come back for Lech Lecha and I would talk about Isrrael, I figured we would be discussing judicial reform. I figured it would be complicated. I figured that we would not all agree and that I would feel like I don’t know enough. I still don’t but it is an important conversation. A critical one. I did not imagine that we would be at this moment. 

Many rabbis this week have shared how the Torah portion today fits the moment that we are in.  

G-d tells Avram, not yet Abraham, to go, to leave his country, the land of his birth, his father’s house, and go to the land that G-d would show him…to Canaan, now the land of Israel. There he would be.a blessing. A great nation. 

This is the land that G-d swore to give to our ancestors, to Abraham, to Isaac and to Jacob, throughout the Torah. This reference here then is the first claim that Jews are in the land. Hebrews, Israelites, Jews, whatever term you call us, have lived continually in the land since Abraham’s time. Perhaps, in the continual barrage of misinformation, you may have read or seen a meme that Jews or Israelis have no claim to the land because they haven’t lived there bwfore 1948. That would be false. Even after the destruction of the Second Temple some Jews remained. That’s why there are two Talmuds, the Babylonian Talmud and the Yerushalmi, The Jerusalem Talmud. That’s why there are photos from the 1800s of men and women both standing at the Western Wall that I like to use to talk about a woman’s right to daven at the Kotel equally with men—but that is a sermon for another day. Sometimes we need to refute misinformation.  

Back to today’s story. There was a famine in the land and once again Avram and his family became refugees. He went down to Egypt. In the Zohar we learn that this is also a spiritual going down, the opposite of going up, making aliyah which is a spiritual aliyah. A measure of that going down is how Avram treated Sarai. She was a beautiful woman, and he was willing to sacrifice her to the Egyptians to save himself by calling her his sister. This is the end of National Domestic Violence Awareness Month. Every year I say something about this topic. Today I will merely say that our patriarchs and our matriarchs were not perfect people. This was not Avram’s finest moment. And it is a clear example of domestic violence. And he uses this trick, this ruse twice!  

 Domestic violence exists in roughly the same proportions regardless of educational level, economic level or ethnic origin. It exists in the Jewish community, Roughly, 1 in 4 women will experience rape or domestic violence at some point in their lifetimes. It is wrong. Period. And it still exists and the numbers show that it went up during the pandemic by roughly 40%. That is why I am so proud of the work that organizations like Shalva do and closer to home our own Maureen Maning and the Community Crisis Center. It is why it is important that the Elgin Police Department works to eradicate domestic violence and part of why I am a police chaplain.  

Back to our story, Sarai is carried off to the Egyptian palace because she is so beautiful. There she becomes a captive in the Pharaoh’s own home, and she becomes his wife. She is rescued by G-d when G-d unravels Avram’s plan and Pharaoh dismisses them. Rescuing captives, hostages is a very high value in Judaism. We pray for it as a blessing in those first morning blessings, who releases the bound or the fettered. It is part of the second paragraph of the Amidah, when we acknowledge that G-d, “matir asurim,” frees the captives. It is emphasized in the Talmud. 

The Talmud actually calls pidyon shvuyim, rescuing captives a “mitzvah rabbah”, a great mitzvah because captivity is seen as even worse than starvation or death. (Bava Batra 8b)  

Maimonides then writes, “The redeeming of captives takes precedence over supporting the poor or clothing them. There is no greater mitzvah than redeeming captives for the problems of the captive include being hungry, thirsty, unclothed, and they are in danger of their lives too. Ignoring the need to redeem captives goes against these Torah laws: “Do not harden your heart or shut your hand against your needy fellow” (Deuteronomy15:7); “Do not stand idly by while your neighbor’s blood is shed” (Leviticus 19:16). And misses out on the following mitzvot: “You must surely open your hand to him or her” (Deuteronomy 15:8); “…Love your neighbor as yourself” (Leviticus 19:18); “Rescue those who are drawn to death” (Proverbs 24:11) and “… there is no mitzvah greater than the redeeming of captives.” (Mishnah Torah, Hilchot Matanot Aniyim 8:10-11) 

The Shulchan Aruch adds: “Every moment that one delays in freeing captives, in cases where it is possible to expedite their freedom, is considered to be tantamount to murder.” (Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De’ah 252:3) 

In Europe, congregations and communities maintained funds just for the rescue of those seized unlawfully.  

We have witnessed the power of this in what we call modern history with the Raid on Entebbe, executed by Netanyahu’s brother Yoni and the even more recent release of Gilad Shalit who was held captive by Hamas for five years and was only released in exchange for 1,027 prisoners including 280 prisoners serving life sentences for planning and perpetrating previous terror attacks. I fear that some of those events are part of how we got to this very moment. 

 Surely there are limits to our need and our desire to bring every captive back. Rabbinic scholars and military strategists debate this. Does exchanging one prisoner for many lead to more captives? Does it embolden terrorists? I know that I do not have the answer. I do know that every life has value. Every life is created b’tzelem elohim. In the image of G-d. Bring them home now. I do know that if I thought I could have solved peace in the Middle East I would have chosen a different career with perhaps the State Department.  It is also important to note that the Israeli policy is different from the US policy. Officially,  the US policy is we don’t negotiate with terrorists. Full stop. 

After Sarai’s release, Avram and Lot wander back up to the Negev, but their possessions were too great and “the land could not support them.” So, they divided the land in two. Avram said, Is not the whole land before you? Let us separate: if you go north, I will go south; and if you go south, I will go north.” Haven’t we heard that language before? Is this the original two state solution? 

 Yet again there is a repetition of the promise of the land: 

And יהוה said to Abram, after Lot had parted from him, “Raise your eyes and look out from where you are, to the north and south, to the east and west, for I give all the land that you see to you and your offspring forever.  

I will make your offspring as the dust of the earth, so that if one can count the dust of the earth, then your offspring too can be counted.   

Up, walk about the land, through its length and its breadth, for I give it to you.”  

And Abram moved his tent, and came to dwell at the terebinths of Mamre, which are in Hebron; and he built an altar there to יהוה. 

The land. This very land. His descendants, what became known as the children of Israel and the children of Ishmael both are blessings. Both lay claim to the land. Both are created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d. 

Yet sibling rivalry is real and this solution is not good enough, a twelve-year war ensues. [The invaders] seized all the wealth of Sodom and Gomorrah and all their provisions, and went their way. They also took Lot, the son of Abram’s brother, and his possessions, and departed; for he had settled in Sodom.  

Lot is captured. Our second hostage.  

And [God] said to Avram, “Know well that your offspring shall be strangers in a land not theirs, and they shall be enslaved and oppressed four hundred years; Foreshadowing before there was a literary term for it.  

As I write this, we don’t know what will be or what the fate of the hostages will be. Apparently, Israel rolled into Gaza overnight. It is clear that more people will die. More children will die. Our tradition teaches to seek peace and pursue it. To run after it. I know I don’t have the solutions. My heart is breaking.  

Yet, there is another promise, given to Isaiah:
“I the Lord have called you. I hold your hand. I create you and appoint you a covenant people, a light of nations, opening the eyes of the blind, rescuing prisoners from the jail and those who sit in darkness from the dungeon.” (Isaiah 42:6-7) 

As part of our Torah service for the past few weeks we have been adding to our mi sheberach prayer, the prayer for those in captivity. There have been a number written recently. We have been using this one:

Our God, the One who raised Joseph up from the pit, be “a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble.” (Psalm 9:10)   

Send complete rescue and full redemption to all those held captive by the enemy. Strengthen their spirit and bring them our prayers that they be protected from all harm.  Implant understanding in the heart of the enemy that they may return the captives in wholeness of body and spirit.   

Grant wisdom to the Israel Defense Forces that they may secure freedom for the captives without loss of life.   

Grant strength of spirit and courage of heart to all the sons and daughters of Abraham, Sarah, and Hagar to release bonds of captivity and allow us all to live in freedom.   

“They shall call upon Me, and I will answer them; I will be with them in distress; I will rescue them, and honor them.” (after Psalm 91:15) 

Rabbi Ofer Sabath Beit-Halachmi (Translation: Rabbi Rachel Sabath Beit-Halachmi) 

We are in an in between stage. This year, in a congregation that reads the trienniel cycle, we are in year 2. We know the stories of this parsha, Parsha Noach, so well. G-d was not happy with the world G-d created. And once again thinks about destroying the whole world. G-d picks Noah, a righteous man in his generation, to build an ark, a tevah, to house Noah’s immediate family and a pair of every animal. The rains came and flooded the earth. That is the short version of what we read last year. Next year we read about the Tower Of Babel and how all the languages got confused. But right now, we are in the in between stage.  

Currently, it seems that the world is in an in between stage as well. We are waiting for the next big announcement. What will be the fate of the hostages? Will Egypt allow the Rafah border crossing to open allowing aid in and refugees out. Will Isrrael invade Gaza, destroying Hamas once and for all. Is that even possible, I feel like we are holding our collective breath, even as we celebrate the release of two hostages.  

I have always loved the symbolism of the rainbow. The sign of the covenant, G-d’s promise that G-d will never destroy the world again. You need the perfect balance between sun and rain to see a rainbow. They always make me smile. I learned this week that it resembles a hunter’s bow. But it is upside down. It is the opposite therefore of a symbol of war.  It rains down G-d’s mercy and love.  

But there are two other symbols. The dove and the olive leaf. I wondered why. Why choose those symbols. I discovered that there is less written about this topic than I might have guessed. This leaves it ripe for midrash. Isaac Bashevis Singer wrote a short story, “Why Noah Chose the Dove.” which became a children’s book illustrated by Eric Carle who also did the Very Hungry Caterpillar. We’ll look at that, but first we’ll explain some of what I gleaned.  

Some of it has to do with speech. Both trees and animals speak in the Torah. The trees asked the olive tree to be king of the trees. (Softim 9:8) The Talmud tells us that the raven spoke (Sanhedrin 108b) and today’s parsha tells us that the dove told Noah a message.  

“The dove came to him at evening time, and in her mouth was an olive leaf torn off, so Noah knew that the waters had abated from off the earth.” (Genesis 8:11) 

Rashi explains that in her mouth means that a word was in her mouth, ie, she was speaking. And it was a torn olive leaf because she preferred the bitter to the sweet. It reminds me of Naomi Shemer’s song “Al Kol Eleh” https://israelforever.org/interact/multimedia/Music/the_bitter_and_sweet_song_of_prayer_and_promise_naomi_shemer/ which seems even more poignant in this moment. Over the bitter and the sweet. I cry yet again as I watch and listen to this version.  

Where did the olive leaf come from? Some say from the Garden of Eden and not just floating on the water. (Midrash Bereishit Rabbah 33:6) From the same midrash, some say from the Mount of Olives. Perhaps it didn’t rain in the land of Israel itself and so the trees endured. (Ramban on Genesis 8:11). This offers us a sense of protection for the land of Israel itself.  

And as I learned one year in Israel long ago, the Shechinah rests on the Western Wall, symbolized by the dove. The congregation of Israel is compared to both the dove and the olive. The Rabbi often compared the Jewish people to the dove, “Just as the dove is only saved by its wings, so too Israel is onlu preserved by the mitzvot, (Berachot 53b) 

But this is modern too. Joshua Heller wrote a beautiful commentary published by JTS in October, 2000. It is as apt today as it was then. He compares the terms Doves, Hawks and Ravens. We know that hawks are men of war and doves, people of peace. “A hawk is warlike, relying on its talons to attack its prey. Powerful, world-dominating nations from ancient Rome to our own country have included eagles or hawks as symbols of their military might.” But what about the raven? We know the Poe poem, “Quote the raven never more.” and Heller points out that Reish Lakish teaches in Sanhedrin 108b that the raven’s coming and returning was not an exhaustive search but a series of verbal repartees.  

“Recent events have prompted a shift in our political aviary. Doves have become hawks, and there is a strong temptation to portray the other side as the rabbis did the raven. The raven tried to evade responsibility making false accusations and claims of discrimination. Similarly, Palestinian spokespeople and sympathizers in the media present wildly exaggerated or falsified claims of injustice….in the beginning days of the conflict, the Palestinian authority offered rewards to the families of each child that might be martyred in the conflict. This type of demonization is tempting but profoundly dangerous. If indeed the other side is so completely evil, how can there ever be peace? Why should the Israeli government have trusted them in the first place.”  

These words written in 2000 are haunting today.  

However, Heller ends his d’var torah with these words: Let us hope that it is not too long before the deep wellsprings of hatred dru up and Jews and Palestinians can share not only the olive branch of peace, but the bread and meat of Elijah.” 

And Isaac Bashevis Singer? How does he picture the dove? As the one who is modest. Who doesn’t boast or brag and who kept silent. That is why Noah chose the dove.  

I’d like to think that the dove is still perched there on top of the Wall, still crying and still offering us hope. May there be peace one day. And may the shechinah and the dove lead the way. 

Recently I spoke at Gail Borden Public Library on the topic of gratitude. It was a multi-generational, multi-lingual event. And a lot of fun. Here are my remarks:

I gratefully accepted a speaking engagement for our local, award winning public library, even though it is on a Saturday afternoon. And even during an exceptionally busy weekend. Or that Israel would have been attacked just a week ago. Can we find gratitude in the midst of a war? So thank you for the opportunity to teach a little bit about gratitude. That’s what rabbis do. We teach. 

Judaism has a lot to say about gratitude. The rabbis of the Talmud say tnat we should say 100 blessings a day. 100. Cien. That’s significantly more than the contemporary idea that we should make a list, a journal of 3 things we are grateful for before we go to sleep. You have the opportunity to do that, right here today. In the back of the room. I was grateful to be able to do my three in English and Spanish.  Comida. Agua. Vida. Food. Water. Life. I am grateful for Duolingo Spanish. And I am working on it!

When we wake up, we first sing Modah Ani, I thank you G-d for restoring my soul to me. So every body stretch, yawn, and be grateful that we are here, right here, right now.  

Our morning services help us begin to get there, with an ancient list of fifteen blessings. In the prayerbook that we use at Congregation Kneseth Israe, the list is on page 65.. They all follow the same formula. Praised are You who… A blessing is something we are grateful for, that we are praising G-d and thanking G-d for.  

The first one says “Praised are You, Adonai our G-d who rule the universe enabling us to distinguish day from night. If you know the Hebrew it really says who gives wisdom to the rooster. Because a rooster crows to wake us up. Everybody crow. Cock-a-doodle-doo! 

All of these blessings are about waking up in the morning. Opening our eyes, putting on clothes, getting out of bed, One in particular I want to underscore, Praised are You who frees the captive. It is something we pray for every morning. 

But the list can feel a little too perfoma, a little too trite. So if we were building a list of 100 things, what would you put on the list. We’ll take that list and inscribe them on a pumpkin and use it as a centerpiece for Elgin’s annual Interfaith Thanksgiving Service, November 19 at 4:00 PM. 

(Build list) 

We have a prayer that expresses our thanksgiving. Modim Anachnu Lach. Sometimes while I am leading this prayer, I say to myself, just come up with one thing that I am grateful for, just one thing.  

This has been a hard week. But I remain grateful. 

Here’s my list. Today. 

1. I am grateful for the number of people who have reached out to me personally or to the congregation. That list alone could be 100 at this stage. Each of you is a blessing and someone I am grateful for.  

1. I am grateful for the Elgin Police Department who has vowed to keep us safe and keeps showing up. Often more than one officer in the parking lot of the synagogue. 

1. I am grateful for the board member who brought me kleenex when I choked up during my sermon this morning. 

1. I am grateful for modern technology and communications that enables us to keep informed and connected. 

1. I am grateful for Congressman Raja’s office who is working to get Americans out of Israel and Gaza. 

1. I am grateful for the weddings, the B’nei Mitzvah, the brises that happened this week, here and in Israel. These bring me hope. 

1. I am grateful for a young person who led part of the service and an intellectually challenged woman who read. These are generation to generation moments. 

1. I am grateful for the smile of that little one in the back of the room. Her smile, her giggles, her wave delights me and brings me hope. 

1. I am grateful for the colors of autumn, intensified on this cloudy, raw, rainy day. It is beautiful.  

1. I am grateful for the library, the symphony, Elgin’s diversity and commitment to welcoming all people. Our elected officials, even the ones I don’t always agree with.  

These blessings don’t fit in that traditional formula…but I am grateful nonetheless. They bring me hope. You all bring me hope.  

This is personal. For all of us. It is gut wrenching. As others have said this week, including Rabbi Wendi Geffen at the gathering of solidarity in Glencoe, Israel is 6208 miles from here. And while we often talk about 6 degrees of separation, for us, this is just one or two. Everybody knows someday directly affected. Who has family in Israel? Who knows someone injured or captured? Who knows someone who was killed? Who knows someone in Gaza? That includes me. So, this is personal. Currently we have two family members in Israel. One is the cousin of our Israeli niece who is one of the hostages. One is my grandnephew who is a lone soldier. You don’t have to agree with me. But you do have to listen.  

Once, I drove down the Merritt Parkway in Connecticut. The song “Ha Milchama Ha Achronah, The last war” written about the Yom Kippur War, was playing on the radio. Ani mavtiach lach, yalda sheli k’tanan, I promise you my little girl, this will be the last war. I found myself sobbing. What about my little girl? Would it ever be the last war? Could I make this promise? I got off the highway.  

The Yom Kippur War, 50 years ago, was not the last war. Nor was the incursion into Lebanon 40 years ago. An almost war when I lost my first finance, my first love, to a terrorist bomb. Nor were the “intifadas”. If a generation is 20 years, it has been 2 generations already since Yuval was killed. 40 years. 

Lador vador. From generation to generation. It is often a rallying cry.  

40 years is also considered the age of wisdom. At 40 you can begin to study mysticism. (If you are male and married).  

40 years. What have we learned? The young people murdered look like we looked. They could be our children and our grandchildren. They would be the third and fourth generation 

Once, I was sitting in a Holiday Inn in Waldorf, Germany on a Sunday morning. CNN was on in the background. It was the only channel I could understand. I was working on my rabbinic thesis. On the 13 Attributes of the Divine. Adonai, Adonai, El Rachum v’chanun…The Lord, the Lord G-d is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, filled with lovingkindness and truth, extending love to the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity, transgression and sin. That’s what we say for the selichot prayers that begin the High Holy Days and continue throughout Yom Kippur at a fever pitch. That’s what we chant on festivals before the open ark. That was my Bat Mitzvah portion and why I became a rabbi. We are told we are to be like G-d. We are to walk in G-d’s ways. We are to clothe the naked like G-d clothed Adam and Eve. We are to visit the sick, like G-d visited Abraham. We are to bury the dead like G-d buried Moses. This week I saw a plea to show up at three cemeteries in Israel to help dig graves. Burying the dead is considered chesed shel emet, lovingkindness of truth, two of those 13 attributes.  

But there is more to this verse: “yet not remitting all punishment, but visiting the iniquity of parents upon children and children’s children, upon the third and fourth generations.” (Exodus 34:7) 

Once, before there were terms like “trauma informed care” and “generational trauma” I sat in that hotel room listening to CNN. Israel had just “accidentally” by everybody’s analysis just bombed an apartment building in Lebanon. A young parent clutching a 3-month-old was being interviewed. He repeatedly said he was not angry with the Israelis but he worried about his young daughter. What would she think in 20 years? 

Once I finished that thesis. I became a rabbi. Something Yuval and I had dreamed of. After much study of domestic violence, German-Jewish reconciliation and yes, even audaciously the Israeli-Palestinian conflict I concluded that there are “sins” that are passed down generation to generation. In order, to break the cycle of violence, someone needs to feel safe. In order to forgive, you need to be safe, to know that the cycle is not going to be repeated. The cycle is repeating itself. 

Today I stand here and wonder where that daughter is. Is she in Lebanon? Is she part of Hezbolah? Does she look like the images of the children mowed down at a music festival? Is she gearing up for a war? Is she going to attack my daughter? 

Today we read Bereshit. In the beginning G-d created. Or if you prefer, When G-d began to create. G-d created us all b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d. As I often say, “All means all.” 

The Talmud teaches that to save a life is to save the world. To destroy a life is to destroy the world. It is repeated in the Koran. We are taught that we are created from one person, Adam, so that no one can say that my lineage is better than yours.  

When did we lose our humanity, G-d? When we learn to devalue human life?  

In our Torah portion this week, Cain kills Abel. He asks, famously, “Am I my brother’s keeper.” The answer is yes. The same Talmudic story about being created from one person also teaches that the spilling of blood (in this case a plural Hebrew noun), means that Cain is responsible not just for Abel’s blood but for all the descendants as well. Lord, there has been too much blood spilled for too long.  

As I stand here today, my heart is so very shattered. On this Shabbat Bereshit we remember the story from the Zohar. When G-d began to create, G-d made it full of light. G-d placed the light in a vessel but it was so bright, the vessel shattered. Our job is to gather those shards back together again. That is tikkun olam. Our job is to repair the word.  

We have collected other shards in Judaism. The shards of the first set of 10 commandments that the Israelites collected and placed next to the full set in the ark as they wandered through the desert. They were keeping the memory of their dreams unfulfilled alive. At a wedding we smash a glass, symbolic of our mourning. Some collect those shards as a reminder to create beauty out of brokenness. 

Somehow, there were weddings in Israel this week. Weddings, B’nei Mitzvah, brises. Acts of defiance and hope.  

 Lord as I stand here today, I am angry. It says, O-G-d, that you are slow to anger, erech apayim. But I am really, really angry. There can be no justification, no moral equivalency for the murder of babies, the mowing down of children at a music festival, the kidnapping of women in wheelchairs, the deliberate slaying of entire families. There is no justification in rape. There is no justification in taking hostages. Period.  

Yet You tell us that “Vengance is Mine.” Lord it says we are to forgive but surely there are sins so heinous that we cannot forgive. Do I need to forgive? How can I possibly forgive?  

Help me to remember that all people are created b’tzelem elohim. Help me to see the humanity in terrified children hiding in hospitals and schools. Help me to achieve balance in a world that does not seem balanced.  

HaRachamin, the Merciful One, a name both Jews and Muslims call You, help me to mourn. Our dead, our dreams, our hope. Help us to find the glimmers of light, the shards of glass, the helpers. Help us to find our way back to You so that we can put our lives, our world, back together again. Help me to find hope. HaTikvah.  

Please rise for HaTikvah.