A sermon in honor of Wendy McFadden:

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all .
Emily Dickinson

My job this morning is to tie lots of ideas together. I think I can do that. One of the best parts of my job is when a student asked a question that makes me learn something new. We thank Wendy McFadden for that this week and wish her well as she preaches on a similar topic at the National Church of the Brethren convention next week.

Our story this morning starts with spies. Both spies in the full Torah reading and spies in the Haftarah reading. Perhaps you prefer the term scout. They go to scout out the land and bring back intelligence. In the first story, every tribe sends a spy. The 10 think that while the land is a good land, following with milk and honey, it is a very difficult, impossible task ahead. After all, there are nephalim. Giants. So giant they would eat the Israelites, they appeared as small as…grasshoppers. They only see part of the story. Only Joshua and Caleb come back optimistic, thinking that the Israelites will be able to enter the land. Tie Number One. They have hope.

After enduring more grumbling, more kvetching from the Israelites, G-d’s anger reappears. The Israelites want to go back to Egypt. Why not? The battle ahead will be dangerous and without a clear outcome. Moses intercedes (again) on the people’s behalf and reminds G-d of G-d’s essential nature. G-d, You are G-d, merciful and compassionate, slow to anger, full of lovingkindness… Adonai, Adonai, El Rachum V’chanun. Using those very words he learned from G-d on top of Mount Sinai, it works. Again. And G-d utters the words we know from Yom Kippur, from Kol Nidre itself. Vayomer Adonai, selacti kidvarecha. And G-d said, I have pardoned you according to your word. Tie Number Two. Moses and G-d have hope.

The Israelites set out again…now buoyed with hope.

Then G-d says:
There shall be one law for you and for the resident stranger; it shall be a law for all time throughout the ages. You and the stranger shall be alike before the LORD; Tie Number Three. This brings the sojourners hope.

We know this word hope in Hebrew. It is tikvah. Like the Jewish National Anthem, HaTikvah, the Hope. But it shows up in an interesting place. In our Haftarah, which Simon will read shortly, Rahab offers the scouts hope. A lifeline. Literally, a red thread as a sign. That thread is called tikvah.

Now I could not find much Jewish commentary on this. But Christian commentators have much to say about this red thread tikvah. And one Rosh Hashanah sermon delivered at Chicago Sinai Congregation, Simon’s home congregation. Seems appropriate as we tie the generations together.

“As the Israelites prepare to enter the Land, Joshua, the new leader of the Jewish people sends in two spies to scope it out. Upon entering, the scouts arrive a the house o Rahab and stay there…As you might imagine, when word gets out about these Israelites, the Canaanites are less than thrilled and plan to attach. IN that very moment, Rahab, the Harlot becomes Rahab the Heroine. (We could do a whole text study on Rahab and her leadership style. That’s for another time)…In order to protect Rahab, the scouts offer her a scarlet tikvah, thread to hang from her window. This scarlet thread becomes Rahab’s only guarantee that her household will be spared by the Israelites. It was literally her tikvah, her only hope.” https://www.chicagosinai.org/worship/sermons/real-kind-of-hope

Tie Number Four. Rahab has hope.

Rabbi Amanda Greene goes on to point out that Jewish hope is different that hope in general. “Our hope, Jewish hope, is much more difficult than Hallmark hope. It is not a hope that guarentees happy endings. It is not a hope that makes everything better. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel taught, “Hope is a conviction, rooted in trust..an ability to soar above the darkness that overshadows the Divine.”

The next tie that binds in our portion, is for the gift of challah.

“When the Israelites enter the land, a good land, a land flowing with milk and honey, they are directed, commanded to offer a gift. The gift of bread. Not just any bread. Challah.

“Speak to the Israelite people and say to them: When you enter the land to which I am taking you and you eat of the bread of the land, you shall set some aside as a gift to the Lord: as the first yield of your baking. You shall set aside a loaf as a gift; you shall set it aside as a gift like the gift fro the threshing floor. You shall make a gift to the Lord from the first yield of your baking throughout the ages.”

This is the origin of separating challah, of “taking challah”. The book Spiritual Kneading has much to say about this tradition, which is still observed today. I think it is an offering of hope.

We still do this. It binds us together through the generations. And if you want to join us for Rosh Hodesh on Tuesday night we will separate challah, at one of the darkest times, the new moon, bringing us hope.

It is about living with gratitude and recognizing that our bread come forth from the land, with the help of G-d. It reminds me of the old Girl Scout Grace, Back of the Bread. Back of the Bread is the flour and back of the flour is the mill and back of the mill is the wind and the rain and the Father’s will.

Bread does not come out of the earth as bread. It takes seeds, and a balance between rain and sun, and milling the grain, and mixing the flour, letting it rise, baking it but not too long. Farmers must have hope.  Tie Number Five. Farmers, and by extension us, must remember to live in hope. Challah represents that hope.

Yesterday I had the opportunity to deliver produce from our garden, 40 pounds of omer, our winter rye to Gene Lindow for animals in McHenry. Having grown a good crop, we shouldn’t waste the energy that went into that. And two heads of lettuce and the first radishes to the Soup Kettle across the street. We will have the opportunity to taste one of those radishes. We have set that aside as a gift and will enjoy another shehechianu moment at our Kiddush shortly.

But you might be wondering, why did I pass out a purple thread. Rahab’s thread was scarlet. Because there is another tie that binds. Our portion ends this morning with a paragraph we know so well. It is the third paragraph of the V’ahavta. It tells us to tie a blue thread, a fringe onto our garments. To remember the mitzvoth and to remember that G-d took us out of Egypt. We do that with our tzitzit and our tallitot, prayer shawls. That is the Sixth Tie that Binds.

I stand before you today, in one of my favorite tallitot. It was crafted by Rabbi Terry Greenstein and I wear it about four times a year. It was Peretz’s favorite. I wear it for Shabbat Noach, and for Joseph and his amazing Technicolor dreamcoat. I wear it for the Shabbat when people believe the rainbow appeared in the sky, usually May. And I wear it for Pride Shabbat.

There are many interpretations of why red and blue threads. Perhaps they are just two of the “royal” and expensive dyes mandated in building the Holy Temple. Perhaps, as one commentator suggested, red is for women reminding us of blood and blue is for men. But I am not sure that even then gender colors were so fixed. Remember that it was the men who put blood on the doorposts so that the Angel of Death would Passover and protect all the first born (men).

However, red and blue together make purple. So this purple thread I have given you today is to remind you to live with hope. That is the Seventh Tie.

Driving along Route 20 on the way back from Marengo I was reminded of this quote from the Color Purple:

Describing what God does to please people, Shug says,”I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it.” After Celie asks what God does in response to this obliviousness, Shug replies that God creates something else people will see, because God just wants to be loved. Out of this pivotal conversation, Celie develops a deep spiritual connection.

That’s what G-d wants. G-d wants us to remember. To take notice. To live in gratitude and hope.Take your purple thread and wear it all week to remember. To take notice. To live in gratitude and hope.

Like Edmund Flegg wrote to his grandson tying those generations together: “Je suis juif parce qu’en tous temps où crie une désespérance, le juif espère. I am a Jew because in every age when the cry of despair is heard the Jew hopes.”