It is striking that the Torah spends so much time and energy on the details of the Tabernacle. For the past three weeks, we’ve been reading about the details of this enormous building project. Any one ready to move on yet? Due to the Jewish leap year, parshiot Vahakhel and Pekude are read separately this year. So, we have another week to go. Anyone else want to speak about the building of the Tabernacle? After this Shabbat, I think I'm done.
The big events in Biblical history, the ones we recall regularly in our liturgy and celebrate in our festival cycle -- Creation (כי ששת ימים עשה יי את השמים ואת הארץ וביום השביעי שבת וינפש); Exodus, redemption, from Egyptian bondage; and Revelation of law and the forming of covenant at Sinai – don’t take up a lot of space in the Torah. They don’t have to. The drama of these events speaks for itself. We’ve experienced, as best as we can from our reading and study, the drama of, for example, revelation. Its presentation in the text is so extraordinary that it is hard for us to wrap our modern, rational minds around the episode. Redemption, too – come on, a splitting sea? No, we can’t explain it. We can try to rationalize it as unexplainable miracle or complete myth; but, regardless of how we as liberal readers come to terms with the text, the dramatic presentation helps imprint the episodes on our communal memory. That moment is ours as much as it was our ancestors who stood in the midbar at the foot of a mountain called Sinai, and the editor didn’t need an abundance of space to get that vital point across. The building of the Tabernacle, on the other hand, isn’t particularly dramatic, and it shouldn’t be. Those of us who have built anything know that drama in construction projects usually means trouble. More to the point, however, Judaism celebrates formative events in the community’s, namely the Israelite community’s, development, not buildings.
So then, why all this attention to building materials and instructions? Why the tedious, meticulous, and frankly repetitious, detail regarding how to construct the Tabernacle and all that goes into it? As I’ve reflected on other occasions, these are not simple, IKEA-style ‘one man or woman can do it,’ instructions. With regard to the planks, for example, our text instructs “...The length of each … was 10 cubits, and the width, a cubit and a 1/2. Each shall have two tenons, parallel to each other...make 20 planks on the south side, making 40 silver sockets under the 20 planks, 2 sockets under the one plank for its two tenons and 2 sockets under each...” and so on. I consider myself pretty handy. I’ve put together my share of IKEA-do-it-yourself type furniture. I know how to use a drill. However, if anything came with instructions as convoluted and demanding as these apparently dictated by God; sorry God, the project wouldn’t get done…certainly not by me alone.
The Biblical narrative doesn’t give the Israelites that choice, the choice to say, ‘no thank you, God, we don’t need a Tabernacle.’ But, perhaps we are assuming that they had no choice. Imagine if the Tabernacle didn’t get built. This week’s Torah portion is a repetition of instructions. Earlier the instructions are given to the community, Parashat Vayakhel reports how they were done. And this is precisely the point; for, if the Tabernacle didn’t get built, the entire story of the Israelites would end here. Just as important as redemption and revelation is the building of the Tabernacle - not a miracle performed dramatically by God and experienced by the people due to Divine grace; but rather, a miracle performed by the determined and cooperative labors of the people.
The Tabernacle - the mishkan - the first formal place of worship, of gathering for the community. A place that is to serve as symbol of both God’s presence and communal unity. Certainly, we are not defined by the buildings we build. The text makes it very clear that it is not the material gifts that determine the success. We read that so many gifts were brought, so many material offerings, that Moses was forced to proclaim to all: "אלֹ־יאשוּ עוד מלאכה לתרומת הקדש" - stop making further effort toward gifts for the sanctuary. Stop your individual donations. We should be so fortunate as to have to stop individual gift giving.
What is needed is community action, not more stuff. All the materials - the blue, purple & crimson yarns for example, the dolphin skins, the gold, the talents of silver described at length - none of it matters if the Israelites are unable to work together to get it done. No matter the amount of material riches bestowed on any community, our synagogues included, not a penny of it is worth a damn unless the individuals work together towards a unified goal.
The Israelite saga - their growth from a vagabond group of slaves into a people with a shared identity and mission is begun with redemption and revelation, but it is solidified by accomplishing this great and awesome task. Only now, not as passive recipients of God’s interventions, but rather as active partners with God and the community, can the Israelites continue their journey. Yes, a lot of textual space is given to the descriptions regarding and the building of this first mishkan, and the descriptions are at times dull, but we will learn that they finish. Finally next week, we will read, “וַתֵּ֕כֶל כּל־עבוד֕ת משכּ֖ן א֣הל מוע֑ד” “Thus was completed all the work of the Tabernacle of the Tent of Meeting. No splitting sea, no smoke and thunder, but the level of cooperation and mutual respect required in order to complete this task is just as, if not more, miraculous. It is certainly worthy of emulation!
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Shabbat Tetzvah: a Reflection on BJC Advocacy Day 2011, Delivered Shabbat Tetzaveh, 2/12/2011
You shall further instruct the Israelites…. This week’s Torah portion, parashat T’tzaveh, continues to outline details of the tabernacle. Specifically, this part of the narrative gives instruction regarding Aaron’s cloths, the attire for the priesthood, and the consecration ceremony for Aaron and his sons, who will serve as High Priest and priests respectively. What should we make of the attention to clothes? At first glance the focus on outerwear seems frivolous – really, is all this chazarai necessary? Beautiful yes – gold, blue, purple & crimson yarns, precious stones and metals – but aren’t there are far more important matters with which we should be concerned? The detailing of Aaron’s attire, however, highlights the weight of responsibility his role as High Priest engenders.
The breast plate – I imagine a weighty hunk of metal and precious stone (see Ex 28:15 ff), served as a tangible (if not burdensome) reminder of history that helped guide Aaron in leading the people towards their future. Also included on that plate of metal that was fastened to Aaron’s garment, were the Urim and Tummim, two items that defy any definite translation and thus remain fodder for commentary. Rashi explains that the Urim and Tummim “הוא כתב שם המפרש was an inscription of the Proper Name of God.” Accordingly, God, via the urim and tummim, literally enlightened the correct path, or in other words gave foresight to decisions, for the leaders of the community (i.e., the High Priest).
Leaders are a necessary element of any organized and functional society. At the same time, so are the people who are lead. The details provided in the narrative surrounding the ceremony of consecration/ordination of Aaron’s sons into the priesthood make it clear that the community’s presence is vital; it is not private, but public, ritual. The entire community bears witness to the responsibility that Aaron takes on when he lays his hands on that animal about to be sacrificed. It is a heavy moment weighted down, not only by the ornate clothing described moments earlier – can we imagine overseeing this messy ritual dressed as he must - but by the responsibility the community places on Aaron and his sons. The medieval commentator, Nachmanides, notes that Aaron’s sons are named at the start of this portion so that it is clear that their role as priests is not taken for granted. They may have been born into the opportunity for this role; but they, too, like their father, must accept the mantle of leadership their birthright offers them publically, in plain sight of the community.
This past Tuesday, I along with a group of members from Temple Emanuel, visited the State Capitol along with other representatives of the Jewish community in an effort to make our voices heard in the state legislature. Organized by the Baltimore Jewish Council (BJC), this annual Advocacy Day gives us – the Baltimore Jewish community - the opportunity to meet our legislators and speak out regarding issues that impact not only the Jewish community specifically but the welfare of all Marylanders.
Our leaders bear a burden on our behalf. The sacrifices they are required to make in order to forward their legislative agenda are often far less public than those made by the House of Aaron; yet, they make as indelible an impact, and it is up to us to remain present, supporting their efforts even if through debate, and holding them accountable for their work. We must, like our biblical ancestors, bear witness to the decisions and actions of our leaders. It is easy to avoid this responsibility. In the biblical period, the smoke and fumes must have made it almost impossible not to participate in the events performed by the priests even if one wanted to avoid them. But today, we must make a conscious effort to be present and participate – our senses won’t be so easily seduced by the rituals of governmental process.
This year, I was invited by the BJC to serve as a group leader for Advocacy Day. Basically that role entails taking the lead in opening the discussions within in our small group visits with our legislators. My first thought, “no thank you. I'll be happy to take a back seat.” Luckily, I resisted responding automatically (which for those of you who know me well know is not an easy feat for me). For all of the times I stand on this bema and commend our confirmation students for their efforts on Capitol Hill each winter, for all of the times I encourage others to actively participate in the political process at the very least by staying attuned to issues that impact our community, how could I refuse taking such a role? So, I followed my second, more reasoned,thought and accepted.
I lead two visits while in Annapolis on Tuesday evening. The first to Senator Karen Montgomery, coincidentally enough from Montgomery County (District 14), the second to Senator Ronald Young of District 3 representing both Frederick and Washington Counties. Both senators were already quite supportive of the legislation for which we were advocating on behalf of the BJC, thus our discussions broadened out to include the realities of public service and leadership. Senator Young, for instance, shared with us how he very much supported the Lorraine Sheehan Health and Community Services Act (better known as the alcohol tax bill) and hopes it passes, but at the same time can’t vote for it due to his commitment to a campaign promise he made to his constituents, a campaign promise that helped him win office against a candidate with decidedly more conservative views, a candidate who would not be supportive of the issues valued by the BJC and much of the Jewish community. By the way, this bill is supported by the Baltimore Jewish Council because of the many important and vital communal services this tax can support in the community.
We discussed the costs and benefits of a Senate Bill that would enable children born to illegal immigrants, assuming they meet certain qualifying standards, to be eligible for in state tuition to Maryland colleges and universities. We discussed the very real budgetary challenge of maintaining necessary public services that serve the elderly and victims of domestic violence, among others. Laying one’s hands on a bull and readying it for slaughter may be far more visceral in the moment, but the impact of being involved in making the kinds of fiscal decisions our legislators must can be just as lasting as taking the life of a living and breathing animal.
Both of the Senators with whom we met were co-sponsors of the Religious Freedom and Civil Marriage Act, legislation that was on the forefront of everyone’s mind in Annapolis on Tuesday due to the legislative hearings on the topic that took place that day. As a representative of the BJC, I was not able to thank Senators Montgomery and Young for their support of what I consider to be necessary legislation. The BJC represents the entire Baltimore Jewish Community, and as I was delicately informed, there simply “isn’t consensus within the Baltimore Jewish community,” thus, the BJC cannot take a stand. That being said, I did thank the legislators on my own behalf, making it clear that I was speaking as a representative of the liberal Jewish community and not of the BJC on this issue.
The BJC must speak on behalf of the entire Jewish community and thus can only speak out on issues on which there is consensus. As individuals, however, the power of free speech allows us (perhaps should compel us) to voice our opinion on any issue of import to us. One disconcerting observation from my participation in Advocacy Day over the past few years: the Reform community is simply not well represented. We proudly send our kids to the Religious Action Center – hundreds of teens representing congregations throughout the country descend on Capitol Hill repeatedly (the RAC runs 6 or 7 L’Taken well attended seminars each year), and yet how many of us as adults have ever taken the opportunity, whether on a local or national level, to participate in the legislative process. We should. And recent events in Egypt serve to remind us to appreciate and take advantage of the opportunity we, as Americans, have in this legislative process.
Luckily our political leaders don’t have to be weighted down physically with the kind of garb that decorated our biblical High Priest, and thank goodness our senses no longer need be assaulted by the rituals and smells of the sacrificial cult. But just as the priest’s garb can serve as a tangible reminder of the importance and responsibility of the leadership role, those now seemingly barbaric rituals witnessed by the community should serve to remind us of the need for our presence at least, and perhaps our active participation, in the rituals that serve to bring guidance and cohesion, civility and democracy to our nation.
The breast plate – I imagine a weighty hunk of metal and precious stone (see Ex 28:15 ff), served as a tangible (if not burdensome) reminder of history that helped guide Aaron in leading the people towards their future. Also included on that plate of metal that was fastened to Aaron’s garment, were the Urim and Tummim, two items that defy any definite translation and thus remain fodder for commentary. Rashi explains that the Urim and Tummim “הוא כתב שם המפרש was an inscription of the Proper Name of God.” Accordingly, God, via the urim and tummim, literally enlightened the correct path, or in other words gave foresight to decisions, for the leaders of the community (i.e., the High Priest).
Leaders are a necessary element of any organized and functional society. At the same time, so are the people who are lead. The details provided in the narrative surrounding the ceremony of consecration/ordination of Aaron’s sons into the priesthood make it clear that the community’s presence is vital; it is not private, but public, ritual. The entire community bears witness to the responsibility that Aaron takes on when he lays his hands on that animal about to be sacrificed. It is a heavy moment weighted down, not only by the ornate clothing described moments earlier – can we imagine overseeing this messy ritual dressed as he must - but by the responsibility the community places on Aaron and his sons. The medieval commentator, Nachmanides, notes that Aaron’s sons are named at the start of this portion so that it is clear that their role as priests is not taken for granted. They may have been born into the opportunity for this role; but they, too, like their father, must accept the mantle of leadership their birthright offers them publically, in plain sight of the community.
This past Tuesday, I along with a group of members from Temple Emanuel, visited the State Capitol along with other representatives of the Jewish community in an effort to make our voices heard in the state legislature. Organized by the Baltimore Jewish Council (BJC), this annual Advocacy Day gives us – the Baltimore Jewish community - the opportunity to meet our legislators and speak out regarding issues that impact not only the Jewish community specifically but the welfare of all Marylanders.
Our leaders bear a burden on our behalf. The sacrifices they are required to make in order to forward their legislative agenda are often far less public than those made by the House of Aaron; yet, they make as indelible an impact, and it is up to us to remain present, supporting their efforts even if through debate, and holding them accountable for their work. We must, like our biblical ancestors, bear witness to the decisions and actions of our leaders. It is easy to avoid this responsibility. In the biblical period, the smoke and fumes must have made it almost impossible not to participate in the events performed by the priests even if one wanted to avoid them. But today, we must make a conscious effort to be present and participate – our senses won’t be so easily seduced by the rituals of governmental process.
This year, I was invited by the BJC to serve as a group leader for Advocacy Day. Basically that role entails taking the lead in opening the discussions within in our small group visits with our legislators. My first thought, “no thank you. I'll be happy to take a back seat.” Luckily, I resisted responding automatically (which for those of you who know me well know is not an easy feat for me). For all of the times I stand on this bema and commend our confirmation students for their efforts on Capitol Hill each winter, for all of the times I encourage others to actively participate in the political process at the very least by staying attuned to issues that impact our community, how could I refuse taking such a role? So, I followed my second, more reasoned,thought and accepted.
I lead two visits while in Annapolis on Tuesday evening. The first to Senator Karen Montgomery, coincidentally enough from Montgomery County (District 14), the second to Senator Ronald Young of District 3 representing both Frederick and Washington Counties. Both senators were already quite supportive of the legislation for which we were advocating on behalf of the BJC, thus our discussions broadened out to include the realities of public service and leadership. Senator Young, for instance, shared with us how he very much supported the Lorraine Sheehan Health and Community Services Act (better known as the alcohol tax bill) and hopes it passes, but at the same time can’t vote for it due to his commitment to a campaign promise he made to his constituents, a campaign promise that helped him win office against a candidate with decidedly more conservative views, a candidate who would not be supportive of the issues valued by the BJC and much of the Jewish community. By the way, this bill is supported by the Baltimore Jewish Council because of the many important and vital communal services this tax can support in the community.
We discussed the costs and benefits of a Senate Bill that would enable children born to illegal immigrants, assuming they meet certain qualifying standards, to be eligible for in state tuition to Maryland colleges and universities. We discussed the very real budgetary challenge of maintaining necessary public services that serve the elderly and victims of domestic violence, among others. Laying one’s hands on a bull and readying it for slaughter may be far more visceral in the moment, but the impact of being involved in making the kinds of fiscal decisions our legislators must can be just as lasting as taking the life of a living and breathing animal.
Both of the Senators with whom we met were co-sponsors of the Religious Freedom and Civil Marriage Act, legislation that was on the forefront of everyone’s mind in Annapolis on Tuesday due to the legislative hearings on the topic that took place that day. As a representative of the BJC, I was not able to thank Senators Montgomery and Young for their support of what I consider to be necessary legislation. The BJC represents the entire Baltimore Jewish Community, and as I was delicately informed, there simply “isn’t consensus within the Baltimore Jewish community,” thus, the BJC cannot take a stand. That being said, I did thank the legislators on my own behalf, making it clear that I was speaking as a representative of the liberal Jewish community and not of the BJC on this issue.
The BJC must speak on behalf of the entire Jewish community and thus can only speak out on issues on which there is consensus. As individuals, however, the power of free speech allows us (perhaps should compel us) to voice our opinion on any issue of import to us. One disconcerting observation from my participation in Advocacy Day over the past few years: the Reform community is simply not well represented. We proudly send our kids to the Religious Action Center – hundreds of teens representing congregations throughout the country descend on Capitol Hill repeatedly (the RAC runs 6 or 7 L’Taken well attended seminars each year), and yet how many of us as adults have ever taken the opportunity, whether on a local or national level, to participate in the legislative process. We should. And recent events in Egypt serve to remind us to appreciate and take advantage of the opportunity we, as Americans, have in this legislative process.
Luckily our political leaders don’t have to be weighted down physically with the kind of garb that decorated our biblical High Priest, and thank goodness our senses no longer need be assaulted by the rituals and smells of the sacrificial cult. But just as the priest’s garb can serve as a tangible reminder of the importance and responsibility of the leadership role, those now seemingly barbaric rituals witnessed by the community should serve to remind us of the need for our presence at least, and perhaps our active participation, in the rituals that serve to bring guidance and cohesion, civility and democracy to our nation.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Shabbat Shira & our Communal Responisibility, delivered by Rabbi/Cantor Rhoda JH Silverman on 1/14/2011 (MLK Weekend)
Shabbat Shira. This Shabbat, Jews around the world are recalling and celebrating freedom and redemption. Tomorrow morning during our Torah reading, we will rise up and stand for the recitation of the Shira, as if we too were being led in song by Moses and Miriam on freedom’s side of the Reed Sea. This year, the remarkable confluence of Martin Luther King weekend and Shabbat Shira has inspired the Religious Action Center of the Reform Movement to mark this Shabbat as Shabbat Tzedek, the Sabbath of Righteousness and Justice, in honor of their 50 years of activism on behalf of American Jewry. At the same time, despite the desire for rejoicing these events evoke in us, a heaviness hovers over this Shabbat Shira v’Tzedek .
Last Shabbat, as I expect we all are aware by now, six people were senselessly gunned down and others seriously wounded including Arizona Representative Gabrielle Giffords, who was the apparent target of this rampage. During a week leading up to the celebration of the constant effort that our movement puts forth towards the pursuit of social justice in this nation, during a week when we are preparing to celebrate an historical moment of redemption from oppression that takes on mythic proportion in Jewish tradition, it is unthinkable that we also buried, among others, a nine year old who was already at her young age so passionate about and interested in our nation’s democratic ideals and the political process. It’s absurd to me that on a weekend when we are to celebrate the righteousness and rightness of justice over tyranny and oppression, we are instead mourning the loss of innocent life and praying for the recovery of a woman who has chosen to serve her community in an effort to make this nation more just. Especially as I sat with our teenage confirmation students in the Capitol Hill office of Senator Benjamin Cardin at 11 AM this past Monday, the very moment when our nation’s Capitol paused for that moment of thoughtful silence, I was struck with an inability to respond. Our students who had, davka, an 11 AM appointment with Senator Cardin’s staff were impacted directly as they waited through this moment of reflection in order to participate in the very legislative and democratic process that was attacked just days before.
Perhaps the scene on the shores of the Reed Sea and the communal experience of redemption can offer us some insight regarding how to formulate a meaningful and sensible response. Our Torah does not inform us of the individual experiences of redemption. Those individual experiences must have been interesting (by nature we humans are interesting individuals), but these stories weren’t worthy of retention in our sacred canon. When it comes to establishing a sense of community and a civil society, the focus must be on communal responsibility. We have to take care of each other. The Jewish concept of redemption is less about the individual; rather, it is far more about working together towards making the world a more perfect place. The communal – the shared - experience of crossing of the Reed Sea and leaving Egypt coupled with the revelation to come at Sinai will not only define this community but will give it cohesion, structure, and most importantly, a moral imperative.
In the wake of this past week’s events, Sarah Palin, in a response that was, IMHO, thoroughly and inappropriately self-serving, quoted Ronald Reagan stating, “we must reject the idea that whenever a law is broken, society is guilty rather than the lawbreaker.” Speaking out against the concept of collective responsibility, Ms. Palin added, “we must restore the precept that each individual is accountable for his or her own actions. Acts of monstrous criminality stand on their own. They begin and end with the criminals who commit them…” On the one hand, Ms. Palin is correct. There is no question that individuals must be held responsible for their actions. However, at the same time, we cannot, we must not, stand idly by and ignore our collective culpability in a crime of this magnitude. We, as an American community, must shoulder some responsibility for creating and supporting an environment where such behavior was deemed acceptable, even if only by this one individual, and for making the tools available for him to act on his horrific impulse.
Civility requires us to bear some of the responsibility of this individual’s actions. Sarah Palin isn’t necessarily to blame (though, personally I don’t think her rhetoric of “reloading” is useful in any context outside of hunting or target practice), but our society’s current valuing of the individual over community is. The New York Times reported today that many, including friends, teachers, and administrators at the community college Mr. Loughner attended, had considerable concern regarding his attitudes and behavior. Yet save for a suspension from class, no action was taken. A college spokesperson, in explaining why further action such as mandating a psychiatric evaluation, admitted that Loughner’s behavior on campus though “disturbing, [was] not a crime.” How do we respond to such ‘disturbing’ behavior without trampling on the individual rights of the individual so that intervention occurs before ‘disturbing’ becomes not only criminal but lethal? A challenging question indeed to which no simple answer arises, yet a question with which we must struggle for the sake of the civility and righteousness of our society.
The Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., in an address to the 47th Biennial gathering of the then UAHC in 1963, stated as only he could,
“All I am saying is this, that all life is interrelated. That we are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, it affects all indirectly [and] I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be and you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be. This is the interrelated structure of reality.”
It is no accident that The Shira was intended to be sung by the entire community. It is not a celebration of individual achievement or honor. It provides a means of expression for the group. God has acted on behalf of an entire people and this song now allows that entire people to offer gratitude and accept responsibility accordingly. Commentary has certainly developed, and continues to develop, that works to fill in the gaps allowing us to peer into the individual experience. The midrashic poem, Leaving Egypt, by Merle Feld, offers a lovely example:
The night is so dark
And I am afraid.
I see nothing, smell nothing,
The only reality –
I am holding my mother’s hand.
And as we walk
I hear the sounds
Of a multitude in motion –
In front, behind,
All around,
A multitude in motion.
I have no thought of tomorrow,
Now , in the darkness,
There is only motion
And my mother’s hand. (published by the URJ in The Women’s Commentary)
It is also no accident that this multitude is depicted as singing The Shira. It seems to be a strange time to sing. Yes, the group has arrived safely through their arduous journey after years and years of bondage; but, you’d think they’d be too tired and emotional distraught from their flight (let alone the trauma of watching the waters crash down upon their enemy, their former neighbors) to sing. Yet, the biblical redactor forces us to stretch our imagination by incorporating this ‘song’, a literary piece decidedly older than the narrative in which it is embedded into the narrative. The song works to imprint the entire episode onto our communal memory. The Shira, is an extraordinary work of poetry that is used to make sure that we never forget this episode in OUR history. The song reminds us and compels us to act justly in the world and to indeed continue our work towards making this a safe, civil, and democratic nation -- one of which Martin Luther King, Jr. would be proud.
Last Shabbat, as I expect we all are aware by now, six people were senselessly gunned down and others seriously wounded including Arizona Representative Gabrielle Giffords, who was the apparent target of this rampage. During a week leading up to the celebration of the constant effort that our movement puts forth towards the pursuit of social justice in this nation, during a week when we are preparing to celebrate an historical moment of redemption from oppression that takes on mythic proportion in Jewish tradition, it is unthinkable that we also buried, among others, a nine year old who was already at her young age so passionate about and interested in our nation’s democratic ideals and the political process. It’s absurd to me that on a weekend when we are to celebrate the righteousness and rightness of justice over tyranny and oppression, we are instead mourning the loss of innocent life and praying for the recovery of a woman who has chosen to serve her community in an effort to make this nation more just. Especially as I sat with our teenage confirmation students in the Capitol Hill office of Senator Benjamin Cardin at 11 AM this past Monday, the very moment when our nation’s Capitol paused for that moment of thoughtful silence, I was struck with an inability to respond. Our students who had, davka, an 11 AM appointment with Senator Cardin’s staff were impacted directly as they waited through this moment of reflection in order to participate in the very legislative and democratic process that was attacked just days before.
Perhaps the scene on the shores of the Reed Sea and the communal experience of redemption can offer us some insight regarding how to formulate a meaningful and sensible response. Our Torah does not inform us of the individual experiences of redemption. Those individual experiences must have been interesting (by nature we humans are interesting individuals), but these stories weren’t worthy of retention in our sacred canon. When it comes to establishing a sense of community and a civil society, the focus must be on communal responsibility. We have to take care of each other. The Jewish concept of redemption is less about the individual; rather, it is far more about working together towards making the world a more perfect place. The communal – the shared - experience of crossing of the Reed Sea and leaving Egypt coupled with the revelation to come at Sinai will not only define this community but will give it cohesion, structure, and most importantly, a moral imperative.
In the wake of this past week’s events, Sarah Palin, in a response that was, IMHO, thoroughly and inappropriately self-serving, quoted Ronald Reagan stating, “we must reject the idea that whenever a law is broken, society is guilty rather than the lawbreaker.” Speaking out against the concept of collective responsibility, Ms. Palin added, “we must restore the precept that each individual is accountable for his or her own actions. Acts of monstrous criminality stand on their own. They begin and end with the criminals who commit them…” On the one hand, Ms. Palin is correct. There is no question that individuals must be held responsible for their actions. However, at the same time, we cannot, we must not, stand idly by and ignore our collective culpability in a crime of this magnitude. We, as an American community, must shoulder some responsibility for creating and supporting an environment where such behavior was deemed acceptable, even if only by this one individual, and for making the tools available for him to act on his horrific impulse.
Civility requires us to bear some of the responsibility of this individual’s actions. Sarah Palin isn’t necessarily to blame (though, personally I don’t think her rhetoric of “reloading” is useful in any context outside of hunting or target practice), but our society’s current valuing of the individual over community is. The New York Times reported today that many, including friends, teachers, and administrators at the community college Mr. Loughner attended, had considerable concern regarding his attitudes and behavior. Yet save for a suspension from class, no action was taken. A college spokesperson, in explaining why further action such as mandating a psychiatric evaluation, admitted that Loughner’s behavior on campus though “disturbing, [was] not a crime.” How do we respond to such ‘disturbing’ behavior without trampling on the individual rights of the individual so that intervention occurs before ‘disturbing’ becomes not only criminal but lethal? A challenging question indeed to which no simple answer arises, yet a question with which we must struggle for the sake of the civility and righteousness of our society.
The Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., in an address to the 47th Biennial gathering of the then UAHC in 1963, stated as only he could,
“All I am saying is this, that all life is interrelated. That we are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, it affects all indirectly [and] I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be and you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be. This is the interrelated structure of reality.”
It is no accident that The Shira was intended to be sung by the entire community. It is not a celebration of individual achievement or honor. It provides a means of expression for the group. God has acted on behalf of an entire people and this song now allows that entire people to offer gratitude and accept responsibility accordingly. Commentary has certainly developed, and continues to develop, that works to fill in the gaps allowing us to peer into the individual experience. The midrashic poem, Leaving Egypt, by Merle Feld, offers a lovely example:
The night is so dark
And I am afraid.
I see nothing, smell nothing,
The only reality –
I am holding my mother’s hand.
And as we walk
I hear the sounds
Of a multitude in motion –
In front, behind,
All around,
A multitude in motion.
I have no thought of tomorrow,
Now , in the darkness,
There is only motion
And my mother’s hand. (published by the URJ in The Women’s Commentary)
It is also no accident that this multitude is depicted as singing The Shira. It seems to be a strange time to sing. Yes, the group has arrived safely through their arduous journey after years and years of bondage; but, you’d think they’d be too tired and emotional distraught from their flight (let alone the trauma of watching the waters crash down upon their enemy, their former neighbors) to sing. Yet, the biblical redactor forces us to stretch our imagination by incorporating this ‘song’, a literary piece decidedly older than the narrative in which it is embedded into the narrative. The song works to imprint the entire episode onto our communal memory. The Shira, is an extraordinary work of poetry that is used to make sure that we never forget this episode in OUR history. The song reminds us and compels us to act justly in the world and to indeed continue our work towards making this a safe, civil, and democratic nation -- one of which Martin Luther King, Jr. would be proud.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Who's Serach? A D'var Torah for Parashat Vayigash in Honor of Sylvia Eisenberg's 80th Birthday
One of my favorite biblical characters, a matriarch of sorts – though not a familiar one as those made famous by their roles in the patriarchal history and their association with Abe, Isaac, and Jake – is Serach daughter of Asher. Serach. Who’s she, you might ask.
Serach, according to the biblical text is quite simply, the daughter of Jacob’s son Asher. Serach is far from a major character in our biblical text which frankly makes her all the more interesting to me, and to the Rabbinic mind, makes her mention significant. Recall, the traditional rabbinic approach to Torah study views every detail, not matter how small or seemingly insignificant as vital to our proper understanding of Torah. Serach thus calls attention.
Serach is mentioned twice in Torah – included in family listings with no additional detail, no additional narrative. In this week’s parashat Vayigash, Serach appears in a genealogical listing of Jacob’s progeny. Amongst all of Jacob’s grandsons listed as entering Egypt is Serach, his one named granddaughter (see Gen 46:8-26, spec. 17). According to the biblical narrative, Jacob will be blessed with another granddaughter born while in Egypt, one of whom we are very familiar: Yocheved sired by Levi who grows up to be mom to Moses, Aaron, & Miriam. Serach is thus not unique in her role as granddaughter to our patriarch Jacob; however, remarkably Asher’s daughter Serach is remembered here in this listing of those who enter Egypt AND again later among those counted in the census taken bamidbar, in the wilderness, some 400 years after descending into Egypt! Moreover, the way in which she is listed in this second accounting is striking. This census is taken by clan, למשפחתם (Numbers 26:4 ff). Everyone is listed per their group identity, by family, save for Serach. She alone is remembered as an individual, ושם בת אשר שרח (Num 26:46) – by name.
On the one hand, we can scold the hand that authored the Torah for failing to give us the back story to this extraordinary remembering of Serach; but, at the same time this lack of detail here leaves open a wonderful opportunity for the Rabbinic imagination. And the Rabbis don’t let us down. Serach is imagined to be the longest living individual of our Jewish history. Longevity a reward for sensitive honesty; for according to midrash, it is Serach who delicately informed Jacob through song that Joseph was still alive. Talmudic legend imagines that it was Serach who showed Moses were Joseph was buried at the time of the Exodus from Egypt so that his bones could be returned to Canaan (B. Sotah 13a). Serach is viewed as a font of wisdom as well as compassion in Rabbinic literature. The medival Midrash Rabbah (Genesis Rabbah 94:9) places Serach in role of Secretary of State negotiating with David’s army chief, Joab. Another midrash imagines Serach, not unlike the prophet Elijah, as a reconciler of disputes. Though, whereas we must wait for redemption in order to hear Elijah’s judgements, Serach offers astute resolution in the moment to Rabbinic disagreements. You see, Serach is generally consulted to resolve conflict over past events. Remember she apparently was there to witness these events and thus is able to provide wise and insightful comment. Even our mystical tradition elevates Serach to great heights. The Zohar, that great mystical work that came out of medieval Spain to serve as a spring board for later Kabbalism, particularly Lurianic Kabbalism, teaches that Serach is among the few who have entered heaven alive where she remains teaching Torah.
Serach is an extraordinary figure, almost too extraordinary. Perhaps because there aren’t many female biblical characters, Serach’s shoulders get burdened by the full weight of creative possibility. She is wise, independent, and capable of rendering a serious and accurate judgment in a world not generally inhabited by women. She is at the same time nurturing, caring, and always present giving – teaching – to others. Indeed, the Rabbis have burdened Serach with being that 'superwoman', multi-tasking exemplar that we thought only stood as an unattainable role model since the mid- late 20th century.
Our biblical and rabbinic literature needs Serach! There simply aren’t enough strong female characters in our ancient and medieval literature to serve as inspiration for our young students studying Torah today. Too often, we have trouble finding those figures even in our modern history for their stories, like Serach’s, haven’t been documented in primary accounts. But strong, wise, and capable women have always been present in our history.
Sixty-seven, sixty-eight years ago, it wasn’t customary to celebrate a young girl’s coming of age with the kind of educational and leadership demands with which the majority of Jews do so today. Be clear, Rabbinic literature discusses a girl’s coming of age in the same detail as a boy’s – it is a maturational milestone; but due to differing gender roles of the ancient and medieval periods, the celebration of this milestone took on very, very different qualities. This Shabbat, we celebrate an important milestone for one of those strong, wise and capable women, and that milestone is far more than the 80th birthday of a beloved and remarkable member of our congregation. Sylvia’s journey to the bema this morning serves as exemplary a model of wisdom and compassion as our rabbinically imagined Serach, and even more so, because we know Sylvia is real! She is right here.
It is not for me to share details of Sylvia journey, that is for her to share as she pleases, but her kindness, her dedication to pursuing her education when and how she did in particular, her generosity of spirit which she brings into the congregation every time she steps into worship, study, and/or volunteer, her strength of character which has served her through challenge, and her ongoing and steadfast commitment to Torah -- these qualities serve as a continual inspiration to me personally and should to all of us blessed to know her. Thank you, Sylvia, for sharing your special birthday with us in the manner in which you have. Thank you for inspiring us to Torah.
As Reform Jews, it is incumbent upon us to continually grapple with text and tradition even when it challenges, perhaps all the more so when it challenges our modern sensibilities. How do we understand an ancient text that at first glance places women at best on the margins of community? As exemplified by Serach, Rabbinic tradition, even early medieval Rabbinic tradition already starts the process of challenging tradition. As exemplified by our modern midrashic poets, such as the one whose work I will share in a moment, that process continues. I conclude with a poetic midrash included in the 2008 URJ publication of The Women’s Commentary, a book that inspires the women’s Torah study group that Sylvia helped to organize in our community. This poem furthers the voice and discussion of Serach and ultimately challenges all of us to model both Serach and Sylvia as we work to find our voice in Torah and Jewish tradition.
Serah bat Asher, by Hara E. Person
Entranced by the swirling colors of his tunic
I crept behind Joseph when Grandfather sent
him to find his brothers.
Hidden behind a bush,
I watched my father and Reuben and the others.
Young and female and powerless
I could do nothing to stop them
But I saw the cruel truth behind the lie.
Trapped between the responsibility of a
daughter’s loyalty
and the heavy guilt of my secret knowledge,
I could not bring forth the words
That would have revealed my father and his
brothers
for what they became that day
and released my grandfather from his suffering.
Instead I withdrew into the safety of silence,
learning to whisper through the music of my
harp
while my refusal to speak
mocked my father’s now empty authority.
They were relieved to let me stay with Jacob
in his tent,
hearing only the endless anguish of an old man
and the stubborn silence of a useless girl.
I played and he remembered,
recounting the travels and wanderings of our family,
the pains and joys and dreams of each
generation.
He spoke of love and treachery and
Misunderstanding,
and I created a soothing idiom of song.
It was I who was chosen to tell Jacob that
Joseph lives still.
Upon hearing the news he granted me eternal
life.
Endless life, for Joseph’s life.
I became the family historian,
the keeper of tales,
the finder of bones,
the weaver of loose ends.
That is my gift from my grandfather,
to revisit the sufferings and joys and wanderings
anew with each generation,
to observe endless cycles of loss and hope and
pain,
of births and deaths,
never to rest, never to finish, only to witness,
to drag these weary limbs through epoch after
epoch
and to wonder until the end of time
if this gift is a blessing of thanks for solace in
his loss
or a curse for having kept the truth from him all
those long years.
(Ezkenazi, Tamara Cohn & Weiss, Andrea L., eds. The Torah A Women's Commentary. NY: URJ Press, 2008, p. 280)
Serach, according to the biblical text is quite simply, the daughter of Jacob’s son Asher. Serach is far from a major character in our biblical text which frankly makes her all the more interesting to me, and to the Rabbinic mind, makes her mention significant. Recall, the traditional rabbinic approach to Torah study views every detail, not matter how small or seemingly insignificant as vital to our proper understanding of Torah. Serach thus calls attention.
Serach is mentioned twice in Torah – included in family listings with no additional detail, no additional narrative. In this week’s parashat Vayigash, Serach appears in a genealogical listing of Jacob’s progeny. Amongst all of Jacob’s grandsons listed as entering Egypt is Serach, his one named granddaughter (see Gen 46:8-26, spec. 17). According to the biblical narrative, Jacob will be blessed with another granddaughter born while in Egypt, one of whom we are very familiar: Yocheved sired by Levi who grows up to be mom to Moses, Aaron, & Miriam. Serach is thus not unique in her role as granddaughter to our patriarch Jacob; however, remarkably Asher’s daughter Serach is remembered here in this listing of those who enter Egypt AND again later among those counted in the census taken bamidbar, in the wilderness, some 400 years after descending into Egypt! Moreover, the way in which she is listed in this second accounting is striking. This census is taken by clan, למשפחתם (Numbers 26:4 ff). Everyone is listed per their group identity, by family, save for Serach. She alone is remembered as an individual, ושם בת אשר שרח (Num 26:46) – by name.
On the one hand, we can scold the hand that authored the Torah for failing to give us the back story to this extraordinary remembering of Serach; but, at the same time this lack of detail here leaves open a wonderful opportunity for the Rabbinic imagination. And the Rabbis don’t let us down. Serach is imagined to be the longest living individual of our Jewish history. Longevity a reward for sensitive honesty; for according to midrash, it is Serach who delicately informed Jacob through song that Joseph was still alive. Talmudic legend imagines that it was Serach who showed Moses were Joseph was buried at the time of the Exodus from Egypt so that his bones could be returned to Canaan (B. Sotah 13a). Serach is viewed as a font of wisdom as well as compassion in Rabbinic literature. The medival Midrash Rabbah (Genesis Rabbah 94:9) places Serach in role of Secretary of State negotiating with David’s army chief, Joab. Another midrash imagines Serach, not unlike the prophet Elijah, as a reconciler of disputes. Though, whereas we must wait for redemption in order to hear Elijah’s judgements, Serach offers astute resolution in the moment to Rabbinic disagreements. You see, Serach is generally consulted to resolve conflict over past events. Remember she apparently was there to witness these events and thus is able to provide wise and insightful comment. Even our mystical tradition elevates Serach to great heights. The Zohar, that great mystical work that came out of medieval Spain to serve as a spring board for later Kabbalism, particularly Lurianic Kabbalism, teaches that Serach is among the few who have entered heaven alive where she remains teaching Torah.
Serach is an extraordinary figure, almost too extraordinary. Perhaps because there aren’t many female biblical characters, Serach’s shoulders get burdened by the full weight of creative possibility. She is wise, independent, and capable of rendering a serious and accurate judgment in a world not generally inhabited by women. She is at the same time nurturing, caring, and always present giving – teaching – to others. Indeed, the Rabbis have burdened Serach with being that 'superwoman', multi-tasking exemplar that we thought only stood as an unattainable role model since the mid- late 20th century.
Our biblical and rabbinic literature needs Serach! There simply aren’t enough strong female characters in our ancient and medieval literature to serve as inspiration for our young students studying Torah today. Too often, we have trouble finding those figures even in our modern history for their stories, like Serach’s, haven’t been documented in primary accounts. But strong, wise, and capable women have always been present in our history.
Sixty-seven, sixty-eight years ago, it wasn’t customary to celebrate a young girl’s coming of age with the kind of educational and leadership demands with which the majority of Jews do so today. Be clear, Rabbinic literature discusses a girl’s coming of age in the same detail as a boy’s – it is a maturational milestone; but due to differing gender roles of the ancient and medieval periods, the celebration of this milestone took on very, very different qualities. This Shabbat, we celebrate an important milestone for one of those strong, wise and capable women, and that milestone is far more than the 80th birthday of a beloved and remarkable member of our congregation. Sylvia’s journey to the bema this morning serves as exemplary a model of wisdom and compassion as our rabbinically imagined Serach, and even more so, because we know Sylvia is real! She is right here.
It is not for me to share details of Sylvia journey, that is for her to share as she pleases, but her kindness, her dedication to pursuing her education when and how she did in particular, her generosity of spirit which she brings into the congregation every time she steps into worship, study, and/or volunteer, her strength of character which has served her through challenge, and her ongoing and steadfast commitment to Torah -- these qualities serve as a continual inspiration to me personally and should to all of us blessed to know her. Thank you, Sylvia, for sharing your special birthday with us in the manner in which you have. Thank you for inspiring us to Torah.
As Reform Jews, it is incumbent upon us to continually grapple with text and tradition even when it challenges, perhaps all the more so when it challenges our modern sensibilities. How do we understand an ancient text that at first glance places women at best on the margins of community? As exemplified by Serach, Rabbinic tradition, even early medieval Rabbinic tradition already starts the process of challenging tradition. As exemplified by our modern midrashic poets, such as the one whose work I will share in a moment, that process continues. I conclude with a poetic midrash included in the 2008 URJ publication of The Women’s Commentary, a book that inspires the women’s Torah study group that Sylvia helped to organize in our community. This poem furthers the voice and discussion of Serach and ultimately challenges all of us to model both Serach and Sylvia as we work to find our voice in Torah and Jewish tradition.
Serah bat Asher, by Hara E. Person
Entranced by the swirling colors of his tunic
I crept behind Joseph when Grandfather sent
him to find his brothers.
Hidden behind a bush,
I watched my father and Reuben and the others.
Young and female and powerless
I could do nothing to stop them
But I saw the cruel truth behind the lie.
Trapped between the responsibility of a
daughter’s loyalty
and the heavy guilt of my secret knowledge,
I could not bring forth the words
That would have revealed my father and his
brothers
for what they became that day
and released my grandfather from his suffering.
Instead I withdrew into the safety of silence,
learning to whisper through the music of my
harp
while my refusal to speak
mocked my father’s now empty authority.
They were relieved to let me stay with Jacob
in his tent,
hearing only the endless anguish of an old man
and the stubborn silence of a useless girl.
I played and he remembered,
recounting the travels and wanderings of our family,
the pains and joys and dreams of each
generation.
He spoke of love and treachery and
Misunderstanding,
and I created a soothing idiom of song.
It was I who was chosen to tell Jacob that
Joseph lives still.
Upon hearing the news he granted me eternal
life.
Endless life, for Joseph’s life.
I became the family historian,
the keeper of tales,
the finder of bones,
the weaver of loose ends.
That is my gift from my grandfather,
to revisit the sufferings and joys and wanderings
anew with each generation,
to observe endless cycles of loss and hope and
pain,
of births and deaths,
never to rest, never to finish, only to witness,
to drag these weary limbs through epoch after
epoch
and to wonder until the end of time
if this gift is a blessing of thanks for solace in
his loss
or a curse for having kept the truth from him all
those long years.
(Ezkenazi, Tamara Cohn & Weiss, Andrea L., eds. The Torah A Women's Commentary. NY: URJ Press, 2008, p. 280)
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Responding to Israel's need... Shabbat Message 12/10/2010
One of the most extraordinary stops during my recent trip to Israel with the Maryland Clergy Initiative was the Yemin Orde Youth Village. Founded by visionary educator, Haim Peri, Yemin Orde is an absorption and educational center devoted to making sure every child in Israel has a safe environment within which to live while having access to education. Be clear that I did not say “Jewish child.” Yemin Orde is committed to providing resources to any child in need. One of their largest populations is orphaned Ethiopian children, but they strive to take in any child who is orphaned, abandoned, or simply in need. Haim Peri’s vision, which is still central to the values of the center, encompasses providing “trusty representations of parental roles” so that the students learn to feel safe, cherished, and able to rely on adults. This foundation of care and trust enables these students to move forward becoming functional and productive members of society. At the same time, Yemin Orde always remains home for all the students who have spent time there.
Tragically, due to its geographic location, Yemin Orde suffered horrific devastation during the fires that have just struck northern Israel. Luckily no one was killed, yet over 500 children have been displaced, children for whom this was not their first displacement. I expect that you have already received requests for aid to Israel to help offset the costs of this devastating fire. I ask you, if you are planning to make a donation to Israel at this time, please consider sending your donation directly to The Yemin Orde Youth Village in order to help them rebuild and continue to provide the extraordinary services they provide to the youth of this region.
Yemin Orde’s website is below. Please explore the website so that you can learn about them. Specifically, I encourage you to look under the “News” menu tab and compare “snapshots from the village” with “Israel wildfire update.” Thank you for considering this act of tzedakah!
www.yeminorde.org
Tragically, due to its geographic location, Yemin Orde suffered horrific devastation during the fires that have just struck northern Israel. Luckily no one was killed, yet over 500 children have been displaced, children for whom this was not their first displacement. I expect that you have already received requests for aid to Israel to help offset the costs of this devastating fire. I ask you, if you are planning to make a donation to Israel at this time, please consider sending your donation directly to The Yemin Orde Youth Village in order to help them rebuild and continue to provide the extraordinary services they provide to the youth of this region.
Yemin Orde’s website is below. Please explore the website so that you can learn about them. Specifically, I encourage you to look under the “News” menu tab and compare “snapshots from the village” with “Israel wildfire update.” Thank you for considering this act of tzedakah!
www.yeminorde.org
Monday, November 8, 2010
A Comment on the Rally for Fear &/or Sanity, Parashat Toldot, 11/6/2010
Yes, I’m going to talk about it. The Rally for Sanity &/or Fear. How can I not? Here we sit reading parashat Toldot the tale of sibling rivalry that was so fundamental that it started in the womb; a rivalry that can easily be likened to partisanship due to the striking differences in their core values; A rivalry that sadly serves as too familiar an example of the level of animosity that exists in our country between the right and the left.
We could dismiss this rally as entertainment. A comic display presented by two very adept performers joined on stage (or at moments by satellite) by a myriad of big name musicians and actors. They even gave out crowd pleasing awards! It was an organizational feat of production from assuring security, sound, visuals, and the plethora of necessary porta-potties that added to the hundreds already present but on reserve for the Marine Corps Marathon scheduled for the next day. And, thankfully, they succeeded in this feat -- it was thoroughly entertaining and went on without any serious glitches, a few clogged subways and a lot of crowds, but all in all, a peaceful and well executed event.
Of course, entertainment was the vehicle, the guise if you will for a rally that was planned with a clear and and very serious (and well organized) political agenda. Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert were not two random comedians seeking an audience and a laugh on a beautiful Shabbat afternoon to boost their ratings. Satirists, they each host shows that while aired on Comedy Central offer at least as much news and far more pointed commentary than many of our mainstream news outlets.
In character last Shabbat, Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert could be likened to our biblical pro - and antagonist. Mr. Stewart to the peaceful Jacob seeking a reasonable, calm, even studious way in which to function in the world and Mr. Colbert to the quarrelsome and rancorous Esau determined to make his way fully armed and ready for battle. If we trust the biblical story, we know that reason will win out. Jacob, not Esau, earns the distinction of patriarch in our tradition. But, biblical narrative while sacred, it is still story. Are we confident, particularly after the anger displayed on both sides of the political table in the days leading up to Tuesdays election, that our country won’t fall victim to Esau’s (or Colbert’s) hostility and overt animosity?
When I first heard of this rally for “Sanity &/or Fear” marketed on their respective shows during the days immediately following Beck’s luke warm Tea Party rally, I assumed it was a well- executed joke. This was the comedy channel after all, and well, Beck left himself open to be the brunt of at least a few jokes. I doubt I was alone in thinking they were just after a laugh; and yet, clearly this wasn’t a joke. Stewart and Colbert have touched on a very real and open nerve in our society. Many of our politicians are behaving badly, and they often work to incite and divide the public rather than working towards bringing us together. Moreover, we are getting fed up and frustrated with this status quo. As the New York Times reported, “Some in the crowd expressed regret that it was comedians, not politicians who were able to channel [our] frustration.” America needed this rally, and its timing just days before an important election in our country couldn’t have been better chosen.
We must not fall victim to our politician’s and the media’s attempt to divide us into angry camps motivated to action primarily by fear of the other. Rather, we must continually remind ourselves that when we get down to it, we all are seeking the same results: a healthy economy, equitable access to health care, a safe, clean, and decent living environment, good schools. Ensuring these and other expectations requires not fear laden and quarrelsome behavior but rather compassion and, to quote the rally’s writers, ‘reasonableness.’ Based on the attendance, the reaction by the media, and the number of people I know who tuned in on TV, we Americans are doing just that – living, doing the best we can, and most importantly respecting each other’s opinion. And, let’s hope our politicians were paying attention!
We could dismiss this rally as entertainment. A comic display presented by two very adept performers joined on stage (or at moments by satellite) by a myriad of big name musicians and actors. They even gave out crowd pleasing awards! It was an organizational feat of production from assuring security, sound, visuals, and the plethora of necessary porta-potties that added to the hundreds already present but on reserve for the Marine Corps Marathon scheduled for the next day. And, thankfully, they succeeded in this feat -- it was thoroughly entertaining and went on without any serious glitches, a few clogged subways and a lot of crowds, but all in all, a peaceful and well executed event.
Of course, entertainment was the vehicle, the guise if you will for a rally that was planned with a clear and and very serious (and well organized) political agenda. Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert were not two random comedians seeking an audience and a laugh on a beautiful Shabbat afternoon to boost their ratings. Satirists, they each host shows that while aired on Comedy Central offer at least as much news and far more pointed commentary than many of our mainstream news outlets.
In character last Shabbat, Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert could be likened to our biblical pro - and antagonist. Mr. Stewart to the peaceful Jacob seeking a reasonable, calm, even studious way in which to function in the world and Mr. Colbert to the quarrelsome and rancorous Esau determined to make his way fully armed and ready for battle. If we trust the biblical story, we know that reason will win out. Jacob, not Esau, earns the distinction of patriarch in our tradition. But, biblical narrative while sacred, it is still story. Are we confident, particularly after the anger displayed on both sides of the political table in the days leading up to Tuesdays election, that our country won’t fall victim to Esau’s (or Colbert’s) hostility and overt animosity?
When I first heard of this rally for “Sanity &/or Fear” marketed on their respective shows during the days immediately following Beck’s luke warm Tea Party rally, I assumed it was a well- executed joke. This was the comedy channel after all, and well, Beck left himself open to be the brunt of at least a few jokes. I doubt I was alone in thinking they were just after a laugh; and yet, clearly this wasn’t a joke. Stewart and Colbert have touched on a very real and open nerve in our society. Many of our politicians are behaving badly, and they often work to incite and divide the public rather than working towards bringing us together. Moreover, we are getting fed up and frustrated with this status quo. As the New York Times reported, “Some in the crowd expressed regret that it was comedians, not politicians who were able to channel [our] frustration.” America needed this rally, and its timing just days before an important election in our country couldn’t have been better chosen.
We must not fall victim to our politician’s and the media’s attempt to divide us into angry camps motivated to action primarily by fear of the other. Rather, we must continually remind ourselves that when we get down to it, we all are seeking the same results: a healthy economy, equitable access to health care, a safe, clean, and decent living environment, good schools. Ensuring these and other expectations requires not fear laden and quarrelsome behavior but rather compassion and, to quote the rally’s writers, ‘reasonableness.’ Based on the attendance, the reaction by the media, and the number of people I know who tuned in on TV, we Americans are doing just that – living, doing the best we can, and most importantly respecting each other’s opinion. And, let’s hope our politicians were paying attention!
Monday, November 1, 2010
Living Fully - the Lesson of Chaye Sarah, the life of Sarah, delivered on 'New Member Shabbat' 10/29/2010
ויהיו חיי שרה מאה שנה ועשרים שנה ושבע שנים שני חיי שרה
It is an interesting start to this section of Torah that spends a so much time narrating death. Sarah’s and Abraham’s death both are accounted for within the verses of parashat Chaye Sarah.
ויהיו חיי שרה מאה שנה ועשרים שנה ושבע שנים שני חיי שרה
Sarah lived - 100 years and 20 years and 7 years…These are the years of Sarah we are told. But then, despite the fact that this is the only time a matriarch’s age is reported at the time of death, and it is done so in such an unusual and elongated manner, no other details of her life are reported. That’s it. After that first sentence, the text continues immediately to her death, the arrangements Abraham makes for her burial, and perhaps more significantly the arrangements he makes to ensure – as best as he is able - his (and Sarah’s) future progeny.
There is no shortage of Rabbinic commentary on this opening verse and specifically on the unique notation of Sarah’s age (100 years & 20 years & 7 years). Midrash Rabbah, for example, explains that her life span is notated as such because Sarah’s years on earth were unblemished. Accordingly, “at the age of twenty she was as at the age of seven in beauty, and at the age of a hundred she was as at the age of twenty in sin.” In this scenario, youth is the gold standard for measuring a good life: Sarah’s life is exemplary because even in old age, she exuded youth in appearance and behavior. In contrast, and in my mind far more satisfying, others explain that her life span is expressed in this extended manner, in this additive equation, 100 + 20 + 7, to underscore not only the length but the richness of her years – in short, this presentation is used to highlight Sarah’s ability to live fully through each stage of her life, so fully that to compact the years into one number would somehow diminish her life and the goodness she brought to the world.
Common to both of these midrashic explanations is a desire to get to know and understand Sarah beyond a simplified number. To state that her life was simply 127 years may have been too easily passed over by the reader, rather, 100 years + 20 years + 7 years makes us stop and take notice. It makes us consider the person, the human being behind the number.
Despite a Jewish reticence to counting people directly, the Jewish community seems obsessed with numbers. Tradition has us go to extremes to avoid counting or pointing out individuals using, for example: ‘not 1, not 2…’ or the words of Mah Tovu when counting a minyan for worship instead of the far more direct, “1,2,3…” ; yet, for all other purposes, we are intent on taking a numerical count. Not so unlike the biblical or national census, we too implement demographic surveys of our community. We count the number of families on our congregational rosters and take pride in increasing membership numbers. We count the number of students in our religious schools rejoicing when the numbers swell. But I wonder,how useful is this celebration of quantity?
There are many good reasons to know how many of us there are. Certainly we need to know the size of our community so that we can ensure that resources are in place for the proper care and support of each and every member of our community. But, far too often, our numbers are used instead to make a judgment of quality or success. 127 years - Sarah’s life was, at least according to our modern reckoning, long. But the text coupled with our rabbinic understanding of the text makes it clear, the number of years – the quantity – is far less important than how she lived them.
This Shabbat we celebrate and welcome our new members including the number of whom could not be present this evening. Of course, we are excited when our numbers increase. But, far more than being happy about in increase to some numerical tally, we are thrilled to have each new member family become a part of our Temple Emanuel community. We take in being a small and caring congregational community devoted to Torah, worship, and social justice. We have to count our numbers. Like any organization, we can’t avoid the business of numbers. The building, the staff, the programming and materials we use – all of this requires the counting of numbers in order to ensure survival; but as best as we are able, and perhaps to our detriment when it comes to finances, the leadership of Temple Emanuel is far less interested in the size of our congregation than in the human beings that join and participate together in our synagogue community.
As I noted at the start, Parashat Chaye Sarah, this portion known in hebrew as, The Life of Sarah, narrates paradoxically, the deaths of both Abraham and Sarah. At the same time, the portion also offers a glimpse into the future. Isaac is paired with Rebecca – literally, in Sarah’s tent no less – before the end of the narrative and Abraham’s progeny with his other wives is listed. Noteworthy is that numbers are not offered in this tally of future progeny, rather individual names are listed. The Torah is clear. Sarah and Abraham’s legacy will continue; but, numbers will not ensure that legacy, people and their actions will.
As new members of Temple Emanuel, you have a choice. You can remain counted solely as a listing on the congregation roster, as part of one lump sum, remaining virtually anonymous; or, you can get involved and be counted by the fullness of your actions. It is my and the Temple leadership’s hope that you will choose the latter, for in that way, we get to know you, you get to know us, and together we can ensure a long and extended legacy of Reform Jewish life here in our community.
It is an interesting start to this section of Torah that spends a so much time narrating death. Sarah’s and Abraham’s death both are accounted for within the verses of parashat Chaye Sarah.
ויהיו חיי שרה מאה שנה ועשרים שנה ושבע שנים שני חיי שרה
Sarah lived - 100 years and 20 years and 7 years…These are the years of Sarah we are told. But then, despite the fact that this is the only time a matriarch’s age is reported at the time of death, and it is done so in such an unusual and elongated manner, no other details of her life are reported. That’s it. After that first sentence, the text continues immediately to her death, the arrangements Abraham makes for her burial, and perhaps more significantly the arrangements he makes to ensure – as best as he is able - his (and Sarah’s) future progeny.
There is no shortage of Rabbinic commentary on this opening verse and specifically on the unique notation of Sarah’s age (100 years & 20 years & 7 years). Midrash Rabbah, for example, explains that her life span is notated as such because Sarah’s years on earth were unblemished. Accordingly, “at the age of twenty she was as at the age of seven in beauty, and at the age of a hundred she was as at the age of twenty in sin.” In this scenario, youth is the gold standard for measuring a good life: Sarah’s life is exemplary because even in old age, she exuded youth in appearance and behavior. In contrast, and in my mind far more satisfying, others explain that her life span is expressed in this extended manner, in this additive equation, 100 + 20 + 7, to underscore not only the length but the richness of her years – in short, this presentation is used to highlight Sarah’s ability to live fully through each stage of her life, so fully that to compact the years into one number would somehow diminish her life and the goodness she brought to the world.
Common to both of these midrashic explanations is a desire to get to know and understand Sarah beyond a simplified number. To state that her life was simply 127 years may have been too easily passed over by the reader, rather, 100 years + 20 years + 7 years makes us stop and take notice. It makes us consider the person, the human being behind the number.
Despite a Jewish reticence to counting people directly, the Jewish community seems obsessed with numbers. Tradition has us go to extremes to avoid counting or pointing out individuals using, for example: ‘not 1, not 2…’ or the words of Mah Tovu when counting a minyan for worship instead of the far more direct, “1,2,3…” ; yet, for all other purposes, we are intent on taking a numerical count. Not so unlike the biblical or national census, we too implement demographic surveys of our community. We count the number of families on our congregational rosters and take pride in increasing membership numbers. We count the number of students in our religious schools rejoicing when the numbers swell. But I wonder,how useful is this celebration of quantity?
There are many good reasons to know how many of us there are. Certainly we need to know the size of our community so that we can ensure that resources are in place for the proper care and support of each and every member of our community. But, far too often, our numbers are used instead to make a judgment of quality or success. 127 years - Sarah’s life was, at least according to our modern reckoning, long. But the text coupled with our rabbinic understanding of the text makes it clear, the number of years – the quantity – is far less important than how she lived them.
This Shabbat we celebrate and welcome our new members including the number of whom could not be present this evening. Of course, we are excited when our numbers increase. But, far more than being happy about in increase to some numerical tally, we are thrilled to have each new member family become a part of our Temple Emanuel community. We take in being a small and caring congregational community devoted to Torah, worship, and social justice. We have to count our numbers. Like any organization, we can’t avoid the business of numbers. The building, the staff, the programming and materials we use – all of this requires the counting of numbers in order to ensure survival; but as best as we are able, and perhaps to our detriment when it comes to finances, the leadership of Temple Emanuel is far less interested in the size of our congregation than in the human beings that join and participate together in our synagogue community.
As I noted at the start, Parashat Chaye Sarah, this portion known in hebrew as, The Life of Sarah, narrates paradoxically, the deaths of both Abraham and Sarah. At the same time, the portion also offers a glimpse into the future. Isaac is paired with Rebecca – literally, in Sarah’s tent no less – before the end of the narrative and Abraham’s progeny with his other wives is listed. Noteworthy is that numbers are not offered in this tally of future progeny, rather individual names are listed. The Torah is clear. Sarah and Abraham’s legacy will continue; but, numbers will not ensure that legacy, people and their actions will.
As new members of Temple Emanuel, you have a choice. You can remain counted solely as a listing on the congregation roster, as part of one lump sum, remaining virtually anonymous; or, you can get involved and be counted by the fullness of your actions. It is my and the Temple leadership’s hope that you will choose the latter, for in that way, we get to know you, you get to know us, and together we can ensure a long and extended legacy of Reform Jewish life here in our community.
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