This week we begin our long sojourn in Egypt. In our Torah portion, Vayeshev, Joseph iritates his brothers so much that they cast him into a pit and subsequently sell him to the Ishmaelites who bring Joseph to Egypt. In the coming weeks, we'll read about Joseph's ascent to high society, namely in next week's Torah portion, Mikketz, Pharaoh will dress Joseph in the local garb, give him an Egpytian name (Zaphenath-paneah, Egyptian for 'God speaks; he lives.'), and Joseph will fully assimilate into Egyptian society so much so that when his brothers come down in search of food, they will not recognize him anymore.
Tonight, of course, also begins Hanukkah, the Jewish celebration of the Maccabees' revolt against the Syrian Greeks in 164 BCE. The Maccabees' revolt is one against assimilation, one which strives to have the Jewish community's particular qualities keep it separate from the larger society. And yet, the way we celebrate Hanukkah today, especially in America, has taken on one of the strongest qualities of assimilation. It has been commercialized. I was very surprised to find out while going through the stations on my car's XM Radio that from December 7-December 19, XM Radio has created a Hanukkah station, Radio Hanukkah. Radio Hanukkah leaves me conflicted. On the one hand, I absolutely love that for the first time in my recollection, I can turn on a radio station that plays holiday music and only hear Hanukkah music. I have heard Reform Jewish musical artists I know including Debbie Friedman, Rabbi Joe Black, Mark Bloom, and Rick Recht; I've heard Hanukkah songs I grew up singing, including the Dreidel Song, Oh Hanukkah, and Ma'oz Tzur; and I've even heard some of my favorite artists performing Hanukkah songs of their own, including the Barenaked Ladies. On the other hand, I realize that all of this feeling just like everyone else, having a radio station that plays music celebrating the holiday I am celebrating, means that my traditions are assimilating into the larger society. And then I have to ask myself, isn't the point of Hanukkah to celebrate our people's successful battle against assimilation?
Then, to top it all off, a friend shared an Op-Ed piece from today's New York Times by David Brooks, The Hanukkah Story. In his piece, Brooks shares the real story of Hanukkah. If you think the real story of Hanukkah is about the miracle of the oil and you'd like to keep on believing that, you probably want to stop reading at this point. In the real story of Hanukkah, there is no oil, but rather a rather bloody battle. I thought I knew the real story of Hanukkah, but this piece enlightened me to greater details about that period in our people's history. I always knew that Greek culture was infiltrating the Jewish community and that Mattathias and his sons, led by Judah Maccabee, succeeded in defeating the Greek army, reclaiming the Temple, and rededicating it for Jewish worship. What I didn't know was the battle that ensued within the Jewish community, too.
I should not have been surprised. The Maccabees and their followers not only went after the Greeks in the quest to hold on to Judaism as they saw it, but they also went after the members of their own Jewish community who had assimilated, Jews who had taken on Greek names like Jason, Jews who had begun exercising in the Greek gymnasiums, Jews who wanted to live in the secular world and the Jewish world simultaneously. All of a sudden, I didn't identify with the Maccabees. I identified with the Hellenistic Jews, the Jews who were adopting Greek culture. They wanted to feel like they were a part of the society around them; I want to feel like I'm a part of the society around me. They wanted to hear themselves reflected in the culture of their time; I want to hear myself reflected in the culture of my time (perhaps with Hanukkah music on the radio).
Of course, that left me wondering, if the person I am today would have sided with the Hellenistic Jews (whom Brooks, coincidently or deliberately, identifies as 'reformers'), then what does my celebration of Hanukkah actually celebrate? Am I supposed to now believe that the Jews of that time should not have adopted Greek culture at all? Is it that Antiochus went too far in outlawing Jewish practice, but if he hadn't done that the Maccabees' battle would not have been justified? I just don't know. What I do know is that when I light my menorah tonight, I will acknowledge that no matter how much I feel a part of the larger American society, even if there is a Hanukkah station on the radio now, I am still different. I do not feel bad that I am different. I celebrate that difference and at this time, I rededicate myself to acknowledging, accepting, and celebrating that difference. So, for what it's worth, Chag Chanukah Sameach, Happy Hanukkah!
Friday, December 11, 2009
Friday, December 4, 2009
A Taste of Torah - Vayishlach
This week, more kissing. However, this time, it's not of the romantic variety like last week's kiss between Jacob and Rachel. In this week's Torah portion, Vayishlach, Jacob reunites with his brother, Esau. To recap, you might recall that Jacob and Esau had quite the falling out. Jacob stole his brother's birthright and their father's blessing, after which the two separated. This week, they reunite. Jacob, having been prosperous, shows up with his wives, his children, and a great deal of his possessions. Esau shows up with 400 men. From other places in the Bible[1], we learn that the presence of 400 men is metaphorical of an approaching battle. But when Esau arrives with 400 men, he doesn't engage Jacob in a battle. Instead, they embrace and kiss. What gives?
The Hebrew word for Esau kissing Jacob is vayishakehu:
. In the text of the Torah, the letters are dotted on top. Rashi explains that there is a discrepancy of opinions about why the letters are adorned with dots. Some say that it indicates Esau's insincerity in the moment, but the prevailing opinion is that we would expect Esau to be insincere. The dots must indicate that something unusual is happening. Rashi teaches that according to Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, we would expect Esau not to get along with Jacob. The dots, he says, teach us that this kiss was uncharacteristic. In this moment, Esau had genuine, tender feelings for his brother. Why? Because only he showed up with 400 men. Jacob didn't. Jacob didn't approach ready to wage a battle. Instead, he approached ready to reconcile with Esau and his willingness to reconcile warmed Esau's heart, allowing him to show mercy. If we approach one another with an open heart, then we set the tone and allow them to embrace us in a similar fashion.
The Hebrew word for Esau kissing Jacob is vayishakehu:
. In the text of the Torah, the letters are dotted on top. Rashi explains that there is a discrepancy of opinions about why the letters are adorned with dots. Some say that it indicates Esau's insincerity in the moment, but the prevailing opinion is that we would expect Esau to be insincere. The dots must indicate that something unusual is happening. Rashi teaches that according to Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, we would expect Esau not to get along with Jacob. The dots, he says, teach us that this kiss was uncharacteristic. In this moment, Esau had genuine, tender feelings for his brother. Why? Because only he showed up with 400 men. Jacob didn't. Jacob didn't approach ready to wage a battle. Instead, he approached ready to reconcile with Esau and his willingness to reconcile warmed Esau's heart, allowing him to show mercy. If we approach one another with an open heart, then we set the tone and allow them to embrace us in a similar fashion.Friday, November 27, 2009
A Taste of Torah - Vayetze
Parashat Vayetze, this week's Torah portion, details the meeting of Jacob and Rachel, when Jacob experiences love at first sight as the woman who will become his beloved wife approaches the well in town to water her father's flock. As Rachel approaches the well, the townsfolk are unable to get the stone off the well to water their flocks. Jacob is introduces to Rachel and when he discovers that she is Laban's daughter, the family whom he's been seeking, he demonstrates his strength by rolling the stone off the well and then embraces Rachel and kisses her.
This kiss, though, is more than just a kiss. It is a moment that calls us back to his own parents' union. When his grandfather Abraham's servant seeks the right partner for Isaac, he knows that Rebekah is the one because she provides water not only for him, but also for his camels. At this moment, Jacob shows up and opens the well to provide water for the flock Rachel tends and also for the townsfolk. But then, a strange thing happens. Jacob kisses Rachel. We'd think that, perhaps especially in Biblical times, these two single people would have known better than to have kissed on their first date, especially in front of others. But the Hebrew lets us know that this is more than just a chance kiss. In Hebrew, the word used for Rebekah's providing water for Abraham's servant's camels is hishkatah. When Jacob provides water for the sheep, the text tells us, vayash'k. And when he kisses Rachel, the text says, vayishak. Though the verb for providing water comes from a different root (shin-koof-hay) than the one for a kiss (nun-shin-koof), the parallel in sounds is clearly important. This is more than a kiss. It is beloveds meeting for the first time, ready to care for one another, just as one of them learned from his parents.
This kiss, though, is more than just a kiss. It is a moment that calls us back to his own parents' union. When his grandfather Abraham's servant seeks the right partner for Isaac, he knows that Rebekah is the one because she provides water not only for him, but also for his camels. At this moment, Jacob shows up and opens the well to provide water for the flock Rachel tends and also for the townsfolk. But then, a strange thing happens. Jacob kisses Rachel. We'd think that, perhaps especially in Biblical times, these two single people would have known better than to have kissed on their first date, especially in front of others. But the Hebrew lets us know that this is more than just a chance kiss. In Hebrew, the word used for Rebekah's providing water for Abraham's servant's camels is hishkatah. When Jacob provides water for the sheep, the text tells us, vayash'k. And when he kisses Rachel, the text says, vayishak. Though the verb for providing water comes from a different root (shin-koof-hay) than the one for a kiss (nun-shin-koof), the parallel in sounds is clearly important. This is more than a kiss. It is beloveds meeting for the first time, ready to care for one another, just as one of them learned from his parents.
Friday, November 20, 2009
A Taste of Torah - Tol'dot
Picture this scene: A mother dresses her son in goat skin to disguise him as his hairier brother so that he can steal his brother's blessing from their father. This is the scene in this week’s Torah portion, Tol’dot. Rebekah wants the son she favors, Jacob, to get the blessing from her husband, Isaac. But Esau, Jacob’s brother is hairier, so certainly, Isaac will know the difference. Isaac reaches out his hand to identify his son. His eyes have been dimmed by old age; he can no longer see the difference between his sons. Isaac says, “The voice is the voice of Jacob, yet the hands are the hands of Esau” (Genesis 27:22) It seems as though Isaac is on to Rebekah’s scheme, yet he still gives Jacob the blessing that was deserving of Isaac.
As Reform Jews, we know that we need to look at Biblical text in its own context in order to understand its message for our time. Rebekah’s maneuver was not just a costume change. It was a shepherding trick. Check out the closing scene from the movie “Cold Mountain." Fast-forward to 5 minutes and 45 seconds into the clip:
What Rebekah did would have been recognized by the shepherding audience of the Torah as a technique for getting a parent (a sheep) to accept a child (a lamb) that isn’t its own. Of course, this method doesn’t speak to us today, but we make use of the tricks we know to win the affection of those whose love we desire.
As Reform Jews, we know that we need to look at Biblical text in its own context in order to understand its message for our time. Rebekah’s maneuver was not just a costume change. It was a shepherding trick. Check out the closing scene from the movie “Cold Mountain." Fast-forward to 5 minutes and 45 seconds into the clip:
What Rebekah did would have been recognized by the shepherding audience of the Torah as a technique for getting a parent (a sheep) to accept a child (a lamb) that isn’t its own. Of course, this method doesn’t speak to us today, but we make use of the tricks we know to win the affection of those whose love we desire.
Friday, November 13, 2009
A Taste of Torah - Chaye Sarah
Parshat Chayei Sarah from G-dcast.com
More Torah cartoons at www.g-dcast.com
In this week's Torah portion, Chaye Sarah, we move on to the next generation of our Genesis ancestors. At the beginning of the portion, Sarah dies. At the end, Abraham dies. In the middle, Isaac begins to create a family of his own. Abraham sends his servant to find a wife for Isaac. The servant asks for guidance to know which girl will be the right one for Isaac. It is not her beauty that identifies Rebekah as the right one for Isaac, but rather her compassion. She not only takes care of Abraham's servant, but his camels, too. Her care for others is the quality that the servant identifies as the necessary quality in choosing her for Isaac. All too often, we focus on the things that don't really matter. In Pirke Avot, Rabbi Meir teaches us, "Al tistakel b'kankan, ela b'mah she-yesh bo - Do not look at the flask, but rather at what is inside." Or, as we know, don't judge a book by its cover.
Friday, November 6, 2009
A Taste of Torah - Vayera
This week’s Torah portion, Vayera, is filled with family conflict. In it, Sarah and Abraham fear that they will not be able to conceive a child; Sarah asks Abraham to have a child with her maidservant, Hagar; Sarah becomes jealous of Hagar and the latter’s son, Ishmael; and Abraham takes his son, Isaac, to the top of a mountain to kill him at God’s request. It’s neither an easy nor a pleasant portion. But from conflict and controversy come growth and reconciliation.
When Sarah becomes jealous of Hagar and Ishmael, she demands that Abraham cast them out. Abraham doesn’t know what to do. He goes to God and asks how to remedy the situation. Though we might not agree with how God, Abraham and Sarah handle things, God says to Abraham, “Sh’ma b’kolah ~ Listen to her voice.” God tells Abraham to do what Sarah asks, thus keeping peace between Abraham and Sarah. According to the midrash, this moment, where Abraham yields to Sarah’s wishes, teaches us that in matters of prophecy, Abraham was secondary to Sarah. That’s not what we’d expect from Torah in its own day, for a man to be secondary to a woman, but that’s what our tradition tells us. Sometimes, when we find ourselves amidst conflict, we need to listen carefully, because the answer may not come from where we’d expect.
When Sarah becomes jealous of Hagar and Ishmael, she demands that Abraham cast them out. Abraham doesn’t know what to do. He goes to God and asks how to remedy the situation. Though we might not agree with how God, Abraham and Sarah handle things, God says to Abraham, “Sh’ma b’kolah ~ Listen to her voice.” God tells Abraham to do what Sarah asks, thus keeping peace between Abraham and Sarah. According to the midrash, this moment, where Abraham yields to Sarah’s wishes, teaches us that in matters of prophecy, Abraham was secondary to Sarah. That’s not what we’d expect from Torah in its own day, for a man to be secondary to a woman, but that’s what our tradition tells us. Sometimes, when we find ourselves amidst conflict, we need to listen carefully, because the answer may not come from where we’d expect.
Friday, October 23, 2009
A Taste of Torah - Noach
In Noach, this week's Torah portion, the legend of Noah and the Ark is followed by the story of the Tower of Babel. In the narrative, the people all band together to create a tower that will reach heaven. They indicate that their intention is to make a name for themselves. They want to be remembered. But according to the midrash, in building the tower, the people become more concerned with the structure and lose sight of their connection to one another. As bricks fall, they become enraged at how their loss delays the project, but when people fall from the tower, no one seems to care.
The people of the Tower of Babel do make a name for themselves, in the end. Their tower does not reach heaven, but they are remembered for losing sight of what really matters, the people who are in our lives. We often focus on how much we can acquire, how much we can do, but at Judaism's core is an intention to see how much we can be. We are, after all, human beings, not human doings.
Friday, October 16, 2009
A Taste of Torah - B'reishit
This week we begin the Torah again with the first portion, B’reishit, at the beginning of the book of Genesis. One of the narratives in this portion is the story of Cain and Abel. Cain and Abel are Adam and Eve’s sons. Each makes an offering to God. When Abel’s offering is accepted and Cain’s is not, Cain becomes enraged and kills his brother. God confronts Cain and asks him, “Where is your brother, Abel?” Cain responds and says, “I do not know. Am I my brother’s guardian?”
The Hebrew words that translate as ‘am I my brother’s guardian’ are ‘ha-shomer achi anochi.’ The Hebrew letter hey at the beginning of the phrase is translated as what is called an interrogative hey, a hey that indicates that a question is coming. But the other use of a hey at the beginning of a Hebrew word is to indicate the word ‘the.’ So, the sentence could read, “The guardian of my brother is ‘Anochi.’” Anochi is one of the Hebrew words for ‘I.’ It is the word for ‘I’ that God uses to refer to God’s self. Cain could be saying to God, “The guardian of my brother is Anochi; You, God, should have been looking out for my brother.” Up until this point in Torah, no one has ever died. It is possible that Cain didn’t even know that he was capable of killing Abel and he reminds God that God is responsible, too. We bear responsibility for our actions, but we have the authority to hold God accountable, too.
The Hebrew words that translate as ‘am I my brother’s guardian’ are ‘ha-shomer achi anochi.’ The Hebrew letter hey at the beginning of the phrase is translated as what is called an interrogative hey, a hey that indicates that a question is coming. But the other use of a hey at the beginning of a Hebrew word is to indicate the word ‘the.’ So, the sentence could read, “The guardian of my brother is ‘Anochi.’” Anochi is one of the Hebrew words for ‘I.’ It is the word for ‘I’ that God uses to refer to God’s self. Cain could be saying to God, “The guardian of my brother is Anochi; You, God, should have been looking out for my brother.” Up until this point in Torah, no one has ever died. It is possible that Cain didn’t even know that he was capable of killing Abel and he reminds God that God is responsible, too. We bear responsibility for our actions, but we have the authority to hold God accountable, too.
Friday, October 9, 2009
A Taste of Torah - Simchat Torah-Sh'mini Atzeret
When we finish reading most books, we move on to the next book in the series or to a new book. Once in a while, we return to a favorite book and re-read it some time later, but hardly ever do we start a book again as soon as we finish it. Tonight is not only Shabbat, but also Simchat Torah-Sh'mini Atzeret, when we end the book of Deuteronomy and begin again with Genesis.
As Jews, we re-read Torah over and over again, starting again the moment we finish, to show us that what Torah has to teach us is never-ending. We read the same books, the same portions, the same words over and over again, not because something in them has changed, but because something in us has changed. Each time we re-read those words, we hear something different because we are now different.
Chazak, chazak, v'nitchazeik... Be strong, be strong, and together let us be strengthened!
Friday, October 2, 2009
Sukkot: Season of Gratitude
Tonight at sundown begins the festival of Sukkot. Our Torah reading for Sukkot is Leviticus 23:33-44. The text tells us when Sukkot takes place, that we are to live in a sukkah for seven days, and make use of four species: the palm, willow, and myrtle (that make the lulav) and the etrog.
Earlier this week, Ruth Brin, an accomplished Jewish author, poet, and liturgist died. Her poems appear in just about every Reform, Conservative and Reconstructionist prayer book. Following is one from her book Harvest: Collected Poems and Prayers titled "Sukkot" (pp. 161-2). Zichrona livracha, may the memory of Ruth Brin be an everlasting blessing.
Earlier this week, Ruth Brin, an accomplished Jewish author, poet, and liturgist died. Her poems appear in just about every Reform, Conservative and Reconstructionist prayer book. Following is one from her book Harvest: Collected Poems and Prayers titled "Sukkot" (pp. 161-2). Zichrona livracha, may the memory of Ruth Brin be an everlasting blessing.
On our tables are the harvests of the earth,
pears and grapes, corn and peppers;
we thank You for the food which sustains
us in all seasons of the year.
In winter we stand at our windows looking out
upon dreary trees;
long ago the harvest was taken, only dry stalks remain,
and frozen groudn beneath the snow.
We thank You for shelter, for the body that shelters the spirit,
for the house and the city and the nation which shelter us.
For the talents of those who design and build,
for the ability of those who make shelters of justice
and structures of peace.
In the spring, after rain, our eyes are filled with loveliness;
greening lawn, opening bud, darting bird.
To thank You for fruitful earth and talented people
is not enough;
there is life and growth, perception,
consciousness, logic and truth,
and because of these there is Your gift of freedom.
We thank You that we are not like bud or bird,
but being human, are free to choose
even between good and evil, life and death.
In July, in the warm sweet days of summer,
we thank You for beauty.
The oaks cast their deep shadows on the lawn,
and we thank You for love:
That we dwell in the shadow of Your love,
that we are able to love,
even as You love us.
Now at Sukkot, the apples hang ripe and heavy
on the trees,
the trembling leaves shine red and gold in the sunlight.
You are the source of the radiance of the sun,
the bridegroom,
and of the fruitfulness of the earth, his bride.
For shelter and freedom, for love and beauty,
for all the harvest of earth and sun,
of talent and spirit,
For all Your blessings, we give thanks to You.
Friday, September 25, 2009
A Taste of Torah - Haazinu
This week is Shabbat Shuvah, the Shabbat of return, the one that falls between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. The Torah portion this week is practically the last one in the Torah, Haazinu. There's a short portion called V'zot Habrachah that gets linked to Breshit on Simchat Torah in two weeks.
The opening word of this week's portion, the word haazinu means 'Give ear.' It's often translated as 'Listen,' but it is linked to the Hebrew word for ear, ozen. At the beginning of the portion, as Moses prepares to die and let the Israelites cross into the Promised Land with Joshua, Moses calls out to heaven and earth and says, "Listen up, Heaven and Earth, to what I'm about to say!" It seems strange that as Moses addresses the people that he asks heaven and earth to listen, rather than the people.
Heaven and earth serve as witnesses to this moment because, unlike us, they fulfill God's mission constantly. While we aren't always as consistent as they are, they serve as a model. The 18th century commentary Me'am Lo-ez teaches that heaven represents the soul and earth the body, teaching us that we need to strive to walk in God's ways with every part of our being. On this Shabbat of return, consider the ways in which you dedicate your whole self to the things that are truly important.
The opening word of this week's portion, the word haazinu means 'Give ear.' It's often translated as 'Listen,' but it is linked to the Hebrew word for ear, ozen. At the beginning of the portion, as Moses prepares to die and let the Israelites cross into the Promised Land with Joshua, Moses calls out to heaven and earth and says, "Listen up, Heaven and Earth, to what I'm about to say!" It seems strange that as Moses addresses the people that he asks heaven and earth to listen, rather than the people.
Heaven and earth serve as witnesses to this moment because, unlike us, they fulfill God's mission constantly. While we aren't always as consistent as they are, they serve as a model. The 18th century commentary Me'am Lo-ez teaches that heaven represents the soul and earth the body, teaching us that we need to strive to walk in God's ways with every part of our being. On this Shabbat of return, consider the ways in which you dedicate your whole self to the things that are truly important.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Will You Marry Me? A Jewish View of Marriage Equality
Will You Marry Me?
A Jewish View of Marriage Equality
Rosh Hashanah 5770
September 19, 2009 – 1 Tishri 5770
Temple Israel – Minneapolis, MN
Rabbi Jared H. Saks
A friend recently sent me a link to a video on YouTube.[1] It features a young man in his late 20s or early 30s. As the video begins, the man brushes off the toes of his shoes, buttons his sports coat and fixes his hair. Then, he takes a deep breath—the kind you take when you are about to undergo a nerve wracking experience—and walks up to the front door of a nearby house. When the door opens, the young man is greeted by a gentleman, perhaps in his 60s. The young man looks the gentleman in the eye, with a mixed look of fear and anticipation, and says, “I’d like to ask for Sinead’s hand in marriage.” The gentleman takes a similar deep breath and says, “Sure. No problem.”
In the next scene, we don’t find the younger man standing with his beloved before an officiant. Instead, we get a glimpse, from inside a house, of him coming up the front walk. He rings the door bell and repeats the previous scene with the woman who lives there. Then, we watch him walk to the house next door and later down an alley. He speaks more than one language. He visits an apartment building, presumably stopping at each apartment. He is in urban centers and rural fields. He stops a woman walking her dog. And each time, he asks the same question, “May I ask for Sinead’s hand in marriage?”
At the end of the video, words appear on the screen: How would you feel if you had to ask 4 million people for permission to get married? Lesbians and gay men are denied access to civil marriage in Ireland. Lesbians and gay men are denied access to civil marriage in Minnesota, too. And if marriage equality were to be put up to a popular vote, gay men and lesbians where we live would have to ask three-and-a-half million friends, neighbors and fellow Minnesotans for permission to get married.
Marriage is about sanctifying a loving relationship. It is an opportunity for a couple to celebrate the values of long-term commitment, faithfulness and the willingness to share life’s joys and sorrows. It is about a public pledge of commitment.[2] Marriage has the potential to provide mutual care for both partners. Marriage enables the individuals to make a greater contribution to the common good. Marriage helps to make sure that all children are wanted, loved, and nurtured. “The benefits of a good marriage are the same, no matter your sexual orientation.”[3]
So, why should I address you on the topic of marriage on Rosh Hashanah? First of all, Rosh Hashanah reminds us of the magnitude of the world and how small we are in comparison to it. Our liturgy helps us remember that we have little control over how or when we will die – who by fire and who by water – or how or when we were born. So much of who we are is beyond our control. Each of us is as unique as our fingerprints.[4] Like so much else about us, our sexual identities are determined for us, not by us.[5]
Secondly, Rosh Hashanah is inherently connected to the concept of marriage. On this day, the first of the Yamim Nora’im, the Days of Awe, we formally begin the process of teshuvah, our return to God. Our tradition teaches us that when we received Torah at Sinai, the people of Israel wedded God with Mount Sinai as our chuppah and Torah our ketubah. Over the past year, we have strayed from our relationship with God and perhaps even feel that God has strayed from us, too. So today, on Rosh Hashanah, we renew our wedding vows, we return to our commitment, we reinvest in our relationship with God.[6]
But for some of us the metaphor that our relationship with God is a marriage is just that, a metaphor. For gay men and lesbians, marriage is mere figure of speech, withheld from us by secular society. Today, on this morning of Rosh Hashanah, I want to discuss with you the topic of marriage equality. Marriage equality goes by a variety of names, many of which I will use during the course of this sermon, based upon the papers, essays, and sermons that I have read in preparation. Some people say gay marriage. Others say same-sex marriage or same-gender marriage. No matter what it’s called, it’s all the same thing. It is the right of two people of the same sex to marry one another. And in the State of Minnesota, that right does not exist.
In 1994, a committee here at Temple Israel addressed the issue of wedding ceremonies for gay and lesbian couples. The result was a full educational program on the inclusion of gay and lesbian individuals, couples and families in the Temple community, including the affirmation that wedding ceremonies would be performed by our rabbis in the sanctuary or chapel for any two Jews, regardless of whether those two Jews were of the same sex or of opposite sexes. Over the past year, we have explored the topic of ceremonies for interfaith couples. I will not be addressing interfaith marriage today. Nor will I be addressing same sex marriages performed on this bimah. Both of those issues have been decided and are part of the fabric of life at Temple Israel.
Today, I will be addressing the need for marriage equality in the State of Minnesota and our Jewish responsibility to ensure that any two people, regardless of their gender, can have their marriage recognized not only by God and the Jewish community, but by our civil society, as well.
Opponents of marriage equality assert that same-sex marriage is not traditional marriage, but what does that term really mean? They imply that traditional marriage is the marriage of one man and one woman, but we Jews know that the definition of marriage has continually changed. The Bible defines marriage as a union between one man and one or more women. There are three patriarchs mentioned in the T’filah and four matriarchs, after all. Jacob had two wives. Classical rabbinic texts understand marriage as the acquisition of property. A man acquires his wife from her father.
We also understand as Americans that marriage has changed. In the past, most states prohibited interracial marriage, but that injustice ended with perhaps one of the best named Supreme Court cases, Loving vs. Virginia, in which Mildred Loving, a woman of African and Native American descent, and her husband, Richard, won the right to remain married, overturning Virginia’s and subsequently all states’ laws banning interracial marriage. “These understandings have changed … in greater recognition of the humanity of persons and their moral and civil rights.”[7] Our current understanding of marriage must also change, because of our greater recognition of the moral and civil rights of gay men and lesbians.
The classical rabbinic texts do not address same sex marriage. The scant references to homosexuality in our tradition are unaware of the possibility of committed, long-term relationships between two people of the same sex and often condemn what the rabbis do know of homosexuality. But the Talmud teaches us that the value of human dignity is so great that it supersedes any negative commandment in the Torah.[8] Deuteronomy teaches us Tzedek, tzedek tirdof, Justice, justice shall you pursue.[9] In giving the world the concept of justice, Torah gave the world equality: fair treatment of the poor, the orphan, the widow and the stranger. Time and time again, Torah commands us not to oppress the stranger, because we were strangers in the land of Egypt and we know the heart of the stranger. We are Israel and we know what it is to be labeled as different.[10] As our Daily Worship prayer book reminds us, “We are Israel, schooled in the suffering of those tyrannized by oppression. Their anguish is ours, their poverty and humiliation diminish us.”[11] Empathy is a central virtue in Judaism. It demands that we see things from the point of view of the other.
The civil rights era of the 1960s and 1970s saw a renewed voice for various causes: racism, sexism, and anti-Semitism, among others. But equal rights for gays and lesbians all but fell on deaf ears and on many levels cease to exist even today. Until the 1960s, there were no major Jewish voices speaking out for civil rights for gay and lesbian Americans. But in 1965, a year after the Civil Rights Act, “one national Jewish organization spoke out against the harassment of [gays and lesbians] … that [organization] was the National Federation of Temple Sisterhoods,”[12] what is now the Women of Reform Judaism. Reform Jewish women have always been an empathetic voice for equality; we must listen to them.
In the quest for marriage equality, we hear the words of the 1960s echoing in our ears. Daniel Judson writes, “This is an historic moment in which the rights and human dignity of a minority is [sic] under assault. As Jews, we know what it is to be harassed and persecuted because we are different. We too have been considered dangerous, deviant, a threat to society, abhorrent. As Jews, we ought to be frightened when a majority tries to deny rights to a minority they think are not equal to the rest of us.”[13] We must have empathy and recognize the need for marriage equality in Minnesota.
Religious Jews who favor same-sex marriage do not do so only because they embrace American ideals. Rather, we approach marriage equality with a sense that it is part of our obligation to pursue justice. In Genesis, we are given a vision of humanity that tells us every human being is created b’tzelem Elohim, in the image of God.[14] In confronting the civil rights issues of the 1960s, Rabbi [Max] Shapiro addressed the challenges of racial inequality. “There is a religious standard,” Rabbi Shapiro wrote, “by which man relates to his fellow man. ‘All men are brothers.’ ‘He who honors his fellow man honors God.’ No religious person – no Jew – can dispute this.” Rabbi Shapiro reminded us then that we have always been a people driven by a sense of justice. We Jews have been the victims of discrimination. We have had jobs, schools and neighborhoods withheld from of because of who we are. “We understand that the law is not enough. The law tells us not to injure. The law forbids us from denying others their rights. But religion goes beyond the law. It demands that we help! Judaism demands that we help the less fortunate, that we protect [their] liberties, that we enhance [their] rights.” [15]
The Talmud teaches us that God created all of humanity from one person to illustrate God’s genius. When coins are minted from a mold, all are alike. But when God created humankind, though we were all minted from the same mold, each of us turned out differently so that each of us could say, “For my sake was the world created.”[16] The Psalmist teaches us, “How many are the things you have made, O God! You have made them all with wisdom; the earth is full of your creations!”[17] Our diversity speaks to God’s power. Each one of us has worth and value and dignity.[18] We must find God’s image in one another and recognize the need for marriage equality in Minnesota.
Rabbi Ed Feinstein speaks of his support for marriage equality saying, “I support the freedom to marry because I have never met gays and lesbians in the abstract. It is my son and my daughter, it is my sister and my brother, and I wish for them the privilege, the miracle, the gift of a long and lasting relationship. And in our faith community, we call that marriage.”[19] We do not know gay and lesbian Jews in the abstract. Gay and lesbian Jews are part of our Temple Israel community. We participate in nearly every other aspect of their religious lives. We bless and name them as infants. We celebrate with them as they become B’nai Mitzvah and reach Confirmation. We bury their grandparents and parents and eventually them. But we are barred from fully participating in their marriages, because in the State of Minnesota gays and lesbians cannot be legally married.
Marriage equality must be important to us as the Temple Israel community. Our mission statement affirms that Temple Israel is a welcoming and accessible place for worship, for lifelong learning, for celebration and for gathering. We are a community that takes care of one another. At this point, I could go through a list of all of the rights and responsibilities of marriage that are denied to gay and lesbian couples in Minnesota. There are 515 of them on the state level and over 1100 on the federal level. But at this moment, the details of them don’t matter. What matters is that by denying marriage equality to gays and lesbians, we are denying them the ability to take care of one another and that is in opposition to who we are as a Temple community and as members of the Jewish people.
Legal marriage would offer more than the opportunity of joint income tax filing, health care benefits, the rights of inheritance, and the authority to make health care decisions. Legal marriage would offer the stability and safety that every family and every child deserves. Imagine that one of our Temple families was on vacation and one of the parents fell ill. If the other parent had no legal rights to make a medical decision, that family is at risk. By seeking marriage equality, we are asking for the ability to take care of one another, to look out for our children’s well-being. Who can fault anyone for wanting to take care of his or her family?
For those of us born since the Civil Rights movement of the 1960s, I can tell you that marriage equality is a non-partisan issue. Most of us support marriage equality. The ideals of the Democratic Party demand that we protect our civil rights and liberties.[20] As for the Republican Party, young Republican Madeline Koch asked for a new GOP for the next generation in an opinion piece in the Star Tribune this summer. In her piece, she indicated her desire to remain a member of the Republican Party, a party that she hopes will not back down on economic issues and homeland security, seeing the need for fiscal conservatism. But she also wrote, “We want gay marriage. Though we may not all be willing to march in the Pride parades or even send fiery letters to our congressmen about it, most of us believe that gay couples deserve the right to be legally wed. I can guarantee you this: The issue of gay marriage is not going to go away, and unless you start shifting within the Republican Party, you will not gain our support. ”[21] Both the Democratic Party and the Republican Party will need to embrace marriage equality if they wish continue to have support for their party platforms and remain players in the political arena.
For us, as Jews, especially on this morning of Rosh Hashanah, marriage equality is a religious issue. As we renew our commitment to our relationship with God, we must add our voices to the campaign for marriage equality. As Jews, we know what it is like to have our rights limited. Our experience demands that we care for those who are strangers even in the places they live, because we were strangers in the land of Egypt. As Jews, our tradition demands that we recognize the image of God in each and every individual. “The question is no longer whether Minnesota will achieve marriage equality, but when.”[22] Please join me in the campaign for marriage equality in the State of Minnesota.
Hear our voice God and help us to recognize Your image in each and every person, inspiring us to protect liberties and enhance rights. Hear our voice God and help us to pursue justice and human dignity, because everything is created for Your glory. Hear our voice God and help us to diminish the humiliation of gay men and lesbians that we may all be uplifted on this morning of Rosh Hashanah. Shanah tovah v’tikateivu, May we all be inscribed for blessing in the Book of Life.
[1] MarriagEquality, “Sinead’s Hand,” http://www.marriagequality.ie/action/sineadshand/.
[2] Rebecca T. Alpert, “Reconstructionist Judaism and Marriage Equality,” June 2005.
[3] Jerry Brown, “Protecting the Institution of Marriage…” Northridge, CA: Temple Ahavat Shalom, Yom Kippur 5769/2008.
[4] Ken Chasen and Rachel Timoner, “Ve’erastich Li Be-Tzedek: I Will Betroth You to Me in Righteousness,” Los Angeles, CA: Leo Baeck Temple, Yamim Noraim 5769 (Fall 2008).
[5] Marcia A. Zimmerman, “My House Shall Be A House of Prayer for All Peoples: How Welcoming Are We to Gays and Lesbians?” Minneapolis: Temple Israel, December 3, 2004.
[6] Denise L. Eger, “Erev Rosh Hashanah 5769,” West Hollywood, CA: Congregation Kol Ami, September 29, 2008.
[7] Brown.
[8] Babylonian Talmud, Brachot 19b-20a.
[9] Deuteronomy 16:20.
[10] Joceyln Hudson, “Love Your Neighbor As Yourself,” Santa Ana, CA: Temple Beth Shalom, Yom Kippur 5769.
[11] Harvey J. Fields and Chaim Stern, adapted, as it appears in Temple Israel’s Daily Evening Worship for use in the synagogue and the home, Minneapolis, MN: Temple Israel.
[12] Maragert Moers Wenig, “Truly Welcoming Lesbian and Gay Jews,” The Jewish Condition: Essays on Contemporary Judaism Honoring Rabbi Alexander M. Schindler, ed., Aron Hirt-Manheimer, New York: UAHC Press, 1995, p. 330.
[13] Chasen and Timoner.
[14] David Ellenson, “Same-Sex Marriage, In the Jewish Tradition, “The Jewish Week. March 12, 2004, p. 29.
[15] Max A. Shapiro, “Religion and Politics,” Here Am I; Send Me, Minneapolis: Temple Israel, p. 8.
[16] Mishnah Sanhedrin 4:5.
[17] Psalm 104:24.
[18] Chasen and Timoner.
[19] Hudson.
[20] The Democratic Party, “What We Stand For,” http://www.dnc.org/a/party/stand.html.
[21] Madeline Koch, “Wanted: GOP for the next generation,” The Star Tribune, July 30, 2009.
[22] OutFront Minnesota Marriage Equality Sign Up, http://www.outfront.org.
A Jewish View of Marriage Equality
Rosh Hashanah 5770
September 19, 2009 – 1 Tishri 5770
Temple Israel – Minneapolis, MN
Rabbi Jared H. Saks
A friend recently sent me a link to a video on YouTube.[1] It features a young man in his late 20s or early 30s. As the video begins, the man brushes off the toes of his shoes, buttons his sports coat and fixes his hair. Then, he takes a deep breath—the kind you take when you are about to undergo a nerve wracking experience—and walks up to the front door of a nearby house. When the door opens, the young man is greeted by a gentleman, perhaps in his 60s. The young man looks the gentleman in the eye, with a mixed look of fear and anticipation, and says, “I’d like to ask for Sinead’s hand in marriage.” The gentleman takes a similar deep breath and says, “Sure. No problem.”
In the next scene, we don’t find the younger man standing with his beloved before an officiant. Instead, we get a glimpse, from inside a house, of him coming up the front walk. He rings the door bell and repeats the previous scene with the woman who lives there. Then, we watch him walk to the house next door and later down an alley. He speaks more than one language. He visits an apartment building, presumably stopping at each apartment. He is in urban centers and rural fields. He stops a woman walking her dog. And each time, he asks the same question, “May I ask for Sinead’s hand in marriage?”
At the end of the video, words appear on the screen: How would you feel if you had to ask 4 million people for permission to get married? Lesbians and gay men are denied access to civil marriage in Ireland. Lesbians and gay men are denied access to civil marriage in Minnesota, too. And if marriage equality were to be put up to a popular vote, gay men and lesbians where we live would have to ask three-and-a-half million friends, neighbors and fellow Minnesotans for permission to get married.
Marriage is about sanctifying a loving relationship. It is an opportunity for a couple to celebrate the values of long-term commitment, faithfulness and the willingness to share life’s joys and sorrows. It is about a public pledge of commitment.[2] Marriage has the potential to provide mutual care for both partners. Marriage enables the individuals to make a greater contribution to the common good. Marriage helps to make sure that all children are wanted, loved, and nurtured. “The benefits of a good marriage are the same, no matter your sexual orientation.”[3]
So, why should I address you on the topic of marriage on Rosh Hashanah? First of all, Rosh Hashanah reminds us of the magnitude of the world and how small we are in comparison to it. Our liturgy helps us remember that we have little control over how or when we will die – who by fire and who by water – or how or when we were born. So much of who we are is beyond our control. Each of us is as unique as our fingerprints.[4] Like so much else about us, our sexual identities are determined for us, not by us.[5]
Secondly, Rosh Hashanah is inherently connected to the concept of marriage. On this day, the first of the Yamim Nora’im, the Days of Awe, we formally begin the process of teshuvah, our return to God. Our tradition teaches us that when we received Torah at Sinai, the people of Israel wedded God with Mount Sinai as our chuppah and Torah our ketubah. Over the past year, we have strayed from our relationship with God and perhaps even feel that God has strayed from us, too. So today, on Rosh Hashanah, we renew our wedding vows, we return to our commitment, we reinvest in our relationship with God.[6]
But for some of us the metaphor that our relationship with God is a marriage is just that, a metaphor. For gay men and lesbians, marriage is mere figure of speech, withheld from us by secular society. Today, on this morning of Rosh Hashanah, I want to discuss with you the topic of marriage equality. Marriage equality goes by a variety of names, many of which I will use during the course of this sermon, based upon the papers, essays, and sermons that I have read in preparation. Some people say gay marriage. Others say same-sex marriage or same-gender marriage. No matter what it’s called, it’s all the same thing. It is the right of two people of the same sex to marry one another. And in the State of Minnesota, that right does not exist.
In 1994, a committee here at Temple Israel addressed the issue of wedding ceremonies for gay and lesbian couples. The result was a full educational program on the inclusion of gay and lesbian individuals, couples and families in the Temple community, including the affirmation that wedding ceremonies would be performed by our rabbis in the sanctuary or chapel for any two Jews, regardless of whether those two Jews were of the same sex or of opposite sexes. Over the past year, we have explored the topic of ceremonies for interfaith couples. I will not be addressing interfaith marriage today. Nor will I be addressing same sex marriages performed on this bimah. Both of those issues have been decided and are part of the fabric of life at Temple Israel.
Today, I will be addressing the need for marriage equality in the State of Minnesota and our Jewish responsibility to ensure that any two people, regardless of their gender, can have their marriage recognized not only by God and the Jewish community, but by our civil society, as well.
Opponents of marriage equality assert that same-sex marriage is not traditional marriage, but what does that term really mean? They imply that traditional marriage is the marriage of one man and one woman, but we Jews know that the definition of marriage has continually changed. The Bible defines marriage as a union between one man and one or more women. There are three patriarchs mentioned in the T’filah and four matriarchs, after all. Jacob had two wives. Classical rabbinic texts understand marriage as the acquisition of property. A man acquires his wife from her father.
We also understand as Americans that marriage has changed. In the past, most states prohibited interracial marriage, but that injustice ended with perhaps one of the best named Supreme Court cases, Loving vs. Virginia, in which Mildred Loving, a woman of African and Native American descent, and her husband, Richard, won the right to remain married, overturning Virginia’s and subsequently all states’ laws banning interracial marriage. “These understandings have changed … in greater recognition of the humanity of persons and their moral and civil rights.”[7] Our current understanding of marriage must also change, because of our greater recognition of the moral and civil rights of gay men and lesbians.
The classical rabbinic texts do not address same sex marriage. The scant references to homosexuality in our tradition are unaware of the possibility of committed, long-term relationships between two people of the same sex and often condemn what the rabbis do know of homosexuality. But the Talmud teaches us that the value of human dignity is so great that it supersedes any negative commandment in the Torah.[8] Deuteronomy teaches us Tzedek, tzedek tirdof, Justice, justice shall you pursue.[9] In giving the world the concept of justice, Torah gave the world equality: fair treatment of the poor, the orphan, the widow and the stranger. Time and time again, Torah commands us not to oppress the stranger, because we were strangers in the land of Egypt and we know the heart of the stranger. We are Israel and we know what it is to be labeled as different.[10] As our Daily Worship prayer book reminds us, “We are Israel, schooled in the suffering of those tyrannized by oppression. Their anguish is ours, their poverty and humiliation diminish us.”[11] Empathy is a central virtue in Judaism. It demands that we see things from the point of view of the other.
The civil rights era of the 1960s and 1970s saw a renewed voice for various causes: racism, sexism, and anti-Semitism, among others. But equal rights for gays and lesbians all but fell on deaf ears and on many levels cease to exist even today. Until the 1960s, there were no major Jewish voices speaking out for civil rights for gay and lesbian Americans. But in 1965, a year after the Civil Rights Act, “one national Jewish organization spoke out against the harassment of [gays and lesbians] … that [organization] was the National Federation of Temple Sisterhoods,”[12] what is now the Women of Reform Judaism. Reform Jewish women have always been an empathetic voice for equality; we must listen to them.
In the quest for marriage equality, we hear the words of the 1960s echoing in our ears. Daniel Judson writes, “This is an historic moment in which the rights and human dignity of a minority is [sic] under assault. As Jews, we know what it is to be harassed and persecuted because we are different. We too have been considered dangerous, deviant, a threat to society, abhorrent. As Jews, we ought to be frightened when a majority tries to deny rights to a minority they think are not equal to the rest of us.”[13] We must have empathy and recognize the need for marriage equality in Minnesota.
Religious Jews who favor same-sex marriage do not do so only because they embrace American ideals. Rather, we approach marriage equality with a sense that it is part of our obligation to pursue justice. In Genesis, we are given a vision of humanity that tells us every human being is created b’tzelem Elohim, in the image of God.[14] In confronting the civil rights issues of the 1960s, Rabbi [Max] Shapiro addressed the challenges of racial inequality. “There is a religious standard,” Rabbi Shapiro wrote, “by which man relates to his fellow man. ‘All men are brothers.’ ‘He who honors his fellow man honors God.’ No religious person – no Jew – can dispute this.” Rabbi Shapiro reminded us then that we have always been a people driven by a sense of justice. We Jews have been the victims of discrimination. We have had jobs, schools and neighborhoods withheld from of because of who we are. “We understand that the law is not enough. The law tells us not to injure. The law forbids us from denying others their rights. But religion goes beyond the law. It demands that we help! Judaism demands that we help the less fortunate, that we protect [their] liberties, that we enhance [their] rights.” [15]
The Talmud teaches us that God created all of humanity from one person to illustrate God’s genius. When coins are minted from a mold, all are alike. But when God created humankind, though we were all minted from the same mold, each of us turned out differently so that each of us could say, “For my sake was the world created.”[16] The Psalmist teaches us, “How many are the things you have made, O God! You have made them all with wisdom; the earth is full of your creations!”[17] Our diversity speaks to God’s power. Each one of us has worth and value and dignity.[18] We must find God’s image in one another and recognize the need for marriage equality in Minnesota.
Rabbi Ed Feinstein speaks of his support for marriage equality saying, “I support the freedom to marry because I have never met gays and lesbians in the abstract. It is my son and my daughter, it is my sister and my brother, and I wish for them the privilege, the miracle, the gift of a long and lasting relationship. And in our faith community, we call that marriage.”[19] We do not know gay and lesbian Jews in the abstract. Gay and lesbian Jews are part of our Temple Israel community. We participate in nearly every other aspect of their religious lives. We bless and name them as infants. We celebrate with them as they become B’nai Mitzvah and reach Confirmation. We bury their grandparents and parents and eventually them. But we are barred from fully participating in their marriages, because in the State of Minnesota gays and lesbians cannot be legally married.
Marriage equality must be important to us as the Temple Israel community. Our mission statement affirms that Temple Israel is a welcoming and accessible place for worship, for lifelong learning, for celebration and for gathering. We are a community that takes care of one another. At this point, I could go through a list of all of the rights and responsibilities of marriage that are denied to gay and lesbian couples in Minnesota. There are 515 of them on the state level and over 1100 on the federal level. But at this moment, the details of them don’t matter. What matters is that by denying marriage equality to gays and lesbians, we are denying them the ability to take care of one another and that is in opposition to who we are as a Temple community and as members of the Jewish people.
Legal marriage would offer more than the opportunity of joint income tax filing, health care benefits, the rights of inheritance, and the authority to make health care decisions. Legal marriage would offer the stability and safety that every family and every child deserves. Imagine that one of our Temple families was on vacation and one of the parents fell ill. If the other parent had no legal rights to make a medical decision, that family is at risk. By seeking marriage equality, we are asking for the ability to take care of one another, to look out for our children’s well-being. Who can fault anyone for wanting to take care of his or her family?
For those of us born since the Civil Rights movement of the 1960s, I can tell you that marriage equality is a non-partisan issue. Most of us support marriage equality. The ideals of the Democratic Party demand that we protect our civil rights and liberties.[20] As for the Republican Party, young Republican Madeline Koch asked for a new GOP for the next generation in an opinion piece in the Star Tribune this summer. In her piece, she indicated her desire to remain a member of the Republican Party, a party that she hopes will not back down on economic issues and homeland security, seeing the need for fiscal conservatism. But she also wrote, “We want gay marriage. Though we may not all be willing to march in the Pride parades or even send fiery letters to our congressmen about it, most of us believe that gay couples deserve the right to be legally wed. I can guarantee you this: The issue of gay marriage is not going to go away, and unless you start shifting within the Republican Party, you will not gain our support. ”[21] Both the Democratic Party and the Republican Party will need to embrace marriage equality if they wish continue to have support for their party platforms and remain players in the political arena.
For us, as Jews, especially on this morning of Rosh Hashanah, marriage equality is a religious issue. As we renew our commitment to our relationship with God, we must add our voices to the campaign for marriage equality. As Jews, we know what it is like to have our rights limited. Our experience demands that we care for those who are strangers even in the places they live, because we were strangers in the land of Egypt. As Jews, our tradition demands that we recognize the image of God in each and every individual. “The question is no longer whether Minnesota will achieve marriage equality, but when.”[22] Please join me in the campaign for marriage equality in the State of Minnesota.
Hear our voice God and help us to recognize Your image in each and every person, inspiring us to protect liberties and enhance rights. Hear our voice God and help us to pursue justice and human dignity, because everything is created for Your glory. Hear our voice God and help us to diminish the humiliation of gay men and lesbians that we may all be uplifted on this morning of Rosh Hashanah. Shanah tovah v’tikateivu, May we all be inscribed for blessing in the Book of Life.
[1] MarriagEquality, “Sinead’s Hand,” http://www.marriagequality.ie/action/sineadshand/.
[2] Rebecca T. Alpert, “Reconstructionist Judaism and Marriage Equality,” June 2005.
[3] Jerry Brown, “Protecting the Institution of Marriage…” Northridge, CA: Temple Ahavat Shalom, Yom Kippur 5769/2008.
[4] Ken Chasen and Rachel Timoner, “Ve’erastich Li Be-Tzedek: I Will Betroth You to Me in Righteousness,” Los Angeles, CA: Leo Baeck Temple, Yamim Noraim 5769 (Fall 2008).
[5] Marcia A. Zimmerman, “My House Shall Be A House of Prayer for All Peoples: How Welcoming Are We to Gays and Lesbians?” Minneapolis: Temple Israel, December 3, 2004.
[6] Denise L. Eger, “Erev Rosh Hashanah 5769,” West Hollywood, CA: Congregation Kol Ami, September 29, 2008.
[7] Brown.
[8] Babylonian Talmud, Brachot 19b-20a.
[9] Deuteronomy 16:20.
[10] Joceyln Hudson, “Love Your Neighbor As Yourself,” Santa Ana, CA: Temple Beth Shalom, Yom Kippur 5769.
[11] Harvey J. Fields and Chaim Stern, adapted, as it appears in Temple Israel’s Daily Evening Worship for use in the synagogue and the home, Minneapolis, MN: Temple Israel.
[12] Maragert Moers Wenig, “Truly Welcoming Lesbian and Gay Jews,” The Jewish Condition: Essays on Contemporary Judaism Honoring Rabbi Alexander M. Schindler, ed., Aron Hirt-Manheimer, New York: UAHC Press, 1995, p. 330.
[13] Chasen and Timoner.
[14] David Ellenson, “Same-Sex Marriage, In the Jewish Tradition, “The Jewish Week. March 12, 2004, p. 29.
[15] Max A. Shapiro, “Religion and Politics,” Here Am I; Send Me, Minneapolis: Temple Israel, p. 8.
[16] Mishnah Sanhedrin 4:5.
[17] Psalm 104:24.
[18] Chasen and Timoner.
[19] Hudson.
[20] The Democratic Party, “What We Stand For,” http://www.dnc.org/a/party/stand.html.
[21] Madeline Koch, “Wanted: GOP for the next generation,” The Star Tribune, July 30, 2009.
[22] OutFront Minnesota Marriage Equality Sign Up, http://www.outfront.org.
Friday, September 18, 2009
A Taste of Torah - Rosh Hashanah
Wishing you all a happy, healthy, and sweet new year!
On Rosh Hashanah, we read the Akeidah, the Binding of Isaac. It is said to be one of the tests of Abraham's faith where God tells him to take his son Isaac and bring him to the top of Mount Moriah and offer him as a sacrifice. It is a challenging story that I often question its role in the High Holy Days. Why should we read a story of a God who asks the only believer at the time to sacrifice his own son?
The story, I think, serves two purposes. First, it is a text that speaks out against the other cultures of its time. They would have engaged in child sacrifice, but our God puts a stop to it. (Maybe that should have happened before Abraham had Isaac tied to the alter?!?) Also, it teaches us of Abraham's faith and his willingness to follow God. While we might not admire someone who believes that God has told him to sacrifice his son and then follows through on that belief, we can appreciate Abraham's conviction for what he believes. If only we were so sure of ourselves!
Rosh Hashanah sermon to follow in the coming days...
Friday, September 11, 2009
A Taste of Torah - Nitzavim-Vayeilech
This Shabbat we read the same verses that we will read in just over two weeks on Yom Kippur. Nitzavim-Vayeilech addresses the assembled people about to enter into a covenant with God with the words, "You stand this day, every one of you, before the Eternal your God--your tribal heads, your elders, and your officials, all the men of Israel, your children, your women, even the stranger within your camp, from woodchopper to water drawer" (Deut. 29:9-10).
Often we think of Torah and Jewish text as being androcentric, being mostly about men, often excluding the women. But this week's Torah portion reminds us that each and every one of us is included in the covenant with God, not just the people with titles, not just the men, and not even just the Israelites, but each and every person -- men, women, and children -- who were part of the Israelite community.
It's easy to be a part of a community when we are at the center of it, when we are its leaders, or when the community addresses us specifically. Often, though, we find ourselves outside the circle, excluded, and isolated from the larger community. Nitzavim-Vayeilech reminds us that just as we hope that others will reach out to us when we feel excluded, God expects us to make sure the people on the fringe are brought into the inner circle and made part of our community. This is part of our responsibility and God's expectation of us.
Friday, September 4, 2009
A Taste of Torah - Ki Tavo
Ki Tavo, this week's Torah portion, opens with a commandment to bring the first fruits of our harvest as an offering to God, acknowledging God's having brought us into the Land of Israel. Then, we are told to recite the words that appear in the Passover Haggadah (Deut. 26:5-10):
My father was a fugitive Aramean. He went down to Egypt with meager numbers and sojourned there; but there he became a great and very populous nation. The Egyptians dealt harshly with us and oppressed us; they imposed heavy labor upon us. We cried to the Eternal, the God of our ancestors, and the Eternal heard our plea and saw our plight, our misery, and our oppression. The Eternal freed us from Egypt by a mighty hand, by an outstretched arm and awesome power, and by signs and portents. God brought us to this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey. So, I now bring the first fruits of the soil which You, O Eternal, have given me.
The text, along with the Passover Haggadah, tells us not to take for granted the blessings that we have. Perhaps you believe that the Exodus from Egypt literally happened. Or maybe you believe, as I do, that the lessons of the Exodus are more powerful and more truthful than whether or not the Exodus actually happened (I don't think it did!). Either way, I know that a lot of the blessings that a lot of the blessings I have in my life are the result of circumstance beyond my control. I do believe that God plays a role in those blessings and our tradition teaches us to be grateful and to offer our thanks.
Friday, August 28, 2009
A Taste of Torah - Ki Teitzei
Judaism takes promises seriously. In this week's Torah portion Ki Teitzei, the text instructs us that when we make a vow to God, we should not delay in completing it. It goes on to tell us that one way to avoid sin is to avoid making promises.
Often, when we make a promise, we don't carry through with the same level of enthusiasm with which we made the promise. According to some commentators, this lack of enthusiasm is as bad as not having followed through at all. That's why avoiding making promises keeps us from sinning.
The Hebrew word for vow is neder, which may sound familiar to you. Kol Nidre, the evening service of Yom Kippur, is named after a prayer by the same name that means 'all the promises.' It asks God to forgive us for not following through on promises we make between this Yom Kippur and the next if after honest effort we find ourselves unable to fulfill them. We are only let off the hook if we fail at keeping our promises when we try with the same level of intention and enthusiasm that we had when we made them.
Often, when we make a promise, we don't carry through with the same level of enthusiasm with which we made the promise. According to some commentators, this lack of enthusiasm is as bad as not having followed through at all. That's why avoiding making promises keeps us from sinning.
The Hebrew word for vow is neder, which may sound familiar to you. Kol Nidre, the evening service of Yom Kippur, is named after a prayer by the same name that means 'all the promises.' It asks God to forgive us for not following through on promises we make between this Yom Kippur and the next if after honest effort we find ourselves unable to fulfill them. We are only let off the hook if we fail at keeping our promises when we try with the same level of intention and enthusiasm that we had when we made them.
Friday, August 21, 2009
A Taste of Torah - Shoftim
This week's Torah portion, Shoftim, includes laws regarding the conduct of the Israelite army when it is attacking a city. These laws include a commandment that when the Israelite army attacked a city, it was prohibited from destroying the fruit-bearing trees in or around that city. While other trees could be destroyed, the ones that sustain the people could not, even if it was the army's goal to wipe out the city.
From this commandment, the rabbis developed the Jewish value of bal tashchit - a prohibition against destruction. The text asks, rhetorically, if the trees are human beings who can flee from the army. Of course, they are not, and they cannot. We are reminded that God created the world and has placed it under our care. But we do not own the world; God does. God has lent it to us. If we destroy the world, there will be no one left to repair it after us. Consider the ways in which you purposefully make use of the world around you and changes you can make in your behavior to protect it for others.
From this commandment, the rabbis developed the Jewish value of bal tashchit - a prohibition against destruction. The text asks, rhetorically, if the trees are human beings who can flee from the army. Of course, they are not, and they cannot. We are reminded that God created the world and has placed it under our care. But we do not own the world; God does. God has lent it to us. If we destroy the world, there will be no one left to repair it after us. Consider the ways in which you purposefully make use of the world around you and changes you can make in your behavior to protect it for others.
Friday, August 14, 2009
A Taste of Torah - Re'eh
Our Torah portion this week, Re'eh, reminds us of our obligation to those among us and around us who are in need. In Deuteronomy 15:7, God tells us that if there are people among us who are needy, we can not close our hands nor harden our hearts to them. Rashi, the 12th century commentator and scholar, tells us that when God instructs us not to harden our hearts, God understands that when we see someone in need, we often deliberate whether or not we should help that person. Will he buy food with the money I give him, or is he going to buy liquor? Does she really need the money for the bus home, or is she going to buy drugs? This debate sometimes leads us to close our hand, to decide not to help, rather than taking care of those less fortunate than ourselves.
As with many texts about caring for others, God reminds us a few verses later that we have an obligation to take care of others because we were among those in need when we were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt. We repay God for our freedom by helping others get what they need. The text tells us that we have to take care of whatever need others have. Sometimes it can be hard to know what another person's real need is. When we find ourselves faced with helping others less fortunate that we are, we should at least treat them with dignity and respect, making eye contact, smiling, and perhaps greeting them with a kind word expressing our regret if we choose not to help. God understands that we struggle with how to best help others, but doesn't let us off the hook just because the decision might be difficult.
As with many texts about caring for others, God reminds us a few verses later that we have an obligation to take care of others because we were among those in need when we were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt. We repay God for our freedom by helping others get what they need. The text tells us that we have to take care of whatever need others have. Sometimes it can be hard to know what another person's real need is. When we find ourselves faced with helping others less fortunate that we are, we should at least treat them with dignity and respect, making eye contact, smiling, and perhaps greeting them with a kind word expressing our regret if we choose not to help. God understands that we struggle with how to best help others, but doesn't let us off the hook just because the decision might be difficult.
Friday, August 7, 2009
A Taste of Torah - Ekev
In this week's Torah portion, Ekev, Moses reminds the Israelites of the incident with the Golden Calf, when Moses came down from the mountain and found the people dancing around the golden, which made him so upset that he threw down the tablets of the Ten Commandments, shattering them at the foot of the mountain. At first, God is prepared to wipe out the people, but Moses challenges God and asks, "What will the Egyptians think of You if You only took the Israelites into the wilderness to kill them?" Then, Moses reminds God of the promises God made to the matriarchs and patriarchs, asking if God would break those vows. In the end, God follows Moses' advice and has Moses create a new set of tablets.
There are times when we are so angry with what others have done that we don't know how we can forgive them. Even God feels this way. But it's important to have people around us - like Moses' presence for God - who remind us to offer second chances.
There are times when we are so angry with what others have done that we don't know how we can forgive them. Even God feels this way. But it's important to have people around us - like Moses' presence for God - who remind us to offer second chances.
Friday, July 24, 2009
A Taste of Torah - D'varim
In the first portion of the book of Deuteronomy, D'varim, Moses reminds the Israelites of God's vow not to let any of the Israelites of the generation that left Egypt into the Promised Land because of their complaining and asking to go back to Egypt, except for one of them, Caleb. Caleb was one of the 12 scouts who checked out the Land of Israel. Instead of coming back with a report like 10 of the others talking about how they'd never be able to succeed, Caleb - along with Joshua who would succeed Moses - said the people had God on their side and they would be successful.
The Talmud (Sotah 34b) tells us that when Caleb scouted out the land, he saw things that the spies did not see, that he prayed at the graves of our ancestors, and drew strength from our collective past to get him through the difficulties of the moment. When you find yourself in a tight spot, to what do you look back to find strength to move forward?
The Talmud (Sotah 34b) tells us that when Caleb scouted out the land, he saw things that the spies did not see, that he prayed at the graves of our ancestors, and drew strength from our collective past to get him through the difficulties of the moment. When you find yourself in a tight spot, to what do you look back to find strength to move forward?
Friday, July 17, 2009
A Taste of Torah - Matot-Masei
This week we finish the Book of Numbers, the fourth book in the Torah, with a double portion, Matot-Masei. In the latter portion, Masei, God asks us to establish what are called 'cities of refuge,' places to where someone who unintentionally causes the death of another person can run in order not to be killed by someone seeking revenge. As long as the person who has caused the death remains in the city, the people of that city are required to protect him or her. Of course, the way we in modern society handle manslaughter - causing the death of another person by accident - is different. Nonetheless, these cities of refuge create an important model for us. What are the places where you seek refuge? To where can you run to be safe and seek sanctuary? Who are the people who protect you when you need to be safe?
(And since this is the last portion of the Book of Numbers, we say, "Chazak, chazak v'nitchazeik - Be strong, be strong and let us strengthen one another!")
(And since this is the last portion of the Book of Numbers, we say, "Chazak, chazak v'nitchazeik - Be strong, be strong and let us strengthen one another!")
Friday, July 10, 2009
A Taste of Torah - Pinchas
This week's Torah portion, Parashat Pinchas, includes the case of the daughters of Zelophehad, who are Mahlah, Tirzah, Hoglah, Milcah and Noah. When their father dies, the five of them bring their case before Moses to see if in spite of the fact that they don't have brothers, that they should be able to inherit their father's land. Up until this point, only men could inherit from their families when others died. Moses, not sure of what to do, brings their case before God. God sides with Mahlah, Tirzah, Hoglah, Milcah and Noah and says that they should be able to inherit.
Because of the daughters of Zelophehad, there is a step in the right direction towards equality among men and women in Jewish tradition. Since them, more has been done, but there's still a lot to do. There are still ways in which we need to ensure equality among men and women, even in Reform Judaism.
Because of the daughters of Zelophehad, there is a step in the right direction towards equality among men and women in Jewish tradition. Since them, more has been done, but there's still a lot to do. There are still ways in which we need to ensure equality among men and women, even in Reform Judaism.
Friday, July 3, 2009
A Taste of Torah - Chukat-Balak
This week we have a double portion, Chukat-Balak, and Parashat Balak has one of the best stories in the Torah, in my opinion. King Balak, after whom the portion is named, sends Balaam to curse the Israelites, but God intervenes and places an angel in the path of Balaam's donkey, an angel that initially only the donkey can see. When Balaam gets angry with the donkey, the donkey asks Balaam (Yes! The donkey talks!) if she has ever disobeyed him before. Only when the donkey helps him realize that there's something special going on does the angel appear to Balaam. Instead of cursing the Israelites, Balaam says the words that become part of our morning worship: How lovely are your tents, O Jacob, your dwelling places, O Israel - Mah tovu ohalecha Ya'akov, mishkenotecha Yisrael. This week's Torah portion reminds us to pay attention; when something isn't the way it usually is, look for miracles and blessings.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Remembering Michael Jackson
As I was contemplating what I might want to write this Shabbat, my mind kept drifting back to one thing: Michael Jackson. If you know me, you probably know that I don’t talk about, read about, or care about Hollywood gossip all that much. When the OJ Simpson trial was going on years ago, I couldn’t care less. When Jon and Kate announced they were divorcing, I thought, “Why should I care?” But, when I learned that Michael Jackson had died, I had a different reaction. To be honest, I don’t know if I’d say that I was sad. I’m not even sure I was surprised. But I was definitely affected.
This morning while I was at Camp TEKO for the Yom Yafeh service, some of the staff, in particular some who are still in high school, were discussing Michael Jackson’s death and I overheard them saying, “This is going to be like Elvis for our generation.” For our generation? Our generation? “You weren’t even alive when ‘Thriller’ came out!” I thought. Okay, so I barely was either. But Michael Jackson’s music, for better or worse, played a role in the music of my generation. “Thriller” came out when I was four and became a staple of the music I still like and probably influenced many of the musical artists that I came to enjoy during my childhood and teen years.
So, when I learned of Michael Jackson’s death, I was reminded of days at summer camp impressed by the counselors who could moonwalk and singing misheard lyrics from “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’” with my brother – “It’s the same as the sound of matzah; it’s the same as the sound of matzah.” But I was also reminded of all of the controversy that surrounded Michael Jackson in more recent years: the irresponsible spending, the legal battles, the erratic behavior. And I couldn’t help but ask myself how Judaism would expect me to remember someone who played such a big role in my childhood, who at the same time might not be the greatest role model.
This week’s Torah portion, Korach, recalls a member of the Levite tribe who leads a rebellion against Moses and Aaron. Korach’s rebellion fails as Moses and Aaron illustrate that God is on their side, and yet, this week’s Torah portion is named for this would-be leader. There is clearly a value that even this person who sought to overthrow Judaism as it existed in his time must still be remembered. Judaism teaches us that we recite Kaddish for eleven months following the death of a loved one. Our tradition tells us that we don’t say Kaddish for a full year because we are not in a place to judge the person we remember and decide that they lived a life that requires a full year of prayer from us. But neither are we in a place to judge their life as so good that we only need to recite Kaddish for a year. We don’t place judgment on how good of a life a person has lived or hasn’t lived. That’s not up to us to decide. Nontheless, we understand the importance and the power of memory.
As a prelude to the Kaddish, Richard Levy writes:
It is hard to sing of oneness when the world is not complete, when those who once brought wholeness to our life have gone, and naught but memory can fill the emptiness their passing leaves behind.
But memory can tell us only what we were in company with those we loved; it cannot help us find what each of us, alone, must now become. Yet no one is truly alone: those who live no more, echo still within our thoughts and words, and what they did is part of what we have become.
We do best homage to our dead when we live our lives more fully, even in the shadow of our loss. For each of our lives is worth the life of the whole world; in each one is the breath of the Ultimate One. In affirming the One, we affirm the worth of each one whose life, now ended, brought us closer to the Source of life, in whose unity no one is alone and every life finds purpose.
Maimonides teaches us that we are supposed to see ourselves as a scale with an equal amount of good and evil and that each decision we make will tip the scale in one direction or the other. In his song, “Heal the World,” Michael Jackson sings:
We could fly so high
Let our spirits never die.
In my heart I feel
You are all my brothers.
Create a world with no fear;
Together we'll cry happy tears.
See the nations turn
Their swords into plowshares.
We could really get there
If you cared enough for the living.
Make a little space to make a better place.
Heal the world.
Make it a better place
For you and for me and the entire human race.
There are people dying
If you care enough for the living
Make a better place for
You and for me.
May we be inspired by those who have influenced our lives to act in ways that tip the scale towards the good. And may we be the inspiration for others, to heal the world and make it a better place.
This morning while I was at Camp TEKO for the Yom Yafeh service, some of the staff, in particular some who are still in high school, were discussing Michael Jackson’s death and I overheard them saying, “This is going to be like Elvis for our generation.” For our generation? Our generation? “You weren’t even alive when ‘Thriller’ came out!” I thought. Okay, so I barely was either. But Michael Jackson’s music, for better or worse, played a role in the music of my generation. “Thriller” came out when I was four and became a staple of the music I still like and probably influenced many of the musical artists that I came to enjoy during my childhood and teen years.
So, when I learned of Michael Jackson’s death, I was reminded of days at summer camp impressed by the counselors who could moonwalk and singing misheard lyrics from “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’” with my brother – “It’s the same as the sound of matzah; it’s the same as the sound of matzah.” But I was also reminded of all of the controversy that surrounded Michael Jackson in more recent years: the irresponsible spending, the legal battles, the erratic behavior. And I couldn’t help but ask myself how Judaism would expect me to remember someone who played such a big role in my childhood, who at the same time might not be the greatest role model.
This week’s Torah portion, Korach, recalls a member of the Levite tribe who leads a rebellion against Moses and Aaron. Korach’s rebellion fails as Moses and Aaron illustrate that God is on their side, and yet, this week’s Torah portion is named for this would-be leader. There is clearly a value that even this person who sought to overthrow Judaism as it existed in his time must still be remembered. Judaism teaches us that we recite Kaddish for eleven months following the death of a loved one. Our tradition tells us that we don’t say Kaddish for a full year because we are not in a place to judge the person we remember and decide that they lived a life that requires a full year of prayer from us. But neither are we in a place to judge their life as so good that we only need to recite Kaddish for a year. We don’t place judgment on how good of a life a person has lived or hasn’t lived. That’s not up to us to decide. Nontheless, we understand the importance and the power of memory.
As a prelude to the Kaddish, Richard Levy writes:
It is hard to sing of oneness when the world is not complete, when those who once brought wholeness to our life have gone, and naught but memory can fill the emptiness their passing leaves behind.
But memory can tell us only what we were in company with those we loved; it cannot help us find what each of us, alone, must now become. Yet no one is truly alone: those who live no more, echo still within our thoughts and words, and what they did is part of what we have become.
We do best homage to our dead when we live our lives more fully, even in the shadow of our loss. For each of our lives is worth the life of the whole world; in each one is the breath of the Ultimate One. In affirming the One, we affirm the worth of each one whose life, now ended, brought us closer to the Source of life, in whose unity no one is alone and every life finds purpose.
Maimonides teaches us that we are supposed to see ourselves as a scale with an equal amount of good and evil and that each decision we make will tip the scale in one direction or the other. In his song, “Heal the World,” Michael Jackson sings:
We could fly so high
Let our spirits never die.
In my heart I feel
You are all my brothers.
Create a world with no fear;
Together we'll cry happy tears.
See the nations turn
Their swords into plowshares.
We could really get there
If you cared enough for the living.
Make a little space to make a better place.
Heal the world.
Make it a better place
For you and for me and the entire human race.
There are people dying
If you care enough for the living
Make a better place for
You and for me.
May we be inspired by those who have influenced our lives to act in ways that tip the scale towards the good. And may we be the inspiration for others, to heal the world and make it a better place.
Friday, June 19, 2009
A Taste of Torah - Sh'lach L'cha
In this week's Torah portion, Shelach L'cha, the scouts head into the land of Canaan to bring a report back to Moses, Aaron and the Israelites about the land they are about to enter and acquire, as God has promised. All but two of the scouts come back fearful of what lies ahead of them. They say that while the land is flowing with milk and honey, the people living there are like giants, making them appear like grasshoppers.
But Joshua son of Nun and Caleb aren't so intimidated. They tell the people how good the land is and encourage them not to rebel against God. Sometimes it's easy to give in to our fears, even when we know it's not in our best interest. This Shabbat, take on one of your fears and see if you can be like Caleb and Joshua son of Nun, and do what you need to do, knowing you have support and are protected.
But Joshua son of Nun and Caleb aren't so intimidated. They tell the people how good the land is and encourage them not to rebel against God. Sometimes it's easy to give in to our fears, even when we know it's not in our best interest. This Shabbat, take on one of your fears and see if you can be like Caleb and Joshua son of Nun, and do what you need to do, knowing you have support and are protected.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Resurrection and Reform Judaism: Understanding M'Chayeih Meitim and Ezekiel's Vision of the Dry Bones in a Reform Jewish Context
One of the things that I really like about Mishkan T’filah, as a rabbi, is that a new format demands renewed attention. In Judaism we are taught not to pray from memory, but, even when we know the prayers well, to use a siddur, a prayer book, and pay attention to the words on the page. Our new prayer book demands that kind of attention. Our readings change week to week, depending upon who is leading the service and what that leader’s mood is. And even the Hebrew has changed.
In the first prayer of the T’filah, the Avot v’Imahot, the prayer that praises God as the God of our ancestors, we have changed the order of Leah and Rachel, Jacob’s wives. We used to say “Elohei Leah v’Elohei Rachel,” but now, we say, “Elohei Rachel v’Elohei Leah,” allowing us to honor our matriarchs in the way in which we honor our ancestors in Judaism, by acknowledging their deaths, their yahrzeit. Rachel died before Leah. In the Yotzer, the prayer we recite about creation in the morning restores the line “Or chadash al tzion ta’ir, v’nizkeh chulanu m’heirah l’oro, Shine a new light upon Zion, that we all may swiftly merit its radiance.” This line restores a prayer for the Land of Israel, which the Reform movement rejected in our earlier days. Today, we pray for the well-being of Israel and its inhabitants, so we’ve returned that line to its place.
But there is one change in our liturgy that most Reform Jews would probably say does not mesh with their idea of what it is to be a Reform Jew. In the Gevurot, the second prayer of the T’filah which praises God’s power, there are options within the text, words that traditionally are said, but that the Reform movement rejected a long time ago. There is a word that appears in parentheses throughout the Hebrew text of the Gevurot in Mishkan T'filah: meitim. We say, “m’chayeih hakol, You give life to all,” but this word meitim changes the prayer to praise God “m’chayeih meitim, who revives the dead.” Reform Judaism doesn’t hold resurrection of the dead among its beliefs. Neither do most Reform Jews. So, why offer this alternative in Mishkan T’filah, the new Reform prayer book? Is it simply to let us know how other people are saying it? That’s not the way that Reform Judaism works. If we put something out there, it’s because we want it to be useful and meaningful for Reform Jews.
The Haftarah reading - the reading from the Prophetic texts - for Shabbat Chol ha-Mo'ed Pesach might lend us some insight into this change and guide us toward a new understanding of “m’chayeih meitim, who revives the dead.” Because it is a special Shabbat, Shabbat Chol ha-Mo’ed Pesach comes with a special Torah reading and a special Haftarah reading. The Haftarah reading comes from the prophet Ezekiel who writes (in Ezekiel 37:1-6):
The hand of the Eternal was upon me, leading me out by God’s spirit and setting me down in the middle of a valley. It was full of bones. God led me all around them. There were a great many of them spread on the surface of the valley, and they were very dry. God said to me, “Mortal, can these bones live?” I answered, “O God Eternal, You alone know.” Then God said to me, “Prophesy to these bones, and say to them: You dry bones, hear the words of the Eternal. Thus says the Eternal God to these bones: Behold, I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. I will put sinews on you, and cover you with flesh, and spread skin over you. I will put breath into you, and you shall live. Then you shall know that I am the Eternal.
In the Talmud, the Rabbis debate this text. Did Ezekiel actually resurrect the dead by invoking God’s name or is this story just a parable? Some say that they are the tribe of Ephraim who were so eager to leave Egypt that they left early and were struck down by enemies in the wilderness. But because of their efforts, God resurrected them when the Israelites made their way out of Egypt during the first Passover. We might be able to imagine, metaphorically, what it would have been like for the Ephraimites to have striven for freedom and not achieve it, but then be able to look back, with renewed strength, upon the remains of their failed efforts of the past. We, too, have struggled and been overcome, only to resurrect our ideals and try again.
When our ancestor Joseph faced death, he had our people promise to take his bones with him out of Egypt. Even if he wouldn’t live to see freedom, he wanted to know that his bones, at least would see freedom. When I was a child, my father used to sing a song to me, a song that recognized the freedom that only came with death for some American slaves:
The poor old slave has gone to rest,
we know that he is free
his bones they lie, disturb them not,
way down in Tennessee
This was the only freedom that Joseph would know. Our Passover story tells us, “Bechol dor v’dor chayav adam lirot et atsmo k’ilu hu yatza miMitsrayim, In every generation a person is obligated to see himself as if he went out of Egypt.” Rabbi Lisa Grushcow teaches, “Al tikra ‘atsmo,’ ela ‘atsmotav’ – In place of ‘himself,’ read, ‘his bones’: In every generation a person is obligated to see his bones as if he went out from Egypt.
But Joseph’s bones almost didn’t make it. According to one midrash (Tebat Marqa, cited in James L. Kugel, In Potiphar’s House: The Interpretive Life of Biblical Texts, pp. 138-39), the pillar of fire and cloud that guided the Israelites stood in their way, preventing their exit. Serach daughter of Asher was the one who remembered that they needed to get Joseph’s bones. The weary Israelites barely had enough strength to get themselves out of Egypt, let alone Joseph’s bones, and asked Moses in the wilderness, “Were there no graves in Egypt, that you took us out to die in the desert” (Exodus 14:11)? They needed to be revived and resurrected in the wilderness, along with the Ephraimites.
Even Ezekiel understood his words as metaphorical (Ezekiel 37:11-12):
Then God said to me, “Mortal, these bones are the whole House of Israel. They say: Our bones are dried up, our hope is lost; we are cut off from life! Therefore prophesy to them and say: Thus says the Eternal God: I am going to open your graves, My people; I will life you out of your graves and bring you home to the land of Israel.
It wasn’t a literal resurrection of which Ezekiel spoke, it was directed at a weary, exiled people. He lived during the time of the Babylonian exile. The Jewish community around them thought they didn’t have the strength to wait for a return to the Promised Land. They, like the Ephraimites, couldn’t wait any longer. But Ezekiel promised them that God would restore their strength.
This, perhaps, is the message that we Reform Jews can take from the alternative text in the G’vurot. It is not a prayer, I believe, of literal resurrection. Rather, it is a prayer that allows us to acknowledge the times when we haven’t thought we had the strength to push forward, the times when we forgot what we needed to go ahead, like the Israelites that had forgotten Joseph’s bones, but then God provides us with a Serach daughter of Asher, someone or something that gives us the drive to push on. It took tremendous perseverance and fortitude for our ancestors to make their way out of Egypt. And we have to see ourselves as we, too, went free out of Egypt, we and our weary bones, and with that redemption were given new life. May we continue to find new strength and new life. Shabbat Shalom.
Bibliography
Barzilai, Gabby. Redemption, Resurrection, and Passover. Bar-Ilan University’s Parashat Hashavua Study Center, April 10, 2004.
Fishbane, Michael. The JPS Bible Commentary: Haftarot. Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society, 2002, pp. 426-430.
Gordon, Jonathan. On Viewing the Bones of Idealism. Union for Reform Judaism’s Torat Hayim/Living Torah, April 19, 2003.
Grushcow, Lisa. Parshat Beshallach: HUC Senior Sermon, January 24, 2002.
Romm, Ed. Shabbat Hol Hamoed Pesach. Jerusalem: The United Synagogue Conservative Yeshiva Haftarah Commentary, April 11, 2009.
In the first prayer of the T’filah, the Avot v’Imahot, the prayer that praises God as the God of our ancestors, we have changed the order of Leah and Rachel, Jacob’s wives. We used to say “Elohei Leah v’Elohei Rachel,” but now, we say, “Elohei Rachel v’Elohei Leah,” allowing us to honor our matriarchs in the way in which we honor our ancestors in Judaism, by acknowledging their deaths, their yahrzeit. Rachel died before Leah. In the Yotzer, the prayer we recite about creation in the morning restores the line “Or chadash al tzion ta’ir, v’nizkeh chulanu m’heirah l’oro, Shine a new light upon Zion, that we all may swiftly merit its radiance.” This line restores a prayer for the Land of Israel, which the Reform movement rejected in our earlier days. Today, we pray for the well-being of Israel and its inhabitants, so we’ve returned that line to its place.
But there is one change in our liturgy that most Reform Jews would probably say does not mesh with their idea of what it is to be a Reform Jew. In the Gevurot, the second prayer of the T’filah which praises God’s power, there are options within the text, words that traditionally are said, but that the Reform movement rejected a long time ago. There is a word that appears in parentheses throughout the Hebrew text of the Gevurot in Mishkan T'filah: meitim. We say, “m’chayeih hakol, You give life to all,” but this word meitim changes the prayer to praise God “m’chayeih meitim, who revives the dead.” Reform Judaism doesn’t hold resurrection of the dead among its beliefs. Neither do most Reform Jews. So, why offer this alternative in Mishkan T’filah, the new Reform prayer book? Is it simply to let us know how other people are saying it? That’s not the way that Reform Judaism works. If we put something out there, it’s because we want it to be useful and meaningful for Reform Jews.
The Haftarah reading - the reading from the Prophetic texts - for Shabbat Chol ha-Mo'ed Pesach might lend us some insight into this change and guide us toward a new understanding of “m’chayeih meitim, who revives the dead.” Because it is a special Shabbat, Shabbat Chol ha-Mo’ed Pesach comes with a special Torah reading and a special Haftarah reading. The Haftarah reading comes from the prophet Ezekiel who writes (in Ezekiel 37:1-6):
The hand of the Eternal was upon me, leading me out by God’s spirit and setting me down in the middle of a valley. It was full of bones. God led me all around them. There were a great many of them spread on the surface of the valley, and they were very dry. God said to me, “Mortal, can these bones live?” I answered, “O God Eternal, You alone know.” Then God said to me, “Prophesy to these bones, and say to them: You dry bones, hear the words of the Eternal. Thus says the Eternal God to these bones: Behold, I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. I will put sinews on you, and cover you with flesh, and spread skin over you. I will put breath into you, and you shall live. Then you shall know that I am the Eternal.
In the Talmud, the Rabbis debate this text. Did Ezekiel actually resurrect the dead by invoking God’s name or is this story just a parable? Some say that they are the tribe of Ephraim who were so eager to leave Egypt that they left early and were struck down by enemies in the wilderness. But because of their efforts, God resurrected them when the Israelites made their way out of Egypt during the first Passover. We might be able to imagine, metaphorically, what it would have been like for the Ephraimites to have striven for freedom and not achieve it, but then be able to look back, with renewed strength, upon the remains of their failed efforts of the past. We, too, have struggled and been overcome, only to resurrect our ideals and try again.
When our ancestor Joseph faced death, he had our people promise to take his bones with him out of Egypt. Even if he wouldn’t live to see freedom, he wanted to know that his bones, at least would see freedom. When I was a child, my father used to sing a song to me, a song that recognized the freedom that only came with death for some American slaves:
The poor old slave has gone to rest,
we know that he is free
his bones they lie, disturb them not,
way down in Tennessee
This was the only freedom that Joseph would know. Our Passover story tells us, “Bechol dor v’dor chayav adam lirot et atsmo k’ilu hu yatza miMitsrayim, In every generation a person is obligated to see himself as if he went out of Egypt.” Rabbi Lisa Grushcow teaches, “Al tikra ‘atsmo,’ ela ‘atsmotav’ – In place of ‘himself,’ read, ‘his bones’: In every generation a person is obligated to see his bones as if he went out from Egypt.
But Joseph’s bones almost didn’t make it. According to one midrash (Tebat Marqa, cited in James L. Kugel, In Potiphar’s House: The Interpretive Life of Biblical Texts, pp. 138-39), the pillar of fire and cloud that guided the Israelites stood in their way, preventing their exit. Serach daughter of Asher was the one who remembered that they needed to get Joseph’s bones. The weary Israelites barely had enough strength to get themselves out of Egypt, let alone Joseph’s bones, and asked Moses in the wilderness, “Were there no graves in Egypt, that you took us out to die in the desert” (Exodus 14:11)? They needed to be revived and resurrected in the wilderness, along with the Ephraimites.
Even Ezekiel understood his words as metaphorical (Ezekiel 37:11-12):
Then God said to me, “Mortal, these bones are the whole House of Israel. They say: Our bones are dried up, our hope is lost; we are cut off from life! Therefore prophesy to them and say: Thus says the Eternal God: I am going to open your graves, My people; I will life you out of your graves and bring you home to the land of Israel.
It wasn’t a literal resurrection of which Ezekiel spoke, it was directed at a weary, exiled people. He lived during the time of the Babylonian exile. The Jewish community around them thought they didn’t have the strength to wait for a return to the Promised Land. They, like the Ephraimites, couldn’t wait any longer. But Ezekiel promised them that God would restore their strength.
This, perhaps, is the message that we Reform Jews can take from the alternative text in the G’vurot. It is not a prayer, I believe, of literal resurrection. Rather, it is a prayer that allows us to acknowledge the times when we haven’t thought we had the strength to push forward, the times when we forgot what we needed to go ahead, like the Israelites that had forgotten Joseph’s bones, but then God provides us with a Serach daughter of Asher, someone or something that gives us the drive to push on. It took tremendous perseverance and fortitude for our ancestors to make their way out of Egypt. And we have to see ourselves as we, too, went free out of Egypt, we and our weary bones, and with that redemption were given new life. May we continue to find new strength and new life. Shabbat Shalom.
Bibliography
Barzilai, Gabby. Redemption, Resurrection, and Passover. Bar-Ilan University’s Parashat Hashavua Study Center, April 10, 2004.
Fishbane, Michael. The JPS Bible Commentary: Haftarot. Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society, 2002, pp. 426-430.
Gordon, Jonathan. On Viewing the Bones of Idealism. Union for Reform Judaism’s Torat Hayim/Living Torah, April 19, 2003.
Grushcow, Lisa. Parshat Beshallach: HUC Senior Sermon, January 24, 2002.
Romm, Ed. Shabbat Hol Hamoed Pesach. Jerusalem: The United Synagogue Conservative Yeshiva Haftarah Commentary, April 11, 2009.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
The Future of HUC-JIR
Over the course of recent weeks and months I have received numerous requests, both personal and general, to write to the leadership of HUC-JIR to voice my opinion regarding the future of the College-Institute. I have not ignored those requests; rather, I have wrestled with them. I would guess that a new request comes my way nearly every day. But I cannot write to the other leadership of the College-Institute to tell them what decision they should make.
Instead, I have chosen to write to let them know that I recognize how incredibly challenging and difficult the decisions are that lie before them. I cannot imagine being in their shoes, being faced with making choices that will impact the future of the College-Institute and of Reform Judaism. I recognize the strength, wisdom, and insight that they must have to make these choices and how heavy any change will weigh on their hearts. I may have loyalties to one campus, one program, or one opinion, but my own loyalties must be put aside for the sake of the institutions I support, work for, and believe in.
I have written not to tell them to preserve any one campus. Instead, I’ve written to let them know that they, the Board of Governors, and the leadership of Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion, have my unwavering support. I can only imagine the wrestling that will go on in the coming weeks to ensure the future of the movement I hold so dear. I trust that they will make this decision wisely, thoughtfully, and prayerfully. The conclusions they reach may likely be radical and unpopular, but so long as they ensure a vibrant and thriving institution for higher Jewish learning, for the training of the future leaders of Reform Judaism, then I have no doubt they will be the right decisions. I am grateful for the many ways in which the leadership of Reform Judaism and of the College-Institute give to our community and for being present and involved at such a critical moment in history for Reform Judaism.
Instead, I have chosen to write to let them know that I recognize how incredibly challenging and difficult the decisions are that lie before them. I cannot imagine being in their shoes, being faced with making choices that will impact the future of the College-Institute and of Reform Judaism. I recognize the strength, wisdom, and insight that they must have to make these choices and how heavy any change will weigh on their hearts. I may have loyalties to one campus, one program, or one opinion, but my own loyalties must be put aside for the sake of the institutions I support, work for, and believe in.
I have written not to tell them to preserve any one campus. Instead, I’ve written to let them know that they, the Board of Governors, and the leadership of Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion, have my unwavering support. I can only imagine the wrestling that will go on in the coming weeks to ensure the future of the movement I hold so dear. I trust that they will make this decision wisely, thoughtfully, and prayerfully. The conclusions they reach may likely be radical and unpopular, but so long as they ensure a vibrant and thriving institution for higher Jewish learning, for the training of the future leaders of Reform Judaism, then I have no doubt they will be the right decisions. I am grateful for the many ways in which the leadership of Reform Judaism and of the College-Institute give to our community and for being present and involved at such a critical moment in history for Reform Judaism.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Walking Judaism Street
Title inspired by Arnold Jacob Wolf’s article in The Condition of Jewish Belief, New York: The Macmillan Company, 1966, pp. 267-74.
I have the same conversation with myself around the third day of Passover every year: I could really go for a spicy tuna roll. Or maybe some salmon nigiri. Or even a cup of miso soup. But each year, I have to ignore my sushi craving. The reason is twofold: rice and soybeans. According to Ashkenazi custom, both rice and soybeans are considered hametz, forbidden foods during Passover. But for Sephardim, Jews whose practice originated in Spain, neither are forbidden. Among the Ashkenazi rabbis, the concern is that when rice or beans are ground into flour, they can be mistaken for other flours that are forbidden during Passover – wheat, barley, oats, and so forth. But the Sephardim have adhered to the notion that though ground rice or beans may look like wheat flour, they are, in fact, not wheat flour and are permitted. Each year I intend to make time to study the laws of Passover before Passover arrives so that I can make an educated decision about whether or not I will eat these foods that sit the fence, that the Sephardim eat but the Ashkenazim don’t. But each year because I haven’t made the time to learn, I forego the sushi, make myself a matzah pizza, and promise that the next year will be different.
Reform Jewish practice affords me the privilege of making a decision, even though I am not a Sephardic Jew, of observing Sephardic custom. I cannot blindly make that choice. It must be an informed choice, an educated decision. It must be choice through knowledge.
Reform Judaism was born of the Enlightenment in eighteenth century Europe. The Enlightenment was a movement with many aspects. It resulted in the creation of a middle class that had previously not existed; the spread of French language, literature and philosophy throughout Europe; the beginning of the Industrial Revolution; and the freedom to think and choose one’s own form of government, which led to both the French and American revolutions. It also resulted in the Western Jew leaving the ghetto to join the larger society. The question before each Jew who chose to step outside the ghetto was: Could one continue to be a Jew and still enjoy the benefits of modern society?[1]
Most people believe that the first movement in Judaism, the original Judaism, was Orthodoxy. Most people would be mistaken. Prior to the Enlightenment, prior to the modern era, Judaism existed in isolated communities. Scholars and rabbis versed in Torah and rabbinic law guided their communities along similar lines, yet separate from other Jewish communities from the destruction of the Temple in the year 70 until the Enlightenment.
And then things changed. A group of German Jews had a notion of changing Judaism to fit the modern times, they sought to reform Judaism. The response to the changes they made eventually became Orthodox Judaism. “Orthodoxy and Reform are fraternal twins,” writes Martin Cohen, “to help Judaism cope with the dissolution of the organic Jewish community in the modern world.” Both rebelled against the Judaism that predated them. Orthodoxy said, “No more change,” while Reform insisted upon ongoing change.[2]
The early Reformers made two serious errors in the early stages of our movement. The first was that they made it appear as though nonobservance of the commandments was one of the requirements of Reform Judaism. In the 1885 Pittsburgh Platform, the founders of our movement wrote, “We accept as binding only [the] moral laws and maintain only such ceremonies as elevate and sanctify our lives, but reject all such as are not adapted to the views and habits of modern civilization.”[3] Taking this stand, the early Reformers were no less rigid than those who required strict observance of all of the commandments.
For Reform Judaism to be liberal, it must be up to the individual to decide what is binding. And this was where the early Reformers made their second mistake. By focusing only on the moral laws, the early Reformers failed to teach the other half of tradition from which we may make an informed choice. “We no longer believe, [though,] that the European Jew becomes a better European or the American Jew a better American by shedding his Jewish particularism.”[4] Bible and Talmud, midrash and philosophy, Kabbalah and the Jewish legal codes are the possession of all Jews and we are all commanded to engage in the study of Torah. As Jakob Petuchowski writes, “A true Reform Judaism, therefore, and one worthy of its name, would have to cultivate the study of the totality of our tradition, applying it to a set of criteria to guide the modern Jew in making his selections from it.”[5]
So, if everything is up for grabs, if we truly believe as Reform Jews in choice through knowledge, how do we know what God has commanded us? What is the value of Jewish law if any of it could end up on the cutting room floor?
It is said that we speak to God through prayer and God speaks to us through study. “If we want our Reform religious culture to be an authentically Jewish one, we must become students of the halakhah, [Jewish law,] the literature that our people have produced in their ongoing effort to understand God’s will for their lives.”[6] It is possible that study may lead to nonobservance, but it would be nonobservance based upon careful evaluation, not ignorance.
Our tradition teaches us that there are 613 commandments. In the Talmud, Rabbi Simlai gives us this number,[7] but it isn’t until a half a millennium later that Maimonides gives us a definitive list of those mitzvot. Until then, a variety of comprehensive lists existed. No one observes all of the commandments. No one can observe all of the commandments. There are numerous commandments that are related to the Temple in Jerusalem that no longer stands or to the sacrificial system we no longer observe. Some are just for the priests and some are just for Jewish kings. “In other words, the 613 commandments—whatever they might be, and whatever enumeration of them we might choose to follow—were never meant to be observed by every Jew.”[8]
We often hear the claim that the Orthodox follow all of the commandments, while Reform Jews follow none. It is impossible for any Jew to follow all of the commandments. It is equally impossible for any Jew to reject them as a whole. If one loves his neighbor, he is observing a commandment. If he refrains from murder and theft, he is observing two more. If he pays his employees on time, returns lost items to their owners, honors his parents, three more. By leading an ethical and moral life, we will fulfill a great number of the commandments. Nonetheless, the Reform Jew maintains far fewer ritual and ceremonial observances than most Orthodox Jews.[9]
Unfortunately, many Reform Jews “regard Judaism as an elastically interpretable civil religion which permits just about anything short of the acceptance of Jesus as the Messiah.”[10] But there are bounds on the choices we can make. Our sacred tradition has always employed change, reform, in Jewish law as long as that change ensures that the values and ideals of Judaism’s revelation continue. Jewish law has always been supple, pliant, flexible. It allows us to apply Torah-values and Torah-perspectives to the changing demands of modern life.[11]
Dynamic change in Judaism is not only permissible, but demanded. In fact, change has always been a part of Jewish religious history. As Abraham Kohn writes, “If the institutions of Judaism are anything, they are not unchangeable, for they always kept pace with the civilization and the civil and social circumstances of the Jews.” Consider our worship. In Torah, we see a sacrificial system. By the time we get to the Psalms, King David has employed poetry and music. And it isn’t until King Solomon that there is even a fixed place, the Temple, for ritual observance. Judaism has always been Reform.
But we must truly understand the commandments to know which ones we will follow, omit, or change. “Regular and intelligent observance of tradition and rite enriches the spiritual life of adults and children alike.” Our movement has adhered to the moral and ethical message of the prophets, but we need to embrace custom and ritual alongside the work of social action.[12] “The purpose of mitzvot is to dedicate a moment and an act to God, thereby transfiguring life. Any mitzvah, then, which has the power regularly or occasionally, thus to become a window on the divine, a meeting place with God, ought to be observed by the Jew who believes in … God.”[13]
We can only understand what God wants of us when we understand the relationship we have with God. The Covenant we have with God is a human relationship. There is give and take on both ends. We fulfill our end with actions that are appropriate for our relationship with God and it is God who is the measure by which we determine that appropriateness. It is also important to remember, as we learn about mitzvot and make determinations about our observance, that the Covenantal relationship we have is both historic and communal. Our decisions cannot be strictly personal and fleeting; tradition has to weigh in as well.[14]
One who wants to experience Israel’s Covenant with God will find more success in trying to live by the Covenant than in just thinking about it. Begin anywhere, one mitzvah at a time. Recite motzi before you eat or birkat ha-mazon after. Light the Sabbath candles in your home. Observe the yarzheit of a loved one. Say the Shehecheyanu at the first fallen leaves or the first snowflake. “When the inner embarrassment of doing a mitzvah as a mitzvah has been overcome, we can see what the reality of the covenanted existence might be and do one more.”[15]
So, how do we begin the process of determining which mitzvot we will try? Jakob Petuchowski outlines four criteria for modern Jewish observance. First: Determine the main message of Jewish tradition for the mitzvah you are contemplating. Second: Figure out how to make the traditional teaching regarding the mitzvah relevant in your own life and in the current situation in which you find yourself. Third: Listen to the voice of your own conscience on the matter. And fourth: Acknowledge your responsibility regarding the communal Covenant with God.
First: Determine the main message of tradition for the mitzvah you are contemplating. This level requires only investigation. There is no commitment yet. Consider the prohibition against work on the Sabbath. We might think it is a prohibition against heavy labor and that tasks that don’t require a great deal of effort would no longer be prohibited. So what if we go into the office and get a few things done? It won’t be labor intensive. But this isn’t the essence of the commandment prohibiting work on the Sabbath. Instead, it is intended to make us aware that all the creating we do over the course of the week pales in comparison to God’s work of Creation. Shabbat is about more than just relaxation and physical recuperation. It’s about acknowledging God’s presence in the world. Not stopping our ordinary activities to be aware of God’s presence doesn’t fulfill the main message of the tradition for not working on the Sabbath.
Second: Figure out how to make the traditional teaching regarding the mitzvah relevant in your own life and in the current situation in which you find yourself. This requires conscious application of Reform principle. Returning to the idea of Shabbat, Orthodox tradition prohibits driving a car on the Sabbath. But as a Reform Jew, in the modern context, does this make sense? Ask yourself: How can I best observe Shabbat, being aware of the distance between where I live and Temple. Does the use of my car help me to make Shabbat meaningful? Yes! By driving to Temple, I can be part of a larger community, rejoicing in the Sabbath, and acknowledging God’s presence in Creation.
Third: Listen to the voice of your own conscience on the matter. Leo Baeck said that the Reform Jew is characterized by the piety of the individual, not the piety of the environment. As individuals, we are free to participate in or refrain from any particular observance. It’s not enough to know why others observe a commandment, each of us must know why we, individually, want to observe or refrain. Ask yourself: why is making Shabbat a day distinguishable from the rest of the days of the week meaningful to me, personally?
Finally: Acknowledge your responsibility regarding the communal Covenant with God. “Everything that contributes to the survival and to the unity of the covenant community of Israel must be regarded as a religious commandment.” This means that the Reform Jew must observe some mitzvot that if his faith were only about himself, he wouldn’t observe, but because he is a member of a community, his observance is affected. Shabbat is Shabbat because it is the same for all Jews. We cannot choose to observe the Sabbath on another day of the week because it is more convenient. That would place us outside of the community of Israel and outside of the bounds of our covenant with God.
These four criteria, considering the purpose of the commandment, making the mitzvah relevant, listening to one’s conscience on the matter, and being aware of our place in a larger community, are the yardstick that the modern Jew must apply to his inherited tradition. But our religious faith and life require more than this measure of tradition. Intense Jewish education at all ages makes these criteria meaningful. And only an application of the criteria can make tradition itself come alive.[16]
I cannot tell you whether or not I will eat sushi during the week of Passover this year, but I can pledge to study before Passover arrives so that I can make an informed choice about my religious practice this year. One of the goals of Chabad is to get Jews to observe one more commandment. Just one more. The goal of the Reform rabbi is no different. Learn about one more commandment this year. Try to take on one more mitzvah or understand one that you’re already observing or avoiding. Make this year the year that you live up to the responsibility of being a Reform Jew and engaging in study so that you can make informed choices about your religious practice.
I’d like to conclude with a passage written by Arnold Jacob Wolf:
“My problem is that I cannot appropriate for myself all that God means, that I cannot comprehend it, that I sometimes cannot stand it, that I often cannot fulfill it.
“I try to walk the road of Judaism. Embedded in that road there are many jewels. One is marked ‘Sabbath’ and one ‘Civil Rights’ and one ‘Kashruth’ and one ‘Honor Your Parents’ and one ‘Study of Torah’ and one ‘You Shall Be Holy.’ There are at least 613 of them and they are of different sizes and shapes and weights. Some are light and easy for me to pick up and I pick them up. Some are too deeply embedded for me, so far at least, though I get a little stronger by trying to extricate the jewels as I walk the street. Some, perhaps, I shall never be able to pick up. I believe that God expects me to keep on walking Judaism Street and to carry away whatever I can of its commandments. I do not believe that He expects me to lift what I cannot, nor may I condemn my fellow Jew who may not be able to pick up even as much as I can.
“The various commandments look somewhat different to me. Some seem larger, some smaller, some important, some trivial. But there is no commandment that may not have its day, and no certainty that may not sometimes fall into doubt. I must not decide in advance what properly belongs on Judaism Street. Nor may I walk down the broad parkway only, but must follow the road even when it narrows and is no longer very easy to walk.
“Neither Orthodox nor liberal, I try to be a Jew.”[17]
L’Shanah Tovah Tikateivu – May you be inscribed for blessing in the Book of Life.
This was originally a Rosh Hashanah sermon delivered at Temple Israel, Minneapolis on Rosh Hashanah 5768 (September 13, 2007). Subsequently, I studied the laws of kitniyot (legumes prohibited during Passover by Ashkenazi custom). It became evident that Jewish practice has never been unilateral on the issue of kitniyot.
There were Talmudic arguments that not only supported the consumption of rice, but actually required it during Passover. In the Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Pesachim, the Sages discuss the Passover meal. In the Mishnah (Pes. 114a), the text tells us that the meal includes two cooked dishes. The Gemara (Pes. 114b) discusses the two cooked dishes. Rabbi Huna tells us that they are cooked beets and rice. Rava agrees with him. The Sages even go so far as to say that no one is concerned about that ruling of Rabbi Jochanan ben Nuri (Babylonian Talmud, Pesachim 35a), in which he teaches that rice is a species of grain and is prohibited on Passover.
In the 13th century CE, Rabbi Samuel of Falaise supported the custom of not eating kitniyot; however, he taught that it came from a mistake and prohibits food that had been permitted. Rabbenu Jeruham ben Meshullam in 14th century Provence indicates that following the custom of not eating kitniyot only makes observance and enjoyment of Passover more difficult.
In modern times, efforts have been made within the progressive movements to allow for kitniyot during Passover. Benjamin Mordecai Ben-Baruch argues for the sake of k'lal Yisrael, for the sake of Jewish unity, to incorporate kitniyot into Passover observance.
With all of this in mind, after thoughtful study, I made an informed choice to follow Sephardic custom during Passover. This past Passover was my second year following Sephardic custom and I believe that it has only enhanced my observance of the holiday, helping me celebrate our people's redemption and freedom.
[1] W. Gunther Plaut, The Rise of Reform New York: World Union for Progressive Judaism, Ltd., 1963, p. xiv.
[2] Martin A. Cohen, When Is Reform Judaism? Brooklyn, NY: Temple Beth Emeth, 1987, p. 14.
[3] Central Conference of American Rabbis, “The Pittsburgh Platform” 1885.
[4] Jakob J. Petuchowski, “Some Criteria for Modern Jewish Observance,” Contemporary Jewish Theology: A Reader, ed., Elliot N. Dorff and Louis E. Newman, New York: Oxford University Press, 1999, p. 294.
[5] Ibid, p. 295.
[6] Mark Washofsky, “Solomon B. Freehof and Reform Halakhah,” The Chronicle, Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion, 2007 Issue 69, p. 10.
[7] Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Makkot 23b.
[8] Petuchowski, p. 292.
[9] Ibid, pp. 292-3.
[10] Cohen, p. 10.
[11] Ibid, pp. 12, 18.
[12] Bernard J. Bamberger, “Bernard J. Bamberger,” The Condition of Jewish Belief, New York: The Macmillan Company, 1966, p. 21.
[13] Herman E. Schaalman, “Herman E. Schaalman,” The Condition of Jewish Belief, New York: The Macmillan Company, 1966, p. 203.
[14] Eugene B. Borowitz, “Eugene B. Borowitz,” The Condition of Jewish Belief, New York: The Macmillan Company, 1966, p. 37.
[15] Ibid, p. 38
[16] Petuchowski, pp. 295-8.
[17] Arnold J. Wolf, “Arnold J. Wolf,” The Condition of Jewish Belief, New York: The Macmillan Company, 1966, pp. 268-9.
I have the same conversation with myself around the third day of Passover every year: I could really go for a spicy tuna roll. Or maybe some salmon nigiri. Or even a cup of miso soup. But each year, I have to ignore my sushi craving. The reason is twofold: rice and soybeans. According to Ashkenazi custom, both rice and soybeans are considered hametz, forbidden foods during Passover. But for Sephardim, Jews whose practice originated in Spain, neither are forbidden. Among the Ashkenazi rabbis, the concern is that when rice or beans are ground into flour, they can be mistaken for other flours that are forbidden during Passover – wheat, barley, oats, and so forth. But the Sephardim have adhered to the notion that though ground rice or beans may look like wheat flour, they are, in fact, not wheat flour and are permitted. Each year I intend to make time to study the laws of Passover before Passover arrives so that I can make an educated decision about whether or not I will eat these foods that sit the fence, that the Sephardim eat but the Ashkenazim don’t. But each year because I haven’t made the time to learn, I forego the sushi, make myself a matzah pizza, and promise that the next year will be different.
Reform Jewish practice affords me the privilege of making a decision, even though I am not a Sephardic Jew, of observing Sephardic custom. I cannot blindly make that choice. It must be an informed choice, an educated decision. It must be choice through knowledge.
Reform Judaism was born of the Enlightenment in eighteenth century Europe. The Enlightenment was a movement with many aspects. It resulted in the creation of a middle class that had previously not existed; the spread of French language, literature and philosophy throughout Europe; the beginning of the Industrial Revolution; and the freedom to think and choose one’s own form of government, which led to both the French and American revolutions. It also resulted in the Western Jew leaving the ghetto to join the larger society. The question before each Jew who chose to step outside the ghetto was: Could one continue to be a Jew and still enjoy the benefits of modern society?[1]
Most people believe that the first movement in Judaism, the original Judaism, was Orthodoxy. Most people would be mistaken. Prior to the Enlightenment, prior to the modern era, Judaism existed in isolated communities. Scholars and rabbis versed in Torah and rabbinic law guided their communities along similar lines, yet separate from other Jewish communities from the destruction of the Temple in the year 70 until the Enlightenment.
And then things changed. A group of German Jews had a notion of changing Judaism to fit the modern times, they sought to reform Judaism. The response to the changes they made eventually became Orthodox Judaism. “Orthodoxy and Reform are fraternal twins,” writes Martin Cohen, “to help Judaism cope with the dissolution of the organic Jewish community in the modern world.” Both rebelled against the Judaism that predated them. Orthodoxy said, “No more change,” while Reform insisted upon ongoing change.[2]
The early Reformers made two serious errors in the early stages of our movement. The first was that they made it appear as though nonobservance of the commandments was one of the requirements of Reform Judaism. In the 1885 Pittsburgh Platform, the founders of our movement wrote, “We accept as binding only [the] moral laws and maintain only such ceremonies as elevate and sanctify our lives, but reject all such as are not adapted to the views and habits of modern civilization.”[3] Taking this stand, the early Reformers were no less rigid than those who required strict observance of all of the commandments.
For Reform Judaism to be liberal, it must be up to the individual to decide what is binding. And this was where the early Reformers made their second mistake. By focusing only on the moral laws, the early Reformers failed to teach the other half of tradition from which we may make an informed choice. “We no longer believe, [though,] that the European Jew becomes a better European or the American Jew a better American by shedding his Jewish particularism.”[4] Bible and Talmud, midrash and philosophy, Kabbalah and the Jewish legal codes are the possession of all Jews and we are all commanded to engage in the study of Torah. As Jakob Petuchowski writes, “A true Reform Judaism, therefore, and one worthy of its name, would have to cultivate the study of the totality of our tradition, applying it to a set of criteria to guide the modern Jew in making his selections from it.”[5]
So, if everything is up for grabs, if we truly believe as Reform Jews in choice through knowledge, how do we know what God has commanded us? What is the value of Jewish law if any of it could end up on the cutting room floor?
It is said that we speak to God through prayer and God speaks to us through study. “If we want our Reform religious culture to be an authentically Jewish one, we must become students of the halakhah, [Jewish law,] the literature that our people have produced in their ongoing effort to understand God’s will for their lives.”[6] It is possible that study may lead to nonobservance, but it would be nonobservance based upon careful evaluation, not ignorance.
Our tradition teaches us that there are 613 commandments. In the Talmud, Rabbi Simlai gives us this number,[7] but it isn’t until a half a millennium later that Maimonides gives us a definitive list of those mitzvot. Until then, a variety of comprehensive lists existed. No one observes all of the commandments. No one can observe all of the commandments. There are numerous commandments that are related to the Temple in Jerusalem that no longer stands or to the sacrificial system we no longer observe. Some are just for the priests and some are just for Jewish kings. “In other words, the 613 commandments—whatever they might be, and whatever enumeration of them we might choose to follow—were never meant to be observed by every Jew.”[8]
We often hear the claim that the Orthodox follow all of the commandments, while Reform Jews follow none. It is impossible for any Jew to follow all of the commandments. It is equally impossible for any Jew to reject them as a whole. If one loves his neighbor, he is observing a commandment. If he refrains from murder and theft, he is observing two more. If he pays his employees on time, returns lost items to their owners, honors his parents, three more. By leading an ethical and moral life, we will fulfill a great number of the commandments. Nonetheless, the Reform Jew maintains far fewer ritual and ceremonial observances than most Orthodox Jews.[9]
Unfortunately, many Reform Jews “regard Judaism as an elastically interpretable civil religion which permits just about anything short of the acceptance of Jesus as the Messiah.”[10] But there are bounds on the choices we can make. Our sacred tradition has always employed change, reform, in Jewish law as long as that change ensures that the values and ideals of Judaism’s revelation continue. Jewish law has always been supple, pliant, flexible. It allows us to apply Torah-values and Torah-perspectives to the changing demands of modern life.[11]
Dynamic change in Judaism is not only permissible, but demanded. In fact, change has always been a part of Jewish religious history. As Abraham Kohn writes, “If the institutions of Judaism are anything, they are not unchangeable, for they always kept pace with the civilization and the civil and social circumstances of the Jews.” Consider our worship. In Torah, we see a sacrificial system. By the time we get to the Psalms, King David has employed poetry and music. And it isn’t until King Solomon that there is even a fixed place, the Temple, for ritual observance. Judaism has always been Reform.
But we must truly understand the commandments to know which ones we will follow, omit, or change. “Regular and intelligent observance of tradition and rite enriches the spiritual life of adults and children alike.” Our movement has adhered to the moral and ethical message of the prophets, but we need to embrace custom and ritual alongside the work of social action.[12] “The purpose of mitzvot is to dedicate a moment and an act to God, thereby transfiguring life. Any mitzvah, then, which has the power regularly or occasionally, thus to become a window on the divine, a meeting place with God, ought to be observed by the Jew who believes in … God.”[13]
We can only understand what God wants of us when we understand the relationship we have with God. The Covenant we have with God is a human relationship. There is give and take on both ends. We fulfill our end with actions that are appropriate for our relationship with God and it is God who is the measure by which we determine that appropriateness. It is also important to remember, as we learn about mitzvot and make determinations about our observance, that the Covenantal relationship we have is both historic and communal. Our decisions cannot be strictly personal and fleeting; tradition has to weigh in as well.[14]
One who wants to experience Israel’s Covenant with God will find more success in trying to live by the Covenant than in just thinking about it. Begin anywhere, one mitzvah at a time. Recite motzi before you eat or birkat ha-mazon after. Light the Sabbath candles in your home. Observe the yarzheit of a loved one. Say the Shehecheyanu at the first fallen leaves or the first snowflake. “When the inner embarrassment of doing a mitzvah as a mitzvah has been overcome, we can see what the reality of the covenanted existence might be and do one more.”[15]
So, how do we begin the process of determining which mitzvot we will try? Jakob Petuchowski outlines four criteria for modern Jewish observance. First: Determine the main message of Jewish tradition for the mitzvah you are contemplating. Second: Figure out how to make the traditional teaching regarding the mitzvah relevant in your own life and in the current situation in which you find yourself. Third: Listen to the voice of your own conscience on the matter. And fourth: Acknowledge your responsibility regarding the communal Covenant with God.
First: Determine the main message of tradition for the mitzvah you are contemplating. This level requires only investigation. There is no commitment yet. Consider the prohibition against work on the Sabbath. We might think it is a prohibition against heavy labor and that tasks that don’t require a great deal of effort would no longer be prohibited. So what if we go into the office and get a few things done? It won’t be labor intensive. But this isn’t the essence of the commandment prohibiting work on the Sabbath. Instead, it is intended to make us aware that all the creating we do over the course of the week pales in comparison to God’s work of Creation. Shabbat is about more than just relaxation and physical recuperation. It’s about acknowledging God’s presence in the world. Not stopping our ordinary activities to be aware of God’s presence doesn’t fulfill the main message of the tradition for not working on the Sabbath.
Second: Figure out how to make the traditional teaching regarding the mitzvah relevant in your own life and in the current situation in which you find yourself. This requires conscious application of Reform principle. Returning to the idea of Shabbat, Orthodox tradition prohibits driving a car on the Sabbath. But as a Reform Jew, in the modern context, does this make sense? Ask yourself: How can I best observe Shabbat, being aware of the distance between where I live and Temple. Does the use of my car help me to make Shabbat meaningful? Yes! By driving to Temple, I can be part of a larger community, rejoicing in the Sabbath, and acknowledging God’s presence in Creation.
Third: Listen to the voice of your own conscience on the matter. Leo Baeck said that the Reform Jew is characterized by the piety of the individual, not the piety of the environment. As individuals, we are free to participate in or refrain from any particular observance. It’s not enough to know why others observe a commandment, each of us must know why we, individually, want to observe or refrain. Ask yourself: why is making Shabbat a day distinguishable from the rest of the days of the week meaningful to me, personally?
Finally: Acknowledge your responsibility regarding the communal Covenant with God. “Everything that contributes to the survival and to the unity of the covenant community of Israel must be regarded as a religious commandment.” This means that the Reform Jew must observe some mitzvot that if his faith were only about himself, he wouldn’t observe, but because he is a member of a community, his observance is affected. Shabbat is Shabbat because it is the same for all Jews. We cannot choose to observe the Sabbath on another day of the week because it is more convenient. That would place us outside of the community of Israel and outside of the bounds of our covenant with God.
These four criteria, considering the purpose of the commandment, making the mitzvah relevant, listening to one’s conscience on the matter, and being aware of our place in a larger community, are the yardstick that the modern Jew must apply to his inherited tradition. But our religious faith and life require more than this measure of tradition. Intense Jewish education at all ages makes these criteria meaningful. And only an application of the criteria can make tradition itself come alive.[16]
I cannot tell you whether or not I will eat sushi during the week of Passover this year, but I can pledge to study before Passover arrives so that I can make an informed choice about my religious practice this year. One of the goals of Chabad is to get Jews to observe one more commandment. Just one more. The goal of the Reform rabbi is no different. Learn about one more commandment this year. Try to take on one more mitzvah or understand one that you’re already observing or avoiding. Make this year the year that you live up to the responsibility of being a Reform Jew and engaging in study so that you can make informed choices about your religious practice.
I’d like to conclude with a passage written by Arnold Jacob Wolf:
“My problem is that I cannot appropriate for myself all that God means, that I cannot comprehend it, that I sometimes cannot stand it, that I often cannot fulfill it.
“I try to walk the road of Judaism. Embedded in that road there are many jewels. One is marked ‘Sabbath’ and one ‘Civil Rights’ and one ‘Kashruth’ and one ‘Honor Your Parents’ and one ‘Study of Torah’ and one ‘You Shall Be Holy.’ There are at least 613 of them and they are of different sizes and shapes and weights. Some are light and easy for me to pick up and I pick them up. Some are too deeply embedded for me, so far at least, though I get a little stronger by trying to extricate the jewels as I walk the street. Some, perhaps, I shall never be able to pick up. I believe that God expects me to keep on walking Judaism Street and to carry away whatever I can of its commandments. I do not believe that He expects me to lift what I cannot, nor may I condemn my fellow Jew who may not be able to pick up even as much as I can.
“The various commandments look somewhat different to me. Some seem larger, some smaller, some important, some trivial. But there is no commandment that may not have its day, and no certainty that may not sometimes fall into doubt. I must not decide in advance what properly belongs on Judaism Street. Nor may I walk down the broad parkway only, but must follow the road even when it narrows and is no longer very easy to walk.
“Neither Orthodox nor liberal, I try to be a Jew.”[17]
L’Shanah Tovah Tikateivu – May you be inscribed for blessing in the Book of Life.
This was originally a Rosh Hashanah sermon delivered at Temple Israel, Minneapolis on Rosh Hashanah 5768 (September 13, 2007). Subsequently, I studied the laws of kitniyot (legumes prohibited during Passover by Ashkenazi custom). It became evident that Jewish practice has never been unilateral on the issue of kitniyot.
There were Talmudic arguments that not only supported the consumption of rice, but actually required it during Passover. In the Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Pesachim, the Sages discuss the Passover meal. In the Mishnah (Pes. 114a), the text tells us that the meal includes two cooked dishes. The Gemara (Pes. 114b) discusses the two cooked dishes. Rabbi Huna tells us that they are cooked beets and rice. Rava agrees with him. The Sages even go so far as to say that no one is concerned about that ruling of Rabbi Jochanan ben Nuri (Babylonian Talmud, Pesachim 35a), in which he teaches that rice is a species of grain and is prohibited on Passover.
In the 13th century CE, Rabbi Samuel of Falaise supported the custom of not eating kitniyot; however, he taught that it came from a mistake and prohibits food that had been permitted. Rabbenu Jeruham ben Meshullam in 14th century Provence indicates that following the custom of not eating kitniyot only makes observance and enjoyment of Passover more difficult.
In modern times, efforts have been made within the progressive movements to allow for kitniyot during Passover. Benjamin Mordecai Ben-Baruch argues for the sake of k'lal Yisrael, for the sake of Jewish unity, to incorporate kitniyot into Passover observance.
With all of this in mind, after thoughtful study, I made an informed choice to follow Sephardic custom during Passover. This past Passover was my second year following Sephardic custom and I believe that it has only enhanced my observance of the holiday, helping me celebrate our people's redemption and freedom.
[1] W. Gunther Plaut, The Rise of Reform New York: World Union for Progressive Judaism, Ltd., 1963, p. xiv.
[2] Martin A. Cohen, When Is Reform Judaism? Brooklyn, NY: Temple Beth Emeth, 1987, p. 14.
[3] Central Conference of American Rabbis, “The Pittsburgh Platform” 1885.
[4] Jakob J. Petuchowski, “Some Criteria for Modern Jewish Observance,” Contemporary Jewish Theology: A Reader, ed., Elliot N. Dorff and Louis E. Newman, New York: Oxford University Press, 1999, p. 294.
[5] Ibid, p. 295.
[6] Mark Washofsky, “Solomon B. Freehof and Reform Halakhah,” The Chronicle, Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion, 2007 Issue 69, p. 10.
[7] Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Makkot 23b.
[8] Petuchowski, p. 292.
[9] Ibid, pp. 292-3.
[10] Cohen, p. 10.
[11] Ibid, pp. 12, 18.
[12] Bernard J. Bamberger, “Bernard J. Bamberger,” The Condition of Jewish Belief, New York: The Macmillan Company, 1966, p. 21.
[13] Herman E. Schaalman, “Herman E. Schaalman,” The Condition of Jewish Belief, New York: The Macmillan Company, 1966, p. 203.
[14] Eugene B. Borowitz, “Eugene B. Borowitz,” The Condition of Jewish Belief, New York: The Macmillan Company, 1966, p. 37.
[15] Ibid, p. 38
[16] Petuchowski, pp. 295-8.
[17] Arnold J. Wolf, “Arnold J. Wolf,” The Condition of Jewish Belief, New York: The Macmillan Company, 1966, pp. 268-9.
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