Kol Nidre Welcome 5777 (Oct. 11, 2016):
The word hayt for “sin” is spelled with the letter Aleph at the end of the word. This is interesting because Aleph is a silent letter, and does not even get pronounced. So, a student of the Baal Shem Tov asked his Master why the silent Aleph is even in the word. The Baal Shem Tov responded, “We all know that Alef is the first letter of the alphabet and represents the first cause, root, and essence of all existence – God. The letter Aleph is silent in the word for sin in order to teach us that when a person commits a hayt it is a sign that God’s Presence is not being ‘pronounced’ in his life. The sinner has temporarily forgotten the Aleph of the World.”
May this moment, this long moment of Yom Kippur provide for each of us the space in time to discover the Alef.
Tuesday, October 11, 2016
Monday, October 3, 2016
Rosh Hashanah Morning 5777 - Temple Bat Yam, South Lake Tahoe, CA
See to it that You do not Destroy It, for If You Do, There Will be no one Else to Repair it!
In each generation, there are traits that remind us of the past. Sometimes it is when the ginger hair appears that has skipped a generation or two, perhaps a new baby with hazel eyes and we wonder where they came from. Even more powerful is when it stretches beyond the visible, and physical characteristics, behaviors or certain acumen are displayed. Think about a child, a nephew or niece, perhaps a cousin who talks just like a grandparent. Consider the traits we hold that at different moments remind us of another member of our families. The strong Ashkenazic tradition of naming our children for past generations is almost a hope for those strong and positive character traits to manifest in the new life, in the babies we welcome to the world. In each instance, such attributes serve as a legacy in the chain of generations in our families, they become part of the legacy that links us to our past. Yet we need not leave all to the chance of genetics and nature, but we ought to consider the nurturing environments we create. There is a rich tradition in Judaism of imparting to future generations the values we pray will endure. From Jacob’s dying wishes to his children, the tribes of Israel, to Moses’ charge to the Israelites as he nears his death and beyond, we recognize the power of passing on more than eye color and a certain gate in our step. Perhaps the import of this practice is embedded deep in our own people’s story. That first moment we stood as one people ready to accept our role as Am Yisrael holds the roots of this practice. There is a great Midrash that brings into focus the exchange of Torah to us at Sinai:
When God was finally ready to give the Torah to the Israelites, the heavenly court expressed concern, and God agreed. How could we trust human beings with the Torah, they wondered. Finally God recognized that the destiny of Torah itself, its purpose was to be a guide for all humanity. So God invites the Israelites to offer guarantors for Torah. We responded, “Our ancestors will serve as our guarantors.” God responds that they will not suffice, rather bring me good guarantors. “Our prophets will be our guarantors,” we responded. Again, God retorted that the prophets are not sufficient either, bring me good guarantors. We came back saying, “Indeed, our children will be our guarantors.” The Holy One said: Your children are good guarantors. For their sake I give the Torah to you.”
Not only is Torah the text of the ethical will we pass from one generation to the next, but even more Torah has been entrusted to us to ensure there will always be children to inherit it, children to continue our stewardship of the Earth - our common home. The most profound gift we pass to future generations is the Earth and it follows that we must be sure that what we hand over is in good health.
It may sound like the beginning of a joke, but on this Rosh Hashanah, let me quote the Pope. In his groundbreaking encyclical document, Laudato Si - On Care for our Common Home, he wrote about the common good that, “Once we start to think about the kind of world we are leaving to future generations, we look at things differently; we realize that the world is a gift which we have freely received and must share with others.” There is an undeniable link from one generation to the next in the way we live on this Earth. It is time that we take much more seriously this responsibility. We have received the gift of this common home, our planet, and the way we embrace and utilize the resources of it will forever be part of the ethical will we bequeath to our children’s children and beyond. Many of us are familiar with the great story from our Talmud about Honi the Circle Maker. The tale unfolds as Honi is walking along the road and comes across a man planting a tree. Honi inquires of him, “What kind of tree are you planting?” The man responds, “A Carob tree.” Honi presses further, “How many years will pass to see this tree bear fruit.” He answers, “Seventy years.” Honi says, “How is it that you will live seventy years to see the fruit of this tree.” The man responds, “I found carob trees in the world. Just as my ancestors planted for me, I plant for my children.” We must ask, “What are we planting for the future?” It must be more than our eye color, the shades of our skin and male pattern baldness!
It is clear that of the most pressing issues of justice in our world today is that of Climate Justice. The preponderance of evidence teaches us that while climate behaves with an ebb and flow, there is a drastic impact our human actions have caused that has now, for multiple generations, altered our world. The effects are far reaching and daunting…even overwhelming. The native of this land, the Washoe have said, “The health of the land and the health of the people are tied together, and what happens to the land also happens to the people.” This is our challenge of today, this is the call of Torah to us in 5777 and beyond, it is to ensure the land we pass on is healthy, it is to ensure that the common home - Earth - we all inhabit can produce for all, it is about ensuring all humanity inherits a world we can all share - for humanity and the Earth are inextricably linked.
On Rosh Hashanah and on Yom Kippur, we are charged with the enormous task to understand the impacts of our own actions as individuals in the past year. We search our deeds, our behaviors and our relationships for moments when we could have reached higher. It is a time to reset our course in the year about to unfold. This recalibration requires a measure of sacrifice each and every year. Sometimes it is the challenge of seeking forgiveness and granting it. Other times we are struggling with unhealthy behaviors that affect our own bodies and souls…therefore inflicting those who love us. The issue of Climate Justice is not different, it demands so much of us as individuals within families, within communities and as part of the human race.
I cannot enumerate the countless ways our consumer choices can have an affect, however small or large, on the climate challenge. It is beyond this rabbi’s reach to explain the far-reaching impact of this crisis on the world’s poor, on the physical conditions of coastal cities and agricultural communities. The sacrifices required of us will, dare I dream…dare I pray, become, eventually, opportunities for a better world. However, the role of our faith is to guide, as Torah for which our children are the guarantors does, to guide us in responding with openness to what is possible. Our belief in a greater power, be it the Divine, be it collective community, must be the role of faith in this pressing challenge.
Tim DeChristopher, a Master of Divinity student at Harvard Divinity School argues, “I am convinced that our greatest vulnerabilities to climate change are not physical conditions like low-lying cities, but rather our social divisions—classism, racism, and sexism. These divisions make us vulnerable to responding to crisis with fear and hatred rather than solidarity, with competition rather than cooperation. These are the scenarios that turn hardship to horror. This means that even as we revolutionize our energy, economic, and political systems, we must do so in a way that also dismantles classism, white supremacy, patriarchy, xenophobia, and other social evils.”
Just as when we stood at Sinai and offered our children as the guarantors for Torah, we are in such a moment when we must consider this choice again. For our common home to endure, to continue to breath as we yearn for its clean air, water and land, we must share this responsibility beyond the borders and boundaries that divide. In the Midrash on Leviticus we understand this reality: Some people were sitting in a ship. One of them took a drill and began to bore a hole in the ship under where he was sitting. His companions said, what are you sitting and doing? He said, what has it to do with you? I am boring a hole under my part of the ship. They said, but the water is coming in and sinking the ship under us all.
Knowing that this is a shared challenge for all of humanity is the first sacrifice we must all make moving forward. At the most basic level, what we all have in common is this planet, our Earth. And while we only live for a blink in the eye of geologic time, our children are our guarantors. This alone, I believe, forces us to re-examine what divides and move past these barriers. It demands of us to seek out partners to educate us about what more we can, and must do. It is about building relationships that become strong enough to effect change and to create the necessary policy to address climate change. The Citizen’s Climate Lobby is a non-profit, non-partisan, grassroots advice organization focused on national policies to address such change. It’s mission includes building upon shared values rather than divides.
This day, Rosh Hashanah, is called Yom HaRat HaOlam - The Birthday of the World. Let us celebrate this anniversary of the world’s birth with a commitment to learn more, to care for our common human home and to build the necessary relationships to effect change.
A member of our TBY family, Patricia Sussman, is engaged in our local chapter of the Citizen’s Climate Lobby. She wants us all to know that at whatever level each of us can take on, there are opportunities. She has taught me that Citizen’s Climate Lobby, or CCL, is an international organization with local chapters, one here in the South Shore community. Their major mission is to adopt a plan which requires Congressional support to reduce carbon emissions, creates jobs and can spark the economy by helping householders offset expenses. Strategies like this one inspire energy conservation, investment and jobs in alternative energies - benefiting our economy and ultimately, helping to preserve the delicate balance of life on Earth. The CCL has a solution, they have tools to help us understand and a marketing plan to influence our representatives.
You can engage in the local chapter and inspire others by helping CCL bring about these national and international policy shifts, or even locally. Their local efforts are in relationship with our local government: Our public utility districts, the city council and county to implement climate friendly practices. This includes seeing current projects and plans that are overdue towards fruition to make our community a model of stewardship and inspire those with climate conscious ideals towards leadership at this local level.
And those truly passionate and looking for even more opportunities, the CCL can help you become a champion of something in the works already or own an effort that is sidelined waiting for your leadership.
From a small commitment to becoming a leader within CCL, we all can, and have a Jewish responsibility…a human responsibility, to ensure the world, our common human home is healthy. In the first chapters of Genesis, we learn about the creation of the world. At some moments, God calls the works Tov - Good, even at the conclusion, on the sixth day, God beholds the works of creation and says, Hineh Tov Meod - This is Very Good! Let us make sure our world continues to become the “tov” - the good God calls our world at its beginning.
This summer a student of mine researched the meaning and history of Jewish art. In an amazingly articulate expression of what he learned, he claimed that creation is God’s work of art. Taking it further, this work of art is the Earth we inhabit, the world for which we are stewards and the home we share with all humanity. Its beauty is seen and felt throughout our lives, yet we are called to action. The action of raising our common voice to protect this original work of art.
In the Book of Ecclesiastes, we read, “Consider the work of God; for who can make that straight, which He has made crooked?” To this the rabbis respond in the Midrash, “When God created the first human beings, God led them around the Garden of Eden and said: Look at my works! See how beautiful they are - how excellent! For your sake I created them all. See to it that you do not spoil My world: For if you do, there will be no one else to repair it.”
In this year, 5777, on this Rosh Hashanah, let us all commit to learn more, to care for our common human home and to build the necessary relationships to effect change, for if we don’t, there will be no one else to repair it.
Shanah Tovah U’Mitukah
See to it that You do not Destroy It, for If You Do, There Will be no one Else to Repair it!
In each generation, there are traits that remind us of the past. Sometimes it is when the ginger hair appears that has skipped a generation or two, perhaps a new baby with hazel eyes and we wonder where they came from. Even more powerful is when it stretches beyond the visible, and physical characteristics, behaviors or certain acumen are displayed. Think about a child, a nephew or niece, perhaps a cousin who talks just like a grandparent. Consider the traits we hold that at different moments remind us of another member of our families. The strong Ashkenazic tradition of naming our children for past generations is almost a hope for those strong and positive character traits to manifest in the new life, in the babies we welcome to the world. In each instance, such attributes serve as a legacy in the chain of generations in our families, they become part of the legacy that links us to our past. Yet we need not leave all to the chance of genetics and nature, but we ought to consider the nurturing environments we create. There is a rich tradition in Judaism of imparting to future generations the values we pray will endure. From Jacob’s dying wishes to his children, the tribes of Israel, to Moses’ charge to the Israelites as he nears his death and beyond, we recognize the power of passing on more than eye color and a certain gate in our step. Perhaps the import of this practice is embedded deep in our own people’s story. That first moment we stood as one people ready to accept our role as Am Yisrael holds the roots of this practice. There is a great Midrash that brings into focus the exchange of Torah to us at Sinai:
When God was finally ready to give the Torah to the Israelites, the heavenly court expressed concern, and God agreed. How could we trust human beings with the Torah, they wondered. Finally God recognized that the destiny of Torah itself, its purpose was to be a guide for all humanity. So God invites the Israelites to offer guarantors for Torah. We responded, “Our ancestors will serve as our guarantors.” God responds that they will not suffice, rather bring me good guarantors. “Our prophets will be our guarantors,” we responded. Again, God retorted that the prophets are not sufficient either, bring me good guarantors. We came back saying, “Indeed, our children will be our guarantors.” The Holy One said: Your children are good guarantors. For their sake I give the Torah to you.”
Not only is Torah the text of the ethical will we pass from one generation to the next, but even more Torah has been entrusted to us to ensure there will always be children to inherit it, children to continue our stewardship of the Earth - our common home. The most profound gift we pass to future generations is the Earth and it follows that we must be sure that what we hand over is in good health.
It may sound like the beginning of a joke, but on this Rosh Hashanah, let me quote the Pope. In his groundbreaking encyclical document, Laudato Si - On Care for our Common Home, he wrote about the common good that, “Once we start to think about the kind of world we are leaving to future generations, we look at things differently; we realize that the world is a gift which we have freely received and must share with others.” There is an undeniable link from one generation to the next in the way we live on this Earth. It is time that we take much more seriously this responsibility. We have received the gift of this common home, our planet, and the way we embrace and utilize the resources of it will forever be part of the ethical will we bequeath to our children’s children and beyond. Many of us are familiar with the great story from our Talmud about Honi the Circle Maker. The tale unfolds as Honi is walking along the road and comes across a man planting a tree. Honi inquires of him, “What kind of tree are you planting?” The man responds, “A Carob tree.” Honi presses further, “How many years will pass to see this tree bear fruit.” He answers, “Seventy years.” Honi says, “How is it that you will live seventy years to see the fruit of this tree.” The man responds, “I found carob trees in the world. Just as my ancestors planted for me, I plant for my children.” We must ask, “What are we planting for the future?” It must be more than our eye color, the shades of our skin and male pattern baldness!
It is clear that of the most pressing issues of justice in our world today is that of Climate Justice. The preponderance of evidence teaches us that while climate behaves with an ebb and flow, there is a drastic impact our human actions have caused that has now, for multiple generations, altered our world. The effects are far reaching and daunting…even overwhelming. The native of this land, the Washoe have said, “The health of the land and the health of the people are tied together, and what happens to the land also happens to the people.” This is our challenge of today, this is the call of Torah to us in 5777 and beyond, it is to ensure the land we pass on is healthy, it is to ensure that the common home - Earth - we all inhabit can produce for all, it is about ensuring all humanity inherits a world we can all share - for humanity and the Earth are inextricably linked.
On Rosh Hashanah and on Yom Kippur, we are charged with the enormous task to understand the impacts of our own actions as individuals in the past year. We search our deeds, our behaviors and our relationships for moments when we could have reached higher. It is a time to reset our course in the year about to unfold. This recalibration requires a measure of sacrifice each and every year. Sometimes it is the challenge of seeking forgiveness and granting it. Other times we are struggling with unhealthy behaviors that affect our own bodies and souls…therefore inflicting those who love us. The issue of Climate Justice is not different, it demands so much of us as individuals within families, within communities and as part of the human race.
I cannot enumerate the countless ways our consumer choices can have an affect, however small or large, on the climate challenge. It is beyond this rabbi’s reach to explain the far-reaching impact of this crisis on the world’s poor, on the physical conditions of coastal cities and agricultural communities. The sacrifices required of us will, dare I dream…dare I pray, become, eventually, opportunities for a better world. However, the role of our faith is to guide, as Torah for which our children are the guarantors does, to guide us in responding with openness to what is possible. Our belief in a greater power, be it the Divine, be it collective community, must be the role of faith in this pressing challenge.
Tim DeChristopher, a Master of Divinity student at Harvard Divinity School argues, “I am convinced that our greatest vulnerabilities to climate change are not physical conditions like low-lying cities, but rather our social divisions—classism, racism, and sexism. These divisions make us vulnerable to responding to crisis with fear and hatred rather than solidarity, with competition rather than cooperation. These are the scenarios that turn hardship to horror. This means that even as we revolutionize our energy, economic, and political systems, we must do so in a way that also dismantles classism, white supremacy, patriarchy, xenophobia, and other social evils.”
Just as when we stood at Sinai and offered our children as the guarantors for Torah, we are in such a moment when we must consider this choice again. For our common home to endure, to continue to breath as we yearn for its clean air, water and land, we must share this responsibility beyond the borders and boundaries that divide. In the Midrash on Leviticus we understand this reality: Some people were sitting in a ship. One of them took a drill and began to bore a hole in the ship under where he was sitting. His companions said, what are you sitting and doing? He said, what has it to do with you? I am boring a hole under my part of the ship. They said, but the water is coming in and sinking the ship under us all.
Knowing that this is a shared challenge for all of humanity is the first sacrifice we must all make moving forward. At the most basic level, what we all have in common is this planet, our Earth. And while we only live for a blink in the eye of geologic time, our children are our guarantors. This alone, I believe, forces us to re-examine what divides and move past these barriers. It demands of us to seek out partners to educate us about what more we can, and must do. It is about building relationships that become strong enough to effect change and to create the necessary policy to address climate change. The Citizen’s Climate Lobby is a non-profit, non-partisan, grassroots advice organization focused on national policies to address such change. It’s mission includes building upon shared values rather than divides.
This day, Rosh Hashanah, is called Yom HaRat HaOlam - The Birthday of the World. Let us celebrate this anniversary of the world’s birth with a commitment to learn more, to care for our common human home and to build the necessary relationships to effect change.
A member of our TBY family, Patricia Sussman, is engaged in our local chapter of the Citizen’s Climate Lobby. She wants us all to know that at whatever level each of us can take on, there are opportunities. She has taught me that Citizen’s Climate Lobby, or CCL, is an international organization with local chapters, one here in the South Shore community. Their major mission is to adopt a plan which requires Congressional support to reduce carbon emissions, creates jobs and can spark the economy by helping householders offset expenses. Strategies like this one inspire energy conservation, investment and jobs in alternative energies - benefiting our economy and ultimately, helping to preserve the delicate balance of life on Earth. The CCL has a solution, they have tools to help us understand and a marketing plan to influence our representatives.
You can engage in the local chapter and inspire others by helping CCL bring about these national and international policy shifts, or even locally. Their local efforts are in relationship with our local government: Our public utility districts, the city council and county to implement climate friendly practices. This includes seeing current projects and plans that are overdue towards fruition to make our community a model of stewardship and inspire those with climate conscious ideals towards leadership at this local level.
And those truly passionate and looking for even more opportunities, the CCL can help you become a champion of something in the works already or own an effort that is sidelined waiting for your leadership.
From a small commitment to becoming a leader within CCL, we all can, and have a Jewish responsibility…a human responsibility, to ensure the world, our common human home is healthy. In the first chapters of Genesis, we learn about the creation of the world. At some moments, God calls the works Tov - Good, even at the conclusion, on the sixth day, God beholds the works of creation and says, Hineh Tov Meod - This is Very Good! Let us make sure our world continues to become the “tov” - the good God calls our world at its beginning.
This summer a student of mine researched the meaning and history of Jewish art. In an amazingly articulate expression of what he learned, he claimed that creation is God’s work of art. Taking it further, this work of art is the Earth we inhabit, the world for which we are stewards and the home we share with all humanity. Its beauty is seen and felt throughout our lives, yet we are called to action. The action of raising our common voice to protect this original work of art.
In the Book of Ecclesiastes, we read, “Consider the work of God; for who can make that straight, which He has made crooked?” To this the rabbis respond in the Midrash, “When God created the first human beings, God led them around the Garden of Eden and said: Look at my works! See how beautiful they are - how excellent! For your sake I created them all. See to it that you do not spoil My world: For if you do, there will be no one else to repair it.”
In this year, 5777, on this Rosh Hashanah, let us all commit to learn more, to care for our common human home and to build the necessary relationships to effect change, for if we don’t, there will be no one else to repair it.
Shanah Tovah U’Mitukah
Yom Harat HaOlam - The Celebration of our World
To celebrate is to honor. Today is the celebration of the anniversary of the Creation of the World. Whatever we believe about the origins of our amazing planet, we ought to celebrate its existence. In that celebration, we ought to honor it too, we are charged to recognize our role as stewards and caretakers of our planetary home. This is no easy task, for we share the gift of our Earth with more than seven billion others. If we think getting along with our neighbors is difficult, what about our partners in our stewardship of the Earth? Yom Harat HaOlam - The Day the World was Created is one name for this day, Rosh Hashanah. This is our opportunity to set our intentions in caring for our world…perhaps the connection to this season is just that - working on that partnership with our fellow stewards, our fellow human beings - overcoming the barriers that separate us to ensure we continue to have something to celebrate. And in those connections, in recognition of the world we are blessed to inhabit, we can discover a way to care for our shared home.
Shanah Tovah,
Rabbi Evon
To celebrate is to honor. Today is the celebration of the anniversary of the Creation of the World. Whatever we believe about the origins of our amazing planet, we ought to celebrate its existence. In that celebration, we ought to honor it too, we are charged to recognize our role as stewards and caretakers of our planetary home. This is no easy task, for we share the gift of our Earth with more than seven billion others. If we think getting along with our neighbors is difficult, what about our partners in our stewardship of the Earth? Yom Harat HaOlam - The Day the World was Created is one name for this day, Rosh Hashanah. This is our opportunity to set our intentions in caring for our world…perhaps the connection to this season is just that - working on that partnership with our fellow stewards, our fellow human beings - overcoming the barriers that separate us to ensure we continue to have something to celebrate. And in those connections, in recognition of the world we are blessed to inhabit, we can discover a way to care for our shared home.
Shanah Tovah,
Rabbi Evon
A Welcome for Rosh Hashanah Morning
There is a fellow who owns a jewelry store in Israel. One day a nine year old girl walked into the store and said, "I am here to buy a bracelet." She looked through the glass cases and pointed to a bracelet that was $3,000. The man behind the counter asked her, "You want to buy that bracelet?"
"Yes," she replied.
"Wow, you have very good taste. Who do you want to buy it for?"
"For my older sister."
"Oh that is so nice!" the storekeeper replied. "Why do you want to buy your older sister this bracelet?” "Because I don't have a mother or father," the little girl said, "and my older sister takes care of us. So we want to buy her a present, and I'm willing to pay for it." She pulled out of her pocket a whole bunch of coins that totaled just under eight shekels, a little less than two dollars.
The fellow says, "Wow! That's exactly what the bracelet costs!" While wrapping up the bracelet he said to the girl, "You write a card to your sister while I wrap the bracelet." He finished wrapping the bracelet, wiped away his tears, and handed the little girl the bracelet. A few hours later the older sister entered the store. "I'm terribly embarrassed," she said. "My sister should not have come here. She shouldn't have taken it without paying." "What are you talking about?" the storekeeper asked. "What do you mean? This bracelet costs thousands of dollars. My little sister doesn't have thousands of dollars - she doesn't even have ten dollars! Obviously she didn't pay for it.” "You couldn't be more wrong," the storekeeper replied. "She paid me in full. She paid seven shekel, eighty agurot, and a broken heart. I want to tell you something. I am a widower. I lost my wife a number of years ago. People come into my store every single day. They come in and buy expensive pieces of jewelry, and all these people can afford it.
When your sister walked in, for the first time in so very long since my wife had died, I once again felt what love means."
He gave her the bracelet and wished her well.
Dear friends, this Rosh Hashanah we come before Almighty God. With sincerity, we express our devotion and dedication. We recommit and renew our relationship with the Divine, the Mystery of Creation. We empty out our pockets and try to give the little we have. With a broken heart we resolve to do a bit more. We say, "I'll pick up the phone and call someone who is lonely. I will study some Torah daily. I will be more scrupulous about my observance, etc. etc."
And, like the store owner, God sees our devotion and says, "You know what? You have touched my heart. I want you to be blessed with a sparkling year of blessings.
May each of us go to great lengths at this season of renewal and when our efforts reach their capacity, may we share our brokenness, so that we can begin to be mended for the New Year! Shanah Tovah.
Rabbi Evon
There is a fellow who owns a jewelry store in Israel. One day a nine year old girl walked into the store and said, "I am here to buy a bracelet." She looked through the glass cases and pointed to a bracelet that was $3,000. The man behind the counter asked her, "You want to buy that bracelet?"
"Yes," she replied.
"Wow, you have very good taste. Who do you want to buy it for?"
"For my older sister."
"Oh that is so nice!" the storekeeper replied. "Why do you want to buy your older sister this bracelet?” "Because I don't have a mother or father," the little girl said, "and my older sister takes care of us. So we want to buy her a present, and I'm willing to pay for it." She pulled out of her pocket a whole bunch of coins that totaled just under eight shekels, a little less than two dollars.
The fellow says, "Wow! That's exactly what the bracelet costs!" While wrapping up the bracelet he said to the girl, "You write a card to your sister while I wrap the bracelet." He finished wrapping the bracelet, wiped away his tears, and handed the little girl the bracelet. A few hours later the older sister entered the store. "I'm terribly embarrassed," she said. "My sister should not have come here. She shouldn't have taken it without paying." "What are you talking about?" the storekeeper asked. "What do you mean? This bracelet costs thousands of dollars. My little sister doesn't have thousands of dollars - she doesn't even have ten dollars! Obviously she didn't pay for it.” "You couldn't be more wrong," the storekeeper replied. "She paid me in full. She paid seven shekel, eighty agurot, and a broken heart. I want to tell you something. I am a widower. I lost my wife a number of years ago. People come into my store every single day. They come in and buy expensive pieces of jewelry, and all these people can afford it.
When your sister walked in, for the first time in so very long since my wife had died, I once again felt what love means."
He gave her the bracelet and wished her well.
Dear friends, this Rosh Hashanah we come before Almighty God. With sincerity, we express our devotion and dedication. We recommit and renew our relationship with the Divine, the Mystery of Creation. We empty out our pockets and try to give the little we have. With a broken heart we resolve to do a bit more. We say, "I'll pick up the phone and call someone who is lonely. I will study some Torah daily. I will be more scrupulous about my observance, etc. etc."
And, like the store owner, God sees our devotion and says, "You know what? You have touched my heart. I want you to be blessed with a sparkling year of blessings.
May each of us go to great lengths at this season of renewal and when our efforts reach their capacity, may we share our brokenness, so that we can begin to be mended for the New Year! Shanah Tovah.
Rabbi Evon
Sunday, October 2, 2016
Erev Rosh Hashanah 5777 - Temple Bat Yam, South Lake Tahoe, CA
You Can’t Do it All! And You Can Do a Lot!
It was just over a week ago that my dear friend, whom many of you know, Rabbi Ken Kanter called to wish me a Shabbat Shalom. As we chatted, he asked how my writing was coming along for, well, for tonight. I said: I haven’t written a word yet….just staring at the computer. Then he asked, “Well, what are you trying to write about?” To which I responded: Focus! While this struggle was my own in the moment, it certainly pervades all our lives, our world. We are constantly struggling to put the right attention where and when it is most needed and that’s what these days of awe are about.
I should say that in that particular moment, I was not simply staring at a blank screen. I was engaged in the emails landing in my inbox. There was a list of phone calls I was considering returning, I was readying for the Shabbat celebration we had approaching with one of our young people becoming Bar Mitzvah. Oh yeah, I of course always have one chief procrastination activity going on too and at that moment, and since we are in the season of confession, I was cycling our winter jackets and ski pants for their yearly wash and waterproofing…priorities you know! I am sure, at least I hope, I’m not alone in that there are always many things on our plates vying for our attention.
There is a Chasidic teaching from the 18th century that occupies page three of our Machzor, the first entry of the meditations for the High Holy Days. It teaches us, “Just as the hand, held before the eye, can hide the tallest mountain, so the routine of everyday life can keep us from seeing the vast radiance and the secret wonders that fill the world.” Too often, it is not the hand held before our eyes, but rather the countless tasks, obligations and varying commitments filling our lives that blur our vision.
It is fascinating to me that in a world full of buzz words like mission and vision; in a world inundated with strategic planning workshops we are simultaneously surrounded by the pressures of multitasking. Even more, we are oft praised for taking on so much even at the expense of excellence. It makes me think about the computer screen that sat before me when Rabbi Kanter called. I had at least seven windows open. One, my web browser, had at least five different tabs competing for my attention.
Lord Chesterfield wrote to his son in the 18th century, “There is time enough for everything in the course of the day, if you do but one thing at once, but there is not time enough in the year, if you will do two things at a time.” While this generational advice survives from three centuries ago, we seem to have found ourselves continuing this struggle.
I recently heard a story that brought this challenge into focus. It was a moment for a group of three close friends embarking on an adventure. They set out with only a rough plan to explore some of the natural world together - too experience the radiance and wonders of the world around us. As they focused more on their plan and set out, they engaged in a conversation of meaning about countless other opportunities they hoped to seize, but work, family….and life simply occupied their attention and often side-lining other adventures. Silence set in as one friend said to the others, “Well, you can’t do it all!” As their time together unfolded, they laughed, shared challenges and dreamt of future experiences…they did a lot in a short two day adventure…you could say they climbed mountains together. You see, for these three friends, packing their days, their lives with as much as possible was the normal pattern of life..trying to fit it all in, to take on more… Yet, that moment of silence spoke volumes. It was acquiescence at first, a reluctant acceptance that not all can be done. But this grew into a deep respect and even an appreciation for the moment - the adventure at hand. It was an appreciation for what IS possible. It was a moment of hyper focus to realize that trying to take on everything, to live multitasking, may actually be a barrier to seeing life, it blocks the vast radiance and secret wonders that fill our lives…our world.
From the technology that lives in our pockets and the connectivity it affords to the amazing opportunities we yearn for to fill our lives, the distractions are all around us.
We are all guilty of such inattention, or what the field of psychology has come to identify as “continuous partial attention”. We live this way throughout the year; at the High Holy Days, our attention seems to shift. Its not always perfect by any stretch of the imagination, yet at this season, we as Jews throughout the world gather at the same time to engage in what Joel Grishaver, a great Jewish teacher, has identified as a power of Judaism. He teaches that, “Judaism is about punctuating time, sometimes it is a comma, other times a period.” Rosh Hashanah through Yom Kippur, the Yamei HaTeshuvah - Days of Repentance, represent a full stop period. Their power lies in the opportunity we are given to begin the next phrase in the story of our lives, the life that will continue when the final blast of the shofar signals the conclusion of Yom Kippur ten days from now.
This evening we have opened a book we see only at this time of year. We engage in liturgy that uniquely punctuates this season. Perhaps these rituals are the black INK of the period punctuating our year. Rosh Hashanah, the anniversary of the creation of the world, the days between and Yom Kippur must serve as our frame or a model of focus. We often use this time to create our own Cheshbon HaNefesh - an accounting of our soul, better yet it is more wholesome to engage these days as what I want to call a Cheshbon HaChaaim - an accounting of life.
We must begin by asking what is the power in these days that not only draws us to this physical space but the spiritual space too. How do the words we utter at this time of year provide us this model? No, we certainly cannot do it all! And, we can accomplish a lot. The High Holy Days provide us the space in time to do this accounting of our lives, to enumerate the parts of our lives upon which we ought to focus and to ensure the days that follow become imbued with meaning; to find a meaning not diluted by the forces around us competing for our attention.
It is this time of year that, hopefully, our continuous partial attention becomes unified in the religious acts, the rituals that surround us. Rabbi David Wolpe describes a different kind of sight that allows us so see what is essential - to focus not on what we cannot do, but rather what we are and what we can accomplish. He calls it Religious Vision and he writes about it by stating:
Religious vision means seeing beyond what is apparent. There is a blessing we recite each morning, he continues, thanking God for the marvelous workings of the human body. The chatimah, the end of the blessing, declares that God is mafli la’asot, that in fashioning the human body, God acts wondrously, that God has fashioned miracles. The author of that ancient Talmudic blessing, Wolpe reminds us, was Rav Sheshet, who was blind. Imagine the vision granted to that sage. He did not see what was visible, but he saw what was essential. In his life and ours, Rav Sheshet let in the light.
So often, it is easier to allow our focus to be drawn to what seems most pressing, to lose sight of the grander picture, to lose focus on the grandeur of the gift life is. There is a great Chelm story, you know the village of fools, that points out the importance of looking in the right places. The tale begins: It was a great day when electricity came to Chelm. It was still a novelty and so there were only a few street lights on one side of the road. Still there was electricity. The people were very excited. They danced and shouted and rejoiced night after night. One night, Shmuel was dancing around and suddenly he heard some coins drop out of his pocket. He really needed that money the next day so he was very upset. He started looking around on the ground under the street light. His friend Yosef came over and asked him what he was doing. Shmuel explained that he had been dancing over on the other side of the road and his coins had dropped out. He really needed the money so he was searching for it. Yosef asked him why he was searching under the street light when he had been dancing on the other side of the road. Surely, the coins would not have rolled that far. Shmuel looked up at Yosef and explained. “The light is better over here.”
You see, when we put our attention, our continuous partial attention, where it may seem easiest, we fail to focus on the essential. This Cheshbon HaChaim - accounting of our lives is a process that shapes us and it is hard. It is this period in the punctuation of the year that enables us to shed light exactly where we need to look.
In the Mussar tradition of Judaism, the course of study that engages us in the traits of our souls, we are taught that life presents us the curriculum. Alan Morinis, director of the Mussar Institute, teaches about patience, that if we often find ourselves impatient and feel like we are always in the longest line in the grocery store, then perhaps patience should be the trait we ought to work on. Let us consider the tools of our tradition, rather than reinventing the wheel, what does Judaism in general and the High Holy Days in particular provide us to unify that attention, to focus on the essential.
We begin these days with the symbol of the ram’s horn. The shofar blasts serve to awaken us not only to the tasks at hand, but more importantly to the essential work of knowing ourselves. Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalomi zichrono livracha taught: Maimonides speaks of the shofar as an awakener. We want to awaken to a higher awareness that gives us a perspective from which we can see the flaws in the routines of life and how they can be improved. The word shofar can be derived from leshaper, fixing or improving. Shapr ma’asehem - repair our deeds: Shofarot encourages us to repair our deeds. The awareness provided by the shofar blast enhances our experience of this reflective day. What do we need to open not just our eyes, but the religious vision Wolpe speaks of, in order to discover what matters. These blasts awaken, they are the alarm clock of the year. And if you are like me, the snooze buttons are tempting, but we have three rounds of shofar blasts to ensure this opening act is heard…to ensure it is experienced.
Once awake, and following this opening act of the Holy Days, we embark together, carrying all the clutter, the emptiness that fills our lives, the countless distractions, in the form of bread crumbs at Tashlich. The symbolism of this act is profound as it begins these intermediate days before Yom Kippur. When we identify the essential, when we shed light where it is dark, we can begin to focus on what we can accomplish - to know we can do a lot.
As the crescendo of these Holy Days rings with the sounds of Kol Nidre, we declare our utmost intention to live to our expectations of ourselves. Yom Kippur leads us on a tour of our own mortality. It is the clearest illustration that, no we cannot do it all. The Day of Atonement’s power is not held in this valley, but in the realization of the life we are gifted. To recognize that we must account for our life by living a life focused on what matters, what must matter to us. When that day comes, we are engaged so deeply in the work of our individual lives, yet we conclude with a profound uttering of Psalm 118 with a twist. We evolve the words to become: Pitchu Lanu Sha’arei Tzedek - Open for US the Gates of Righteousness. In this petition for the gates to be open, it is our desire to focus our vision on the life ahead, to see what is possible by knowing what matters. It becomes a profound declaration that we account for our lives, that we enter the New Year collectively. Open for US, the gates of righteousness.
In combating the forces around us that compete for our attention, in striving to focus and to unify our continuous partial attention it becomes the people around us that share this life with us, that inhabit the world around us not alongside, but together.
Multi-tasking has become a quality to aim for, yet in learning more about multi-tasking, it is in fact a term from computer science and technology…not for humanity…. What we learn on this day, and must turn our attention to, is that perhaps we leave the multi-tasking and the immediate desire to do it all to the iPhones, computers and tablets. That we unite our continuous partial attention, using the tools of Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and the days in between to recognize while we can’t do it all, we sure can do a lot….with the right energy, priority and focus.
The High Holidays give us the time to learn and practice how to discover and own the times when we need to single-task, to focus. Multitasking will continue and always be part of our lives, yet let us use this time to hone our skills for focusing, for recognizing that while we cannot do it all, we CAN do a lot….
May we hear the blasts of the shofar and be ready. May we sift the deeds and experiences of the past year and find clarity, discover focus. And may we be ready to stand together at the conclusion of the Days of Awe focused, ready to single-task and discover just how much we can accomplish.
Shanah Tovah U’Mitukah,
Rabbi Evon
Shanah Tovah U"mitukah - On Opening Volley of What this Season is About:
In 1985, Abigail Van Buren, author of Dear Abby, whose real name was Pauline Phillips - a Jewish woman from Sioux City, IA, gave a piece of advice in the form of a question. The writer asked for Abby’s advice about giving up 7 years and returning to college in order to go on to medical school and become a physician, a life-long dream that had been sidetracked. The writer concluded: If I go back to college and get my degree, then go to medical school, do my internship and finally get into the actual practice of medicine, it will take me seven years! But, Abby, in seven years, I will be 43 years old. What do you think? To this Abby responded: And how old will you be in seven years if you don't do it?
When we stand here at the holidays, on the cusp of a New Year, we work hard to let go of past mistakes, we yearn for our better selves to be revealed. It is a time during which, maybe, we make excuses for times we did not achieve our desired ends and yet we are given the space, at the High Holidays, to be human. That is we are given this extended moment from Rosh Hashanah through Yom Kippur to move past the excuses and beyond the explanations and let go…to let go of missteps, of missed opportunities and of miscommunications. It is a time during which we use our past to illustrate the best picture of ourselves to move into this new year and beyond. May each of us find in the space of this sanctuary, in the space given to us in the liturgy on the pages and in our connection to those surrounding us in community and in love all we need to let go in order to become ourselves. Shanah Tovah!
Shanah Tovah,
Rabbi Evon
In 1985, Abigail Van Buren, author of Dear Abby, whose real name was Pauline Phillips - a Jewish woman from Sioux City, IA, gave a piece of advice in the form of a question. The writer asked for Abby’s advice about giving up 7 years and returning to college in order to go on to medical school and become a physician, a life-long dream that had been sidetracked. The writer concluded: If I go back to college and get my degree, then go to medical school, do my internship and finally get into the actual practice of medicine, it will take me seven years! But, Abby, in seven years, I will be 43 years old. What do you think? To this Abby responded: And how old will you be in seven years if you don't do it?
When we stand here at the holidays, on the cusp of a New Year, we work hard to let go of past mistakes, we yearn for our better selves to be revealed. It is a time during which, maybe, we make excuses for times we did not achieve our desired ends and yet we are given the space, at the High Holidays, to be human. That is we are given this extended moment from Rosh Hashanah through Yom Kippur to move past the excuses and beyond the explanations and let go…to let go of missteps, of missed opportunities and of miscommunications. It is a time during which we use our past to illustrate the best picture of ourselves to move into this new year and beyond. May each of us find in the space of this sanctuary, in the space given to us in the liturgy on the pages and in our connection to those surrounding us in community and in love all we need to let go in order to become ourselves. Shanah Tovah!
Shanah Tovah,
Rabbi Evon
Tuesday, December 22, 2015
Between the Two: The Liminal Present of Vayechi and Israel
Shalom,
For those of us who Love Israel and thrive as Americans, we may often feel the pull between the two. This week in Torah, as Jacob approaches the end of his life, he charges his son Joseph to commit to burying Israel (Jacob) in the land of his ancestors - in Israel. In the opening verses, Torah employs both Jacob and Israel to name our patriarch. This key moment in our Torah story speaks to the emotional and historical connection many of us feel to the Land of Israel. Throughout our history, we have been criticized and sometimes praised for this dual allegiance. One to the place and countries in which we have lived and even thrived and second to the place and space of our history and our modern redemption Am Yisrael - The Land and People of Israel.
I arrived in Eretz Yisrael (The Land of Israel) yesterday afternoon and ascended to Jerusalem. In the last thirty six hours I have toured the Old City, embraced the sights and scents of the Machane Yehudah market, dined on Israeli treats of shwaarma and hummus, felt the emotional tide of Yad VaShem (The Holocaust Memorial) and sifted Temple Mount artifacts…and it has only been thirty six hours. As this current adventure unfolds, I am once again lovestruck with the Land and People of Israel. While many of you have heard me share the trials and challenges facing the State and its character over recent years, and yet my love for this place only grows. This pull that we, as those who live Ahavat Yisrael, Love of Israel, is our reality.
As this week’s portion continues, we encounter the moment when Jacob begins to bless his grandsons Ephraim and Manasseh (Gen. 48) and creates change. Israel changes the tradition of the Torah story of blessing the older child first and embraces the reality of the lives’ of his progeny. He is living a balance between responsibility to his descendants and his ancestors, he is embracing the reality of his moment on this Earth - simultaneously. The change of the blessing moment is one in which we learn to take hold of the reality before us - knowing that change is always present. The pull he felt was to ensure the health and even the ability to thrive for his family by dwelling in Egypt and the roots drawing him to be buried back in Israel. It is this that I am learning from Torah this week. We are constantly and eternally in the liminal space between past and future and we call it the present.
Being present in this moment and in this place feels so powerful and I yearn to one day share this with you! Israel is not the only place to thrive as Jews, though, for our Jewish, and secular, lives in America is invaluable to our Jewish story. Yet, Israel existing is and must be our future. It must always provide for us that pull for the reality of our story doesn’t just come alive here, it lives…in the present. The name of this week’s Torah portion Vayechi - “And he lived” (Gen. 47:28) is a reminder of this present. It is a prompt to allow ourselves to be enveloped between these two, our shared and cherished past, and our bright and promising future. It is an inspiration to ensure that the present we create allows us to embrace the pull between our love of Israel and to flourish where we are…now. Vayechi serves to enable us to own that responsibility to chart our steps from the present into the future we respect for what came before and where we are going.
Vayechi - May we live in the image of Jacob who knew the power of the present, honoring the past and ensuring the future.
Shabbat Shalom from Jerusalem,
Rabbi Evon
PS I am grateful to the Kramer and Sudman families for sharing their journey to Israel with me and to Sam and Sally, the B’nai Mitzvah students we are celebrating, for teaching me much about this week’s Torah portion.
Shalom,
For those of us who Love Israel and thrive as Americans, we may often feel the pull between the two. This week in Torah, as Jacob approaches the end of his life, he charges his son Joseph to commit to burying Israel (Jacob) in the land of his ancestors - in Israel. In the opening verses, Torah employs both Jacob and Israel to name our patriarch. This key moment in our Torah story speaks to the emotional and historical connection many of us feel to the Land of Israel. Throughout our history, we have been criticized and sometimes praised for this dual allegiance. One to the place and countries in which we have lived and even thrived and second to the place and space of our history and our modern redemption Am Yisrael - The Land and People of Israel.
I arrived in Eretz Yisrael (The Land of Israel) yesterday afternoon and ascended to Jerusalem. In the last thirty six hours I have toured the Old City, embraced the sights and scents of the Machane Yehudah market, dined on Israeli treats of shwaarma and hummus, felt the emotional tide of Yad VaShem (The Holocaust Memorial) and sifted Temple Mount artifacts…and it has only been thirty six hours. As this current adventure unfolds, I am once again lovestruck with the Land and People of Israel. While many of you have heard me share the trials and challenges facing the State and its character over recent years, and yet my love for this place only grows. This pull that we, as those who live Ahavat Yisrael, Love of Israel, is our reality.
As this week’s portion continues, we encounter the moment when Jacob begins to bless his grandsons Ephraim and Manasseh (Gen. 48) and creates change. Israel changes the tradition of the Torah story of blessing the older child first and embraces the reality of the lives’ of his progeny. He is living a balance between responsibility to his descendants and his ancestors, he is embracing the reality of his moment on this Earth - simultaneously. The change of the blessing moment is one in which we learn to take hold of the reality before us - knowing that change is always present. The pull he felt was to ensure the health and even the ability to thrive for his family by dwelling in Egypt and the roots drawing him to be buried back in Israel. It is this that I am learning from Torah this week. We are constantly and eternally in the liminal space between past and future and we call it the present.
Being present in this moment and in this place feels so powerful and I yearn to one day share this with you! Israel is not the only place to thrive as Jews, though, for our Jewish, and secular, lives in America is invaluable to our Jewish story. Yet, Israel existing is and must be our future. It must always provide for us that pull for the reality of our story doesn’t just come alive here, it lives…in the present. The name of this week’s Torah portion Vayechi - “And he lived” (Gen. 47:28) is a reminder of this present. It is a prompt to allow ourselves to be enveloped between these two, our shared and cherished past, and our bright and promising future. It is an inspiration to ensure that the present we create allows us to embrace the pull between our love of Israel and to flourish where we are…now. Vayechi serves to enable us to own that responsibility to chart our steps from the present into the future we respect for what came before and where we are going.
Vayechi - May we live in the image of Jacob who knew the power of the present, honoring the past and ensuring the future.
Shabbat Shalom from Jerusalem,
Rabbi Evon
PS I am grateful to the Kramer and Sudman families for sharing their journey to Israel with me and to Sam and Sally, the B’nai Mitzvah students we are celebrating, for teaching me much about this week’s Torah portion.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)