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In heder (now called “Hebrew School”) the rabbi visited various classes.  The teacher wanting to please the head rabbi posed a simple question to one of the students.

“Shmuel, who wrote Psalms?”

Shmuel was very agitated and blurted out, “Teacher, I didn’t do it!”

The rabbi, sensing the boy’s angst said to the teacher,  “Why did you pick on that poor boy?”

The teacher, also a nervous wreck, answered, “I know he would not do such a thing.  I know his parents very well and they are respectable people.”

 

Sometimes it seems like we speak different languages.  We talk across one another, without really listening. Much the same has been mirrored by political leaders, the media and parroted by the public.  The pandemic has made life difficult but the attitudes of not listening and validating one another exacerbates the tension that is felt across America, perhaps the whole world.

 

Over the past few years we have seen and heard much screaming at and about one another; labeling others as inferior, not as smart or intellectually handicapped; refusing to hear the other… Arguing over who is right is most often inconsequential.  Ask yourself: How often have you changed someone’s mind because of your position and argument?  Not often is my guess and experience.

 

Yet we seem to not want to learn the lesson that life has tried to teach us time and again.  That is not to say we should remain silent when a wrong is being committed but most times we grow red in the face over opinions over who you voted for, support or issues of belief.

 

During these long months of insecurity with the pandemic raging we have all witnessed the fighting over diminishing crumbs of what we believe to be right and wrong. In the final analysis, those words will have no lasting positive impact.  That is not to say it will not have an impact, it just may not be a good one.

 

A person who tries to trust in God while leaving himself a backup plan is like a person who tries to learn how to swim but insists on keeping one foot on the ground.  –Rabbi Yosef Yozel Hurwitz

 

I often refer back to the famous words of King Solomon who, when conflicted by opposing ideas, uttered, “This too shall pass.” And so it has.  And so it will.  Just as surely as you are evidence of God’s providence so will the future be steered by something more powerful than us.

 

Children forever want to grow up so they can be independent and espouse and express their own ideas.  Closer to reality is that we all are still children in need to growing up, knowing that each person carries his or her own truth and we are not likely to change their mind.

 

Consider.  Many people want to know what the Talmud is.  It is the search for equality and balance that can only be achieved when we listen and respect one another.  It deals with such mundane subjects as lost objects, rental agreements, damages, speech, life cycle milestones and oaths.  The goal of the sixty tomes is hearing all sides of each issue.  That does not mean there is always agreement (in fact the opposite is closer to the truth) but it does demand listening and respecting.  

 

That is not difficult is it?   Yes, it is.  It is arduous to sublimate our yetser ha-ra, our egotistical sense of entitlement, and give others space to be heard, validated and witnessed.

 

If we have learned anything from these past months I hope that it is that we have gained a vital lesson about growing morally and spiritually by speaking and demanding less and listening and understanding more.

The Fight Endures, As do We

This is Hanukkah.

We recount the story of Matityahu and his five sons who we called the Maccabees. These untrained, but God inspired, zealots gathered around them a group of like-minded people who took up a struggle against overwhelming odds. Victory came to their hands, although at a high price.

In the struggle of the forces of good and evil, good ultimately wins even when the cause seems hopeless. The war of the Maccabean guerillas against the larger forces of evil is not an ancient event 2500 years old but a contemporary one. We have seen in our own lifetime the martyrdom of millions to a fight against unmitigated evil. The lives of men women and children were devoured in a savage attempt to destroy our people, faith and all that is humane.  In face of degradation and physical torture of six million martyrs, stories of immense strength appear.

 

The great Rabbi Leo Baeck was one of the leaders of the Jewish community in pre-war Germany.  As the head of the Reichsvertretung, the representative body of German Jews, he had the respect and admiration of the Jewish population.  Even through the beginning of the war, he received many invitations to serve as rabbi abroad, turning them all down.  With knowledge of what lay ahead, Baeck declared he would stay there as long as there was a minyan in Germany.  Ultimately, with his people, he was sent to Theresienstadt concentration camp in 1943.

 

At the beginning of the Nazi reign of terror, Dr. Baeck accepted the challenge of fighting for the lives and dignity of his fellow Jews.  He would staunchly remain with them, no matter what the consequences.  Their fate would be his fate; their story, his story.

 

When it meant death to ask one’s mind publicly, Dr. Baeck spoke of life and of determination  to survive. He composed prayer to be recited throughout Germany on Yom Kippur. Knowing full well that Gestapo agents were stationed at services he asked for prayer nonetheless be said everywhere on that holy night:

”Let us despise the slanderous and calumnies directed against us and our faith. We bow our head before God, and remain upright and erect before man…”

 

Good inevitably triumphs over evil. Rabbi Beck was a towering example of justice and faith in the midst of the inferno.

Rabbi Leo Baeck lived before the conflagration and survived the holocaust. The liberating forces found a week but still powerful man in Theresienstadt in 1945.

 

On Hanukkah we begin by lighting a single feeble flame. We continue throughout the next week to add more lights, one after the other, until we have a shining beacon. Isn’t this a wonderful symbol?  We demonstrate on Hanukkah the power of the Jewish spirit. It will not be quenched. It will only grow adding additional lights to causes all to glow with newfound strength. We had inspiration to inspiration until the light of the human soul glows with faith in God.

And has 50,000 Jews came out to greet Simhat Torah in Moscow in 1986, Jews always understand the powerful symbol that moves them. Defying the government, risking their livelihood, knowing informants alert in the crowd, they fought on. Jewish martyrdom is not over but we shall always triumph.

”Not by might, nor by power, but by My spirit alone, says the Lord of Hosts.”

Hanukkah: The Inside Scoop

Every thing and event is a paradigm.  Judaism believes that we inhabit two planes at once.  One plane is the level of what we deem to be physical reality; the things that we work for and do.  This plane is where we labor for income, save for the future, agonize over missed opportunities…   The other plane is the metaphysical realm.  This is the universe of paradigm.

You know the story of Hanukkah well, at least on the first level, or plane.  Let us take a look at the other view of Hanukkah, the paradigm view.

Hanukkah is about the struggle for independence.  It speaks to the notion of religious and personal challenge, overcoming obstacles.  For the ill, Hanukkah is a time when God shows that hope exists even when we feel hopelessness.  It is a fight against apathy and an empty, vapid existence.  Any time we fight for others or ourselves who cannot defend themselves, the spirit of Hanukkah is invoked.

Lighting the candles involves using the shamash, the worker candle, to bring light to the rest.  Implicit in using the shamash to light the others is the idea that we bring redemption to one another.  Even though the shamash looks identical to the rest, it is needed to fulfill the mitzvah of the candles, or bring wholeness to the event.  Each of us is needed to restore balance.

One of the mitzvot of Hanukkah is to place the Hanukiah in the window to show that we are proclaiming the miracle of long ago.  We have remained faithful and we advertise this publicly.  A Jew needs community.  We encourage one another, and ourselves, when we place the Hanukkiah in a conspicuous place.  The great miracles of God and the quieter ones too, like birth and health and breath need to be acknowledged and shared.  It makes life more meaningful.

The dreidle that we spin had four letters scribes on each side, nun, gimel, hay, shin, which has the numerical equivalent of mashiach, messiah.  We spin the dreidle in the hopes of winning, never really knowing which letter will turn up.  So we play the game of life and expectations, ever hoping that the dreidle will be spun revealing our ultimate salvation.

On the Shabbat of Hanukkah we read from the book of Zechariah which states the antithesis of the story that we tell, “Not my might, nor by power but by My spirit, says the Lord of Hosts” (4:6)  True strength, the prophet implies, comes not from raw strength or largesse.  It is something infinitely greater.  God’s spirit and the wonderful endowment that we all possess is the real source of our strength.  The soul triumphs over human adversity as it contains an endless reservoir of resiliency.

Enjoy the warmth of Hanukkah.  It is the holiday of lights, both internal and external.

 

The Light

La’yehudim hayta ora v’simha, “The Jews had light and joy” during the celebration of Purim.

So does this mean that our ancestors lit fires in their homes, kindling every wick available?  Not likely.  

Light has many associations.  A few of them have to do with physical light.  A great many of them have to do with sacred or metaphysical light.  Torah, for example, gives off light.  Torah Orah, they call it, the illumination of the sacred.

When immersed in Torah the Sanctuary becomes bathed in light.  Have you ever witnessed the faces of those in the Sea of Light?  It is not unusual to see someone aflame on the holy Shabbat.

As we pore over ancient texts on Shabbat or during the week sometimes feel the dizzying effect of absorbing the many layers of the meaning of the glory of the Torah when at one with the holy Text.  This is the wonder of the day of Purim. Like the initial observance when the Jews of Shushan long-ago first breathed freedom from the heinous machinations of Haman, their souls were drenched with light.

Long ago, when the Jews were under the Ottoman rule in Palestine the inhabitants of the northern city of Safed were warned to keep their homes dark at night.  Each evening a blanket of bluish hue gathered through the ancient street and byways of Safed.

The windows of Rabbi Joseph Caro, however, glowed. It as was if the venerable and wise rabbi became more defiant as the light grew in intensity with successive night.  The Pasha’s guards brought to him news of the disobedient Jew.

Ordering his carriage to be brought, the Pasha rode to the site to oversee the punishment of the transgressor himself.  It was true, the rabbi’s windows were glowing with light.  Forcing open the door, the Pasha’s guards opened the door to let the Pasha enter. 

There sat Rabbi Caro bent over a fraying text.  There was no lamp in the room.  No logs were in the fireplace.  No candles. Yet the room was bathed in light.

The Pasha was wide-eyed as he saw thousands of tiny fireflies lining he walls of the rabbi’s study.  The sage told the pasha that during the day the little insects flew about but at night they settled on the walls and made the house luminescent.

“Why do these fireflies stay all day in this room rather than frolic in the bright sunlight?” the Pasha asked.

The rabbi paused, looked at the Pasha and answered, “The Torah not only illumines the one who studies it.  It enlightens every living creature that comes near.”

 

And this is your heritage.

 

Top 10 List What a Rabbi Would Love to Hear

10. Nothing inspires and strengthens my commitment to the synagogue like the twice yearly annual meetings.

9. I was so enthralled with the sermon I could’ve listened for another 20 minutes.

8. Personally I find Davenning so much more fulfilling in the golf.

7. Rabbi I’ve decided to give the Synagogue $1000 a month I used to spend on the Home Shopping Network and Amazon.

6. I volunteer to do all the Torah readings throughout the next year. When can I start?

5. That adult education program was the best ever. Please do another one soon!

4. I love it when we sing tunes that I never heard before.

3. Since I am here early let's do some extra praying now.

2. Rabbi, the board has decided to send you to that Talmud Convention in the Bahamas.  Pack your bags.

 1. Hey, it’s my turn to sit in the front row!

 

What Are You?

Our lives consist of two courses of action; that of doing and that of enabling. Most of what we hear about today involves doing. Social scientists urge to make the most of our time, what they call making “quality time.” 

Our acquaintances and colleagues push us to define our value through our work or salary. For example, when people ask, “What do you?”  Isn’t it interesting we invariably respond with our job rather than say, “I am a good father” or “I am a devoted husband?” A person’s life is summed by what they believe is most important and, or, what they have accomplished.

Yet we are great enablers. Some of us are better enablers than others. An enabler is someone that makes something possible. An enabler is the husband who says to his wife, “You are the most wonderful person I have ever met.” Just imagine what she can do with those words. Suddenly she becomes aware of her deep love for her husband and the fact that she is bright and capable. She may turn to a husband and say how much he appreciates his romantic side. Just think what that will do for the relationship! We have both become enablers.

I do not know what the opposite of an enabler is. But there are more anti-enablers among us who wreak havoc. They deprive us wholeness and the potential of what we might become.

What are you?

Hanukkah

Hanukkah and Purim belong to the Oral Torah.  That is, they are not mentioned in the Tanakh (Bible) but are ordained as holy days by the rabbis.  Considering they are non -Biblical holy days we certainly give them a lot of attention!  Why?

 

The Sefat Emet (nineteenth century) teaches that we are always in search of the life energy in each of us. Some go on long journeys to witness great events or places that inspire awe.  Some look for it in their travels to Israel.  We do not have to venture that far, tells the Sefat Emet, “A person must measure him or herself as though the holy being dwells inside.”  

 

The Hebrew word for candle is NeR.  This is an anagram that stands for Nefesh Ruach, the “soul of a being.”  

 

The candles that we light represent our innermost core.  That is why the Hanukkah light inspires us with such affection.  The flickering tiny wicks give off a radiance that is unequal to the lumens they emit.  

 

The lights are sacred as they mirror our soul.  Just like our soul, the bright and many distractions that surround it almost conceal the flame, but those lights on Hanukkah grip us and are deeply profound.

 

They not only cast light, they dispel darkness.  They bring us to a realization of the miracle of our being.

                                                      *

The Rabbis understood how we are continual witnesses to sacred moments.  And each one of those moments (mo’ed in Hebrew) that we enact, we recreate within ourselves a Sanctuary where the Holy One lives.  In setting our Hanukkiah and lighting the candles we live in that moment, mo’ed, when the first wicks took flame in the Temple 2300 years ago.  That is meaning of the verse, “Let them make Me a Sanctuary and I will live in them.”  Exodus 25:8.  Our souls are joined with each generation of our ancestors even the first Hasmoneans to relight the menorah and are unbounded by place or time.

 

We are blessed with the kind of inherent vision that allows our inner light to perceive true greatness.  You can find in the early part of the morning service, “The soul You have placed within me is pure…”   That is our inner light that connects with the Hanukkah candles.

                                                      *

So what does this all have to do with the Oral Torah, festivals and events not written in our Tanakh?

 

When you pray with a full heart you are acknowledging the presence of a miracle: God is moving in your life.

 

When you place food in your mouth and utter a beracha, you are allowing your soul to give voice to a miracle of sustenance.  Reading the Talmud recently I was struck by a statement made that the cause of the breakdown of marriages was often an empty pantry.  In that context, consider how rich you are!

 

When someone swerves out of your way because you were not attentive while driving and you return home intact, your life is evidence of a miracle.

 

A prayer: Awaken us to the flickering fire within us, God, so that we can perceive even our next breathe as a miracle.

Playing Catch Up

A few years ago, Jackie Mason was on Broadway with hit shows.  One of them was memorable in that it was called “Too Jewish.”  Mason’s show was about his personal experience, (after all he changed his name to be Anglicized; Jackie Mason was born Yacov Moshe Maza) as well as that as the experience of other Jews.  Mason was funny and accurate as he emphasized ambivalence of being Jewish and American.  He recognized that Jews felt uncomfortable in being too visible as Jews in America. 

Overseas, they experienced the same dichotomy.  “The grandfather believes, the father doubts, the son denies.  The grandfather prays in Hebrew, the father prays in French, the con does not pray at all.  The grandfather has remained Jewish, the father is assimilated, the son no longer identifies.”

 

Mason has since retired since the landscape of American Jewry has changed.  The jokes no longer work.  The audience has changed.  The new and older established generations are no longer conflicted.  Like most of America and the rest of the world we have become more divided, separate and even polarized, not as Jews, though.  We define ourselves as Republicans or Democrats or defenders of the downtrodden.  We longer speak the same language – Yiddish or Hebrew or Ladino - or hold the practices that used to be ubiquitous among our people.

 

History is repetitive.  This is not the first time Jews have confronted the adversary of broad acceptance and assimilation.  While anti-Semitism is rising most of us are not personally affected by it and so it passes ignored.  Hatred has often been the catalyst for embracing Jewish roots.  Forced into ghettoes or denied access to higher education often pushed us into the arms of synagogues and yeshivot where we were warmly welcomed.

 

The playing field has clearly changed.  How do we anticipate and respond to the needs of the twenty-first century Jew?  Or perhaps the real question is, what does Judaism have to offer me that will uplift my life, make it more meaningful and contribute to my prosperity?

 

There is no simple response to these questions.  They are complex and require deep thought.  

 

The most obvious answer is continuity.  You are Jewish because your parents were/are Jewish and your forbears wended their way through Asia and Europe and ultimately back to Mt. Sinai where we were forged as a nation.  The thought that your line could end after all these millenia should make one shudder.  Like an antique watch that your great grandfather once held, pawning it for a new Apple watch should be unthinkable.  Yet, is that enough reason to send your children to Jewish camps and Religious School?  Is that enough reason to light Shabbat candles and prepare a Shabbat table each Friday night?

 

A marginally less obvious response is that the strong emphasis on Talmud Torah (study of Biblical, Talmudic and ancillary texts) sparks our imagination and makes us aware of the power of human ingenuity and thought.  To give serious and deliberate consideration to ancient and contemporary Torah-centric texts is to awaken oneself to the realization that the tradition is far richer and deeper than you ever imagined.  It is no coincidence that the most creative geniuses of the past studied Talmud intensively giving them insights to life that were far beyond the zeitgeist, the moment in which they lived.  That did not happen because they were Jewish: it happened because they were steeped in the art of pilpul, the distinct Jewish way to study and argumentation.

 

The least obvious answer is your soul.  You possess a unique Jewish soul that is often somnolent.  It has a voice that passes unheard.  Only in moments of stress, pain or those rare moments of spiritual awakening do we feel the pulse of God coursing through our veins.  In our faith we have three powerful pillars underpinnings: belief in God, revelation (God’s will manifest through the Torah and subsequent generations including you) and Divine ultimate justice.  These pillars are the form and substance of our soul.

 

These are difficult shared times we have been living through since the beginning of the year.  Each of us has been touched in different but powerful ways.  The virus is not showing signs of weakening.  This could be our time to reexamine our self-definition and move toward embracing our soulful identity.  Now is opportune to restart our knowledge of Hebrew prayer, observance and ultimately identity.  

 

There are numerous opportunities online to learn, read books of real Jewish value, listen to podcasts that teach Talmud and Torah, pick up your siddur and open your heart along with the book and allow yourself the chance to discover who we really are.

 

 

Get Ahead

Get Ahead

 

Here is a blast from the past, a nineteenth century joke:

“What’s the matter?”

“Never mind.”

“What is mind?”

“No matter.”

 

The joke underscores how vital is our mind, our processing of information and ultimately decision making.  If the mind is of “no matter” just travel with the pack.  Then if others fall off a cliff like lemmings, you will go with them.  This past month we were taught by example how to avoid the mind that does not matter while observing our Jewish traditions.

 

For two days we reveled in Rosh Hashanah, praying, feasting and singing.  We rejoiced at life granted for another year.  Then ten days later we fasted, stretching out our hearts to the beneficent God who wants us to become finer, more humane and cognizant of the mitzvot while acknowledging our flaws and sins in a raw and powerful service of significant length.   Then a few days later Sukkot comes when we meander out of our homes, gathering in small shelters, called Sukkot, walking in nature, observing life unadorned.  During this Festival of Sukkot we open up the book of Ecclesiastes and read about life’s paradoxes.  Pick up the small book and you will find such inconsistencies as “eat your bread in gladness” and “there is great evil under the sun.”  And then there is the familiar, “there is a season for every purpose under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot….”

 

If you were attentive, the three holidays we have observed are so markedly different from one another that they set the mind careening in several different directions.  That is intentional and instructive.

 

We attended many schools in our lives.  In each grade or academic level there were many disparate things we needed to learn, often in conflict with one another!  “Math is vital for you livelihood,” you were told.  In the next class, “Without a strong basis in English you will go nowhere.”  So which is the truth?  They are all truth for life itself is a paradox.  It is not linear.  There is no “one size fits all” or straight line that begins at one point and goes to another pre-appointed point.

 

Perhaps Judaism during this month can teach us and our nation a great lesson.  No one thing or idea is right all the time.  No person is correct all the time.  Theorems are just that, theorems.  Our faith calls upon us to carefully examine and listen to all ideas with dignity and respect. After we have heard all sides we can determine the best path for us to take.  No problem is identical to one we have encountered before (even while Ecclesiastes declares, “there is nothing new under the sun.”  Yet another paradox!).

 

Our critical thinking, our mind, is our best resource.  That is why as Jews we continually strive for excellence and are disproportionate number of Noel Prize winners (about 20%).  That is not because Jews are smarter.  It is because we insist on a broad spectrum of learning.  No philosophy, science or art contains all the answers to life’s conundrums.  The answer lies in the combination of them.  Torah begs that we open our heads to learn from everyone, everything and every experience.

Reb Zalman Pizner was quite wealthy and yet he dressed as a peasant, like a simply farmer while wearing a handmade expensive hat.

A friend asked Zalman why he chose to dress that way when he could afford finer clothes.  

He answered; to most people the body is the most important element.  They feel they gain respect by others when they look at what they are wearing while leaving their head uncovered.  I, however, believe that the head is the most important part of the body so while my clothes are ordinary I will always wear and elegant hat.”

Read.  Listen. Consider.  Think.  Then investigate.

 

Heal

Looking to our prophets for insights, instructions on how to live a meaningful life we are consistently directed to “do justice, love mercy and walk humbly with God.” (Micah 6:8).  This our mandate.

How does this actually play out now?  In this unforgettable spring and summer of 2020? 

The other vital phrase from the prophets is to “Let justice flow like a mighty stream”  and yet we watch as the stream becomes a trickle in these desperate times of the Covid-19; the separation of loved ones from one another, the protective cover we provide for one another, the arms that envelope all of us are not there.  Anger roiling in the streets is a manifestation of the deep running frustration that we are not meeting the needs of the most vulnerable, and they are growing in number.  As we are stuck at home with our masks covering our faces trying to make do with the intense loneliness each of us is experiencing.

What do we do?

 What do we do to change this dynamic?  What do we do to reclaim our joy and complete or God-given mandate of making that stream flow mightily down the mountain once again (Amos 5:24)?

A brief story tells of the Warsaw Rabbi who went around collecting children, teaching them, foraging food to fill their empty stomachs and gathering the newly orphaned to help them live another day.  Do you know what he taught those children and those grown-ups who would listen?  

He would tell them, “The best thing you can do for another person is to do them a favor.”  In the depths of hell here was a teacher telling people to do favors for each other.  If you can do favors, lift people up while bullets and malnutrition were killing people in the streets, are we really so helpless?

Friends, these are trying times and when we withdraw into our protective cocoons and self isolate, we dam that stream; we prevent it from flowing down the mountain clearing the path for those who need water, refreshment, a moment of calm, knowing someone is upstream working to clear the path.

We are directed biblically to love our neighbors as we love ourselves (Lev 19:18).  How can we accomplish this?  By doing what this teacher taught his students, doing favors.  You see, when we help another person, we remove a rock from the dam and allow a little water to free flow.  Then the next person removes another rock, an impediment for the sustaining water of life and more gushes down.  We become fully human when we love our neighbor.  In other words, we love ourselves more when we reach beyond the borders of our own self-interest.  How do you love your neighbor when you do not love yourself so much?  When you help someone else find a home, get equal education, get access to medical and mental health.  

So you want to know the secret of how to love yourself better?  Give that love away by working to make this a more perfect world, doing a favor removing a rock, letting the stream become a river.  We are able to wholly love when we remove the impediments for justice and allow God’s purifying water to roll down that mountain, washing away all the detritus of hunger, prejudice, homelessness, and living in a two-tiered society.

And how will we do this?  Our combined voices will be heard in the halls of power, all starting at your table. It will not be easy to remove the rocks but with you we can do it!   It can only happen with you.  Remember- apart we are adrift, alone and powerless.  Together we are mighty, powerful, able to bring water to a parched land.

Now more than ever we need each other and to free ourselves from the restrictive bonds of this time.

God is waiting for His hands and feet to make this a reality.  You nd I are those hands and feet.

A Cure for the Pandemic

Three Jews were discussing the wonderful powers of the Rabbis in the different villages they came from.

‘Our Rabbi was walking through a wood,’ said the first, ‘when he came to a part which was on fire.  He said, ‘Fire to the right, fire to the left,’ and he walked through unharmed.’

‘Our Rabbi went out for a walk one day when he came to a stream.  He said, ‘Water to the right, water to the left,’ and he walked through dry shod.’

‘That’s nothing,’ said the third. ‘Our Rabbi was on a journey and was returning home on Friday towards sunset when he was overtaken by Shabbat.  ‘Shabbat to the right and Shabbat to the left and he got home in time.’

I learned this tale while in England.  It made me laugh.  And now that I recall it, it makes me think.  

We face many obstacles in life.  At times we wonder of we can afford what we need.  There are moments when we wonder if love will leave us.  Do we have the strength to master our addiction?  We contemplate whether our life has had value.  Did our actions make us worthy of a place with God?   Or did we miss our turn some years back?  

So what does the quaint story teach me now?  Time, namely now, is all we possess.  All else is “vanity” as King Solomon taught.

Edging toward the New Year, Rosh Hashanah while dancing around the corona virus, wearing masks, learning new behaviors due to social distancing, coping with the inequities of social and skin differences, Israel and its new enemies, building defenses around our synagogues, the tidal rise of anti-Semitism and let us not forget the political chasm which has never been more divisive or wide.  How do we cope with all these dilemmas?  Even the Gamecocks cannot distract us from the issues facing us.

For the Jew we are taught from the earliest age that time is kodesh, holy.  We are given that God charged us with the responsibility of taking time and making it holy.  One day each week we set a side time to make kiddush (you are thinking “wine” but the word is basically the same as holy, kodesh).  Candles are lit.  We prepare special foods in advance to enhance the evening.   We say prayers from our siddur and it becomes holy as we have invited God into our homes and asked each family member to set aside this time to be a family, a whole.  Shabbat to the right and Shabbat to the left… but do we make it?  Do we see it?

What this novel year has brought to us is an understanding of the value of time and how easily it slips away, often unwanted and unobserved, while Judaism teaches the values of making it sacred.

Mark time.  Create sacred moments.  Have a Shabbat meal.  Bring Hallahs.  Buy a bottle of kosher wine and add your favorite food.  You can do without the blare of video games or the TV for a while.

Softly sing the Sh’ma before going to sleep.  Invite God into your daily life, whether by thanking Him for the food you eat or the breath you take.

God has given us the ability to be free, not slaves to people or the forces of nature or the innumerable demands we imagine.  Here is the real question: Can you master the full freedom that is yours, transforming the mundane into the holy?  If you can master this, you and your family will get through these turbulent times not only intact but more cohesive and with a deeper love and appreciation of God in your lives.

Missing You

Dear friends,

Some of you I see quite often on Zoom or at our internet services.  Then there are those whom I do not see, I miss.  

The synagogue feels very empty without you.

I know these months have been vexing for us all.  We are trying our best to navigate the minefield of contagion, understand how we can better protect citizens of all colors and faiths, our concern for Israel continues gnaw at our frayed nerves, our children’s education, parent’s health and so many other day-to-day issues that are worrisome.  We are all fixated at the multitude of issues swirling around us.  And there’s still precious little of worth to watch on tv!

These concerns flit around in the mind and are a nuisance.

I want to share a story with you about the Baal Shem Tov.  A wealthy man from a neighboring town invited the Baal Shem Tov to teach his son Torah.  So he invited the famous Rabbi to stay and educate his son.  Entering the home, the Baal Shem discovers that the house is full of demons raising havoc everywhere.  They throw things break dishes and make terrible noises.  The Baal Shem approaches them and speaks with them, telling the demons that they are welcome to stay in the house but they must live in the attic.  He could have tried to force them out but instead the Baal Shem limited their space.

Is there a space where we can put our demons?  Relegate them to a secure spot where their disturbances will be minimal?

Life always has had its problems.  We have dealt with them before, as have previous generations.  Your wellbeing is paramount.  Take time to enjoy the silences that you used to yearn for.  Take advantage of the outdoors, which beckons with its foliage, flowers and birds singing merrily from the treetops.  The intimacy that we can create during this time is priceless.  The demons can be vanquished to the attic.  That does not mean they do not exist.  What it does mean is that they do not have control over our house (us).

Life is fragile and uncertain.  That was true last year and last century.  It is precisely the challenge to see the golden hues of the world that makes life so precious and meaningful.

Blessings and Love,

Rabbi Jonathan Case

“Heal me God and I shall be healed!”  -Jeremiah 17:14

Lose Fear

Friends.

That is what and who we call upon when desperate and in need, friends.

We may be separated by distance, but we are still one family. We celebrate and weep together. Even if we do not know every face or name we know that we are inextricably connected.

We mourn the more than 100,000 deaths in our country today. We have been attacked by a microscopic enemy that is wily and chooses as its victims the weak. It is an insidious enemy we continue to combat.

Today we reflect and mourn for the many lives that have been claimed by the Covid-19. The loss is great and our hearts grieve for the families who never got that last kiss of farewell.

Now as we reach for air, we find there is none. “I can’t breathe” has become more than the last words of a dying young man. It has become our gasping for the air of equality, the eradication of hatred, the hope that America can become the beacon of light to the world and an end to bigotry, quenching the fires of hatred that burn in our cities and country tonight.

Enshrined on the Statute of Liberty are the words, “Give me your tired, your wretched refuse yearning to breathe….” This is what we need to relearn; that the breath of every human being is invaluable. Regardless of skin hue or color of uniform our breath cannot return to us until we learn to reclaim it through justice. Justice for all.

Quoting the prophet Micah, Abraham Joshua Heschel said, “He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?”

It is past time to speak out against wrongs, demonizations and prejudice. Micah spoke those words almost three thousand years ago.

Heschel went on to say, “An act of injustice is condemned, not because the law is broken, but because a person has been hurt. What is the image of a person? A person is a being whose anguish may reach the heart of God.”

The anguish we feel pains God. I ask every member of our congregation tonight to pray for the dead and work for the living. Give a moment to say kaddish for the 100,000 and then speak up against prejudice. It is evil. And the only way it will die is if we refuse to be silent when it speaks.

There is much work to be done but if we are truly one family, we can make it happen. Don't lose hope. Lose fear.

The Who

These past months have given us ample opportunity to consider and re-think our lives.  Hopefully, we have reflected on the meaning of our relationships, our work, our spiritual selves and perhaps we have set new objectives and priorities in our lives as a result of this thoughtful deliberation.  If this has happened, or if we are still in mid-process of reassessing our priorities, we have used this time of confinement wisely.  After all, what is pain, if not an opportunity to change and grow?

Shlomo Carlebach reminded us that there are two essential questions that we can ask of one another.  The first is “what” and the second is “who.”  What is the difference between the two questions?

When we ask, “What are you?” the answer is usually something like “I am a nurse.”  Or “I am a businessperson.”  “I work for the labor department.”  Or “I am Jewish.”  “I am Methodist.”  These responses elicit a positive or negative reaction.  If we approve of how they define themselves we let them know in spoken or nonverbal ways – either with a look of disapproval or word of positive engagement.  

The “what” question does not get to the heart of the identity of the other.  It only wants to categorize the person; put a label on them.  Once we have successfully labeled them we know where to put them on the hierarchy of importance.  This person is good because they have such-and-such skills.  This person has little value as anyone could do what they do.

When we want to know the “who” of our brother or sister, it means we want to understand them; what do they value, what are their needs, soul to soul.  Once we connect to the “who” of a person we can build strong, deep and healthy relationships.  

“What” does not build.  It does not heal the wounded.  It does not give tzedaka.  Only the “who” does these things.  The “who” repairs” hurt feelings; it feeds the hungry, it visits the sick, it nourishes relationships.

An observation from a hitchhiker: When you have a short distance to travel and need a ride people generally do not want to give you a ride.  But a driver who passed by a hitchhiker long before and did not bother to stop has a nagging conscience that they could have helped someone but did not.  So, they are the only likely person to pick up the lone traveler.  Their guilt is assuaged.

Each day we have the opportunity to see others as a “what” (a means to fulfill our needs) or a “who” which enables us to see the deepest levels of another human being and thus do mitzvahs as we see others for who they really are.  This is Torah.  When you read and learn Torah you understand the profound way in which we are called to see other people.  Do not miss the opportunity every person represents.

I pray that this time of the pandemic has not only made it possible for us to reassess our values but readjust the way in which we see everyone else as a “who.”  If so, this period of solitude has been well worth it.