tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91239247435835722072024-03-05T08:27:13.598-05:00A Good Question!A place to explore questions about Torah, Jewish tradition and how we interact with the world meaningfully.Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.comBlogger648125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123924743583572207.post-19085252234481561832018-02-09T20:05:00.000-05:002018-02-09T20:05:41.339-05:00Parashat Mishpatim: Radical Empathy<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t know if you heard the news, but Wilmington has a Kosher
restaurant for the first time in years, perhaps decades. And it’s not what you’d
think. Last month, the Va’ad certified Dropsquad Kitchen, on the riverfront at
Justison Landing, as our first kosher eatery. This is a big deal; sure, we’ve
had froyo and ice cream joints and a cupcake shop with kosher certification,
and you could get kosher food at Lodge Lane and the JCC, but it’s been a while
since you could buy lunch or dinner out at a kosher place.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The question then becomes, what is Dropsquad kitchen? It’s
not a new place; they’ve been on the riverfront since 2012. They’re a vegan, African
American owned and operated soul-food restaurant. The name was chosen by the
owner, Abundance Child, who took it from a Spike Lee movie. It’s a quirky
place, filled with books and board games, the kind of place I would have loved
to hang out in when I was in high school. The staff (who are mostly family) are
thoughtful and welcoming and kind, and the food is delicious. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’d been there before they got their heksher, and you know
something? I’m absolutely thrilled. I have to tell you, I love the fact that it’s
not what you’d expect from a kosher place; it’s not a deli, not a bagel place.
Nothing about it says ‘Jewish’: no kreplach, no latkes, and certainly no
gribnes. But so what? Why does that have to be our idea of kosher? And why not
an African American business, downtown on the Riverfront as opposed to another
eatery in Trolley Square or on 202 in North Wilmington? We had our DERECH
meeting there this Tuesday and it was so great to get out of our own ruts, our
own comfort zones, and I can’t wait to see as others in the Jewish community do
the same. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For Dropsquad Kitchen to become kosher (and for the Va’ad to
give them the heksher) is, of course, a business decision. But it’s more than
that; it’s an experiment in radical empathy. Will Jews who want Kosher be
willing to go downtown and eat vegan tacos (which are pretty awesome by the
way), and will Dropsquad Kitchen want to welcome these folks in? Why wouldn’t
the restaurant stick with its usual clientele and the Va’ad wait for someone to
open up a more “classic” Jewish eatery? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Specifically, because it gets us to see
each other as part of a shared community, a shared experience. By eating kosher
soulfood, it challenges us to understand the value of <i>kashrut </i>as more than just a particular ethnic cuisine but as a
collection of values that are meant to lift us up and better ourselves and the
world around us. When we get beyond our own boundaries, we stop being strangers
to each other, and we become neighbors. And I can think of nothing more Jewish
than that. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few minutes ago I reminded us that the idea of loving and
caring for the stranger, something that we are so familiar with in the Torah
that it verges on pablum, is one of the most radical ideas in the ancient world
and, I would argue, today. To say that we should take our shared experience of
being the stranger, the resident alien, in Egypt, our narrative of being
oppressed and ostracized, and transform that memory into radical empathy, is
nothing short of revolutionary. As Rabbi Shai Held reminds us in <i>The Heart of Torah</i>, Scripture could have
said, “since you were tyrannized and exploited and no one did anything to help
you, you don’t owe anything to anyone; how dare anyone ask anything of you?”
But that’s not what it said and not what I read; “You shall not oppress the
stranger for you know the feelings of the stranger having yourselves been
strangers in the land of Egypt.” Our memory is transformed from ethnic experience
to intense ethical obligation, from an act of remembering for its own sake to
one of moral responsibility. It’s not rational; we aren’t told “be kind to
strangers because you might get something out of it”, or, “be kind to the
resident alien in case they take over and you find yourself on the wrong end of
a sword,” or, “let’s be kind to the resident alien, but only the good ones, the
right ones who look like us and bother to get off the couch.” The appeal is
entirely emotional. We’ve been there, we know what it’s like, and because we do
we have an obligation to help when no one helped us; the immigrant Dreamer who
dreams American dreams, the refugee fleeing persecution and death, and the
African migrant coming to Israel hoping for safety and refuge, raising families
and children, converting sometimes to Judaism, only to be told by the Jewish
state that they should go to Rwanda. To forget our shared experience, our
narrative, or to think it doesn’t make a moral demand of us, is to betray God,
our Torah and ourselves. That’s what makes Dropsquad kitchen being kosher so
amazing; a simple act of radical kindness. And that’s what makes our current
debate around immigration, both here and in Israel, so infuriating. Yes, there
is a comfort in hiding behind walls of our own making, but Torah compels us, <i>compels us </i>as surely as it compels us to
keep the Sabbath or the holidays, to do differently, and to do better. That’s why we must act and work with JFS Rise
program to welcome refugees. That’s why we must join with the Religious Action
Center to call for a clean DREAM act. That’s why we must do what we must do to
make sure those who are not from here, the resident alien, the stranger, know
that they are welcome. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One of my favorite stories goes like this (you might know it
from that great source of midrash, <i>The
West Wing)</i>: "This guy's walking down the street when he falls in a
hole. The walls are so steep he can't get out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"A doctor passes by and the guy shouts up, 'Hey you.
Can you help me out?' The doctor writes a prescription, throws it down in the
hole and moves on.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Then a priest comes along and the guy shouts up,
'Father, I'm down in this hole can you help me out?' The priest writes out a
prayer, throws it down in the hole and moves on<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Then a friend walks by, 'Hey, Joe, it's me can you
help me out?' And the friend jumps in the hole. Our guy says, 'Are you stupid?
Now we're both down here.' The friend says, 'Yeah, but I've been down here
before and I know the way out.'"<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
We’ve been down here before, and we know the way out. And
Torah reminds us what to do; we jump into the pit with them. Just let’s grab
some vegan kosher tacos for the road first. <o:p></o:p></div>
Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123924743583572207.post-80668770427222569662017-12-19T09:53:00.001-05:002017-12-19T09:54:58.681-05:00The Rabbi Speaks: Chanukah and Nonviolent Resistance? <div class="MsoNormal">
<i>This was the transcript from this past Sunday's "The Rabbi Speaks" on WDEL, inspired by the work I've done with Rabbi Amy Eilberg and Rabbi Daniel Roth. Enjoy! </i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This Chanukah I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking
about conflict and how to transform it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Conflict is part of the human condition; there’s no way to
avoid it. As human beings, at some point
we’re going to have a difference of opinion or experience that’s going to cause
us to be in conflict with one another. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But can conflict be productive? Can there be learning that
emerges from it? And Can it be transformational for all the parties involved,
moving enemies to friends, and conflict to peace?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This may seem like a strange topic for Chanukah, which we’re
in the midst of right now. Mistaken as the Jewish Christmas because it takes
place in the winter and is celebrated with lights, Chanukah commemorates the
victory of a group of Jews, the Hasmoneans, sometimes called the Maccabees,
over the Assyrian Greeks more than 2000 years ago. The Greeks banned ritual
circumcision, the observance of the Sabbath, the study of Torah and tried to
turn the Jewish people to idolators. Mattathias, Judah Maccabee and others
fought back and were able to rededicate the temple (the word Chanukah means ‘to
dedicate’) on the 25<sup>th</sup> day of the Hebrew month of Kislev, which we
observed this past Tuesday. Mission accomplished, right? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Chanukah is a very American holiday, and I don’t just mean
about the presents. It commemorates the fight for religious freedom and liberty
over tyranny. Sound familiar? I often describe Chanukah as Jewish Thanksgiving
plus July 4<sup>th</sup> rolled into one, and when you know the story, that
makes sense. You can see why everyone wants to get a selfie lighting the lights
of the Menorah. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But Chanukah is also a strange holiday. It is not
commemorated in any biblical book the Jews preserved—while the Catholics kept
the books of the Maccabees, they are apocryphal and weren’t read by Jews. It
commemorates human beings triumphing over other human beings without divine
intervention. And it celebrates a 25 year long war where the casualties were
innumerable. For this reason you can see why the rabbis of old emphasized the story of the cruze of oil lasting 8 days
instead of Judah Maccabee’s exploits on the battlefield. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But is there really an alternative? As I said earlier,
conflict is inevitable. It seems all the time that it’s easier to go to war
than to broker a peace deal. And economists are increasingly arguing that the
only way to achieve any kind of equity among people is for there to be a mass
calamity. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I would suggest there may be another way. In the Talmud,
in tractate Rosh Hashanah (<a href="https://www.sefaria.org/Rosh_Hashanah.19a?lang=bi">19a</a> if you want to look it up), we have this report:
On the 28<sup>th</sup> of the month of Adar came glad tidings to the Jews hat
they should not abandon the practice of the Law. For the Roman government had
issued a decree that they should not study the Torah and that they should not
circumcise their sons and that they should profane the Sabbath. What did they
do? They went and consulted a certain Roman noblewoman whom all the Roman
notables used to visit. She said to them: “Come and demonstrate at nighttime.
Scream out in the marketplaces and in the streets in order that the ministers
should hear and have compassion on you.” They went and demonstrated at night,
saying, “In heaven’s name, are we not your brothers and sisters? Are we not the
children of one parent? Why are we different from every nation and tongue that
you issue such decrees upon us?” The decrees were thereupon cancelled.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
My teacher Rabbi Daniel Roth asks the question based on this
story whether or not the Maccabees could have achieved their goals through
nonviolent demonstrations instead of a bloody war? It’s a good and important
question, especially now in a time of deep conflict and sometimes animosity
between people. For the Jews to say: “are we not your brothers and sisters”,
and remind their oppressors with what was in common, for them to find an ally
who could help de-escalate the situation, and take to the streets, is just as
brave, if not braver, than sallying forth to war. So what does that mean for Chanukah?
I’m still lighting the lights tonight, but as I do, I’ll be thinking not just
of Judah and his army fighting for freedom, but each of us who strives to
transform conflict into connection and enemy to friend. <o:p></o:p></div>
Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123924743583572207.post-56506050574666329252017-10-30T09:28:00.001-04:002017-10-30T09:28:37.804-04:00Parashat Lech Lecha: #MeToo and the Sister/Wife Motif<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Me too.</span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-28b7e1a3-6d75-e077-a908-5f859839c77d" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Those are the words we're hearing and seeing again and again these few weeks. Girls. Women. Mom's. Grandmas. Black, white, Jewish. Affirmations that they, too had been sexually harassed.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Started as a campaign several years ago by an African American activist named Tarana Burke, #metoo came back to the fore as a result of the recent Harvey Weinstein sexual harassment scandal, which turns out to be a cascading scandal of Hollywood and political leaders being outed as harassers, abusers of power and authority. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Like many men, I've been watching and listening, horrified. What can one say to seeing hundreds, if not thousands, of responses from family and friends and allies and colleagues and congregants and strangers about their experiences? And what of those who feel that they can’t share, even now, so many years later? </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I teach Torah. Torah is the lense through which I see the world. and I look to the Torah and see another Me too moment. Sarai (eventually Sarah) and Avram (eventually Abraham) will, after reaching the promised Land, go down to Egypt to avoid famine. There, Avram will ask Sarai to pretend that she is his sister, fearful that Pharoah will kill him for her. So she plays along with the ruse, and soon enough, Pharaoh wants Sarai for his harem. As her “brother”, Avram benefits beautifully with great wealth--”a bride price”. It takes a plague by God to stop Pharaoh, who banishes Avram and Sarai due to Avram’s actions. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(This, by the way, is referred to at the <a href="https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/my-wife-my-sister/">"Sister/Wife" </a>motif and will occur two more times in Genesis. It doesn't get any funnier.) </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Me too, says Sarai. Me too, victim not just of Pharoah’s power mad antics but also her husband's fear and failure to see his spouse as anything more than than a bargaining chip. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We might say his story is a product of its time, but the text itself seems to be calling out Avram for his behavior. Certainly the rabbis pull all their hair out trying to justify, rationalize, and indeed, call Avram on the carpet for his behavior. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Me too, says the Torah. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Each of us have, at some point, witnessed harassment. How many times did we stand up against it, take the offending person behind the woodshed, sounded the alarm? How often did we meekly apologize to the victim, and make excuses? How often, after hearing accusations, did we try to justify an abuser's actions? How often did we do nothing?</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The text holds up a model of behavior for us. Not Avram and certainly not Pharaohz but God. God intervenes. God stops the actual abuse. Now, we can't hit folks with a plague, but we can speak out. We can stand up. We can take victims’ stories seriously. We can and must. Even when it's hard. Even when we are fearful. If these women are brave enough to describe their moments of abuse and harassment, can we as bystanders really say we lack courage? </span></div>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sarai says Me too. God says: be a blessing. Let's choose to be a blessing. </span></div>
Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123924743583572207.post-66551090198603765162017-09-30T13:07:00.003-04:002017-09-30T13:07:44.939-04:00Kol Nidre 5778--Reflections on Teshuvah<div class="MsoNormal">
Below follows my Erev Yom Kippur Sermon for 5778. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tomorrow, thousands of people will gather in a communal act
of love and justice. Actually, Two. One<span class="msoDel"><del cite="mailto:Marisa" datetime="2017-09-12T17:52">,</del></span> is the holiday
we begin tonight, a holiday that calls us to task and asks us to be our better
selves. The other is the March for Racial Justice, a march taking place on
Washington on a day, tomorrow, that is incredibly significant for African
Americans, a day commemorating the massacre of hundreds of African Americans in
Elaine<span class="msoIns"><ins cite="mailto:Marisa" datetime="2017-09-12T17:52">,</ins></span>
Arkansas in 1919, one of too many days in American history drenched in blood.
But by scheduling this march on Yom Kippur, it appeared as if the organizers
were purposefully excluding Jews, who have been at the forefront of racial
justice in North America, from David Einhorn and the abolitionists before the
Civil War<span class="msoIns"><ins cite="mailto:Marisa" datetime="2017-09-12T17:52">,</ins></span> to the Jewish Freedom Riders and
rabbis who went to the south to fight for desegregation and voting rights<span class="msoIns"><ins cite="mailto:Marisa" datetime="2017-09-12T17:52">,</ins></span>
to today. It looked bad…until a day in late August, when the organizers put out
an apology. A heartfelt one, recognizing the shared crisis of racism and
antisemitism we are facing in the United States today and their own failure to
recognize the date of Yom Kippur being in conflict. They could have stopped
there, but they didn’t. They asked for forgiveness in the spirit of the
holiday, recognized that self-denial and fasting is not just a spiritual act
but one of resistance, and that we use the holiday to reflect on the ills of
society and not only our personal failings. And while they couldn’t change the
date of the primary march, they were adding other events afterwards and in
other cities to create opportunities to include Jews as allies and partners in
the work of racial healing and social justice. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In other words, they made <i>Teshuvah. </i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tonight, we begin our Day of Atonement, our last chance to
reflect on our actions from the past year and decide what kind of people we
want to be. The next 24 hours we will be focused, as commanded, on self-denial,
mostly fasting, and concluding these 10 Days of Awe, themselves part of several
weeks of penitence; a final, last-ditch effort to make <i>Teshuvah</i>, to turn in true repentance and try to live up to our
better selves. Even more than that, the scholar Adin Steinsaltz describes <i>Teshuvah </i>as “the ever-present
possibility of changing one’s life and the very direction of one’s life”, and
“the possibility of altering reality after the fact.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When we talk about <i>Teshuvah</i>,
repentance, and <i>kapparah, </i>atonement,
we often talk about the idea of <i>selicha</i>,
of apology. Classically, <i>Teshuvah </i>is made up of three parts: we
are supposed to apologize for what we’ve done wrong, make amends or restitution
to those we’ve offended, and make changes in our lives so that we don’t make
the same mistake or cause the same harm again. But the focus is so often on
asking forgiveness. Our liturgy emphasizes that idea of verbally saying “I’m
sorry”, and we see all over social media and in person people saying something
like, “if I have offended you I apologize and I forgive anyone who has offended
me,” a <span class="msoIns"><ins cite="mailto:Marisa" datetime="2017-09-12T17:52">catch-all</ins></span> reciprocal act of forgiveness. But <i>Teshuvah
</i>is more than just the words we speak; it must be predicated <span style="color: red;"><span class="msoIns"><ins cite="mailto:Marisa" datetime="2017-09-12T17:52">on</ins></span></span><span style="color: red;"> </span>our actions as well. To merely ask
for forgiveness without doing the hard work of literally turning ourselves
around is really an invitation to failure. It’s setting an expectation that we
will do better and be better without having prepared ourselves to do either.
It’s the spiritual equivalent of running a marathon without having ever done
any exercise; without the training, the buildup of muscle and endurance<span class="msoIns"><ins cite="mailto:Marisa" datetime="2017-09-12T17:52">,</ins></span>
both physical and mental, the race is already lost. Doesn’t matter if you paid
the registration, got your number and had every intention of running and
finishing; without the prep work, it’s over before it starts. The same is true
for <i>Teshuvah</i>. To apologize is to set
an expectation; that things will be different, that I will be better. That I
will just somehow miraculously stop doing whatever it is I was doing to make
the other person miserable. But without recompense and change in behavior,
without doing some real hard work within my soul, then the words are only
sounds. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And we each know someone who simply cannot apologize. To ask
them to say, “I’m sorry” is a step too far. It doesn’t mean that they’re bad
people or incapable of being thoughtful or self-reflective; they just can’t say
those words. Or perhaps that description resonates within us, ourselves. Maybe
it’s too embarrassing, or it feels like weakness. But for whatever reason the
words “I’m sorry”, meant to be a phrase that facilitates catharsis, instead
becomes an obstacle to real <i>Teshuvah. </i> <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Is real <i>Teshuvah, </i>real
repentance, possible without an apology? That’s tough. For many of us, hearing
an apology is a necessary moment of engagement; it’s that point where we
evaluate the sincerity of the offending individual. And, frankly, it’s
sometimes self-satisfying to be told by someone that they were wrong and we
were right. It’s gratifying to have someone come to us in humility. But is it
truly necessary? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To understand that I want to share what I think is one of
the greatest examples of contrition and <i>Teshuvah
</i>in the modern experience, and the words “I’m sorry” were never spoken. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Many people wondered what President George W. Bush was going
to do when he left office in 2009. At the time a deeply unpopular president,
one who had presided over a Recession, two enormous wars, and one of the worst
natural disasters to ever hit the United States, “Dubya” was never one to
apologize. In fact, he cast himself as a man of steely resolve, the “Decider”
who, despite initially wanting to create a humbler presidency, never could
admit a wrong, at least publicly. Surely there were tears shed privately, as we
learned later, when confronted by the parents of soldiers sent off to war only
to return broken, or not at all. But that was never articulated to the public. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, it was a surprise to learn that this least-introspective
president had taken up painting. Taking lessons and self-teaching, he seemed to
be cultivating a quirky hobby in his political retirement, painting self-portraits,
including of him coming out of the shower, which no one wanted to see. There
were a lot of laughs at his expense as a result. But it turned out all of this
was practice, laying a groundwork to focus on a specific project. Last year, it
was revealed that former-President Bush had been learning to paint so he could
paint the portraits of men and women he had ordered to serve in the wars in
Afghanistan and Iraq, many of whom were profoundly wounded, either physically
or psychologically. He released a book this year of his portraits, called “Portraits
of Courage”, which highlight the biographies of the former soldiers he painted,
many of whom suffered post-traumatic stress and brain injuries. The proceeds
from the book go to an organization that helps wounded warriors with
employment, treatment and recovery for their injuries, etc. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Friends, George W. Bush never apologized in the way the
organizers for the March for Justice did. He never apologized for the forever
wars we are still fighting. He never apologized for sending our children into
harm’s way. He never asked this country's forgiveness for his choices, and we’ll never know if he apologized to those men
and women who did their duty, be it with enthusiasm or reluctance. But is there
any other way to understand this effort? And how could we not open our hearts
to this action, this choice, this act of contrition, no less profound than that
of the March organizers gearing up for tomorrow. Each in their own way made a
choice to alter reality after the fact, to open themselves up to the
possibility that they could turn, and in turning, be reborn. That very same choice
is before us; tonight, tomorrow, and each and every day. It’s only up to us to
resolve that we will embrace those opportunities to alter ourselves and our
experiences. May we have the courage to do so. Amen. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123924743583572207.post-36094027270532241902017-09-22T09:00:00.003-04:002017-09-22T09:00:46.609-04:00Rosh Hashanah Morning 5778 (2017): Becoming a Rodef Shalom, a Pursuer of Peace<div class="MsoNormal">
In the village where I grew up, down the street from the
home-made ice cream place and the library, across the street from the
playground where I went as a kid and I used to take my son, there is a magical
place. It’s a red-painted barn<span class="msoIns"><ins cite="mailto:Marisa" datetime="2017-09-12T17:50">-</ins></span><span class="msoDel"><del cite="mailto:Marisa" datetime="2017-09-12T17:50"> </del></span>like building,
kind of out of place for New England, with the words 1856 Country Store on the
side, but everyone knows it as the Penny Candy Store. It’s the place in the
village to get sweatshirts, soap, doodads, knickknacks, a newspaper, and yes,
penny candy. It’s the perfect spot to meet your friends or take your kid after story
time or some time on the playground, and the best spot to stand in front of to
watch the Memorial Day parade every year. On either side of the door are two
white, painted benches; one says “<u>Democrats</u>” on it,
the other “<u>Republicans</u>”.
It’s supposed to be for a laugh, these two benches divided by the entranceway,
a cute photo you take. This past summer as I was walking with my family past I
looked at those benches, and suddenly it wasn’t so cute any more. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There’s been a lot of discussion since last high holidays on
how divided we are, and how ugly and angry those divisions have become. We read
about neighbors who can’t stand to look at each other anymore getting into
screaming matches and even spitting on each other; racist and anti-Semitic and
homophobic attacks in the wake of the election. And it isn’t just <u>Right </u>vs. <u>Left</u>;
it seems to me that we’re increasingly in the middle of an all-out scrum of all
versus all; left-wing organizations shunning Jews because of Zionism,
right-wing groups and individuals threatening those who don’t observe
intellectual purity. And all those discussions have been filled with a great
deal of blame and accusation; whose fault is it that we’re so divided. Which,
of course, fosters more division, more hostility, more anger. I don’t know
about you; maybe you’re over it. Maybe you feel like this issue has been talked
to death and you just want to be left alone. For me, as a father, as a rabbi,
as a man, it’s scary. It’s exhausting. And it’s sad. It’s increasingly clear
that we cannot move forward as a country and a community in this fashion. As
human beings, we ache for connectivity; we are social animals and we want to be
able to be in relationship with one another in peace. Forget about politics for
a moment; in my neighborhood, there are two neighbors that are having a
constant war with one another about the Lord knows what, but it’s constant and
they are always trying to suck everyone else into this fight. Perhaps you have
had similar experiences. It’s really uncomfortable, to the point of worrying
about folks’ safety. I’m not saying we all have to be best buddies, but a
minimum level of civility goes a long way to keeping the peace. We hunger for
that civility, need to reclaim it and restore it to a prominent place in our
society.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Therefore, as Jews, as human beings, we are compelled to
act. Our tradition teaches us the importance of peace: in text after text we
are reminded that the pursuit of peace is among the most important tasks before us.
Famously we are taught <i>Bakesh shalom v’rodfei hu</i>; Seek peace and pursue it. And
the sages of old have understood that text to mean that, while other mitzvot are
conditional, circumstantial; perhaps we could do whatever we’re commanded to
do, perhaps not<u>; </u>this mitzvah,
however, is <i>not </i>conditional. If there is no opportunity to make peace, we make
an opportunity to make peace. And in the
spirit of the new year, I’d like to suggest that we now could make that
opportunity, to start over, and spend this year in our daily lives rebuilding
what has been broken, healing the divisions we see in our midst. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To pursue peace, we must ask the question: what do we mean
by that word, peace? The word can too easily conjure up a certain kind of
cynicism; “can’t we all just get along” type stuff. Let me be clear by what I
mean by this<span class="msoIns"><ins cite="mailto:Marisa" datetime="2017-09-12T17:50"> </ins></span>action, and what I don’t mean. In the spirit of Maimonides, I’ll
begin with what I don’t mean. I do not mean capitulation on deeply held
beliefs. I do not mean moral ambivalence or relativism, that somehow ‘many
sides’ can all be equally right. Peace doesn’t merely mean quiet or order. This
is not about shutting people up or shutting people down. Indeed, I’d argue that
doing so is no peace at all. Many of us feel quite strongly about a whole range
of issues, have attended rallies and vigils and protests; peace does not mean
going home and shutting up. It does not mean minimizing folks’ lived
experiences. None of those things lead to peace. They may lead to quiet, and it
might lead to order, but the ache, the anger, the issues that were there before
will still seep out, will still curdle our relationships with one another. I’m
guessing all of us have apologized at some point or another for something we
didn’t feel guilty of, just to get the conversation over and avoid the
conflict. And I’m also guessing each of us have tried to share a deeply held
belief—perhaps even with close friends—only to be shouted down, perhaps without
the other person even understanding our point of view. Maybe we were doing the
shouting. How many of us are still carrying the scars from that, still holding
onto the anger we felt, the frustration we felt. How many of us are still
carrying that around with us? Does that sound like peace to you? As we read in the prophets, we are forbidden
to proclaim “Peace! When
there is no peace.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, what is the pursuit of peace, really? What does our
tradition mean when it compels us to seek peace and pursue it? First and
foremost, it means recognizing our shared humanity. If we take seriously the
idea from our Torah that all of us are created in God’s image, then we have a
moral obligation to lift that up for ourselves and each other. Sounds easy, but
it’s really, hard. To stop for a moment,
stop our own anxieties, our own agenda, our own business long enough to look at
the person and see that it is, in fact, A PERSON that you're looking at ,
requires a great deal of compassion and patience. Especially if they’re yelling
at you. Rabbi Amy Eilberg, who has done a tremendous amount of conflict
transformation work<span class="msoIns"><ins cite="mailto:Marisa" datetime="2017-09-12T17:50">,</ins></span> especially between Jews and
Palestinians, talks about when she’s in difficult conversations, sometimes
painful conversations with others, and before she responds with her own anger,
her own need to be right, takes a deep breath and, looking at each person, says
silently to herself ‘betzelem Elohim, betzelem Elohim, betzelem Elohim.” –“Created
in God’s image, Created in God’s image, Created in God’s image.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In those moments, when we want to just take the other person
apart, to respond defensively, it takes a willingness to put down our own
weapons, to not, in conflict, fight to win. Rabbi Elisa Koppel last year shared
the idea of makhlokeht l’shem shamayim, a disagreement for the sake of heaven.
Our tradition does not presume that conflict will cease to exist; there will
always be conflict. But, how can we make said conflicts constructive, thoughtful,
and productive<span class="msoIns"><ins cite="mailto:Marisa" datetime="2017-09-12T17:50">?</ins></span><span class="msoDel"><del cite="mailto:Marisa" datetime="2017-09-12T17:50">.</del></span> How can we
avoid demonizing the other side, making broad generalizations of everyone who
disagrees with me? It might feel good in the moment, but is the hangover worth
it? I’ve been a Rotarian for a few years now, as is my father, and the hallmark
for the Rotary organization is something called the Four-Way test. The Four-way
test asks us to take the following questions into account before we speak with
one another: Is it the truth? Is it fair to all concerned? Will it build
goodwill? Is it to everyone’s benefit? It’s meant to be nonsectarian and
nonpartisan, but I can’t help but think of it as awfully Jewish. Can you
imagine having those four questions in your head before you spoke? I don’t know
about you, but I think it would help make a whole lot of conflicts much more
meaningful, and who knows, perhaps we might learn something from the other as a
result. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That idea of learning, of being open and curious rather than
closed and determined, is essential to the work of pursuing peace as well. That
doesn’t mean being soft. It doesn’t mean giving up what we believe. It does
mean being humble; listening to the other without interruption, even when it is
hard. Perhaps especially when it is hard. It means being quick to listen
carefully and slow to interject. It means being aware of one’s own feelings in
the heated moment and recognizing them as authentic but not letting them drive
the conversation. I’ve often shared my teacher Rabbi David Ellenson’s story of
how, when he and his wife would get into a disagreement and the conversation
got too heated she would say “David, this is where you can either be right or
be married.” Our need to win cannot and should not take precedence over our
need to maintain a relationship; we must respond graciously and acknowledge our
own limits. So, when the person shares their pain, their own lived experience,
we would be wise to listen respectfully, and expect the same from the person
we’re speaking to, and apologize quickly if what we say in reflection turns out
to be hurtful. That’s not being politically correct, it’s not being policed,
it’s being a mensch; it’s being kind. And I think we can agree that we could
use a little more kindness. Last Sukkot Ivan Thomas<span class="msoIns"><ins cite="mailto:Marisa" datetime="2017-09-12T17:50">,</ins></span> who created
#wearelove<span class="msoIns"><ins cite="mailto:Marisa" datetime="2017-09-12T17:50">,</ins></span> came and led our congregation in a
process where we could listen deeply and respectfully to each other’s stories.
I doubt anyone who was there that night could say that they didn’t learn
something new about the world, the person they interacted with, or themselves.
And when we open ourselves up, when we respond with curiosity, we create the
opportunity to do exactly that kind of learning. In contrast, Rabbi Eilberg
recounts in her book From Enemy to Friend how she went to an academic panel
where the moderator asked each panelist to ask the other a question, and one
admitted she honestly couldn’t think of one question she could ask the others.
They were so used to articulating their point of view, defending their point of
view, that they hadn’t thought what it would mean to listen to one another. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By now you’ve probably realized that the kind of peace I’m
describing is hard to achieve, especially in a world where it’s easy to go on
the internet, see something that makes our blood boil and then go bananas. To
do this work takes intentionality, self-awareness, humility and courage. Yes,
courage: the courage to be vulnerable in the moment, to open yourself up to someone
else’s world view. It takes compassion, honoring the holiness in the other, and
a generosity of spirit. It’s not easy; we’ve fallen out of the habit. We want
to repost memes and scream into the face of the other—and there’s always an
“Other”. But just because something is hard doesn’t mean it isn’t worth doing.
What if we committed to taking these values and, when we encounter someone with
whom we disagree, someone with whom we’re in conflict, work to make them a part
of the encounter. What if we strive, each one of us, to be a little more
curious, a little humbler, a little more willing to listen to each other. A
little more willing to hear someone else’s pain, and be aware of our own. A
little more willing to transform the conflict rather than avoid it. Look, we’re
not going to magically become the Dalai Llama or Reb Nachman of Bratzlav or
Pope Francis—and frankly, each one of them have had moments they weren’t proud
of. Each one of us, no matter how hard we try, will fall. God knows I have. But
that’s not the point; the point is to pursue peace. We may never achieve it,
not fully nor perfectly, but we must still seek out those opportunities and
embrace them to the best of our abilities. Maybe we only change one
conversation; sometimes that’s all it takes to make a difference in this world.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The poet Yehuda Amichai wrote the following: <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the place where we are right<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Flowers will never grow in the spring. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The place where we are right<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Is hard and trampled like a yard. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But doubts and loves dig up the world like a <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mole, a plough. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And a whisper will be heard in the place where the <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ruined house once stood. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do we want to be right or in relationship? Do we want to
continue to trample the ground and each other in service to our rage and pain,
or do we want to plant new flowers of love and understanding? In this new year,
I am going to commit myself to pursuing peace. I am going to commit myself to
seek understanding, to respect and reflect, and to do what I can to shape the
conflicts I encounter into conflicts for the sake of Heaven. And I deeply
believe that, if each of us commits as well, we can begin to change the world
around us, to move toward a culture of peace. As you leave today you will find
the Rodef Shalom Agreement, a brit, a covenant you make with yourself. I
encourage you to take one, and begin to do the work of exploring what it would
mean for each of us to be that person in our lives. May it be so. Amen. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<b><u><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Corsiva",serif; font-size: 22.0pt; mso-no-proof: yes;"><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shapetype
id="_x0000_t75" coordsize="21600,21600" o:spt="75" o:preferrelative="t"
path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" filled="f" stroked="f">
<v:stroke joinstyle="miter"/>
<v:formulas>
<v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"/>
<v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"/>
</v:formulas>
<v:path o:extrusionok="f" gradientshapeok="t" o:connecttype="rect"/>
<o:lock v:ext="edit" aspectratio="t"/>
</v:shapetype><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_1" o:spid="_x0000_i1025" type="#_x0000_t75"
style='width:120pt;height:83.5pt;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square'>
<v:imagedata src="file:///C:/Users/yairr/AppData/Local/Temp/msohtmlclip1/01/clip_image001.png"
o:title=""/>
</v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--></span></u></b><b><u><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Corsiva",serif; font-size: 22.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></u></b></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<b><u><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Corsiva",serif; font-size: 36.0pt;"> Rodef Shalom Agreement<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Corsiva",serif; font-size: 28.0pt;">I hereby agree, to do my utmost</span></i><i><span style="font-size: 28.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Corsiva",serif; font-size: 28.0pt;">in being mindful of myself</span></i><i><span style="font-size: 28.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Corsiva",serif; font-size: 28.0pt;">as a <u>rodef shalom</u> (pursuer of peace),<br />
seeking to understand, respect and assist</span></i><i><span style="font-size: 28.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Corsiva",serif; font-size: 28.0pt;">in constructively balancing conflicting</span></i><i><span style="font-size: 28.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Corsiva",serif; font-size: 28.0pt;">needs and perspectives,</span></i><i><span style="font-size: 28.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Corsiva",serif; font-size: 28.0pt;">between individuals and communities,</span></i><i><span style="font-size: 28.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Corsiva",serif; font-size: 28.0pt;">in the spirit of <u>mahloket l’shem shamayim</u></span></i><i><span style="font-size: 28.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Corsiva",serif; font-size: 28.0pt;">(conflicts for the sake of Heaven).</span></i><i><span style="font-size: 28.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123924743583572207.post-27208706606168272602017-09-22T08:54:00.003-04:002017-09-22T08:54:22.883-04:00Erev Rosh Hashanah 5778/2017: How Do We Talk (About Israel) With Each Other? <div class="MsoNormal">
It was a hot day this past July, and it looked like the Old
City of Jerusalem was going to explode. A few days before, three Israeli Arabs
had killed two Israeli Druze police officers near the Temple Mount. Security
forces had closed off the area and then reopened it with metal detectors.
Israeli Arab leaders and the leadership of the Waqf, the religious authority
that supervises Muslim holy sites in Israel, staged a protest, and began
calling for a day of rage. Three Israelis were killed when someone broke into
their home, and three Palestinians were killed in rioting. For those of us
watching this past summer, it appeared that once again Israel would be
embroiled in violence. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In response to the increased tensions, Sarah Tuttle-Singer,
an American Israeli journalist who has been living in the Muslim Quarter of the
Old City, stood outside and, with a few friends, handed out popsicles to
passersby. She started with popsicles she had paid for out of pocket, and by
the end of the day merchants were donating them entire boxes. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She wrote the following of the experience: <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>On Thursday, a group of us stood in front of the Austrian
hospice at the intersection of Al Wad and Via Dolorosa and handed out (parve)
popsicles to anyone who would accept.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Men carrying prayer rugs on their way to the Mosque.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Guys going to the Western Wall.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Families walking north and south and back again.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>A baffled looking priest and two nuns.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>A guy in Border Police with braces on his teeth.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>A pilgrim from Russia wearing a giant cross and strappy
sandals.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>A bunch of tourists from Ohio.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Lots and lots and lots of kids.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Anyone who would accept a popsicle got one.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Why?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Because it's *** hot out.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>And we may come from different cultures and religions, we
may speak different languages and see the world through different eyes, but we
are all a sum part of chemical and biological processes, and we all get hot.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>And when we get hot we get irritated and the tensions that
are already there can ignite.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Also, the Old City is my home and I believe in treating my
neighbors with respect during good times, and bad.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As it happened, the next day, Israel removed the security
apparatuses and tensions were calmed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I suspect many of us, as touched as we are by Sarah’s
gesture (on her birthday, no less) find it lovely but Pollyanna-ish. How do
popsicles solve the crisis between Palestinian and Jew in the area between the
Mediterranean Sea and the Jordan RIver? How does this account for the Waqf’s
incitement, fanning the flames of violence? How does it deal with the
Palestinian Authority continuing to pay the families of terrorists, including
the three who killed the Druze police officers? How do popsicles deal with
olive groves destroyed by settlers who build on hilltops that don’t belong to
them? What do popsicles do to protect our kids at college when someone paints a
swastika on their dorm room door? How does this really resolve anything? We see
the picture of Sarah handing out popsicles, and it’s lovely, and kind, yet by
the time we’re done thinking about the matzav, the situation, we get ourselves
so worked up that it feels futile and hopeless and irrelevant. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I was a kid I had a book from AIPAC called “Myths and
Facts”, a guide to talking about the Arab-Israeli conflict, that was meant to
help someone who would get caught up in a conversation about Israel and quickly
get overwhelmed. That’s because the conversation is overwhelming. Because when
we speak of Israel, we are often very quick to speak of technicalities: dates
and maps and green lines and technical marvels, who did what when, who is to blame
and who is responsible, who really actually truly cares about others? And
what’s worse, the diversity of Zionist organizations on the left and the right
has created increasing fracture within the Jewish community, including here in
Delaware. Myths And Facts was meant for Jews to speak with non-Jews, but it
seems that we have reached the point where we may feel that we need it
internally, not just externally. It was one thing to combat well-meaning
non-Jewish peaceniks who would carry the claim that Zionism was racism. Now we
have the ZOA, AIPAC, J-Street, ARZA, IfNotNow, Open Hillel and many other
organizations whose relationship with Zionism is complex and nuanced, which
would be great, if we were living in a time of complex and nuanced discussion
and debate. But increasingly, we have been living in a world of alternative
facts, fake news, insistence that if the person across from me disagrees with
me even in the slightest bit, they are not just wrong, they are my enemy and
the enemy of all I hold dear. To be a J-Street supporter in the eyes of many is
to betray the Jewish state to an Iranian Nuclear Weapon, while to be an AIPAC
supporter is to capitulate to an Israeli Prime Minister unwilling and unable to
make peace. Is ARZA fighting to create space for Reform Jews to practice an
egalitarian Judaism at the Western Wall, or a distraction undermining the
fabric of Israeli society and Judaism as we know it? Does the ZOA advocate for
a strong Jewish State or is it a racist organization advocating bigotry against
Arabs? These are actual discussions that are taking place, if you can call them
‘discussions’. More like weaponized sentences, screaming matches, skirmishes
that have casualties. As one example, a student of mine, now in college, shared
this experience with me: She was getting ready to go on a birthright trip, one
geared toward LGBT individuals, that would coincide with Israel Pridefest. She
wrote: “Before the trip I had gotten anti-Israel hate on campus (anti-Trump
protests saying if you didn't vote to divest then you don't believe in human
rights, friends saying Zionism has no place in feminism) and my best friend
told me she cancelled her trip with me because she couldn't "morally go to
Israel" but nobody was like actually attacking me for going cuz I kept it
on the down low since I knew so many of my friends legitimately hated Israel
and would make laugh about terrorism on twitter. Only after I went did I have
people be blatantly anti-Semitic to me on twitter because of my trip and people
passive aggressively post articles about pink washing the day I got back” . Can
you imagine having friendships ruined, trips ruined, relationships blown apart?
That is what is happening, and this is being repeated over and over again. My
friends, we are tearing each other apart. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Friends, if we keep talking about Israel through
technicalities, as if it were a zero-sum game, without nuance or complexity or
an acknowledgement of each other’s lived experiences, then we are not going to
resolve the Palestinian-Israeli crisis. We are not going to stop dumb college
kids from saying dumb and terrible things and doing dumb and terrible things.
We aren’t going to be able to support the kind of Israel we want to see—strong
and diverse and safe. We are creating a no-man’s land within the Jewish
community; no one wants to talk about Israel. I’ve seen it for years: a survey
came out two years ago of rabbis across all three major movements that
indicated the majority refrained from discussing Israel because they feared for
their jobs; one prominent rabbi in the Northeast who does a great deal of
social justice work told a group of us ten years ago to approach the topic of
Israel gingerly, and treat it as a third rail in synagogue politics. And we see
it in Delaware. How many people are still giving to ARZA, or are willing to go
to an AIPAC or J-Street policy conference, or at least tell others? How many
look over both shoulders while at Temple before talking about Israel so as not
to get into a fight? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’ve been without an
Israel Advocacy Chair for more than two years, a Board position! Because no one
wants to touch it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So let’s go back to those popsicles, shall we? Did some
blonde woman from LA who now lives in Jerusalem handing out popsicles resolve
the borders, water rights, Palestinian Right of Return and the boundaries of
Jerusalem? Nope. Did it resolve the issue on the Temple Mount? Nope. Did it
bring back the lives of those killed—the policemen, the family, the young
people at the protest? Sadly, no. But it was a human gesture, a recognition
that the people shared a city, shared a love for that city, and a love for each
other as well. It was neighborly, it was kind. And it allowed the people to be
people, to recognize the humanity in one another, even for one brief, cool,
sweet, drippy moment. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We need more of those moments. We need more opportunities
that are safe, where we can sit with our fellow congregants and speak from our
lived experiences, talk about what Israel means to each one of us personally.
We need to start not at 30,000 feet, at borders and drip irrigation and the
like. That doesn’t mean that isn’t interesting, that doesn’t mean it isn’t
cool, but that’s not our starting point. Our starting point needs to be each
other. Why do we care about Israel? What does that look like to me, or to you?
Where does it come from? How does it relate to the rest of our lives? How can
we listen and affirm that connection, deepen it, relate to it, let it resonate
for ourselves? How does Israel challenge us, upset us? How do we create space
to listen to one another, not scream the so-called correct answers at one
another? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This year, I want to try an experiment; an experiment in
listening. Over the course of this year, there will be sessions, held over several
months, beginning in October and culminating in May. The purpose of them is to
create the space to talk about Israel, to listen to each other in a safe space,
and to build relationships. No other agenda, no convincing one another of being
right or wrong, no yelling, no screaming, no Myths and no Facts. Only listening
deeply and seeing the humanity in one another, and acknowledging each other’s
experiences. I can’t promise there will be popsicles, but my prayer is that
we’re able to come together and speak honestly and compassionately, to hear one
another even when it’s difficult. Because it’ll be no good if we only speak
platitudes and avoid the subject; that’s what we’ve got now and it’s not doing
anything either. We need to be able to be honest, but to be able to hear one
another clearly as well, not just prepare our next fusillade. Rabbi Amy
Eilberg, in her book From Enemy To Friend, talks about “skilled disagreement”,
and this will help guide our conversations. Ideas like: we can be critical of
ideas but not people, we can separate our personal worth from criticism of our
ideas, we listen to everyone, even when we don’t agree, we try to understand
one another and stand in a posture of curiosity, asking questions. I’ll be
going into greater detail about those ideas tomorrow, but that is the
intention. I cordially invite you—all of you, each of you—to come and
participate, to share, to be present, to create those moments of empathy with
one another. Perhaps it will lead to something concrete for the synagogue—a new
Israel committee, a new program—or perhaps it will just mean that the
participants got to know each other better and learned how to speak
thoughtfully. Perhaps we will choose to extend the conversation: to the rest of
Delaware’s Jewish community, to the non-Jewish community, or perhaps not.
What’s most important is that we do it. Because if we do not start here, each
one of us, in this congregation, then I fear our relationship with Israel will
become increasingly tenuous, and our relationship with one another ever more
brittle. And should that happen, then we cannot advocate for Israel, at least
not effectively. And are we really ready to give up on the Hope and the dream
of a Jewish people, Free in our land? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The rabbis of old ask, “Who is the hero of heroes? The one
who makes an enemy into a friend.” May we, through our listening and our
kindness learn to keep our friends “friends”, and see those around us not as
enemies but as potential friends, then may our words be as sweet to one another
as a popsicle on a summer’s day. Amen<o:p></o:p></div>
Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123924743583572207.post-41094620620145532912017-08-23T21:48:00.004-04:002017-08-23T21:48:54.333-04:00Blogging Elul: Rosh Chodesh, Shoftim and choosing to Act<div class="MsoNormal">
In the summer of 1958, Groucho Marx took his daughter
Melinda, friend Robert Duan and Robert’s daughter Judy for a six week trip to
Europe, including a visit to Germany. While in Germany, they attempted to visit
the cemetery where Groucho’s grandmother was buried, only to find the entire
Jewish section had been eradicated by the Nazis. A few days later, Groucho
hired a car to take them to East Berlin, where he asked to see the remains of
Hitler’s bunker and last resting place. They found it much the way it was right
after the war; a heap of wreckage and rubble. Marx got out of the car, stood
atop it, and proceeded to do a frenetic Charleston routine; an ultimate act of
defiance. No one laughed. They left Germany the next day. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s worth reflecting on that image, of Groucho Marx
literally dancing on the grave of Hitler, without even a hint of humor in the
moment, as we continue to process the events of the last few weeks. Rabbi
Koppel, in conversation with me, reflected that it seemed as if the march in Charlottesville
sent the entire Jewish community into shock, and that we were—are—still wrestling
with what we should be doing. I mentioned this to a non-Jewish colleague, who
said that he shared with his congregation the following question, based on the
prophets: are we responding to the Tiki-torch Nazis out of righteousness or out
of rage? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We might ask the question whether or not it matters; why
shouldn’t we respond out of our own rage and pain? Wouldn’t we be justified to
react in that fashion? To meet the forces of evil—and lets be clear, we are
discussing evil—in the same manner they approach us? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This week we read in our Torah those words that we as Jews,
and especially as Reform Jews, have clung to for generations; <i>tzedek tzedek tirdof</i>, Justice, Justice
you shall pursue. The Hasidic leader Rabbi Simcha Bunim understands the
repetition of the word <i>tzedek—</i>Justice—to
mean that we must pursue justice in a just way. We cannot, must not say the
ends justify the means, for to do so means that we are no longer truly pursuing
a just, compassionate and sacred world. Instead we are pursuing our own agenda,
one filled with bad intentions. Or, through our actions, no matter our intent,
instead of spreading justice, we create the fertile ground for more injustice
in the world. We have seen this again and again as people who once pursued
righteousness now seek to feed their own egos, or well-intentioned programs and
efforts turn out to backfire on the very people they were supposed to help. So
it is with us as well in this moment. I know it’s scary right now, and
exhausting, and sad, and infuriating. The old punk in me would like nothing
better than to curb-stomp some skinhead thugs. But that isn’t justice; it’s not
even close. Surely the times demand that we act and act we must. But we won’t
become them. We will not allow their hate, their penchant to violence, their
disdain for justice to make us act out of fear and rage. We will not let them
dictate the rules of the game. No; we will act with a defiant love in our
hearts, a love for God and this world and our neighbors and our tradition as
radical and provocative as dancing on Hitler’s grave. We will not shrink from
our mission as Jews, but step forward, reminding others of God’s hidden light
in the world, that will only be revealed when we lift up the poor, support the
oppressed, and care for the stranger in our midst, for we know what it means to
be the stranger. We will act with courage, but not hate, strength but not rage,
justice but not zealousness. The moment is calling to us, and we must answer
the call, to do justice justly in the world and cause the shadow of hate to
crawl back under the rock. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
In 1941 Woody Guthrie put the words “This Machine Kills
Fascists” on his guitar. His music was his weapon against tyranny and hate.
Groucho’s weapon against injustice was a crazy Charleston. Our weapon is Torah,
guiding the work of our hands and the words we speak. We move forward, mindful
of the words of the psalmist we say from now until Rosh Hashanah, Hope in God!
Be strong and of good courage. Hope in God! Amen. <o:p></o:p></div>
Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123924743583572207.post-27231925295036783642017-08-12T14:52:00.000-04:002017-08-12T14:52:57.245-04:00Charlottesville, Eikev and Being In The Camp BubbleI've been at Camp Harlam as faculty for the last week now. It's been amazing, as always, working with my unit and their staff, being with colleagues and comparing notes, focused on this cloistered microcosm of Jewish life here in the Poconos.<br />
<br />
The emphasis is on the word cloistered. Even while taking the unit to New York City earlier this week it's easy to feel disconnected from the outside world. That is, as they say, a feature, not a bug; the point is to get the kids (and staff) to focus entirely on the Jewish world they're creating here in Kunkletown, rather than be distracted by what might be happening off-camp. Campers aren't allowed phones or connected devices, and staff are asked to keep theirs discreet and use them only for work or in their off hours. So it's easy to loss connection with the daily round, including what's happening in Virginia right now.<br />
<br />
I was in Charlottesville for the first time only two months ago. I was down to do a wedding, and Marisa and I used the opportunity for a little R&R as well. While there, we toured the Old Grounds of the University of Virginia, and later (when my son arrived from my in-laws) Monticello.<br />
<br />
I was struck by two things while in Charlottesville. The first was the kindness and diversity of everyone I met: the woman who cut my hair the day before the wedding, the local friends of the couple, the folks we met in passing, the guy behind the counter at the used book store who clearly could spin a yarn, the folks at the coffeeshop we had breakfast in. Sure, you might say, it's the South, of course they were nice. But it was more than that: they were <i>kind. </i> There was a real sense of community in this town. A sense that all of us are in this together.<br />
<br />
The other was how the city--and UVA--are still wrestling with race and the legacy of slavery. As someone who went to Oberlin, a school rooted first in the Underground Railroad and Emancipation and later the Civil Rights movement, it was hard for me to tour the campus and process how much slavery permeated the origins of the school. But to the school's credit, it was neither hidden away nor whitewashed; there were clear exhibits and displays discussing their "original sin" and its legacy.<br />
<br />
So to see what's happening in Charlottesville today is heartbreaking. The hate. The bigotry. The violence and terrorism. The lack of shame on the part of those who fly the symbols of racism and rage and intimidation. And to be here, surrounded by children of every color of the rainbow and every orientation celebrating their Judaism knowing that only a half-a-day's ride, people are being threatened, beaten, or run over, makes me feel pulled in two different directions, groping for answers in the dark.<br />
<br />
This week, in our Torah portion, we read: "Remember the long way that The Eternal your God has made you travel in the wilderness...[in order to] test you by hardships to learn what was in your hearts: whether you would keep [God's] commandments or not."(Deut. 8:2). Clearly we as a country are still in the wilderness, still tested by hardship; is this truly what is in our hearts as a country? Is this who we want to be? A place of fire and rage and hate and bigotry? Or can we find our way back on the path? At this morning's Shabbat service, the unit head and assistant unit head of Galil reminded us that our values are not goals to achieve, they are not things we are meant to master. Rather, we are presented opportunities to strive toward them, and while sometimes we succeed, sometimes we fail as well. But failure can lead to learning, can lead us higher, to strive harder for those moments where we might be our best selves. Today, as we continue in the wilderness of history, is a moment of failure. Today is a moment where we failed God's test. Not for Charlottesville or Virginia, but for all of us. Even those of us cloistered away at summer camp. But it will only remain a failure if we fail to learn from it, if we fail to act on that learning. Today is a day of hate. May tomorrow be a day of love, a day of peace--because we made it as such.Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123924743583572207.post-20976270433051103972017-07-21T20:30:00.000-04:002017-07-21T20:30:12.121-04:00Parashat Mattot: Seeing The Other<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The ad took up a full page in the newspaper. A prayer, a
Jewish prayer, for soldiers going off to war, presented by the religious leader
of the local community, beginning with the Shema in transliterated Hebrew, and
ending with the words of the Psalms: “For thy salvation do I hope, O Lord!” The
prayer, fitting a time of war, beseeches God to defeat the enemy, to inspire
the young soldier and watch over them, and to watch over the welfare of the
country and its leadership. The local Jewish community, having seen this
prayer, watching their own children and their neighbors’ children go off to
war, must have found it inspiring, and the Christian community, I suspect,
found it encouraging as well. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The prayer I’m referring to is the Prayer for Confederate
soldiers, written by Rev. M. J. Michelbacher, “minister” of the Hebrew Congregation,
“House of Love” in Richmond Virginia, now headed by my colleague Scott Nagel.
The enemy invoked in the prayer is, of course, the North, the Union…you know,
the good guys. And here is a Jewish prayer celebrating what we know and understand,
and what many of our Movement’s founders understood, to be the bad guys, the
Confederacy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It would be really easy for us to dismiss this as a
particular stain of our history, but a minor one, that little shadow on the
tablecloth where the wine got spilled at Seder once. We could blow it off, or
explain it away, or justify it in a hundred different ways: a product of its
time and place, the local Jews were afraid to speak out against injustice, etc.
and so forth. Or we could just ignore it, and celebrate Jewish abolitionists
and later civil rights leaders and pretend it’s not there. But there it is,
beautifully and thoughtfully written by the local Jewish leader, publicized and
memorialized at a time of great conflict, as Michelman writes, “this once happy
country inflamed”. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That part should sound familiar to us. Perhaps you’ve moved
on from the gnashing of teeth and bitter divide of 2016, and if you have, I
commend you. I’m still a mess, and let me be clear; I’m a mess as much over the
division between people—the anger, the howling rage and alienation—as I am over
any particular policy or political stance. We are very quick to see one another
as enemies instead of neighbors. We are being “Othered” from one another; along
divisions old and new. And we are increasingly insulating ourselves from people
who are different and with whom we agree, happily dismissing their lived
experience. When the threat from the Majority leader in the senate is they may
have to collaborate and compromise with the other side of the aisle, I think it’s
safe to say that our ability to relate to each other is pretty trashed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What happens when we see each other as enemies? Our Torah
portion gives us an example of that. Moses is preparing Israel to finally, <i>finally</i> enter the promised land, when the
tribes of Reuben and Gad make a modest proposal. You see, the lands just
outside what would be Israel happen to be great land for cattle, which was
Reuben and Gad’s thing. They ask, rather than enter the land, if they could
settle just outside, where it makes more sense for their livelihood. “It would be
a favor for us” they say. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, they may have thought that was a reasonable request,
but Moses instead hears treachery and cowardice. Moses accuses them of being
rebels, just like the previous generations, letting their brothers in the other
tribes go to fight while they betray their loyalty to God. They don’t want land
for their cattle; they just want to blow up the whole enterprise and ruin
Israel, just like the previous rebels did. That Reuben—the tribe behind the
last rebellion—was asking for this favor didn’t help. It takes both tribes
declaring that they would go into the land and fight in front of the rest of
the tribes as shock troops, as the vanguard, to calm Moses down from his wrath
and help him see that they in fact were not trying to betray Israel, but do
what was right for their families. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Moses doesn’t see fellow Israelites looking for their own
interests asking permission and blessing for their choices; he sees—through the
lens of previous experience—enemies trying to destroy God’s people. In fact we
see a role-reversal of Moses here; instead of being the gentle and
understanding one who patiently explains God’s commandments to a rebellious people,
the commentator Abravanel imagines the leaders of the tribe stepping forward
and explaining again, quietly, so Moses understands the request, desperately
trying not to embarrass him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How often are we Moses, quick to anger, to assume we know
the other’s motivations, and those motivations have to be harmful, or naïve, or
foolish? How much easier is it for us to speak to like-minded people about how
we see <i>them</i>, those who would harm us,
rather than step forward to speak patiently, quietly with those who would
disagree with us? We talk about loving the neighbor and the stranger, but do we
practice what we preach? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In her book “From Enemy to Friend”, Rabbi Amy Eilberg talks
about different spiritual practices, even simple ones, to help us get beyond
seeing the other as “Other”. Deepening our curiosity rather than our
defensiveness by asking questions, checking in to our reaction to conflict and
being self-aware of how we viscerally respond to others, trying to speak as our
seeming opponent and explain from her point of view, even something as simple
as asking ourselves “Are you sure?” when our inclination is to dig in. Any of
those would give us the tools Moses lacked in the <i>parasha</i>, to truly see and embrace the other, minimize stereotyping
and blame, while still upholding our own values and beliefs, in order to come
to understanding. I think it is possible, but only if we put in the effort, the
spiritual work of slowing down our own gut reaction to conflict. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Prayer for a Confederate Soldier begins and ends with
the Shema, our prayer from Deuteronomy, reminding us that God is One. But
Oneness is not Sameness, and the rabbis remind us that God’s greatness is that
we are all, as different and diverse as we are, created in God’s image, and
that makes us sacred. So I pray not for victory against enemies, but to help us
see those differences as holy; not for victory, but for love, not for victory,
but for understanding. Not for victory, but Wholeness, for Shalom. May it be
so. Amen. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123924743583572207.post-73694479759332546762017-04-28T21:00:00.000-04:002017-04-28T21:00:39.257-04:00Parashat Metzorah, or When to Ask for More Spoons<div class="MsoNormal">
Once Rabbi Elimelekh had his friend Rabbi Mendel as a guest
for dinner. As it happened, that night, Rabbi Elimelekh’s servant forgot to set
out a spoon at Rabbi Mendel’s place. Everyone was eating except Rabbi Mendel,
who sat looking at his soup. The Tzaddik observed this and asked: Why aren’t
you eating? Well, said Rabbi Mendel, I don’t have a spoon. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Look, said Rabbi Elimelekh, one must know enough to ask for
a spoon, and a plate too, if need be! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are two ways to look at this story. One is that Rabbi
Elimelekh should have made sure that Rabbi Mendel had a spoon. Quite rude and
unwelcoming. But the other is Rabbi Elimelekh’s point; that Rabbi Mendel,
seeing his situation, should have asked self-advocated, and asked for help. We
can’t wait for someone to notice whether we’re in distress; we have to ask. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And here’s the thing; we’re not good at asking for help. We’re
great at offering help. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve visited someone in
the hospital after surgery and asked if they wanted the caring committee to
reach out, only to be told with a dismissive wave of the hand that they used to
be on the caring committee. We’re happy to be the one who supports; we’re less
thrilled to be on the receiving end. Maybe it feels infantilizing, or as
Americans, it feels weak. I don’t know. What I do know is that our tradition
teaches us that the point of being in community is as much to have a shoulder
to lean on as it is to offer that shoulders to others. And that no one is
keeping score. We see that in our torah portion, which talks about a person
with Tzaraat; sometimes called leprosy but really some kind of spiritual skin
disease. We are told right at the beginning that as soon as a priest hears
about the person having tzaraat, he’s to go to that person outside the camp to
address his needs. This tells us that someone had to tell the priest, and that
the priest has to go to that person as soon as he hears of their suffering. I
know that sounds self-evident, but too often I find that we’d rather suffer in
silence or hope someone notices that we don’t have a spoon than admit frailty
and get the help and support they need. And when we close ourselves off like
that, in a way, we push our friends away, we tell them that we don’t trust them
to be there for us. And we tell ourselves that we aren’t worthy of love and
support. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rabbi Mendel deserves a spoon. The metzorah—the person with
tzaraat—deserves to be seen by the priest, to have his illness attended to so
he can reenter the camp. And we are deserving of love and support. But
sometimes, folks, we have to ask. Let’s be brave enough, trusting enough, to do
so. Amen. <o:p></o:p></div>
Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123924743583572207.post-57155535436558798572017-03-02T11:16:00.002-05:002017-03-02T11:16:27.436-05:00We all need Shabbat this week. <div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
It's been a hard week. A hard month.. A hard year (and it's only March!). Regardless of your political leanings it's clear that there's a lot of hurt right now. Too much pain, and fear, and anxiety.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
Yet there has also been hope. There have been acts of kindness and solidarity large and small. Rallies. Calls for action. Notes and phone messages. Perhaps enough to fill in the cracks, perhaps not. But gestures of comfort and love nonetheless.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
Tomorrow night begins Shabbat. Tha<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">t "palace in time" that comes every week for us as Jews. It is a chance for us to take a deep breath, to give ourselves permission to step away, if only for a moment, to cherish what is most holy in our lives. A reminder of why we do what we do the other six days.</span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px;">
As we look toward Shabbat, let me be so bold as to make a suggestion; find a synagogue, and go to services (we happen to have two tomorrow night, 6:30 and 8pm). Whether you're a regular or haven't been in a while. Or ever. Whether you're Jewish or not. Go and be in community. Go and be in sacred space. Go and simply be. Go and fulfill the words of the poet Ruth Brin:</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
God, help us now to make this new Shabbat.<br />After noise, we seek quiet;<br />After crowds of indifferent strangers,<br />We seek to touch those we love;<br />After concentration on work and responsibility,<br />We seek freedom to meditate, to listen to our inward selves.<br />We open our eyes to the hidden beauties<br />and the infinite possibilities in the world You are creating;<br />We break open the gates of the reservoirs<br />of goodness and kindness in ourselves and in others;<br />We reach toward one holy perfect moment of Shabbat.</div>
</div>
Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123924743583572207.post-15982859073556461802017-02-24T19:00:00.000-05:002017-02-24T20:09:59.568-05:00Parashat Mishpatim: Cruelty or Solidarity? If you went to Oberlin back in the 1990s then you would know that mild February weather would bring a special visitor to Tappan Square. Brother Jed. Who was Brother Jed? We never got his full name, but he was a part of a Christian religious organization where clearly part of the mission was to go to places of so-called godlessness and hedonism and bring the Gospel. So he would stand there in dress shirt and slacks with a sign quoting the Bible to justify some hostility to homosexuality (usually) and a Bible and would proclaim his values in a calm but loud voice. This being Oberlin there would be all kinds of shenanigans as a result: gay couples would frolic behind him, an Orthodox buddy from Hillel once stood about 15 feet away and countered his statements with quotes from the Talmud, a lot of people just ignored him. But a number of us would gather, listen, and debate and discuss with him. Sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for an hour. This was a liberal arts college, after all, and at liberal arts colleges you engaged in discourse. One time, as Brother Jed was packing up for the day, he made an off-hand comment about how he loved coming to Oberlin. It was hard to tell if he was being sincere or sarcastic so someone asked him why that was. He said it was because we actually engaged with him and listened to him. We talked to him. At the other colleges and universities he went to, they would throw beer bottles, yell obscenities at him and one time even chased him. They were hostile, they were cruel. To be sure our discussions could get heated and no one ceded any ground, but at no point were we cruel. <br /><br />We weren’t cruel. This week we read <i>parashat mishpatim,</i> the portion of laws. It follows right after the giving of the Torah at Mt. Sinai and it always feels, narratively, like such a downer. After this amazing transformational moment Israel gets to listen about personal injury law, property management, criminal justice, witches, sexual morality, how to care for a slave, animal husbandry, holidays, a whole potpourri of regulations that seem to have nothing to do with each other. Except they do. Taken together, they are all an exhortation against cruelty. How you treat the slave, the widow, the orphan, your neighbor, the stranger, the animal in the field, how you participate in communal life--all pointing to a life that minimizes cruelty to others. That to be God’s people, to live by God’s light, to receive God’s blessing, we simply cannot treat others as obstacles, as things, as objects, as enemies. As Monsters. But people. And people are deserving of respect and love. Again and again, exhaustively, as my friend Josh Garroway wrote this week in Voices and Values, our portion exhorts us to care for the least of us, to protect the least of us, to see them not as strangers but as neighbors, as brothers and sisters. <br /><br />We don’t have to be cruel. I have been thinking about the idea of cruelty more and more this last month, seeing families separated by religious bans, headstones overturned in Jewish cemeteries, as ICE agents take parents from their children at their kids’ football practices, and guidance come down reminding vulnerable transgender kids of their vulnerability. I’ve heard from teachers in the Christina school district that parents won’t come to conferences because they’re afraid it’s a trap set by ICE to take them away. The liberal thinker Richard Rorty often wrote that the choice before us wasn’t one of conservative versus liberal, but of solidarity versus cruelty. Were we going to, in policy, in behavior, in our the expression of our values, act out of cruelty, or were we going to stand in solidarity with the most vulnerable, the most exposed to harm. Is it possible to disagree about values and beliefs without resorting to open hostility and cruelty? Well, we did it with Brother Jed. Why couldn’t we do the rest of the time? <br /><br />Our Torah declares: You shall not follow a multitude to do evil; nor shall you speak in a cause to incline a multitude to pervert justice. That text speaks volumes today. Our age is presenting us Richard Rorty’s question, his choice, which is also God’s choice, though I doubt he would have thought of it that way. Will we act out of cruelty, hate, anger, hostility? Or will we act in solidarity, recognizing the humanity in the other, refusing to make the other ‘Other’ at all? The desecration of Jewish graves in St. Louis was met by a Muslim organization raising over $100,000. The Muslim Ban and Refugee restrictions have been met by Jews and Christians, including in our own community, saying loudly and proudly you are welcome here. Linda Sarsour, one of the leaders of the Women’s March, has said “We can disagree and still love each other, unless your disagreement is rooted in my oppression & denial of my humanity and right to exist.”. We can disagree and still love each other. We can choose solidarity. We don’t have to be cruel. We can choose solidarity. We don’t have to agree, we can hold onto our beliefs and cede no ground, but we can do it with respect and compassion for the other. But only if we choose. May we choose wisely, amen. <br />Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123924743583572207.post-37716884152148017152017-02-17T17:36:00.005-05:002017-02-17T17:36:42.342-05:00Parashat Yitro: It is enough<div class="MsoNormal">
This past Wednesday I was having coffee with a friend and
colleague, and we were talking about how insanely busy we are, especially right
now with all that is going on in the world. And he said to me something that
resonated; he said that he felt that what he was doing wasn’t enough. No matter
how many calls he made or marches he went to or anything else he did, it didn’t
feel like it was enough. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, “It me” as the kids say. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And it all of us too. Because I think one of the hallmarks
of this moment in history is that it doesn’t matter what we do, it doesn’t
quite feel like enough. That our individual efforts are too small. That no
matter how much we may put our shoulder into whatever we’re doing, it isn’t
making a difference. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And that’s as true in our personal lives as in our tzedakah
lives. Perhaps it’s even more true there. Did I spend enough time with my
family? Did I make a difference to the people around me? Am I making a
difference in my life? I think many of us wrestle with these questions even as
we find ourselves busier and busier with our obligations. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In Exodus 18, Jethro watches his son-in-law Moses
adjudicating before Israel all day long.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One man fixing the world's problems. All day long.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Baffled, he asks Moses what he's doing and he gets a bunch
of superhero talk: only I can do it. They people need me. You know the drill.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And what does Jethro say?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
ויאמר חתן משה אליו לא־טוב הדבר אשר אתה עשה׃</div>
"And Moses’ father-in-law said to him, The thing that you do is not good.<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
נבל תבל גם־אתה גם־העם הזה אשר עמך כי־כבד ממך הדבר לא־תוכל עשהו
לבדך׃</div>
"You will certainly wear away, both you, and this people who are with you;
for this thing is too heavy for you; you are not able to perform it yourself
alone."<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
So what?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That’s us. We’re Moses. We’re taking the world on our
shoulders, feeling like no one else can do it, feeling like we alone are
responsible, feeling like we have to keep ourselves going all day long. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And you know what? It's not good.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It's exhausting. For all of us. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And the Torah knew there would be moments like this, moments
when we feel like Moses. So the text sends us Jethro to say: <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’re doing enough. And you don’t have to do it alone. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To say: remember your family, your friends, and your
community.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To say: remember to pray, to sing, to breathe. To let others
share the load; to trust others. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To say: go to shul. Call a friend you haven't talked to in a
while. Break bread with some folks you like.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jethro reminds us that Torah is not lived or fulfilled by
one person, but by all of us.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All of us. Together. And that is good. May it be so for all
of us. Amen. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123924743583572207.post-39180572194522282082017-02-14T19:28:00.003-05:002017-02-14T19:28:54.446-05:00(Reform) Judaism: Politics or Values? Last week I read this <a href="http://www.jta.org/2017/02/07/news-opinion/politics/reform-movements-challenge-protesting-trump-and-remaining-inclusive">article</a> from the JTA on how my movement--the Reform Movement--was responding to the many challenges of our time, including the challenges that have emerged for progressives from the most recent election. The article discusses the arrest of 19 rabbis as part of the <i>Truah </i>(formerly Rabbis For Human Rights-North America) conference, many of whom are Reform, and the joint statement and actions by the four major synagogual movements regarding refugees. One part struck me specifically, the challenge of addressing Jews who affiliate with the movement but may not share its articulated values. In particular, the article quotes Max Brooks, executive director of the Republican Jewish Coalition, who says<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<br /><span style="font-family: "PT Serif", "Times New Roman"; font-size: 17.9999px;">“The politics that the Reform movement engages in is disenfranchising a significant part of their own congregation,” Brooks said. “It is creating a false choice no one should have to make between their political views and their spiritual views.”</span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I've heard similar statements from congregants, colleagues and friends who feel that the movement has become too political, or that it cannot define itself except by political terms. Many of us, of course, have heard </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">the old joke about Reform Judaism is that it's the Democratic National Committee with Rosh Hashanah thrown in. But some of the feedback I've gotten has been a lot more raw, a lot more insistent that any movement's politics and spiritual views ought to be separate and distinct somehow. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
As I see it, there are two different arguments getting entangled here:<br />
<br />
1. As a conservative, will I be welcome in a Reform Congregation?<br />
<br />
This is a pretty serious question, and one that has gotten increasingly challenging in our time. It is harder and harder to speak to our differences in a way that is safe and nurturing. There are a number of reasons for that; the rise of abuse online (gaslighting, doxxing, general bullying, etc.), the exhausting, abusive nature of the presidential campaign and even the last several years. Smarter people than me have explored this pretty thoroughly, but it has translated into a near complete inability to hear the other side. As houses of worship, places of prayer and yes, <i>sanctuary, </i>this has to stop. If we take the text <i>kol yisrael aravim ze ba ze</i>, that all Israel is responsible for one another, that means taking each others' sacredness seriously.<br />
<br />
2. Are Reform Judaism's values really spiritual or just politics? Or even worse, shallow spirituality?<br />
<br />
I've heard this critique leveled at liberal religion for some time. And there are elements of truth to this (for example, a tendency to rely on the same prooftexts over and over again. Or worse, looking for prooftexts instead of allowing the text to teach on its own merit). I think it is interesting, however, that no one ever levels this critique on, say, the Catholic Church, or the Mormons. Somehow, their opposition to abortion is a deeply held spiritual belief based on an understanding of scripture; my support for a woman's right to make choices over her own body are not, but mere politics. The reality is this: Reform Judaism, and especially American Reform Judaism, has been social progressive since its earliest days. Whether you want to point to the rabbis who preached for the abolition of slavery (based on an understanding of the Bible), the prayers in the Union Prayer Book that celebrated the coal miner, the repeated hope for a messianic age that appears in every Platform put out by the movement, our believes are rooted in our understanding of Judaism. Because of the very nature of progressive values, these ideas are going to be controversial, they're going to make people uncomfortable (David Einhorn preached vociferously against slavery, and was run out on a rail from Baltimore as a result; Reform congregations in the south were firebombed on more than one occasion during the Civil Rights era). And, the movement may use political means (rallies, lobbying) to help realize those values. That doesn't make the movement political per se; we are still rooted in Torah. Our values till emerge from our understanding of text and tradition and history and what God calls upon us to do.<br />
<br />
So where does that leave us? Well, I think it means a couple of things. One, that we need to make sure we are welcoming to every individual to the best of our ability. That we see the divine in each person and celebrate that spark of holiness. Two, it means that we need to be up front about our values as a movement and congregation. When a congregant asks me if I'm going to teach 'my opinions' to our religious school kids, I make it clear: I'm going to teach how Torah calls upon us to care for the stranger, to love our neighbor, to feed the hungry, to relieve suffering, to protect the vulnerable, and all the ways the text challenges us. Finally, we need to hold both of these in balance. We can do both; we can be uncompromising of our values as rabbis and congregations and also welcoming of different ideas and different people. That is part of our <i>brit, </i>our covenant, and we must live it. That doesn't mean it will be easy, or comfortable; quite the contrary, we may find ourselves challenged by our ancient texts or our fellow congregants. That's okay, as long as we remember that we still sing the <i>shema</i> with one voice, together.<br />
<br />
Thomas Mann wrote that "in our time the destiny of man presents its meanings in political terms." Maybe so. As a rabbi and Reform Jew, I believe the challenge is to reshape the narrative and present the meanings of our shared destiny in religious terms, as it says in our prayerbook: <i>l'taken olam b'malchut shaddai</i>, to repair our world for God's sovereignty. May this be so.Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123924743583572207.post-14599196338331063742017-01-22T22:58:00.001-05:002017-01-22T22:58:15.363-05:00Anniversary of Roe v Wade<p dir="ltr">Today is the 44th Anniversary of Roe V. Wade, BD I came across an image of a <a href="http://http://sixpenceee.com/image/153145558369">tombstone</a> today. A plain marker, it read:</p>
<p dir="ltr">"Kate McCormick, Seduced and pregnant <u>by</u> her father's friend. Unwed, she died of abortion, her only choice. Abandoned by her family with but a single rose from her <u>mother</u>. Buried only through the kindness of an unknown benefactor. Died February 1875 age 21. Have mercy on us." </p>
<p dir="ltr">I shared these words as part of an interfaith anniversary service today, and I asked the question: were Kate alive today, could we say the world has changed? Has the stigma changed, or the shame?</p>
<p dir="ltr">Have mercy on us. </p>
Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123924743583572207.post-41776812512890150482016-12-23T19:30:00.000-05:002016-12-23T19:30:08.948-05:00An American Chanukah<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Last Thursday I’m sitting in my Rotary meeting, and the president is going through announcements as usual. It sounds just as entertaining as all that. At some point he mentions a charity project for Christmas and the person next to me (not Jewish) leans over and says “doesn’t that bother you?” What she meant was the question of representation; why did Christmas have to be the default. Why couldn’t he be more sensitive. </span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-b7a985d6-22ea-4971-b802-92195e2fccda" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I shrugged; honestly, I kind of assume that Christmas is where people’s heads are at, even today in a world where you can buy a menorah at Target in Wilmington Delaware (or even Shreveport Louisiana) and Ryan Seacrest mentions Chanukah first in his broadcast. What I find funny, and I’ve shared this with friends, is that when you stop to think about it, Chanukah is as quintessential an American holiday as you’re going to get. Think about it: what do we celebrate? Freedom, especially religious freedom. Freedom won by insurgents fighting off foreign influences. And how do we celebrate that freedom? Through fried food, gambling and lighting things on fire. I mean really, what could be more American than that? </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Of course, the most important aspect of Chanukah, at least for me, is the idea of publicizing the miracle. We’re not just supposed to light lights in the privacy of our homes; we’re supposed to put those lights out, in such a way that people can see them, in order to let people know that, in days gone by, our people won its liberty and restored what was lost. This is despite our history of having to hide our identities or feeling uncomfortable broadcasting our Jewishness for fear of bigotry or reprisal; we put the lights out and remind the world of the importance of freedom and justice and goodness. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If that is true for putting the lights in our windows, so must it be true in our own lives as well. As Jews we must be, in our own lives, lights to the world, reminding those around us this season and every season of our values; supporting the vulnerable when possible, lovingly rebuking inappropriate and hateful behavior when necessary, and speaking truth to power always. As with any good American, any good Jewish holiday, lighting lights and singing songs only works if we are reminded of our task--to be a light ourselves, to speak out for what is right, and do what is right. </span></div>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tomorrow night we light the lights, we celebrate freedom. Let’s do it publically, joyfully. And let’s let the lights remind us of our tasks as Jews and Americans, to be a light of freedom and justice to those around us. To remind those around us that these were not just miracles that happened in that time in this season, but that we may fulfill that miracle ourselves, in our own ways. Amen. </span></div>
Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123924743583572207.post-23794898722102057712016-12-09T20:30:00.000-05:002016-12-09T20:30:00.199-05:00Parashat Vayetze: Mitzvah Goreret Mitzvah!<div class="MsoNormal">
So this past week I met Marisa at the new diner on Marsh Rd.
There was a couple of women there with their kids, and the kids were being
pretty terrible. Adorable. Sweet, but terrible. At one point one of the mom’s
was letting her kid sit on the table itself. The waitress was clearly having a
time of it. Now, what would you do? We could have sat in judgement, we could
say something. When I got up to pay for our meal, I tipped our waiter, and then
tipped the waitress of the kids table as well. Was it the right thing to do? The best thing?
No idea. But at least it was doing something to acknowledge that waitress.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I was a teenager and I used to go to youth group
events, my favorite song at song session was Mitzvah goreret mitzvah, by Andy
Vogel. Like most kids reared on Debbie Friedman and Kol Beseder I learned my
Pirkei Avot in the form of a song I could dance to with other nerdy Jewish kids
like me. I never really thought about the lyrics—nobody did—we were too busy
stamping our feet and injecting various “oh ohs” and the like. The words, of
course, come from Pirkei Avot 4:2—One Mitzvah leads to another, while one sin
leads to another, and when one acts justly it is very good. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It doesn’t get sung nearly as often these days—it’s thirty
years old at this point—but I feel like we need to start singing it again. Or
at least be reminded of the text: one mitzvah leads to another. Our kindness,
our actions—no matter how small—matter. The way we treat each other matters.
And we can choose to live in little bubbles insensitive to the needs of others,
drawing up the drawbridge and hiding behind our own ramparts. Or we can choose
in our everyday actions to acknowledge the needs of those around us. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We see that clearly in our Torah portion. Jacob has left
Canaan, has dreamed his dream, and has come to Haran, whereupon he sees Rachel
and sees the stone covering the well. It should say “there was a large stone on
the mouth of the well” but that’s not the actual order of the text. It actually
says “the stone was large on the mouth of the well.” The <i>s’fat emet </i>understands this as a metaphor: the stumbling block—our evil
urge—may be everywhere, but it is heaviest and largest on the mouth of the
well. What is the well? Our words, our mouths, our hearts, our intentions, our
own actions, pick whichever one you want. The point is, once Jacob understands
the situation, he by himself removes the stone from the well. He takes the
action. Now, we know this is in part to impress Rachel, or at least inspired by
Rachel, but so what? He does what is right in that moment. His actions improve
the lot of the shepherds around him. His actions mattered. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jacob’s actions matter and so do ours. When we chose to act
with kindness, even if the action is small, it changes the life of that person.
To do otherwise is to leave the stone upon the well, to allow ourselves to act
selfishly, to allow people’s pain to persist. May we each find the strength to
move that stone and live those words: then surely our lives will be just and it
will be good. <o:p></o:p></div>
Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123924743583572207.post-68856275517267917122016-11-04T17:20:00.002-04:002016-11-04T17:20:26.217-04:00Parashat Noach: Do the Right Thing<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So I’ve spent the week probably the way most of you have; furiously updating 538 or the online poll of your choice, combing through the newspaper and otherwise low-key freaking out about the election. Hoo, boy. So as a bit of dark humor found while poking around I found a fun thing to put up on facebook, a little game called “how much is Trump your fault?” It’s one of those silly quizzes but asks questions relevant to Trump’s chances of winning the election. As I didn’t vote in the Republican Primary and am not Vladamir Putin, I am apparently completely innocent! Ha-ha. Ha. What good fun! Now, if only that made me feel better.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It doesn’t help that we read </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">parashat Noach</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> right before the election, a torah portion that contains not one, but two calamities, both familiar to us. The first is the flood of course, and the second the Tower of Babel. The flood is as apocalyptic a vision we can imagine; behind the cute images of a giraffe or elephant poking out of a boat, there is the reality of the entirety of the world being wiped out due to corruption and violence, with only Noah and his family surviving. Why Noah, because he is </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ish tzadik tamim b’dorotav: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">he is a righteous and blameless man for his generation. That’s what it says. But what does that mean? We tend to conflate the two, but they really are quite different, aren’t they? Often what appears to be righteousness is really blamelessness: we throw up our hands and say, “I didn’t have anything to do with that. I don’t know anything about it. It’s beyond my pay grade. Not my circus, not my monkeys.” It’s easy to claim righteousness when we can claim no to have no responsibility; we’re just bystanders, after all. And that might make us blameless, but it doesn’t make us righteous. Righteousness means, I think, that we can say, honestly, I’ve done everything I can to fix what’s wrong. I may not have direct ownership, but I still have a role to play by making it better. That is, after all, what our democracy is founded upon; the idea that all of us have a piece of the puzzle, and our obligation to one another and ourselves to put those pieces together. Call it the Common Weal. Call it Civic Responsibility. Call it Mitzvah, it doesn’t matter; as Abraham Joshua Heschel said: Few are guilty, but all are responsible. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So let me ask you: what are you doing to make the world around you better? How are you not only avoiding blame, but taking responsibility? I don’t just mean the election, by the way--because God knows, after the election, no matter who wins, the sense of profound brokenness, the sense that we are speaking totally different civic languages, that our speech is confounded just as it is in the story of the Tower of Babel, will still be with us. How are we helping our city, our children, our community? How are we helping refugees, the homeless, the hungry, the environment? This Tuesday I’m going to vote. I’m also going to get together with a bunch of confirmation class kids and help clean up Brandywine Park. I’m not telling you this to humblebrag, but to remind us that the work is not just to not do bad, it is also to do good. Or, as Rep. John Lewis just said this past week, “</span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ours is not the struggle of a day, a week, a month, or a year--it is the struggle of a lifetime. Be persistent & consistent.” Let us strive to be righteous, not just blameless. </span></div>
Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123924743583572207.post-30267803938149941892016-10-12T15:38:00.000-04:002016-10-12T15:38:02.637-04:00Erev Yom Kippur: I Am Not God<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<b><u>Erev Yom Kippur 5777<o:p></o:p></u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i>Yehuda Amichai: The Children: <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Every day the
children run on the playground<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
They run on their
little legs, which rotate the planet like a circus<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
They want to be
acrobats and magicians<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Every night the
children thank us for having brought them into the world<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
With beautiful
politeness, they take their gifts and with their small arms they<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Cling to the
future stubbornly, as they cling to their parents, and their toys.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Then they lie on
their backs <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
In order to paint
beautiful skies<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Like the ceilings
of the synagogue...<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
I sit next to the
children until they fall asleep<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
And I say seven
times<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
As the closing
prayer of Yom Kippur<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“I am not God.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Seven times<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“I am not God.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
∞<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is an account in the Talmud (Bavli Eirusin 13b): <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>For
two-and-a-half years the house of Shammai and the house of Hillel argued. Shammai
said:<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Better for
man never to have been created than to have been created. And Hillel said: <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Better for
man to have been created that not to have been created. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is an extraordinary debate: would it be better for humanity
to exist, or not to exist? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is especially extraordinary for the times we are living in, as
we anxiously raise the question, fundamentally: whose life matters? Does my
life matter? Does anything matter? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the end, they counted and decided: <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Better for
man never to have been created than to have been created. Now that he has been
created, he should examine his actions.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
We spend so much
of our lives trying to be God, trying to be in control: over our own lives, the
lives and choices of others, the lives of our children, perhaps especially our
children. And we curse and criticize those who struggle with their inability to
be God over their own lives. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
We try to pretend
that we are in control. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
But we are not
God. And no matter how tempting it may be, we cannot be. We oughtn’t be. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
We do this
because we see the space between our <i>is </i>and
our <i>ought to be</i> and we struggle with
that space. We try to cover it up, to pretend it isn’t there, to make that
space seem very small, because we are afraid that, should we expose it, should
we let people see, if we exposed it, we would plummet into the chasm between
what is and what should be. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
We can’t be God.
But that doesn’t mean we don’t matter. It doesn’t mean our choices don’t
matter. Rather, we can choose to live our lives and examine our actions
carefully. We can take that space, that wide space of our failings, and leave
it open. We can keep ourselves open-hearted. We can say to each other, to our
children: I am not God, I am not perfect. Nor am I merely accepting my failures
either. I’m struggling, just as you are. And I accept your struggle, and hope
you accept mine. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Rabbi Eliezer
Berkowitz, in his book <i>Prayer, </i>wrote:
“appealing to God’s mercy and lovingkindness, we ourselves must believe in
mercy and lovingkindness, otherwise, there is no ground left of us on which to
stand…” And it’s true. We must believe in mercy and lovingkindness; for
ourselves AND FOR OTHERS. Otherwise, what right do we have? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
My friends, on
this day of Atonement, let me say: you matter. Each and every one of you
matters, deeply and profoundly. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Our choices
matter, and our choices must be examined, sifted through carefully. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Our forgiveness
matters. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Our ability to be
open-hearted matters. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
On this day of
Atonement, I ask you to say, seven times, before the gates close: <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
I am not God<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
I am not in
control: of my circumstances, of everyone around me<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
But I have
choices, I have freedom.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
And I matter<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
And my choices
matter. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
And the people
around me matter. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
I am not God, <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
But I matter. <o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123924743583572207.post-40655990431098928852016-10-03T16:00:00.000-04:002016-10-03T16:45:42.207-04:00Rosh Hashanah Morning: Truly Hearing<p dir="ltr">A man is standing outside the Republican National Convention in Cleveland. He is standing next to a sign that says “free listening”. Mostly what people have shared are stories about their travels to Cleveland for the convention, their family and work lives, mundane stuff, but soon a woman comes over, looks carefully at the man, and says that she doesn’t believe that abortion should be legal, that it is murder.</p>
<p dir="ltr">What would you do? Would you challenge her statement? Would you smile weakly and thank her for her response, and let her go on her way? Would you get into a shouting match? Would you post angrily to social media or share your disdain for this person with your friends?</p>
<p dir="ltr">This man did none of those things. Instead, he invited her to share her story. To tell him how she came to that conclusion. He offered to listen more.</p>
<p dir="ltr">The woman, at first defensive, then went on what we might call a rant about why she thought abortion was wrong and terrible. And then, at some point, her speech shifted, and she began to talk about how she was told as an 18 year old woman that she couldn’t have children, that she would never have children of her own. She talked about her sense of unfairness, of lack of justice, that other people who could have kids were choosing not to, while she was left barren.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I’ll be honest with you, when I first read about this from the blog <a href="http://urbanconfessional.org/blog/howtodisagree">post </a>by Benjamin Mathes, I struggled mightily. I struggled because I think of myself as a pretty good listener, someone who does this professionally, after all, and I’m not sure I would have had the willpower or ability to stand there and listen to this woman’s story. And I suspect many of us are in the same boat, especially over something as controversial as abortion. I know I would want to rush in and tell my stories—the texts I’ve studied, the learning I’ve done, the stories of friends and loved ones who have each had to struggle with this issue from a personal, rather than a political or academic posture. And sometimes it seems that’s how we all are, fighting to get a word in edgewise, or waiting until we have the perfect response and sharing it later on Facebook. After all, we already know the right answers, don’t we? We, jaded and world-weary, exposed to so much media, so much data, so much raw information, have already come to all of our own conclusions. Sometimes it seems like we have nothing more to learn from one another, and even if we did, would we want to teach it anyway? Or do we merely want acknowledgment and affirmation of our own truth? Do we really want to sit in judgment of the people around us?</p>
<p dir="ltr"> And yet, I think it’s clear that Mathes’ approach—letting this anonymous woman tell her story without judgment or interruption—was valuable. It was loving. It allowed both of them to get to the truth of the matter, to get to, what he calls, the biography, not just the ideology. It was forgiving. It was sacred.</p>
<p dir="ltr">This is a strange time of year for us as Jews, and a strange time as Americans. We are in the midst of our days of judgment and our days of awe, but when we call them that, when we talk about this being the time when even the hosts of heaven are judged, we are reminded that WE are not doing the judging. We are, in fact, the ones coming to be judged—by God, by our own consciences, reflective of the past year and the choices we’ve made. But it is also our time of forgiveness, of atonement, when we release others of their sins, and we look for release ourselves. We cry out “Shma Koleinu”: hear our voice! And I suspect many of us worry—or already presume to know—that no one is listening.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I believe that God, however we understand her, is listening. That someone hears our cry; hears us when we second guess our choices, when we look back on the year and focus so much—too much—on where we stumbled, hears us when we turn our victories to defeats, hears us when say we want to do better, to be better, but we don’t know how to get there. I truly believe this, even if it is only the part of us that we hide away, that we dare not reveal, that hopes beyond hope that we can live up to our best selves, that still small voice within us, I believe with perfect faith that we are heard.<br>
But I would suggest that part of the reason we worry that there is no audience for our cry is because we have stopped listening to each other. And I mean really listening, listening in the way that Benjamin Mathes did. We don’t hear each other’s stories. We don’t create space for dissent, for difference, to be challenged. We can only be right.</p>
<p dir="ltr">It’s very American, isn’t it? And has been for years—this is not a new phenomenon. Even Alexis de Tocqueville wrote back in the 1800s that Americans don’t discuss, they don’t even argue, but make speeches at one another. And that’s what we’re used to, that’s what we’re trained to do, we make parallel speeches in the same way that toddlers parallel play alongside one another, not really engaging the person in front of us.</p>
<p dir="ltr">It’s very American, but it isn’t very Jewish. In fact, I would argue that there is nothing Jewish about the idea of not listening to the other person. Even when they disagree. Especially when they disagree. Especially when they say things that challenge us to the core of who we are. I’m not speaking of antisemetic attacks or slander, now, but rather the kind of discourse that happens in a free society between diverse people. Jewish tradition has always been about listening. Think of how often in the Torah we read the word shema—hear! Hear O Israel! Hear the voice of God! Hear the voice of the Mitzvot! Hear the voice of the generations that came before; the voice of conscience within ourselves. Again and again we are compelled to listen, and listen deeply. Words are precious to us as Jews, more than any other art form, and we take those words seriously. Think of the generations of Jews who study Torah not cloistered in some room as an island alone, but with a study partner, the text between <u>them</u>, sharpening their thoughts against each other, challenging each other, each bringing their own perspective and world view and experience to the other in order to arrive at a new understanding, a new idea. We joke that it is Jewish to disagree, and it is true; but in saying that we acknowledge that it isn’t Jewish to dismiss the voice of the other, or to make the person across from us the other at all.</p>
<p dir="ltr">And yet, and yet, that is what we are doing, at every level, macro and micro. And not just about the election. We do it around Israel. We do it around the way we express our Judaism, what movement we affiliate with. We do it around policy and programming. We do it, fundamentally, around each other’s stories. When we dismiss an idea or a position, when we try to change someone’s mind, when we argue passionately against the person in front of us, without intending it, we run the risk of dismissing their story, their journey to where they are. In our own anxiety at being right, we lose the opportunity for understanding.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I’m as guilty of it as anyone else. And it’s hard; this kind of listening takes time, it takes patience, it takes a willingness to put aside our need to be right all the time, and our own anxiety that, deep down inside, we may be wrong.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Friends, I don’t know what you have resolved to do in this new year of 5777, but if you choose nothing else, I would ask you to listen more, and listen better. To invite people to share their stories, to speak to their believes and ideas, to not rush to judgment or to win. Someone posted online, you don’t need to attend every argument you’re invited to; wouldn’t it be great to, yes, respond with regrets to those arguments, but also find ways to make them real discussions, a chance to share beliefs? When we talk about the value of African American lives, before we respond with our own dismissal and anxiousness, can we ask where they’re coming from? When someone says they don’t know how they feel about Israel, can we ask them to tell their story? The same for the way they worship, the way they vote, the way they live their lives and make choices. It doesn’t mean we need to be persuaded by their arguments, or change our mind; it doesn’t mean we need yield ground on an issue we care deeply about. It does mean we need to let our guard down and acknowledge and accept—really accept—that the other person’s experiences, the other person’s life, is sacred. And in doing so come to a greater understanding.</p>
Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123924743583572207.post-89546531301781283522016-10-02T08:26:00.001-04:002016-10-02T08:26:24.885-04:00Blog Elul Day 29: Home<div class="detail-hd" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #404040; font-family: Georgia, Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div class="detail-hd" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="hdg hdg_1" style="border: 0px; color: black; font-size: 1.5rem; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 1.231; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/46788">The New Year</a></span><h2 class="isVisuallyHidden" style="border: 0px; clip: rect(0px 0px 0px 0px); font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; height: 1px; margin: -1px; overflow: hidden; padding: 0px; position: absolute; vertical-align: baseline; width: 1px;">
Related Poem Content Details</h2>
</div>
<div class="detail-byline" style="border: 0px; margin: 6px 0px 12px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="hdg hdg_utility" style="border: 0px; color: #505050; display: block; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75rem; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.025em; line-height: 1.231; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; text-transform: uppercase; vertical-align: baseline; z-index: 5;">BY <a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/emma-lazarus" style="border: 0px; color: #045482; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">EMMA LAZARUS</a></span></div>
<div class="epigraph" style="border: 0px; margin: 26px 0px 26px 25px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div style="border: 0px; font-size: 1rem; font-style: italic; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 16px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
Rosh-Hashanah, 5643</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-size: 1rem; font-style: italic; font-weight: inherit; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
</div>
</div>
<div class="detail-bd" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px 20px 0px 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div class="user-content" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div class="user-content-text" style="border: 0px; font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div class="poem" data-view="ContentView" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Not while the snow-shroud round dead earth is rolled, </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
And naked branches point to frozen skies. </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
When orchards burn their lamps of fiery gold, </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
The grape glows like a jewel, and the corn </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
A sea of beauty and abundance lies, </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Then the new year is born. </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br style="margin-bottom: 0px;" /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Look where the mother of the months uplifts </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
In the green clearness of the unsunned West, </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Her ivory horn of plenty, dropping gifts, </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Cool, harvest-feeding dews, fine-winnowed light; </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Tired labor with fruition, joy and rest </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Profusely to requite. </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br style="margin-bottom: 0px;" /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Blow, Israel, the sacred cornet! Call </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Back to thy courts whatever faint heart throb </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
With thine ancestral blood, thy need craves all. </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
The red, dark year is dead, the year just born </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Leads on from anguish wrought by priest and mob, </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
To what undreamed-of morn? </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br style="margin-bottom: 0px;" /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
For never yet, since on the holy height, </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
The Temple’s marble walls of white and green </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Carved like the sea-waves, fell, and the world’s light </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Went out in darkness,never was the year </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Greater with portent and with promise seen, </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Than this eve now and here. </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br style="margin-bottom: 0px;" /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Even as the Prophet promised, so your tent </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Hath been enlarged unto earth’s farthest rim. </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
To snow-capped Sierras from vast steppes ye went, </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Through fire and blood and tempest-tossing wave, </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
For freedom to proclaim and worship Him, </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Mighty to slay and save. </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br style="margin-bottom: 0px;" /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
High above flood and fire ye held the scroll, </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Out of the depths ye published still the Word. </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
No bodily pang had power to swerve your soul: </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Ye, in a cynic age of crumbling faiths, </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Lived to bear witness to the living Lord, </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Or died a thousand deaths. </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br style="margin-bottom: 0px;" /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
In two divided streams the exiles part, </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
One rolling homeward to its ancient source, </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
One rushing sunward with fresh will, new heart. </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
By each the truth is spread, the law unfurled, </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Each separate soul contains the nation’s force, </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
And both embrace the world. </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br style="margin-bottom: 0px;" /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Kindle the silver candle’s seven rays, </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Offer the first fruits of the clustered bowers, </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
The garnered spoil of bees. With prayer and praise </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Rejoice that once more tried, once more we prove </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
How strength of supreme suffering still is ours </div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
For Truth and Law and Love.</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123924743583572207.post-85287866608313692972016-10-01T21:00:00.000-04:002016-10-02T08:18:41.202-04:00Erev Rosh Hashanah: Finding Small CommunityWhen I was a rabbinic student, what seems like a hundred years ago, I served a small congregation in Muncie Indiana. This was a congregation of roughly 60 people. Not families. Not units, PEOPLE. The rabbi’s office had enough room for a chair, a book case and a small desk, right off the side of the sanctuary. The building wasn’t so different from our building, but shrunk down about 75 percent. It’s a lovely congregation full of Ball State professors and doctors and basketball coaches and firefighters and retirees and college kids and store clerks. Some have come to that part of Indiana from other parts of the world, and some were born and raised. The kind of place where the same kindly old lady was still serving coffee at the oneg just as she had since her children--themselves now grandparents--were young, where everyone pitched in to help lead high holiday services or mow the Temple lawn or make the charoset for the congregational seder, and where everyone in the congregation was not only invited to the bar mitzvah, but came! <br />
<br />
Amazingly, this congregation wasn’t the only synagogue in the area. There were a few other reform communities in Richmond, Marion and Kokomo (yes, when the Beach Boys are singing about Kokomo, you won’t find it in the Caribbean but Northeast Indiana), and each of these were served by a student-rabbi as well. At some point, we got together and decided to try to have a joint Shabbat experience. So we planned and we organized and the day finally came when we brought these congregations together. And a curious thing happened. As we gathered for Shabbat dinner and we identified ourselves to the folks from other congregations they kept saying, “oh, you’re from the BIG Temple.” Again and again, “You’re from the BIG Temple.” Imagine that, 60 people, and it was the big one!<br />
<br />
I kind of get the feeling. I grew up in a small congregation not so different from the one I served in Indiana, one where everyone knew each other, where everyone pitched in to make the Charoset for the seder, where the same ladies served coffee at the oneg just as they had done years earlier, where all the teachers were volunteers and everyone came for the bar mitzvah. And so when I first served larger congregations, first as an intern and then as an assistant rabbi, I was terrified. The buildings were HUGE! And there were so many people! I remember that my first Rosh Hashanah service as an assistant rabbi there were so many people in the room there was an actual split-second delay between the back of the room and the front of the room reciting the same verses. It was overwhelming, and gave me a hint of what it must have felt to stand at Sinai. And that feeling has never really left me. In fact, even today, it takes my breath away seeing all of you gathered in this room, and it probably always will.<br />
<br />
I bring this up because I know how, for so many who come to this congregation, and for so many who were raised here at Beth Emeth, it’s easy to feel a little lost. Again and again I hear from new members looking to make connections and longtime members who come missing their friends and still find this place so transformed that they all but actually squint to see the sanctuary they celebrated their wedding or bar mitzvah in.<br />
<br />
This isn’t to say that lots of us aren’t finding opportunities for connection, either as volunteers, or through worship or study, as teachers and caregivers and just plain hanging around. Nothing makes me happier than walking through this place on a Sunday morning or Friday at the Nosh and seeing people here engaged and enthusiastic about creating community together. And yet, how many of us feel as if this place is just...too...big? And you know what? I get it. It makes me sad. And I get it. And it tells me that we need to make this place feel smaller. Note that I said “Feel” smaller. More intimate. More like that small community we’re all seeking.<br />
<br />
And that makes sense for us. As human beings we crave smaller, more intimate gatherings. We want to know that, when we walk into a place--be it the Brew-Ha-Ha up the street or the doctor’s office or the synagogue, the folks in the room know us, and we know them. We want that feeling of being in a village, a neighborhood, even if the community itself is large. As our interactions, be they banking or shopping or dining, are increasingly through an app on our phones rather than with a live human being, we want that intimate moment of connection, to know that we matter.<br />
<br />
And there’s a spiritual dimension to this as well. Think of our Torah: so many of the models we have are personal, familial, or tribal. For every scene of Moses speaking to Israel on the mountaintop, we have God speaking to him face to face. Again and again the Torah points to sacred encounters that are pretty intimate, in contrast with massive gatherings of faceless individuals. Even those scenes where Moses is speaking to multitudes get reimagined by the rabbis as personal; rather than have him speak from on high, the Midrash sees Moses speaking personally to each Israelite, in the way he or she could best understand. And even the language surrounding the yammim noraim, these Days of Awe that are marked by myriads sitting in synagogues full to the gills, is the language of intimacy. The mitzvah is not for the shofar to be sounded but for each person to hear the shofar; the prayer unetaneh tokeph speaks of each person having their encounter with God; and at Yom Kippur, the image is that of the Avodah service, where there was enough room for each and every single Israelite to gather at the Temple in Jerusalem and bow low before God, for each one to have a place of their own.<br />
<br />
So how do we achieve that? How do we create and foster intimate community? How do we create this feeling of being in a village? Joining me on the bimah this evening is our longtime friend Donna Schwartz. Herself a member of this congregation, and a past assistant director of the JCC, she is the Executive Director of our University of Delaware Hillel, and knows a few things about creating that sense of community. I’ve asked her to share her wisdom, her story, her experience.<br />
<br />
The following are Donna Schwartz' remarks:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Do you remember your first week at college? Do you remember the feeling of being lost, overwhelmed and a bit anxious? I remember moving into my dorm where I knew nobody and that feeling of will I make friends and what will life be like for me for the next few years. I remember walking into my first class which was in a lecture hall with over 500 people in it and looking around and wondering if I knew anyone or where should I sit?<br />
<br />
<br />
This was a strange feeling for me because I grew up in Boca Raton, FL going to school with the same kids since I was 5 years old. We all knew each other and had for a long time. I belonged to the largest synagogue in town where all the Jewish kids from my school which was the majority of us (It is Boca Raton after all) went to Hebrew school together. I went to the JCC for camp from the time I was 5 till I become the Teen Director as my first professional job. During high school, I joined BBYO become president of my chapter and was elected to the regional board. To say that I was involved Jewishly was understatement.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to almost 3 years ago, I took the job as the Executive Director at Hillel. Hillel wasn't a part of my college experience and frankly I knew very little about its mission except I thought it was "like the JCC for college students." I learned very quickly that Hillel was not exactly like a JCC for college students.<br />
<br />
Imagine trying to engage 2000 people in Jewish life every year and each year 500 people graduate and 500 new people come in. It's a daunting task. The weight of the task was made real when I read that 85% of all Jewish High School graduates go to college. Think about that. 85%. What would life be like if 85% of Jewish children went to a Jewish Preschool, Jewish Day School or attended Religious school. College is the one and only time that that many Jewish people are doing the same thing. (I mean except for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur at a synagogue)<br />
<br />
So here’s what I’ve learned in my short time at Hillel:<br />
Developing meaningful relationships builds community and builds a better Jewish community. Students today are looking to build micro communities with peers focusing on issues and ideas that are personal to them. It’s not Bubbie’s Judaism that excites them.<br />
Michelle Lackie, Hillel International’s Associate Vice President recently wrote about Hillel’s engagement methodology. She said “it empowers students to build relationships with other Jewish students on campus to help them form personal connections to Jewish life. Through interactive training, Hillel teaches students the skills of active listening, empathy, paying attention to what is relevant to their peers and using that as the basis for designing Jewish life.<br />
Ultimately, Jewish life is focused around the needs of students, not the needs of the institution. This is the essence of relationship-based engagement: Relationships first. Design second.”<br />
As students get to know other students, their Jewish exploration comes to be about them, not the people in charge, about their Judaism and not our Judaism. As students have more opportunities to explore, they build their Jewish self-confidence, increase their Jewish knowledge, feel more connected to Jewish peoplehood and community, and create more positive Jewish memories. Ultimately, these actions and decisions about their own lives help each student take ownership of their Jewish experience.<br />
<br />
We try and engage all 2000 students each year through relationship based engagement. That number is daunting especially when I started and we only had 3 staff members. While staff are an important equation in making meaningful experiences, you can see that it’s really based on engaging students on their own Jewish Journey and having them build their own small communities. <br />
Every year, we hire 8-10 Campus engagement interns. This elite group of students meet weekly to learn from each other, discuss Jewish current topics and learn new leadership skills. The CEIs main responsibility is to engage in these peer to peer conversations. Each CEI has a community that they are connected with. For instance this year, we have CEIs focused on the Greek community, sports, Israel, and summer camp. Each CEI is responsible for 60 coffee dates within their community. That's 600 coffee dates a year with unengaged Jewish college students.<br />
The goal of each coffee date is to ask "Ayekah?" Where are you? Ayekah was G-ds first question in the Torah. G-d asks Adam Ayekah? I have to believe that G-d knew exactly where Adam stood in the garden but was actually asking where are you in this world? How do you fit in?<br />
Ayekah is the perfect question to ask college students on these coffee dates. Our CEIs are taught to listen and ask open ended questions about where are they on their own Jewish Journey.<br />
<br />
Let me tell you about Stacey whom I've gotten to know well over the past few years. Stacy a young woman from California is a very typical Jewish college student. She was bat mitzvahed but didn't do much else Jewishly after that. Stacy never went to a Jewish summer camp and was not in a Jewish youth group. She came to UD early and participated in Freshmen Fest but that's it. During Freshmen fest, she made friends but it didn't turn into a real community for her. She attended High holiday services and Passover and on occasion went to other programs during her Freshmen year. At the end of her first year, one of our CEIs took her out for coffee and asked her Ayekah? Stacey's response was that she was missing that Jewish connection and wanted to get involved. The CEI and Stacey put together a plan for what Stacey was interested in and from their Stacey become a CEI her sophomore year and got involved in planning Freshmen Fest and various other programs. Last year Stacey took on even more responsibility. She saw a problem that we have this great Freshmen Fest program but no continuation of it throughout freshmen year. She and a group of students built a new community called FYSH (First Year Students at Hillel). This group pairs upper classman and freshmen who have similar interests to guide them, be a friend and a mentor. <br />
Time and time again we see the power of our CEI’s, not only for the impact that they are having on Jewish life at UD but on themselves. Stacey says that CEI opened up her “Jewish Pandora’s Box.” From there on out she was committed to making sure freshmen understood that Hillel was not just a place of worship, it is a place where you can do homework, have leadership opportunities, catch up with friends and make new ones, engage in text study or a cooking class, and talk with the amazing staff. Hillel had become a home for her, and she wanted others to have the exposure to the amazing home it could offer them before they could create a stereotype in their head. My favorite quote from Stacey is “Hillel has given me the opportunity to be an entrepreneur, a leader, a spokesperson, a friend, a student, and most of all, Jewish.” <br />
That’s the impact of relationship based engagement and the power of coffee and asking a simple question of where are you on your Jewish Journey!<br />
CEI is one of many ways Hillel is building micro-communities. Last year, we realized that while it’s great for a group of students to throw a Chanukah party for their fellow students. We weren’t giving them the tools to “do it yourself” to more than those few students who were planning the event. We went out on a limb and developed a new program with a group of student interns called “DIY Holidays.” We offered the idea to students to host their own Shabbat in their dorm, apartment, or public space. 20 students took us up on our first offer and hosted Shabbat across campus for their friends. We supplied the basics, food, candles, challah and grape juice and it was up to them to design the Shabbat experience they wanted. Almost 300 students participated and helped create Shabbat experiences from Vegan to Outdoor Shabbat to Music to Traditional and everything in between. It was beautiful. Our DIY program brought students together around their own interests and taught a larger group of students how to do it themselves. We did the same thing for Chanukah last year and many sororities and fraternities asked if they could host Chanukah parties. Not just AEPi and AEPhi, NON JEWISH GREEK HOUSES hosted Chanukah and Shabbat dinners. <br />
We have 7 communities that are led by student boards all with their own purpose: Hillel Student Life focuses on outreach to the greater Jewish community on campus, Kesher our reform group, Koach our conservative group, Project Change who does all of the community service projects, Israel U focuses on cultural activities around Israel, Blue Hens for Israel which does all the political action programs, and Challah for Hunger who bakes Challah every week, sells it and donates the profits to Mazon.<br />
Dayenu? And if that wasn’t enough. We have over 150 interns working and learning as a community on things like Leadership development, Marketing, Graphic Design, Social Media, Philanthropy and the list goes on.<br />
These micro communities are all fueled by peer to peer engagement, coffee, a wanting to connect and a need to figure out where they are on their Jewish Journey<br />
Hopefully, our work at Hillels across the country will change the face of how Jewish institutions do “Jewish” in the future. We shouldn’t feel like we need to hide like Adam and Eve did after eating the forbidden fruit because we feel guilty for not coming to services or that we should be doing this or that. <br />
Instead, when you are asked ayekah- where are you? Hopefully, you can say Heineini- I am here! Here in my community that connects me Jewishly to what’s important and impactful to me and the world around me. <br />
L’shana Tova from my family, our staff at Hillel and 2000 grateful UD Jewish students for the amazing community that surrounds them.</blockquote>
<br />
Could it really be that simple? Invite each other for coffee, ask each other about our lives, share in each others' joys and sadnesses? Is that all it is? Yes. I beleive with perfect faith that the answer is yes. More than that, I believe wholeheartedly, completely, that it isn't about some program, it isn't about a new gimmick, it's about our willingness to be authentically present with each other, to answer God's question, our question--Ayekah, where are you?--with affirmation: we are here, we're willing to connect, we are willing to touch each others' lives. We are willing to take the leap of faith in one another, to open ourselves to one another, to build those connections with one another. In the Zulu language, the response to hello is: "I see you". I would add that in Judaism, in the Torah, the response to a greeting is "Hineini" "Here I am". May we truly see one another, may we truly be present for one another. And when we hear, in a myriad different ways, 'where are you?" May we be willing to answer the call. I see you, I hear you. Amen.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123924743583572207.post-42587542299450316022016-10-01T19:20:00.000-04:002016-10-01T19:20:02.438-04:00Blog Elul Day 28: Give<div class="detail-hd" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #404040; font-family: Georgia, Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="hdg hdg_1" style="border: 0px; color: black; font-size: 1.5rem; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 1.231; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/58663">A Child is Something Else Again</a></span><h2 class="isVisuallyHidden" style="border: 0px; clip: rect(0px 0px 0px 0px); font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; height: 1px; margin: -1px; overflow: hidden; padding: 0px; position: absolute; vertical-align: baseline; width: 1px;">
Related Poem Content Details</h2>
</div>
<div class="detail-byline" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #404040; font-family: Georgia, Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 6px 0px 12px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="hdg hdg_utility" style="border: 0px; color: #505050; display: block; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75rem; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.025em; line-height: 1.231; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; text-transform: uppercase; vertical-align: baseline; z-index: 5;">BY <a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/yehuda-amichai" style="border: 0px; color: #045482; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">YEHUDA AMICHAI</a></span></div>
<div class="detail-byline" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #404040; font-family: Georgia, Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 6px 0px 12px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="hdg hdg_utility" style="border: 0px; color: #505050; display: block; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75rem; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.025em; line-height: 1.231; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; text-transform: uppercase; vertical-align: baseline; z-index: 5;">TRANSLATED BY <a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/chana-bloch" style="border: 0px; color: #045482; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">CHANA BLOCH</a></span></div>
<div class="detail-bd" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #404040; font-family: Georgia, Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px 20px 0px 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div class="user-content" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div class="user-content-text" style="border: 0px; font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div class="poem" data-view="ContentView" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
A child is something else again. Wakes up</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
in the afternoon and in an instant he's full of words,</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
in an instant he's humming, in an instant warm,</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
instant light, instant darkness.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br style="margin-bottom: 0px;" /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
A child is Job. They've already placed their bets on him</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
but he doesn't know it. He scratches his body</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
for pleasure. Nothing hurts yet.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
They're training him to be a polite Job,</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
to say "Thank you" when the Lord has given,</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
to say "You're welcome" when the Lord has taken away.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br style="margin-bottom: 0px;" /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
A child is vengeance.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
A child is a missile into the coming generations.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
I launched him: I'm still trembling.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br style="margin-bottom: 0px;" /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
A child is something else again: on a rainy spring day</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
glimpsing the Garden of Eden through the fence,</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
kissing him in his sleep,</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
hearing footsteps in the wet pine needles.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
A child delivers you from death.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Child, Garden, Rain, Fate.</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123924743583572207.post-80376421484759227652016-09-30T21:03:00.000-04:002016-09-30T21:03:04.715-04:00Blog Elul Day 27: BlessTo A Panhandler Who, For A Quarter, Said "God Bless You"<br />
--David Wagoner<br />
<br />
You held out your hand, expecting (on the average)<br />
nothing.<br />
But when I crossed your palm with copper in an alloy<br />
sandwich<br />
Newly minted by God's Country, you laid a misfortune<br />
On me not even a prime-time gypsy would have<br />
thought of.<br />
<br />
God bless <i>me? Me </i>be one for the cloud-capped, holy-<br />
For-showbiz, smug, sharkskinny, hog-certain, flowery<br />
gold G-strings?<br />
I couldn't stagger, let alone clodhop, to such music.<br />
<br />
You could have said, <i>Heaven tempers the wind to the </i><br />
<i>shorn lamb</i><br />
Or <i>Heaven will protect the working girl </i>or <i>Heaven</i><br />
<i>Lies about us in our infancy. </i>I half-swallowed those saws<br />
Once. Their teeth stuck in my craw. Now I take wisdom<br />
sidewise.<br />
<br />
Shorn lambs and working girls and infants over the years<br />
Have taught me something else about Heaven: it exists<br />
Maybe when the Corner-cutting Fleecer, the Punch<br />
With the Time-clock, and the Unmilkable Mother aren't<br />
looking.<br />
<br />
If God knows what's good for Him, He won't listen to you<br />
About my anointment. He'll oil some squeakier sinner<br />
And pour me an ordinary straight-up natural disaster.<br />
Here's two-bits more, palmer, to help I'll be worth a damn.Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123924743583572207.post-18947301979116156452016-09-29T21:12:00.001-04:002016-09-29T21:12:40.914-04:00Blog Elul Day 26: Create<p dir="ltr"><a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/57590">The birthday of the </a><a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/57590"><u>world</u></a><br>
By Marge Piercy<br>
On the birthday of the world <br>
I begin to contemplate <br>
what I have done and left <br>
undone, but this year <br>
not so much rebuilding</p>
<p dir="ltr">of my perennially damaged <br>
psyche, shoring up eroding <br>
friendships, digging out <br>
stumps of old resentments <br>
that refuse to rot on their own.</p>
<p dir="ltr">No, this year I want to call <br>
myself to task for what <br>
I have done and not done <br>
for peace. How much have <br>
I dared in opposition?</p>
<p dir="ltr">How much have I put <br>
on the line for freedom? <br>
For mine and others? <br>
As these freedoms are pared, <br>
sliced and diced, where</p>
<p dir="ltr">have I spoken out? Who <br>
have I tried to move? In <br>
this holy season, I stand <br>
self-convicted of sloth <br>
in a time when lies choke</p>
<p dir="ltr">the mind and rhetoric <br>
bends reason to slithering <br>
choking pythons. Here <br>
I stand before the gates <br>
opening, the fire dazzling</p>
<p dir="ltr">my eyes, and as I approach <br>
what judges me, I judge <br>
myself. Give me weapons <br>
of minute destruction. Let <br>
my words turn into <u>sparks</u></p>
Rabbi Yair Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12509035332105271598noreply@blogger.com0