Rabbi Goldberg's Blog

2011-12-21T09:03:00.001-08:00

2011-12-21T08:58:00.001-08:00

As we celebrate the festival of light, we should pause to be grateful for the many sources of light in our lives, from our loved ones and friends to the memories we cherish and the hopes we nurture. I find this time of year very enjoyable in South Florida. The weather is pleasant, the roads are less crowded (except by the malls) and the pace a little less frantic. Chanukah’s message of enjoying the light and being grateful for the miracles – even the little ones – in our life goes well with this time of year. I hope you can agree.Right before Chanukah I spent five days in Washington, D.C. with a number of Temple Judea staff and congregants, attending the biennial convention of the Reform Movement of Judaism. This was a very exciting conference for a number of reasons, not the least being an address by President Obama. Whether you support the President or not it was an historic event, the first time a sitting president has addressed the Reform Movement. Especially touching was his recognition that his ability to be president was in no small way produced by the civil rights efforts of Reform Judaism in the 1960s. The President also shared his view of the Torah portion and the challenges he and Michelle have in raising a daughter who goes to a bar/mitzvah service and party each week. Most important, he pledged his support for a safe Israel. Another highlight of the convention was the inaugural address of the new president for the Reform Movement, Rabbi Rick Jacobs. Offering a vision that focuses on strengthening our congregations and reaching out to our youth in particular, it is hard not to have faith in the power of liberal Judaism to make our communities stronger. After all, we have a welcoming attitude, a timely message and an authentic product, the Torah and three thousand years of Jewish tradition.As you know, Temple Judea is in the midst of a campaign to enhance our educational facility and ensure congregational excellence moving forward. It feels great to know that the Reform Movement, representing 900 congregations in the United States and Canada, stands behind us. As President Jacobs noted, the Torah portion this week, Mikeytz, begins with the words, “In two years’ time”. What will the Reform Movement look like then? What will Temple Judea look like then?I do not know. But in the spirit of Chanukah, I am very, very hopeful.Happy Chanukah!Rabbi Edwin Goldberg

Time to Give

2011-10-10T05:38:00.001-07:00

This week we begin the celebration of Sukkot, the Jewish festival of thanksgiving. It is hard to ignore the juxtaposition of being thankful with the anger being expressed at Wall Street in demonstrations in New York and elsewhere. Personally, I think the protesters have a point that the economic deck seems to be stacked in favor of the super rich. I believe the January 2010 decision of the U.S. Supreme Court that sided with Citizens’ United and allows the unlimited spending of corporations in election campaigns may be the worst decision since Plessy versus Ferguson. My opinion aside, our Jewish heritage weighs in on the general issue of how we treat the poor, if not the middle class. Despite our economic challenges we in America are a nation of great abundance and yet we are living in a time of growing poverty and despair. The new numbers that were released recently are truly disheartening. Nearly one in six Americans was living in poverty last year, the highest percentage since 1993, according to a U.S. Census Bureau report released last Tuesday, and large numbers of children are affected.The official poverty rate last year was 15.1 percent, up from 14.3 percent in 2009, making 2010 the third year in a row to register an increase in poverty in America. Median household income declined in the United States to $49,445, which is a 2.3 percent drop from 2009. In inflation-adjusted dollars, the typical American household earned less last year than it did in 1997. The Census report shows many people losing ground economically because of job losses and the highest unemployment rates in years.The current weak economic outlook suggests that poverty in the United States will not go away anytime soon.In actual numbers, 46.2 million Americans lived below the poverty line in 2010, meaning they earned less than $22,314 for a family of four. The number of people in poverty in 2010 is the largest number in the 52 years for which poverty estimates have been published by the Census Bureau.Nationally, children were hit especially hard. The report shows 22 percent of all U.S. children living in poverty in 2010, which is the highest rate since 1993. The rate was nearly 40 percent among black children and more than 33 percent for Hispanic children. The rate among white children was above 12 percent.Among married couples in 2010, the poverty rate was 8.8 percent, but in households headed by single females, the rate was 40.7 percent.Food pantries, community kitchens and social services across the nation are being stretched beyond their limits as need for their services increases.The new Census figures show that inequality, which The Washington Post says, “has become the hallmark of the modern American economy,” has gotten worse. The figures reveal that the bottom 10 percent of earners have had an income decline of 12.1 percent since 1999 while the top 10 percent had a decline of 1.5 percent. The top 1 percent was the only group to have substantial gains.We hear statistics about poverty, hunger and other widespread human needs so often that we tend to pay little attention to them, especially if we and our loved ones are not personally affected. But as religious people, what should be our response upon learning such information? I think of the verse in the Bible’s book of Proverbs (10:15):“The wealth of the rich is their fortress; the poverty of the poor is their ruin.”Most of us would not consider ourselves rich, but if we can readily afford the necessities of life and have enough for some of the non-essentials besides, we are rich when compared to those who have less. This biblical proverb suggests that having the necessities and the non-essentials creates a kind of “fortress” or wall of protection around us. Unfortunately, that wall can also so effectively insulate us from the impoverished that we cannot accurately conceive of what it would be like to be without easy access to the necessities.I know many of us brought good bags last week on Yom Kippur. But as we celebrate our life’s blessings on Sukkot I hope you will make a contribution to the Michael B. Eisenstat Soup Kitchen Fund at Temple Judea, or Feeding South Florida, or Mazon, or somewhere so that those in need will be less needy, lest our “fortress” of abundance keep us from remembering our righteous obligations. Happy Sukkot,Rabbi Edwin GoldbergP.S. Please join us for services at 6 p.m. on Wednesday and 10:00 a.m. on Thursday.

The Rabbi's Gift Yom Kippur Eve Sermon 2011

2011-10-07T16:46:00.000-07:00

The writer Jonathan Franzen delivered a speech at Kenyon College a few months ago entitled: “Liking is for Cowards. Go for What Hurts.” The best-selling author of Freedom: A Novel, and The Corrections began by chatting about his new mobile phone. He admitted to being infatuated with his new device. Naturally he had also been a great admirer of his old phone, but that was three years ago, and well, what with connectivity issues and technological complications, he had outgrown it.Of course, it’s important to remember that this infatuation with a phone was a completely one-sided affair. It is a machine after all. We should also note how ubiquitously the word “sexy” is used to describe late-model gadgets; and how the extremely cool things that we can do now with these gadgets — like impelling them to action with voice commands, or doing that spreading-the-fingers iPhone thing that makes images get bigger — would have looked, to people a hundred years ago, like magic. Magic. Just the word we might use to describe an erotic relationship that is working.Franzen’s major point is that, as our markets discover and respond to what consumers most want, our technology has become extremely adept at “creating products that correspond to our fantasy ideal of an erotic relationship, in which the beloved object asks for nothing and gives everything, instantly, and makes us feel all powerful, and doesn’t throw terrible scenes when it’s replaced by an even sexier object and is consigned to a drawer.Observed Franzen: “To speak more generally, the ultimate goal of technology… is to replace a natural world that’s indifferent to our wishes — a world of hurricanes and hardships and breakable hearts, a world of resistance — with a world so responsive to our wishes as to be, effectively, a mere extension of the self."The author finished by saying, “Let me suggest, finally, that the world of techno-consumerism is therefore troubled by real love, and that it has no choice but to trouble love in turn.” In other words: in a world where we can buy magic, we will be less likely to look for the real thing of love, which is not easy and sometimes anything but gratifying. Isn’t ironic that, thanks to Facebook, the verb “to like” has morphed from a state of mind to an action that you perform with your computer mouse, from a feeling to an assertion of consumer choice. And liking, in general, is commercial culture’s substitute for loving. Who needs love when we can spend our time liking objects that ask little of us except our money?Thanks, to Facebook, to friend a person is not about real effort or sacrifice. It is simply to invite them into our world.Alice Sebold, the writer of The Lovely Bones, likes to talk about “getting down in the pit and loving somebody.” She means the messiness that real relationships entail. You know, the way we really behave in a world where jealously, selfishness, lack of self-control and non-Hollywood conversations exist, the world far away from, well, being likeable all the time.Genuine love is not about liking everything about someone else. I believe it’s about tolerating many things we don’t like at all because we realize that life isn't about perfecting others. Life is about loving people who are often annoying to us, while we are annoying to them. Last High Holy Days you may remember I asked people to write down on a card the behavior they most wished to change in themselves. The overwhelming trait was lack of tolerance for their loved ones. It seems to be universal that we feel bad about the relationships that matter most to us.Here’s a list of what some of you wrote:Losing my temper with my loved onesIntoleranceI need to soften my tone of voiceDisrespectUnkind words, criticizing fatherSometimes I pick on my husband for no reasonNot being patient with my hard of hearing husbandImpatienceNot being a good daughterTo listen more and refrain from giving unwanted advice.All of these faults are human and quite understandable when it comes to family and close, long-time friends who are like family. If we really want to change, to be more tolerant, more loving and less critical, then we have to have a way to change. There’s a song in the world of country music entitled something like this: “It’s hard to kiss the lips at night that chewed me out all day.” Make no mistake: relationships suffer as resentments build when we don’t treat our loved ones the way they deserve and when we – in turn – feel resentment about how we are treated. “Why can’t she remember to do what I said?” “Why are you always yelling at me?” “There you go again!”Is there any way we can stop the disappointment and anger?As you know, this year we are looking to the twentieth century teacher Martin Buber for insight into enriching the quality of our relationships. Buber famously developed what he called a view of relationships that are either I-It or I-Thou. He published these ideas in the 1920s in a book entitled I and Thou.In the book Buber offers some basic ideas on how we deal and relate to each other and with God. And one of his basic ideas is that everything that we experience in this world—inanimate objects—other people—even nature itself—we either relate to in an I—It relationship or as an I—Thou relationship. Now often we relate to others and God in an I—It relationship. And when we do that we connect and communicate with them as objects and not as people. We relate to them as to what it is they are going to do for us. Are you going to hurt me—or help me? Are you going to help me fulfill what I want or need—or are you going to take away from me what I want or what I already have? Primarily I am interested in how you are going to affect my life. An example is a full-page ad in USA Today a few years ago (when planes still had phones). Tiny print in the left lower corner identified the advertiser as Dun & Bradstreet (D&B), a large financial analysis firm specializing in “The Fine Art of Managing Risk.” Otherwise the entire page had only four brief sentences in bold type:I’M 30,000 FEET OVER NEBRASKA AND THE GUY NEXT TO ME SOUNDS LIKE A PROSPECT.I FIGURE I’LL BUY HIM A DRINK, BUT FIRST I EXCUSE MYSELF AND GO TO THE PHONE.I CALL D&B FOR HIS COMPANY’S CREDIT RATING. THREE MINUTES LATER I’M BACK IN MY SEAT BUYING A BEER FOR MY NEW BEST FRIEND.How sad that we have allowed a word like friend to be associated so much with people serving our needs.Now in the I—Thou relationship we come to recognize and acknowledge that each of us has sacred worth and you were not put on the planet earth to simply and only meet my needs. And whereas in the I-It relating—it is almost always a monologue—I talk and you listen—in the I—Thou relationship the monologue becomes a dialogue. I am now interested in you—not just what can you do for me—but what can I do for you—how can I serve you, how can I bless you. And here’s the point: as long as we look at our loved ones with an I-It lens, they will frustrate us and annoy us because we are expecting them to be like that new smart-phone; in other words, they exist to please us. It’s like the old observation that when we are born we spend the first years of life thinking we are the center of the universe. And we spend the rest of our lives coping with the fact that we are not.I-Thou relationships encourage us to see each other not as means to an end but as means to feel God’s presence precisely because we are not only interested in serving our needs. When it comes to loving – as opposed to liking –the challenge is to become better at accepting our loved ones for who they are and not who we wish them to be. That’s the freedom of the title of Jonathan Franzen’s novel. And the way to accept them is to remember that they are unique, children of God and deserving of our respect – in most cases, and certainly our love, even if sometimes we don’t like them very much.In the end, they are not going to change, but our framework for how we see them and relate to them can change for the better. And when that happens we will transform our lives. We will be less frustrated, less resentful, and our loved ones will be more content as well. Who knows where it can end?Let me share with you a story, or maybe it’s a myth. Typical of mystic stories, it has many versions. Also typical, the source of the version I am about to tell is obscure. All I know for certain is that this version came from the writer M. Scott Peck with a title. It is called “The Rabbi’s Gift.”The story concerns a monastery that had fallen upon hard times. Once a great order, as a result of waves of anti-monastic persecution in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries and the rise of secularism in the nineteenth, all its branch houses were lost and it had become decimated to the extent that there were only five monks left in the decaying mother house: the abbot and four other, all over seventy in age. Clearly it was a dying order.In the deep woods surrounding the monastery there was a little hut that a rabbi from a nearby town occasionally used for a hermitage. Through their many years of prayer and contemplation the old monks had become a bit psychic, so they could always sense when the rabbi was in his hermitage. “The rabbi is in the woods, the rabbi is in the woods again,” they would whisper to each other. As he agonized over the imminent death of his order, it occurred to the abbot at one such time to visit the hermitage and ask the rabbi if by some possible chance he could offer any advice that might save the monastery.The rabbi welcomed the abbot at his hut. But when the abbot explained the purpose of his visit, the rabbi could only commiserate with him. “I know how it is,” he exclaimed. “The spirit has gone out of the people. It is the same in my town. Almost no one comes to the synagogue anymore.” So the old abbot and the old rabbi wept together. Then they read parts of the Torah and quietly spoke of deep things. The time came when the abbot had to leave. They embraced each other. “It has been a wonderful thing that we should meet after all these years,” the abbot said, “but I have still failed in my purpose for coming here. Is there nothing you can tell me, no piece of advice you can give me that would help me save my dying order?”“No, I am sorry,” the rabbi responded. “I have no advice to give. The only thing I can tell you is that the Messiah is one of you.”When the abbot returned to the monastery his fellow monks gathered around him to ask, “Well, what did the rabbi say?” “He couldn’t help,” the abbot answered. “We just wept and read the Torah together. The only thing he did say, just as I was leaving—it was something cryptic—was that the Messiah is one of us. I don’t know what he meant.”In the days and weeks and months that followed, the old monks pondered this and wondered whether there was any possible significance to the rabbi’s words. The Messiah is one of us? Could he possibly have meant one of us monks here at the monastery? If that’s the case, which one? Do you suppose he meant the abbot? Yes, if he meant anyone, he probably meant Father Abbot. He has been our leader for more than a generation. On the other hand, he might have meant Brother Thomas. Certainly Brother Thomas is a holy man. Everyone knows that Thomas is a man of light. Certainly he could not have meant Brother Elred! Elred gets crotchety at times. But come to think of it, even though he is a thorn in people’s sides, when you look back on it, Elred is virtually always right. Often very right. Maybe the rabbi did mean Brother Elred. But surely not Brother Phillip. Phillip is so passive, a real nobody. But then, almost mysteriously, he has a gift for somehow always being there when you need him. He just magically appears by your side. Maybe Phillip is the Messiah. Of course, the rabbi didn’t mean me. He couldn’t possibly have meant me. I’m just an ordinary person. Yet supposing he did? Suppose I am the Messiah? O God, not me. I couldn’t be that much for You, could I?As they contemplated in this manner, the old monks began to treat each other with extraordinary respect on the off chance that one among them might be the Messiah. And on the off, off chance that each monk himself might be the Messiah, they began to treat themselves with extraordinary respect.Because the forest in which it was situated was beautiful, it so happened that people still occasionally came to visit the monastery to picnic on its tiny lawn, to wander along some of its paths, even now and then to go into the dilapidated chapel to meditate. As they did so, without even being conscious of it, they sensed this aura of extraordinary respect that now began to surround the five old monks and seemed to radiate out from them and permeate the atmosphere of the place. There was something strangely attractive, even compelling, about it. Hardly knowing why, they began to come back to the monastery more frequently to picnic, to play, to pray. They began to bring their friends to show them this special place. And their friends brought their friends. Then it happened that some of the younger men who came to visit the monastery started to talk more and more with the old monks. After a while one asked if he could join them. Then another. And another. So within a few years the monastery had once again become a thriving order and, thanks to the rabbi’s gift, a vibrant center of light and spirituality in the realm.My friends, Jonathan Franzen was right: liking is for cowards. Loving is what matters, even though it can hurt, it can annoy, and it can tear us up. In the end it means the difference between the superficial and the genuine, the simple and the messy, and the real world is a messy place. But if we can remember to see the divinity that exists in true meeting with another person, then we can hasten a better age of the world and a far more meaningful life for us all. After all, isn’t that the only thing that will make our world reflect the hopes that God must have for us?When Martin Buber was young, his assimilated parents did not teach him much about his Jewish heritage, but his grandfather, Solomon, would share with Martin the precious rabbinic manuscripts his wealth enabled him to collect. In one old text there was a story about Rabbi Joshua who sees Elijah. Tired of all the suffering in the world, Rabbi Joshua asks Elijah when the Messiah will come. Elijah tells him that this is a simple question. He should go ask the Messiah himself. “But where can I find him?”“He is in Rome, at the gates of the city, one of the many lepers.”“But how will I recognize him?”“The other lepers change their bandages all at the same time. But the Messiah changes his one at a time, so as to be ready to go when his time has come.”Rabbi Joshua goes to Rome and sees the Messiah. He asks, “When are you coming?”The Messiah responds, “Today.”Later, when the Messiah does not come, the bitterly disappointed Rabbi Joshua sees Elijah and complains that the Messiah lied to him.Elijah asks, “What did he say to you exactly?”“He said he would come ‘today”.Elijah then answers: “He was citing the Bible, Rabbi. You need to remember the full verse: ‘Today, if you make the world ready for me.’”When little Martin heard this story from his grandfather, he was confused.“Grandpa. What does this story mean? What is the Messiah waiting for?”“Martin, it’s not a what he awaits but a who.”“Well, who then?”And Martin Buber’s grandfather smiled and gently said to his grandson, with a sad twinkle in his eye: “Oh, my dear boy. Don’t you know? He waits for you.”

Success is Not One of the Names of God Rosh Hashanah Sermon

2011-09-29T12:49:00.000-07:00

A few years ago we at Temple Judea decided to choose “scholars in residence” who had already passed away. This choice was not only for the positive budgetary benefits, although it’s nice that we don’t need to fly anyone in from California, Israel, or Heaven. We also felt many great, now deceased, scholars, still merited our attention. So we have studied Abraham Joshua Heschel, Rebbe Nachman, and Abraham Geiger. This year we have chosen Dr. Martin Buber.A little history: Martin Buber grew up surrounded by Jewish study but also the modern world of German intelligentsia. In his life one story in particular set in motion the life journey that would set him apart. In the early part of the twentieth century he had been a professor of religion and philosophy and had both taught and written books about religious experience and mysticism. And then sometime in the middle decades of his life something happened that had a huge impact on him. The experience was this:He had been upstairs in his rooms meditating and praying one morning, fully engaged in deeply religious intensity, when there was a knock at his front door downstairs. He was taken out of his spiritual moment and went down to see who was at the door. It was a young man who had been a student and a friend, and who had come specifically to speak with Buber.Buber was polite with the young man, even friendly, but was also hoping to soon get back to his meditations. The two spoke for a short time and then the young man left. Buber never saw him again because the young man was killed in battle (or perhaps committed suicide, the story is not entirely clear). Later, Buber learned from a mutual friend that the young man had come to him that day in need of basic affirmation, had come with a need to understand his life and what it was asking of him. Buber had not recognized the young man's need at the time because he had been concerned to get back upstairs to his prayers and meditation. He had been polite and friendly, he says, even cordial, but had not been fully present. He had not been present in the way that one person can be present with another, in such a way that you sense the questions and concerns of the other even before they themselves are aware of what their questions are. "Ever since then," wrote Buber "I have given up the sacred. Or rather it has given me up. I know now no fullness but each mortal hour's fullness" of presence and mystery. The Mystery, he said, was no longer "out there" for him, but was instead to be found in the present moment with the present person, in the present world.Another person might have seen in this experience only a reminder to listen to your friends more, or to wake up and smell the roses, but Buber saw in it much more. It led him to a major life change and to an ethic, a metaphysic, and a theology, that brought him to see the world completely differently than he had seen it before.He articulated much of this worldview in I and Thou, a profoundly beautiful work of philosophy first published in the 1920s, one that has had an enormous impact on the lives it has touched. It has become perhaps one of the most influential books of last century. Its influence has been felt in disciplines as diverse as poetry and physics, theology and biology, philosophy and psychology.This year we will spend time as a congregation exploring the impact of his teaching in the realm of relationships. And I will speak more about this topic on Yom Kippur Eve.But this morning I want to address something different. Although Buber is especially remembered for his I-Thou theory, as well as his work in bringing Chasidic stories to non-Chasidic audiences, Buber was also responsible, along with Franz Rosenzweig in creating a modern German translation of the Bible that would capture the essence of the original Hebrew.Buber realized that there were certain words that kept on coming up in certain stories. He named such a word a leitwort. A leitwort is a word that creates a certain theme.Buber read the story of the Akedah, the binding of Isaac, and this is what he noticed.“On the third day Abraham raised his eyes and saw the place from afar.”“’Here is the firestone and the wood, but where is the sheep for the offering?’ “God will see to the sheep for the offering, my son.”“And Abraham raised his eyes and saw and, look, a ram was caught in the thicket by its horns…”“And Abraham called the name of that place Adonai-yireh, as is said to this day, “On the Mount of the Lord there is vision.”Not so hard to figure out the leitwort in the story of the Akedah. Buber noticed that it was the word ra-ah, which means to see.(Some of us saw what Abraham had seen, at a bat mitzvah in Jerusalem this summer, from the south side of the city, where you can see the mountain of Moriah as it would have appeared to Abraham.)The midrash, or rabbinic commentary, says that it was precisely at the moment when Abraham saw the ram in the thicket, that God named that place Moriah, the place of vision….and that God actually offered Abraham a vision.What was the vision that God offered to Abraham?God showed Abraham what would happen on that spot. He showed him the Temple built, and the Temple destroyed, and the Temple re-built.It is as if God opened the book of Jewish history and he showed Abraham everything. God showed him the holiness and the horror and the hope – all in one split second.No, another sage suggests. That wasn’t quite it at all.What God showed Abraham was not the earthly temple. No, not quite. What God showed Abraham was, in fact, the heavenly prototype of the ancient Temple. God showed Abraham what God had in mind for the way that the Jews would worship.Teaches Rabbi Jeff Salkin: Abraham was not only the first Jew. Abraham also taught us what it means to be a Jew. To be Jew is to look into the future and to be able to see a vision of the temple. No, not just the Temple in Jerusalem. I mean every temple, every synagogue, every shul, every congregation, every Jewish community.So here we are at Temple Judea and I ask, what is our vision?Naturally we want to fulfill our mission in bringing insights of Torah, spirituality and tzedakah to our members. And we want to help make our community a better place. But there is one need of particular of special importance these days.Of all the things that need our focus it is our young adults who require the most attention. Many resources are spent these days to ensure their being Jewish, with trips to Israel offered as well as energetic attempts to engage them in Jewish life such as Friday night bacchanals in local pubs. But today I am not speaking about whether the next generation will be Jewish. I fear an even greater risk is that our youth do not have a moral center, a foundation of good character. I fear they are failing at the fine art of being human.I’m not saying that our youth are immoral. Or even amoral. They just don’t know what to think when it comes to matters of morality. David Brooks recently wrote of this problem in the New York Times (September 13, 2011), responding to the results of a poll of American young adults.It’s not so much that these young Americans are living lives of sin and debauchery, at least no more than you’d expect from 18- to 23-year-olds. What’s disheartening is how bad they are at thinking and talking about moral issues.The interviewers asked open-ended questions about right and wrong, moral dilemmas and the meaning of life. In the rambling answers, which are recounted in a new book, “Lost in Transition,” you see the young people groping to say anything sensible on these matters. But they just don’t have the categories or vocabulary to do so.When asked to describe a moral dilemma they had faced, two-thirds of the young people either couldn’t answer the question or described problems that are not moral at all, like whether they could afford to rent a certain apartment or whether they had enough quarters to feed the meter at a parking spot.When asked about wrong or evil, they could generally agree that rape and murder are wrong. But, aside from these extreme cases, moral thinking didn’t enter the picture, even when considering things like drunken driving, cheating in school or cheating on a partner. “I don’t really deal with right and wrong that often,” is how one interviewee put it.The default position, which most of them came back to again and again, is that moral choices are just a matter of individual taste. “It’s personal,” the respondents typically said. “It’s up to the individual. Who am I to say?”Our young adults have been given so little structure for understanding there is a difference between right and wrong in the world. The universe is not morally neutral. Families try to help of course, but the one place where such a structure is a given is the house of worship. But the work of character education has been sidelined to meet the challenge of perceived success, i.e. getting into the right college. We have created a mad situation where students learn how to ace APs but have no context of the greater world.Consider the comment of a typical high school student these days. He was complaining that his AP teacher was actually teaching instead of preparing the class for the AP test. What has become of our society when teachers who teach are not doing their job?Or consider the speech that the president of the University of Southern California made last year during parents’ weekend. He told us that the university would teach the students about good character. And I thought, well isn’t that nice. The institutions designed to teach children about character, namely religious institutions, were abandoned so the high school students could make sure they get into schools like USC. And now they are supposed to learn about character? From a school that can’t even play competitive football because of lapses in character?To quote Saturday Night Live, “Really? Seriously?” We have made such a goddess of collegiate success in our country that we have forgotten how important it is to help our youngsters understand what life is really about. To cite a famous saying of Martin Buber: “Success is not one of the names of God.”Christopher Lasch once wrote that there is only one cure for the malady that afflicts our culture, and that is to speak the truth about it. So now is the time for truth-telling, and it’s not very pretty. To be a young adult in this age means so many opportunities for freedom, romance, parties, learning, travel and adventure. But many emerging adults find themselves confused, disappointed and even lost in this new, exhausting world. Many cannot imagine what a good life might be beyond achieving financial security and having lots of material possessions. They cannot tell you what is morally good and they teeter on the edge of moral relativism. This failing is not their fault. It is ours. We are failing to teach them how to think about what is good for people. We are failing to give them the tools to know how to manage their romantic and sexual lives in healthy ways. We are failing to teach them that life is about more than materialistic successes. We are failing to give them a reason not to spend so much of their time intoxicated or under the influence of drugs. And we are failing to help them understand the importance of civic and political engagement.So what does this mean for our vision at Temple Judea? Simply put, Temple Judea has to do a better job being there for our youth, before they go to college, when character development is practically too late. We do a great job with our school and youth program but we do not reach nearly enough students. This sermon is not a plea to parents to keep their students in school after the bar or bat mitzvah year, although I wish you would. This is about a vision that captures the imagination of students and parents in untraditional ways. We know some will simply not be coming after they turn 13 but we are not ready to give up. What we need to do is find new ways to engage them. This will mean a better facility, more programs, and making sure we have the best staff possible. Temple Judea will always do many things well. But this is one area that we must do well. I know that time is a precious commodity. And I know that most parents are not going to take their children off what one documentary calls “the race to nowhere” because no one else is taking their kids off. So we will continue to spend a fortune preparing our youngsters for college. And then we will spend the equivalent of a new Mercedes Benz every few months to give them a great collegiate education. But we must also find a way, before it’s too late, to make sure they have a moral center that is beyond the basic platitudes. And Temple Judea can do this for our youngsters. We want to do it. But we will need your support, financially, emotionally, spiritually, in every way. To succeed in this endeavor we have to do many things right, from thoughtful planning to careful investment. We need a sustained effort, a campaign not so much unlike a war. Make no mistake: this is a major challenge. But it is something that Temple Judea must do. That I must do. That we must do.Another midrash on the Binding of Isaac imagines Abraham seeing the Mountain of God from afar and saying to the two young servants with them, “What do you see?” They answer, “We see a mountain.” Then he asks his son, Isaac: “What do you see?” And he replies, “I see God, waiting for us.” Isaac got the vision.The question is, do we? Do we look in the future and see Temple Judea as a bulwark against the craziness? As a center of character education, an island of insight and inspiration in a sea of foggy values and muddled goals?The Bible declares that without vision, the people will perish. And I would add, without vision, our youngsters have far less of a chance at succeeding at the only thing that really counts, becoming moral and upstanding human beings. After all, even the best family values and practices can only do so much. A sacred community of shared Jewish values and the chance to practice them with one’s peers is also vital in the effort to launch our kids on the right path.Someone once said, “As you climb the ladder of success, make sure it’s standing against the right building.” Temple Judea is about making sure our youngsters know which building really matters. And that they know how much they matter to us.A final story about vision:Nathan and Isidor Straus were the founders of Macy’s and Abraham and Straus department stores. In 1912, Nathan and Isidor went on a long trip to what was then Palestine. They found themselves in a barren place on the shores of the Mediterranean. Isidor absolutely hated it. It was mosquito-infected and dirty, and there were no decent restaurants around. He complained to his brother Nathan, and Nathan said: “Isidor, look around. Someday this is going to be something great. This is a wonderful place.”Isidor wasn’t buying it. He bought a train ticket out of Palestine. The train took him up the Mediterranean coast, to Istanbul, where he changed trains and went across Europe. He fully intended to go home to America.Nathan, on the other hand, stayed in Palestine. He had a vision of what that barren place would someday become. And because he stayed, his broadness of vision led to the creation of a settlement on those dunes. And because of his broadness of vision and his generosity, that place became a major Israeli city. It is the city of Netanya – named for Nathan Straus, the man who had the broadness of vision to dare to imagine it.Back to Isidor. He and his wife Ida wanted to get back to America, so they booked passage on a huge ship that was making its maiden voyage.That ship was the Titanic. You saw them briefly in the movie Titanic. They are the elderly couple holding onto each other in bed as the waves crashed into their stateroom.Isidor and Ida Straus died on the Titanic – because they forced other people to take their life jackets.Nathan Straus chose vision. And because he chose vision, he chose life. And because he chose vision, there is, to this day, the prosperous, successful city of Netanya. It is a monument to his vision.What is our vision? Are we going in the right direction? Are our children headed in the right direction? And are we ready to ensure a better future for them, based on the sacred values of our past and a buoyant vision of tomorrow?Martin Buber taught that success is not one of the names of God. But “hatov” – the source of all goodness – is a name of God. Help us bring that goodness to our needy, troubled world. Amen.

When is a State a State?

2011-09-24T13:56:00.000-07:00

There is an old comedy album my dad used to love to play for us, entitled, “You Don’t Have to Be Jewish.” On the album there is a skit about a Jewish man who is very successful in business. To celebrate he buys himself a yacht as well as a complete captain’s uniform, including a beautiful peaked cap. He goes to his immigrant parents and announces, in all his garb, that he is a captain. His parents reply, “Son, to your mother you’re a captain. To your father you’re a captain. But to a captain…you’re no captain!”This story sheds light on the current Palestinian bid for legitimacy as a sovereign state. You can appeal to the U.N. all you want for recognition as a state but until you earn that right on the ground, it’s just empty words. All the U.N. resolutions in the world won’t change that.Let’s look at Israel as an example. In 1947 the U.N. voted to accept the idea of a Jewish state on a very small piece of the land that the League of Nations had promised the Jewish people, along with the British government, decades before. It was a terrible deal but it was better than nothing, as the pragmatic Jewish leaders in Palestine reasoned. The Arab states – there were no Palestinians as a people then – flatly rejected the deal to create an Arab state next to the Jewish one. Instead they sent their armies to attack the Jews and, in their words, "strangle" the Jewish state in its crib.Eventually in May 1948 the British decided to leave and David Ben Gurion seized the opportunity to declare Israel a state. Through much political maneuvering, President Truman agreed to recognize the state. But I would argue that Israel did not become a state when it declared itself a state. Nor did it become a state when it offered to make peace with its neighbors. Israel became a state I would argue a month later when it faced battling its enemies on all fronts and was sorely in need of weapons. Sailing towards Tel Aviv was a ship carrying the weapons it needed. Unfortunately this ship, the Altalena, was under the control of the Irgun, a right-wing Jewish group commanded by Menachem Begin. Although the state had been declared, the Irgun had refused to give up its arms and take direction from the Israel Defense Forces.David Ben Gurion then made a decision that would be the hardest of his career. Ben Gurion ordered his junior officer, Yitzchak Rabin, to go to Tel Aviv and sink the Altalena, weapons and all. And Rabin did just that. Why? Why kill other Jews and forfeit the desperately needed weapons? Because having a state means you have one army and one government. That’s the price of power.Palestine will be a state when the West Bank and Gaza have one army and one government. It may only come after a civil war. And it will come when the government decides to make a genuine peace deal with Israel. That’s what a state is all about.In the meantime we American Jews can support Israel because she will take a lot of heat for insisting that the Palestinians have to earn a state, not be given one. Like everyone else. So this is a time to remember why we – and all of America must support Israel. Here are some reasons, in case you have forgotten:A. Jews have been at the mercy of others for far too long. We deserve our refuge.B. Israel still strives to be a light to the nations.C. Israel wants peace.D. Israel and America have shared values.E. Israeli innovations benefit America.F. Israel and America work together to fight terrorism.G. Israeli military experiences help American troops learn how to fight.One more story. In April 1865, as writer Jay Winik recounts, the Civil War was technically over but the rebels vowed to continue the fight in the countryside, perhaps for decades. A single act was needed to let the people see that times had really changed. One Sunday morning at a certain establishment church a black man for the first time got up to take communion. People were shocked. This was still considered taboo. Even the pastor stood frozen. Then an old man with white hair got up and took communion next to the black man. After that, the other parishioners fell in line. That white man was General Robert E. Lee. Many say the Civil War ended that day.When will Palestine become a state? It may take only a few acts of courage. Like Yitzchak Rabin firing on the Altalena, through the orders of David Ben Gurion. Or General Lee showing the way with courage and dignity.One thing I know: when the Palestinians take on that leadership, the first country to welcome them into the council of nations will be Israel.

No Such Thing As Beshert

2011-08-26T13:12:00.000-07:00

Crazy, Stupid, Love is a fun movie. I enjoyed it very much. But there was once crucial aspect to the movie that needs to be addressed. The movie is about Steve Carell’s character – his name is Cal -- trying to get back together with his estranged wife, Emily, played by Julianna Moore. Throughout the film, Cal speaks of his one true love in life, Emily, and how they belong together.
If he were Jewish he would have called her his “beshert”.
Beshert as a noun means your intended life-long partner. This is very romantic but not practical. Why not? Well, because relationships, especially marriages, are hard and “beshert” thinking can be injurious to a marriage. When things become difficult, instead of reasoning that relationships take work, you might erroneously think instead that it’s only hard because you didn’t pick your beshert. So? Get a divorce and try again.
See what I mean?
Of course, beshert is more than just a word for your spouse.
It can also reflect a general view of fatalism, or predestination. Now, fatalism is an acceptable philosophical outlook on life. It even has its benefits in that it grants the believer a sense of relief to know that all one’s deeds are not of one’s choice. To know that we only react is a soothing balm but however it is not a source of inspiration.
Indeed, fatalism is certainly not reflective of the Jewish conception of life.
The opening verses of this week’s Torah portion, "Re’eh," offers the Biblical and Jewish answer to predestination.
"See I set before you this day a blessing and a curse: the blessing, if you shall hearken unto the commandments of the Eternal your God, which I command you this day; and the curse: if you shall not hearken unto the commandments of the Eternal your God, but turn aside out of the way which you have not known."
And a little later in Deuteronomy:
"I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse: therefore, choose life."
The Jewish point of view, as seen in the Bible, is that people possess the free will to make a choice. Jewish ethics is based and rooted on our responsibility for our deeds. To quote Maimonides:
"Every human being can be righteous or wicked, merciful or cruel, avaricious or charitable. There is no compulsion exerted upon one. A person chooses one’s way with one’s own determination." (End of quote.)
The ancient rabbis were troubled by the conflicting views of fatalism and free choice, leading the great sage Akiva to declare, “All is foreseen by God but freewill is given.” In other words, God may know what we will do, because God is God, but there is no predestination from our perspective. We can choose our actions. We are moral agents, not puppets.
Our upcoming High Holy Day liturgy captures this tension with Unetaneh Tokef: God decides who shall live and who shall die, but tzedakh, prayer, and repentance can alter the decree.
Yes, free choice is a vital component of the Jewish conception of life. But this refers to more than how we act. It also refers to how we react.
Do we get upset at the little annoyances? Do we allow our day to be ruined by the opinions and thoughtlessness of others? If our actions are not beshert nor our reactions.
There is so little in life we can control. We cannot mandate how others treat us, or even the shape of our day oftentimes. But we can do a great deal to manage how we respond.
The key word for such management is mindfulness. Mindfulness is associated with meditation and in Judaism with Chasidic practice but at heart it is about learning to be less judgmental and more aware.
Growing up one of my favorite books was The Inner Game of Tennis. I did not know it at the time, but this was an excellent primer on how to play the game of life better, not just win more matches.
So as we enter the Days of Awe period – Elul begins next Wednesday – let’s remember to focus not only on our actions but also on our reactions.
For nothing in this world is truly beshert except as they say, taxes and death. We need not pay our taxes – although I highly recommend we do – and death will come no matter what. But in the meantime, and we hope it is a long one, we do have many choices.
"I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse: therefore, choose life."

What’s the Difference Between a Business and a Sacred Community?

2011-08-19T13:23:00.003-07:00

Especially with the Jewish High Holy Days coming soon it is appropriate to stop and consider the challenges confronting mainstream religious institutions. Looking at the present, it is not a surprise that American religious institutions are going through a crisis of identity. The old rules no longer apply. People do not grow up with a sense of obligation to support their church, mosque or synagogue. For such institutions to thrive, let alone survive, they need to address serious questions about who they are (their core values) and what they are willing to change to meet the new world.

I know of synagogues trying new “business plans” perhaps learned from airlines. For instance, I read of a synagogue (not in Miami) that now offers a “base” price for membership and then offers “a la carte” items such as paying extra for hospital visits from the clergy, etcetera.
While I appreciate the challenges of raising money in these lean times, I would hope that religious institutions would not follow airlines in commoditizing everything.

Before such places jump on this bandwagon I think it’s important to learn the following lesson offered by Clay Shirky in his recent book, Cognitive Surplus. It deals with a series of daycare centers in Israel that started charging late fees of a few shekels (Israeli currency) when parents were late picking up their children. What the parents did not know was that the charge was part of a sociological test. The fees were raised to see if the change would have an effect on the tardiness of the parents. The results were fascinating: many more parents were late far more of the time. Why? Because an unwritten rule of community (I will try to be on time and you will not charge me) was now overturned and commoditized. Even when the shekel fee was dropped and the experiment ended, the parental attitude was altered forever.

As religious institutions address the changes in our culture, I often think back to this story. The moral for me is not to have the synagogue commoditize everything (presenting Judaism a la carte, if you will) despite the trend in our society towards this end, but rather to have the synagogue remember it is still a real (and not virtual) community where we ask for general membership support, and sometimes a lot more from our members (at least from some of them), but we do not treat congregants as customers, per se. There is something more: an unspoken but palpable bond of holy community, wherein we take care of each other and the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. When the member on the phone calls, I do not discriminate in addressing their needs based on who they are (or what “plan” they have). Simply put, if you want to be a sacred community, “premium” or “a la carte” membership is a little too much like the business world for me. Let people give to support the community, its programs, and good works, as much as possible. And let them be recognized for their work. But let’s not start seeing “Admirals Clubs” in holy places. I don’t think holiness is found in “ecclesiastical country clubs”.

Although religious communities can and do learn tactics from the marketplace, it is important that we keep the perspective of holiness.
Incentive programs for membership often seem crass, and disguising the identity of the synagogue in order to “trick” the assimilated into attending programs borders on unethical. In general, no matter what a religious institution does to emulate the more commercial practices of the for profit world, the more such places risk being seen by those who have a higher standard as, well, vulgar. And let’s be honest: no one wants their place of worship to be vulgar.

Like the lesson learned in Israel, once we commoditize our sacred communities, it will not be possible to go back to genuine community. It is true that religious institutions can and should employ social media like Facebook and Twitter. Technology can be a blessing. At Temple Judea we now offer live streaming of our Sabbath services, available to all, and of course we have a presence on the Internet.

Nevertheless, what makes us special, even sacred, is the organic feeling of communal warmth that our members feel at worship services and when they know, as we like to say, “with us it’s personal”. We care about each other. We are genuinely warm, and we never forget that we are first and foremost an authentic community.

There is an old play by Eugene Ionesco called Rhinoceros. In the course of the play each of the characters gradually turns into a rhinoceros. At one point, as a character is slowly transforming, another character asks why this is happening. The response: “We must all change with the times.”

I would only add, “Yes, up to a point.” Sacred communities will change but their essence cannot change. We don’t fly airplanes; we don’t sell coffee. We don’t fix watches. But we do help transport people to a different reality and give them a renewed appreciation for the beauty and fragility of life as well as the expectations and ever-flowing love of God.

What’s the Difference Between a Business and a Sacred Community?

2011-08-19T13:23:00.001-07:00

Are We the Enemy?

2011-08-07T13:42:00.000-07:00

These past few weeks, as we observe the goings-on in Washington, in a time that was supposed to be beyond the silly season, as our president had hoped, I kept thinking about the old comic strip, Pogo. Its most famous quote: “We have met the enemy and he is us.”

Apparently this was said by Pogo as he returned from a political convention. Which makes a lot of sense.

Not only have our elected officials shamefully complicated a process that was already enough complicated, but we justifiably have lost most if not all our faith in our judgment.

This breakdown comes at an ironic time in the calendar of the Jewish people. This coming week we observe the Ninth of Av, a sad day commemorating the destruction of the First and Second Temple in Jerusalem. Having recent returned from visiting the ruins of the Second Temple, I don’t look at this event as a myth. It was real. We had a great temple and we blew it. I say we blew it and not the Romans because even though the Romans destroyed the temple, the ancient sages taught the temple was destroyed because of gratuitous hatred between Jews.

They tell the story of a party where a man mistakenly is invited to the part of his enemy. He attends and is humiliated into leaving. He is especially upset that the sages in attendance do not come to his defense. With revenge in mind, he plots to make the Roman emperor think the Jews are going to revolt.

The sages could stop this from happening but their ideological purity keeps them from doing so. And the Temple is lost.

What I fear in going forward as a country (also in Israel) is that the ideological purists will bring us to ruin. Now is the time for pragmatists, not purists.

This is not a time for rigidity or winner-take all, zero-sum game, approaches. Now more than ever we need to practice the fine art of consensus building.

The one bright spot in the political week deals with a story more human-centered than political.
Some may want to label Giffords’ story a political one, but it is more properly a human story that happened to take place in a political arena. It is akin to the stories of soldiers returning from Afghanistan with traumatic brain injuries and of others who struggle to recover from grievous wounds, chronic illnesses or debilitating difficulties.

Giffords, D-Arizona, who has been slowly recovering following extensive surgeries and ongoing physical, occupational and speech therapy, was greeted by a loud, sustained round of applause from her colleagues on both sides of the aisle as she entered the House chamber.

“It means so much to our country ... to witness the return of our colleague who is the personification of courage, of sincerity, of admiration throughout the country,” said California Democrat Nancy Pelosi.

Arizona Republican Trent Franks called her return “a triumph of the first magnitude” and added, “We are all so very proud of her.”

Though Giffords’ was unsteady on her feet and did not take the microphone to speak, she was able to greet colleagues near at hand and cast her affirmative vote on the debt-ceiling bill unassisted.

“I had to be here for this vote,” Giffords said. “I could not take the chance that my absence could crash our economy.”

After Tisha B’av we get to have seven weeks of hopeful messages leading up to Rosh Hashanah.
A hopeful messenger of the period was Isaiah, who declared with hope:

Isaiah 35:5-6
“Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; then the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy.” (For context, read 35:1-10.)

All of Isaiah 35 is a poetic description of the restoration of the people of Judah from exile in Babylonia to their homeland. The restoration is envisioned as a return to wholeness. Thus, in this poem, sight is restored to the blind, hearing to the deaf, mobility to the lame, etc.

While the exiles were eventually permitted to return home, the reality did not match the poetic expression. The exiles returned to a ruined city, destroyed homes and land on which squatters dwelt. They faced a lot of rebuilding and hard work. And the return was not accompanied by a healing of persons with disabilities. Thus, these words from Isaiah are often taken as referring to the ultimate restoration -- the arrival of the kingdom of God.

Still, it is worth noting that when the Bible speaks of restoration, it includes healing and wholeness.

A Question: Can healing mean sometimes coming to grips with who we are now, and what we are able to do now, as opposed to experiencing a full physical recovery?

A question: Can healing mean we come to terms with our challenges as a country and begin to address them with responsible, practical and pragmatic solutions?

An answer: Our country needs this healing now, and I pray we will know it soon.

When Life Says "No"

2011-07-29T13:48:00.000-07:00

Many of us have been travelling this summer.
The subject of travels brings to mind the story of the rich tourist from the North who found himself deep in the Ozarks, unable to find his way back to civilization. He stopped a little urchin in the street and asked him how to get to the Main Highway. The little fellow looked puzzled and said he didn’t know.
"Then, can you tell me," inquired the tourist, "where the police station is?" This, too, the boy did not know. Frustrated, the man said: "Young fellow, you don’t know anything, do you?"
"I reckon I don’t," replied the youngster, "but I ain’t lost."

This week’s portion, Ma’asey, the concluding chapters of the fascinating fourth book of the Torah, telescopes for us the final stages of the Great March which began at the banks of the Sea of Reeds and ended at Plains of Moab.
The Torah is very detailed in accounting this ancient “trip-tik”. Obviously, the journey is important, not just the destination.
Here is one especially important lesson from that journey.

On two separate occasions, the king of the Edomites and the king of the Amorites, spurned the request of the Israelites who, through their emissaries, asked permission to:
“Let us pass through your land. We shall traverse neither field nor vineyard and we shall not drink water from your wells. We shall march along the King’s Highway, turning neither right nor left until we shall have passed your land. . . . We shall pay for your water for ourselves and for our livestock. Nothing . . . shall we harm."
The answer was "No! You will not pass."

No? How could the Jewish people at this crucial point in their development be told “no”? Well, it turns out that even the best of us sometimes have to hear that nasty word.
The desert proved to be a great teacher for the wandering tribes. Facing insurmountable hardships, they learned from experience every inch of the way how challenging life can be. They learned how to cope with the relentless physical dangers of an unyielding terrain.

But perhaps most importantly, they learned how to deal with the fact that sometimes life says “no”.

I know that in the past our people were pretty good with dealing with disappointment. The Jewish people have heard “no” a lot in our history. Doors to countries have been shut. We were sent into exile. People would not defend us. All true.
And we are blessed to live in an age in which usually we get to hear “yes” – as a people we are successful in the world. Look at the State of Israel. And as American Jews we are thriving. Reform Jews are the best wage earners in the country!

But we cannot always hear yes. We cannot always be winners. And are we ill-prepared to hear no?

David Brooks recently wrote that the biggest drain on our budget is not just health care but health care for people who are dying anyway. And maybe some of these people are spending money not because they are going to get better but because they just can’t accept the word “no”. It is fair to ask, during this budget crisis, “Are we spending too much on health care because we cannot accept no even when death is at hand?”
Are we overspending on defense because we cannot accept no when it comes to being the world’s policeman?

And then there is our personal life. Are we able to accept who we are or are we always striving to find some secret solution that will make our lives complete? When pondering the question, “Is that all there is?” do we refuse even to consider the possibility that maybe, yes, this is all there is, and so let’s enjoy it instead of fighting that “no” with more Botox, more material purchases, and chasing more dreams?
Let’s face it. We live in a culture of “yes” but the world being the world is not always going to tell us “yes.”

That’s why Jewish tradition is so valuable. It’s precisely because Jews were often told “no” that we developed great resources for dealing with disappointing reality.
The first thing is to be grateful for what you have. After all, it could always be worse. These days, when life disappoints me, I think of the recent story of the guy who tried to sneak out of prison in his girlfriend’s suitcase. He was caught. The picture is pathetic. And it also helps me realize that, as bad as things can get, it could be worse. I could be that guy.

The second thing is to think about others instead of yourself. When you are disappointed in life, go out and help someone else. You will feel better and do some good. (I know a guy in prison who could really use a cake with a file in it.)

And the third thing is to remember that some things can change but some cannot. And this wisdom is to know the difference. You can exercise and eat well but you cannot turn back the clock. Life will not always agree with you. And that’s just the way it is.

In conclusion, we should be optimistic but also realistic. We cannot have everything. Choices must be made and those involve consequences.
So let’s never despair that our life can be blessed, but also remember that sometimes we will not get the answer we want. This does not mean that life is bad. It simply is a reminder that no one said life is fair. It’s not.
At the end, life is not fair, but it is what you get.
We Jews used to know that. We should know it still.

Harry Potter and Judaism

2011-07-14T06:03:00.000-07:00

Now that the Harry Potter universe is complete, with the last movie opening tomorrow, and the good reviews already in, it is time to engage in that old-fashioned sport of explaining how Jewish such a phenomenon must be. (Star Trek of course is Jewish, for what could be more Jewish than running around, trying to save the universe in your pajamas? And Star Wars has its own rabbi, Yoda – which is Hebrew for knowledge.) So what is Jewish about Harry Potter?

At least five things:

1) Wizards and witches are Jews, except for the bad ones, who are Nazis. Muggles are kindly gentiles but mostly unaware of the war between good and evil. And You-Know-Who is Hitler (or the leader of Iran). When it comes to fighting evil, the Jews are pretty much on their own. Israel, can you relate?

2) Books are our friends. When a solution is needed for a serious problem, the answer is found in the library. Also true in Judaism.

3) Words matter. Get the spell wrong and you may not like the result. In Jewish tradition, especially the Kabbalah, words have power. “God spoke and the world came to be,” declared the ancient rabbis.

4) Community matters most. We relate to the Harry Potter universe in the deepest way because of the family created by shared values, as opposed to the nightmare that is Harry’s real family. Jewish tradition also centers around the community, although some of us have real families that can compete with Harry’s, alas.

5) Evil is real. Even after You-Know-Who returns, people don’t want to believe it. Judaism teaches us that evil is real and must be confronted. The Holocaust ultimately happened because people appeased Hitler far too long. Evil triumphs when people don’t realize what’s happening (see Star Wars, the Phantom Menace) and so therefore we fight evil best by being aware and confronting it.

From now on, if you crave a new Harry Potter experience, you will have to travel to Orlando (thanks to our governor there will be no Hogwarts Express). Or, you can summon your inner Harry (or Hermione or Ron) and fight evil yourself (with the community you choose).

Which sounds almost as fun as saving the world in your pajamas!

Wednesday and Thursday

2011-06-16T07:59:00.001-07:00

These last two days have been filled with exciting adventures. We toured ancient water and Temple tunnels near and in the Old City of Jerusalem. We dug in an archeological site that is more than 2000 years old and we attend a beautiful light show in Jerusalem. We climbed Masada (or rode the cable car) and many of us read Torah up there. We swam in Ein Gedi and the Dead Sea. Tomorrow we visit the Israeli Holocaust Museum (Yad Vashem) and Biblical Zoo, followed by services and dinner hosted by members of the Reform Temple in Mevasseret Tzion. It is all going by way too fast!

Tuesday: From Safed to Jerusalem

2011-06-14T13:18:00.003-07:00

Our group began the day helping to clean up a garden in Safed, the mystical city of the North. We then visited a holy synagogue and shopped. A lot. Next we drove to Jerusalem, and entered the city as the sun began to set and the chilly mountain air refreshed us. Tomorrow we visit the Old City!

A Great Day in the North

2011-06-13T11:19:00.001-07:00

Jeep rides on the Golan Heights. Making chocolate at a boutique chocolate factory. A beautiful hike at Tel Dan Nature reserve. Kayaking and rafting down the Jordan River. What a great day! Tomorrow: Jerusalem!

Sunday, June 12 Up in the North

2011-06-12T11:20:00.001-07:00

Today we left Tel Aviv, visited the sight of the birth of the modern State of Israel, and then drove to Caesaria to learn about this ancient port. We also trekked through an ancient water tunnel and then discovered the joys of Kibbutz Kefar Blum. My camera just broke (sad) so the pictures for now are pretty generic. Tomorrow we have planned a jeep ride, visit to a chocolate factory, a river raft, and much more fun.

The Group Heads North

2011-06-11T20:29:00.000-07:00

After a beautiful night in Tel Aviv, early this morning we leave for Caesaria and the Galilee. Last night many of us found our way to a fish restaurant in Jaffa called The Old Man and the Sea, inspired by Hemingway of course. Melanie and I then walked to the Jaffa Port, which is slowly becoming a hip night spot like the New Port (think South Beach). We found a restaurant/bar called The Container, recently open, which promises to be a pretty cool hangout in the years to come, if you like the industrial, used to be a warehouse look, and who doesn't? Unlike the 24 hours spent at JFK, everyone here -- from waiters to cab drivers -- cou;d not be nicer.

Judea Expedition Begins Splendidly with a Few Missing Folks, like the Rabbi

2011-06-11T09:15:00.000-07:00

The group reached Israel late Friday afternoon and were met by intrepid guide, Mike Hollander and amazing busy driver, Ephraim. However, due to terrible NYC weather, four of the contingent, including Rabbi Edwin and Melanie Goldberg, Gaby Enser (bar/bat mitzvah mentor) and Myra Locke, were forced to spend 24 hours at JFK. However, due to some fancy footwork and a small amount of good chutzpah, the group has now made it to Israel for a beautiful Shabbat afternoon, and meeting the group at Rabin Memorial Square. Now it's off to various dinner sites on the beach (think South Beach) and an excursion to Jaffa Port.

Could not be better! Shavua Tov!

Time to Go Back to Israel!

2011-06-07T09:46:00.000-07:00

In a couple of days the 2011 Temple Judea Israel Family Expedition begins! 47 people are travelling to Israel, and will enjoy the beautiful and spiritual sights and experiences that make Israel so special. Please check in regularly for updates and pictures. And feel free to comment. And remember that Temple Judea will be participating in the Greater Miami Jewish Federation Mega-Mission next April 22!

2011-05-22T07:52:00.001-07:00

Lately I have been thinking about this exchange from one of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies:

Jack Sparrow: [Talking about Jack's debt to Davey Jones] You already have my payment. One soul to serve on your ship is already over there.
Davey Jones: One soul is not equal to another.
Jack Sparrow: Ah-ha! So, we've established my proposal as sound in principle. Now, we're just haggling over price.

When it comes to peace between Israel and the Palestinians, most people know what the end result will be: a Palestinian state (demilitarized) in Gaza and a good deal of the West Bank. This end result is in the best interest of the Palestinians and Israel. It is a sound principle. It’s the haggling over price that makes things so difficult. Like trying to buy a used car, there inevitably is going to be role-playing, walking away, and emoting. As in every bargaining, there is bluffing, gamesmanship, and risk-taking.
I must admit that this past week has been very frustrating for those of us who wish Israel only the best and worry about her lack of a suitable partner for peace. First we had the New York Times print an op-ed by Mahmoud Abbas that was filled with blatant factual errors (a nice name for outright lies). As it has been said, one is entitled to one’s opinion but not to (making up) one’s facts. At the very least the Times should have published alongside this calumny a counter-point. Then we had the speech at the State Department by President Obama in which he called for negotiations to begin with the pre-Six Day War borders. Prime Minister Netanyahu rightly complained later that this language was not helpful. The end result of such negotiations will be something that looks somewhat like those borders, but the opening for negotiations can only be the Palestinians pledging to recognize Israel as a sovereign nation. With Hamas and Abbas’ government now merged, that goal seems next to impossible.

I will speak more about this subject on Friday night at services, but for now let me lay out three things to consider:

1) Israel does not want to be an Apartheid state with a minority of Jews running the country. Israel needs to make a peace deal. The Palestinians know this and will use this “time-bomb” against them.
2) The only way the Palestinians will come to the table is if they feel that the United States is prepared to be very tough on them if they do not. It’s not at all clear that this is the position of our government.
3) Therefore nothing is going to happen to advance the peace cause in the near future.

This scenario is not pleasant. It means that the other Arab countries, facing their own problems, will seek to use Israel as a scapegoat once again. And it means that the big winner in the area is Iran, since focusing on Israel enables it to divert attention from itself and to promote its agenda with Israel’s neighbors.

What can Israel do? Well it can continue to prepare itself for confrontations at its borders like we saw last week. I would hope that Israel would stop building more settlements in the West Bank, as this does not help its case nor diffuse the “time-bomb”.

What can the United States do? In short, I would like President Obama to visit Israel as soon as possible and make it clear that Israel deserves America’s full support. Only then might the Arab parties understand that their waiting out Israel will not succeed.

Now more than ever, Israel and America need to strengthen their relationship. Let’s remember that we know what the end result will be in some distant future: a Palestinian state. But how we get there is more than haggling. Indeed, it could not be more serious.

Rabbi Edwin Goldberg

Do Jews Celebrate the Death of An Evil-Doer?

2011-05-02T07:56:00.001-07:00

When it goes well with the righteous, the city rejoices; and when the wicked perish, there is jubilation.
Proverbs 11:10
Do not rejoice when your enemy falls, and let not your heart be glad when he stumbles;
Proverbs 24:18

I do not believe in revenge, something the Bible explicitly prohibits. The ancient Jewish understanding of the Biblical injunction of ‘an eye for an eye’ was always financial restitution for the lost productivity of an eye rather than the barbaric taking of an organ itself. But I do believe in justice, and forgiving murder or loving a terrorist makes a mockery of human love and a shambles of human justice. The human capacity for love is limited enough without us making the reprehensible mistake of directing even a sliver of our heart away from the victims and toward their culprits.

Ecclesiastes expressed it best. There is not just a time to love but also a time to hate. I hate Osama bin Laden but I will not rejoice in his death. It would have been better for the world had he never been born. But once he was, and once he directed his life to unspeakable cruelty, it was necessary for him to be stopped and killed. And for that I give thanks to God and the brave soldiers of the American military for making the world a safer, more just, and innocent place.

Rabbi Shmuley Boteach

It is normal to ask on this happy morning after the killing of Osama Bin Laden whether or not we Jews should revel in the destruction of an evil-doer. As the verses from Proverbs reflect, we can make a case either way if we start quoting the Bible. (This is not unusual. 150 years ago preachers could use the Bible to argue for or against slavery.) I would suggest that if we look at the scope of Jewish tradition over the centuries it is fair to surmise that our joy should be muted. After all, consider our practice at the Passover seder of taking out drops of wine when we mention the plagues against the Egyptians. Or the famous rabbinic commentary that has God rebuking the angels for celebrating the death of Pharaoh and the Egyptians. Nevertheless, we all know that the world is a much better place when justice is served. Therefore, without seeking vengeance, we can be grateful for our Armed Forces and all those who have worked so hard to fight terror.

I do believe in the existence of evil in the world – as does Jewish traditional texts – and our vigilance against such evil cannot wane. This is not a happy task, but a vital one, in our on-going efforts to choose life.
So I will not call for a party. But just as I placed my family placed our American flag outside our home for an entire year following 9/11, I will happily hoist it now. To me, this is the best response.
God bless our country, the State of Israel, and all those who fight for freedom and peace. Amen.

Rabbi Edwin Goldberg
Temple Judea
Rabbigoldberg.blogspot.com

A Passover Message from Rabbi Goldberg

2011-04-13T16:03:00.001-07:00

A Passover Message from Rabbi Edwin Goldberg

Dear Members of Temple Judea:

As we prepare for Passover it is hard not to take note of the changes in our society. This year, our Passover observance can be enriched by YouTube productions (e.g., What if Moses had Facebook?) as well as a historic revamping of the Maxwell House Haggadah. There is also the resonance with the liberation movements happening throughout the world, especially in the Middle East. I personally find myself thinking back to 150 years ago this week and the freedom journey of African Americans that was enabled by the American Civil War. In short, Passover is exciting if you want to make it so, with many avenues for relevance.

By the way, although it may be late for this year, it is worth investing time and some finances in procuring the right Passover Haggadah for you and your family or guests (if you are hosting a seder). The Maxwell House Haggadah may be free of charge but it is not an easy one to use for people not familiar with ancient rabbinic logic. These days there are many far more accessible Haggadot out there. For instance, for our congregational seder we use Behrman House’s Family Haggadah. Of course you could also probably have all guests simply use their iPhone Haggadah apps! (I am not making this up.)

Now, all the technology and contemporary relevance for the holiday should not make us forget the eternal message of the day: more than celebrating our past deliverance from slavery, this is a time to hope that our future as a people and as a world will be redeemed (or redeem itself) from the slaveries of injustice, poverty, prejudice and intolerance.

When we say “Next Year in Jerusalem!” at the end of our seder, we are not merely planning a trip to Israel. We are declaring our hope that the world will be more like “Jerusalem of the Heavens” – more like the kind of world that we would see if we lived in a place where people were tolerant and caring, willing to share their bread with the hungry and work together towards the greater good.

Redemption, then, for us is not waiting for God to swoop down and save us. Redemption is more of an inward reframing of our lives so that we act in accordance of God not in expectation of God.

There is a rabbinic tradition that asks why we celebrate the first day of Passover when the Egyptians were only vanquished on the last day. Why not begin Passover after the Israelites were truly free? The answer: Because just to give yourself the permission to leave your enslavements behind is an act of redemption. And just to hope in a better world – and to bind yourself to helping make that happen – is also an act of redemption.

So lose the chametz, rejoice in the hope, and remember to cross those seas in search of a better tomorrow.

With hopes for a zissen (sweet) Pesach,

Rabbi Edwin Goldberg

Therapy and Theology

2011-04-01T14:17:00.000-07:00

Mark Twain used to say that when the world came to an end he wanted to be in Cleveland, since everything happens there ten years later than the rest of the world. Poor Cleveland. Of course, if you want to cheat death there is a simpler way. Keeping coming here to synagogue. A major study of church attendance and mortality indicates that people who attend church, synagogue or their mosque every week live an average of seven years longer than people who never attend worship services.

Researchers found the life expectancy of people who said they never attended church was 55.3 years beyond age 20, or age 75, compared with 61.9 years, or 82, for those who attended services once a week and 62.9 years, or 83, for those who attended more than once a week...which means we will be adding more chairs for tomorrow’s minyan.

This kind of data underscores the power of religions, not only for their psychological well-being, but also their physical well-being.

The study may be new but the connection between religion and health is quite old.

Among what we call primitive tribes, the priest is also called the medicine man. Also among the civilized ancient Greeks, healing was done by the priests of the god Aesculapius, and his temple was the hospital. So, too, in our own purely monotheistic religion, the priest examined patients and diagnosed their ailments, as we read in this week's Torah portion.
Evidently in all religions, from the most primitive to the advanced, health and religion were closely connected.
Now, based on this knowledge, one would think this sanctuary would be standing room only. Don’t get me wrong. I am happy with who is here. But I do wonder why – if religion is so healthy for us – more of us don’t take advantage of this therapy.
I know that we Americans are not as healthy as we should be – half of men my age don’t even have a physician. But attending worship is a lot easier than having a colonoscopy, right?
And yet, religion is clearly on the decline. Indeed, religion is on its way to extinction in Australia, Austria, Canada, the Czech Republic, Finland, Ireland, the Netherlands, New Zealand and Switzerland. That's the conclusion of a just-released study by researchers from Northwest University and the University of Arizona.

The study, reported at the American Physical Society meeting in Dallas, Texas, is based on mathematical analysis of census data reaching as far back as a century. In those nine countries, the census queried religious affiliation. Using an analysis technique called nonlinear dynamics and a model of human interaction that posits that social groups that have more members are more attractive to join, the researchers concluded that religion was on the way out in the nine countries studied.

Dr. Richard Wiener, one of the researchers, explained, "In a large number of modern secular democracies, there's been a trend that folk are identifying themselves as non-affiliated with religion; in the Netherlands the number was 40 percent, and the highest we saw was in the Czech Republic, where the number was 60 percent." The idea is that as the non-affiliated group grows, it becomes the more attractive group for others to join for social and utilitarian reasons.

Even with the presentation of the findings, however, Wiener said the research team recognized that the network structure used for the study is not fully representative of the one at work in the world. "Obviously we don't really believe this is the network structure of a modern society, where each person is influenced equally by all the other people in society," he said.

Nonetheless, Wiener indicated that the study is at least "suggestive" of the conclusion about religion's extinction

While this study is new and applies to religions of all stripes, previous research has concluded that young adults are leaving the church (and synagogue) today at a higher rate than in former years. A 2009 study from the American Religious Identification Survey found that the percentage of Americans claiming "no religion" almost doubled in about two decades, climbing from 8.1 percent in 1990 to 15 percent in 2008.

Even if we question these results, or don’t apply them to America and the Jewish question, I am struck by the disparity between the therapeutic benefit of religion amidst its probably growing decline.

Is it that we don’t tout the physical benefits of religion? Or that, competing in that arena makes no sense in a society where Weight Watchers and the local gym are less expensive in the long run than religious affiliation?

In other words, are we focusing too much on therapy – which is not our central strength – instead of theology, the traditional point of religious belief?

Evangelicals are growing, and Orthodox Judaism is maintaining its own for that very reason.

But the problem for Reform Jews – and it is a serious one – is that we don’t believe the traditional theology….That’s what makes us Reform in the first place.

In other words, it is easy for me to say we come here for reflection and renewal. Shabbat is therapeutic, if we allow it to be. But you will not here me preach from this pulpit a creed that must be followed. I make no promises of divine reward if you observe certain commandments, nor will I threaten eternal punishment for sin and transgression.

And so we are left with a denuded theology that speaks of God caring but not disciplining, and a therapeutic routine that is beneficial but not singular.

In short, we are a place among many, religious and secular, to come and experience healthy insights and practices.

Will that be enough? And do we have any choice? I don’t think we do have a choice. But I think it can be enough.
What we must do is be better at touting the pragmatic, therapeutic and transformative effect of religious involvement in our lives. Now more than ever, we need the tranquility of Shabbat and the well-being that comes from performing good deeds. We need the ability to schmooze with others and be visited when we are ill. We need to be part of a community, not because we are commanded but because if not, we are missing out in a great way to enrich our lives.

But we also need to remember that it’s not just about feeling better about ourselves. It’s also about rising above ourselves.

We are not supposed to be like the patron at the bar who upon finishing his scotch and soda hurled the empty glass against the mirrored wall that faced him. When the bartender expressed his surprise and dismay, the man apologized profusely. He was genuinely sorry but he simply couldn’t help himself. Every time he had a drink he had this uncontrollable urge to smash the glass against the wall. “Then I always feel guilty.”
The bartender sympathized with the contrite drinker and urged him to see a therapist. The patron assured him that he would do so.
Several months later he returned to the bar, ordered a scotch and soda and as before smashed the empty glass against the wall.
“I thought you were going to get help,” cried the bartender.
“I did,” boasted the patron. “And it did me a world of good. Now I no longer feel guilty!”

As even a good therapist knows, the point of working on ourselves is not to become codependent for our baser natures. And even liberal religion has to be more than a feel good therapy.

At a recent convention of Reform rabbis a colleague related the following conversation that he had with a Chabad rabbi on a college campus. The Chabad rabbi was explaining why so many more Orthodox students continue to engage in Jewish acts on campus while Reform Jews stereotypically do not. The Reform kids, explained the rabbi, grow up and have a close relationship with the rabbi who taught them and conducted their bar/bat mitzvah service. But the students go to college and their rabbi stays home.

The Orthodox kids, in contrast, grow up with a close relationship to the Torah (including later rabbinic commentary), and of course the Torah travels with them.
This argument is too simple but it does make me think that we Reform Jews need to do a better job remembering the value of Torah in our lives. For us, the Torah is not studied and revered as a direct revelation from God.

We engage in Torah because it has practical value: lives that are guided by moral values are healthier, happier, and lead to a better world. The problem is that we teach our students that the study of Torah is therapeutic but we don’t remind them enough that the Torah is more than therapy. It is also reflective of profound moral lessons. For instance, the Torah teaches there is one God. What does this mean for us? It means that there is a moral code in the universe that is not relative. Hurting defenseless people is wrong in any community on earth and, when we encounter intelligent life on another planet, it will be wrong there too.

We Reform Jews have a tough task. We live in a world where every source for authority has to prove itself, again and again. And we have a confusing message: take the Torah seriously but not always literally. If we take the Torah seriously, then we can learn to savor the good things in life while at the same time working to save the world from the fires of hate and injustice.
The values of the Torah are not an extra strain on our over-crowded schedules. They are the foundation of what it means to be a responsible, centered person.
So let’s continue to speak of Judaism as a way to promote healthier lives, while at the same remembering that the values of Judaism also lead to better lives.

Food For Thought

2011-03-25T14:22:00.000-07:00

Purim is over and Passover is coming, so naturally I am thinking about food.
Consider this: In 1968, McDonald's operated about 1,000 restaurants. Today it has about 23,000 restaurants worldwide and opens roughly 2,000 new ones each year.

An estimated one of every eight Americans has worked at McDonald's.
The company annually trains more new workers than the U.S. Army.
McDonald's is the nation's largest purchaser of beef and potatoes.
It is the second-largest purchaser of poultry.
A whole new breed of chicken was developed to facilitate the production of McNuggets.
The McDonald's Corp. is the largest owner of retail property in the world.
Indeed, the company earns the majority of its profits not from selling food but from collecting rent. McDonald's spends more money on advertising and marketing than does any other brand, much of it targeted at children.

A survey of American schoolchildren found that 96 percent could identify Ronald McDonald. The only fictional character with a higher degree of recognition was Santa Claus. The impact of McDonald's on the nation's culture, economy and diet is hard to overstate. Its corporate symbol - the Golden Arches - is now more widely recognized than the Christian cross.

I am not saying that this observation explains why 1/3 of Americans are obese, but it probably has something to do with it. Of course we don’t only overeat and the wrong food at that. We also don’t exercise enough, even though every study tells us we must.

A story: Mr. Lee was terribly overweight. So his doctor put him on a diet.

I want you to eat regularly for two days, then skip a day, and repeat this procedure for two weeks. The next time I see you, you'll have lost at least five pounds.

When Mr. Lee returned, he shocked the doctor by having lost nearly 60 pounds. Why, that's amazing! the doctor said. Did you follow my instructions?

Mr. Lee nodded. I'll tell you though, I thought I was going to drop dead that third day.

From hunger, you mean?

No, from skipping.

We can’t all become mad skippers, but what we eat and how we exercise matters. Concern for diet is as old as Judaism itself.

This week’s Torah portion specifically deals with the subject of keeping kosher.

Here are some interesting facts, courtesy of Rabbi Richard Wolberg:

The Torah plainly states that the people of Israel is sanctified by avoiding the unclean foods. But it doesn't explain WHY those foods have a defiling effect. It falls under the category of a "chok," a commandment for which there is no rational explanation.
As the saying goes: "Nature abhors a vacuum," and therefore various commentators have attempted to give reasons for the dietary laws.
Keeping kosher is healthy.

Reason #1
Midrash Genesis Rabba 44:1 has stated: "What difference does it make to God whether an animal is slaughtered by cutting its throat or striking it on the back of the neck? Clearly, the commandments were given to discipline us."

Reason #2: Keeping kosher is for the experience of having a discipline.
The earliest attempt we possess at a moralizing explanation is that of Philo of Alexandria. "The dietary laws," he states, "are intended to teach us to control our bodily appetites. Moses did not demand Spartan self-denial; but, to discourage excessive self-indulgence, he forbade pork, the most delicious of all meats. He further prohibited the eating of carnivorous beasts and birds, in order to teach us gentleness and kindness."

Reason #3: Keeping kosher keeps us moral.

Philo finds a symbolic meaning in the permission to eat of animals that chew the cud and have divided hoofs: onegrows in wisdom only if one repeats and "chews" over what one has studied and if one learns to "divide" and distinguish various concepts. Philo, The Special Laws, IV:97ff.
More than a thousand years after Philo, Maimonides proposed a similar view: (Guide for the Perplexed, III, ch.33) All the commandments aim at human perfection, he declared, and the dietary laws are intended to inculcate self-control. But to this he added another consideration: the idea that these regulations are also health laws.

The Rambam developed the subject quite fully, with the assurance of an experienced and successful physician. All the forbidden foods, he asserts, are unwholesome. (Guide, III, ch.48). He didn't even know that tapeworm and trichina may be transmitted through pork, that rabbits carry tularemia, and that shellfish are prone to infection and spoiling. When these facts were established by modern scientists, many persons (ignorantly) became all the more convinced that the Mosaic ordinances were hygienic in purpose.

There is no hint of such a motive in the Bible or Talmud. Many of the prohibited foods are NOT injurious to health, and on the other hand there is no religious sanction against the consumption of any vegetable or mineral products, though many of them are very noxious.
So the bottom line is that we really don't the reason or reasons for the laws of kashruth. We do know that it has a connection to 'holiness' but we really don't know why.

One more insight is from Midrash Leviticus Rabba 13:5: ...The Swine--Although It Has True Hoofs, with the Hoofs Cleft Through, It Does Not Chew the Cud.
When the pig is resting, he stretches out his legs in front of him, displaying his cleft hoofs. "How kosher I am!" he seems to say, making no mention of the fact that he does not chew the cud. He symbolizes the hypocrite who parades his virtues and conceals his faults.
From this midrash we see the rabbinic distaste in hypocrisy. We can extend this to mean that worrying about what one puts in one’s mouth is not as important as what comes out of one’s mouth.

Too many Jews who obsess about kashrut have little compassion for human beings. Of course religious hypocrisy is known in every denomination of Judaism and in every religion. It’s therefore so important that we make the effort to see the larger picture and understand that, although we don’t know the reason for many of these rules, we connect them to a deity who wants us to engage in holy acts of compassion and social justice.
At its heart, keeping kosher refers to all of our actions, and not just what we eat.

On Wisconsin!

2011-03-11T14:24:00.000-08:00

This Sunday I am taking my son Benjy to visit the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor and the University of Wisconsin in Madison. Attending a political rally is not part of the itinerary, but who knows? After all, everyone is thinking about Wisconsin these days.
As you know, an economic and political battle currently rages in Wisconsin over public employees' rights to collective bargaining. In that state's budget proposal, Gov. Scott Walker is leading an all-out attempt to end public employees' collective bargaining rights for anything but wages. All of this is part of his plan to cut $1.5 billion from public schools and local governments to close the state's budget deficit.

If successful, his move against collective bargaining would also restrict unions' abilities to collect dues and bargain for those in their ranks, as governments would stop deducting union dues from paychecks. Estimates say this would reduce union revenue by a third. And workers would have to re-approve the union every year, by a majority of all workers, not just those voting.

Even the portion of the proposal that would allow collective bargaining on wages is not without limitation. While, under the measure, public employees could bargain on wages, pay hikes could not exceed inflation without voter approval, which most observers say would not likely be given.

The proposal has brought angry protests from public employees and their supporters, but similar proposals are now being made in some other states dealing with budget woes, including Ohio, Indiana, and Tennessee.

Opponents argue that the Wisconsin effort is as much political as economic. Public employees in Wisconsin have already offered significant concessions to save the state money, but the governor's proposal aims to reduce the power of unions, opponents say. What's more, they argue, since Walker is a Republican and unions have traditionally supported Democratic candidates, the move aims to reduce their power as a political force.

Writing in TIME magazine, commentator Joe Klein agrees that there is a political motivation. "I think Scott Walker is a reflexive conservative who would probably be trying to bust his public employees' unions even if there were a budget surplus," Klein wrote. But he points out that "there are some very good reasons governors of both parties are trying to limit the power of public employees' unions." He notes that unions have often been obstructionist and intransigent in resisting money-saving proposals and blocking reform. Yet, while he argues that some "rebalancing" of the arrangement may be in order, he also said that such changes "must be accompanied by the recognition that a great many public employees are severely underpaid."
Adding to the debate this past weekend, Peggy Noonan in The Wall Street Journal lays a good deal of the blame for the current predicament on the teachers union for enabling a culture of mediocrity to exist in our schools. As she notes:
In what might be called an expression of the new spirit of transparency that is sweeping the globe, two documentaries came out in 2010, "The Lottery" and "Waiting for Superman." Both were made by and featured people who are largely liberal in their sympathies, and both said the same brave thing: The single biggest impediment to better schools in our country is the teachers unions, which look to their own interests and not those of the kids.

Now, liberal Jewish Movements, including the Reform rabbinate, have come out strongly supporting the union side of the controversy. And far be it from me to denounce the need for workers’ rights. However I believe it is fair to say that both sides bear blame for the breakdown and both sides will have to compromise for there to be any hope of improving the state of things and achieving financial prudence.
For me the worst sin, committed on both sides, is the tendency of the culture to demonize opponents. Teachers are teaching the next generation of doctors, lawyers, mechanics, air traffic controllers, etc., but they are demonized as a bunch of lazy, good-for-nothings that ought to be thrown out on their ears. The same goes for other professions." And the Republicans who preach fiscal responsibility are often depicted as uncompassionate rich people, as undoubtedly some of them are, but not all.

One has to wonder: How much of this debate is really about the tug of war between Democrats and Republicans for electoral advantage, instead of questions about budget and workers rights?

And what is the Jewish perspective on Wisconsin? Three teachings come to mind:

I. Sacrifice is Needed.

In light of this week’s Torah portion, which deals with the ancient sacrfices, I would ask, How can necessary financial sacrifice be spread over all sectors of society so that no one group or sector bears the brunt of financial pain? What needs to be done to make this happen? How do we balance capitalist practices with the need to protect the powerless and impoverished?
Liberals argue that the poor have sacrificed enough. Now it’s time for the wealthy to sacrifice. The wealthy call that undemocratic. In the meantime, the deficit grows and nothing changes. Where is the politician who honestly speaks of the need for universal sacrifice? And is such a person electable?

II. Labor Strikes

Speaking of the Bible, I can't think of an example in the Bible of a labor strike taking place, but the Talmud records a strike by two families who had a monopoly in the temple; the strike resulted in their receiving a salary increase (Yoma 38a). In other words, the strike worked. Collective bargaining has been an effective tool for many centuries. You cannot blame people for wanting to keep it in their arsenal.

III. The Holiness Code

In a few weeks we will read Leviticus 19:11, which has these words:
"You shall not steal; you shall not deal falsely; and you shall not lie to one another."

This is part of the "Holiness Code" describes what a holy life looks like from the perspective of individual actions. Verse 11insists that, "You shall not steal," but it goes on to show that stealing includes some actions other than simply taking someone's property; it, adds, "You shall not deal falsely; and you shall not lie to one another." Verse 13 amplifies it further: “You shall not defraud your neighbor; you shall not steal; and you shall not keep for yourself the wages of a laborer until morning."
How many of these rules are broken every day on TV when distortions are a matter of strategy, and when mistreating workers is a common practice?
Through much of history workers have had very few rights and no recourse when mistreated. Day workers could only hope to receive what was due to them. This passage affirms the rights of workers to their just pay. The struggle of workers to gain some control over their destiny, and the counterattack implicit in so-called right-to-work legislation which seeks to prevent workers from organizing, could be considered the logical extension of this command to pay workers faithfully and on time.

And speaking of staying away from falsehoods I would add this question: Where is truth not being told in the debate about public employees and collective bargaining?
How much is political maneuvering hiding behind personal attacks and appeals to morality?

I don’t pretend to have the answers, nor does our collective Jewish tradition, even if it tends to err on the side of the poor. But I do want to remind us of an anniversary that occurs later this month: the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire.
On March 25, 1911, this 20-minute blaze in Greenwich Village killed 146 workers, mostly women. This disaster forced fundamental reforms from New York and awoke the country to the need for progressive protection of workers.
Make no mistake, workers still need protection, even if sometimes the protection they need is from the unions that represent them. Our Jewish voice should put them first, while at the same time appreciating the complexities involved in these matters.

May Wisconsin be a sign not of a breakdown in society but a realization that sacrifices must be made, collective bargaining allowed, and care for workers reflected in the foundation of our American community.

Sacred Uniforms

2011-02-11T13:04:00.000-08:00

This last week’s super bowl commercials had one favorite for me: the little boy dressed as Darth Vader, who uses the powers of the force to turn on a car. Kids playing dress up is so fun to watch. Melanie remembers when our son Benjy was Batman and she called him, “Benjy.” He angrily responded, “I’m not Benjy; I’m Batman!”

Clothes may not make the man, as the saying goes, but they are far from irrelevant in how we look at each other and how we look at ourselves.

Not only that, what we wear tells a story. For instance, I have on a blazer. This article of clothing was developed by the British military. The reason why there are double vents in the back is because it was assumed that the wearer, of course being an officer and a gentleman, is to be mounted on a horse most of the time, and the vent keeps the jacket from bunching up in the saddle.

This dark blue blazer is associated with one particular branch of the British military, the Royal Navy. It usually has brass buttons and it is said received its name because of the British vessel, Blazer, in the 1860s. The captain of the ship, tired of the sloppiness of the crew, ordered them to wear these jackets. Most scholars of this matter however argue that the jacket is called a blazer because the first ones were worn by members of a crew team at the University of Cambridge and they were actually bright red, the color of fire.

Why this discourse on clothing? Because our clothing is tied to the uniforms worn by our ancestors. Uniforms are important markers of class and employment. As the name suggests, they are worn by many people who share something in common. A uniform with no one else wearing it isn’t a uniform at all; it’s a costume.

Uniforms are the subject of this week’s Torah portion. Almost 40 verses are taken up with a description of the garments in all their particulars. The garments symbolized the exalted status of the priesthood.
Now, some commentators regard the garments as being merely signs of royal splendor—a way of invoking awe and respect from the public of worshippers.
Modern commentator Benno Jacob calls attention to the fact that God, himself, provided clothing for Adam and Eve—all other artifacts of civilization had to be discovered by human ingenuity and invention.
The lesson: People cannot be content with our natural properties, but must transcend them. Thus, the priests have to be distinguished, and the difference between ordinary and sacred garments needs to be stressed.
Other commentators provide a more allegorical interpretation—as summoning those who wear sacred uniforms to exemplify higher moral and spiritual values. Nechama Leibowitz once wrote: “The uniform designates excellence, dedication, an altogether different status and station in life. It separates the sartorially distinguished person from the rest of the crowd.”
We know our society likes the rugged individualism celebrated in our culture, but I think there is still something to be said for the power and allure of uniforms.
For many years if not still now high school seniors going to Disneyland have to wear formal clothes, with the idea being they will behave better in suits and dresses.
And consider if your airline pilot showed up in a t-shirt and jeans. That would not make us feel very good. Doctors still have their pristine white coats. Some of you wish I was still wearing a robe.
Uniforms are an important part of our lives, even in the 21st century.
The problem is often we make judgments about the uniforms that people wear. If they are not dressed in a way that traditionally invites respect, we tend not to respect them. Think about Georgia convicts in some old movies, working chained together by the side of the road in their horizontal stripes. Some prison officials want to bring these uniforms back. Not that the bright orange jumpsuits are any better.
There are many people we count on every day but their uniforms hinder our ability to see them. Consider this story:
Charles Plum, a U.S. Naval Academy graduate, was a jet fighter pilot in Vietnam. After 75 combat missions, his plane was destroyed by a surface-to-air missile. Plumb ejected and parachuted into enemy hands. He was captured and spent six years in a communist prison. He survived that ordeal and now lectures about lessons learned from that experience.

One day, when Plumb and his wife were sitting in a restaurant, a man at another table came up and said, You're Plumb! You flew jet fighters in Vietnam from the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk. You were shot down!

How in the world did you know that? asked Plumb.

I packed your parachute, the man replied. Plumb gasped in surprise and gratitude. The man pumped his hand and said, I guess it worked!

Plumb assured him, It sure did -- if your chute hadn't worked, I wouldn't be here today.

Plumb couldn't sleep that night, thinking about that man. Plumb says, I kept wondering what he might have looked like in a Navy uniform -- a Dixie cup hat, a bib in the back and bell-bottom trousers. I wondered how many times I might have passed him on the Kitty Hawk. I wondered how many times I might have seen him and not even said a “Good morning, how are you,” or anything because, you see, I was a fighter pilot and he was just a sailor.

Plumb thought of the many hours the sailor had spent on a long wooden table in the bowels of the ship carefully weaving the shrouds and folding the silks of each chute, holding in his hands each time the fate of someone he didn't know.

Now, Plumb asks his audience, Who's packing your parachute? Everyone has someone who provides what they need to make it through the day. But often the way they dress hampers us from seeing them for what they mean to us.

Uniforms can be a blessing, in that they promote professional behavior and inspire confidence. They can also be a detriment if they blind us from seeing the person inside the uniform. When they are worn by religious people they can something else: a reminder of the sacred in our lives.

Reform Judaism embraced robes for its clergy but that is not an ancient tradition. The ancient uniform of the Jew is the kipah and the tallit. These should remind us that our behavior matters, and that God expects us to try to be good people. It is nice that in this day and age women as well as men have the honor of donning such uniforms. Do these ensure our holiness? No. Just as wearing a suit on a Disney roller-coaster doesn’t ensure a mature attitude. But they help. I suspect that the ancient priests were also helped by the sacred clothing they wore.

In our more turbulent age, remembering that our clothing can be a benefit or a detriment is not a bad thing. It might even be a holy thing.

Living With Uncertainty

2011-02-04T13:29:00.000-08:00

Bob Garfield, writing in the Washington Post, recounts this frightening tale:
One late evening, after a hearty dinner of dog stew and a pub crawl with a half-dozen South Korean advertising executives, I retired to my hotel room [in Seoul]. But as I prepared for bed, I was stricken with crushing chest pains, radiating down my arm and into my back. Obviously, I was having a heart attack.

Or a gas attack. How are you supposed to tell? I thought of calling for help, but then I considered the problems of communication, and the chaos, and the potential for embarrassment -- to say nothing of the uncertainties of Korean cardiac care. I imagined the emergency-room physician saying, Yes, Mr. Garfield, you are having a serious myocardial infarction. I will now place seven tiny needles in your eyelid.

So I decided to take my chances. I managed, through the pain, to write a brief, tender note to my survivors, and lay down at peace with myself. I loved my family. They loved me. I had accomplished some interesting things in my career. No felony convictions. Sufficiently insured. Go to sleep now, Bob. Maybe you will wake up.

To the best of my knowledge, I did. And I was joyous -- not that I had lived through the night, but that I had not been afraid to die. I was at peace with myself, a priceless revelation.
Most of us might not have acted in such a calm way, although we might have also been less afraid to approach the uncertainty of foreign medical practitioners.
What I admire about this man was his ability to live with uncertainty for his own future. In the midst of a frightening attack, he was able to hope for a good outcome.
This week our world is witnessing frightening attacks and the outcome could very well be dire for many, especially the State of Israel. So how do we respond as a people who care so much for our Israeli brothers and sisters?
Writing this week from Jerusalem’s Shalom Hartman Institute, Donniel Hartman offers some good advice:
The political upheaval in Egypt has affected Israeli society very deeply, in many ways more than the Iranian nuclear program has. When it comes to the Iranians, most Israelis believe, correctly or not, that the core Israeli adage, "The IDF will know what to do," applies.
[But] the changes in Egypt and those threatening other Arab nations, and potentially Jordan and the Palestinian Authority, as well, are perceived by many to be a game-changer….
It is not that the existence of the State of Israel itself will be brought into question. Our faith in our military is such that, here too we believe we will be able to overcome any existential threat.
What is unsettling is the possibility of hostilities returning to our borders and that our children's lives again will be in danger.
We have often complained about the so-called "Cold Peace" with Egypt and Jordan. A cold peace, however, is preferable to the heat of conflict. In a cold peace the dangers faced by our children in the military were of a more limited nature, and as such tolerable.

All this is now threatening to come to an end, and uncertainty, especially as it comes to the lives of our children and citizens, may again become a permanent feature of the Israeli reality. How does one respond to such uncertainty? How does one adapt when the rules of the game which are one's life are changed so suddenly?

To answer this question, Hartman refers to 3,000 years of Jewish tradition. We like to joke that we Jews are the best worriers in the world, an “ever-dying people” and that’s why we survived. But the truth is different: we are an ever-hopeful people. Judaism is optimism. Isn’t that why we say “Next year in Jerusalem” every year? Isn’t that why Israel’s national anthem is entitled, “The Hope”?
The State of Israel is founded on hope, although not the traditional messianic idea that God will do all the heaving lifting, so to speak. Israel is about the people hoping in their own ability to make a better future.
The status quo has been a cold peace but not an existential threat. And there is much to be grateful for this cold peace.
But the status quo is always a mirage. Change will always happen, and even though we have to be prepared for things to get worse we cannot stop also hoping for things to get better.

Whether we are speaking of a nation or a person facing uncertainty the logic is the same: work the problem and hope for the best. In his speech this week, Prime Minister of Israel Benjamin Netanyahu drew parallels between Egypt's transition and Iran's revolution in 1979, when an ostensibly democratic revolt against the shah gave way to a Muslim theocracy.

"The optimistic scenario, which undoubtedly unites us all, is that these hopes for democracy and peace will be realized in Egypt," he said. But he quickly added that Iran's leaders want to take advantage of the turmoil in Egypt to promote the rise of a similar regime there.
Israeli officials are alarmed by how swiftly events have unfolded in Egypt and how swiftly, in their view, the Obama administration and other Western governments have appeared to withdraw their longstanding support for Mr. Mubarak. Until this week, Israeli officials had been saying the 82-year-old Egyptian leader could weather the protests.

For many people in the West, the upheaval in Egypt is like 1989 in Europe," the senior Israeli official said, referring to the collapse of communism and the rise of democratic rule in much of Eastern Europe. "We're concerned that it's like 1979 in Tehran."
Donniel Hartman reminds us that in politics we can be surprised and sometimes it’s a good surprise. So let’s not ignore our anxiety for the future but let’s also not give up on the idea that tomorrow can be better than today. Even in the Middle East. Even in Egypt. After all, isn’t that what’s driving those families and youngsters who haven’t stopped dreaming of a more just society?
In a time of uncertainty and anxiety let’s not forget to celebrate the power of hope. Like that Washington Post correspondent, sometimes we have to go to sleep not knowing if we are suffering from a heart attack or from gas. If we awake healthy in the morning, there is much to celebrate. And if we don’t let’s remember that life has no guarantees. We do the best we can and learn to live with uncertainty.

Sinai: What Do We Believe?

2011-01-21T12:27:00.000-08:00

We Jews are story tellers. And no story is more central than the one we read this week. In this week's portion we reach the high point of the book of Exodus.
The Israelites reach the foot of the mountain known as Sinai. God reveals God’s will to them in a series of statements known as the Ten Commandments. We have already met God as creator of the universe and God as redeemer from slavery. Now we meet God in the vital role as revealer of God’s will, or as a teacher.
Now most modern people can accept the belief that God created the world, even if it took billions of years and very slow evolution to do it. Even if we identify God more as a cosmic force than kind of benevolent scientist in a lab.
It is easy to accept Deism, the notion that God created a universe but since then has allowed us humans to fend for ourselves. Many of our nation’s founding leaders had this point of view. Think of Jefferson and Franklin.

It’s more difficult for us moderns to imagine that God somehow communicated information to us humans on how to live our lives. We may pay lip service to such a notion, but do we really believe it?

Rabbi Michael Gold writes: "One of the central claims of our Jewish faith is that God is a teacher. Some people understand the idea of God the teacher in a simplistic, almost fundamentalist way. They believe that God gave information to us in a flow of language, similar to how we download information onto our computer. This is the thinking of those who would search the written Torah for hidden codes. We all know people who treat the Torah this way.
If God communicated precise words and letters which were written down by Moses and remain unchanged through the ages, there must be messages hidden in the text just waiting to be uncovered by our computers. Such is one way to consider revelation." We all know people who do approach the text this way.

Continues Gold:

"On the other extreme are those that believe the Torah was not communicated by God at all. They believe that Torah is merely literature, great literature to be sure, literature sanctified by millennia of study. Such was the insight of Spinoza and followed by millions of others. But as literature, the Torah is still human made, and really no different from the great works of Shakespeare or the Declaration of Independence. Such literature may have much to teach us, as Aesop's fables have much to teach us. But ultimately, this view sees the Torah as human-made. The Torah reflects humanity reaching up to God rather than God reaching down to humanity."
This approach is more common among liberal Jews, for obvious reasons.

Concludes Gold: "Between these two extremes there is a middle view that sees God as a teacher without reading the Torah in a literalist way. This view can understand the reality of revelation without rejecting modern Biblical criticism. We see hints of this view in the giving of the Ten Commandments."

After all, what did God actually communicate to the people at Mt. Sinai? In the beginning God spoke in the first person, as if God was directly speaking to the people: "I am the Eternal your God" "You shall have no other gods before me" Then suddenly the words switched to the third person: "Do not take the Eternal's name in vain."
The people grew frightened of hearing God's direct communication and asked Moses to take over and speak in God's name.

Based on this, some say God only publicly spoke the first two of the Ten Commandments. Moses spoke the rest.

Franz Rosensweig taught that the people grew frightened even more quickly, after hearing just the first word: Anochi or I am. After only one word, the direct voice of God became too much to bear.

Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Rymanov taught that the people grew frightened after the first letter, the aleph in Anochi. After but one letter the people asked Moses to communicate instead. But the first letter of the Ten Commandments, the aleph, is the only letter in the Hebrew alphabet that is silent.

Perhaps there was but silence, and such an overwhelming sense of God's presence that the people could not bear it. Moses communicated God's will instead.

The events on Mt. Sinai come to teach that God communicated with us humans. But the communication was intercepted, interpreted, made clear by Moses and later by the other prophets, and eventually by the great rabbis and teachers of our tradition. Torah reflects the will of God. But as Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel taught, "Torah is a minimum of revelation and a maximum of interpretation."

God is a teacher. But ultimately it is up to us humans to interpret, understand, and apply God's teaching in our own lives.

This approach helps me to be a believer and yet also a thinking, critical person. In the words of the great Reform Jew, Edmond Fleg, to be a good Jew means no need to “abdicate one’s mind”. We can believe and still be critical, or rational, in our thinking.
When we realize that Torah is a minimum of revelation and a maximum of interpretation, then we approach tradition with humility. We know we will not receive straight answers. And so instead we learn to live with the questions. And to listen to other points of view. Arrogance of knowing is no longer possible.

It would be nice, in these difficult days, if we could apply this approach toward the text to all of our public discourse. There are no clear answers out there in any area. There are many interpretations, some better than others.

In the spirit of our text this week, I pray we all can learn to do a better job listening and discerning, and sharing our different points of view.

Jewish from the Inside

2011-01-07T13:56:00.000-08:00

Last week the family saw Beauty and the Beast. My son Joey told me of his love for a Disney movie, yet to be a musical, that I never saw entitled the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Of course the story is based on the well-known novel of the same name. Indeed, many of us know the French author Victor Hugo, who described a taunted, disfigured hunchback who lived a reclusive life in the attic of the cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris.
Hugo’s novel was a success because of the message that an odd, misshapen hunchback without an ordinary body could have an extraordinary heart.

Rabbi Stephen Pearce of San Francisco has observed that there is a less well-known mid-18th century account of a Jewish hunchback born in Dessau, Germany, before Victor Hugo ever lived:

"He was a well-educated child of a poor Torah scribe who grew up in a tight-knit Jewish community on the verge of emancipation. His name was Moses Mendelssohn.

Endowed with superior intelligence, Mendelssohn was fluent in French, Italian, English, Latin and Greek, in addition to German. His writings reveal brilliant insights into theology and philosophy and earned him the. title "the German Socrates" and 'the Jewish Plato.'
Considered the ‘spiritual leader of German Jewry, Mendelssohn devoted himself to defending and emancipating his people. He did all of this while also earning a small fortune in business. Recognition came in the form, of an unprecedented invitation for a Jew of his age to join the prestigious Berlin Academy of Sciences.

But that invitation was vetoed by German ruler Frederick the Great. Barred from the highest echelons of society by his Jewish birth, he nevertheless, remained unswerving in his devotion to Judaism and to the defense of downtrodden Jews."

Our Torah portion features another Moses. He too is portrayed as a leader who also rose to greatness in spite of a disability. He had trouble speaking but no trouble in communicating
The very holiday name of Passover speaks of the climactic act wherein blood was smeared on the outside of the doorposts of the Israelites so that the Angel of Death passed over their homes. We tend to think that the blood was on the outside, so that the Angel of Death could see it.
But a comment found in our Torah portion Bo provides specific instruction to apply blood to the lintel and to the two doorposts, followed by the warning: "None of you shall go outside the door of his house until morning"(Exodus 12:22). Thus, it may be concluded that the blood was smeared on the inside of the door and not on the outside.

From this careful reading of the text, one can conclude that if the blood was on the inside, then it was intended for the Israelites as much as it was for God because the Israelites needed a reminder of the importance of their homes.

The take-away for me is this:
Judaism has always been home-centered rather than church-centered, a distinguishing feature that differentiates Jews from other religious groups. Thus, smearing the blood on the inside served to remind Jews to maintain cohesive Jewish homes.

Such distinctly marked homes steel children and parents with the fortitude to resist the temptation to abandon Judaism’s rich ritual and ethical heritage.

Mendelssohn was so successful in integrating German Jews into the larger culture of Germany, so victorious in freeing Jews from their ghettoized mentality, that many of the emancipated Jews, including the majority of Mendelssohn’s six children, sought to remove the last bar to total acceptance. Of his progeny, four converted to Christianity, as did many Jews of that era. His most famous descendent, grandson Felix Mendelssohn, is remembered as a Christian composer.

The lesson of location of the blood on the doorposts of Jewish homes in Egypt is instructive for modern Jews. A Jew today needs to do more than just mark a modern doorpost with a mezuzah because these days more than ever building a Jewish home begins from the inside out.
What are the practical applications of this message? There are three.

1) Organizations cannot replace a solid Jewish home. Too often we see Jewish practice thrown aside for the demanding pressures of school work, weekend activities, and these sacrifices cannot be retrofitted by birthright trips and Hillel on campus. The fundamentals still need to come from the four walls in which we raise our Jewish kids.

2) Jewish values need to be practiced and discussed as well as remembered. It’s one thing to have a seder. It is something else to converse about the privilege and responsibility of freedom.

Consider the op-ed piece by George Ball in WSJ this week on children eating vegetables:

"As an agriculturist and horticulturist, I believe that the answer is simple. As parents, educators, nutritionists and marketers, we have to imbue our children with the love of—and consumption of—the most beneficial food for growing bodies. This means fresh vegetables and fruits, whether store-bought or home-grown.

As kids, we imitate our elders, who teach most effectively by example. Right now, adults aren't doing a good job of modeling good behavior. According to a recent report by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, just 26% of adults have three or more servings of vegetables a day, a number that includes those who deem a tomato slice or lettuce on a burger as a "vegetable serving." In other words, roughly 80% of U.S. adults scarcely eat any vegetables at all.)"
Children know what matters to parents. If the Judaism you practice has little interest for you then find a Jewish practice that does engage you. You won’t fool your kids into taking something that doesn’t speak to you.

3. In addition to strengthening Jewishness in the home, we have to recognize the blessing and curse of technology and social media in the inculcating our children with Jewish values. There have never been more distractions but also more opportunities to engage our children.
Illustration: My use of technology with bar/bat mitzvah kids. There is nothing wrong with using technology! We Jews are not Luddites!

Jewish websites
Jewish video games
Social Media and Judaism

Such things can engage our children, if they are used in moderation and effectively.

To sum up: the Israelites needed to be reminded of their covenant with God. We also need to stress that we have a unique bond with God. This is inside information, for us to remember. And for us to share with our children.
Our homes are the best resource we have for engaging our children in the great Jewish conversation.

A question: If a search warrant was issued and your house was searched, would there be enough Jewish symbols, books and artifacts to warrant a designation as a Jewish home? Do we realize that the mezuzah is displayed outside not to tell others we are Jewish but to remind ourselves we are Jewish?

Keep Calm and Carry On

2010-12-21T07:56:00.001-08:00

A Message from Rabbi Goldberg

This weekend, the new movie, “The King’s Speech” opens in South Florida. It tells the story of King George VI struggling with his speech impediment. For the last few months I have been thinking about George VI but for another reason. Last February Melanie and I were in London and we visited the Churchill War Room and Museum. In the gift shop we saw a poster with the slogan “Keep Calm and Carry On” as well as a picture of a crown. We learned that the crown represented King George VI and the slogan was to be used if the Nazis invaded England. The poster was never introduced (and fortunately the Nazis never invaded). The poster campaign was forgotten until it was rediscovered ten years ago in a store room. It has now been introduced and has made a splash on both sides of the Atlantic.

I love the British understatement of this slogan. I mean, do we really think this positive attitude would have done any good against the S.S.? But that’s the British for you. I once read of an elderly London woman whose flat was destroyed during the Blitz. A bobby found a little bit of gin left in a bottle under the debris and offered it to the woman. She rejected it out of hand, declaring, “Oh no, that’s for emergencies!”

“Keep Calm and Carry On” is not only useful for the British, of course. It is a nice way for us to remember to be mindful of who we are and how we should behave in our families, at work and on our South Florida streets. I have this slogan in my office and at home. It is very helpful. I must admit I also have a sign in my office with the opposite message: “Now Panic and Freak Out” – accompanied by an upside down crown. I know that every day I have a choice between keeping calm and freaking out. We all do.

The Torah portion this week introduces us to Moses. He truly is an outstanding leader. Like King George VI he had a speech impediment. But he rose above his disability in part because he favored keeping calm over freaking out. It all goes to show what we can accomplish with the right emotional quotient.

When George VI was helping England survive the Nazis, the United States had President Roosevelt. It’s been said of him that he had a second rate intellect but a first rate disposition. Which may be just what we need in a leader these days as well.

In 2011 may we recognize the choice we all have and choose, more often than not, to keep calm and carry on.

How to Lose Friends and Annoy People

2010-11-26T14:11:00.000-08:00

There is a fable about a hippo who fell in love with a butterfly. He sought the advice of the wise old owl. 'You must become a butterfly,' the owl told the hippo, 'and do it right now.' The hippo was delighted. He plunged back into the jungle, only to return shortly. 'How do I become a butterfly?' the hippo inquired of the owl. The bird of great wisdom responded, 'That's up to you. I only set the policy. I don't implement.'
Don’t you just love getting advice without the wisdom how to implement it? Often that’s the kind of advice we get. But not always. Sometimes the advice can really be useful.
I admit I love to look at the Torah for advice. But I also must admit that sometimes the best advice is what we should not do. And the Torah can help us with that too.

Remember Dale Carnegie’s How to Make Friends and Influence People? Here is the opposite advice, first proposed by Rabbi Solomon Freehof, who once wrote, concerning this week’s Torah portion:
This vital subject is the theme of this week's Scripture, the story of Joseph. He developed, later, into an honored and beloved man; but he started out as a despised and widely hated youth. The contrast between his respected adulthood and his dislikable youth throws some light on the mystery of human likes and dislikes.
Upon inspection of the legacy of Joseph, there are three major areas that can guide us if we want to be despised of others, if we want to lose friends and annoy people.

I. Inspire a Sense of Injustice. When Joseph became Viceroy in Egypt, no one disliked him for it. There is no record of envy. This was because he had suffered and worked hard and justly attained his success. Success which is justly attained makes us feel that life is just. We tend to respect the person who deserves what he or she has earned.
But when Joseph was young, his success awakened hatred because he did not earn it. He was merely a favorite who paraded his coat of many colors. People who have success which is unearned and display their unmerited glories annoy us. They make us feel that life is unjust and we dislike them.
Which is why the dysfunctional celebrity culture of today is so bizarre. People are famous for being famous. Bristol Palin survives on dancing with the stars even though she has little or no actual talent. And she is just the tip of the iceberg.

Isn’t possible our society has become so cynical because talent and time don’t seem to be reckoned when it comes to who is at the top of the heap. Even those who admire President Obama might question the timing of his assent. Was he really ready?
So the great sense of injustice that is palpable may in part be based on the idea that people have succeeded without deserving their success. Just like Joseph the first time around, but not the second. II. Inspire a Sense of Insecurity. When Joseph was on the vice-regal throne, he was universally loved because he was the source of safety to all in those days of famine. All those who make us feel secure in life win our affection.
But when Joseph was a boy he was a gossip. Scripture says: "He brought evil reports of his brothers to their father," and they hated him. Of course they hated him. A gossip makes life unsafe. You are afraid to say the most innocent things in their presence. And those who make us insecure we naturally dislike.
Especially in our technological age, when a forwarded email can destroy a reputation with one click, we all have to be aware of our vulnerability. And we therefore have to be more careful of our friends. Just by tagging an old photo of them on Facebook, say toking up a dope joint when they were fifteen, we can make sure they never advance beyond a certain stage in their careers. Talk about losing friends!
We don’t even have to want to do such a thing.
We have to be so careful, in this technological age, to make sure we do not harm the reputations of others, unless it is truly warranted.
III. Inspire a sense Sense of Inferiority. When Joseph in Egypt revealed himself to his brothers, he said merely, "I am Joseph; is our father well?" as if to say, what is most important is that we are brothers; and if I am the viceroy, you are the
viceroy's brothers. He made them feel important, and those who make us feel significant win our affection.
But when he was a boy, Joseph revealed his dreams and the dreams all concerned the vision of the brothers bowing down to Joseph, inferior to him. Those who break down our self-respect, those who by word or manner make us feel inferior, are the ones we immediately despise.
It is easy to say that we only feel inferior because we let ourselves feel that way, but being judged is a hard thing to overcome. We are human after all, and it is hard to be in a forgiving mood ourselves when we feel that people are critical of us. Rabbi Freehof: The Bible is optimistic about human character. Many of its great personalities begin with weakness and end with greatness. So it was with Moses, with Jacob, and particularly with

Joseph. He overcame dislike because he overcame the qualities which awaken dislike. When he arrived at the stage where people felt that his success was just, where his very presence meant safety, where he strengthened people's self-respect, he was no longer disliked but respected and revered.
So if we want to win friends and influence people, the road before is clear. Whatever we do that earns people’s respect, allows them to know we are protecting them and think highly of them, will bring us the affection and renown we seek. And conversely, when we step out of the line of advancement, when we make people feel vulnerable or inferior, we can be sure that we are also earning their contempt.
Joseph became wise and righteous. He didn’t start out that way. The question before us is simple: Can we learn and benefit from his mistakes?

Spiritual Awareness

2010-10-29T13:50:00.001-07:00

Ever hear of Situational Awareness? It’s a handy term. Maybe you know it. It is something you need if you are a fighter pilot, a spy, or an olympic athlete. Captain Sully had it when his quick thinking saved his plane from tragedy. It's something that many of us have sacrificed as we are too preoccupied by our smart phones to even be aware of walking into things.

Loren Rosenberg was struck by a car when attempting to cross a busy street in Utah. Her eyes were glued to her Blackberry. She is now suing Google, claiming that Google Maps told her to walk along the busy road but did not warn her about the traffic or lack of sidewalks. I don't imagine she will win her case.

It turns out you also need situational awareness to be a successful criminal. Here are some reports about stupid criminals who did not have situational awareness:

In Nashville there is Fred "Junior" Williams, the burglar who fell asleep on the sofa of the home he was robbing, only to be awakened by the police.

Rhode Island cops were sure they had the right guy when the suspect in a string of coin-machine thefts paid his $400 bail entirely in quarters.

Texas authorities, responding to a store robbery, seized a man who was fleeing naked. He said he'd stripped after the job because he figured his clothes would make him identifiable.

Finally, in Virginia, a janitor went to great lengths to avoid being identified in a 7-Eleven robbery, using a ski mask and a rental car for the occasion. But he also wore his work uniform, which said "Cedar Woods Apartments" and had his name, Dwayne, stitched across the front.

The basic point: When situational awareness is high, we can succeed despite extremely difficult circumstances. When situational awareness is low, we can fail despite extremely simple circumstances.

In addition to situational awareness I want to suggest another term to consider: spiritual awareness. Spiritual awareness is when we open ourselves up to the holy moments before us, the opportunities to connect to the divinity without and within us.

It is about keeping our eyes glued to the things that matter, especially when our journey takes us into spiritually dangerous situations.

I think of the servant of Abraham in this week's Torah portion, who is charged with finding a wife for his master's son, Isaac. In the course of his mission, he offers a prayer to God. Basically he is praying that his eyes will help him find the right person. He is praying to God that he not miss out in seeing the obvious person. He is praying in effect for spiritual awareness.

In order to understand spiritual awareness of course it helps if we can appreciate its opposite, spiritual apathy.

What is spiritual apathy? It begins with situational apathy. It begins when people cease to care about the world around them. They blend into the suburbs or become absorbed into a low-grade narcissism.

They forget about the wars being fought overseas.

They forget about the soldiers who have to fight them.

They think they have been given a free pass to let others worry about the future.

In the old Yeats poem, the best lack all conviction while the worst are filled with a passionate intensity.

The result of such situational apathy is missed spiritual opportunity, not to mention a more messed up world.

In order to counteract this sickness, we can respond with three actions.

First, we much expand our world by opening up our eyes a little wider. We cannot be content enjoying our little peaceful part of the world. We have to read more, watch more, and dig deeper into the problems our community, our country, and our world faces.

I know we can’t do everything but can’t we do more? Pick a cause and address is. Sudan. Haiti. Urban poverty. Illiterate children. Pick something.

I remember the story of Rabbi Stephen S. Wise when he went to China. The first night he couldn't sleep because he was so disturbed by the cries of the rickshaw drivers. They were in great pain. The hotel desk clerk told the rabbi that after a day or so he would no longer notice the cry. It turned out to be true, but when Rabbi Wise realized what had happened he was mortified.

How easy it is for us to become accustomed to the suffering of others. And how wrong it is.

Second, when struggles do arise, let's not simply pray to end them but also pray for the strength to endure them.

Sometimes the suffering will not be something we read about. We will experience it ourselves. When such bad things happen to us, be them reversals at work, health challenges, or family dynamics that are dysfunctional, I pray that we will be aware enough to find resources to help us. Prayer, support groups, family and friends. And the partnership we have with God, who will never abandon us.

Temple Judea offers many different support groups, not to mention two rabbis who are here for you. Please remember to take advantage of the spiritual resources we offer.

Finally, when we keep our eyes on the world, let's make sure our hearts not lose their focus on what God would have us do.

It’s so easy to forget that God has a plan for us. We may not be able to discern it from the Torah or any given prayer service. But spiritual awareness can help us find the signs that will lead us to better lives, the opportunities to perform mitzvot, the surprising moments of transcendence that transform us. The burning bushes that we take the time to notice.

Some of you have the new iPhone 4 from Apple. Steve Jobs claims that it is the first phone that is "intelligent about the world around it."

This is a good way to remember the appeal of spiritual, situational awareness. Let's be aware of the reality before us, have the strength we need to endure the harshness we see and feel, and the focus to work with God to improve our world.

We pray that God will help us see our world in a new light. We pray that we will strive to serve our spiritual needs with more energy and perseverance, and we pray that we will respond to the challenges before us with all the blessings we can muster.
Amen.

Faith Versus Knowledge

2010-10-15T14:19:00.000-07:00

Most of us would not be pleased with a 60 percent success rate on a test. It is after all considered a “D”. But in May and June 2010, the Pew Forum on Religion & Public Life conducted a religious-knowledge survey, testing Americans on the core teachings, history and leaders of the major world religions.

The results, released in September, revealed that atheists and agnostics scored the highest, followed by Jews and Mormons. These groups outperformed evangelical Protestants, Roman Catholics and mainline Protestants. On average, Americans correctly answered 16 of the 32 religious-knowledge questions, which would be a failing grade on most examinations. We Jews did better than most and yet we, too, received a failing grade. Just a better one than most! Not exactly something to crow about!

Knowing basics about religion is more than something to attain for the bragging rights. Religious illiteracy is a serious problem. Knowledge about world religions is a critical factor in discussions of today's hot-button issues, ranging from use of the Bible in public schools to plans for a mosque and community center near Ground Zero in New York City.

According to the recent survey, only 50 percent of Christians can name the four Gospels, and a mere 41 percent know that Job was the biblical figure who remained obedient to God despite suffering.

Among Protestants, only 19 percent know that Protestants teach salvation through faith alone, while 13 percent associate Jonathan Edwards with the First Great Awakening.

Roman Catholic Christians didn't fare much better: 45 percent of them didn't know that, according to church teaching, the bread and wine used in Holy Communion become the body and blood of Christ.

Christians' understanding of other religions is quite poor. Only 45 percent of Christians know that the Dalai Lama is Buddhist. Even fewer, 43 percent, are aware that the Jewish Sabbath begins on Friday.

A mere 24 percent of Christians can name the majority religion of Indonesia, the country with the world's largest population of Muslims. And when asked to identify the holy book of Islam, only half of Christians surveyed said the Quran.

These results are surprising, given the fact that the United States is one of the most religious countries in the developed world, with six in 10 adults saying religion is "very important" in their lives.

Even more shocking is the revelation that people without faith did the best on the survey: Atheists and agnostics scored the highest, with an average of 21 correct answers out of 32 questions. It may be that this group has accumulated better-than-average knowledge after years of debating religious issues with people of faith.

According to the survey, Jews and Mormons followed closely behind, with a score of 20.

Next came Protestants, with an average of 16 correct answers, and Catholics, with a score of 15.

People who said they attend religious services at least once a week and consider religion to be important in their lives often performed better on the survey, as did people with a higher level of education.

But overall, Americans flunked this religious examination, with an average score of 50 percent.

"Americans are deeply religious," writes Clarence Page in the Chicago Tribune, "but we're also deeply ignorant about religion.

This ignorance is bound to have consequences in a country currently embroiled in debates about plans for a mosque and community center near Ground Zero in New York City, and arguments about whether or not Jews are an "oppressed minority" (CNN's Rick Sanchez recently lost his job after speaking on this issue).

When only about half of Americans know that the Quran is the Islamic holy book, it becomes difficult to have intelligent conversations about a pastor in Florida who recently threatened to burn the Quran.

In summary, Americans clearly suffer from a gap between faith and knowledge, and what we believe in our hearts doesn't always align with what we know in our heads.

In this week’s Torah portion, Abraham is a knight of faith, following God’s plan and beginning a new religion. Four thousand years later, we should not discount our faith but we have four thousand years of religious experience as well and it behooves us to have some real knowledge of what our religious history entails.

Every so often I meet a cardiac Jew. What is a cardiac Jew? The person who says, “Rabbi, I know I don’t know anything about my history, I don’t support Jewish causes, and I never go to shul, but I am a good Jew. I feel it in my heart.” The question I ask: is that enough?

Certainly there are problems when a gap exists between religious faith and religious knowledge.

When it comes to our own religion it leads to our rejecting things we don’t understand. For instance, we say we don’t believe in God, when what we really mean is that we don’t believe in one of the views of God propagated by our religion. Or maybe we don’t even understand that.

We Reform Jews especially do harm to ourselves when we are not familiar with the philosophy of Reform Judaism. Instead of speaking about our choices with pride we often mistake such choices for laziness and look upon ourselves as not as authentic as more traditional Jews. Our lack of knowledge leads us to embarrassment when the truth would make us feel good.

We all can learn more about our religion, not to mention the religion of our neighbors. The year is just beginning for us so it’s not too late to make a resolution to learn more.

In the book of 2 Chronicles -- which is in the Hebrew Bible, by the way -- (1:8-12) we read:

"Solomon said to God .... 'Give me now wisdom and knowledge to go out and come in before this people, for who can rule this great people of yours?' God answered Solomon, 'Because this was in your heart, and you have not asked for possessions, wealth, honor, or the life of those who hate you, and have not even asked for long life, but have asked for wisdom and knowledge for yourself that you may rule my people over whom I have made you king, wisdom and knowledge are granted to you. ...'" (For context, read 1:1-13.)

Solomon is anointed king of Israel and offers a thousand burnt offerings on the bronze altar at Gibeon. That night, God appears to Solomon and says to him, "Ask what I should give you." Instead of asking for possessions, wealth, honor, victory over enemies or even long life, Solomon asks for wisdom and knowledge. God grants his request and adds the gifts of riches, possessions and honor.

As Solomon learns, are not wisdom and knowledge at the root of all God's other blessings?

Living with Purpose: The Essence of Strategy is Denial Yom Kippur Evening Sermon

2010-09-18T03:40:00.000-07:00

Not too long ago, passengers on a regular flight from Detroit to Tri-City Airport (which is situated between the Michigan cities of Saginaw, Bay City and Midland), must have felt a little more than confused during a flight attendant’s greeting. Obviously not familiar with the area, she welcomed everyone warmly and stated that the destination would be Midland. A few concerned passengers alerted her to the mistake, so she quickly corrected herself by saying they were headed to Bay City. Chuckles rippled along the aisle as she bravely tried again. This time she informed passengers that their destination was Saginaw. Now laughter broke out. At that point, another voice came over the intercom and rescued her. “I’m your pilot, folks,” said the voice, “and don’t worry – I know where we’re going!”

I think we’d all agree that it’s nice when someone knows the way. But when it comes to Yom Kippur and the New Year, we have to ponder this question: Does anyone know the way you should be going? The way you should go in your life?

We cannot depend on others for the most important answers about our lives. People can help, but no one else can decide what is best for us. No one else can steer us in our path. And so at times we need to find our “inner pilot” so we will set for ourselves the right direction.

Tonight we heard the beautiful prayer, “Shema Koleynu” which means, “Hear our voice, [O God].” But we should also be listening to that inner voice inside of us. Especially now we need to be listening to its guidance.

Why don’t we hear that voice more often? You know the answer: We have too much going on. Consider the story about the young boy and his bank. The little boy’s father had just given him a silver dollar to put into his bank. He excitedly ran off to his room to “deposit” the coin. However, in a few minutes he returned and handed the silver coin back to his father.
“Daddy,” he said sadly, “here’s your dollar back. I can’t get it into my bank.”
“Why not?” his concerned father asked.
“It’s too full,” he said, obviously disappointed.
His father accompanied him back to his room and, sure enough, his bank was too full to accept even one more coin. It was stuffed with pennies.

Is our life ever like that bank? So full of errands, obligations and activities that don’t really matter? So many alarms, email alerts, text messages. So many distractions.
I wonder: do we close ourselves out for what is truly important – the silver dollars? I think we know the answer.

If we’re like most people, foremost among the activities we put aside is considering our purpose: why are we here and do we reflect that reason in our actions?

The very essence of this day is to consider who we are, but we should not think that such reflection is only appropriate for one day a year. If we are to live by our values, then much more time should be set aside for such introspection.

Teshuvah, the subject of this day, is not only about expressing regrets over past behavior. Teshuvah is fundamentally about coming to know who we are in the world and who we might yet become.

So I ask us: Who do we really want to be in the world?
What are the values that we most cherish and wish to nurture in ourselves? What must we do to best promote these values?
And what are things that keep us from embracing this vision of our higher self?

Henry David Thoreau once observed that “in the long run people hit only what they aim at.” And I believe he was right. So the question is not where are we now so much as it is, “what are we aiming for?”

Are we aiming for the most stuff? If that is the case, then I have news for you. We will never be happy, because stuff is never enough. Don’t believe the Nike commercials. The point of life is not to amass more shoes than everyone else. Even Arnold Schwarznegger agrees, recently stating, “Money doesn’t make you happy. I now have $50 million, but I was just as happy when I had $48 million.” Actually a study released last month states that a household income of $75 K a year helps bring happiness. Any amount over that does not add to more happiness. So there you go.

Are we aiming for a sense of oblivion, some edenic like existence where we are only in the here and now? Some mystics crave this but this too is not a Jewish ideal. As strange as it may sound, Jewish thought pays little attention to inner tranquility and peace of mind. Our teshuvah, our direction, isn’t about finding serenity or closure.

So what is it about?

Well I hope it’s about being a compassionate person, in touch with the needs of others and dedicated to making this world a better place. It’s about doing our chosen work a little better. It’s about loving our family just a little more. It’s about having integrity. Having a good name.
You know the answer: it’s about being a mentsch.

And I think most of us would agree that we can all do a better job in the fine art of being human.

So how can we help ourselves?

Successful corporations know they have to labor tirelessly to remind their employees and customers of their mission. And they deal with this challenge. They come up with slogans that capture the essence of who they are.
For instance, consider these classics (try to guess which company fits the slogan):

"The real thing" - Coca Cola
"The Uncola" - 7-Up,
"Good to the last drop." - Maxwell House coffee
All the news that's fit to print. - The New York Times,
"The most trusted name in news" - CNN
"Let your fingers do the walking." - Yellow Pages,
"It's not TV, it's HBO." - HBO
"Keeps going and going and going." - Energizer Batteries,
"Think different" – Apple Computers
"Just do it" - Nike
"It takes a licking and keeps on ticking." - Timex
"There are some things money can't buy. For everything else, there's MasterCard." -MasterCard
"It's everywhere you want to be" - VISA
"We love to see you smile" - McDonald's
"Where's the beef?" - Wendy's Restaurants,
“With us it’s personal” - Temple Judea (One of my favorites)

Some of these are better than others but they all try to capture the essence of what these companies do. So my question is: “What is yours?” And just as important: “Is there a gap between your slogan and your reality?”

I want you to spend time over these next few hours and come up with your personal slogan. Tweet it to me if you want. (My Twitter name is Rabban.) Put it on Facebook. Share it with the world. And live up to it.

But be careful, companies and people often have stated missions and actual practices that begin to veer away from the mission.

Here’s another borrowed term for us to consider this night: Mission Drift. Mission drift is what happens when we forget our purpose and go off in search of something else. First used by the military, the phrase implies we have let the passion of our purpose be high-jacked by other concerns. And it happens all the time.

A couple of years ago, Starbucks Coffee was seriously drifting from its mission. The stock was down and the corporation was listing. Howard Schultz, the former CEO, was brought back in to repair the damage. He began by famously closing all Starbucks for three and a half hours to enable the entire staff to be reminded of the core of their business. Many shareholders thought he was crazy. He also flew 10,000 store managers for a conference in New Orleans, to drive home the core mission of Starbucks. Schultz successfully turned the company around not by cutting costs alone or reducing the quality of the coffee; he did so by reminding everyone the true nature of their business. As he declared, “You can’t get out of this [crisis] by trying to navigate with a different road map, one that isn’t true to yourself. You have to be authentic, you have to be true, and you have to believe in your heart that this [return to your mission] is going to work. Someone once said to me, ‘you are roasting 400 million pounds a coffee a year. If you reduce the quality 5%, no one would know. That’s a few hundred million dollars!’ Concluded Schultz, “We would never do that.” [Harvard Business Review, p. 111, July-August 2010.]

I am sorry for talking about coffee on Yom Kippur eve, but the lesson is important. If we want to be authentic, we have to be true, and we have to believe in our heart that we have a mission, a plan, and that it will take us to where we need to go. We can ask for God’s help on our way, but we have to do the steering. As the old bumper sticker put it, “God is my copilot”. Copilot. As in, there to help. But we set our own way.

So where are we going? Are we steering our lives or drifting? Which is it?
Now is the time to decide.

Clayton Christensen, a professor in the Harvard Business School, as well as a widely-admired author, recently delivered a commencement address. He advised the students to invest a lot of time when they are young in finding a clear purpose for their lives. “When I was a Rhodes scholar,” he recalled, “I was in a very demanding academic program, trying to cram an extra year’s worth of work into my time at Oxford. I decided to spend an hour every night reading, thinking, and praying about why God put me on this earth.”

Continued Christensen: “That was a very challenging commitment to keep, because every hour I spent doing that, I wasn’t studying applied econometrics. I was conflicted about whether I could really afford to take that time away from my studies, but I stuck with it — and ultimately figured out the purpose of my life.”

“Once you have come up with an overall purpose,” he observed, you have to make decisions about allocating your time, energy and talent. Of course, many people with a
high need for achievement commonly misallocate their resources.

If they have a spare half-hour, they devote it to things that will yield tangible and near-term accomplishments. These almost invariably involve something at work — closing a sale, finishing a paper.”

“In contrast,” concluded the professor, “investing time and energy in your relationship with your spouse and children typically doesn’t offer that same immediate sense of achievement....It’s not until 20 years down the road that you can put your hands on your hips and say, ‘I raised a good son or a good daughter.’ ” As a result, the things that are most important often get short shrift. [Adapted from David Brooks, the New York Times, August 3, 2010]

How do we keep our minds on what matters most? Personal mission statements are a good idea. As is taking the time to reflect on our values. But I also have been meditating on a phrase I picked up this year from the Kellogg School of Management. It almost sounds like a Zen koan, or riddle, but actually it is a great reminder of the high cost of living a life of purpose. So here it is, my tweet for the year ahead: “The essence of strategy is denial.”

What does this mean? To live a life of purpose we have to spend a great deal of time examining what we should not be doing. This does not mean we become naysayers, or people who do not help others. But it does imply we are careful with our time and resources. We can only do so much and saying no to many things will help us do some things – the most important things – really well.

It doesn’t have to be this day, but sooner than later, make an actual list of the things that matter most, as well as a list of everything else. And then ponder the wisdom and discipline of these words, “The essence of strategy is denial.”

Determine your purpose, avoid mission drift, and take back your life. That’s my message.

When we start saying no more to many things, we can say yes more to what truly matters.
Consider this list:
less TV, more reading less shopping, more outdoors less clutter, more space less rush, more slowness less consuming, more creating less junk, more real food less busywork, more impact less driving, more walking less noise, more solitude
Remember: before we can say yes, we have to learn more often to say no.

You know, in a way, drifting seems harmless. Imagine you are going down a river on a beautiful summer day, your little boat taking you along for the ride. It is only when we hit the rapids and realize that we are completely lost that we understand life is not about drifting. It’s about having a plan and following that plan. And choosing to do less so paradoxically you can do more.

And it’s about remembering that we are not alone on our journey. God is with us, guiding us to make the right plan and stick to it. Hoping our values will be reflected in our actions. Expecting us to live in accord with the most noble of human and Jewish values.

In the Marx Brothers classic movie, A Night at the Opera, Chico, disguised as a Russian aviator, pretends to report to a welcoming party how he and his brothers came to America:
The first time we started, we get-a halfway across when we run out-a gasoline and we gotta go back. Then I take-a twice as much gasoline. This time we-a just about to land – maybe three feet – when whaddya think? We run out-a gasoline again and a-back we go again to get-a more gas. This time I take plenty gas. Well, we get-a halfway over when what-a think happened? We forgot-a the aeroplane. So we gotta sit down and we talk it over. Then I get a great idea. We no take-a gasoline. We no take-a the aeroplane. We take a steamship. And that, friends, is how we fly across the ocean.

Chico’s reminiscences remind us that there is more than one way to reach our destination. The point is to know where we are going and remind ourselves how important it is to find our way there.

I hope and pray that the New Year brings for all of us the opportunity we need to find our way to a life that truly matters.

Rosh Hashana Sermon: You Just Don't Know: Living With Uncertainty

2010-09-09T10:16:00.000-07:00

A story: A large two engine train was crossing America. After they had gone some distance one of the engines broke down. "No problem," the engineer thought, and carried on at half power.
Farther on down the line, the second engine broke down, and the train slowed to a dead stop. The engineer decided he should inform the passengers about why the train had stopped, and made the following announcement:

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have some good news and some bad news. The bad news is that both engines have failed, and we will be stuck here for some time. The good news is that you decided to take the train and not fly."

Speaking of trains, I have a favorite poem from Carl Sandberg, entitled “Limited”. It goes like this:
I am riding on a limited express, one of the crack
trains of the nation.
Hurtling across the prairie into blue haze and dark air
go fifteen all-steel coaches holding a thousand
people.
(All the coaches shall be scrap and rust and all the
men and women laughing in the diners and
sleepers shall pass to ashes.)
I ask a man in the smoker where he is going and he
Answers: “Omaha.”

This poem is very timely for this New Year. On the one hand we go about the business of greeting a new season with joy. On the other hand the message of our liturgy is that all we now experience will one day pass away, and we do not know when. So we must learn to live with uncertainty in the present, even if our final journey is completely certain.
Carl Sandburg wrote about death in his poem, and much of the High Holy Days is also about death. After all, these days are about what is really important in life, and what is more important than confronting our mortal limitations? Death may not be the most important thing that ever happens to us, but it ranks right up there. We are all going to turn into scrap and ashes.
The message of this day, however, is that a life that leads to death is anything but meaningless. “Life’s a walking shadow. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” So we read in Shakespeare’s Macbeth. But the message of this day is the opposite: Our life signifies everything.
The title of the Sandburg poem, “Limited” does not only refer to the name of the train. Life itself is limited, but so are those who think of life and death with little imagination. We are limited when we think our true destination is Omaha when it is really death. But we are also limited when we define our life by the fact that we will die.
One prayer in our High Holy Day service today that reminds us of death is Un’taneh Tokef. It is actually not a prayer. It is a very old, more than a thousand years in fact, liturgical poem, or piyyut. Written in Palestine, it was designed to be recited maybe once, sort of like a jazz improvisation. It certainly never was planned that this poem would be so central to the worship experience on these Days of Awe. And yet, Un’taneh Tokef is anything but ignored. Its message is a difficult one to confront: who shall live and who shall die. It implies that God sits in heaven and plans our future, based on how we behave.

Many people – including those in this sacred place today – find its message unbearable. Imagine reciting these words in a synagogue in New York right after 911 or in New Orleans right after Katrina: who by fire and who by water? Imagine reciting them after receiving a diagnosis of illness?
The words of Un’taneh Tokef are painful, but when the next official High Holy Day machzor is published in a few years, I promise you that this poem will be included. Why? The simplest answer is that people know there is some truth in its words. I don’t mean that we are judged directly by our actions, and that if something bad happens to us next week we somehow deserve it.
But I do believe that life is limited, and our understanding of life is limited. We cannot predict the future with certainty. And so we have to come to terms with uncertainty. We have to learn to live with uncertainty. We somehow have to embrace life with joy in spite of life’s uncertainty.

How little it takes for us to be reminded how vulnerable we are. The dreaded phone call at two in the morning. Or the cell phone that doesn’t answer. Then there’s the inconclusive report from the doctor. “Don’t worry, it’s probably nothing. But we should follow up.”
How quickly our perspective on life can change. To be human is to carry this burden with us. Un’taneh Tokef is merely reminding us of the obvious. And once a year we should be shaken up, without having to live through a trauma. Once a year we shouldn’t hide from uncertainty. We should learn to accept it.
“Who shall live? Who shall die? “ These words can become formalistic, year after year, until a catastrophe like Katrina hits, or 911, and then we never say them the same way again. We don’t have to believe them literally in order to take them very seriously.
Let me tell you a favorite story. It’s about a rabbi who lived in a small Russian town one hundred years ago or so. After thinking about all the major spiritual issues in life he finally came to the conclusion that, when it comes to the future, you just really never know.
Shortly after reaching that conclusion, the rabbi was walking across the village square on his way to the synagogue to pray. The local cop of the town was having a bad day and decided to take it out on the Jew. So he yelled, “Hey, Rabbi, where the hell do you think you’re going?”
The rabbi answered, “I don’t know.”
This answer angered the Cossack even more. “What do you mean you don’t know where you’re going?” he exclaimed in a rage. “Every morning at seven a.m. you cross this village square on the way to synagogue to pray and here it is at seven and you are going in the direction of the synagogue and you are telling me you don’t know where you are going. You’re trying to make a fool of me and I’ll teach you not to do that!”
So the Cossack grabbed the rabbi and took him off to the local jail. And just as he was about to throw him into the cell, the rabbi turned to him and said, “You see, you just don’t know.”
This rabbi was wise because he figured out what most of us try so hard to avoid realizing: we just don’t know.
And coming to terms with this fact need not be morbid. Realizing we just don’t know about tomorrow forces us to live more in the present, to be grateful for what we have and to learn to live without being in total control of our lives. Because we are not.
In the Coen brothers’ movie, A Serious Man, there are many things that happen that are hard to explain, including a ten minute Yiddish fable at the beginning of the movie. Even before that we see on the screen a teaching of the great eleventh century rabbi, Rashi, which proclaims: “Accept with simplicity everything that happens to you.”

I am not sure when Rashi said this, nor how it fits into the movie, but I do think these words are worth pondering. Learning to live with uncertainty means learning to accept with simplicity the mysteries of life.

Two hundred years ago, Reform Judaism was born in Germany in an era that prized rationality and scientific thought. Everything could be explained in life would only get better as the years went on. Sadly, we know that such things did not happen. Ironically, they only got worse for the Jews. Was Reform Judaism wrong? No. Reform Judaism is a good thing for the Jewish people. But any serious religious viewpoint has to acknowledge the irrational side of life. As someone once said, rationalism is the mystical idea that everything in life can be explained. Mysticism is the rational idea that it cannot.
Ironically, “accept the mystery “is probably the most logical appeal I can make!
There will be times in our life, most likely, when we won’t want to accept the mystery. We will want answers. I remember an episode on the old TV show, E.R., when a cantankerous old patient wants divine answers to why he is suffering. The young chaplain gently suggests he learn to live with the mystery of not knowing the answer. In response, the patient throws the chaplain out of the room. We all can be forgiven for feeling that way at times.

Unfortunately, some major questions have no answers, at least no answers that we modern, Reform Jews will accept. There is not a lot to do about that. We cannot reverse history. We cannot pretend the simple answers work anymore. Most traditional answers to why bad things happen to good people end up by saying the victim is not really good. That’s no answer we can accept today.

We are too modern for that. But we are not only modern Jews, either. In reality, we are post-modern Jews. In other words, on this side of the Holocaust, we have come to understand that reason doesn’t always work. Science and technology don’t always make the world a better place. And sometimes feelings trump facts.
And so I am arguing for us to learn to take comfort in not knowing, solace in uncertainty.
As we know, Un’taneh Tokef reaches its climax with the words, U’teshuvah, ut’efilah u’tzadakah ma’avirin et ro’a hag’zerah. “Repentance, prayer and charity help the hardship of the decree pass.” These concluding words remind us that we cannot control our fate, and we cannot hide from death. But we can bring meaning to life’s uncertainty by concentrating on three things: returning to our essential mission (teshuvah), keeping strong our relationship with God (tefilah), and doing our part to make the world a better place (tzedakah). That is the supreme and worthy message of Un’taneh Tokef: In a world of uncertainty, we still have a clear path for us to follow: remember what really matters, keep God in mind, and do the best you can do to make the world a better place.
Ultimately, living with mystery means living in a world we cannot control or explain. Now, I know we’ve been indoctrinated by our culture to think that if we just have one more piece of evidence we’ll know the whole thing. But life is not science, or even some mystery novel where the killer is identified at the end. Life is not a problem to be solved. It’s an experience to savor inspite of the questions.

Indeed, living with some tension, abiding in mystery, is part of the life of faith, and it’s what keeps us growing. In the end, that old rabbi was right: There’s a lot to be said for saying, ‘I don’t know.’”

Reform Judaism spent its first two hundred years seeking answers. Perhaps the next two hundred years will be more about living with questions. If Coral Gables zoning would allow it, I would love to spread a banner across the front of the synagogue, declaring: Temple Judea: You’ve got answers, we’ve got questions. But I will settle for reminding all of us to live with mystery. For one thing I know that honest people will come to see: we really have no choice.

We live with much uncertainty. We cannot put a veil over this truth. Yes, we can find solace in a life directed towards purpose. And yes, we can distract ourselves with art and friendship or even escapism. But the uncertainty remains. So why not accept it? Why not learn to treat it as an old acquaintance who is always there. Not quite a friend, but no longer an enemy.
No longer a source of so much anxiety and fear.
This is my hope and prayer for us today.

I am riding on a limited express, one of the crack
trains of the nation.
Hurtling across the prairie into blue haze and dark air
go fifteen all-steel coaches holding a thousand
people.
(All the coaches shall be scrap and rust and all the
men and women laughing in the diners and
sleepers shall pass to ashes.)
I ask a man in the smoker where he is going and he
Answers: “Omaha.”

A High Holy Day Message from Rabbi Goldberg

2010-08-31T06:02:00.000-07:00

In the Oscar winning (and excellent) movie, The Hurt Locker, the main character is a hero who diffuses bombs, but he is not a healthy person. His obsession with danger threatens not only him but also his team. He is driven to danger. The profundity of this choice of work, if it is for him a choice, is made clear at the end of the film. Home from Iraq, the soldier is playing with his little baby boy. Clearly there is a connection between the two. He adores the kid. But then, in a monologue addressed to the baby, he admits that, although children are passionate about many things, the older we get there are fewer things that absorb us. This is what he actually says:
Yeah, you love playing with that and playing with all your stuffed animals. You love your mommy, your daddy. You love your pajamas. You love everything, don’t you? Yeah. But you know what, buddy? As you get older somehow the things you love might not seem so special anymore, you know. Like your jack in the box. May you realize it’s just a piece of tin and a stuffed animal. The older you get the fewer things you really love. By the time you get to my age, maybe it’s only one or two things. [The solider looks sad.] With me, I think it’s one. [The choppers are heard and the next thing you know he is back in Iraq, starting another tour defusing bombs.]
For the soldier, that one thing, the only thing that keeps him alive, is putting himself in extreme danger.
I am moved by this character, even though I have nothing in common with him, because I respect that he has a purpose and he is willing to follow it, no matter what. His passion is extreme, and not healthy, but inspiring still. Most of us could use a little more focus in our lives, even if (and I hope it will) that focus leads us closer to family, not away from it.
And now the days of focus have arrived, and I ponder if we are ready for them. Are we ready to take a close, honest look at our lives? Are we ready to truthfully acknowledge what moves us? What makes us get up in the morning? And are these the things we should be doing?
During our next few days together I invite you to consider the direction of your life, and to ponder how that direction may have taken you away from where you would like to go. Spend some time away from distractions. Turn off the smart phone, take a walk without the iPod, and reflect on the meaning of life. And when the shofar sounds, you will be ready.
May the year 5771 bring many blessings to you and your loved ones.

Rabbi Edwin Goldberg

Values Based Leadership

2010-06-25T13:00:00.000-07:00

"They came to Balaam and said to him, Thus says Balak son of Zippor, please do not refuse to come to me. I will reward you richly and I will do anything you ask of me, only come and curse this people for me." (Numbers 22:16-17)

In this week's portion, Balak, the King of Moab, hires the pagan prophet Balaam to curse the Israelites. He offers Balaam a large sum of money, but Balaam turns down the offer. God says to Balaam, “Do not go with them. You must not curse that people, for they are blessed." (Numbers 22:12)
That should have ended the matter, but Balak sends a more distinguished delegation with even more money. Balaam approaches God again, and this time God does not stop him. If cursing the Israelites was wrong for a lesser amount of money, it was still wrong for a greater amount of money. Balaam allows greed to overrule his conscience.

A story attributed to George Bernard Shaw:
Shaw approached a woman he met at a party and said, "Madam, would you sleep with me for a million dollars."
The woman answered yes.
"Madam, would you sleep with me for one hundred dollars."
"What kind of woman do you think I am?" she said in ire.
Shaw replied, "We have already established that. Now we are simply arguing over price."
Some say that everybody has their price. Raise the bribe high enough and anybody can be bought. So often greed overwhelms
morality.
Does that mean the desire for wealth is bad? No. We need our appetite for money; it is what drives us to go out and work, to try to better ourselves. Once again the idea is not to destroy the evil inclination ("yetzer hara"), but to control it. Each of us must ask ourselves a question: are there values we have that are so important that we would not compromise them no matter how much money is offered? Could we turn down a bribe?

Balaam could not. Hopefully we are better than Balaam. But what makes us better? It would be nice to believe we are just born that way, but we already have been taught that we all can be tempted by greed, among other vices. And we have seen in the news how corporate executives have been cutting corners and compromising on safety in order to make a fast buck. All of us are suffering the consequences of such greed.
I think that we need more than good intentions in order to guarantee that our actions will not be corroded by our avarice. And the only thing that can keep us centered is a firm foundation of values, values that help us rise above temptation.
One evening an old Cherokee chief told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people.

He said, “My son, the battle is between two wolves. One is Evil. It is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority and ego.”

“The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.”

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked, “Grandfather, which wolf wins?”

The old Cherokee chief simply replied, “The one you feed.”
So the question is: how do we feed the good wolf and starve the bad one?
It is easy to say, “Follow the Torah” or “Study the Talmud” except we all know of observant Jews who are filled with vice. So having access to inspirational texts is not enough to guarantee righteous living. Knowing the texts is like intellectually understanding how to swim. You can still drown if you don’t actually go in the pool and practice for yourself.

In this age of corporate malfeasance I was privileged to learn how to lead from a perspective of values when I, along with 66 other rabbis and synagogue professionals, attended the Kellogg School of Management’s seminar for Jewish leaders late last year. There were many excellent presentations during the four and one half day seminar, but I found the presentation by Harry Kraemer to be the most inspiring. Harry Kraemer is the former CEO of Baxter Industries (50,000 people) and a faculty member of the Kellogg School of Management (Northwestern University). He has been awarded by the student body the prize for best lecturer.

Mr. Kraemer entitled his presentation “Values Based Leadership” because he believes that a leader must know his or her values before taking action.

The body of the address focused on four essential qualities of leadership:
1) Be self reflective – take time to think. Sit in a chair and think. Write it down.
What are my values?
What are my goals?
What do I stand for?
Do people see what I stand for?
Do my actions reflect my values?
If not, why not?
Do you determine what makes you successful or do you still let others?
Once a year, take a longer period of time to do so! What’s my purpose? Why am I here? What are my duties?

2) Balance
A leader takes the time to see all sides – seek to understand before you are understood (Stephen Covey)

Listen before you talk!
You want a global perspective, not just seeing the silos – look holistically
Be able to relate to everyone in your community.
Think of the long term not just the short term. Both matter.
Life balance: We must be balanced to lead other people.
168 hours a week is all the time we have given to us, and this is true for everyone. Do you think about how you use those hours or do they just go by?
Create a better life balance for yourself.

3) True Self Confidence

There are a lot of people who act very self-confident but that’s not the real deal.
We should feel that we are okay because “I am a learning person and I know what I know and what I don’t know.”
Q: Have we reached a point where we don’t always have to be right?
Set expectations up front so people know what they need to do and what they do not need to do. (Strengths and weaknesses)
We need to give open, honest and direct feedback to people on the team.
Everyone owns his/her own development.

4) Genuine Humility

People talk about but do they internalize this idea?
Truth: we are no more important than anyone else. Really.
Don’t forget where you came from.
Keep it in perspective. Don’t believe the press clippings!
Don’t forget about luck and timing!
Remember the cubical. What do we promise to do things differently if we were ever the boss? Now that we are, we do the same thing we complained about seeing in others?
Admit when you are wrong and encourage people to help prevent you from making mistakes.

Value based leaders have no off time! There are no secrets. So do what you believe is the right thing, and people will learn from you.

With these four qualities, we can think of a foundation we are trying to build.

It was clear to me that Harry Kraemer lives his life according to these reflections. This is important, because as he himself declared, “The older people get, the less they pay attention to what you say and the more they pay attention to what you do.”
I often find myself returning to the message of this business leader. And I wish more business executives would follow his lead, for I know the world would be in a much better shape.
I know that there is a little bit of Bilaam in every one of us. We can all be tempted to sell out for the right price. Actively thinking about the values we hold dear and resolving to act upon them can mean the difference between righteousness and evil, not only for ourselves but for the world around us.
May our blessings be real and our curses fly away in the wind, as we remember to take seriously the values that would define us.

One Does Not Speak Evil of a Jew

2010-06-18T13:54:00.000-07:00

There is a story told of two music critics who happen to meet on the street. They start discussing their experiences since their last getting together.
Said one: “I wasted a whole evening by going to that new pianist’s concert last night!”
“And why was that?” asked the other.
“I couldn’t criticize a thing!”
Let’s face it, finding fault with others is a very human pastime. (No comments about my sermon, please.) This is especially true when it comes to being a member of the Jewish people. Not only do we criticize each other, but we are used to nasty things being said about us.

Many bad things have been said in the media about Jews lately. Helen Thomas is one example. But some of the things have been said by Jews. For instance, consider Peter Beinart’s critique in the New York Review of Books, where he argues that American Jewish leaders are doing a bad job promoting Israel to the younger generation.
Jewish leaders saying bad things about Jews? Not exactly a new phenomenon, but disturbing still. When did such rebuking begin? Perhaps in this week’s Torah portion.
First, some background: After Miriam died, the children of Israel had no water to drink. They assembled before Moses and Aaron and quarreled, saying:
"It would have been better for us to perish by plague, the way our brethren perished, rather than to die of thirst. Why did you bring us out from Egypt into an evil place like this?"
Moses went into the tent of the meeting and fell upon his face. And the Eternal spoke to him saying:
"Take the rod, and gather the congregation ... and speak to the rock before their eyes . . . and you shall bring forth water from the rock . . ."
Moses took the rod and gathered the congregation and said unto them:
"Hear now you rebels! Out of this rock are we to bring forth water for you?"
And Moses lifted up his hand and struck the rock twice with his rod and water came. And God said unto Moses and unto Aaron:
"Because you did not believe in Me to sanctify Me before the children of Israel, therefore you shall not bring this congregation into the land which I will give them." (Numbers 20:1-12)
Maimonides (Rambam) and Nachmanides (Ramban) hold diverse views regarding the reasons for Moses’ punishment. Maimonides teaches that Moses was punished because he was angry and insulted the children of Israel by saying: "Hear now, you rebels! . . ." Nachmanides states that Moses was punished because he struck the rock instead of speaking to it.
Both viewpoints represent basically one concept: Namely, Moses was punished because in his anger he insulted the Jews and showed disrespect to God.
Consider in addition a certain Hasidic teaching: It has been told that Rabbi Israel Bal Shem Tov, the founder of Hasidism, did not like it when visiting preachers scolded the congregation. He maintained that “one does not speak evil of a Jew.”
When a preacher would scold, the Besht would say that we don’t scold fellow Jews. And if the preacher would say that the Bible has many instances when the Israelites are rebuked, the rebbe would say, “And look how Moses was punished for doing just that!”
Now, the idea of not speaking evil of a Jew of course is difficult in this day of Madoff and Rothstein. Obviously we cannot help but criticize criminals with Jewish names. But I do ponder the wisdom of openly criticizing Jewish leaders who are trying to do their best to help the Jewish people.
I have spoken from this pulpit on the subject of non-Israelis criticizing the government of Israel. I am opposed to this. But I also believe that there needs to be a healthy culture of self-reflection in any Jewish community. “One does not speak evil of a Jew” sounds very parochial in our global age.
So what is a Jew to do?
Winston Churchill once wrote that “censure is often useful, praise often deceitful.” I would agree. There has to be a place for loving criticism when something is not going right. In that context, Peter Beinart has the right to criticize his own Jewish community (just not the Israeli community; we will let Israelis have that honor).
And as for me, the only community I can feel comfortable criticizing with love is my own. But then again my biggest criticism of Temple Judea should not be taken too personally in that it is a criticism wide-spread in the Reform Jewish world. Not taking it personally does not mean not taking it seriously.
My biggest beef with our current reality deals with our youth, although not specifically concerning their views on Israel. My concern is that the majority of our kids leave their Jewish education and socialization behind after bar/bat mitzvah. This is a shanda, a shame.
Now it is not enough for me to complain. That’s not leadership. So I am pleased that we, as a congregation, are trying to do something about it. In short we are providing exciting experiences for those who continue past bar/bat mitzvah. This very week, ten of our eighth and ninth graders are with Rabbi Siegal and Sharon Israel, our youth director, in Israel. We also send our tenth graders to Washington, D.C. to learn about Reform social activism. And this year our eleventh and twelfth graders are going to go to New Orleans to support that troubled city.
In short, we see the problem and we are doing something to correct it.
This week’s Torah portion is about Moses being punished for being too harsh with the Israelites. There is nothing good about a leader being nasty. But it is also not right for a leader to be quiet when things must be improved.
Next week’s Torah portion features a non-Israelite prophet hired to curse the Israelites. Instead he blesses them. I pray that the criticisms against our community, when offered with love and a plan to correct them, will always be seen for the blessings they truly are.

2010-06-11T07:35:00.001-07:00

Writing about the role of government, New York Times columnist David Brooks recently observed, “One of the odd features of the Democratic Party is its inability to learn what politics is about. It’s not about winning arguments. It’s about deciding which arguments you are going to have.” (April 22, 1010).
This is a very important observation. So often we argue about something without determining whether or not the argument is worth conducting. So much wasted energy on things that don’t matter. I once had a teacher in rabbinical school who suggested that the philosophy we call “choose your battles wisely” was cynical but I disagree. It is efficient.
A friend of mine who works for the Kellogg School of Management recently taught me that “the essence of strategy is denial.” In other words, in a world of limited resources, we define who we are by the choices we don’t make. And one key choice is which arguments not to fight.
George Washington practiced this approach. “Avoid a general Action,” never “put anything at Risque,” he declared. This 1777 strategy was the only way he could win the war. He chose his battles carefully, and that’s why we don’t speak today with British accents!
This week’s Torah portion features a major argument between Korach and his followers and Moses and God. We know from the start that Moses and God will win but the argument is worth pondering if for no other reason than anyone arguing with God had better have a good reason. The rabbinic commentators suggest Korach’s reason was to obtain personal power. To them, this is not a good reason. The ancient Rabbis believe that at times arguments are justified. But they have to be for the right reasons.
And what exactly are the right reasons? When should we argue? And when should we fight?

Tonight we welcome back Lance Corporal Josh Simon. We are grateful for his service in Afghanistan. But especially when we ponder the great risk our soldiers must face it is appropriate to ask, “What is worth fighting for?” as well as the complementary question, “What is worth dying for?”
These words tonight are not about war, per se, but they are about politics in the purest sense. Politics is really about how we use scarce resources, as David Brooks suggests. It’s about deciding which arguments to have, which wars to fight. So tonight I want to propose not a statement on just and unjust wars. (You can read my book on war and peace if you want that.) But I want us to consider how important it is that we reflect on the personal battles in which we wish to engage.
Remember the story of King Pyrrhus? It’s about the war that was fought between Greece and the Roman Empire in about 280 BCE. During that war, the King launched his men into a battle against the Romans. They ended up winning the battle but they suffered enormous losses. The casualties were so high, in fact, that they devastated his army.
After the battle, King Pyrrhus told his advisors that one more such victory would undo him… He was right, because he was unable to rebuild his army’s strength. This victory came at a devastating cost to King Pyrrhus. He may have won the battle, but in the end, he lost the war.
Although the concept of a pyrrhic victory comes from a military event, it has many practical implications for our daily lives.
So how do we choose our battles wisely?
We should remember these points:
1. We should ask ourselves: what is the goal we want to obtain? This week I was on an airplane and the little girl behind me kept kicking my seat. It was enough to annoy me. But was it enough to say something to the parent and risk an awkward situation? I decided to keep my silence. For ultimately my goal was a comfortable flight in more ways than one. That was a stranger. If we say something to a friend all the more we should be sure that the consequences of our remarks will be worth saying them.
2. We should see if there is a better way to handle the issue. Having an argument with our spouse with others present may not be avoidable but usually is. Think about how that might be done the next time it happens.
3. The old adage of counting to ten before speaking is a very wise one. Never underestimate the power of reflecting before action.
4. The best way to choose our battles is, whenever possible, to redefine a battle as something else. For instance, this past week the Detroit Tigers pitcher Armando Galarraga should have thrown a perfect game. Unfortunately the first base umpire, called the Cleveland Indians runner safe at first. It was an obvious mistake but calls don’t get reversed in baseball. This could have led to a huge battle between Galarraga and the umpire, to say the least. Instead, Galarraga redefined the argument. It wasn’t about a bad call. It was about how he could overcome his ego and accept the fact that sometimes bad calls are made. Winning this battle meant Galarraga could act with decency toward the umpire, which he did. So when others were yelling, Galarraga was quiet. The umpire, too, could have taken the response of the other Tigers personally. Instead, he, too, redefined the battle. The umpire, Jim Joyce, admitted the mistake and publically expressed remorse for blowing the call. And then Galarraga did something amazing, telling reporters he felt worse for the umpire than for himself!

This sweet story reminds us that most of the battles we will wage will not be with others but with ourselves. There will be times when arguments should happen, but most of the time we would be better off keeping silent and pondering our role in the conflict. And sometimes, we can redefine the conflict as one not between ourselves and others but between our higher principles and our ego-driven needs.

The ancient rabbis said that the argument of Korach would not be sustained because Korach argued for the wrong reason. They claimed that the only arguments worth having are ones for higher principles than personal power, ego gratification and the need to always be right. And so I charge us to be very careful in choosing the battles we fight. And when we do fight them, let’s remember to reflect upon the reasons for the fight, the outcomes we desire and our own role in bringing forth the conflict.

And let’s remember that, in baseball there are very few perfect games just as in life there are very few perfect arguments. May the ones we have to fight not be pyrrhic, and the lion’s share of our days reflect the peace that comes from only fighting when necessary.

Perspective on an Incident at Sea

2010-06-04T10:14:00.001-07:00

The Torah portion for this week, Shelach Lecha, features a disastrous effort undertaken by the Israelites. To put it simply, they send out a delegation to scout out the land. It ends in failure. It was the right land but the wrong delegation. They should have sent spies but instead they sent political leaders. The lesson is clear: don’t send a politician to do a secret agent’s job. But the other lesson is also important: don’t send a secret agent, or a soldier, to do the job of a politician.

This week’s disastrous effort in the Mediterranean also suffered from sending the wrong people to do the job. Israel sent in a commando team. But as many commentators have pointed out, when you have overwhelming power on your side, actually using it is a public relations disaster. Those of us who are friends of Israel feel her pain but also wish the government was a little more savy in managing its difficult situation.
There is, however, a more important lesson derived from our Torah portion in connection with the predicament faced by Israel. Those who spied out the land did not see the true land of Israel. They were afraid and through their fear they saw a land of giants. They forgot that, with God on their side, they had nothing to fear. Their perspective was completely skewered. It is ironic they are called scouts because the one thing they failed to do is see the land.
Who are the failed scouts in our modern scenario? Is it the Israeli government who seems blind to the public relations debacles its actions have been causing? Is it the Hamas supporters who are sacrificing the well-being of their people because they will not recognize Israel’s right to exist? Is it the Europeans who criticize Israel but give other nations a free pass when it comes to human rights violations?
Or maybe it is we American Jews who are blind. We don’t live in Israel. We don’t send our children to serve in the army. We don’t have them repelling into boats where people who wish to harm them are waiting. Can we really understand the mindset of Israelis?
I am writing these words sitting in an Israeli café in New York. It is just like the real thing in Israel except that they didn’t search my bag when I entered. Because in New York you don’t need to worry about being blown up while drinking your coffee. In Israel, you do.
So we shouldn’t think we see what Israelis live with every day.
I therefore have little more to say about what happened this week. I feel for Israel. I feel for anyone whose family members were lost. I feel for the Israeli officers hurt in the operation. And I feel for the Palestinians. They deserve better.
But the seeds of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict were sown a long, long time ago. And the only way out of this mess is through compromise, not media stunts. And our task as an American Jewish community is to support Israel, living as she does with an impossible situation. But we should be very careful when it comes to passing judgment on their actions. As our Torah portion warns us, we cannot see what they experience. To use carefully chosen English, we can sympathize with Israel but we cannot empathize with Israel.
I am glad that our American government did not offer a quick knee-jerk response to the crisis. The Obama administration has chosen to abstain from condemning Israel. Perhaps cooler heads at the White House and State Department have humility when it comes to second-guessing Israel. Would that some American Jews practiced the same humility.
I will let Israelis criticize their government for the handling of the crisis. I would hope that some in the Arab camp would be able to see the cynical use of people to promote an agenda that is not at all interested in cohabitation with Israel.

As for me, and I hope for us, let us pray that the forces that wish for peace will prevail. And the dark forces that dream of violence will be shown the errors of their ways.
The Israelites in our Torah portion were let down by their leaders and they paid a steep price for their failure. Instead of entering the Promised Land in triumph, the people were sentenced to die in the Wilderness of Sinai. Only their children, thirty-eight long years later, would know the joy of fulfilling the promise of God, to enter a land flowing with milk and honey.
Thousands of years later, we know the joy of having the land again, and we celebrate the incredible accomplishments of our Israeli brothers and sisters. But we also must feel their pain. They live in an impossible situation, destined to yearn for peace but needing vigilance lest they be swept away in a sea of hatred. And for every public relations failure or tragedy at sea, a master manipulator in Tehran sits and plans.
More than ever we need to be a steadfast support for Israel. Let’s encourage them in their successes, stand with them in their failures, and dream with them for a world where peace will reign in all the region.
It has been recently pointed out in oft-discussed essay by Peter Beinart in the New York Review of Books that American Jewish leaders have failed to inculcate a love and understanding of Israel among our young. Basically, we have taught our young to celebrate the underdog and to be political liberals. But when it comes to Israel, we ask them to be hawks. And then we wonder why they choose the “Torah” of liberalism over Zionism.
Now is not the time to refute or support Beinart’s complaint. His challenge should certainly be taken seriously. But it is clear we who love Israel need to figure out a better way to help the younger generation understand that life is complicated and there are no simple rules for dealing with complex situations. And we have to find a way to help them see that the existence of Israel is not to be taken for granted. Israel faces serious security risks. Israel must be vigilant. In short, rejecting the U.S. occupation of Iraq does not mean ipso facto condemning the blockade of Gaza.
I can only hope that those of us who love Israel will support her while at the same time helping others to see Israel for what she truly is: a struggling democracy in a dangerous region, and a still amazing miracle that followed the worst experience in Jewish history.
The ancient prophet proclaimed, “Let every person sit under his or her vine and fig tree, with none to make them afraid.” Let us dream of a day when the terrors of the Middle East are forgotten, the fallen are eulogized, and the world can begin to enjoy the charms of a tired and yet beautiful, much-too promised land.

Lost Amidst Civilization

2010-05-21T12:59:00.000-07:00

This weekend is a watershed for people who like the television show, Lost, on ABC. Sunday night is the last episode. After six years all questions will be answered. Or not. The series is about an airline that crashed on a mysterious island. Kind of like Gilligan’s Island for a new age. And a much bigger budget.
The irony about the show is that the title refers not only to their physical whereabouts but also their moral and spiritual displacement. The most interesting part of the show for me has been seeing which characters knew who they were in spite of the challenges they faced. After all, you can be found internally when you are in a jungle, or you can be lost amidst a great city where you know exactly where you are.
Getting lost these days isn't really that hard. I recently read of a man in Germany who was driving with his GPS and actually went the wrong way on a highway exit ramp, almost killing himself. The GPS told him to do it and he preferred to follow the machine more than his own common sense!

GPS machines are plentiful these days. Common sense is not.
Even when people know what they need to know in order to stay morally centered, they don't often follow through. At least not some people. Especially the ones we read about 24/7. I'm talking about celebrities.
I know a rabbi in L.A. who was given a subscription to People Magazine. At first, he was resentful that someone spent money on such nonsense but then he started realizing that this subscription was a great teaching tool. Perusing the magazine, with story after story of the rich and famous, he was delighted to discover how these celebrities were anything but happy: Broken marriages, failed relationships, drug abuse, alcoholism, talents squandered, fortunes and family lost through narcissistic excess, suicide of body and spirit ...it's all there in the pages of People. Here are the "50 Most Beautiful" -- those who have it all -- unlimited wealth, fame, sexual magnetism, the homes and cars and svelte bodies we all dream about -- and their lives are so empty, so lonely, so pointless, so desperate.
As Rabbi Ed Feinstein concludes, “All that wealth, all that talent, all that charisma, all that beauty -- all that our culture worships and envies as the goals and ideals of existence -- so futile and so barren, so utterly wasted in a life without moral vision, spiritual wisdom and transcendent purpose.”
These celebrities have everything their success and money can buy but they are lost because they have no compass to guide them. And whatever guidance they are following is leading them astray.
Now, most celebrities are not stupid. They know that there is a way to find happiness in life. The problem is that such a way is not exotic, or glamorous, nor does it lead to instant gratification.
This week’s Torah portion, which is the longest in the Torah, but don’t worry my sermon won’t reflect that fact, offers an alternative vision of life and its meaning. At Mt. Sinai, the Israelites construct a shrine -- the Mishkan -- a dwelling for God's Presence, a connection between heaven and earth. Preparing now to leave Sinai and continue the journey toward the Promised Land, instructions are given for dismantling and transporting the Mishkan.
Each Levitical family is assigned responsibility for a part. The objects themselves were common -- a board, a rod, a section of curtain. Certainly there was no glory in carrying a heavy fence-post, a bulky tapestry through the hot desert day after day, meter after meter. But then, when the march stopped, and the whole sacred space was assembled, each individual could suddenly recognize the meaning of his or her burden. Only then could each see the critical purpose that board, the rod, the post, that section of tapestry held in making a place for God on earth.
Likewise, we build a sacred life for ourselves in the small acts of love and kindness we perform. Raising kids, sharing in the joys and struggles of our friends, being present for our loved ones in good times and bad, these are the simple burdens that define our lives. We will not read of such activities in People magazine. But they are our keys to meaning and success.
The name of the book of Torah we are reading these days is called in English, Numbers. But in Hebrew we call it Bemidbar, in the Wilderness. It is in the Wilderness that Torah is given and it is in the Wilderness of life, when the way home is hard to find, that we need the guidance of Torah the most. How do we find our way out of the Wilderness? The Jewish answer is simple: one mitzvah at a time. One act of kindness. One righteous act. One saying no to the wrong opportunity. We build a life by shlepping through the desert whatever it takes to bring out the holiness.
It's not glamorous. But then that's the biggest lie of our day: we are to be judged by our outside instead of our instead.
Why was the Torah given in the Wilderness? I'll tell you why. Because when it comes to life, either you conquer the Wilderness or the Wilderness conquers you!
What is especially sad these days is that the guidance that great religious texts can give young adults is so often ignored. For so many young people, their greatest Wilderness experience is when they are in their twenties and face major life decisions. Whom to marry? What to do for a living? What to do about drugs and drinking? It is especially during this period that religious observance reaches its nadir. Little worship and even less study. And sociologically this time is getting longer.
The costs of such neglect of classic sources of moral guidance is high. Religion not only concentrates the mind and help people think about moral questions; it also leads to positive social outcomes. Religious young people are more likely to do volunteer work, give charity, and become involved with social institutions. They are less likely to smoke, drink, and use drugs. They are less likely to be depressed or overweight. They are less concerned with material possessions and are more likely to go to college.
So I address these words especially to our young people here this evening. Don’t forget to take your Jewish GPS with you. Because make no mistake: You can find yourself utterly lost in the midst of civilization. And if you follow the wrong code of conduct, you just might find yourself driving the wrong way onto the highway!
Of course this lesson is for all of us, of any age. When we make our journeys through life let's not forget to take a GPS with us. And let's make sure it’s the right guide. That it works. That where it tells us to go is where we really want to go. And that we like who we are when we get there.

I don't know how the TV show Lost will end on Sunday. But I'd like to think that some of the characters will survive because they never forgot who they are and what really matters. And when I think of ourselves, especially our young ones going off to exotic places, I hope and pray that they, too, will remember to plan their life as carefully as they can, and when they find themselves in the Wilderness, they remember that in deed, they are anything but alone.

In Praise of Spiritual Boredom

2010-04-30T09:29:00.000-07:00

The Torah portion for this week, Emor, lists the basic Jewish holidays. You know, Shavuot, Pesach, Sukkot, etc. Only they are not called holidays. They are called sacred occasions. What is the difference between a holiday and a sacred occasion? In our modern culture we have MANY holidays. But very few sacred days.

Holidays are seen as a distraction from the work that often bores us. “We know that 55 percent of all U.S. employees are not engaged at work,” says Curt W. Coffman of the Gallup Organization. ”They are basically in a holding pattern.”

Whether it is felt at a desk in the federal government, on a spot on the factory floor, or in a drab cube farm, boredom is a condition that can be more stressful and damaging than overwhelming work. If workers feel like their capabilities aren’t being tapped into and used, they aren’t going to have a healthy psychological connection to the organization. So what is the cure for boredom? A holiday. Time away.

The Jewish holidays – or sacred occasions -- teach us a very different lesson. They instruct us that life should not be about work and escaping work. The holidays are not a refuge from every-day life. They are designed to help us reframe our view of everyday life.

Jewish holidays do not lead us to a more exciting job. That’s not the point. But they can help us appreciate the job we have now. How so? Primarily by teaching us to slow down and enjoy what we are doing, even if we are bored!

In the modern era we have been conditioned to look at the world as something that entertains us. If we are not entertained, then we are bored. And we spend a lot of time wishing we were anywhere else, entertained instead of bored. Little children can be excited about anything, but this quickly changes. As we grow we are less impressed with the world. And we quickly grow bored if things are not exciting or fast.
Spiritual writer Eugene Peterson recalls that hiking in the mountains was a favorite family recreational activity when his sons were growing up. But when the boys reached adolescence, he recalls, they became impatient with the slow pace of their parents on the ascent and would rush off ahead. “For them,” writes Peterson, “the trail, the way, was reduced to one thing and one thing only: the way to the top of the mountain. They set out with all deliberate speed to conquer (their verb of choice) the mountain, get to the peak, write their names in the metal box containing the names of successful climbers. They always took a couple of pictures to document their feat. And then, reeking with boredom, they waited for their slowpoke parents who were carrying the lunch. ‘What took you so long? … We’ve been waiting for hours!’”

Peterson gives this explanation, “What did take us so long? Well, there was a lot to see, to savor, to absorb, to enjoy: a mountain goat posing regally on a cliff, a blue-fringed gentian to look at again for the first time, the wind-sculpted trunk of an ancient white-bark pine, a water ouzel plying in a waterfall, the nectarine that we relished as we sat and took in the next range of mountains that had just come into view … Way for us was far more than a way to get to the top. It was a way of being present to everything on the way …” He recalls a line by Robert Pirsig: “To live only for some future goals is shallow. It’s the sides of the mountain which sustain life, not the top. Here’s where things grow. But of course, without the top you can’t have the sides. It’s the top that defines the sides.”

Our problem is that we can't see the sides because of the top. And the Jewish holidays come along to teach us to slow down and enjoy the sides. Holidays in Judaism are about doing very little. The point is not to be bored per se but to become comfortable without being always entertained. Sadly, in our society we have come to see the two as synonymous. If I am not being entertained then by definition I am bored!

I want us to realize that doing nothing and being bored are not the same at all. And even doing something that seems boring need not be. There is a famous Chasidic story of the disciple who is sent to learn from a certain rebbe. He is disappointed in the experience and complains to his own master that all he saw the rebbe do was wash dishes. To which the master replied, “But oh, how we washes those dishes!”

A recent book, entitled Spiritual Boredom, by Erica Brown, teaches us that we can see our boredom as an invitation to revisit our expectations and or own responsibility for self-engagement. The Jewish holidays remind us to take time away from creating and rediscover the power of stopping and taking note of our current reality.

In short, on our holidays, or Shabbat, we can find sacred time if we change the question from “What shall I do?” to “Who am I?” And if we think about who we are then we will find a whole new world of thought open before us.

Spiritual boredom is not a curse but an invitation to live in the moment and take responsibility for our inner lives. It is a gift.
Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook, the first Ashkenazi chief rabbi of Israel and a great mystic and poet, once wrote: “An epiphany enables you to sense creation not as something completed, but as constantly becoming, evolving, ascending. This transports you from a place where there is nothing new to a place where there is nothing old, where everything renews itself, where heaven and earth rejoice as at the moment of Creation.”

When we are still, when we are doing nothing, we should ask ourselves if we should complain about our inactivity or we should use such moments to realize how profound is our existence.

For in moments when our sense of wonder transport ourselves from a place where nothing is new to a place where there is nothing old, we come to see that every moment is sacred, and every minute a miracle.

Israel: If Not Now, When?

2010-04-18T02:37:00.000-07:00

Soon we will be celebrating Israel's birthday, which occurs this coming week. I want to speak about Israel at 62. We are also as Jews studying the ethical treatise from 2000 years ago, Ethics of the Sages. It's most famous teaching turns out to be an apt way to look at Israel. The ancient sage Hillel famously declared: If I am not for myself, who will be for me. If I am only for myself, what am I? And if not now when? These are questions well considered when it comes to Israel.

If I am not for myself, who will be for me? If Israel is not going to watch out for herself who will watch out for her?

The latest controversy over apartments in East Jerusalem is a serious public relations problem for Israel. But there are far more serious concerns for Israel. We cannot forget the threats that Israel is facing.

First, there is Iran. Iran is going full speed ahead with her nuclear weapons program and no one at this point believes sanctions are making a difference. Iran is also reaching out to al-Quaida. And meanwhile Israel's northern neighbor, Lebanon is being further integrated into an Iran-Syria alliance. There seems little likelihood that China will not support major pressure against Iran. Even Turkey has made noises about supporting the Iran-Syrian axis.

The Obama administration has made it pretty clear that their will be no support for a pre-emptive strike. What does this mean for Israel?

I think back to the first Gulf War when Israel sat out -- literally sat in sealed rooms with gas masks -- and the whole world praised Israel for its restraint. Here's the thing: the world condemns Israel when it protects itself. Israel is praised when it acts like a victim.

All of this proves that Israel must take care of Israel. No one will step in and do that job for her.

And yet Israel was not established merely to be a shelter. Israel is supposed to be a light unto the nations. And so we have the second part of the teaching: If I am only for myself, what am I? If Israel is only for herself, what is she?

Israel is special to us not only as a state for Jews. It is a Jewish state, a state directed to live by the values of sensitivity to suffering, social justice and prophetic hope in a better world. We don't want Israel to be come like other countries. And even though we don't like Israel being held to a higher moral standard, something inside most of us is secretly pleased. We want to be a light to the nation.

Even today most Israelis want to make peace and they are willing to make concessions. The irony is that Israel continues to suffer from a terrible reputation in the world despite its numerous peace concessions.

In the next few days, Israel will have to respond to the U.S. demands for confidence measures that will jump-start negotiations. It is time for Israel to put aside its justifiable resentment at the double standard it faces. Israel has to move forward.

But what is Israel’s next move? Donniel Hartman, an Israeli and head of the Shalom Hartman Institute in Jerusalem, a center of serious Jewish learning, has made an intriguing suggestion. Instead of justifying its present position, Israel needs to engage in ways to move forward and at the same time reflect the best and most noble of Jewish ideas, ideals and values. Israel has to look to the future in order to fulfill its identity as a Jewish state. Israel has to do more than survive or even function. Israel has to continue to demonstrate the values of peace, compassion, dignity and freedom. But Israel must also deal with a real world where we don’t always get what we want.

Here is one thing that Israel can begin to do right now and it will have profound consequences. Israel should begin immediately to build cities and towns in the Negev and Galilee and to expand the settlement blocs in the West Bank that will remain in Israel. Why? So that the settlers in the West Bank who will have to leave when peace is reached will have an attractive place to relocate.

Right now Israel can build its future by preparing places that will embrace their inhabitants who will pay the price of relocation. Imagine what such a massive building project would do for Israel. It would serve as a beacon for those who are tired of the status quo and are willing to start solving the problem instead of complaining about it.

Israel has already dried out swamps, absorbed millions of immigrants, and overcome impossible odds. And the dream can continue with a massive new infrastructure campaign to insure the establishment of tomorrow’s peace. The Zionist values can continue and the Jewish state can continue. It is not too late. But the time has come.

The end of Hillel’s quote: If not now when? Israel is running out of time. This fall Prime Minister Netanyahu will need to decide to freeze the settlements and risk losing his coalition or not freeze them and risk losing even more support from America. If Israel does not help create a Palestinian state, then before too long Israel will find itself with a minority of Jews in the land. Israel will either than become run by Arabs or it will cease to be a democracy.

Israel has the opportunity to do so much. And we have the opportunity to support her. Happy Birthday, Israel. And may God bless you with the peace and success you so richly deserve!

2010-04-02T07:24:00.001-07:00

Crossing the Threshold of Hope

I am a collector of corporate slogans. In a few words we can learn so much about a particular organization or at least how it likes to think of itself. For instance,

"All the news that's fit to print" -- the New York Times

"Think different" -- Apple Computer

"The happiest place on earth" -- Disneyland.

My personal favorite is Google's: "Don't be evil!"

Why such a slogan for an Internet search company? Perhaps it is a dig at Microsoft, or maybe the Google folks realize that, based on how much information they have about us, they could be evil if they wanted to be!

Recently I have been very pleased that Google has taken a stand against Chinese censorship. The decision to pull out of China was made by one of Google's founders, Sergei Brin. In an article in the Wall Street Journal last week, Brin explained his reason for the stand. The company had tried to work with China but when it was discovered that the Chinese government was peeking at the emails of Chinese activists, Brin had had enough. "Ultimately, I guess it is where your threshold of discomfort is. So we obviously as a company crossed that threshold of discomfort."

This is a very useful phrase for all of us: Crossing a threshold of discomfort is a sign for us that we have begun inappropriate behavior. And that we are AWARE the behavior is wrong. In terms of our current Passover holiday, we might say it is the difference between chametz and kosher for Pesach.

Now all of us know the basic difference between the two. But what about the hidden chametz, the non-kosher stuff that isn't found? You know, the breadcrumbs under the couch cushion or in our car?

And now let's stop the metaphor and see I am speaking about the hidden things we do that are not kosher in the larger sense. Namely: When do we cross the threshold of discomfort and are we even aware when we do so?

Think back to that wonderful movie, Broadcast News, with William Hurt and Holly Hunter. Hunter plays a journalist with integrity, and Hurt plays someone unaware of the lines he is crossing between reporting and creating news. When Holly Hunter’s character confronts him, saying he has crossed the line, he replies, “But they keep moving the line!”

In essence, that is part of our problem: How do we know when we have crossed the threshold of discomfort? When is kosher chametz?

I remember a Seinfeld episode when cell phones were still pretty new. Jerry was calling a sick friend on a cell phone and Elaine thought that was a terrible breach in etiquette. A call to a sick person should be made from a land line. Anyone still make that distinction? What if you no longer HAVE a land line?

Yes, establishing the threshold of discomfort is not so easy. But let’s assume we all still know there are lines that are crossed. What might those lines be?

Let's first admit that we have all double standards. For instance, there are ways we treat our family that we would never treat our friends, or certainly acquaintances. Somehow, in a bizarre logic, we find it better to be rude and caustic with loved ones. I know we argue we are just being ourselves. But that might be the problem. Who said that being ourselves is an excuse for boorish behavior. On Passover we have the opportunity to ponder our behavior and ask ourselves if we should be so comfortable with who we are, especially when we are "just being ourselves".

I also worry about how we treat the less fortunate among us. We don't want to ignore their plight but often the persistence of the problem of poverty, and the admittedly obnoxious ways some ask for help, can easily inure us from the actual suffering.
The late great social activist and rabbi, Stephen S. Wise, once went to China. The first night he couldn't sleep because the moans of the rickshaw drivers, doing back-breaking work, kept him up. When he mentioned something at the front desk of the hotel, he was told that in a week he would not even notice it any more. Rabbi Wise was pained to hear such a callous remark but truly mortified when, a week later, he realized the prediction had come true.

How often do we deal with our discomfort by forgetting to notice? Not noticing is not the same as fixing a problem. And so I wonder if we might be crossing our threshold of discomfort without even noticing.

In Israel, when I used to take a lot of buses, I would start the year always giving up my seat for an elderly person. By the end of the year, following the custom of the place but not my Midwestern values, I would find myself ignoring the elderly and keeping my seat, like almost everybody else. But once I saw a woman who clearly needed a seat so I got up. She asked me in Hebrew: "Are you getting up because it's your stop?" I just smiled but thought, "No, I am getting up because I am ashamed of what I have become."

Crossing the threshold of discomfort.

This time of year we can be honest about who we really are but we can also be hopeful that we can change. It is no accident that these words sound like a High Holy Day message. After all, the Jewish calendar begins with Passover, not Rosh Hashanah. And springtime in temperate climates offers a natural metaphor for rebirth and new hope.

So let me conclude this message with an appeal for all of us to reconsider who we are, and to become more aware if the people we have become are the people we wish to be.

A professor recently put it like this: we all need to withstand the “cubicle” test. What is this test? It is to remember how we thought we would be before we matured, before we were successful. You know, sitting in the cubicle, imagining how we’d behave once we were in the corner office.

Well, now is the time to take stock of where we are and ask ourselves if former self would like current self. If the kosher for Pesach is really chametz. If there is a better way for us to be.

I encourage us to do some soul searching. Who knows what spiritual chametz awaits us in sofas long since ignored!

Tough Love for Israel?

2010-03-16T09:00:00.000-07:00

A few years ago I spoke out publicly when the workers union, SEIU, these days busy at Jackson Hospital, held a hunger strike across the street from Temple Judea. Although I took a risk speaking out, I felt that the proximity of the strike and demonstration demanded that I take a stand. The cause may have been just but the tactics were wrong. Today I want to speak out again, and I do so with more trepidation, because I am speaking about my beloved land of Israel.

I love Israel and I know that, not being a citizen, I do not have the right to criticize the Government of Israel. I also know that the Palestinian leadership do not want real peace with Israel and that Israel faces constant threats from her neighbors, not to mention Iran. It is precisely because Israel must be vigilant that I believe her friends must send a clear message that the duplicity shown last week with the announcement of more ultra-Orthodox settlements in East Jerusalem while at the same time pledging to work for peace in front of the U.S. Vice President.

I know something of Israeli politics and understand that Prime Minister Netanyahu has his back up against the wall. In American politics, President Obama can make unpopular decisions and face disaster at the polls years later. In Israeli politics, a leader who angers his coalition members can see his government fall immediately. Netanyahu has not repudiated the settlements because he needs his right wing coalition partners to stay now, while he figures he can make amends with the U.S. later.

That's where we, as caring American friends of Israel, have to speak up and say, enough is enough. Israel cannot promise things to the U.S. and then not deliver. It is bad for Israel in ways that perhaps Israeli politicians cannot understand. If Palestinians want to stop the peace process, then there is little we can do. But Israel should not be in the business of making it easy for them. And Israel needs the U.S. as an ally now more than ever. So I would submit that Israel needs to hear from us.

How do we send a message? The simplest way is to support the work of the pro-Israel, pro-peace lobby, J-Street. I was an early supporter of J-Street because I felt that the established pro-Israel lobby, had become too much aligned with the neocon side. I still supported AIPAC but liked the idea of a more liberal voice. After the Gaza war, I was disappointed that J-Street did not seem to understand the terror that Israelis in the area were feeling; nor did their leaders criticize harshly enough the cruel Palestinian practice of using innocent civilians as shields. Just last week, various J-Street supporters encouraged me to give J-Street another chance. They even gave me a button. I kept it in a drawer.

But now I have the button out and I am going to be supporting J-Street. I encourage you to do the same if, like me, you want to send a clear message to Israel: we will always support you but we cannot stand by in silence while its policies jeopardize its most important relationship and thereby endanger its future. Supporting J-Street sends a strong message.

Last Sunday, NY Times columnist Tom Friedman put it succinctly: "Friends don't let other friends drive drunk." And we friends of Israel have to make it known we are concerned with the official path our friend is taking.

These times demand candor, and even tough love.

Keep Calm and Carry On

2010-03-03T11:40:00.000-08:00

As many of you know, I have spent the last two months on sabbatical. Part of that time was spent with Melanie visiting London, England. On our first day of touring we visited the site where Winston Churchill led the country during the Nazi blitz. He was in a bunker under the Treasury Ministry. The museum does an amazing job of recreating what it was like to live in that cold, damp place, fighting for the survival of the United Kingdom. They also have a nice gift shop.

In the gift shop I bought a post card with a crown and the words: “Keep Calm and Carry On.” Melanie and I thought this slogan would be good for parents raising a fifteen year old boy. I then learned that this slogan had been prepared to be used if the Nazis had invaded England. The people would have been told to keep calm and carry on.

We all know that such advice, while terribly British, would not have been very effective against the Nazis, but we should not be too quick to ignore such words in other, less taxing contexts. Come to think of it, anything else would be a less taxing context.

Keep calm and carry on. Imagine if such advice had been followed in this week’s Torah portion. In the passage, Moses completely freaks out when the Israelites are seen worshipping a golden calf. God freaks out too. There is no other way to put it. God wants to destroy everyone and start from scratch, building a new people with Moses as a start. Moses shows his freak out side by hurling down the divine Ten Commandments. Aaron also had panicked, leading to the blasphemy in the first place. And the people too were panicked, when they suspected that Moses was not coming back.

Keeping calm and carrying on would have meant a much better outcome than the disastrous day we read about in the portion. But it’s not just God, Moses and Aaron, as well as the Children of Israel in the desert, who would benefit from such advice. Most of us could do a better job of keeping calm and carrying on.

Isn’t that the message of Shabbat? Take some time to put our lives in perspective? I have tried to do the same during my sabbatical, not because keeping calm and carrying on comes easy to me but because I think it is important.

During my sabbatical I would read a blog from a true practitioner of keeping calm and carrying on, Leo Babauta. He has the following advice on the subject of living a more relaxed, slower paced life, an approach to help cultivate the habit of being calmer, even when stress comes our way.

1. Do less. Cut back on your projects, on your task list, on how much you try to do each day. Focus not on quantity but quality. Pick 2-3 important things — or even just one important thing — and work on those first. Save smaller, routine tasks for later in the day, but give yourself time to focus. Read more.
2. Have fewer meetings. Meetings are usually a big waste of time. And they eat into your day, forcing you to squeeze the things you really need to do into small windows, and making you rush. Try to have blocks of time with no interruptions, so you don’t have to rush from one meeting to another.
3. Practice disconnecting. Have times when you turn off your devices and your email notifications and whatnot. Time with no phone calls, when you’re just creating, or when you’re just spending time with someone, or just reading a book, or just taking a walk, or just eating mindfully. You can even disconnect for (gasp!) an entire day, and you won’t be hurt. I promise.
4. Give yourself time to get ready and get there. If you’re constantly rushing to appointments or other places you have to be, it’s because you don’t allot enough time in your schedule for preparing and for traveling. Pad your schedule to allow time for this stuff. If you think it only takes you 10 minutes to get ready for work or a date, perhaps give yourself 30-45 minutes so you don’t have to shave in a rush or put on makeup in the car. If you think you can get there in 10 minutes, perhaps give yourself 2-3 times that amount so you can go at a leisurely pace and maybe even get there early.
5. Practice being comfortable with sitting, doing nothing. One thing I’ve noticed is that when people have to wait, they become impatient or uncomfortable. They want their mobile device or at least a magazine, because standing and waiting is either a waste of time or something they’re not used to doing without feeling self-conscious. Instead, try just sitting there, looking around, soaking in your surroundings. Try standing in line and just watching and listening to people around you. It takes practice, but after awhile, you’ll do it with a smile.
6. Realize that if it doesn’t get done, that’s OK. There’s always tomorrow. And yes, I know that’s a frustrating attitude for some of you who don’t like laziness or procrastination or living without firm deadlines, but it’s also reality. The world likely won’t end if you don’t get that task done today. Your boss might get mad, but the company won’t collapse and the life will inevitably go on. And the things that need to get done will.
7. Start to eliminate the unnecessary. When you do the important things with focus, without rush, there will be things that get pushed back, that don’t get done. And you need to ask yourself: how necessary are these things? What would happen if I stopped doing them? How can I eliminate them, delegate them, automate them?
8. Practice mindfulness. Simply learn to live in the present, rather than thinking so much about the future or the past. When you eat, fully appreciate your food. When you’re with someone, be with them fully. When you’re walking, appreciate your surroundings, no matter where you are. Read this for more, and also try The Mindfulist.
9. Slowly eliminate commitments. We’re overcommitted, which is why we’re rushing around so much. I don’t just mean with work — projects and meetings and the like. Parents have tons of things to do with and for their kids, and we overcommit our kids as well. Many of us have busy social lives, or civic commitments, or are coaching or playing on sports teams. We have classes and groups and hobbies. But in trying to cram so much into our lives, we’re actually deteriorating the quality of those lives. Slowly eliminate commitments — pick 4-5 essential ones, and realize that the rest, while nice or important, just don’t fit right now. Politely inform people, over time, that you don’t have time to stick to those commitments.

Now it goes without saying that Temple Judea commitments are exempt from this advice.
In all seriousness, let’s remember that even the Torah portions before and after this week, ones that deal at great length with building the holy space, the Tabernacle, never lost sight of the need to relax and have the right mindset. That is why before and after the project is presented, we are told that Shabbat comes first. For the Torah knows what we should know: most things don’t work well if we are not calm and collected. Projects done in haste (as every parent of a school kid knows), sports performed with tension (golf, anyone?) and really anything worth doing requires some detachment, some calm.
And so I hope the words of a marketing campaign of over sixty years ago, and never used, thank God, will instruct us as we go forward with our hectic lives. Keep calm and carry on!

What If Israel Needed No Army?

2010-01-18T17:59:00.000-08:00

Imagine if Harry Potter’s parents weren’t murdered by Voldemort. Imagine if there were no trauma that began the whole seven-novel story. Harry would be a normal student at Hogwarts. He would presumably be happy. There would be no story but no tragedy either.

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if Israel, born in 1948, had never needed to fight for her survival since day one, actually even before she declared herself a state. Imagine if she had been created and could simply live in peace. No terrorism. No boycotts. No need to stand ever vigilant, with compulsory army service for all but the ultra-Orthodox, and reserve service for all men up through middle-age.

Recently I was able to imagine what Israel would be like if this were the case. Traveling through Costa Rica, that beautiful and friendly country in Central America, we were able to enjoy the gorgeous views, thrilling adventures, and simple, sweet life of a successful and relaxed country.

I found it ironic that the same year Israel became a state and commenced upon a state of never-ending war, Costa Rica abolished its army. You can even buy a t-shirt in the airport that proudly declares: “Costa Rica: No Army Since 1948.” What has Costa Rica done with all the money it did not spend on missiles, tanks, and the care and feeding of a military force? It has invested in a world-class healthcare and education system. It has created numerous national parks. And most importantly, its youngsters grow up living with countless opportunities to grow and prosper without risking their lives defending their country.

A recent book I am reading, Start Up Nation, relates how Israelis have become world masters in the technology field. In no small part this is due to its forced innovation as a country always worried about defense. I have no doubt that Israel’s strong drive to excel would not be as pronounced without its continued state of war. My guess, however, is that most Israelis would gladly trade some excellence in innovation for a chance for peace for themselves and their family.

Imagine: all that energy directed toward relaxed, pleasant living. It is a dream for Israel but also a reminder that Israelis want that dream to come true. And it is our task as Israel’s friends to never stop hoping that one day Israelis and Costa Ricans can meet together and speak of all the things they have in common: a small but vibrant country, beautiful nature, countless parks, diverse wild life. Lots of tourists. And no need for an army. That’s a meeting I’d like to see!

Goodbye to All That! (2000-2009)

2009-12-23T12:48:00.001-08:00

A Message from Rabbi Goldberg on the Cusp of a New Decade

"Even those who live many years should rejoice in them all; yet let them remember that the days of darkness will be many." (Ecclesiastes 11:8)

As these words of Ecclesiastes remind us, we should be hasty in condemning any particular time in our life. After all, even the longest of lives is still short, relatively speaking. We therefore should not undervalue any time period, even though there are many days of darkness in any given period.
These words come to mind as we prepare to say goodbye to the first decade of the new millennium. Personally, the decade did not start out so well. I came down with the flu on New Years Day 2000! (And when you have the flu on New Years, most people think you are merely hung over.)
Many people would argue that these past ten years have been among the worst in the history of the United States, at least since World War Two. The argument? Among the evidence cited for such claims are: 9/11, the decade's two stock market crashes, the recent financial wipeout and job losses, America's wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, scandals, corruption, increased political polarization, Hurricane Katrina, mass shootings, school massacres, greater threats to homeland security from increased terrorist activity, the anthrax letters and more.
A recent NBC/Wall Street Journal poll found that nearly six in 10 of those surveyed said the decade was either "awful" or "not so good." Most of the rest rated it as "fair." At the same time, three-quarters of those surveyed said that economic prosperity declined and two-thirds agreed that America had lost moral ground.
All in all, one can make a strong case for wishing the past decade a strong, “good riddance.” But in our haste let’s not forget the wisdom of Ecclesiastes. After all, ten years is a long time in any one’s life. Surely there are many blessings we should pause to remember. To the list of misfortune we should add the good things that happened. Indeed, I encourage all of us on the last Shabbat before the secular New Year to spend a few moments and make a list of all the good things that happened to us during the last ten years. Even as a nation, we have seen some ups as well as downs: Medical advances, the iPod, and some pretty good TV shows.
I do hope that the next ten years are filled with personal and national blessings for us. After all, we Jews have been complaining for a long time, and rightly so, but we have also been hoping for a better tomorrow. And as Ecclesiastes would surely agree, some things never change!

The Jewish Jesus, the Christian Christ: December 25 Sermon

2009-12-22T06:18:00.000-08:00

The title of my sermon tonight is "the Jewish Jesus, the Christian Christ." This title is about the only thing I remember from a sermon my rabbi gave growing up. I also remember one time he took God's name in vain in the midst of a sermon, for dramatic effect. His last service at the Temple was my bar mitzvah, but I don't remember that so well. Tonight I cannot give his sermon, since all I remember is the title, but the title still intrigues me. So I will give my sermon with his title. By the way, his name was Rabbi Dr. William B. Silverman.

The Christian Christ is the easy part of the sermon. Christians worship Jesus as the Christ, the annointed one, the savior, God, the father, son and holy ghost. It's not simple but it is clear. For Christians Christ comes first, Jesus second. In the beginning, was the word. Jesus was God before he was a man. That's classic Christian theology.

For us Jews, it gets more complex. It's easy to say what Jesus is not. Jesus is not our Messiah, which was never meant to be a supernatural figure anyway. Jesus is not God. Nor the son or any other manifestation of God. Or as George Burns put it in the movie, Oh God, Jesus is the son of God. But so are all men. And women are also the children of God.

So who is the Jewish Jesus? What do Jews think of Jesus today? And most likely what did they think of him while he lived and taught?

This seems like a relevant question on this night especially.

Here is how I would describe the classic Jewish view of Jesus.

Jesus was a man. He lived and died as a Jew. He was a gifted teacher. The teachers in his time were yet to be called rabbi so we won't call him Rabbi Jesus, or Joshua as would be his name.

As a proto-rabbi, Jesus would have been taught the Bible but also what would be called the rabbinic tradition of interpreting the Bible, making it relevant. After the Bible had been finished and prophecy had ceased, 400 years before the time of Jesus, the only way to make the Bible new was through interpretation. Jesus did not write a Bible. He interpreted the Jewish Bible.

The problem with his interpretation, at least as we have it today in the Gospels, is that he did not include the footnotes. In other words, he did not cite the teachers who taught him. This omission is serious not only because it is polite to give the name of who taught you. It is also the way to show you are authentic. If Jesus did not cite his teachers, then he was asking a lot of his audience.

It is possible that the official establishment of Jewish teachers in Jerusalem were miffed at Jesus for this oversight. They would not however take it too seriously, and certainly would not put him on trial.

The depiction of Jews in the Gospels, being very upset at Jesus, does not make any sense.

I believe the only people upset at Jesus were the Roman officials, led by Pilate, who feared anyone who could draw a crowd, especially during a holiday like Passover. The Roman reaction to a rabble rouser would be "shoot first and ask questions later" or in this case "crucify first and ask questions later". In other words, Jesus was murdered by Rome for being a nuisance.

The Romans did not need another reason.

The early Christians, once rebuffed by Jews who did not see Jesus as anything special, began to appeal to Romans by making them look better and consequently the Jews look worse.

Thus begins two thousand years of enmity.

The good news is that recent years has brought many improvements in Christian Jewish relations. I believe we have reached a point where Jews and Christians can share their different view points about Jesus without offense. After all, we have so much in common. The hatred, though real, has always been a hatred between siblings. And underneath there has always been more we share than that which divides us.

Here is a nice way to think about it. Until the Messiah comes, let's work together to make the world a better place. When the Messiah does come, we can ask him, "Excuse us, should we say 'welcome' or 'welcome back'? And then we will know the truth. In the meantime, let Christians have their Christ while we Jews can appreciate who Jesus was for us.

And both Christians and Jews in America can join common cause in trying to preserve some dignity and spirituality for holidays that are often vulgarized beyond recognition in the shopping mall and by Madison Avenue. We owe that effort to ourselves.

So let's give honor to the Jewish Jesus and the Christian Christ. And may we all be blessed on our diverse but sacred paths.

What Happens If We Never Meet?

2009-12-04T14:36:00.000-08:00

My father used to love telling this story. When the British government was considering building the Chunnel to connect England with the Continent, the budget office advertised for bids for the work. One bid, submitted by Cohen and O'Brian Ltd., was so extraordinarily low that a government representative was dispatched to the firm's less-than-magnificent building in one of London's poorer neighborhoods to see if the firm could do the work for the modest sum claimed.  

When asked if they could build a tunnel of such magnitude for such a small sum, Cohen replied, "Sure we can.”

"But how can you afford to buy the equipment and hire the workers for so little money?"  

"What workers, what equipment? All we need is two shovels. "  

Taken aback by this response, the government man asked, "How can you dig such a huge tunnel with just two shovels?"  0'Brian answered: "It's simple. I'll stand here and start digging; Cohen will stand on the Continent and start digging. When we meet you'll have your tunnel."  

"But what happens if you never meet?" the government man insisted.  

Cohen replied, "Well, then, you'll have two tunnels!"

Aside from the humor of this old story, there is the question it poses: What happens if we never meet? In other words, we live in a world where increasingly the conflicts that help define us are not happening. We have learned to insulate our lives from the opinions that disagree with our own. This is convenient but not healthy.

Rabbi Stephen Pearce of San Francisco observes: Conflict in the Jewish community dates back to the Bible.
Cain and Abel, Ishmael and Isaac, Jacob and Esau, Joseph and his siblings - all endured hostility and estrangement.

Ancient Israel's monarchy ruptured into the Southern Kingdom of Judea and the Northern Kingdom of Israel. The Second Temple-era Saducees and Pharisees fought over the forms and places of worship. The talmudic academies of Sura and Purnbedita vied for pre-eminence in Babylon for more than five centuries.
 
Indeed, conflict frequently defines Jewish life: Sephardim and Ashkenazim, Litvacks and Galitizianers and the Reform, secular and Orthodox conflict of today.

The assassination of Yitzhak Rabin by a Jewish fanatic is the epitome of the extremism now evidenced in modern Israel. In general, only during periods of national calamity - temple destructions, inquisitions and pogroms - did Jews experience reprieve from internal discord.

This week's Torah portion features Jacob wrestling with an angel. It is a defining story in the history of the Jewish people! To be a Jew is to live with conflict!

It's not that there was never tolerance for another point of view. The schools of Hillel and Shammai disagreed with each other but still respected one another. But arguments, sometimes passionate, are part of our DNA. And maybe for a good reason.

These days arguments have been given a bad name. And conflict is something to be avoided. We avoid conflict by not meeting. We read different newspapers. We watch different channels on TV. We are told not to bring up issues where there is disagreement. But is this so wrong?
What happens if we never meet?

Conflict is not bad. It is necessary for our growth and health. It just has to be managed correctly.

We have to expose ourselves to people with whom we disagree, even people who irritate us. That's how we grow. What if we don't meet? Then we will be much poorer people!

A recent article I read states it clearly: we want to cultivate cognitive conflict, when people disagree on philosophical or intellectual levels. What we want to avoid is affective conflict, when the issue is really about personal matters or emotional reactions.

A good leader is someone who can differentiate between the two types of conflict and help move people to the right, cognitive kind.

Effective teams are only effective because there is dissent of the right kind. Without such dissent, we never reach our potential. This is not to say that such dissent, even offered in the right spirit, is fun to accommodate. But that’s not the point.

Remember the film, The American President, starring Michael Douglas as President Andrew Shepherd? After refusing to confront his political opponent, Shepherd eventually answers in one of the great movie speeches of all time. His nemesis was a real pain, but he forced the President to respond with eloquence.

What happens if we never meet? 

When I show my High Holiday sermons to Melanie, she kindly tears them apart. It hurts. Sometimes a lot. But the product is a better sermon.

This past week I was a participant at the Kellogg School of Management at Northwestern University. I went to the school with other rabbis and synagogue professionals because I wanted to see how one of the finest business schools in the country could help me be more effective in my work.

A key theme was that a leader does not have people on the team who agree with her or him; a leader cultivates different points of view, and manages the people so that these views can be expressed.

What happens when conflict is not promoted? Important information is never shared. Sermons are not as good as they could be; but sometimes it’s far worse. I know of at least one instance where a cockpit culture that brooked no dissent led to a tragic crash; the co-pilot was too afraid to warn the captain that he had made a mistake.

So here’s my question: what happens if we never meet? Who in your life do you need to cultivate to challenge you, to wrestle with you? A spouse? Co-workers? Friends?
What must be done for you to grow into a more aware human being?
As the research findings show, dissent actually stimulates originality and better decision-making procedures. When challenged by minority views, people reappraise the situation. Without such stimulation, people tend to be complacent, relying on the agreement of their group. With exposure to minority views, people come to recognize that their own views may be incorrect, or at least partially incorrect. As a result, they search anew, they think anew, and, in the process, they consider new options and achieve greater clarity.

There needs to be a welcoming and not just a tolerating of dissent. Dissent is a very economical mechanism for producing innovation. By harnessing the power of conflict, one can limit complacency and even substitute robust thought.

Complacency is the real danger. Even with the best of intentions, people are loathe to consider alternatives when convinced of the truth of their own position. They tend to search for confirming information, augment their own views and punish dissenters. Dissent breaks up that complacency and sets in motion thought processes that ultimately result in better and more original solutions. If an existing idea is correct, it is likely to remain with even greater clarity as a result of the challenge of dissent; if it is flawed, most likely it will be replaced by a better one. Either way, the group and the organization will profit.

(Charlan Jeanne Nemeth, Managing innovation: When less is more, California Management Review, Fall 1997.)

What happens if we never meet? What are we missing because we don’t seek to be challenged?

Let me end with a poem:

There once was an oyster whose story I tell,   Who found that sand had got under his shell;   Just one little grain, but it gave him much pain,   For oysters have feelings although they’re so plain.   Now, did he berate the workings of Fate,  Which had led him to such a deplorable state?   Did he curse out the government, call for an election?   No; as he lay on the shelf, he said to himself:   “If I cannot remove it, I’ll try to improve it.”   So the years rolled by as the years always do,   And he came to his ultimate destiny — stew.   And this small grain of sand which had bothered him so,   Was a beautiful pearl, all richly aglow.   Now this tale has a moral — for isn’t it grand   What an oyster can do with a morsel of sand;   What couldn’t we do if we’d only begin   With all of the things that get under our skin.   —Source unknown.

My Reflections on A Serious Man

2009-11-17T06:42:00.000-08:00

Miami may be a first class city, but apparently, serious movies don’t travel south of I-395. So a few weeks ago, Melanie and I shlepped to Miami Beach to see an outstanding and entertaining movie about a thirty-something Jewish man in the 1960s who wrestles with his conscience and the social mores of his age. The film, An Education, is terrific but will not be long remembered or discussed because its Jewish protagonist, while a scoundrel, is charming. Meanwhile, the other movie playing only on the Beach about a Jewish man in his thirties wrestling with moral dilemmas, will long be discussed in Jewish settings. Joel and Ethan Coen’s A Serious Man is not an entertaining picture but it is an important one, if only because of the profound questions it raises. Unfortunately, this Jewish hero is charmless and annoying, although portrayed by a gifted, albeit unknown, actor.

I am in the midst of teaching a class on the subject of explaining why bad things happen to supposedly good people. In the class we have studied many Jewish responses to this question, including the book of Job. The Coen brothers base their movie in part on Job, and one familiar with the book will appreciate the resonances in the movie, such as a tornado (evoking the divine whirlwind of the book) and the suggestion that an seemingly innocent person must somehow be guilty if he is suffering.

Unfortunately for those of us who would like to see the film as a trigger for reflection on the nature of God, humanity, the Jewish people, and suffering, the creators of the film draw on their negative experiences growing up Jewish in the Midwest in the 1960s. The result is a provocative satire on 1960s Hebrew schools, rabbis, and the general tackiness of it all. In a reverse of Dicken’s A Christmas Carol, three spirits don’t visit the protagonist. Instead he visits, or tries to anyway, three rabbis. As a rabbi I am not offended by the inability of the rabbis to help our Job-stand-in. We’ve been down that road before with Woody and Philip. And like the annual list of Fifty Top Rabbis, how one portrays a rabbi in a film tells us more about the director than the rabbinate. And talk about an impossible task: Who on this planet can adequately explain God’s world?

People will discuss this movie in the terms of more Jewish self-hatred coming from Hollywood. This is a shame because the timeless question of explaining evil and suffering deserves a treatment unsullied by cheap swipes at a more parochial era. Nevertheless, I hope some viewers will take away from the movie a list of important questions, such as:

1. Does God punish us for our moral shortcomings?
2. Is there such a thing as Jewish Karma, wherein we are punished for the sins of our ancestors?
3. If a friend is suffering should we ponder if they are guilty of a sin?
4. Does God want us to bear our sufferings without complaint or should we stand up for ourselves?
Towards the end of the film, at a bar mitzvah, the boy is called to the Torah as the cantor intones the blessing. The blessing is actually the one said after the reading of the Torah. Was this a careless cinematic mistake? This is not likely in a film that begins with a 10 minute Yiddish ghost story and includes a Hebrew school teacher speaking in perfect, albeit Midwestern-accented, Hebrew. I have not seen any theories about this wrong blessing, but I would guess that the hidden meaning is this: the blessing chanted in the film, unlike the one that should have been said, praises God for giving us eternal life.

In a world in which there is seemingly injustice perpetrated on righteous people, the only explanation for many is the world to come. In this world, there is no explanation for bad things happening to good people, unless all accounts are settled in the world to come.

Such an answer will satisfy some of us and perturb others. To the Coens’ credit, if I am right about the blessing, they intimate this theory without succumbing to offer it as an easy answer.

Indeed, there is nothing easy about A Serious Man. My suggestion is it is worth the shlep to Miami Beach if only for the conversation such a film might inspire, if we can get beyond the 1960s Jewish Minnesota mockery.

Noble Boredom

2009-11-04T06:24:00.000-08:00

Here’s a story:
“There will be a meeting of the board immediately following this service,” announced the pastor.

After the benediction the group gathered for the called meeting. All looked askance when a visitor who had never attended their church before joined them.

  “My friend,” asked the pastor, “did you understand that this is a meeting of the board?”   “Yes,” said the visitor, “and after that service, I’m about as bored as you can get!”

Old joke, sorry. I hope no one can relate too well to this story, but you never know.

Boredom has been in the news lately what with last week’s Northwest Airlines mishap. As you know, the two Northwest Airlines pilots who dropped out of radio contact with ground control for 78 minutes and overshot their Minneapolis destination by 150 miles have had their pilots' licenses revoked.

According to explanations from the pilots themselves, while the plane was on automated controls, the pair got out their laptops to study the airline's crew scheduling procedure. Reportedly, the first officer, who was more familiar with the procedure, was instructing the captain about it.

Using laptops and engaging in activity not related to commanding the plane during flight is strictly forbidden by Northwest Airlines' policies.

Apparently, while involved in the discussion, both pilots were distracted from their flight duties, a development described by those who study human behavior as "loss of situational awareness."

Although ground controllers made numerous attempts to contact the jet, the pilots, while hearing radio traffic, were not paying attention to which calls were for them. It was only after a flight attendant called the cockpit about five minutes before the plane was to have landed to inquire about their estimated time of arrival that the pair became aware that the plane had overshot its destination. They then turned the plane and landed safely, but late.

Both pilots submitted to alcohol breath tests, which proved negative.

Wikipedia defines situation awareness, as "the perception of environmental elements within a volume of time and space, the comprehension of their meaning, and the projection of their status in the near future. ... Situation awareness (SA) involves being aware of what is happening around you to understand how information, events, and your own actions will impact your goals and objectives, both now and in the near future.
Lacking SA or having inadequate SA has been identified as one of the primary factors in accidents attributed to human error. ... Thus, SA is especially important in work domains where the information flow can be quite high and poor decisions may lead to serious consequences (e.g., piloting an airplane ...)."

The underlying issue it turns out was that the pilots wanted to take their mind off of doing nothing. Doing nothing is boring. And flying in a modern cockpit can be just that since the plane more or less flies itself.

Boredom you might say could have caused a crash.

In the book of Ecclesiastes, we read: All things are wearisome; more than one can express ..." (Ecc. 1:8)

John Nance, aviation news analyst for ABC News, explained that there is typically a certain amount of boredom in the cockpit on a long flight, especially when the plane is on automatic pilot. But, he said, boredom is no excuse for losing situational awareness. Dealing with boredom is part of the job, he said.

But, as the verse above suggests, boredom can be a troublemaker. Most of us like a certain amount of novelty in our lives, and it is not uncommon for us to have trouble staying connected when daily activities become routine.

One of the things we can take away from this chapter of Ecclesiastes is that a certain amount of monotony goes along with most things after a while. You may have a dream job, a job you love. But chances are that there are some parts of it that you'd skip if you could, but you can't; they are necessary and need to be done. Those who have studied job satisfaction say that realistically, if you are working at something where you enjoy about 65 percent of what you do, you have a great job -- that about 35 percent of most jobs are routine things that simply need to be done so that you can enjoy the other parts.

I think we can all agree that boredom is part of our lives. The question of us to consider is this: is there a spiritual quality to boredom? Is it religiously wrong to be bored? Or somehow is it spiritually appropriate, nay necessary, to be bored at times?
I believe boredom serves a useful purpose. Instead of dealing with situational awareness by accepting the boredom, we are too quick to reach for the remote or jump in the car and drive away. We are terrified of a few empty minutes.

Someone once said that so many people who pray for immortal life are terrified by the thought of an empty weekend.

Of course, until modern times people may have had drudgery in their lives but they were rarely bored in our understanding of the term. There was too much to do just to put food on the table.
We enjoy so many conveniences but with convenience comes our new style of boredom. We literally have nothing to do!

What we do not like to do is revel in the boredom. That even sounds like a contradiction. How can we enjoy boredom? And why would we?
Here’s an answer: sometimes boredom is our way of grounding ourselves in reality. Stopping our busy lives. Turning off the smart phones. I know this thought terrifies many of us, but why?

The British author, Sara Maitland, writes in her new work, A Book of Silence, how she went to the remote Scottish Highlands to discover what silence was and to immerse herself in it. She spent 40 days in an isolated house on a windy moor. And she found that silence heightened physical sensations, for example her porridge tasted delicious. She also felt great joy.

For Maitland, silence and its concomitant boredom was a gift not a void. It’s no accident then that generations of mystics have insisted that there’s something that connects silence with the sublime. We therefore should find more opportunities to embrace boredom in our lives!

This week’s Torah portion begins with Abraham sitting at the entrance of his tent. What is he doing there? Maybe he is meditating. Maybe he is feeling bored. Maybe he is simply allowing himself to be present in the moment.

What we do know is, as he is sitting there, God appears to him. The mystics say God appears to us precisely when our mind is empty of other things.

So maybe we have been looking for meaning in all the wrong places. Maybe we will feel the divine presence when we stop looking for meaning and start letting meaning find us.

How so? By letting some silence in. By just sitting. By allowing the world to seep in instead of rushing to embrace it.

In a word, by being bored.

Aristotle distinguished between noble boredom and ignoble/base boredom. This second category is useless. But we should all cultivate a sense of noble boredom, of being without the need for action, without the need for something to happen.

Noble boredom: that’s my challenge to all of us on this Shabbat. Or as one person put it: Don’t just do something, sit there!

Three Boats, Three Lessons

2009-10-23T08:23:00.000-07:00

I have been reading the new autobiography of Senator Kennedy. I admire his love of boats. I grew up Jewish in Kansas. Not many boats there. Nevertheless, in this year of telling stories I want to share with you three stories about boats, or ships.
I have a personal connection with two of the three stories. We all have a connection with the third.

Story Number One: The Queen Mary: Always Adapt

True story. The Queen Mary now sits at a dock in Long Beach, California, and enjoys life after sailing on the high seas as an exclusive restaurant attraction. Of course, the Queen Mary has a fabled history. The ship was built in Scotland and launched in 1934. After Her Majesty Queen Mary presented her personal standard, it embarked on its maiden voyage on May 27, 1936, departing Southampton. It took only a record five days to reach New York. The QM has four propellers weighing 35 tons each, a 140-ton rudder and weighs 81,234 tons. In its glory days, it carried 1,957 passengers serviced by a crew of 1,174.

During World War II, however, the QM underwent a transformation. The ship became the "Grey Ghost" when it was camouflage-painted and its portholes blacked out. Because its four, 40,000 hp turbine steam engines could outrun German U-boats, it became a military transport. Servicing the war effort, it traveled more than 600,000 miles and carried over 800,000 troops. One historic journey to New York in May of 1943 included passenger Winston Churchill and 5,000 German prisoners of war.

Here is my personal history: My father was on the Queen Mary when he was sent as a young officer to England. He would talk about the fact that the Queen Mary was so fast it could not have any escorts. The good news was that no U-boat could catch it. The bad news was that, if a U-boat happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, it could sink the Queen Mary. This made the trip unnerving to say the least. (Dining British style where officer were treated like royalty made up for some of his anxiety.)

When given the choice between becoming a museum for gawking curiosity seekers, and being a ship on the high seas, outrunning the enemy, bringing glory to the British crown, the QM opted for glory. And now, once again, when QM's use as both luxury liner and transport carrier are clearly no longer possible, she is creatively surviving in the market economics of the new old economy as a floating restaurant attracting thousands of tourists every year and exposing them to her past, present and future glory. She's no museum; she's earning her way in yet another life, or adaptation. Next week there will be a haunted Halloween party on the good ship.

An interesting lesson for us all: how do we adapt when we age and circumstances change? Can we be as flexible and dependable as the good old Queen Mary?

Story Number Two: Sometimes We Need to Be Inflexible

The second story is about my mother. She spent a lot of time on a boat. So much in fact that she never wanted to go on another boat again. A few years before my dad set sail on the Queen Mary, my mother, her sister and her parents left Northern France and boarded a ship for Cuba. It was May, 1939 and they were leaving Europe behind right before the war began.

As some of you know, along with an English ship named the Orduna and a German ship named the Saint Louis, by far the most famous of the three, my mother’s ship, the Flandre, set sail with her German refugees. But when the ship reached Havana harbor, the visas were declared invalid and my mother and her family were not allowed to disembark.

The ship then sailed to Miami Beach. The U.S. Coast Guard, on orders from President Roosevelt, commanded the ship to leave or be fired upon. No Jews welcome here.

Here’s where it gets interesting. The captain of the ship then refused to take the ship back to France. He knew that would be a death sentence. So he sailed the high seas, waiting for a port that would let in the Jews. Eventually they were allowed back into France and granted some limited protection. My mother was luckier than most.

But the captain will always be a hero to me. He chose not to adapt, not to follow the orders of the company. He listened to his conscience.
(As did the captain of the St. Louis.)

A question: when are there times when we will not adapt? When we say we will stick to our ground?

Adapt or die? Die before you adapt? It all depends on the context.

One more story:

Story #3: Noah's Ark: Learn to Let Go

The third boat is from this week's Torah portion, Noah. Noah's Ark is a story we all know quite well. But what we might not remember is this was no normal ship, no Queen Mary or Voyager of the Seas. Noah's Ark had no rudder, no steering wheel, nothing that could make Noah feel he was the captain. For with Noah's Ark the captain was God. God was stirring the ship.

There are times in our life when we feel vulnerable like the Queen Mary, or we don't know what people want from us. We feel lost. And at times like this it is important to remember the lesson of Noah's Ark. Sometimes we have to put our trust in God and know that somehow, we will find dry land, and in the meantime the lions won't eat all the other animals and then start dining on us!

In conclusion consider this poem, by author unknown, about our need to let God steer sometimes.

I have in my hands two boxes
Which God gave me to hold.
He said, “Put all your sorrows in the black box
And all your joys in the gold.”

I heeded God’s words, and in the two boxes
Both my joys and sorrows I stored.
But the gold became heavier each day
The black was as light as before.
With curiosity, I opened the black,
I wanted to find out why,
And I saw, in the base of the box, a hole
Which my sorrows had fallen out by.
I showed the hole to God, and mused,
“I wonder where my sorrows could be.”
God smiled a gentle smile and said,
“My child, they’re all here with me.”
I asked why God gave me the boxes,
Why the gold and the black with the hole?
“My child, the gold is for you to count your blessings. The
black is for you to let go.”

May we be safe on our journeys, sometimes adapting, sometimes dropping anchor and standing firm. And always in the presence of God.

Living in the Light: Kol Nidrei Sermon

2009-09-25T09:10:00.000-07:00

As you know, this year our congregation will be focusing on the power of stories in our lives. Yom Kippur is a great time for telling stories.

Here is one that I love: A religious man who had reached the age of 105 suddenly stopped going to synagogue. Alarmed by the old fellow's absence after so many years of faithful attendance, the rabbi went to see him. He found him in excellent health, so the rabbi asked, "How come after all these years we don't see you at services anymore?" "I will tell you, Rabbi," the old man whispered. "When I got to be 90, I expected God to take me any day. But then I got to be 95, then 100, and then 105. So I figured that God is very busy and must've forgotten about me...and I don't want to remind him!"

The logic of this man may not make sense but his desire is understandable. He wanted to hide from the inevitable. And we must admit there are times when we would all like to hide.

Many of us are fans of the Harry Potter stories and movies. Remember Harry's Invisibility Cloak? When he throws it on he disappears during critical moments in his magical adventures. He cannot be seen by anyone and can do whatever task is required in secret.

Wouldn't such a cloak come in handy at times? How about when watching a really embarrassing movie like Bruno? With your kids? Or when we ask someone out and they reply, "Let's just be friends." Or when we make a joke and nobody laughs. Sure would like that invisibility cloak then!

Apparently science may be catching up with Harry Potter. Researchers have shown they are able now to cloak three-dimensional objects that redirect light around them. The light waves are deflected and the objects look invisible. James Bond had a car like that in one of the movies. But now such things are real. If you want to be invisible, all you have to do is figure out a way to bend light around yourself.

But becoming invisible is not the message of Yom Kippur. Today we are given the opposite charge: become visible. Reflect God's light. Live in the light, not the shadows. Bending light and hiding ourselves is bad. Reflecting light and being visible is good.

Think of Yom Kippur as our Visibility Cloak. It reminds us that we wrap this day around ourselves like the tallit we wear only one night a year -- tonight -- so we remember to show ourselves to the world. God does not want us to hide. God wants us to move from darkness to light, from invisibility to visibility, from an undercover existence to an elevated station in the world.

But exactly what does it mean for us to live in the light? To don our cloaks of visibility?

First and foremost it means to see ourselves as we truly are. This is not easy. The Museum of Modern Art in New York has a painting by Picasso entitled, Girl Before a Mirror. It shows the painter’s young mistress in profile, gazing at her reflection in the adjacent mirror. But here’s the thing: her reflection does not look like her. She doesn’t see herself as she truly appears!

Most of the year we are like that girl. We see a distorted image of our authentic selves. On this day we don our cloaks of visibility and we see the true image.

I know that seeing ourselves as we really are is not easy. Most of us have done things we regret. We have made mistakes, hurt people, failed to live up to the expectations of others.

Mario Puzo, the writer of The Godfather novel that became a smash motion picture, later admitted he did not try very hard when writing the book. He wrote the book for the money, not for art’s sake. Ruefully looking back, he once declared, “If I’d known so many people were going to read it, I’d have written it better.”

Living in the light mandates that we engage in that tough soul accounting, what the Rabbis called “cheshbon ha-nefesh”. It means we are honest about the choices we have made, and that we hold ourselves responsible for the wrong choices.

The idea that we are defined by our choices has not been too popular in the last few years. Somehow, as a society, we imagined differently. We thought we could do whatever we liked. It’s like someone on a diet who thinks they have discovered a way to eat whatever they want and not get fat. Such diets never work because there are always consequences to the choices we make.

Likewise, there are consequences to the moral choices we either make or avoid. To put it another way, as much as we don’t use the old word “sin” very much anymore, it is still a useful way to remind ourselves that some of our deeds are wrong. We come to this Holy Place, reminded that we stand before God. “Know before Whom You stand” was written in large Hebrew letters before the Ark in my childhood synagogue.

But in our daily lives all too often we allow ourselves to live by another ethos, namely, “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

We pick and choose our ethics. We are hypocrites. We tell our kids one thing while practicing its opposite. We cheat on each other. We lie with aplomb. And all the while we pull our Invisibility Cloak tightly around us, imagining our lives are impenetrable to God’s light.

But even though we don’t like old-fashioned terms such as “sin” we cannot deny the fact that we are untrue to our higher selves, to God’s expectations for us, and to each other.

How might we define sin today? Think of the army chaplain who was with a young man dying on the battlefield. In the last moments of his life, the chaplain tried to console the soldier as best as he could.

“Son, is there anything I can do for you?”

The soldier replied, “No.” And as the memories of his life flashed before his eyes, he said to the chaplain, “Sir, what I need now is someone who can undo some things for me.”

What fills our list of things we would like to undo? My hunch is that that’s where we will find most of our sins.

To live in the light means to see our lives for what they are, sins and all. And to stop pretending that the acts we perform have no bearing on the state of our souls.

And so I say, on Yom Kippur, let in the light.

Rabbi Nachman of Bratzlav, that wise man of the early 19th century, once taught that “truth is the light by which to find your way out of darkness. Turn on that light.”

And this is the very message I wish to share with you tonight. Let the light in and see the truth. For we cannot improve if we don’t start with the truth.

One of Reb Nachman’s favorite midrashim was the story of God creating human beings. The angels in heaven worried that humans would be corrupt. Some supported the creation, saying that humans would be kind and righteous. Others were against it, arguing that we would be filled with strife and falsehood. So what did God do? God took the attribute of Truth and cast it to the ground.

The angels cried out, “Why, O God , would you cast truth out of heaven?” To which God replied, “Truth will spring up from the ground.” In other words, even though we will sin and make many mistakes, when we face the truth of our actions we will begin the road toward redemption.

My friends, Reb Nachman was right: the road towards redemption only goes one way: through our being honest about our true selves. This is the night for that honesty. We can wait no longer.

Let in the light.

When it comes to light, of course there is more to it than seeing our true selves. In addition to seeing ourselves clearly, I believe living in the light means reflecting God's light by our actions.

Consider this question, "Would you rather be a star or a moon?" Most people would answer that they want to be a star. Who wants to be a lifeless moon when you can shine in a blaze of glory? But another view is that none of us are stars. God is the only ultimate source of life. We are all created to be reflecting moons. Moons are important. They reflect the light of the sun in the darkness. Think about a dark night lit up by the glow of a full moon.

And how many ways can we reflect God's light! In this time of uncertainty, of disappointment and lack of hope in a better future, our task is to be the hope. To bring the better day.

We know that the world is a darker place than it was a year ago. All the more reason for us to work harder to reflect God’s light.

Here are some things we can do in the year ahead:

• Reach out to our sister city in Russia and let them know they are not forgotten.

• Volunteer in our Soup Kitchen.

• Read to a youngster in an under-funded school.

• Participate in green-related activities and reduce our carbon footprint.

• Work to remind people of those suffering in Darfur.

We can reflect God’s light by our actions. Now is the time to bring hope to our darkened world. We are the light.

God’s light can shine anywhere, if we bring it. Even where darkness often is found: Hospital rooms, nursing homes, mourner’s homes, these are places waiting for the light of God. And we are the very ones who can reflect that light.

Here is a thought, taught by Rabbi Donniel Hartman of Jerusalem. When God created the world, as recorded in the Bible, God gave us human beings the responsibility to take care of the world. Why does God do this, and especially on the sixth day? Here is a possible answer: Because God was planning on the seventh day to retire! As we read, on the seventh day, God “rested” or “retired”. The point? Now it’s our responsibility to continue the tasks begun by God. To be the moon to God’s star.

All of us would agree that righteousness is a goal to which we should all strive. But how do we obtain righteousness? How can we live the lives we are supposed to lead? Simply put: we live in the light and we reflect God’s light.

And here is the best part of all: Besides taking responsibility for who we are and living our lives as reflections of God's light, there is one other thing to remember: Wherever we go, the light of God is with us.

There is a legend about a Cherokee youth’s rite of passage. One day at dusk, his father would take him into the forest, blindfold him and tell him to sit on a stump and remain there for the whole night, not removing the blindfold until the rays of the morning sun shined through it.

The youth could not cry out for help to anyone. Once he survived the night, he would be deemed a man. He could not tell the other boys of this experience because all young Cherokee males had to come into manhood on their own in the same manner. The boy, naturally, would be terrified. He could hear noises of all sorts. Wild beasts must surely be all around him. A human might even come along to do him harm. The wind would blow the grass and earth, and shake his stump, but the boy would sit stoically, not removing the blindfold. It would be the only way he could become a man!

Finally, after a horrific night, the sun would appear and the young man could remove his blindfold. Only then would he discover that his father was sitting on the stump next to him. He had been at watch the entire night, protecting his son from harm.

I know there are many times when it is hard to believe our lives are bathed in the light of God. I also know that many in this sanctuary tonight find it hard to believe at all in God’s loving presence. Most of us have doubts.

But there are also many of you who continue to inspire me with your faith in God despite illness, economic down-turn, or family trauma. Your faith transcends these troublesome times. Somehow you know that God’s presence is never far away from us, especially in the darkest of nights.

In the end, of course, it’s not about believing as it is feeling. We all want to feel that we are not alone. Just as we should all feel summoned to be the best people we can be. We want to let in the light, reflect the light, and find warmth in the light of a force far beyond us and yet so near.

Our visibility cloaks – our tallitot, worn especially on this night, remind us to act with integrity, to strive for righteousness, and to know we are surrounded by a loving, eternal presence.

At the beginning of our service we listened to the choir sing these words: Or zarua latzadik ul'yishrei lev simcha. "Light is sown for the righteous and joy for the upright in heart." Perhaps another way to translate these words of the Bible is like this: Or zarua latzadik -- a righteous person strives to live in the light. Ul'yishrei lev simcha -- and in so doing their righteousness brings them joy.
May we come to know such profound joy in the year ahead. Amen.

Crossing the Narrow Bridge: Rosh Hashanah Morning Sermon

2009-09-18T07:54:00.000-07:00

A rabbi was greeting folks at the door after the service when a woman enthusiastically shook his hand and said, “Rabbi, that was a great sermon!”

Flushed with pride but wanting to appear humble, the rabbi said, “Oh, it wasn’t me. I have to give credit to God.”

The woman then replied, “Hey, it wasn’t that good.”

Well, if you don’t like today’s sermon, don’t worry. I won’t blame God!

But I must admit to some trepidation this year in speaking to you. This being my fourteenth year as your rabbi, it might be hard to believe that I would feel challenged to preach before you. But these are not normal times. In the year that has passed since last Rosh Hashanah we have seen our country in general and our Jewish community in particular suffer through economic upheaval and unbelievable disappointment. People here have lost jobs, or their retirement investments, or both.

In addition to disappointment there has been anger that this upheaval occurred and that those who perpetrated it may not be punished. There is a shaken belief in the ability of our country to get things right. And the new president’s promises for cooperation and societal advancement have yet to see fruition.

I suppose, looking back in the year that has passed, it could have been worse for many of us. Most of us still have our jobs. And most of us never knew who Bernie Madoff was before last December. And yet, we, too, are not immune to the gloom of these days. Where is the hope for a better future? Who can say what tomorrow will bring?

Now, I know my role is not to remind you that times are tough. I remember last fall beginning Shabbat services every week by recognizing the economic problems people were facing. After one service, a congregant came up and told me to stop reminding them that times are tough. My job was to help people forget.

That, you see, is why I pause before speaking words to you today. How can I bring hope in an age of great uncertainty? It’s a New Year, but there are so many questions out there. What can I say to the turbulence of our times?

Fortunately, I am familiar with great minds and souls who, over the centuries faced similar dilemmas. And I can draw insight from them. This year as a congregation it is fortuitous that we are focusing on one particular Jewish sage, Rebbe Nachman of Bratslav. Reb Nachman was a Chasidic master who lived two hundred years ago. On the surface, it would be fair to wonder what an Eastern Europe Orthodox teacher who died in 1810 would have to say to us twenty-first century liberal American Jews. And you can be sure that most of Nachman’s followers these days would not be comfortable in a Reform synagogue.

But Rebbe Nachman’s wisdom was perfect for our times. His life was short, only thirty-eight years. But he achieved great spiritual insights in that brief amount of time. He lived and taught in an era of great upheaval, a time of wars and economic collapse. His lifetime spanned the beginnings of the Industrial Revolution, the American War of Independence and the French Revolution. Goethe, Kant, Byron, Beethoven and Mozart were all active during his day. The large issues still on the pages of our newspapers were first poised at this time: the rise of reason and the prevalence of profound doubt. New worlds were conquered even as our inner lives faced a new and pervasive emptiness. The Rebbe himself was plagued with personal challenges.

He famously taught that life is a very narrow bridge, complete with ever-present stumbling blocks and dangerous passages. But the view from the bridge can be breathtaking. And so, as we cross the bridge of life, we are enjoined to approach the future with hope and joy, not fear and anxiety.

In this age when fear and anxiety appear to have won, I can think of no better corrective. And I am glad we have the wisdom of Rebbe Nachman to guide and inspire us.

How exactly can his teaching help on the New Year? Fortunately, it turns out that Nachman’s favorite holiday by far was Rosh Hashanah. It was the day when his followers would check in with their teacher and practice the difficult art of celebrating life amidst its uncertainties.

At its essence, Rosh Hashanah, despite any surface comparisons to the secular New Year’s Day, is not conducive to joy. The ancient rabbis called it the Day of Judgment. Our health, our wealth, our very lives, are at stake. The year ahead is an open book and no one knows what the title reads. Is it the Book of Life or the Book of Death?

How do we respond to the uncertain future, especially at a time such as this? This is what Rabbi Nachman taught:

Rosh Hashanah is a vital day because even its name reminds us what matters most. Rosh Hashanah: the head of the year. And thus we learn, when contemplating the challenges before us in the year to come, what matters most is…the head! He asks us: What can we accomplish in the months to come if we attempt to begin the year right and have our “heads” – our thoughts – in the right place?

And so he teaches us: We must be wise on Rosh Hashanah and only think good, positive thoughts: that God will be good to us and give us a good year. We have to find a reservoir of hope deep inside of us.

Let’s not allow the simplicity of this message to fool us into thinking that this work is facile or unimportant. In an age where we seem to have so little control, how we think about the future is no small matter. And “getting our heads” in the right place is no small thing. Because, even though the challenges are real, so often the biggest obstacles we face are the ones inside our heads.

Let me share a personal example.

Since I was a child I liked riding a bike. I have owned many bikes, mostly what we would call the “hybrid” variety. After moving to Miami I enjoyed riding around my neighborhood. Eventually I would ride about ten miles or so. It seemed like a lot to me.

Shortly after moving here, people told me they would ride from Coral Gables to Miami Beach for breakfast. They might as well have told me they were flying off to Mars. It seemed impossible anyone could ride that far. For one thing, they would have to cross a bridge. A very narrow bridge, what with all the cars zipping by. And I said to myself, “that will never be me.” And I believed it.

This spring Melanie and I decided to visit friends in Aspen and I was informed that I would be riding a bike. Up a mountain. “Right!” I thought. But while driving over to Key Biscayne for the annual tennis tournament I seriously considered the Rickenbacker Causeway. I had always thought there was NO WAY I could ever make it up that bridge on a bicycle. No way. But then it occurred to me: “What if, after thirteen years of telling myself it was impossible, I was wrong?” And a couple of weeks later I took my old bike and rode up to the top. I even passed some guy on a sleek road bike! And when I got to the peak of that not-so-narrow bridge, I said to myself, “Eddie, you are a fool. The only narrow bridge here is your lack of faith in yourself.” In other words, it was all in my head!
Thirteen years I could have been riding around the city but for one thing: it never occurred to me that I could.

I share this story with you because I hope it will inspire all of us to reconsider the givens in our life. In an age of so much anxiety, maybe there are things we can do that we never trusted ourselves to do before. After all, Miami Beach is not Mars. The Venetian Causeway is not so narrow. And the Rickenbacker Causeway is not so very steep. I was wrong.

I also tell this story because I believe, in an age of so much fear, it’s important that we share our stories with one another. By sharing our stories we unburden ourselves and we bring others into our lives. And we need each other, now more then ever. It’s no accident that Rebbe Nachman was known as a premier story-teller. He understood that in the telling of our story we open up ourselves and others to healing.

And so I challenge you to think about the narrow bridges in your life. What barrier is keeping you away from crossing the bridge? What obstacle is really “only in your head?” Maybe it’s a project that you thought you could never complete. Or a relationship you felt was beyond repair. Maybe, having lost a career, you have a dream you think is impossible to realize. And just maybe, this dream is easier than you think to come true.

As Rebbe Nachman said, So much is in the head. And we should begin the New Year with our heads filled with hope.

Think back to the Torah portion for today. The text does not say that a well suddenly appeared. It says that Hagar’s eyes were opened so she could now see it. The miracle was spiritual, not physical. The well had always been there, but Hagar was too afraid to see it. Only when she finds the strength to see the well and hope for salvation does the well become visible to her. For Hagar the crisis really was in her head.

Having allowed me to share a personal example, please also permit me to speak about Temple Judea. It is no secret that the Jewish community has been rocked by the upheavals of the year. Local synagogues have not been immune and there is uncertainty here at Temple. Your synagogue staff has even voluntarily forgone contracted raises because of justifiable anxiety about the future.

Nevertheless, taking Rebbe Nachman’s teaching to heart, your leadership has refused to give up hope that our congregational future will not be rosy and bright. We are continuing to dream of transforming our educational wing into a first-class learning institution, a place where all ages, including our youth, will learn in a twenty-first century environment that bespeaks the relevance of ancient Jewish insights.

I know for many it is hard, in this day and age, to imagine a new building on the educational side that excites our students and allows us to grow in quality. But I challenge us to dream it and to “get our heads around it”. You will hear more about this plan from our president, Sheila Freed, on Yom Kippur.

Because if nothing else this day, I want us to see that, as Rebbe Nachman taught, even narrow bridges are built for only one reason: to be crossed. And the vistas they offer are breathtaking. They speak to us of a better tomorrow, of journeys yet to take, and dreams yet to be realized. We only have to imagine that the way ahead will be possible. That somehow we will get across.

And in our success, we also will be called to help others on their journey. It is not enough to overcome the obstacles on our path, the fear and anxiety, the lack of vision. We must also help our friends and family, especially our children, make their way in a scary world.

The words of this poem tell us what we must do:
An old man, going on a lone highway,

came, at the evening, cold and gray,

to a chasm, vast, and deep and wide,

through which was flowing a sullen tide.

The old man crossed in the twilight dim;

the sullen stream had no fears for him;

but he turned, when safe on the other side,

and built a bridge to span the tide.

Old man, said a fellow pilgrim, near,

you are wasting strength with building here;

your journey will end with the ending day;

you never again must pass this way;

you have crossed the chasm, deep and wide;

why build you the bridge at eventide?
|
The builder lifted his old gray head;

Good friend, in the path I have come,

he said, there followeth after me today

a youth, whose feet must pass this way.

This chasm, that has been naught to me,

to that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be;

he too, must cross, in the twilight dim;

good friend, I am building the bridge for him.

Friends, when it comes to our journeys, let’s remember we are not sole travelers. We also lead the way for others. May our efforts bring a brighter future to those who follow us. Especially when it comes to ensuring a vibrant Jewish identity for our children and grandchildren we must be strong in showing them the way.

When I finally made it across the Rickenbacker Causeway I was treated to an amazing sight: the most beautiful rainbow I ever saw, stretching across the very vault of heaven.

And I knew a sign when I saw it. Rebbe Nachman was right: the world is a very narrow bridge. And the most important thing, especially when greeting the New Year, is to go ahead and cross it. And – as best as we can – not to be afraid.

2009-09-10T08:33:00.000-07:00

A New Year Around the Corner, And It's Time to Rethink Our Lives

Soon the New Year will come. If it seems early this year, just wait until 2010, when we will already be preparing for Yom Kippur by this time! I look forward to sharing these Days of Awe with you, knowing that much has changed in the year gone by, and many have suffered economic stagnation or worse. Fear and anxiety are palpable everywhere. We need to be together as a congregation and to draw strength from one another and from our spiritual heritage.

I have found that troubling times can lead us to rethink our lives, the decisions we have made and the ideals we embrace. The High Holy Days offer this opportunity every year. In the last few months I have found myself rethinking one important decision I made when I began my rabbinate. New rabbis in the Reform Movement have to choose whether or not they will officiate at interfaith marriages. In our society that usually means a marriage between a Jew and a Christian who has not converted. Although I began twenty years ago as a rabbi dedicated to the ideal of welcoming interfaith families into the synagogue, I felt it was not my place to stand under the chupah and officiate as the rabbi. This view on the surface appeared contradictory: I would not officiate but the next day I would gladly welcome the couple as members. I prefer to think it was a view reflective of life's complexities, not my hypocrisy. But I understand the people who did not see it that way. And I regret that my refusal upset some people.

Now, twenty years later, I have decided to change my position. If the couple is dedicated to making a Jewish home and -- if they are blessed with children -- raising them as Jews, I believe it is my place as a Reform rabbi to officiate. Of course, just as I have had colleagues in the last twenty years who officiated and whom I respected, so I know I will have many colleagues who still will not officiate and I respect their choice.

Why the change? I believe it is important that our actions, especially in matters of the spirit, reflect reality. And the reality at Temple Judea is that we have many amazing interfaith families where the children are being raised as proud and learned Jews. The non-Jewish partner is often very involved in the Jewish education of the children and in the Jewish living of the household. I cannot say strongly enough how much I appreciate the efforts of non-Jewish members of Temple Judea to enrich our religious community.

If I could go back in time and officiate at the wedding ceremonies of such couples, I would gladly do so because it just seems right to me.

I understand that my decision comes too late for many people and I hope, in the spirit of these Holy Days, you will forgive me for any pain I caused.

I invite discussion about this decision. I am always interested in what you have to say. I also think that rabbinic officiation at a wedding is one small part of the much larger question of welcoming interfaith families into the community and I heartily applaud all that our amazing Outreach Committee does in this area.

I look forward to seeing you next week, if not this Shabbat for services on Friday night and especially at our Selichot study session, desert and service. If you have never attended, I hope you will consider doing so this year. I believe you will find it worth the effort.

Shanah Tovah U-Metukah,

Rabbi Goldberg

Blessed in the City

2009-09-04T07:32:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite TV shows is Mad Men, on AMC. The show is about a man, Don Draper, who works at an ad agency in New York City, in the early 1960s. A key theme of the show is that Don is living a double life. He is a philandering male chauvinist pig in the city and comes home to be a good husband and father in the suburbs, actually Islip, New York. Of course, one cannot be one way in the city and another way in the suburbs, and so Don is conflicted and slowly failing in all endeavors. He is drowning, figuratively, in the confusion.

In Jewish tradition the city was always evil. Babel. Sodom. You get the idea. Much has been written and more has been said about the great evils of the city. Charges were made that in cities people do not establish proper roots because everyone is "on the go." People do not know and do not care about each other.

American literature of the beginning of the twentieth century picked up this theme, such as in the book Sister Carrie, by Theodor Dreiser.

The cities even then were too noisy, too crowded, and too dirty. Working conditions in various factories were not conducive to good health and longevity. The moral tone was not enlightened.

On the other hand; the country always has been praised highly. Life there is considered calm; the air is fresh; and the people have a friendlier and closer relationship with one another. Social life is intimate and the familial values are stressed.

It is no accident, in the Bible, when Abraham chooses to dwell in the country while his less enlightened nephew chooses the evil city of Sodom.

And yet, where are we living? Let's face it: there is much to be said about the advantages of the city. Everything that is related to expansion and further development emerged in the city. Any progress that civilization may claim is closely related to the development of cities.

We know it's true: despite the many indictments of urban life, there are many advantages that greatly enhance urban living. Cities provide better water and food inspection, better sanitary conditions, better schools for children, better recreational facilities.

Cities have become research, educational and art centers. Cities provide specialized medical and hospital facilities. The diversified and effective functions of' all social institutions are due to developments of urban centers.

In this week's portion, God blesses the children of Israel saying:

"All these blessings shall come upon you and take effect, if you will but heed the word of the Eternal Your God: Blessed shall you be in the city and blessed shall you be in the country." Deuteronomy 28: 2-3)

As Jews, we should recognize the advantages of both, the city and the country, hoping that only the advantages that are associated with the city and the advantages that are associated with the country will come upon Israel as a blessing.

However, according to some rabbis, this passage conveys more than just the blessing of urban and rural living. The Midrash relates Rabbi Yitzchak saying:
Blessed shall ye be in the city, on account of the mitzvot, good deeds you perform in the city ... Blessed shall you be in the country, on account of the mitzvot, good deeds you perform in the country." (Midrash Rabbah, Deuteronomy 7:15)

Perhaps the Midrash seeks to teach us that anywhere we live can be an invitation to righteousness or depravity. The fault lies not in the place but in us.

It is not city living or country living per se, that determines one's religiosity; it is the type of life one leads, the kind of values one holds and the activities he performs, in the city as well as in the country, that will be the criteria of one's religious commitments.

The question for these days is not whether to live in the country or the city.

The question is also not whether one should have values and reflect such values in one's actions. All of us here live in the city -- or at least most of us. And I will grant that all of us wish to be righteous people and have good values and practice good deeds.

But there is still a question to consider in our day: are our Jewish values the same as they once were, or has the city changed them? By city I mean more than an urban area. I mean the cosmopolitan, post-modern world in which we live. In other words, has the modern city changed our focus as a people?

Consider this:

Our city is not the same city of our ancestors. We may still fear antisemitism but most of our hours awake at night are not filled with worry about the gang down the street.

We live in an age of too much choice more than too much fear. We live in an age of always being "on" and connected. We live in an age of unlimited power, an age of unimaginable plenty. So whereas our values once were conservatism and survival of the Jewish people, they should now be focused on universal concerns. They should be about caring for the planet, and partnering with other faith groups in this endeavor. In other words, our concerns are more universal.

Universal concerns are not new to Reform Judaism. Remember that Reform Judaism began as a response to modernity. For instance, the traditional prayer, the Aleynu, is about our being different than everyone else. But the Reform version changed the prayer, making it about a universal dream of peace.

In the last few decades, Reform Judaism reverted back to a more particular approach, and our newer prayer books reflect this fact. This change reflected a post-modern sensibility. And of course there is nothing wrong with pride in our difference.

But the pendulum must now swing back towards the universal. This means that we see our synagogue as a place that serves the wider community.

When we come to the synagogue we should be inspired to reach out to others, to work with them on matters that concern us all: the environment, finding a haven in a technological blizzard, and yes, insuring health care insurance for all citizens.

We might even take a greater role in community organizing.

Let’s face it: we live in a city. And Temple Judea should be more than a building that stands on a corner. It should also stand for something in the city: a passion for social justice and community enrichment.

So let’s be proud of our reputation as a place of social justice and cultural relevancy. And let’s do more to foster our participation in the betterment of Miami.

“Blessed shall you be in the city and blessed shall you be in the country." Deuteronomy 28: 2-3)

While we are in this city, may we do more as individuals and as a congregation to share our good fortune with our community.

Is Now the Time for Healthcare Reform?

2009-08-07T06:36:00.000-07:00

Tevye, in Fiddle on the Roof, had some wonderful insights. Here was one: In Jewish tradition it is not a sin to be poor; but it's also not a sin to be rich.
Good Jewish capitalists have rejoiced in this teaching.
But was Tevye right?

This week's Torah portion features Moses reminding the people that affluence breeds a distinct mentality that is to be cautiously guarded against.
"Beware," Moses tells the people, "lest you forget the Eternal your God by not obeying the commandments …. lest when you have eaten and are satisfied and have built fine homes and have dwelt in them; and when your flocks and herds multiply and your gold and silver increases . . ..then your heart will be lifted up and you will forget the God who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage." (Deut. 8: 11-14).
Moses thus correlates prosperity with forgetfulness of God, wealth with irreligiosity.

His words are not confined to our portion but are central to the entire Book of Deuteronomy. Thus, in Moses' Song, recorded at the end of the book, we find the same motif. "Jeshurun (Israel) waxed fat and wicked . . . " said Moses, "and forsook God who made him; he condemned the Rock of his salvation." (Deut. X32; 15).
The Rabbis of the Midrash searched the pages of Scripture and found reference after reference concerning bountiful societies that crumbled in spiritual decay. The generation of the flood, the people of Babel, the men of Sodom and the ten lost tribes are but a few. (v. Sifre to Deut. 32: 15).
The question, however, arises as to why Moses saw irreligion as the aftermath of material accumulation.
After all, our tradition preaches hard work but also allows the rewards that come from this work.
How can this be condemned?

One answer is that Moses was not in any way condemning the fruits of labor per se. He was rather warning against a new mode of thinking that accompanies the accumulation of material possessions.
He was teaching that financial success does not equal righteousness, nor does it protect the rich from sinning. Nor is it a sign of God's grace and blessing.
"You will begin to say in your heart," said Moses, "My power and the might of my hand have gotten me this wealth."' (Deut. 8:17).
"You shall remember," Moses went on to tell the people, "that it is the Eternal your God who gives you the power to get wealth." (Ibid., v. 18).
In other words, having the trappings of the well-to-do starts to seem like an entitlement. We have it, so we must deserve it. Conversely, or perversely, those who don’t have it must not merit it. This thinking is a fallacy, of course, but an easy trap to fall into.

I have been thinking about rich and poor, well-to-do, and impoverished, as the national debate on health care rolls on.

As you know, Congress has been working on health-care reform, a measure pushed by the White House and identified as President Obama's "signature issue." The president's stated goal is to have health-care coverage for every American.
While all parties say progress is being made, it is a fact that any bill will be voted on only after the summer break. After waiting many decades, we will have to wait a little longer!

In the meantime, Florida once again is in the news as the place where social rioting against liberal agendas occurs. Whether this rioting is grass-roots or astro-turf, remains to be seen. Remember the 2000 “Brooks Brothers” riots in Miami, when GOP staff members were flown down to riot here, not looking as if they were part of the community, because they weren’t?
At the heart of the matter, at least for responsible people paying attention to the actual issues surrounding healthcare, we find the age-old question of how will we pay for it.

Thus far, the lawmakers have been split over how to pay for insuring all Americans, whether or not there should be a public plan competing with private plans, how universal health coverage will affect the quality of health care, how the costs will impact small business owners and their ability to hire employees and expand their businesses, whether abortions would be paid for under such coverage, and other matters.
While no one can predict with certainty where all of this will come out, there is a growing agreement among many religious people that whatever is decided on the specifics of the plan, there is a moral imperative to make sure no one is excluded from coverage.

To go back to the lesson of our Torah portion, just because most of us are lucky enough to have health care we don’t have the right to put off finding a solution to the crisis by waiting another decade or two.
But beyond the moral necessity of caring about the needs of the impoverished we might ask, Is there a distinct Jewish point of view? A Reform Jewish view?

Here is what the Religious Action Center, the social justice arm of the Reform Movement, says:

According to the U.S. Census Bureau, nearly 90 million Americans went without health insurance at some point last year, a number that is quickly rising with the unemployment rate. The growing number of uninsured individuals reflects the urgent need for drastic health care reform.

In the coming weeks, Congress has the opportunity to pass strong comprehensive health care reform that offers a public insurance option, expands coverage to millions of Americans, protects low-income and vulnerable populations, promises quality affordable care, and rests on a financially sustainable foundation. Committees in both the House and the Senate have already passed legislation with these critical components.

Jewish tradition is emphatic about the importance of the community providing health care for its vulnerable members. It is for this reason that Maimonides, a revered Jewish physician and scholar, listed health care first on his list of the ten most important communal services that a city had to offer to its residents. When members of a society at large are ill, our responsibility expands to ensure that medical resources are available at an affordable cost to those who need them.
President Obama has tried to summarize what real reform means as eight basic consumer protections:
• No discrimination for pre-existing conditions
• No exorbitant out-of-pocket expenses, deductibles or co-pays
• No cost-sharing for preventive care
• No dropping of coverage if you become seriously ill
• No gender discrimination
• No annual or lifetime caps on coverage
• Extended coverage for young adults
• Guaranteed insurance renewal so long as premiums are paid
(More information at http://www.whitehouse.gov/issues/health_care/)

Following the message of our Torah portion, as well as the teachings of our liberal Reform movement, our stand on healthcare is clear:
It is our responsibility to lift up the moral voice for health care reform, and to tell Congress to ensure swift passage of strong, comprehensive health care reform this year. All summer you can call Congress toll-free at 1-800-828-0498, or send an email, to tell your Members of Congress that health care is a right that must be available to all, not just those who can afford it.
Let’s not let all the partisan politics hide from us our responsibility to correct this national wrong and bring our great country in alignment with the moral values we profess.

Our Torah portion also contains the famous quote, “One does not survive on bread alone.” We usually understand this to mean that we need spiritual sustenance as well. If that is so, then I would argue that we cannot be satisfied with our healthcare coverage when so many others are in need. Our spiritual welfare demands we act to make our country a place of true justice and lasting peace. Amen.

Forgiveness Trumps Revenge

2009-07-17T06:27:00.000-07:00

Many years ago a rabbi was due to speak about forgiveness at a Yom Kippur service. Before he began he went into the congregation and took from his wife his little year old daughter. Cradling the daughter in his arms, he began the sermon. During the next few minutes, the rabbi gave a rather traditional sermon while the girl did her best to distract him and everyone else. She tried to grab his nose. And his glasses. And his tie. The rabbi never lost his cool but at one point he stopped his sermon and addressed the congregation. "Think about it," he said. "Is there anyting she could do that you could not forgive her for?" (As if on cue the girl took the rabbi's glasses and everyone laughed. But then he said: "When does that stop? When does it get hard to forgive? At three? At seven? At fourteen? At thirty-five? How old does someone have to be before you forget that everyone is a child of God?"

It certainly puts forgiveness in a different light when we consider it as part of the acceptance of a family relationship. In other words, forgiveness need not be a lowering of standards or a compromise so much as a recognition that family are forgiven, or should be forgiven, for most things, even if they don't deserve it.

This practice of forgiving family may make more sense to discuss in a couple of months but I was thinking about forgiveness, or more precisely, its opposite, revenge, because of this week's Torah portion.

In the portion we read about certain cities of refuge that people can flee to if they have by accident killed others. In order to escape the family of the victim avenging the death of their loved ones by killing the perpetrator, the accidental murderer is allowed to go to one of these cities and be safe.

Inherent in this practice is the understanding that the family of the victim may seek revenge. So instead of trying to reason with the family, the Jewish system sets up safe havens for the killer. In terms of social development, this practice was a step toward taking responsibility for revenge out of the hands of the family and making it the concern of society. In modern times we have moved from cities of refuge to police departments, courts and prisons, but the idea has not changed. Without the government stepping in, we would still be playing the role of vigilantes.

The urge to seek vengeance is that strong. What is wrong with us that revenge comes so easily? A surprising answer: Maybe there is nothing wrong at all.

I recently read a book about the subject of forgiveness and revenge by a local professor at the U. of Miami, Michael McCullough. The premise of the book, which is entitled, Beyond Revenge: The Evolution of the Forgiveness Instinct, is that the desire for revenge is not some social sickness but rather hard wired into our DNA.
We human beings, for the sake of our survival, have a shared desire to avenge injustice done to our families. (So do chimpanzees, it turns out.)

Fortunately, we also have it in our DNA to try to forgive those close to us for their wronging us. In order to ensure that our genetic code survives we are hard-wired to forgive our sister or brother. Even though God knows they don’t always deserve it. After all, she or he carries part of our genetic code too.

Dr. McCullough presents revenge and forgiveness as human traits. He also argues that we cannot remove the desire for revenge from our nature. Indeed, both revenge and forgiveness are part of our makeup. We cannot change our human wiring.

However we can do something that will promote forgiveness. We cannot change our nature, but we can change our world. We can make our world a place that has more justice and more mutual understanding. These efforts will allow our forgiveness instinct to trump our revenge instinct.

I believe this is a basic reason for religion in modern life. It is in our best interest to use religion to make our world a place that encourages forgiveness instead of revenge. And since the task is not about changing ourselves, we have to be involved in changing the world.

How do we make the world (or at least our corner of it) a more forgiving place? That is the question.

I know that one of our temple members is currently attending a program in New England entitled Seeds of Peace. The purpose of this program is to bring Jewish and Palestinian youth together for a joint camping experience. The hope is that, after living together, these youngsters will understand that deep down inside we are not so different. (Hopefully they will have more luck than in the new movie, Bruno.) Perhaps some of these campers will grow up to have a great influence on the future peace prospects of the Middle East.

Even closer to home I think we should remember that the social action projects undertaken by our synagogue, such as helping a school in the inner city, or reading to poor children, will support the creation of a more forgiving society.

I like to talk about changing ourselves, improving who we are, what the rabbis call tikkun nefashot. But there is a reason why social action, tikkun olam, is so important. Because there are some things about human nature that will not be changed. And thus we have to concentrate on society.

Let me be clear: my argument is not based so much on righteousness as it is on our own best interest. The ancient rabbis set up a system of justice based on the idea that people act the way they do to protect themselves. And the rabbis also subscribed to the rule that “what goes around comes around.” In other words, if we are rich and we abuse the poor, then we one day will suffer poverty. But we don’t have to be that fatalistic to realize that helping the unfortunate is in our best interest. We can also realize that breeding resentment and anger over the disparity in our society will not do us good in the long run.

So I am acting on rabbinic insight more than the Democratic party when I say tax the rich and give more to the poor. Ultimately it is also in the best interest of the rich to mitigate the extremes in economic status. Not only are we helping those less fortunate. We are also preventing the environment that leads to the desire for retribution and social upheaval.

Remember Iran last month. Remember what happens when people are too angry to keep civil order. We don’t need such behavior here. We have had it before. We certainly don’t deserve such behavior, but there is more we can do to prevent it happening in the future.

In conclusion, let me sum up what Dr. McCollough teaches and what we as members of this synagogue can take away from his teaching:
Truth #1: The desire for revenge is a built-in feature of human nature.
Truth #2: The capacity for forgiveness is a built in feature of human nature.
Truth #3: To make the world a more forgiving, less vengeful place, don’t try to change human nature: change the world!

Dr. McCullough himself will be speaking on this topic on Yom Kippur afternoon. I hope you will hear him. In the meantime, I hope you will take seriously the challenge before us.

Let’s not forget that there is much we can do to make the world a fairer place.

And let’s remember that the Ninth of Av is approaching, the day on which we remember the destruction of the Temples in Jerusalem. In rabbinic tradition, both Temples were destroyed in part because the haves mistreated the have-nots. We would do well to remember that that societies built on injustice never prosper in the end. It is in our best interest to work for a more righteous and level playing field in our markets and streets.

Between the Straits: The Evolution of Judaism

2009-07-10T07:27:00.000-07:00

Yesterday in the Jewish calendar was a day of fasting and mourning. Known by its Hebrew date, the Seventeenth of Tammuz, the date marks the beginning of three weeks of anxiety and mourning, leading up to the Ninth of Av, when the First Temple was destroyed. (Also the Second Temple.) This three week period is called "Between the Straits" in rabbinic tradition, because things keep getting worse until the final disaster strikes.

As you may know, I recently returned from Israel with a group of Temple members. We had a wonderful time. Our last Temple trip two years ago was also great, but this time we were in the country earlier and did not have to see what happens on The Ninth of Av. Two years ago we saw with our own eyes the spectable of thousands of Ultra-Orhodox Jews at the Western Wall bewailing the destruction of the Temple.

While it is difficult not to feel for those who suffered 2500 years ago, I could not stop thinking about all the wonderful developments for the Jewish people in the last sixty one years, now that we have a Jewish state. I am glad that this time, our group was able to enjoy the delights of Israel without having to see the sorrow. Going to the Wall on the Ninth of Av it would be possible to think that there was still no Jewish State. It is a bizarre experience!

The truth is that Israel is thriving, except for the tourist industry. And there were so many delights to enjoy! Our group of twenty-three, large by this year's standards, hiked throughout the country. A lot. And ate. A lot. And learned a lot about Israel's past, present and future. We will be planning another trip for early June 2011 so start thinking about going!

The Ultra-Orthodox in Jerusalem were not completely out of the picture this time either. For one thing, many of them visiting from New York for a conference stayed at our Jerusalem hotel. It actually seemed more like an invasion. And I must admit it was disconcerting in that, here we were in the holy city of Jerusalem, which is actually extremely diverse, but in our case filled with people who, by and large, refused to acknowledge our existence.

Far worse was a series of incidents happening nearby near the Jaffa Gate, the most popular entrance to the Old City of Jerusalem. First a little background: Jerusalem is a poor city in that so many people there are very Orthodox and therefore tend to have large families and small salaries. But there is also a booming luxury market, not coincidentally near our hotel. There are tons of high-end stores and restaurants. The new mayor of Jerusalem, who is secular and a multi-millionaire businessman, wants to encourage such development.

A few weeks ago he allowed a parking lot near the Old City to be open on Shabbat. His rationale was that non-Orthodox Israelis, who enjoy visiting the Old City on Shabbat, could have a place to park. Because of the construction of the light rail train in Jerusalem, parking on the street is in short supply. A parking lot is needed. But in response to this plan some Ultra-Orthodox Jews have been rioting. I was once stuck in such a riot years ago, and believe me, it is not a pleasant experience.

The ABC's Middle East correspondent Anne Barker became caught in violent street protests involving ultra-Orthodox Jews in Jerusalem last weekend. This is her graphic account of her ordeal:

As a journalist I've covered more than my share of protests. Political protests in Canberra. Unions protesting for better conditions. Angry, loud protests against governments, or against perceived abuses of human rights.
I've been at violent rallies in East Timor. I've had rocks and metal darts thrown my way. I've come up against riot police.
But I have to admit no protest - indeed no story in my career - has distressed me in the way I was distressed at a protest in Jerusalem on Saturday involving several hundred ultra-Orthodox Jews.
This particular protest has been going on for weeks.
Orthodox Jews are angry at the local council's decision to open a municipal carpark on Saturdays - or Shabbat, the day of rest for Jews.
It's a day when Jews are not supposed to do anything resembling work, which can include something as simple as flicking a switch, turning on a light or driving.
So even opening a simple carpark to accommodate the increasing number of tourists visiting Jerusalem's Old City is highly offensive to Orthodox Jews because it's seen as a desecration of the Shabbat, by encouraging people to drive.
I was aware that earlier protests had erupted into violence on previous weekends - Orthodox Jews throwing rocks at police, or setting rubbish bins alight, even throwing dirty nappies or rotting rubbish at anyone they perceive to be desecrating the Shabbat.
But I never expected their anger would be directed at me.
I was mindful I would need to dress conservatively and keep out of harm's way. But I made my mistake when I parked the car and started walking towards the protest, not fully sure which street was which.
By the time I realised I'd come up the wrong street it was too late.
I suddenly found myself in the thick of the protest - in the midst of hundreds of ultra-Orthodox Jews in their long coats and sable-fur hats.
They might be supremely religious, but their behaviour - to me - was far from charitable or benevolent.
As the protest became noisier and the crowd began yelling, I took my recorder and microphone out of my bag to record the sound.
Suddenly the crowd turned on me, screaming in my face. Dozens of angry men began spitting on me.
Spit like rain

I found myself herded against a brick wall as they kept on spitting - on my face, my hair, my clothes, my arms.
It was like rain, coming at me from all directions - hitting my recorder, my bag, my shoes, even my glasses.
Big gobs of spit landed on me like heavy raindrops. I could even smell it as it fell on my face.
Somewhere behind me - I didn't see him - a man on a stairway either kicked me in the head or knocked something heavy against me.
I wasn't even sure why the mob was angry with me. Was it because I was a journalist? Or a woman? Because I wasn't Jewish in an Orthodox area? Was I not dressed conservatively enough?
In fact, I was later told, it was because using a tape-recorder is itself a desecration of the Shabbat even though I'm not Jewish and don't observe the Sabbath.
It was lucky that I don't speak Hebrew. At least I was spared the knowledge of whatever filth they were screaming at me.
As I tried to get away I found myself up against the line of riot police blocking the crowd from going any further.
Reassurance

Israeli police in their flak jackets and helmets, with rifles and shields, were yelling just as loudly back at the protesting crowd.
For once I found them something of a reassurance against the angry, spitting mob.
I was allowed through, away from the main protest, although there were still Orthodox Jews on the other side, some of whom also yelled at me, in English, to take my recorder away.
Normally I should have stayed on the sidelines to watch the protest develop.
But when you've suffered the humiliation and degradation of being spat on so many times - and you're covered in other people's spit - it's not easy to put it to the back of your mind and get on with the job.
I left down a side street and walked the long way back to the car, struggling to hold back the tears.
And the irony is that my recorder, whose use had so offended the mob, had a dodgy flash card in it.
I hadn't been able to record a thing at all.
For all my illicit "work", I went home with nothing.

It doesn't help much to understand that these riots are more a political slap in the face to other Ultra-Orthodox Jews than to the rest of us. In the end, this behavior is just wrong.

It is fanaticism. And it is our shame.

This week's Torah portion is named for a fanatic who took it upon himself to kill an Israeli and his Moabite mistress. Pinchas is seen as a hero. Not as a murderer. But we know better.

And we know better when it comes to the way this reporter was treated.

I am reading a new book about the maturation of religion. It is entitled The Evolution of God, by Robert Wright. The general thesis is that religion has matured. It is no longer so primitive.

I doubt our Israeli Ultra-Orthodox cousins will read such a book. That is a shame because they need to take a hard look at themselves.

Our Jewish calendar puts us between the straits, leading up to the Destruction of the First Temple. But we should also remember the rabbinic reason given for why the Second Temple was destroyed: Jews mistreated other Jews.

Let's not let history repeat itself!

Let's not forget the importance of making our liberal voice heard. We, too, represent the Jewish people. We, too, have a say in the character and destiny of our identity. So please don't be shy. Don't let the Ultra-Orthodox capture the label of legitimate Jewry. We need to stand up for our vision of a Judaism that has evolved and matured, a Judaism that reflects civility and modernity.

I believe that we, too, are "between the straits," in the midst of a transition to either a better future or a disastrous one for our people. Let's not be afraid to assert ourselves.

Time to Break the Rules?

2009-07-08T09:40:00.000-07:00

Before I share today's subject I want to remind everyone that Rabbi Siegal is in Israel, attending a rabbinic seminar, and posting regular updates on her blog. Please check it out! I myself will be speaking about Israel on Friday night (July 10) and will post my remarks thereafter.

Melanie and I returned a few days ago from a wonderful few days spent in Aspen, Colorado. At one point we attended a free concert at the Aspen Music Festival. Now, I grew up going to classical music concerts, and I even studied music theory in college. I know that the average symphony is made of four movements and it is the height of ignorance to applaud between the movements. One only applauds at the end. But at this concert, where three symphonies were presented, each containing four movements, the crowd zealously applauded after every movement. Were they that misinformed? No. They applauded because we were witnessing a performance sponsored by the Aspen School of Conducting. And every movement of each symphony featured a different student conductor. Hence, it was correct to applaud their efforts, even if that meant applauding after every movement.

Sometimes you have to break the rules. Why? Because the rules are only there to serve a higher purpose.

Even Governor Palin may have been on to something akin to this reasoning when she declared she was quitting the governorship of Alaska so she would not be a quitter. Then again, maybe not.

But this much I know: the recent crisis in our financial world has spilt over to create a crisis in the American Jewish community. Institutions too big to fail (the Reform Movement of American Judaism) may fail. Big supporters of synagogues in the past cannot afford membership dues. And synagogues that were running as healthy as most not-for-profits run are now merging out of necessity or closing their doors.

It is a scary time. And is it time to break the rules? To try something new?

We are fortunate that, due to an amazing staff and wonderfully dedicated lay leaders, not to mention generous members, Temple Judea seems okay. (Check back with me after the High Holy Days membership drive.) But what about the future? Is it time to put on the table, for the sake of our congregation, subjects that were taboo before?

For instance, should this rabbi consider officiating at interfaith marriages (when a promise to raise the kids Jewish is made) because we need to strengthen our community, now more than ever?

Should we cut back on staff and expenses in anticipation of an uncertain future, or should we engage in a much needed renovation of our school building because our efforts now will pay off for years to come?

Should we close our building a couple of nights a week, or should we add programs, understanding that in dark times people need more opportunities for community building?

Should we use technology to make it easy for people to stay at home (i.e., web-casting services) or find more ways to bring people inside our building?

I do not have the answers to these questions, though I am ruminating on possible ones. I am interested in your thoughts. So please use the technology of the blog, or the old-school email, phone or letter, and let me know what you think!

Here's to a better year ahead!

Rabbi Goldberg

Temple Judea Israel Adventure -- Final Post

2009-06-17T00:19:00.001-07:00

Well, last night we had our goodbye dinner at the wonderful Olive and Fish restaurant. I am writing these words sitting outside on a cool, beautiful Jerusalem Wednesday morning, overlooking King George Street, at Cup o Joe Cafe. We all had a great time on the trip and people want to go back. We decided a better name for the trip is "adventure" then "excursion" since there were plenty of adventures, such as climbing down mountains and exploring ancient tunnels with knee-deep water. But everyone was a trooper and would not change a thing!
So make plans to join your temple for another Israel adventure in a couple of years, unless you can come here before.
Shalom from Jerusalem!

Temple Judea Israel Report #6

2009-06-15T08:32:00.000-07:00

The last couple of days have been filled with activity! On Sunday morning Dr. Reuven Hazan of Hebrew University gave us a lesson in Israeli political science, a few hours before the foreign policy speech of the Prime Minister. We then went to a soup kitchen that feeds many hungry individuals in Jerusalem and helped make lunch for them. Afterwards, we toured the Israel Museum’s model of the ancient city of Jerusalem and looked at the Dead Sea Scrolls. Most of the group then visited Yad Vashem, the Holocaust Memorial, while I went with one of our tour members, Josh, to the terrific Jerusalem zoo.

Today we left very early and many of us climbed the fortress Masada. There we had many of our bar-mitzvah age youngsters read from the Torah. We also took a hike to a beautiful spring in the middle of the dessert and everyone jumped in from the cliffs. After floating in the Dead Sea we have returned home. Tonight many of us will visit the special Jerusalem light show. We are told there is nothing else like it in the world.

Tomorrow we visit the Old City of Jerusalem as well as the new city’s market. I eagerly anticipate the best chocolate rugelach in the world!

Temple Judea Israel Report #5

2009-06-13T08:34:00.000-07:00

We have spent a beautiful Shabbat in Jerusalem. The key word for our trip has been “chick-chack” – which means “hurry up” – but thankfully Shabbat has been a little slower. Yesterday we challenged gravity by climbing down a steep cliff near the town of Tiberius. We saw caves where Jews hid from the Assyrians more than two thousand years ago. We also went for a swim in some natural pools and made our way to Jerusalem. On Shabbat we visited the Old City of Jerusalem and quickly learned about more than two thousand years of Jewish life in this sacred city.
Everyone is having a terrific time and the kids are great troopers! Tomorrow (Sunday) we will visit the Holocaust Memorial, Yad Vashem. We will be going to Masada on Monday (race, anyone?) and – believe it or not – the closing day is Tuesday!

Report From Israel #4

2009-06-11T09:29:00.000-07:00

Today we had a lot of adventure and fun. We started in Safed, one of the four holiest cities in Israel. We visited holy synagogues, shopped, and I had a great vegetarian lunch. We then went hiking in the Dan Nature Preserve (a little bit of Colorado) and afterwards took a bumpy but fun jeep ride in the Golan Heights. Tonight we will relax at the luxurious kibbutz and prepare to ascend tomorrow to Jerusalem for Shabbat.

Report #3 from the Temple Judea Israel Excursion

2009-06-10T09:17:00.001-07:00

This Wednesday was very busy. We began the day by visiting Rabin Square in Tel Aviv. It was here that the late Prime Minister was murdered by an orthodox Jewish student as he was leaving a peace rally. The site has become a place of pilgrimage for people who wonder what might have happened if this peacemaker had lived. In Central Park people visit John Lennon’s memorial and ponder the word”imagine”. At Rabin Square they see the graffiti left on the wall next to wear he was gunned down. The word is “forgive us”.
Our travels then took us to the ancient ruins of Caeseria and, seventeen miles away, a water system built by the Romans to carry water to Caeseria. We walked through long tunnels in ever-higher water. Last I checked everyone survived.
A highlight of the trip was a kayak/raft race down the “mighty” Jordan River. I have no pictures because I left my camera on the bus, knowing I would get extremely wet, or at least try to get everyone else wet! (I can report that both happened.)
Tonight we are at a beautiful Kibbutz/Spa and relaxing.

Report #2 from the Israel Excursion

2009-06-09T13:14:00.000-07:00

Today was a very busy day. We began with a delicious breakfast by the Sea. Half of Florida seems to be here, at least half the Reform rabbis, leading congregational trips between school letting out and camp beginning. Our first official stop was the site of the home of the first mayor of Tel Aviv, aptly named Meir Dizengoff. Tel Aviv is celebrating its 100th birthday this year. One hundred years ago, a group of Jews living in Jaffa, including Dizengoff, decided to start a suburb north of the city. They called it Ahuzat bayit and used sea shells as a lottery system to determine where people would build their houses. The city quickly took off. A few years earlier the founder of political Zionism, Theodor Herzl, had written a book about life in the new Jewish State. The German title translated as "The Old New Land" but the Hebrew edition used the biblical term from Ezekiel, Tel Aviv. A tel is an ancient archeological site, and Aviv is the Hebrew for springtime. Hence, old and new. The novel inspired the renaming of the city Tel Aviv, and the rest is history. Meir Dizengoff gave his house to the city, where it became the Tel Aviv Museum of Art. In May 1948, when the State of Israel was declared, Jerusalem was under siege and even Tel Aviv was not safe from Arab attacks so they had to pick a relatively safe place to declare the state. The old Dizengoff house was the perfect place. And the rest really is history.

Our group also visited a kibbutz where, underground and unbeknownst to the British, Jews made bullets to fight in the eventual War of Independence. After a lunch at a great coffee shop, Cafe Aroma, our group joined an archeological dig and discovered pottery that had not been touched in 2200 years. We also explored some other caves before returning to Tel Aviv for a night on the town!

Report #1 from the Israel Excursion

2009-06-08T20:40:00.000-07:00

Israel is beautiful (and much cooler than Miami)! By Monday evening our entire group of twenty-three had arrived. We were joined by our guide, Renee, and a representative of Arza World Travel, Arin, for a delicious dinner. We were then told we were free to go to sleep and rest up for an exciting day but none of us went to sleep. Instead we all took cabs to Jaffa to walk around one of the world's oldest cities by the light of a full moon. The place was hosting a big corporate party and it was strange to see young Israeli executives in sleek evening wear amid the ancient hills.

This morning we are having breakfast at the hotel on the beach and then visiting Independence Hall, the cite of the signing of the Israeli Declaration of Independence in May, 1948. Will also visit a factory that made secret arms for the Jewish fighters under the nose of the British in 1946 and we will take part in an archeological dig.

Temple Judea Israel Family Excursion 2009

2009-06-02T07:22:00.001-07:00

During the next few days our trip to Israel will begin. I hope that you will check in with this blog during the trip (June 7 through June 18) so you can see what your fellow temple members are doing (with pictures). Israel is not just a tourist destination (although the TV ads promoting Tel Aviv's 100th birthday are wonderful). It is also a place of pilgrimage for we Jews. It is a holy place, an exciting place, and a place where you rediscover not only your heritage; you also get to know yourself in a new and exciting way.

So check out the blog and start to make a plan to go to Israel (or return to Israel) yourself.

Rabbi G.

My Health is None of Your Business, Rabbi!

2009-05-20T06:51:00.000-07:00

A few months ago, as the Temple Judea leadership was wrestling with this difficult economy, I mentioned that an easy way to save a few dollars during this crisis, and especially during our Year of Wellness, was to stop serving soft drinks at meetings and worship services. As a rabbi I know I do not pass resolutions or set policy. My influence comes from my ability to persuade through reasoned argument and an appeal to Jewish insights. The fact that there has been little or no soda offered in the last few months is directly connected to my appeal, but there is no reason why this practice cannot be overturned if enough people find the lack of soda onerous or are upset by my position on the subject.

What has surprised me is the anger that some have expressed about my passionate appeal to the congregation to stop offering soft drinks. Some question the fact that soft drinks are not healthy. I am surprised at this question because I believe the research and current thinking is plain: soft drinks promote obesity and diabetes. They bring empty calories and have no nutritional value. Diet drinks are not much better. They also are expensive when compared to water. An article in the New York Times this week reports on a movement to start taxing sodas, just as we tax other unhealthy luxuries such as tobacco. (In the 18th century in America sugar, rum and tobacco were all taxed; maybe they were on to something.) I believe that future months will bring more articles and arguments in favor of fighting obesity by educating the public on the dangers of soft drinks. As an aside, this morning I had a delicious raisin bran muffin. I loved it. But I am not going to argue it was healthy. Bran is healthy. Raisins in moderation are healthy. Rain bran muffins are not healthy. Facts are facts.

What has surprised me even more than questioning the science of soda is the anger that some people feel about my (or the Temple's) "weighing in" (sorry about the pun)on the subject of people's health habits. Believe me I know that there is nothing more annoying than the recently converted vegetarian (and I apologize if that is me sometimes -- especially to my family if you are reading this blog) but I do believe it is my job to remind people that healthy living is more than a lifestyle choice. As I have written about recently it is a religious expectation. Eating well, exercising and making time for rest and reflection are at the heart of wellness and taught thoughout the ages in Jewish texts. And I believe Temple Judea has the right to follow these teachings with healthy practices.

As far as sodas and the temple goes, I cannot presume to tell the board what our policy should be. That is not my role. But it is my role to bring Jewish teachings as well as contemporary research to people's attention and I would hope that our practices would reflect these teachings and research. Temple Judea should stand for something. We should make statements and follow them up with actions. And if congregants are unhappy then please let us know. But I would hope we would have conversations based on the facts and the implementation of Jewish perspectives instead of questioning the right of a rabbi or congregation to back up its perspectives with tangible and practical decisions.

It Turns Out You CAN Go Home Again

2009-05-06T14:48:00.000-07:00

I write this from Kansas City, where I have gathered with my siblings for my mother's unveiling. During the course of the visit we were able to see the house where we grew up. The house was sold many years ago and I never thought I would be able to walk through its rooms again. Fortunately, the current owners were amenable to our visit and I found myself in rooms that evoked my childhood. The house has been redecorated beautifully and I am glad to see it looking so nice. But there is no way to disguise its essential nature and therefore the role it played in our lives, having lived there for decades.

Walking through the house with my siblings it did seem that we were in some sort of time warp. (Maybe I have been watching too many episodes of LOST). The mind knows that the world has moved on, but the physical reality of the place is overwhelming. I am 46 but also 16, mowing that damn lawn once again. The kitchen is radically altered (and nicer) but my mom is still there somehow, making me breakfast. And my dad is doing the Jumble.

I share these personal observations because I think they also reflect the magic of Jewish ritual and text. The world moves along, but when we engage in Torah study or worship we return to the basic characters, stories and prayers of our collective Jewish past.
We are not only READING about Sinai, we are STANDING at Sinai. We are not only READING about Abraham and Isaac. We are THERE, standing in the bushes with the ram. We recite the very words uttered millenia ago.

This feeling of being in the present and past at the same time also happens to me when I visit Israel. The current trip, past trips, and past episodes of the Jewish people all come together in holy places like Jerusalem. We are physically in one space and time but the past is always present. It is disorienting but also wonderful. For instead of being time-sick, as on the TV show LOST, which is disgusting (bleeding noses) and potentially fatal, the condition in Israel is exciting and life affirming.

And here is the good news: we need not find our old homes to have this experience. As Jews, we can go to Israel, and (re)discover our past. We can live in different eras at the same time. We can feel the "distortion" of modern Israel and ancient Israel and enjoy the way we are part of that larger story.

When it comes to Israel we CAN go home again. (Many -- actually most -- generations of Jews could not.) Believe it or not, it is not too late to sign up for the Israel trip I am leading, leaving in one month. So contact me (or ARZA World Travel) immediately if there is any way you might manage to go. We have a wonderful group already but would welcome more participants.

Life is short, and we owe it to ourselves to honor our past even as we enjoy present and plan for our future. So go visit your home if you can, but remember that Israel, too, is your home, even if you never have been there before.

Living Healthy Lives

2009-04-24T08:58:00.000-07:00

These days, it’s not only Temple Judea that has been thinking about wellness (our annual study theme). It seems like everything you read, if not about water-boarding or the economy (which is a lot, of course), is about health. Specifically, the fact that as a nation we are not healthy. We are overweight, we are addicted to fat and sugar, and we are getting worse every year.

Recently United Airlines said it would start making obese customers purchase two seats when they fly. While I understand this approach, it seems a bit like “throwing in the towel.” Can’t we speak of ways to help people lose the weight instead of just opening their wallet?

We should be honest: our country is in crisis. Today an unbelievable two-thirds (66.5 percent) of Americans are either overweight or obese and that number appears to be growing, not shrinking.

The result of this weight gain means more Americans will suffer from high blood pressure, high cholesterol, metabolic syndrome, pre-diabetes, diabetes, and advanced heart disease, as well as related ailments like sleep apnea, joint issues, and depression.

This week we also read that obesity leads to global warming. Without trying to make obese people feel guiltier, the facts are simple. Food costs energy to transport. And the more we eat, the more energy is expended. (This is also why supporting local food growers is so important.)

As we have seen throughout the year, Judaism has a lot to say about wellness. It so happens that this week's Torah portion features the priest, the Cohen, serving like a physician. Religious leaders often served in this capacity. Among savage tribes, the priest is also called the medicine man. Also among the civilized ancient Greeks, healing was done by the priests of the god Aesculapius, and his temple was the hospital. So, too, in our own purely monotheistic religion, the priest examined patients and diagnosed their ailments, as we read in this week's parashah.

Why is taking care of our bodies a matter of religion? On one level, the ancients saw physical suffering as a sign of God's displeasure. The priest could help you heal because he could help you first atone. Of course, this theory is not very popular today, as it blames the victim. And blaming the victim is not a useful path. Except maybe for smoking, eating too many desserts, and not wearing a motorcycle helmet.

But there is a more spiritual, more useful understanding of the connection between religion and health. The late Rabbi Solomon Freehof explained it this way:

A farmer buys a piece of hill land. He plows it in the wrong direction and the rain tears it into gullies. He keeps on planting the same crop and thus uses up the life of the soil. He insists that he owns the land and it he wishes to break it down and use it up, it is his own concern. Is he right?

Not according to our religion. God says: "The land is Mine." (Lev. 25:23). It must rest and be revived every seven years. We may buy it, but we have no right to destroy it.

So it is with our health. A foolish person may eat foolishly, neglect getting enough sleep, and endanger his life with reckless driving. If rebuked, he might say: It is my body. If I want to waste or risk my health, it is my own concern.
According to Judaism, he is wrong. Our body is indeed ours, but it is given into our care to be used for worthy purposes. As with the land, God says: "Ye are children to the Living God; do not wound your bodies."

So how do we serve God by maintaining our health? There are many things we can do to help us be healthy: eat well, sleep enough, and meditate.

The question is not whether or not to be healthy. The question is whether or not we are doing all that we can to be healthy.

Before our year of study ends, I thought it was worthwhile to reexamine our lives in light of God's expectations for us to live healthy lives.

So here are three major points I want to make:

1) Nothing comes without a price. To live healthier lives, we will have to plan, spend more, do without, and educate ourselves.

We have to plan how we eat and exercise, perhaps even writing down what we do. There are many software programs out there to make this work less tedious. We have to spend more on healthy food, organic food. We bristle at spending more, but what could be more important than what we put in our bodies? We will also have to say no to many things we enjoy, like excessive amounts of sugar.

I also have called for a ban on buying soft drinks at Temple Judea. Including diet soft drinks. We don't need them. And they are not good for us. They are good for people who have yet to stop drinking them. And they are good for employees and shareholders of soft drink companies. We don't need Coke. We don't need Pepsi. We really don't.

Education means understanding how food works, how the politics of food works, and what we can do to be more efficient in living healthy lives. Please attend the lecture on May 11 presented by Books and Books and Temple Judea. We are featuring best-selling author Michael Pollan.

2) Even a modest effort will bear fruit. We don't need become Charles Atlas. Or obsessive about becoming healthier. This actually would make matters worse. What should we do? Walk more. Avoid the elevator when possible. Cut out one alcoholic drink a week. Do five pushups. Start small. But start. The ancient rabbis said, "All beginnings are difficult". It's okay to take small steps, as long as they are leading in the right direction.

Speaking of steps, we might try using a device that measures how many steps we take each day.

3) Finally, we should remember that no one is exempt from these efforts, and no one need be alone. Don't make the mistake of thinking that most people don't have to follow rules of healthy living. Unhealthy living catches up with everyone. But we can also gain a lot from joining others in our pursuits.

A rabbi friend recently decided to join Weight Watchers. She will tell everyone she is joining, and announce it from the bimah. That way, she figures, she will be sure to stick with the plan.

In the Torah portion, people who were ill were taken outside of the camp. I would argue that the more positive lesson is, if we want to be healthy, we need to be part of the community, and we should use the resources of the community to help us in our efforts.

In conclusion, let’s not forget that the greatest barrier to our living healthier lives is not the cost of exercise, or the time, nor is it the high cost of organic food or joining a diet program. All of these matters can be had with any budget. The greatest barrier is our own mindset. We find it hard to go beyond the artificial boundaries we have set for ourselves.

But this is just a matter of the mind.

For thirteen years I avoided riding my bike up the Rickenbacker Causeway because I felt it would be too hard. For thirteen years I have ridden my bike up and down the streets of South Miami, but never over to Key Biscayne.

Two weeks ago I decided it was time to try. And you know what? It was a lot easier than I thought. I could have done it years ago!

I am not your physician or your personal trainer. I am not even your nutritionist. But as your rabbi I plead that you consider ways to make your lives healthier. For the sake of God, for the sake of your family, and for your own sake, nothing could be as important as maintaining and even improving your health.

What are we waiting for?

Jews and Pirates

2009-04-14T11:56:00.000-07:00

The latest incident in the Indian Ocean is filled with historical associations for America and for Jews. It is ironic that the ship sent to save the American captain, the USS Bainbridge, was named for a naval officer who fought the barbary pirates 200 years ago. The Jewish connection deals with the first U.S. diplomat of Jewish identity, Mordecai Manuel Noah. During the Barbary wars, Noah was posted as consul to Tunisia. He was sent home in disgrace from his post and to this day many assume his guilt was simply being Jewish.

The biggest connection between 200 years ago and today is that the Middle East still manages to create difficult situations for the U.S. (and Israel is a player in these difficult situations). Negotiating with pirates (re: terrorists, albeit ones who want money not glory) is never a good strategy for the long run. Yes, loved ones may be returned, up the ante is raised for the next time. Likewise, giving into the threats of our enemies buys us "peace in our time" but no lasting peace.

Our new president was fortunate in how this latest crisis was resolved. The looming crisis is Iran. They seek to take the world hostage with their mix of nuclear development and hateful speech. The world (including Israel, of course) can live with one or the other, but not both.

200 years ago, our government attempted to bribe the pirates and therefore avoid rebuilding our Navy. It did not work. Similarly, Iran either has to give up its nuclear program or renounce its hatred of Israel. If our country allows neither to occur, then we are no better than those who say the pirates should be paid their ransom.

Sooner or later the price becomes too high. And then where will we be?