After taking something of a narrative hiatus in the book of Vayikra/Leviticus (which serves as a handbook for kohanim as the rules and roles of the sacrificial system are put into place and issues of ritual purity and impurity are defined) we are picking up where we left off at the end of the book of Sh'mot/Exodus. In other words, we are "bamidbar" . . . we are in the wilderness. Specifically, still camped at the foot of Har Sinai.
Here we see Moshe as camp bus counselor (count the kids as they get on the bus at camp, count the kids when they got off the bus at the amusement park, count the kids when they get back on the bus back to camp . . . ): God turns to Moshe and instructs him to conduct a census, a head count. "We're breaking camp, packing up, and continuing the journey through the wilderness, Moshe, so make sure you know how many people you've got before you leave."
Then God delivers instructions further instructions for Aaron and his sons, the tribe of Levi: "At the breaking of the camp, Aaron and his sons shall go in and take down the screening curtain and cover the Ark of the Covenant with it. They shall lay a covering of dolphin skin over it and spread a cloth of pure blue on top; and they shall put its poles in place. . . .Then they shall take a blue cloth and cover the lampstand for lighting ...they shall put it and all its furnishings into a covering of dolphin skin, which they shall then place on a carrying frame . . . Next they shall spread a blue cloth over the altar of gold . . . " (Bamidbar/Numbers, Chapter 4)
The act of packing up is also of significance . . . all the accessories that had been so lovingly crafted in order to initiate the sacrificial system connecting God and Israel are now to be packed up as well, and very specific instructions are given to the tribe of Levi concerning how that packing was to be done.
Just a few weeks ago, we at Torat Yisrael packed up the sacred accessories that had enhanced our worship in Cranston for 60 years: our sacred scrolls, the white high holy day mantles, the eternal lights and the different sorts of prayer books and bibles we read, the Torah crowns and shields and pointers, the memorial plaques and dedication plaques, the ark curtains and doors and the building full of mezuzot as well . . . . It was a jarring sight to watch these iconic items taken down, wrapped up, packed into trucks and transported to storage. I had a strong sense that the kedushah, the sanctity, of each piece was being wrapped up along with the item itself. These objects cannot be reduced to mere "things." They are infused with the sanctity of their roles as they cover the scrolls, point to sacred words, adorn the Torah, reflect God's light in our places of prayer.
Just as the tribe of Levy mindfully wrapped up those items preparing to leave Sinai, we have mindfully wrapped and stored our items in anticipation of the day when our new synagogue building will be dedicated. Then our Torah scrolls, our Torah pointers and crowns and shields and mantles will be unwrapped and brought into their new home. Then their kedushah will be released from its wrappings and will be free to infuse our new sacred space with the holiness of our Torah and our kehillah k'doshah, our sacred community.
"If your brother falls low, and his hand falters beside you, then you shall strengthen him--sojourner or resident--and he will live with you." (Leviticus 25:35) This past Wednesday, I attended the fourth annual Interfaith Coalition to Reduce Poverty Conference. Each year at this conference, we receive the most up-to-date statistics available on Rhode Island's poor: adults and children. We also are given the opportunity to learn from experts in the field of fighting poverty in order to make more effective our own state-wide efforts. This year's topice was: Why Are People Poor? The Systemic Nature of Poverty in Rhode Island. A panel of three leaders in the fight against poverty on the national level spoke: Reverend Peg Chemberlin, Immediate Past President of the National Council of Churches, Rabbi Steve Gutow, President and CEO of The Jewish Council for Public Affairs and Imam Mohamed Magid, President of the Islamic Society of North America. Reverend Chemberlin's presentation included encouragement to act despite the prevalence and the momentum poverty has gained: "Pick something and do it. Don't be overwhelmed. Have a work plan." I learned Torah from Imam Magid: He taught a midrash from the Muslim tradition in which a poor man comes to Abraham. Abraham asks the man, "Do you believe in God?" And the man responds, "no." "In that case," answers Abraham, "I cannot feed you." The man turns away and God says to Abraham: "I've fed that man for forty years even though he does not believe in Me. I send him to you for one meal and you turn him away?" Abraham ran after the man, apologized and invited him to a meal. The poor man turns to Abraham: "You say God sent you to run after me to apologize to me and to feed me? That is a good God. I will believe in such a God." Imam Magid challenges us: "If you want to say you believe in God, show me what you have done to take care of God's creation!" Rabbi Gutow shared with us the shocking trend that poverty is decreasing in the developing world and increasing in the developed world. In other words, it is in the societies with the greatest resources that the numbers of those living in poverty is increasing. Rabbi Gutow concluded: "The world will be a better place if we do this work. The world will be a worse place if we don't do this work." I am sickened by the realities of poverty right under our noses here in Rhode Island: In 2010, there were 142,000 Rhode Islanders (14% of the population) living in poverty. The poverty level is defined as around $11,000 of income per year for a single individual and approximately $18,000 dollars of income per year for a single parent and two children. Of those living in poverty, 43% were living in extreme poverty . . . which means people living on an income less than half of the poverty level figures above. In 2010, there were 42,221 children in Rhode Island (19% of our State's children) living in poverty. This week's Torah reading, all the force of our tradition, God's expectations of us, all compel us to do more than read about the poor. We cannot click our tongues and make compassionate noises. We must all act. I invite you to contact me if you are ready to move beyond heartfelt compassion to action. In the meantime, here are two opportunities for involvement: Join the Interfaith Advocacy Project and become a Legislative Ambassador. You will be trained to be an effective advocate, you will learn about Rhode Island's legislative and budget processes and about poverty-related issues being considered in the current legislative session. Contact Reverend Donald Anderson, Executive Minister of the Rhode Island State Council of Churches if you have the time and the communication skills to take on this kind of role. Sign a petition. The federal government is seriously considering cutting funding for SNAP, the newest food stamp program for families. This is happening at a time when more and more vulnerable citizens are losing their food security (literally not knowing where there next meal is coming from). A third grader recently told her teacher that she did not have breakfast one schoolday morning because "it wasn't my turn." Please follow this link and add your name to mine: www.bread.org/snapworks.
Farewell to Cranston Bldg: April 22, 2012 / ראש חודש אייר תשע״ב
In several books, sociologist Robert Bellah argues that instead of forming communities, people form lifestyle enclaves, such as country clubs and suburbs that are composed of people with similar backgrounds, educations, ages, political views, and interests. What characterizes a lifestyle enclave is its homogeneity. When you can't pay your dues, you leave the country club. When your kids are grown, you sell your four-bedroom house in the suburbs with the basketball hoop in the driveway. What differentiates a community from a lifestyle enclave, he argues, is that community members' commitments run deeper and the diversity of the members is much greater.
Between our foundation congregations of Beth Israel and Beth Torah, we are standing on the shoulders of 90 years or so of community: for close to a century, the commitment, the vision, the passion and inspiration of those who created Beth Israel, The Cranston Jewish Center, Beth Torah and Torat Yisrael have shown us how to be, sustain and evolve community.
It occurred to me, as I read Robert Bellah's distinctions between lifestyle enclave and community, that there have most certainly been those who have regarded their membership in our congregation as dues paid to associate with a convenient or important lifestyle enclave at a certain juncture in their lives. Here at Torat Yisrael, we try to lift the curtain and show everyone who comes through our doors that we offer much more depth and engagement and diversity than any lifestyle enclave might offer: our school kids bake hamantaschen with the empty nesters and seniors of our sisterhood and men's clubs; our social action Committee supports and even helps to staff a local food pantry, our mourners are fed throughout their shivah week: the faces of our community reflect those who take vacation cruises, own their own boats and rely on disability and meals on wheels to put food on the table. The faces of our community reflect those who were educated in the full immersion of the yeshiva system, those who made their way with more or less enthusiasm through our own Frederic G. And Lawrence G, Cohen Religious School, those who found and converted to Judaism as adults and those who are married to Jews and are proud to support the Jewish identity of their spouses, partners and children. We have joined this community looking for a place to pray, a place to Jewishly educate ourselves and our children, a place to find other Jewish families . . . And we've discovered so much more once we stepped in the door.
Last Friday evening at services, I asked everyone to speak about this building: places that mean most to them, things in the building they'll miss . . . Most everyone had something to say . . . About people, about events. Names that have become iconic in the history of our congregation like Max Rothkopf and Sam Primak . . . And Lana Picker . . . And friends from religious school (partners in minor crimes, I think) . . . And family weddings and B'nai mitzvah . . . As the sharing went on, it became clear to me that the essence of these 60 years is the people, not the bricks and mortar. And that in the lessons learned and the relationships forged and the values internalized by example and the smiles and hugs and tears of those sitting in these pews over the decades, that we are taking with us the most essential parts of Torat Yisrael. Not the lifestyle enclave, the community.
There is so much that we bring with us: much more than the truck container outside our door can hold: the love of God and Torah and the Jewish people that has fueled our community for 60 years in this building. The wisdom and the challenges and the commitment and the frustrations and the love . . . We are the community of Torat Yisrael and we bring our great spiritual and human legacy with us when we walk out of these doors with our sifrei Torah this morning.
On the cover of today's program, there is a declaration that Moses made to Pharoah: בנערינו ובזקנינו נלך . . . We are going with our youth and our elders, with our sons and our daughters . . . And that makes this a festive day for God and for us.
In this week's parashah/Torah Reading, Joseph reveals his identity to his beleaguered brothers and with the Pharaoh's blessing moves his brothers and his father, Jacob, to Egypt. The Torah relates that Jacob’s sons carried their father in the Pharaoh’s wagons and Joseph went to greet his father in Goshen, flinging himself upon his father’s neck to weep. Jacob was 130 years old when he was reunited with his beloved Joseph in Egypt.
Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote: "The test of a people is how it behaves toward the old. It is easy to love children. Even tyrants and dictators make a point of being fond of children. But affection and care for the old, the incurable, the helpless, are the true gold mines of a culture." (The Insecurity of Freedom)
With ceremony and respect, Jacob was carried to Egypt in the Pharaoh's own wagons. Joseph's brothers are presented to Pharaoh who questions them briefly and assents to their settling in Egypt. Apparently, Jacob, the patriarch of this family, is presented to Pharaoh after his sons are dismissed.
When we read these passages attentively, we see that Jacob is always treated with great respect by his sons . . . all his sons . . . and even by the sovereign of the country in which he seeks a haven.
I wonder if we would pass Rabbi Heschel's test today: would our attitude toward our elders attest to a culture of compassion or of impatience?
Rabbi Ron Isaacs, in his book Kosher Living: It’s More Than Just the Food asks: Is it kosher to visit a person afflicted with Alzheimer’s who doesn’t even know who you are?
Rabbi Isaacs continues: Yes, it certainly is right to take time to visit a person who has Alzheimer’s disease. Though cut off from society, he or she is till a member of society, deserving of care and attention. The Talmud is very explicit in recognizing the dignity of persons with dementia: “Rabbi Joseph learned: This teaches us that both the tablets and the fragments of the tablets were deposited in the ark. Hence, we learn that a scholar who has forgotten his learning through no fault of his own must not be treated with disrespect” (Talmud, Menachot 99a).We who constitute the community of Torat Yisrael need to take an honest look at how we treat our own elderly, incurable and helpless. This past week, I had the sad duty of conducting the funeral of Rosalind Herman. Roz and her husband were among the founders of our congregation. Roz had served as Secretary of our Board for a decade and was President of our Sisterhood for many years as well. We are quickly losing this elder, wise and experienced generation of Torat Yisrael and because those who remain with us are largely homebound or living in a variety of care facilities, they are out of our sight, and therefore, beyond the scope of our vision and awareness.Our Kesher social worker, Andrea Epstein, is a wonderful, caring presence reaching out to many of our housebound, but we should truly not be relying on Andrea to care for and about our elders. They are the elders of our community and without them we lose depth, history and wisdom. I invite you to look for opportunities to embrace our elders and homebound and help organize efforts to weave our elders back into the fabric of our community.
Parashat B'hukotai Torah Reading: Leviticus 26:3-27:34 This week's parashah/Torah portion is B'hukotai, the last portion in the book of Vayikra/Leviticus. It is this final section of Leviticus that we read on Shabbat morning. Congregations that meet for minchah on Shabbat afternoon also read from the Torah . . . and the Torah reading for Shabbat afternoon is the next portion of Torah, not a repetition of what was read in the morning. So, on this particular Shabbat we are taking leave of Vayikra/Leviticus and moving forward to Bamidbar/Numbers. Just as we begin and end chapters and books of Torah, we as individuals and as a community end chapters and books and begin new chapters and books. No congregation knows that better than ours! Over the course of the next few days, Torat Yisrael is saying a formal "Thank You" to our Education Director, Ronni Guttin. Ronni has served as our Education Director for a few short years . . . and has taught the children in our congregation for decades. There are many chapters and books to be appreciated recounting all that Ronni has taught our children and our adults; all the warmth and encouragement Ronni has showered on the students in our education programs; all the guidance, wisdom and support Ronni has provided the members of our faculty; all the warmth and sensitivity with which Ronni has supported our school parents. For me, Ronni has been a wise, creative and collaborative professional partner. If you are not busy with other commitments on Sunday morning, come to our school year closing program for the Lawrence G. and Frederic G. Cohen Religious School at 9 am at our school venue at The Village Lower School (2220 South County Trail, East Greenwich). There you will have the opportunity to express your thanks to Ronni personally and enjoy our students shine at the end of the academic year. You are also invited to share your favorite Ronni story or express your thanks to Ronni on line on our Torat Yisrael website. Click here to write a few words to or about Ronni! I don't know about you, but I am always reading at least two books at the same time. It's not a matter of closing one book and opening another, but rather enjoying a few books simultaneously. That is how we at Torat Yisrael will both watch Ronni move on to greater commitments at Camp JORI and embrace our new Education Director, Donna Tarutz. We will enjoy a bit of overlap in the last chapter of our school's journey with Ronni Guttin and the first chapter of our school's journey with Donna Tarutz. We will begin to write the newest chapters in our Torat Yisrael education programs over the next few months as Ronni Guttin, Donna Tarutz and I plan a smooth and fruitful and invigorating transition in school leadership.
Parashat Kedoshim Torah Reading: Leviticus 19:1-20:27 This week's Torah portion is called "Kedoshim" a word taken from the opening verses of the reading. Every portion is named through this same technique of pulling one significant word from it's first or second verse. Many times that word has no real connection to the content of the entire parasha, sometimes it does. In this case, "Kedoshim", "holy" in the third person plural, very much sums up the verses that follow.
That verse reads:
דַּבֵּר אֶל־כָּל־עֲדַת בְּנֵי־יִשְׂרָאֵל וְאָמַרְתָּ אֲלֵהֶם קְדשִׁים תִּהְיוּ כִּי קָדוֹשׁ אֲנִי ה' אֱלֹהֵיכֶם:
Speak to all the congregation of the children of Israel, and you shall say to them: You shall be holy because I, Adonay, your God, am holy.
The Israeli Torah commentator, Benyamin Lau, in his brilliant work Etnachta, introduced his discussion of this week's Torah reading with the thought-provoking title: Holy Community not Holy Person.
Rabbi Lau's title highlights an element of the verse which is literally lost in translation . . . and that is that the "You shall be holy" is written in the plural, not the singular. The mitzvah conveyed in the verse is a challenge to be a holy community, not a holy individual.
We don't have saints in Judaism. We don't elevate those who close themselves off from the world: we have no nuns or monks.
Our tradition honors scholars of Jewish texts, laws, theology and values. Our tradition honors people who bring holiness into the world through their integrity, their compassion. Our tradition honors people engaged in bringing the teachings of our faith into the real world.
Rabbi Lau's insight is that we cannot be holy as a collection of individuals. Even as a collection of individuals who study Torah and who do good deeds. We can only fulfill the challenge of this verse if we engage in a community that studies Torah, worships and does good deeds together.
In Hebrew, a synagogue community is referred to as a "Kehillah Kedoshah" as a Holy Congregation. I find this to be a much more engaging and challenging appellation for a Jewish community than "Temple." The Temple was a building. It was the site of the sacrificial cult and it was run by an oligarchy of Kohanim/Priests. In my eyes, our verse in this week's Torah reading lays out a challenge to be not a Temple, but a Kehillah Kedoshah . . . a Holy Community of people coming together for the ultimate Jewish experience: bringing the sacred into the world through our commitment, our learning, our actions, and our joy and pride in our Judaism.
Parashat Metzora Torah Reading: Leviticus 14:1-15:33
We are welcoming Aaron Tessier to our bimah as a bar mitzvah this Shabbat. It is a delight to have a simchah (joyous occasion) to celebrate with this wonderful family . . . it seems like no time at all since Aaron's older brother, Ethan, was called to the Torah as a bar mitzvah although, I think, it's been 3 years!
You may have noticed that, in the above paragraph, I did not say that Aaron was "being bar-mitzvahed" this Shabbat, but rather that he is being welcomed to the bimah "as a bar mitzvah." I thought I'd take advantage of this family and community celebration to talk about this most central life-cycle moment in Jewish life.
In essence, bar and bat mitzvah celebrations are the communal acknowledgement of a young Jew's coming of age in religious life. In the early rabbinic anthology of life wisdom, Pirkei Avot / Teachings of the Fathers, we read: (Chapter 5: Mishna 22)
"Five years is the age for the study of Scripture. Ten, for the study of Mishnah. Thirteen, for the obligation to observe the mitzvot. Fifteen, for the study of Talmud. Eighteen, for marriage. Twenty, to pursue [a livelihood]. Thirty, for strength, Forty, for understanding. Fifty, for counsel. Sixty, for sagacity. Seventy, for elderliness. Eighty, for power. Ninety, to stoop. A hundred-year-old is as one who has died and passed away and has been negated from the world."
There is a lot to discuss, and appreciate, in this early rabbinic (1st-2nd century CE) understanding of the capacities and qualities of humans at different stages of life. For our discussion of bar/bat mitzvah, we notice that the age of 13 is considered the time "for the obligation to observe mitzvot."
The common denominator of Jewish peoplehood is the "brit" the covenant with God. In traditional Judaism, our relationship to this covenant is expressed through the language of obligation . . . it is the responsibility of every Jewish person the age of 13 and older to do what he or she can to perpetuate this covenant with God.
Once young Jews reach this age of 13, and are now among those who take responsibility for maintaining this covenant with God, they can be called to the Torah, they can be counted in the minyan, and they can lead the community in worship . . . because they are now, officially, as invested in being part of the covenanted community of Jews as are their elders.
The bar and bat mitzvah celebrations are not rituals . . . that is, the moment of the "bar mitzvah" does not change the status of the individual. Rituals effect change in a person's life: two individuals become married at a wedding, a newborn is officially part of the covenanted community of Israel through the brit milah or simchat bat, Shabbat begins with the lighting of candles, etc.
When a community comes together to celebrate a young Jewish person "reaching the age of mitzvot" we are not witnessing a transforming ritual, we are celebrating a significant birthday. With or without that bar mitzvah celebration, the young person is part of the community invested in perpetuating the covenant of Israel.
So this Shabbat, we aren't going to "bar mitzvah" Aaron . . . but we sure are going to celebrate the fact that Aaron has reached the age of bar mitzvah!
Mazal tov!
Shabbat Shekalim/
Parashat Pekudei Torah Reading: Exodus 38:21-40:38
The cycle of our Jewish year is marked by different types of milestones: Shabbat every week, intermittent holy days, festivals and fasts and a number of special Shabbatot (plural of Shabbat) that set the spiritual/theological stage for upcoming holidays.
The Shabbat that commences today at sundown is Shabbat Shekalim. Shekalim is the first of a series of special Sabbaths leading up to Passover (yup, Passover, folks!). Each special Shabbat is marked in the synagogue with a special maftir (concluding) aliyah which delves into the theme of the special Shabbat and continues with a uniquely designated Haftarah from the Prophets that otherwise would not be associated with that week's Torah reading.
The theme of Shabbat Shekalim is the very egalitarian demand of a minimal required contribution of a shekel by everyone in the community of Israel as described in the Torah. These funds were used for the upkeep of the Tabernacle in the wilderness and later, the Temple in Jerusalem. In other words, the concept of paying dues to your synagogue is rooted in the Torah!
I am fascinated by this as the theme of a special Shabbat that is meant kick off our spiritual preparation for Passover. Highlighting our interdependence, our shared responsibility for our central communal institutions may be important, but we might not think of this obligation as a source of spiritual energy. It is only through Shabbat Shekalim that we can appreciate the spiritual depth of this obligation: it is through our coming together as equals in community that we can lead full Jewish lives; it is through our creating and sustaining community together that each of us as individuals has the space and the resources to grow in our Jewishness.
Parashat Ki Tissa Torah Reading: Exodus 30:11-34:35
I write and speak often about the centrality of community to the Jewish experience. John Donne posited that "no man is an island" . . . Judaism posits that no lone Jew is a self-sufficient island either.
We are dependent on each other in a myriad of ways: We need 9 other Jews to read Torah, to praise God with the words of the Kaddish, to bring a child into the covenanted community of Israel . . . we need a community of Jews to educate our children, to educate ourselves, to be inspired and supported.
This week's Torah reading establishes the principle of "stakeholder" in the community of Israel . . . according to this week's Torah reading every adult Israelite was required to donate a half shekel to support the rituals of the wilderness Tabernacle. The half shekel was a modest amount of money, within the means of all but the community's destitute.
There were always opportunities for people of greater means to contribute more to the sustenance of the Tabernacle, the Cohanim/Priests and Levi'im/Levites.
But the universal application of the half-shekel donation meant that everyone was a stakeholder, everyone could look everyone else in the eye knowing that everyone had met the elemental obligation of community responsibility.
Today, the half-shekel has evolved into synagogue dues . . . but the power of looking each other in the eye and knowing that together we have sustained the central institution of our community is the same.
Shabbat Hanukah 5771 Parashat Miketz Torah Reading: Genesis 41:1-44:17
Parashat Miketz is often the Torah reading for the Shabbat of Hanukah. In his rich and insightful book, The Everyday Torah, Rabbi Brad Artson characterizes the the themes of the Torah reading and the themes of Hanukah as "Dedication, Transformation, and Cleansing." He writes: "The miracle of the human capacity to refocus, to begin anew, to reconsecrate our deeds to a path of mindful compassion is a cause for wonder and real celebration...."
This week, we celebrate the re-dedication of the Temple in Jerusalem after its defilement by Hellenistic Seleucid invading forces in 165 b.c.e. Everything within the precincts of the Temple grounds was cleaned and rededicated to the exclusive service of the God of Israel. Rabbi Artson encourages us to internalize that dynamic of cleansing and transformation so that we may dedicate our resources, our priorities and our actions to mindful compassion.
I am so engaged by Rabbi Artson's phrase, "mindful compassion." Among the meanings and associations that come to my mind is the principle that help is really only help when we understand the needs of the person we are helping. Mindful compassion compels us to enter into the world of the person we are encountering, and to offer them resources that will address their own perceived needs, not the resources that will bring them closer to a goal that we think they should aspire to.
There are also moments when mindful compassion pushes us to forgo intellectual exercises and simply act to relieve acute suffering.
This Hanukah, this season of re-dedication, well over 200 Rhode Islanders are facing the appalling reality of sleeping under bridges. There are enough shelter beds in Rhode Island to provide a warm, clean, dry place to sleep for just about everyone in need, but the state lacks the funds to open, heat and staff those shelters.
For this reason, the Jewish Federation of Rhode Island and the Rhode Island Board of Rabbis have come together to organize "A Call for Compassion During Hanukah," our communal response to the crying need in our state.
There is a collection box in the lobby at Torat Yisrael, and there will be one at my Open House this Sunday afternoon, as well as Sunday morning at the Cohen School. You may donate cash or a check to this emergency appeal. Checks can be made out to: Rhode Island Board of Rabbis with "emergency shelter fund" on the notation line.
You can also donate online directly to the Rhode Island Coalition for the Homeless at www.rihomeless.org
Mindful compassion also compels us to use our imaginations to understand the realities of someone else's life. Please be generous.
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