Shabbat Shalom and an almost Happy Pesach!
Emotions have been running high – perhaps, too high – in the wake of the passage health care legislation in Congress. The rhetoric throughout debate and discussions of the health care proposals has been pointed and piercing most of the time. The one area of agreement between Republican and Democratic leaders that emerged this week is that disagreements on how to improve health care in our country should not be expressed through physical violence or threats of harm to any person.
The Torah portion for this week speaks about a fire on the altar in the Tabernacle, the Israelite site for worship, that was to be kept burning continually and not allowed to go out. Some commentators have likened this physical fire to the fire that can burn inside each of us as a reflection of our spirit, our beliefs, and our passion for a cause or for life and community. We know that a fire can offer warmth, but that it can also become dangerous when it is out of control. The same could be said of our passionate opinions on an issue. “Keeping the fire burning” can mean articulating our views in a respectful, spirited and constructive manner AND listening attentively to others, in case there is something in their position that can cause our own “fire” to burn even more strongly. It does not mean that someone who disagrees with us should become the object – or victim – of our hatred. At that point, the passion of a firmly-held position can become a searing fire.
“A fire inside of us” can also signify the light of awareness, wisdom and understanding that comes from taking the views and ideas of many people into account when we form our opinions. Such a fire, handled with care, can become a guiding light to all people along a full ideological spectrum. May the fire in our minds and souls that is expressed through our words and actions become a torch that leads us all to a better place, especially, at this time of year, to freedom for people all over the world.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Saturday, March 20, 2010
A High Quality Fix - March 19, 2010
Shabbat Shalom!
I enjoy rooming with my brother, Rabbi Steve Karol of Temple Isaiah in Stony Brook, New York, at conventions. We are now on a string of two: the Union for Reform Judaism Biennial convention in Toronto this past November and the Central Conference of American Rabbis Convention last week in San Francisco. We had carefully arranged for our charges to be split between us in two different accounts and on two different credit cards. When I checked my American Express bill this morning, I noticed that it included two charges to my card, rather than just one, for the room. I realized that I had become both Stephen Karol and Lawrence Karol all rolled into one person! I know that there is a process by which this error will be fixed, hopefully through the good graces of the bookkeeping office of the Fairmont San Francisco. If not, I am sure it will all work out.
The Torah reading for this week talked about what people needed to do when they realized that they had made a mistake, one that may not have been as easy to repair as our hotel bill. We know from many years of High Holy Day worship, sermons and study that fixing relationships or personal errors in judgment, even mistakes that may have been committed unintentionally, takes work, patience, tenacity and a generous spirit. The ancient Israelite prescription for “making things right” required the sacrifice of an animal, based on their usual ritual practices. What was required was an animal “without blemish,” meaning the best type of offering possible. Bringing a proper sacrifice was an exercise in showing respect to God and demonstrating sincere care regarding the need to “repair what was broken” in a given situation or relationship.
That is why we hear so much at High Holy Days, and in prayers throughout the year, about giving our best. It is not that we have to be perfect. Rather, when we are trying to heal a hurt or right a wrong, our effort should reflect the best we can give – an effort that is straightforward, honest (to ourselves and others), direct, caring, and hopeful. It may be that not everything can be repaired, but there is much we can do if, through our attempts to “set things right,” we are reaching for perfection.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
I enjoy rooming with my brother, Rabbi Steve Karol of Temple Isaiah in Stony Brook, New York, at conventions. We are now on a string of two: the Union for Reform Judaism Biennial convention in Toronto this past November and the Central Conference of American Rabbis Convention last week in San Francisco. We had carefully arranged for our charges to be split between us in two different accounts and on two different credit cards. When I checked my American Express bill this morning, I noticed that it included two charges to my card, rather than just one, for the room. I realized that I had become both Stephen Karol and Lawrence Karol all rolled into one person! I know that there is a process by which this error will be fixed, hopefully through the good graces of the bookkeeping office of the Fairmont San Francisco. If not, I am sure it will all work out.
The Torah reading for this week talked about what people needed to do when they realized that they had made a mistake, one that may not have been as easy to repair as our hotel bill. We know from many years of High Holy Day worship, sermons and study that fixing relationships or personal errors in judgment, even mistakes that may have been committed unintentionally, takes work, patience, tenacity and a generous spirit. The ancient Israelite prescription for “making things right” required the sacrifice of an animal, based on their usual ritual practices. What was required was an animal “without blemish,” meaning the best type of offering possible. Bringing a proper sacrifice was an exercise in showing respect to God and demonstrating sincere care regarding the need to “repair what was broken” in a given situation or relationship.
That is why we hear so much at High Holy Days, and in prayers throughout the year, about giving our best. It is not that we have to be perfect. Rather, when we are trying to heal a hurt or right a wrong, our effort should reflect the best we can give – an effort that is straightforward, honest (to ourselves and others), direct, caring, and hopeful. It may be that not everything can be repaired, but there is much we can do if, through our attempts to “set things right,” we are reaching for perfection.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Intangible Building Blocks - March 12, 2010
Shabbat Shalom!
The Torah reading this week is about the construction of the Tabernacle, the Israelite house of worship in the wilderness. As I sat in sessions at the convention of the Central Conference of American Rabbis in San Francisco this week, I was reminded about the importance of the intangible elements of community. Here are a couple of quick “gems” from my sessions….
From Rabbinic Tradition:
“Those who are kind to those who are cruel end up being cruel to those who are kind.”
From author Rachel Naomi Remen, who addressed our convention on March 10:
“When we serve others, we serve ourselves – our wholeness that we create inside ourselves can evoke a wholeness in others.
“It is possible to live a good life even though it is not an easy life” (in relation to those living with chronic illness or other challenges).
“Compassion sustains the world.”
“The wholeness of the world can only be sustained one heart at a time.”
“Community is the most powerful tool for healing.”
Let us remember that the building blocks of community include trust, respect, communication, honesty, and friendship.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
The Torah reading this week is about the construction of the Tabernacle, the Israelite house of worship in the wilderness. As I sat in sessions at the convention of the Central Conference of American Rabbis in San Francisco this week, I was reminded about the importance of the intangible elements of community. Here are a couple of quick “gems” from my sessions….
From Rabbinic Tradition:
“Those who are kind to those who are cruel end up being cruel to those who are kind.”
From author Rachel Naomi Remen, who addressed our convention on March 10:
“When we serve others, we serve ourselves – our wholeness that we create inside ourselves can evoke a wholeness in others.
“It is possible to live a good life even though it is not an easy life” (in relation to those living with chronic illness or other challenges).
“Compassion sustains the world.”
“The wholeness of the world can only be sustained one heart at a time.”
“Community is the most powerful tool for healing.”
Let us remember that the building blocks of community include trust, respect, communication, honesty, and friendship.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
Rising Above Fear - March 5, 2010
March 5, 2010
Shabbat Shalom!
As a member of the UNH Chaplains group, I heard a presentation this week on efforts to coordinate services for victims/survivors of domestic violence in the Seacoast. The presenter included in her remarks a chart featuring the “hierarchy of needs” developed by Abraham Maslow, which puts the need for food and shelter on the bottom, followed by security, love/belonging, esteem/self-respect, purpose/meaning, and (at the highest level) self-actualization/hope. In light of the Torah reading for this week, Ki Tisa, which recounts the “Golden Calf” episode, I thought about the Israelites and what drove them to ask Moses’ brother Aaron to fashion for them a visible statue of a god. In our discussion at the Board meeting on the portion, we noted that the Israelites were acting out of fear and a need to feel protected, security that Moses could not provide while he was atop Mount Sinai. The God in whom the Israelites were putting their faith was intangible and unseen, while the calf that they made was tangible and readily available to the eye, giving them a (likely false) sense of safety. One commentator notes that, had the people only given themselves over “intellectually” to another belief, it might have been possible to convince them to end their worship of the calf. Yet, as Moses was atop the mountain, the “sound of song” was making its way to his ears. The people had developed an emotional attachment to this newly-formed representation of a god, one that would not easily be relinquished.
It has likely been difficult in recent months for many Americans, as well as many people around the globe, to move above the bottom two levels, often due to uncertainty and fear of what may come next in the societal and economic challenges we face. In some cases, that fear leads people to join with others in groups that are based primarily on fear rather than on meaning and hope. The hierarchy of needs is often shown as a pyramid, but it could just as well be a depicted as a mountain, where the summit is not unlike the vision we might have of Moses on Mount Sinai, in a personal encounter with the divine. Atop that pyramid, or hierarchy, or mountain, we may find not only meaning and purpose but also the essence of our spirit and hope that will take us through the challenges that may come our way. Our faith in the intangible aspects of life, those that are higher in the “hierarchy,” still have the power to lead us through difficult times.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
Shabbat Shalom!
As a member of the UNH Chaplains group, I heard a presentation this week on efforts to coordinate services for victims/survivors of domestic violence in the Seacoast. The presenter included in her remarks a chart featuring the “hierarchy of needs” developed by Abraham Maslow, which puts the need for food and shelter on the bottom, followed by security, love/belonging, esteem/self-respect, purpose/meaning, and (at the highest level) self-actualization/hope. In light of the Torah reading for this week, Ki Tisa, which recounts the “Golden Calf” episode, I thought about the Israelites and what drove them to ask Moses’ brother Aaron to fashion for them a visible statue of a god. In our discussion at the Board meeting on the portion, we noted that the Israelites were acting out of fear and a need to feel protected, security that Moses could not provide while he was atop Mount Sinai. The God in whom the Israelites were putting their faith was intangible and unseen, while the calf that they made was tangible and readily available to the eye, giving them a (likely false) sense of safety. One commentator notes that, had the people only given themselves over “intellectually” to another belief, it might have been possible to convince them to end their worship of the calf. Yet, as Moses was atop the mountain, the “sound of song” was making its way to his ears. The people had developed an emotional attachment to this newly-formed representation of a god, one that would not easily be relinquished.
It has likely been difficult in recent months for many Americans, as well as many people around the globe, to move above the bottom two levels, often due to uncertainty and fear of what may come next in the societal and economic challenges we face. In some cases, that fear leads people to join with others in groups that are based primarily on fear rather than on meaning and hope. The hierarchy of needs is often shown as a pyramid, but it could just as well be a depicted as a mountain, where the summit is not unlike the vision we might have of Moses on Mount Sinai, in a personal encounter with the divine. Atop that pyramid, or hierarchy, or mountain, we may find not only meaning and purpose but also the essence of our spirit and hope that will take us through the challenges that may come our way. Our faith in the intangible aspects of life, those that are higher in the “hierarchy,” still have the power to lead us through difficult times.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
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