http://www.kcjc.com/201010229534/news/bnai-jehudah-proud-of-rabbis-it-has-inspired.html
Here were my comments to reporter Marcia Horn for this article.
My bio
Rabbi Larry Karol is a 1970 B'nai Jehudah confirmand (in the same class as Rabbi Art Nemitoff). He graduated from Center High School in 1972, and attended University of Illinois in Champaign-Urbana, where he received a Bachelor of Arts Degree in Liberal Arts and Sciences with a major in Sociology and a minor in Religious Studies. Rabbi Karol was ordained at Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion in Cincinnati in 1981. He served as assistant rabbi at Temple Israel in Dayton, Ohio in 1981-1984, rabbi of Temple Beth Sholom in Topeka, Kansas in 1984-2006, and rabbi of Temple Israel in Dover, New Hampshire since 2006. Rabbi Larry Karol has released two albums of original Jewish music, "Two are Better Than One" and "A New Beginning," and "One Light Above: The Larry Karol Songbook." He was one of a number of singer/songwriters who performed at newCAJE in Waltham, Massachusetts on August 1-4. Larry married Rhonda Marks (who was director of children's and youth service at the Dayton Jewish Center) in Dayton in 1982. Rhonda is currently an early childhood educator. Their son, Adam, was born in 1986 in Topeka. Adam, a 2008 graduate of Berklee College of Music, now serves as a digital media assistant with the Union for Reform Judaism's Congregational Consulting Group in the national offices in New York City.
I’d like to know if B’nai Jehudah influenced you or affected your decision to become a rabbi and in what way.
Both of my parents, Joseph and Ruth Karol, taught Religious School and were active in Temple auxiliaries for many years. I attended most of the Friday night services throughout my elementary through high school years. I sang in the Junior Choir and was active in Temple Youth Group. Temple B'nai Jehudah supported me in attending camp at Olin-Sang-Ruby Union Institute Camp (then Olin-Sang) for the first two years of their "tzofim" outdoor session and 7 weeks at Kutz Camp in Warwick, New York in 1970 for National Torah Corps, a special session that taught modern Hebrew and Jewish texts. Rabbi William Silverman was an impressive teacher, both in his Confirmation sessions (I still remember some of those specific lessons) and in the high school program that covered Jewish thought and comparative religion. Among the assistant rabbis was my first role model as a "singing rabbi," Rabbi Paul Levenson (whom I just saw at newCAJE). The Youth Group's "We Speak for Judaism" Panel, on which I served for three years, gave me many experiences in explaining Judaism to members of the Christian community. I remember one time when David Meyer and I spoke to a group of 25 Assembly of God ministers by ourselves! I should add that the Temple Youth Group, both at the local and regional level, gave me a chance to make connections in the Jewish world that continue until today.
Or if there were other factors that influenced your decision. Who was the senior rabbi when you were there? And is he the same one who taught your confirmation class? If you have anything else you want to add, please feel free.
I was fortunate to attend a university with a very active Hillel Foundation that had a director who noted my interest in entering the rabbinate. I took courses in Hebrew and Judaica all four years, sang in the Hillel Choir and served as accompanist and co-director for two years. I was a member of the student board and also took a formal position during my senior year, leading a Shabbat dinner every week at an honors dormitory. Those years of college were crucial in keeping me closely connected to Jewish life.
I feel fortunate to have been part of a vibrant congregation and Jewish community. There was always a lot going on! I am also grateful to Temple B'nai Jehudah for the opportunity to serve three years as a summer rabbinic intern (when Michael Zedek was senior rabbi) and another year working with the Summer Hebrew Day Camp program directed by Bob Tornberg. That experience stood me in good stead in my student pulpits and in my service to three congregations throughout my rabbinate. I appreciated the support that Temple Sisterhood provided for my rabbinic school education. I am glad to have seen my parents active in Temple in their later years, with my mom serving as Sisterhood President and Gift Shop chairperson and my dad creating a Brotherhood/Sisterhood page on his home computer for the Temple Bulletin.
Friday, October 22, 2010
What's mine is yours...the best - October 22, 2010
Shabbat Shalom!
“If rulers are supposed to be just and fair, why are there so many wars?”
This was the question asked by our 6th-7th grade class as we discussed the meaning of the word Melech (ruler) that appears in most blessings. I immediately quoted for the students a quote from Pirkei Avot, the Sayings of the Rabbis (Chapter 5, Mishnah 10):
People come in four basic types. One says:
What’s mine is mine and what’s yours is yours: this is the average type. (But some say: This is the way of Sodom).
What’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine: simple-minded.
What’s mine is yours and what’s yours is yours: the best (pious/saintly).
What’s mine is mine and what’s yours is mine: the worst (wicked).
In our class discussion, we focused mainly on the last line, which implies an attitude that has led to many wars: a dispute over possession of land or rights. When we discussed the first line, it was necessary to tell the story of Sodom and Gomorrah that is part of this week’s Torah reading, whereby the people of those cities brought about their own destruction. While some commentators have defined the sinfulness of Sodom and Gomorrah as a certain type of coercion, many later biblical references and other commentaries claim that their sin was that they lacked hospitality or a sense of mutual responsibility and communal concern. No one stood up for anyone else’s rights, nor did the people welcome visitors with any warmth or generosity. There were no ties that held everyone together. The “antidote” to that attitude is contained in the third line, “what’s mine is yours and what’s yours is yours,” which reflects and encourages sharing what we have with other people, an approach that is represented when we practice tzedakah, righteous giving, or gemilut chasadim, performing acts of kindness, giving of our resources, energy and spirit in a selfless way.
This passage from Pirkei Avot sheds light not only upon wars and our participation in the community, but also upon the political process. There is always a tension between rights and responsibility. Citizens tend to adopt differing interpretations of a phrase like “We the People” based on their particular perspective. Perhaps our goal should be to do what we can to be sure that our society always seeks to move beyond the “average” type to the “best,” enabling every citizen to share what they have (including their ideas) for the good of their community and nation. Such an approach just might lead us to the progress and peace for which we yearn every day.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
“If rulers are supposed to be just and fair, why are there so many wars?”
This was the question asked by our 6th-7th grade class as we discussed the meaning of the word Melech (ruler) that appears in most blessings. I immediately quoted for the students a quote from Pirkei Avot, the Sayings of the Rabbis (Chapter 5, Mishnah 10):
People come in four basic types. One says:
What’s mine is mine and what’s yours is yours: this is the average type. (But some say: This is the way of Sodom).
What’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine: simple-minded.
What’s mine is yours and what’s yours is yours: the best (pious/saintly).
What’s mine is mine and what’s yours is mine: the worst (wicked).
In our class discussion, we focused mainly on the last line, which implies an attitude that has led to many wars: a dispute over possession of land or rights. When we discussed the first line, it was necessary to tell the story of Sodom and Gomorrah that is part of this week’s Torah reading, whereby the people of those cities brought about their own destruction. While some commentators have defined the sinfulness of Sodom and Gomorrah as a certain type of coercion, many later biblical references and other commentaries claim that their sin was that they lacked hospitality or a sense of mutual responsibility and communal concern. No one stood up for anyone else’s rights, nor did the people welcome visitors with any warmth or generosity. There were no ties that held everyone together. The “antidote” to that attitude is contained in the third line, “what’s mine is yours and what’s yours is yours,” which reflects and encourages sharing what we have with other people, an approach that is represented when we practice tzedakah, righteous giving, or gemilut chasadim, performing acts of kindness, giving of our resources, energy and spirit in a selfless way.
This passage from Pirkei Avot sheds light not only upon wars and our participation in the community, but also upon the political process. There is always a tension between rights and responsibility. Citizens tend to adopt differing interpretations of a phrase like “We the People” based on their particular perspective. Perhaps our goal should be to do what we can to be sure that our society always seeks to move beyond the “average” type to the “best,” enabling every citizen to share what they have (including their ideas) for the good of their community and nation. Such an approach just might lead us to the progress and peace for which we yearn every day.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
Friday, October 15, 2010
Small Steps to Destiny - October 15, 2010
Shabbat Shalom!
Every day is like a journey,
From the moment we wake up
As we address the tasks that await us
And connect with people in the various
parts of our lives.
We may not feel we are on one mission alone
When we take care of a variety of responsibilities,
Sometimes with a compartmentalized approach.
It is likely that the whole – our complete identity –
Is the sum of the parts –
what we do and who we are, wherever we are.
In the Torah reading for this week,
Abram received his call:
“Go forth, for your benefit, from your native land,
From your ancestral home, to the place that I will show you.
I will make you a great nation, and I will bless you.
I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing.”
All of those promises were not going to be fulfilled in one day.
Every day would bring Abram a step closer
to their fulfillment.
The process of Abram’s departure appears to be
Physical and geographical
But it can also be seen as spiritual,
For at the heart of leaving one’s home or a familiar place
Are emotions of courage, uncertainty, determination and hope.
Every day carries with it those emotions,
For even when we are in the same place,
We are still growing, changing, moving forward,
And responding to a call to try to be as good as we can be
And to be a blessing.
May we see each day as if we are Abram and Sarai
Called and challenged to take steps toward a destiny
That will enable us to discover who we are and where we belong.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
Every day is like a journey,
From the moment we wake up
As we address the tasks that await us
And connect with people in the various
parts of our lives.
We may not feel we are on one mission alone
When we take care of a variety of responsibilities,
Sometimes with a compartmentalized approach.
It is likely that the whole – our complete identity –
Is the sum of the parts –
what we do and who we are, wherever we are.
In the Torah reading for this week,
Abram received his call:
“Go forth, for your benefit, from your native land,
From your ancestral home, to the place that I will show you.
I will make you a great nation, and I will bless you.
I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing.”
All of those promises were not going to be fulfilled in one day.
Every day would bring Abram a step closer
to their fulfillment.
The process of Abram’s departure appears to be
Physical and geographical
But it can also be seen as spiritual,
For at the heart of leaving one’s home or a familiar place
Are emotions of courage, uncertainty, determination and hope.
Every day carries with it those emotions,
For even when we are in the same place,
We are still growing, changing, moving forward,
And responding to a call to try to be as good as we can be
And to be a blessing.
May we see each day as if we are Abram and Sarai
Called and challenged to take steps toward a destiny
That will enable us to discover who we are and where we belong.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Thoughts on a new day…. October 7, 2010
Shabbat Shalom!
A world no sooner created
Was on its own path to destruction.
One man was designated as
“righteous in his generation”
A good man in a sea of
Self-righteousness and arrogance
Was entrusted with the survival of
Humanity and
Living things
To preserve a remnant
After a great flood
Would wash away the evil
And enable the world
To start again.
We struggle every day
To steer our own path
Towards goodness
And positive ends.
Sometimes, the baggage we carry
Takes us away from where we should go.
We try to change, but the weight of our burdens
Bogs us down
And prevents us from making progress
On our march towards the future.
And even if we are able to lay down our burdens
And begin anew,
There may be others around us who affect our lives
who are unable to do the same with their burdens.
We have little control over the people around us
When attitudes are unchanging and entrenched
But we can bring ourselves to a new place
Without a great flood that brings destruction
But, rather, with an internal about-face
That enables us to continue on our journey
Unencumbered and renewed.
It is then that we see the rainbow of promise
And the dove carrying an olive branch
The sign of hope and of the peace
That we can know inside ourselves.
If each of us can find the rainbow
And see the dove,
We will be able to create, together
A new day.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
A world no sooner created
Was on its own path to destruction.
One man was designated as
“righteous in his generation”
A good man in a sea of
Self-righteousness and arrogance
Was entrusted with the survival of
Humanity and
Living things
To preserve a remnant
After a great flood
Would wash away the evil
And enable the world
To start again.
We struggle every day
To steer our own path
Towards goodness
And positive ends.
Sometimes, the baggage we carry
Takes us away from where we should go.
We try to change, but the weight of our burdens
Bogs us down
And prevents us from making progress
On our march towards the future.
And even if we are able to lay down our burdens
And begin anew,
There may be others around us who affect our lives
who are unable to do the same with their burdens.
We have little control over the people around us
When attitudes are unchanging and entrenched
But we can bring ourselves to a new place
Without a great flood that brings destruction
But, rather, with an internal about-face
That enables us to continue on our journey
Unencumbered and renewed.
It is then that we see the rainbow of promise
And the dove carrying an olive branch
The sign of hope and of the peace
That we can know inside ourselves.
If each of us can find the rainbow
And see the dove,
We will be able to create, together
A new day.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Today's Trees of Knowledge-October 1, 2010
Shabbat Shalom!
The news of the suicide of 18 year-old Rutgers University student Tyler Clementi this week brings to the forefront, once again, the issue of the appropriate use of the technology that has made email, texting, Facebook and Twitter possible. Most people use these avenues of communication in positive ways: to maintain friendships, to stay in close communication with a friend or family member, to celebrate or share some aspect of life, or to reflect on what is happening in the world. We have seen in recent months how the dark side of this technology can ruin lives through comments, photos or videos that can result in public humiliation, embarrassment or even anger. Text messages, status updates, “tweets” and blogs can inflame as well as comfort and heal (and text messages sent while driving can endanger more than just the driver). There is so much great potential in some of these technologies that create community in ways that we couldn’t have imagined 15 or even 10 years ago. It seems as if any new technology needs an instruction book or a strong dose of personal common sense.
The story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden in this week’s Torah portion teaches what it means to be human when a limit is set: that, at times, “no” becomes “not really ‘no.’” God told Adam not to eat of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil so that humanity could remain in a state of eternal blissful ignorance. God told the first man that he would die if he ate the fruit (it doesn’t say “apple”), meaning that he would become mortal and lose a ticket to eternity (although that may not have been clear to Adam). When Adam told Eve about the rules regarding the Tree, he added to God’s instructions, “We shouldn’t even touch it!” Then came the serpent telling Eve that she wouldn’t “die” (meaning immediately) if she ate of the fruit. She ate, Adam ate, and when God confronted them, the man and woman engaged in successive finger-pointing (including a strong accusation against the serpent). Already, early in the book of Genesis, human disobedience had led to a new awareness of good and evil, a loss of immortality, blaming and, finally, stiff consequences.
Some modern commentators assert that this tale in the Torah was intended to tell how we came to be the way we are, with a finite life span, having to work hard to sustain our lives, and needing to decide between right and wrong, good and evil. Those choices are not always clear or easy, but we can hopefully make them in such a way that brings us together rather than driving us apart, that respects each individual and his or her personality and privacy rather than ignoring societal limits and common-sense boundaries regarding relationships and behavior. It is our responsibility to help one another engender such a level of respect and integrity. May we do our best to reach this goal for ourselves and all humanity.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
The news of the suicide of 18 year-old Rutgers University student Tyler Clementi this week brings to the forefront, once again, the issue of the appropriate use of the technology that has made email, texting, Facebook and Twitter possible. Most people use these avenues of communication in positive ways: to maintain friendships, to stay in close communication with a friend or family member, to celebrate or share some aspect of life, or to reflect on what is happening in the world. We have seen in recent months how the dark side of this technology can ruin lives through comments, photos or videos that can result in public humiliation, embarrassment or even anger. Text messages, status updates, “tweets” and blogs can inflame as well as comfort and heal (and text messages sent while driving can endanger more than just the driver). There is so much great potential in some of these technologies that create community in ways that we couldn’t have imagined 15 or even 10 years ago. It seems as if any new technology needs an instruction book or a strong dose of personal common sense.
The story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden in this week’s Torah portion teaches what it means to be human when a limit is set: that, at times, “no” becomes “not really ‘no.’” God told Adam not to eat of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil so that humanity could remain in a state of eternal blissful ignorance. God told the first man that he would die if he ate the fruit (it doesn’t say “apple”), meaning that he would become mortal and lose a ticket to eternity (although that may not have been clear to Adam). When Adam told Eve about the rules regarding the Tree, he added to God’s instructions, “We shouldn’t even touch it!” Then came the serpent telling Eve that she wouldn’t “die” (meaning immediately) if she ate of the fruit. She ate, Adam ate, and when God confronted them, the man and woman engaged in successive finger-pointing (including a strong accusation against the serpent). Already, early in the book of Genesis, human disobedience had led to a new awareness of good and evil, a loss of immortality, blaming and, finally, stiff consequences.
Some modern commentators assert that this tale in the Torah was intended to tell how we came to be the way we are, with a finite life span, having to work hard to sustain our lives, and needing to decide between right and wrong, good and evil. Those choices are not always clear or easy, but we can hopefully make them in such a way that brings us together rather than driving us apart, that respects each individual and his or her personality and privacy rather than ignoring societal limits and common-sense boundaries regarding relationships and behavior. It is our responsibility to help one another engender such a level of respect and integrity. May we do our best to reach this goal for ourselves and all humanity.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
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