Joseph dreamed two dreams
which his brothers and his father thought
illustrated Joseph's arrogance in the present
rather than his fortuitous leadership
in the future.
Joseph had no idea
nor did his father
or his brothers
that sharing his dreams
would lead to a chain of events -
slavery, incarceration,
interpreting dreams
to being second only to Pharaoh –
which would ultimately
save the lives of their family.
Any event, decision, conversation or dream
can be a part of such a chain.
That is why every moment of our lives
can be significant, even crucial to our future.
We may only discover the importance of one episode
when looking back to the past,
but such reflection can enable us
to sharpen our vision for the days to come.
May those days see us turn division into unity
and challenge into promise.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Come Together - November 18, 2010
Shabbat Shalom!
“Seeing your face is like seeing the face of God,”
said Jacob as he met his long-estranged brother Esau
for the first time in years.
Jacob felt that he knew what it was like to see God
from his mysterious wrestling match
with a “man” just before he crossed the Jabok River to face his brother.
Was this struggle all in his mind?
Was it real? Was it an angel? Was it God?
It didn’t matter, because the experience was real to him.
His struggle led to his new difficulty with walking due to a hip strain he had received
when he was alone, or, perhaps, not alone.
He had feared this reunion with his brother
because of the deceit to which he was a partner
that led to Jacob demanding the birthright of Esau
and taking the first-born son’s blessing with the help of his mother, Rebekah, who believed that Jacob’s destiny required drastic measure.
Jacob knew of Esau’s anger, and feared that he would not emerge
from this meeting alive.
Yet, as he saw Esau approaching, getting closer and closer,
he realized that there was something in Esau’s walk and his eyes
that reflected something other than hatred,
an assessment which was confirmed as the two brothers hugged and kissed.
Once Esau realized that he had all that he needed in life,
he was able to let go of the conflict with his brother
so that they could be in the same place once again
in a spirit of acceptance of each other’s individuality, and
perhaps, on some level, brotherly respect and love.
Jacob was still reluctant to reconcile enough to follow his brother and live alongside him after their meeting, but peace had finally been restored between the sons of Isaac.
As Jacob said, “seeing your face is like seeing the face of God,”
he acknowledged that touch of the divine in each person,
a realization which can, sometimes, lead to balance and equilibrium.
In communities, in families, and between nations,
conflicts may exist which are as serious as the tension between
Jacob and Esau, based in a past of mistrust and deceit, even hatred.
Like Esau and Jacob, when we accept ourselves as we are
and others as they are, we make room for the possibility
of an end to conflict and a beginning to renewed coexistence,
May we find such coexistence, even peace, in our lives and may our attitudes and actions lead to peace all around us.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
“Seeing your face is like seeing the face of God,”
said Jacob as he met his long-estranged brother Esau
for the first time in years.
Jacob felt that he knew what it was like to see God
from his mysterious wrestling match
with a “man” just before he crossed the Jabok River to face his brother.
Was this struggle all in his mind?
Was it real? Was it an angel? Was it God?
It didn’t matter, because the experience was real to him.
His struggle led to his new difficulty with walking due to a hip strain he had received
when he was alone, or, perhaps, not alone.
He had feared this reunion with his brother
because of the deceit to which he was a partner
that led to Jacob demanding the birthright of Esau
and taking the first-born son’s blessing with the help of his mother, Rebekah, who believed that Jacob’s destiny required drastic measure.
Jacob knew of Esau’s anger, and feared that he would not emerge
from this meeting alive.
Yet, as he saw Esau approaching, getting closer and closer,
he realized that there was something in Esau’s walk and his eyes
that reflected something other than hatred,
an assessment which was confirmed as the two brothers hugged and kissed.
Once Esau realized that he had all that he needed in life,
he was able to let go of the conflict with his brother
so that they could be in the same place once again
in a spirit of acceptance of each other’s individuality, and
perhaps, on some level, brotherly respect and love.
Jacob was still reluctant to reconcile enough to follow his brother and live alongside him after their meeting, but peace had finally been restored between the sons of Isaac.
As Jacob said, “seeing your face is like seeing the face of God,”
he acknowledged that touch of the divine in each person,
a realization which can, sometimes, lead to balance and equilibrium.
In communities, in families, and between nations,
conflicts may exist which are as serious as the tension between
Jacob and Esau, based in a past of mistrust and deceit, even hatred.
Like Esau and Jacob, when we accept ourselves as we are
and others as they are, we make room for the possibility
of an end to conflict and a beginning to renewed coexistence,
May we find such coexistence, even peace, in our lives and may our attitudes and actions lead to peace all around us.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
Places - November 11, 2010
Shabbat Shalom!
“There are places I remember all my life, though some have changed.
Some forever, not for better, some have gone and some remained.
All these places have their moments with lovers and friends I still can recall.
Some are dead and some are living - In my life, I’ve loved them all.”
These lyrics by John Lennon and Paul McCartney (mainly John Lennon) make an immediate connection between the places that are significant in our lives, the moments associated with those places, and the people with whom we experienced those moments.
In the Torah reading for this week, Vayaytzay, Jacob began to learn about how a particular place can be associated with a pivotal moment in life. In fact, the word for place, MAKOM, figures prominently in the narrative:
“Coming upon a certain PLACE, Jacob passed the night there…taking one of the stones of the MAKOM/PLACE, he made it his head-rest.” After Jacob dreamed of a ladder reaching to the sky, with angels going up and down on it, he proclaimed: “Truly, the Eternal was in this MAKOM/PLACE, and I did not know it!” Finally, the Torah states that “he named the MAKOM/PLACE Bayt El-Abode/House of God.”
The root word for MAKOM is KUF-VAV-MEM, a root that means to arise, endure, sustain (as in V’KIY’MANU in the SHEHECHEYANU prayer), establish, and be fulfilled or realized. In addition to place, the word MAKOM itself can mean spot, existence or substance. While Jacob himself linked God to a specific MAKOM/PLACE, there is a rabbinic interpretation that associates God with every place: “Why do we call God MAKOM/THE PLACE? Because God is the preserver/existence/place of the world, but God’s world is not God’s existence/place.” The divine presence cannot be confined to any one world or even any particular spot in space or moment in time. MAKOM has come to be the name refers to God as being “omnipresent,” pervading the entire universe. That means that, in any place, or in any moment, we can find an imprint of God and a sign of our connection to all of creation. Like Jacob, we can come to recognize how a place or a moment may be special when we open our eyes and heart to the possibility of encountering the sacred, anytime and anywhere.
While sitting with my music colleagues at the Hava Nashira workshop at Olin-Sang-Ruby Union Institute Camp in Wisconsin a number of years ago, Cantor Ellen Dreskin asked us all, “Think about the first place you went when you were away from your parents for an extended period of time.” As I sat in the main house/BAYIT, I looked around and realized, “It was here…this was the place.” I had attended that very camp a few months before becoming Bar Mitzvah, and Ellen’s question added a deeper dimension to my long-past experience at that camp from that moment on: this was the place where I first established my independence.
Each of us is like Jacob (and the Beatles as well!) in saying that “there are places I remember….all these places had their moments.” Think about the places and experiences that were pivotal for you – let them give you strength and hope for the future, and allow them to open your eyes to see a divine hand gently touching you, offering support, encouragement and love.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
“There are places I remember all my life, though some have changed.
Some forever, not for better, some have gone and some remained.
All these places have their moments with lovers and friends I still can recall.
Some are dead and some are living - In my life, I’ve loved them all.”
These lyrics by John Lennon and Paul McCartney (mainly John Lennon) make an immediate connection between the places that are significant in our lives, the moments associated with those places, and the people with whom we experienced those moments.
In the Torah reading for this week, Vayaytzay, Jacob began to learn about how a particular place can be associated with a pivotal moment in life. In fact, the word for place, MAKOM, figures prominently in the narrative:
“Coming upon a certain PLACE, Jacob passed the night there…taking one of the stones of the MAKOM/PLACE, he made it his head-rest.” After Jacob dreamed of a ladder reaching to the sky, with angels going up and down on it, he proclaimed: “Truly, the Eternal was in this MAKOM/PLACE, and I did not know it!” Finally, the Torah states that “he named the MAKOM/PLACE Bayt El-Abode/House of God.”
The root word for MAKOM is KUF-VAV-MEM, a root that means to arise, endure, sustain (as in V’KIY’MANU in the SHEHECHEYANU prayer), establish, and be fulfilled or realized. In addition to place, the word MAKOM itself can mean spot, existence or substance. While Jacob himself linked God to a specific MAKOM/PLACE, there is a rabbinic interpretation that associates God with every place: “Why do we call God MAKOM/THE PLACE? Because God is the preserver/existence/place of the world, but God’s world is not God’s existence/place.” The divine presence cannot be confined to any one world or even any particular spot in space or moment in time. MAKOM has come to be the name refers to God as being “omnipresent,” pervading the entire universe. That means that, in any place, or in any moment, we can find an imprint of God and a sign of our connection to all of creation. Like Jacob, we can come to recognize how a place or a moment may be special when we open our eyes and heart to the possibility of encountering the sacred, anytime and anywhere.
While sitting with my music colleagues at the Hava Nashira workshop at Olin-Sang-Ruby Union Institute Camp in Wisconsin a number of years ago, Cantor Ellen Dreskin asked us all, “Think about the first place you went when you were away from your parents for an extended period of time.” As I sat in the main house/BAYIT, I looked around and realized, “It was here…this was the place.” I had attended that very camp a few months before becoming Bar Mitzvah, and Ellen’s question added a deeper dimension to my long-past experience at that camp from that moment on: this was the place where I first established my independence.
Each of us is like Jacob (and the Beatles as well!) in saying that “there are places I remember….all these places had their moments.” Think about the places and experiences that were pivotal for you – let them give you strength and hope for the future, and allow them to open your eyes to see a divine hand gently touching you, offering support, encouragement and love.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Struggling on the Same Page with Respect - November 3, 2010
Some pre-Shabbat, post-election day thoughts…
Rebekah wondered
why the twins that were yet to be born
were “pressing against each other inside her.”
She asked God, who told her that these two children
would become two nations and go their separate ways
and that the elder would serve the younger.
The blessings they would receive from their father, were, in the end,
the blessing intended for the other
after the younger, Jacob, was prepared by his mother
to appear to be his first-born brother Esau.
Those blessings spoke of abundance for both sons, dominance by one, but eventual independence and self-sufficiency for the other.
As we consider the results of choices we just made in voting booths
along with our fellow citizens,
we may wonder if we, the American people, are like Jacob and Esau,
two nations struggling with and pressing against each other,
when, in fact, we are one nation with great diversity of background
and, of course, opinion.
Some would say that the leaders chosen are the result of a pendulum
that swings back and forth with prevailing public sentiment,
but there is still a hope for the possibility of moving forward
in one way or another, with some leaders and citizens realizing
that compromise might give everyone more of what they want and need
in their daily lives.
So the struggle will continue, but it is one that can yield results when we remind ourselves that we are brothers and sisters that ultimately share a common belief in freedom and justice.
We can still affirm that “We the people” means a productive partnership between leaders and citizens who come from many cultural backgrounds, many faiths, many nations, all who have something to contribute to the welfare of our national community.
May our many insights, strategies, ideas, values and beliefs come together in a dialogue across our communities and states that can bring us security, true partnership, mutual respect, and hope.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
Rebekah wondered
why the twins that were yet to be born
were “pressing against each other inside her.”
She asked God, who told her that these two children
would become two nations and go their separate ways
and that the elder would serve the younger.
The blessings they would receive from their father, were, in the end,
the blessing intended for the other
after the younger, Jacob, was prepared by his mother
to appear to be his first-born brother Esau.
Those blessings spoke of abundance for both sons, dominance by one, but eventual independence and self-sufficiency for the other.
As we consider the results of choices we just made in voting booths
along with our fellow citizens,
we may wonder if we, the American people, are like Jacob and Esau,
two nations struggling with and pressing against each other,
when, in fact, we are one nation with great diversity of background
and, of course, opinion.
Some would say that the leaders chosen are the result of a pendulum
that swings back and forth with prevailing public sentiment,
but there is still a hope for the possibility of moving forward
in one way or another, with some leaders and citizens realizing
that compromise might give everyone more of what they want and need
in their daily lives.
So the struggle will continue, but it is one that can yield results when we remind ourselves that we are brothers and sisters that ultimately share a common belief in freedom and justice.
We can still affirm that “We the people” means a productive partnership between leaders and citizens who come from many cultural backgrounds, many faiths, many nations, all who have something to contribute to the welfare of our national community.
May our many insights, strategies, ideas, values and beliefs come together in a dialogue across our communities and states that can bring us security, true partnership, mutual respect, and hope.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
Moving Forward...Staying Together - October 29, 2010 (Kesher Newsletter article)
In around 1975, a rabbi went to visit one of his long-time congregants whom he hadn’t seen at Temple during his two years at the congregation. The woman told him that she hadn’t come to services or other events for many years because she was still angry about the building fund. The rabbi calmly replied, “Well, that was in 1953. Wouldn’t it be all right to come back to Temple now?” The member firmly responded, “Rabbi, I was not talking about the building fund of 1953. I was talking about the building fund of 1925!”
The story, from another congregation, is absolutely true! From my own upbringing, I very much understand how someone might hold on to a feeling for 50 years in a congregation. I also know that refusing to relinquish that emotion kept that woman from experiencing the positive aspects of community which were very much present in that congregation. I know how many times my parents were not happy with approaches and behaviors they saw among some Temple members, but they remained active and reaped the benefits of being part of a Temple family, something that was very much evident in all the years that they were members and in the support our family received at the time of our parents’ deaths. An article in the Kansas City Jewish Chronicle on October 24 (www.kcjc.com—it should still be there) focused on the many rabbis confirmed at my home Temple over the last 70 years, including my brother and me. The nurturing of leadership of members of all ages in a congregation comes from successfully navigating through difficult challenges and taking time to celebrate milestones and major accomplishments. At the foundation of all relationships in a Temple must be mutual respect, a sense of openness to new possibilities even when change may not be preferred or welcome, a constant acknowledgement of being part of a team, a reverence for the sanctity of a Temple and its purpose, and a commitment to support the congregation through whatever means are personally within reach because of a belief in the power of community. Beyond all that, I have learned that persistence is key, as well as an ability to see the glass as half-full.
In the Torah reading for the last weekend of October this year, Chayei Sarah, Abraham’s servant (named Eliezer by the rabbis) went to find a wife for his master’s son, Isaac. When he arrived at his destination (among Abraham’s relatives), he prayed that there would be one woman who would instinctively know to offer him water AND to offer his camels water to drink as well. He was looking for a woman who would show both initiative and kindness. It happened that one woman did exactly as he had hoped—Rebekah, whom we mention in every service. Eliezer knew that she would be able to take charge of Isaac’s household with confidence and goodness. Like Rebekah, we have the opportunity at Temple Israel to demonstrate kindness, respect, initiative, and a warmth that will draw us together and sustain our ties as fellow congregants through trial and disagreement and, hopefully most often, times of success and satisfaction. I look forward to your continuing partnership as we continue to move towards the future with determination and hope!
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
The story, from another congregation, is absolutely true! From my own upbringing, I very much understand how someone might hold on to a feeling for 50 years in a congregation. I also know that refusing to relinquish that emotion kept that woman from experiencing the positive aspects of community which were very much present in that congregation. I know how many times my parents were not happy with approaches and behaviors they saw among some Temple members, but they remained active and reaped the benefits of being part of a Temple family, something that was very much evident in all the years that they were members and in the support our family received at the time of our parents’ deaths. An article in the Kansas City Jewish Chronicle on October 24 (www.kcjc.com—it should still be there) focused on the many rabbis confirmed at my home Temple over the last 70 years, including my brother and me. The nurturing of leadership of members of all ages in a congregation comes from successfully navigating through difficult challenges and taking time to celebrate milestones and major accomplishments. At the foundation of all relationships in a Temple must be mutual respect, a sense of openness to new possibilities even when change may not be preferred or welcome, a constant acknowledgement of being part of a team, a reverence for the sanctity of a Temple and its purpose, and a commitment to support the congregation through whatever means are personally within reach because of a belief in the power of community. Beyond all that, I have learned that persistence is key, as well as an ability to see the glass as half-full.
In the Torah reading for the last weekend of October this year, Chayei Sarah, Abraham’s servant (named Eliezer by the rabbis) went to find a wife for his master’s son, Isaac. When he arrived at his destination (among Abraham’s relatives), he prayed that there would be one woman who would instinctively know to offer him water AND to offer his camels water to drink as well. He was looking for a woman who would show both initiative and kindness. It happened that one woman did exactly as he had hoped—Rebekah, whom we mention in every service. Eliezer knew that she would be able to take charge of Isaac’s household with confidence and goodness. Like Rebekah, we have the opportunity at Temple Israel to demonstrate kindness, respect, initiative, and a warmth that will draw us together and sustain our ties as fellow congregants through trial and disagreement and, hopefully most often, times of success and satisfaction. I look forward to your continuing partnership as we continue to move towards the future with determination and hope!
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
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