Shabbat Shalom!
D’VAR TORAH ON MARCH 4, 2011 FOR SHABBAT ACROSS AMERICA
The Torah reading for this Shabbat, Pekuday, is one that is very special to our family. When our son, Adam, was Bar Mitzvah in Topeka, in 1999, he read from this week’s Torah portion (which is usually combined with last week’s portion, Vayakheil). When I gave my obligatory senior sermon as a rabbinic student on March 7, 1981, 30 years ago this weekend, the Torah reading was P’kuday, So, I have had many years to think about the meaning of this section of the Torah. Something struck me in a different way this year about certain words used in this reading,
The words which caught my eye this year aren’t just words: they are names. And they aren’t just any names – they are the names of the two artisans who were put in charge of designing and building the tabernacle, the house of worship for the Israelites in the wilderness. We probably don’t often think about what our names mean, whether in English, Hebrew, Yiddish or whatever their origin might be. For me, my first name in Hebrew – PERETZ – is one of Jacob’s grandsons in the Bible, but it means to “burst forth.” My middle Hebrew name, LAYB, is actually Yiddish for “lion.” Hopefully, those names combine to keep me focused, firm, creative, enthusiastic and energetic, but NOT ferocious!!!
The names of the two chief architects of the Tabernacle offer us a hint at what it takes to build a sacred community – and, perhaps, any type of community. The first of these two specially-skilled Israelites was named BEZALEL ben (son of) URI ben CHUR. You movie buffs out there may have already caught the source in this passage for title of the epic tale Ben Hur. My Dad always told me that the name HUR (CHUR in Hebrew) came right from this passage in the book of Exodus. Chur means child in most ancient Near Eastern Languages. So the grandfather of the chief artisan is a CHILD, perhaps signifying that all human beings are children of the divine. The father’s name is URI – if you know the word OR, which means light, you could guess that URI means MY LIGHT. So the CHILD of the divine, the grandfather, through his son URI, offers LIGHT to the grandson, B’TZAL-EL, which means “in the shadow of God.” Bezalel’s entire name converges into a humble realization of being connected to all members of the human family, who, when they open their eyes, can see a light of wisdom and insight that enables them to realize that they live in the shadow of God. As we look around this sanctuary, we see light, the NEIR TAMID, the Eternal Light, the Menorot, – visual signs of enduring faith and our opportunity to gain light – inspiration, vision and learning. And how do we benefit from the light and from living in the shadow of God? We find an answer in the name of the other artisan, OHOLIAV ben ACHISAMACH. In this case, the father’s name literally translates as “my brother is a support,” reminding us that supporting one another is essential if a community is going to stand and sustain itself.. And the son’s name, OHOLIAV, means something like “The Father/Parent is my tent,” or it could even mean that “The Father/Parent is my guiding light.” One explanation of this name noted that the fires in the tents of people who dwelled in a desert served like a beacon – an early version of a GPS. When we consider the names of both of the artisans, Bezalel, “in the shadow of God,” and Oholiav, “father/parent is my tent or my guiding beacon,” we have a perfect metaphor of what a sacred community can bring to us: a sense of always being in God’s presence, under God’s protection as we move along a path that enables us to see the spark of the divine in each other’s eyes and in every person. It is that realization, in our tradition, that can lead us to support each other by sharing our wisdom, skills, energy and optimism.
There is one more word to add to this list. The name of our congregation – Yisrael – Israel. Some commentators explained that Yisrael means “to struggle with God,” as explained in the section where Jacob wrestled with a divine being and was given his new name. Others have said it could be taken from the words YASHAR EL, where EL means God and YASHAR comes from the root words which translates as upright, straight, and just. YASHAR is the root for the Hebrew word Y’sharim, which means just and righteous people who follow a path of integrity. Psalm 112 verse 7 declares: ZARACH BACHOSHECH OR LA’YSHARIM CHANUN V’RACHUM V’TZADIK – For the Y’SHARIM, the goodhearted, a light of grace, mercy and justice shines in the darkness.
We have heard many cries resounding all over the world in recent weeks calling upon governmental leaders to show greater respect and justice towards people at all levels of society. The best response to those cries is the one that comes from a higher place. We know how much any community enlivens and enriches itself when it sees itself as living in the shadow of God. For any Jewish community, the moral insights and wisdom from our tradition have the potential to take us to that higher place, where we can gain a deeper understanding about the meaning of justice, equity and freedom in today’s world. May we continue to see the light of Torah as it illumines our path, leading us to take refuge under the shadow and protection of the Oneness inside of us and all around us that permeates all creation and leads us to say with sincerity and hope – HINEI MAH TOV U-MAH NA-EEM, SHEVET ACHIM GAM YACHAD – how good and how pleasant it is when people – all people - dwell together in unity.
May this light continue to be our guide – and let us say amen.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Faith and Trust in the unseen - February 18, 2011
On Wednesday, February 16, our 6th-7th Grade class engaged in an in-depth discussion on the “Golden Calf” episode from this week’s Torah portion, KI TISA. We read the translation from Chapter 32 of Exodus and then split into three groups that answered questions from the perspectives of Moses, Aaron and the people. The general memories of this episode, whether from the biblical text or “the big screen,” would likely include the quick acquiescence of Aaron to the people’s desires to worship something they could see, the restlessness of the people at Moses’ absence, the shattering of the tables of the Ten Utterances/Declarations/Commandments, and the punishment of some of those who were at the forefront of the creation of the calf. Any tale from the Torah has deeper lessons and messages beyond the action on the surface. When the students got back together after our separate discussions, we talked about the importance of trust, loyalty and faith. We also noted how Torah clearly demonstrates that, in a community, patience and forgiveness are essential. We recognized how the Torah portrayed Moses’ anger, but we marveled at the way in which he pleaded with God on behalf of the people (called “stiffnecked” in the Torah – meaning that they couldn’t see anything but their own views/concerns) to let them learn from their impatience and fear as they were trying to become accustomed to their newly-acquired freedom. Finally, we realized that God did listen to Moses and accept, to a great extent, his request to let him lead the Israelites on their journey so that they could grow along their way.
Not only in Egypt, and not only in the Middle East, but even in certain locations in the United States, there are people who are gathering to declare their opposition to their current leadership or to proposals which, they believe, will make their future less secure. In a democracy, this is a guaranteed right, expressed in the form of demonstrations, letters-to-the-editor, strikes by workers when they feel their needs are not being met, and legislative battles. There are lessons for everyone – leaders and citizens – that emerge from this week’s Torah portion in the form of values on which all people can hopefully agree: trust, a willingness to listen, some flexibility in approach and ideology, faith, mutual loyalty and respect as fellow citizens (including leaders), patience, forgiveness, and a well-intentioned and constructive passion for one’s own views and beliefs. Leadership – and being a good citizen – entails fulfilling our responsibilities to make a community, a country, or the world a place where everyone can live in hope and not in fear. Debbie Friedman’s interpretation of the words of the prophet Zechariah says it best: “Not by might and not by power, but by spirit alone shall we all live in peace.”
Shabbat Shalom!
Rabbi Larry
Not only in Egypt, and not only in the Middle East, but even in certain locations in the United States, there are people who are gathering to declare their opposition to their current leadership or to proposals which, they believe, will make their future less secure. In a democracy, this is a guaranteed right, expressed in the form of demonstrations, letters-to-the-editor, strikes by workers when they feel their needs are not being met, and legislative battles. There are lessons for everyone – leaders and citizens – that emerge from this week’s Torah portion in the form of values on which all people can hopefully agree: trust, a willingness to listen, some flexibility in approach and ideology, faith, mutual loyalty and respect as fellow citizens (including leaders), patience, forgiveness, and a well-intentioned and constructive passion for one’s own views and beliefs. Leadership – and being a good citizen – entails fulfilling our responsibilities to make a community, a country, or the world a place where everyone can live in hope and not in fear. Debbie Friedman’s interpretation of the words of the prophet Zechariah says it best: “Not by might and not by power, but by spirit alone shall we all live in peace.”
Shabbat Shalom!
Rabbi Larry
Friday, February 4, 2011
Among Us - February 4, 2011
Shabbat Shalom!
“The Eternal One spoke to Moses, saying: Tell the Israelite people to bring Me gifts; you shall accept gifts for Me from every person whose heart so moves him. And let them make Me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them.”
These verses, which begin this week’s Torah reading, TERUMAH, established a means for individual participation in creating the holy space for Israelite worship. “Bringing gifts” made the people feel a sense of ownership of the spiritual center of their community. Today, we might feel that same sense of ownership in community life through giving charity/tzedakah, giving our time as volunteers for worthy causes, helping with Temple programs and decision-making, and when we enter a voting booth in an election to make a choice between a number of different candidates (from different political parties).
The events in the Middle East (Tunisia, Egypt, Jordan and perhaps other nations as well) demonstrate how the feeling of valued and equal participation in political life is integral to the stability of a government and the collective community of citizens. I wrote a few days ago (in my “Facebook” status message), “In light of the events in Egypt and Jordan, I suppose that the strength of our own political process to sustain itself, even with what we might call ‘vociferous discourse,’ has been put into proper perspective. Here is hoping that any changes in the Middle East will be peaceful but will also allow for diversity of opinion without the threat of violence.” In Egypt and other nations, there are many forces and views coming into play, including supporters of Hosni Mubarak, the Muslim Brotherhood, the Egyptian army, and the “people on the street.” The fact that apologies for violence against protesters have been forthcoming from some government officials offer a sign that the voices of the people have been heard, to some extent. Some analysts are concerned that the protests will be “commandeered” by a group that would enter power and adopt repressive policies. One article I read noted that democratic governments lasted only for a very brief time prior to the Communist takeover in Russia and the ascendancy of the current regime in Iran. What seems to be certain is that people who feel oppressed for too long, or perceive that they have been denied a true opportunity to take part in the political process, will eventually make sure that their voices are heard. I would be interested to hear perspectives from congregants/community members on these current events (perhaps at a face-to-face discussion program – let me know if you are interested).
***************************
Rhonda and I attended the tribute event to honor the memory of Debbie Friedman at Temple Israel in Boston last Sunday. That gathering was also an illustration of “bringing gifts” to the community. First, there was the gift of Debbie Friedman’s leadership and music that pervaded the event as individual Jewish singers/songwriters/performers offered renditions of Debbie’s songs: Rabbi Larry Milder, Sue Horowitz, Cantor Jeff Klepper, Cantors Jodi Sufrin (her late brother Kerry was at Kutz camp with me and Lynne DeSantis in the summer of 1970 for a seven-week program) and Roy Einhorn, Julie Silver, Peri Smilow, Josh Nelson, Peter and Ellen Allard, and Rabbi David Paskin. Local cantors joined in Debbie’s “Mi Shebeirach,” a Boston Jewish community chorus sang Debbie’s “Oseh Shalom,” and over 50 “cantors, songleaders and soloists” (a group in which I participated) joined the others on the bimah at the beginning of the gathering to sing Debbie’s Havdalah blessings and “Im Tirtzu,” and at the end for “L’chi Lach” and “Miriam’s Song.” You can find a video of the entire concert at www.rememberingdebbie.com (there are links on the main page of this website for the video as well as photos of the event). Also, if you click the “tributes” link at the top of the home page, you will go to a screen with a video “box” on the right (which starts with “Remembering Debbie: David Paskin) – that also has a number of videos sent to the site which you can see if you click on the arrows on the left or right side of that box/screen. One of the videos is my “cover” of Debbie’s “Shelter of Peace.”
What was powerful about the event last Sunday was the music and the people. I knew almost everyone sitting around me from one convention or another, and sat next to Rabbi Shaul/Paul Levenson, my 9th Grade teacher whom some of you know from his short time filling in here at Temple Israel Dover in the early 1980s. There are so many songs composed by Debbie that I haven’t had a chance to share, which I hope to include in services and in Religious School song sessions in the coming months. Debbie’s songs are not just songs. They each bear a lesson, or bring a Jewish text and teaching to life. There is so much to learn, and music with a message offers a special spiritual means for incorporating Jewish values into our lives. Please be a part of our chorus of voices as we bring our own gifts to Temple gatherings to allow God to dwell among us in the sanctuary of community.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
Friday, January 28, 2011
Not strangers... - January 28, 2011
Shabbat Shalom!
“You shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the feelings of a stranger, having yourselves been strangers in the land of Egypt.”
This verse from this week’s Torah reading, MISHPATIM, resonates with two anniversaries remembered this week.
January 27 is designated by the United Nations as International Holocaust Remembrance Day, marking the liberation of the Auschwitz/Birkenau Nazi concentration/extermination camps in 1945. UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-Moon paid special tribute this year to the women who suffered in the Holocaust in his official statement for this commemoration: "Mothers and daughters, grandmothers, sisters and aunts, they saw their lives irrevocably changed, their families separated and their traditions shattered. Yet, despite appalling acts of discrimination, deprivation and cruelty, they consistently found ways to fight back against their persecutors. They joined the resistance, rescued those in peril, smuggled food into ghettos and made wrenching sacrifices to keep their children alive. Their courage continues to inspire. On this Holocaust Remembrance Day, let us honor these women and their legacy. Let us pledge to create a world where such atrocities can never be repeated.”
Today is the 25th anniversary of the Challenger Space Shuttle accident which many of us, I am sure, vividly remember. The deaths of Dick Scobee. Michael Smith. Ellison Onizuka. Judith Resnik. Ronald McNair. Christa McAuliffe and Gregory Jarvis were a tragedy that touched everyone. It was a crew that was multicultural, multiethnic, multifaith, united in their quest for knowledge that would enhance the human experience. Many people in New Hampshire knew Christa McAuliffe because she was teaching in Concord, New Hampshire. Because Christa McAuliffe was a teacher, she seemed close to all of us - a woman representing any personal quest we may undertake to broaden our horizons. Rhonda and I were shopping for a crib for our soon-to-be-born child when we saw the first news of the accident on the television in that store. We quickly found out that one of our congregants in Topeka, who grew up in Cleveland, knew the Resnik family, and that Rhonda’s brother, Alan, had gone to school in Framingham with Christa’s sister. In all such tragedies, the world should seem close, even without trying to determine our “degrees-of-separation,” because we are all part of one human family. All of us have challenges through which we must find a way to move forward, and, also, to appropriately and sensitively remember so that we can continue to discover and generate hope and light for the future.
It isn’t easy to create a community where no one feels like a stranger. Yet, the best of our tradition calls on us to try our best to bring down barriers and see the interconnections between us all that can enable us to find healing and renewal together. May we continue to join in this task and calling.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
“You shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the feelings of a stranger, having yourselves been strangers in the land of Egypt.”
This verse from this week’s Torah reading, MISHPATIM, resonates with two anniversaries remembered this week.
January 27 is designated by the United Nations as International Holocaust Remembrance Day, marking the liberation of the Auschwitz/Birkenau Nazi concentration/extermination camps in 1945. UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-Moon paid special tribute this year to the women who suffered in the Holocaust in his official statement for this commemoration: "Mothers and daughters, grandmothers, sisters and aunts, they saw their lives irrevocably changed, their families separated and their traditions shattered. Yet, despite appalling acts of discrimination, deprivation and cruelty, they consistently found ways to fight back against their persecutors. They joined the resistance, rescued those in peril, smuggled food into ghettos and made wrenching sacrifices to keep their children alive. Their courage continues to inspire. On this Holocaust Remembrance Day, let us honor these women and their legacy. Let us pledge to create a world where such atrocities can never be repeated.”
Today is the 25th anniversary of the Challenger Space Shuttle accident which many of us, I am sure, vividly remember. The deaths of Dick Scobee. Michael Smith. Ellison Onizuka. Judith Resnik. Ronald McNair. Christa McAuliffe and Gregory Jarvis were a tragedy that touched everyone. It was a crew that was multicultural, multiethnic, multifaith, united in their quest for knowledge that would enhance the human experience. Many people in New Hampshire knew Christa McAuliffe because she was teaching in Concord, New Hampshire. Because Christa McAuliffe was a teacher, she seemed close to all of us - a woman representing any personal quest we may undertake to broaden our horizons. Rhonda and I were shopping for a crib for our soon-to-be-born child when we saw the first news of the accident on the television in that store. We quickly found out that one of our congregants in Topeka, who grew up in Cleveland, knew the Resnik family, and that Rhonda’s brother, Alan, had gone to school in Framingham with Christa’s sister. In all such tragedies, the world should seem close, even without trying to determine our “degrees-of-separation,” because we are all part of one human family. All of us have challenges through which we must find a way to move forward, and, also, to appropriately and sensitively remember so that we can continue to discover and generate hope and light for the future.
It isn’t easy to create a community where no one feels like a stranger. Yet, the best of our tradition calls on us to try our best to bring down barriers and see the interconnections between us all that can enable us to find healing and renewal together. May we continue to join in this task and calling.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
Friday, January 21, 2011
Every One—and Everyone—a Treasure - January 21, 2011
FROM THIS WEEK’S TEN MINUTES OF TORAH
From the Union for Reform Judaism-January 17, 2011
Parashat B’shalach
http://tmt.urj.net/archives/1torahstudy/011711.html
DAVAR ACHER (Alternate Interpretation)
Every One—and Everyone—a Treasure
Lawrence P. Karol
Over the years of my rabbinate, I have written, spoken, and composed songs about creating community. Through these kinds of activities, we can do what Rabbi Dan Levin describes (in his featured interpretation for this week) as “weaving a web of relation with each other,” which can, in turn, build a relationship with God. Weaving that web of relationships requires listening to much-needed counsel, as Moses did with his father-in-law Jethro, and, at times, “taking oneself out of the equation,” which Moses learned to do as the Israelites, united as one, promised to follow God’s commandments. Moses, the leader, was reminded that he was both a leader and, still, one of the people.
The word “listen” is prominent in Exodus 19:5, in which God declared, “ ‘V’atah im shamoa tish’m’u B’Koli—Now then, if you will obey Me faithfully [literally, “listen to My voice”] and keep My covenant, you shall be My treasured possession among all the peoples.’ ” The next verse takes the special nature of the Israelite people even further: “ ‘but you shall be to Me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.’ ”
God’s words were conditional: You will be a treasured possession, a kingdom of priests, and a holy people if you keep the covenant. This parashah highlights, as integral to that covenant: truly listening to each other and to a still, small voice that offers guidance and strength, and acting upon what we hear; being humble enough to see oneself as part of the people, willing to put collective needs before personal concerns for the greater good; and recognizing that everyone has the potential to be a treasure and to offer a unique contribution and spirit that can enrich the entire community. May each of us fulfill this for ourselves and lead others along that path to creating a kahal kadosh, a sacred community, wherever we may be.
From the Union for Reform Judaism-January 17, 2011
Parashat B’shalach
http://tmt.urj.net/archives/1torahstudy/011711.html
DAVAR ACHER (Alternate Interpretation)
Every One—and Everyone—a Treasure
Lawrence P. Karol
Over the years of my rabbinate, I have written, spoken, and composed songs about creating community. Through these kinds of activities, we can do what Rabbi Dan Levin describes (in his featured interpretation for this week) as “weaving a web of relation with each other,” which can, in turn, build a relationship with God. Weaving that web of relationships requires listening to much-needed counsel, as Moses did with his father-in-law Jethro, and, at times, “taking oneself out of the equation,” which Moses learned to do as the Israelites, united as one, promised to follow God’s commandments. Moses, the leader, was reminded that he was both a leader and, still, one of the people.
The word “listen” is prominent in Exodus 19:5, in which God declared, “ ‘V’atah im shamoa tish’m’u B’Koli—Now then, if you will obey Me faithfully [literally, “listen to My voice”] and keep My covenant, you shall be My treasured possession among all the peoples.’ ” The next verse takes the special nature of the Israelite people even further: “ ‘but you shall be to Me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.’ ”
God’s words were conditional: You will be a treasured possession, a kingdom of priests, and a holy people if you keep the covenant. This parashah highlights, as integral to that covenant: truly listening to each other and to a still, small voice that offers guidance and strength, and acting upon what we hear; being humble enough to see oneself as part of the people, willing to put collective needs before personal concerns for the greater good; and recognizing that everyone has the potential to be a treasure and to offer a unique contribution and spirit that can enrich the entire community. May each of us fulfill this for ourselves and lead others along that path to creating a kahal kadosh, a sacred community, wherever we may be.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Beloved Community - January 14, 2011
Shabbat Shalom.
“There are certain things we can say about this method [of non-violence] that seeks justice without violence. It does not seek to defeat or humiliate the opponent but to win his friendship and understanding. I think that this is one of the points, one of the basic points, one of the basic distinguishing points between violence and non-violence. The ultimate end of violence is to defeat the opponent. The ultimate end of non-violence is to win the friendship of the opponent…the end is reconciliation; the end is redemption; the end is the creation of the beloved community. It is this type of spirit and this type of love that can transform opposers into friends. It is this type of understanding goodwill that will transform the deep gloom of the old age into the exuberant gladness of the new age. It is this love which will bring about miracles in the hearts of men.”
Martin Luther King, Jr, from “Justice Without Violence,” April 3, 1957 and “Facing the Challenge of a New Age,” 1956
Martin Luther King, Jr.’s concept of the “beloved community” came to mind for me in a variety of ways this week. Tonight is Shabbat Shirah, the Sabbath of Song, when we remember the Israelites rejoicing by the Sea of Reeds after escaping the pursuit of the Egyptians, who had hoped to recapture the Israelites to make them slaves once again. The rabbis wondered why the women happened to have timbrels with them by the sea so that they could break into song and dance, led by Moses’ sister Miriam. They explained that the women had faith that miracles, such as gaining their freedom, awaited them, so that they would have a reason to celebrate. The women carried with them the hope and love of which Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke.
Many members of the worldwide Jewish community have mourned this week the death of songwriter/songleader/performer/teacher Debbie Friedman in California at age 59. I posted some extended comments about Debbie on my personal blog, http://rabbilarrykarol.blogspot.com, recounting some of my more memorable moments with Debbie, beginning even before I met her in 1975. Rhonda and I watched the funeral (you can see it at www.urj.org/debbiefriedman or, along with the evening minyan, at http://www.tbsoc.com/debbie/index.html) this past Tuesday, hearing eulogies from well-known rabbis and teachers, and marveling at the strength of the musical performances by Craig Taubman, Josh Nelson, Julie Silver, and Cantor Linda Kates. Debbie had a way of bringing people together, not only through song, but through prayer and study that emerged from the lyrics and melodies she composed. Her concert performances, workshops at conventions, healing services in many communities, and teaching at camps, congregations and at Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion gave many people a common experience and a shared musical language. That unity has been evident in comments that have pervaded several e-mail digests and facebook over the last few days. The lyrics of Debbie’s song, “One People” reflect Martin Luther King, Jr.’s vision of a beloved community: “We are one people seeking justice, one people seeking freedom, one people seeking hope, one people seeking peace.” Her English setting of a phrase from Psalm 126, “Those who sow in tears will reap in joy,” also conveys a similar message of hope which can guide us in how we view our relationships, including within congregational life.
The tragedy in Tucson this past Saturday has touched our entire nation, and perhaps the world as well. Congressional representative Gabrielle Giffords continues on her difficult road to recovery. I am sure that many of us read in Foster’s Daily Democrat that our congregant Todd Selig has met and gotten to know Representative Giffords:
http://www.fosters.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20110112/GJNEWS_01/701129924/-1/fosnews
I was in contact on Wednesday with two rabbinic colleagues who were touched by this sad event, one who serves the Conservative synagogue in Tucson, the other who was organizing a candlelight vigil at the Claremont Colleges in California for Representative Giffords, who is an alumna of Scripps college. Such ties make the shootings in Tucson seem even closer to us. In an email last Friday night to Kentucky Secretary of State Trey Grayson (soon to be director of Harvard University’s Institute of Politics), Giffords told her friend from the Republican party: “After you get settled, I would love to talk about what we can do to promote centrism and moderation. I am one of only 12 Dems left in a GOP district (the only woman) and think that we need to figure out how to tone our rhetoric and partisanship down,” This vision represents a step towards “beloved community.” President Obama echoed that vision as he memorialized 9 year-old shooting victim Christina-Taylor Green: “Imagine: here was a young girl who was just becoming aware of our democracy; just beginning to understand the obligations of citizenship; just starting to glimpse the fact that someday she too might play a part in shaping her nation’s future. She had been elected to her student council; she saw public service as something exciting, something hopeful. She was off to meet her congresswoman, someone she was sure was good and important and might be a role model. She saw all this through the eyes of a child, undimmed by the cynicism or vitriol that we adults all too often just take for granted….I want us to live up to her expectations. I want our democracy to be as good as she imagined it. All of us – we should do everything we can to make sure this country lives up to our children’s expectations.”
In our nation, in our community, in our congregation, the vision of a beloved community can guide us along a hopeful and productive path, one on which we are traveling companions who are able to engage in civil conversations that can take us forward to achieve our shared goals. May the thoughts we share with one another and the songs we sing continue to make us one people seeking freedom, justice, hope and peace.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
“There are certain things we can say about this method [of non-violence] that seeks justice without violence. It does not seek to defeat or humiliate the opponent but to win his friendship and understanding. I think that this is one of the points, one of the basic points, one of the basic distinguishing points between violence and non-violence. The ultimate end of violence is to defeat the opponent. The ultimate end of non-violence is to win the friendship of the opponent…the end is reconciliation; the end is redemption; the end is the creation of the beloved community. It is this type of spirit and this type of love that can transform opposers into friends. It is this type of understanding goodwill that will transform the deep gloom of the old age into the exuberant gladness of the new age. It is this love which will bring about miracles in the hearts of men.”
Martin Luther King, Jr, from “Justice Without Violence,” April 3, 1957 and “Facing the Challenge of a New Age,” 1956
Martin Luther King, Jr.’s concept of the “beloved community” came to mind for me in a variety of ways this week. Tonight is Shabbat Shirah, the Sabbath of Song, when we remember the Israelites rejoicing by the Sea of Reeds after escaping the pursuit of the Egyptians, who had hoped to recapture the Israelites to make them slaves once again. The rabbis wondered why the women happened to have timbrels with them by the sea so that they could break into song and dance, led by Moses’ sister Miriam. They explained that the women had faith that miracles, such as gaining their freedom, awaited them, so that they would have a reason to celebrate. The women carried with them the hope and love of which Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke.
Many members of the worldwide Jewish community have mourned this week the death of songwriter/songleader/performer/teacher Debbie Friedman in California at age 59. I posted some extended comments about Debbie on my personal blog, http://rabbilarrykarol.blogspot.com, recounting some of my more memorable moments with Debbie, beginning even before I met her in 1975. Rhonda and I watched the funeral (you can see it at www.urj.org/debbiefriedman or, along with the evening minyan, at http://www.tbsoc.com/debbie/index.html) this past Tuesday, hearing eulogies from well-known rabbis and teachers, and marveling at the strength of the musical performances by Craig Taubman, Josh Nelson, Julie Silver, and Cantor Linda Kates. Debbie had a way of bringing people together, not only through song, but through prayer and study that emerged from the lyrics and melodies she composed. Her concert performances, workshops at conventions, healing services in many communities, and teaching at camps, congregations and at Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion gave many people a common experience and a shared musical language. That unity has been evident in comments that have pervaded several e-mail digests and facebook over the last few days. The lyrics of Debbie’s song, “One People” reflect Martin Luther King, Jr.’s vision of a beloved community: “We are one people seeking justice, one people seeking freedom, one people seeking hope, one people seeking peace.” Her English setting of a phrase from Psalm 126, “Those who sow in tears will reap in joy,” also conveys a similar message of hope which can guide us in how we view our relationships, including within congregational life.
The tragedy in Tucson this past Saturday has touched our entire nation, and perhaps the world as well. Congressional representative Gabrielle Giffords continues on her difficult road to recovery. I am sure that many of us read in Foster’s Daily Democrat that our congregant Todd Selig has met and gotten to know Representative Giffords:
http://www.fosters.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20110112/GJNEWS_01/701129924/-1/fosnews
I was in contact on Wednesday with two rabbinic colleagues who were touched by this sad event, one who serves the Conservative synagogue in Tucson, the other who was organizing a candlelight vigil at the Claremont Colleges in California for Representative Giffords, who is an alumna of Scripps college. Such ties make the shootings in Tucson seem even closer to us. In an email last Friday night to Kentucky Secretary of State Trey Grayson (soon to be director of Harvard University’s Institute of Politics), Giffords told her friend from the Republican party: “After you get settled, I would love to talk about what we can do to promote centrism and moderation. I am one of only 12 Dems left in a GOP district (the only woman) and think that we need to figure out how to tone our rhetoric and partisanship down,” This vision represents a step towards “beloved community.” President Obama echoed that vision as he memorialized 9 year-old shooting victim Christina-Taylor Green: “Imagine: here was a young girl who was just becoming aware of our democracy; just beginning to understand the obligations of citizenship; just starting to glimpse the fact that someday she too might play a part in shaping her nation’s future. She had been elected to her student council; she saw public service as something exciting, something hopeful. She was off to meet her congresswoman, someone she was sure was good and important and might be a role model. She saw all this through the eyes of a child, undimmed by the cynicism or vitriol that we adults all too often just take for granted….I want us to live up to her expectations. I want our democracy to be as good as she imagined it. All of us – we should do everything we can to make sure this country lives up to our children’s expectations.”
In our nation, in our community, in our congregation, the vision of a beloved community can guide us along a hopeful and productive path, one on which we are traveling companions who are able to engage in civil conversations that can take us forward to achieve our shared goals. May the thoughts we share with one another and the songs we sing continue to make us one people seeking freedom, justice, hope and peace.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
Friday, January 7, 2011
Light in their dwellings - January 7, 2011
Shabbat Shalom!
During the plague of darkness in Egypt, the Israelites “enjoyed light in all their dwellings,” while the Egyptians found themselves in thick blackness “that could be touched.”
It may be difficult to imagine such a darkness. The Etz Hayim commentary suggests that this must not have been the type of darkness that could be defined as the “relative absence of light.” The Torah stated that the Egyptians “could not see one another, and for three days no one could get up from where he/she was.”
This mysterious darkness was immobilizing and debilitating in ways that seem physical but could be, primarily, spiritual or psychological. With such an interpretation, we could say that darkness has descended on a community when people are unable to recognize each other as fellow human beings, perhaps due to conflict, accumulated animosity or even hatred.
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. thought of hatred and love in terms of darkness and light. In one of his well –known sermons at the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Montgomery, Alabama in 1957, he asserted: “Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”
King’s notion of casting light on a place where there is only darkness relates to the Torah’s tale of the Egyptian refusal to grant the Israelites freedom. As Pharaoh was immobilized and unable to see the good that would come from liberating the slaves in his own heart and for his people, so were the people also caught in a place where they could not recognize the humanity of the Israelites among them. That was the darkness that engulfed them, and there was no guarantee that even granting the Israelites their freedom would dispel that darkness.
We know well that the plague of such darkness persists in many corners of the earth and in the human heart. The words of Psalm 112, as translated by Pamela Greenberg, offer us insight into how goodness and godliness can lift us to a higher place: “For the goodhearted, light shines even in the dark: you are full of grace, compassion and justice.” The “you” can be God or the spark of God in each of us. May we continue to nurture that light within us.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
During the plague of darkness in Egypt, the Israelites “enjoyed light in all their dwellings,” while the Egyptians found themselves in thick blackness “that could be touched.”
It may be difficult to imagine such a darkness. The Etz Hayim commentary suggests that this must not have been the type of darkness that could be defined as the “relative absence of light.” The Torah stated that the Egyptians “could not see one another, and for three days no one could get up from where he/she was.”
This mysterious darkness was immobilizing and debilitating in ways that seem physical but could be, primarily, spiritual or psychological. With such an interpretation, we could say that darkness has descended on a community when people are unable to recognize each other as fellow human beings, perhaps due to conflict, accumulated animosity or even hatred.
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. thought of hatred and love in terms of darkness and light. In one of his well –known sermons at the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Montgomery, Alabama in 1957, he asserted: “Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”
King’s notion of casting light on a place where there is only darkness relates to the Torah’s tale of the Egyptian refusal to grant the Israelites freedom. As Pharaoh was immobilized and unable to see the good that would come from liberating the slaves in his own heart and for his people, so were the people also caught in a place where they could not recognize the humanity of the Israelites among them. That was the darkness that engulfed them, and there was no guarantee that even granting the Israelites their freedom would dispel that darkness.
We know well that the plague of such darkness persists in many corners of the earth and in the human heart. The words of Psalm 112, as translated by Pamela Greenberg, offer us insight into how goodness and godliness can lift us to a higher place: “For the goodhearted, light shines even in the dark: you are full of grace, compassion and justice.” The “you” can be God or the spark of God in each of us. May we continue to nurture that light within us.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Larry
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