Another Way: Avoiding Polarization

Rabbi Ben Herman , , ,

For better or for worse, I did not give a sermon about the proposed judicial reform in Israel. Instead I said I will not speak about it because I do not live in Israel. When I saw those who normally had the same vantage point, like Danny Gordis, urging American Jews to speak up, I started to realize that this was something different. That, combined with the desire of a number of people for me to address the issues of the day, is why today I’ll be giving my take on the erosion of democratic rights and how we should respond to it from a Jewish perspective.

First a word from this week’s reading. Jacob, who began VaYetze as a refugee from his home with his brother threatening to kill him after the death of their father, finds himself in a different situation. He has always fled before. Learning his brother Esau is on the move with 400 men, Jacob fears for his family’s safety and divides his camp in half. He rationalizes that if Esau kills one of the camps, the other will survive. When Esau approaches, Jacob goes to the front of the line and bows 7 times in submission to Esau. Then, Esau hugs Jacob, falls on his neck and kisses him, and the two of them weep. Eschewing the Midrash on Esau trying to bite Jacob, this is a happy family reunion, where Jacob’s anxiety about his brother does not get born out. It is also a time where Jacob confronts his fears, wrestling with an angel (or with himself) head-on, refusing to let ago until he is blessed. He is given the name Yisrael, one who wrestles or struggles with God.

Back to the lead, which has been buried by now: those of us who fear the erosion of democratic norms should avoid catastrophizing and anxiety. Instead, we must recognize that US democracy is approaching 250 years young and that we should not live in fear. That does not mean that we should sit back and let things happen, however. We know from Dr Martin Luther King that “injustice everywhere is a threat to justice anywhere.” In reworking the words of Pastor Martin Niemoller, not to compare this administration to the Nazis but rather to point out the dangers of not speaking up, I have written the following:

First they came for the asylum seekers, masked men with surprise raids

And I did not speak up because I am an American citizen.

Then they came through the courts, measures like trying to outlaw abortion

And I did not speak up because I’ve already had children.

Then they came for the federal workers

And I did not speak up because I am privately employed.

Then they came for those who are transgender

And I did not speak up because I am cisgender.

Then they came for the department of education

And I did not speak up because my children are grown.

Then they came for the comics

And I did not speak up because I was not cancelled.

Then they came for SNAP

And I did not speak up because I am food secure.

Then they came for what was important to me

And it was too late for me to speak up.

Destruction doesn’t come by one moment-it’s step by step. Each step builds on the other, and by the time it’s there, it’s too late.

I could expand this list, as well as come up with a similar list for Israel. This does not take away from this administration’s support for Israel, and my belief that it is the most pro-Israel administration since Truman-even with people telling me at Kiddush that it’s smoke and mirrors. With that being said, I will not subject myself to a loyalty test where it is all-or-nothing. Just because I am a Zionist who loves Israel does not mean that I am immune to speaking about issues that gravely concern me, done largely under the auspices of Project 2025.

There is much to be concerned about and much to protest. I hope that I get more than a day’s notice the next time Representative Doris Matsui does a press conference outside John Moss Federal Building so that I can proudly stand there alongside many of my clergy colleagues. With that being said, as one who often catastrophizes, I want to keep things within their proper perspective. There is much to protest, yet like I spoke about with the election of Mamdani, the sky is NOT falling. We need to stay strong and fight for the issues we believe in. Some, like my dad, are single issue voters for Israel, and that’s fine. Others, like me, have a more diverse array of issues to which we give our attention, and that’s also fine. What matters in my opinion is not the issues that we support but that we are not afraid to fight for them.

I’ll give you an example from the beginning of my time in Sacramento. I had told Josh Heller that I want to be involved politically, and he connected me with CLUE, Clergy and Laity United for Economic Justice, run at the time by Rabbinical Student Leah Julian, recently selected as the new education director at Congregation Bet Haverim. I was connected with Irv Hershenbaum of United Farm Workers, who invited me to speak at a UFW march in August, one month after I was selected as your rabbi, I naively agreed thinking I could speak about how Judaism supports ethical treatment of workers. I didn’t realize that this was for a difficult piece of legislation that even the supporters had issues with. Nor did I realize that we have growers in our synagogue or that our shul president, Randy Pollack, was lobbying for this legislation to fail. Upon giving him a heads up about this march, Randy didn’t tell me not to do speak. He said to gather information from both sides before making a decision. Randy respected my right to speak at the UFW march even though it epitomized legislation that he was strongly against. This is what makes for a cohesive community-in an age of hyper polarization, the shul is the one place that people of diverse perspectives can come together to pray and socialize for the sole reason that we are Jewish or Jewishly adjacent.

That is the message I want to leave us with. Like Jacob at the beginning of Parshat Vayishlach, we are living in an age of uncharted territory. Our zones are constantly flooded, and we often can’t keep up and feel like we are at the end of our ropes. At such times we cannot succumb to hyperbole, lowering our heads and saying it’s the end of the world. We must fight for the causes for which we believe. When things don’t go the way we want, even when it feels like or becomes apparent that the system is working against us, we cannot afford to take our ball and go home. Pirkei Avot, the Ethics of the Fathers, says, “You don’t have to finish the work but neither are you free to desist from it.” It is better to say, “I’m disappointed, unhappy or afraid yet I choose to lean into the fear anxiety I feel rather than run away from it and to stay in community with those with whom I disagree.” What we should NOT do is enter echo chambers, solely look for confirmation bias for positions with which we already agree, or engage in ad hominem attacks against those with whom we disagree. Each of these is counter to Jewish values. The Talmud states multiple opinions, keeping in community those who vehemently disagree. Furthermore, they studied Torah together, challenging one another to get at a deeper level of the truth. We MUST follow in their example, finding the courage to stay in community with those who are diametrically opposed to us-especially when the going gets tough.

NYC Mayoral Election

Rabbi Ben Herman , , , ,

          On Monday I received the High Holiday Survey percentages and on Tuesday I received the comments. I read every one of them. First let me say I’m glad this was done anonymously because it enabled people to be brutally honest in their comments. Second, I gleaned some key takeaways, including that people want sermons which are relevant to the events of our day. Hence this week’s remarks on the New York City mayoral election. Of course, the danger of that is it enters politics which means a number of you will disagree with my remarks and ask Dan to remind me that we are a synagogue with diverse political positions. It’s a no-win for a rabbi, yet this particular issue is worth a sermon.

          I signed the rabbinic letter against Zohran Mamdani for the simple reason that I don’t believe that anti-Zionism should have a place in American politics. With that being said, I was not surprised that Mamdani won election. Many people on my Facebook feed, including rabbis and Jewish educators, wrote that they voted for him and are excited about his leadership. Primary reasons were his platform to make NYC more affordable, lowering grocery prices, taxing millionaires and corporations, offering free childcare and bussing, rent freezes and raising the minimum wage. These people indicate their belief that Mamdani will follow through on his campaign promises.

          Of lesser importance to these Jewish individuals was Mamdani’s anti-Zionism. I saw comments that as mayor he will only deal with domestic issues. Many of these people are also vocally critical of the Israeli government. I don’t think they’d mind if Mamdani arrested Bibi Netanyahu the next time he visits NYC-if he even has the power to do so. The area in which I differ with them is I see Mamdani’s anti-Zionism, his use of the phrase “globalize the intifada,” his comparing NYPD boots on people’s necks as being “laced by the IDF” and other hateful rhetoric as being deeply problematic. I don’t dismiss them as simply tweets after George Floyd’s murder as Mamdani did in his 2nd mayoral debate. Further troubling is Mamdani will not endorse Israel as a Jewish state, as he claims he would not do for any other country that favors one group of people over another. He also has said he may displace the Cornell Tech campus, a joint venture between Cornell University and the Technion Institute.

          There is much to be disturbed about regarding Mamdani. Yet I want to raise the question as to what do we do about it? Rabbi Wolpe, when speaking as our scholar in residence, said that if elected, Jewish New Yorkers should work with Mamdani on bettering the city. It is this point that I want to make and relate to our situation in Sacramento. Like Rabbi Wolpe, I signed the rabbinic letter “expressing concern over the normalization of anti-Zionism and its implications for the Jewish community” and urging people not to vote for Mamdani or anti-Zionist candidates. At the same time, I cannot help but wonder about the other legs of Mamdani’s platform that appealed to so many of my contemporaries in NYC. If we only decry Mamdani’s anti-Zionism and perhaps antisemitism without grappling with the domestic aspects of his agenda, I believe we are being obtuse and missing the mark.

          I’ll give you an example in Sacramento. A year and a half ago, many of us, including me, went to City Council to protest Mayor Steinberg’s Gaza ceasefire resolution. We were up in arms against what I continue to believe was a flawed resolution. Since the resolution passed, I have yet to make it to another City Council meeting. What message have I sent by not going back? We need to build relationships with people rather than just railing against them when they don’t do what we want. I’m happy that at least I have met with a number of councilmembers, including Mayor McCarty, yet Mamdani’s victory was a wakeup call to me that I need to do a better job of meeting with political leaders in advance of any problems, and see if I can support them in what they want in addition to asking for what I want.

          How do we relate this to the watershed moment of Mamdani’s victory? Some have been inviting people to move to their communities from NYC, including a couple of my rabbinic colleagues. Frankly, I find that distasteful, just as I found it distasteful when Prime Minister Netanyahu said people in Paris should move to Israel after an antisemitic attack. I don’t believe we can live in fear, catastrophizing the worst-case scenarios and claiming that the sky is falling. Because our people have survived for so long, we often have anticipatory stress. Don’t get me wrong-there is plenty of danger with Mamdani becoming mayor. Yet to fear that NYC, the city with the most Jews in the world, will collapse overnight, is preposterous. I’m not saying damage won’t be done. Maybe Mamdani will succeed but maybe he will fail. In either event, we cannot give up hope that New York Jews will be safe nor can we stop trying to build bridges if there’s a willingness to do so from the other side-of course with eyes wide open.

          I’m urging us to be hazak v’ematz, strong and courageous. There are many Jews who are not all anti-Zionist or “self-haters” who proudly voted for Mamdani. Perhaps there is a certain degree of naivete-I certainly think so. Yet to preach doomsday at this point is not only premature but also out of proportion. There might G-d forbid come a time when that is the reality; I pray that time does not come and that Mayor Mamdani does what we says he will in ensuring the safety and security of the 1 million Jews he will govern at the turn of the year.

October 8

Rabbi Ben Herman , ,

Many of us saw the movie October 8 last month at the center about the pro-Palestinian radicalization on college campuses. I learned about it firsthand having served on the Hillel Board of Directors the past 2 years and from speaking with students. The lack of safety that Jewish students on campus have felt, amplified since the October 7th massacre, has become clear. Interestingly the film was entitled October 8, for the day after October 7 when the celebration and justification for the most Jews murdered on any day since the Holocaust began. Many have called themselves “October 8 Jews” that October 7 woke them up to the realities of antisemitism. Brett Stephens coined the term, as he wrote one month after the horrific attack “On Oct. 8, Jews woke up to discover who our friends are not…What can Oct. 8 Jews do? We can stop being embarrassed, equivocal or defensive about Zionism, which is, after all, one of the world’s most successful movements of national liberation. We can call out anti-Zionism for what it is: a rebranded version of antisemitism, based on the same set of libels and conspiracy theories. We can exit the institutions that have disserved us: ‘Defund the academy’ is a much better slogan than ‘Defund the police.’”[1] One year after that horrific attack, Stephens wrote about October 8 Jews, “Those who woke up a day after our greatest tragedy since the Holocaust to see how little empathy there was for us in many of the spaces and communities and institutions we thought we comfortably inhabited. It was an awakening that often came with a deeper set of realizations.”[2]

Interestingly the film had a different name, H8TE, with an 8 serving in the position of the “A.” It was another sign that the emphasis is on those who hate us having shown their true colors after October 7th while also indicating what should be our response the day after. On October 8, when there were still Hamas terrorists in communities in Israel, there was a rally, or should I say celebration, in Times Square. In addition, on that date Harvard said, “We hold the Israeli regime entirely responsible” and did not mention Hamas. Shai Davidai, on Columbia closing its gates for the first time since the Vietnam War, “I wasn’t seeing  a debate; I was seeing hatred.”Students had to think if it was sake to walk outside and risked their magen david being taken off of them. This coordinated campaign to accuse Israel of genocide was seen in so many ways: the encampments, each with the same tents and supplies; the blocking of students being able to go to their classroom and their being castigated as “baby killers”; pictures of hostages being torn down and Israeli flags being burned.

Despite this powerful story, Wendy Sachs had a a lot of trouble getting the film into theatres. Eventually Eventually she got it into AMC theatres for one week, although AMC did not publicize it. Wendy Sachs, the filmmaker, said “I sent it to NBC News Studios, I sent it to CNN, I sent it around, and everyone said no…I couldn’t get an agent or any representation, which is pretty extraordinary given all the incredible people involved in the film…ironically all of the agents are Jewish. Everyone saw rough cuts of the film and said ‘I like you. It’s a great film. Good for you for making this. But sorry I can’t touch this…there is a radioactivity in Hollywood to this kind of film.’”[3]

This year we have seen many Jewish celebrities, from John Stewart to Mandy Patinkin, publicly castigate Israel. We saw actors Emma Stone, Mark Ruffalo and Ayo Edebiri publicly boycott Israel. It appears to be the “in” thing to do. With all the world’s problems, the desire is to boycott Israel. Hearing Mandy Patinkin, who was my mom’s hero, say “How could it be done to your ancestors and you turn around and do it to someone else?”[4] has become bulletin board material for those who accuse Israel of genocide. Debra Messing and Michael Rapaport have tried to bring attention to the importance of bringing the hostages home but unfortunately there are more on the other side. As Douglas Murray pointed out, the “Bring Back Our Girls” from Boko Haram was far more successful than the bring back the hostages campaign has been. As Ritchie Torres points out, “social media enables the virus of antisemitism to spread to an extent that it never could before.”. Only 20 percent of people under 25 support Israel. On Tik Tok ratio of anti-Israel to pro-Israel is 1 to 54. Antisemitic incidents at near historic levels according to ADl-154 percent increase in 1 year.

What I want to focus on is, another year after October 7, what is the impact of this event on our lives today? How do we live our lives in a post October 7 world? For some of us it means that we need to be active, proud Jews. The list of people exploring conversion to Judaism as well as those who wanted to belong to or attend synagogue grew immensely after October 7. People want a place where they feel they are not alone but with other members of the tribe.

Similar feelings can emerge was we prepare to say Yizkor-that we are vulnerable and alone so we come here to synagogue to join with our community. We also have the dedication of memorial plaques, ensuring that our beloveds have permanent remembrances and signs of their presence here on earth.

 I want us to think about our loved ones who experienced antisemitism. How did they show their Jewish pride in the face of adversities? What did they do demonstrate their Judaism? How can we follow in there example as proud, October 8 Jews? It will not change the hatred and those who want to destroy us but it will change us to be mindful of how Judaism impacts our lives. As we remember them, may we concurrently have pride in who we are and may it impact us on a daily basis.

[1] Stephens, Bret (2023-11-07). “For America’s Jews, Every Day Must Be Oct. 8”. New York Times

[2] Stephens, Bret (2024-10-04). “The Year American Jews Woke Up”. New York Times

[3] Dan Senor, “Why Did Hollywood Ghost a Movie on Antisemitism?” Call Me Back, March 12, 2025.

[4] Mandy Patinkin, New York Times interview, July 25, 2025.

Becoming Eternal

Rabbi Ben Herman , , , , ,

When you turned 1 and I 86

What marvel that we both exist

In same world now

Though we live apart

Know each moment

You are in my heart.

So much I learned

You still must learn

Now we share life

While life’s days turn.

To try to walk

Your present goal

While your very being

Delights my soul.

Sweet precious girl

So dear to me

Now I will love you

Eternally.[1]

          My grandmother wrote this love note to my daughter Ariela two weeks before the end of her life. She refused to use the “d” word-perhaps not what you are thinking by it. The d word is death. Instead, she always said “became eternal.” In my younger years I found this to be strange and counterproductive, as it felt like Elizabeth Kubler-Ross’ first stage of grief, denial of death. Part of this has to do with why we grieve. As Kathryn Schultz writes in her book Lost and Found: A Memoir, “part of what makes grief so seductive is it seems to offer us what life no longer can: an ongoing, emotionally potent connection to the dead. And so it is to feel that once the bleak gift is gone, the person we love will somehow be gone, too.[2] As I’ve grown in my knowledge, I’ve found great wisdom in what Judaism can teach about an eternal connection with our loved ones-that they are never truly gone from us.

          In our liturgy, eternality is reserved for God. Every morning we read the Song of the Sea which asserts ה ימלך לעולם ועד-Gd shall live forever and ever,[3] as well as Ashrei which states ואברכה שמך לעולם ועד, and I will praise Your (God’s) name forever and ever.[4] God’s qualities also have an eternal impact, as we read on Shabbat and holidays כי לעולם חסדו, God’s lovingkindness is forever.[5] As we are in the image of God, the prophets believed that certain qualities will live forever, Isaiah asserting ועמך כלם צדיקים לעולם ירשו ארץ, “your entire nation is righteous, and they will inherit the land forever.”[6]

          The Zohar, a medieval mystical book, teaches that the soul is an eternal and immortal aspect of the self that has a divine origin and, through successive incarnations, undergoes experiences that evolve and purify it. Rabbi Isaac Luria, a 16th century Kabbalist, taught ““The soul returns to this world to complete what was left unfinished, to repair and elevate.” We often think of reincarnation as an idea of eastern religions; it is in Judaism as well. The Zohar speaks of 5 different levels of the soul: Nefesh, Ruach, Neshama, Chaya, and Yechida. Each layer represents a different level of the soul’s development and connection to the divine. It further teaches that “at the time of a man’s death, he is allowed to see his relatives and companions from the other world.”[7]  In a message that resonates with today, Yom Kippur, the day on which we rehearse our own death, we learn, “On the day when a person’s time arrives to depart from the world…three messengers stand over her and take an account of her life and all that she has done in the world and she admits all with her mouth and signs the account with her hand…she should be judged in the next world for all her actions, former and latter, old and new, not one of them is forgotten.”[8]

          This can give us comfort in the idea that part of us will live on. At the same time it might give us the heebie-jeebies: my soul can be reincarnated into someone else? Furthermore, the Zohar teaches that there were 600,000 Israelite souls, all found at                                               Sinai-how does that work when there are close to 16 million Jews, let alone other righteous people of all faiths? Some of us might prefer the words of Gershon Scholem, a professor of Jewish mysticism: “The language of the Zohar must be understood symbolically; its stories and words are vessels for deeper spiritual truths.”[9]

          How might those who prefer the rational understand eternality-or is it simply when you die, that’s it? The medieval Jewish philosopher, Rabbi Levi Ben Gershon, also known as Gersonides, wrote a beautiful teaching about this in his book Milchamot HaShem:

          Man is immortal in so far as he attains the intellectual perfection that is open to him. This means that man becomes immortal only if and to the extent that he acquires knowledge of what he can in principle know e.g. mathematics and natural sciences. This knowledge survives his bodily death and constitutes his immortality.[10]

          Why is this important? The Yizkor prayers we will recite beginותדעהו  ה מה אדם “God, what is humanity that you are mindful of us?” On Yom Kippur, we reflect on what is the meaning of our lives? After all, we are one moment closer to death now than we were before. By holding onto the eternality of people, we recognize that the spirit of our loved ones continue within us. One way in which this occurs is when we remember words that they have said. As in the words of an early 20th century rabbi:

We know that everything that has once been brought into existence cannot be put out of existence. The word I now speak is spoken forever; it can never be recalled. The soul once propelled into the universe cannot be put out of it; it can never be destroyed. What becomes of it after death I know not.”[11]

When something has been created, it cannot be retracted. Similarly, once someone has lived on this earth, their presence endures even after their physical departure. Just as an imprint cannot be erased, neither can a person’s impact in the world. As stated by Rabbi Bernard S. Raskas in his sermon “A Jewish View of Immortality”:

          What is this immortality in which I believe?

          I believe that a person lives on in his or her family…

I believe there is a form of immortality in the institutions we build and the causes we espouse…

I believe in the immortality of friendship and helpfulness…

I believe in the immortality of existence…

I find immortality in people.”[12]

This sentiment is found in contemporary times as well. Take Rachel Goldberg-Polin, whose son Hersh was murdered by Hamas last year. At the Christians United for Israel Annual Summit, Rachel said, “I know love never dies. It is eternal.”[13] Our bonds to one another are immortal-they transcend this physical life. When we remember experiences we shared with those no longer physically present, we feel their spirit shining forth even today.

          As we recite Yizkor, we remember those who came before knowing that their spark continues on inside of us. Rather than bemoan what was, we have pride in what is. We are comforted by the words of Rabbi Jacob Weinstein:

          We, the living, can determine the kind of immortality our beloved shall have…We can act as their personal representatives to the living. Where they lifted the burden or worry from a fellow man, we can give encouragement and help; where they brought cheer and care and loyalty, we can be instead.”[14]  

It is my prayer that the nobility in in our predecessors’ lives and the high ideals they cherished endure in our thoughts and live on in our deeds. May we, carrying on their work, help to redeem God’s promise that life shall prevail.[15] In so doing, we will follow the Torah commandment to choose life, making choices and decisions that emulate the greatest values of our people.

          I will conclude with another of my grandmothers’ poems, from eight years after the passing of her mother.

Eight years after,

Marvel I

How those years brought us closer.

This experience called dying,

Which on surface seemed to sever,

Only brought us fonder, nearer-

Every moment of eight yearspans

Only wove us more together.

Eight years after-

Yearspans after-

Eight years after,

Marvel I

Of the legacy you left me,

Giving me not only moments,

Opportunity of moments,

But the precious worth of moments

And the meaning of life’s moments.

Eight years after-

Eight years after-

Eight years after,

Grateful I

For the heritage you left me-

In your teaching about lifetime,

In the reaching of your lifetime

Never, never, have you left me,

Never-never did you die![16]

[1] Lucille Frenkel, February Love Note about Our Shared Birthday Month

[2] Kathryn Schultz, Lost and Found: A Memoir (New York: Random House, 2022), pg. 66.

[3] Exodus 15:18

[4] Psalms 145:1

[5] Psalms 136:1

[6] Isaiah 60:21

[7] Zohar I, 219a, in Simcha Paull Raphael, Jewish Views of the Afterlife (Northvale, NJ: Aronson, 2000), pg. 290.

[8] Zohar I, 79a, in Raphael, pg. 291.

[9] Gershon Scholem, Zohar: The Book of Splendor (NY: Shocken Books, 1963), pg. 21.

[10] Raphael,  pg. 261.

[11] J. Leonard Levy, Prophetic Voice (Pittsburgh, PA: Rodeph Shalom Congregation, 1970), pg. 86.

[12] Bernard S. Raskas, “A Jewish View of Immortality,” The American Rabbi, 19/1 (August 1986), pg. 57-59.

[13] Rachel Goldberg-Polin, Cufi Summit, 7/2/25

[14] Rabbi Simon Greenberg, A Treasury of Comfort, pg. 225.

[15] Gates of Prayer, pg. 626.

[16] Lucille Frenkel, “The Immortality for My Mother Rose B. Forman” In A Jewish Adventure (Milwaukee, Wi: The Eternity Press, 1983), pg. 125.

Kol Nidre’s Hold on Us

Rabbi Ben Herman , , ,

Every year I feel something special when the Torot are taken out of the ark, processed around the congregation, and the music of Kol Nidre is chanted by the Hazzan. It’s almost a hypnotic, trance-like state that sets the tone for the 25 hours that follow. The majestic nature of the music, which we all just felt, is what I want to devote a few minutes to this evening.

Kol Nidre is such a powerful prayer. A unique thing is that the rabbis wanted to get rid of Kol Nidre because it talks about annulling vows which the Bible forbids-as stated: “When you fulfill a vow you must obey it without delay…you must be careful to perform any promise that has crossed your lips.”[1] The people and the hazzanim rebelled, and won, because we are held by the mesmerizing music that is part of this prayer.

What is Kol Nidre’s hold on us? Why do we cling to it each and every year? Rabbi Alan Lew writes in his book This is Real and You are Completely Unprepared that “when we recite Kol Nidre, God calls out to the soul, in a voice the soul recognizes instantly because it is the soul’s own cry…your soul is hearing its name called out, and its name is pain, grief, shame, humiliation, loss, failure death-or at least that is its first name. That is the name the first few notes of the Kol Nidre call out.”[2] That is very jarring by itself. Are we really here to feel pain and humiliation? Is the purpose of saying Ashamnu and Al Heyt to embarrass us? I would argue not-that we need to take the emotion we feel with Kol Nidre and channel it into the future. Rabbi Stanley Rabinowitz has a suggestion as to how to do so-it may seem dated with mentioning a rangefinder camera but its lesson is eternal.

“The mystic hold which Kol Nidre has over us may be the result of our awareness that under the pressures of life, there will be times when our deeds may not be consistent with our principles and when our achievements may not square with the promises inherent in us.

Kol Nidre prompts us to try harder to bring integrity into our decisions. The intent of Kol Nidre may be compared to that of a rangefinder on a camera. Looking through a rangefinder, the photographer will see a split image-a forehead over here and a chin over there. By turning the focus ring, they bring the split image into alignment. Kol Nidre serves as a mechanism of focus…

In the channels of living, each person projects dreams, hopes and aspirations. We make promises; we express resolves. There are promises inherent in our family relationships, in the position we occupy in the marketplace and in the community. But somehow life blurs the promise and fogs the resolve. The promises inherent in us fade away, sometimes because of something we have done, and sometimes because of something done to us. In either case, it is all too easy to reach a point where we capitulate to a sense of failure and say, ‘I’m sorry. I can’t make it. It is not worth it; it can’t be done.” Life is out of focus.

Too much of life is out of focus. There is a distance between what we are and what we could be, a gap between where we are and where we wanted to be. Kol Nidre comes to help us bridge that gap.”[3]

What is most important is how we take Kol Nidre with us into today and the days ahead. In these 25 hours of God’s undivided attention, we have great opportunity. We are told in the Torah to circumcise our hearts.[4] The medieval commentator Rashi says this means that we should have an open and loving heart. Yom Kippur is a day when we are meant to soften our hearts. The beauty of Kol Nidre’s music helps us begin to do so. This will continue tomorrow as we remember our loved ones at Yizkor as well as at Neilah when we get to offer our personal prayer before the open ark. Yom Kippur is a day to look at who we can become in our fullest essence, to say “yes I can” as we move forward. It might even lead to the exultation felt by the High Priest in Temple times who was described as מגמתו כצאת השמש כגבורת תואר, one whose face shown like the strength of the sun.[5]

During these 25 hours, take time to let the music of the prayers wash over you and the power of our being together in community up until the final Shofar blast. Meditate a little, laugh little, cry a little even dance a little if it moves you. Yom Kippur is a powerful day, one at which we are at one with our creator. It is my hope and prayer that we feel this today.

[1] Deuteronomy 23:22

[2] Rabbi Alan Lew, This is Real and You are Completely Unprepared (United States: Little, Brown, 2003), pg. 178.

[3] Rabbi Stanley Rabinowitz, “Kol Nidre: Bridging the Gap of a Split Image”

[4] Deuteronomy 10:16

[5] Yom Kippur Avodah Service

What Is Teshuva?

Rabbi Ben Herman , , , ,

What is Teshuva? The most common translation is repentance. However, repentance invokes a “gloomy and depressive mood of guilt and sorrow” whereas Teshuvah “implies of a positive sense of prospective growth and accomplishment.” Rabbi Zvi Yehuda uses three different definitions for Teshuva:

“Returning: turning from the wrong way and returning to the right way. It is self-improvement. By improving oneself, by becoming better, one returns to one’s true self-to God. Restoring: self-renewal, spiritual recovery and healing; rejecting the depressive mood of shame and guilt and adapting new, reconstructive ways of moral rehabilitation and self-esteem; by positive changes in one’s attitude and conduct. Responding-responsibility and responsiveness. By the experience of Teshuva, one returns to one’s innermost yearnings for a constructive and meaningful life, to the highest call of duty-to the will of God.”[1]

Rav Kook goes a step beyond this, stating that teshuva is “returning to one’s original status, to the source of love and higher being…in their highest spiritual character, as illuminated by the simple, radiant, divine light.”[2]

Teshuva is an important centerpiece of our religion. The Midrash teaches that “one who does teshuva, it is considered as if he went to Jerusalem, rebuilt the Temple, erected the altar, and offered upon it all the sacrifices of Torah.”[3] This is a metaphor for our taking what is broken in our lives and restoring it to wholeness. Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish takes it one step further, stating “repentance is so great that premeditated sins are accounted for as it they were merits.”[4]

Why is this so great? In his classic work Man’s Search for Meaning, Victor Frankl asserts “every human being has the freedom to change at every minute…a human being is a self-transcending being.”[5] In so doing, we also note, as Art Green writes, that “Our return to Y-H-W-H is in no way separate from our return to ourselves, to the point of inward truth out of which our humanity shines forth. ‘Return to Me and I shall return to you.”[6]

Of course, here we are talking about genuine repentance. Not these blanket apologies “I am sorry if I offended anyone.” The specificity that comes from true heshbon hanefesh, soul searching, is what is being called for here. It is also a constant process. The cynic may ask: “What good does Yom Kippur really accomplish. One goes through the ritual of atonement. One fasts and prays to be forgiven and goes out again in the world and commits the sins afresh!” This very question was once put to a rabbi by his disciple. His master replied, “Go, my son, to the creek to the outskirts of the town and stay there for a full week. Watch what takes place there, and you will then understand the value of repentance.” The disciple carried out the instructions of the master. He finally returned, still troubled by his old question, and baffled even more by the strange procedure that the master had suggested to him. “All I saw were women doing their laundry by the creek,” he reported. “They come with dirty garments, scrub them clean, and at the end of the week they return with more dirty garments and scrub them clean all over again.” “My son,” said the master, “there lies the meaning and value of repentance. Our souls are like those garments scrubbed by the women. In our encounter with the world, our souls become soiled, and they must be scrubbed repeatedly. Teshuva is a kind of scrubbing, to remove the filth which is on our souls. And cleansing must be continuous, because the accumulation of filth is perpetual.”[7]

Rabbi Harold Schulweis reminds us that it is not too late, that we have these remaining days of repentance to make amends.

The last word has not been spoken,

The last sentence has not been written,

The final verdict is not in.

It is never too late

To change my mind,

My direction,

To say no to the past

And yes to the future,

To offer remorse,

To ask and give forgiveness.

It is never too late to alter my world,

Not by magic incantations

Or manipulations of the cards

Or deciphering the stars.

But by opening myself

To curative forces buried within,

To hidden energies,

The powers in my interior self.

In sickness and in dying, it is never too late.

Living, I teach.

Dying, I teach.

How I face pain and fear,

Others observe me, children, adults,

Students of life and death,

Learn from my bearing, my posture,

My philosophy.[8]

[1] Rabbi Zvi Yehuda, Thought of the Week, Cleveland Jewish News, 9-28-90.

[2] Rabbi Chai Levy in We Rise: An Anthology of High Holiday Sermons delivered the year after October 7th, page 249.

[3] Midrash Rabbah Leviticus 7:2

[4] Babylonian Talmud Yoma 86b

[5] Page 127

[6] Rabbi Art Green Say My Face, Speak My Name: A Contemporary Jewish Theology (Northvale, NJ: Aaronson, 1992) pg. 161.

[7] Rabbi Robert Gordis, Reconstructionist High Holiday Supplement 5739, Temple University

[8] Rabbi Harold Schulweis in God’s Mirror: Reflections and Essays (Hoboken, NJ: Ktav, 1990, p. 296-97)

The Use of Power

Rabbi Ben Herman , , , , , ,

I’m going to speak about Israel in part of a larger context. If it makes you uncomfortable, I’m going to ask you to please stay in the room. I am going to devote this coming Shabbat morning after services to an opportunity to listen to those who want to respond to my remarks-though there is on Kiddush lunch on that date.

The High Holy Days are the time more than any other when we think about why we are here and what is the value of our life. The words of our daily liturgy, מה אנחנו מה חיינו, “Who are we? What is our life?” take on greater relevance during this time of the year. It is also a time when we reflect on the power and agency that we do have. What do we have control over and what should we let go of?

How we use the power that we do have is a key lesson, both for us as individuals and for us as a people. Throughout so much of our history, Jews have been powerless. Our people were in exile, at the mercy of every despotic ruler that we encountered. Now, thanks to Israel and to its relationship with the United States, Jews have power to an extent that our ancestors couldn’t dream of. As the psalmist says, – את שיבת ציון היינו  כחולמים the redemption of Zion was as if we were dreaming.”[1]

This past spring, we saw the power that Israel has. The leader of Hezbollah, Hassan Nasrallah, may his memory be obliterated, tried to evade Israel by going low-tech with pagers. Little did he know that the pagers he bought from the Taiwanese company Gold Apollo were manufactured by the Israeli shell company in Hungary BAC Consulting and were laced with the explosive PETN (pentaerythritol tetranitrate). As we saw, Israel sent a page causing Hezbollah leadership to hold up their pagers which detonated after a few seconds. A few days later, at the funeral of 4 Hezbollah members, Israel detonated Hezbollah’s walkie-talkies. With Hezbollah’s top leadership indisposed, Israel was able to invade Lebanon and launch more attacks, eventually killing Nasrallah.

Let us also not forget Israel bombing Iranian nuclear sites on June 12 in Operation Rising Lion. Israel quickly rendered inoperable many of Iran’s missile launchers and its missiles. Around the same time, there was Operation Red Wedding, which took out Iranian senior commanders. Without commanders, Iran was impotent and did not fire any missiles at Israel for 18 hours.[2] The icing on the cake was when the United States joined 9 days later, dropping MOP (massive ordinance penetrator) bunker busting bombs in Operation Midnight Hammer. How did this happen? Israeli agents in Iran had visited every workshop and factory that were later attacked, enabling Israel to target every aspect of the industry that supported the manufacturing the missiles.[3] The success of such a plan was far from an accident; rather it was the culmination of years of work by the Mossad to target Iran’s nuclear program.[4]

Could our ancestors in exile imagine a Jewish country with this type of power?! Could they even conceive that a Jewish country would be a regional superpower, stealthily using its incredible intelligence to make a plan over years which did not leak?! I doubt Yehudah Halevi, who lived during the Golden Age of Spain under both Muslim and Christian rule; Don Isaac Abravanel, who was a courtier to Ferdinand and Isabella and eventually exiled from Spain and Portugal; or even a Maimonides, who before becoming physician to the Egyptian sultan most certainly had to flee Spain from the Almohads, could have fathomed this.  Yet you do not need me to preach about Israel’s power. What we need to consider is what does Israel do with the power that it has and concurrently what do we do with the power that we have.

Former Israeli Prime Minister Levi Eshkol famously referred to Israel as “Shimshon der nebecher,” Samson the weakling. Israel is so strong like Samson, the superpower of the Middle East. Yet Israel also can feel like a nebecher, completely powerless to the task at hand. Israel has endured trauma, especially in the aftermath of October 7th. One merely needs to look at footage from October 7th or the video of a gaunt Evyatar David digging his own grave. While Israel has had much success assassinating Hamas’ top leadership and destroying much of the terrorist infrastructure in Gaza, there remain feelings of ineptitude, failure and lack of moral clarity, with hostages not returned and so much destruction. My question, which only Israelis can answer, is what should Israel do with the power it has?

Israel can use its power as it did in March through May to not allow any food into Gaza and to attempt to take control of the food distribution away from Hamas, who steals food from the aid trucks. Many of us believed when Israel refused food into Gaza that this might be worth it if it led to the end of the war and the return of hostages. Looking back, some of us continue to hold those opinions of the Israeli government. Others are re-thinking after seeing hunger among Gazans and hearing of people walking miles to the food distribution sites, some of whom were shot upon approaching. Every hungry child, no matter where he or she lives, is a human tragedy. As Proverbs teaches us, “If your enemy is hungry, give him food to eat; if she is thirsty, give her water to drink.”[5] This is not to dismiss the PR war going on. We saw the New York Times fell into Hamas’ trap by featuring a starving child who was actually dying from cystic fibrosis. Yet there remain weekly protests in Israel to get a deal to return the hostages and end the war.

I want to take this lesson and apply it not only to Israel but to our lives here in the United States. Many of us are traumatized, having seen pictures and videos of dead Israelis and gaunt hostages or having relatives going up for the 5th time to serve in the IDF, some of whom are not sure why they’re going. Many of us are scared by the rise of antisemitism on college campuses, as the film October 8 demonstrated, which I will speak about on Shemini Atzeret. There is much to be afraid of. What we need to remember is that we are vulnerable, we are human but we are not powerless. We have agency over our actions. As Victor Frankl z”l taught, “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space lies the freedom and power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and freedom.”[6]

 In terms of how Judaism teaches us how to use our power, we don’t need to look far in our tradition. The Ethics of the Fathers, in Hebrew Pirkei Avot, teaches איזהו גבור הכובש את יצרו “Who is mighty? One who conquers his or her inclination.”[7] In his commentary on Pirkei Avot, Rabbi Dr. Joshua Kulp writes, “This one statement may sum up 2000 years of Jewish experience. The Jewish ideal of strength and might is not the same as the Greek ideal, which is that of the mighty warrior and champion athlete. A person of great physical strength who performs amazing deeds is not necessarily mighty. The most difficult thing to conquer is not others or even great armies, but our own inclination to do wrong things. One who has control over this inclination is truly mighty. This is why for thousands of years Jews did not look to soldiers as their heroes, but to rabbis and other thinkers. Strength in Judaism is one of character and not one of might. After all the strongest person in the world is no stronger than a weak gorilla or bear. It is only through our ability to curb our appetites and control our instincts that human beings can differ themselves from animals.”[8]

A story: when Adam was encountering and naming the animals on the first day of creation he was trying to figure out which was the strongest. The lion said, “I’m the strongest. I’m the king of the jungle!” The tiger said, “I’m the strongest. I’m the king of the forest!” The whale said, “I’m the strongest. I’m the king of the ocean!” The chimpanzee said, “I’m the strongest.” All of the other animals paused and looked at the chimp. Then they started laughing. The chimp said again, “I’m the strongest.” Finally a worm asked the chimp, “What makes you so strong?” The chimp replied, “All of you act on your instincts. I think before I act.” Suddenly all the animals agreed that the chimpanzee was the strongest. So it is with us all the more so.

As we enter the week of repentance between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, I’d like each of us to think about what we have power over in our lives and how we intend to use that power. How are we going to channel and control it? Similarly, how are we going to let go of those things over which we have no power? As stated eloquently in a video by Rabbi Judith Plaskow:

Rosh Hashanah asks us to negotiate an enormous and productive tension between our smallness and our power, surrender and agency; between what we can control and what we can’t. During the whole High Holiday period, we’re called on to examine our lives and think about who we have been and who we want to be, to do teshuvah, to turn toward our best selves. And, at the same time, the images of God the King and Judge are telling us that ultimately, we’re not in charge. We can’t decide who shall live and who shall die. All we can do—and it’s not nothing—is to alter the evilness of the decree…

Rosh Hashanah asks us to accept what we can’t change and have the courage to change what we can.[9] The Great Aleinu (in Musaf) is for me the supreme moment of one side of this tension. It is the moment when I try to give up my white upper middle-class illusion of control and align myself with, and surrender to, what is….[10]

In 5786, may each of us utilize our power to the best of our ability to effect meaningful changes yet may we recognize the limits of our power and not try to do too much. The same thing is true with Israel. Many things are in Israel’s control, others are not. The power to continue to attack Hamas remains; the power to rescue the hostages without a deal appears to remain beyond Israel’s reach. May Israel, like us, succeed in using its power wisely, and may the hostages be speedily returned home.

[1] Psalms 126:1

[2] https://www.timesofisrael.com/israel-was-facing-destruction-at-the-hands-of-iran-this-is-how-close-it-came-and-how-it-saved-itself.

[3] https://www.ynetnews.com/article/hjckad6eeg

[4] How extensive are Israel’s intelligence operations inside Iran?

[5] Proverbs 25:21

[6] Attributed to Victor Frankl

[7] Pirkei Avot 5:1

[8] Joshua Kulp Pirkei Avot 4:1 with English Explanation of Mishnah

[9] The Serenity Prayer

[10] Judith Plaskow, “Submitting to The Great Aleinu,” https://youtu.be/6jw228chClE?si=1TkAgkrvDYvDlREO

Created Anew

Rabbi Ben Herman , , , , ,

I’ve been reflecting on a mindfulness retreat I went on a number of years ago. One of the participants said to the facilitator “Why are we here? The world is on fire, and we are here meditating at a retreat?! What difference are we making?” I don’t remember Rabbi Margolius’ response, but what I do remember is that we need to center ourselves before we can work on world problems. Rosh Hashanah gives us that opportunity, to ground ourselves so that afterwards we can go out and fight for the causes for which we believe. Today I will be speaking about ways we can create ourselves anew at any moment; tomorrow I will speak about how we use our power, with Israel as an example; on Yom Kippur I will speak about the eternality of the essence of who we are.

Maker of all the living

Every passing moment You create Your world anew:

Withdraw Your gracious love an instant,

And all You’ve made would cease to be…

Instead, every passing moment finds You pouring out Your endless blessing,

And morning stars appear to sing their song of love to You,

The blazing sun comes forth to sing its song of light to You,

And angels voice their sacred chant to You,

And soul intone their psalms of thirst for You.

Once more the grasses carol their longing for You,

And birds chirp their joy in Your presence,

Trees shawled in leaves now sigh their prayer to You,

And springs softly bubble in adoration.

And still the oppressed bare their hearts to You, a Tallit their armor,

As their soul’s pleading splits the heavens.

One ray only of Your light and we are bathed in Your light!

One word only of Your words, and we rise to life renewed.

One hint only of Your eternal presence, and we are drenched in the dew of youth.

O God, You make all things new, ever and ever:

Take us, Your children, and make us new.

Breathe Your living spirit into us,

That we may start life afresh

With childhood’s unbounded promise.[1]

Every day in our liturgy we read המחדש בטובו בכל-יום תמיד מעשה בראשית-God is the one who creates out of God’s goodness the acts of creation every day. We are grateful for opportunities to feel creation wonderous at every moment. 

When we are young, we have wonder and curiosity. Somewhere along the way, we lose it in the doldrums of daily living. Occasionally we get it back-perhaps the excitement of a new job; a wedding or a new child; or after a significant period of time away. Yet more often than not, we struggle to remember that we need to hold onto this childlike sense of wonder. 

Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev, an 18th Century Hasidic leader, teaches about the importance of daily creation in his work Kedushat Levi:

We must always try to bring to our consciousness that from moment to moment, the Blessed Creator, in great love and mercy, instills in us new vital force; from moment to moment, the Blessed Creator renews our very being. This is what the rabbis meant when they said: “for each and every breath praise Ya”H”.[2] That is, at each moment the breath seeks to leave us, and the blessed Holy One, in great mercy, watches over us from moment to moment and has compassion for us, and does not let the breath depart.[3] In this manner, when we raise this thought to awareness, from moment to moment we actually are created anew as a new creature. This generates enthusiasm to serve the Blessed Creator, since everything that is new or renewed sparks enthusiasm. And, since we are created anew from moment to moment, we can burn with that same great enthusiasm to serve the blessed Creator.

But, there are those who do not raise up their thoughts to this truth, who actually think (heaven forbid) that the blessed Holy One does not renew them in each and every moment. They think that once the blessed Holy One created them, God no longer makes them new again in each moment. Thus, they do not experience any enthusiasm in serving the blessed Creator, for whatever is unchanging is also uninteresting and lacking in delight. For this reason, they sometimes fall from whatever spiritual degree they may have attained. But, afterward, when they start out again to serve the Creator, they actually do experience a great enthusiasm.

          We always have opportunities to get closer to The Holy One. The 20th century Slonimer Rebbe in his book Netivot Shalom, the paths of peace, teaches us   וכל המאורעות העוברים על איש יהודי, כולם הם קריאה מאת ה׳ יתברך שיתקרב אליו. “Everything that happens to us is a calling from God that we should get closer to God.”[4] In other words, there are no coincidences or things which are happenstance. God is calling out to us to hear God’s voice and bring a spirit of godliness into the world.

          How exactly do we do this? Netivot Shalom continues:

וזה ענין קול השופר שהוא קול ה׳ הקורא בראש השנה לכל איש יהודי לחזור אל מקורו ושרשו. “the sound of the shofar is the voice of God on Rosh Hashanah to return to our source and our root.” God can appear far off or at a distance, but a cry like the sound of the shofar can wake us up to return to our intention. After all, today we say hayom harat olam, today is the birthday of the world or today is pregnant with eternity. What new ideas are you birthing today? What ideas are percolating, in process, or gestating through you, so that they can be further developed in the days ahead?

                 The High Holy Day season is an opportunity to, in the words of Shlomo Carlebach, “return to who you are, return to what you are.”[5] We come home, returning to our original intention of who we want to be in the world. Rabbi Art Green, who I’ve been learning Hasidut from every week, writes, “homecoming is our return to the source within this world, to the great womb out of whom we are ever being born, the one to whom we ever return. Homecoming is the rejoining of matter and spirit, an understanding that this most primal of all separations stands as the cause of our alienation from ourselves, from the deepest roots of our own tradition, and from the very earth that nurtures us.”[6]

         This new beginning comes once a year right now. Tikkuney Zohar 16 reads the word bereshit of “In the beginning God created” as ba tishrey, “Tishrey has come.” It continues, Elohim, the aspect of God’s judgment, creates. Because of all the fear of being judged, people return to God, awakening mercy, and that recreates the world.[7] Rather than fear, I like to think of us as returning to love, finding ways to strengthen our bonds to one another out of shared humanity and love of each other. Any opportunity we have to add to the amount of love in the world enables us to be partners with God in creation.

      Part of that recreation means to recognize how lucky we are to be in this particular moment. Some might feel overwhelmed by past misdeeds. To those who are, you’re in good company: so too were our ancestors, who felt unworthy of receiving the Torah. The upcoming holiday of Yom Kippur is a renegotiated marriage between God and the Jewish people, for the first tablets, made entirely by God and given entirely on Shavuot, were overwhelming for Israel. That is why Israel fled to the golden calf. To transform oneself radically from a slave people to a people under the one God proved too much. The second tablets, on the other hand, were a partnership between Moses, the writer, and God, the transmitter.[8]

       When we feel off-kilter, may we remember that we are in a long-term partnership with the Holy One. We can always make adjustments to create ourselves anew and become the people we want to be. There are ample opportunities to transform our behavior, as illustrated by the following anecdote:

Imagine there is a bank that credits your account every day with $86,400. Every day, even on Saturday and Sunday! However, the bank will not carry your balance over to the next day. Every evening the bank deletes whatever part of the account that you fail to use.

What would you do? You would draw out every dollar!

Each one of us has such a bank but it doesn’t give us money, it gives us TIME. There are 86,400 seconds in a day. Every morning, that is what is credited to your account and every evening, the bank writes off, as lost, whatever you have failed to use for a good purpose. There is no carryover, there are no overdrafts. Each day you are given a new account. Each night that account is closed. If you fail to use the day’s deposits, the loss is yours. There is no going back. There is no drawing against “tomorrow.” You must live in the present on today’s deposit. The message is: invest every second so that you can get the most from it in health, happiness and success. The clock is running.

To realize the value of ONE YEAR, ask a student who failed a class in school.

To realize the value of ONE MONTH, ask a mother who gave birth to a premature baby.

To realize the value of ONE WEEK, ask the editor of a weekly newspaper.

To realize the value of ONE HOUR, ask lovers who are waiting to meet.

To realize the value of ONE MINUTE, ask the person who just missed the train.

To realize the value of ONE SECOND, ask the person who just avoided an accident.

To realize the value of ONE MILLISECOND, ask the person who won a Silver Medal in the Olympic games.

Yesterday is history; Tomorrow is mystery. Today is a gift, that’s why they call it the present.[9]

                God creates time but we humans give it meaning. You not only have meaning but you are also necessary in every moment. As based on a story by Rebbe Nahman of Bratslav, “There is no person who does not have his hour”-every human life has something unique and valuable about it, a contribution to be offered that can be fulfilled by no other. Each messenger brings back a unique portrait of the king (of God) one that only he or she can paint. To take seriously our faith that each person is God’s image is to treat every person with a spiritual dignity and caring that would transform all of our lives.[10]

In the daily Amidah, we offer 3 times a day: בָּרֵךְ עָלֵֽינוּ יְהֹוָה אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ אֶת־הַשָּׁנָה הַזֹּאת God bless for us this year. We recite this every single day, including the last day of the year. Every day is a different day. Life is constantly changing so that the prayer takes on greater meaning and nuance. Even at the end of the year, when we are really focused on the New Year ahead, we can still hope for the wringing out of blessing in that year’s waning moments. We cannot fully appreciate the year until it has concluded, in no small part because it is ever changing, and we add to the year’s meaning in our perspective. In addition, the preposition על means that the blessing is placed “over” us or “about” us. It is up to us each day to discover the blessing/s, find it, reach out for it, grasp it, and integrate it into our lives, so that life’s changes change us (לטובה) ולברכה, for goodness and for blessing.

 Take a moment to close your eyes and take a deep breath. Reflect on the joy of the here and now. Each moment is a new one with new opportunities to bring God’s presence into the world. Hold onto the words of the psalmist: זה היום עשה ה נגילה ונשמחה בו-this is the day God made, rejoice in it.[11] The dawn of a new year is a special moment. Take the time you need over this holiday season to reconnect with aspects of yourself that have become dormant-perhaps taking up a long-lost hobby or a passion you’ve always wanted to try. Call those you have not spoken to and catch up. Look at the habits and parts of your life no longer serving you and work to make the necessary changes. May doing each of us help us feel the precious present-ness of each moment in each day.

John O’Donahue

To Come Home to Yourself

May all that is unforgiven in you be released.

May your fears yield their deepest tranquilities.

May all that is unlived in you blossom into a future graced with love.

[1] Central Conference of American Rabbis, On the Doorposts of Your House: Prayers and Ceremonies for the Jewish Home (NY: CCAR Press, 1994) Poem 21, pg. 286.

[2] Psalms 150:6

[3] From Genesis Rabbah 14:10

[4] נתיבות שלום ב׳, קכ״ה

[5] Shlomo Carlebach “Return Again”

[6] Rabbi Art Green Say My Face, Speak My Name: A Contemporary Jewish Theology (Northvale, NJ: Aaronson, 1992) pgs. 159-60.

[7] Meor Eynaim Likkutim

[8] Rabbi Art Green, Say My Face, pgs. 172-73.

[9] Marc Levy, If Only It Were True

[10] Rabbi Art Green, Say My Face, Speak My Name, pg. 81.

[11] Psalms 118:24

Hitting the Mark

Rabbi Ben Herman , , ,

 I am accustomed to beginning the new year with a story and will do so with two short stories for this year 5786. This is a story by perhaps the most famous storyteller in all of Judaism, the Dubno Maggid. Rabbi Yaakov Kranz lived in Dubno (Western Ukraine) in the late 18th century. He is famous for conveying complex ideas in a simple way.            

Once upon a time, I was walking in the forest and I saw all these trees in a row with a target drawn on them, and an arrow right in the center. At the end of the row I saw a little boy with a bow in his hand I had to ask him, “Are you the one who shot all those arrows?!” “Of course!” he replied. “How did you hit all the targets right in the center?” I asked. “Simple”, said the boy, “first I shoot the arrow, and then I draw the target.”

Often on the High Holy Days we think of committing sins. The most common word use, on which we beat our breasts, is חאט, missing the mark. If one adopts the approach of the Dubno Maggid, however, they never miss the mark. I bring this not to suggest that we’re perfect but rather that perhaps we should think this year about those things where we feel we erred, especially the missed opportunities. Perhaps instead of missing the mark they were directing us towards a different target than we anticipated. Where we often think we should be is not where we need to be. As was made clear by The Rolling Stones, “you can’t always get what you want but if you try sometimes you just might find you get what you need.”

Another story by the Dubno Maggid teaches us to check our worries, our “what ifs” and our “should haves” at the door as we enter High Holy Days 5786.

A pauper once trudged along a country road, carrying a bundle of his worldly belongings on his back. As the beggar began to tire, a speck of dust appeared in the distance. To his delight, he was soon overtaken by a rich carriage that belonged to a local squire.

“Hop on board,” called the nobleman generously, “and rest your feet until we get to town.”

A few minutes later, the nobleman turned around and saw the beggar sitting with his bundle balanced precariously on his sagging shoulders.

“My dear man,” he asked with a hint of concern, “why don’t you put down your sack and rest up? There is plenty of space . . .”

“Oh kind sir,” came the reply, “it is generous enough of you to give me a ride. I would not trouble your horses, who are surely overtaxed, to carry my poor belongings as well.”

“Silly man,” said the magnate, “don’t you realize that even if you put the pack on your shoulders, it is still being carried by my carriage?”

At times we are like the pauper, foolishly carrying our worries and cares on our own shoulders.

If we take a moment to recognize that G‑d constantly “carries” the entire world, including our cares and concerns, we can relax our shoulders, confident and secure in our faith.

Let us take a deep breath and relax into the moment of New Year 5786, recognizing all the times that we have hit the mark in the previous year and looking forward to those in which we will do so in the year ahead.

The Entire Commandment

Rabbi Ben Herman , , ,

         I want to begin by saying thank you to Cantorial Soloist Caitlyn Shannon for an incredible job this summer. I am sad to miss your final Shabbat before your return to Cantorial School, but I look forward to hearing you on the High Holy Days.

            In mindfulness language, we often talk about “being in the moment or “being fully present.” That’s a very hard thing to do. Our lives are busy and if an appointment is cancelled we quickly think about what we can fill that hour up with rather than taking time for self-care. In rushing from place to place we forget that the blank space in our lives, just like the blank spaces in the Torah, is essential. If the Torah was only letters without space, no one could read it. Similarly, if our lives are all doing without being, we lose sense of who we are and of what is truly most important to us.

        There’s an interesting line towards the beginning of this week’s Torah portion. It reads

כׇּל־הַמִּצְוָ֗ה אֲשֶׁ֨ר אָנֹכִ֧י מְצַוְּךָ֛ הַיּ֖וֹם תִּשְׁמְר֣וּן לַעֲשׂ֑וֹת לְמַ֨עַן תִּֽחְי֜וּן וּרְבִיתֶ֗ם וּבָאתֶם֙ וִֽירִשְׁתֶּ֣ם אֶת־הָאָ֔רֶץ אֲשֶׁר־נִשְׁבַּ֥ע יְהֹוָ֖ה לַאֲבֹתֵיכֶֽם׃

You shall faithfully observe the entire commandment that I enjoin upon you today, that you may thrive and increase and be able to possess the land that God promised on oath to your fathers.[1]

          What is the entire commandment and why only one commandment? The commentator Ovadiah Sforno points out the juxtaposition between this verse, beginning Chapter 8 of Deuteronomy, and what came before about not bringing idols into your house. He says just as one must be sure to follow that commandment, so must one be certain to follow all of them.[2]  Commentator Ephraim of Luntschitz has the opposite view in his work Kli Yakar, asserting that “the Torah uses the singular mitzvah to indicate that the observance of even one mitzvah as it should be will result in “so you may live”…because “one mitzvah leads to another mitzvah.”[3] The interpretation I prefer is in Midrash Tanhuma, which teaches that “once you have begun a commandment, finish it, for it is the person who finishes it that will be identified as having done it.[4] In other words, whatever commandment you are doing, give your full, undivided attention to it until it is carried out. Don’t be distracted by other thoughts, feelings or things to do, being pulled in a million different directions.

          Too often in life we start something but do not finish it. At other times, we take on a task which is too great for us-like doing all 613 commandments that one can-and we burn out, throw up our hands and give it all up. I believe it is purposeful that the singular word מצוה is used here, indicating that we should only focus on one thing at a time.

          This Shabbat we have the pleasure of welcoming in our new members to Mosaic Law Congregation. Each of you came here through a different route. Some of you chose Judaism-others are new to the area and found our community warm and welcoming. We are blessed to have each and every one of you as part of our congregational family. I have one question for each of you: what skills and passions would you like to contribute to Mosaic Law Congregation in the year 5786? We want to be sure that MLC is a spiritual home for you in the fullest sense-not that it will meet all of your needs, as no congregation can do that, but rather that it will provide comfort, warmth and a sense of belonging. To those of you who checked off every box on the membership application, I advise you to choose 1 or 2 areas in which to get involved. Focusing on the entire commandment requires that we don’t stretch ourselves in too many directions and burn out. As we approach 5786, let us focus on the one thing in life that is truly most important to us at any given moment. In so, may our lives have a sense of calm, clarity and purpose.

          I would like all of our new members to come up to the Bimah, say your names and, if you want, one sentence introducing yourself to the congregation. After that I’ll ask for you to join me in a prayer for our new members.

[1] Deuteronomy 8:1

[2] Sforno on Deuteronomy 8:1 ד”ה כל המצוה

[3] Kli Yakar on Deuteronomy 8:1 ד”ה כל המצוה אשר אנכי מצוך

[4] Midrash Tanhuma 6. In Rashi on Deut. 8:1 ד”ה כל המצוה