Israel Trip Blog Day 2: Two People One Land

Rabbi Ben Herman

Today started with visitng the Jewish Agency for Israel (in Hebrew called the Sochnut) the largest Jewish non-profit in the world. We heard a panel of 3 Israelis. One is head of J Street in Israel, another wants nothing to do with Palestinians and the third was the vice chair of the World Zionist Congress and the head of Mercaz Yizhar Hess.

We studied Israel’s Declaration of Independance and we met in the first room where the government of Israel met.

Following the discussion and lunch we went near the Gush Etzion Junction to the headquarters of Roots, an organization that I brought to Mosaic Law in 2022 which focuses on shared dialogue and understanding between Israelis and Palestinians.

I can only share the speakers who gave me permission. One of them was Khaled Abu-Awwad, co-founder of Roots, who had a heart-rendering story that was difficult to hear. I am grateful to Khaled and to the other Palestinians I met for their embrace of non-violence resistance.

That evening we met with Israeli Rabbinical Assembly colleagues at Beit Ticho to ask them questions about their work (if any) with Palestinians. I decided to walk back on my own to the hotel. This sign which I saw, Ahavat Hinam (full love-as opposed to Sinat Hinam-baseless hatred) said it all to me.

Israel Trip Blog: Day 1 Beginning the Journey

Rabbi Ben Herman , ,

I I am on a rabbinical assembly trip with Encounter. I last was with Encounter as a rabbinical school student in Israel, spending 2 days in Bethlehem and staying with a Palestinian family. 

This trip is different as it began in West Jerusalem with Israelis. After speaking about the goals of the trip, we went to the Center for North African Jewry.

We heard from Israelis from three different walks of life: one of whom was a founder of Smoli Emunah (the halachic left), another was a speaker for Hartman and the Tikvah Fund and a third

is the director of the Israel Center of the San Francisco Jewish Federation, Barak Lozoon. In addition to sharing their stories, these 3 shared how their perspectives have changed since October 7.

Next we heard from a woman from Efrat and Rabbi Benny Lau from Jerusalem

about their experiences working with encounter-and how they balance being a major general and having 6 children in the Israeli army respectively and their reaching out to Palestinians. 

Finally we heard personal stories and a beautiful concert from the Jerusalem Youth Chorus

a group of Israeli and Palestinian students working together to express themselves through music. Out of respect for the participants, who have been attacked by BDS, we did not photograph them.

There are many questions, not all of which will be answered.

Tomorrow we will be headed to the Gush Etzion area

Ran Gvili z”l

Rabbi Ben Herman ,

843 days, 12 hours, 6 minutes. That is what the clock on Hostage Square stopped at after Ron Gvili’s body was found and returned to Israel. 700 Israeli soldiers and volunteers participated in the search for Ran, including a major who had been wounded and lost an eye on October 7th and Idan Ademi, one of Israel’s leading singers and Fauda military hero who was very badly injured during the war. They opened 149 graves and the 150th was Ron (interesting side note-that’s the Gematria for רן). People were excited for the closure this brought. As soon as it happened, I removed the hostage chair that we have had in the front of our synagogue for over 2 years.

          In Israel they said עד החוטף האחרון “until the last hostage.” This is why we kept the chair and kept saying the prayer until the last hostage was returned. This is the first time since 2014 that there are no Israeli bodies in Gaza.

I remember in 2014 having just married Karina and attending a Sephardi synagogue in the same building as Chabbat in University City. The sermon was in Hebrew. I recoiled in horror hearing about 3 teenage backpackers who were abducted and taken to Gaza-later to be returned in body bags. Since Operation Protective Edge we have always had a body in Gaza. What a momentous moment to no longer have that.

          Yet it is a bittersweet moment. Of the 251 hostages who went into Gaza on October 7, 40+ of them came in live and came out in body bags, murdered by their captors. We cannot forget the potential that was lost of Ariel and Kfir Bibas, Hersh Goldberg-Polin and Eden Yerushalmi. At the same time, we must take a moment to honor the achievement of something many of us, including myself, did not think was possible-the return of the 20 remaining live hostages as well as of all the bodies. Jacob said to Joseph, אל נא תקברני במצרים-“Do not let me lie in Egypt, that place of constriction.” We would have preferred all these hostages return alive yet we must mention that there is honor in those who did not make it being brought to Israel for proper burial.

          Please rise and join with me in saying the שהחיינו, marking this historic moment of no more hostages.

Bringing Forth Light, Casting Out Darkness

Rabbi Ben Herman , , ,

          Our community has been in mourning this past week. The murder in cold blood of 15 people attending Hanukkah by the Sea in Bondi Beach. A father and a son, united in their being inspired by ISIS and in their hatred of the Jews, opened fire. We are blessed by the Syrian-Australian Muslim Ahmed al Ahmed, who tackled one of the gunman, wrestled the gun from his grip and turned it on him, thereby saving this from becoming an even bloodier affair. As Australia’s Prime Minister Anthony Albanese asserted, “At a moment where we have seen evil perpetrated, he shines out as an example of the strength of humanity.”[1] Without hesitation he disarmed the terrorist, saving people’s lives because it was the right thing to do. Ahmed is a modern Maccabee.

Unfortunately, some were not so fortunate. Eli Schlanger, brother of Bakersfield Rabbi Shmuly Schlanger, was murdered. Arsen Ostrovsky, a survivor of October 7, the incoming head of the Australia, Israel & Jewish Affairs Council and brother-in-law of Rabbi Menachem Creditor, was seriously wounded in the attack. Members of our community have checked in with their parents and cousins to ensure that they’re ok, including our congregant Jonathan Lightman and Julian Robinson, whose parents were at the event as well as our former Education Director Orit Morgenstern’s daughter Lior.

Bondi Beach is another example of Jews being targeted for being Jews. You do not need me to recount all the ways our people has been attacked over the past year. What would be more helpful is to remind us what Hanukkah is about and how we need to respond to attacks like the one at Bondi Beach.

Hanukkah is the holiday about standing up to evil. The Maccabees, despite being few in number, fought the Syrian Greeks and prevailed using grit and guerilla warfare. They refused to give up their traditions. This Hanukkah we need to emulate their example. Rather than despairing and surrendering, we must fight for who we are and for what we value.

Haviv Rettig-Gur, with whom I went to high school with, had an amazing podcast “Miracles in the Dark. A Response to Bondi.”[2] In his podcast Haviv referenced the Haftarah from Aharei Mot where the prophet Amos says הלא כבני כושיים אתם לי בני ישראל נאם ה-הלא את-ישראל העליתי מארץ מצרים ופלישתים מכפתור וארם מקיר-“Aren’t you to Me like the children of the Cushites, O Israel? -the words of Gd-have I not brought up Israel from the land of Egypt, the Philistines from Caphtor and Aram from Kir?”[3] In other words, don’t think you’re so special, Israel. You are not the only ones who have been redeemed. Haviv’s understanding is Amos is saying to Israel, “your chosenness is a responsibility and not a pedestal. There are other redemption stories, and they are divine as well. Failure and success are a choice.”[4]

What choices should we make at this moment? For me it was clear as day that this of all years I needed to go to a Chabad Menorah Lighting. I would not let those who seek our destruction win. They are terrorizing us precisely to stop public gatherings. Hanukkah is about פרסומי ניסא, publicizing the miracle, and that is precisely what needs to be done. The “be a man in the street and a Jew in your home” of Judah Leib Gordon never worked for me-though another time I’ll tell you how that line in a roundabout way led me to become a rabbi.

As we continue with the Festival of Lights, I urge each and every one of us to choose the path that will allow our light to shine forth. If we truly feel that we have a special light with a miraculous glow, then we must come together to shine it forth especially at times of darkness and despair. We need to do our part to carry our torch, or our Hanukkah candle, forward, bringing forth gratitude for life and a joy de verve each and every day. As said by the Chabad rebbe mirroring the words of Bahya ibn Pekuda, “Even a little light can cast out great darkness.”[5] May our light shine forth banishing the evil forces that surround us.

[1] Millions are pledged to a Syrian Australian man who stopped a gunman and became a national hero

[2] Ask Haviv Anything, Episode 67.

[3] Amos 9:7

[4] Ask Haviv Anything, Episode 67.

[5] Ibid.

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)