Surrendering to That Which You Cannot Control

Rabbi Ben Herman

There’s something about the sunflower. Something wild and something free. Something beautiful to learn and something beautiful to see.

There’s something about the way her eyes stay fixed upon the light. As though she knows she needs her Maker and it brings Him great delight.

And I think God knew a yellow flower would remind us we’re enough. That a joyful disposition can get us through the rough.

And even in her final days when her head is hung down low, she’s preparing all her little seeds to scatter and regrow.[1]

Life’s not fair. I wish it were otherwise, but it’s not. You can be in your 20s, the prime of life, and fatally hit by a car. You can be in your 60s, completely healthy, and then be diagnosed with metastatic cancer. Where is God in this? Does God really exist?

I will not be using examples from our congregation because they are too raw. Instead with the permission of a family, I will be going back in time 15 years to my first year working full-time as a rabbi. In my first three months of work I had 2 congregants and a fellow clergy diagnosed with serious medical conditions. All of them were under the age of 30. With the permission of the parents of one of them, I will tell her story. Anna was a woman with a larger-than-life personality. When I met her she lad lost 90 pounds and taken up running. I remember going with her one Sunday morning and getting discouraged by Sabino Canyon. As I was still going up, she started heading down. I said “I’m going to turn back” to which she replied “The turnaround is right around that bend.” That was Anna. She ran the Saguaro 8 mile run with me and then ran the Tucson half marathon the day after Yom Kippur. On Yom Kippur she discovered a protrusion on her leg, which she had checked out after the half marathon. To her shock it was rhabdomyosarcoma, a rare, aggressive soft-tissue cancer that generally formed in children. Had Anna not lost the weight, she likely would not have noticed the protrusion.

         I visited Anna in the hospital numerous times over the next year and a half. I remember the sign on her door, “No pity parties.” As she weakened her Annatude, a term Rabbi Yisroel “Billy” Lewkowicz coined based on her positivity and strength,[2] never wavered. That term, while still not adopted into Webster’s Dictionary, became part of the tikkun middot program at Tucson Hebrew Academy, helping students work on managing their emotions through social-emotional learning.

         I found out that Anna died just before I had to go to afternoon minyan after which another congregant “redeemed himself” in a ceremony called pidyon haben. His parents did not know about such a ceremony so they did not do it for him when he was 31 days old as is customary. Therefore he did it for himself, exchanging 5 silver dollars with a Kohen in order to be “redeemed.” I had to figure out how to be present at this joyous moment in this congregant’s life while dealing with the shock of Anna’s passing at 28 years of age. I struggle with compartmentalization and do not have a poker face, qualities which would be ideal for a rabbi to have, but I did my best.

         At Anna’s funeral I read the poem “The Sunflower” you just heard, after her favorite flower. Anna’s family at the end of her life gave me a book entitled Friends: The Family We Choose for Ourselves, which I still have here. The inscription reads as follows “I love you forever and forever. You are loved.” Anna Greenberg 2013. I treasure this book to this day.

         So much of life is beyond our control. We hate uncertainty, like making meaning and creating rationalizations. Yet despite great advances of knowledge there will always be things that don’t make sense. In the story The Odyssey by Homer, Odysseus killed the cyclops, son of Poseidon, the God of the ocean. Poseidon took vengeance on Odysseus’ men until Odysseus was the only one left. He landed on an island with the goddess Calypso, where he stayed for 7 years. When he wanted to leave, Calypso said the following to him, as adapted in the new Christopher Nolan adaptation: “You’re a man who needs to control his fate. But you cannot control this. You must give yourself to the storm. Give yourself to Poseidon. Zeus won’t let him kill you. Give up the fight. Give up control and live. It’s a leap of faith you’ve never yet made Odysseus.”


         Does this justify the death of all of Odysseus’ death? Absolutely not, just as it is blasphemous for us to justify the death of all our loved ones. We see the condemnation that comes from the Almighty when Job’s friends attempt to rationalize his fate. Surrendering to the unknown is very difficult to do especially when one is angry or when s/he does not believe in God. Yet surrendering to a higher authority is what Yom Kippur is all about. When we prostrate ourselves in the grand Aleinu, we declare in Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan’s words a “declaration of dependence.”[3] We recognize our own mortality and do a dress rehearsal for death, not eating or drinking, having sex or putting on perfume. We recognize that life, with all the wonder and privileges it offers, may be taken from us the next day. It is crucial for us to never take things for granted and to live each and every day to the fullest.

This past December, former Congressman and President of the University of Florida Ben Sasse wrote the following: “”This is a tough note to write, but since a bunch of you have started to suspect something, I’ll cut to the chase: Last week I was diagnosed with metastasized, stage-four pancreatic cancer, and am gonna die.”[4] Towards the end of his post, Ben wrote the following: “I’ll have more to say. I’m not going down without a fight. One sub-part of God’s grace is found in the jawdropping advances science has made the past few years in immunotherapy and more. Death and dying aren’t the same-the process of dying is still something to be lived.”[5] An important lesson. Yes stage 4 pancreatic cancer is a death sentence. At the same time, Ben Sasse has committed to living each moment to the fullest extent possible, even when directly in the process of dying.

For when someone dies I turn to words by Rachel Goldberg-Polin Rachel Goldberg-Polin in her book When We See You Again writes that the best words of comfort came from a Jerusalem college student, “What can we do to ease your pain?”[6] Some would not find these words comforting, for the one thing that would ease the pain is to bring a loved one back, and that is not something that can be done. Yet Rachel comes back to that theme when she discusses shiva when someone asked her “what can we do to be helpful?”[7]Perhaps the answer is nothing at the moment, perhaps it is that one’s mere presence is a source of comfort. In either event, Rachel’s main point, as echoed through the Mussar master Shlomo Wolbe, is that the most complicated of disciplines is seeing “what does this person need?” rather than “what do I imagine I would need in that person’s situation?”[8]

         What does this have to do with us you might ask. For that I need to take you back 22 years when my parents asked the rabbi of my home congregation to do a mock interview with me for rabbinical school. It was not a positive experience, yet one question he asked while modeling for an interviewer I will never forget. It was “Suppose a woman comes to you and says ‘Rabbi I have cancer. Why did God do this to me? I’m a good person, and I see all these bad people who were are prospering. Where’s God?’” I was flummoxed and responded poorly, perhaps trying to rationalize the situation. The rabbi said, “No! You say the following: ‘I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but I’m here for you.’ Let religion be part of the solution rather than part of the problem.” I was choking back tears after this answer as I am very sensitive by nature and struggle with feedback. Yet 22 years later I see that he was right. There are no words other than “I’m here for you.” No advising, fixing or correcting. What matters is being present.

         This is what we do when we come together for Yizkor. We mourn as a community for the lives loss and hold each other, whether physically with loved ones or spiritually as a congregational family.

         I would be remiss if I ended the sermon here. We are a diverse congregation, and we come to this service in a myriad of personal and emotional states. Now I want to speak to those to whom my comments did not relate. Perhaps you are over the moon, whether from being in a serious relationship, a new job, a new child. In which case-mazal tov! I’d love to know about your simcha to the extent which you feel comfortable sharing.

Perhaps you are struggling but in a different way: you can’t economically make things meet despite prudent budgeting or you are at a crossroads in life and don’t know which way to go. Perhaps you are struggling because of domestic abuse, infertility or contemplation of a divorce. Perhaps you bring to this moment something I did not mention yet which is equally important. Whatever the situation, I want you to know that I am here for you as your rabbi to the extent you want to let me in. Some people are private, and that is to be respected. With that being said, if you ever feel you have nowhere to turn I want you to know that you can come to me on a confidential basis, and if it is beyond my knowledge I would refer you to someone else, perhaps someone in our Nehama group or another trained professional. You do not need to suffer alone. If I learned anything from community organizing while in rabbinical school and in my early years as a rabbi, it is that society often makes us feel that we are the only ones with a particular problem, and that is rarely the case.

As we prepare to say Yizkor I want to conclude with words from Mary Oliver from her poem “The Summer Day.”

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

—Mary Oliver

[1] Ullie-Kaye, “The Sunflower”

[2] The term “Annatude” was coined on September 26, 2012, the Yom Kippur after Anna discovered the protrusion in her leg. After the Neilah service, Rabbi Billy said “More than an amazing attitude, Ann, you have ANNATUDE!”

[3] Rabbi Mordecai M. Kaplan The Condition of Jewish Belief: A Symposium (NY: Macmillan, 1966), pg. 130.

[4] Ben Sasse note on X.

[5] Ibid

[6] Page 59

[7] Page 92

[8] Page 101.

Living a Meaningful Life 

Rabbi Ben Herman

Do our lives have meaning? We are blessed to live at a time when technology and innovation are developing at a rapid rate-so much so that a prominent scientist argues that in 19 years we will reach the singularity, where artificial intelligence (AI) will improve itself autonomously, past any rate of human control and prediction.[1] As scary as this might be, look at the advancements in the past couple of years. We have the blessing (or curse, depending on your perspective) of self-driving cars on our roads in Sacramento. We have AI as the go-to for questions we type into our search engines. The newest version of the iPhone or Android has features that couldn’t have been dreamed of 5-7 years ago. Yet I must ask again-do our lives have meaning? Do we wake up in the morning feeling that we have purpose in what we are doing?

One of the most mind-blowing conversations I had this year was during Shabbat Torah Study. It was about the neuroscience of hard determinism, that while our choices feel free, they are actually the result of our brain chemistry, past experiences and genes. In Germany, when people were hooked up to electrodes, the scientists could see their neurons making a signal before a choice was made.[2] This idea of determinism was foreign to me because the vast majority of Jewish philosophers throughout history have believed in free will, or at the very least, compatibilism between free will and determinism. After the Torah Study, I read a sizable portion of Robert Sapolsky’s book Determined: A Science of Life without Free Will.[3] The most compelling part of the discussion for me was someone asserting, “I still live my life as if I have free will.” This was compelling because if I live my life as if it’s predetermined, rather than as each moment having multiple possibilities, I personally would see every single choice as being arbitrary or insignificant, and I would very quickly go down the rabbit hole of “What’s this life for?” 

In her new book The Mattering Instinct: How Our Deepest Longing Drives Us and Divides Us, Rebecca Newberger Goldstein, who grew up in an Orthodox Jewish family and now describes herself as “an atheist with a soul,”[4] writes that “we are creatures of matter who long to matter.”[5] She discusses the human desire to resist entropy. Entropy was defined by the German physicist Rudolph Clausius not as chaos or disorder but rather as change from within. In Greek, “Trope” means transformation and “en” means within. Transformation from within is what this High Holy Day Season is all about. 

 Newberger Goldstein determines 4 archetypes through which individuals seek to matter: the socializer, the heroic striver, the competitive striver, and the spiritualist transcender. Note that spiritualist is only 1 of her 4 paths through which to find meaning in the world. Many nonbelievers have done much good in the world, an example being Jonah Platt, who enhances Jewish pride in his podcast Being Jewish. In a recent episode, Platt said, “I wish I believed in God completely. I recognize the great comfort believing in the divine presence provides. Who wouldn’t want to feel guided by a sense of order in a chaotic universe? A higher power in a world full of trials and dangers? Our mortality can be terrifying to face. So who wouldn’t want to believe in a spiritual realm waiting for us on the other side? I wish I did. But at least today, I don’t. I believe when the lights go out, that’s it.”[6] I have no basis by which to argue with Platt, nor do I with a Holocaust survivor in our congregation who told me emphatically that there is no God. I respect everyone’s right to believe what they believe.

At the beginning of my remarks I asked do our lives have meaning? The answer is that they have whatever meaning we ascribe to them. As Newberger Goldstein asserts, part of the human condition is not only striving to survive and thrive but also “striving after an existence that we deem to be meaningful in our own eyes.”[7] Whatever you believe, I hope you find comfort here at Mosaic Law Congregation, where we certainly don’t have all the answers for seekers yet we are striving to grow in our learning and have it lead us toward becoming better versions of ourselves.

[1] See Ray Kurzweil, The Singularity is Near  and The Singularity is Nearer.

[2] Do We Have Free Will? The Brain-Computer Duel – Neuroscience News

[3] Published by Penguin Random House LLC in 2023

[4] In Closer to Truth PBS Series hosted by Robert Lawrence Kuhn. April 26, 2026,  “Why Mattering Matters” https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=REB2DCjIGxE&ra=m

[5] Rebecca Neuberger Goldstein The Mattering Instinct: How Our Deepest Longing Drives Us and Divides Us (NY: Liveright Publishing Corporation, 2026), pg. 29.

[6] Being Jewish with Jonah Platt: Can You Be Jewish and NOT Believe in God? (Replay), Aug 13, 2026 https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/being-jewish-with-jonah-platt/id1767185986?i=1000783090413&r=102

[7] The Mattering Instinct, pg. 1.

Remembering and Releasing

Rabbi Ben Herman , , , , , , ,

With appreciation to Rabbi Sam Feinsmith

For a New Beginning

In out-of-the-way places of the heart,
Where your thoughts never think to wander,
This beginning has been quietly forming,
Waiting until you were ready to emerge.

For a long time it has watched your desire,
Feeling the emptiness growing inside you,
Noticing how you willed yourself on,
Still unable to leave what you had outgrown.

It watched you play with the seduction of safety
And the gray promises that sameness whispered,
Heard the waves of turmoil rise and relent,
Wondered would you always live like this.

Then the delight, when your courage kindled,
And out you stepped onto new ground,
Your eyes young again with energy and dream,
A path of plenitude opening before you.

Though your destination is not yet clear
You can trust the promise of this opening;
Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning
That is at one with your life’s desire.

Awaken your spirit to adventure;
Hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk;
Soon you will home in a new rhythm,
For your soul senses the world that awaits you.

John O’Donohue

         During the 10 days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur we are commanded to release that which occurred during the past year. We continue to remember it in the back of our mind-after all, it happened and there might be lessons to learn from it. Yet at the same time we let go of it.

         Rabbi Natan of Nemirov, student of Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav, wrote “The essence of the tikkun (spiritual repair we undertake on Rosh Hashanah) is that each year we must set aside the mochin (mind) of the past and begin anew. For every single day our minds are renewed, in the aspect of ‘They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.’[1] All the more so on Rosh HaShanah, which is the start of the year, when our entire request is ‘Renew for us a good year,’ meaning that we should merit a year that is completely new. For each year begins an entirely new repair.”[2]

         What a challenge it is to begin anew with a clean slate. How can one let go of the past year’s mistakes, insults and challenges and start over? This is easier said than done, yet when we struggle with it we can recognize that we are creatures made in the image of God. Just as it says about God  המחדש בטובו בכל-יום תמיד מעשה בראשית“God renews out of his lovingkindness every day the acts of creation”[3] so too should we feel that sense of renewal. Rabbi Natan continues “So too must each of us take on this aspect: to conclude and to begin-to finish, complete, and set aside all that has passed, and to begin now anew.”[4] Rabbi Natan says this is true “even if we are as we are,”[5] meaning that we continue to do the same sins over and over again, we must dismiss and forget from our minds all that has passed. Having beginner’s mind is a key lesson that we can strive to achieve today. After all it is Shabbat Shuvah, the Sabbath of Return, and we should return to being the best version of ourselves. As likely first appeared in a graduation speech at Rutgers Preparatory School in 1993, “yesterday is history, tomorrow’s a mystery, today’s a gift, that’s why they call it the present.”[6]

         On this Shabbat Shuvah, may we strive to let go of past missteps and do our best to focus on the impact we can make right here, right now. As Rabbi Sam Feinsmith, whose teaching is the inspiration for this sermon,[7] said in his song on Gevurah, having wise boundaries, “I am loving, firm, courageous, full of might, Not uttering a single slight. I say no to harm and yes to standing strong In my love discerning right from wrong.” May we strive to release all the tension caused by past hurts and slights, may we recognize that we are in a new year with infinite potential and may we have resolve as we set our course for New Year 5787.

 

She Let Go

by Safire Rose

She let go.

She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go.

She let go of the fear.

She let go of the judgments.

She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head.

She let go of the committee of indecision within her.

She let go of all the ‘right’ reasons.

Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.

She didn’t ask anyone for advice.

She didn’t read a book on how to let go.

She didn’t search the scriptures.

She just let go.

She let go of all of the memories that held her back.

She let go of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward.

She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right.

She didn’t promise to let go.

She didn’t journal about it.

She didn’t write the projected date in her Day-Timer.

She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper.

She didn’t check the weather report or read her daily horoscope.

She just let go..

She didn’t analyze whether she should let go.

She didn’t call her friends to discuss the matter.

She didn’t do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment.

She didn’t call the prayer line.

She didn’t utter one word.

She just let go.

No one was around when it happened.

There was no applause or congratulations.

No one thanked her or praised her.

No one noticed a thing.

Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.

There was no effort.

There was no struggle.

It wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad.

It was what it was, and it is just that.

In the space of letting go, she let it all be.

A small smile came over her face.

A light breeze blew through her.

And the sun and the moon shone forevermore…

[1] Lamentations 3:23

[2] Excerpted from Likkutei Halakhot, Yoreh De’ah, Hilkhot Sefer Torah 4:6-9

[3] Siddur

[4] Likkutei Halakhot, ibid.

[5] Ibid

[6] https://quoteinvestigator.com/2023/07/26/past-history/?utm_source=chatgpt.com

[7] The Shofar Project 5786 Waking Up for a New Year Week Three: Zikhronot: Remembering and Releasing.

The Importance and Power of Water

Rabbi Ben Herman , , , , , , , ,

During a summer in rabbinical school I was doing a social justice fellowship with the Jewish Council on Urban Affairs. One day after a long week of work, I turned on the water and left it on a few minutes before planning to take a relaxing shower. My housemate admonished me, stating, “Ben, water is not an infinite resource!”

There is so much power in water. According to the Torah, water existed even before the creation of light![1] The Torah speaks of מים חיים, the water of life.[2] The rabbis metaphorically compare water to Torah, asserting “there is no water without Torah.”[3]One cannot live long without water; similarly, our lives become desiccated and empty without study of Torah and transposing that study into meaningful action. The Talmud asserts that just as water is free to all so too is Torah free to all.[4]

Water is central to Jewish ritual. Before we eat bread, we wash our hands and say the blessing al netilat yadayim. We purify ourselves with water-look at the Mikveh. Water represents new beginnings and rebirth, just as we celebrate a new Jewish year today.

Another biblical covenant, marriage, is often created through well encounters. When I got engaged, my mother-in-law gave me the book Meeting at the Well (show) about biblical betrothal being connected to wells. The servant who found Rebecca as a wife for Isaac knew she was the right woman because he gave water not only for him but also for each of his camels.[5] Jacob saw Rachel when she was waiting for water and in a brute act of strength he lifted off the cover of a well that normally would have taken all the shepherds combined. He then proceeded to water Laban’s flock.[6] Moses saw Tziporah and her six sisters driven away by shepherds; he in turn chased away the shepherds and watered Yitro’s flock.[7] While not an act of betrothal, we know of the prophetess Miriam’s power in finding water for the Israelites to drink throughout their journey in the desert.

Our tradition verifies the importance of water and the damage too little or too much can cause. When we pray for rain at the end of Sukkot, we say “for blessing and not for curse; for life and not for death; for abundance and not for famine.”[8] Water is foundational to our people’s narrative. It was prediction of drought and famine that led Joseph to become a high level official in Egypt.[9]  The drought and famine in Egypt caused Jacob to send his sons to Egypt for obtaining wheat.[10] This led to settling in Egypt and the entire exodus story.[11]   

In modern times, it can be easy to take water for granted. We open our taps and expect water to instantly come out, not worrying about our taps running dry. Yet in our great state, we know not to take this for granted. Remember the megadrought of 2019-22 and the restrictions it brought-including not being allowed to water our lawns more than 3 days a week, with more restrictive regulations in the city and in Roseville.[12] That’s solely on the residential level; water has a much greater aspect on the state level. California produces 50 percent of the countries’ vegetables and 75-80 percent of the nation’s fruits and nuts.[13]  We have a number of growers in our congregation-not a surprise, as agriculture is a $60 billion industry in our state.[14] A shortage of rain can be economically disastrous and lead to wildfires in the dry season; a surplus can lead to flooding.

As the years go by, it becomes harder to ignore our dependence on water as human beings. This summer, Lake Mead and Lake Powell, the largest and second-largest reservoirs in the United States, hit their lowest water levels since they were formed 90 years ago.[15] States are being required to cut back on their use of water from the Colorado River.[16]

Water dependence is a worldwide issue. According to the World Health Organization, 1 in 4 people in the world lack access to clean, managed drinking water.[17] Lest we think that this is only a third-world problem, we see boiled water notices in the United States, often because of main breaks.[18] We have also seen industrial runoff impacting water in numerous places, with carcinogens on the rise.[19]

Last week, we were reminded of water’s potency. Israel went through a water crisis as a microalgae bloom knocked out 5 of Israel’s 6 desalinization plants, leaving only the one in Hadera.[20] Thankfully, household taps continued to run, but southern farmers were not so fortunate, with their taps closed for a few days.[21]

In addition, we the impact of water as a weapon. Look at the end of July where Iran allegedly hacked into water systems in over a dozen states-among them Minnesota, Missouri, South Dakota, Michigan, New Jersey and Georgia.[22] Thankfully they were able to be manually overridden, and the water was not contaminated. Water lines are often amongst the first thing attacked by enemies. In Qusra last month, two Palestinian families were blockaded by Jewish terrorists, and their water line was cut off, with the goal of forcing them out of their homes.[23]

         Lest we think that water is only a problem, we should look at a section of yesterday’s Torah portion that is often glossed over. The Sixth Aliyah contains a covenantal pact between Abraham and Avimelech where Abraham gives Abimelech sheep and oxen.[24]Then in the Seventh Aliyah, Abraham gave Abimelech 7 ewes as proof that he dug a well. The two of them swore an oath, leading the founding of Be’er Sheva, which means well-of-7 or well-of-the-oath.[25]

         What is forgotten about is that Abimelech was a Philistine king. One chapter earlier, Abraham entered his kingdom of Gerar. There, for the second time, he had Sarah pretend to be his sister instead of his wife, fearing that if Abimelech found out she was his wife he would kill Abraham. God appeared to Abimelech in a dream saying, “You will die because of the woman you have taken; moreover, she is a married woman.”[26] There is dialogue between Abimelech and God after which Abimelech implores Abraham “What have you done to us? How have I sinned against you that you brought upon me and my kingdom such great sin? Deeds that out not be done you have done to me! What did you see that you did such a thing?”[27] Abraham and Abimelech did not start out on the right foot, yet one chapter later they make a covenant with one another. They were able to move from fear to trust. Abimelech and Abraham did not resolve their disagreements, but they agreed that the basic necessities of life apply to both their peoples.

There is opportunity to build upon the covenant between Abraham and Abimelech as well as from all the covenants which brought two people together. Look at the Arava Institute in the Negev which has been bringing atmospheric water generators to Gaza to provide clean drinking water.[28] Twenty-three days after October 7th, the Arava Institute issued the following statement: 

Water is a central element of the war between Israel and Hamas in the Gaza Strip. Israel controls several water pipelines entering Gaza, much as it controls most of life there. But water can also be a source of hope for an alternative future.

The Middle East is an arid region that is highly vulnerable to the effects of climate change. There is an essential need for solutions that offer equitable access to water and sanitation, and that protect Israel and the Palestinian territories’ shared water resources.

Our experience has shown us that working together creates understanding and friendships that defy the ongoing conflict.

We are not naïve. We recognize that water is central to the struggle between Israelis and Palestinians. Yet, as we see it, continuing to weaponize water will not make peace more likely. What it will do is amplify the suffering that is already taking place.[29]

         It is very easy to see the suffering in other parts of the world. Because the Islamic Republic of Iran focus on destroying Israel, they haven’t spent money on water resources, and they are reaching “water bankruptcy.”[30] In contrast, the 1994 peace agreement with Jordan obligates Israel to supply Jordan with approximately 75 million cubic meters per year, while providing mechanisms for mutual assistance in drought years. Both sides established a Joint Water Committee to manage the resource, monitor water quality, and collaborate on new supplies. It is called the Israeli-Jordanian Water Cooperation.[31]

         If Israel can find a way to make peace with Jordan around water, a peace which has held for 32 years, then we must also find a way to create a sacred covenant around water, where a sufficiency mindset rather than a scarcity one will rule the day. It requires dreaming of a world where we will be able to say יש לי כל-I have everything that I need.[32]These same words were said by our ancestor Jacob (also known as Israel) to his brother Esau. Like Abraham and Abimelech, Israel and Jordan, we can agree to cooperate over the limited resource that is clean water and that water is needed as a basic necessity of life. I charge each and every one of us to also be more cognizant of how much water we use and recognize that it is a finite resource that must be safeguarded and protected. May we take steps to do so in 5787.

[1] Genesis 1:2 has רוח אלקים מרחפת על-פני המים, whereas light is not created until Genesis 1:3.

[2] Genesis 26:19, Leviticus 15:13

[3] Babylonian Talmud Bava Kamma 82a

[4] Based off Pirkei Avot 6:2

[5] Genesis 24

[6] Genesis 28:10

[7] Genesis 2:16-18

[8] Tefillat Geshem

[9] Genesis 41:34-36

[10] Genesis 42:1-3

[11] With appreciation to Baryohay Davidoff for remining me of this important insight

[12] Yes, You Can Water Your Lawn. But Here are the Restrictions for Sacramento Area, So Far – Water News Network – Our Region’s Trusted Water Leader

[13] CDFA – Statistics

[14] How Much Food Does California Produce for the World? – Chef’s Resource

[15] https://www.earthdata.nasa.gov/news/worldview-image-archive/low-water-levels-lake-powell-lake-mead-august-2026

[16] This is largely because growing communities in the southwest, especially with the rapid growth of Maricopa County which houses Phoenix, use of the water from the Colorado River has become a premium. Lower basin states (California, Nevada and Arizona) have to cut their water use from the river by 20 percent over the next 2 years while upper basin states (Colorado, Utah, New Mexico, Wyoming) have no mandatory cuts but are encouraged to voluntary cut back 200k acre feet. Learned from NPR Marketplace podcast 8-25-26.

https://www.who.int/news/item/26-08-2025-1-in-4-people-globally-still-lack-access-to-safe-drinking water—who–UNICEF

[18] U.S. Boil Water Notice Tracker 2026 : Live Advisories by State – Clean Air and Water

[19] Water contaminants and cancer risk: arsenic, disinfection byproducts, and nitrate – NCI

[20] https://www.cnn.com/2026/09/04/climate/microalgae-bloom-israel-water-deasalination-shutdown

[21] Ark News Daily Podcast September 3, 2026.

[22] https://www.cbsnews.com/news/more-states-water-systems-cyberattacks-iran-backed-hackers/

[23] https://www.nbcnews.com/world/israel/scenes-israeli-settlers-siege-palestinian-homes-west-bank-rcna592078

[24] Genesis 21:27

[25] Genesis 21:29-31

[26] Genesis 20:3

[27] Genesis 20:9-10

[28] https://arava.org/bringing-new-atmospheric-water-generators-to-gaza/

[29] https://theconversation.com/collaborative-water-management-can-be-a-building-block-for-peace-between-israelis-and-palestinians-216250

[30] https://e360.yale.edu/features/iran-water-drought-dams-qanats

[31] Israel-Jordan Water Cooperation: From Historic Treaties to Today’s Fragile Partnership – Finacc Water

[32] Genesis 33:11

Comforting the Afflicted and Afflicting the Comfortable

Rabbi Ben Herman

What would it mean to live
in a city whose people were changing
each other’s despair into hope? –
You yourself must change it. –
What would it feel like to know
your country was changing? –
You yourself must change it. –
Though your life felt arduous
new and unmapped and strange
what would it mean to stand on the first
page of the end of despair?[1]

A rabbi’s job sometimes reflects a quotation that the fictional Irish immigrant bartender Mr. Dooley gave about newspapers: “to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.”[2] In this sermon I am going to start with the latter and then end with the former.

 It’s not an easy time to be Jewish. During the past year, we saw a truck ramming at a large suburban synagogue in Michigan. We witnessed a gentleman accost worshippers on a Friday night at a Manhattan synagogue. We recoiled at the stabbing of a Jew with a screwdriver outside a synagogue on Tisha B’Av, one of the 70 percent of July New York City hate crimes targeted against Jews.[3] Closer to home, we saw a man enter a Carmichael synagogue on a Friday night and put a box with wires on the bimah during the silent Amidah. No synagogue is safe from this hatred, which is why we now have 2 guards, one of whom is armed, every week at Shabbat services and whenever children are present. 

We know that this is not a new phenomenon, yet we might be surprised that antisemitism, while found more in the open now than it was for a long time, always existed in America. Pamela Nadell in her new book Antisemitism: An American Tradition, starts with Dutch politician Peter Stuyvesant wanting to kick out the first Jews to arrive in New Amsterdam, now known as New York, from Recife, Brazil in 1654. As Stuyvesant wrote, this “deceitful race, such hateful enemies and blasphemers of the name of Christ, be not allowed further to infect and trouble this new colony.”[4] Stuyvesant tried to expel the Jewish immigrants, but he was overruled. Ironically, Stuyvesant high school in Manhattan was 90 percent Jewish in the 1950s.

 Of course, this didn’t begin with Stuyvesant. Jews were kicked out of England, France, Portugal and Spain, among others, all of which utilized prejudices from the Christian Bible to demonize and distort our people, who better convert to be saved from the fires of Hell.[5] The blood libel, stemming from Thomas of Monmouth in 1144, that Jews killed children and baked their blood into matzah,[6] found its way into Trent and Damascus, amongst other places, and led to organized pogroms against Jewish communities. This claim might sound ludicrous but was bolstered by Jewish apostates wanting to appease their new co-religionists. 

 Nadell continues that we cannot forget antisemitic tropes related to Jewish avarice and money, stemming from Jesus seeing Jewish money changers turning the Temple into “a den of thieves” and decisively knocking over their tables and kicking them out.[7] Judas the Jew would betray Jesus and get thirty pieces of silver for his evil deed.[8] It doesn’t take much to see the Shylock demanding his “pound of flesh” from Antonio for the money he lent.

This American tradition of antisemitism morphed over the years. It was certainly masked by the establishment clause in the first amendment and by Washington’s letter to the Touro Synagogue, part of which I read during our semiquincentennial celebration on July 4th Shabbat

Above all. We are blessed to live in a country that established freedom of religion in its first clause of the Bill of Rights. Yet we cannot forget that Alexander Hamilton, of musical and $10 bill fame, smeared an opponent as “Shylock the Jew,” and authors like Maria Edgeworth who in her book The Absentee portrayed Jews as “cruel and rapacious” with a villain Mr. Mordicai chasing debtors to their deathbeds.[9] Baron Rothschild was accused by Mississippi’s governor of having “the blood of Judas and of Shylock flow in his veins.”[10] I could go on with Professor Nadell’s examples, including General and Future President Ulysses S Grant expelling Jews from his military district of parts of Tennessee, Missouri and Kentucky during the Civil War or of the newspaper articles of “Jewish criminals who would not hesitate to break into houses and stores, pluck Gentiles’ pockets, or even ‘plunge a knife into the breast of his fellow.’”[11] Don’t get me started on Henry Ford, who became fodder for Adolf Hitler, may his name be obliterated. I could also give a whole sermon on the disgraceful comparisons between Israel and the Nazis. Israel is a country that is flawed like any other, and I will give a critique of an action taken by Israeli settlers in my remarks tomorrow. With that being said, it is most certainly not engaging in a genocide or final solution, as one might see on Tik Tok or through the algorithms developed by generative AI.

All is not lost, however. Dara Horn, who likes bold, provocative titles for her books, recently wrote a new one entitled The Final Solution to the Jewish Question: A Love Story for the Living. She recalls having been asked by many people after her previous book what to do about the increasing antisemitism and strives to give answers here, though she admits the title is sardonic.[12] The problem Dara sees is that American Jews have chosen to define Judaism as a religion rather than as a people. While not proposing any one solution, Horn advocates that we must reframe Jewish civilization as “a 3000-year-old anti-tyrannical movement.”[13] She wants us to teach Jewish living identity, rather than outsourcing Jewish education to passive trends or hiding behind universal safety nets. One of the dangers she sees with assimilation is trying to accommodate antisemitism in hopes we will be liked by others; instead, we should focus on fighting the lies that are behind antisemitism. Horn argues that the American Jewish community has “unconsciously accepted the assumption that we need to have no agency, but in reality, agency is the only reason we’re here today.”[14]

Above all, Horn asserts that we need to reject fatalism-the idea that antisemitism is predetermined and will always be there. Her solution is not a list of policy points but rather about the story we need to tell about how Judaism has survived by defying the dominant empires of the day through maintaining our faith, our culture, and our peoplehood. While she admits the battles are difficult, Horn believes we can fight against “the world’s oldest hatred” which is predicated on “the big lie” that “Jews destroy whatever you value the most.”[15]

Horn’s words remind me a statement Rabbi Shaul Robinson made at the Zionist Rabbis’ seminar. He asserted, “We must not internalise antisemitism and antizionism [16]״.When we hear the same lie time and time again we become victims of the illusory truth effect, that we believe the lie is real. As Dara Horn reminded me, many of the phrases heard by antizionists today, that “Zionism is racism, genocide, apartheid and colonialism” originated in the Soviet Union during the 1960s and 70s as part of its Cold War propaganda. She implores us to step away from the lachrymose version of Jewish history and an overemphasis on Holocaust education because that is a the least interesting thing about us; what is far more interesting is Jewish resilience through conscious choices against the dominant society. As Horn asserts, “we are actually the choosing people”[17] and those who choose to embrace Judaism are the ones who have survived.

Now that I’ve afflicted the comfortable it’s time to comfort the afflicted. How can we feel hope with the rise of antisemitism? In past years I spoke about maintaining Jewish pride and resilience, which remain important topics. This year, I want to focus on recognizing that we have friends in unexpected places, and we play a role in cultivating allies. In July, the British singer Boy George released a pro-Israel AI-generated reggae song “We Will Dance Again,” inspired by the Nova music festival. His song begins, “You say genocide, I say war” and continues “Does it get ugly? Yes, it does. When I know you want to kill every last one of us.” Boy George continues, “But if you’re ever confused, I stand with the truth. I don’t feel brave I just need to behave like a human.” Wonderful Jewish words, except Boy George is not Jewish. George Alan O’Dowd was raised Irish Catholic and has since embraced Nichiren Buddhism. Since creating the song, Boy George has faced dire consequences, having to step down from a West End role in (ironically) Jesus Christ Superstar, losing his record label manager and getting banned from the music platform Bandcamp. Yet he has cast his lot with the Jewish people.

We also cannot forget that when the antisemites strike, people in unexpected places sometimes stand up. Remember the first night of Hanukkah celebration last December at Bondi Beach. 15 people lost their lives, and it would have almost certainly been dozens more had it not been for a 42-year-old Muslim fruit seller and father of two named Ahmed al-Ahmed. Ahmed jumped on the back of one of the two gunmen, tackled him and wrestled away his long-barrelled gun. The price he paid was multiple arm wounds from the other assailant. His goal, as he asserted when interviewed, was to “stop the terrorism and stop the hate.”[18]

What are the simple steps that we can take in 5787 to cultivate more allies like Boy George and Ahmed al-Ahmed? There are genuine fears with the rise of antisemitism, which is often couched behind antizionism. Rather than focus on those detractors who offer hate, I choose to concentrate on those who can offer love. That is why it is so important to me to participate in the Sacramento Act Clergy Council as well as to meet with clergy leaders from the Interfaith Council of Greater Sacramento and give tours of our campus to those from other faith traditions. Boy George on his own will not save us, but maybe 1 million, 2 million or 10 million Boy Georges might. In the spirit of afflicting the comfortable, what is our responsibility in that direction, and what steps will we take in 5787 to join the Jewish Community Relations Council in building relationships with philosemites? 

I ask each of us to commit to this cause. My classmate Philip Weintraub is giving out to his congregation this year this lapel pin (show pin) stating הנני. I choose to translate as “HERE I AM-ready, willing and able.”  I am considering purchasing similar pins for Mosaic Law Congregation if there is sufficient interest. Regardless, may we proudly come forward and say הנני, building bridges with others during Jewish New Year 5787. Speaking of which, please stay and hear Rabbi Cantor Reuven Taff beautifully chant the הנני prayer.

[1] “Dreams Before Waking” by Adrienne Rich FEBRUARY 10, 2021 / JANFALLS

[2] Mr. Dooley is a fictional character created by journalist and humorist Finley Peter Dunne. This quotation comes from one of Dunne’s newspaper columns in 1902.

[3] Times of Israel Daily Briefing Aug 17, 2026

[4] Pamala S. Nadell Antisemitism: An American Tradition (New York: W.W. Norton and Company, 2025), pg. 12-13.

[5] Ibid, pg. 29.

[6] Ibid, 30.

[7] Ibid. 31

[8] Ibid

[9] Ibid, 522-53.

[10] Ibid, 56.

[11] Ibid, 63.

[12] Identity Crisis podcast with Yehuda Kurtzer September 1, 2026.

[13] Ask Haviv Anything podcast August 19, 2026.

[14] Dara Horn, Rabbinical Assembly Talk, August 25, 2026.

[15] Ibid

[16] Zionist Rabbis High Holiday Seminar August 17, 2026.

[17] Rabbinical Assembly Webinar with Dara Horn, 8/25/26

[18] Bondi Beach hero Ahmed al Ahmed: I just wanted to protect ‘innocent people’ | The Times of Israel

25th Anniversary of 9/11

Rabbi Ben Herman , , , , ,

         I will never forget that fateful Tuesday morning. I was walking down B-wing at Nicolet High School in Milwaukee between 1st and 2nd periods during my senior year. I noticed that there were televisions outside classrooms-very odd as I had never seen that before-and there were people standing outside the classrooms watching. I started watching just as the 2nd tower was hit, recoiling at seeing the fire and smoke. Since then I have lived in New York City and have visited the Freedom Tower and the 9/11 Memorial and Museum.

         September 11th impacts people differently. When I lived on Long Island, a young man was memorialized every year, the son of congregants who worked at Cantor-Fitzgerald law firm. Many New Yorkers were struggling with survivors’ guilt, as they were a few minutes late to work that day. Others were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I remember the valiant first responders, the firefighters and EMTs, who ran into the inferno to try to save people’s lives. I remember the hospital workers who worked tirelessly to save lives. We must honor our heroes, including those who perished on that infamous day.

         Rosh Hashanah is an opportunity to strive to find a balance between remembering the past while concurrently being in the here-and-now. That is what we are asked to do every year, especially so when our very freedom as proud Americans came under attack. Each year before this one I have told a story on Erev Rosh Hashanah. The story I was planning to tell this year is my mentor’s magnum opus, I will save it for his first Yahrzeit, Shabbat Bereshit. Tonight, I want to leave us with how we should move forward in a world that reminds us that people hate us and want to take away many of the freedoms that we cherish. 

The poem “Walking a Narrow Bridge,” by Rabbi Joy Levitt, was written 1 year after the attack on the Twin Towers. I have chosen to conclude tonight’s remarks with it because in a world full of uncertainty, the most important thing is, as Rabbi Levitt asserts, “to find the very best within all of us” rather than giving into fear or despair.

Walking a Narrow Bridge

Rabbi Joy Levitt

Kol ha-olam kulo gesher tzar m’od

The whole world is a narrow bridge.

Today we walk that narrow bridge,

ever aware of the chasms on either side of us.

We know what is below us, around us.

It is violence, hopelessness, the death of the future.

Kol ha-olam kulo gesher tzar m’od 
The whole world is a narrow bridge.

We know how narrow is the pathway on which we walk,

how rickety the bridge feels under our step.

How little room there seems to be to maneuver; to change direction.

Kol ha-olam kulo gesher tzar m’od 
The whole world is a narrow bridge.

And we are all on it. The whole world.

Our friends and our enemies and all of our children.

All of our Children.

Kol ha-olam kulo gesher tzar m’od.

V’ha-ikar lo lifachayd klal

The whole world is a narrow bridge.

And the ikar — and the essential thing — is not to be afraid at all.

Because a greater danger than everything that lies around us and beneath us is the fear that paralyzes us, that causes us to stop in our tracks, unable to go back, afraid to go forward.

At this moment when we are most afraid,

when everything we see and hear is so very frightening,

when we are on the narrowest of narrow bridges,

it is at this moment that we hold onto the ikar,

the essential truth that fear robs us of hope.

Fear stops us from moving forward.

Kol ha-olam kulo gesher tzar m’od.

V’ha-ikar lo lifachayd klal.

The whole world is a narrow bridge.

And the essential thing is not to be afraid at all.

To find the very best within us.

To find the very best within all of us.

However hard it is. However long it takes.

Eglah Arufah

Rabbi Ben Herman , , , , , ,

         Our Torah portion, Shoftim, ends on a strange hypothetical situation. A person is slain and found lying in the open with the slayer unknown. In such a situation, the elders and magistrates were commanded to go out to measure the distance from the corpse to the nearby towns. Then they took a heifer, which had never worked and brought it to an everflowing wadi, which had never been tilled or sown. There they broke the heifer’s neck. All the elders of the town nearest to the corpse washed their hands over the heifer and declared, “Our hands did not shed this blood, nor did our eyes see it done. Absolve, O God, Your people Israel whom You redeemed, and do not let guilt for the blood of the innocent remain among your people Israel.” Those elders were then absolved for the death of the corpse in their midst.[1]

         These 9 verses are very mystifying. Why did this ritual of the eglah arufah, the calf with the broken neck, have to be done? How did the killing of an animal in such a vicious fashion expiate for the killing of a person? Why were the elders of the nearest town, which might be quite a distance away, presumed to be at fault for the death of an unknown individual?

         The rabbis of Talmud Sotah were perplexed by the last question. They asked, “How would it rise on our hearts that the elders of the court are bloodshedders?!” The answer given is that the elders asserted that they did not see a stranger walking alone and not offer him an escort.[2] That by itself makes sense. What is perplexing is that 8 folio pages later, Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi said, “a man who no is walking on the road and does not have an escort should occupy himself with Torah.”[3] Does that mean that Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi considered the deceased to not have been studying Torah? What hutzpah to presume this and what nivul hameit, desecration of the dead!

         But wait-there’s more! Rabbi Yohanan said in the name of Rabbi Meir, “Anyone who does not accompany another or who does not permit himself to be accompanied is as if he spills blood. For if indeed the men of Jericho had accompanied Elisha (the prophet), he would not have incited the bears against the children. As it is said, ‘From there he went up to Beitel. As he was going up the road, some little boys came out of the town and jeered at him saying ‘Go away, baldhead! Go away, baldhead!’”[4] That’s boys being boys right? Not from Elisha’s perspective. He did not take kindly to being insulted by these youths, and he cursed them in God’s name. Two she-bears came out of the woods and mauled 24 of the children. Rabbi Meir opines that Elisha’s wrath would have been averted if there had been someone going with him who would have stayed his hand.

         What lesson do we take from these texts as we enter the month of Elul? This is a time to be mindful of our actions, especially those which lead to bad habits and destructive outcomes. Are there modifications we can make so that the outcome might be different? Perhaps we are going it alone in a difficult moment and could turn to someone to accompany us. Maybe we habitually respond out of accusation or out of anger like Elisha did and can engage help to become more skillful. One of life’s greatest challenges is to recognize that how we react and what we do is far more in our control than we think. It is easier said than done, yet by taking small steps throughout this month, we can gradually change for the better and influence the outcome. Above all, let us strive that no negligence occurs on our account, like the situation in our portion that led to the death of a man and a calf being killed to make atonement for it. While we thankfully do not sacrifice animals in this way today, we still need to compensate to rectify damage which was done on our watch. May we learn from this lesson and make it our own as we approach new year 5787.

[1] Deuteronomy 21:1-9

[2] Bavli Sotah 38a

[3] Bavli Sotah 46b

[4] 2 Kings 2:23

Humanity is the Trees of the Field

Rabbi Ben Herman

         An interesting ruling in this week’s parsha is “when you siege a city you may eat of the fruit trees but not cut them down, for are the trees of the field like men who can flee from you before a siege?”[1] The Hebrew is כי האדם עץ השדה, and a beautiful Israeli song was produced by Shalom Hanoch with that as the chorus in 1983.[2] Once can wish (as I do) that the Bible voiced the same level of concern about the other nations. Nevertheless, I think there is a lesson to be learned in being mindful of our environment and not needlessly destroying, especially items that bear fruit. We live in a state that produces over one-third of the United States’ total fruit, vegetables and nuts, and it is important that we maintain that beauty for generations yet to come. 

[1] Deuteronomy 20:19

[2]https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1CHBF_enUS1012US1012&sca_esv=c0e01933550a57b0&sxsrf=APpeQnvduJzNkGPLKo6XdqqwsYM8GoPnuA:1786127475656&q=%D7%9B%D7%99+%D7%94%D7%90%D7%93%D7%9D+%D7%A2%D7%A5+%D7%94%D7%A9%D7%93%D7%94+%D7%9E%D7%99%D7%9C%D7%99%D7%9D&si=APenkKnKBEUauq4uTtUY4jfHLnqFuwjYstKqhPBfybgq7STLIjPYw55Ta3dja4ujVQ8Hq9BgRKPtP-YW0fyMifnfwvdIm4IIS_NeKZdq7kizGrRV4IWUsEoVz9mhMwHs0mHVjwGSLG1_4_ilNPwSurYnok7YNR4IgqeOn64yuEfTX34SivTkykdfN2kVkz-naIbkW-k-XUo8TmGwH_0rDTMhcJRYu52VJw%3D%3D&sa=X&sqi=2&ved=2ahUKEwjg1tatk4-WAxUNCjQIHW8nGjAQyNoBKAB6BAgWEAA&ictx=1&biw=1920&bih=953&dpr=1

Equanimity

Rabbi Ben Herman , , , ,

         Parshat Eikev teaches us the importance of the Mussar midah, or character attribute, of השתלוות, having equanimity. Through Moses, God warns us not to say in one’s heart וְאָמַרְתָּ֖ בִּלְבָבֶ֑ךָ כֹּחִי֙ וְעֹ֣צֶם יָדִ֔י עָ֥שָׂה לִ֖י אֶת־הַחַ֥יִל הַזֶּֽה׃ “ My own power and the might of my own hand have won this wealth for me.”[1] What is the problem with saying this? After all, we were commanded to work by the sweat of our brows and look at all we have accomplished with our lives! Parshat Ekev warns us time and time again that we accomplish nothing without God’s will. One such verse reads “When God has thrust them (enemy nations) from your path, say not to yourselves, ‘God has enable us to possess this land because of our virtues’; it is rather because of the wickedness of those nations that God is dispossessing them before you.’”[2] Another verse asserts “as long as I have known you, you have been defiant towards God.”[3] One would conclude from these verses that we are problematic-just not as problematic as the other nations!

         Much of Deuteronomy centers on the same theme: if you obey God’s commandments you get rewarded; if you disobey, you get punished. The second paragraph of the Shema, excised from Reform prayerbooks, maintains this very theme. Regardless of whether we believe this, or rather that we should obey because it makes us feel better or because it’s the right thing to do, we need to reckon with this theme. The way I choose to do so is to remind myself not to let things get to my head.

         Ramban in his commentary on the verse writes as follows: “you should remember G-d Who brought you forth from Egypt where you had no power or might of hand at all. You should further remember that He provided all your needs for you in the wilderness, where you had nought in the power of thy hand to survive. If so [concerning] this wealth which you have won by your strength as well, [you should bear in mind that] it is G-d Who gave you the power [that was necessary for you] to accumulate the wealth.”[4] The Hasidic commentator Mei HaShiloach takes this idea further, asserting that the reason that God made us need to eat and drink is so that we will remember Him through blessings rather than think that it is only through our own strength that we have food on the table.[5]

         The other side of the coin, however, is towards the beginning of the portion, when we say in our hearts, ‘seeing that these nations are more numerous than I, how can I dispossess them?’ to which God replies through Moses, ‘Do not be afraid.’[6] Rashi points out that the word for ‘when’ כי has multiple uses, and that he thinks the better translation here is ‘maybe or perhaps’[7] that we become paralyzed and feel that we cannot accomplish things. The Hasidic commentator Kedushat Levi asserts that “Rashi has touched on an important psychological ‎principle, namely that whenever we encounter some difficulty in ‎carrying out God’s commandments, (i.e. serving God with all our ‎heart,) fear is the greatest enemy to serving G’d wholeheartedly. If ‎we can resist fear, God will help us to overcome any of these ‎supposed difficulties to serving God.[8] In other words, don’t say in your heart “I can’t do this” just as you should not say in your heart “I did this all by myself.”

         The middle path of equanimity is what is most important. Having calmness, composure and evenness of temper, rather than haughtiness or self-effacement is what we need to strive towards. As in the well-known axiom by Alan Morinis on humility, we should occupy “no more than our place, no less than our space. Whether or not one believes in the biblical system of reward and punishment, we can and should recognize the gift of life as coming from God as well as the fact that we can accomplish or endure far more than we believe. This is not meant as an excuse or as a rationalization for suffering but rather as being able to take the opportunity to find balance between hubris and self-effacement. As we see from life, when people get overconfident, bad things happen; when people get paralyzed and don’t act, it stops the potential good from occurring. The choice is in our hands-may it be our will to choose wisely.

[1] Deuteronomy 8:17

[2] Deuteronomy 9:4

[3] Deuteronomy 9:24

[4] Ramban on Deuteronomy 8:18 ד”ה וזכרת את ה אלקיך. Translation by Rabbi Elihu Munk.

[5] Mei HaShiloach on Deuteronomy 8:18 ד”ה וזכרת את ה אלקיך. Translated by Betzalel Edwards.

[6] Deuteronomy 7:17

[7] Rashi on Deuteronomy 7:17 ד”ה כי תאמר בלבביך

[8] Kedushat Levi on Deuteronomy 7:17 ד”ה כי תאמר בלבביך

Ripening Almonds

Rabbi Ben Herman

          Any Central Valley almond farmers here today? If so you’re in luck! After the incident with Korach, God’s new deterrent against the Israelites’ complaining is to take 12 staffs, 1 from each tribe, and put them in a pile. The staff of the person God will choose will sprout almonds (ויגמול שקדים). Aaron’s staff blossomed.[1] God then said, “put Aaron’s staff back before the community, to be kept as a lesson to the rebels, so that their mutterings against Me may cease, lest they die.”[2]

          Rashi points out that the word ויגמולused for sprout or ripen is the same as the word for wean when Isaac is weaned from Sarah.[3] I love this image. When Isaac was weaned, Abraham threw a big party to mark this life transition.[4] Today most of us do nothing to mark this independence of a child being able to eat on his/her own, yet biblically it was of great significance. Similarly, the “weaning of almonds” from Aaron’s staff symbolizes a transition that maybe now the people will independently recognize Aaron as the High Priest rather than as a usurper of power, as Korach claimed. Sure enough, Aaron is never challenged again as the priest-especially at the end of next week’s double parsha when his grandson Pinhas took matters into his own hands.[5] Rashi also asserts that almonds ripen more rapidly than other fruit.

          This also brings extra meaning to the almonds which blossomed. Almonds can represent breasts, the source of sustenance. Chizkuni uses the term “gamal” (to ripen) as alluding to maturity and diligence. The ripe almonds representkohanim shokdim al avodatam—priests who are watchful and dedicated in their Divine service.[6] It is like the line in our daily liturgy אשירה ליי כי גמל עלי “I will sing to God for God bestows kindness onto me,” using a third definition of the verb גמל, which we also see in the Amidah (גומל חסדים טובים) and in the prayer about being saved from danger (ברכת הגומל)

Rabbi Menachem Mendl Schneerson, whose Yahrzeit was 2 days ago, addresses a deeper question: Why was this miracle even necessary, given that G‑d had already demonstrated that Korah was in the wrong?

He explained that the earth swallowing Korach and the fire that consumed his followers proved that dissent against G‑d leads to harsh punishment. But those events did not resolve the people’s doubts about Aaron’s legitimacy or clarify why he was chosen.

The miracle of the blossoming staff answered that question by revealing Aaron’s uniqueness in two powerful ways. First, a dry, dead staff has no potential for life or fruit; its sudden blossoming could only have come from G‑d’s will, proving that Aaron’s appointment was not the result of Moses’ favoritism or political maneuvering, but a direct act of Divine selection: “The man whom I shall choose.”    

Second, the miracle didn’t happen all at once. The staff followed a natural growth process—first a flower, then a bud, then ripe almonds. This demonstrated that G‑d’s choice was not just a miraculous imposition but something that became internal and lasting. Just as the staff behaved like a living tree, so did the priesthood become something woven into the very essence of Aaron and his descendants—not a temporary role, but an enduring spiritual identity that is part and parcel of who they are.[7]         

As we reach the summer solstice, many strive to take a break from hard work, and one should take breaks from time to time. At the same time, I’d like you to think about who or what are you blossoming into right now? Are you learning a new skill? Are you working on an aspect of yourself? I hope we will use the summer as a time for self-reflection and growth, in addition to appreciating all that life has to offer us.

[1] Numbers 17:16-23

[2] Numbers 17:25

[3] Rashi on Exodus 17:23 ד”ה ויגמול שקדים

[4] Gensis 21:8

[5] See Numbers 25:7-8

[6] Chizkuni on Exodus 17:23 ד”ה ויגמול שקדים

[7] Likkutei Sichot vol 23, p 113.