How wonderful to see everyone together. Parents reunited with children (as are my parents Bruce and Laurie Herman), brothers reunited with sisters (as is my sister, Rachel Herman), cousins, uncles and aunts, grandparents and grandchildren. This is my favorite time of the year-reconnecting after a busy summer to be together as a congregational family.

Sound of the Shofar-by Lucille Frenkel

Call of the past and out of the past,

You rouse us to face to the future.

Sound of the ram’s horn, it’s meaning precise

Reminds us to recall the sacrifice

Of a past which begot so we may beget

Finer future.

          There is one thing which is unusual this year, and I’m not thinking of the fact that we’ve been out of our offices for 7 weeks. Because Rosh Hashanah begins on Shabbat, we will not be sounding the Shofar tomorrow morning. On Shabbat, as opposed to most Jewish holidays, one is not permitted to carry from one domain (a home) to another (a synagogue) by means of a public thoroughfare. The Talmud teaches, “All are under obligated to blow the shofar, but not all are skilled in the blowing of the shofar. Therefore, there is a danger that one will take the shofar and go to an expert to learn (how to properly sound it) and he will carry it 4 cubits (6 feet) in the public domain.”[1] Thus, a tradition developed not to blow shofar on Shabbat.

          While we will not blow shofar tomorrow (you’ll have to come back on Sunday to hear it) that does not stop me from talking about what the shofar represents-a clarion call of hope for New Year 5784. In so doing, I am going to tell a story from one of the hardest times in our people’s history to inspire us and give us hope for the coming year.             

Read The Clarion Call of Hope[2]

          As Rabbi Pearce tells in the story, the sound of the shofar has so much meaning in a way words cannot convey. When we listen to 100 blasts of it on Sunday, we will be able to not only think of the trials and tribulations our people has gone through in the past but also the strength that we have when we come together as a community. We will have the opportunity to think of all the blessings and hope that we feel as we begin a new year on the Jewish calendar.

          After Yom Tov, please check out the video of Avinu Malkeinu from the Israeli philharmonic featuring the shofar.[3]

          Shabbat Shalom and Shana Tova.

---

[1] Babylonian Talmud Rosh Hashanah 29b

[2] “The Clarion Call of Hope,” in Jewish Stories from Heaven and Earth by Rabbi Dov Peretz Elkins

[3] https://www.youtube.com/watch?si=WWQFETiRNlhHWyDD&v=az1dEW2LTIw&feature=youtu.be

Nachamu Ami-Be comforted my nation. Two days ago we just observed the darkest day of the Jewish calendar, Tisha B’Av. We are now asked to feel comfort. Yet comfort cannot be felt on demand. The question for today is what is our role in comforting one another?

Why does the Mourners Kaddish require a minyan? When we mourn we do so as a community, as part of a family. We don’t ask what your politics are-when we say Kaddish, we do so with trust that we are all existing under one God, and that brings us strength.

The communal also becomes the personal. When someone loses a loved one, we say to them HaMakom Yinachem, may God comfort you. Yet is this what Yinachem really means? We see at the end of Parshat Bereshit וַיִּנָּ֣חֶם יְהֹוָ֔ה כִּֽי־עָשָׂ֥ה אֶת־הָֽאָדָ֖ם בָּאָ֑רֶץ וַיִּתְעַצֵּ֖ב אֶל־לִבּֽוֹ[1]

“And God was nahem because He made humanity and was saddened in his heart.” It certainly does not mean that God was comforted by making humanity as God’s about to create the flood! Rather what this means is that we recognize the chaos in people’s lives. By saying HaMakom Yinachem with the passing of a loved one, we recognize that your world will never be the same again but we are here to comfort you and help you walk on this very difficult path.

          The same can be said about Moses begging God to enter the Land of Israel. He is asking God to do an act of grace, חן and let him enter the land of Israel even though he has nothing to offer in return.[2] The answer he received from God is רַב־לָ֔ךְ אַל־תּ֗וֹסֶף דַּבֵּ֥ר אֵלַ֛י ע֖וֹד בַּדָּבָ֥ר הַזֶּֽה׃[3]

“Enough! Never speak to me of this matter again!” Not only that but he is told to look into the land that he will not be able to enter; which must have been torturous for him. Moses had led his people to the land flowing with milk and honey, a land which remains just out of his reach.

          I look at Monday’s vote in Israel on the Reasonableness Clause in light of this emotional story in the Torah. This bill is relatively minor in the greater scheme of things; this is about emotions. I have spoken with those who have felt a betrayal of trust, feeling sucker punched with the passage of an amendment on which no one had campaigned, some of whom feel that this will be the end of democracy in Israel. I have watched the protesters, the reservists and fighter pilots who didn’t show up for work and the doctors who went on strike except in emergency and critical care situations. I had a friend tell me, “I can’t imagine not coming into the Navy-I took an oath” and I had another say “I understand not being able to serve a government that does not accept the role of reason in making decisions.” I have spoken with celebrants who have felt this is a long time coming. I can identify with both yet only as one living outside of Israel and not facing the real-world implications of this decision. It is not over-the Supreme Court will hear arguments on it in September-but it is a major step in trying to take power away from the courts and put it in the Knesset.

          For many ויהפכו-things are upside down and topsy turvy. It is in the emotional lens as well as where we are in the Jewish calendar that leads to my framing of this situation. Sometimes one can pray, beg and entreat, as Moses did, and things do not go your way. Decisions can be made that you are powerless to stop that make it feel as if your world has come crumbling down, where you can find no comfort. What one can do, however, is to be present with what you feeling and honor your concerns. One needs to be able to fight for what s/he believes in while recognizing that there is so much beyond our control. We can entreat, protest, pour out our hearts, stand in solidarity with others. In the end, we are all inheritors of a history that goes back thousands of years whose future is unwritten. If there’s one thing we can agree on, it is that we cannot allow this to be the end.

          Maksim Smelchak sent me a video of someone asking passersby about their stance on the “judicial reform.” If they said they were against, he said “I’m in favor.” If they were in favor, he said “I’m against.” Each time he asked for a hug and each person gave him a hug. The message of this was to show that regardless of how we stand we need to remain united together. It’s easy to say that when things go your way, yet when they don’t we need to strengthen our bond with one another, to understand even when we vehemently disagree.

          Mosaic Law Congregation has been successful the past 123 years, and at the same time there is always room for improvement. Here at MLC we have an opportunity to model what it means to get to know the other, to listen to others’ stories, their hopes and dreams. By getting to know one another on a human level, we create a community where everyone is valued and appreciated for who s/he is regardless of his/her opinion on any given issue. I challenge each of us to set up a time to have a 1-on-1 meeting with a congregant we do not know or who we perceive as being on the “other side” of an issue of great importance to us. I ask us to first get to know the other as s/he is, listening carefully to him/her. Over the course of time and building trust, I hope that the two of you will be able to bring up difficult issues and listen to what the other is truly saying. In so doing, as a congregation we can be an example for others to emulate, and we can do a better job of bringing each other comfort in life’s difficult moments.

---

[1] Genesis 6:6

[2] Rashi on Deuteronomy 3:23 ואתחנן

[3] Deuteronomy 3:26

I am delighted that my Shul President when I began in Jericho, Mark Wilkow, and his wife Beth are here this Shabbat. In honor of their visit I am going to share a story I have told previously as a way to connect with this double portion.

In Tucson I had a congregant who was a pilot and was going to take me out on a Wednesday flight. He called me Tuesday evening to cancel because it was too windy. Impulsively, I thought, “What a great day for me to climb The Window,” a 4,200-foot elevation change climb in Ventana Canyon. I was trail running and made it up to the window (7.2 miles) in record time. I stopped to take pictures of the gorgeous view and then made my way back down. Upon commencing the descent, I realized I was heading in a loop, and I stubbornly turned around to go back the way I came. Big mistake: I became completely lost. I tried using a hiking GPS, but as someone who is spatially challenged, all it did was kill my phone battery. With 5 percent battery remaining, I phoned a friend and said I needed help. Then I called 911 and attempted to give my coordinates as my phone died.

I waited by a ledge overlooking the mountain, realizing I was completely underdressed, up in the mountains wearing just running clothes, with cold wind permeating every bone in my body. Finally, I saw a helicopter patrolling the area. Excited, I began waving a stick in the air like that scene in The Life of Pi. The chopper didn’t see me and kept on going. The winds picked up, and I became colder and colder. My water and energy bars began running out.

The wind subsided and I did what one is not supposed to do: bushwhacking through brush to a clearing to become more visible. As soon as I reached it, a second helicopter came. I waved frantically, and it saw me. The chopper couldn’t get close enough to me and I heard someone radio in “the Blackhawk.” Half an hour later a Blackhawk helicopter arrived. What noise it made! What dust it kicked up! A rescuer hung down from the helicopter with a rope, reached me, put his legs around mine and then we were pulled up by the rope. We were brought to a base where my vitals were taken. I was told, “You were only 100 yards from the trail.” Go figure. That evening I went to see a play, as if nothing had happened.

I learned three lessons from this story. One is to never hike alone. Second is that I can never complain again about paying state income taxes. Between three helicopters, one of which cost $1,300 an hour, and two groups of hiker rescuers, my rescue attempt must have cost over $10,000 in taxpayer money.

 The third lesson is most important. As Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “Life is a journey, not a destination.” There is an eternal truth to his message: we do not know what the coming week will bring, let alone where life will take us. This sums up today’s double portion.

Parshat Matot is about guarding the words that we say, ensuring that they are not said hastily or recklessly. Just like we do not know where our life will take us, the trials and tribulations as well as the great pleasure, we do not know the impact that our words will have. The Hasidic commentator Noam Elimelech demonstrates that even the words for vows and oaths respectfully have an impact. He connects the word נדר, a vow to do something, to דירה, a dwelling place.[1] The rabbis teach that a home sale needed to be for a minimum of 30 days.[2] Why 30 days? Because one month, from one Rosh Hodesh to the next, is the Jewish cycle for striving to be the best version of ourselves while concurrently working to refine our actions (לפשפש במעשיו), fix mistakes and try again. The sages mandated that the last day of every month is one for fasting and introspection, called Yom Kippur Katan, a mini Yom Kippur. It was created so that at the end of each month one could review his/her behavior, determine ways to make positive changes and work to fix problematic habits. Students would review their learning every 30 days[3] just as everyone would review their behavior, a monthly Mussar reset. Rather than waiting for Rosh Hashanah, people would constantly be in the process of self-refinement.

Noam Elimelech goes on to talk about שבועה, an oath to refrain from doing something. The word שבועה is connected to שבע, the 7 day cycle. Whereas the 30 day cycle is for self-improvement, the 7 day cycle is about being industrious and creative followed by Shabbat on which we appreciate things as they are. Taking an oath is like Shabbat on which we say, “I have everything I need and I don’t need to do anything particular on this day, just be present.”

Now we come to Parshat Masei, recounting the 42 stops that the Israelites made on their journey from Egypt to the Promised Land. Whereas the 30 and 7 day cycles focus us in small, reocurring segments of our lives, the 42 stops represent the 42 stages of one’s lifetime. These stages are not linear but rather circuitous. Occasionally we take a wrong turn and go off the path (יציעה) that we meant to walk on. In those situations, we do not turn around but rather course correct, going back to our intention. Often before we can do so we need to reset ourselves-we encamp (יחנו) where we are and only when ready do we go back on the path. That is what repentance, or תשובה, is all about-returning to who we are meant to be after we get distracted or go astray.

As we continue in בין המיצרים, a period of great sadness in our history leading up to Tisha B’Av, I hope we take time to reflect on where we are at in this moment, both what’s going well and how we can improve. Recognizing our limitations, as I’ve had to do with my being spatially challenged, is a crucial step towards working on self-refinement. All we have is this moment-let’s utilize it as best we can in this journey we call life.

---

[1] Noam Elimelech, Parshat Matot, Comment 1

[2] Arukh HaShulchan, Choshen Mishpat 312:12

 

[3] See Berachot 38b on Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi

We have now reached the series of Torah portions that is a mathematician’s dream. After all, this section of the Torah is called Numbers! In Parshat B’midbar, a census is taken of the Israelite men of military age who would later conquer the Land of Canaan. The total count of these men numbers 603,550. However, each tribe was listed individually. Why did the Torah choose to enumerate the exact number of men in each tribe when it could have just as easily given the total? Perhaps our math lover and confirmand can share some thoughts on this? I learned that he recently went to San Francisco to see mathematician Sammy Obeid at Punchline. I watched his 1 minute math lesson and it was great!

One interpretation is that listing by tribe indicates the military prowess present in each tribe, demonstrating how many men it could contribute to battle. Another is that it demonstrates the specificity with which the census was done. Just listing a total number of Israelites could imply that people were missed, as opposed to showing how many were in each tribe. The interpretation that I prefer is that the listing of the tribes indicates that each one contributed to the development of the Israelite nation. What was important was not the total sum but rather the contributions of each of the individuals who comprised that total. While B’midbar only speaks about men, every man represented so many other people: the elders who could not fight and the wives and children who supported him. The tribe with the most men, Judah, did not count for any more than the tribe with the fewest men, Manasseh. Rather, each tribe was viewed as necessary and was valued for its contributions to the conquest and settlement of Canaan.

There is a valuable lesson here: just as each tribe was individually valued, so too is each individual valued for what he or she contributes to our community. Rather than just looking at the final outcome, we can take a step back and pride ourselves on the work that it took to reach that point. This is a precious lesson for us to recognize now when we are on the cusp of Shavuot, the holiday on which we renew our receipt of the Torah each and every year. Each evening for seven entire weeks we have been counting up to this moment, reliving our ancestors’ journey out of Egyptian slavery and to Mount Sinai. Now we are finally reaching the moment where the counting is complete.

Today we are highlighting our 8-10 graders, each of whom has been a valuable addition to our Hebrew Chai program. Starting a program from scratch is not an easy feat-it requires the patience, commitment and dedication of the teens, students and parents. I am most grateful for having taught your students this past year and look forward to a new format for our program next year.

It was an honor to teach you each and every week. The questions you asked and your fascination with learning how things work are priceless. It is my honor to give you this book Unscrolled: 54 Writers and Artists Wrestle with the Torah so that you can continue to learn Torah in creative ways. I hope you will continue with our 11-12 grade classes next year. To our 8^th and 9^th Graders-I look forward to your continuing with your studies-a number of you will be with me next year for Confirmation.

At Mosaic Law Congregation, we recognize that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts, that we are worth far more as a congregation than the number of members we have. Everyone here is valued as an individual, rather than as a number, and each of us has a role to play in the strengthening of our congregation. We each should receive recognition for who we are and for all that we do in making our congregation the warm, welcoming place that it is as well as a place of lifelong learning. Today we thank our teens who are leading by example, continuing with their studies after B’nai Mitzvah.

A guy set up an urgent meeting with his rabbi. He said, “Rabbi I’ll give you $1000 if you make me a Kohen.” The rabbi looks him in the eye and says, “I’m sorry, Bernie, I can’t do that.” Bernie, thinking the money was an issue, retorted, “Rabbi, I’ll give you $10,000. The rabbi stroked his beard and asserted, “No dice. Still can’t do it.” Finally, Bernie said, “Ok rabbi, you win. I’ll give you $100,000.” The rabbi, considering this, said “Bernie, why do you want to be a Kohen?” Bernie replied, “Because my father was a Kohen.”

 The grass always appears greener on the other side. As a child, I wanted to be a Kohen. While I enjoyed being blessed by the Kohanim from under my father’s tallit, I yearned to be the one who said the blessing, as well as who received the First Aliyah on Shabbat. However, Parshat Emor taught me, as Kermit the Frog would have sung, “It ain’t easy being a Kohen.” Kohanim were limited in terms of who they could marry, forbidden to have contact with a corpse and restricted in how they wore their hair and clothes. Some of this continues into the modern day. I have met Kohanim who will not go into a natural history museum because there are mummies there.

One can make the similar argument that “it ain’t easy being Jewish.” Our services are in a different language, our sacred text is without vowels and there are a panoply of holy days, fast days and communal events. Going to Hebrew School when your friends are outside playing ball or in a special club is not easy. Neither is sitting in a service almost 3 hours in length in a language that many here don’t speak outside of the synagogue and Religious School. At the same time, there is so much richness from taking a day off to spend with friends and family, growing in one’s education and becoming a B Mitzvah. There are privileges as our students grow in their participation in our congregation each and every year, asking new questions and strengthening their Jewish identities.

I want to imbue the words of my teacher Adon Morgan: “Learning never ends.” The advantage as you grow is you get more choice in what you learn; however Judaism is about continuing education and lifelong learning. That is why we are honoring students today by presenting them with sacred texts from our tradition. We will be presenting our 3^rd Graders with a copy of our Siddur Lev Shalem to cheer her on as she continues to learn prayers-not only the content but also what they mean and why we say them. We will give our 6^th Graders a Tikkun, a text used to read the Torah. It has Hebrew with vowels on one side of the page and the text as found in the Torah without vowels on the other side. We honor these four special students, who recently received their B’nai Mitzvah binders, as they will soon begin to learn Torah and Haftarah trope and their Torah and Haftarah portions. As learning never ends, the Tikkun is a gift so that they will continue to learn their Torah portions.

To all the Mercaz parents, we are most grateful to have you as part of our Mosaic Law family. Thank you for imbuing your children with a  Jewish education. We are excited to celebrate today as one of many milestones in Jewish life. Taking this moment enables us to see how far we’ve come and propel us towards even greater achievements. Baruch Atah Hashem Elokeinu Melech HaOlam Sheheheyanu v’Kiyimanu v’Higiyanu LaZman HaZeh.

          Rabbi Berel Wein tells a story about a man asking his rabbi if a chicken was kosher. After getting the facts, the rabbi remained uncertain about the answer. Some would have said that with the doubt the rabbi should automatically declare the chicken treyf. This rabbi chose a different approach. He first looked at the person and saw if he could afford to buy a new chicken. If he could, the rabbi would say the chicken is treyf; if not, the rabbi would say it is kosher.

          Why tell this story? It teaches us that one needs to consider the situation and the people involved before jumping to conclusions. It can be far easier, especially when information with an agenda is spoon-fed to us, to form an opinion or take a position based on incomplete knowledge. As we celebrate Israel’s 75^th Birthday, hearing Megilat HaAtzmaut and from Dr. Matthew S. Shugart on Israel’s Judicial Reform tomorrow morning, we need to be mindful of where we get information on Israel, just as we do about where we get it on every other topic, and whether it is verifiable. So much is out there and it is too easy to read one article or see one news snippet and jump to a conclusion.

That danger leads us to Parshat Tazria-Metzora. In the Bible, tzaraat is a skin disease that can take many different forms, and in particularly bad cases can manifest itself on one’s clothing, belongings, and house, in addition to the skin. According to the rabbis, tzaraat is caused by sin (specifically the sin of Motzi Shem Ra, giving someone else a bad name). This makes it a disease like no others; part medical condition, part spiritual pathology.[1]

Through the class Awareness in Action from the Institute for Jewish Spirituality, I learned to equate Malchut or Shechinah, the attribute of Gd which is closest to us, to Shmirat HaDibbur, guarding one’s tongue-that by refraining from bad speech we are increasing Gd’s presence in the world. The steps taken when emotions got hot were hitlamdut, non-judgemental awareness of sensations, emotions and thoughts; the bechirah point, becoming aware of the choice of following one’s reactive habit or additional choices for action/inaction; and teshuvah, returning to one’s intention. For example, if something has been bubbling up emotionally, rather than an impulsive reaction one needs to take a step back and become aware of what’s going on; make a choice whether to follow habituated behavior or go in a different direction; and then act in a way that is the best version of oneself.

In Mercaz Religious School using the Shalom Learning Curriculum we taught Koach HaDibbur, the strength on one’s words. Judaism is not a religion of “sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me”; rather it is a religion where words have great power and must be used with extreme care and caution.

Today, if we speak badly of others, we will not have a physiological change as in Tzaraat. That makes it all the more important to guard our words. We must follow the text by Mar son of Ravina at the end of the Amidah:

אלהי נצר לשוני מרע ושפתי מדבר מרמה

ולמקללי נפשי תדם ונפשי כעפר לכל תהיה

פתח לבי בתורתך ומצוותך תרדף נפשי

“My God, guard my tongue from evil
And my lips from [speaking] deceit
And [to] those that curse me, let my soul be silent
And let my soul be like the dust to all.
Open my heart to Your Torah and to Your Commandments”[2]

          Lashon HaRa, speaking badly about someone else even if it is true, is in my opinion the most difficult commandment, because many of us speak without a second thought. We are works in progress in trying to be B’Tzelem Elohim, in the image of Gd. Gd spoke and created the world. We speak and create either positivity/good energy or negativity/bad energy with our words. We have the potential to build others up or to take them down with our speech. There is power to our words which is why we need to guard them carefully-especially in the age of social media, where so much can be screen shared or sent without a second thought. Shmirat HaDibbur is so important today, not because one will be punished with Tzaraat but rather because our words matter, can be more easily transmitted than ever before, and cannot be taken back/removed from the ethernet. Going back to Rabbi Wein’s story, rather than a quick judgement and reaction, we need to take the time we need to give a proper response to whatever situation we face, whether public or private; written, phone, or face-to-face; and being thoughtful and ultimately decisive rather than impulsive or perseverating. Ken Yhi Ratzon-may it be our will to do so.

---

[1] Tzaraat–A Biblical Affliction | My Jewish Learning

[2] Prayer at end of the Silent Amidah

Parshat Terumah says “Build me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them.”[1] Why does God needs us to build a sanctuary? Why can’t God just do it? Furthermore, isn’t God dwelling in our midst with or without a sanctuary?

Rabbi Ovadiah Sforno, a 16^th Century Italian commentator, comments on this verse as follows: “The Torah itself, for which the Holy Ark served as repository, was in an ark constructed of wood but overlaid with gold on the inside and on the outside, to reflect the saying of our sages[2] that every Torah scholar whose external appearance did not reflect his internal stature is not a Torah scholar at all.”[3] The way I interpret this is that it is not enough to look at one’s external structure but rather who an person is in his/her essence. After all, externalities fade away over time-one’s legacy is determined by who s/he truly is.

Sforno goes on to say “The levels of sanctity in the Tabernacle, beginning already with the courtyard around it, were not sealed off from one another, but, on the contrary, were connected to one another all the way to the innermost sanctuary to demonstrate that sanctity is attainable progressively.”[4] The way I examine this is that like the Temple, each and every one of us is interconnected. As each of us is interconnected, so too is each and every one of us responsible for the well-being of others. [5]

This is Jewish Disability Awareness, Acceptance and Inclusion Month. An important point, as Dr. Hanoch McCarty remined me, is that many disabilities cannot be seen. There are some people for whom holding up a pen and writing or being able to speak are beyond their abilities. Similarly, there are those with emotional disabilities, who are out of touch with what they are feeling or who cannot empathize with others. We are all interconnected and need to give our attention to all disabilities, both those which we see like autism, down syndrome, being a paraplegic or being hearing impaired to name a few; or mental or emotional disabilities. The goal is to be authentic-to make our inner spirit match our outer strength.[6]

As Yosi Kahana, Director of the Jewish National Fund’s Task Force on Disabilities, writes, “people with disabilities make up the world’s largest minority group. Globally, around 10% of the world’s population lives with a disability of some kind. Twenty percent of people in the U.S. have some disability and 1 in 10 suffer from a sever disability. Over 10% of people in Israel have some form of disability that can make life’s daily activities a struggle.”[7]

Neil Jacobson, who became disabled at age 59 due to his cerebral palsy, writes “This week’s Torah portion reminded me that we all need assistance. Even God needed help to build the Temple. Not only is it OK to ask for help, but it is also required. The text clearly shows us that while God knew precisely what was needed, it was only through requesting assistance that God’s needs could be met. Terumah goes on to show us how each one of us has our unique skills. It is only when we all offer to use the skills we have to build a better world can true progress be made.”[8]

As we continue reading about the Mishkan, the Tabernacle which was God’s home, we should recognize that every person, regardless of one’s ability, had an integral role to play in the Mishkan’s construction. Had I lived back then, I would not have been a builder, as I have a “brown thumb.” However, I could have contributed in other ways. Even if our abilities are not currently prized by society, we should find ways to value them and recognize that each and every one of us is needed in order to bring a congregational project to fruition.

          It is now my pleasure to call on Shari Zeff to share some personal words of gratitude for how Mosaic Law Congregation has been there for her family.

---

[1] Exodus 25:8

[2] Babylonian Talmud Yoma 72a

[3] Sforno on Exodus 25:8

[4] Ibid.

[5] Shavuot 39a

[6] See Yoma 72b on tocho k’baro

[7] Jewish Disabilities Awareness, Acceptance, and Inclusion Month – Jewish National Fund (jnf.org)

 [8] https://www.respectability.org/2019/01/shabbat-smile-terumah-by-neil-jacobson/

Parshat Mishpatim contains many laws that are necessary for society to function. Two of them deal with special Shabbatot that are this month. One is the HIAS Refugee Shabbat. As it teaches in Mishpatim, “You should love the stranger: for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”[1] The term “ger” means one who arrives from another land who seeks to live with of another people. Today we see many people who are refugees leaving carnage in hopes of a better life. One of them is the Shpilman family, who came from the destroyed Ukranian city of Mariopul to Sacramento thanks to our Welcome Caravan. Mishaptim reminds us that we never fit in Egypt and that we need to remember those who are at the margins of societies.

Parshat Mishpatim also relates to the NCJW Repro Shabbat. As we look at a series of laws relating to damages, we come across this statement: “When men fight, and one of them pushes a pregnant woman and a miscarriage results, but no other damage ensues, the one responsible shall be fined according as the woman’s husband may exact from him, the payment to be based on reckoning. But if other damage ensues, the penalty shall be life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, bruise for bruise.”[2]

It is telling that in causing a miscarriage a person is fined whereas in harming one who is born the punishments are far more severe. In order to understand why this is the case we need to look at the Mishnah where we have the following statement: “If a woman is having trouble giving birth, they cut up the fetus in her womb and bring it forth limb by limb, because her life comes before the life of [the fetus]. But if the greater part [of the fetus/baby] has come out [of the person giving birth], one may not touch it, for one may not set aside one person’s life for that of another.”[3] As soon as the head crowns, one is considered a human being-until that point, lesser than a human. Another section of the Talmud illustrates this further: “If she is found pregnant, until the fortieth day it is mere fluid.”[4]

These are well-known texts, which I taught at my class on abortion in August and in the first Jewish Take video produced. It is important to acknowledge that Judaism does not permit abortion on demand. Furthermore when a baby is born all efforts must be made in pikuah nefesh, saving the life. Concurrent we must acknowledge that Judaism does allow abortion not only to save the mother’s life but when the birth of a child threatens emotional well-being. Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein of Yeshivat Har Etzion in Alon Shvut, who not only received rabbinic ordination from Rabbi Soloveitchik but also a PhD in English Literature from Harvard, wrote “saving a life is not the only sanction for permitting an abortion. It would seem to me that issues such as kavod ha’briyot (human dignity), shalom bayit (domestic peace) and tza’ar (pain), which all carry significant [Jewish legal] weight in other contexts, should be considered in making these decisions.”[5] This is a broad definition of emotional harm, including the need for peace in the house as a reason why an abortion may be permitted.

Returning to our Torah portion, it is important to acknowledge that at a very different time period than ours, one where slavery wasn’t allowed and where women’s rights was certainly not primary, a distinction is made between a miscarriage and a baby who is born. At the same time I would be remiss to not touch on a related topic also of emotional harm: the couple who strives to have a child only to not be able to become pregnant, who becomes pregnant only to miscarry or who has a pregnancy where they find out that the baby will not have a quality of life and that termination of the pregnancy is recommended. In each of these cases, there is so much emotional harm-just as we see in the stories of our matriarchs who wanted children yet struggled to become pregnant. We need to acknowledge that we are dealing with real people and that everyone’s situation is unique from others. Whenever we take an ideological position, be it “Life begins with conception” or “Abortion should always be allowed” we deny the voices of people who are going through very personal struggles. We need to spend more time helping people realize, in the words of Dear Evan Hansen, that “You are not alone.” Our feelings, our emotions and our stories matter. Similarly, often in life we feel one way until we meet someone from a different lived experience that changes our perspectives. As we gather together in a month that has become known for both Refugee Shabbat and Reproductive Rights Shabbat, let us not lose sight of this-that when we truly make an effort to get to know the other, we have the potential to go through transformative experiences.

---

[1] Exodus 22:21

[2] Exodus 21:22-25

[3] Mishnah Oholot 7:6

[4] Babylonian Talmud Yevamot 69b

[5] Aharon Lichtenstein, “Abortion: a Halachic Perspective,” in Tradition: a Journal of Orthodox Jewish Thought, Summer 1991, Page 10.

How blessed I am to have reached my installation weekend as rabbi of Mosaic Law Congregation. In so doing I want to relate a section of Torah on which we might not agree but which teaches us some valuable lessons.

We spend a lot of time looking at Moses’ greatness. We are amazed by his impeccable work ethic, his humility, his ability to challenge God. Yet there is one area in which Moses was not successful: his family. Moses’ father-in-law, Yitro, tried to convince Moses not to burn himself out through bringing in other judges.[1] Yet there is another, less commented upon verse at the beginning of the portion to which I want to bring your attention. וַיִּקַּ֗ח יִתְרוֹ֙ חֹתֵ֣ן מֹשֶׁ֔ה אֶת־צִפֹּרָ֖ה אֵ֣שֶׁת מֹשֶׁ֑ה אַחַ֖ר שִׁלּוּחֶֽיהָ׃  And Jethro, Moses’ father-in-law, took Tziporah, Moses’ wife, after she had been sent home.[2] Why was Tziporah sent home, and why doesn’t she appear in the story after this point?

          The Midrash quotes the following story: When God said to Moses in Midian, “Go, return to Egypt … and Moses took his wife and his sons…..Aaron went forth towards him and met him at the Mount of God.”[3] Aaron said to Moses, “Who are these people?” Moses answered, “This is my wife whom I married in Midian and these are my children.” Aaron then asked Moses, “Where you taking them?” and Moses replied, “To Egypt.” Aaron then challenged Moses, asserting, “We have cause to grieve over the Israelites already there, and you propose to add to their number?!” Moses therefore said to Tziporah, “Return to your father’s house” — she took her two sons and went away.[4]

          This is certainly not the story of a happy marriage. I agree with the opinion that Moses divorced Tziporah and that is what Miriam and Aaron were gossiping about in the Book of Numbers.[5] Moses sending Tziporah away as mentioned in our portion is the sign that he divorced Tziporah. Sending away ones wife with young children would create permanent scars. As a matter of fact, Moses’ children, Gershom and Eliezer, are not heard from again after this week’s Torah portion, and according to one tradition his grandson Yonatan created an idol![6]

          This has much to do with why we are here this special Shabbat. I am honored to be installed as Rabbi of Mosaic Law Congregation, a position I feel privileged to have and which I hope to keep for decades to come. I am  excited about all the things we can achieve together to strengthen the Jewish community in Sacramento. At the same time, I recognize that in loving this work it can become easy to be swept up into it and not make time for my family. The work-life balance is always challenging: we read about the challenge in Moses’ life. Perhaps with spending more time with his family and by working on his weaknesses, including his anger, Moses’ teachings would have lived on through his children and grandchildren. Instead, not only do we not know where Moses’ is buried,[7] we also don’t know what happened to his grandchildren. Aaron’s grandson is Pinhas, Ruth’s great-grandson is King David, and Moses’ progeny (besides being of the Levitical line) are unknown.

          I choose to share this Torah not to castigate Moses but to remind each and every one of us that no one gets everything in life. Moses received legacy in being known by every Jew for time immemorial. Yet he lost opportunities to parent. He didn’t even fulfill his obligation of brit milah by circumcising his own son![8] At times we can get so busy with work, with hobbies or with what we are passionate about-or unfortunately various addictions we might have-that we neglect our loved ones whom we care most about.

I want to share the story about when I knew I wanted to propose to Karina. After dating for under two months I found out that my position as Rabbi Educator in Tucson was being eliminated. I drove to Karina’s apartment, tears streaming down my eyes. While sobbing, I said to her, “I’m going to have to move. I know you didn’t sign up for this.” I expected our relationship to be over: such had occurred when I met someone near the end of my year in Israel. Karina instead replied to me, “I didn’t sign up for this. I chose this.” In so doing she made me the happiest man in the world. In raising our two daughters, Ariela and Leora, I am grateful to be in a position where I can spend time with them-not every evening but many-as well as Shabbat afternoons and many Sunday afternoons. I am grateful to my parents, Bruce and Laurie Herman, for having given me the strong foundation and instilling in me a love of Judaism that I have taken with me wherever I go. I feel that the rabbinate is a calling-it is more than my job-it is my way of life. At the same time, I have learned that the identity “Rabbi” can too easily take over the identity of “Ben.” Both identities are important together. I hope I not only can successfully model-at times with your help-not only how to be a good rabbi but also how to be a good father, a good husband and a good son. It is a blessing to be able to work on this with you, my dedicated congregants, growing a little more into the person I’m meant to be each and every day.

---

[1] Exodus 18:17-18

[2] Exodus 18:2

[3] Exodus 4:19-20

[4] Mechilta of Rabbi Ishmael Chapter 18 Mishnah 2

[5] See Rashi on Numbers 12:1

[6] Look at Judges 18:22 and the hanging nun turning the word Moshe into Menashe.

[7] See Deuteronomy 34:6

[8] See Exodus 4:24-26