Month: October 2024

One Year Since October 7th: Mourning and Sharing Stories of Heroism

Rabbi Ben Herman ,

This Shemini Atzeret marks one of the saddest days in our people’s history. The 22nd of Tishrei, last year on October 7th, marks the murder of 1200 and 251 taken into captivity. On October 7th we saw a screen with each of their names and lit 12 candles-one for each month of the year. We also gathered with song and heartfelt poetry.

As we enter one year since October 7th, we are marking this in a couple different ways. Today we have an addition into our Yizkor prayer for those murdered on October 7th and in the ensuing war. Tonight, we will have one hakafah somber without dance, asking God to save us and bestow success upon Israel during this precarious time.

I mentioned three of the heroes from October 7th in my Rosh Hashanah remarks. Today I want to focus on three heroines, from the book One Day in October: Forty Heroes, Forty Stories.[1] I’ll begin with Shaylee Atary and her husband Yahav moved to Kfar Aza three and a half years ago. Both were filmmakers. They had a nice quiet life until October 7th when they woke up hearing the red alert, which was followed by terrorists at the door of her house, she followed the tacit agreement she had with her husband Yahav, “you hold the door (to the shelter)-I’ve got the baby.” He fought off a terrorist. She fortunately turned left with her 1-month-old daughter Shaya, away from the terrorists. They eventually saw Shaylee and shot at her, barefoot and in her pajamas. They chanted “ta’al, ta’al, come!” No one would open up with her out of fear for their lives, so she ran through the bushes and finally hid in a garden shed. After a few hours baby Shaya began crying so Shaylee had to run again and was whispered to come into a house, where she stayed 27 hours, and which saved her life. Then the army came, and she left the shelter.

I cannot imagine running barefoot with a 1-month-old baby and being shot at by cheering crowds of terrorists. Yet we remember Yahav, who sacrificed his life to save Shaylee and Shani’s.

Moran Tedgy’s story[2] also rings true to me. Moran was a police officer. When she heard sirens at 6:30 in the morning, she went down to the safe room, where she lasted a grand total of 30 minutes. Her partner Stav said to her, “What is this, what are you doing?” and she calmly replied, “I’m going out, there are terrorists.” Despite Stav’s please for Moran not to go out, she went out to warn people of the terrorists. These included Ultra-Orthodox residents of her town, Ofakim, and radioing in reports from her vantage point. Moran got caught in a barrage of fire and started running to take cover. She was told there were terrorists holding a home hostage and managed to neutralize them. Moran worked 48 hours straight and endless shifts for 2 weeks after October 7th. Her tasks included informing three families of the loss of their loved ones and searching for those who were missing. Her takeaway is “it was a hard time, very hard. Another funeral, another family, another missing friend that we first thought was taken captive, but then we’d find out that they had been murdered. And we have to repress a lot just to cope. I’m still repressing so much, so much. I know that to have survived is like the greatest gift. And I try to hold onto that. To wake up, God gave me my life as a gift. And I know, I’m sure, without a doubt, that my father was there with me that day. He watched over me as I fought there in Ofakim.[3]

Last but not least I want to share the story of Or Ben Yehuda,[4] commander of the Caracal Battalion, a co-ed infantry battalion based on the border with Egypt. Or received a call from the Sna’i Outpost being told of incoming missiles from Gaza. She set off in a military vehicle with her all-women medical team and arrived at the Sufa outpost. As she was attending to the wounded, Or noticed thousands coming from Gaza towards them. She thought that was the end of her life, yet she showed bravery in mustering her group of fighters to respond. She killed a terrorist at point blank range and her battalion was so fierce that many of the Hamas fighters fled. She managed to retrieve a tank Hamas had taken and to stop the terrorists from reaching the next outpost. Her remarks as to the fatalities of the war were “these people, who are now making their final journey-they were extraordinary forces. They fought until their last drop of blood. What happened to them is exactly what I thought would happen to me when I was there on the embankment. And to see those strong, noble fighters lifeless is something I will never forget. I never want to forget it. Those dead are basically a reflection of all our fighters. There is no end to their dedication, no end to what they have granted this country, to the people who live here. They sacrificed what was dearest to them so that this country can continue to exist, so that we can continue to live here. And the feeling I had there, next to those holy soldiers who gave their lives, the love I felt in my heart-I’ll never forget it as long as I live.[5]

Heroes take many different forms. Moran, Or and Shaylee were heroes when they least expected it. They experienced trauma but they have come out the other end. Their stories, as well as those of so many others, need their stories told. We honor them as we say Yizkor, remembering both the lives lost and the lives that were saved.

[1] Yair Agmon and Oriya Mevorach, One Day in October: Forty Heroes, Forty Stories (New Milford, CT: Koren Publishers, 2024).

[2] “I’m Going Out, there are Terrorists” in One Day in October: Forty Heroes, Forty Stories, pgs. 313-325

[3] Ibid, pgs. 323-24

[4] “A Woman in Command” In One Day in October: Forty Heroes, Forty Stories, pgs. 251-268

[5] Ibid, pgs. 267-68.

Kohelet and Its Lessons for This Year

Rabbi Ben Herman , , , ,

I was most blessed to learn from Rabbi Benji Siegel, who we had as our Scholar in Residence two years ago for his book on Esther about the lessons he’s learned from writing a book on Kohelet. Kohelet, the name of the speaker in the Book of Ecclesiastes, teaches us about a man’s failed search for meaning in the world. He speaks about everything that he sees ראיתי as he is a travelling observer of humanity. Kohelet teaches about the impermanence of everything, stating הבל הבלים, vapor of vapor. This means that everything is like a breath, being here for a short time before dissipating.

Why was this book chosen to read on Sukkot, the time of our joy? Some argue that this was the last Megillah, scroll from wisdom literature, attached to a holiday, and Sukkot got the short shrift. Personally I find that take unsatisfying and agree with the assertions of others that Ecclesiastes shows that, as much as we try to have joy in life, it is fleeting. We need to appreciate when it is there and recognize when it is not.

Ecclesiastes is filled with contradictions. One example is early on Kohelet teaches that joy is futile[1]; later on he says in a time of good fortune enjoy the good fortune.[2] Above all, the message of Kohelet there is faith in God “in a time of misfortune, reflect: The one no less than the other was God’s doing; consequently, man may find no fault with God.”[3] The book ends with similar sentiment The sum of the matter, when all is said and done: Revere God and observe His commandments! For this applies to all mankind.[4]

Is this Kohelet changing, gaining faith from his life experience? Is it him losing the courage of convictions that nothing matters and everything is fleeting, turning now to God? I’m uncertain but I think there is a lesson to be learned to apply to this year. Kohelet says “What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.”[5] He can’t understand why people are suffering and what is going on under the sun. Yet Kohelet notes that there is a world above the sun, that there is a God and while he cannot understand why things happen God certainly can.

We are approaching the Hebrew anniversary of October 7th, which we will commemorate on Shemini Atzeret. We think of the terrible tortures that underwent so many of our people this past year-we will remember them again at Yizkor on Thursday. Yet perhaps we can find comfort in knowing that while everything is fleeting, our faith and connection with God can bind us together and make us stronger as people. As Kohelet lets us know, a season is set for everything, a time for every experience under heaven: A time for being born and a time for dying, A time for planting and a time for uprooting the planted; A time for slaying and a time for healing, A time for tearing down and a time for building up; A time for weeping and a time for laughing, A time for wailing and a time for dancing; A time for throwing stones and a time for gathering stones, A time for embracing and a time for shunning embraces; A time for seeking and a time for losing, A time for keeping and a time for discarding; A time for ripping and a time for sewing,
A time for silence and a time for speaking; A time for loving and a time for hating; A time for war and a time for peace.[6] As this has been a year of war, weeping and loss I pray that 5785 will be one of laughing, dancing and planting-and that we will see the seeds that we plant bear fruit. May we be able on this Sukkot, our zman simhateinu, to turn our sadness into joy and our mourning into celebration. Ken Yhi Ratzon, may it be our will to do so.

[1] Ecclesiastes 2:1

[2] Ecclesiastes 7:14

[3] Ibid.

[4] Ecclesiastes 12:14

[5] Ecclesiastes 1:9

[6] Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Responding to October 7th with Strength and Hope

Rabbi Ben Herman , ,

G’mar Hatima Tova. It’s so wonderful to see every one of you on the holiest day of the year. Parents reunited with children, grandparents with grandchildren, uncles and aunts with nephews and nieces, cousins with one another. I look forward to getting to deepening our connection over the course of 5785. This is a special year for Mosaic Law Congregation, as we celebrate our 125th Anniversary.

You are invited to our family’s Sukkot Open House on Sunday October 20 between 2 and 4 pm. Hope to see you there. Also, MLC goes Down Under in the Spring of 2026 to explore Jewish Australia. On Sunday November 10 at noon there is a kickoff event where you’ll hear all about it. To RSVP, please contact Linda Margolin-Lesser or myself.

The following poem is from my Grandmother, Lucille Frenkel. I’ve been thinking of it as I reflect on October 7th.

A Little Do I Know of Life: Not Much-Lucille Frenkel

A Little Do I Know of Life: Not Much

I know enough to value living’s rush

Of seasons as they hurry through my days.

I know enough to greet my days with praise,

For days are granted one as Heaven’s presents.

I understand to clasp the slightest essence

Of all which makes life joyous and worthwhile.

I know the preciousness of each child’s smile.

I know to cherish close family and friends,

My love and help, to others I extend.

I know what sorrow hides in hearts and tears.

I realize one must constant grow through years

So that a life bloom wisdom gained through age.

I know the struggle which Mankind must wage

To keep the best from Past, add to the Present.

I know people work hard to make life pleasant.

I see how many live with firm resolve;

Sighting world’s problems as, also, theirs to solve.

Their efforts join their prayer Man’s sufferings cease,

As they tireless search ways to advance world peace.

A little do I know of life-not much.

I know that life responds to gentle touch

And happiness, that goal so many yearn,

Real happiness exists for each to earn.

Though little do I know, I do know this;

Through sacrifice and caring comes real bliss.

So little do I know, can I discern-

But I know that what I don’t know I can learn![1]

This poem teaches me that the longer I live, the more I realize how little I know. There are so many things this year for which we have no answer. Why do some live and others die? Why are good people taken before their time? How much of history is fated and how much do we make through our actions?

          Wherever one is in the world, this is a time of serious trauma. One need not look further than October 7th when more Jews were murdered at once than any time since the Holocaust-as well as the resulting war in its second year and the fear that it will become a regional war. In the United States we have seen anti-Israel protestors take over college campuses with tent encampments-including in our back yard one at Sacramento State. One of the signs there said, “I’m the one that’s Semitic: You’re from ——- (expletive) Poland!” In New York we saw masked anti-Israel protestors boarding a subway train and saying “Raise your hand if you’re a Zionist. This is your chance to get out.” Complete silence, then the man said, “Okay, no Zionists, we’re good!”[2] By seeing the silence that followed-not only from Jews on the train but more importantly from non-Jews-and we see the precariousness of the situation in which we find ourselves.

          Earlier this year, Franklin Foer wrote a piece entitled The Golden Age of American Jews is Ending, asserting, “Anti-Semitism is a mental habit, deeply embedded in Christian and Muslim thinking, stretching back at least as far as the accusation that the Jews murdered the son of God. It’s a tendency to fixate on Jews, to place them at the center of the narrative, overstating their role in society and describing them as the root cause of any unwanted phenomena-a centrality that seems strange, given the Jews constitute about 0.2 percent of the global population.”[3] While there is truth in this, I disagree with Foer’s premise in the article. The golden age of American Jews is not ending and will not end as long as we fight for who we are and what we believe. As a teacher and an author who is invested in Jewish self-perception, Ben Freeman asserts, “We have not survived by accident. If we don’t fight back, if we don’t defend ourselves through Jewish pride against Jew-hate, against assimilation, then, simply, we cease to exist.”[4] 

          Today we are going to commemorate Yizkor for the deaths of our loved ones in the past year. We will be adding prayers for those murdered on October 7th in both our Yizkor service and our Eileh Ezkerah (These I remember) martyrology service. Elie Wiesel teaches us, “Remembering is a noble and necessary act. The call of memory, the call to memory, reaches us from the very dawn of history. No commandment figures so frequently, so insistently, in the Bible. It is incumbent upon us to remember the good we have received, and the evil we have suffered.”[5]

Some of us recall bad experiences with loved ones, and that is understandable. I hope we will hold onto the good qualities of those who came before us, remembering them and striving to live in accordance with these qualities. We will ensure that they live on inside us and that we will tell their stories. We will not only keep our memories of them alive but also their visions, their hopes and their dreams. At the same time, we must attend to the living: our friends, family and loved ones who are alive, making sure their needs are provided for. This goes for our brothers and sisters in Israel as well. We mourn the dead while concurrently not losing sight of the 101 remaining hostages in captivity. All steps must be taken towards their rescue. The ultimate value of Judaism is פקוח נפש, the saving of a life. These hostages (or in my preferred language “heroes”)[6], including the two, Omer Wenkert and Keith Siegel, for whom we have chairs in this Sanctuary, may be beyond our reach halfway around the world but they are deeply embedded within our hearts.[RH1] [RH2] 

          The way we show this is through responding to both October 7th and to the increased antisemitism in the world by strengthening ourselves.  Dara Horn, in a webinar to rabbis, implored us to “rise to this moment; be bolder than you have ever been.” She argued that we cannot be “those who erase ourselves in order to make others feel comfortable.” [7] At a session in KOH on Jewish Pride and Unity I shared an observation from Roz Rothstein, “There are two types of Jews: those who are taking down their mezuzot and those who are putting up larger mezuzot.”[8] It can be hard to be the Jew affixing the larger mezuzah, proudly wearing his/her magen david or kippah when we know that much of the world hates us. As Elie Wiesel writes, it takes courage to live and lead as Jews, no matter our circumstance.[9] We have learned from our past that hiding from the world does not make us safe. We must know who we are and for what we stand. As Ben Freeman asserts, “We must be proud every day. We must celebrate our Jewishness, in whatever ways we see fit, every day. And we must honor our specificity, and we should know that we deserve better than how we are treated by the wider world every single day.”[RH3] [10]

Let us also not forget, especially when it feels that everyone is out to get us, that we have more allies than we think. Look at April 13, when the Islamic Republic of Iran launched over 300 missiles and a combined effort of the United States, Britain and Jordan helped Israel intercept them, or on October 1 when Iran launched 180 missiles, most of which were intercepted. I feel God’s presence watching over the nation of Israel at times like these, protecting us. Seeing those incredible acts brings to mind the famous quotation from David Ben-Gurion: “A Jew who doesn’t believe in miracles isn’t a realist.” Look also at Goldie Ghamari, an Iranian Canadian MP in Ottawa who pointed out how many Iranians wave the pre-revolution lion, sword and sun flag to show solidarity with Israel and the need to topple the current Iranian regime. She pointed out the 2600-year shared history between Jews and Persians and asserted, “Despite the regime’s attempts to brainwash Iranians, they are resisting, knowing their historical culture of understanding.”[11]

We must hold onto the statement at the end of V’hi Sheamda, rooted in our Passover haggadot: that in every generation, God saved us from our enemies.  This requires having faith in our future rather than constantly living in a state of fear and anxiety. We cannot afford to despair and to give up; as and to give up; as Elie Wiesel taught us “we have three choices when faced with despair: resignation, delusion, or the most difficult and beautiful facing it head on as Jews.”[12] Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav said, “The main point is not to fear at all.” That of course is impossible-fear and anxiety are natural parts of life. Yet we cannot let them control us.

How do we find hope in the world and how do we become a source of help for others? For this I turn to Rabbi Naomi Levy, my spiritual guru, who wrote, “Hope comes in the form of helping hands. It comes when someone offers the words you need to hear just at the moment when you need to hear them most. Hope arrives in all sorts of disguises. When hope comes, offer it a chair.”[13]

 We are here today on Yom Kippur, right before Yizkor, to both remember those of our past and hope for a better future. Yet hope requires work, effort and striving. It is not merely a concept of something we “wish to have” but rather something we need to actively work towards creating. Sir Rabbi Jonathan Sacks has a poignant lesson as to how hope works: “One of the most important distinctions I have learned in the course of reflection on Jewish history is the difference between optimism and hope. Optimism is the belief that things will get better. Hope is the belief that, together, we can make things better. Optimism is a passive virtue, hope an active one. It takes no courage to be an optimist, but it takes a great deal of courage to have hope. Knowing what we do of our past, no Jew can be an optimist. But Jews have never – despite a history of sometimes awesome suffering – given up hope”[14]

Rabbi Sacks is detailing the lesson imbued in Israel’s anthem, HaTikvah, which translates as “the hope.”Despite our differences, our vulnerabilities, our conflicts, we are united in our peoplehood. We must hold onto that hope, that we never lose sight of it despite the fact that at times things look so bleak and hopeless. We know little about life, especially when it comes to our future, yet we can have hope that through working together הסיפור שלנו יהיה סוף טוב, our story will have a good ending.[15] We began the High Holy Days by declaring our unity as a family with Aheinu: let’s end them with the eternal message of hope.

          Please join Cantor Rachels in HaTikvah.

[1] Lucille Frenkel, “A Little Do I Know of Life: Not Much.”

[2] Anti-Israel man on NYC subway tells Zionists to get off train: video (nypost.com)

[3] Franklin Safran Foer, “The Golden Age of American Jews is Ending,” In The Atlantic, April 2024.

[4] Ben Freeman, Reclaiming Our History, pgs. 71-72.

[5] Elie Wiesel “Hope, Despair and Memory,” Nobel Lecture, December 11, 1986

[6] Thank you, MLC President Randy Pollack,

[7] Dara Horn September 16, 2024

[8] Roz Rothstein, StandWithUs Rabbis United Conference, February 26, 2024

[9] Elie Wiesel 1973 Talk “Against Despair,” in Rabbi Menachem Creditor We are bigger than this moment: Jewish holidays are Jewish defiance | Menachem Creditor | The Blogs (timesofisrael.com)

[10] Ben Freeman, Reclaiming Our History, page 241.

[11] Israel’s unlikely allies | National Post

[12] In We are bigger than this moment: Jewish holidays are Jewish defiance | Menachem Creditor | The Blogs (timesofisrael.com)

[13] Rabbi Naomi Levy Hope Will Find You

[14] Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, The Dignity of Difference, Page 206.

[15] Thank you to Yossi Klein Halevi in Dan Senor’s podcast Call Me Back, September 22, 2024.

Preamble to Yizkor Sermon

Rabbi Ben Herman ,

Before beginning my remarks, I want to make sure everyone understands what my 2nd Day Rosh Hashanah sermon was about and what it was not, as I heard a number of comments that it was polarizing and not unifying. The sermon certainly was NOT about falling in line and supporting Israel unconditionally. In fact, after the holidays I want to create (provided I get the right moderator and can create a safe space to do so) an open discussion about Israel between Zionists, including Israel supporters who have critical views about Israel. I know many won’t approve of this, yet I feel it’s important to do and will make every effort to do so. People feel they can’t share their views of Israel here, and I want to try to enable that to happen-though it will NOT be in a sermon, at Kiddush or at a Shabbat Torah Study.

My sermon about boundaries and where there was “no other hand” WAS about anti-Zionism. Last February I met with a fellow JTS graduate who is in the leadership of Jewish Voice for Peace and was looking for a place at MLC as one who likes the Conservative service. I can’t find a place for such a person. Why is there no other hand? When JVP supports a competing candlelit vigil touting “One Year of Genocide”-Israel’s genocide against the Palestinian people, celebrates UC-Davis’s divestment from Israel and calls to boycott products made in Tel Aviv, Occupied Palestine, it’s beyond my bounds. If you don’t believe me, go to their Facebook page where all of this is easily accessible even to those who don’t like the page. Fortunately this person found a home at an anti-Zionist Havurah, which meets once a month in a midtown church. If you are anti-Zionist, meaning you don’t support Israel as a home for the Jewish people but rather one, binational state that is not Jewish, then I welcome you to join that Havurah-I can give you the information after Yom Kippur. Many of us know 18- and 19-year-olds crawling through terror tunnels and I won’t spit in their face by telling them they have no right to be there. In that light, I give the following sermon remembering October 7th but of equal, if not more importance, having hope for our future.

Family Feud

Rabbi Ben Herman , , , ,

G’mar Hatima Tova. It’s so wonderful to see each and every one of you on the holiest night of the year. Parents reunited with children, grandparents with grandchildren, uncles and aunts with nephews and nieces, cousins with one another. For those with whom I have not yet had the chance to meet in person, I look forward to getting to know you over the course of 5785 and I also hope to deepen my connections with those who I had the opportunity to meet previously.

Last year on Kol Nidre evening I spoke about making amends. This year I am speaking about Family Feud. No, not irreconcilable rifts and arguments between family members but rather lessons learned from the game show Family Feud.

We can learn three lessons from Family Feud that apply to our lives. First, that when we are under pressure, we don’t always showcase the best versions of ourselves. On Family Feud we see people make bloopers and act out because of the pressure they feel, forgetting that it’s a game show. In life, we encounter pressures more serious than this. However, we need to strive to find ways to channel the pressure within our lives. Sometimes it might be through mindful breathing; other times it might a walk around the block or coming back to the challenge we face after a break or after saying “thank you; let me get back to you.”  On Yom Kippur, a day when it can feel like we have “nothing but time” we have the opportunity to take a break from daily living and reflect on how we handle difficult situations, as well as strategies for future improvement.

The second lesson we can learn from Family Feud is the flip side of this: not to take each other so seriously. So much of life is serious and we need moments to relax, enjoy and just be present. This is true on Yom Kippur as well. We often treat Yom Kippur as a somber day when we need to “afflict ourselves.”[1] In reality, it is the day on which we are forgiven from our sins, given a second chance in the coming year. We cannot lose sight of that in the midst of our introspection. It can be very easy to beat ourselves up rather than recognizing that we are human and make mistakes-the goal is to learn from them. 

The third and most important lesson from Family Feud is that we are all one family. The families which find ways to work out their difficulties in rooting for one another especially when there are strikes on the board and working together to “steal” answers are the families that do the best. In contrast, the families where tension leads to in-fighting don’t always fare as well. Yom Kippur is the perfect day to recognize that we are all one family. We say communal confessionals, as even if we did not do that particular sin, someone else likely did, and we do not want to embarrass them. Equally important, we recognize that we are all in this together. Sometime during the next 25 hours when engaged in personal introspection, take a look around at the sea of people joining you, to feel as part of a community with them.

On Rosh Hashanah I spoke about my vision for us being part of a strong, united congregational family here at Mosaic Law Congregation. Tonight at Kol Nidre, I want you to think about what you are doing to be part of that family. While families have conflict, tension and feuds, they also grow closer together when they recognize that the bond between them and the love they have for their congregation supersedes any disagreement or issue at hand.

Gmar Hatima Tova-I wish each and every one of you a good signature for a year filled with quality life, fulfillment and joy in 5785.

[1] Leviticus 23:32

Gevurah, Wise Boundaries: Where Are Our Lines Drawn?

Rabbi Ben Herman , , ,

Today we are going to talk about a challenging topic from a Mussar, or ethical, lens: the Middah, character attribute, of Gevurah, setting wise boundaries.[1] Though difficult, this is necessary for our lives, as if we have no boundaries we stand for nothing. Where are our personal boundaries-the lines we refuse to cross? When I consider this, I think of Fiddler on the Roof. Tevye allowed Tzeitel to marry Mottel and Perchick to marry Hodl. When it came time for Vietka and Chana however, he exclaimed, “There is no other hand!” For Tevye, that was his line. Our line might be different and that is fine; what matters is that we know our limits, our boundaries.

When I served a congregation on Long Island, I was asked at a breakfast following morning minyan, “Where is your line? Are you anything goes?” I shared my boundaries with the minyanaires and said, “This is the line I will not cross. It is very different from your line.” My boundary allowed women to be Gabbaim and lead services; this crossed their line, and it was a disagreement between us.

          As a Jewish leader, I want to be a big tent and inclusive. I also recognize that we need to know our core values and principles and, like Tevye, where for us “there is no other hand.” We need to remember the story of the jester.

          There was once a king who ruled his kingdom with wisdom and compassion. As he approached the end of his days, everyone in the kingdom wondered who would be the next ruler. One of his children? An advisor? A general?

          To keep the contenders from fighting over the throne, the king put his instructions in a letter, which was to be opened only on the day of his death. It named the person who would succeed him on the throne.

When that day arrived, the kingdom mourned its wise and caring leader. And then all eyes turned to the king’s letter to see who would rule in his place. With great ceremony, the prime minister opened the letter and read the instruction. Whom had the king chosen? Not one of his children, nor an adviser, nor a general. The king had chosen the jester. The jester would be called king!

          The jester? Everyone in the kingdom thought this must be a joke. How could a fool be king? But such were the king’s instructions. And so the jester was brought before the royal court. Royal retainers removed his jester costume and cloaked him in the robes of the king. They removed his jester hat and crowned him king. And they sat him on the royal throne.

          At first, the situation was awkward-for the new king as well as his kingdom. But over time it turned out to have been a brilliant choice. The jester was every bit as wise, as compassionate, and as insightful as the old king had been. He listened to everyone with care-advisers, generals, even the commoners of the realm. He treated everyone who came before him with respect and with kindness. He used his powers to bring peace and prosperity to his kingdom. To the amazement of all in the royal court, the jester came to be a superb ruler. And everyone in the royal court-indeed, everyone in the kingdom-came to love him.

          There was a mystery surrounding the jester-king, however. Every so often, he would retreat to a distant room in the palace, a room to which only he had the key. For a few hours he would lock himself in that room. And then he would return to the throne and resume his duties. Most members of the royal court assumed he went to the room to think, to meditate, or perhaps to pray. They accepted the mystery as part of their beloved king’s life.

          Once an ambassador came from a far-off land. The ambassador spent many hours with the king. He grew to appreciate the king’s wisdom and his kindness. It was rare, he thought, for a king to listen as carefully as this king listened. It was unusual for a king to seek advice from everyone who appeared before him. It was remarkable for a king to care as deeply and to work as hard for the good of his subjects as this king did.

          When the ambassador noticed that the king occasionally disappeared into his distant room, he wondered, “What does the king do in that locked room? Why does he go there? What is in that room that helps him rule with such wisdom and kindness?” The ambassador couldn’t let go of the mystery. So one day, when the king retreated from his room, the ambassador secretly followed behind. When the king closed the door, the ambassador crouched down and peered through the keyhole. There he took in the king’s great secret.

          In the privacy of his room, the king took off his crown and his royal robes and put on the costume of a jester. Around and around the room he danced the jester’s dance, making funny faces and singing the silly songs of a jester. Then he stood before a great mirror and recited to himself: “Never forget who you are. You may look and sound and act like the king, but you are only the jester. You are only the jester pretending to be the king. Never forget who you are.”

          Now the ambassador understood it all. He understood the source of the king’s deep wisdom. He understood that the king’s kindness and greatness emanated from his humility. And now he knew the secret of the king’s humility. This knowledge made the ambassador love the king even more deeply. He vowed his everlasting loyalty to the king. And he vowed to keep the king’s secret.

          Over the years, the king and the ambassador grew close. One day when they were alone, the ambassador confessed what he had done and what he had seen. “I promise you on your life that I will never reveal your secret,” he declared. “But there is one thing I have never been able to figure out: Of all the people in the royal court whom the old king could have chosen to succeed him, why did he choose you? Why did he choose the jester?”

          The king smiled at his friend and replied, “And who do you think he was before he became king?”[2]

                The jester never forgot who he was, and a number of Jewish organizations did the same. For the first time, I was a Rabbi in Residence at a Ramah camp. It was wonderful to be there with my older daughter and to be part of a grand Israeli concert and celebration-I highly recommend Ramah. At the same time, I could not avoid thinking of the drama at another Ramah camp this past summer. At Ramah New England, the only other Ramah at which I have worked, Rabbi Ed Gelb would not let an anti-Zionist צוות/staff member return to camp after she wrote on Instagram that Jews ought to oppose the genocide in Gaza. He wrote to the Ramah community, “Camp cares deeply about our alumni and values personal connections to members of the Palmer community, who have contributed greatly over the years, and we welcome direct dialogue to find shared understanding…At the same time, we make a sacred promise to our community that we will faithfully adhere to our public educational goals, including that we are a Zionist camp (unapologetically so).”[3] This, for Rabbi Gelb and Camp Ramah of New England, was an incident for which there was no other hand.

          This is not the only example of a Jewish organization setting boundaries. Earlier this year, there was uproar when a Citizens of the World-East Valley Charter School, which rents space from Congregation Adat Ari-El in Los Angeles, taught lessons on the “genocide of Palestine.”[4] Two teachers were removed from the school and the principal was placed on leave[5] and later removed. The charter school’s principal, Hye-Won Gehring, emailed Rabbi Brian Schuldenfrei about the Israeli flags on campus, asking, “I know that this is a time to hold your community close, and perhaps the flags are intended for that – but do you know how long they will be up?” Rabbi Schuldenfrei expressed that he found the email offensive, asserting, “I told the principal that inquiring when our flags were coming down was like asking someone on September 11 to take down their American flags just a few days later. It is painfully insensitive.”

          Later at that school, a teacher wrote the following: “I did a lesson on the genocide in Palestine today with my first graders who give me hell 90% of every day but were really into this convo and series of activities.” The teacher, who used the class’s math period for the lesson, wrote this on Instagram in a private post that the Jewish Telegraph Agency (JTA) reviewed.

The teacher added, “I started by telling them that we weren’t gonna do math at the usual time because sometimes there are big things in the world that need our attention, and we need to interrupt our usual routines to make space to learn and talk about what’s happening. I asked them what they already knew about what’s happening (they knew a lot and had questions) and I drew a little map of the occupied territories of Palestine.” She continued, “then they organically started coming up with ideas for what could happen (my fav was a kid who was like ‘what if they just give the land back to Palestine and find somewhere else to live?’)” The teacher ended the post with a heart emoji.[6]                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

Yesterday I spoke about the importance of unity, and connecting with the perspectives of others. However, there needs to be a line. Look at what happened at HaMakom in Los Angeles earlier this summer. HaMakom is the merger of two congregations 1 mile apart. They had an extra building which they leased to the Islamic Society of West Valley, (with whom they had a partnership since 2017), to accommodate the mosque’s overflow crowds, with a possible, future sale. The imam had spoken at one of the synagogues, and that synagogue’s rabbi attended an interfaith iftar (which I have done as well). The first day of the lease was during the Muslim holy month of Ramadan. As a gesture to make their tenants feel comfortable, HaMakom’s leadership covered up pictures of the Israeli hostages, and the imam invited a speaker from CAIR, the Community of Arab Islamic Relations, whose national organization has funded Hamas.[7] Comments the speaker made included, “Israel does not have the right to defend itself” and “for 75 years, every single day for the Palestinian people has been October 7.”[8] The lease only lasted that one evening, and the co-presidents of the synagogue resigned.

          It can be painful yet necessary to determine when to set up boundaries that will keep certain people out. Yesterday, I shared with you my vision and aspirational mission statement for Mosaic Law Congregation. It is not a finished project, and I challenge each of us to think about what we want to see Mosaic Law Congregation become-where we can let people in and where we need to set limits. What values are of ultimate importance to us as a congregation and as a Jewish community? Some of us don’t like to think about these things; however we must. As Rabbi Shai Held teaches, “Whatever you push away is going to bounce back at you; it is nature’s law. Whatever you run away from becomes your shadow.”[9]

          I’d like to challenge us in 5785 to not push away tension and conflict, especially as we approach elections in the United States, but rather to think about it honestly and strongly. This is our time to focus in on who we want to be as people and as a community in the coming year and where we draw our boundaries.

[1] Thank you to Rabbi Mark Margolius of the Institute for Jewish Spirituality who taught me Gevurah under this lens.

[2] Ed Feinstein, “The Jester,” in Capturing the Moon (Behrman House, Springfield, NJ, 2008), Pages 34-36

[3]  Why Camp Ramah in New England drew a red line against anti-Zionism among its staff (jewishinsider.com)

[4] LA charter school housed at synagogue tells 1st-graders about ‘genocide of Palestine’ | The Times of Israel

[5] LA charter school ousts teachers who taught 1st graders about ‘genocide of Palestine’ | The Times of Israel

[6] Sick: LA Charter School Teachers Removed After Teaching 1st Graders About ‘Genocide in Palestine’ at School Housed in Synagogue | The Gateway Pundit | by Margaret Flavin

[7] Synagogue members furious with leadership’s gesture to mosque – The Forward

[8] PressReader.com – Digital Newspaper & Magazine Subscriptions

[9] Christina Feldman, Compassion: Listening to the Cries of the World (Berkeley: Rodmell, 2005), pg. 28.  In Judaism is About Love, pg. 219.

Humility as an Approach to Teshuva

Rabbi Ben Herman , , , ,

          What is repentance all about? The Hebrew word תשובה (teshuvah) has at least 3 meetings: repentance, return and “the answer.” What is Teshuvah in answer to? The question What does God want from me right now in this very moment?

         That is a question which I won’t propose to answer today. However, I’ll share words from Rabbi Shai Held’s book Judaism is about Love. He writes that teshuvah “is less about castigating ourselves or enumerating our manifold sins than it is about remembering what we are capable of and taking stock of what we still need to do in order to live in a way that reflects God’s love and our worth.”[1] We are aware through teshuvah that we have human agency as well as the ability to bring atonement through our constructive actions.

          There is a Hasidic teaching by Rabbi Simha Bunim that one should have pieces of paper in two different pockets. One should contain the maxim בשבילי נברא העולם, for my sake the world was created. The other should contain the statement, אנכי עפר ואפר, I am but dust an ashes. Rabbi Bunim instructed that when we are in imbalance, leaning more towards one side than the other, we need to open the pocket that will lead us back into balance. Thus, if I feel on top of the world, that nothing can touch me, I need the “I am but dust and ashes.” If, on the other hand, I feel down in the dumps, I need to remember “For my sake, the world was created”-what we celebrated on Rosh Hashanah, the creation of all humanity.

          In balancing ourselves out, we also need to find the areas that we need to work on in our lives. Rabbi Yeruham Levovitz’s student, Rabbi Shlomo Wolbe, cited him as stating: “Woe to a person who is unaware of their shortcomings, because they will not know what to work on. But even greater woe to a person who is unaware of their virtues, because they don’t even know what they have to work with.”[2] We must always be aware of the good things that we have in life and utilize them to strengthen ourselves.

As Rabbi Elyakin Krumbein notes in the name of Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik, “any confession of sin must include, in order to be meaningful, the realization that one is a spiritual being with spiritual achievements.”[3] We are always aspirational, trying to grow in any way we can. In Shabbat Torah Study, I once was asked why do we go through this High Holy Day season year after year? What could possibly be its purpose? My response was that we are G-d willing different people this year than we were last year. We have grown in so many different ways and will continue to grow over the course of the coming year.

As we grow in our knowledge and in our understanding of the world, we recognize that we do not have all the answers. That is where humility comes in. At times we can say, “I don’t know but I can look it up or get back to you,” or “Let me think about that.” In so doing, we acknowledge that we are far from perfect and that each of us is always on a course of growth and development. At the same time, we recognize that we can make a big impact in the world around us.

[1] Rabbi Shai Held, Judaism is about Love: Recovering the Heart of Jewish Life (New York: Farrar, Strauss and Giroux, 2004), pg. 38, footnote 39.

[2] Ibid, pg. 38.

[3] Rabbi Elyakim Krumbein, “on the ‘Humility’ Dilemma and Its Solution, Tradition 39, no. 1 (Spring 2005), pg. 54.

Dor Hadash: Striving to Become a Covenantal Community in 5785

Rabbi Ben Herman , , , ,

Have Cantor sing אחינו

The words in which Cantor beautifully led us are traditionally read after the Monday and Thursday weekly Torah readings and translate as follows: “The House of Israel is one family, including those who are in distress or in captivity, and those who wander over sea or over land. God will have compassion for them and will bring them from narrowness to expanse, and from darkness to light, and from oppression to redemption, speedily, now and in our days.”

What does it mean to be a congregational family? What does it mean at a time when our world is rocked, as it was in 5784 with a situation that many of us had never experienced before?

At times it may cause us to feel weak, like Moses at the battle with Amalek. Two chapters after being saved from Pharaoh and the Egyptians, Moses and the Israelites were surprise attacked from behind.[1] In an attack that was eerily like October 7th, their old and their young murdered by the people of Amalek, Israel was suddenly embroiled in an intense battle. [2] Moses’ hands needed to be raised to fight Amalek so as to give the people of Israel hope. Unfortunately, his hands grew heavy, and he kept lowering them. He needed help from Aaron and Hur to keep his hands raised and help Israel be victorious. The Mishnah says: “Did the hands of Moses make war when he raised them or break war when he lowered them? Rather, the Torah comes to teach that as long as the Jewish people turned their eyes upward and subjected their hearts to their Father in Heaven, they prevailed, but if not, they fell.[3]

Many times in 5784 I felt like I imagine my ancestors felt when they were shocked at being ambushed by Amalek: a deer in the headlights with extra anxiety from being thrown for a loop. At those moments when our burden is too heavy, it is easy to feel powerless and tempting to let go of everything. Hopefully we have people like Aaron and Hur to raise up our hands, to encourage us, and to boost us up at the times we feel discouraged and think of throwing in the towel.

  This is the message of our anthem, Aheinu. Each and every one of us are brothers and sisters, standing together and helping one another through our troubles and difficulties, our trials and tribulations. It is imperative, especially when one does not have family close by, that as a congregational family we be each other’s rocks and help hold one another up through crisis. As a Jewish people, we follow the maxim ,כל ישראל ערבים זה בזה we are all responsible for one another.[4] We need leaders like Moses, a shepherd in his youth, to bring us together and look out for us, especially our young and our old.[5] We also must have faith in ourselves and in our mission and that, with God’s help, we will ultimately be successful.

In Aheinu, we are taken out, from “narrowness to expanse, and from darkness to light, and from oppression to redemption.” What does this mean? The best example comes from our tradition. There has never been a greater leader of our people than Moses. As the psalmist says: “וַיֹּ֗אמֶר לְֽהַשְׁמִ֫ידָ֥ם לוּלֵ֡י מֹ֘שֶׁ֤ה בְחִיר֗וֹ עָמַ֣ד בַּפֶּ֣רֶץ לְפָנָ֑יו לְהָשִׁ֥יב חֲ֝מָת֗וֹ מֵהַשְׁחִֽית׃  God would have destroyed Israel, had not Moses, God’s chosen one, confronted God in the breach to avert God’s destructive wrath. Moses stood in the breach for Israel on that day to prevent God’s destructive anger.”[6] Rabbi David Kimhi, known as the Radak, taught that God set a breach, a separation from Israel so that God could wipe them out, and Moses stepped into the breach.[7] He would not let destruction occur on his watch.

I think of modern heroes who stood in the breach, emulating Moses’ example. Lieutenant-Colonel Eran Masas, whosaved some of the revelers from the Nova festival and who collected the bodies of victims to put them all together so that the terrorists wouldn’t be able to abduct them. I also think of Superintendent Moran Teggi, who commanded operations in Ofakim and who saved the lives of so many. I recall Sergeant Yonatan Ohana who fought in Gaza, was wounded by shrapnel from an RPG and continued to fight through his injuries. [8] These are three of our many Israeli heroes who stood in the breach on October 7th. We also cannot forget our everyday heroes, firefighters, police, security guards and first responders, who risk their lives on a daily basis to protect us.

Our vision as a people must be to follow Moses’ example and stand in the breach. When there is chaos and trouble brewing, we hold our heads high, serve as intermediaries and refuse to let go. Being a people means that we need to watch out for one another, that we are obligated to step into the breach for those within our community, just as Moses did when God wanted to destroy Israel, and as Hur and Aaron helped Moses do against Amalek.

We never know when the next attack from an enemy will come. Look at 2 days ago, when Iran launched 180 missiles at Israel, most of which were shot down with help with the United States and with God protecting us. We never know where the next attack will come from and we need to be prepared. As my teacher Rabbi Jordan Bendat-Appell said, “You need to build your ark before the flood comes.” We do not have the luxury of being asleep[9] as Israel was when Amalek struck.

 This feels lofty; how does it tie into each and every one of us? I want you to think about why you are here today. Some of us are here for the first time-or the first time since last Yom Kippur. Others started coming regularly over the course of this year or a previous year. I have encountered people who are afraid to go to synagogue, as well as those who felt it’s time they start going. When our people are vulnerable, we need each other so much. I have heard numerous congregants express the importance of being with their families now more than ever-and I have felt this way as well, both with my personal family and with my Mosaic Law family.

How do we become more of a family where people look out for one another as Aaron and Hur did for Moses? A start is looking at what our mission is as a congregation. I see Mosaic Law’s mission as being a place where people experience the joys of Judaism, through prayer, education, social activities and social action. I yearn for us to move from a transactional community towards a covenantal community, in which our relationships with each other are our primary focus.

I aspire to have Mosaic Law Congregation (MLC) be known as THE PLACE where people go and are immediately welcomed in as they are, able to engage with our many offerings according to their interests and able to give of their skills and talents to strengthen our congregation. Our community must bolster us up in difficult times, like Aaron and Hur raising up Moses’ arms. Over the past two years, I have had 1-on-1 or 1-on-2 conversations with many of you about your interests at MLC. These are opportunities to connect in a strong, deep way. If we have not yet connected, please contact me after Rosh Hashanah, and we will set a time to meet. I want us to be each other’s Hur and Aaron.

An initiative I have begun to connect congregants to one another is Dor Hadash, meaning a new generation and referring to the creation of a new generation of Havurot, small groups which rotate gathering at each other’s homes on a monthly or quarterly basis. I am proud that as a synagogue we have so many successful Havurot, many of which were formed decades ago and whose members are there for each other at births, weddings, funerals and college graduations. What are we doing to create this sense of intimate community today? How are we building a culture of belonging, where we appreciate every person for who they are and what they contribute to our congregational family?

The Havurot are not an end unto themselves but rather a means to help us reach a deeper end. My goals in forming this new generation of Havurot through Dor Hadash are to increase congregational engagement, strengthen MLC’s leadership pipeline and foster opportunities for people to become more deeply engaged with daily Jewish living. A community is only as strong as the integration between its members, and we need to help each other achieve this.

Last winter and spring, Karina and I created a pilot Havurah, hosting Hanukkah and Shabbat dinners, a Purim party and a Lag B’Omer event, each of which had Jewish learning components. Since then, other Havurot have formed based on demographics and interests/affinity, hosting events such as blintz tasting and kayaking. My goal is to get every membership unit who wants to not only join a Havurah but more importantly to feel welcome as they are and find a place of comfort within our congregational family. One month ago, we had our Dor Hadash Kickoff/Sukkah Building workshop, where we taught the laws involved in creating a kosher Sukkah, built a Sukkah and introduced congregants to one another (I learned Cantor’s favorite movie is the mockumentary Waiting for Guffman). We set the goal of having Havurot build their own Sukkot this year. We have a ways to go to reach everyone. Please fill out a short survey that will be sent on Monday so that we can include you in our effort to form new Havurot.

This is one of a number of steps we can take to help us feel community. Another we can do right now. Please turn to someone you do not know and wish them a shana tova u’metuka, a happy, healthy, sweet Jewish New Year.  Please continue to extend greetings to others, especially those you do not know, throughout the High Holy Days.

I hope that Mosaic Law Congregation will be a place where each of us will find community with one another and that we will leave services today and always feeling better about ourselves. Over the holidays, please think about and connect with something that makes you feel that Mosaic Law Congregation is your home. The most important thing we can do is to strengthen where we are in this difficult year we’ve had.  Our holy work will ensure that Mosaic Law Congregation is the best version of itself. In so doing, we will be a beacon of light for both the Sacramento Jewish community and the worldwide Jewish community. 

I know that together we will make a difference in the year 5785 and that we can create the Mosaic Law Congregation we want to have. Through being responsible for one another and strengthening each other, being each other’s Aaron and Hur, our synagogue will thrive. To help us unite together I’d like to read the poem “The Unity” by my grandmother, Lucille Frenkel. While she was speaking about the State of Israel, I am reading Israel as referring to the need for unity and familial ties between the people of Israel and have adapted her poem to fit that desire.

The Unity

The lesson which past ages taught

Was lesson each Jew had to learn,

The unity our People wrought

Was unity formed of concern.

All differences which separate

One from another become dispelled.

All differences evaporate

In our concern for Israel.

The lesson which past ages taught

The world still forces us to learn.

The life of Israel is sought,

Born of all Jewry’s concern.[10]

[1] Pointed out by Erica Brown, Zionist Rabbis High Holy Day Seminar, September 4, 2024.

[2] Exodus 17:8-16

[3] Mishnah Rosh Hashanah 3:8

[4] Babylonian Talmud Shavuot 39b

[5] See Exodus 10:9

[6] Psalms 106:23

[7] Radak on Psalms 106:23 ד”ה בפרץ

[8] 12 heroes of October 7 tell their stories in Knesset event – Israel News – The Jerusalem Post (jpost.com)

[9] Song of Songs 5:2

[10] Lucille Frenkel, A Jewish Adventure (Milwaukee, WI: The Eternity Press, 1983), pg. 213.

Works of Progress: Making Ourselves Into Who We Want to Be

Rabbi Ben Herman

How wonderful to see everyone together. Parents reunited with children (as are my parents Bruce and Laurie Herman), siblings reunited with one another (as is my sister, Rachel Herman), cousins, uncles and aunts, grandparents and grandchildren. This is my favorite time of the year-beginning the Jewish New Year together as a congregational family.

For those with whom I have not yet had the chance to meet in person, I look forward to getting to know you over the course of 5784 and I also hope to deepen my connections with those who I had the privilege of meeting previously.

Please consider joining us at three events: the Kever Avot Memorial Service at Home of Peace Cemetery on Sunday at 11:00 am; Tashlich at Guy West Bridge Sunday at 5:00 pm; and at the west steps of the Capitol Monday at 6:00 pm for Memory and Hope One Year Later on October 7th; a candlelit vigil with songs, poetry and a communal Kaddish.

          Today we celebrate the creation of humanity on the 6th day of creation. There’s a great story shared with me by Rabbi Rick Sherwin with which I want to start off my remarks.

After teaching the Biblical account of Creation, the teacher turned to her student and asked: “So tell me, who made you?” The pupil thought for a minute, then answered, “Well to tell you the truth, I am not made yet.”[1]

          Each of us is a work in progress in this imperfect world. We have infinite potential to make a difference and to see our lives from an outlook of growth. Rabbi Jacob Rudin challenges us to be works in progress as we enter a new year. He writes:

          How quickly the Rosh Hashanahs add themselves up. How swiftly, how silently, how relentlessly the years slip by. How lightly we say ‘let us wait until tomorrow.’ And maybe there is no tomorrow.

          Rosh Hashanah is a reminder of this. We are a year older. Are we a year wiser? Wiser in the heart and the spirit?”

          The years have taught me the infinite treasure which children are, the miracle of them, born in love, reared in affection. O, how much we take them from granted: the wonder of change, of growth from baby to child, to youth, to adult. We forget. We give way to thoughtlessness, to lack of patience, a failure to communicate, to understand, or, what is worse, a failure to try to understand.

          I have learned that one of the best sounds in the world is the sound of a child’s voice, a voice clear and innocent and content, a harmony with joy and with love of companionship and devotion of a good home. I have learned that the sound of such voices never disappears. Open all the windows and all the doors. Let the years multiply themselves. Let the children grow up and marry and have homes of their own. The sound of them never fades, the song, the cry, their needs, their questioning. All remain, in the home which nurtured them, in the heart that brought them up. They never fly away.

          How does one make these truths urgent upon the heart? Not to let a single shaft of golden light, lonely upon the earth, go unnoted, the springtime flower, the autumn leaf, the winter’s sky. Not to lose, for a single day, thankfulness for health and well-being.

          The years have taught me that: to cherish every sight of a beloved’s face, to be grateful for beauty, to relish the sound of a child, to appreciate being able to walk from here to there. Such simple things, such lovely things, such precious things! And the years have taught me that people forget them. We learn with such difficulty, O Lord! In the New Year just beginning, let us not take them for granted, ever, for an hour or a day.”[2]

We continue to develop and strengthen ourselves, both remembering that there is always the potential for improvement and, equally if not more important, not to take the present moment for granted. We pray that each of us finds the wisdom inside ourselves and in these services, both the music and the content, to make a difference in our lives and in the lives of our loved ones. To help us do so, I am concluding with a poem from my grandmother, Lucille Frenkel, entitled “New Year Prayer 5734-1973.”

          New Year Prayer 5734-1973

Another New Year

Marking passage of time,

A chance to reflect

And to question how I am

Passing my days

In my journey through time-

Do I value each moment

God sends to be mine?

Do I criticize much

Which I do not approve,

Instead of attempting

Myself to improve?

Another New Year

Marking passage of time

Holds the need to reflect

On my whole life’s design.[3]

[1] Rabbi Rick Sherwin, High Holy Day Stories, Page 23.

[2] Rabbi Jacob Philip Rudin, The Rabbis Speak, in Rabbi Jack Riemer High Holy Day Anthology

[3] Lucille Frenkel, A Jewish Adventure (Milwaukee, WI: The Eternity Press, 1983), pg. 133.