Thank you for joining us for another morning of spiritual prayer. It is so great to see multiple generations of families together, both new members and those who have been here for decades, joining together as a spiritual community. I want to be sure that everyone knows that you always have a place here at the Jericho Jewish Center. Please be frequent visitors and please give me your input as to what you’d like to see at your Jericho Jewish Center.

For those not here yesterday, I want to briefly mention the excitement of the creation and dedication of our new Torah. During the 2018-19 synagogue year, each of us will have the opportunity to fulfill the Mitzvah, of taking part in the creation of a new Torah, thanks to the generosity of Neil and Sherry Cohen. Neil’s parents, Norman and Harriet z”l were members of the Jericho Jewish Center for almost 60 years. When Norman z”l passed away last year, Neil and Sherry sought to honor him through a gift to his spiritual home, the Jericho Jewish Center. Their generosity enables us to acquire a new Torah at JJC, a welcome addition, as the vast majority of our Torot are very heavy and four of them are pasul (unfit for ritual use).

My goal is for this to be a FUN-Raiser in addition to a Fundraiser and to have 100% participation from the Jericho Jewish Center. Please see the sheets on printed resume paper in the Cocktail Lounge about the writing of the Torah as well as available donation opportunities. All donors will receive a certificate of appreciation and a special kippah in honor of this occasion. Donors will also get to write a letter in the Torah with the Sofer and will have a photo taken with him as this is done. Please also join us on Sunday October 21 from 1-3 pm for our Torah Kickoff. Lastly, please bring in your pennies, as the Religious School is trying to collect 304,805 pennies-corresponding to the number of letters in the Torah. Check out the “Torah thermometer” downstairs to see how far they’ve gotten.

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What is the future of Judaism? If you were to ask Pulitzer-Prize winning author Michael Chabon, whose book The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay is one of my all-time favorites, it’s not too rosy. This past May, Chabon gave the commencement address at Hebrew Union College, where he was honored with an honorary doctorate.[1]

In his HUC speech, Chabon said, “An endogamous marriage is a ghetto of two; as the traditional Jewish wedding ritual makes explicit, it draws a circle around the married couple, inscribes them—and any eventual children who come along—within a figurative wall of tradition, custom, shared history, and a common inheritance of chromosomes and culture.” Regardless of how people feel about interfaith marriage, and I am on the liberal end of our movement in this regard, to refer to an in-marriage as a “ghetto of two” is repulsive and offensive. Claiming that a shared history and tradition are bad things in and of themselves, instead of  commonalities that can give a marriage a shared language is completely off-base. I’m not claiming that people cannot find commonalities with those who practice different religions-I certainly have. However, to view an inmarriage as a prison with a figurative wall of separation is abhorrent- a  תועבה in its truest sense.

Chabon continued on this theme with his statement, “We tend to draw a distinction between walls that protect and walls that imprison, but that is only the same dark logic again, justifying itself, as always, in the name of security. Security is an invention of humanity’s jailers. Anywhere you look it is—and has always been—the hand of power drawing the boundaries, putting up separation barriers and propagandizing hatred and fear of the people on the other side.” To claim that boundaries in and of themselves are a form of imprisonment and that they lead to hating those who are outside the boundaries is myopic. There are ways to put up boundaries, to stand for something, while concurrently being accepting and embracing of those who are different or who see things differently. It’s not a zero-sum game.

Is Chabon’s Judaism the future? I certainly hope not. In jumping to his conclusion, we see that his charge to the Reform Rabbis class of 2018 is as follows as to how they should showcase their Judaism: “Knock down the walls. Abolish the checkpoints. Find room in the Jewish community for all those who want to share in our traditions. Inscribe the protective circle of your teachings around all those people whose very otherness demands that we honor our avowed commitments to peace and justice and lovingkindness. Seize every opportunity to strengthen and enrich our cultural genome by embracing the inevitable variation and change that result from increased diversity. And if—no, let’s say when—the Jews of the future find that, under your leadership, they can no longer tolerate the occupation being undertaken in their name, when they have repudiated the purity tests and the separation barriers and all the rhetoric and instrumentalities of dehumanization, let it be because you have taught them to throw open the sanctuary gates of their own best idea of themselves, and to make room at their tables, and in their families, and in their lands, for all who are truly hungry—like the book says—to come and partake.”

He certainly said a mouthful. A couple of the statements, like “find room in the Jewish community for those who want to share in our traditions” I can even stand behind. However, when combined with caricature and incendiary language, comparing the Jewish leadership to “occupiers” who engage in “purity tests,” we reach ground which is offensive and untrue. I imagine that his argument to intermarry in order to “enrich our cultural genome by embracing the inevitable variation and change that result from increased diversity” is offensive to everyone, whether one has inmarried, intermarried or converted to Judaism. I don’t know too many people looking for a mate who say ‘let me find someone completely different racially or ethnically from me so as to improve the human genome.’

          Why bring up Chabon on Rosh Hashanah? My purpose is not to refute his arguments per se or to denigrate him but rather to ask what do we do with this challenge? One approach was taken by three Conservative sociologists who wrote a piece entitled “Michael Chabon’s views on intermarriage are increasingly mainstream. They are also morally abhorrent.”[2] These scholars claim that “Promoting intermarriage was the opening shot in a drive to dismantle Judaism and put an end to the ostensibly inherent and inevitable injustices he insists religion perpetuates.” They offer inaccuracies in his argumentation from a sociological perspective. What is the most telling for me, however, is how they end the article, which I’d like us to explore: “We urge the proponents of welcoming and inclusion – many of whom we count as dear friends and colleagues — to think anew about where they stand in regard to Chabon’s challenge. Where would you draw boundaries? Where do you stand on maintaining some distinctions between Jews and others? Is Jewish group survival a force for good or for ill, not only for individual Jews but for humanity? Should we teach the next generation that all Jews —both those born Jewish and converts — are in a kinship relationship with one another as heirs of a unique, rich and valuable cultural heritage?”

          Where do we draw the line? I’ve often been critiqued for wanting to be welcoming and inclusive at the expense of having standards. Which standards do I think serve a purpose? Here are three standards that we should strive towards in the 21^st century. My first standard is for us to continue to learn about Judaism, especially the Hebrew language. Without Hebrew, one cannot fully immerse in the wisdom and power of our tradition. Even the most faithful and thoughtful of translations will not do justice to the core texts of our people. Hebrew language is essential-and it is never too late to learn. I am now working with my fifth conversion student on Hebrew, and I started with each one from the Alef-Bet. It’s amazing what adults can pick up through diligent study. Rena Klein and Hanit Gluck teach Hebrew at our synagogue on Tuesday evenings and are always looking for new students, and I welcome the opportunity to teach anyone Hebrew: one-on-one or in small groups.

       My next standard is a commitment to Jewish ritual and traditions, growing in one’s observance step-by-step. Don’t get me wrong-I would love if everyone kept all 613 commandments-or at least those applicable for us to keep outside of Israel and at a time without a centralized Temple in Jerusalem J. What is clear to me, however, is that while Jewish pride and identity are important, they are insufficient. To be a “cultural Jew,” a “member of the tribe,” eating latkes on Hanukkah and matzah on Passover, misses the richness of our tradition in all its beauty and all its complexity. One can of course do this through a process of evolution, the paradigm of the Conservative Movement. Start slowly, coming to our Sukkot Service and Dinner on Sunday September 23^rd beginning at 6:00 pm, our Simhat Torah Extravaganza on Monday October 1^st at 6:15 pm, dancing with the Torah, and perhaps coming back on Tuesday October 2^nd at 9:00-or at the latest-10:00 am to receive an Aliyah (be called up) to the Torah. Come on Purim to hear the Megillah and dress in costume. Take Shabbat, one day a week where you turn off your phone and focus on family and friends. What’s important is not which step one takes first but that a step be taken. In every other aspect of life we grow and evolve, so why should our Judaism remain at the place it was when we were a kid?

My last standard, but certainly not least, is to be part of the Jewish community, seeking something greater than just oneself. Rabbi Dr. Danny Gordis has bemoaned that in the modern world we have shifted our Judaism from centering on communal events to focusing on life-cycle events, involving ‘me, myself and I.’ He wrote: “Jewish tradition has long understood that for Judaism to play the significant, emotional role in our lives that many Jews want it to, Jewish life cannot be relegated to a few important days a year or major life-cycle events.”[3] Living, organic Judaism requires being part of a community, coming to daily minyan to join those mourning who are saying Kaddish, trying to seek out G-d (or if you don’t believing in G-d, appreciating something greater than oneself), showing gratitude through reciting 100 blessings per day. Most people I encounter, whatever their religious background or faith, have told me that in life they aspire to something greater than just themselves. Judaism offers that, as it is meant to be lived not monastically or ascetically but rather communally. Judaism is NOT primarily a set of dogmas, or beliefs, but rather a this-worldly religion focused on connecting with those around you. The reason most synagogues here are called ‘centers’ is because they were designed to be community centers-places for Jews to congregate together. This does not mean being in the shtetl, or ghetto as Chabon says, but rather positive, meaningful interactions with G-d and with one’s fellow human beings. If you do not feel this connection with your neighbor, that s/he is someone to learn from and grow with, then there is the danger of being stuck in a ghetto.

Please turn to your neighbor today ‘in the pews’ and introduce yourself to him/her. “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood.”

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          Today is the 17^th anniversary of the atrocity known as September 11^th when two airplanes with terrorist hijackers crashed into the World Trade Center (just over 31 miles away), a third crashed into the Pentagon and a fourth, set to hit the US Capitol, had patriots who revolted against the hijackers, leading to the plane crashing in Pennsylvania. We don’t do enough to commemorate this day-one in which Glenn Jonathan Winuk, the son of a congregant, was murdered as he worked in the World Trade Center. Some rabbis will choose to connect 9/11 with the Akedah; only instead of a near aversion of human sacrifice, there were 2,996 people murdered on 9/11. I have chosen instead to focus on how 9/11 unified the American spirit, making so many of us show our pride as Americans and our love for our country. Even now, when we appear to be more divided than ever, it is beautiful to see the spirit, determination, and excitement that people exude in striving to make a difference. We see the record number 309 women running for Congress, the Parkland High School students (and others) fighting for increased gun control and the 18-year low of 3.8% unemployment (as well as record highs in the stock market). For Israel we have seen the moving of the US Embassy to Jerusalem and recognition of that Jerusalem as the capital of Israel as well as the cutting off of aid to Israel’s neighbors who support terrorism. We have much to be proud of in showcasing the United States’ democracy and in fighting the terrorist regimes who seek to undermine it.

          The way to respond to Chabon and those like him is not merely by criticizing, ignoring or dismissing them but rather by becoming more committed Jewishly as well as to Israel. If we truly believe that endogamy is of value and that Israel is central to our lives, we need to show it not merely by paying “lip service” or making strong statements but rather through our actions. Every fiber of our being needs to stand for Jewish pride: to learning more about our traditions and customs, coming to synagogue more, exploring keeping Kashrut and Shabbat. Playing off a prayer we said this morning: כל עצמותנו לגאות יהודית: every fiber of our being to be used for Jewish pride. Too often we know people who follow the self-defeating pedagogy of “Do as I say-not as I do.” If the future of Judaism is exclusively pediatric, sending the kids and grandkids to Religious School but keeping ourselves on the level of a 7^th grade education, then we will fail. Actions speak louder than words and if we feel a certain way strongly or believe that something is of crucial importance, we need to show it through every fiber of our being. Integrity means תכו כברו, that our inside is exactly the same as our outside. If we don’t demonstrate this, speaking but not acting, saying “what a shonda” but not vigilantly standing up for what we believe in, than Chabon and those who think like him will win. Unfortunately, it often takes a tragedy like 9/11 to make us recognize that our values are in danger, rather than mindfully and proactively living each day to the fullest as proud Americans and proud Jews.

          With this in mind, I will read aloud the poem “One” by Rabbi Dov Peretz Elkins and ask that you turn with me to Page 115 as we will read together aloud the Prayer for Our Country.

          READ “ONE” DO PRAYER FOR COUNTRY FOLLOWED BY HINENI INTRO

[1] Michael Chabon attacks Jewish inmarriage and Israel’s occupation in speech to rabbinical students By Ben Sales JTA May 25, 2018

 

[2] Sylvia Barack Fishman, Steven M. Cohen and Jack Wertheimer, JTA, June 8, 2018.

[3] Rabbi Daniel Gordis, God was Not in the Fire: The Search for a Spiritual Judaism (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1995), p. 110.

It is so wonderful to see so many people gathered together today to join us in worship. Parents are united with children, grandparents with grandchildren, uncles and aunts with nephews and nieces. I want to be sure that everyone knows that you always have a place here at the Jericho Jewish Center. The program sheet that we provide is just the tip of the iceberg of what we are offering during this year. Please be frequent visitors and please give me your input as to what you’d like to see at your Jericho Jewish Center.

What I consider to be the most exciting initiative at the Jericho Jewish Center this year is the creation and dedication of a new Torah.[1] The 613^th Commandment is that each person writes his/her own Torah Scroll. According to Rabbi Moshe Isserles (the Rema), this commandment is fulfilled by each individual writing at least one letter in the Torah.[2]

During the 2018-19 synagogue year, each of us will have the opportunity to fulfill this Mitzvah, thanks to the generosity of Neil and Sherry Cohen. Neil’s parents, Norman and Harriet z”l were members of the Jericho Jewish Center for almost 60 years. When Norman z”l passed away last year, Neil and Sherry sought to honor him through a gift to his spiritual home, the Jericho Jewish Center. Their generosity enables us to acquire a new Torah at JJC, a welcome addition, as the vast majority of our Torot are very heavy, and four of them are pasul (unfit for ritual use).

Each of us will have the opportunity to fulfill this commandment by donating a letter, a word or a more substantial gift to be given in memory of a loved one or in honor of a simcha. All donors will receive a certificate of appreciation for their donation and a special kippah marking this momentous occasion. Donors will also get to write a letter in the Torah with the Sofer (scribe) and will have a photo taken with the scribe as this is done.

My goal is for this to be a FUN-Raiser in addition to a Fundraiser and to have 100% participation from the Jericho Jewish Center. Please see the sheets printed on resume paper in the Cocktail Lounge about the writing of the Torah as well as available donation opportunities. Please also join us on Sunday October 21 from 1-3 pm for our Torah Kickoff. Lastly, please bring in your pennies, as the Religious School is trying to collect 304,805 pennies-corresponding to the number of letters in the Torah. Check out the “Torah thermometer” downstairs to see how far they’ve gotten.

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“COME TO THE EDGE”

“No we will fall.”

“COME TO THE EDGE.”

“No we will fall”

They came to the edge.

He pushed them, and they flew.-Apollonaire[3]

 

How often have we wanted to do something so badly it terrifies us? One of the most profound spiritual truths is “so long as we cling, we are bound.”[4] We want to jump, to pursue greater heights, yet at the same time we are afraid of the unknown. We long to be released yet we also feel security in the status quo. There’s no such thing as a free lunch in life-with every action there’s an equal, opposite reaction.

In her book Hope Will Find You, Rabbi Naomi Levy writes about her daughter Nomi being diagnosed with A-T.[5] This was a devastating diagnosis for both mother and child, and Rabbi Levy took time off of the rabbinate in order to care for her daughter. She writes that as the worries about her daughter eased up, as her faith grew, she began to think about returning to the rabbinate, saying “I just didn’t quite have the courage to take the plunge. Sometimes you think you want something, but you don’t want it badly enough to risk discomfort for it. As the Yiddish proverb goes, ‘The cat likes fish, but she doesn’t want to wet her paws.’ And sometimes you want something badly, but still there are forces preventing you from taking action. Forces that keep you standing on the dock when you so want to jump in the water and start swimming. Sometimes, every once in a while, you get lucky and somebody gives you a push just at that moment when you need it the most. You’re standing there hesitating on the dock and someone just pushes you into the water-not in a cruel way, but in a way of caring.”[6]

Rabbi Levy includes another Yiddish proverb: “If you lie on the ground, you can’t fall.”[7] If we just stay where we are, as comfortable as that might be, we will not grow or mature. We paint a perfect picture in our head, hiding certain details or “fudging” them to fit our depiction of our lives. We resist change because we find it threatening or because it brings us out of our comfort zone. Things become a ‘kishke issue’ and we draw lines rather than facing reality.

One of our regular minyanaires has shared many comments about his father Irving z”l. One that stuck with me because of its jarring nature is ‘If you want security, go to jail.’ We long for a sense of security and permanence, thinking that we are in control; that our fate is in our hands. We hold onto physical possessions never touched in years, as what if we will need them tomorrow. We hold onto emotions, both good and bad, clinging to our past and what we know. Yet ultimately what security is there? Life takes twists and turns we couldn’t have possibly envisioned. We think we are in control and then all of a sudden something happens that makes us realize we have no idea what the heck we are doing. We make plans as if our lives will be a certain way forever and yet ultimately everyone’s physical body leaves this world.

Too often we think nostalgically about our past, longing to return to “the good old days.” That line of thinking applies directly to what we just did: we returned the Torah and said the words חדש ימינו כקדם, renew our lives as in the days of old. A colleague of mine, Rabbi Rob Schienberg of Hoboken, New Jersey, wrote the following in a sermon: Hadesh yameinu ke-kedem’ is of course a paradox.  If our days are to be ‘renewed,’ then they will not be ‘as of old.’  And if they are restored to be ‘as of old,’ then they will not be ‘new’ as the word ‘hadesh‘ implies.

Eikhah Rabbah, not surprisingly, associates this verse with the Garden of Eden – because the word ‘kedem‘ occurs twice in the opening chapters of Genesis.
But curiously, Eikhah Rabbah declines the opportunity to quote the verse that would make an association between ‘kedem‘ and the Garden of Eden explicit:  ‘va-yita adonai elohim gan be-eden mi-kedem.’[8]

What does Eikhah Rabbah do instead?
כאדם הראשון כמד”א (כל מה דאמר) (בראשית ג’:כד) ויגרש את האדם וישכן מקדם לגן עדן-חדש ימינו כקדם[9]

 

The word ‘kedem‘ in Genesis 3:24 – ‘va-yigaresh et ha-adam, va-yashken mi-kedem le-gan eden et ha-k’ruvim, ve’et lahat ha-herev ha-mit’hapekhet…‘ – is not a word associated with the Garden of Eden itself, but a word associated with the EXILE from the Garden.

The decision to quote the word ‘kedem‘ from this verse, rather than from the creation story, indicates that, from the perspective of Eikhah Rabbah, “hadesh yameinu ke-kedem’ does NOT mean “renew our lives as they were in the Garden of Eden.” Rather, it means, “Renew our lives, as you renewed our lives after we were exiled from the Garden of Eden.”

“Hadesh yameinu ke-kedem” is then not a plea for restoration of a formerly perfect condition, but rather it is a plea for resilience, a plea for the ability to renew ourselves after future crises and dislocations, just as our lives have been renewed before. As Elie Wiesel said, “God gave Adam a secret – and that secret was not how to begin, but how to begin again.”[10]

Too often in life we are afraid to begin again. Yet that is precisely what G-d does each and every day. We read every morning in the liturgy המחדש בטובו בכל-יום תמיד מעשה בראשית, G-d renews in His kindness the works of creation EVERY DAY. Our G-d is not a Deist, setting the world into motion and then stepping away, but rather one who is actively involved in creation at every moment of every day. So too are we involved in creative acts of reinventing ourselves at every moment of every day as we are בצלם אלקים, made in the image of G-d.

Rabbi Naomi Levy, whose first book is called To Begin Again, writes, “An ordinary day is filled with all sorts of setbacks and challenges and confrontations and disappointments. We can let these setbacks stop us in our tracks. We can allow them to shake us. Or we can see them as opportunities for living a holy life.”[11] She offers the following prayer to those who feel shook up, either by news they have heard or by the current condition of an aspect of their lives: “When I panic, God, teach me patience. When I fear, teach me faith. When I doubt myself, teach me confidences. When I despair, teach me hope. When I lose perspective, show me the way-back to love, back to life, back to You. Amen.[12]

Spirituality is ultimately about surrender, a letting go, a letting be.[13] After all, we are human beings not human “doings.” Our ultimate success is not measured by what we did but rather by who we are. Soon after the death of Rabbi Moshe, Rabbi Mendel of Kotzk asked one of his disciples: ‘What was most important to your teacher?’ The disciple thought and then replied ‘Whatever he happened to be doing at the moment.’[14] It wasn’t his success with Daf Yomi (the daily study of Talmud), his devekut (clinging) in closely reaching G-d while at prayer or his Divrei Torah (sermons) but rather whatever he was doing, moment-by-moment and breath-by-breath.

Too often we focus on the “bottom line outcome” rather than the reality of the present. As someone who has transitioned from being outcome-oriented to being process-oriented, I have noticed this more and more and have had to let go of the desire to know the final outcome of everything. It has helped me recognize that there is indeed a spirituality to imperfection, to seeing that there is no one perfect answer to everything and that by virtue of our being humans we are imperfect beings.

As we begin the New Year 5779, let us take an honest reflection as to where our lives are currently at. May we appreciate the level we have reached in year 5778 in terms of intellectual, emotional and spiritual growth and may we aspire to reach an even higher מדריגה (level) in the coming year. For those who feel that they have taken a step back, I offer the following aphorism: “Spirituality involves continually falling down and getting back up again.”[15] For those who feel that they still have too far to go and that it is insurmountable, I offer the following prayer, also from Rabbi Naomi Levy:

Please, God, help me to recognize my frailty. May I always remember that no matter how far I have fallen, no matter how bleak my life may seem, no matter how lost I may feel, I can always begin again. Amen.[16]

Wherever we find ourselves at the present moment, let us close our eyes and take a deep breath in…and a deep breath out…

I invite us all to stay in the room together and continue with Hineni, a prayer lead by our Hazzan, acknowledging that no matter where we are at in terms of inner peace, intellectual aspirations or emotional well-being, we are present at this very moment. The word הנני means “here I am.” It means ‘I am present, just as I am, at this given moment, ready to engage in a dialogue with my Creator. The Cantor is saying, ‘Even if I do not feel worthy to do so, that I am insignificant among all of G-d’s creations, nevertheless will I, a mere human being, step before G-d to intercede on behalf of my קהל, my congregation, just as my ancestors Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel and Leah, did. In so doing, may my prayer be accepted before you, שומע תפילה, The One who Hears Prayer.’

We continue with Hineni on Page 124.

[1] This is based off Deuteronomy 31:19 “And now, write for yourselves this song, and teach it to the Children of Israel. Place it into their mouths, in order that this song will be for Me as a witness for the children of Israel.” Nedarim 38a takes this as the command for each person to write his/her own Torah Scroll.

[2] Rema on Shulchan Aruch Yoreh Deah Siman 270 Seif 1; This is based off Babylonian Talmud Menachot 30a.

[3] Guillaume Apollinaire was a French poet who lived at the end of the 19^th century and start of the 20^th. I found this poem in Ernest Kurtz and Katherine Ketcham, The Spirituality of Imperfection: Storytelling and the Search for Meaning (US, Bantam Books, 1992), p. 163.

[4] Ibid, p. 164.

[5] A-T, or ataxia-telangiectasia syndrome or Louis–Bar syndrome, is a rare, neurodegenerative, autosomal recessive disease causing severe disability.

[6] Rabbi Naomi Levy, Hope Will Find You: My Search for the Wisdom to Stop Waiting and Start Living, (New York: Harmony Books, 2010), pgs. 161.

[7] Ibid, p. 160.

[8] Genesis 2:8

[9] Eicha Rabba Parsha 5

[10] Sermon by Rabbi Rob Schienberg

[11] Rabbi Naomi Levy, Hope Will Find You: My Search for the Wisdom to Stop Waiting and Start Living, pgs. 192-93.

[12] Rabbi Naomi Levy, To Begin Again: The Journey Toward Comfort, Strength, and Faith in Difficult Times (New York: Ballantine Books, 1998), p. 180.

[13] The Spirituality of Imperfection, p. 168.

[14] The Spirituality of Imperfection, p. 151.

[15] Ibid, p. 192.

[16] To Begin Again, p. 112.

When I read the questionnaire put out by the Rabbinic Search Committee at the Jericho Jewish Center, one item that struck me was the answer to “What Are You Most Proud Of?” The first out of three answers was having two daily minyanim. This is indeed something to be proud of: synagogues which are much larger in size than JJC cannot claim the feat of both morning and evening minyanim to pray together as a community and for mourners to say Kaddish. In addition, people from all over come to the Jericho Jewish Center for daily minyan, most recently an Orthodox Sephardi man on Labor Day Weekend.

One of the challenges with any minyan is it can become easy to pray by rote. Traditionally the same people, those who are in a year of mourning, are the ones who daven, as they have a hiyuv (religious obligation). Over the years I’ve seen that each one has his[1] unique style. At the same time, he is saying the same words morning after morning and night after night. How can one continue to have inspiration to pray to G-d, the Ruler of Rulers, in a way which is spiritually moving and filled with kavana (proper intention) when the service is the same? This is a question we must also ask now, at the beginning of New Year 5779, when we are about to have two days in a row[2] with the same, elongated Musaf Amidah, as well as on Yom Kippur, when we say the Ashamnu 10 times and the Al Chet 8 times, continuing to enumerate the same list of sins.

One attempt at an answer can be derived from a story told by Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twerski, a rabbi from the Bovover Hasidic line who, like me, had his roots in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. In his book Living Each Day, one of his series of books in which he tries to instill each day with deeper spirituality and meaning, Rabbi Twerski writes the following: “At the Western Wall in Jerusalem I saw a blind man being led to the wall. He felt the stones with his fingertips, applied a gentle kiss to the sacred stones, and began speaking to G-d. Although he spoke very rapidly, I could catch some of the words. He was relating to G-d various things that had happened to him, and some of his requests.

At one point he stopped abruptly. ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I already told You that yesterday.’ The sincerity of the man’s prayer was electrifying. He had no doubt whatever that what he said yesterday had been heard.”[3]

This story might strike us as surprising: why would this man not say the same thing to G-d day after day? After all, that’s what we do in daily minyan, save personal additions that we can add to our Silent Amidah. Rabbi Twerski, however is getting at a deeper truth-prayer is a conversation we are having with G-d. Just as in a conversation with a person we do not want to belabor or repeat points ad nauseum, so too must we avoid doing so with HaKadosh Baruch Hu, G-d almighty. The conversation must have new elements each and every day; otherwise it loses its import.

This brings us to a conundrum: we live in an age with a standardized Siddur, or prayerbook, with a list of prayers we are required to say. How can we turn these prayers from being a ‘laundry list’ to becoming something which inspires and touches the soul? In order to begin this process, it would be wise to follow Sherwin’s example, to ‘understand what we are reading.’ If we do not know Hebrew, now would be a good time to start taking a class on Tuesday evenings at the Jericho Jewish Center or to take me up on my offer-which still stands-of learning 1-on-1 until a point is reached when you can become an Adult Bar/Bat Mitzvah. With that being said, how does that help us now when we are already at High Holidays 5779? For that I would argue that in order to have meaningful High Holy Days (days which are instilled in holiness), we should view our prayers, whether they are on or off the page-as part of a conversation with G-d. These services are opportunities to communicate with a Higher Power, not only to make pleas and requests but also to converse as one would with a longtime friend or as the old man did in the vignette Rabbi Twerski shared. While this might be a more prescient time to do connect with G-d, our tradition teaches that we must do so each and every day. Like in sports, we need to practice before we reach the game: we must be continually mindful of where our relationship with G-d is at. If we do not, if we do not strive to engage with G-d between Yom Kippur and the following Rosh Hashanah, than it should be no surprise to us if we are unable to obtain the deep, meaningful connection for which we strive.

Therein lies the importance of our daily minyan-the Jericho Jewish Center provides twice daily opportunity to have a conversation with G-d. Sometimes the conversation might be praying by rote in English or Hebrew and might not be spiritually inspiring. However, by making the effort, we will get closer to achieving that connection for which we strive. It’s why I believe Rabbi Richardson’s z”l innovation of personal prayer before the Ark at Neilah became so powerful here: it’s the moment when it’s just you and G-d conversing with one another. That “spiritual high” does not need to be reserved for once a year: there’s the opportunity to aspire for it each and every day at minyan at the Jericho Jewish Center. I’ve seen people elongate their prayer and come before the ark after the service formally concludes to speak to G-d. That is something that each and every one of us has the opportunity to do, regardless of our knowledge of Hebrew or of the fixed liturgy.

As we officially enter New Year 5779, let us each strive to be like the old man who had the conversation with G-d in front of the Kotel. When we feel lost in the service, unsure of what to do during a long Hebrew recitative by our Hazzan or a choral piece by the choir, may we take a deep breath, close our eyes and enter into a conversation with our Creator. In so doing, may we find that this years’ service has an even greater level of spiritual integrity than those of the past as we strive to reach לעלא לעלא, a higher and higher relationship with G-d. May that spirit also transcend the High Holy Days and reach into the coming year, as we strive to converse with G-d at daily minyanim and at Shabbat services.

We continue with a responsive reading on Page 20 in the Mahzor, “How to Number Our Days.”

[1] I say his because women are not allowed to lead services at the Jericho Jewish Center minyan.

[2] Or one long day, יומא אריכתא

[3] Abraham Twerski, Living Each Day (Brooklyn, NY: Mesorah Publications, 1992), p. 70 (9 Kislev).

אתם נצבים היום כלכם-all of you stand here this day before G-d.[1] What does it mean to stand before G-d? Moses makes it clear that every Israelite male (כל איש ישראל) along with the women, children, and foreigners (non-Israelites) in the midst needs to be before G-d, saying מחטב עציך עד שואב מימיך-from the wood chopper to the water drawer.[2] Why is this the case? לעברך בברית ה אלקיך ובאלתו-to pass before G-d in order to enter into a convent with Him.[3]

There are quite a number of parallels between the beginning of this week’s parsha, which is always read on the Shabbat before Rosh Hashanah, and the prayer Unetaneh Tokef. In that majestic piyut (liturgical poem) the Hazzan sings וכל-באי עולם תעביר לפניך כבני מרון, “All the people of the world pass before you (one-by-one) like a flock of sheep.” This is even broader than our Torah portion: in Parshat Nitzavim, Israel and all associated with Israel pass before G-d, whereas in the piyut U’netaneh Tokef every person in the world passes before G-d. The origin of this is the second Mishnah in tractate Rosh Hashanah which reads בראש השנה כל באי העולם עוברין לפניו כבני מרום[4]   The one difference is that the Mishnah gives us the agency as the ones who pass before G-d, whereas Unetaneh Tokef says that G-d has the agency, compelling us to pass before Him.

Parshat Nitzavim on the other hand says nothing about agency. Are all of Israel their followers standing at assembly because G-d compelled them to be, out of respect for Moses, or out of their own volition to do so? Whatever the source of agency, the Israelites are there for one specific purpose: לעברך בברית, to pass before you (G-d) for the sake of covenant. Just as we are required to pass before G-d in two days, on Rosh Hashanah, so too were our ancestors required to pass before G-d before they were granted the זכות, the merit, of entering the Land of Israel.

What lesson can this teach us as we are on the brink of entering the year 5779? Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev, a 3^rd generation Hasidic rebbe, had a radical interpretation based off this. He wrote that by standing before G-d and by looking to/turning towards Him, our ancestors were imbued with the quality of “facing” (panim)-just as Moses interacted with G-d panim el panim (face to face). The G-d we are facing is called “your G-d” (אלוקיכם); not someone else’s but YOUR G-d. Therefore, by standing together facing G-d, goodness will be poured out for Israel. By our ancestors’ turning towards G-d, G-d turned towards them and goodness was brought out for them.[5] As John Gottman teaches, successful relationships require both members of a couple to turn towards the other, especially when in conversation. This is precisely what we are asked to do when we converse with G-d in prayer.

In conversation, notice how many times you turn towards or away from someone with your body. Nonverbal communication, which social scientists say makes up as much as 90% of our communication, demonstrates whether or not someone wants to be engaged or is truly disinterested and just “going through the motions.” Our ancestors sought to engage G-d no matter what their position: the woodchopper was there along with the כהן גדול, the High Priest. Because Israel was united, they merited שפע, the abundance of G-d’s blessing they would receive upon entering Israel, as well as this new ברית, or covenant with G-d. Similarly, on Rosh Hashanah, when we pass before G-d, if we turn towards Him, seeking Him out as someone with whom to engage openly in an active, loving relationship, we too shall receive blessing.

Some of us might feel this makes no sense: does G-d really respond based off our engagement with Him? Does G-d really answer our prayers? For those who have doubts about this, let us turn to the following Hasidic teaching about the Selicha, or penitential prayer, Hu Yaanenu (הוא יעננו): Said Rabbi (Simcha) Bunam: “I find among the Selihot a prayer which reads ‘May He who answered Abraham on Mount Moriah answer me.’ Had I been the author of this Selihah, I would have worded it thus, ‘May He who has answered me until now answer me at present as well.’ There exists no person who G-d has not answered many times.”[6]

We do not always know when G-d will answer us. At the same time, we long for a relationship with The Unknowable One, and often find G-d’s presence where and when we least expect it. As we prepare to begin Rosh Hashanah, let us gather ourselves as our ancestors gathered themselves when preparing to enter the Land of Israel. In two days, we will have Jews of every stripe here along with their admirers and allies. Let us recognize that regardless of one’s background or religiosity, they too are seeking what we are seeking: a relationship with The Almighty One. We need them in order to make our community all the more complete. May we welcome one another here as we prepare to stand before G-d one-by-one awaiting the judgment of what the Jewish New Year will bring for us. לשנה טובה תכתבו ותחתימו, may we each be inscribed in the Book of Life this year.

[1] Deuteronomy 29:9

[2] Deuteronomy 29:10

[3] Deuteronomy 29:11

[4] Mishnah Rosh Hashanah 1:2

[5] Kedushat Levi on Deuteronomy 29:9-based off Talmud Rosh Hashanah 34b.

[6] Ernest Kurtz and Katherine Ketcham, The Spirituality of Imperfection: Storytelling and the Search for Meaning (US, Bantam Books, 1992), p. 177.

As the Catholic priest Erasmus[1] said, “The clothes make the man.” I’ve been bothered by this statement for years. Why should what we wear influence what people think of us? There is the rabbinic principle of מראית עין, that people judge based on what they see rather than what is in actuality.[2] Then again, there is the statement I learned from my Senior Rabbi in Tucson that “perception is reality.”

I gave further thought to Erasmus’s statement when I wrote my weekly email on Parshat Tetzaveh about Aaron’s sacral vestments as Kohen Gadol (High Priest). Two of the questions I asked for contemplation were, “Does it really matter which garments we are wearing at any given time? If it does, how does what you wear change how you feel or how people respond to you?”

A congregant who shall remain anonymous responded via email as follows: “Unfortunately, perception is people’s reality. What you wear is how people measure you up. It is all about material things in this world. People only want to associate themselves with people who are successful (measured by financial status and not moral or religious standards). However, people get appalled; if you state what I just stated publicly they will get outraged, as you have insulted them by this truth. So, sadly yes it does matter what you wear. You dress in a suit every day you get respect; if you don’t, they will not think very highly of you no matter your level of education. Very sad, but true. Personally, I think you should not be judged based on your clothes, as people who don’t have the means to wear glorified clothing are human beings too and should get the same respect. Why should people get respect for what they wear and not what they do or who they are?”

There’s a rabbinic principle of תכו כברו, that one’s inside needs to match his/her outside. Rabban Gamliel, who happened to be from a well-to-do family, ensured that this needed to happen when he served as Nasi (head) of the Sanhedrin (the “Jewish Supreme Court” consisting of 23 or 71 members, depending on the time period). In order to be part of Rabban Gamliel’s Beit Midrash (House of Study), one needed to have integrity of character while also looking the part of a scholar.[3] If one just had the fancy clothes or the yihus (lineage) of a scholarly family but was corrupt of moral character, s/he would not have been admitted to Rabban Gamliel’s Beit Midrash. One’s תוך, or inside, needed to match his בר, or outside.

Why bring this up at Parshat Ki Tetzei? For those who saw my verse and questions for the week, you might have noticed the focus on the following: “A woman must not put on man’s apparel, nor shall a man wear women’s clothing; for whoever does these things is abhorrent to the LORD your G-d.”[4] In the 21^st century, what is considered man’s clothing and what is designated as women’s clothing?

When I first came to Jericho, Karina was the only woman wearing a tallit. I spoke to a Ritual Chair who said that women do not customarily wear tallitot at the Jericho Jewish Center because it is considered בגד איש (men’s clothing).[5] This was a bit of a shock for me coming from a JTS where female rabbinical and cantorial students were required to take on the obligations of wearing tallit and tefillan[6] and from a synagogue in Tucson, where some women chose to wear tallitot.

With that being said, let us not focus on my experience but rather on what it means to have gender restricted clothing in the 21^st century-and whether such restrictions should still exist. It is not so long ago when women were forbidden to wear pants at many Conservative congregations because it was considered men’s clothing. Today it’s more common for women to wear pants to synagogue. Similarly, the only time a man would wear a dress is on Purim. However, in Scotland it’s quite normal for men to wear kilts.

On one hand, the issue of “the clothes make the man” is culturally relative. On the other, there are still some established perceptions as to what is “women’s clothing” and what is “men’s clothing;” and we know that perception is reality. A few of the women I know who wear tallitot have told me they would be uncomfortable wearing tefillan because the black boxes feel “masculine” to them. This touches on (but cannot address fully today) the issue of gender norms and whether we are heading towards a “gender free” society or one which still has gender boundaries.[7] Related to that is whether egalitarian means “exactly the same,” “separate but equal,” or something else.

I chose this mitzvah of avoiding the “abhorrence” of crossdressing out of the 74 mitzvot in Parshat Ki Tetzei because I felt it is a timely topic, not only for the synagogue but also for life in general. Too often the push for egalitarianism has been not only about “equal rights,” with which I strongly agree, but rather about a belief that men and women are exactly the same, with which I strongly disagree.[8] Equal opportunity should not attempt to minimize differences between any people, regardless of gender or sexuality. I respect those who feel it is imperative to keep the distinctions of בגד איש (gendered clothing) just as I respect those who don’t want to deny anyone the opportunity to wear what s/he desires. At the end of the day, however, I don’t want us to lose sight of the bigger picture, the need to focus on תכו כברו, matching our insides to our outsides. Let us never forget to do that, and in so doing may we always have integrity and may we be slow to judge others regardless of how they appear to us on the outside.

[1] Erasmus, a Humanist and great scholar of the northern Renaissance, was born in 1466 in Rotterdam, Netherlands and died in 1536 in Basel, Switzerland.

[2] An example is one could not wear a kippah in a non-kosher restaurant, even if s/he is just eating cold lettuce, because others might see him/her there and assume the restaurant is kosher or (even worse) presume you are eating treif (non-kosher food).

[3] Babylonian Talmud Brachot 28a

[4] Deuteronomy 22:5. The word “abhorrent,” or תועבה, is the same word that is used in the prohibitions of masculine same sex relations in Leviticus 18:22 and 20:13.

[5] The chair made clear to me that women are certainly welcome to wear tallitot at JJC; it just isn’t what is customarily done. I do not have time here to go into women’s exemptions from positive, time-bound mitzvot.

[6] A related discussion but not for today is the Conservative Movement’s debate on whether all women (not just women who are clergy) should be required to observe the mitzvoth of tallit and tefillan. Rabbi Karen Reiss Medwed began to write a Teshuvah (responsum) on this topic.

[7] A related topic is what those who are transgender do if we are still living in a society of gender norms. Not enough time to discuss this or the Kinsey Scale.

[8] The Talmud teaches that no two people are the same, so I don’t see how we can go the route of saying that all people, regardless of gender or sexuality are exactly the same.

An aufruf is a day of great excitement. After all it is another step towards the big wedding day. As we are so close to Jason and Jennifer’s wedding, it is natural for the couple to feel not only excitement but also perhaps fear and anxiety. After all, this is a life-changing moment.

Our parsha teaches about another life-changing moment; the battle for the Promised Land. Before entering the land, the שוטרים, or officers, gave a number of statements. One of them was מי האיש אשר ארש אישה ולא לקחה, ילך וישוב לביתו פן ימות במלחמה ואיש אחר יקחיה[1] “Who is the man who is betrothed but not married? Let him go back lest he die in battle and another marry her.” Parshat Ki Tetze expands on this, stating כי יקח איש אשה חדשה לא יצא בצבא ולא יעבר עליו לכל-דבר נקי יהיה לביתו שנה אחת ושמח את-אשתו אשר-לקח[2]. “When a man takes a bride, he shall not go out with the army or be assigned to it for any purpose; he shall be exempt one year for the sake of his household, to give happiness to the woman he has married.”

That’s a beautiful explanation for exemption from war. We know that the first year of marriage is supposed to be sweet, including the custom of dipping one’s challah into honey. However, there is another reason given for exemption for war that I want to touch on: מי האיש הירא , ורך לבב ילך וישב לביתו ולא ימס את-לבב אחיו כלבבו “Is there anyone afraid and disheartened? Let him go back to his home, lest the courage of his comrades’ flag like his.”[3] Fear is contagious and one who is afraid will likely translate that anxiety to his/her fellow, which is why they are exempt from battle.

Rabbi Nahman of Bratslav put it best when he said והעיקר לא לפחד כלל; the point is to never fear at all. Rabbi Nahman also talked about the danger of רוח נכאה, melancholy and עצבות רוח, depression, stating that they are the greatest sins of all.[4] When we feel these, we need to look for sparks of goodness to bring us out of them. Sometimes it’s as simple as listening to a niggun or deep breathing; other times it takes deep work. This is where faith comes in: believing that we are where we are meant to be and that G-d has an ultimate plan for us. Knowing that G-d and our partner are there to nurture and support us on our journey helps ensure that we are able to conquer any obstacle and gives us the faith that we need to move forward when we get stuck.

On a day like this, when we celebrate two becoming one, we acknowledge the importance of marriage as bringing people together, starting to transition two individuals to one household. Jason and Jennifer-I feel like I’m preaching to the choir, as you have known each other for many years (far longer than my wife and I have known each other), and you have grown only closer together during this time. Yet something happens after you leave the Huppah which has the potential to bring the two of you even closer together, supporting one another through both the highs and lows of life and having faith and courage when things are difficult that they will work out for good in the end.

My blessing for you, Jason and Jennifer, is to always communicate with one another and work together as a team whenever there is a challenging moment, or one of fear and anxiety. With the perpetual support of the other by your side, may you follow Rabbi Nahman’s maxim and never fear. Mazal Tov on reaching this joyous day! So that we can celebrate together, let us turn to Page 841 and read the sections designated for us.

[1] Deuteronomy 20:7

[2] Deuteronomy 24:5

[3] Deuteronomy 20:8

[4] Rabbi Nahman of Bratslav, Likutei Moharan, 282.

What is the proper way in which to pray to G-d? At the Institute for Jewish Spirituality, we explored prayer as not only something to do at services but as something to make part and parcel of our practice throughout the day. Often many of us (myself included) can get bored in prayer and pray by rote. That of course is not the ideal way to pray to  G-d, which bears forth the question “what is?”

One approach is given by Rabbi Nahman of Bratslav in his work Likkutei Moharan. In commenting on the verse beginning this week’s Torah portion, ואתחנן על ה בעת ההיא לאמר “and I entreated G-d at that moment saying…”[1] Rebbe Nahaman asserted דהנה אדם צריך להתפלל בדבקות גדול להשם יתברך, “A person needs to pray clinging to G-d.” Is it always possible to pray in such a state? Rebbe Nahman recognizes that it is not, continuingאך אם לפעמים יש עת, שאינו יכול להפלל בדבקות, אל יאמר: איני מתפלל כלל, מאחר שאינו יכול לכון כראוי ולהתפלל בדבקות, והתפילה אינו מקובלת, “If at times he’s not able to pray clinging to G-d, he should not say ‘Since I cannot intend myself as is proper and pray clinging to G-d, the prayer will not be received.” Rather what one should do is entreat to G-d תמיד, בין בדבקות בין אינו בדבקות, “always, whether or not he is able to cling to G-d.”[2]

Rebbe Nahman demonstrates here why Hasidut was so populist: it recognized the limitations of people. He knew that people could not always pray directly clinging to G-d, for there are far too many distractions pulling us away from G-d and toward worldly concerns. Rather than admonish his Hasidim for their lack of connection and concentration, Nahman said ‘That’s ok, no problem’[3] as he recognized that it was better to pray when diverted than to not pray at all. In so doing, he made people feel good about their efforts rather than guilty that they did not do better.

Rebbe Nahman continued describing what it is like to pray while clinging to G-d. He commented that Moses prayed before G-d בעת ההיא, at a particular time. What is that time? He writes הינו בעת שאזכה להתפלל בדבקות, שהוא בחינת שגורה תפלתי בפי, “It was a time when he merited to pray clinging to G-d, and that the words were fluent in his mouth.”[4] Have you ever had a time when words flow clearly from your mouth, when ‘it all just clicks?’ That is precisely what Rebbe Nahman is describing about Moses being before G-d. In our parsha, Moses is pleading with G-d to allow him to enter the Land of Israel, pouring out his heart onto his sleeve, begging for just one step into that special land. That level of intensity and devotion in one’s words is what Rebbe Nahman is arguing each and every one of us should have when we pray to G-d.

I know that’s extremely difficult if not impossible to do, and Rebbe Nahman does as well, for he states that when we cannot achieve such a state we should still pray and try to get there the next time. One of the fortunate things about praying three times a day is we get ample opportunities to pray to G-d and to make the words from our lips genuine and heartfelt rather than merely paying lip service to our obligation. That is what we must strive to do. We are now in the period between Tisha B’Av and Rosh Hashanah, a time of joy but also of introspection. During this time let each of us strive to make our words, our pleas and our entreaties aligned with what we feel in our hearts. In so doing, may we attempt to arrive closer to the level of Moshe and may the words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable before G-d.[5]

[1] Deuteronomy 3:23

[2] Rabbi Nahman of Bratslav, Likkutei Moharan, 99 ד”ה ואתחנן אל ה בעת ההיא לאמר

[3] Something my teacher, Rabbi Jordan Bendat-Appell, always says in meditation when our minds wander.

[4] Rabbi Nahman of Bratslav, Likkutei Moharan, 99  ד”ה בעת ההיא לאמר

[5] Based on Psalm 19:14

השיבנו ה אליך ונשובה חדש ימינו כקדם “G-d return us to You and we shall return; renew our days as in the days of old.”[1] We just chanted these words along with Cantor Cohen when the Torah was returned. Tonight we will recite these words twice along with Marc when we conclude the Book of Lamentations. What are we nostalgic for? It is clear on Tisha B’Av, when we mourn the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem, as well as in our daily liturgy, that we are mourning the lack of a central place of worship for all Jews. Similarly, each time we return the Torah, as we just did, we are mourning the fact that we need to say goodbye to the Torah until the next time we are privileged to read from it.

The nostalgia is absent from the Hasidic reading of this verse, however. In Kedushat Levi, Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev’s commentary on the Bible, he writes מאי כקדם, what is the significance of “as of old?” His conclusion is based on a passage from Deuteronomy, ועתה ישראל מה ה אלקיך שואל מעמל כי אם ליראה, “Now, O Israel, what does G-d demand of you? Only this: to fear G-d.”[2] He continues אין “ועתה” אלא תשובה; “There is no ‘now’ except to indicate a moment of repentance.

The return (נשובה) thus is not a return to a physical locale or time-travelling back to the past. Rather, it is an act of repentance designed to bring us back to G-d. Kedushat Levi continues, כל אדם ואדם מישראל מחויב להאמין באמונה שלימה שבכל רגע ורגע מקבל חיות מהבורא ברוך הוא, “Every Israelite is obligated to believe with complete faith that at every moment he receives vitality from the Blessed Creator.” Why? כי בעת שעושה תשובה, מאמין שהוא כעת בריה חדשה, “for at the moment that he repents, he believes that he has become a new creation.[3]

Thus in returning to G-d, we ourselves become renewed. Through doing the hard work of changing our behavior for the better, we become a different person. That’s not to say we can’t regress but rather that we strive each and every day to renew ourselves, becoming better people.

Tomorrow evening, when Tisha B’Av concludes, we will begin a seven week counting, similar to the counting of the Omer. This time, however, instead of counting to the giving of the Torah, we will be counting to the Jewish New Year of 5779. It is a great time to intensify our process of introspection, to see what we can be doing better and how moment-by-moment we can revitalize and renew ourselves. The hardest thing as we get older is that (we believe) it becomes harder to change, or who we are becomes more ingrained. The lesson of Kedushat Levi is to peel away that cynicism, believing that we are truly a different person, with infinite potential at each moment.

Between Tisha B’Av and Rosh Hashanah we will read seven Haftarot from the latter portion of Isaiah called the שבעה דנחמתא, the seven Haftarot of consolation. The message ingrained in these Haftarot is to believe that there is always the opportunity for change and for renewal, even when it feels remote and like a pipe dream. As the Talmud teaches us, [4]אמר ריב”ל (למשיח) אימתי אתי? מר אמר לו היום עם תשמע לקולו. Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi asked the Messiah, “When will you come.” He responded, “today, if you will listen to His voice.”

Today let us listen to the hidden messages we often gloss over or miss. May we look for the signs as to what we are meant to do today to make a difference or to change our behavior for the better. May we also look for opportunities to do Teshuva, not only in the sense of righting a wrong but equally as important to look for opportunities to modify our behavior and our thoughts for the better, so that we will be happier and feel more fulfilled. In so doing, may G-d take us back to Him, bringing us close in joy and gladness.

[1] Lamentations 5:21

[2] Deuteronomy 10:12

[3] Kedushat Levi on Eicha

[4] Babylonian Talmud Sanhedrin 98a based of Psalm 95:7

One of my favorite classic rock bands is Journey. At our Dueling Pianos event, I requested their song which Shake Rattle and Roll said was the 3^rd most popular request: Don’t Stop Believing. Parshat Masei, the second of our double portion, is all about the journey taken. The forty-two stops undertaken by the Israelites over the course of their journey from Egypt to Israel are all enumerated. Why are these steps mentioned? To indicate that the goal is not where one is at any particular moment but rather how one got there.

Rashi asks, “Why were these journeys recorded?” He answers (quoting from Rabbi Moshe HaDarshan’s commentary), “To make G-d’s benevolence known. For, although He decreed to move them about and cause them to wander in the wilderness, do not say that they wandered and were moved about from journey to journey all forty years and had no rest-for there are only forty-two journeys here. Subtract fourteen, which took place in the first year, before the punishment (to wander for forty years) their journey from Raamses until they reached Ritmah, where the spies were dispatched…exclude from there further eight journeys which took place after Aaron’s death, from Mount Hor to the plains of Moav during the fortieth year, and it is found that throughout the thirty eight years they took only twenty journeys.[1]

Twenty journeys in thirty-eight years-that’s not so many. At the same time, one can assert that the journeys were so long that they accompanied the entirety of the thirty-eight years. Gur Aryeh, a supercommetnary on Rashi, wrote that the Torah enumerates the journeys, since as the places were well-known it became obvious that the route was easily traveled in a short time.[2] Whereas the places are not well-known any more (I don’t know if anyone knows where Tahat or Almon Divlateimah are) they apparently were in biblical times which is why enumerating them demonstrates the journey’s route.

In addition, it is helpful to have all the stops detailed because it shows one looking back all that Israel accomplished. Today we end the Book of Numbers and thus the journeys of our people before reaching the Promised Land. Deuteronomy is called Mishneh Torah, Moses’ discourse in repeating Israel’s journeys, often putting his own spin on them. In looking back on Israel’s stops, we can see how far our ancestors came and how they grew as a nation-though often with “growing pains.” Similarly, a married couple “reminiscing through the years” reencounters specific landmark moments in their lives. Some were times of intense challenge, others points of exuberance. By having those stops in our journey through life documented, as our ancestors’ stops through the desert were, a couple can reflect on how much they’ve grown and how far they’ve come, just as Israel could do so by seeing a listing of all their stops. These stops, just place names or words, might not have any significance for us, but they certainly did for our ancestors.

Rob and Mar-you are about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime (literally)-marriage. Getting married is a half hour ceremony; being married takes constant work each and every day. There will be highs and lows in your relationship. Always remember that you are on a journey together as a team. If you make a mistake, learn from it and move on. If one of you is faltering, let the other step up as support.  When you look back after forty-two years of blissful marriage full of adventures, twists and turns and stops along the way, just like the forty-two stops made by our ancestors,  you’ll not only see where you are at that moment but how you got there, and I hope the process will make you smile. Mazal Tov on reaching this joyous day! So that we can celebrate together, let us turn to Page 838 and read responsively.

[1] Rashi on Numbers 33:1 ד”ה אלה מסעי

[2] Gur Aryeh on Numbers 33:1 ד”ה אלה מסעי

There’s an old joke about two people who come to have something adjudicated before a rabbi. One presents his side of the story and the rabbi replies, “You’re right.” The other presents his case, completely contradicting his fellow, and the rabbi replies, “You’re right.” The rabbi’s wife, in utter surprise, says “It’s impossible for both of them to be correct,” to which the rabbi replies, “You’re right.”

Related to this joke, we have the Baraita of Rabbi Yishmael which we read every morning at minyan.[1] The last of Rabbi Yishmael’s 13 principles is שתי כתובים המכחישים זה את זה, two verses which directly contradict one another. Unlike the joke, however, there is a resolution, as the principle continues עד שיבוא הכתוב השלישי ויכריע ביניהם, a third verse will come and adjudicate between them.  The third verse will generally put limitations on one or both of the other verses, saying that one or both of them only applies in a particular case or situation.

Enter Parshat Pinhas which at first glance appears to be a major victory for feminists. After the daughters of Zelophehad complain to Moses about their desire to inherit and he brings their case before G-d to adjudicate it, we read: “כן בנות צלפחד דוברות-The plea of Zelophehad’s daughters is just: you should give them a hereditary holding among their father’s kinsmen; transfer their father’s share to them. Further, speak to the Israelite people as follows: If a man dies without leaving a son, you shall transfer his property to his daughter. If he has no daughter, you shall assign his property to his brothers.”[2]

Next week in Parshat Masei we will read about the repercussions of that decision. Members of the tribe of Menasseh, of which Zelophehad was a member, said “G-d commanded my liege to assign the land to the Israelites as shares by lot, but G-d further commanded my liege to assign the share of our kinsman Zelophehad to his daughters. Now, if they marry persons from another Israelite tribe, their share will be cut off from our ancestral portion and be added to the portion of the tribe into which they marry; thus our allotted portion will be diminished.”[3] Beginning with the same words he used in rendering his original decision, Moses replies: “כן מטה בני-יוסף דוברים-The plea of the Josephite tribe is just. This is what G-d has commanded concerning the daughters of Zelophehad: They may marry anyone they wish, only into a clan of their father’s tribe shall they marry.”[4]

Just like the joke about both parties being right, Moses is saying that both Zelophehad’s daughters and the members of the tribe of Menasseh are both right, even though they contradict one another. On the one hand, Moses recognizes the right of the daughters of Zelophehad to marry whomever they wish, while concurrently he obligates them to marry within their tribe. The Talmud notes this contradiction, and suggests that while in principle a daughter who inherits her father’s estate is free to marry whomever she pleases, in reality that rule did not apply to the daughters of Zelophehad and the women of their generation. After all, it only specified that the daughters could inherit, not that they could marry whomever they wanted.[5] This answer seems like a cop-out to me, as it puts a limitation on Zelophehad’s daughters’ inheritance that was not mentioned when Moses brought their case before G-d. Nevertheless, it is the rabbis’ attempt to reconcile how both Zelophehad’s daughters and the tribal elders of Menasseh can both be right: that the daughters can inherit while concurrently Menasseh will not lose any of its land.

What is the lesson that we can take from this? The Torah is full of conflicting and competing principles. On one hand it wants to ensure that women have the right to inherit; on the other it needs to make sure that one tribe’s land does not become reduced because of a daughter inheriting, as the land passed from father to son. The way in which this is reconciled is to require Zelophehad’s daughters to marry within their tribe.

It is difficult to relate to this in an age when we want to protect all of our children. We write wills stating that our estate will be divided equally between our children, regardless of whether they are sons or daughters-and if we don’t, there’s often trouble after we’re gone. We also try to operate our business affairs in an egalitarian way. At the same time, it is easier for us to do this now as that we are not concerned about the apportionment of the Land of Israel or in treating each tribe equally.

At times we read passages in the Bible that appear to be contradictory: in one source the daughters should inherit; in another the land will pass through their husbands. Whenever we find a contradiction we attempt to reconcile it through looking at what the rabbis have said. At times we might find a satisfactory answer, at others we might feel the answer is weak or that it does not work for us in this day and age. The important thing is that we act like the Talmudic rabbis, doing our homework and try to reconcile the contradictions rather than simplistically throwing our hands in the air and saying the Torah makes no sense. Let us take time this summer to study Torah and in the process may we reconcile some things in our learning that previously seemed contradictory or irreconcilable.

[1] Sifra 1

[2]Numbers 27:7-9

[3] Numbers 36:2-3

[4] Numbers 36:5-6

[5] Babylonian Talmud Bava Batra 120a