Lighting the Ner Tamid

Rabbi Ben Herman , ,

          Parshat Tetzaveh has a couple of strange features. One is that it is the only Torah portion in Exodus through Deuteronomy not to mention Moses’ name. Another is that its beginning, the lighting of the Menorah, towards, but not at the end, of a chapter (Exodus 27:20).

          Rabbi Elliott Cosgrove of Park Avenue Synagogue gave a D’var Torah about this to the Executive Council of the Rabbinical Assembly, for which I am privileged to begin my second year of service. He pointed out that chapter divisions come from the 13th century, from the Archbishop of Canterbury, Stephen Langton. Langton connected the נר תמיד, the eternal light, with the accoutrements of the משכן, the tabernacle, as found in Terumah. In contrast, the rabbis had viewed it as connected to the obligations of the High Priest, so it goes in Tetzaveh.

          As Rabbi Cosgrove argued, the communal obligation of the משכן meets the priestly obligation of lighting the נר תמיד. In other words, the community needs to work together with the leadership, with the two meeting halfway.

          I think about how the rabbi meets with the congregational leadership. In a breakout session, Rabbinical Assembly and United Synagogue CEO Jacob Blumenthal shared that the two things that make for thriving congregations, more than demographics, are a visionary rabbi and a collaborative lay and staff culture. This makes sense: synagogues need to have their Board and staff working in concert with one another and must have a vision of where they’re going. Without these two aspects, there is confusion and tension. A rabbi without a vision is a functionary; a congregation not in harmony with its staff can breed toxicity.

          How does one achieve this? The sermon Rabbi Cosgrove said he is giving this Shabbat is the leadership of Vashti versus that of Esther: when do we need to stand on our principles versus when do we need to compromise/adapt? That is a false dichotomy-at times one certainly needs to do both. With that being said, to adapt Israel Salanter, a rabbi who never takes a stand is no rabbi; a rabbi who refuses to compromise is a fool.

          Our challenge as a congregation is to light the eternal light steadfastly holding to tradition, while recognizing that like the משכן we must move and adapt to new circumstances and new situations. Finding the balance between the two can be tricky; however, we need to put in the work to make it so. We also must remember not to fear כי אהיה עמך, for God is with us in this holy work.

Being Present Rather than Constantly Doing

Rabbi Ben Herman , , , ,

          It is such a pleasure to be here for the Shabbat aroosi (“Shabbat wedding”) for David and Danielle. I have done my share of aufrufs during my rabbinic career, but this is the first Shabbat aroosi -celebration of the couple the Shabbat after their wedding. It was an honor to have yours be the first wedding I have officiated at Mosaic Law Congregation, alongside Cantor Noah Rachels and Rabbi Emeritus Reuven Taff.

I will never forget a conversation I had while doing a rabbinic internship at the Jewish Council on Urban Affairs in Chicago. Two days a week I went into South Chicago to intern at the Inner-City Muslim Action Network: a Jew working with Muslims to do criminal justice reform mostly for inner city African American Christians. I am by nature a person who likes excitement and adventure, wanting to change the world, and I was frustrated that some days were very slow at the office. I spoke with my mentor, Kyle Ismail, who said to me, “Ben you care about doing, but just your being present here means a great deal.”

I was flummoxed by Kyle’s statement: being present? Aren’t we supposed to be doing things to make a difference? After all, we do a lot in Judaism, whether it is preparing for Shabbat, coming together for daily minyan, or designing and participating in programming like our 125th Anniversary Gala on May 18th. Yet I think there is an inherent truth in knowing our personal limits and when we must undertake some tzimtzum, changing our focus from constantly doing things to being present with whatever we are encountering. After all, we are human beings, not human doings. Moses is often thought of as impatient, one who wants to lead through action, yet even he is required to wait 40 days and 40 nights for the stone tablets to be written by the finger of G-d at the end of Parshat Mishpatim.[1]

Also, towards the end of Parshat Mishpatim, our ancestors demonstrated that they were all for doing. They said כל אשר דבר ה נעשה ונשמע-all that G-d has spoken we will do and we will hear.[2] At times they were impatient and overeager to do, such as when we read the making of the golden calf.[3] At times one needs to be present rather than rushing to do-a lesson I’m reminded of all too often.

With Thursday’s horrific events in Israel, I wanted to rush and do something. We had a moving service where we read 2 psalms and did a communal Kaddish during our Mincha/Maariv minyan on Thursday evening. However, I recognized that being present with our congregation was meaningful in and of itself. Never lose sight of the impact of your presence. Also please join us at Beth Shalom on Tuesday for a memorial service and vigil of solidarity.

The question of doing versus being reminds me of a Talmudic debate. Rabbi Tarfon and the Elders were reclining in the loft of the house of Nit’za in Lod, when this question was asked of them: Is study greater or is action greater? Rabbi Tarfon jumped up and says “Action.” How many of us would agree? After all, we are a people who values deeds, subscribing to the maxim that “actions speak louder than words.” Rabbi Akiva, however, disagreed, asserting that study is greater. The other Sages agreed with Rabbi Akiva, albeit with a caveat: study is greater because it leads to action.[4] Studying Torah and Jewish texts and traditions have the potential to shape our mindset in making the best decisions that we can.

David and Danielle have demonstrated that thoroughly to me. I had the privilege of learning with Danielle for the last number of months. Before that, she took numerous Melton courses, and she has always applied her learning to her work and her community. David has grown not only through his Jewish education here in Sacramento but also taking on new roles in our Selichot play. Both David and Danielle will be in our Purim Shpiel next month-a script written by David’s mother Mehrnaz that is sure to delight 😊. This is certainly an active couple: between your demanding jobs, your numerous friends and your shared interests, you are always on the move. We are so happy to have you here today and to celebrate your love for each other.

          David and Danielle, at your wedding I gave you the advice to remain one another’s best friends, always putting your love above any frustration or disagreement at hand. Today I have different advice-always be present for one another when the other needs you. This is easier said than done with your demanding work schedules: Danielle being the manager of social responsibility for the Sacramento Kings and David being a tax lawyer focusing on commercial real estate. It will get even harder when (G-d willing) you have the children you desire.           I often share at weddings that whether you know each other for 9 months (as Karina and I did when we got married), 8.5 years (as you two did) or somewhere in between, something changes when you walk out from under that Huppah.  I can’t put words to it but know it to be true not only from my experience and from seeing the gleam in your eyes at the reception but also from watching the previous 21 couples at whose weddings I’ve officiated. This is a consecrated, holy moment that I want you to revel in and let it linger for a while. We are so happy to have reached this day, and I am going to ask us to recite together the Sheheheyanu for its arrival.

[1] Exodus 24:12 God said to Moses, “Come up to Me on the mountain and wait there, and I will give you the stone tablets with the teachings and commandments which I have inscribed to instruct them.”

[2] Exodus 24:7

[3] Exodus 32

[4] Babylonian Talmud Kiddushin 40b

From Uncertainty to Joy: My Trip to Israel

Rabbi Ben Herman , , ,

          In Parshat VaYishlach, Jacob feared the worst upon going to see Esau. He divided his camp into half, thinking if one half is murdered the other half will survive. However, he got an unexpected, good outcome-his brother hugged and kissed him, and they cried. If we put aside the midrashic take that Esau tried to bite Jacob and Jacob’s neck turned to marble (so Esau cried over his teeth being broken), the situation is a reconciliation. Esau even offered for Jacob to join him and to send men to accompany Jacob and his family.

Like Jacob, I was uncertain and anxious for my trip to Israel for the Rabbinical Assembly convention, as this was my first time in Israel since October 7th. Last time I visited was after a war, Guardian of the Walls in 2021, also on a too short 4-day trip. This time Israel is still at war, I was excited to go but nervous at the same time. I could sense Jacob’ anxiety and trepidation before his encounter with Esau. While I was not surprised by how quiet it was, I was saddened to see firsthand how hard the tourism industry has been hit. Ben Yehuda Street was empty, and the shuk wasn’t booming. It felt too quiet, and I hope tourism will return.

There were so many things during the visit that inspired me, and I will focus on my visit to the Gaza Envelope. For me this was the most important part of the trip. We began at Kibbutz Ruhama, where 70 percent of the kibbutzniks from Kfar Aza are living temporarily until their kibbutz is restored. A kibbutz of just over 800 people suddenly had to absorb 115 families, a microcosm of what Israel as a whole went through in absorbing 800,000 Jews from Arab countries in the late 1940s and early 1950s. The residents of Kibbutz Ruhama have done so with happiness, rolling up their sleeves and getting to work in building temporary housing. We joined them for one morning, making benches for the new, temporary residents. It was a sign that no matter how much destruction occurs, we will rebuild. Even in the midst of fear of terror attacks and missile strikes, this land is home to the residents, most of whom would never think of leaving.

 This was echoed by our visit to Sderot, the closest city to Gaza. I had been to some of the kibbutzim bordering Gaza which are closer to the border, most recently to Kfar Aza, but never to Sderot, where you have 9 seconds to get into a bomb shelter after hearing the siren. Seeing the indoor playground, built by Jewish National Fund as a refuge for kids waiting out the missiles, reminded me of an important lesson: when there is so much uncertainty and PTSD, you need to create a sense of normalcy. We went afterwards to the Sderot police station, which had been taken over by Hamas who put a sniper on top of the building. We learned how Israel destroyed the police station on October 7th in order to take out the terrorists and a brave policeman who had been in synagogue earlier in the day got to the 3rd floor and took out the sniper. We saw the “Eternal Pillars” memorial, made out of 18 pillars, itself symbolic of the Hebrew word חי-life, The inside of the pillars spelled out the words עם ישראל חי-the people of Israel live. What was most significant to me was seeing the mural chosen by the residents of Sderot: A Torah scroll with the letters flying to heaven. It comes from the story of Hananiah ben Teradion, who upon gruesomely being burnt by the Romans while wrapped in a Torah scroll, told his students, “The Hebrew letters are flying upwards”-in other words, they are eternal and can never be taken away from us. One thing which is certain in all the craziness of life is our rootedness to Torah and to our tradition.

The most inspiring part of the trip was visiting the Adi Negev center, the only rehabilitation center in the south of Israel. It has 170 residents, 190 special education students (from toddlers to 21 years of age), an integrated kindergarten and the only rehabilitation hospital in the south of Israel. What Adi Negev teaches is that everyone, no matter what disabilities or special needs they have, is of equal worth. As founder Doron Almog used as his motto, “don’t leave anyone behind.” I learned how Adi Negev gives hands-on training to those with disabilities in gardening, taking care of the animals and innovative therapies (equine, sports and hydro, not to mention a therapeutic petting zoo), to enable people written off by society to exceed far beyond expectations. I saw a walker that grows alongside a child with frequent scans of their exoskeleton and shoe sizes-the walker expands as they grow. Some of these children were told they never could walk and yet they are able to with the walker’s help. I learned that if one is accepted by the government to Adi Negev, it is free for life. The Israeli government takes the most expensive and complicated part of life and makes it the least expensive and least complicated. I learned of the miracle in that Adi Negev, despite having only 7 people with weapons trying to guard 40 acres, got through October 7th untouched, with Hamas Humvees passing by targeting army bases in Ofakim beginning at 7am. At 6:55 am 2 vans passed with 50 Adi Negev workers entered unscathed. As the guide said, he feels they have a different Iron Dome: divine providence looking out for them because of what they do. While I’m not certain that I agree with his theology, especially as a care worker named Tina who left Adi Negev at 7:00 am was not as fortunate, I was impressed by their incredible work and hope to bring a speaker from Adi Negev to Sacramento.

Two last things which were inspiring-first davening (praying) at the egalitarian Kotel at Robinson’s Arch. This is the southern part of the retaining wall from Second Temple times. The air was fresh, and the temperature was cool, but we had the warmth of colleagues together. I have been to Robinson’s Arch numerous times, yet this time I learned that they have up to 40 B’nai Mitzvah a week and have capacity to hold up to 6 at a time. It is an option I highly recommend for those who want to do a B Mitzvah in Israel.

I also want to mention how exhilarating it was to be with colleagues and singing Aheinu (we are all brothers and sisters) interlocking arms. We did this twice: at the hostage tent outside of the Knesset (Israeli parliament) where we did a brief ceremony imploring to bring the hostages home, and at the closing event.  Being with Conservative/Masorti rabbis from all over the world was deeply moving and meaningful, and I don’t take that opportunity for granted.

Like Jacob’s story, this was a trip beginning with uncertainty and ending with joy.  I was so glad to have this opportunity to go to Israel. Next time I hope to go with you when we are able to reschedule our congregational trip to Israel. Am Yisrael Chai.

Focus on The Task at Hand

Rabbi Ben Herman , , ,

I want to welcome everyone from the newly established New Frontier Jewish Youth to Sacramento for your first ever Kinus. So wonderful to join with you for a Shabbat of prayer, learning, good food and of course fun. This experience will be as inspirational for us here at Mosaic Law as it will be for you.

Parshat VaYera begins rather strangely. Abraham, after being circumcised as the ripe old age of 99, has God appear before him at the opening of his tent at the heat of the day. All of a sudden Abraham looked up and behold-there were three men coming towards him. Abraham appears to stop his conversation with God in that moment and runs towards the men.[1] How could Abraham do this? God is fulfilling the Mitzvah of bikkur holim, visiting the sick, and Abraham is running off to greet others?

The Meor Einayim, the original Chernoblyer Rebbe, has a great teaching on this. He tells: this is what really happened to our Father Abraham. He was in the midst of “greeting the Divine (shekhinah),” as we learn from the phrase The Lord appeared to him. But when he saw the guests coming, he asked of God: “As I go out to fulfill the commandment of welcoming these guests, Pass not away, I pray You, from Your servant! May I remain attached to You in that act too, so that this not be an empty performative act (mitzvah)! Be with me so that I may perform this act (mitzvah) in such a state that it too will be a ‘welcoming of the Divine (shekhinah).'” Now Rav’s point that the welcoming of guests is greater than greeting the Divine (shekhinah) is proven by Abraham’s action. Were this not the case, Abraham would hardly have left off a conversation with God to go do something of less certain value, a situation in which he had to ask that there too the Divine (shekhinah) be present. This is especially true since “They appeared to him as wandering nomads”; to him they did not have a divine appearance. The deed (mitzvah) itself was very great even if it were not a “greeting of the Divine (shekhinah).” Abraham was seeking to fulfill this commandment with absolute wholeness. Therefore he said: “Do not pass away, I pray you, from your servant.”[2]

The lesson from Abraham’s example is that even if we are in the midst of something, we need to open our eyes to the situation around us. I want everyone here to turn to someone you do not know, say Good Shabbos, and introduce yourself. As we begin an exciting weekend together, I hope that, no matter what you are preoccupied with, you will take moments to life your eyes and to see how to respond to the moment at hand-whether it is someone in need or a moment you need to take for self-care. Be aware of the others around you and the limited time we have and make the most of it.

[1] Genesis 18:1-3

[2] Meor Einayim Text 4. Translation by Rabbi Adam Gindea.

Avraham HaIvri

Rabbi Ben Herman , , , ,

I am honored to have signed to serve as your rabbi at Mosaic Law Congregation through 2030. Thank you for the trust you have put in me. Looking forward to many more wonderful years together.

Eight years ago I talked about the controversy regarding Sarah being Avram’s sister or wife and where the truth lies. Four years ago the election was called immediately following my sermon. This year I am going to talk about what makes Avram such an important paradigm for our people. Avram had to go off on his own to a new land to which he had never been. He had to leave whatever he knew and go to a different place. Avram is well-known for many things in Judaism: the progenitor of our people, multiple covenants with God and acquiring great standing and wealth. However, Avram is best known as ha-ivri, the Hebrew, one who crossed over from one way of life to another.  This was a process: Avram was not known as ha-ivri until Genesis 14, when a refugee told him about Lot’s abduction.[1] That was the sign that he crossed over from being one of the masses to choosing the way of life of his family.

It takes time to cross from one point of view to another. Things are a process-be patient. I want us all to try to be ivriim and cross over to others’ perspectives. If you are jubilant about the election results, try to put yourself in the shoes of someone who is devastated. If you are upset with the results, try to walk in the shoes of someone who feels their hopes and dreams have been fulfilled. It’s one of the hardest things to do. I’ve had people tell me “I will never understand how someone can vote for ________.” Yet part of crossing over is trying to understand the other’s perspective.

The second lesson to learn is to be resilient and strong. In Lech Lecha, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks said “Go with yourself-your beliefs, your life, your faith.”[2] The lesson here is don’t change the work you’re doing if there’s an outcome you don’t like-rather fight harder for what you believe in. In life it’s often hard to move forward; that’s where our Haftarah comes in. Isaiah says words which we recite every morning. God gives strength to the weary, vigor to the spent.[3] Whatever your position, this election season was exhausting with numerous ads, text messages and phone calls asking for donations or for “your vote.” Now that it’s over it’s time to get back to work and make the world a better place. Never forget that the very root of Judaism, being an ivri, means having the faith and fortitude to stand apart from the crowd and stand up for what you most deeply believe.[4]

The most important lesson is what I am most concerned with-bringing together our congregation with love. We need to remember that we are a Beit Knesset, a house of gathering. As Maimonides wrote, the Beit Knesset was on the highest point in the city. This reminded everyone in the congregation that we were meant to hold high standards and ideals.[5] We need to get on the balcony[6] at the 30,000 foot view rather than getting mired in the muck.

It’s fitting that we are honoring veterans today. Those who are active-duty military are not allowed to engage in any partisan activity even if they want to from the depths of their kishkes. It is similar to what many are looking for in their synagogue: a place where people go as a reprieve from politics. We often avoid these issues because of the increasing challenge of showing basic human decency and respect to one another. However I propose that we must come together and talk face-to-face, rather than engaging in Facebook posts and X-Wars. That is why I have created the Israel listening circles, and we should do the same on domestic issues. We need to talk to those with whom we disagree and genuinely hear and try to understand their point of view. I will be at the back table today at Kiddush and if you choose to join me, I look forward to hearing your perspectives.

In the days and weeks ahead, may we strive to follow the mandate G-d gave to Avram, התהלך לפני והיה תמים, walk with me and have integrity.[7] At times this involves turning from what is familiar and figuratively crossing over to a different path, putting yourself in another’s shoes. It’s not always easy to do but it is important if we want to learn from one another and grow in our connection to one another and our understanding as to what God wants from us.

[1] Genesis 14:13

[2] Jonathan Sacks Covenant and Conversation: Genesis

[3] Isaiah 40:30

[4] Hebrew: Ivri (עִבְרִי) – Survival of the Faithful – Chabad.org

[5] Thank you to Rabbi Nicole Guzik for this insight in her Parshat Noah sermon

[6] Ronald Heifetz, Alexander Grashow and Marty Linsky, Adaptive Leadership

[7] Genesis 17:1

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