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.

What is Rosh Hashanah all about? Some may say doing teshuvah, or repentance for sins. Others believe it is welcoming in the new year, the anniversary of the creation of the world. Yet others feel it is being judged by God for one’s behavior; that on Rosh Hashanah our decree is written yet on Yom Kippur it is sealed. While all of these opinions are valid, I believe the central theme of Rosh Hashanah is remembering the covenant between God and the Jewish people, as well as the covenant between each of us as human beings. We do not lose sight of the fact that just as God had a special and unique relationship with our ancestors, so too does God have one with us.

The Selichot prayers (prayers for forgiveness) that we said this past week and continue to recite through Yom Kippur center on remembering the covenant between God and our patriarchs Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Prayers such as “ki anu amecha”, “ki hinei kahomer” and the zichronot (remembrance) section of the amidah beseech God to remember His ever-present covenant with the Jewish people. Furthermore, yesterday’s Torah reading is a reminder of God remembering his promise to Sarah for her to have a child, demonstrating the beginning of God’s promise to Abraham to make his descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky. It also shows that God cares about how God relates to us. As said in Abraham Joshua Heschel’s work Between God and Man “To Jewish religion…history is determined by the covenant: God is in need of man,”[1] that in addition to us trying to connect with God, God is attempting to connect to us.

The concept of covenant, of ברית, goes back to Noah and the flood.[2] God will never again destroy the world, no matter how bad humanity is. The sign of this covenant is the rainbow in the clouds. This is a universal covenant, as nothing humanity can do will violate it. True it does say beforehand that humanity is supposed to be fruitful and multiply and not kill one another, but these statements are independent of the covenant being fulfilled.

Ten generations later we have another ברית, a covenant given to Abraham. God promises Abraham numerous descendants and the land of Canaan, from Nile River to the Euphrates River.[3] This is the basis for our people’s claim to the land of Israel. This also appears to be unconditional, with nothing required from Abraham or his descendants to attain it. However, God adds a condition for us to partake in the covenant: each male must be circumcised at the age of eight days. If not, it is so serious that he will be cut off from his kin for breaking the covenant.[4]

Which type of covenant do you prefer: one that’s conditional or one which is unconditional? I imagine that most of us would lean towards the latter, as that means that you are guaranteed of receiving the reward without any pressure of living up to one’s responsibility. However, even though the word ברית is used, Noah’s is not a covenant in the truest sense. Covenant requires partnership between two sides; that both parties live up to their obligations. Otherwise, it is just a gift, and while gifts are nice they are more appreciated if we work for them.

Covenantal ceremonies remain a core pillar of our congregations-the main example being welcoming newborns into our community. The  ברית מילהor bris that a baby boy has is how we affirm our covenant with God through welcoming him into the Jewish people and giving him a Hebrew name. There are also a growing number of שמחת בת ceremonies for baby girls, to give our daughters a Hebrew name and welcome then into the Jewish people.

In recent years, there has been a resurgence of emphasis on covenant, on what our personal relationship should be with God and with our people. Rabbis from all four major Jewish denominations (Eugene Borowitz in Reform Judaism, David Wolpe in Conservative, David Hartman of blessed memory in Orthodoxy and Sid Schwarz of Reconstructionist Judaism) have argued for a renewal of covenant. Wolpe went so far as to claim that Conservative Judaism should change its name to Covenantal Judaism![5]

How have the aforementioned rabbis reemphasized the notion of covenant? I will begin with our movement. Rabbi David Wolpe has argued that we need to increase our discussion of our personal connection to God and that we need to build a community which relates to others rather than being self-focused, a community of we rather than a community of me. For Wolpe, our focus needs to be on how we can work with others to bring godliness into the world.

David Hartman z”l also believed in a renewed emphasis on covenant. In the introduction to his book A Living Covenant, he states “The Sinai covenant was not perceived as one moment in history.  The tradition calls upon the community to renew the covenant in each generation.  As the rabbis teach, one must live by the Torah as if it had been given in one’s own time.  Covenantal renewal imparts contemporaneousness and immediacy to the experience of studying and living by the Torah.”[6] In other words, our covenant reaffirms our commitment to God and to our religion in every generation.

In his book Exploring Jewish Ethics: Papers on Covenantal Responsibility, Eugene Borowitz centers on the tension between traditionalists and modernists- in other words, the struggle between reaffirming Israel’s covenant with God versus affirming the autonomy of the Jewish person within Israel’s covenant.[7]  While in Reform Judaism each person has the opportunity to apply Jewish law to his/her life as s/he sees fit, Borowitz argues that we have an obligation to preserve our commitments to God and to our community. In an age where we tend to be focused on individual accomplishments, he strives for us to make a place for communal obligations as well.

In his recent book Jewish Megatrends: Charting the Course of the American Jewish Future, Sid Schwarz distinguishes between tribal Jews and covenantal Jews.[8] He differentiates between tribal Jews, who see their identity as one of group solidarity, and covenantal Jews, who see it as a spiritual legacy, as our birthright. Covenantal Jews, Schwarz argues, are attracted to Judaism because of the ethics and values that Judaism has brought into the world, including justice, compassion, human dignity and the protection of those who are most vulnerable. Their priority extends beyond Judaism to our responsibility towards the entire world. In his book, Schwarz offers suggestions as to how Jewish institutions can embrace covenantal Jews, as well as maintaining their connection to tribal Jews.

What are other ways to embrace our covenant with God and with our people? First, to realize that our relationship to God and personal religious growth is based on a growing appreciation of the world that God created. We sometimes struggle with formal prayer or with aspects of Jewish law, and while these are paramount, they are not the only ways through which we can reach God. We can also reach God through our work in social justice and interpersonal relationships. I often find God’s presence when I am hiking in the woods or when I look out my window and see a beautiful sunset. During prayer services I often take time in the Amidah to connect with God “off the page,” to either express elation over something great in the world or to express anger or frustration over something that is occurring.

We can also fulfill our end of the covenant by learning through Torah study how we can partner with God to improve the world. As Rabbi Dr. Louis Finkelstein z”l the former Chancellor of the Jewish Theological Seminary said, “When I pray, I talk to God. When I study, God talks to me.”[9] By examining the laws of giving Tzedakah (to those less fortunate), of loving the stranger and of providing for the community, we can see that Judaism is heavily based in the service of others. Judaism is a religion where specific actions taken matter and that through participation in these actions, we will strengthen our religious commitment and our connection to God. In addition, we will fulfill the words of Isaiah 46:8 of being “a light onto the nations.”

We can reflect on our covenant with God through appreciating the vast diversity of religions in the world as demonstrating multiple ways through which connect to God. My maternal grandmother loves to say that “all religions are different paths to the same goal.” We are blessed to have so many types of people in the world and in this room, and we must respect their traditions and the ways in which they connect to God. At the same time, we need appreciation for our own religion and for our own, personal connection to God, an understanding that we each have our own spiritual path and unique mission in life.

Just as we appreciate other religions, so too must we honor diverse perspectives as being from those who are made in the image of God, even when they go against the essence of our personal beliefs. Too often we give credence to the sad maxim “everyone is entitled to MY opinion.” In some cases the stakes are high, such as with Iran, but are they really so high as to demean or belittle others for their opinions? Does disagreement with another’s endorsement of the Iran deal warrant comparing him to a Kapo, a Jew who worked for the Nazis? There is an art form to disagreeing strongly with someone but demonstrating that our unity is more important, that sharing in the same Abrahamic covenant is what is central. It is our challenge to construct a helpful dialogue that does not require us to omit our core identities and beliefs, to constructively and impassionedly argue the issues without engaging in ad hominem attacks or giving up when our view is not followed, when we “lose” the debate.

 

Pirkei Avot, the Ethics of the Fathers, teaches that the ideal argument is one that is לשם שמיים, for the sake of heaven, citing the example of the school of Hillel and the school of Shammai.[10] The Talmud[11] asks what makes this an argument for the sake of heaven? It answers that although these two schools of thought vehemently disagreed with one another, their sons married their daughters. They recognized that even though their thought was diametrically opposed to one another, that respect for and love of one’s fellow human being was far more important. In contrast our sages give us the example of Korach and Moses as an argument that was not for the sake of heaven, where Korach sought to supersede Moses and take his position. We can learn much from this today: whether progressive or conservative, Democrat or Republican, egalitarian or not, one MUST affirm the right of the other to hold his/her opinion as well as a shared belief that we are all made in the image of God, and that our love of our fellow human beings trumps all.

What will you do TODAY, היום, to connect with our tradition and with God באשר הוא שם, wherever you are at in this particular moment? What will you do to renew your covenant with God and with our people? Are you going to increase your study of Torah, strengthen your prayer life, increase your observance of the commandments, enhance your ability to dialogue with those with whom you disagree?  What changes will you make day by day so that one year from today, on Rosh Hashanah 5777 you will be able to say “I have done my part in renewing the covenant, in reconnecting to my people, to my community and to God”?

 

[1]Fritz A. Rothschild, Between God and Man: An Interpretation of Judaism from the Writings of Abraham J. Herschel (New York, NY: The Free Press, 1959), 51.

[2] Genesis 9:9-11

[3] Genesis 15:18

[4] Genesis 17:11-14

[5] Speech at Jewish Theological Seminary, November 10, 2005.

[6] David Hartman, a Living Covenant: The Innovative Spirit in Traditional Judaism (Woodstock, VT: Jewish Lights Publishing, 1997), 9.

[7] Eugene B. Borowitz, Exploring Jewish Ethics: Papers on Covenantal Responsibility (Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press, 1990), 380.

[8] Rabbi Sidney Schwarz, Jewish Megatrends: Charting the Course of the American Jewish Future (Woodstock, VT: Jewish Lights Publishing, 2013), 10.

[9] Attributed to Rabbi Dr. Louis Finkelstein by his students through personal conversations they shared with him.

[10] Mishnah Avot (known as Pirkei Avot) 5:19

[11] Babylonian Talmud Tractate Yevamot 14b

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.

         Why are you here today? For some it’s to join together with friends, family and community. For others it’s to hear the beauty of the Cantor and the choir’s davening, letting it reach into your soul. For others it might even be this sermon, in which case I hope I don’t disappoint you.

I have a confession to make: I’ve been struggling for many years with daily prayer. Don’t get me wrong; I love being together with community and helping people who are in their year of mourning or who have Yahrzeit (the Hebrew anniversary of a death) be able to have a minyan to say the Mourners Kaddish. My struggles are with saying the same prayers over and over again, day after day. I’m by nature a person who enjoys variety and spontaneity rather than routine, who likes to try things differently every day to get that extra pizazz or oomph. Part of the reason I chose to become a rabbi was that I never know what the next day will bring.

Some might be surprised or even offended that I bring this up. After all, if the Rabbi struggles with daily prayer, how can he motivate others to attend the minyan? Moreover, prayer three times a day is a commandment from God and one traditional view is that we need to follow every commandment even if we don’t like it or don’t understand it. This view is best encapsulated by the 20^th century Orthodox theologian Yeshayahu Leibowitz, brother of Bible scholar Nehama Leibowitz, who asserted that “waiving the right to a subjective religious experience is the essence of faith: it is utterly devoid of personal interest and/or any rational motivation.”[1] In other words, you daven, you pray, because that’s what God asks you to do; nothing more and nothing less. Leibowitz did just that, going to Yeshurun Synagogue in Jerusalem at 6:30 am every morning to be part of the daily minyan.

In contrast to this was the thought of Abraham Joshua Heschel, a 20^th century theologian of Hasidic background. In his book Man’s Quest for God, Heschel argued “Prayer is our attachment to the utmost. Without God in sight, we are like the scattered rungs of a broken ladder. To pray is to become a ladder on which thoughts mount to God .”[2] For Heschel, prayer must be centered on building our relationship with God. Heschel did agree with Leibowitz that one must begin by with prayer itself-saying the words that form the corpus of our liturgy. However, for Heschel prayer is more than saying words by rote day after day-it is about one building his/her relationship with God.

This is not a debate that began in the 20^th century-rather it goes back to at least the 2^nd century CE in the debates recorded in the Talmud (our corpus of laws that used to be passed down orally from generation to generation, comprised of the Mishnah and Gemara). The Talmud records debates between rabbis about the balance between keva, fixed prayer, and kavana, one’s intention behind what he or she is saying. In Rabbi Eliezer of the 2^nd century said העושה תפילתו קבע, אין תפילתו תחנונים: The one who fixes his prayer, that prayer is not supplicatory.[3] What does this mean? As shouldn’t surprise anyone, there is disagreement between the rabbis. Rabbi Oshiah, a 3^rd century Palestinian rabbi who lived in Caesarea, stated in the Gemara, that such prayer appears to him as a burden, as if he’s just praying to fulfill his obligation.[4] Rabbah and Rabbi Joseph, 3^rd century Babylonian rabbis, assert that this refers to any time one prays and does not add something fresh to it.[5]

It is interesting that such a statement on fixed prayer originates from Rabbi Eliezer, referred to by his teacher as “a cistern who never loses a drop”[6] and who at one point stated “I have never said anything that I have not learned from my teacher.”[7] This was especially useful in Talmudic times, when the only books were written by hand, and they were few and far between, leading to people placing great value on memory and recall. Rabbi Eliezer recognized that no matter how good his memory was, more was necessary for prayer than repeating words by rote.

The other side to the debate can be found in the previous Mishnah, which references the Amidah, the central prayer of our service, which we say first silently and then listen to the Cantor repeat it. If there’s any opportunity for personal prayers in the service it’s in the silent Amidah, and traditionally this is where one adds prayers for healing individuals who are sick, for livelihood and for forgiveness. The Mishnah begins by referencing Rabban Gamliel, the President of the rabbinical court, who states “every day one must pray the entire Amidah.”[8] Again a rabbinic disagreement! Rabbi Joshua, well-known as a challenger of Rabban Gamliel, asserted that one can pray an abbreviated Amidah, or “a version of the Amidah”.[9] How do we solve this dilemma? By means of the erudite Rabbi Akiva, who stated that if one is fluent in his/her prayer s/he should pray the entire Amidah but if not fluent, s/he should pray a part of the Amidah.[10] This approach should give comfort to those who struggle with or do not read Hebrew-you can pray an abbreviated Amidah rather than the entire Amidah. After all, God understands our prayers regardless of the exact words we say or the language in which we pray. If abbreviation or alternatives are allowed for the Amidah, the centerpiece of our liturgy, how much more so would they be allowed for other prayers as well! However, for those who can read Hebrew (like me), we’re not off the hook, and we need to read the entire text.

Where does this bring us? On one hand we have an argument from Rabbi Eliezer stating not to make one’s prayer fixed or permanent. One needs to experience joy every day at standing before The Creator and one’s prayer should reflect that excitement rather than a burden. On the other hand, Rabbi Akiva asserts that core prayers like the Amidah must be recited in their entirety by those who are accustomed to it. In an age like this, when everything is printed and when one can learn Hebrew, as simple as getting Rosetta Stone, I believe Rabbi Akiva would want each of us to become familiar with Hebrew and pray the traditional liturgy, especially considering that he himself began learning Hebrew at age 40. As a community, we should aspire to something in between, where on one hand we use the traditional liturgy (called in Hebrew the מטבע התפילה) while on the other hand we create opportunities to say our own personal prayers or to focus in-depth on certain prayers in our Siddur (prayerbook). As one who believes that in this day and age we are all “Jews by choice,” I would always want our prayer to be a joy and to pray because we want to rather than because we have to. At the same time, there is great merit to Heschel’s statement that we must begin with prayer, as if we don’t begin the process we will have no shot in strengthening our relationship with God and with our spiritual community.

In a society like ours, that puts great value on “living in the moment” and “what’s in it for me right now,” I would argue that Judaism is a countercultural approach. Daily prayer provides us with an anchor to connect to something greater than ourselves. We don’t always feel the connection and at times we might feel that we’re just “going through the motions.” However, if we don’t try we won’t succeed, and I strongly encourage each of us to try coming to our daily minyan. Prayer is not just about saying words-it’s about transforming one’s mindset and strengthening yourself for the better. Some might do this through mediation, shutting oneself off from the world and focusing on one’s breath. Others might turn to yoga, finding clearness of mind through stretches and body movements. Others might find solace in praying alone in their hearts or through being ensconced in nature. However, I feel that one can find the same feelings and achieve the same spiritual highs through daily prayer at the Jericho Jewish Center minyan. It is not always easy to do so-prayer has been a struggle for me for years-but as Heschel said one must begin the process through engaging in prayer.

There’s a great story which Marty Mehler reminded me of about a shepherd who every day sought to fervently pray to God. This shepherd was illiterate and did not know any of the traditional prayers. Every day he went out to the field and he spontaneously prayed to God, thanking him for what he had. One day a rabbi was passing by and heard the shepherd praying. He rebuked him, proclaiming “You need to pray in the following manner,” and then taught him the blessings of the Amidah, our silent standing prayer. The rabbi departed, and the next morning the shepherd got up to pray again. However, he forgot the words that the rabbi taught him. Embarrassed about this, the shepherd said no prayers.

One night God appeared to the rabbi in a dream. He proclaimed “Why did you stop that shepherd from praying?”  Startled, the rabbi replied, “I did not, I taught him what to pray.” God rebuked the rabbi, stating “He has stopped praying altogether. I used to delight in his prayers each and every day, and now they are now more.” The rabbi instantly awoke and ran back to where he had crossed paths with the shepherd. He saw him tending to his flocks. The rabbi apologized, stating “I was wrong. Please pray the words that come from your heart.” Ever since that point, the shepherd has done just that, praying to God with all his heart. As the rabbis teach, דברים שיוצאים מן הלב נכנסים מן הלב, words which come out of the heart enter into the heart.[11]

There are many versions of similar stories. One has a little child at shul with his father on Yom Kippur, wanting to cry out to God but only being able to say ba-sha-boo. As he says this, the congregants stop their prayers, admonishing the father to walk out of the synagogue with his child, only to be stopped by the rabbi, who proclaims that this is exactly the type of prayer that God wants. In this case the rabbi understands what the rabbi in the previous story did not: that prayer is עבודה שבלב the worship of our heart, and that we need to praise God with everything that is in our hearts.

I invite you to join us right now in soulful, spiritual prayer, the words which come from your heart, as the Cantor will begin to chant the Hineni prayer on Page 124.

[1] Rabbi David Hartman, “Leibowitz and Heschel: Prayer and Relationship of God to the Modern Individual.” Published in Jerusalem by the Shalom Hartman Institute on February 11, 2008.

[2] Abraham Joshua Heschel, Man’s Quest for God: Studies in Prayer and Symbolism (New York, NY: Scribner, 1954), 7.

[3] Mishnah Berachot 4:4

[4] Babylonian Talmud Tractate Berachot 29b

[5] Ibid

[6] Mishnah Avot (also known as Pirkei Avot) 2:11

[7] Babylonian Talmud Tractate Sukkah 28a

[8] Mishnah Berachot 4:3

[9] Ibid

[10] Ibid

[11] Babylonian Talmud Tractate Berachot 6b

The words in this week’s Torah portion can leave one teary-eyed. It truly is the end of Moses’ days. The leader who has shaped our people’s narrative for 4 of the past 5 books, who was called the greatest prophet ever in our people’s history, is about to pass on. How will the people be able to function without him? Will the next leader, Joshua, be able to do as effective a job at corralling the stiff-necked nation?

At the beginning of Deuteronomy, Moses was commanded by G-d to strengthen Joshua. In next week’s portion, Moses finally does so. He tells Joshua חזק ואמץ, to be strong and emboldened, for you shall enter with this people into the land that G-d swore to their forefathers to give them.” Moses is the appropriate person to give this charge. He knows what Joshua is up against and yet he also knows that if Joshua remains strong, he will be able to effectively lead the Israelites into the Promised Land.

If Moses had given this message to Joshua privately, it might be interpreted one way. However, the text states that he gave it to Joshua as all of Israel watched. Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin, a 19^th century Russian commentator who went by Netziv for short, picks up on two reasons why it was said before all of Israel. One is so that all of Israel will see that Moses is behind Joshua being the leader of Israel. The other is that Moses is indicating that Joshua will be strengthened in the eyes of Israel through his future actions. It is one thing to tell someone to be a strong leader and quite another for them to actually be strong as they lead their people.

These words חזק ואמץ are very similar to the words that we read when we conclude a section of Torah. We read חזק חזק ונתחזק, “Strong Strong, We will be strengthened!” I believe this is because we might feel lacking or in want of more when we finish a section of the Torah, yet we are called upon to carry on as we continue to the next book. Though we might want to stay on Genesis forever and hate arriving to Leviticus, our tradition teaches us to be emboldened and embrace Torah in whichever portion we find ourselves.

While Moses is the appropriate person to speak to Joshua, part of me wonders to the extent he can relate. After all, his contemporaries have died in the desert and a new generation, Joshua’s contemporaries, has risen up. As we know from the Pew Report, each generation responds differently to Judaism in terms of what it values. It would be remiss for us to assume that Joshua was the same type of leader as Moses or that his generation would respond the same as Moses’ did. Yet perhaps this is precisely the point: Moses is telling Joshua to be strong and emboldened to whatever challenges he will face. If Joshua effectively communicates his vision and practices what he preaches, then he will be strengthened in the eyes of the Israelites. When looking at the Book of Joshua, we find out that Joshua was successful in defeating the enemy nations and apportioning the land, and his boldness, his belief in G-d and in his mission and his cleverness enabled him to move forward where other leaders could not.

How does this relate to us? During Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur services, it is often easy for regulars to lament the fact that so many people come only for these 2-3 days per year. Where are they at Shabbat services or at daily minyan? It is also easy to look back at previous years and remember filled seats and people no longer present. What I am asking each of us to do this High Holiday season is to be, like Joshua, strong and emboldened in the mission and vision of our congregation. We are a congregation that embraces tradition while concurrently striving to meet the needs and values of the younger generations. We accept everyone for who they are and what they contribute to our congregation, whether that be money, time, program planning or attendance at programs. Our charge in moving forward as a congregation is to be חזק ואמץ, to be strong and emboldened in our belief that we are serving an important purpose and that we have much to offer to Long Island Jews. Let us proudly move forward to the High Holidays, ready to connect with G-d and to welcome in all those who enter the doors of our holy congregation.

Judgment Day! The time has finally come for the Israelites to meet their fate. In Parshat Re’eh which we read 3 weeks ago, we learned that the Israelites will be blessed at Mount Gerizim and cursed at Mount Eval. They have a choice: either follow the commandments and be blessed or disregard them and be cursed. Now we find out the results of the blessings and curses. Six tribes ascend Mount Gerizim, and the other six ascend Mount Eval. Reuven, Gad Asher, Zebulun, Dan and Naftali all shout out twelve times “Cursed is the one who does…” and each time they finish the people reply “Amen!” What do these sins that deserve curses have in common and why are they mentioned?

On this one Rashbam, a 12^th century French commentator who often disagrees with his grandfather Rashi, hits the nail on the head. First he points out that the 12 sins correspond to the 12 tribes. The tribes are cognizant that each one individually must act in the proper manner lest they risk getting cursed. Rashbam continues that the common denominator of each sin is that they are done in secret, when no one is looking. The first sin illustrates this: “cursed is the one who puts up a statue or a molten image.” A statue is generally displayed in public, especially if its representative of a foreign god. However, the verse goes on to assert that the person put the statue up in secret, so that only he could see it and worship it. He is cursed for doing so.

The other sins, one who reviles their father and mother, who crosses the boundary of their neighbor, who misleads the blind, who distorts justice for a convert, orphan or widow, etc. are also items often done in secret. One would not (G-d forbid) disparage his/her parent (or any other family member for that matter) to their face but might do so in private conversation. Similarly, most examples of theft occur in secret, where the thief does not want others to find out about his action. Taking from one’s neighbor’s property when he is out of town or not watching is far more likely than when she is focused on you. If one is blind, as Rashi says “blind concerning a particular matter,” it is easy to mislead him/her, giving bad advice or leading him/her in the wrong direction. One would not do that when the other is knowledgeable about the matter. Finally, we get to those who pervert justice for the most vulnerable elements of our society, those who cannot defend themselves. Since they do not know better, they are likely to accept the outcome and put themselves at a financial disadvantage or hurt their well-being.

Why single out these types of sins? Because they constitute the majority of wrongdoings done. If you look at crime statistics for major cities, you’ll see that burglaries and thefts are between 50 and 70% of all crimes, much greater in number than homicides and assaults. Most crime done in our country is nonviolent and is designed to occur in secret, when no one is looking. How much more so would something like giving bad advice to one who is “blind” in a matter occur, something which is not necessarily a crime but which is a sin nonetheless in our tradition. This is further demonstrated by one of the main reasons given for doing wrong: “Because I didn’t believe I would get caught.”

We know from our tradition that there is never a time you can sin and no one is watching: rather God knows everything that we do. As Rabbi Yehudah HaNasi states in Pirkei Avot Chapter 2 Mishnah 1: “Know what is above you: an eye that sees, an ear that hears and that all your deeds are recorded in the book.” God is aware of all that we do and there will be consequences for our actions. We are also generally aware of when we do wrong because of our conscience. Often we sin and we don’t getting caught, yet we still feel a pang in our heart because we know we have done wrong.

This in my mind is the purpose of the High Holy Days: to reflect again on where we have fallen short, to genuinely repent and to strive to do differently in the coming year. It is to recognize that we never get away with any sin or wrongdoing without bearing the consequences in some form. We will not always (or even most of the time) “get caught” but both we and God will know that we have made a mistake, and rather than holding it in we need to express our remorse in our prayers and in our changed behavior. My prayer for each of us is that we strive to have our public appearance reflect who we truly are and how we truly act (tocheinu k’boreinu). L’shana Tova Tikateivu v’tehateimu-May each of us be inscribed and renewed for a happy, healthy and sweet new year. Shabbat Shalom.

Parshat Ki Tetze contains 76 of the 613 commandments in it, more than any other portion. One of them which has often struck me is the following: “When you build a new house, make a parapet for your roof so that blood will not be on your hands.” To what is this referring? In biblical times, those who could not afford to build a house often slept on the roofs of other houses and without a proper safeguard, they could fall off. Therefore, the portion commands those who build a house to build a parapet, protecting anyone who would be sleeping on the roof.

The way I like to think of this is that when we have a home, a structure in which we spend a considerable amount of time, we need to take responsibility to maintain and strengthen it. We need to ensure that the foundations are strong and sturdy so that the home will not only last for us but for our children and for generations yet to come. This at times means making difficult yet crucial decisions in order for the house to stand. As a congregation, we are a family, and we need to continue to respect one another but also to look at and not neglect our future needs. If we are only maintaining our spiritual homes for ourselves and not looking at how to strengthen their foundation for the future, we are engaging in neglect and in danger of the entire house coming down in the future.

This reminds me of a well-known story from Talmud Taanit 23a. One day Honi the circle drawer, a man who would beseech God whenever there was a drought, was walking alongside the road when he saw a man planting a carob tree. Honi asked the man, “How long will it take for your tree to bear fruit?” The man answered, “Seventy years.” Honi then asked, “Do you think you will live another seventy years to eat from this fruit?” The man replied, “Probably not. However, when I was born into this world, I found many carob trees planted by my father and grandfather. Just as they planted trees for me, I am planting trees for my children and grandchildren so they will be able to eat the fruit of these trees.”

This wise man taught Honi a lesson: sometimes we have to do things not for us, but for the future. Often this is hard to do-after all, we are drawn to do things which are tangible to us and for which we can see the “fruits” of our labor. Why engage in a task from which we do not directly benefit? The approach from our tradition is that we are responsible to do our part to pay it forward. Look around at this magnificent Sanctuary. There are so many who have financially contributed towards its adornments and beauty, many of whom are here today. There are others who are no longer with us who gave so much to establish our congregation. We need to encourage people to give from their hearts and of their time for the well-being of our congregation.

However, it is not just giving in this sense but understanding what it will take to grow the membership of our congregation. For that I will return to the metaphor of the parapet on the roofs. As committed congregants, we are the ones inside the house, inside the walls of our synagogue. We feel comfortable stepping into this building, and many of us have some of our best friends as fellow members. There are others who are not directly part of our synagogue yet at times might come to the outskirts of our synagogue, to “sleep on the roof.” We must build parapets, safeguards to welcome in and retain these individuals. If we do not do so, they will fall off and we will lose them. In order to have a strong and sustainable house, one must have the proper safeguards in place and it is up to us as a congregation to build those safeguards. What are they? For some it might be social action, for others havurah programming; for some traditional services, for others meditation, musical or yoga services. The bottom line is that we cannot just keep doing business as usual in this day and age. The days when people move to town and instantly join a congregation are over; now, if anything, they are looking for a reason not to join. We must prove to them, sometimes over a matter of years, why a synagogue is a vital and important part of their lives. Let us build the safeguards we need (the more the merrier) to ensure a strong future for our congregation. Equally as important, let us understand when changes are discussed that we do not like that sometimes we have to do things we are reticent about in order to bring in others to our congregation, to embrace them fully rather than leaving them on the roof. May we have the strength and willpower, the wisdom and the foresight, to do so.

Have you ever served as a witness in a legal matter? Was it as part of a criminal or civil legal case? Was it at a Jewish life-cycle ritual? What did it feel like to give testimony which was recognized?

We might not think the role of a witness is that important, but Judaism tells us otherwise. Parshat Shofetim more than any other portion centers on the legal system and how to create a just society. It begins by requiring the appointing of judges and officials, so important that the rabbis in Talmud Sanhedrin list it as one of the seven Noachide laws applying to non-Jews. However, the establishment of courts is not enough by itself to determine how to adjudicate justice. Parshat Shofetim goes on to state “A person should only die based on the testimony of two or three witnesses” (Deuteronomy 17:6) and later “A matter can only be valid by the testimony of two or three witnesses.” (Deuteronomy 19:15)

It makes sense why one witness is not enough, as s/he might see things incorrectly or purposefully give false testimony, both of which are harder to do when there are more witnesses involved.  In both cases, the Torah mandates that there be two or three witnesses. We know of examples where only two witnesses are required, such as the signing of a Ketubah (Jewish marriage contract) or a Get (Jewish bill of divorce). There are other examples when three witnesses are required, as three creates a Beit Din (court of Jewish law), used for a conversion or when giving out a Get. Tractate Makkot Chapter 1 Mishnah 7 it asks why does it say “two or three.” The answer given is that two are equated to three. Two witnesses can invalidate the testimony of three, and vice versa.

Why do we jump from a conversation about the number of witnesses to one where we have witnesses invalidating or discrediting the testimony of others? The Talmud is very interested in the concept of עדים זוממים, scheming witnesses. While this section of Talmud is fascinating, I have chosen instead to discuss the topic of witnesses in Judaism in general.

How are valid witnesses determined? Maimonides, a 12^th century Spanish and Egyptian commentator, discusses who qualifies as a witness in his Mishneh Torah Laws of Edut (Testimony). He states that ten types of people are invalid from being witnesses: women, slaves, minors, the insane, those who are deaf and mute, the blind, the wicked, idlers, relatives and those who have bias. Some of these categories make sense-I would not want someone who is partial to one side or who is legally insane to be a witness. Others can be very challenging for us-for example, excluding half the population from being a witness in a court of Jewish law.

Why are women excluded? Maimonides states that it is because the bible uses the masculine form (עדים) when speaking about witnesses. Joseph Karo, author of the Shulchan Aruch, also includes women in his list yet he is bothered by Maimonides’ rationale, stating that “the whole Torah always uses the masculine form.” In fact, the Tur, the law code which preceded the Shulchan Aruch, omits women from his list entirely (Hoshen Mishpat 35)! The Talmud, in Shevuot 30a and Gittin 46a, states that a woman cannot be a witness because her place is at home and not in court. As a result, women were only used as witnesses in matters related to them (things involving their families or their bodies), for identification of people or for events regarding places frequented only by women.

How we handle women as witnesses in the Conservative movement is a topic which has been hotly debated. Rabbi Joel Roth, in his Responsa from 1984, which allowed for Conservative female rabbis, did so on condition that they not serve as witnesses. This position, while the norm for a number of years in the Conservative movement, created an awkward situation where a female rabbi could not sign a Ketubah, give a Get or finalize the conversion of her student. In 1992 the Rabbinical Assembly passed a paper entitled “Gender Equality in Halakhah” which allowed for women to participate as witnesses in all aspects of Jewish ritual.
The issue does not end there, however. While the State of Israel has allowed female witnesses in a civil court of law since the Equality of Women’s Rights Act of 1951, the Chief Rabbinate of Israel does not allow for female witnesses for ritual purposes. Therefore, anyone who gets married outside of Israel with female witnesses on their Ketubah and later moves to Israel will not have their marriage religiously recognized. Some try to get around this (including many of my classmates) by having four witnesses on their Ketubah: two men and two women. Others will have a woman sign as a Ketubah witness with the understanding that the couple will not move to Israel. I am in the later camp-in fact, Karina and my Ketubah is signed by one man and one woman.

Personally I am fully egalitarian. In this day and age, where we give females every opportunity to succeed in secular realms, I strongly believe that we need to do the same in the religious sphere. “Separate But Equal” was not equal, and it died with Brown vs. Board of Education. My personal beliefs, however, do not necessarily need to reflect the ruling of a synagogue-there is room to embrace multiple beliefs at our congregation. For those women who want to serve as Jewish witnesses, the opportunities must be presented so that they can, provided that we make clear at the outset that there are people who would not hold female witnesses as valid. For those who want to continue with the traditional approach, having only male witnesses, that is fine, as long as they do not impinge on other people’s rights to do differently.

What I propose is the following: that we give people the opportunity to tell their stories and share their opinions and that we listen with open ears. When someone says something with which we disagree, let us try to understand where the other is coming from and accommodate his or her perspective whenever possible. In doing such we will continue to function as one community, albeit a “community of communities,” where everyone can feel welcome and secure. Ken Y’hi Ratzon, may it be our will to do so.

One of the central institutions of our tradition is that of the prophet. Prophets are “men of God,” having direct revelation as to what God wants of us. They have great power-even to cause changes in the behavior of the kings! An entire section of our Bible is devoted to the great prophets of our tradition. It is with this in mind that there is a peculiar section in the middle of the portion.

Deuteronomy Chapter 13 verses 2-4 read: “If there arises in your midst a prophet, or a dreamer of dreams, and he gives a sign or a wonder which comes to pass, and then he tells you ‘let us go after other gods, which you do not know, and let us serve them’-you should not listen to the words of that prophet or dreamer of dreams; for God is putting you to the test to see if you love God with all your heart and with all your soul.”

The biblical commentator Nechama Leibowitz asks why such a man is considered a prophet in the first place, as the definition of a prophet is one who carries out God’s will. She answers that the Torah took the view of the audience, who is not aware as to whether or not this individual was sent by God, and so views him as a prophet. There are other questions to be answered, however. Is such an individual considered true or false? After all, his sign or wonder came to pass and the word navi is used, which leads one to believe that he is a prophet of God. Also, why would God choose such a means of testing our faith? It feels like trickery!

Rabbi Akiva was also troubled by this individual’s sign coming to pass. If he is an imposter, a “false prophet,” it should have never come into fruition. Rabbi Akiva argued that God would only allow one to perform a sign or wonder if he was an “apostate prophet,” one who was formally true and who had turned false. He cited the example of Hananiah ben Azzur, who had been a true prophet until he prophesied that God was with Israel and would lead them to defeat the Babylonians. Rabbi Yose the Galilean disagreed, asserting that this applies also to idolaters. In his view a non-Jewish diviner can perform a natural wonder the same as a Jewish prophet. The difference is that the non-Jewish diviner is sent to lead the people astray, whereas the Jewish prophet is a true representative of God. The diviner will eventually be proven false through his leading the people towards idolatry; the prophet will be proven true as God’s representative.

Now we arrive at what is the most perplexing issue for me-why would God need to test His people in the first place? Testing Jews’ behavior is not something brand new in this portion-it goes back to the ten trials of Abraham, the last of which was offering his son Isaac on the altar. God also tested our ancestors in the desert, depriving them of water immediately following their departure from Egypt. Why does God need to test our faith and our belief in Him? Furthermore, why would God create us with a tendency to go astray and wayward, after our hearts’ desire?

When I went to JTS for my rabbinical school interview, one of my Assistant Deans asked me if I had any doubts. Taken aback by the question, I thought for a second and then I said no. After all, I was thriving at the University of Wisconsin, with more friends than I could count and I knew I wanted to become a rabbi and serve a congregation. The dean then asked me what I would do if I had doubts during my time in rabbinical school. I said I would deal with them as they came up. During my time in rabbinical school, I had doubts about almost everything: about God, about my decision to become a rabbi and about my faith in humanity. It was an extremely hard period of my life, one in which I could have easily been shaken off my course and swayed to go in a different direction. Somehow I struggled through it and persevered, largely due to the help of teachers and mentors.

I’m not sure if God was testing me during rabbinical school, but it did give me understanding of what this section of Torah is about. There have or there will come points in all of our lives in which our faith will be tested: our faith that we are doing the right thing with our children and grandchildren, that we gave the right advice, that our beliefs are correct. It is at moments like these that we need to be reflective and introspective but also that we need to stay the course, continuing to believe that who we are and what we are doing is making a difference. It is at those moments of vulnerability that we have the greatest chance of turning astray and that we must be most mindful of what we are doing. Even if we see a flash or a wonder coming out of left field, beckoning us to reverse course, we must think if such action is really in our best interests. May we always have faith in ourselves, in our families and in our traditions and may they lead us to pass all the tests, the challenges and the obstacles that come our way.

One of the more bizarre verses is in this week’s Torah portion.  Moses says to the Israelites, “You shall circumcise your hearts. And no longer be a stiff-necked people.”  What does it mean to circumcise one’s heart?  Do our hearts have a covering that we must cut off?  Not literally I hope!

The commentators present many ideas, all of which are thankfully metaphorical.  Ibn Ezra, wrote, “to distance oneself from the heavy, baseless desires of the uncircumcised.”  While we might disagree with his opinion of the uncircumcised, it is clear that Ibn Ezra holds us to a high standard, that we should not pursue what those around us desire if it is not right for us, or for a higher purpose.  Ramban, or Nachmanides, a 13th century commentator who lived in Spain and Israel, disagreed with Ibn Ezra, presenting two interpretations. His first interpretation was that the generation that wandered in the desert had uncircumcised hearts, as they were not open to the Torah and its commandments. He wrote: “Your hearts will be open to understand the truth and not be like your forefathers, a rebellious generation.”

It is Ramban’s second interpretation that is my favorite: Not to favor the great people in their quarrels with the small people, and not taking bribes from the rich…for one who does justice for the orphan and the widow is the one who is truly great.”  Here to circumcise one’s heart means to side with those marginalized, who need justice.  It is easy to identify with the rich, or with someone who is a celebrity.  It is much harder to side with those who are destitute, to help the people we see on the streets in downtown Manhattan.  At times it might even be difficult to believe that our help can make a difference or to see these individuals as human.  That is where the principle of circumcising one’s heart comes in, cutting away the hard edged, cynical layers and getting to the softer layers which are open to helping those in need.

There is also a parallel between brit milah and milat halev, circumcision of the foreskin and of the heart.  The former is a sign of a male entering the covenant of the Jewish people.  The latter is a sign of both males and females taking their place in the covenant through doing gemilut hasadim, acts of lovingkindness.  While a brit milah or a simhat bat is a wonderful sign of one’s Judaism, these rituals are done when one is a child.  When one is an adult, how can he/she show his/her commitment to Judaism?  Through an open heart used for helping those who are in need.

During this Shabbat, let us take the time to reflect on how each of us might demonstrate an open heart, one in which the calloused, rough edges are cut away, creating room for serving our communities.  May we take the steps necessary to lose our pessimistic, jaded outer edges to make room for optimistic, active inner edges that are set on making a difference in the world.  In doing so, we will be on our way to fulfilling the Torah and God’s commandments.

Have you ever been in a situation where you’re confused about what to do? Where you want to know exactly what’s expected of you-nothing more and nothing less? If that’s the case than you’re in luck because that’s a core principle of this week’s Torah portion.

At the beginning of Chapter 4 in Devarim (Deuteronomy), we are told by Moses “You shall not add anything to what I command you or take anything away from it, but keep the commandments of God that I enjoin upon you.” There is actually a commandment not to add, bal tosif, for which the preeminent example the rabbis give is that one cannot add a fifth species to his/her lulav or a fifth portion in one’s Tefillan. Similarly, one cannot subtract a commandment, proclaiming “I won’t keep kosher because I don’t like it.” Instead, we need to take the middle road, doing exactly what God expects of us.

The problem with this is figuring out what we are commanded to do. How many commandments are there? 613. From where do we know that? An aggadeta (non-legal section) in Babylonian Talmud Tractate Makkot 24a is the source for the 613 commandments in the Torah, stating that the numerical value of the word Torah is 611 and that plus the first 2 commandments (which God told us Himself rather than Moses) is how we get to 613 commandments. However, the Talmud does not state what those commandments are and it’s not even clear that this was a guiding principle in Talmudic times, as there are many sections of the Talmud that are not codified as laws. In Geonic period, beginning in 8^th century Babylonia, different rabbis created their own lists of commandments. It became a tradition for a rabbi to create his Sefer HaMitzvot, his book in which he listed and enumerated on the commandments. The preeminent list is that of Maimonides of 12^th century Spain and Egypt who has 14 guiding principles that he used to derive the Torah commandments. However, Nachmanides of 13^th century Spain and Israel wrote a commentary on Maimonides’ book in which he takes out some commandments and adds others! For example, Nachmanides stated that a commandment is to make Aliyah to Israel, and he did this in his lifetime. In contrast, Maimonides does not have Aliyah listed and does not even visit the land of Israel during his lifetime.

The dispute is not only between Maimonides and Nachmanides; Maimonides disagreed with multiple earlier authors, including Shimon Karraya, the author of the Halachot Gedolot, in 8^th century Babylonia. Karraya included in his list of 613 commandments the reading of the Megillah and the lighting of the Hanukkah candles, which Maimonides viewed as derabanan, or “rabbinic” commandments, and hence not part of the 613 Torah commandments. Thus you can see that what is included and what is excluded from the 613 is not cut and dry.

This becomes more complicated when one understands that over half the commandments do not apply to anyone today because they required a Temple in Jerusalem. We are no longer able to sacrifice animals, nor are we required to spend Festivals (and all they entail) in Jerusalem. Of those commandments which remain, at least 25 do not apply to those of us living in the Diaspora. What therefore are we obligated to do and how can we ensure that we do not add or subtract from that list?

Unfortunately there is no cut-and-dry answer to this quandary. I appreciate the approach of the note in the Etz Hayim Chumash that states “a modern Conservative perspective would see the Torah as a living organism, constantly shedding dead cells and growing new ones, changing and adapting to new and unprecedented circumstances.” I’ve pointed out before examples of how Judaism has made changes to existing procedures, such as the rabbis eliminating the situation of the rebellious son without uprooting that law. Similarly, Hillel issued a prozbul, having the court take control of debts so that lessors would not lose any money they had loaned out during the Sabbatical year. Ours is a tradition where laws have often been adapted to meet modern needs and I believe the Conservative movement has continued in this tradition. In our ever-changing and evolving world we need to continue to make adjustments to meet modern needs but at the same time not lose sight of tradition and custom. That is how I understand the law of not adding or subtracting-it includes both making fences around the law and changing how the law is applied as long as we do not lose sight of the core principle that the law is teaching us. Of course this is easier said than done but I believe it is important to engage in the struggle and the discomfort and from it try to apply the laws in a way that works for the majority of our community and for our continued growth and betterment. Ken y’hi ratzon, May it be our will to do so.

I was elated to hear that Jonathan Pollard is being paroled this coming November, 30 years after he was arrested for treason. I grew up seeing “Free Jonathan Pollard” placards in my synagogue on Shabbat mornings. I could not understand why someone who had aided a country friendly to the United States was being punished so severely for his actions. It felt unjust to me.

In rabbinical school I began to understand the other side. I had a roommate whose father served in the US Navy and who is currently a Navy Chaplain. On a number of occasions we argued about Jonathan Pollard’s life sentence. The argument got more and more heated as other classmates joined in. One of my classmates pointed out why there were different sides. He pointed to one of my classmates and said “Army family.” He pointed to my roommate and said “Navy family.” Then he pointed to me and said “ZOA family.” From that simple encounter I understood why we were on different sides. I grew up a staunch Zionist, with my love for Israel and importance of its security being primary. My classmates grew up with the emphasis on serving in the military and the staunch belief that you NEVER reveal any military secrets or classified information. Therefore, Pollard providing this information was a crime of the most severe order and he (according to them) should never be released. For them it didn’t matter that Pollard helped Israel-what mattered was a betrayal of the United States.

I still believe that Pollard served for far too long (much longer than anyone else convicted of the same degree of espionage against the United States). He acted wrongly but he was punished far too severely for his wrongdoings. I am glad that he will be reunited with his family and hope he will be able to make Aliyah to Israel.