In Deuteronomy it teaches לא תוסיפו מן הדבר אשר אלקים מצוה אותך ולא תגרעו ממנו “You shall not add or subtract to the law which I command you today.”[1] The example given by the Code of Jewish Law for not adding is not adding a 5th species to one’s lulav.[2] Instead, we need to follow the exact 4 species that are outlined in the Torah.
A fun example of this was a drawing which had species native to Canada (where the artist lived) rather than the 4 from Israel. It included a maple leaf for lulav. I shared it and received the following reply from one of my teachers: “nice idea for someone else’s religion.” We are fortunate in California that we can grow all 4 species here as our climate is close enough to Israel’s. Imagine growing up in Milwaukee like me where none of these species naturally grow. I understood the desire to get native species while concurrently maintaining our tradition.
Many think “does Judaism really not add or subtract?” At times it feels like we have added many prohibitions over the centuries while refusing to subtract any. A core reason I am a Conservative Jew is Rabbi Mordecai Waxman’s twin pillars of tradition and change-that we can maintain traditions while living in ever evolving situations with new areas of knowledge that Jewish law has to confront. Upon entering rabbinical school, I read a book that said Conservative Judaism is the most faithful denomination to the tradition of not adding or subtracting.
Regardless as to whether or not that is correct-at times I have my doubts-I hope we will take the tradition of not adding and subtracting seriously. At times Jewish leaders have added so many fences around prohibitions that the original prohibition becomes lost in the shuffle. At other times, we adopt the attitude “anything goes” and throw off traditions that are there for a reason. My hope is that on the Conservative Movement we can continue to maintain the solid middle ground-not adding to the burdens but neither subtracting from our responsibilities as members of the tribe.
Something really bothers me about when Rosh Hashanah and Sukkot begin on Shabbat. That is that we do not blow shofar or wave lulav and etrog on Shabbat. Why is this the case? Because someone might carry these items outside of an eruv, thereby violating Shabbat. This begs the question why not build an eruv so this is a non-issue? Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai issued a takanahלא פלוג, that we should not divide ourselves from other communities.[1] Hence no one blows shofar or waves lulav and etrog on Shabbat.One way of looking at this is the absurdity of following archaic traditions. More people are in shul on Shabbat-therefore we should do these rituals davka (specifically) on Shabbat. The other belief is the importance of tradition-just like two days of yom tov is a tradition that must be maintained, so too should the custom of not waving the lulav and etrog on Sukkot on Shabbat. You don’t like it? Come back tomorrow or during one of the other days of Sukkot!
There is one caveat that I will make. Following לא פלוג presumes a unity between communities that I’m not sure can be assumed today. There are those who feel that we are illegitimate for being Conservative Jews, and those feelings are unlikely to change. There remains a tendency to look over our right shoulders to see what our more traditional brethren are doing. Case in point: I became close to applying to the recently formed, modern orthodox rabbinical school Yeshivat Chovevei Todah, feeling that if I received smicha from there all of world Jewry would accept me as a rabbi. How wrong I was.
I do feel that customs can evolve and change. With that being said, I recognize the importance of “kishke issues,” those things we feel in our gut are right and no amount of rationalisation will change. The truth is the tradition not to wave lulav and etrog on Shabbat is well-established. My one disappointment in maintaining it, which we will continue to do, is it means that some will not get to see the lulav and etrog waived this year. Please come back tomorrow to take part in this ritual.
In out-of-the-way places of the heart, Where your thoughts never think to wander, This beginning has been quietly forming, Waiting until you were ready to emerge.
For a long time it has watched your desire, Feeling the emptiness growing inside you, Noticing how you willed yourself on, Still unable to leave what you had outgrown.
It watched you play with the seduction of safety And the gray promises that sameness whispered, Heard the waves of turmoil rise and relent, Wondered would you always live like this.
Then the delight, when your courage kindled, And out you stepped onto new ground, Your eyes young again with energy and dream, A path of plenitude opening before you.
Though your destination is not yet clear You can trust the promise of this opening; Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning That is at one with your life’s desire.
Awaken your spirit to adventure; Hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk; Soon you will home in a new rhythm, For your soul senses the world that awaits you.
John O’Donohue
During the 10 days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur we are commanded to release that which occurred during the past year. We continue to remember it in the back of our mind-after all, it happened and there might be lessons to learn from it. Yet at the same time we let go of it.
Rabbi Natan of Nemirov, student of Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav, wrote “The essence of the tikkun (spiritual repair we undertake on Rosh Hashanah) is that each year we must set aside the mochin (mind) of the past and begin anew. For every single day our minds are renewed, in the aspect of ‘They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.’[1] All the more so on Rosh HaShanah, which is the start of the year, when our entire request is ‘Renew for us a good year,’ meaning that we should merit a year that is completely new. For each year begins an entirely new repair.”[2]
What a challenge it is to begin anew with a clean slate. How can one let go of the past year’s mistakes, insults and challenges and start over? This is easier said than done, yet when we struggle with it we can recognize that we are creatures made in the image of God. Just as it says about God המחדש בטובו בכל-יום תמיד מעשה בראשית“God renews out of his lovingkindness every day the acts of creation”[3] so too should we feel that sense of renewal. Rabbi Natan continues “So too must each of us take on this aspect: to conclude and to begin-to finish, complete, and set aside all that has passed, and to begin now anew.”[4] Rabbi Natan says this is true “even if we are as we are,”[5] meaning that we continue to do the same sins over and over again, we must dismiss and forget from our minds all that has passed. Having beginner’s mind is a key lesson that we can strive to achieve today. After all it is Shabbat Shuvah, the Sabbath of Return, and we should return to being the best version of ourselves. As likely first appeared in a graduation speech at Rutgers Preparatory School in 1993, “yesterday is history, tomorrow’s a mystery, today’s a gift, that’s why they call it the present.”[6]
On this Shabbat Shuvah, may we strive to let go of past missteps and do our best to focus on the impact we can make right here, right now. As Rabbi Sam Feinsmith, whose teaching is the inspiration for this sermon,[7] said in his song on Gevurah, having wise boundaries, “I am loving, firm, courageous, full of might, Not uttering a single slight. I say no to harm and yes to standing strong In my love discerning right from wrong.” May we strive to release all the tension caused by past hurts and slights, may we recognize that we are in a new year with infinite potential and may we have resolve as we set our course for New Year 5787.
She Let Go
by Safire Rose
She let go.
She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go.
She let go of the fear.
She let go of the judgments.
She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head.
She let go of the committee of indecision within her.
She let go of all the ‘right’ reasons.
Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.
She didn’t ask anyone for advice.
She didn’t read a book on how to let go.
She didn’t search the scriptures.
She just let go.
She let go of all of the memories that held her back.
She let go of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward.
She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right.
She didn’t promise to let go.
She didn’t journal about it.
She didn’t write the projected date in her Day-Timer.
She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper.
She didn’t check the weather report or read her daily horoscope.
She just let go..
She didn’t analyze whether she should let go.
She didn’t call her friends to discuss the matter.
She didn’t do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment.
During a summer in rabbinical school I was doing a social justice fellowship with the Jewish Council on Urban Affairs. One day after a long week of work, I turned on the water and left it on a few minutes before planning to take a relaxing shower. My housemate admonished me, stating, “Ben, water is not an infinite resource!”
There is so much power in water. According to the Torah, water existed even before the creation of light![1] The Torah speaks of מים חיים, the water of life.[2] The rabbis metaphorically compare water to Torah, asserting “there is no water without Torah.”[3]One cannot live long without water; similarly, our lives become desiccated and empty without study of Torah and transposing that study into meaningful action. The Talmud asserts that just as water is free to all so too is Torah free to all.[4]
Water is central to Jewish ritual. Before we eat bread, we wash our hands and say the blessing al netilat yadayim. We purify ourselves with water-look at the Mikveh. Water represents new beginnings and rebirth, just as we celebrate a new Jewish year today.
Another biblical covenant, marriage, is often created through well encounters. When I got engaged, my mother-in-law gave me the book Meeting at the Well(show) about biblical betrothal being connected to wells. The servant who found Rebecca as a wife for Isaac knew she was the right woman because he gave water not only for him but also for each of his camels.[5] Jacob saw Rachel when she was waiting for water and in a brute act of strength he lifted off the cover of a well that normally would have taken all the shepherds combined. He then proceeded to water Laban’s flock.[6] Moses saw Tziporah and her six sisters driven away by shepherds; he in turn chased away the shepherds and watered Yitro’s flock.[7] While not an act of betrothal, we know of the prophetess Miriam’s power in finding water for the Israelites to drink throughout their journey in the desert.
Our tradition verifies the importance of water and the damage too little or too much can cause. When we pray for rain at the end of Sukkot, we say “for blessing and not for curse; for life and not for death; for abundance and not for famine.”[8] Water is foundational to our people’s narrative. It was prediction of drought and famine that led Joseph to become a high level official in Egypt.[9] The drought and famine in Egypt caused Jacob to send his sons to Egypt for obtaining wheat.[10] This led to settling in Egypt and the entire exodus story.[11]
In modern times, it can be easy to take water for granted. We open our taps and expect water to instantly come out, not worrying about our taps running dry. Yet in our great state, we know not to take this for granted. Remember the megadrought of 2019-22 and the restrictions it brought-including not being allowed to water our lawns more than 3 days a week, with more restrictive regulations in the city and in Roseville.[12] That’s solely on the residential level; water has a much greater aspect on the state level. California produces 50 percent of the countries’ vegetables and 75-80 percent of the nation’s fruits and nuts.[13] We have a number of growers in our congregation-not a surprise, as agriculture is a $60 billion industry in our state.[14] A shortage of rain can be economically disastrous and lead to wildfires in the dry season; a surplus can lead to flooding.
As the years go by, it becomes harder to ignore our dependence on water as human beings. This summer, Lake Mead and Lake Powell, the largest and second-largest reservoirs in the United States, hit their lowest water levels since they were formed 90 years ago.[15] States are being required to cut back on their use of water from the Colorado River.[16]
Water dependence is a worldwide issue. According to the World Health Organization, 1 in 4 people in the world lack access to clean, managed drinking water.[17] Lest we think that this is only a third-world problem, we see boiled water notices in the United States, often because of main breaks.[18] We have also seen industrial runoff impacting water in numerous places, with carcinogens on the rise.[19]
Last week, we were reminded of water’s potency. Israel went through a water crisis as a microalgae bloom knocked out 5 of Israel’s 6 desalinization plants, leaving only the one in Hadera.[20] Thankfully, household taps continued to run, but southern farmers were not so fortunate, with their taps closed for a few days.[21]
In addition, we the impact of water as a weapon. Look at the end of July where Iran allegedly hacked into water systems in over a dozen states-among them Minnesota, Missouri, South Dakota, Michigan, New Jersey and Georgia.[22] Thankfully they were able to be manually overridden, and the water was not contaminated. Water lines are often amongst the first thing attacked by enemies. In Qusra last month, two Palestinian families were blockaded by Jewish terrorists, and their water line was cut off, with the goal of forcing them out of their homes.[23]
Lest we think that water is only a problem, we should look at a section of yesterday’s Torah portion that is often glossed over. The Sixth Aliyah contains a covenantal pact between Abraham and Avimelech where Abraham gives Abimelech sheep and oxen.[24]Then in the Seventh Aliyah, Abraham gave Abimelech 7 ewes as proof that he dug a well. The two of them swore an oath, leading the founding of Be’er Sheva, which means well-of-7 or well-of-the-oath.[25]
What is forgotten about is that Abimelech was a Philistine king. One chapter earlier, Abraham entered his kingdom of Gerar. There, for the second time, he had Sarah pretend to be his sister instead of his wife, fearing that if Abimelech found out she was his wife he would kill Abraham. God appeared to Abimelech in a dream saying, “You will die because of the woman you have taken; moreover, she is a married woman.”[26] There is dialogue between Abimelech and God after which Abimelech implores Abraham “What have you done to us? How have I sinned against you that you brought upon me and my kingdom such great sin? Deeds that out not be done you have done to me! What did you see that you did such a thing?”[27] Abraham and Abimelech did not start out on the right foot, yet one chapter later they make a covenant with one another. They were able to move from fear to trust. Abimelech and Abraham did not resolve their disagreements, but they agreed that the basic necessities of life apply to both their peoples.
There is opportunity to build upon the covenant between Abraham and Abimelech as well as from all the covenants which brought two people together. Look at the Arava Institute in the Negev which has been bringing atmospheric water generators to Gaza to provide clean drinking water.[28] Twenty-three days after October 7th, the Arava Institute issued the following statement:
The Middle East is an arid region that is highly vulnerable to the effects of climate change. There is an essential need for solutions that offer equitable access to water and sanitation, and that protect Israel and the Palestinian territories’ shared water resources.
Our experience has shown us that working together creates understanding and friendships that defy the ongoing conflict.
We are not naïve. We recognize that water is central to the struggle between Israelis and Palestinians. Yet, as we see it, continuing to weaponize water will not make peace more likely. What it will do is amplify the suffering that is already taking place.[29]
It is very easy to see the suffering in other parts of the world. Because the Islamic Republic of Iran focus on destroying Israel, they haven’t spent money on water resources, and they are reaching “water bankruptcy.”[30] In contrast, the 1994 peace agreement with Jordan obligates Israel to supply Jordan with approximately 75 million cubic meters per year, while providing mechanisms for mutual assistance in drought years. Both sides established a Joint Water Committee to manage the resource, monitor water quality, and collaborate on new supplies. It is called the Israeli-Jordanian Water Cooperation.[31]
If Israel can find a way to make peace with Jordan around water, a peace which has held for 32 years, then we must also find a way to create asacred covenant around water, where a sufficiency mindset rather than a scarcity one will rule the day. It requires dreaming of a world where we will be able to say יש לי כל-I have everything that I need.[32]These same words were said by our ancestor Jacob (also known as Israel) to his brother Esau. Like Abraham and Abimelech, Israel and Jordan, we can agree to cooperate over the limited resource that is clean water and that water is needed as a basic necessity of life. I charge each and every one of us to also be more cognizant of how much water we use and recognize that it is a finite resource that must be safeguarded and protected. May we take steps to do so in 5787.
[1] Genesis 1:2 has רוח אלקים מרחפת על-פני המים, whereas light is not created until Genesis 1:3.
[16] This is largely because growing communities in the southwest, especially with the rapid growth of Maricopa County which houses Phoenix, use of the water from the Colorado River has become a premium. Lower basin states (California, Nevada and Arizona) have to cut their water use from the river by 20 percent over the next 2 years while upper basin states (Colorado, Utah, New Mexico, Wyoming) have no mandatory cuts but are encouraged to voluntary cut back 200k acre feet. Learned from NPR Marketplace podcast 8-25-26.
I will never forget that fateful Tuesday morning. I was walking down B-wing at Nicolet High School in Milwaukee between 1st and 2nd periods during my senior year. I noticed that there were televisions outside classrooms-very odd as I had never seen that before-and there were people standing outside the classrooms watching. I started watching just as the 2nd tower was hit, recoiling at seeing the fire and smoke. Since then I have lived in New York City and have visited the Freedom Tower and the 9/11 Memorial and Museum.
September 11th impacts people differently. When I lived on Long Island, a young man was memorialized every year, the son of congregants who worked at Cantor-Fitzgerald law firm. Many New Yorkers were struggling with survivors’ guilt, as they were a few minutes late to work that day. Others were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I remember the valiant first responders, the firefighters and EMTs, who ran into the inferno to try to save people’s lives. I remember the hospital workers who worked tirelessly to save lives. We must honor our heroes, including those who perished on that infamous day.
Rosh Hashanah is an opportunity to strive to find a balance between remembering the past while concurrently being in the here-and-now. That is what we are asked to do every year, especially so when our very freedom as proud Americans came under attack. Each year before this one I have told a story on Erev Rosh Hashanah. The story I was planning to tell this year is my mentor’s magnum opus, I will save it for his first Yahrzeit, Shabbat Bereshit. Tonight, I want to leave us with how we should move forward in a world that reminds us that people hate us and want to take away many of the freedoms that we cherish.
The poem “Walking a Narrow Bridge,” by Rabbi Joy Levitt, was written 1 year after the attack on the Twin Towers. I have chosen to conclude tonight’s remarks with it because in a world full of uncertainty, the most important thing is, as Rabbi Levitt asserts, “to find the very best within all of us” rather than giving into fear or despair.
Walking a Narrow Bridge
Rabbi Joy Levitt
Kol ha-olam kulo gesher tzar m’od
The whole world is a narrow bridge.
Today we walk that narrow bridge,
ever aware of the chasms on either side of us.
We know what is below us, around us.
It is violence, hopelessness, the death of the future.
Kol ha-olam kulo gesher tzar m’od The whole world is a narrow bridge.
We know how narrow is the pathway on which we walk,
how rickety the bridge feels under our step.
How little room there seems to be to maneuver; to change direction.
Kol ha-olam kulo gesher tzar m’od The whole world is a narrow bridge.
And we are all on it. The whole world.
Our friends and our enemies and all of our children.
All of our Children.
Kol ha-olam kulo gesher tzar m’od.
V’ha-ikar lo lifachayd klal
The whole world is a narrow bridge.
And the ikar — and the essential thing — is not to be afraid at all.
Because a greater danger than everything that lies around us and beneath us is the fear that paralyzes us, that causes us to stop in our tracks, unable to go back, afraid to go forward.
At this moment when we are most afraid,
when everything we see and hear is so very frightening,
when we are on the narrowest of narrow bridges,
it is at this moment that we hold onto the ikar,
the essential truth that fear robs us of hope.
Fear stops us from moving forward.
Kol ha-olam kulo gesher tzar m’od.
V’ha-ikar lo lifachayd klal.
The whole world is a narrow bridge.
And the essential thing is not to be afraid at all.
Our Torah portion, Shoftim, ends on a strange hypothetical situation. A person is slain and found lying in the open with the slayer unknown. In such a situation, the elders and magistrates were commanded to go out to measure the distance from the corpse to the nearby towns. Then they took a heifer, which had never worked and brought it to an everflowing wadi, which had never been tilled or sown. There they broke the heifer’s neck. All the elders of the town nearest to the corpse washed their hands over the heifer and declared, “Our hands did not shed this blood, nor did our eyes see it done. Absolve, O God, Your people Israel whom You redeemed, and do not let guilt for the blood of the innocent remain among your people Israel.” Those elders were then absolved for the death of the corpse in their midst.[1]
These 9 verses are very mystifying. Why did this ritual of the eglah arufah, the calf with the broken neck, have to be done? How did the killing of an animal in such a vicious fashion expiate for the killing of a person? Why were the elders of the nearest town, which might be quite a distance away, presumed to be at fault for the death of an unknown individual?
The rabbis of Talmud Sotah were perplexed by the last question. They asked, “How would it rise on our hearts that the elders of the court are bloodshedders?!” The answer given is that the elders asserted that they did not see a stranger walking alone and not offer him an escort.[2] That by itself makes sense. What is perplexing is that 8 folio pages later, Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi said, “a man who no is walking on the road and does not have an escort should occupy himself with Torah.”[3] Does that mean that Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi considered the deceased to not have been studying Torah? What hutzpah to presume this and what nivul hameit, desecration of the dead!
But wait-there’s more! Rabbi Yohanan said in the name of Rabbi Meir, “Anyone who does not accompany another or who does not permit himself to be accompanied is as if he spills blood. For if indeed the men of Jericho had accompanied Elisha (the prophet), he would not have incited the bears against the children. As it is said, ‘From there he went up to Beitel. As he was going up the road, some little boys came out of the town and jeered at him saying ‘Go away, baldhead! Go away, baldhead!’”[4] That’s boys being boys right? Not from Elisha’s perspective. He did not take kindly to being insulted by these youths, and he cursed them in God’s name. Two she-bears came out of the woods and mauled 24 of the children. Rabbi Meir opines that Elisha’s wrath would have been averted if there had been someone going with him who would have stayed his hand.
What lesson do we take from these texts as we enter the month of Elul? This is a time to be mindful of our actions, especially those which lead to bad habits and destructive outcomes. Are there modifications we can make so that the outcome might be different? Perhaps we are going it alone in a difficult moment and could turn to someone to accompany us. Maybe we habitually respond out of accusation or out of anger like Elisha did and can engage help to become more skillful. One of life’s greatest challenges is to recognize that how we react and what we do is far more in our control than we think. It is easier said than done, yet by taking small steps throughout this month, we can gradually change for the better and influence the outcome. Above all, let us strive that no negligence occurs on our account, like the situation in our portion that led to the death of a man and a calf being killed to make atonement for it. While we thankfully do not sacrifice animals in this way today, we still need to compensate to rectify damage which was done on our watch. May we learn from this lesson and make it our own as we approach new year 5787.
Parshat Eikev teaches us the importance of the Mussar midah, or character attribute, of השתלוות, having equanimity. Through Moses, God warns us not to say in one’s heart וְאָמַרְתָּ֖ בִּלְבָבֶ֑ךָ כֹּחִי֙ וְעֹ֣צֶם יָדִ֔י עָ֥שָׂה לִ֖י אֶת־הַחַ֥יִל הַזֶּֽה׃ “ My own power and the might of my own hand have won this wealth for me.”[1] What is the problem with saying this? After all, we were commanded to work by the sweat of our brows and look at all we have accomplished with our lives! Parshat Ekev warns us time and time again that we accomplish nothing without God’s will. One such verse reads “When God has thrust them (enemy nations) from your path, say not to yourselves, ‘God has enable us to possess this land because of our virtues’; it is rather because of the wickedness of those nations that God is dispossessing them before you.’”[2] Another verse asserts “as long as I have known you, you have been defiant towards God.”[3] One would conclude from these verses that we are problematic-just not as problematic as the other nations!
Much of Deuteronomy centers on the same theme: if you obey God’s commandments you get rewarded; if you disobey, you get punished. The second paragraph of the Shema, excised from Reform prayerbooks, maintains this very theme. Regardless of whether we believe this, or rather that we should obey because it makes us feel better or because it’s the right thing to do, we need to reckon with this theme. The way I choose to do so is to remind myself not to let things get to my head.
Ramban in his commentary on the verse writes as follows: “you should remember G-d Who brought you forth from Egypt where you had no power or might of hand at all. You should further remember that He provided all your needs for you in the wilderness, where you had nought in the power of thy hand to survive. If so [concerning] this wealth which you have won by your strength as well, [you should bear in mind that] it is G-d Who gave you the power [that was necessary for you] to accumulate the wealth.”[4] The Hasidic commentator Mei HaShiloach takes this idea further, asserting that the reason that God made us need to eat and drink is so that we will remember Him through blessings rather than think that it is only through our own strength that we have food on the table.[5]
The other side of the coin, however, is towards the beginning of the portion, when we say in our hearts, ‘seeing that these nations are more numerous than I, how can I dispossess them?’ to which God replies through Moses, ‘Do not be afraid.’[6] Rashi points out that the word for ‘when’ כי has multiple uses, and that he thinks the better translation here is ‘maybe or perhaps’[7] that we become paralyzed and feel that we cannot accomplish things. The Hasidic commentator Kedushat Levi asserts that “Rashi has touched on an important psychological principle, namely that whenever we encounter some difficulty in carrying out God’s commandments, (i.e. serving God with all our heart,) fear is the greatest enemy to serving G’d wholeheartedly. If we can resist fear, God will help us to overcome any of these supposed difficulties to serving God.[8] In other words, don’t say in your heart “I can’t do this” just as you should not say in your heart “I did this all by myself.”
The middle path of equanimity is what is most important. Having calmness, composure and evenness of temper, rather than haughtiness or self-effacement is what we need to strive towards. As in the well-known axiom by Alan Morinis on humility, we should occupy “no more than our place, no less than our space. Whether or not one believes in the biblical system of reward and punishment, we can and should recognize the gift of life as coming from God as well as the fact that we can accomplish or endure far more than we believe. This is not meant as an excuse or as a rationalization for suffering but rather as being able to take the opportunity to find balance between hubris and self-effacement. As we see from life, when people get overconfident, bad things happen; when people get paralyzed and don’t act, it stops the potential good from occurring. The choice is in our hands-may it be our will to choose wisely.
[1] Deuteronomy 8:17
[2] Deuteronomy 9:4
[3] Deuteronomy 9:24
[4] Ramban on Deuteronomy 8:18 ד”ה וזכרת את ה אלקיך. Translation by Rabbi Elihu Munk.
[5] Mei HaShiloach on Deuteronomy 8:18 ד”ה וזכרת את ה אלקיך. Translated by Betzalel Edwards.
[6] Deuteronomy 7:17
[7] Rashi on Deuteronomy 7:17 ד”ה כי תאמר בלבביך
[8] Kedushat Levi on Deuteronomy 7:17 ד”ה כי תאמר בלבביך
What an honor to be here for MLC Pride Shabbat 2026. I look forward to hearing Kay’s remarks tomorrow.
The book that I acquired this week, Two Minute Torah by my colleague Rabbi Perry Raphael Rank, contains two two-minute teachings for each day of the Hebrew year. In looking through the teachings for this month, Sivan, I came across this week’s portion.
The day the Tabernacle was erected, a cloud covered the Tabernacle, the Tent of Testimony, and at night until the morning, a vision of fired hovered over the Tabernacle.[1]
On this topic Rabbi Rank writes the following:
The cloud and the fire, the one by day and the other by night, represent the eternal presence of God. They were both symbols of holiness. Both are as elusive and indeterminate as holiness itself. Neither substance can be held, neither one a solid, both move continuously, yet both were eerily stationed over the Tent of Testimony. The Israelites could not be certain that either were indicative of God’s presence. Sometimes a cloud is just a cloud and a fire is just a fire. And so the cloud and the fire are fitting, representations of holiness, because to sense God’s presence is a matter of faith. We are unable to grasp God, yet we are able to invite God into our lives…[2]
This is a perfect message for Pride Shabbat. Rather than memorializing those who were injured on that fateful day at Stonewall in June 1969, we celebrate that they had the guts to fight back against injustice and outdated laws-and we see how the law has changed in the 57 years since. The same is true for all of us, whether we are part of the LGBTQ+ community or a dear ally. We do not know why God made us as we are, why we love who we love, why we are in the particular body we are in. Yet we have faith in who we are, and we use this month to celebrate it. We might never have the answers for which we are seeking, and it is a scary time for many in the LGBTQ+ community, some of whom are planning to leave the country because of safety concerns. Yet we know that who we are and what we stand for matters dearly, and cannot be taken away by outside forces. We are like the fire, burning brightly, and like the cloud, offering protection to those who have been marginalized. This weekend is the time to have Pride in who we are, both as Jews and as supporters of LGBTQ+ rights.
When I lead the preliminary service, after studying a text, I choose the Yehi Ratzon (May it be God’s will) text that asks that we be like Aaron’s students: loving and pursuing peace, loving humanity, and bringing it closer to Torah. It’s not as much that I’m against the return of a Temple in Jerusalem; rather it’s that I love what this text exemplifies. Aaron was one who not only loved peace-he actively worked to create a more peaceful reality. It was his peaceful nature that merited him being the High Priest of Israel, just like it was Solomon’s peaceful disposition that merited him building the First Temple in Jerusalem.
How did Aaron pursue peace? The commentary on Pirkei Avot, called Avot D’Rebbe Natan, teaches us Aaron’s approach:
When Aaron was walking down the road, and he came upon a wicked person, he would wish him Shalom. The next day, when that man wanted to sin, he would [stop himself and] say: “Alas! How will I be able to look Aaron in the face? I will be so embarrassed when he wishes me Shalom.” And so, this man would stop himself from sinning.
Similarly, when two people were fighting with one another, Aaron would go and sit next to one of them and say: “Look at the anguish your friend is going through! His heart is ripped apart and he is tearing at his clothes. He is saying, ‘How can I face my old friend? I am so ashamed, for I betrayed his trust.’”
Aaron would sit with him until his rage subsided. Then Aaron would go to the other person in the fight and say: “Look at the anguish your friend is going through! His heart is ripped apart and he is tearing at his clothes. He is saying, ‘How can I face my old friend? I am so ashamed, for I betrayed his trust.’”
Aaron would sit with him until his rage subsided. When the two people saw each other, they would embrace and kiss one another.[1]
The Seer of Lublin in his book Divrei Emet wrote the following about Aaron’s pursuit of peace:
We know that Aaron’s actions brought him to his rung. Because he loved peace and was always trying to make peace between people, he merited to bring about peace between Israel and their Father in heaven, as the Zohar teaches.[2] All this came about because he loved God and therefore loved His creatures. He always wanted them to be at peace and to love one another. This all derived from the root of love.
That was how he came to bless Israel, because of his great love. This is to Aaron and his song, saying, “Thus shall you bless the children of Israel. Say to them…”[3] Aaron and his children, meaning his followers, have it in their very nature to bless (they do not have to be commanded to do so.)[4]
Rabbi Art Green remarks “we have all met such people in our lives, those whose very nature brings them to bless others. All they need to be taught is how to do it in such a way that the blessings will be heard and uplift those who receive them. This in itself is no small task”[5]
Every morning, we have the opportunity to be like Aaron’s disciples: loving peace and pursuing it, loving all creations, and bringing them close to Torah. This is especially reticent 1 week after we have celebrated the giving of the Torah on Shavuot. The opportunity is in our hands: will our actions lead to greater distance from others or will they bring us closer to them? Will we use Torah as a bridge to pursue “our Truth” at the exclusion of all others or will we use it to connect with those in our midst? The choice to be like the disciples of Aaron is in our midst.
Parshat B’Midbar is often described as “a mathematician’s dream.” It features lots of numbers with the census of the Israelites to prepare them from entering the Land of Israel. It’s essential to account for every person, whether it is 10 (as we need for a minyan) or 100,000. Every ten years we have a new population census which directly affects states’ electoral votes. For the Israelites’ sake they needed to be counted in order to make preparations for war and for the districting of the Land of Canaan. At the same time, how can we read this list of population without glossing over sections or becoming distracted? How do we impart meaning to each detail of the list?
Rashi gives a very interesting take on this. He comments מתוך חיבתן לפניו, מונה אותם כל שעה[1] “Because of their (Israel’s) dearness to Him, He counts them at every moment.” What is most dear to us is what we count, whether it is our money or the number of grandchildren we have. For G-d, what is most dear is the Jewish people so they merit counting.
It is important to note, however, that while G-d can count us, we cannot count ourselves. Our portion begins with G-d saying to Moses to speak to Israel take a census. It was not initiated by Moses but rather by G-d. In 1 Samuel, when King David decides to take a census of the Israelites, it brings about seven years of famine.[2] Why would this be the case? Perhaps because G-d’s motivation for counting Israel is to delight in our growing numbers and in His chosen people whereas our motivation for counting might only be pride or curiosity. Therefore, we cannot be the ones to count.
In Parshat Shekalim, Israel was counted not by number of people but by the number of half shekels received. In other words, each person was counted by virtue of his/her contribution as opposed to by number. This demonstrated that our value is not just a number (ie I’m number 798 to be counted) but by what we brought to make G-d’s home. Of course, the numbering of people often has disastrous consequences, as we saw in the Shoah. We are so much more than a number: we are a person with unique talents and gifts to contribute to better humanity and the world.
We also do not count Jews during minyan. To ensure there are ten, we use a roundabout technique: reciting a biblical verse of ten words and ascribing to each person present one of those words. A common one is הושיעה את עמך וברך את נחלתך ורעם ונשאם עד עולם, “bring salvation to your nation and bless your inheritance rejoice and lift us up forever.”[3] By counting with this verse, we raise people’s spirits; that as we call out to G-d to save us so too are we saying that each person’s presence is qualitatively lifting up our congregation.
This is a good lesson for an aufruf. Ryan and Liz, we are so delighted in your choosing to build a Jewish home together. Marriage often starts out easy in the honeymoon phase; over time, however, couples tend to argue, often vehemently disagreeing. At such times, it is important NOT to count the amount of times you are “right” (by the way, Ryan, Liz is always right 😊) or the amount of times s/he said __________. Rather the importance is recognizing who your partner truly is. No one said marriage was easy-in fact, the biblical term for a partner is עזר כנגדו, one to help in opposition to you. By having different perspectives, you make the other better, completing him/her in a sense.
Liz and Ryan, my prayer is that you always celebrate together and that you remain one another’s best friends, supporting each other through life’s opportunities and challenges. As you will get married immediately following Shavuot, when we rejoice in the giving of the Torah, we pray that Judaism will always imbibe every fiber of your being as it has with your roles in Shalom School, The Sacramento Jewish Federation, and, most importantly, Sac BAD Jews which brought you together. May you find the joy in each and every moment of life together, recognizing that the qualitative uniqueness of the other far exceeds any quantity-it is priceless. Mazal Tov on this special day!
[1] Rashi on Numbers 1:1 ד”ה וידבר, במדבר סיני, באחד לחדש
