Category: culture

I’m Looking at the Man in the Mirror

Like so many, I am frustrated.  In large measure, I am frustrated with myself. It is me who needs the work.  Privilege, whiteness, racist and similar words or phrases can be jingoistic, masquerading in a cloak of empathy.   They really have no weight until I confront who I am with honesty and vulnerability.  I have struggled with what I can only describe as our own hypocrisy; far too often we preach and we teach, but we do not fully live the Jewish values we espouse.  How could this not be at the forefront of everything I do for as long as I have been doing it?  What took me so long, why now?  I think back at those interesting words at the beginning of Exodus: And God heard their cry and remembered the Covenant God made. What took God so long?  There were 400 years of suffering and oppression.  What took God so long?

It does not assuage my guilt to take solace in the human time it took God.  Despite knowing I cannot change the past, I struggle with how I affect the future. This only adds to the frustration of knowing I have not done enough to bring us farther along.  And do I really believe in what I proclaim?

Do I have the fortitude and courage to look deep within and grapple with who I am and what I must do to change?  Only then will I be whole enough to join in the battle that our society and humanity as a whole must wage to create the world I profess to believe in.  Will I cross over or find contentment on this side in my narrow but for the most part comfortable space.

We have had opportunities before.  We have moved forward, slowly, haltingly, stumbling often one step forward and two steps back.  In actuality, we have lived with the opportunities to make change continuously.  What makes this moment different?  Will I be like Nachshon, wading deliberately into the unknown Sea of Reeds or be one of those longing for the land of Goshen, that narrow harsh place, whose evils are known but tempered by our thoughts of powerlessness?

Prescriptions are being bandied about. Some might be curative and others little more than a bandage.  Everywhere there are now lists of things proposing changes ostensibly serving to right society’s wrongs.  How could these lists be created so quickly?  Seeing these in the immediate aftermath of George Floyd’s murder makes me wonder if the answers been known all along. This would imply either the problem is not that complicated or we did not have the strength to enact these prescriptions. We need to ask ourselves which it is.   Or is the problem so deep and thorny as to render it all but impossible to unravel? And we have left the status quo because we are overwhelmed at the enormity of the issue.   At this moment in time are we willing to find out?  Will this time different from all of the other times?    Am I up to the challenge?

 

 

 

Shabbat Shalom

We still believe that there is a better place, a promised land, and the way there is through the wilderness.  There is no way for us to get from here to there, except by joining hands, marching together. (Mishkan Tefillah, adapted)

If you can, be at the rally in New York this Sunday to express solidarity as a first step toward achieving the values that are at the center of Judaism and America.  Together as the Jewish community of the United States with all others of goodwill, we will overcome forces of hatred and bigotry.  There is much work to be done and miles to go before we sleep.  Together we can get there.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

By Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Shabbat Shalom

 

The Priestly Blessing- A message of hope deliberately placed

 

Naso by Yoram Raanan

The Priestly Blessing is a message of hope in a troubled world.  We have long wondered about the Priestly Blessing being placed in Parshat Naso.  Many have posited it was out of place, belonging instead in Leviticus (9:22) when Aaron is told to bless the people.  But I believe it is placed here purposefully as a message of assurance,  to make sure we understand how important we are to each other and to the Almighty.

Naso contains a census of the Tribe of Gershon, the extraordinary stories of the Sotah, a test for the unfaithful wife, and the issues surrounding the intense vows of becoming a Nazirite. And only then do we read the Priestly Blessing;  The three-line expansive blessing upon each of us that God protects us, is kind to us, and grants peace to us.  It is actually the perfect response to the perplexing and difficult issues that preceded.

We are told we count. That was central in the previous Parsha, BeMidbar, and reiterated as the census to count the Gershonites.   But then we are confronted with the Sotah and the Nazirite, as if to ask are there times when we do not count.  We all struggle with life.  We seek God’s blessings, we seek meaning, we seek good things, namely peace and a good life.  But we find ourselves going off the rails.  When this happens are we cut off from God’s blessing?

The Sotah is about accusations of infidelity.  But in the absence of anything but circumstantial evidence, the magical test is administered by the Priest.  The gravitas of this must be overwhelming.  But even if a woman survived the test, would her husband fully welcome her home, without harboring some suspicions.  Would trust ever be restored fully?  Would others in the community maintain lingering doubts, rumors, and stories placing an indelible stain on the woman’s reputation?

Someone taking the vow of a Nazirite  may do it for lofty purpose, but based on our understanding of the things that motivate such action, we see the wisdom of Gersonides’ analysis that, A person takes such a vow to silence the unhealthy turmoil inside a person arising from a physical desire that might lead one to sin.  Does the person who needed to take the Nazirite vow feel rejuvenated or reborn when the vow is complete?  Does the thing that required such focus continue to linger in their souls?  Such impulses can extend beyond lust to other impulses that can plague us emotionally or spiritually.

The Priestly Blessing is deliberately and thoughtfully placed here to say we struggle and we continue to struggle.  It comes at us from all angles.  It is part of being human in a world that is often fraught and difficult.  Each of us has a struggle, a demon, a bad action, a feeling of inadequacy.  It is part of who we are as human beings.

The Priestly Blessing is a wish for wholeness, a wish for Peace in an unpeaceful world.  The Priestly Blessing is a wish for Peace; it is our yearning that these struggles do not mire us in a life that feels dark or hopeless.  It is the profound hope that God is there to love and protect us even when we feel we have strayed so far away that we are beyond the reach of even the Almighty’s loving protective wings of peace.

Hope remains.  God is there.  We are not alone.

May the Almighty Bless you and Protect you.

May the Almighty deal kindly and graciously with you.

May the Almighty bestow Divine favor upon you, granting you wholeness and peace.

Shabbat Shalom.

 

 

Rabbi David Levin is a second career rabbi.  Trained at Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion, Rabbi Levin’s rabbinate focuses on outreach to seekers of meaning, bringing Jewish Wisdom to their life journey.  Rabbi Levin’s work is trans-denominational, embracing and drawing knowledge from all aspects of Judaism. He is a member of the CCAR (Reform Rabbinical Association), OHALA (Renewal Rabbinical Association), NAJC (Neshama, Association of Jewish Chaplains), a Fellow of Rabbis Without Borders, serves on the regional board of NIF (New Israel Fund), and is a volunteer on the Disaster Spiritual Care Team of the American Red Cross.

Rabbi Levin currently teaches The Ethical Will Re-Imagined, as well as Mussar at the Jack M. Barrack Hebrew Academy, Introduction to Judaism for the URJ, “Kavod v’Nichum, Understanding Jewish end-of-life rituals”, and the acclaimed series “L’Chaim, Jewish Wisdom for the End of Life Journey” with two esteemed rabbinic colleagues. Rabbi Levin officiates in complex lifecycle events including non-traditional burial and work with interfaith couples.   Rabbi David leads interfaith trips to Israel through the CLAL Stand and See project.  Rabbi Levin is the organizer of Death Café of Greater Philadelphia

 

BaMidbar-In the Desert and Everywhere, Everyone counts

As social beings we seek relationships as a way of making meaning. We need to connect to other people’s lives, believing we have something to contribute, and through this validating our own self. We want to count. Each of us is busy, absorbed in our own world with scarce time to think of others. We often find ourselves shunted aside, neglected or forgotten, not because of anything malicious, but because each of us become so focused on the day to day challenges, we forget to reach out and are often left feeling alone. This can be discouraging and even make us doubt our own value. This week’s Torah portion BaMidbar reminds us however, that indeed we are important.

This first chapter of the book of Numbers has the Israelites out wandering in the desert, in the Midbar. But translating the word as desert is deceptive. We picture a desert as a vast place, devoid of life, empty, and forbidding. But the desert is actually a place teeming with life, a place of overwhelming beauty, and an awesome night sky filled with countless stars. It is the place where the children descended from Israel/Jacob become the People/nation of Israel. The Children of Israel are forged in this harsh climate, and preparing to enter the Promised Land. It is a time of growing where everyone is needed to build the nation. Everyone counts.

The idea that everyone counts is so important that God instructs Moses to conduct a census. God appoints leaders of each clan to do help in this important work of accounting for everyone so the greater task of building the nation can occur. As it says in Numbers 1:19, “As the Lord commanded Moses, so did he count them in the Sinai desert.” The desert is a place of accounting, revelation and building, and revealing that each of us has a critical role to play. At this time, nothing is of greater importance.

Even the word BaMidbar speaks to our significance and meaning. The word shares the same letters as the word for speaking or speaker, Midaber. The word BaMidbar that we translate as “in the desert,” could be, “ in the speaking”, or “in the speaker.” Each person has an important contribution to make to the whole. It was true in the Sinai, also it is also true now. The desert is far more than what it might seem on the surface. The Torah portion shares that the Midbar is an extraordinary place of discovery- finding our place, finding our purpose, and finding our connection to things greater than ourselves, our family and our people. BaMidbar teaches that I am worthy of being counted- that I do count!

Each of us counts. Each of us has something worthwhile to say and something important to give. Our life experiences have created a wealth of knowledge and wisdom. We are teachers and caregivers, learning, practicing, educating, and demonstrating what it means to be human, what it means to make meaning in the lives of others and in our own lives as well. That makes each of us significant.

Each of us counts.

What now?

With the marking of Sheloshim for the victims in Pittsburgh and the passage of time, an important question is now being raised, where do we go from here?  Or more simply put, What Now? 

In the aftermath of tragedy, it is important to rebuild and move forward.  In response to a natural disaster, the need to rebuild is clear.  Houses, infrastructure, all of the things physicallydamaged or destroyed need to be put back into place, often rebuilt from scratch.  But with a disaster of this nature, the rebuilding is not so clearly defined.  What is the enduring message we want our rebuilding to carry?  

How do we honor the legacy of those taken from us, the outpouring of support from the greater community, the lastingJewish values that have kept our people and our tradition and will continue to do so?  Other difficult but important questions to consider include these:  Anti-violence training prompted someone to ask how can she run to safety, when saving herself means she leaves behind the more vulnerable?  Another question, how do we practice hospitality and welcome people into our Jewish homes (synagogues), when the front door is locked or attended by an armed guard?  How can we feel safe when anti-Semitic incidents are not only on the rise, but  finding new levels of public acceptance?

There is an urge to rebuild the physical structures quickly, to return to normal and stand up to the hatred with defiance.   But there was an important lesson learned from rebuilding lower Manhattan post 9/11.  The deliberate but protracted process achieved amazing results.  What was no longer is and recreating something from before does not acknowledge the event that has irrevocably changed us.  The memorials honor the event and the human tragedy as well as the spirit of courage, hope and love.  So too, the Shanksville memorial that I visited on my return from Pittsburgh is a moving and thoughtful tribute to the brave men and women on that fateful flight, United #93.  It is prudent to resist the temptation to act too quickly, opting instead for aslower and deliberative process.  The result will hopefully become an enduring symbol of strength, courage, hope and love, the best aspirations of our tradition.  

The process of recovery will take time.  It is a natural desire to try to shorten, if not deny, the grieving process.  But our tradition clearly understands the importance of this special time.  We grieve and then slowly begin the process of reintegrating ourselves into life with the experience and pain of loss a new part of us.  Only then might we gain a new perspective.  And from this perspective, we can create something honoring those we have lost and promoting our values for the sake of the generations to come.