Category: religion

The Kotel holds a mystical sway over so many

I recall the evening I landed in Jerusalem at the beginning of my year in Israel, the start of my journey to become a rabbi.  I dropped my bags and headed to the Wall.  I was thoroughly exhausted.  It was very late and I had not slept for way too long.  But I needed to go there.  As I stood before her, I was overcome with emotion.  My eyes filled with tears and my heart raced as I slowly and deliberately made my way to touch the massive stones.

As a rational person, I can argue for why the Wall should not be important.  It is perilously close to idolatry, it is only a retaining wall, the religion I embrace has moved beyond this physical space, etc., etc.  And yet I was awed and inspired none-the-less.

Each of us proclaiming our Judaism has a right to be in this place.  We all are entitled to encounter Judaism and therefore this extraordinary manifestation of it in our own way, on our own terms.  To those who claim I am not a good Jew based on their understanding of Judaism, all I can say is, we each have our paths.  I do not ask you to agree with mine, only to respect my path and my sincere efforts to engage Judaism as best I can. Likewise, I shall extend the same courtesy to you.  Although we do not agree, we are both part of Am Yisrael.

The Sharansky plan to bring various streams of Judaism to this special place is what we each should expect and deserve.  Robinson’s Arch is part of the wall, as is the southern wall. But something about the area we all call the Kotel is special.  Thus, the Sharansky plan is the acceptable and appropriate way to move forward.  Providing space elsewhere is just that, providing space elsewhere; and therefore that is unacceptable.  If the actions of the liberal community are offensive to my more traditional brothers and sisters, it would matter little where we might go.  We will not force you to participate and I hope we will not be “in your face” and incite you.  No legitimate authority can take away our precious place away from us as they could not deny it to you.

Reaching out to others is a profound gift

I vividly remember that September night in 1987. We had left the hospital earlier that evening knowing that the end was near.  The hospital called a few hours later to let us know it had arrived.  We stood at mom’s bedside holding vigil.  Each of us tried to say goodbye in our own way, a stroke of her hair, a whisper into her ear, holding her hand, a prayer in our hearts.  The truth is we were only trying to say goodbye; none of us could bear the thought of being without her. And then it was over.  Once the monitor was turned off, the silence was intense.  And although I was standing before my mom with my father, brother and sister, I felt profoundly alone.

 But there was another presence in the room.  We had called our close family friend and Rabbi earlier that day, and he came to us in the middle of the night.  I honestly cannot remember what he said. But I do remember feeling as though I was standing at the edge of the abyss, staring into blackness.  His gentle touch somehow made me feel like I was not completely alone.  He could not take away the pain, no one could. But the echoes of the psalm reverberated in my mind; someone was beside me as I began to walk in that very dark valley. Rabbi’s presence helped me to begin the process of grieving her loss, then picking up the pieces and beginning to move forward.

 My work as a hospital chaplain and as a rabbi has given me many opportunities to be with people in their time special time of grief, vulnerability or need.  I am privileged to offer this wonderful gift to others.  But it is not a gift limited only to rabbis.  We all have the potential to reach out to others in profound and meaningful ways. We offer ourselves to be present, to listen, to make a meal, to call a couple of weeks later just to check in, these are extraordinary ways that each of us can make an important impact on another’s life.  At the time when a person feels most isolated, we can reassure them that they are not alone.

Trayvon and Judaism

With Trayvon Martin gone, the question is not whether justice has been served or if George Zimmerman was really guilty.  The Jewish question before us is, “How do we prevent another such tragedy from occurring?”

 There is no justice to be served here.  A seventeen year-old boy is dead.  Trayvon Martin’s parents will be forever changed by the death of their son.  George Zimmerman will spend the rest of his life knowing he left his home one evening filled with the self-importance of a neighborhood watchman and returned home later that night a murderer.  Nothing we can do can change what has happened, we can only hope to change what will happen.

 At this time of year, we begin to look toward the High Holidays and we begin the process of preparation.  We engage in introspection and self-reflection as we search our souls thinking of our own shortcomings, asking for forgiveness and planning to make the coming year better if only we are so blessed with the precious gift of life.  Yet there are other questions we are compelled to ask.  We look at the world in which we live and ponder what we can do to make it a better place; to leave a place to our children that is better, safer and more secure than the one we inherited, moved ever slightly closer to repair through our actions.  What is our role to make society more civil and more just for everyone? That is our historic mission, the essence of being chosen to receive the extraordinary gift of Torah at Mount Sinai and the real hope for being written into the book of life.

Tisha B’Av prayers

During Tisha B’Av, as we contemplate our losses, let us also remember the hope that comes from our capacity to rebuild after tragedy.  Let us also take time to reject Sni’at Chinam, the baseless hatred that rips the fabric of Am Yisrael from within. Let us work to build our people based on respect for every Jew’s serious engagement with Judaism, even when we do not agree or accept it as our own personal practice.