Finding Ourselves and God- a Message from Isaiah

It’s like Déjà vu all over again.  Yes, I am again quoting from one of my favorite American Philosophers, Yogi Berra.  Here we are, back in this familiar place. “Is this the fast I desire?” cries God through his prophet Isaiah. For those of you paying attention, you will notice that this is precisely the Torah Portion we read last year. 

 It is said that a definition of insanity is to repeat the same thing over and over again, hoping that “this time will be different,” like re-watching the movie Titanic and hoping the boat doesn’t sink.  But this is looking back at the past.

 We know that we cannot change the past.  Instead we look to the future and seek change there. During the High Holidays, we do not only about ask forgiveness for past bad behaviors; but we also believe we can learn from our mistakes and resolve to do better.  We will do T’shuva and the future will be great. But the Haftarah tells us it is really not about the future either.  For in reality, we cannot control that which has yet to happen any more than we can control that which has already occurred.  Isaiah is really all about the now– the present– this very moment.  Here and now, we can make a change.

That is why I am so excited about the initiative that Rabbi Straus announced last week in his sermon.  We have all received the envelopes to commit to supporting groups such as the West Philadelphia Alliance for Children, HIAS refugee resettlement, and the Calvary Baptist Church in West Philly, dedicated to improving the lives of our neighbors who do not share our many blessings.  We can do something today by writing a check and becoming involved.  Reform Judaism has always embraced that we are fully engaged in the community and world around us.  We at Main Line Reform Temple have decided to make this a reality in a most amazing way. And I am honored and thrilled to be part of a community that is willing to engage in such an extraordinary practice.  So please give generously however you are able.

Isaiah makes it clear that before we can be in relationship with God, we first must be in relationship with the other, other people not just those like ourselves, but the poor, the homeless, hungry those who do not share our many blessings, but those who remind us that in someway, we are broken too.  In his song Anthem, Leonard Cohen’s poetry expresses it  well:

        Ring the bells that can still ring

         Forget your perfect offering

         There is a crack, a crack in everything,

         That’s how the light gets in.

 Our giving is part of the inspiration and aspiration that is the core message of the High Holidays.  The actions we undertake today will make the life of someone needy just a little bit better.  And then, the future for all of us shines brighter.  When we embrace Isaiah’s call to act in this way, we indeed are on the path towards the fast that God desires.

*  This was the d’var Torah delivered at Main Line Reform Temple on Yom Kippur 5774

Syria- An American Jewish Perspective

If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?

Ha’azinu- The name of this week’s parashah means to LISTEN IN

In his final moments, Moses sings a song to the people.  He calls upon Heaven and Earth to be witnesses to remember the extraordinary blessings of how God found Israel in the desert, shaped them into a people and chose them as his own.

But the blessings make us complacent, and we turn our backs on the very God who provided all that we have.  And in response, God “hides his face.” We suffer as a result of our own actions.  But there is the promise that God will be reconciled with his people.  That is the message of hope.

This message rings so true today and so desperately needs to be heard.

As a nation, we are war weary.  Iraq and Afghanistan have taken a horrible heavy toll.  These long protracted wars have left us wondering why we did what we did and to what effect?  Was it all worth it? The toll in the precious lives of our men and women that served, the incalculable cost and even our moral standing in the world.  I have long believed in the American ideals; that freedom and truth and democracy were the American shining beacons upon the world- the lights unto the nations.  But these lights flicker, the result of so much we have done in the harsh realpolitik of the global stage in the beginning of this century and the century before that.

We are not the world’s policemen. But on some level, the relative stability that world has enjoyed is a Pax Americana, maintained by the dominance of the worlds only superpower projecting its influence across the globe.  And despite the cynicism, the byproduct of protecting economic and political self-interest, our guiding principles still echo in our hearts and minds, principles that focus on protecting those who are not empowered or capable of doing so themselves.  As Americans and as Jews we are compelled to respond to the travesties and tragedies that so completely offend our sacred sensibilities and values.

As Jews we are uniquely attuned to the issues of power.  Our Jewish tradition has been built on a system of ethics and morals- what we should do, what we are obligated to do, because we have historically often found ourselves outside the protection of power or civil society.  We are charged to care for the poor, to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, house the homeless because these are the people that are the vulnerable and powerless amongst us, the most ill-equipped to care for themselves

We listen to the cries of suffering of the common people of Syria as they find themselves the victims of the brutal civil war that rages.  100,000 people are dead.  Millions have fled seeking safe haven from the death and destruction that rains down indiscriminately.  Women, children, and men it makes no difference.  Fighter or Innocent bystander, it makes no difference.

The war seems to descend lower and lower into more vicious and more brutal attacks.  Sarin gas has been used and an estimated 400 children maybe 1500 adults have been murdered.  Although the numbers are not clear, the effects are.  The sound of death is excruciating; the whimper of someone struggling for breath, the moan of someone whose body is racked by pain.  Gas or bomb- a slow agonizing death is a horrible thing.

The use of chemical weapons is particularly deplorable.  But, I do not think the red line was using chemical weapons.  To me the red line is to exterminate people in the name of political power.  That line was crossed years ago.  That line resonates within me and within every Jew.  We often ask, “Why didn’t the allies stop the holocaust?”  If they only destroyed the train tracks leading to the death camps, conceivably millions could have been saved.  The world turned a blind eye and a deaf ear to the pleas of 12 million victims whose only crime was they were Jews or Catholics or gays or gypsies, or the physically or mentally handicapped.  Can we continue to be deaf?

I do not know what a punitive strike against the Assad regime means.  I know that the politics of action are complicated and the potential ramifications are ominous. But the results of our inaction are equally problematic.   Assad is no friend of the US or Israel and those seeking to topple him are likewise.  So to ask if intervention directly serves American security interests, the answer is likely no.  But if we instead ask the question: “can we stop the barbaric bloodshed?” Then the answer is “maybe so.”  Stopping the barbaric bloodshed however will serve an important political interest however;  for the millions streaming across the border have a hugely de-stabilizing effect on Jordan, Turkey and thereby also threatening Israel.   It is my sincerest hope that President Obama speaks to the nation this Tuesday evening cogently and honestly explaining what it is his proposed military intervention is expected to do. We deserve to hear no less.

There was a time when I thought a Bosnia-like approach to intervention could have forced the war-makers on both sides into neutral corners and saved civilian lives.  But our current redline and subsequent delay until everyone is in agreement makes the military option much less viable with every passing day.  The open debate is important, but it changes and limits the effective options available.

Assad is Russia’s ally.  We might be able to push Putin to replace his current dictator with another dictator.  Although Putin may not be predisposed to listening, we could make rather persuasive arguments, ones that might resonate. Hopefully that was part of the private discussion today between Presidents Putin and Obama in St. Petersburg.  And if the United Nations Security Council is immobilized, we can still rally a substantial portion of the international community.  Whatever we do, our commitment must be to the voices of the victims whose voices cannot be heard.  We must answer the question: “What can we do to save the innocents?”

If we only are concerned with protecting American security or economic interests, then intervention in this place and the great American experiment is nothing but an exercise in selfish world dominance that will surely end as every empire before it has ended.  But I believe the American experiment remains noble of purpose.  It is grounded in the ideals that the individual has value, honor and dignity; that each person has a voice to be heard.  The peal of freedom’s bell can and still does cry out.  If only we would listen.

What is prayer? Lessons from Channah

Why do we pray?

The Haftarah portion for today is taken from the Book of Samuel.  This is the story of a barren woman, Channah,  one of two wives of a man named Elkanah.  Elkanah loves Channah and tries to show her affection.  But this is insufficient for Channah and she goes to Shiloh to pray for a son who she would dedicate to God’s service.

What is it to Pray?

Is it asking for something?

God I want a pony.

I have a vision akin to sitting on the lap of a giant Santa Claus asking for stuff-

A new iPhone, maybe a new Audi convertible or

if you like cooking gadgets as I do,

a new Vitamix 7500.

Stuff that makes us feel good on the surface- But this is a rather pediatric view of how God fits into our lives.

 

A more sophisticated version of prayer is to seek connection;

to reach out,  wishing someone you love will be healthy,

that the distance we often feel from another person will be bridged

and we are reconciled.

Prayer is to admit a feeling of emptiness or a void and a yearning for it to be filled.

Channah’s story is fascinating.  She yearns for a child.  The void is in her life is both spiritual and physical.  Her husband, clueless, as many of us are, tries to assuage her with baubles.  He even lavishes attention on her.  But none of this can penetrate beyond the surface and is essentially meaningless to Channah. She turns to prayer.

 

Prayer is actually difficult, it is uncomfortable because it requires of us to be vulnerable.

We must bare our soul- to God and to ourselves.

We must look into the mirror, as it were,

and see that in the cold harsh light of reality,

the reflection we see is not as beautiful or perfect as we pretend.

That new vitamix is a great toy, but if I do not have someone to cook for

it is just another expensive gadget collecting dust on the countertop.

 

So Channah prays a fervent prayer.  And as if to emphasize the point, our great prophet Eli mistakes this woman for a drunkard and harshly rebukes her.

But the prayer Channah prays gives her strength,

she becomes resolute enough, comfortable enough in her own skin, not to accept the scorn of the Prophet and speak in his presence explaining herself.  It turns Eli’s heart.

 

Prayer is powerful it can be awesome and even frightening.

Do we have the courage and inner strength

to look honestly inside ourselves and see truth,

our unvarnished reality with its shortcomings and desires unfulfilled?

It is hard and scary,

but if we are willing to try,

the results can be extraordinary.

And now we read the story of Channah.

 

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.