Tag: Torah

Does He or Doesn’t She? Some Thoughts about God, Me and the SuperBowl

This Friday night we celebrate a very special Shabbat.  Although each Shabbat is special, certain  Shabbats  are singled out for particular meaning in the Jewish calendar.  There is Shabbat Shuvah, the Shabbat between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, Shabbat HaGadol, the Shabbat leading to Passover, Shabbat Shirah, the Shabbat where we sing of crossing the Reed Sea, to name but three of them.  Friday, January 31st, we celebrate Shabbat Super Bowl.

Super Bowl Sunday is Feb 2nd 2014.  Does God actually play a role in the Super bowl?

There is much debate in America as to whether God plays a role in the Super bowl.  According to a new survey from the Public Religion Research Institute, “half of American Sports fans say they believe God or a supernatural force is at play in the games they watch.”  This includes 26% of Americans who pray directly to God to help their team, 25% of Americans who believe their team is cursed and approximately 19% of Americans who believe God is involved in who wins the game.  This raises some very interesting questions:  What is the nature of the God you believe in?

How do we understand God?   What role does God play in our lives?

If a disaster looms, do we thank God that we were spared from the hurricane (even though the guys that were nailed were not quite so lucky)?  If we get sick, do we pray for God to make us well?

I believe the adage “there are no atheists in foxholes.”  When your life is at stake, you grab on to anything that might be a lifeline.  And foxholes are metaphoric as well as literal.  Each of us will face trials and tribulations in our lives.  It is then that we need something to hold onto, an anchor, a rock a something that says we will survive this, because regardless of whether we want it or not, misfortune will surely strike.  We do not control the event, but we can control how we get through it and how we carry on after it is over.

So where and how do you find God?

 As I sought to answer this question, I found some incredible, astounding and sobering statistics:  The Department for Veteran’s Affairs reports than an estimated 48,000 veterans are homeless or at risk for becoming homeless.  As of the end of last year, the number of non-fatal casualties from Afghanistan and Iraq surpassed the grim milestone of one million.  Over 270,000 brain injuries have been diagnosed including traumatic brain injuries and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.   These are forbidding statistics.  But there is an important point that is tragically lost in these statistics.

 These are human beings who are suffering.  They are not nameless things, but rather, they are people, people who feel sadness, pain and anguish.  These are the people our prophets seek to protect when they call out to us.  For far too long we have not felt a personal connection to these individual people. We have let the impersonal Government take care of the nameless masses.  But it is for us, however, to look at them as our brothers and sisters, members of our American family. These are the distinct brave men and women like veteran ranger Sergeant First Class Cory Remsburg who appeared at the State of the Union Address earlier this week.  Sergeant First Class Cory Remsburg served his country heroically with a valor and devotion that goes beyond the comprehension of most of us.  And Cory Remsberg will spend the rest of his life dependent upon the love and support of all of us as he struggles to recover from devastating injuries.

 We are taught, “Kol Yisrael arevim zeh bazeh.”  We are all responsible for each other. This is the charge from our God to each and every one of us, that it is our sacred obligation to protect the vulnerable.  We are commanded to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, shelter the homeless, and safeguard the widow and the orphan.  It is here that we can find our God.  For when we reach out to another, God is in that sacred space.

 We learn about God’s sacred space in this week’s Torah portion Terumah.  Here are the intricate details of building God’s house in the Midbar.  The Mishkan is a moveable structure that the Israelites carry with them on their travels through the Wilderness.  And if we take this passage as metaphor, essentially we learn in this parshah that God is with us wherever we may go.  God Himself teaches us one of the core messages of Torah.  As we are taught to build the Ark of the Covenant, two Cherubim are placed on top of the Ark with facing each other with arms outstretched.  And God then says, “Here I will meet with you.” (Ex 25:22).  That, in other words, God is found in the place we come into relationship with each other.

 So let me return to the original question, “Does God influence the Super Bowl?”  “God Knows,” but I do not.  I am sure that there is a facet of God that enjoys a good contest, revels in positive human competition, and even enjoys a good burger. Should we invite Him to the Tailgating party? Would that unduly influence the Almighty or perhaps might He just enjoy the sweet savor of something hot off the grill?

 But the real question remains: “How can you find God’s presence in your daily life?” And the answer to that question might be that maybe God does indeed have the capacity to influence everything in our lives if only we reached out to others and opened ourselves up to the possibility.

 Shabbat Shalom

Presence is an active not passive activity

 We think of “being present” for the other as being available to hear them and be with them.  We say we reach out to them but often we are really offering to wait for them to come to us.  I have learned that is not enough.  Offering to be there is a far cry from going to where they are.   And I have also learned that when someone needs another, they rarely have the presence of mind to reach out to someone else, instead they are trapped, caught in a place of aloneness.

 A friend recently lost a son, a tragedy that words cannot adequately describe.  He was loved by many, as was his mother, my friend.  People packed both the funeral and the Shiva minyanim, expressing their love and support.  At one minyan, I approached my friend and I said in earnest, “Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you.” She responded, “Thanks, you’re the third rabbi who has made that offer tonight.”  She was appreciative, but her  matter-of-fact response was very instructive.

 Two weeks later I called her.  She had heard that I weaved the story of her son into a sermon and was overflowing with gratitude that I had remembered her and him.  The simple act of making a phone call, reaching out to her, rather than sitting waiting for her to call me, was received as a profound gesture of caring.  In those few minutes I truly did something important and meaningful.  I went to her and provided comfort.  Realistically, she never would have called me, and it was unrealistic for me to think otherwise. She was unable to reach out to me.  Whether we are providing pastoral care or being a friend, it is what we do that makes the difference in the lives of others.

I will not let you go until you have blessed me.

In the dark solitude of night Jacob wrestles with an unidentified man until dawn, but would not let him go, even after he appears to vanquish his opponent. Although the text says it was a man, the figure is mysterious and might have been an angel of God or possibly a demon from Jacob’s psyche.

 This remarkable story speaks to how we might make something good come from the troublesome or even the tragic event; for Jacob would not let go until he received a blessing.  Instead of fleeing, as Jacob has in the past, Jacob only grapples with it. Acknowledging this event is now a part of him, Jacob holds on.  Jacob emerges from the scuffle physically injured, forever changed. But he still insists that something good comes of the encounter a blessing.

 So many of us confront tragedy in our lives.  And despite the pain and the suffering tragedy causes, people often turn it in order to make something good as a result.  For example, the founders of Mothers Against Drunk Driving, MADD, were able to take the unspeakable horror of losing their children and create a crusade to save the children of others. Veronique Pozner, recently named as one of the Forward 50, lost her 6-year-old son Noah in Newtown and transformed her personal tragedy and grief into a rallying cry for gun control legislation in Connecticut.

 We are forever changed as a result of the harsh tests in our lives.  For Jacob, his hip was damaged and his name changed to always reflect that the event had irrevocably altered him.  Nothing will bring the lost children back to their mothers. Noah will never return to Veronique, but she celebrates his brief life, by working to create a better world.  May we all find the strength to do so.

~Thoughts on Vayishlach

Go Forth, But not Alone

Lech Lecha

I had the privilege of officiating at the funeral and first evening Shiva Minyan of a lovely man.  It came time to share a D’var Torah during the Minyan and I spoke to Lech Lecha, our Parashah and God’s command to Abraham to “Go Forth- to a land that I will show you.”  The Hebrew is in the singular, in other words God is speaking directly to Abraham, instructing him what to do.  As we learn in the story, Abraham does indeed venture out from his father’s house and into history, becoming our Patriarch, a father to those as numerous as the stars.   Abraham did need to respond to God’s challenge, but he was not alone.

Sarah was Abraham’s wife and partner.  Although God does tell Abraham to “Go forth,” Sarah stood by his side throughout the process.  The two of them acted together.  And there is significance in that.  As I ruminated over the circumstances in which my D’var Torah would be shared, I wondered if in fact the beautiful story of my friend, as related to me by his widow, was a representation of what Abraham and Sarah experienced.  It takes an extraordinary person to embark on an extraordinary venture.  But would he or she have the courage to do it without the love and support of a trusted partner? Could someone reach for the stars without a companion to provide strength, someone willing to walk with you by your side?  And even if a person were capable of achieving “greatness” without any one else’s support, could such a person be the progenitor of a people?

I believe the answer is no.  And herein lies a teaching of our Torah portion.  We cannot achieve true greatness without the support of others.  One can achieve, but without others to share and give strength, the venture is selfish.  Lech Lecha, you must do it but you cannot do it alone.

Enduring Life lessons come from how we live- A message from Nitzavim

If you could choose your last words or final deeds, what would they be?

In Nitzavim, the portion we are about to read, Moses uses his final moments to share his parting thoughts with us– the final words that will linger in the hearts and minds of those there after he is gone.

 Choose life.  It is here.  It is now.   But the truth of it is, we really do not know for how long.  As we read in the Unataneh Tokef prayer, death comes in many forms, and we have been rather creative in coming up with a list.  We can only hope and pray for life and health.  But deep down, we all know that inevitable end of our physical life lurks waiting.

 I have had occasion to be with a family who knew death was coming.  The mother had some months to prepare; her cancer would not be stopped. I was with a family where the death of the father was completely unexpected.  A massive coronary took him in the middle of is regular bike ride with his wife.

Perhaps you might think that the first instance is easier.  You know it is coming, you can say goodbye, settle your affairs; prepare those you will leave behind.  Whereas when someone is taken in a moment, there is and no time at all.  It is abrupt and harsh.

 The truth is that no matter how you might try to prepare, it is merely an intellectual exercise.  Emotionally the pain of loss is just as jarring and real in the moment it comes.  So if we do not know the how or the when of it, you might be wondering if what I am talking about isn’t itself just an intellectual exercise.  How is it possible to plan when we don’t know how to measure what is left in days or in years?

 We have the opportunity to impart our final words through both words and deeds every single day. Truth be told, we do not share our final message in the final moments of our lives. That is not the time.  It is hard to think clearly, if you wrote it down, you likely you left it in your desk in another room, or your glasses are upstairs, so you cannot read your notes anyway!

 There is a Midrash about Jacob on his deathbed, surrounded by his children, wondering if he left them with the truly important lessons.  They responded with “Shema Israel, Adonai Eloheynu, Adonai echad” Hear oh Israel the Lord our God the Lord is one.  Given that Jacob’s name was changed to Israel, an alternative translation might be:

“Dad, you taught us your lesson well and we heard you.”

 I met an extraordinary man during an overnight rotation working as a hospital chaplain. I went to Jim’s room intending to console a grieving family.  But consolation was not going to happen. Jim was an organ donor and the Gift of Life team was preparing to bring life to several people who would benefit from Jim’s heart, lungs, liver and even his corneas. The people at Jim’s bedside were celebrating the man who continued to live and embody the ideals that made him beloved even after he was gone.

 Similarly, the funeral for our friend on his bike was a celebration of his life.  Each eulogy lovingly shared the joy of being counted as a friend.  And the woman, who had the time to prepare; that was my mom.  And I try to live by her values that still live inside me.

 Moses is about to tell us, “Lo BaShamiyim hi!”  It is not in the heavens, or someplace else out of reach, like your desk drawer.   We revere Moses not for his parting words alone, but for the gifts he gave us throughout his life.  And likewise for us, it is in the things we say and do everyday that makes the difference and endures as our legacy.

 Moses words still ring true; Not only is it completely within our grasp, it starts the moment we decide it to be so.  Let that time be now.  Take the hand of the person sitting next to you, whether it is someone you know or a complete stranger.    Take their hand for just a moment, look at them and smile, and together let us listen to the words of Nitzavim.

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.

Trayvon Martin

My prayers go out to the family of Trayvon Martin.  The pain of their loss is only compounded by the verdict in the George Zimmerman case.  The jury has found Zimmerman “Not Guilty.”  Although this is the verdict we are forced to accept, I wonder if the prosecution did the best it could to try the case or did it fail to meet the burden of proof the jury required.  But no matter what the outcome of the trial, the devastating and tragic loss of a young life remains a stark reality.

May Trayvon Martin’s memory be a blessing, may his family find some comfort in their sorrow, and may we act to prevent such senseless tragedies from occurring.