The Yoke's on You - November 2020

Rabbi Nechunyah ben Hakkanah said, “All who take upon themselves the yoke of Torah, the yoke of the government and the yoke of social interaction are lifted from them. And all those who break off the yoke of Torah, have placed upon them the yoke of the government and the yoke of social interaction.”

• Pirkei Avot 3:5

The sages of old, the rabbis of the mishnah and talmud, lived in trying times.  Jewish sovereignty was limited by the Roman Empire.  There was division among the Jewish polity about how to deal with that lack of independence, which caused great infighting among Jews - those who wanted to fight the Romans (Zealots) as the Maccabees had fought the Syrian Greeks; those who wanted things to stay as they were (Sadducees); those who thought the whole system was corrupt and were waiting in the desert for God to sort it out (Essenes); and those who imagined a new way without sovereignty, and without the Temple (Pharisees). Each not only engaged with the Romans in the way they thought best, but also fought viciously with the others.  Over the first century of the Common Era, the Essenes disappeared, the Sadducees lost the Temple and became the Karaites, the Zealots rebelled and rebelled until the Temple was destroyed and Jerusalem renamed, and the Pharisees developed the rabbinic Judaism that we inherited today. Rabbinic Judaism, led by Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai, reached an accord with the Roman government: you let us study and adapt Judaism to a model of study, prayer, and commandments, and we will cede higher governmental authority to you. (For example, they downplayed the rebellious nature of the Maccabean revolt, and lifted up the miracle of the oil that lasted for eight days.) By and large, this strategy was followed by most Jews until the rise of the modern state of Israel in the 20th century.

If we take Rabbi Nechunyah’s message at face value, perhaps the way that the rabbis first intended, the idea was that those who engaged in Torah study would not have to worry about anything else - to withdraw from society into Yavneh, where the first yeshivot were created. As history progressed, there was a development of separation, where those who lived in the world of Jewish study ignored the larger world around them, to bury themselves in study.  The statement was a warning - if you lift your head up from the text, you will be overwhelmed by society - both the government and those around you.

Perhaps in modern times, we need to understand this statement in a different way.  The rabbis viewed that living by halachah  - the idea that everything in life was guided by the mitzvot, and that there was a mandated path for each moment - was accepting the yoke of the Torah. In return for God freeing us from Egypt - the yoke of slavery, we willingly placed ourselves under the yoke of God’s covenant at Mount Sinai.

But, what is a yoke?  We think of the heavy wood bars placed over a team of oxen that forces them to work, but that yoke is what allows two to work together, and accomplish what they could not on their own.  The yoke is a means by which we can pull together and complete what might have been insurmountable tasks.  For example, it would be impossible for you or I to create the system of roads, bridges, and tunnels that reach from our houses to New York City, where so many members of the congregation once (or still do) commute to work (or the internet that many of us are using to work from home). Yoked together by our government, we have the ability to give a little of what we have so those roads can be built and maintained so that we can work and earn the money to live and support our families.  The yoke of Torah can be onerous - we are told to love our neighbors as ourselves.  If we would reject that yoke, we would still be required, per Rabbi Nechunya, to support others - both through the government and through our personal interactions.  Perhaps the message of this adage for us is that even if we wished to retreat into ourselves, we still have a responsibility for those around us.

In these turbulent times, with neighbor sometimes fighting with neighbor, and even within families, it would behoove us to remember that no matter how we choose to live - by Torah or not, or, like most of us, balanced somewhere in between, we still need to pull together to get things done.  Especially at this moment, when some of us are asked to stay in our homes, others are asked to put themselves at risk - to provide healthcare; to farm, transport, package, cook, and distribute food; to maintain public safety; and, even, to care for the infrastructure which makes all this possible. No matter what yoke we wear, we should remember that we are all pulling together.  If we can figure out a way to pull in the same direction, imagine how far we can go.

Rabbi Abraham

I "See" You - October 2020

Do not separate yourself from the community - Hillel, Pirke Avot 2:4

I used the above quotation in one of my earliest Temple Topics columns, as well as for a sermon series early in my tenure here at Temple Sholom.  Never has it been so fraught as in these times of enforced distancing.

For the past six months I have been saying and e-mailing to people that I hope to see them soon, with “see” in quotations.  Not that I would not see them, as Zoom is a video medium, but that phrase usually connotes being physically present with another, seeing them as someone standing in front of you.  Sadly, for the last six months, I have had all too few opportunities to see, in person, members of our congregation and community.  When I have been able to do so, it has been fleeting, and often from afar.  I do not want to knock the Zoom experience.  I was asked often whether it felt lonely to lead services in an empty sanctuary, Shabbat after Shabbat. My answer was that it never seemed lonely, as I was focussed on the faces on my screen, until after the service ended and I looked up to realize that I was the only one in the room. This feeling was multiplied in our recent High HolyDay services, when I could scroll through page after page of familiar faces - seeing not only people that I was happy to see, but often their family and living rooms as well. It was almost like being invited into your homes - or, less intrusively - that your homes were invited together into our congregational home.

I, along with many others that we heard from, were pleasantly surprised as to how haimische it felt to be worshipping together, even in so large a group as the Rosh haShanah and Yom Kippur services. For those who had not been able to join us for a service up to that point, the surprise was total.  For those who had joined us for Pesach, a Shabbat, or Bar or Bat Mitzvah, they had already experienced our joyful gathering together, but it was nice to see that feeling carried through, not despite of, but multiplied with the many more people present.  The most common feedback that we received was how nice the first ten minutes were, as we gathered together, people checked in on each other (or asked whether we could hear or see them).  Long-time members of the congregation - you should know that you have many fans who were very happy to see you.

As I write this, just before Sukkot, this past week has removed the quotation marks from the verb, to see.  Dedicated volunteers, led by Matt Klein and Bill Nadel, got a chance to see many of our congregants and they delivered High HolyDay gift bags.  We have had the opportunity to gather in person in our MegaSukkah(TM).  Once again, the Klein and Nadel families, along with Neil Sedwin and other volunteers, helped to expand our usual patio Sukkah to include the entire upper parking lot.  In that space, our religious school classes were able to gather and make decorations together, Sholom Again shared “Pizza in the Hut”, various congregational families joined together for dinner, Ellen Berman ate every meal, and I welcomed the Scotch Plains-Fanwood Ministerium for their October meeting.  All of these opportunities were safely socially distanced, with people wearing masks, or eating at either end of an eight foot table.  It was so wonderful to see people in person, even if behind a mask, and to hear their voices, not broken up by bandwidth issues.

We have worked very hard not to separate ourselves as a community. If you have been able to be a part of what we have done - thank you. If you have not, please give us a try.  Your Temple family misses you.  Open up the weekly Flame or the monthly Temple Topics to find out the ways that you can be a presence in the community, see or “see” each other, and still stay safe and healthy.

We are all here for each other.  If you have reached out, it is appreciated more than you know.  If you have not, please allow us to make that connection, as we find new ways to be a community.

Rabbi Abraham

Gam Zeh Yavor - This, Too, Shall Pass - September 2020

Gam zeh yavor - This, too, shall pass.

 - common to many communities and traditions, also found in Shevet Musar

Let’s start off this column the way that we usually end at this time of year - l’shanah tovah tikateivu - may you (all) be written for a good year.

I am pretty sure that none of us, last Rosh haShanah, contemplated that what would be written in the Book of Life for 5780 was what has enfolded over the last six months.  I have seen innumerable memes about the 2020 bingo card, all of which note the arrival of some unanticipated catastrophe that has come to pass - from the murder hornets to the near pass of a meteorite the day before the election in November.  Sitting together in our seats in the sanctuary in September, none of us predicted that we would be small boxes on a screen as the next Jewish year rolled around.

The meme finds dark humor in the idea that we cannot imagine what calamity will strike next, but the idea of a “2020” bingo card also provides the hope of an end date.  As bad as 2019 was, 2020 was so much worse, that we will all heave a huge sigh of relief once it has ended.  Who could imagine 2021 being able to break the record(s) of 2020?  At least the law of averages should be on our side.

One legend states that King Solomon was asked to provide a statement that could be written on a ring to wear as a constant reminder, that would both provide comfort in difficult times and caution in times of plenty.  Solomon stated, as above, gam zeh yavor - this, too shall pass, whether this is a famine or a plague, or a time of unparalleled bounty or success.  The one thing that we know about time (to date) is that it marches on.  Whatever happens today will only last so long - and while this can be a source of despair when we are happy, when times are difficult, it is a source of hope.

Many of us found ways of joy and comfort in 5780.  In our family, our eldest, who because of camp and the rest of a busy schedule, probably would never have been living together with us again for any period longer than a few weeks (God willing), spent five months in our home.  While my spouse already was quite accomplished at baking sourdough bread, we pioneered a number of new recipes that are becoming staples in our menu.  When a relative of hers died in California, not only was I able to officiate at a Zoom memorial service that we could not otherwise have attended, but relatives from across the country were able to gather and see each other. This, too, shall pass.

Many of us felt increased stress, uncertainty and anxiety - whether from the daily worry about how to find food and toilet paper for our family, to the longer term fear of loss of employment, income, and whether or not the communities that we live in would be able to survive.  We tried to find ways to support local businesses, support each other (and thank you to everyone who helped others out with deliveries, donated gift cards, or helped in innumerable ways), and support family members who we may not have been able to spend as much time as we wanted, or far too much time than what we were ready for.  This, too, shall pass.

This past year, the normal things of life have taken on new meaning: Parents who limited screen time are trying to find how to make their children spend enough time in front of a computer. Planning dinner became much more strategic, and leftovers took on more value. While we found more time to walk and bike and play in our yards, and therefore more time to wave to our neighbors, we also wanted to make sure that we kept at a safe distance.  This, too, shall pass.

One of my child’s college professors, adjusting to the new format of Zoom teaching, said at the end of each week of classes, “Be happy.  We are now one week closer to the end of this difficult time.”  This month, we will wrap up 5780 and look forward to 5781.  It may be different, it may, for a while, be more of the same.  The one thing that we have control over is how choose to celebrate the New Year.  Will we feel overcome by worry, or will be welcome the milestone of closing up this year, and moving on to the next?

Anyone have world peace on their 5781 bingo card?

L’shanah tovah tikateivu - may we be written for for a good year.

We are a People Who Survive - August 2020

“We are a people who survive.”

We find these words in our prayerbook and where we, as Jews, look back over our tumultuous history.  We have survived Babylonia, Romans, and Nazis; the destruction of our Temple, forced conversions, and pogroms; exile, attempted genocide, and forced migration; feudalism, communism, and capitalism. We have been battered and beaten, but never broken, never destroyed.

In this uncertain time, with the world turned inside out, we have the guidance of our people’s life journey on how to survive not just moment to moment, and day to day, but generation to generation, into the future.  We have never been a majority people in the world, yet our people and our ideas have influenced the world over.  Our humor, our cuisine, and our language are a crucial part of the American zeitgeist.  And, even if we reject the term “Judeo-Christian”, concepts that frame our Jewish values are the bedrock of our legal system.

We are well positioned in the modern world.  Jews are more often affluent, well-educated, and well connected.  While we are not all well off, we still hold on to a sense of communal responsibility that commends to us the care for each other, to create institutions that allow us to share the resources of those who have, with those who do not.

As we finish our weekly reading of the Torah scroll, and place it back in the Ark, we sing, “It is a tree of life, to those that hold fast to it.”  “It” is not just the physical Torah scroll, but our tradition, the core of what it means to be Jewish.  In this time especially, we must cling to that tree of life, to the traditions of Judaism that have enabled our ancestors to survive generation after generation.

Those traditions are not just about us, but about how we live in the world, and how we treat our neighbors.  Now is not the time to only focus on ourselves.  As Hillel challenged us, after he said, “If I am not for myself, who will be for me”, he followed up with “If I am for myself alone, what am I?”  Certainly not Jewish.  We are called to understand and to lift the burdens of the oppressed, to love the stranger as ourselves, and to treat those whom we live among as equal citizens.  In the world that has seen the horror of children detained in camps on our borders, of Black citizens shot and beaten to death by police, holding fast to Torah and embracing the tree of life means being not only empathetic, not only reaching out, but putting ourselves forward to be part of the solution.

We are a people who survive - and we survive best by working to perfect the world we live in, not just for ourselves, and not just by ourselves, but as an or bagoyim - a light among the nations.  Let us work together to survive, to emerge from our quarantines not only hale, but more whole.

Don't Let the Light Go Out - February/March 2020 - Creation Day 4

God said, “Let there be lights in the expanse of the sky to separate day from night; they shall serve as signs for the set times - the days and the years; and they shall serve as lights in the expanse of the sky to shine upon the earth.: and it was so. God made the two great lights, the greater light to dominate the day and the lesser light to dominate the night, and the stars. And God set them in the expanse of the sky to shine upon the earth, to dominate the day and the night, and to separate light from darkness. And God saw that this was good. And there was evening and there was morning, a fourth day. [Gen.1:14-19, New JPS Tanakh].

When asked to list what is created on each day of creation, the fourth day is the one that stumps most people. After all, light is created on the first day, so how is it that the things which create (or, to be completely accurate - create or reflect) light - the sun, moon, and stars - are not created until day four?  Our scientific understanding seems to rebel against this idea - there cannot be light without sources.  Yet, those who try to squish the Biblical story into our latest cosmological theories posit that the creation of light is the big bang, and only later does matter coalesce into stars, planets, satellites, etc.  As we have seen in the whole story of creation, sometimes order can emerge - bit by bit - from chaos.

In our synagogue innovation, we often travel along the same path.  Many times, an innovation that has become a signature of our Temple Sholom community - the trimester/family track program, sunset kabbalat shabbat, that our Hebrew School goal is to help our students become “leaders of meaningful (Reform) Jewish worship”, and others - come from the sudden burst of a great idea or revelation, that then takes time to coalesce into the reality that becomes the change in our community.  Contrary to the universe, however, there are many more big bangs then there are suns, moons, and planets in our congregational stellar system.  That happens for many reasons. Sometimes brilliant ideas do not seem so brilliant upon reflection. Many times, the ideas are beyond the resources of our congregation - whether that resource be staff time, program space, or funds.  Too many times what keeps those possible new stars from forming is not the lack of substance, but our inability to bring together the right group of congregants to bring that idea into our firmament.

When congregants join our congregation, we still ask in what areas they are interested in engaging.  In our old model, we would forward names to committee chairs, who would reach out and invite new members to committee meetings. In our new governance model, we have less standing committees and more limited time task forces to accomplish programs and tasks.  The lack of regular structure does not lend itself toward the regular influx of new members.  Sometimes that means new congregants fail to ignite, and our programs sputter for lack of fuel.

We need to commit from both sides - from current leadership and from engaged congregants.  Leadership needs to find ways to better reach out for new involvement, and congregants need to not only be open and looking for such opportunities, but ready to jump when the opportunity arises.  People often say that they come to join our congregation because of what they have heard - because of the light that we give from afar.  Once they are a part of the community, we often fail to discern the general glow from all the orbs that radiate and reflect.  Our job is to help make a little order out of that chaos; to keep the light glowing by each of us choosing a flame or two to tend.

Send an e-mail or call the office - let us know where you would like to help. We will try to do our part to help structure that energy into the light that warms and nurtures us all.