The Rabbi's Column

You SHOULD Be Quaking in Your Fancy Shoes

2011-09-25T20:00:00.000-07:00

Let us proclaim the sacred power of this day; it is awesome and full of dread.

-U’netaneh Tokef, High HolyDay liturgy (GOR p.107 and elsewhere)

If you are not a regular attendee at Temple Sholom services, you might miss the huge differences between our High HolyDay worship and our year-round customs. The Rabbi and the Student Cantor do not wear white robes the rest of the year. We rarely hear the sounds of the organ. Almost all of the music is sung by the whole congregation, and there are very few long pieces. While we work hard during the year to bring ourselves into a circle; to remove the barriers between the bimah and the congregation, on the High HolyDays everything is high up, starched white, and forbidding.

There is a liturgical difference as well. Not only is the music more majestic - slower and sometimes more portentous, but the words of the prayers convey different images of God. Even the prayers with which we are familiar, such as those at the beginning of the amidah - change - adding in images of God as powerful ruler. Additional High HolyDay liturgy, such as the u’netaneh tokef cited above, bring not only metaphors of judgement and terror, but actual details of gruesome death.

Why does our tradition seek to set this mood for this time of year? Is this some kind of Jewish version of Halloween, where we get joy from the contrived terror? There must be a reason for our liturgy - the words AND musical settings - working together to make us unsure, shake our foundations, remind us of the dangers and perils that lurk around every corner.

We often go through life with blinders on - looking directly ahead at what we know we have to do, and not taking time to examine what other paths we might take. We do not take the time for self-examination, to see if we have lived up to the best that we can be. How many movies (or even sit-com episodes) base themselves on the premise that a near-death experience can lead to a main character reconsidering their lives and becoming better people - going after their lost love, pursing their life dream, changing their life’s path? Our liturgy imagines that sometimes we need a good scare to truly wake up and look around.

It is all to easy to look at the High HolyDay liturgy and be put off by its magisterial image of God, it’s simplistic equation of right meriting reward and sin ending in mortal punishment. But, when we refuse to let the effect of this prayer experience penetrate past our ears, we lose an important opportunity to see things clearly, without the near death experience (or disaster that many of us have confronted in the past month).

So, as we enter this new year of 5772, resolve to be shaken up by your High HolyDay experience. Allow a small amount of awe and dread to force you to look seriously at who you are and where you might want to be. Join us as a congregation, as we face this uncertainty together. Share your strength with us as we rededicate ourselves to the tasks of making our world a better place - and making a 5772 that 5771 might not be able to imagine.

L’shanah tovah tikateivu.

A Moment for Every Purpose Under Heaven

2011-09-01T18:52:00.000-07:00

L’kol z’man, v’eit l’chol cheifetz tachat hashamayim.
For everything, a time; a moment for every purpose under heaven. Eccl. 3

This month, we begin the second year of our congregational study together. For the second trimester, beginning in December, we will study the book of Exodus. The third trimester, the theme is the Rabbinic period of Jewish history. This trimester (September through November), our holiness strand will focus on the lifecyle - the rites and rituals that we Jews have created to mark pivotal moments in our lives.

The principle lifecycle moments are well-known - birth is celebrated by welcoming a child into the covenant (b’rit) with either a b’rit milah (covenant of circumcision) for boys or a b’rit bat (daughter’s covenant) for a girl. We mark the entry into adulthood with Bar or Bat Mitzvah. In Reform congregations, we celebrate a milestone in Jewish education with Confirmation. Marriage is the lifecyle event celebrated under the chuppah (wedding canopy) with a ketubah (marriage contract). The end of life, of course, is marked by the funeral and shivah.

In many cases (other than birth and death), we create lifecycle events to mark moments that are more nebulous and difficult to pin down. When does a child become an adult - exactly? When does a relationship solidify into a life partnership? As Jews, we have created rituals to mark those liminal moments, to commemorate the change in our lives. In one sense, we are no different from the person we were before the ceremony. In another sense, we are altogether different people marked by and because of the ceremony. “Called to the Torah as a bar/bat mitzvah”; “Now husband and wife” - these words are parts of ceremonies that allow us to grow and change our status within our communities.

Judaism has many such places to hang our memories, to mark the changes in our lives. Modern Judaism is seeking to create meaningful rituals for other significant moments: the most important moment in the suburban child’s life, when he/she receives a driver’s license; when parent and child roles change as a child goes off to college - a lifecyle event for both parents and children; rituals for the beginning of the menstrual cycle and for its end; rituals for individuals and couples facing challenges of fertility.

Lifecycle rituals can help us not only to mark special occasions and to pin them down in our memories, but certain rituals can help ease us through difficult transitions. The rituals of mourning - the transition from shivah (the first seven days of mourning), through shloshim (the first 30 days), through the first yahrzeit (year anniversary of a death), help us move along a path of grief to acceptance. Rituals of divorce can act as a mirror to marriage and provide closure and release.

As we enter into this trimester of study, please take a moment - either through the materials available on our website, attending classes, reading suggested texts or listening at sermons - to become more knowledgeable about the lifecyle events in Judaism. Not only will this knowledge and familiarity help you in your marking of the moments of your life, but also in your sharing with others in our community. One of the ways that we are a sacred community is in how we share joy and sorrow with each other - providing strength and comfort. I had the joy this summer to officiate at the wedding of one of the first children whose Bar Mitzvah I celebrated in this congregation. Let us look forward to much more joy together.

It takes a congregation

2010-12-14T19:36:00.000-08:00

In Judaism, the responsibility to perform most mitzvot falls upon the individual. Whether it is observing Shabbat, bringing the first fruits of one’s harvest to the Temple in Jerusalem, or regular prayer, it is up to the given Jew to perform or not perform the commandment - and live with the consequences. There are, however, a few exceptions when the onus of responsibility, if the mitzvah is not fulfilled, passes on to another. In the case of a child, the Talmud says the responsibility of educating that child falls upon the father. If the father is unable, it is the mother’s responsibility. If the mother is unable, it becomes the community’s job to educate the child. There are also certain mitzvot that are the responsibility of the community as a whole - such as the provision of schools, medical personnel, and tzedakah funds for the needy. I recently analyzed a text from Baba Metzia cited by the American Jewish World Service that ascribes communal ownership for certain utilities, such as wells. But, does this go one step further?    Beyond the fact that the community may have responsibilities to the individual, it is quite obvious that the community cannot exist without the individual. But is the opposite true? Can the individual exist without the community?

Much is seen today about people who try to live off the grid, or to pursue self-sufficiency.   While growing one’s own food and not contributing to pollution and destruction of non-renewable resources may be laudable, the fact remains that it would be difficult to maintain what we consider a modern or civilized lifestyle without others. Setting aside computer networks, television, and roads - the production and distribution of modern medicines require a near-global effort. Even the use of money necessitates a banking system and the reliance and trust of others in the worth of that money.

So, if one cannot live a modern life without a community, can one live a Jewish life without a community?

The answer for the Orthodox would be simple. Even if one had the skills to slaughter kosher meat, or decided to live as a vegetarian, there are still certain prayers that need a minyan in order to say. For the Orthodox, that is ten Jewish adult males.   Although we do not require a specific number for a minyan in Reform Judaism, we still honor this concept that there is personal prayer and there is communal prayer and, for communal prayer, one needs to be with others.

After difficult reflection, I, too, have come to the conclusion that one cannot live a Jewish life on one’s own. Even having all the skills to be able to perform the expected tasks of Jewish practice - being able to read Torah, blow a shofar, and conduct a seder - these are rituals that are meant to be preformed together. It is not facetious to look at the metaphor of the sound of a tree falling in the forest with no one to hear.   Judaism is meant to be lived in the world - and with other Jews (and, perhaps, non-Jews, too) We dance together at Simchat Torah. We fast together at Yom Kippur. We drown out the name of Haman at Purim. We celebrate joys together, and we lighten the burden of sad events with our shared presence.

I was very disturbed to read the recent article in the New York Times about students training on-line to become Bar or Bat Mitzvah. While I am sure that when the time comes for a celebration, that child will have invited family and friends, he or she will not have built the chevrah (community of friends) that our children do as they prepare (and celebrate) together. Each year, I tell the new Bar/Bat Mitzvah class that a child becomes Bar or Bat Mitzvah at age 13 no matter whether that moment is marked or not. However, they have chosen for their child to mark that moment with our community at Temple Sholom. That choice not only allows for the family to take advantage of our clergy, our worship space, and our educational program, it is a choice to be a part of a Jewish community that will celebrate one of its members reaching Jewish adulthood.

Al tifros min ha-tzibur - the ancient sage, Hillel, admonished us not to remove ourselves from the community. To really live our Judaism, we need others with whom to celebrate and mourn, to learn and to argue, to pray and sing, to eat and fast. That is why we come together in Jewish communities; that is why we build synagogues and Temples; that is why it takes a community.

The Seven Habits of Highly Religious Jews

2010-11-01T00:01:00.000-07:00

All the time, people tell me that they are not “religious”. Then they tell me all the Jewish things that they do. Not “religious”, it seems to me, means that they feel guilty about all the things they think they should be doing. Therefore, here is a better list of criteria, from me, about what how one can judge whether they are “religious” or not. Why should we cede that term to the Orthodox? You don’t have to do them all to be religious, but if you are looking to expand your practice, the list might provide a few pointers.

1 - Living in Jewish Time - This doesn’t mean that you always know what date it is on the Jewish calendar - rather that you anticipate Shabbat at the end of the week, consider what you will do differently to mark Shabbat, and try to spend time with family and friends. Having a Jewish calendar, even this one, on your fridge, or putting “Jewish Holidays” on your Google calendar is a good way to keep even minor Jewish holidays from sneaking up on you.

2 - Being Jewishly “Observant” - Again, perhaps not the anticipated meaning of observing the mitzvot, but keeping a Jewish eye out on the world. This could mean worrying about Israel in the headlines, or “seeing the world through parashat hashavuah glasses” - using the stories and characters of the Torah as metaphors for our lives.

3 - Studying - See last month’s column or my High HolyDay sermons. As we grow and change, so should our understanding of Judaism. There are plenty of ways to learn - books, classes, on-line resources -even reading this column.

4 - Trying to Be Holy - We are told in the portion that we read on the afternoon of Yom Kippur to be holy. There follows a list of practices and laws - including respecting one’s parents, not keeping the wages of our workers overnight, not oppressing the weak, not standing idly by - in short, trying to live up to our Divine potential.

5 - Tikkun Olam - As Jews, we feel a responsibility not only to our co-religionists, not only to our fellow human beings, but to the whole world. We believe that God left it to us to finish creation. Our job is to make the world better, not use it up.

6 - Being Part of a Jewish Community - For communal prayer, Judaism asks for a group. There are reasons to be with others - to share joys and sorrows, to multiply the strength of our individual hands, to be able to look beyond ourselves. Besides, it is fun.

7 - Self-Reflection - Yom Kippur is not the only time to look back and try to see where we have gone wrong and where we can do better. Anytime that we can stop, we should see where we have been, so we can better decide where we are going.

So, add up your score. I bet you’re more religious then you thought. Now that you feel more comfortable calling yourself a “religious” Jew, feel free to do even more.

Eat, Pray, Love is Torah, Avodah and G'milut Chasadim

2010-10-01T00:01:00.000-07:00

Rabbi’s Column - October 2010

As not everyone was able to attend all of our High HolyDay services and hear the full text of all the sermons, I thought that I would take this column to share them. Rabbi Goldman used to mail out his High HolyDay sermons to the congregation. To save paper, I will summarize the series here and let you know that you can see the full texts on sholomravsermons.blogspot.com. The paragraphs below summarize Rosh haShanah evening, Rosh haShanah morning, Kol Nidrei, and Yom Kippur morning respectively. There is also a sermon which serves as an introduction to our trimester theme of Genesis from Rosh haShanah morning II.

Each year at this time, the Rabbis suggest that we engage in a process known as a cheshbon nefesh, literally an audit of our souls. I have several colleagues who use the month of Elul (that precedes Rosh haShanah) to schedule all of their regular check-ups with doctors and dentists. The metaphor of a metaphysical annual check-up is a useful one for us to consider as we engage in the work of t’shuvah. In that sense, we can consider the turning of the leaves, the cooling of the air, and the excess of mailings we receive from the Temple, as that postcard that comes annually for our physician reminding us to schedule an appointment. After all, we would be disappointed if our physician just phoned in a refill of our prescriptions and signed off on our charts that we were the same as last year, without giving a battery of tests and an examination. Only then are we ready, even if there is little change, to accept our prescriptions for a new year. Using the model of Elizabeth Gilbert (not the one confirmed at Temple Sholom)’s Eat, Pray, Love, we have translated this prescription into Hebrew - Torah, avodah, and g’milut chasadim.

Just as the doctor looks over the same body each year, to see what has changed, so do we look over the same Torah each year - except we note how we have changed, rather than the scroll. Each year brings us a different perspective. We grow and change and have different experiences - hopefully an increased wisdom - and so can find different lessons in our sacred text. But Torah means not only the five books of Moses, but all of Jewish learning. Just as we would not accept a doctor who was not always learning about developments in medicine, as well as keeping track of our health, so we, too, need to continue our education and see how our beliefs and even our rituals have held up. Continued study, for which there are many opportunities here in our own Temple (see page ? or the Eitz Chayim section of our website). Join us as we study Genesis together this trimester, Biblical history the next, and theology in the spring.

Avodah means prayer to us today. To our Biblical ancestors, it signified their worship, which was a physical sacrifice. Avodah in modern Hebrew means “work” - and we should not be surprised that prayer, like a doctor’s prescription for exercise, not only takes work, but returns more, the more we exert ourselves. Although prayer can be shown to be efficacious for its self-reflection and meditative processes, prayer brings along with it a relationship with the divine. All of us can learn the lesson from twelve-steppers, who profit from knowing when things are beyond their control and that there is strength in acknowledging a higher power.

Finally, we might think that g’milut chasadim was the easiest of our three-part prescription to fill. As Reform Jews, we swim in the pursuit of righteousness as a mighty stream. Yet, social justice is a strident voice. G’milut chasadim is defined as acts of loving kindness. The strength of love is that it goes beyond mere infatuation to an acceptance of those whom we love for who they are - warts and all. If we extend this idea to our acts of g’milut chasadim, we may have to help those who are ungrateful or who behave in ways we disagree with - whether it be in building a cultural center in lower Manhattan, promoting the security and peace of the State of Israel, engaging meaningful political dialogue to make progress in our society, to save Muslims drowning in Pakistan, or the economic victims in our own country..

That is our prescription for the coming year, so that we may become more healthy in our Judaism: Take some Torah and call me in the morning. Engage in enough prayer to raise your blood pressure a few times each week. Have a balanced diet of good deeds, even if some are not your favorite. Then may we all have a healthy Jewish new year.

Rabbi Joel N. Abraham

Eight Simple Words to a Better Prayer Experience

2010-09-01T00:01:00.000-07:00

“Attend services; morning AND evening; take prayer seriously.”

One of the things that has most impressed me about Michael Pollan (author of Food Rules and the Omnivore’s Dilemma) is how he has taken it upon himself to educate himself in a particular field – food and nutrition – and then found a way to communicate that information in a brief and easily understandable form. Speaking of what human beings should eat, Pollan offers the following seven words - “Eat food, not too much, mostly plants.” Not surprisingly, those words can take a great deal of unpacking – which he does in his many books and articles, but the nugget of his advice is easily understood and remembered.

Following the model of Michael Pollen, as an expert in the field of Judaism, I would offer the following eight words as a guide to having a meaningful High HolyDay season and being a healthy Jew: Attend services, morning AND evening, take prayer seriously.

Attend services – Communal prayer is not the be-all and end-all of Judaism. Personal practice, home rituals, and ethical living are certainly an integral part of good Jewish practice. However, one of the secrets that has kept Judaism alive is the shared moments of community. Judaism provides specific times for everyone to show up at the same place and go through the same experience together. We gain not only from the moment – the time to celebrate the new year and prepare ourselves to best engage it – but also from the one time a year that we have a chance to reconnect and see everyone, across multiple generations.

Morning and Evening – At camp this summer, I spoke with a few rabbis who said that they had tried to write High HolyDay services as is my practice – with one theme developing over the four major services (Rosh haShanah evening, Rosh haShanah morning, Kol Nidrei, and Yom Kippur morning), but that too many people complained that they missed one or two and so did not follow the thread. Setting sermons aside, the machzor – the prayerbook we have specifically for the High HolyDays, also has a theme that develops as the worship continues. Ideas of repentance are introduced in the celebration of the new year on Rosh haShanah evening (as in the Avinu, Malkeinu). Different, and more serious notes, are developed in the morning service (for example, the Unetaneh Tokef). Kol Nidre stands as a climax and adds urgency and a structure to the process of t’shuvah – repentance (beginning the Al Cheit). Yom Kippur takes us the whole day to push us to complete our self-examination (the Vidui), place ourselves in Jewish history (the Mincha/Afternoon service), remember our loved ones (Yizkor), and relax and rejoice together in our shared forgiveness (N’ilah/Concluding service). Just like a book or a favorite TV show, it is difficult to come in at the middle, or to miss an episode or a chapter. Confusion can lead to alienation. Unfortunately, it is difficult to Tivo the High HolyDays; you really need to catch it live.

Take Prayer Seriously – Prayer is not easy. The themes, and even the music, of the High HolyDays are difficult and sometimes complex. The metaphors of royalty and punishment, the language of debasing humility, and the references to cataclysmic retribution can be off-putting. Yet, this very language, evolving and developing over millennia, is what has allowed our people to renew itself, not only in each generation, but in each and every year. Much work and refinement went into constructing the form of our communal worship. It should not be surprising that work is required by the worshipper to meaningfully engage in the difficult task of understanding our own complex lives. Spiritual exercise, like physical, takes effort and repetition, to receive the benefit that we pursue – a healthy soul.

Attend services, morning AND evening, take prayer seriously. In this new year, please take these words not as reproach, but as advice offered by one who struggles himself with these concepts each Shabbat, as well as holidays. As individuals and as a community, we all profit by being spiritually healthy. Let us hope for health of mind and body in the new year.

L’shanah tovah tikateivu- may it be written for a good year for all of us.

Rabbi Joel N. Abraham

and a time for renewal...

2010-06-01T00:01:00.000-07:00

Adonai spoke to Moses in Mount Sinai, saying, “Speak to the people of Israel, and say to them, ‘When you come into the land which I give you, then shall the land keep a sabbath to Adonai. Six years you shall sow your field, and six years you shall prune your vineyard, and gather in its fruit, but in the seventh year shall be a sabbath of rest to the land, a sabbath for the Lord; you shall not sow your field, nor prune your vineyard.’” Lev. 25:1-4

From this idea in Leviticus comes the concept of the sabbatical - a time for rest and renewal. This congregation has long had a tradition of granting its rabbis sabbatical leave and, in my current contract, the Temple has granted me six months of sabbatical over the five years of the contract. At the moment, I plan to take those months individually, when there are no B’nai Mitzvah, holidays, or other major events going on at the Temple. My first month-long sabbatical leave will be this July, 2010. (The next is planned for December-January 2010-11.)

I thought that it would be wrong to head off on sabbatical without taking a moment to thank you, as my congregation, for granting this time; letting you know that I would be away; what arrangements have been made; and, as well, an idea of what I hope to accomplish during this month, and the remaining five months to come.

First of all, I will admit that I was at a loss as to what to do for my sabbatical. Again, how to take a sabbatical is not one of the courses taught at HUC. However, a few years ago, Rabbi Nudell, at Congregation Beth Israel, took a sabbatical and shared some of his wisdom as to what the goals of a sabbatical should be. He suggested a good sabbatical must have three elements: rest, study, and new experiences. I have tweaked this a little. My goals for each sabbatical period, as well as the whole, are to: 1) rest and refresh myself; 2) engage in meaningful study; and 3) find new perspectives on the rabbinate through trying different rabbinic roles. I plan to meet these goals in the following ways: 1) Rest - Although seemingly the most easy, I am looking forward to the opportunity to celebrate Shabbat with my family and not rush to services every week. 2) Study – First, I hope to brush up on my Hebrew skills; it has been over ten years since rabbinic school and my study skills could use a refresher. Second, I hope to outline a course of study over the next sabbatical periods, possibly guided by a Doctor of Hebrew Letters program through Hebrew Union College in “Modern American Judaisms”. 3) New Perspectives – I will be working with the national office of the Central Conference of American Rabbis on a few projects. Doing this work, I hope to contact other rabbis and build connections as well as learn about their careers, joys, and challenges. And, if all of that were not enough, I will be working on a book project with the CCAR Press, related to a journal version of Mishkan T’filah. (See how #1 may be harder than it looks?)

Leading up to my sabbatical, the Executive Committee and a Sabbatical Coverage Committee (led by Mark Nussenfeld and Bob Enda) have worked with me and the Temple staff to determine what the coverage needs might be. As of now, volunteers will be leading services in July, as has been done in the past, and Mark has a list of nearby clergy who are available to cover lifecycle emergencies. In case you have any need, you can call the Temple, as always, and get phone numbers of who to call, twenty-four hours a day.

I hope that each of you has at least a little opportunity for rest, study and new experiences over the summer. I look forward to sharing our experiences at the renewal of the year – Rosh haShanah begins on the evening of Wednesday, September 8, 2010.

The Sin of Wages?

2010-05-01T00:01:00.000-07:00

[In January, I spoke about what Judaism has to say about politics. Not necessarily that Judaism says that one should belong to a particular American political party or vote in a particular way, but in as much as politics is the expression of our national will, we as Jews should be knowledgeable about and guided by the moral and ethical teachings of our Jewish heritage in making our political decisions. This month, we will examine the issues of fair wages and financial regulation. – Rabbi Abraham]

You shall not oppress your neighbor; you shall not rob him/her; you shall not keep with you the wages owed to your worker until the morning. Lev. 19:13

I received an e-mail from the National Council of Jewish Women on Tuesday, April 20 noting that it was Equal Pay Day – the date until which the average woman would have had to continue to work to make as much money as the average male – at the same job – would have made by December 31, 2009. The holiness code, quoted above, also states that you shall not incline judgment to the poor or to the rich – that everyone should be equal before the law. Yet despite this leaning toward social justice (what Glen Beck might call “communism”), Judaism also has a strongly practical side.

There is no prohibition in Judaism against making money, nor against keeping what you have earned. However, that money should be earned without taking it unfairly from others. “Wealth obtained by fraud dwindles, but the one who gathers by labor increases it.” (Prov. 13:11) The book of Proverbs has a great deal to say about wealth – not only that it accrues to the righteous, but also that it is a comfort those who have managed to have it: “The rich person’s wealth is his/her fortress, but the ruin of the poor is their poverty.” (Prov. 10:15) Wealth can be something that protects you, but poverty itself is the ruin of the poor – not some condition or flaw that has brought them to it.

As we read this month, the Torah has a very communistic law regarding property. Every fifty years, in the jubilee year, all debts are cancelled, everyone goes back to their familial homes, and the land is reapportioned to everyone based on their tribe of birth. Obviously, this law was meant to favor those who had lost their property over those who had gained. The Torah spoke strongly on the side of the poor. Yet, centuries later (not quite 2,000 years ago), Rabbi Akiva – the populist Rabbi – helps create a legal document, the prosbul, that allows loans to remain in effect past the jubilee year. Imagine it as the mortgage derivative of the 1st century. But Akiva does this not to help the bankers keep their money, but because the poor had been unable to get loans in the 48th and 49th years, because no one would loan to them. The Torah prohibits lending at interest, yet by the time of the Rabbis, loaning at interest is permitted because without it, no one would offer loans.

Jewish law has an eminently practical side regarding money – it does no one good when it is not in circulation. People are allowed to make money with their money because otherwise, they will not extend credit. However, that is a far cry from permitting and licensing abuse. Proverbs also says, “Better is a little with righteousness, than great income with injustice.” (Prov. 16:8)

Some questions to ponder: How much is too much? Would a sensible moral rule such as the quote from Proverbs 16 keep us from the boom and bust cycle of financial bubbles? Where is the line where making money for ourselves comes at the expense of others? How responsible are we for the actions of those who handle our investments, of the instruments and companies we invest in?

Rabbi Joel N. Abraham

Teach Your Children Well...

2010-04-01T00:01:00.000-07:00

[In January, I spoke about what Judaism has to say about politics. Not necessarily that Judaism says that one should belong to a particular American political party or vote in a particular way, but in as much as politics is the expression of our national will, we as Jews should be knowledgeable about and guided by the moral and ethical teachings of our Jewish heritage in making our political decisions. This month, we will examine the issues of public education. – Rabbi Abraham]

In every country, district and town we should arrange for education for the children. A city which does not have a school for its children is excommunicated until arrangements for lessons are made. If the citizens of that town don't want to make such arrangements then the city should be destroyed, for the world exists only because of the [merit of the] study of school children.
Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Talmud Torah 2:1

It should not be surprising that the medieval sage Maimonides’ code summarizing Jewish law should have whole section concerning the laws of education – Hilchot Talmud Torah (remembering that Torah means not only specifically the five books of Moses, but also education as a whole). The first chapter tells about the responsibility to teach one’s own children and what to teach them. The second chapter discusses the responsibilities of the community regarding the education of its children. In addition to the requirement of a town to provide education, there are also suggestions about the age to begin learning (around six or seven), the class size (maximum 25 for one teacher, with an aide until 40, and a second teacher after that), and the proper attitude and aptitudes of instructors (not one who is slovenly, or who pays little attention to the students).

Judaism is a religion that is based on learning – as we noted in our last congregational education day, we are known as the people of the book. But, beyond the idea that a certain amount of instruction is needed to preserve Judaism, we further believe that education is needed to preserve Jews. This fact may often be lost in our modern world of supplemental Jewish education – where we focus on educating about Judaism. The origin of Reform Judaism was in the era in which European Jews were once again beginning to be permitted to study at universities. The concept arose of torah im derekh eretz – Torah with the way of the world, or Jewish and secular education.

Now, where does Judaism stand on the education of others – of those outside the Jewish community? On the one hand, the tradition does heavily favor Jewish study, which is neither relevant nor expected of those who are not regularly involved in the Jewish world. On the other hand, we Jews, in general, have seen our situation improve as the education and knowledge of our neighbors improves. The more knowledgeable and literate a society, the less likely there is to be prejudice (with a few glaring exceptions). Also, we were reminded recently at our Passover seders that we were slaves in Egypt, and we know what it is like to be oppressed. Education can be a means to avoid slavery and oppression – by the ability to change one’s circumstances, know one’s rights, or seek redress of wrongs.

On the means of funding public education, there is a large divide in the Jewish community. In much of the Orthodox community, where separate education in day schools outside the public school sphere is emphasized, there is strong support of voucher systems and public funding for private education. On the more integrated liberal side, where Jewish children are more likely to be in public schools, there is more support for public education and funding. Both because of the deep Jewish commitment to learning for one’s children and education in general, it is not surprising to see Jewish parents so active on PTA’s and school boards.

Some questions to ponder: Where does education fit on the Jewish value ladder – in relation to providing food, clothing, and shelter? How much do we believe, as a value, in the potential of education and what is the necessary infrastructure of a society that rewards education? How do we deal with difficult issues like quotas to help those disadvantaged, when we have been restricted by quotas in the past? What is the personal vs. the communal responsibility for secular or Jewish education?

Rabbi Joel N. Abraham

The Buck Stops Where?

2010-03-03T20:36:00.000-08:00

Do not favor the poor or show deference to the rich; judge your kin fairly – Lev. 19:15

We seem to accept a certain inexorable logic in American politics. To be elected, one needs to campaign. To campaign, one needs money. To raise money, one needs donors. And, after the election, there is a debt owed to the donors. The recent Supreme Court decision declaring that political donations are an aspect of free speech, and therefore fall under Constitutional protections, is expected to impact that political calculus in ways that will favor larger, corporate donors. The fear is that, since corporations can give more money than individuals, they will have undue influence over legislators and, therefore, over legislation.

Judaism seems to weigh in on the influence of money. In Deuteronomy 16:19, the Torah warns that those in political power should not “take a gift: for a gift blinds the eyes of the wise, and perverts the words of the righteous”. The taking of money, or other types of gifts, can cause even those who are wise to see things differently, despite their best efforts, and distorts testimony, even from expert witnesses. (The word “righteous” in the Biblical legal context, actually means those who are judged by a court to be in the right.) Why does this happen? The Talmud explains in Ketubot 105b: "Why is graft forbidden? Once a judge accepts graft he identifies as one with the briber and no one is capable of seeing a fault in himself." There is a relationship created between the giver and receiver, and the receiver begins to identify his interests with the giver. On the more venal end, if the donor does poorly, there will be no more money to give any one. To give a more generous perspective, a legislator might feel that the commitment of those who gave large amounts to his or her campaign should be reflected in that campaign’s results – that legislator’s term in office.

Recently, Rep. Rangel from New York temporarily stepped down from his powerful position as chair of the Ways and Means committee, because of how the perception of a trip that he took on someone else’s dime reflects on the Democratic party and its other candidates. Amid all the other scandals facing him, New York Governor Paterson is facing accusations regarding his accepting Yankee tickets for his family. As voters, we look on these stories and wonder who and what are the influences on our elected officials. Even if there were no cases in which such gifts actually resulted in changing a vote or a line in a bill, our suspicions lead to broken trust. The very idea that our representatives truly represent those who voted for (or even against) them comes into question.

Judaism expects legal cases to be judged on merit – tzedek, tzedek tirdof – Justice, justice shall you pursue. As it says in the portion that we read on Yom Kippur afternoon, the “holiness code” quoted above in Leviticus, we are told not to be swayed by those who have more money, or by those who have less.

Some questions to ponder –

Do we believe in a standard of judgment? Do we expect our legislators to follow their own consciences or to follow the popular will? Does that expectation change how we pick whom we would vote for? Is “transparency” in donation enough of a counter, or does money still blind the eyes of the wise, even if everyone can see where the money is?

Judaism and Politics

2010-01-01T11:08:00.000-08:00

Tzedek, tzedek tirdof - Justice, justice, shall you pursue Deut. 16:20

In September, around the High HolyDays, conservative commentator Norman Podhoretz wrote a column asking, “Why are Jews Liberals?” (You can find a link to the article and my commentary on my blog - http://sholomrav.blogspot.com/2009/09/why-are-jews-liberals-because-they-are.html). As the question on the intersection of Judaism and politics comes up quite often, I thought that I would take a moment to comment.

First of all, let us revisit the primary belief that Jews have about what Judaism has to say about politics: Judaism has nothing to do with politics and, further, religion and politics should be completely separated – especially when it’s somebody else’s religion and somebody else’s political beliefs. As a minority in a democracy, we Jews are often the first group to take umbrage when we hear a political statement delivered with a religious imperative. We hear these statements as, “God (or Allah or Ja or whoever) wants everyone to do this (or not do that) and there is no room for compromise as any other idea is wrong or a sin.” One of the values that, as a minority religious group, we most treasure is the idea of separation of church and state – which we often interpret as religion should have no influence on government.

What then is religion for? Why do we as Jews have a complex and nuanced moral system, honed by millennia of real-world interaction, if not to use as a guide to how we live in the world? Are we not challenged by our religion to be tillers and tenders of the earth? Engage in Tikkun Olam? Do justly and love mercy? If, as Aristotle termed it, the human being is a zoon politikon – a political animal, and politics is the interaction of human beings then it would be a sad religion, culture, or people that did not have some sort of political ethic.

Indeed, most of Judaism is political. The Ten Commandments, the b’rit (covenant) between God and the Jewish people is a political document – laying out our relationship with God (no idols, keep the Sabbath), detailing the society we must create (honoring our parents) and limiting our behavior (no murder, stealing, adultery, coveting, or bearing false witness). The books of Samuel and Kings are a political history of the Jewish nation. The books of the prophets are political screeds – decrying the current society and government and demanding change. Our highest hope in Judaism is the hope for a Messianic Age – a geopolitical moment when justice and mercy will rule for all on earth.

Perhaps it is that politics has become a dirty word – nothing that we would want to engage in; something immoral and certainly not proper for discussion in a house of worship. If so, the problem is not with politics, but the current practice (and perhaps practitioners) of it. Science is not bad because we have created weapons of terrible destruction. We have also found ways to extend life and better the lives of others. Politics (and, may I add, religion) is the same. We must find a way to act politically in a morally authentic – and Jewishly responsible – manner.

What I find in Judaism is not only a moral compass, but the lessons evidenced by centuries of struggle with making the world into a more ideal place. One of those lessons may be that my beliefs are not those of others, and I cannot force them to believe as I. However, that does not remove from me the responsibility of acting according to my Jewish values – of demanding that my government provide equal access to opportunity (as may or not have been provided for me and my ancestors), help to those who struggle, barriers to those who would take advantage of the powerless, and an opportunity to dream dreams larger than those I can construct with solely my own two hands. I do not ask others to act in this way because Judaism demands it of them, rather to explain that I must, because it demands it of me.

Wonder of Wonders, Miracle of Miracles...

2009-12-01T19:37:00.000-08:00

Baruch Atah, Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, she'asah nisim lavoteinu bayamim haheim bazman hazeh

Blessed are You, Adonai, Our God, Ruler of the world, Who made miracles for our ancestors in those days at this time

from the Chanukah candle blessings

Last month, a congregant asked me about miracles and what Judaism thought about them. I said that Judaism said many things about miracles, but gave a short explanation of Maimonides' understanding of the supernatural. Maimonides, the medieval Jewish scholar from Arab Spain was a neo-Aristotlean. As such God was perfect - the ideal form. If, therefore, God was perfect, then God could never change - as that would imply that God had not been perfect in the first place. Miracles, which are supernatural - outside the realm of nature, would be changes for God. In another way, if God needed to suspend the rules of nature, which were created by God, then God had either made a mistake or overlooked something - neither of which was possible. So, by this logic, there could be no miracles. The question then arises of how to deal with the miracles described in the Bible. According to my teacher at Hebrew Union College in New York, Dr. Leonard Kravitz, Maimonides thought that the Bible was good, as far as it went. For those who needed miracles, there they were. For those who did not, they could see that it was for literary effect.

The problem that I have with miracles is that they are inherently not fair. Why should one person merit a miracle and another not? It is not that there are too many miracles, but not enough. I'm not comfortable with a God who decides to save this child and not another. I am much more ready to believe in evolution and genetics.

But, lest one say that a world without miracles is uninspiring to live in, I would not cast out the miraculous with the miracle. I may not believe in events that are contra-indicated by reality, but I still revel in those wonderful things that we see all around us. The very fact of our existence - one random mutation leading to another and another - is a wonder to be appreciated. Human beings able to communicate with each other, sharing feelings that go beyond words, are much more than random chance.

Now, back to Chanukah - one could easily be persuaded that the survival of the Jewish people, after the attempts of countless enemies to destroy us physically, religiously, culturally, politically, is evidence of many miracles. The Rabbis of the Talmud, uncomfortable with the miraculous victory of a dedicated band of guerillas over a mighty army, thought we had better focus on a supernatural miracle of oil. The survival of Judaism is no supernatural event - rather it is a proof of our ability to carry on fundamental values while adapting ourselves to the current situation in each and every generation.

In this Chanukah season, we should celebrate not what is beyond our power - or beyond nature, but rather what we can do, and have done, to build and re-build Jewish life. We take time, for eight days, to bless the God who created us able to re-make ourselves in this season, in every season, in our ancestors' time, in our time - to recognize the miraculous in our shared story.

Chanukah sameach

And a Time to Say Thank You...

2009-11-01T10:02:00.000-08:00

Hayamim holchim, shanah overet (2x), aval hamanginah (3x) l’olam nisheret.

The days march on, years pass, but the melody is sung forever

Israeli children’s song

I was very touched to find out that the congregation has marked the last Friday of October to celebrate my (first) ten years with Temple Sholom. I am deeply honored and look forward to the event, which may have happened by the time that you are reading this column. I would like to thank everyone involved – those who helped to plan, who attended, sent regrets, made donations, or in any way participated. (As much of what is happening is supposed to be a surprise, I regret that I cannot give any more accurate thank you’s at this time.)

However, looking back over my time here as part of this congregation, there are many I would like to thank. I have learned a great deal from each of the Presidents that I have had the privilege to work with: Cathy Gilbert - who showed me a haimische welcome as my family joined the congregation; Brett Neuhauser – who began as president just before I started as Rabbi and whom I still miss for our weekly lunches; Susan Weiseman – who was ever-present and indefatigable during her three years’ tenure; Susan Sedwin – who continues to set an example by her tireless devotion to the Temple; Mark Isack – whose passion for this community has brought it far; and Steve Saltzman – who is constantly thinking of ways to strengthen the Judaism of our congregation. I also could not have done anything without the help of the Temple staff – from Mildred Goldblatt to Barbara Cooke and Larry Berman – and I am indebted to Norman Pianko, our former educator, and Rabbi Gerald Goldman, our Rabbi Emeritus, for their guidance.

To name just these few is not intended to slight any of the past-Presidents, Trustees, committee chairs and members, congregants and families who have inspired and enlightened me as I have (hopefully) grown in the job of spiritual leader, but I would hope that you know that I have learned from each of you and treasured our interactions together.

Over the years, and not just in interviews, I have been asked why I decided to become a rabbi. Although my stock answer has been lack of imagination, the real answer is that I enjoy getting to know a child at a b’rit ceremony, watching that child grow, officiating when they become bar/bat mitzvah, hopefully meeting a fiancé/e and helping to celebrate the holiness of their marriage, and meeting a new generation at another b’rit. But I also know well that part of that role is being there in sickness and sharing sorrow and memories at a time of loss.

In that spirit, I look forward to March 15, 2012, when I will get the chance to officiate as Andrea Leitner, who was the first child I met in the congregation and my first b’rit bat here at the Temple, becomes a Bat Mitzvah. The Sunday before this Shabbat celebration, I will officiate at the b’rit bat of the youngest daughter of David and Allison Blitzer, who came to my first High HolyDay service at the Temple, asked me to marry them and then traveled with my second Confirmation class to Europe. I continue share the naches of parents as I watch their children grow – whether David Harris (now at college), one of the first B’nai Mitzvah at which I officiated, or my first Confirmation Class – Aaron Cohen (working in NYC), Sarah Gilbert (teaching in Boston), Elliot Kaplan (playing with nuclear fusion), Ricky Ringel (in the Coast Guard), Shelly Schwartz (with a lovely daughter of her own), and Lauren Scaduto (recently married). I am glad that I was there to help with the funeral of Irv Taylor, whom I did not get a chance to know, although I have studied with his widow Mildred regularly over the past decade, and Hazel Tepper, who sent my daughter, born just after we arrived, a card signed, “from the oldest member of Temple Sholom to the newest” and whom we buried this month.

My children, too, were born in this congregation and celebrated their b’ritot in this community. In October of 2012, Michelle and I hope to celebrate Avital’s becoming a Bat Mitzvah with all of you (10/13/12 – save the date). My parents have joined this congregation. We have all grown together – celebrated life’s joys, clung together at life’s sorrows, and held together to meet the challenges of being Rabbi and congregation.

As we say in Hebrew, ad me’ah v’esrim – until one hundred and twenty (which for Temple Sholom would be 2033).

This I Believe.. and You?

2009-10-01T10:05:00.000-07:00

The firm faith in and admission of acknowledged truths will best promote a correct course of life; for by being impressed with holy feelings we will be best able to withstand temptations and the inclination to sin inherent in man.

– Isaac Leeser, Catechism for Jewish Children (1839)

Almost four months ago, I began my year in the fourth cohort of Synagogue Transformation and Renewal (STAR)’s Good to Great program. The program means to take rabbis who have finished ten years in congregations and help them through a process of self-reflection, peer encouragement, and revitalization of their rabbinates. It consists of two retreats – one at the beginning of the program and one, at the end, a year later. The program is directed by Rabbi Terry Bookman and Dr. Bill Kahn, two brothers-in-law, one a congregational rabbi, the other a professor of Organizational Behavior. Realizing (over several years’ discussion at Thanksgiving) that rabbis received little training in how to work inside of organizations, the formed Eitzah – A Center for Congregational Leadership – to bring the cutting edge tools of organizational theory, with a Jewish spin, to congregations. Looking at the “Good to Great” model, my cohort was told that great rabbis dream big dreams.

As I said in my High HolyDay sermons, as part of that process, I started to think about why we all think we are here – members of Temple Sholom at this time in our lives. I wondered if there were core things that all of us could agree on. I imagined that we might create a creed – a statement of our belief – that we could stand up and say together to reinforce our community and clarify our path together. As part of that process, I engaged in a study of the idea of creed in Reform Judaism and tracked my journey on a blog. As part of my final High HolyDay sermon on Yom Kippur, I asked everyone present to contribute something that they believe – either with their name or anonymously – for posting on the site. My hope is to help everyone learn about what a creed might be and what a shared creed for our congregation might look like. (As I write this column, it is not yet Yom Kippur, so I can only hope that many of responded.) Please, go to the website, read the articles and links, and make comments and suggestions so this study can go on together.

Finally, I quoted above from Isaac Leeser, one of the first Jewish educators in the United States. He created a catechism – a curriculum of religious doctrines for the instruction of children or converts – and argued very strongly for a creed. As he stated above, a commonly agreed upon standard that can be remembered at need and referred to when facing a moral dilemma can only lead to living a more moral and purposeful life. We would do better in almost any situation if we could easily articulate that which we believe – be it how we treat our fellow human beings, our ideals for the world we live in, what we find valuable, or what our purpose is in life. So often, we meander from choice to choice and can only define what we believe when we look back at what we have done. Join me in taking time to define who we are – and who we want to be – by what we believe in.

Rabbi Joel N. Abraham

The discussion of a Reform creed can be found at www.reformcreed.blogspot.com. My High HolyDay sermons can be found at sholomravsermons.blogspot.com.

A Time to Ask for Forgiveness

2009-09-01T12:49:00.000-07:00

I’m sorry. I will try to do better. - Rabbi Joel N. Abraham (and others)

Let me start off by saying that other than not apologizing at all, apologizing through a Temple bulletin column is probably about as weak an apology as you can offer. Even in a sermon, there is at least some measure of eye contact – sadly lacking in the printed page which you are now (hopefully) reading. I’m sorry for that, too.

However, if I have not yet had a chance to speak to you in person, or over the phone, or I have erred or failed to do what I should as your Rabbi, please take this apology as the beginning of t’shuvah – the Jewish process of repentance.

T’shuvah may be one of the most underrated of Jewish innovations. Consider for a moment – other religious systems consider errors (whether classified as “sins” or otherwise) as either permanent or as removable through the intervention of an outside source. Again, once you do something wrong it is either held against you forever; or some other Divine entity can absolve you of that sin, without you even having to speak to the person that you may have offended. Not in Judaism – the Mishnah tells us that the Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur) atones for sins between the human being and God, but for sins between one human being and another, the Day of Atonement does not atone, until that person has made peace with the other. T’shuvah may not be as easy on the individual. (After all, having to figure out whom you may have wronged, building up the courage and humility to speak to that person, and having the strength to make that wrong right, can take great deal of effort.) However, there is no better model for a healthy community with strong interpersonal relationships than a society in which its members can admit their errors and heal hurtful ruptures. Perversely, a much better future can be created by those who have made the effort to fix the errors of the past than by those who would close the door on previous actions, as if there was no possible redress.

A further benefit of t’shuvah is that, although it is available and encouraged all year, there is a special calendrical moment that reminds us to engage in that process. As individuals in a community, we prepare separately and together to put our best foot forward in the new year, by healing our past. The time is now – as the Hebrew month of Elul leads into Tishri – to review our (mis)deeds, to take responsibility for our actions, and to seek forgiveness from those whom we have wronged.

I take this precious gift very seriously, and I implore you – if there is anything that I have done in the past year to offend, or have not done that may have insulted or slighted, please let me know – that I may seek t’shuvah from you and that both of us may go into the sweet new year together.

L’shanah tovah u’mtukah,

Rabbi Joel N. Abraham

Don't Cut Yourself off from the Community -You Might Need It

2009-06-01T12:45:00.000-07:00

Hillel said: Do not separate yourself from the community. And, do not rely on yourself [alone] until the day of your death. And do not judge your fellow until you have come to where s/he has been. And do not say something that is impossible to hear, [hoping] that in the end it will be heard. And do not say, ‘When there is free time, I will study.” It is possible that you will not have the free time. Pirke Avot 2:4

I believe that it was in one of the first of my Rabbi’s columns that I first used the beginning of this quote from Hillel, “Do not separate yourself from the community.” Then, I was talking about the relative position of Rabbi and congregation in prayer, and the expectations of one upon the other. As is the great gift with all Jewish texts – as Ben Bag Bag said – Turn it, and turn it, and turn it, for all is contained within it – at a different time, the same words can have a different, but equally compelling meaning.

Looking again at the first lines – and continuing through the rest of the quote – it seems obvious that Hillel was speaking to us, today, in these difficult economic times. Our society has perhaps changed and human nature may have changed along with it. This world, in which we pull into our driveways, open the garage doors with our remote controls, drive in and close our doors, has removed the contact with our neighbors. Our communities may be on-line, may be scattered across time zones, or may be tenuous or non-existent. When times of trouble come, rather than reach out to others, we shut ourselves in. We try to remain self-sufficient. We do not feel the right or the reason to burden others with our problems, our difficulties. We cannot ask for help – and we suffer the lack thereof.

Picture the typical congregant – and it may be you – who has suffered some economic reversal: the loss of a job, the sudden decrease in formerly fixed income. We cut back on our activities, because we can neither go out with friends as easily as we once did, nor afford to entertain in our homes. We see less of others; we turn down invitations; we find ourselves more and more isolated. [The monthly statement arrives from the Temple bill and rather than call and ask for relief, we move it to the bottom of the pile.]

For this very moment, Hillel has said, “Al tifros min ha-tzibur – Do NOT remove yourself from the community.” The congregation that you have invested your time, your effort, your love and your life in – is ready to return that investment – with interest – when you are most in need. If we can provide social networking to find a new job, economic assistance, or a referral for a handyman, that is all to the good. If we can provide a shoulder to cry on, a kind ear to listen, or even a place to stop the world and listen to the prayers of others, so much the better. The reason to belong to a congregation – to be part of this community – is not only to give when you can, but also to get when you need. All of the good times that you have shared with this community have been stored up for this moment of trouble, when you can find the caring support of your fellow congregants. Perhaps you have already paid for this help in advance – by volunteering at the Temple, making a meal for a family in need, or even just helping out at services. If not, get what you need now and pay back in the future – comfort a family in shivah, help set up for a Shabbat dinner, deliver shalach manot to a homebound family.

Al tifros min ha-tzibur – do not turn away from your community – not when our hands are reaching out to help.

You've Got a Rabbi - Now Use Him

2009-05-01T12:14:00.000-07:00

Aseih l’cha rav v’kanei l’cha chaver.

Get for yourself a rabbi and [then?] acquire for yourself a comrade.

R. Yehoshua b. Perechaia Pirke Avot 1:6

This past month I received a phone call from someone who needed to discuss an ethical dilemma. We spent a good hour on the phone – not only talking about the issue involved but also about their family and what else was going on in their life. I was very honored by the phone call – not only by the trust shown by sharing a personal decision with me, but also by the fact that this person saw me in that role – a person to turn to when seeking help for an important decision. As I reflected afterward, something occurred to me that might have been obvious – I was that person’s rabbi. Further reflection made me face another truth – if that was such an important rabbinic role, why wasn’t I engaging in such conversations with others more often?

In the beginning of Pirke Avot, there is the interesting injunction quoted above. Since Pirke Avot, and especially its first chapter, focuses on the transmission of Rabbinic knowledge, one can interpret the phrase as the description of the classic mode of Jewish study. First, find a master – one who knows more than you do and can therefore direct your studies and then find a study partner, someone who is at your level, who can challenge and encourage you as you learn. In Judaism we call this chevrutah study – you find a chaver – a friend or partner, with whom you study. Jewish study is not meant to be done alone. It is in the dialogue – the questions and answers – that real learning happens.

Researching further, however, the Urban Dictionary (www.urbandictionary.com) has the following definition of “rabbi” - (noun) By metaphor from the Jewish religious role, an older, more powerful or higher-ranking person in the corporation where one works (but usually not in the chain of command) who can give good advice about office politics, and may be able to pull strings, remove heads, or otherwise provide protection from hostile forces. William Safire’s Political Dictionary has the following definition: rabbi – Sponsor, or sage adviser; mentor. When given a unique political sense, this word has no religious or spiritual significance. In political relationships a rabbi is primarily a sponsor or protector, although there is a second meaning of mentor or teacher. “Who’s his rabbi?” is a question often asked by wary hatchetmen before cutting loose at a target… Dating back to the 1950’s in New York police slang, rabbi was used in a 1989 CNN commentary…

Obviously, the role of rabbi has changed much since the time of the Talmud and is even different today among the different branches of Judaism. I do not expect congregants to bring me their chickens to determine whether they are treif or not. Nor can I realistically help someone get a promotion. However, a rabbi does much more than lead religious services. In addition to teaching in the religious school, being involved in our general community, visiting the sick, and riding herd on the Temple office, I very much enjoy the personal interaction with congregants. I thought over why the individual above might have chosen to discuss this ethical dilemma with me. Over the past few years, the two of us had many discussions together about various different subjects. Together, we had created trust and a safe space for a difficult discussion because of the time that we had both put in together. There are a few congregants with whom I have spent that amount of time – whether through volunteer work in the Temple, crises in their lives, classes, or one-on-one study. I would like to build such a relationship with each and every congregant. Of course, there is a limitation on the time that I have available in a given day, week, or month, but I do not think that I am yet at capacity for such encounters.

Therefore, I would like to make explicit what I consider an implicit invitation of my role as rabbi. I would like to invite each and every one of you to begin a deeper conversation. Give me a call (908 889-4900) or send me an e-mail (rabbi@sholomnj.org) and let’s set a time to sit down and talk. I have had a few congregants who wanted to pursue Jewish study – I would suggest a book which they would read and then we would discuss. I have sat down for lunch with different congregants and learned about who they are and why they are part of Temple Sholom. I have answered questions, shared stories, and even taken walks. Let me know how you want to get together, and I will meet you there.

I look forward to speaking with you in person.

Hands and Words across the Sea...

2009-04-01T14:29:00.000-07:00

Im eshkacheich y’rushalayim, tishkach y’mini. Tidbak l’shoni l’chiki im lo ez’k’reichi.

If I forget you, Jerusalem, may my right hand fail. May my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, if I do not remember you. Psalm 137:5b-6a

In last month’s column, I anticipated my trip to Israel for the Central Conference of American Rabbis’ convention at the end of February. If you want to learn about the details of the trip journaled as they happened, please go to sholomrav.blogspot.com. Here, I hope to give some more general impressions, now that I have returned.

As I said last month, as a commitment to the State of Israel and our brothers and sisters who live there, the CCAR has made a commitment to hold its convention there at least every seven years. In addition, Hebrew Union College, the seminary that trains Reform rabbis, cantors and educators, requires those students to spend their first year studying on its Jerusalem campus. When I was there in 1993-4, exciting things were happening in Israel. There was almost another invasion of Lebanon; the Oslo Peace Accords came out of nowhere; Madonna gave a concert in Tel Aviv. Personally it was exciting, as I not only met my wife, Michelle, but also came to understand Israelis and the land of Israel in a much more real and intimate way.

Why is it that we Jews so encourage travel to Israel? A main reason is that the questions of Judaism and its universality or parochialness are approached in a completely different way. In the United States, to be Jewish is to be different – to stake out an ethnic, cultural and/or religious claim in contradistinction to most of one’s neighbors. In Israel, being Jewish is the easy thing – the government pays the rabbis, a horn blows in Jerusalem to signal Shabbat, and everyone comes to a standstill when the air raid siren blows commemorating Israel’s Memorial Day – Yom haZikaron. (Our Director of Education, Michelle Shapiro Abraham created a book, My Cousin Tamar Lives in Israel, to show some of the differences in the celebrations of Jews in the United States and abroad.) But more than that ritual difference, the basic approach of Jews to their self-identity is fundamentally different. For many Israeli Jews, it is enough to live in the land of Israel to be Jewish. The religion of Judaism, say these secular (or chiloni) Jews is what was created after the destruction of the Temple to keep the hope alive to return one day to the land of Zion. Now that we have returned, there is no longer a need for such ad hoc practices. Judaism is the culture and life of everyone living together, doing the same things at the same time.

On the other hand, one of the geniuses of Reform Judaism is the definition as above, of Judaism as something that sets us apart. Whether we speak of being chosen or not, our children certainly feel the differences of being Jewish year round. Reform Judaism tells us that being different is better than ok, it is the point of our prophetic calling. We cannot allow ourselves to follow the crowd, to fall to the level of the least common denominator. Instead, we must strive to live up to our values, to make the world a better place.

Israel struggles with these questions too. In dealing with humanitarian refugees, foreign workers, economic minorities and recent immigrants, Israelis are challenged to live up to those values we hold in common. Truly, it is the interplay between our embracing of difference and the Israeli desire to build a common society that creates the narrative of Judaism in modern times.

The reason to remember Jerusalem is not solely to cling to a long-distant past, but rather to reach outside of ourselves and to find commonality in our unique approaches. If not, it is as if we cannot speak, as if our hands have lost their strength.

Rabbi Joel N. Abraham

Following my heart, I think.

2009-03-01T11:40:00.000-08:00

Libi b’mizrach, v’ani b’sof ma’arav

My heart is in the East, and I am at the uttermost West;

Judah haLevi

As you are reading this column, I will either still be in Jerusalem or else on my way back. The Central Conference of American Rabbis – the organization of the Reform Rabbinate – has had a long commitment to holding its annual conference in Israel every seven years. The number seven, of course, is significant. Just as the Torah commands that we rest every seventh day for Shabbat, a later commandment tells us to observe the sh’mitah year – every seventh year to let the land lie fallow and plant no crops. The idea is that the seventh year is a time for rest and renewal. We cannot demand the same productivity year after year, without taking time out for replenishment.

I am looking forward to this trip – the second time that I have returned to Israel since I lived there for my first year of Rabbinic school. The last time, I travelled with my father and found that a great deal had changed in the intervening years. The hope for peace that had existed when I left in 1994 had been ground down by the terror attacks, mostly centered in Jerusalem. There had been a respite before we arrived, but two cafes were bombed while were there. As we left, we all hoped that things would be better when we returned this year.

In some ways, things are better. Terror attacks have been dramatically reduced since Israel built its barrier fence. In many ways, things are worse. The hope that Israelis found out of desperation has been almost completely shattered. In the recent elections, most Israelis showed their disbelief in the possibility of peace anytime soon. They are more and more willing to adopt radical solutions to stop the continual bombing in the southwestern towns near Gaza.

As I prepare to leave, the Israeli President, Shimon Peres, has reached out to Benjamin Netanyahu, the leader of the Likud Party, to form a national unity government – an attempt to avoid a government in which Likud is the most left-leaning partner. Perhaps, as Ariel Sharon was the leader able to withdraw from Gaza, it will take a right-wing Nixon to go to this China. In any case, there is much frustration in Israel – on all sides.

How then to find renewal in a land so fraught with tension and peril? We travel to Israel to find and to live our history. There have always been difficulties in the Jewish journey – yet we have found ways not only to survive, but to thrive. Who would have imagined that a people so scarred and dispersed could find the will and energy to (re)create a nation in the desert?

The challenge of being a Jew living in the Diaspora is summed up by Judah haLevi in the poem above. Whatever happens in Israel, it tugs at our heart. We want to be inspired and uplifted by our homeland. We feel torn when pictures of terror and destruction fill the news. I travel to the East, still being from the uttermost West, to bring these two parts of my identity together – to find some comfort and healing, to return more whole. I look forward to sharing my journey when I return.

Hold Fast to Dreams

2009-02-01T12:54:00.000-08:00

Dreams

Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow. Langston Hughes

I write this column immediately following the inauguration of Barack Hussein Obama as the 44th president of the United States of America. It is a moment of national hope unparalleled in my lifetime. Already, even before the inauguration, the questions began as to when President Obama’s honeymoon would end, when all these hopes would be dashed against the rocks of reality. Yet, at this moment, there is an island of hope, a moment when all of us feel the pull of national duty; when we see a glimpse of how things might be, if we can move beyond the way things have always been.

This weekend, I will be traveling with three of our high school students to participate in a L’takein seminar in Washington, DC at our movement’s Religious Action Center. We are scheduled to arrive a few days after the inauguration and I have naïve hopes to see a new Washington DC replacing the mythological bureaucratic swamp.

When you read these words, I hope that we have been able to maintain not only the hope, but the commitment to working together to making not just this nation, but this world a better place. Candidate Obama was derided for being a “hope-monger” – focusing too much on what might be done, rather than on what could be done. Thinking back on this cynicism at the moment of inauguration, I was reminded of a song that we often sang in my youth group days – which comes from the poem quoted above. Dreams and hopes can be synonymous. If we only focus on the barren field before us, we cannot hope to fly. It would be sad if the only thing that keeps our country from taking off is a failure to lift our eyes to the horizon.

Langston Hughes’ words are a caution. Combined with the words of the Zionist leader, Theodor Herzl, they can give us a confidence that hope can influence reality. Herzl said, “Im tirtzu, ein zo aggadah – If you will it, it is no dream.”

Let us commit ourselves to the will that can transform our hopes and dreams into reality.

Rabbi Abraham

Shepping some naches....

2008-12-01T00:01:00.000-08:00

Resh Lakish said: Scripture tells us that if you teach Torah to another’s child, it is as if you helped in their creation. Rav Eleazar said: As though you had created the words of the Torah. Raba said: As though you had created yourself.

Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 99b

This past month, I had the great honor of traveling to Oak Park, Michigan to install our former student Cantor, Darcie Naomi Sharlein. As you may know, after Darcie was invested as a Cantor last May, she became eligible to seek full-time employment as a Cantor in the Reform movement. After a number of interviews, she and Temple Emanu-El in Oak Park agreed that they were a match. Since July, Darcie and Jeff have been living nearby and Cantor Sharlein has been settling in to her new pulpit. Over the summer, she called me and asked if I would install her this fall. I was honored to be asked and flew in especially for the installation service on Shabbat Chayyei Sarah 5768 – November 21-22, 2008.

Installation is a strange ritual that we sometimes celebrate among Jewish clergy. In many non-Jewish houses of worship, clergy are either ordained in a ministry or called to a particular church. In Judaism, we take a moment (usually some time after the clergy has begun working) to celebrate and to officially mark the connection between clergy and congregation. Almost ten years ago, my father, Rabbi Michael L. Abraham, flew in from New Zealand for my installation. (It was a busy week – Avital was born on Thursday and our student Cantor at the time – Wendy Shermet – had laryngitis.) I was honored that of all the Rabbis and Cantors with whom Darcie had worked, she chose me for her installation.

After a very nice Temple dinner (with over 100 people in attendance) and a lovely service (complete with adult and children’s choir), I stood in a reception line with Cantor Sharlein and Rabbi Joseph Klein (her new Rabbi, not her father-in-law). Each and every one of the over 200 congregants and community members who attended the service made it a point to come through the line and to thank me. At first, I was tempted to move to Michigan and deliver all of my sermons at Temple Emanu-El – I have never received such praise. Soon, however, I realized that they were not thanking me for speaking, or even for coming out to participate, but for “giving them” Cantor Sharlein.

At first, I did take care to point out that Darcie had quite a bit of talent and knowledge before she got to Temple Sholom and that we had only served to provide her an opportunity to polish up – to experiment and improve her skills. Then, I remembered the quote from Sanhedrin above and realized that all of us at Temple Sholom deserve at least a small part of credit in “creating” Cantor Sharlein. Of course, a lot of the credit goes to Ron and Lanie Shapiro (who were also there and send their love) as well as to the faculty and students of Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of Religion’s School of Sacred Music. Her husband Jeff played no small part and the lion’s share of the work was done by Darcie herself.

However, we at Temple Sholom should remember to take great pride in the work that we do in training student Cantors. In the last ten years alone, we have had a large part in providing Cantor Wendy Shermet for Temple Israel in Omaha, Nebraska, Cantor Shira Nafshi for Congregation B’nai Or in Morristown, New Jersey, as well as a smaller part in preparing Cantor Hayley Kobilinsky for Congregation B’nai Yisrael in Armonk, New York. On behalf of Temple Sholom, I am often thanked by the Rabbis of these congregations for our role in the creation of their Cantors. We are justly regarded by the HUC-JIR community as one of the better places to intern as a student Cantor.

This year, we continue the tradition. We have welcomed a wonderful new student Cantor, Vicky Glikin, and her whole family into our congregation. Let us hope that we will continue our mutually beneficial relationship together until we, reluctantly but with great pride, are ready to send our latest co-creation into the world.

Rabbi Joel N. Abraham

(If you are interested in seeing pictures, or want to read what I said at the installation, follow the links on my blog – sholomrav.blogspot.com.)

God Says, "Vote!"

2008-11-01T08:38:00.000-07:00

If you take up the burden of the Torah, the burdens of government and of worldly concerns are removed. If you lay down the burden of the Torah, you get back the burdens of government and of worldly concerns. Rabbi Nehunia ben Hakkanah Pirke Avot 3:5

Like many things in the Jewish world, the idea of government has had positives and negatives. On the one hand, as an oppressed minority during much of our history, Jews often saw the government as the source of that oppression. On the other hand, the government was also a limit to that oppression, or at least a societal check on individual attacks. In addition, Judaism has long recognized that governments are necessary to do the tasks that individuals cannot tackle alone. There is a portion in the Talmud, in tractate Sanhedrin, which talks about what is necessary for a city to be called a city – there must be enough people to have teachers and a school, various community charitable organizations, in addition to the number of people needed to make a minyan or a Rabbi or a judge. Government is both a necessary evil and an expression of our greatest desires and needs. How then to explain the quote above - about the burden of Torah vs. the burden of the government?

The Rabbis of the Talmud believed that study of Torah was to be desired above all else. Therefore, its reward had to be stressed as worth the trouble. An individual might worry how they could pay their bills, or even their taxes, if they engaged in such a pursuit as Torah study, which had so little material reward. To that end, there are many stories in which Rabbis, perhaps poor to start, are rewarded in sometimes miraculous ways. One of those rewards, according to Rabbi Nehunia ben Hakkanah, is that the government will stay off your back.

To the modern Reform Jew, not surprisingly, there is another way to read these words. Government is a burden only in when it does not work correctly or we do not understand its purpose. Not to dip my feet into the electoral process, I would however say that my understanding of Judaism says that paying taxes is patriotic; that one of the ways that we support our country and the work that we ask it to do is financial. The frustration comes when we believe that money is used inefficiently, misspent, or used for purposes to which we object. The advantage for us is that we live in a democracy – that we are given the opportunity, on a regular basis, to register our approval or disapproval of the political process through the ballot box.

That government is a burden is removed from us when the government is working in the way that we expect and need; the way that our Torah tells us we should relate to each other. When the government helps us to provide for the widow and orphan – the powerless; when it helps us to treat the stranger as the citizen; when it helps us to pursue justice; to respect the rights of even our enemies. In a democracy, we have no one to blame for what our government does in our name, except ourselves. As Reform Jews, we are expected to act in the prophetic tradition and make our world a better place.

It is not a joke to say that one of the most important rituals of Reform Judaism is exercised at the ballot box. Take this Jewish mitzvah seriously. Weigh your choices, but make them. And, if you wish, say a prayer based on Deuteronomy before you enter the booth – Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melekh ha-olam, shenatan lanu hachayyim v’hamavet, habracha v’haklalah vtzivanu livchor chayyim. Blessed are You, Adonai, our God, Ruler of the universe, who put before us life and death, blessing and curse and commanded us to choose life.

Choose. Vote.

Rabbi Abraham

Strangers are only members you haven't met yet

2008-10-01T08:42:00.000-07:00

K’ezrach mikem yih’yeh lachem hageir hagar itchem v’ahavta lo kamocha ki geirim ha’yitem b’eretz mitzrayim. Ani Adonai Eloheicheim
As the native born shall they be to you – the stranger who lives with you. And you shall love them as yourself, because you were strangers in the land of Egypt. I am Adonai, your God. Leviticus 19:34

The time has come for us, as a congregation, to live up to the high ideals that we have set for ourselves. We pride ourselves on being a haimische congregation – a community where people feel welcome, where individuals are connected to each other more than through the coincidence that they may have children of the same age. In a very important way, we have fulfilled this goal. We have over 30 families who have chosen to join the congregation this year because of who we are and because they want to be a member of this community. That so many of you have spoken to your friends, or even spoken about the Temple so that word has gone around in the community, is a testament to how we feel about the congregation and a credit to each one of us.

However, bringing people in the door is really on the first step. To be a truly haimische congregation, we continue to be welcoming – to bring new members on a journey so that a year from now, they feel as much long-time members as you may now. As Jews, this idea should be second nature to us – as it has been repeated over and over in our most basic text – the Torah. The quote above, from the Holiness Code which we read on the afternoon of Yom Kippur, is a good summation. Sometimes, though, we think of the stranger as someone who will always be different, and never one of us. Judaism tells us that we must not only treat the one who is new to our community the same as everyone else, but to make them feel as if they have always been a part – to love them as yourself.

The good news is that we are off to a great start. Already in September, we had several wonderful social (and fundraising) events that have included new and old members:
• Thank you to our fundraising committee – led by Marjorie Wachtel and Nan Fechtner –
o For the great “Scoop for Sholom”, our ice cream fundraiser which people refused to leave, hanging out together on a warm afternoon in Fanwood.
o For the wine-tasting – a record attendance was also marked by the fact that new families were spread out among all the different tables and, as usual, the socializing drowned out the wine.
• Thank you to the Sisterhood –
o For giving new members to the Temple free membership
o For the welcoming brunch which had so many enthusiastic new participants
• Thank you to the Brotherhood –
o For reaching out with such great e-mail to the new members
o For the vodka tasting, Sukkah building, etc., etc.
• Thank you to the Wolff family – Daniel and Ellen
o For hosting a get-together in their home for all the members with young children

And that is not all – our Membership Committee – led by Carolyn Smaka and Seth Weingarten met last month not only to talk about membership recruitment, but retention – how they can help committees bring in new members, the Trustees stay in touch, and generally to make our new members from strangers into ourselves.

Finally, what can each of us do? The first thing is to get over the potential embarrassment of introducing yourself to someone you may have met before. Then, at any Temple gathering – go up and say hello to people whose name you don’t remember. If you are a committee chair or member, drag someone else (especially a newer member) to a meeting, an event, or even to help set up. Sit next to someone different at services or at a dinner or Temple event.

Do the work it takes to make the stranger feel like the native – love your neighbor as yourself.

Rabbi Abraham