This month, we begin our third trimester of congregational study together. As you may remember, we received a Legacy Heritage grant to rethink our congregational education and came up with our Family Track option for the religious school. As part of this process, we have engaged the whole congregation in a four-year cycle, with three trimesters each year, in which we will be studying together the same theme. We began this year with the book of Genesis. We just completed a trimester on the history of the Biblical period and March through May of 2011 will be a chance for us to study Jewish theology - different Jewish understandings of God and the Divine.
Our trimester’s enduring understanding is: Judaism balances between the dichotomy that we are a chosen people in covenant with God from the encounter at Mt. Sinai, and that we are the “children of Israel” – descendants of our ancestor Jacob renamed for wrestling with God and humanity. Holiness/K’dushah is the language we use in pursuing this relationship. We see God in many different ways and how we acknowledge the Divine tells us how to treat other people and act in the world.
An “enduring understanding” is a densely packed statement which the Understanding by Design model of curriculum development uses to help guide the learning of a given topic. The hallmark of a good enduring understanding is that it needs “unpacking”. So, let us unpack our God Concepts’ enduring understanding, and, hopefully, help start each of us on a path of learning for this trimester:
One of the joys that I find in Judaism is its ability to embrace dialectical concepts. The rabbis of the Mishnah would say that all is predetermined and we have free will. The statements seem mutually exclusive, and yet they are both reflective of how we as human beings see (and want to see) the world. On the one hand, one cannot deny that the essence of Judaism comes from the revelation at Mount Sinai - the momentous face-to-face encounter with God that created the covenant between God and the Jewish people. On the other hand, we find it difficult to believe in the literal reality of that event, or even to imagine that an all-seeing, thunderous-voiced, judgemental God is not only watching us every at every moment, but even present in our lives at all.
If there were two things that I would wish each congregant of Temple Sholom would get out of this trimester’s study, it would be an understanding of these two concepts:
1) Judaism accepts a multiplicity of theologies under its broad tent. There have been different ideas of God - even within the Bible. The God that walks with Adam in the garden is not the voice out of the whirlwind in Job. Philo and Maimonides had a theology shaped by Greek philosophy. In the modern age, theologians such as Martin Buber, Franz Rosenzweig, and Mordechai Kaplan have each come up with different understandings of the Divine, all acceptable withing Judaism. Don’t just stick with the “third grade idea of God” (the old man with the white beard) - there is a lot more out there. For a good start, take a look at the two books created by Rabbi Rifat Sonsino. The first Finding God (URJ Press), written with Rabbi Daniel Syme, is ten chapters with short descriptions and primary texts of different God ideas that have developed over Jewish history. The Many Faces of God (also URJ Press) is the same concept, but with contemporary theologies and philosophers.
2) Don’t give up the struggle. Each Saturday morning, at services, I explain that our prayerbook is a collection of different theologies; each prayer is a different metaphor for the Divine. Why? Because our views of God can change not only as we grow and mature, but sometimes from moment to moment. Our rational idea of God, which we might explain at great length in a class or at a cocktail party, may not be the God that we turn to in a hospital bed at 2 am or as our car skids on a patch of ice. We are called yisraeil - which the Torah tells us means the one who struggles with God and human beings. It is expected that we are never satisfied with what we can understand or comprehend about God, but that we must always be looking again. The trick is not to give up when God doesn’t match our expectations, but to push back and keep up the wrestling. For this, I recommend Rabbi Arthur Waskow’s Godwrestling (Schocken Books).
Take a look at page ? to see the opportunities that our Eitz Chayim committee is offering for your study of this topic. You can also join us for the adult learning part of the three havdalah programs where our Family Track will be exploring the trimester theme. In addition, look on our website, listen to sermons, read bulletin articles, and share your conversations. Don’t be afraid - the Temple is actually the place where you can talk about God without people thinking that you are crazy or trying to convert them. (And, give the atheists some respect - not believing in a theistic God is also an acceptable theology in Judaism, ask them what they do believe in.)
Rabbi Joel N. Abraham
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
It takes a congregation
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.
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.
Monday, November 1, 2010
The Seven Habits of Highly Religious Jews
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.
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.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Eat, Pray, Love is Torah, Avodah and G'milut Chasadim
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
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
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Eight Simple Words to a Better Prayer Experience
“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
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
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
and a time for renewal...
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.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
The Sin of Wages?
[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
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
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