A Moment for Every Purpose Under Heaven

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.

Rise, O Dry Bones

Hinavei al ha’atzamot, ha’eileh v’amarta aleihem: ha’atzamot  hiveishot shimu d’var Adonai
Speak prophecy to the bones, saying, “Dry bones, hear the word of Adonai.” Ezekiel 37:4

Traveling with the Confirmation Class last month, we continued our twelve-year old custom of spending erev Shabbat with our sister congregation, Szim Salom, in Budapest.  Rabbi Kati Kelemen used the occasion to speak about the prophetic text cited above from Ezekiel, the allegory of the dry bones.  In the text, God brings Ezekiel to a valley full of skeletons and asks him if they can live again.  Ezekiel, wisely, answers that only God knew.  God commands Ezekiel to speak words of prophecy to the bones, which are then covered with flesh and rise alive.  The prophet Ezekiel employs this metaphor to show how listening to the word of God can revive the scattered and decimated people of Israel after the Exile.  Rabbi Kelemen used Ezekiel’s metaphor to talk about the resurgence of Judaism after the Holocaust - an important lesson to our students who, after their week of seeing the vibrant pre-Holocaust culture and the witness to the Holocaust, needed to see that Judaism was still alive and growing in Central and Eastern Europe.

After the service, when I got a chance to speak, I then compared Rabbi Kelemen to Ezekiel, remarking how, over the decade, we had watched Szim Salom move from a small apartment, to temporary quarters, to a restaurant, to the large apartment they moved into this past year. I also noted how inspiring it was to have a youth group at Szim Salom  large enough speak almost one on one to our ten Confirmation students led by young leadership that we had had a chance to host at our congregation.  Truly, under the leadership of Rabbi Kelemen, the dry  bones of Progressive Judaism have arisen in Hungary and have become alive.

A miracle - for dry bones to be re-animated and come alive.  A miracle - for Judaism not only to survive in post-Holocaust Europe, but to renew itself and create new rabbis and young leadership.  But why do we always have to focus on the most miraculous events?  There is a small miracle in the healing of the wounded, even in the rising up of those who are tired.

We at Temple Sholom are in the midst of such a small miracle.  A congregation of nearly 100 years, we were perhaps complacent with who and where we were.  Asking ourselves for words of prophecy, we set as a goal becoming a thriving congregation.  Ten years later, we are on the road to a new building in a new town; we have an innovative and grant-winning education program, a Temple activity almost every weekend (and sometimes two or three), young families  joining, older families becoming benefactor members - we are clothing ourselves with new skin and reviving ourselves.

Ten years ago, the members of this congregation made a leap of faith.  At the moment, we are still mid-leap, but...  our toes are reaching for the other side, and we have almost landed.  Our goal is within our grasp.  Let us re-dedicate ourselves to taking that last stride - and then imagining where our next leap may take us.

Do Not Stand Idly By

Lo tachmod al dam rei’echa, ani Adonai.
Do not stand unmoving in the presence of your neighbor’s bleeding, I am Adonai. - Lev. 19:16

It is a mitzvah to register as an organ donor.

Even before the events of late March and early April, our congregation has actively supported The New Jersey Sharing Network (http://www.sharenj.org/) by participating in an organ donor Shabbat each year.  We have had speakers, put out brochures, and spoken from the bimah about the life-saving importance of registering as an organ donor.  Yet nothing has made the importance of this mitzvah more evident to me, as a rabbi, a Jew, a parent and a human being, then sharing with the Rothman family the personal miracle that they have experienced.

I am sorry.  Judaism has taught me better and I should have known.

The Conservative Movement has, for years, been far ahead; explicitly calling organ donation a mitzvah - a commandment.  Their reasoning, according to halakhah (Jewish law), follows from the quote from the holiness code above.  Interpreting the verse above, Maimonides, the medieval sage, said, “Anyone who is able to save a life, but fails to do so, violates 'You shall not stand idly by the blood of your neighbor.'" (http://www.uscj.org/The_Mitzvah_of_Organ5455.html)  For Conservative Jews, organ donation is not an option, it is required.

The Halakhic Organ Donor Society (www.HODS.org) has been working hard in Orthodox circles to assert the primacy of the value of pikuach nefesh - the Jewish principle that states that virtually any other commandment (such as intact burial of the dead) is superseded by the possibility of saving a life.  Visit their website for an incredibly moving video by the families of organ donors.

Our Reform Movement has also advocated for organ donation - most recently though the Women of Reform Judaism’s Matan Chaim (“gift of lives”) program.  You can find out more answers to frequently asked questions about organ donation on the URJ site: http://urj.org//life/health/bioethics//?syspage=article&item_id=17160

As a rabbi, as a Jew, and a parent and a human being, I strongly urge you to put down this newsletter for now and return after you have registered to be an organ donor (http://www.donatelifenj.org/).  

Even more importantly, have a conversation with your family about organ donation.  Let them know what your wishes would be, should you ever find yourself in a position to become a donor.  Remember that even if you register, or make your wishes known in a “living will” (which you should have anyway), the final decision will rest with your next-of-kin, or whoever has your durable power of attorney for health care.  Tell them why it is important to you to donate, so they can fulfill your last request with confidence and understanding.  

In the morning prayers, we recite the eilu d’varim - a prayer which lists the things which are without a fixed limit.  The Sages saw l’viyat hameit - participating in the funeral rite - to be the ultimate mitzvah, because the person for whom you are performing the mitzvah has no way to reward you.  Becoming an organ donor is the converse of this value - when you can no longer be thanked, you still have much to give.

Please register now to be an organ donor.  There are lives at stake.


Rabbi Abraham

Who is Wise? - Sabbatical Report

Eizeh hu chacham? Halomeid mikol haadam.
Who is wise?  The one who learns from all people. - Ben Zoma, Pirke Avot 4:1

I was asked last month to share with the congregation some of the things that I have learned on the second month of my non-consecutive six-month sabbatical - which took place this past December-January.  In thinking back, I was reminded by the quote from Ben Zoma, above.  Because I did not want to leave my family, one of the ways I learned was by taking advantage of many different distance learning opportunities.  I was able to hear speakers brought together by the Central Conference of American Rabbis, the Jewish National Fund and GreenFaith, and the American Jewish Archives.

As part of a series on the development of the rabbinate, I studied with my former professor, Dr. Lewis Barth, a professor of Midrash at Hebrew Union College in Los Angeles.  Looking at some of the miracle worker stories of the Mishnaic rabbis, Dr. Barth showed the similarities with early Christian monks.  His theory was that as the rabbi came to prominence in post-Temple Judaism (taking over from prophet and priest), followers needed to believe that rabbis had special powers, and perhaps so did the rabbis themselves.  Dr. Barth did not, however, teach us how to perform any of the wonders mentioned in the texts.

As part of a series co-sponsored by GreenFaith (the faith-based environmental group that the Temple has worked with often in the past) and the Jewish National Fund, Rabbi Lawrence Troster and Reverend Fletcher Harper (who was a guest on our bimah) shared how to increase environmental activism in the synagogue and how to give effective sermons on the environment.

In addition to the formal lectures, I took up a study of Jewish graphic novels.  Contacting various scholars in the field, I found that there is neither complete agreement on what is a graphic novel, nor what is a Jewish graphic novel. For example, a book composed of the collected one-page, non-connected reflections may be Jewish, but are they a graphic novel of a type of memoir?  To be Jewish, must a graphic novel have a Jewish author?  Have at least one Jewish character?  Must the main character perform Jewish acts, or be self-aware of their Judaism?  The range of Jewish novels available is growing every day - from the French artist Joann Sfar’s fantastical tales of his father’s Sephardic roots (The Rabbi’s Cat) or his mother’s Ashkenazic (Klezmer: Tales of the Wild East) to classics like Wil Eisner’s New York series, to the recent award-winning, Hereville, the story of an 11-year old Orthodox girl who fights trolls.  Some novels, such as Art Spiegelman’s Maus deal with the Holocaust through the eyes of the child of survivors imagining the Jews as mice and the Nazis as cats.  Some are more direct memoirs of survivors.  There are novels that analyze the American Jewish experience - through a travelling novelty Jewish barnstorming baseball team (The Mighty Golems), two novels about Jewish gangsters (Brownsville and Jew Gangster), and a novel about a non-Jewish con-man who ends up becoming the rabbi that he pretends to be (The Big Kahn).  I would argue that just as authors such as Malamud, Roth, and Ozick helped to propel the conversation about what it means to be an American Jew, so modern Jewish graphic novelists are continuing that dialogue. I discovered a wonderful book by Sarah Glidden entitled “How to Understand Israel in 360 Days or Less”, about her journey from suspicion to confusion on a BirthRight Israel trip.  I now send it as a gift to children in our congregation who are about to travel with BirthRight, to give them a chance to start thinking about some of the challenges that we face in identifying with Israel.  I hope to construct a website with reviews of each of these novels, as well as helpful tips in studying or teaching them.

For many members of the congregation, this column is not the first time that you are hearing some of these references.  I have found opportunities in sermons, classes, and conversations to share what I have learned - and to learn from others.  Sabbatical or no - the words of Ben Zoma are still important - to be wise, we must listen to learn from others.

Free to be your God and my God...

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

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.

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.