Divre Harav – May, 2026

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“Now Aaron’s sons Nadab and Abihu each took his fire pan, put fire in it, and laid incense on it; and they offered before Adonai alien fire, which He had not enjoined upon them. And fire came forth from Adonai and consumed them; thus they died at the instance of Adonai. Then Moses said to Aaron, ‘This is what Adonai meant when God said: 

Through those near to Me I show Myself holy,
And gain glory before all the people.’

And Aaron was silent.” (Leviticus 10:1-3)

In the face of sudden death, we are most often anything but silent. We cry, we yell at the attending medical staff, we demand to know why our loved one died. We want someone to be held accountable because surely the death was not inevitable, surely someone could have done something at just the right moment to stave off death.

And surely this is true, sometimes. But not always. So Aaron’s reaction is silence, and perhaps acceptance. And this is also an acceptable reaction. Through my work on the Corewell Health ethics committee, I’ve been thinking lately about the issue of medical futility. There comes a point when we will no longer be able to evade death. We might first face it for a loved one, a parent or spouse for whom we have been entrusted with the responsibility of making decisions when they can no longer speak for themselves. Ultimately, we’ll face our own mortality and the question, ‘Is is OK to accept that my body will die or am I obligated to fight to keep it functioning no matter how high the economic or physical cost?’

Judaism holds that life is precious, of infinite value. We are obligating to take care of our health and pay attention to competent medical professionals and get routine medical care such as preventative checkups and vaccinations, and visits to the dentist. Even the short term life of a person in hospice care is precious. We are forbidden to hasten death, even for someone who is actively dying. Judaism believes that the moment of death is in the hands of God. The principle of autonomy plays a larger role in secular medical ethics than it does in Jewish ethics, but there is a role for autonomy in our medical decision making as Jews.

We may evaluate medical treatment based on our ability to withstand the treatment. We may decide to accept the peace of palliative care in place of suffering through a more aggressive treatment. Or we may decide that the possibility of lengthening our days is worth the discomfort or pain of the treatment.

Aaron’s silence in Leviticus 10 might be coming from a place of deep faith in God’s judgment or a place of grief in which he was bereft of words. He might be holding back anger at Moses for trying to justify the loss of two of his children. We face the certainty of the death of those we love and our own mortality. Our society embraces taking an aggressive stance against death, fighting the good fight, but it is a fight we will inevitably lose. Fighting death is ultimately futile.

The lesson I want to take away from Aaron’s silence is that there will come a time to embrace death and to realize that our spirit will continue in some way even after our body no longer functions. Rather than defaulting to the language of combat, consider approaching death with wisdom. Working in partnership with my medical team, what are reasonable goals of care? How may I best live the life that I seek? When the time draws near, how may I most wisely accept death? 

Divre Harav – April, 2026

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Jews and Judaism are strongly connected to the written word. Intellectual and spiritual development is centered on a reading of Torah that incorporates both a literal understanding of its stories, and an interpretive tradition that draws out both modes of practice, which we call mitzvot, and pathways of ethical behavior. As we celebrate Pesaḥ we reframe the literal story with midrash that invites us to imagine that we were slaves in Egypt and God set us free. We remind ourselves that as free as were are, no one is completely free. We have responsibilities that enable us to make a living and support ourselves and others, and we have obligations to other people in our family, in our congregation and social circles, in our community, and in our country. We are free to walk away from commitments we have made, but even unhoused people who have either walked or have been driven away from most societal norms have rules by which they must abide. In my rides with the Grand Rapids police, I have watched some of those rules being enforced, such as no sleeping in doorways or obstructing public assess sidewalks, no public nudity, no trespassing on private property, and of course not violating civil or criminal laws of the city and state. We all choose the extent to which we want to conform to societal expectations.

When we live our lives as Jews committed to our mitzvot, we voluntarily give up some of our freedoms in favor of a religious practice intended to bind us to God or make us better human beings, or protect our planet or support vulnerable people. We Jews have stubbornly insisted that it is worth it and have maintained a written presence in the world for as long or longer than any other tribal society, with records maintained for over 2500 years, containing stories that record events a thousand years earlier.

Contemporary Jews are the heirs to an unbelievably rich tradition. Living according to the Jewish calendar, appreciating the beauty of Hebrew, regulating one’s diet – these are sacred practices, but they are at odds with the civic culture of Grand Rapids or anywhere else outside of Israel. I find in the Torah’s pathways and instructions a connection with God. From the time 13-year old me celebrated my Bar Mitzvah, I have been on a path of exploration, though Jewish camps, Israel programs, youth groups, involvement at Hillel and deep study of Judaism.

When you celebrate Pesah this year, consider how you might experience freedom differently. Rather than molding the Seder or a set of Jewish principles to fit your conception of yourself, see what it feels like to constrain yourself within just one Jewish ritual. I’m thinking of something like lighting Shabbat candles, saying Kiddush at dinner on Friday evening, giving tzedakah to a Jewish cause daily, putting on tefillin daily except Shabbat, saying the shema twice a day, or saying a brief prayer before or after you eat. Take on a single mitzvah for a week, a month, or the rest of the year. Imagine yourself as the clay, and God, through the mitzvah, as the potter (as in the Yom Kippur evening liturgical poem). Allow yourself to be shaped and transformed by the ritual. And see what happens. I wish you a joyous and kosher Pesaḥ!

Hebrew Words of the Month:

  • av’dut – slavery
  • ḥeirut – freedom
  • piyyut – liturgical poem (from the Greek word from which we get the word ‘poet.’)

Divre Harav – March, 2026

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Some years ago I came up with a book title that is sure to become a best-seller: Judaism is not for Children. It is about the phenomenon we find in contemporary religious schools that teach an unsophisticated Judaism aimed at making Judaism fun and appealing for children. We tell cute stories about spiders and sing cute songs about Noah’s Arky-Arky, and for the most part stay away from using the word G-o-d. When our children grow older, one of two things happen: Either they stop showing up after B’nai Mitzvah, so their mental understanding of Judaism is frozen at a rudimentary 7th grade level, or they continue into a middle/high school program focused in developing universal values under the rubric of “Tikkun Olam” and never get back to learning the difficult, sophisticated, problematic, compelling parts of Torah or figuring out the connection between God and prayer, God and Torah, or God and themselves.

Synagogues also share some of this responsibility, by multiplying theme Shabbat services and family services and entertaining musical extravaganzas. God forbid the theme of Shabbat should be Shabbat or even Torah. It’s chocolate, Leonard Cohen, Martin Luther King, Jr., challah-making, cheese around the world, Bruce Springsteen’s birthday, National Ice Cream for Breakfast Day (the first Shabbat in February), or Yoga, preferably with goats. It’s not only synagogues. When I sit down with a group of clergy to plan the Interfaith Thanksgiving service, the first thing on the agenda is a discussion of the theme of this year’s service. Every year I suggest Thanksgiving, but that’s not enough. Synagogues entertain small children while boring their parents to tears. The moment the B’nai Mitzvah happens, parents disappear along with their children. God forbid the service itself might prompt people to examine their lives. We need more guitars, more percussion a bigger cello, put a mic on the flute, and hire clergy who sing in 4 part harmony, lest there be moments of quiet when congregants might be alone with their thoughts.

When Purim is focused on the carnival, it becomes a holiday for children, not adults, except for the parents who count down the years until they don’t have to retrieve one more child from one more bounce house. When the Passover seder is designed to appeal to the attention span and intellectual level of a child, what happens when the child grows up and leaves the house?

We underestimate the power of our tradition. We underestimate the power of a covenant with God that asks us to devote our hearts, souls, and might to living it. Maybe we are a touch embarrassed if we were to appear to be too religious, too “orthodox,” as if devoting ourselves to a serious religious practice is not consistent with living 21st century lives. Maybe we’re afraid that believing in the truth of religion is inconsistent with believing in the truth of science.

Judaism is not for Children. Judaism is serious, sophisticated, deep wisdom. Children can’t hope to understand its depths. We cannot teach it to them with the expectation that they will understand all of it without gutting Judaism in the process. We can only give them a glimpse into the majesty and the mystery of Judaism and tell them that someday, when they grow up, they will be able to experience its full power. Please, dip your toe into it, try it out, feel the power of unraveling a 3500 year old tradition. Now, all I have to do is write the book.

Hebrew Words of the Month:

  • Hadar – majesty
  • Hod – magnificence
  • Rommeimut – grandeur

Divre Harav – February, 2026

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The Talmud defines a small town as one which has 10 people of leisure (“asara bat’lanim”) who are always available to come to shul and make a minyan. Most synagogues’ Shabbat morning minyanim rely on a core of people like this to ensure that they’ll have 10 people for a minyan every week. When I arrived in Grand Rapids 32 years ago, there was a certain group of seniors who fulfilled that function. Over the past three decades, the older generation steadily disappeared, to be replaced by new generations of active, retired, seniors. Periodically, we’ve sent our a plea for additional people to consider making a minyan commitment to keep Ahavas Israel strong. We rarely have trouble making a Shabbat morning minyan, but sometimes the minyan doesn’t arrive until a bit after we’ve started the service.

Might you be one of our bat’lanim, people of leisure, to help us keep our Shabbat morning service strong? You’d be helping facilitate several mitzvot. You’d be ensuring a minyan so we can read Torah. You’d be fulfilling the mitzvah of communal prayer and helping others fulfill their mitzvah. You’d be helping people say Kaddish, which requires a minyan. People move away, people age and can no longer easily wake up early and transport themselves to shul, and people die. So we need a steady influx of new or returning people to replenish our minyan supply.

We hope to see you on Shabbat morning!

Were you a regular part of our Shabbat service in the past, but your children grew up, you changed jobs, the pandemic changed your habits, or life got in the way? Please consider coming back. We miss you!

Aside from the obligatory nature of Jewish prayer, it has been reported by Psychology Today and CNN, the Harvard School of Public Health, and others, that regular communal prayer has a positive impact on your physical and mental heath. Living longer, reducing stress, coping with challenges better, reducing loneliness, being more optimistic, reducing blood pressure … these all correlate positively with engaging in in-person prayer regularly. And keeping your mind active and engaged with regular Torah study is good for your brain health!

Finally, let’s not forget the spiritual value of prayer. My colleague Rabbi Michael Gold wrote:

When I pray, at least ideally, I am trying to move beyond my physical self to a spiritual plane. It moves me to somewhere beyond the present space and the present moment. I am saying words that Jews are saying all over the world. I am saying words that they have said for thousands of years. I feel connected to other pray-ers in New York or South America or Israel; to Jews who said these prayers in the Polish shtetl or the medieval mystical center of Safed or the Talmudic schoolhouse of Rabbi Akiba.

Hebrew Words of the Month:

  • Minyan – A Jewish quorum of 10 adult Jews required for certain communal prayers.
  • Tefillah – prayer

Divre Harav – January, 2026

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Last month I placed a short announcement in the Voice that received only a couple of responses. I had just learned about Sapir: Ideas for a Thriving Jewish Future. It is a journal exploring the future of the American Jewish community and its intersection with cultural, social, and political issues. It is published quarterly by Maimonides Fund with Bret Stephens serving as Editor-in-Chief. Each issue contains essays on a single theme. To explore articles from the current issue or past issues or to sign up for a free print subscription, go to sapirjournal.org. Sapir provides discussion resources for what they call a Sapir salon, an informal gathering of folks interested in reading and discussion the articles. If you would like to host a Sapir salon, contact me. 

My copy of Sapir arrived in the mail today. The 165 pages of the Autumn, 2025, issue of this free publication focus is money. Publisher Mark Charendoff opens with a brief reflection in which he quotes a delightful passage of Talmud, “A person is recognized by three things — b’kiso, b’koso, uv’ka’aso – by his pocket, by his cup, and by his anger” (Eruvin 65b). Our character is defined by the way we behave when money is involved, when we are drinking, and when we are angry. There is so much to unpack in that brief alliterative teaching!

Editor-in-Chief Bret Stephens suggests that the role of Judaism is not to represent either a socialist or a capitalist economic system – Jewish sources could argue for either – but rather to provide a critique or a corrective to either system. An economy works best when society operated under conditions of social trust and collective responsibility. Religion in general, and Judaism in particular, is well-positioned to create the conditions for its adherents to thrive.

Ilana Horwitz suggests that deep connections with the Jewish community are critical to receiving support during times of crisis. Those who identify but do not affiliate do not have access to the kind of resources that those who actively participate in synagogue life enjoy.

Daniel Z. Feldman explains the Jewish concept that minted currency establishes the legitimacy of the State and they hold value because of people’s trust in the government, and wonders how crypto-currency, created because of distrust in the State, fits into this paradigm.

Avital Chizhik-Goldschmidt asks her readers to remember their best selves, what she calls their “Jerusalem selves,” to counteract the golden calves which permeate the uber-wealthly of the upper east side of New York City, where she lives and works.

Cindy Greenberg acknowledges the holiness of philanthropy, but argues that recommitting ourselves to giving time is the best way to enhance Jewish learning, strengthen Jewish connections and relations with non-Jews, and reinforce Jewish peoplehood through connections to Israel.

And that’s just part one! Each of the 16 brief essays, most of which are fewer than 10 pages, invite the reader into a conversation of Jewish values and Jewish behavior. It is thoughtful, accessible, and beautifully written. I urge you to go to sapirjournal.org and sign up for the print publication or read it online.

Hebrew Word of the Month:

  • Sapir – A saphire; in the book of Exodus, the paving stones under the feet of God.