Divre Harav – May/16

The festival of Shavuot is approaching, marking the beginning of summer on the Jewish calendar. We’re gathering on the first night for a program that is part social and part educational – a Tikkun Leil Shavuot study session. The topic this year is “Psalms and their role in liturgy and a life of religious practice.” If you’ve never participated, perhaps this year you’ll try it out. It’s an informal gather at my home (2021 Michigan St. NE) at 7:30 p.m. on Saturday, June 11. The Shavuot morning service the next morning reenacts the giving of Torah at Mount Sinai; on the second day of the festival, we recite Yizkor.

I chose this year’s Shavuot study topic because, for almost three years, I have been immersing myself in the poetry of the Psalmist and writing weekly reflections. On June 27, God willing, I will publish the reflection on the final Psalm, 150. I took on this project in part because for my own spiritual life, I needed a project that would bring me to parts of our Tanakh that I had never before thought about seriously. I needed something to break me out of patterns of habitual behavior, in which I only read and study material that I already know and feel comfortable with.

Most of us live our lives in habitual ways because the comfortable routine appeals to us. This is why when we ask people who are not accustomed to coming to synagogue services to participate in a weekday or Shabbat service, we most often do not succeed. Their is a vast gulf between one’s normal morning or weekend routine and the new routine of coming to Ahavas Israel early on a Wednesday or Thursday or at 9:30 am on Saturday morning. People tell me that they’d like to come more often or that they know they should come more often, but most often that desire is not strong enough to break an old habit and form a new one.

Living strictly according to the Jewish calendar can become just as habitual and thoughtless as a life disconnected from Jewish rhythms. Holidays which interrupt our schedule can help us pay more attention to the flow of time. Deliberately choosing to take on a new project or learn something outside our comfort zone can also take us out of habitual behavior. Please join me on Saturday night, June 11, to begin your celebration of Shavuot and your journey towards a more thoughtful life.

Hebrew Words of the Month:

  • tefillah – Prayer.
  • l’hitpallel – To pray.
  • l’har’her – To mediate.
  • lil’mod – To study.
  • l’la’meid – To teach.

Divre Harav – April/16

One of the findings from last summer’s congregational survey and the ongoing strategic planning process is a desire for more social connections within the congregational family. When people walk into a synagogue for a service, a class, a program, or a party, they want to feel connected to the other people in the room.

All Jewish holidays, Shabbat, and Passover in particular, are appropriate times to reach out and extend hospitality to another person or family in the congregation or beyond. I know that many families already do this, but I want to throw out a challenge. If you invite the same people year after year, I’d like you to consider the fact that every congregation changes over time. Some people leave, and new people come in. For Ahavas Israel to be as warm as welcoming as we know we can be requires that each of us periodically break out of our closed groups and welcome in someone new. I challenge you to invite someone you’ve never had over to your home. If you need a hand finding someone, let me know. I can connect you with a more recent member, potential member, individual or family.

I saw a beautiful story about the late Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach, who founded a synagogue in Berkeley during the 1960’s in order to reach out to the many young Jews who had drifted away from Jewish tradition. He named it “The House of Love and Prayer.” In the summer of 1967, he was asked to explain his vision for this synagogue.

He answered: “Here’s the whole thing, simple as it is. The House of Love and Prayer is a place where, when you walk in, someone loves you, and when you walk out, someone misses you.” 

Our synagogue is named “The Love of Israel.” How powerful would it be if each of us embraced the idea that love is a fundamental part of our identify as a congregation, the core of our mission statement! The essential meaning of Passover is tied up with the idea of transformation, from slave to free person, from a loose collection of individuals to a community. I wish you and your families a Passover of blessing and liberation from all that enslaves you.

Hebrew Words of the Month:

  • SederOrder. The Passover meal is so named because of the well defined order of the ritual.
  • SiddurPrayer book, so named because of the useful arrangement of prayers within each service.
  • Mazhor – Best known as a High Holiday prayer book, but also can refer to a special prayer book for Festivals. From the root hazar, meaning return, referring to the calendar cycle.
  • MitzrayimEgypt, from the root Metzar, meaning a narrow place, so named because of the narrow habitable area surrounding the Nile river. In addition, Mitzrayim in the Bible is a symbol of narrowness, oppression, and slavery.

Divre Harav – February/16

Trivia Question: How many days of Hanukkah are there in 2017? You’ll find the answer by reading to the third paragraph of this article. No fair looking ahead!

I am writing this article for the February Voice early in January, shortly after winter arrived, measured by the onset of cold weather, ice, and snow. Around me, except for the evergreens, the trees are completely bare. No green (or even brown) is visible on the ground, only white. At the end of January we celebrated Tu Bishvat, the new year for trees. It is hard to imagine that elsewhere in the northern hemisphere, the sap is beginning to enliven the trees again and soon buds will begin to sprout.

The month of Adar begins this month, normally followed by the month of Nisan, in which we celebrate Passover. If we followed the normal pattern, we’d celebrate Purim on February 23 and Passover March 25. However, the Jewish calendar requires Passover to fall no sooner than a certain time before April 7, the pre-Gregorian calendar’s calculation of the spring equinox. In simpler terms, the calendar tries not to let Passover occur before the world begins to look spring-like! Therefore, every 2-3 years (according to a fixed pattern), a second month of Adar is added before Purim. So this year Purim will fall on March 24 and Passover will begin April 23 and end on April 30! Next Rosh Hashanah does not start until October 3, and Hanukkah begins December 24 and ends on New Year’s Day, 2017.

Now you know the correct answer to the trivia question, How many days of Hanukkah are there in 2017? You can amaze your friends, confound your enemies, and win countless bets because everyone who can count the branches of a Hanukkah menorah and subtract one for the shamash knows that there are eight, but you know the answer is nine: January 1, 2017 and December 12-20, 2017!

One more fun and confusing fact (because everything having to do with the Jewish calendar is confusing): I’ve already mentioned that there are two months of Adar. For the purpose of calculating Yahrtzeits and celebrating Purim, the added month of Adar is Adar I. If a person died in a non-leap-year Adar, his or her Yahrtzeit is observed in Adar II in a leap year, as is Purim.

Hebrew Words of the Month:

  • shana m’uberet: A leap year of 13 months. Literally, a pregnant year.
  • tekufah: equinox or solstice (Hebrew does not distinguish).
  • molad: the precise moment of the new moon. Literally, birth.
  • rishon: first, as in Adar Rishon, the first month of Adar.
  • sheni: second, as in Adar Sheni, the second month of Adar.

Divre Harav – Words from the Rabbi, December, 2015

In a recent Zohar class, I noted that the phrase “Who can tell the mighty acts of Adonai” from Psalm 106:2 is the basis for the well known Hanukkah song, Mi Y’mallel g’vurot Yisrael, written by Russian-born Menashe Ravina (1899-1968) sometime in the first half of the 20th century. It became a popular Hanukkah song in the early years of the State of Israel.

However, we should pay attention to the major theological difference between the source material and the Hanukkah song. The popular singable English version of the first verse is:

Who can retell the things that befell us?
Who can count them?
In every age, a hero or sage
Arose to our aid.

But this is a mistranslation. The first line, in passive voice, doesn’t specifically tell us who led us to victory, and the third line introduces the word ‘sage’ to rhyme with age, not found in the original Hebrew. More literally, the song begins:

Who can tell of the heroic deeds of Israel?
Who can count them?
Yes in every generation a hero arises
To save the people.

In short, the Psalmist speaks of the power of God and Ravina speaks of the power of Israel. Hutzpah’dik? Theological audacity or arrogance? Yes, but with deep roots that go back virtually to the first accounts of the story of Hanukkah. The story told in the historical book of Maccabees focuses on the fight against the Syrians led by Mattathias and his five sons. God is not absent from the book, but it is clearly primarily about the zealotry and heroism of this family and especially Judah, who became known by the appellation “Maccabee” (hammer), for his strength.

The early Rabbinic tradition wanted to move away from the Maccabean origins of Hanukkah and instead emphasize God’s salvation of Israel. Thus the major Hanukkah prayer in the Amidah contains the passage, “You took up their grievance, judged their claim, and avenged their wrong. You delivered the strong into the hands of the weak, the many into the hands of the few, the impure into the hands of the pure, the wicked into the hands of the righteous, and the wanton into the hands of the diligent students of Your Torah.” The rabbis turned the military leaders into yeshiva bochers!

The early builders of the state of Israel face the opposite challenge, that of turning academics and trademen into farmers and soldiers. Thus their songs emphasized strength and independence. If Israel was to survive the economic, social, and military challenges of the early years, they needed to learn how to do things that Jews had not needed to do for centuries, if ever.

As we celebrate Hanukkah this month, in our songs and prayers and candle-lighting rituals we remember the miracles ancient and modern, by which God has ensured the improbable survival of the tiny but determined Jewish people and our State of Israel. We also remember the Maccabees and others who fought for our religious freedom, both here and in Israel. Hag Ha-Urim Sameah, May you experience a joyous festival of lights!

Psalm 116

What can I give back to Adonai acknowledging all I have benefited from God? (116:12)

If the bounty of the world is our reward for being alive, what, if anything, should we give back to God? Although I don’t think the Psalmist asked the question this way, I read it as a rhetorical question. There is nothing that I need or even can give back to God to repay God for giving me life, a loving wife, children with gifts of their own to share, as well as employment, a home, and sufficient food.

First of all, it is given as a gift. When we receive a gift, the proper response is to be thankful. If we are not thankful then future gifts may be withheld, but the giver does not take back the gift. A gift by definition is given to and belongs to the recipient.

Second, what do you give a God who has, is, was, and will be, everything? Honestly speaking, God does not even need our thankfulness. God asks for loyalty, obedience, and appreciation, but it is not a demand issued by a tyrant on pain of death. We have the freedom to do as we want.

I suggest that we give thanks to God not to satisfy some Divine need but rather to remind ourselves of the importance and power of giving thanks. Thanksgiving is more than an overstuffed turkey and football. It is a pause in our lives to contemplate how lucky we are to be able to put any food on the table, not matter what it is, how little or how much.

My wife set aside a “Thanksgiving Jar” in the kitchen into which we place slips of paper indicating our gratitude for something that has happened. Slowly, over the course of time, the jar fills up. We take them out on Thanksgiving and read them aloud. It becomes a review of the good things of the past year, not necessarily in any particular order. God doesn’t need our Thanksgiving jar, but we certainly do.