Divre Harav – April, 2026

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 – April, 2025

We’ll sit around the table in Mid-April and tell the story of Israel’s oppression in Egypt and subsequent redemption by God. And we’ll talk about a series of 10 punishments God sent on the entire Egyptian people until their leader finally let us go, despoiling the Egyptian on the way out of town, and trapping their army in the sea to drown.

Is this revenge or is it justice?

The Torah (and associated Midrash) portray the plagues as carefully measured punishments against that which the Egyptians worshipped as gods; the money taken from the Egyptians as reparations for many years of slavery, and drowning the army as a measure for measure justice for drowning Israeli baby boys.

Sitting around the table, it’s hard to imagine the Egyptians as innocent victims of Pharaoh. They are the overseers, the enablers of the oppressive, vicious, enslavement of the people who once saved them from famine. The Haggadah contains a passage in which several rabbis almost gleefully imagine multiplying the ten plagues – there were not just ten, there were 10 plus 50 more on the way out! No there were a total of 240! No, there were 300 plagues! The suffering is multiplied over and over, as if the plain sense of the Biblical story isn’t enough to achieve justice.

In the 2009 film “Inglorious Basterds,” director Quentin Tarantino gives us a Shoah revenge fantasy, in which a young Jewish refugee witnesses the slaughter of her family by the Nazis, and arranges a gathering of prominent Nazi officers for a movie premier at the theater she operates, coordinated with a ruthless band of Jewish guerrilla soldiers planning to blow up the theater.

Both the seder and the film play with the Jewish trope of being powerless against evil. We are not in fact powerless. In the seder, God is on our side, fighting for us. In the film, we’ve learned to take up arms and fight back. But the line between justice and revenge is blurry. We don’t defeat the enemy by hurting them exactly as much as they hurt us. We need to burn them to the ground, drown them, blow them up, punish them so thoroughly that they only have enough strength to lay down their whips and chains, shower us with gold and silver, and and wish us well on our way out of town. And the brave among them follow behind us because they see our way of life and the power of our God as far superior to Egyptian gods and civilization.

In the Bible, the stories attribute Israeli victories to God. Revenge and justice both belong to God, and human armies are God agents. Real life, however, and the fantasy of film. is messy. We don’t have a voice of God telling us exactly what to do. Instead, we have a collection of pundits and military analysts and politicians and soldiers acting, we hope, with integrity and sense of justice, not revenge. And when they mess us, sooner or later there will be a commission of inquiry to tell us how they erred and what we can do in the future to prevent such disasters.

And we pray: Next year in Jerusalem of God, Jerusalem of Peace!

Hebrew word(s) of the Month:

  • zedak – justice
  • nekama – revenge

Divre Harav – April/2022

I’ve always loved Passover, but I think I’m going to like it even more this year. Coming as it does after a long winter, Passover symbolizes the freedom to enjoy being outside again without gloves, boots, and a warm coat and hat. When I feel the warmth of the sun, breathe the sweet-smelling air, get on my bike again, as the sun’s lengthening path across the sky keeps it visible more than 12 hours a day, I feel my spirit and my breath expanding from the narrowness and darkness of winter.

This year, after two years of pandemic living, we celebrate an additional kind of freedom. During the month and weeks leading up to Pesah, many of us who have been careful to protect the health of ourselves and others by wearing a mask, have increasingly been setting it aside and enjoying the freedom of going to work, getting a sandwich, or shopping with a visible smile on our face.

Please note that I am not at all critical of those who prefer to remain masked in public spaces. I assume that they have a good reason for doing so and I respect that by doing my best to keep my distance from them. I am, however, saddened by those who have chosen to exercise their freedom to forgo vaccination, without a compelling medical reason. They certainly have the God-given autonomy to refuse the vaccination, despite the fact that the rate of serious illness or death from COVID is somewhere between 14% and 50% higher for the unvaccinated compared to the fully vaccinated.

Another kind of Passover freedom – I hope that those who are comfortable coming in person will commit to regular support of in-person services. Whether regular means weekly, twice a month, monthly, or bi-monthly, we need to see your face again. The essence of Passover was the transformation of a collection of families into a nation; the creation of a community. Regularly gathering on Shabbat and holidays is the heart and soul of Jewish community. And I ask those who take advantage of the opportunity to watch the broadcast of our Shabbat service will recognize that it cannot continue without their support.

The Judaism that I celebrate each spring is a physical, tangible part of my life. I can touch it, taste it, and feel its texture in my mouth. At this time of year, it is matza, matza balls, horseradish and romaine lettuce, parsley, green vegetables, and haroset. It is the foods that take me back to Seder meals in St. Lous Park, Minneapolis, St. Paul, Milan, New York, and Grand Rapids, reunites me with my grandfathers and grandmothers, aunts and uncles, parents and in-laws, gathers together my siblings, nieces, nephews, and cousins at the far end of the table incessantly asking, “When do we eat?”

I thank God that I have the freedom to live in the great country of the United States and have the resources to visit the great State of Israel regularly. I marvel that I live in a world so different than that which my parents and grandparents were born in, in which more than 85% of the population has never known a world without an Israel.

What do you celebrate at Passover?

Divre Harav – April/2020

A Passover thought.

 The Hebrew word for Egypt, Mitzrayim, is related to the root tzar meaning “narrow.” Most of Egypt’s population lives in a narrow band on either side of the Nile or its delta. When you are in mitzrayim, you are confined to a narrow, constricted space. That’s what it means to be in slavery – to live in confinement.

Slavery can be physical, financial, emotional, or intellectual. We can be enslaved to an idea, unwilling to entertain that we might be wrong, or unwilling to hear alternative points of view that might change our position. We can be enslaved to a dead-end job we can’t afford to leave or a well-paying job whose stress is slowly killing us. We can be enslaved to fear, anger, jealousy, mistrust, or even love.

What is it that enslaves you? Are you held hostage by your memory? Were you hurt or wronged year ago, and even today are still carrying the pain? Consider the lesson of this Zen story of two Buddhist monks:

A senior monk and a junior monk were traveling together. At one point, they came to a river with a strong current. As the monks were preparing to cross the river, they saw a beautiful woman, fine dressed in silk, also attempting to cross. She asked if they could help her cross to the other side.

The two monks glanced at one another because they had taken vows not to touch a woman.

Then, without a word, the older monk picked up the woman on his shoulders so her dress would stay dry, carried her across the river, placed her gently on the other side, and carried on with his journey.

The younger monk couldn’t believe what had just happened. After rejoining his companion, he was speechless, and an hour passed without a word between them.

Two more hours passed, then three, finally the younger monk could not contain himself any longer, and blurted out “As monks, we are not permitted even to touch a woman! How could you then carry that woman on your shoulders?”

The older monk looked at him and replied, “Brother, I set her down on the other side of the river a long time ago. Why are you still carrying her?”

A good memory can be a curse. Forgetfulness can be a blessing. What are you holding onto from your past that is keeping you from living a mentally and physically healthier life?

Think of the things that keep you imprisoned in mitzrayim. Make a list. Write them down. And this Passover, choose one of them and free yourself. Celebrate the seventh day of Passover, the day of crossing through the Reed Sea, by singing a song of freedom from something in your past that enslaved you.

This is the message of Passover. Free yourself from the things that enslave your body and mind, physically, financially, emotionally, and intellectually.

Hebrew Words of the Month:

  • mitzrayim – Egypt
  • av’dut – slavery
  • heirut – freedom

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.