One of my fondest childhood memories is of my mother’s father being in synagogue with me on Simchat Torah. The rabbi always called the hakafot (processions around the synagogue with people carrying Torah scrolls) by age and my grandfather, Benjamin Goldstein, who was born in Russia, was in the first one. I don’t remember him as a particularly religious man (he died when I was 10), but I will never forget the joy on his face when he carried the Torah around the synagogue.

Simchat Torah was (as it still is in many places) the occasion for the Consecration ceremony for students beginning their religious school studies. We were all called up to the bimah for a blessing, and then we each received a miniature Torah. The small gold or blue boxes containing the small scrolls were piled up on the steps to the bimah.

When I was six, I must confess, I came back into the empty sanctuary after the service was over and helped myself to as many of the remaining miniature Torahs as I could carry. I cannot remember how I hid this larcenous deed from my parents, but I stashed the contraband in the bottom draw of my bedroom night table where they remained for many years.

When I pilfered those scrolls, Torah study was not what I had in mind as a professional pursuit (I planned to be the Catcher for the New York Yankees), but I hope the Almighty will consider my rabbinical career to be suitable penance.

The scrolls certainly came in handy in later years.

During the meal at the first communal Seder I conducted at my congregation in Columbia, MD, I remembered to my horror that I had forgotten (and no one on the committee had thought of it either) to buy a prize for the young person who found the afikomen (the piece of matzah hidden and looked for after the meal by the children present). While everyone ate, I quickly drove the mile to our house and grabbed a miniature scroll to give to the winner. I don’t think I have ever revealed that I was making a young boy or girl party to my trafficking in stolen goods.

On Simchat Torah we read the last verses of the book of Deuteronomy and then immediately begin again to read the opening lines of Genesis. Even when I was six the message came through: the study of Torah never ends.

As years have gone by I consider it increasingly remarkable that we have a special celebration just to honour study and learning!

While meeting to prepare for our celebration here in Bad Segeberg this year, the make up of the planning committee necessitated translating our respective ideas into German, Russian and English!

Much of our discussion revolved around how to honor members of the local Christian community who raised funds to purchase the Torah scroll from which we shall read and did so much in other ways to help the Bad Segeberg Reform congregation re-establish itself.

As we worship in freedom in the beautiful synagogue that sits proudly not far from the center of town, I will give thanks for the opportunity to help to replant the love and learning of Torah in the land of my father’s birth where evil forces sought to uproot our precious heritage.

I will also rejoice that a sizeable number of Russian Jews have found freedom here in Germany to practice our faith that the communists tried to stamp out.

Yes, a celebration conducted in Hebrew, English, German and Russian seems such a wonderful way to honor the Torah and all of the ideals for which it stands!

Oft fragen mich Leute: Warum erlaubt Gott Mose nicht, in das verheißene Land einzuziehen?

Tatsächlich betritt niemand von uns das verheißene Land. Wir alle sterben mit nicht verwirklichten Träumen und unerfüllten Hoffnungen.

Aber Mose braucht uns nicht Leid zu tun. Er starb in hohem Alter, aber in voller Kraft. Er konnte das verheißene Land von ferne sehen und hatte die Ehre vom EwigEinen selbst beerdigt zu werden. Und darüberinaus lesen wir: Nie wieder wird sich ein Prophet erheben, dem der EwigEine פנים אל פנים begegnet, wörtlich “von Angesicht zu Angesicht” (Deuteronomium 34,10).

“Von Angesicht zu Angesicht” lässt sich verstehen als: direkter als jemals jemand bevor.

Aber bei all seiner Größe offenbart Mose menschliche Schwächen. Sein Temperament konnte explodieren, und seine Geduld schwinden.

Spätere jüdische Traidtionen kritisieren ihn, weil er die ersten beiden Bundes-Tafeln zerbrochen hat, und weil er Wasser für die durstigen Menschen hervorbrachte, indem er mit dem Stab gegen einen Felsen schlug anstatt ihn anzusprechen, wie Gott es gesagt hatte.

Aber ich stimme überein mit denen, die meinen, dass, wie ernst diese Eigenwilligkeiten auch waren, sie nicht ausreichenten um ihn davon abzuhalten, den Jordan zu überqueren. Vielmehr erinnert uns der Tod des Mose daran, dass das Leben auch ohne uns weitergeht, egal wie wichtig wir sind. Darum ist es unsere Aufgabe so viel Gutes zu tun, wie wir können, im begrenzten Zeitraum, der uns zugedacht ist. Welch wunderbare Einsicht am Ende der Tora.

Aber wir schließen nur um sofort die Schöpfungsgeschichte der Genesis zu bedenken und die Verantwortung, die uns verliehen ist als Geschöpfe geschaffen im אלהים בצלם in Gottes Bild.

Translationn: with thanks to Pastor Ursula Sieg

Das zu tun mit dem Bild des Mose in unserem Rückspiegel befeuert unsere Leidenschaft zu werden,waser r wa עבד ה׳, “Diener des EwigEinen”, der seine Gaben nutz eine gerechtere, solidarischere und mitfühlendere Gesellschaft zu schaffen.

Often people ask, why did God not allow Moses to enter the Promised Land?

In reality none of us enter the Promised Land. We all die with dreams unfulfilled and hopes unrealized.

But we need not feel sorry for Moses. He dies at a ripe old age in full vigor. He has the privilege of viewing the land from afar and has the honor of burial by the Eternal One. Moreover, we read: “Never again has there arisen a prophet whom the Eternal One encountered פנים אל פנים, literally ‘face to face.'” (Deuteronomy 34:10)

We understand “face to face” to mean more directly than anyone before or since.

 But for all his greatness Moses displayed human foibles. His temper could explode, and his patience could wear thin.

Later Jewish tradition criticizes him for breaking the first set of Tablets of the Covenant and bringing forth water for the thirsty people by banging his staff against the rock instead of addressing it as God had instructed.

But I agree with those who claim that, serious though they were these transgressions were not sufficient to keep him from crossing the Jordan. Rather, Moses death reminds us that no matter how important we are, life will go on without us. Therefore our task is to do the most good that we can in the finite amount of time allotted to us.

What a wonderful lesson to close the Torah!

But we conclude only to immediately ponder Genesis’ creation story and the responsibilities imposed upon us as creatures created אלהים בצלם in the image of God. As we do Moses’ reflection in our rear view mirror fuels our passion to become, as he was ה׳ עבד, “servants of the Eternal One,” who use our talents to create a more just, caring and compassionate society.

When we sit in the sukkah, we have no protection from the sun, the wind, the heat or the cold. Our Sages encourage us to leave the sukkah to escape a driving rain, and we are wise to do so. But far too many people in our world do not have dry warm-in-winter, cool-in-summer homes to which they can retreat.

The sukkah teaches us to feel the pain of these people and care for them.

Today, untold thousands are fleeing Syria in fear of their lives. Germany is opening its doors.  Israel is not.

Yes, I know the dangers and the problems, but Israel should be up to the challenge especially when the reward is the saving of many lives.

What  a powerful message to the world Israel could send  about its values an ideals by taking in—after appropriate vetting—a number of those fleeing for their lives from an enemy country.

More than any other commandment, the Torah emphasises our obligation to care for and protect the stranger. I am sad that Israel seems to be forgetting this cardinal principle of its heritage.

ופרוס עלינו סוכת שלומיך — Spread over us the sukkah of Your Peace!

Julie Goldstein looked forward each year to the time she and her family built the sukkah.

“Can I invite Sharon to help us,” she asked her mother. “Her family never builds a sukkah, and I know she would love it.”

“Of course,” her mother said.

Sharon and Julie worked hard to build the sukkah with Mr. And Mrs. Goldstein. They carried the boards from the garage, helped hammer the nails. They drove into the country where Julie’s mother had arranged with Mr. and Mrs. O‘Brien to pick some of their corn left standing. They cut down sheaves of corn and loaded them into the trunk of the family car. They drove back and used the stalks for the roof of the sukkah and to help decorate the sides. Then they decorated the sukkah with pumpkins, gourds and all sort of other vegetables. They set up a table in the sukkah, and they sat down.

Mr. Goldstein brought out a plate of cookies and juice. “You girls worked so hard to build the sukkah,” he said. “You deserve some refreshments.” He left he cookies and juice on the table and went inside.

The two girls sat in the newly built sukkah and enjoyed the warm breeze that flowed through it.

“That was fun,” Sharon said, “but why do you build the sukkah in the first place?”

”Well,” said Julie, “lots of reasons. First of all it says in the Torah that God wants us to build it to remind us of the temporary huts our people lived in when we left slavery in Egypt and wandered in the Promised Land.”

“But don’t we celebrate that at Passover,” Sharon asked?

“Yes, but then we think about what it is like to be slaves. On Sukkot we think about how hard it is to move from place to place and have very little. There are lots of people who live like that, and Sukkot reminds us how we can help them.”

“Last week,” Sharon said, “my family and I helped build a house for people who don’t have one. That sounds like one of the reasons we build the sukkah.”

“It sure does,” Julie agreed. “You must have felt great when you finished.”

“It was wonderful,” Sharon answered. “The family was so happy when they moved in. I can still see the expression on the children’s faces. Are there any other reasons to build the sukkah?”

“Many,” said Julie. “Sukkot celebrates the harvest. It reminds us that there are so many people who do not have a harvest—who do not have enough to eat.”

“Didn’t we think of them at our food drive at Yom Kippur?”

“Sure,” answered Julie, “but we could have a food drive everyday, and people would still be hungry. Sukkot reminds us how lucky we are.”

As the day gave way to night Julie and Sharon noticed how beautiful the almost full moon looked. “The moon will be completely full on the first night of Sukkot tomorrow,” Julie said.

“When I sit in the sukkah,” she continued, “and look up at the stars I feel closer to God. It makes me feel like a partner with God in trying to make the world a better place. At Temple the rabbi taught us that God wants us all to use our talents to make a better world. Sukkot makes me think about that.”

“Maybe,” Sharon answered, “that’s the best reason of all to build the sukkah,” as the two girls looked at the stars together.

September 25, 2015 –Today would have been Lynn Anderson’s sixty-eighth birthday.

She died (ironically on my son Leo’s thirty-ninth birthday) on July 30 of this year.

I first heard Rose Garden in Amsterdam!

 Although it was released in December 1970 I first heard I Never Promised You a Rose Garden as I was walking along a canal in Amsterdam where I vacationed for a few days on my way home from studying in Israel in June 1971. Ms. Anderson was performing it on a TV screen that I saw by accident though the window of a bar that I passed. The song has never let me go, and when I learned of Ms Anderson’s death at such a relatively young age I wanted to learn more about her.

Like many casual music fans, I thought of Ms Anderson as a “one hit wonder.” WRONG! She had eleven number one country hits and many other songs that charted.

 I thought she was strikingly pretty, but (as Michael Learned playing Olivia Walton once described her TV daughter Mary Ellen) “just this side of beautiful.” Her slightly less than perfect features made her all the more appealing to me.

I Googled her and learned that in addition to her singing, Ms Anderson was an expert horsewoman with several national championships to her credit.

I also watched as many YouTube Lynn Anderson performance videos as I could find dating from her days  as the ingénue featured singer in the late 60’s on the Lawrence Welk show.

She had an amazing voice, clearly loved performing and really knew how to work a crowd. Her humanity shines though the tapes.

 How she (or anyone else) could memorize the incredibly complex lyrics of “I’ve Been Everywhere Man” boggles my mind. My favorite performance though, was a relatively recent live rendition of the Johnny Ray classic, “Cry!”

Now I am old enough to remember and revere Johnny Ray’s voice, and I was skeptical about anyone else singing his great song. But Anderson’s version is worthy of the original, and I love the fact that she acknowledged it is Johnny Ray’s song in an interview and pays tribute to him.

In the video Ms Anderson crosses her fingers as she is about to come to the vocally challenging dramatic climax of the song. Then, after she absolutely nails it, she sort of wipes her brow in relief. What an endearing human touch!

 Physically, the willowy blond beauty that I first saw in Amsterdam thickened over the years. Still, it shocked me to see the puffed up, face of an old lady in the mug shot published after her third DUI arrest in Nashville on a street not two minutes from the house where our family lived for eleven years.

Now, Lynn Anderson is not the first celebrity to have issues with alcohol, and I admire the way she took responsibility for her actions, apologized and pledged to do whatever is necessary to atone and recover.

I am sorry that her fatal heart attack on July 30 robbed her of that chance.

For all her hits and enduring popularity as a performer, Rose Garden will always be Lynn Anderson’s enduring legacy. Yes, some called it kitschy, but I find the lyrics brilliant, and I–like so many others—continue to love the song. Ms Anderson was ever grateful for what it did for her career.

Speaking about it in a 1987 interview she said: “It was popular because it touched on emotions. I believe that Rose Garden was released at just the right time. People were trying to recover from the Vietnam years. The message in the song—that if you just take hold of life and go ahead, you can make something out of nothing—people just took to that.”

Admittedly, I have thought much more about Lynn Anderson since learning of her death than I ever did while she was alive. I will play her videos often, and she will continue to inspire me.

Why?

She took hold of life, went ahead and made something out of nothing. I take to that.

Welch kraftvolle Worte eröffnen das Gedicht aus dem dem der Tora-Abschnitt dieser Woche besteht: “Leih dein Ohr, O Himmel… hör gut zu, O Erde! Lass Gottes Wort wie Tau fallen und wie Regen, der das Gras nährt.”

Wir zitieren Verse dieses Gedichtes, wenn wir einen Verstorbenen zu seiner letzten Ruhestätte begleiten: “Gott ist ein Fels. Seine Werke sind vollkommen und seine Wege sind gerecht und richtig.” (32,4)

Leider ist die Bedeutung dieses Verses in solch einem emotionalen Moment komplett verloren gegangen. Die Worte darin – תמים, משפט und צדיק – bringen uns zurück zu den Grundlagen des Bündnis, das Gott zuerst mit Abraham schloss.

Gott beauftragt Abraham mit diesen drei Worten, mit denen unser Glaube beginnt und die ihm bis heute zugrunde liegen: תמים (würdig) zu sein, ein Leben zu führen – und die Kinder zu lehren ein Leben zu führen – gekennzeichnet durch צדקה (die gleiche Wurzel wie צדיק Rechtschaffenheit) und משפט (Gerechtigkeit).

Wenn wir den Toten oder die Tote zum Grab begleiten, dann sollten diese Worte uns fordern:

Genau wie die Person, deren Leben zu Ende ist, die Bündnispflichten erfüllte (und hier sind wir glücklich, dass wir das bei dieser Person nicht anzweifeln müssen), so müssen wir es.

Auch auf den anderen Auftrag Gottes an Abraham: “Sei ein Segen!” (Genesis 12,2), bezieht sich unser Gedicht, indem es den Segen des gottgegebenen Taus und Regens erwähnt. Wir verdienen dieses Notwendige nur, wenn wir einen besseren Job machen, als bislang, es zu pflegen.

Anders ausgedrückt: Wir verdienen Gottes Segen des Lebens und des Lebensunterhaltes (Leviticus 26:3 ff) nur, wenn wir durch Taten der Gerechtigkeit, Fürsorge und des Mitgefühls unser Leben zu einem Segen für das Leben anderer machen.

Translation: with thanks to Pastor Ursula Sieg

What powerful words begin the poem that comprises this week’s Torah portion: “Give ear O heavens … listen well, O earth. Let God’s words fall like the dew and rain that nourish the grass.”

We quote part of this poem when we accompany one who has died to his or her final place of rest:

“God is the rock whose works are worthy, and all God’s paths are just … and right”

Sadly the significance of that line at such an emotional moment has been all but lost. The words it contains, תמים, משפט and צדיק take us back to the foundational Covenant that God first made with Abraham.

God charged Abraham with these three trigger words, and they underlie our faith to this day: To be תמים (worthy) and to live a life–and teach his offspring to live lives–marked by צדקה (same root as צדיק) and משפט (justice and righteousness).

When we accompany the dead to his or her grave these words should challenge us:

Just as the person whose life has ended lived up (and here we are happy to give the individual the benefit of any doubt) to his or her Covenantal obligations, so must we.

As far as God’s other charge to Abraham, “Be a Blessing” (Genesis 12:2), our poem references it by mentioning the blessing of God’s rain and dew. We shall only merit these necessities to sustain life on earth if we do a better job than we are now of taking care of it.

Put differently: we only deserve God’s blessing of life and sustenance (See Leviticus 26:3 ff) if we through our acts of justice, caring and compassion make our lives blessings to the lives others.

Yom Kippur bids us to imagine how we would like people to remember us after we die. As I face that stark question this year, I can think of no more meaningful way to be remembered than the way so many of us remember Michael Holzman who died this past summer at the age of 52.

 

When he knew that he was dying, Michael’s last major goal was to make it to his daughter Emily’s graduation from Colgate. He not only made it, he was able to enjoy it thoroughly and record the events surrounding this great milestone with one of his signature photograph albums. What a wonderful achievement! What a wonderful gift to his family!

Carmen and Emily were the foci of Michael’s universe. You could see the love he had for them in his eyes. You could feel it in the spirit that emanated from his soul.

I can still see the glow he radiated at Emily’s Bat Mitzvah and Confirmation. I can easily imagine how proud he was at Colgate this past May.

When we travelled to Israel, ten years ago except for the gazelle-like Gail Mangs, Michael was the first one to reach the peak of Masada with Emily close behind. The climb that left the rest of us huffing was not even a challenge for someone as fit and strong as he.

With his keen eye and wonderful skill he took amazing pictures throughout the trip, and I still treasure the framed photograph he gave me that I displayed in my office. I have had the joy of seeing several albums Michael has created. It is as though he painted with his camera.

For years at the synagogue, we had a portable ark for use during our services in Haas or Feldman Hall. Opening the doors during a service was a major challenge. I had to push with all my strength to get them open hoping all the time that the whole thing would not topple over.

It is a challenge we have to face no longer because of the beautiful new portable ark that Michael crafted for the congregation.

As a rabbi I have never had a theological problem with the Holocaust. I believe God gives us free will, and that society, not God, is to blame for the horrors that humans perpetrate against one another.

But as a rabbi I have a great theological problem—and no good responses–for why someone like Michael Holzman has the body that he kept so incredibly fit and strong ravaged and destroyed by cancer at such a young age.

Michael and I discussed these matters candidly together. I wish I could have given him—just as I wish I could give you and myself—more comforting answers.

As I told Michael, there is a reason we come to worship God and do not expect God to worship us. Though we continue to unravel many mysteries of life, there are some things we just cannot understand.

I consider it a miracle that despite everything he endured, Michael still believed in God.

He believed strongly—and he lived that belief—in the imperative of our tradition to make this world a more just, caring and compassionate place.

He also believed in the possibility of an existence beyond the grave. During one of our visits he told me with his scientist’s curiosity, “I am interested to see what it is.”

Michael, if it is what you deserve for the way you lived on earth, it is a paradise beyond description.

As for those of us you leave behind,

—Your parents, who endure today what no parents should ever have to endure,

— Your brothers and their families,

—All of us who admire you so,

—And particularly, Carmen and Emily,

You will live on each time we make a conscious effort to live the way you lived.

You were kind, generous and loving! You diligently developed your vast talents and abilities and gave freely of them to help others. You have made the world a better place, and your memory will always be a blessing!