One of the great examples of Reform or Progressive Jewish thinking–some 2000 years before there was anything called Reform Judaism– regards the Festival of Shavuot.
In the Torah, Shavuot was strictly an agricultural holiday, a celebration of both the first summer fruits and the barley harvest. Our ingenious Rabbinic Sages reformed (and I use that word purposely) the festival into the anniversary of when our biblical ancestors received the Torah at Mount Sinai. We cannot be sure of exactly how it happened, but I imagine a scenario much like this:
A group of concerned rabbis was discussing the state of Jewish life. One Sage mused, “You know, Shavuot just doesn’t attract the great crowds to celebrate in Jerusalem that it once did.”
A second Rabbi answered: “That’s true, but it’s understandable. Times have changed!”
A third participant: “You are absolutely right! When we were primarily an agrarian society, first fruits and the barley harvest were compelling reasons to celebrate. Now, that we have become more urban, those occasions don’t mean so much to many people.”
First Sage: “What can we do?”
A fourth participant spoke up: “I’ve got it! If you look at the Torah, Shavuot comes 50 days after the first day of Pesach. That’s just about the same amount of time that it took our ancestors to travel to Mount Sinai after they left Egypt! Even though the Torah does not make the connection explicitly we can make the connection. From now on we can celebrate Shavuot—in addition to its biblical significance–as a joyous celebration of when we received Torah at Mount Sinai”.
A fifth Sage asks: “Can we do that?”
The fourth responds: “Not only can we, we must!! If we want our precious Jewish heritage to endure, we must be skilled interpreters of biblical texts so that they speak meaningfully to the present and future realities of our people.”
In this way, I imagine, the rabbis of the Talmudic period took a fading festival and gave it a historical underpinning and new life for future generations. In similar fashion, our early Reform leaders made Shavuot the time when ninth or tenth grade students celebrate Confirmation.
The example of what our ancient Sages did with Shavuot should continue to inspire our thinking as Reform or Liberal Jews today. If we want our precious heritage to remain vibrant and relevant, we must always be eager to embrace opportunities to make our traditions and celebrations speak more meaningfully to our children and grandchildren!
When we do, let us rejoice that the process of continually “reforming” Judaism is wholly consistent–not at odds–with the process by which our Rabbinic Sages reformed biblicalJudaism to speak to the realities of their time and place.
Category: Insights & Inspirations
Why Israel Is So Special
As Israel celebrates its 66th year of independence, my mind replays a scene that could easily happen again today.
It was November 1975. The United Nations had just passed a horrific resolution condemning Zionism–-the very idea that there should be a Jewish State–as racism. Shocked, I knocked on the doors of one Christian pastor in our city after another asking for support.
Some were sympathetic, but I shall never forget one pastor’s response. “Steve,” he said, “you’ve taught me a lot about Judaism, and I consider you a friend. But I have neither interest in nor sympathy for Zionism.”
Today, on the land that made up the Turkish Ottoman Empire until the end of World War I, twenty-two Arab/Islamic peoples have realized their hopes for independent nationhood. Jews also lived in the erstwhile Ottoman Empire. Why does the world begrudge one tiny sliver of land for Jewish national aspirations when twenty-two Islamic nations have realized the same dream?
After the Holocaust, the world realized that had there been an Israel to which Jews could flee, Hitler never could have destroyed two-thirds of European Jewry. In other words had there been an Israel when Hitler came to power, there would not have been a Holocaust!
And so the United Nations voted to create two small states: One Arab and one Jewish. The tiny piece of land designated as the Jewish homeland was mostly desert, but no matter. We Jews rejoiced that our two-thousand-year-old hope for nationhood was finally a reality.
But the Arab world had other plans and vowed to drive the new Jewish nation into the sea. Azzam Pasha, Secretary-General of the Arab League, boasted that the rivers would flow with Jewish blood. “This will be a war,” he exulted, “like the Mongolian massacres, like the crusades.”
It turned out he was wrong. The Jewish nation, against overwhelming odds, did manage to establish itself, but the Arab dream to wipe her off the map persists to this day. If ever there will be peace, the Arab world in general and the Palestinians in particular must renounce this dream.
We cannot deny, nor should we, that the creation of Israel caused loss and displacement for many Palestinian Arabs. I hope that reality will always sober us. I hope Israel will make every reasonable effort to reach a peaceful accord, an accord that allows both the Jewish State of Israel and an Islamic/Christian Palestine to live side by side in mutual harmony.
When Palestinian spokespeople tell us that so many of their kinsmen lost their land when Israel came to be, they are correct. But they do not tell us that roughly the same number of Jews fled for their lives to Israel from political, economic, religious and physical persecution in Arab lands.
The difference, of course⎯and it is a crucial difference⎯is that Israel absorbed refugees from Yemen, Tunisia, Algeria, Egypt, Syria, Iraq, and Morocco and integrated them into Israeli society by providing them with language training, job skills, and housing. The Arab world, despite economic capabilities that dwarf those of all the Jews in the world, chose to maintain Palestinian refugees in squalid camps, which for sixty-six years have been breeding grounds for hatred of Israel and terrorism.
I do not believe that supporting Israel means that we should relinquish the right to criticize policies of Israel’s that we think is wrong. But none of us should allow our criticism to provide aid and political ammunition for those–Jews and non–Jews alike⎯who seek to destroy the Jewish State.
We must never forget that if the Arab states renounce terror, lay down their arms, and acknowledge Israel’s right to exist, there will be peace. But if Israel lays down its arms or relaxes its vigilance, there will be no Israel. I count myself among those who would consider “no Israel” a tragedy the world should spare no effort to prevent.
A Need to Remember What We’d Rather Forget
Holocaust Remembrance Day, which the world recently observed forces us to confront what we would rather forget: the tragedy our people endured during World War II.
The number most people associate with the Holocaust is six million. That, of course is the number of Jews who perished due to Hitler’s madness in the years leading to 1945.
For me, though, other numbers are more telling. They are 1/3, 2/3 and 4/5. When I hear people compare other human tragedies to the Holocaust, I am convinced it is because they don’t understand these numbers.
Of the Jews in the world who were alive in 1935, 1/3 were dead because of Hitler by 1945. Among the Jews in Europe, the largest, most advanced community of Jews the world had ever known, 2/3’s perished. 4/5’s of Europe’s rabbis and communal leaders died at the hands of the Nazis. When another catastrophe of human failure approaches those numbers, then and only then will comparisons with the Holocaust be appropriate.
We owe it to those who died never to forget them nor to forget the depths of depravity to which human beings can descend. But if our commemorations on Holocaust Remembrance Day focus only on the sorrows of the past, we waste our time and our tears.
The Holocaust reminds us, as Deuteronomy (22:3) proclaims: “Lo too-chal l’heet-ah a lame!”, “You must not remain indifferent!”
As Jews we must not remain indifferent to the suffering of anyone anywhere. After all, at the beginning of the Book of Genesis God told Cain, as God tells each of us: We are our brothers’ and sisters’ keepers!
One appropriate focus on this day is the example of Righteous Gentiles who risked their safety and their lives to save Jews during that horrible period. Rabbi Lawrence Kushner told the story of a German gentile man sitting on a bus next to a Jewish woman whom he had never met. A Nazi officer boarded the bus to check the passports of those who were riding and to arrest any Jews among them. Seeing the fear in the woman’s eyes the man knew she was Jewish. Suddenly, the gentile began shouting and cursing at her. When the Nazi rushed over to see what the commotion was, the man looked up calmly, handed the Nazi his Aryan passport and said, “I’m sorry officer, but my stupid wife has forgotten her passport again even though I have told her 100 times to remember it when she leaves the house.” The Nazi simply nodded and went on to the next passenger.
Hopefully, true stories like this inspire us to seek out and seize opportunities that present themselves to us to make a positive difference in the lives of others. Our primary mandate as Jews is to use our talents and abilities לתקו את העולם, to make this world a better place than it is now. The most meaningful Holocaust Remembrances then, begin with a sorrowful reflection on the past but hopefully look to the future and end with a resolve to leave a more just, caring and compassionate world for our children, grandchildren and all the generations to follow.
A Life Changing Event
Three years ago today I was on my way from Fort Lauderdale to speak at Kabbalat Shabbat services at Temple Judea in Coral Gables, Florida, I suddenly realized that I was hearing nothing in my right ear. I thought it would pass. It did not, and it has not since.
The ear specialist had no explanation. He believes it is inner ear nerve damage and that it is permanent. An MRI showed a virus, but still there was no explanation. “Sudden complete hearing loss in one ear is unusual, ” the doctor explained, “but it is not unheard of.”
Life has been different ever since. Crowd noises are deafening. Large gatherings of people are no fun, and most of the time if I want to hear what someone says to me, I must look straight at their lips.
As I continue to adjust to the reality of having only one hearing ear, I am so very aware that so many people deal with much greater physical challenges.
It is my nature to look at things that happen to me in life with the same question I ask when I study a biblical story or narrative: What can I learn from this that can make me a better person? What can I take away from this unfortunate incident that can help me to better fulfill my Covenantal obligation to the Almighty to use whatever abilities I have to make the world a better place?
There is an old saying that has taken on new meaning for me since my hearing loss: “God gave us only one mouth but two ears, so that we would listen twice as much as we speak.”
Now I have only one ear that hears and that one–without my hearing aid–at considerably less than 100%. Listening is much harder now. As a result I choose to spend more time than before alone, reading, thinking and writing. When I am with people it is a much greater struggle than previously to absorb all that they are saying. I must concentrate on every word.
As I do, my silent prayer is: “Help me, O’ G-d, to really understand the word שמע, “Listen!” Help me to really LISTEN to thoughts, nuances and feelings better than I ever did before, even when I had two ears that heard.
Amen
An After Note on Partnering with Rabbi Renee Goldberg Edelman
A few days ago in a joint post Rabbi Renee Goldberg Edelman and I each shared our views on the mystery of God.
At the time of our posts Rabbi Edelman wrote me that she had tried mightily, but there was nothing she could do to remove a strange series of random letters, numbers and other characters that appeared at the end of our post. “OK, no big deal,” I replied.
Yesterday when I checked on our joint posting I found to my delight that Rabbi Edelman had magically transformed the collection of markings into a large beautiful question mark.
Today I see that question mark not as a nice decoration but as the main point both of us are trying to get across. We believe in God, but we still have lots of questions and doubts. The goal is to continue to ask them and struggle with them.
In a speech I heard several years ago Rabbi Harold Schulweis spoke of the phenomena of young people who become Ba’alay Teshuvah. The term describes those who were secular or who had even viewed Judaism with disdain. Somehow, though, they “saw the light” and became Orthodox Jews. They would describe their transformation as saying they chozrim b’ teshuvah, they “return in repentance” from the lives they had previously led. The word teshuvah also means, “answer.”
Much more meaningful, continued Schulweis, than “returning with the answer,” is to become chozrim b’she’elah, those who “return with the question.” The ideal is not for us to simply accept Orthodox belief and adopt Orthodox practice. The goal is to take our Judaism very seriously and struggle with it. We should freely question everything! But we should also infuse our lives with acts that affirm and re-enforce our Jewish identity and ideals.
The word Yisrael, Israel, does not mean one who believes in God or one who knows about God. It means, “one who struggles with God!” There can be no greater area of uncertainty than the nature of God, and faced with that uncertainty we have three options:
- Become Orthodox in our belief and practice.
- Discard religion because we can’t imagine a just God ruling over a world with as much evil in it as ours.
- Continue to ask and struggle with the questions that trouble us and try our best — with Jewish rituals and observances as inspiration –- to live up to the ideals of ethical conduct our Torah teaches the world.
Clearly Rabbi Edelman and I choose option three, and that is why I find her beautiful question mark such a perfect way to punctuate the messages we shared on the mystery of God.
Rabbi Renee Edelman and I each share thoughts on God inspired by the Torah reading for the Sabbath during Passover
God in Our Lives
Rabbi Renee Edelman
A little girl stands before the Community on her 12th birthday. It is Chol HaMoed Sukkot, the day that she will become a Bat Mitzvah and chant Torah for the first time. Her hands shake, as she stands behind the open Torah and begins to chant her parashah. She has lived with these words for two years. First, learning the Torah portion in English and Hebrew, and then learning the trope and putting the two together. Her voice is strong even as she shakes. Rabbi Lawrence Kushner and Cantor Lorel Zar Kessler cocoon the child. Even now, looking back upon that day, I felt that my stance matched the description of the Parashah. Rabbi and Cantor became the cleft in which I rested, and with the Torah before me and the congregation before the Torah, was the presence of God.
We read this week as we did then, the end of Ki Tissa. Frustrated with the people Israel over the incident with the Golden calf, Moses returns to the mountain to receive the second set of commandments. Moses asks God to lead the people Israel, “You go with us, so that we may be distinguished, Your people and I, from every people on the face of the earth?” (Exodus 33:16) Then Moses asks the question, which makes this parashah so special, “Moses said, “Oh, let me behold your Presence.” God responds, “I will make all my goodness pass before you…. But you cannot see My face, for a human being may not see Me and live… see there is a place near Me. Station yourself on the rock and, as My Presence passes you by, I will put you in the cleft of the rock and shield you with My hand until I have passed by. Then I will take My hand away and you will see My back; but My face shall not be seen.” (Exodus 33:17-23)
This is a substantially religiously uplifting scene. Moses leaves the camp after breaking the tablets. He leaves behind the noise of the people, their possessions and their fear, to enter the Tent of Ego. Moses is motivated by a pure desire to be in the presence of God. And that result is a religious moment so intense that Moses has to wear a veil over his face to shield himself from the radiance. By seeing God, as he does, Moses is able to lead the Jewish people with strength from within.
How do we get to be in God’s Presence, when we are not Moses and not able to see or speak with God? We find God in the moments of mystery. I have watched my kids when they are occupied and if the moment is right, I feel this bubbling in my chest that has no words and I am overcome with silent emotion. I don’t know why I received the feeling at that particular time, but I did and I can only call it God. When our bodies have betrayed us, and we are terrified of the future, and how we will take care of all we need to do; and we realize, that we are surrounded by friends and family members, who will be there, present for us, perhaps that is God. Not the illness, rather the cocoon of friends and family. Hearing a song on the radio that brings you back to a time of joy or one of despair and realizing that this song comes on for a reason. For me, who does not believe in consequence but in synchronicity- those moments that seem too planned, too directed, I call God. May we all find ways to deal with the mystery of God in our lives; whether by defining them or acknowledging them, or giving them a name.
Once a little girl stood on the Bimah chanting these words, cocooned by her Rabbi, Lawrence Kushner and her Cantor, Lorel Zar-Kessler and her congregation was the face of God, revealing God’s self to all present.
Much About God Will Always Be A Mystery
Rabbi Stephen Lewis Fuchs
Two months out of Egypt, Moses is on Mt Sinai to receive God’s Torah, but he took too long, to return, and the frightened Israelites slid back into idolatry. They demanded Aaron make a god they can see, and he fashioned a golden calf.
Furious at this apostasy, the Eternal One threatens to destroy the entire people but promises Moses a more worthy group to lead. But Moses — in one of his finest moments — talks God out it.
When we consider the Torah reading for the Shabbat during Passover it is Moses who is on the verge of giving up. “God, you have to show this people and me that You are with us,” he pleads. And God obliges him saying essentially, “I will make my goodness pass before you as you stand in the cleft of a rock, but no one can actually see my face. (Exodus 33:13-19)”
To me this is one of the most instructive statements in Torah. There is a reason we worship God and do not expect God to worship us. While Torah gives a good idea of how God wants us to act, much about God remains a mystery.
Many find the mystery of God hard to accept and create God in their image of what is just and right. A horrific event like a child dying shakes their belief in God to the core.
Shaken belief inspired one of the best-selling religious books of all time, When Bad Things Happen to Good People by Harold Kushner. Reacting to the death of his son Aaron at 14 from premature aging disease, progeria, Rabbi Kushner concluded that he does not believe that God can be both all good and all-powerful. So he chooses to believe that God is good, but there is a force in nature beyond God’s control that claimed his son’s life. His theory brings comfort to millions and offers a palatable answer to the question implied in the book’s title.
But I do not think he is right. I choose to believe – as the Torah portion for the Shabbat during Passover teaches – that there is much about God that we cannot know. I don’t know why a child gets sick and dies, and I never will. What I do know is that every day that I breathe, God desires me to use whatever talent I have to try to make this world a bit more kind, caring and compassionate.
I wish I could know why bad things happen to good people or why bad people often prosper. I do not know whether God’s power and knowledge are limited, but I know for sure that mine are.
Health Care: A Privilege or a Right?
On Passover, we free ourselves — and seek to free others — from slavery. Today, many are enslaved by inadequate health care. Passover calls on us to struggle for their freedom!
I had finally gotten into the endotontist’s chair after a night and half a day of intense pain. The staff prepped me, and the doctor made a cursory examination. “I’ll look further to confirm my diagnosis,” he said” but I think the tooth is cracked and will have to come out.” Then he gave me a most welcome injection of Novocain to numb the area, and ease the pain. The doctor said he would return in a few minutes after the Novocain took effect to examine the tooth thoroughly to see if it could be saved. During the “Novocain intermission” the dental assistant came in with a consent form. It indicated that if the tooth could be salvaged, the root canal procedure would cost $1300 and invited me to sign a treatment consent form acknowledging that fact.
What choice did I really have? With the pain that I had experienced during the previous 36 hours, I would have signed any form that offered a reasonable chance of relief.
Now, because I am the husband of a former Hartford City Public School teacher, my coverage includes “full dental” which made the $1300 charge moot. But even if I did not have coverage — even though I would feel a pinch — I could manage the $1300 without lasting damage to my family’s financial situation or lifestyle. Far too many others across our land, though, are not so blessed.
Was it my privilege to be relieved of my acute dental pain because I am financially solvent? Or should such relief be a basic right?There can be no doubt about the answer in this land of the free and home of the brave! Adequate health care should be the right of every man, woman and child!
Now we must find the way to make it happen. We must make the freedom of adequate health care available to all. From the standpoint of Jewish tradition, failure to do so because some lack the means is a sin (DT 15:9). But if we find a way to provide all of God’s children with this and other basic necessities of life then the Torah promises: “The Eternal One our God will bless us in all in all of our deeds and all our undertakings.” (Deuteronomy 15:10)
It is a wonderful blessing! It is a blessing we should strive unstintingly to achieve at Passover and throughout the year!
Edith and Demetrio
We met on Rosh Hashanah when I served as interim rabbi of their synagogue in Milan. They speak little English, and I speak almost no Italian, but I quickly understood what they hoped to accomplish, and wanted to help.
Edith and Demetrio both had Jewish roots that had become very precious to them. They met on a trip to Israel in 2008 and wanted to join their lives and their destinies to each other and to the Jewish people. They have been serious students and had learned a great deal. But every effort they made to formalize their process of conversion met with rejection and red tape.
Soon the co-presidents of Beth Shalom Milano, Carey Bernitz and Lori Kaplan were taking turns translating the discussions I had with this wonderful couple. it was clear to me that the Jewish people would be blessed to have them as full members of our faith. The more we studied the more convinced of this I became.
One day I offhandedly remarked that with all of the obstacles they had encountered it would almost be easier if they came to the states and converted with me. I would convene a Bet Din (rabbinical court) and then officiate at their marriage in the beautiful sanctuary of Congregation Beth Israel, of which I am now Rabbi Emeritus.
As soon as the words left my mouth, Demetrio looked at Edith, Edith looked at Demetrio, they both looked at me, and Edith said softly, “Could we?”
And I said,”Yes!”
And so they arrived with Carey Bernitz in tow to translate to appear before our Bet Din, enter the mikveh, and be formally welcomed into the Jewish people at a moving Shabbat Eve service at Beth Israel. Then when Shabbat had ended we celebrated Havdalah, and the happy couple were married “according to the religion of Moses and Israel” in a traditional Jewish ceremony.
My wife Vickie and I are thrilled to have Edith, Demetrio and Carey as our house guests and even more thrilled that we could make what was a dream — for them and for us — come true.
Our entire experience in Milan — from the day we arrived in August to the day we left in December — was so very meaningful for us. I conducted services and classes, met several times with a young man who recently celebrated his Bar Mitzvah, worked with other wonderful candidates for conversion, visited and performed rabbinical functions for the Reform communities of Florence and Turin. We had a wonderful time.
Still it is so clear to me. If we had only come to Italy to be there to ease the path to Judaism and eventually perform the Jewish marriage ceremony for Edith and Demetrio, the entire experience would have been worthwhile.
The Trickle That Became A Mighty Stream
“Mommy-Os and Daddy-Os, these are The Videos!”
That was how the cutting-edge DJ, Jocko Henderson, introduced the song “Trickle, Trickle” back in 1958.
Before there were even videos as we know them today, there was a doo-wop group by that very name. Their biggest record, “Trickle Trickle,” never made the Billboard Top 100, but did peak at an unimpressive # 90 on the Cashbox chart. However, the record by the group from Queens, New York, did receive a lot of airplay in the New York area.
The flip side of “Trickle”, “Moonglow You Know” and a subsequent release, “Love or Infatuation” showcased the group, and particularly the magnificent voice of lead singer, Ronald Cussey, although some accounts list him as Cuffey. Sadly, a few years later, Mr. Cussey died of leukemia and the group disbanded. Other members, first tenor, Clarence Bassett, who wrote “Trickle, Trickle” and second tenor, Charles Baskerville, went on to sing with Shep and the Limelights of “Daddy’s Home” fame.
They, too, are all but forgotten.
The Videos’ legacy is a song that has become a classic. A 2004 listing by Digital Driver ranks “Trickle, Trickle” as the 19th greatest upbeat doo-wop song of all time.
Manhattan Transfer released a credible version of the song in 1979.
But that is just the beginning! Today, “Trickle, Trickle,” as a YouTube search will quickly reveal, is performed by countless high school and college ensembles, a cappella troupes and retro Doo-wop groups around the world!
Today few people remember, let alone credit, Ronald Cussey or Clarence Bassett. But they are the ones who launched a tune now heard and enjoyed by millions.
The Lesson: We should do all that we can do and be the best that we can be! We never know what impact our efforts might have on others –even millions of others — down the road!
Remember, The rain keeps droppin’, there ain’t no stoppin…’
A Pain in the Back
“Hey, Kid, wanna get ahead and make the big bucks? Become a chiropractor or orthopedic surgeon!”
I have said those words half jokingly to many a student over the years. Though the impetus is serious, those words incite anger and sadness in my heart.
And it rekindles every time I pass an elementary or middle school. Kids are slumped over, carrying backpacks that are almost bigger than the kids, themselves. From what I see, they are setting themselves up for serious back problems down the road.
I went to school, obviously, and was a pretty good student. At the most, I carried two or three books worth of homework in my arms every afternoon.
Nobody carried a backpack.
My, how times have changed!
Speaking of change, whatever happened to childhood?
The erstwhile Bill Watterson, comic strip, Calvin and Hobbes was not only a masterpiece of the genre of cartoon art, it was a stinging protest against what we as a society are doing to our kids: robbing them of free time and using negative reinforcement to rein-in imaginations.
As a kid, I loved baseball, and could name by rote, the uniform numbers of almost every player on the 50’s rosters of the NY Yankees, Giants and Brooklyn Dodgers. I played ball with my friends almost every day in the HS annex across the street from our apartment.
Yes, I also did my homework.
My most precious childhood memories are of playing stickball, baseball and football with whomever was “at the lot” at the time. I dreamed of the day I would play on a real team with real uniforms which finally happened at age 11. I’d earned a spot as the starting third baseman or left fielder (depending on which of our two pitchers was on them mound that day) for our city champion Little League team, the East Orange Firemen. It was great reward for all the of practice I had put in and all the imaginary games I played.
In contrast, I don’t see kids just going out and playing ball across the street. Their introduction to baseball comes when their parents sign them up at five or so for tee ball. But before they even take the field there is a significant outlay for uniforms and fees.
Free play? There is no time for that. Baseball is carefully plugged in to an already hectic schedule. They don’t watch baseball. They just play it in their uniforms from 10 to 12 on Sunday mornings.
The rest of the time is filled with many other structured activities and, yes, weighed down by so much homework that childhood becomes a literal pain in the back.
Future chiropractors and orthopedic surgeons, on the other hand, will be very rich!
Finding Ourselves In The Bible 