#METOO: THE SILENCED ASSAULTED SPEAK

Yom Kippur, 5779—September 18-19, 2018

            Shanah Tovah, everybody and a G’mar Tov—May we all finish the holiday season fully sealed into the Book of Life and Health, Purpose and Meaning.  And a Tzom Kal, an easy fast for us all!   

            Many years ago, and now I’m talking maybe 30 years ago, I attended an interfaith clergy conference on various contemporary issues facing the clergy. The conference took place at Seton Hall University, a leading Catholic school of higher learning located in South Orange, New Jersey. And as one of the initial exercises, the clergy was asked to share what they perceived to be was the greatest challenge in their ministry. One of the priests who held a senior administrative position at the university asked those present for help in dealing with priests who had crossed the line, who had violated their sacred vows and, succumbing to their own weakness, had engaged in inappropriate, and what we would most certainly regard today as abusive sexual encounters. Back then, I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut, and being probably the youngest clergy at the table and representing the other faith, I certainly was not going to offer any perspectives that would be heard or welcomed. But I do distinctly remember thinking that the problem was a religious regimen, namely life-long celibacy, that was just too much for most men to abide by. And being unable to abide by it, they sought release in all sorts of ways that were illegal, immoral, unhealthy, and horribly damaging to who they represented within the church. Observant Jews had their own religious regimens that limited their freedoms and possibly their pleasures, but at least it wasn’t life-long celibacy. Jews had a much more reasonable approach to sexuality. And that was what I was thinking back then.

            Fast forward some 30 years, and not only are the Catholic clergy still in the news, but thanks to the #MeToo movement, there are a whole lot of Jews in the news whose alleged behaviors have given us a whole lot of unwelcomed publicity. Of course, sexual harassment, abuse or assault is not a specifically Jewish problem, but if nothing else, #MeToo has opened up a conversation in the nation that is long overdue.  This is an issue about sin, confession, judgment, teshuvah, and the possibility of forgiveness. #MeToo is Yom Kippur material.

            The #MeToo movement has a definitive beginning in recent history, but the problem it addresses has been with us for centuries. The Bible itself records its own #MeToo drama in the story of the beautiful maiden princess Tamar, daughter of King David. Her half-brother, so this would be a son of King David, became infatuated with her. His name was Amnon. He wasn’t the brightest torch in King David’s palace and agonized for a long time over how he could seduce Tamar. He consults with his cousin who recommends that he feign illness, ask King David whether Tamar could attend to him in his illness, and in that way get his way with her. The plan works. King David consents to have Tamar serve Amnon, she does just that, bakes bread for him, and then when he is alone with her, forces himself upon her. She protests and even shouts:

Such things are not done in Israel (II Samuel 13:12)

Amnon rapes her and then loathes her, throwing her out of his room. She is beside herself, screaming, and encounters another one of her brothers who seeks to find out what happened and she tells him everything. The rape was no secret in the palace, and the news eventually reaches King David, and though greatly distressed, he takes no action to either reprimand or punish his wayward son. Two years pass. Tamar’s brother, his name was Avshalom, was seething with anger over the assault of his sister. At when time came to have his sheep sheared, which apparently also entailed partying when the day’s work was done, he invites all his brothers and King David to attend the festivities. David declines, fearing he may be a burden (he’s on in years by then). So Avshalom counters and requests that Amnon would surely be a proper substitute in the absence of his father, the king. To this David consents. Amnon went out to the sheep-shearing festival, and when he was good and drunk, Avshalom’s men, following Avshalom’s directive, murder him—and that was the end of Amnon.

            The story should have an eerily alarming ring to it. There is something clearly immoral going on in the palace or let’s say the corporation; the details, more or less, are common knowledge among the royal family or let’s say the employees; the king, or let’s say upper management,  does nothing to reprimand or stop the culprits; and finally, the outrage over the injustice of the whole thing boils over and someone ends up dead. I would say that this last development in the biblical story does not necessarily have a parallel in our contemporary world, but for the fact that 1) clearly many of the alleged perpetrators these days have had their careers ended, which is a kind of mini-death; and 2) the public shaming that comes with the outing of the alleged culprit is pretty brutal. And as the rabbis taught:

Whoever embarrasses his fellow in public

Is as one who has committed murder (Baba Metzia 58b)

And there you have it, we can even say that the sordid details of our contemporary stories of sexual abuse, along with the public outing of the abusers, end many times with their own metaphorical murder, the alleged culprits publicly humiliated and shamed by secrets now exposed.

            Amnon did not have to die. But in order for him to have lived, the story had to include a couple other episodes. Amon would have had to confess his sin and express his regret. He never did. Or his father, King David, had to act to punish his son for his crime, but King David never did. And that, too, seems to be a common motif in our contemporary tales where women have gone to HR departments or to the police or to people in positions of authority and their demand for action or just even their stories went unheeded, or were poo-pooed, or they were not taken seriously. #MeToo, I believe, is a reaction to that injustice. Since the internal departments of corporate justice or even our own judicial system routinely and consistently ignored the hurt of and assault on women, what happens? Cases that could have been prosecuted in accordance with the rules of litigation and due process, instead are tried in the worst court humanity has ever produced, and that is the court of public opinion, which has no rules of procedure, engagement or due process. And we should all be very mindful of that, because the Kangaroo Courts of this world rarely end with just acquittals or just convictions. It is almost certain that there are people who have been accused and convicted unjustly in that court of public opinion. But right now, I’m depending on the words of Matt Lauer, who issued an apology following accusations levelled against him, which read in part: “Some of what is being said about me is untrue or mischaracterized, but there is enough truth in these stories to make me feel embarrassed and ashamed,” (Matt Lauer, Statement of Apology, NBC, Nov. 30, 2017). I think Matt Lauer sort of summed it up perfectly. Given all the tales of sexual misconduct that are now in circulation, there is enough truth in all of them, for all of us to question how we go about navigating a very natural, a very human need, and that is the need for physical intimacy.

            Many years ago, while a rabbi in New Jersey, our school depended to some extent on the teachers we could secure from the Orthodox community. And they were lovely, competent teachers who helped staff our faculty. One day I walked into a classroom, just to see how the class was operating, the Orthodox teacher looks at me and then at the children and says, “Yeladim (Children). The rabbi is here. We rise.” So all these pitzalach—they were third or fourth graders—they all stood up and looked at me. I was so taken by surprise that I literally turned around to see what rabbi had entered the classroom, until it dawned on me that she was referring to me. So then I said something like “Uhmm, you guys can sit down.” After class, the teacher approached me, having sensed that I was a little uncomfortable with what had transpired, and asked if she had made a mistake in asking the children to rise. So I told her—No mistake, but really, we just don’t do that around here. In Passaic, in the Orthodox synagogue, I suppose when the rabbi walks in, everybody rises, but in Springfield, NJ, in the Conservative synagogue, it just doesn’t happen, and it never did again after that particular incident.

            The fact of the matter is that our world often does not treat authority with the honor it deserves. But the flip side of that is much worse. It is people of authority who exploit their authority, and use it for personal gain or profit, motivated by their own selfish interests. The #MeToo stories are very often stories of this type of abuse, the abuse of personal authority. So a person in a position of power—the head of a movie studio, a network news anchor, a politician, a CEO, a clergy person, even a popular stand-up comedian, uses their own special authority, that power, over someone of lesser or subordinate power or authority for sexual favors. One could say that the person of lesser power or authority should have the presence of mind or self-will to resist, and there is some truth to that, but it’s not always possible physically, because that person in power may literally be overpowering, and it’s not always possible to think of an exit plan when taken by surprise.

            In the Greek and Roman world of antiquity, this sort of power or authority asymmetry in sexual relationships was a social norm. It was not uncommon for the actors in an intimate duo to be a master and a slave or a mentor and his student. The Judeo-Christian world largely rejected that type of intimacy and the wisdom of that position has been made manifest via the #MeToo movement as so many of the stories are stories between people of unequal power where the sexual overtures were unwelcomed and the subordinate actor in that duo felt trapped, and in the end, violated.

            The sexual harassment laws in New York are very broad. Almost anything said of a remotely sexual nature, if it makes a fellow employee uncomfortable, can be viewed as  a violation of those standards. I’m not necessarily talking about those incidents. People say stupid things all the time. They probably live their lives with little discretion or a deficit of tact. Government will never be able to legislate stupidity out of the human race, try as it may. But what I am talking about is a more fundamental aspect of our humanity, our sexuality, and how we go about the business of establishing an intimate relationship. And regardless of what the sexual revolution might say about who we are as sexual beings, creating proper physical intimacy has always been and always will be an exercise in morality. It is with considerable forethought and insight that within the confessional we recite repeatedly throughout this Yom Kippur, we will say—Al het shehatanu, We have sinned against You through sexual immorality.

            The sexual revolution of the 60’s was a sort of double-edged sword. It definitely brought a kind of freedom or openness to human intimacy, welcomed by many, but it also advocated the the release of sexuality from its traditional mooring in a loving monogamous relationship. The distance between that conception of sexual freedom and monogamous partnership is a few football fields and their parking lots. I’m not that naïve as to think that intimacy in this world will always and only take place within loving, monogamous relationships, but if I were to frame a rule here, I’d say that the casual relationship, that is not a consensual relationship, is also not a kosher relationship. I don’t like coercion in virtually any context, but coercion in a sexual relationship is a violation of a person’s humanity. It is really low. When we hear the slogan, as we sometimes do, that No means No, it is a piece of wisdom formulated by the rabbis some 2000 year ago who said:

Your “yes” should be genuine and your “no” should be genuine (Baba Metiza 49a)

That means that we have to speak truthfully but we also have to listen respectfully. No really does mean no.

The #MeToo movement may be a transition into a new awareness of sexuality or just a temporary eruption of anger that will subside and people will go back to the same sordid interactions, authorities subduing subordinates, men taking advantage of women, and nothing will change. But for argument’s sake, let’s assume the best. Let’s say that yes—this is a moment of extraordinary transition where everything is going to change. What exactly is it that has to change?

When the Torah describes the first sexual encounter, which as you may well imagine was that between Adam and Eve, the Torah reads:

And Adam knew his wife, Eve (Genesis 4:1)

            The verb “know” in this case is a euphemism for sexual intimacy. But the Hebrew root from which it emanates, yod-dalet-ayin, is a root that suggests a deep appreciation or love of someone. So, for example, when God is unable to keep from Abraham the imminent destruction of two wicked cities, Sodom and Gomorrah, God declares:

Because I know him… (Genesis 18:19)

I know this Abraham character—how he interacts with his children and teaches them about love and how he is really concerned with what is just and right. God knows Abraham but even more deeply appreciates him for who he is. The Hebrew verb used for God’s knowing of Abraham is the same Hebrew verb used for the sexual intimacy between Adam and Eve. In other words, the Torah perceives of physical intimacy, certainly of that between the first man and woman, as something greater than a biological act. It would be a sort of culmination of profound appreciation and love for one’s partner. Sexual encounters that are acts of domination—assault, rape, anything of a coercive, non-consensual nature—would be the very opposite of that knowing, that paradigm. It would be a willful act of ignoring another person and treating them as a means toward one’s own selfish ends.

            It doesn’t take a whole lot to be a Jew. If your mother is a Jew, then you are a Jew. But to be a repentant Jew, to be a Jew who is impacted by a 3500 year old tradition, that already takes a willingness and an openness to seeing humans in a special way. They are not merely the upper tier in the pyramid of animal evolution, they are not to be viewed as units of labor, they are not nameless, they are not singularities disconnected from family or cultures, and they are not play things to be used for anyone’s personal pleasure. We are, each of us, reflections of a greater energy, and fragments of that greater power, and within each of us burns a flame of godliness that makes each and everyone of us beyond precious, and sacred. And yes—in that sacred mixture are problems, shortcomings,  and failures. Actually, our problems and shortcomings and failures are part of our humanity and we had better understand that from the start and respect it, for there is no other way for any of us to appreciate each other without an acceptance of the totality of our humanity, which is a complicated composition.

            To manipulate a person emotionally is a sin. To defraud a person financially is a sin. And to exploit a person sexually is a sin. All those crimes take place when people view the other as a commodity to be used and not an organic, evolving, creation of God to be cherished. It all begins with the delusion that the world exists in order to satisfy our personal cravings. It doesn’t.

If there is to be teshuvah, if there is to be repentance, there has to be some realization that the person manipulated, defrauded, exploited, raped—that was someone’s daughter, that was someone’s sister, that was possibly someone’s mother. The hurt will end when we begin to see others in the fullness of who they are, and not in the narrowness of what we want them to be, in the moment. To achieve repentance, you have to really believe that you have been created b’tzelem Elohim, in the image of God, and that so has everyone else. And I don’t think we can force anyone to believe that because it’s a sacred myth of the Jewish people, it’s a conception of humanity that guides us in how we treat each other, it is a question of faith.

And you may say—Wait, rabbi, people of faith have also abused others sexually in profoundly offensive ways. And you’re sort of right. But I’m telling you now—they’re fakin’ it! No one of genuine faith can abuse a child of God, and we are all children of God.

            And then there’s something else we can’t force—forgiveness. I can tell you that forgiveness is a Jewish value and when one can reach that space that we call forgiveness, that is a special place of kedushah, of holiness. But like a whole lot of other things in life, I don’t think we can coerce or guilt anyone into that space. Reaching that space is a personal venture, it depends on the character of they who have been wounded, and the repentance of they who have inflicted the wounds. But wouldn’t it be nice to live in a world where in fact the culprits could admit guilt and repent, and where the victims could prevail upon their past and forgive?

            Ours is a tradition that is very optimistic. In Psalm 92 we read that the wicked of the world are numerous, proliferating like grass, but like grass they eventually wither and remain destroyed forever. On the other hand, the righteous shall blossom like the date palm. If you’ve ever seen a cluster of dates on a date palm, you know how numerous they can be. A mature date palm can produce between 150-300 pounds of dates per harvest. That’s a lot of dates. The righteous shall blossom like a date palm. The word for date in Hebrew is Tamar, just like King David’s daughter.

Tzadik kaTamar yifrah!

The righteous shall flourish like Tamar (Psalm 92:13)

Tamar was so shocked when Amnon attacked her:

Such things are not done in Israel (II Samuel 13:12)

Tamar got that a little wrong. Such things are sadly and tragically done in Israel, that is among Jews. What Tamar should have said is that such things should never be done in Israel. Let’s hope and pray that the Tamars of this world secure the justice they deserve, and that people will recognize the righteousness of their cause. Justice delayed is justice denied and in this case, justice has been delayed and denied for far too long.

Ge’mar Hatimah Tovah—May all be sealed into the Book of a good and a just Life.

BDS TAKES A BEATING, ISRAEL TAKES A BOW

ROSH HASHANAH, 5779 / SEPTEMBER 10-11, 2018

Rabbi Perry Raphael Rank

                It is great to see everybody and I want to wish you all a Shanah Tovah—a good year of health, of personal wealth, of emotional wellbeing and above all peace, both within our nation that seems so deeply divided and throughout the world, especially in Israel.

                Ervin Birnbaum is a man with a story. Ervin survived the Shoah in Hungary, and after the war, led a youth group to Palestine on that famed ship, the Exodus. Once he got there, he soon left to join his parents in America, enrolled in the Jewish Theological Seminary and became a Conservative rabbi in 1958. In the early 70’s, he and his wife Hadassah made aliyah with their three sons and Ervin did important work in a program for youth from the United States, and later with Russian immigrants. One of his sons, Daniel, went to Harvard for an MBA, got a job with Pillsbury, and then became the CEO of Pillsbury Israel. He moved on to Nike Israel and transformed its product into one of the most popular sporting goods brands in the holy land. Then in 2007, a unique opportunity presented itself to him. He became the CEO of a lackluster company known as SodaStream. SodaStream was a company that put the fiz into a bottle of two cents plain. Danny was intent on reinventing SodaStream into something big, and this he did. SodaStream became a publicly traded company on the NASDAQ in November of 2010. In less than a year’s time, its market capitalization went from $367 million to $1.46 billion. Last month, PepsiCo purchased SodaStream for $3.2 billion dollars.

                What makes this story even more compelling is that SodaStream has been the target of the BDS Movement. BDS, you know, stands for “Boycott, Divest and Sanction” and is the movement to undercut Israel financially because of the ongoing Israeli-Palestinian conflict, of which Israel is viewed as the principal, if not the sole culprit. One of BDS’s charges against SodaStream was that it was exploiting Palestinians as one of its plants was located on the West Bank. It was a curious argument since the West Bank sports an unemployment rate of close to 30%. So depending on one’s point of view, one could either argue that a factory on the West Bank is exploiting a territory for its cheap labor, or conversely, providing jobs for people who would otherwise be unemployed. However one chooses to read what SodaStream has done, the fact is that the PepsiCo purchase is a dramatic setback for the BDS movement. BDS does not want multi-billion dollar companies to see Israel as a land of promise, but a land of poison, and Pepsico didn’t buy it.

                Benji Lovitt is a nice Jewish boy from Texas who now makes his living in stand-up comedy. He talks about how unique Israelis are. Go on a tour of Israel and after a few days, an Israeli will say to  you, “Nu, how do you like our land?” You’ll say something like “It’s beautiful,” after which the Israeli will say—“So why don’t you move here!” This doesn’t happen in Italy or Argentina. You don’t visit Ireland, tell one of the locals that you think the country is beautiful only to have an Irish citizen say—"So why don’t you move here!” In Israel, that’s what you get. So Benji Lovitt moved to Israel, he decided to make aliyah, he meets the same Israelis with whom he met while a tourist, they hear he’s made aliyah and say—“You moved to Israel? Are you kidding?” Lovitt says, “You told me to move here—the beaches, the people, we are family,” to which they respond, “We were joking!” Lovitt says—I don’t want to speak to you anymore. Where’s your friend who also told me to move to Israel? The Israeli says—Shmulik? He moved to Teaneck.

                If you want to make aliyah, and you want to access the Hok HaShevut, the Law of Return, the law that permits you to become a citizen within short order as you are a Jew returning to your homeland, you need some Jewish authority to vouch for your Jewishness. I do these letters of confirmation from time to time but not very often, maybe one every two or three years. Yet in the past year, maybe during the past 13 or 14 months, I have composed three letters of confirmation vouching for someone’s Jewishness. These were all young people in their 20’s, and all became Bar or Bat Mitzvah at Midway. They were not going to Israel because they were die-hard Zionists who were realizing their greatest dream. One was going to medical school and the other two were going for employment in start-up companies in Tel Aviv. They were going to Israel essentially for professional reasons. It’s a place where you can get a world-class education and make a living.

I was sitting with a young couple recently, soon to be married, somehow we got on the topic of Israel and it turned out the groom had never been to Israel. I said, O—you have to go. He said—I am, next week. I said, O great—what tour? He said, Not a tour. It’s business.

                I want to tell you these stories because these are the stories that are not necessarily featured in the papers. The stories that we hear are stories of young Americans, many who are Jewish, who are disaffected with Israel. They are sick of Israel’s alleged guilt in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, they are angered by the belligerence and conservatism of the Netanyahu government, and they may also be disheartened with the government’s dismissiveness toward North American Jewry. These people, whether young or older, are not necessarily without legitimate complaints. Within the past few years, North American Jewry dealt with an Israeli government that at first promised and then reneged on that promise to build a plaza next to the Western Wall where liberal Jews could gather in prayer, men and women together. Then in July of this year, the Haifa police arrested a Conservative /Masorti rabbi, Rabbi Dov Haiyun—a good, decent man—claiming he officiated at the wedding of a mamzeret or a woman born of an illegitimate relationship. And then the Knesset passed a “Nation-State Bill” that on the face of it, seemed to trumpet Jewish values at the expense of democratic values. The bill prompted Ron Lauder, the cosmetics billionaire, president of the World Jewish Congress to write: “This is not who we are, and this is not who we wish to be. This is not the face we want to show our children, grandchildren and the family of nations,” (August 13, 2018, The New York Times, Ronald S Lauder).

                What’s going on? I think what’s going on is that as the euphoria over the founding of Israel diminishes—Israel after all is growing up, it’s 70 years old, ken ainehora—we are beginning to grapple with the reality of nationhood, and we are finding that Israel, the nation, is imperfect. And it is this fact that I find peculiarly comforting, because it is stating the obvious. Israel is imperfect because all nations are imperfect. There is no perfect nation, there is no perfect economy, there is no perfect governance. And when we, in the past, described Israel in utopian terms, we were just dreaming. And that’s what we were supposed to do. In fact,  Psalm 126 claims:

B’shuv Adonai et shivat Tziyon

When God brings back the exiles of Zion

Hayinu k’holmim

We will be like dreamers (Psalm 126:1)

We’ve been dreaming and it has been a very sweet dream. The early Zionists wanted to reclaim Jewish nationhood and become, as they put it, k’khol hagoyim, like all the other nations in the world. And today, Israel is like all the other nations of the world in one blatant feature: like all the other nations of the world, it’s got a lot of problems. If we never wanted to encounter these problems, we should never have worked as hard as we did for a Jewish state, and that was a position taken by a prophet with whom we make a special acquaintance over Rosh Hashanah.

                Today’s/Yesterday’s haftarah tells the tale of Hannah and circumstances surrounding the birth of her only child, Samuel. Samuel grew up to be one of the great prophets of Israel and he served as a transitional figure between an Israelite nation ruled by temporary chieftains who gained currency as the need arose, and a more stable governmental structure, namely a monarchy. Samuel was anti-monarchy. He figured God is ruler enough and there is no need for a king of flesh and blood. So he sets himself the task of convincing the people to forget this crazy idea. He lists all the reasons they shouldn’t have a king: the king will draft your kids into a military; he will demand that you plow, seed and harvest his fields; he will co-opt your vineyards and olive groves and give them to whom he pleases; he will take your daughters as perfumers, cooks and bakers, etc. The description of what a king does was pretty damning, but the people responded, “We must have a king over us that we may be [k’khol hagoyim], like all the other nations,” (I Samuel 8:19-20). And when Samuel consulted with God on the matter, God agrees with the people. Give them a king. And that is how the first king of Israel, Saul, ascends the throne of power, amid a maelstrom of negative expectations. As it turned out, Saul proved to be an unstable figure in Israelite history. And when we study the Bible and examine the history of all the other kings of Israel and Judah, what we find is that more disappointed than delighted their subjects. Government was a very challenging enterprise back then, and it remains so even today.

                The liberal Jewish world was deeply offended when the government of Israel reneged on its promise to build that wonderful plaza where egalitarian Jews like you and me could gather and pray as we wish. But if you talk to the average Izzy or Malkah on Dizengoff Street in Tel Aviv, they’re going to say something like, “Who cares about the Kotel! What are you getting yourselves crazy about!” If you want to pray, go to a nice shul in Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, forget about the Wall!  In other words, this is not their issue. It’s ours and we are not Israelis who pay taxes and vote for representation in the Knesset. If it seems as if Israel in general is dismissive of liberal Jews and liberal Judaism, the fact is that the news coming out of North America about our success here is none too flattering. And as for our successes in Israel, those too have been somewhat tepid. It’s easy to blame Israel as the impediment to our success, but we have not done a good job or promoting who we are and what we stand for. Until we reconsider both our product and our marketing, I don’t think things are going to improve much. And as far as I can see, there is little effort in reconsidering the product or the marketing.

                I tend not to blame Israel about these issues because they have bigger fish to fry than catering to our religious sensitivities. As we are screaming about davening, they are trying to maintain the security of their citizens in a hostile neighborhood. And to make matters worse, demonstrators and whole nations regard these security measures as immoral or unethical.  The Israelis are portrayed as the oppressors, the overlords, the bad guys in a story that has been reduced to the good guys versus the bad guys. Look—I too wish for a day when the Palestinians can enjoy full autonomy in their own land, living peacefully side by side with Israel. All these military actions, on both sides, are a waste of time, a waste of resources, and in its most egregious incarnation, a tragic waste of human life. Wouldn’t it be better to have a nation at your side with whom you can trade, address common challenges, and share in academic, technological and cultural collaborations? On the other hand, there is the other hand.

You may not have been paying attention over the past 30 or 40 years, but our nation has become a nation of thousands of laws and cultural expectations, all designed to protect and promote human life. Many of us grew up at a time when wearing a seat belt was an option—not any more. You could buy a bottle of wine without the surgeon general warning you about alcohol’s link to birth defects, so pregnant women beware.  Don’t smoke, don’t inhale secondary smoke, don’t build a building without a sprinkler system, don’t talk on the cell phone while driving, don’t eat too much red meat, be sure the baby’s clothing is fire-retardant, throw out the crib you slept in and played in because it no longer meets industry safety standards, and don’t carry any liquid in your carry-on greater than 3.4 ounces. Our pre-school, certified by the State of New York, follows hundreds of rules in order to maintain certification. We had a tortoise in the school. It was a cute little tortoise. I thought it was great for the kids to have a living animal in the classroom. The state said the tortoise had to go—the risk of salmonella violated state standards. As we learn what it takes to live long, in good health, and in safety, the rules stack up like a pile of leaves in autumn. Contrast all this with American demonstrators, Jewish and non-Jewish, demanding that Israel unilaterally withdraw from the West Bank. Then what? Allow for a Palestinian nation to evolve under the control of Hamas that  explicitly and without shame calls for the total destruction of the Jewish state and Jews as well? For Israeli politicians to turn a blind eye to what the Palestinian leadership stands for would be either naïve or crazy. All it would take is one terrorist action—one blown up bus, one murdered child—before the Israeli body politic would be at the government’s throat. Western  governments, Israel no less than America, are held accountable for their misdeeds, miscalculations, and misjudgments. Americans who have created for themselves a super safe society telling Israelis to loosen up with an enemy sworn to its destruction is an irony of extraordinary magnitude and profound hypocrisy.

                There was an old joke, more popular during Israel’s early days, about Moses’ bad sense of direction. It had something to do with Moses leading the people of Israel up from Egypt to the Promised land, and when he eventually got to the Jordan River, if he had only turned right instead of left, we would have gotten the oil and everyone else could have dealt with the barren Judean desert and the hot and dusty Negev, where little if anything grows. It turns out, Moses just may have known what he was doing. One of the ways to measure a country’s economic health is by taking the total domestic product of a nation—all of the goods and services that it produces in a single fiscal year—and then divide it by the number of people in the country. You may know this formula as per capita (meaning per person) GDP or Gross Domestic Product. It’s a useful tool for comparing the wealth of nations. (Using statistics by the International Monetary Fund for 2017), The United State has a per capita GDP of $60,000. We don’t have the highest per capita GDP in the world. We might be better off in Switzerland where the per capita GDP is $81,000. How about Israel’s per capita GDP. It’s not as high as the United States. Per capita GDP is $40,000. Now here’s the clincher. Israel has this per capita GDP without a drop of oil. But what about the oil rich nations like Kuwait--$27,000 per capita GDP. Saudi Arabia per capita GDP--$21,000. Iran and Iraq per capita GDP: $5000 each. Israel has outstripped its neighbors and continues to grow precisely because it could not depend on oil but had to come up with other ways of thriving, and they did so with one of their greatest national resources: their brains.

                Consider the following Israeli innovations:

In robotics, ReWalk, a device that allows paraplegics to stand upright, walk, and climb stairs;

In optics, Pillcam, a capsule swallowed by a patient which transmits photos of the digestive tract;

In computer hardware, the USB drive that allows us to put gigabytes of data on a two-inch device;

In agriculture, disease resistant seeds for the growing of cucumbers and melons;

In computer software, OrCam, a device that orally describes objects and texts for the visually-impaired;

In computer software, WAZE, an app on your smart phones guiding you to your final destination;

In agriculture, drip technology which uses a minimum of water by targeting the plants that need to be irrigated—very valuable in desert climates and saves millions of dollars in water costs;

In computer hardware, BabySense, offering auditory and visual alarms if a baby stops breathing thus preventing Crib Death;

In innovation technology, solar panels that float on water thus freeing up valuable land space;

You may remember that old joke about God deciding to end this world by bringing on another devastating world-wide flood. What happens? The Italians go out to have their last drinks of the best wines to be found in Rome. The French go out for their last dinners in the best restaurants in Paris. The Israelis try to figure out how to live under water. Like-A-Fish is an Israeli company that has created a unique system for extracting oxygen from water in order to free professional and leisure scuba divers from wearing air tanks.

                I have just enumerated a woefully incomplete list of the innovations that have taken place in Israel in recent years. In 2012, Israel had 60 companies listed on NASDAQ, more than any other country outside of the US or China. It’s incredible. But more importantly, it’s a blessing. These Israeli companies are coming up with solutions for people who cannot see, cannot walk, do not have electrical energy, or enough food. These are companies that are helping the impoverished enjoy the riches that they have been denied. And it’s a blessing that God predicted thousands of years ago, when God rewarded Abraham for his obedience, for his willingness to give up his child, his favored child Isaac. God stopped the offering from taking place because Abraham had already passed the test and then God said to Abraham:

Ya’an asher asi’ta et hadavar hazeh

Because you have done this

V’lo hasahta et binkha et yehidekha

and not withheld you son…

V’hitbarekhu v’zarakha, kol goyei ha’aretz

All the nations of the earth shall be blessed

Because of your descendants (Genesis 22:16/18)

And though I do not usually point to the Bible and say—Ya see, ya see…--It’s all true what is written here. The fact of the matter is that the descendants of Abraham are bringing blessings to the world. The only people who would dare to cripple an enterprise so innovative and so transformative in people’s lives, would have to be short-sighted, anti-humanitarian, and misanthropic.

                When Pepsico decided to purchase SodaStream for 3.2 billion dollars, there was a news conference. Danny Birnbaum, as Soda Stream’s CEO, was naturally there. So what should an Israeli CEO do at such a news conference? Naturally, you introduce your parents, and you tell their story, a Conservative Jewish story, which begins in the Shoah of Hungary and whose latest chapter finds them standing next to their son, one of the most successful businessmen in Israel. I found it very moving that this was the course Danny decided to take because it was a little morality lecture on how no one should be blinded by their history. Even at the point of death, once can rise from the ashes of the Shoah and eventually become CEO of an international, multi-billion dollar business.

                When the Palestinians stop blaming the Israelis for their failures, when The United Nations and the European Union and Iran stop funding the Palestinians, which is akin to keeping a dead political,  military and economic agenda on a ventilator, real change will take place. So Hagar is wandering with her baby in the wilderness, and the water gives out, and she places the baby below a bush to die, and she sits at a distance to watch this tragedy unfold,

Vayifkah Elohim et einehah

And God opened her eyes

Vateire b’er mayim

And there was a well of water (Genesis 21:19)

I don’t think God created the well. The well was there, but Hagar has to open her eyes to see that life was not over. And now someone from the Palestinian side has got to realize that a gold mine has dropped into their neighborhood. Its called Israel. You don’t try to destroy a gold mine. You make peace with the owners and do business with them—with Israel. The potential for a wealthy, secure, and peaceful Palestine are tremendous if only someone from the Palestinian side is courageous enough to open their eyes, to see this situation for what it could be and move others to see the same vision!

                With all the tzuris, with all the norishkeit (arresting a Conservative rabbi?), with all the violence, in spite of it all, this little country is doing great things. I am optimistic about the future of Israel. And what Israelis are going to increasingly find, contrary to what you may be reading in the papers, is that when they go up to a young tourist in Jerusalem and say, “Nu—what do you think of our country?” And the young tourist says, as they invariably do, “I think it’s wonderful.” And then the Israeli says, “So why don’t you move here!” They just might find these young people saying—I’m going to. In fact, my firm is establishing a branch in Tel Aviv. 

                Rabbi Levenson is taking the congregation on a trip to Israel this December. You should really look into it. If you go, I hope you come back, but if you don’t, I couldn’t blame you.

Shanah Tovah, everyone.

WANT PEACE? PRAY FOR A PALESTINIAN DEFEAT

All Jewish prayers end with a prayer for peace. The rabbis thus kept God’s chief blessing—peace—before us at all times. It is one thing to pray for peace, another to talk of it, and still another to achieve it. The Jewish world is adept at the first two, but the actual goal, achieving peace, eludes us. Israel and its Palestinian neighbors continue to be in conflict and there seems to be no end in sight. But if we hope to transform words into reality, it would be good to reflect on just how peace materializes in situations of prolonged and intractable conflict.

The most recent skirmish on the Israeli-Gaza border has left some 62 Palestinians dead. The tragedy unfolded on May 14, 2018, a day that should otherwise have been one of celebration, the moving of the United States Embassy to Jerusalem. But the move was no joy fest for Palestinians, who understood the move as the United States eliminating Jerusalem from the agenda of any future negotiations. And so an otherwise happy day turned tragic as Palestinian rage clashed with Israeli military resolve.

In truth, there had been relatively quiet demonstrations at the Gaza-Israeli border for weeks. This demonstration turned deadly when demonstrators attempted to cross the border and support the border violations with throwing of rocks, makeshift bombs, and sending kites loaded with explosives over to the Israeli soldiers. This was not a peaceful protest. There were sufficient militants present intent on deliberately provoking the military, and the military responded. Among the dead, 52 were Hamas operatives and three were jihadits—none friends of Israel or the USA.

Was the Israeli response proportional to the apparent threat? That is a question worth pursuing, but as anyone reading much of the media will know, even before the smoke had cleared and any dispassionate investigation begun, Israel was already condemned in the court of world opinion. And that is because the narrative of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict has been cast as an oppressive regime versus an underdog, and the underdog, in all such stories, is always an innocent victim. The preordained narrative insists that Israel opened fire for no justifiable reason; that the force used must have been disproportionate; and without any examination, it was clear who must be condemned and who championed. The narrative requires no further inquiry, which makes the narrative, and all such narratives, the very opposite of justice.

Much of the western world is sick of this conflict. Why can’t it be brought to a close? Why can’t people of good faith sit down, work out borders, and finally resolve this chronic pathology? I actually believe that the Palestinians hold the answer to these questions. The answer is that in order for resolution to take place, one party to the conflict must fold. It will only be the loser who is prepared to make the concessions necessary in order for peace to be achieved. That is how peace was achieved with the South after the Civil War, and with Germany and Japan after World War II. War ends only with winners and losers. The only problem with this theory is that the Palestinians believe that Israel must come to the table as the loser. And that, at least in the near future, is unlikely.

Given its neighbors’ stated goals, Israel’s response to Gaza is almost always restrained. Its periodic infiltrations into Gaza are characterized by limited strategic goals—taking out rocket launchers, Hamas offices, collapsing caves used for armament transfers, etc.—which result in far fewer deaths than an actual all-out war. After each such operation, Israel walks away satisfied at having achieved its limited goals, and the Palestinians walk away without having been crushed, which in their estimation constitutes a victory. And perhaps it is. But as long as there is no defeat, there is no reason to show up at a negotiating table. Ironically, Israeli military strategy may be the most effective generator of hope for a Palestine free of Jews. Were Israel to fight the Palestinians the way, for example, Churchill battled another hostile regime, the Third Reich, the entire Israeli Knesset would be sanctioned for war crimes. And yet, we know how World War II ended. Most importantly, it ended. And then there was peace. And then America invested billions of dollars into Europe and rebuilt it under the Marshall Plan.

But here’s the good news: World War II blood-shed would not be necessary in the case of Israel versus Palestine. The international community, out of its compassion, pours Euros and dollars into the West Bank and Gaza which support some humanitarian projects but also allows for the acquisition of munitions and the exercise of military-type of activities. In addition, though much has been written about how Israel limits access to electricity and water in Gaza, it is never so much as to force Palestinians to the negotiating table. No one allows the Palestinians to taste failure, not even the Israelis. Western compassion serves as life support for a Palestinian dictatorship that lost militarily, financially and morally, long ago. Western and Israeli compassion keep this pointless conflict hot and unending.

I garner no joy in forcing anyone to do anything. Coercion is not how God meant us to live on this beautiful earth. Nor did God want us to live in a constant state of war. But praying for peace and talking about peace is not going to achieve peace. This is an intransigent war and wars like this don’t end until one side loses. We should never stop praying for peace, but we may just start hoping more for defeat. It may be the only path to peace in realpolitik.

OBJECTION, UNCLE BOB: THE STANDARDS FOR SEDER DISPUTATION

As we prepare for Pesah 5758/2018, some families may already be anticipating the family argument that might erupt between you know who.  I actually don’t know who, but you do, because each year, the two of them (or three or four of them?) go at it with each other.  Anytime the family gathers, the potential for the unwarranted comment or the sarcastic sideswipe increases, and depending on the cast of characters, may increase exponentially. That kind of toxicity adds a bitter herb to the seder plate that doesn’t belong.   Ideally, the seder should be a catalyst for conversation and dialogue.  Yetzi’at Mitzrayim, the exodus from Egypt, is a story that has inspired and galvanized thousands of generations, and remains a tale eternally relevant, as we assess our own Egypts and the steps involved in securing redemption.  That kind of exercise is most successful in an atmosphere of mutual respect, not one of mutual verbal destruction.

I had a funny vision of a seder that transpires in accordance with quasi-courtroom procedures such that if anyone gets out of line, an objection may be raised.  Each family would appoint a judge (every family has a few lawyers that might play the part, provided they are not under indictment) who could either sustain or overrule the objection depending on the nature of the objection.  What follows are statements that another participant may object to, and the reason for the objection.

THE REPUBLICANS ARE THE EGYPTIANS OF THE 21^ST CENTURY AND ARE TRYING TO KILL US.

Objection: Inflammatory statement.  It could be that there are some Republicans who are trying to kill us as there is no law prohibiting psychopaths from identifying with a political party.  That said, there may be some Democrats trying to kill us as psychopathology seems to be bi-partisan.  At least something in this county is bi-partisan—Barukh HaShem. It’s not a terrible thing to bring politics to the seder table.  It could enliven conversation and is almost always relevant.  But inflammatory statements are counterproductive.  What we say should add light, not heat, to a conversation.

WHAT ABOUT HITLER AND THE HOLOCAUST?

Objection: Asked and Answered.  Some people, no matter what the subject, manage to bring it back to Hitler and the Holocaust.  It’s not that Hitler and the Holocaust are unimportant, but not every moral failing needs to be viewed through the most egregious example of human depravity in all of human history. Haroset has nothing to do with the Holocaust. Whenever someone seeks to hijack a conversation given their own particular agenda, it is within the rights of the other participants to raise an objection and move back to the topic at hand.

MY COUSIN SHMULY TOLD ME FIVE ORTHODOX CAMPS ARE CLOSING DUE TO SEXUAL IMPROPRIETIES.

Objection: Hearsay.  Where did your Cousin Shmuly, who is an outstanding CPA, get his information?  Does he know first-hand, or did he hear from someone who knows from someone who is a neighbor to the husband of the camp director’s second cousin once removed?  Sexual harassment is certainly a form of slavery and given the right crowd, could generate a lot of positive exchanges.  But the potential for false assertions that unjustly damn innocents is out-of-bounds. Objection sustained!

CHUCK SCHUMER IS ONE SICK PUPPY—ALL OF HIS CRONIES ARE A BUNCH OF SICK PUPPIES.

Objection: Incompetence.  Unless the speaker is a board-certified therapist, and unless this board-certified therapist has met and directly diagnosed Chuck Schumer and all of his cronies, the speaker is unqualified to pass psychological judgment on any of these people.  And if the speaker has met and diagnosed these people, the speaker has just egregiously violated the confidentiality of his or her patients.  The statement is inadmissible and must be stricken from the record of the evening’s conversation. There are many people who feel trapped by a government that does not seem to be working.  That’s a conversation worth having within the context of an America requiring redemption. As for the psychological wellbeing of politicians, that’s for Sigmund Freud and his cronies to discuss, in private. 

ISRAEL THINKS THAT REFORM AND CONVERVATIVE JEWS ARE A BUNCH OF CRY BABIES

Objection: Speculation.  Whenever someone claims to know what Israel thinks, they clearly have no understanding how Israel thinks.  Israel is a country large enough to support many divergent and conflicting opinions.  One might legitimately assert what this politician said or that minister wrote, and given the appropriate citation, substantiate its accuracy.  Speculations, however, are just that—guesses that may or may not be correct.  And to speculate about how Israel thinks on any one given issue, is just silly.

I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU SAY BECAUSE YOU’RE A #$%&@$%%#$@@ LIAR ANYWAY!

Objection: Argumentative.  The seder is not the time to resolve long-standing personal disputes.  When these conflicts erupt publicly, and a seder is a relatively public event, it’s cause for extraordinary discomfort and embarrassment.  The family needs to act with maturity, which may be hard for those family members who just happen to be immature, even as they enter their third or fourth decade of life. It may be prudent to quietly speak to that relative prior to the seder.  Something along the lines of—And let’s think about those topics we won’t bring up this year…  That discussion itself may be awkward, but not half as awkward as the public explosion of a private conflict.

Full disclosure: My sense is that no one in your family will willingly play the judge. Who wants to slap the hand of the relative with a wayward mouth?  It’s possible that you find an unemployed lawyer or judge who would do it for pay (plus dinner with the rest of the family), but you may not want to do that having already spent $2,500 on Kosher for Passover food.  So, here’s a novel idea: self-control.  Everyone has to behave and if you think someone invited to your seder table may be the sort who, under other circumstances, would raise a host of objections in a court of law, send him/her this article as a courtesy and blame me (just delete this final paragraph).  You could say—Would you look what my rabbi wrote?  The hutzpah!  Though he does raise a few good points…  What do you think?

Hag Kasher v’Same’ah—a Very Happy and Kosher Pesah, and dignified sedarim (plural of seder) to all!

AVINU MALKEINU / AMAZING GRACE

                Gut Yontiff, everyone.  I want to wish you all not only a Tzom Kal, an Easy Fast, but also a Tzom Ya’il, a fast experience that will bring us new insights into ourselves and our communities, and our purpose or purposes on earth, and reconciliation with all those whom we need to be closer to.

I recently stood at the grave of a good man, a man who had been taken from us too soon and whose end was characterized by a long and protracted battle which he fought valiantly but ultimately lost.  It was an end he did not deserve because in his lifetime, he had given much to his family and to his community.  And as I stood there, a relative of the man approached me and said, and now I paraphrase: “I probably should not be saying this to a rabbi, but I just want you to know—I’m done with God.  My father died a few months ago, my mother is ill and hospitalized, and now this.  No more prayers, no more mitzvahs, no more acts of obedience.  I am done.”

                As you might expect, this was not the first time that someone has told me this.  I have heard a confession of this sort many times before.  I did say to this man, as I would typically to anyone who had just confessed similarly that there is another way of looking at the world and if he’d like, I’d be happy to sit down with him and talk about it.  Standing at an open grave at Mt. Hebron Cemetery with jets roaring overhead is not the best place for a philosophical discussion.  But he never called and I’m not surprised.  His confession was not an invitation to dialogue.  He had written an essay of anger and disappointment in his head, and what he relayed to me was simply the concluding paragraph.  He wasn’t going to rewrite any part of that essay.  He needed only to vent, and knowing whom I represent for better or for worse, I provided this man with an opportunity, and he took it.

                The prayers of our mahzor admit that the world is one heck of a tough place.  In the Avinu Malkeinu prayer, we ask God to protect us from “war, hunger, captivity, and destruction.”  We ask God to “nullify the designs of our foes,” to ignore our sins and transgressions, and to heal the sick.  In the moving Unetaneh Tokef prayer, we ponder the fate of humanity and wonder who will die by fire, by water, by stoning, by suffocation, by sword, by beast and so forth.  It’s all a very dystopian vision of the world into which we have been thrust. 

                Beginning in the first and second centuries of the common era, there developed groups of spiritual seekers who acknowledging the harshness of the world, came up with an interesting theory.  They decided that this world was so flawed, so imperfect, that it could not possibly have been created by a good god.  To the contrary, our world was a mistake and the god of the Jewish Bible, with whom they were very familiar, was not the one and true God of the universe, but a lesser god, perhaps even a demonic god who operated with evil intent.  It was for this reason that there is war, disease, theft, murder and so forth.  There were other gods who were far better than the Creator of the Universe, and there was also one Supreme God, ruler of All, pure goodness and perfection, but as for the world that you and I know so well, its design and execution was done by a Reject divinity. 

These people came to be known as the Gnostics which is simply a Greek word referring to a special knowledge or knowing.  Our ancestors were pretty unhappy with these people.  The God of Genesis—not the real God?  A lesser god?  An evil god?  Are they kidding?  Our ancestors saw the Gnostics as blasphemous and denying the oneness of God.

                Unlike the Gnostics, people in the modern age are less likely to come up with a theory of multiple gods to explain the world’s deficiencies and excesses.  People today are more likely to go in the opposite direction and conclude that there simply is no God.  In this case, it’s not that a good God has created a flawed universe, but rather there was no God designing anything and therefore what we have is what we have, which is another way of saying—it is what it is.  There may be design in the universe, but it’s far from intelligent.  This world is godless.  For those of us who have been wounded by the circumstances of life, we know how debilitating the apparent absence of God can feel.

                Answering the question as to why the world is so flawed is worth several years of reflection, and that would only be scratching the surface of the problem.  But knowing how flawed the world is, how do we choose to make our way through it all—through the hardships, the anxieties, the disappointments?

                Whenever I’ve had occasion to attend a Christian service, especially a funeral, I am always struck in hearing the hymn Amazing Grace.  It’s a very stirring melody, recorded numerous times by a variety of popular artists—Judy Collins, Johnny Cash, Aretha Franklin, Willie Nelson—but the lyrics leave me a bit in a quandary, probably because they reflect a christological approach to understanding the world.  Do I sing with the congregation?  I don’t want to be disrespectful, but I shouldn’t be singing a Christian hymn.  The first two stanzas read:

Amazing grace! How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found;
Was blind, but now I see.

’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears relieved;
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed.

The words themselves were penned by John Newton (1725-1807), a slave trader, substantially depraved—foul-mouthed and irreverent—but one who cheated death on several occasions, went through a personal conversion and ended up an Anglican cleric.  The poem reflects a specifically Protestant idea that it really doesn’t matter what you do in life, it doesn’t matter how good or kind you are, and as far as that goes, it doesn’t matter how corrupt or unethical you are, whether or not you will have any sort of relationship with God rests with God and God alone.  You have nothing to do with it.  Note that this is distinct from Catholic theology which does regard deeds as impacting on grace.  It should be further noted that this in no way implies that Protestants have no reason to be moral.  Morality is the domain of all decent and spiritual people, but the question is whether good deeds can rigger God's grace, and the Protestants will essentially claim that it cannot.  Jews essentially don’t think that way.  

We see it all differently.  God takes all our good deeds and puts them onto one plate of the scale and then God takes all our bad deeds and puts them onto the other plate of the scale and our fate, our relationship with God, our future depends on the weight of one versus the other.  That is to say, we are in control of our fate and it depends on the kind of person we have chosen to be during the past year.  Our Protestant neighbors would simply counter with a Latin phrase, Sola Gratia—Grace Alone.  Our deeds are irrelevant.  The only thing that can save us is God’s grace, and God’s grace is totally in God’s hands, not ours.  When a singer sings that it was “grace that saved a wretch like me,” you can be sure those words reflect a Protestant notion, and however beautiful a hymn Amazing Grace may be, Jewish it is not.

                But here’s the thing about Christian doctrine.  It’s almost always some spin on a Jewish doctrine which was not granted the ascendancy in Judaism that it did in Christianity or, just the converse, Christianity de-emphasized something that Judaism regarded as fundamental.  For that reason, it’s interesting to examine the role God’s grace does play in our tradition.  And we need look no further than the mahzor for evidence of just how important grace is:

Avinu Malkeinu   Our Father, our King…

Honeinu va’aneinu   Be gracious to us and answer us!

 That is the final Avinu Malkeinu in the Avinu Malekeinu litany.  So we do not talk about God’s grace per se but we make reference to God’s graciousness.  What does it mean to be gracious?  We all know what graciousness is—it’s generosity, kindness, high-mindedness, magnanimity.  We know what ungraciousness is as well—selfishness, resentment, pettiness, mean-spiritedness.  But it’s God’s graciousness that we need at this time because as the Avinu Malkeinu hymn reminds us:

Ein banu ma’asim   We really have no deeds to defend ourselves…

Wait—we have no deeds?  That almost sounds like the Protestant doctrine of Sola Gratia—Grace Alone.  Of course we have deeds.  That’s what we’ve been talking about for the last ten days—good deeds versus bad deeds.  Especially during the Aseret Yemei Teshuvah, the Ten Days of Repentance, when we are urged to do as many positive acts as possible to influence a decision of the Heavenly Court that may be leaning a little more in a direction that makes us uncomfortable.  We want our good deeds to speak for themselves, to overpower and outweigh the not-so-good deeds, and influence the Kadosh Barukh Hu, the Holy One, in a direction more favorable to us.  But the Avinu Malkeinu prayer reminds us that the whole heavenly court system creates a terrible dilemma.  And here it is:  Without arguing our case before God, will God really know how good we are?  We do need to defend ourselves.  But in arguing our goodness before God, don’t we come off as a bit arrogant, smug, holier than Thou?  And if you ever want to be holier than Thou, it’s a good idea to not target the Master of the Universe as the Thou with whom you’re trying to be holier than.  What to do?  What to do is to be honest and take to heart the words of Avinu Malkeinu…

Ki ein banu ma’asim   

Because it is impossible to argue how good we are…That would be a huge strategic error!

Honeinu va’aneinu   

Just be gracious to us and answer us!

Avinu Malkeinu   You are our Father, our King…

God, You  know us better than we know ourselves.  

We are at Your mercy.  We are in need of Your grace.

                For the rabbis, God was the Source, the supreme Source of grace, love and compassion.  Those words in the English may sound like a new-agish expression, but you might recognize this dynamic trio from the Sim Shalom prayer when we sing about God’s hen vahesed v’rahamim, God’s grace, love and compassion.  We acknowledge this holy combination daily if not more frequently and it is because faith would have us recognize the presence of God’s grace and love and compassion with us at all times.  And we are all witness to it.  We are witness to it whenever someone overcomes an illness, or starts a new business, or perseveres in spite of the loss of someone close, or who finds an expression of creativity they never knew they had.  To have faith means that we are never at an end.  And for those who have very deep faith, even one’s ultimate end, is not the end.  God’s grace and love remains steadfast with us beyond the grave.

                I am done with God—some will say.  They aren’t feeling the love.  I totally understand that and one’s feelings do not lie.  But the rabbis had answer for that too.  And so it is that we have in the midrash, the words of the sage, Rabi Shmuel ben Nahmani, who said:

Matzinu shehakol bara Hakadosh Barukh Hu b’olamo

We find that the Holy One has created everything in this world

Hutz mimidat sheker umidat shav

Except for falsehood and deception

Ela, habriyot badu otan miliban

Rather, these were created from the hearts of humanity (Pesikta Rabbati, 24)

And there you have it.  A lot of sin in this world is man-made.  The lying, the cheating, that’s all made by human hands, or human tongues, as the case may be.  And if we accept this as true, it makes human beings among the most dangerous of species.  We are the ones who take an otherwise beautiful creation and mar it with our own lies and deceptions, jealousy and greed.  War, terrorism, hatred, bigotry, poverty, so many of the ills of the world are the products of human stupidity and pettiness, some of it innocent but probably most of it deliberate.  Yes—there are problems in the world which we cannot blame human beings for—the hurricanes and the earthquakes, the floods, etc., But you know, even when it comes to disease and possibly the environment, time has made us increasingly sensitive to the role man-made pollution and unhealthy habits play in our own pathologies.  It underscores just how problematic asking God to look at our deeds is.  Between now and the day the messiah arrives, which I suspect is going to be a very long time, we will do our best, but we had better have a firm belief in God’s grace,

Ki ein banu ma’asim   Our own deeds may not be enough to save us…

                Faith is hard for us in the 21^st century.  We have discarded faith so often in order to understand the world in its own terms and not as an authority figure might have us believe.  But to discard faith completely is also to deny ourselves a certain kind of vision that is critical to our own vitality.

So Moshe stands in the wilderness before this burning bush and somehow determines that the presence of God inheres in the flames of this conflagration.  Anyone else might have viewed the whole burning bush episode as just that, a burning bush.  What is that?  It’s a bush, and it’s burning.  Period.  It’s an instance of spontaneous combustion which happens in the wilderness when sustained levels of elevated temperature react with dried vegetation.  As for the fire, it is what fire is—a chemical process releasing heat and light and depending on the fuel burning, other products some of which may be noxious.  The whole thing could have been viewed as a natural phenomenon.   But Moshe Rabbeinu, Moses our Teacher, ish Elohim, a man of faith, sees beyond the science.  He was given the Godly-gift of insight.  He had the ability to see beyond the “what is.”  And all human beings have this capacity.  You and I have this capacity to see, in every aspect of our lives, the miracles that lie beyond the “what is.”

It’s this kind of vision that moved Moshe to redeem the Israelites from Egypt; it is this kind of vision that allowed Martin Luther King to have a dream; it is this kind of vision that allows humanity to break through the heavens and walk on the moon; it is this kind of vision that allows each and everyone of us to rebound after some failure or death or humiliation has laid us low.  It is God’s grace operating within the world.  And it is as constant and all-pervasive as the oxygen we breathe.

Whenever someone approaches me with news that their faith has lapsed, they never do so with excitement.  No one approaches me and says, “Rabbi—you won’t believe this, I’m an atheist.  There is no god.  And I call attention to this fact only because when people have what is commonly known as an aha moment, it’s usually an instance of great excitement or happiness.  But coming to the conclusion that there is no God is never an Ah-ha moment;  it more of an Oy-Vey moment.  No one jumps for joy when they conclude—there is no god, there are no Absolutes, and we are all alone in this vast and inexplicable universe.  That is, at least for many of us, the scariest and saddest thought of all.  But I’m here to tell you that it ain’t necessarily so, and that when we feel the absence of God, it’s because we have chosen to shut God out of our lives.

The world is a very tough place and all our attempts to redesign it, have proven it to be a resistant subject.  There are no guarantees.  There are no promises that will assure us long life, material gain, or physical well-being.  Our faith in God does protect us on some level as such faith usually guides us to a more cautious use of our time and resources.  But our faith in God cannot totally shield us from life’s surprises, upsets, or detours.  And that’s the reason to believe in God with even greater faith, because it is the hen, the hesed and the rahamim, God’s grace, love and compassion that is forever with us.  When we choose to see beyond the “what is” and be courageous enough to envision the “who we can be,” we don’t necessarily get rid of all the life’s negatives, but we are able to navigate them so much better. 

After all this, I must tell you that we skip every Avinu Malkeinu in the mahzor (except for the last one) because it is Shabbat.   It’s Shabbat, a day when we try to minimize references to the harshness within the world and focus on all the positives.  It’s our small way of creating our own reality, one free of any mention of life’s difficulties.  But even when we omit the Avinu Malkeinu from this sacred day, there is something that is impossible to omit:  God’s grace, love, and compassion.  It is a theological impossibility.

The sun shines, the earth spins, the galaxies expand, and God’s love radiates forever.  You may find yourself at one time or another giving up on God.  I totally understand that.  But I’m telling you right now, God will never give up on you.  That’s what makes God’s grace and love so amazing.  

May we all be sealed into the Book of Life for a year when we effectively navigate all of Life’s challenges.  G’mar hatimah Tovah—