Temple House of Israel

• Devar Torah (Word of Torah)

  Parashat Mishpatim

  27 Shevat 5769 / 20-21 February 2009

  Rabbi Joe Blair

  Temple House of Israel, Staunton VA

  Shabbat Service Commemorating Evolution ‘Weekend’ 2009

   

  Shalom.

   

  The Torah (five books of Moses) portion we have just read for this week is a combined reading, taken from the reading known as Mishpatim (Ex. 21:1-24:18), along with the reading of an excerpt taken from Ki Tisa (Ex. 30:11-16). The first section is the continuation of the reading of the Torah in the standard cycle beginning at Simchat Torah (Rejoicing in the Law), while the second section is a special additional reading to acknowledge that this is Shabbat Shekalim (the Sabbath on which we recall the per capita tax for maintenance of the Temple).

  The weekly portion, Mishpatim, is a continuation of the narrative that began last week in weekly portion Yitro (Ex. 18:1-20:23), in which the people have all witnessed the revelation of G-d, and they have received and accepted the Aseret Hadibrot (the ten sayings, sometimes called the ten commandments). They have been overawed by encountering G-d, and have asked Moses to speak to G-d on their behalf. 

  We begin our reading this week with the people still gathered at the foot of Mount Sinai ten weeks after they have fled from Egypt. Moses is still conversing with G-d for the people, and is being given a summation of the laws that G-d commands the Hebrews to follow. Moses hears and writes it down for the people, then, as G-d instructs, Moses goes up on the mountain into the cloud of fire to be given the Tablets and to learn the full contents of the commandments.

              Reading these two sections together as a whole, we find that G-d is giving Moses the information on how the people are to live in a shorter form, having Moses deliver that information, then having Moses ascend to learn the full scope of the instruction (Torah) and how to interpret and apply the laws contained in it. This section is sometimes referred to as the Sefer Habrit – the book of the covenant – setting out the rules and regulations for how to live (in an abbreviated form). This is enough for some purposes; but the full version is coming along shortly. If I just want to know what to do this minute in the normal course of events, the short form is adequate. If, however, I want to know what about in the case of a person in a space ship passing a plutoid who encounters a previously unknown type of animal…. Then, I would need to look to the full version and use the techniques given for how to apply these rules in new and unusual situations. In short, I would need to use the correct method or tool to find the answer. We always need to find and use the right tools to approach questions of import. 

              Not very long ago, after I had concluded telling the class the outline of the exciting story of the parting of the reed sea (not ‘Red,’ as it is so often mis-stated) to one of the younger classes in the religious school, one of the young boys in the class came up to me afterwards, and in a very earnest way, asked me, “Did that really happen?”

              That young boy voiced a question that so many ask. They aren’t as direct, or as clear, and they add in all sorts of presuppositions and assumptions, but at the bottom of it all, they are asking the same thing, and for much the same reasons.

              That is the question that led to the creation of the science of archeology. That is also the question that led to the development of many religious beliefs in the world. The question is common, but the tools selected to try to answer make a difference.

              It seems to me, in fact, that this is the question that is at the heart of the divide in approach between those who seek a literal reading of the Scriptural text , and those who interpret it. These positions in many instances have come to be framed in the light of science versus religion.  

              I think that this framing is a mistaken idea. It is not one or the other; rather these are two different approaches, two sets of tools to try to examine the world around us. Human nature being what it is, when someone has a hammer, everything they see is a nail!  That way lie a lot of smashed fingers, and not many answers!

  The issues, when approached from each of these perspectives, present different aspects. For the religiously focused, there is a nut and bolt, and the tool needed to make it work is a wrench. In that way of thinking, the bolt is how things are, the nut is how they came to be that way, and the wrench is G-d. The goal is find and accept an explanation for what it is, and why it is as it is.

  For the scientifically minded, there is a wood screw, and the tool needed is an appropriate Phillips head screwdriver. The screw is the observed world, and the screwdriver is the series of theories and experiments used to try to take the screw out of the wood. The goal is to take it all apart and see what makes it tick by eliminating all the possible explanations one by one until there is nothing else that can explain what is.

  Insisting on using the tools that the other approach needs leads only to frustration and failure, and criticizing the other for using different tools is nothing but foolish.

  To argue with science as a valid methodology for not being a religious approach is no more sensible than arguing with the screwdriver for not being a wrench, and vice versa. To my mind, the two approaches are compatible and congruent. As a Jew, I see no difficulty in believing in G-d, the Creator, and also in applying the scientific method to tease out more information about the world around us, the very world that G-d created! There is no need to select one or the other. Such a formulation is pointlessly divisive. If you prefer one approach or the other, that is fine; but that does not negate the other as a valid approach, when it is used for the appropriate inquiries. 

  More: to dogmatically and stubbornly cling to one or the other – either one - is to minimize the wonder of G-d. For example, when science seeks to dismiss the marvelous, miraculous events of this world as ‘just’ normal, it does damage to all of us as human beings who are privileged to see G-d’s handiwork in the everyday miracles of the growth of a seed into a plant that then buds and flowers, or the birth of a child with a unique, individual personality. At the same time, for the religious to scoff and jeer at the scientific approach as godless and faithless is equally an affront and belittling of G-d, because it was G-d that created mankind with the intellect and the tool making ability, coupled with the urge to explore and understand that led to the scientific method and approach.

  Admittedly, I am primarily one who approaches things from a religious perspective, so the examples I am using presuppose that approach. That said, I have absolutely no problem with science, or approaching an examination of things in that fashion.  As a Jew and a religious person, I am comfortable with the understanding that all knowledge is ultimately from G-d. Science is one of the ways to approach knowledge, and in that way learn more about G-d and the world that G-d has created.

  Coming back to that young boy, the right answer for him was not to answer, but rather to turn the question around, and to ask him, “What do you think?” He paused, thought, and then told me, “I think people think so, but maybe it was all pretend.” He then ran off towards some of his friends. He used the tool that fit for him, and the answer he found worked for him. By giving him the freedom to answer for himself now, he has the power to revisit that question through his life, and to come to different conclusions.

  As he, and we, grow and mature and change in our lives, we move back and forth between different approaches, and reach different answers at different moments. For me, this too, is part of the everyday miracle of life. We are not trapped in one view or one approach. We have the ability to find the tool that works for us and continually to find fresh insights into the nature of the world, ourselves, and G-d. To limit ourselves to one view is to put blinders on and to miss part of the marvel that is the world that G-d has made.

   

  Shabbat shalom.

   

   

Yom Kippur 5769

October 8-9, 2008

Rabbi Joe Blair

 

Facing Down our Fears

 

Gut Yontiff.

As one of my colleagues, Rabbi Lewis Eron of Voorhees NJ, has recently described it, we have completed the first two legs of the annual Jewish Spiritual triathlon.

We spiritually trained hard through the month of Elul, doing the work of Teshuvah.

We got to the starting block, and took off at the sound of the gun at Rosh Hashanah. We pushed ourselves and made it through the initial stage of that distance swim.

We clambered out, limbered up, and launched ourselves again immediately into the next stage, and have just completed the nine day endurance bike/run of the Yamim Nora’im, the days of Awe. Now, finally, we are here, in the midst of the 25 hour heavy power-lifting effort of Yom Kippur.  

This metaphor is apt because the work we are supposed to be doing for this holiday is hard; we have to prepare ourselves for it, it comes in stages, and at the end, we can find ourselves exhausted, and though elevated by the effort, not having achieved the coveted status of ‘the winner’ – that one person recognized as the best, the highest achieving, the mark others aim to surpass in future. Most years, that seems like challenge enough.

This year, however, it feels even harder and more of a challenge than usual. This year there is so much happening in the world around us that demands our attention, that tugs at us and pulls our focus away from the world of the spiritual. It all feels so urgent, burning, and insistent.

Think about it. The news we heard just this week is terrible. Not to list all the ills of the world:

Today, in addition to the sorrows that all of us must face, the pains of losses, of illnesses, and of deaths, we are burdened by what is happening around us.  We are faced with an economic crisis which is affecting most – maybe all — of us, and which is destroying many people’s lives. Think of those who are being evicted for being unable to keep up with the rising interest payments on their homes, as one example of this disaster.

Think of the kinds of natural disasters that have struck, which seem to have increased in numbers of late, and the toll in lives and property lost has been staggering, with no end in sight.

There are genocides ongoing in the world, wars that seem to have little purpose and no end, and little being done about them. Even when we try to help, it is so little compared to the needs of those suffering.

Terrorism has spread and become the de facto means of waging wars worldwide. From the middle East to India to the former Soviet Union, and now elsewhere in the world, terrorism is on the rise.  We are watching tensely as nations and groups whom we have good reason to fear, some of whom hate us for simply existing, both as Americans and as Jews, come ever closer to acquiring access to weapons that are terrifying to contemplate ever being used – yet apparently they have every intention of doing so.

Our own civil liberties and most cherished rights to due process have been curtailed in the name of combating terrorism, without a hue and cry arising.

We see a massive rise in the number of anti-Semitic acts and hate crimes in the world – not just ‘over there’ – the statistics show that it is rampant right here at home.

We see the increase in power of forces of intolerance and bigotry. Here at home, the push to rescind some of the social gains that have been made over the past two generations has gained new force and adherents, and is making inroads in the public mind.

Taken altogether, in light of all this the future looks bleak, and very uncertain. We don’t know what to expect next, what will happen, how to react, how to protect ourselves and our loved ones.  

So these are difficult times. Times of uncertainty, fear, anxiety, and even dread. None of us is immune or exempt from these feelings.

In times such as this, it is easy to lose heart, even easier to fall prey to fears. The crisis du jour calls us to attend. Look NOW! it screams. REACT!  But I urge you – think carefully, do not fall into this trap. Do not be tempted by the siren song of urgencies!

In the words of Mordecai Kaplan:

“To find life in the present worth living, people must have faith in a future.  The ultimate in human tragedy is not suffering or even death, but hopelessness.  This is the true meaning of damnation.  Men have been known to suffer all manner of torments and to maintain, throughout them all, a deep and abiding interest in life, to experience life as worth living.

“Martyrs, like Akiba and Socrates, have gone to their death with serenity, because they believed their death was not the final verdict on all they lived for.  But it is hell to suffer evils without feeling that there is anything that we can do about them, or without the confidence that they will be abolished.

“It is the function of religion to save men from this hell, and the Jewish religion did so.  How keenly our Sages predicted the need of faith in a future to give meaning and worth to the present is beautifully expressed in a midrash that comments on the prayer of Jacob at Beth El.  We are told in Genesis that Jacob, when fleeing from the wrath of his brother Esau, was accorded a vision of God in a dream, and when he awoke, he set up the stone, on which he had lain, as a pillar and vowed that, if permitted to return to safety, vehayah adonai li lelohim, “the Lord shall be my God.”  In saying this, our Sages explain, “Jacob gave permission to the key-word by means of which God would in future ages redeem his descendants.”  All the solace and bliss that would fall to the lot of Israel would be theirs, by virtue of the rallying cry vehaya, “it shall come to pass,” that is to say by virtue of faith in the future.

“We always seem to be confronted with the alternative of either accepting the present situation as the norm, with its violence, falsehood and hate as the ultimate reality, or we must seek to save ourselves from demoralization by applying the traditional key-principle of salvation, vehayah, “it shall come to pass.”  There is still a future, and in it are concealed unfathomed possibilities for good. As our vision for the future appeals more clearly to us, the evil in the world will cease to be an obsession that prevents us from beholding and enjoying the good there is in it.  When we recognize an evil, let us see whether we can do something to correct it.  If we can, let us do it. If not, let us defer the correction of that evil until some future time, pressing on, meanwhile, to other goals that are immediately attainable.  Our tactics in contending against evil should be those of modern, noble warfare.  When we encounter an obstacle that we cannot surmount, we need not let it stop us; we can bypass it while moving onward in the general direction of our goals, determined by our ethical ideals. This is the experience of salvation.  It is not so much dependent on our attaining our goal as in our confidence that the goal is worth attaining, and on our wholehearted devotion to attaining it.”

                               —Mordecai Kaplan, The Future of the American Jew, “Hope.”

Instead of despairing, as Kaplan tells us, we must turn to religion as the source of strength and comfort that has been given us. You have already taken the first step in that direction by coming here today. Now all you need to do is attend to the very words we all say each time we come together. 

In our services, in the Geulah, the section on Redemption, we read:

“In a world torn by violence and pain, a world far from wholeness and peace, a world waiting still to be redeemed, give us, Lord, the courage to say: there is one God in heaven and earth.”

This seems a pretty fair description of what we are seeing around us today.  And we do need courage to assert God in the face of what we know is happening in our world. Continuing, in the Amidah, we read:

“God of Israel, may our worship on this [Sabbath] day bring us nearer to all that is high and holy. May it bind the generations in bonds of love and sharing, and unite us with our people in common hope and faith. And through [Sabbath rest and] worship, may we learn to find fulfillment and joy in the vision of peace for all the world.

“You are with us in our prayer, in our love and our doubt, in our longing to feel Your presence and do Your will. You are the still, clear voice within us. Therefore, O God, when doubt troubles us, when anxiety makes us tremble, and pain clouds the mind, we look inward for the answer to our prayers. There may we find You, and there find courage, insight, and endurance. And let our worship bring us closer to one another, that all Israel, and all who seek You, may find new strength for Your service.”

This tells us that God is with us, within us. How can we give up or give in to despair if we believe that?  The very Creator – the Source of Being - is our taproot and the bedrock of our strength! Together, we acknowledge the inner source of our strength.

“We gratefully acknowledge, O Lord our God, that You are our Creator and Preserver, the Rock of our life and our protecting Shield. We give thanks to You for our lives which are in Your hand, for our souls which are ever in Your keeping, for Your wondrous providence and Your continuous goodness, which You bestow upon us day by day. Truly, Your mercies never fail, and Your lovingkindness never ceases. Therefore do we for ever put our trust in You. O God, let life abundant be the heritage of all the children of Your covenant. Blessed is the Eternal God, to whom our thanks are due.”

How do we access this inner strength? We are offered the gift of prayer to help us as we face our fears and uncertainties. We are told:

“Prayer invites God to let God’s presence suffuse our spirits, to let God’s will prevail in our lives. Prayer cannot bring water to parched fields, nor mend a broken bridge, nor rebuild a ruined city; but prayer can water an arid soul, mend a broken heart, and rebuild a weakened will.”

And we are told, we are not alone. Not only is God within us, we have each other. We are a holy community, and we support one another.

“We have come together to strengthen our bonds with our people Israel. Like Jews of generations past, we celebrate the grandeur of creation. Like Jews of every age, we echo our people’s ancient call for justice. We are Jews, but each of us is unique. We stand apart and alone, with differing feelings and insights. And yet, we are not entirely alone and separate, for we are children of one people and one heritage.  And we are one in search of life’s meaning. All of us know despair and exaltation; all bear burdens; all have moments of weakness and times of strength; all sing songs of sorrow and love. In this circle of hope, in the presence of the sacred, may the heart come to know itself and its best, finding a fresh impulse to love the good. May our celebration lead us to work for the good; and may this day give strength to us and to our people Israel.”

More:

“Let there be love and understanding among us; let peace and friendship be our shelter from life’s storms. Eternal God, help us to walk with good companions, to live with hope in our hearts and eternity in our thoughts, that we may lie down in peace and rise up to find our hearts waiting to do Your will.”

Each time we pray together we announce what it is we have each committed to by our very presence:

“You shall love the Lord your God with all your mind, with all your strength, with all your being. Set these words, which I command you this day, upon your heart. Teach them faithfully to your children; speak of them in your home and on your way, when you lie down and when you rise up. Bind them as a sign upon your hand; let them be a symbol before your eyes; inscribe them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates. Be mindful of all My mitzvoth, and do them; so shall you consecrate yourselves to your God. I, the Lord, am your God who led you out of Egypt to be your God; I, the Lord, am your God.” 

In light of all this, knowing that we have the strength of God within us, and the community around us supporting us, we should not be cowed by fear or doubts. We are not alone! We are not powerless!  

These beliefs are our touchstones. Our only chance of dealing with fears and uncertainties is to face them in light of our core beliefs and knowing that we are loved and supported. How, then, can we give in to despair?   

Rather, with the certainties and the support that this knowledge brings us, we have hope and strength. We can face our fears. We can overcome our troubles and afflictions. We can rise above them. We can scale the heights, and keep our focus on the spiritual aspect of life, seeing God in those around us, seeking to do God’s work in the world.

So as we come to the end of this third leg of the spiritual triathlon, even if we aren’t declared ‘the winner’ of the spiritual marathon of these holy days, each one of us who has seriously undertaken the effort ‘wins.’ Even now, in the midst of this solemn occasion, this high holy day, I want to offer my congratulations to each of you for being a ‘winner’- a status you have earned simply by making the effort, holding your focus, being here as part of our community and as an expression of God in the world. Please accept my ‘high five’ to you. No need for gator ade showers today. Our spiritual high is enough. J

May you, may we all, know that we have support and strength that arises from deep within us, from a place that taps the core of our beliefs as the source. May we draw on that source wisely, and use it to do what we know is right and good in the world, and in that way, go from strength to strength and be strong. Chazak, chazak venitchazek.

Leshanah tovah umetukah tichateimu!

 

 

 

Friends,

Today (December 10^th, 2008) is the 60^th anniversary of the signing of the U.N.’s Declaration on Human Rights. 

A colleague and classmate from rabbinical school has produced the following litany which can be read in commemoration of that event.  I thought it worth sharing with you. My appreciation to Rabbi Joshua Lesser for permitting me to share this. 

 Rabbi Joe

  

Affirming the Dignity of All: An Interfaith Litany based on the Declaration of Human Rights

inspired by the DHR in its many forms by Rabbi Joshua Lesser

 

When we are born, we are free.  Each of us is worthy to be treated in the same manner. We must have conscience and act towards one another with mutual concern.

As People of Faith, we affirm the dignity, the equality and the rights of all members of the human family. Our Oneness is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world.

Though we are from different countries, we share the same rights without distinction of any kind, such as race, skin color, sex, language, religion, political or other opinion, social origin, property, birth or other status.

As People of Faith, we affirm the dignity, the equality and the rights of all members of the human family. Our Oneness is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world.

All people have the right to live, to enjoy freedom, to rely upon safety.  Slavery in all forms is an affront to these rights as is the practice of torture.

As People of Faith, we affirm the dignity, the equality and the rights of all members of the human family. Our Oneness is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world.

Everyone has the right to recognition everywhere as a person before the law, to be legally protected in the same way everywhere, and like everyone else. No one has the right to be imprisoned, accused falsely or to be sent from their country unjustly. Everyone is entitled to a fair trial while being considered innocent until proven guilty.

As People of Faith, we affirm the dignity, the equality and the rights of all members of the human family. Our Oneness is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world.

All people are deserving of protection in the face of harm.  No one should be subjected to arbitrary interference to privacy, family, or correspondence, nor to attacks upon honor and reputation.  If these things occur, all people have the right to protection from the law.

As People of Faith, we affirm the dignity, the equality and the rights of all members of the human family. Our Oneness is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world.

Everyone has the right to come and go as we wish. The right to asylum,

 a nationality, and the freedom to change nationality is everyone’s right.

 

As People of Faith, we affirm the dignity, the equality and the rights of all members of the human family. Our Oneness is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world.

 

People of legal age, without any limitation due to race, nationality or religion, have the right to marry and to establish a family. Motherhood and childhood are entitled to special care and assistance. All children, regardless of how they were born, deserve the same social protection.

As People of Faith, we affirm the dignity, the equality and the rights of all members of the human family. Our Oneness is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world.

 

The right to own property  to freedom of thought, conscience and religion, opinion and expression is everyone’s right.  All people have the right to freedom of peaceful assembly and association and are entitled to participate in government and in free elections.

 

As People of Faith, we affirm the dignity, the equality and the rights of all members of the human family. Our Oneness is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world.

 

Each of us has the right to work, to be free to choose our work, and to get a salary which allows us to support our family. If a man and a woman do the same work, they should get the same pay. All people who work have the right to join together to defend their interests.

As People of Faith, we affirm the dignity, the equality and the rights of all members of the human family. Our Oneness is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world.

Everyone has the right to go to school and receive an education and parents have the prior right to choose the kind of education that shall be given to their children.

As People of Faith, we recognize the dignity, the equality and the rights of all members of the human family. Our Oneness is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world.

 

Everyone has the right to participate in the cultural life of their society, to enjoy the arts and to appreciate the scientific advancement and its benefits. Everyone has the right to the protection of the moral and material interests resulting from scientific, literary or artistic creation of which he or she is the originator.

 

As People of Faith, we affirm the dignity, the equality and the rights of all members of the human family. Our Oneness is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world.

 

We have obligations towards the community within which each of us can only fully develop. The law should guarantee human rights. It should allow everyone to respect others and to be respected.

As People of Faith, we affirm the dignity, the equality and the rights of all members of the human family. Our Oneness is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world

 

Yizkor

Yom Kippur

10 Tishrei 5769/9 October 2008

Temple Beth El

Harrisonburg, VA

Rabbi Sue Levi Elwell

 

 

I spoke this morning about Yom Kippur as a day of descent. For some, the destination of our descent is yizkor, this service of memory, of remembering. Just about every single one of us gathered in this sanctuary is here to intentionally remember—to bring to mind with a clarity that is facilitated by and on this day—to reassemble, in our mind’s eye, the stage on which we played with friends and beloveds, now gone. This day provides that state—it is up to us to recall the props, the staging, the lines and the cues. We address ourselves to this challenge as if—if we did it right, remembering the way the light glistened in her hair, the full laugh that so delighted—or embarrassed us—that ridiculous outfit, that keen sense of duty, that passionate involvement, that loving presence—if we could only remember it fully, we might bring our beloved back to us—for one last word, one final embrace, a request for forgiveness, a tear of regret, a burst of gratitude.

 

But we do not have that power. We have memory, yes, but not the power to bring back the days when our loved ones sat beside us, nudging, loving, cajoling, spoiling us, celebrating life with us.

 

So today we look for ways to honor the memory of those who enriched our lives with their presence. Now that they are gone, it is up to us to carry out their precious legacies. While we Jews often name our children after those who have passed away, how often are we equally intentional about picking up their dreams—and taking concrete, deliberate steps towards fulfilling hopes those we loved were not able to realize. Sometimes we fulfill the dreams of our beloveds simply by living full, purposeful lives. We know for whom we were the life project. Other times, it is easy—and joyful—to help realize their commitments, for we share the values that shaped them, and that shaped us. Sometimes, although we love them and miss them, the legacies of our beloveds are complicated and even challenging to our beliefs. Perhaps today will open a window to enable us to reconsider this legacy—and work towards transforming it—in memory of a beloved who loved to eat—or cook—we could work to end hunger, locally or beyond geographical boundaries. To honor the memory of one who was unable to show love, perhaps our involvement in or support of an organization that provides loving homes—for discarded people or abandoned animals—perhaps such work would work to heal our own deep sense of loss.

 

It is up to us to create living memorials to those we loved—to extend the influence of their goodness, their kindness, their passions—beyond the grave. And, if we can, to work towards repairing their broken dreams, by creating opportunities for others—in their name.

 

So on this day of memory, may we enters the doors of yizkor honoring that memory is a complex and challenging exercise. And that finally, each of us is enriched beyond measure because for some time we were privileged to share this world with each of those who is now gone.

 

Ashreinu. How blessed are we, for their lives, for their gifts, their passions, their joys.

May we be worthy guarantors of their memory.

 

Shir HaMa’a lot: A Song of Ascents

Temple House of Israel, Staunton, VA

Temple Beth El, Harrisonburg, VA

10 Tishrei 5769/8&9 October 2008

Rabbi Sue Levi Elwell

 

 

During one of my first visits to the Shenandoah Valley, Nurit and I visited one of the caverns. I later discovered that I was following a family tradition—my grandparents included a visit to a Shenandoah Valley cavern on their honeymoon in 1916! I will never forget my first descent into the unexpectedly beautiful world below the surface of the earth. I kept wondering about the first individuals to “discover” these formations. Once they kindled light to illuminate the beauty around them, did they think that they had descended into a kind of heaven, and that the myths of a hot and smoldering ugly netherworld had simply been wrong? Were they dazzled, as were we, by what they saw? What did they think of the even temperature and the cool water that glides down the walls and creates sparkling, shimmering pools on the floor?

 

My first visit was followed by another. Even if I visited every year that I am blessed to be with you here, I will never take for granted the magnificent power of the stalactites and stalagmites that form curtains and columns and vistas of natural beauty that delight and amaze so many visitors every year. We who visit this magical world below are afforded a glimpse into the formation of the earth hundreds of millions of years ago, vistas that take our breath away.

 

The cavern provides a powerful metaphor for us as we enter into this solemn and challenging day of Yom Kippur.

 

This is a day of mystery and wonder. On this day, we are encouraged to enter a place that is both familiar and unfamiliar. When you, fortunate residents of this area, approach any of the caverns, the terrain is familiar and welcoming. And then you descend below the surface of the earth, and, perhaps like me, are amazed anew. So it is with this day. We enter this familiar sanctuary, and greet friends, family, and acquaintances. We welcome newcomers who are grateful to have found a community with whom to observe this Day of Awe. And then we open the machzor, the High Holiday prayerbook, and we are ushered into the liturgy of this uniquely solemn day. And as Yom Kippur progresses, we descend deeper and deeper into the cavern of our souls.

 

The metaphor of descent mirrors the journey of the ancient High Priest into the Holy of Holies on this day. This is how Rabbi Jill Hammer describes the Yom Kippur ritual:

 

Nothing could be more mysterious than the image of the high priest entering the holiest chamber of the Temple on Yom Kippur. As the high priest utters the secret name of the Divine within a cloud of incense, it is as if he planted the sacred word like a seed, creating the cosmos anew. Emerging from the shrine, the high priest renews the land and inspires the people to awe and repentance.

 

She continues,

 

On Yom Kippur, many Jews fast and pray the whole day. The words of the Yom Kippur prayers are like the winding journey of the high priest toward the Holy of Holies. Each prayer takes us a little closer to the innermost depths of ourselves. On this day, we are all high priests meeting the Divine in privacy and intimacy. Surrounded by clouds of song and petition, we are able to look into our hearts more deeply than on any other day of the year.[1]

 

We enter into this day, this day that is the Holy of Holies, as if we were entering one of the nearby caverns. Some of us are unsure about whether or not to enter this day of descent. We’re here because of someone else’s idea of what Judaism asks—or demands—of us. We entered this synagogue tonight as a tourist enters a renowned  cathedral, with curiosity and respect, but without commitment. But Yom Kippur is not like any other day in our calendar. This is the Day of Awe, the day when individuals become community by collectively opening our hearts. So you who are hesitating—take the hand of the one beside you. You who hold back, catch the reassuring glance and the outstretched arm of your neighbor. For centuries, Jews have taken the risk of journeying into the dark on this day. Together, we muster the courage to step into the unknown of this Sabbath of Sabbaths, this Day of Judgment.

 

How well prepared are we for this journey? Do we carry sources of illumination with us? Like early cave explorers, we may carry only candles, which are easily extinguished. Once they’re out, we may find that our matches have become soggy and unusable. How will we make our way in the dark? We move closer together to reassure ourselves that we are not alone.

 

The air thins, and we find ourselves gasping for breath. But as the seconds become minutes, our breath returns and oxygen courses through our veins and arteries without our willing it. We’re surprised by a wave of calm that follows the panic. We realize that our eyes are slowing becoming accustomed to the lack of light. We’re not going to perish here.

 

A descent into darkness need not be a one way journey. Rather, this awesome day welcomes us to name the difficult, challenging, painful, narrow passages in our lives, to acknowledge the fears that stop our hearts. By providing particular words, and music, and silence, this day guides us through our descent into awe. After some time, our eyes become accustomed to the darkness, and we begin to step slowly, and deliberately, through the deep.

 

And as our sight seems to return to us, now sharper than it was, so do we find ourselves better able to hear in this distinct place. We hear the soft breathing of the others who entered this place with us. On this day, we are not alone in our fear, in our awe.

 

When fear begins to subside, awe begins. Once our eyes become accustomed to the dancing glints of light, we realize that we have descended into a place of profound and overwhelming beauty. No matter how many times we go into the caverns, we are delighted anew by the whimsical and fantastic natural formations. So can each descent into this day bring new insight. Whether we’re here reluctantly or intentionally, Yom Kippur helps us move from fear to awe.

 

But when we turn from fear to awe we do not banish fear. Rather, we name it. By descending into the dark we acknowledge our limitations, our fallibility, our humanness. In the quiet of this altered space, we feel our smallness, our insignificance, our frailty. And in this place of awe, we face the supernal beauty of creation. In the luminous presence of the Creator, we may see only our flaws.

 

We call out: Avinu Malkenu: our Father, our King. Our petition is communal. Avinu malkenu, honenu v’anenu. As a collective, in a single voice, we call out, and we ask God to answer us. We are frightened because we have fallen, we have missed the mark. Hurtful words have spilled out of our mouths. We have inflicted harm on others and on ourselves. We have failed to speak the truth, to work for peace, to care for those in need. Yet as we turn to the Holy One in this deep place, we turn together. We do not say, “ashamti, bagadati, gazalti, I have been “arrogant, brutal, careless,” but ashamnu, bagadnu, gazalnu,” we have stumbled and fallen, “our sins are an alphabet of woe.”[2]

 

For even as we arrive at these days, at this place, with our hands full of the deeds– and the misdeeds of the past year, we also arrive having sought—and granted—forgiveness to one another. Our liturgy reminds us, “For transgressions against God, the Day of Atonement atones; but for transgressions of one human being against another, the Day of Atonement does not atone until they have made peace with one another.”[3] As we all know, building and maintaining families, communities, or congregations, is difficult and demanding work. Because we are human, we hurt one another—usually unintentionally, but not always. Healing community is holy work. That is the work that precedes this day. Sometimes, it happens on this day. As we hear ourselves intone these words, “Ashamnu, bagadnu, gazalnu,” we realize that we are all fallible. We all fall down. We all disappoint ourselves and others. The very process of repeating these words as a collective can be healing. We can begin to forgive ourselves—and one another.

 

As we stand in the darkness of this day, and as one, cry out to our Creator, “Avinu Malkenu, be gracious and answer us,” we find the Source of Compassion waiting for us. On this day, we are not exiled, or banished. We are forgiven. We are embraced. And we now see that God’s light illuminates not only our failings but also our fortitude, not only our stumbling but also our shining spirits.

 

Again and again throughout our lives, we descend into the depths. This day tells us that no matter how terrifying the darkness, on this day or on any day, we are never alone there. The Holy One is waiting for us there. On this day, we call to God El Rachum v’Hanun, God of mercy and lovingkindness, erech apaim vrav hesed v’emet—endlessly patient, loving and true. We who take the risk of truly entering into this day are rewarded by discovering the Source of Compassion who acknowledges our fears and welcomes our tears. When we descend we are embraced by a Source of Kindness who invites us to see our own strength.  God waits for us not only on this day, but whenever we enter the cavern of darkness that is always just below the surface of our lives. Today we learn that darkness need not be a place of despair.

The ancient psalmist asks:

“Lord, whither can I go from your spirit?… If I ascend to the heavens, You are there! If I make my home in the lowest depths, behold, You are there!”[4]

 

God is waiting for us, not only today, but every day of our lives.

 

And the community is waiting for us as well. Jews survive when we lift up the fallen. At some time or other, all of us fall. Just as God meets each of us in the depths, so does God inspire and empower the community to extend hands and hearts when we are in need.    

 

Psalm 126 is familiar to many of us. It is one of fifteen psalms that begins, “Shir HaMa’alot: a song of ascents,” and is sung on each Shabbat and festival at the beginning of Birkat haMazon, the blessing after meals. The final verse of this five-verse psalm begins with four powerful words: “Ha’zorim b’dimah b’rinah ikzaru: Those who sow in tears shall reap in joy.” The plural form reflects the universality of human experience. For those who live on the land, planting, sowing seeds, is an essential step towards providing sustenance for both family and community. Sowing, then, serves as a symbolic action for all work in the world. Like all of creation, plants and animals, fish and fowl, we human beings live and then die. We mourn in a particularly human way, with wailing, with silence, with tears and with words. And while we often take time away from our daily pursuits after a loved one dies, we must soon return to the work that sustains us and our loved ones. Our tears mix with our sweat and with the dew that enables young plants to mature into grain, into vegetables, into fruit. And as days and months pass, we move, slowly, haltingly, away from immediacy of grief. When seasons change and the time of harvest comes, we discover that darkness has become light, and that mourning has turned to dancing. Those who sow in tears reap in joy.

 

The ascent from the depths of this day of repentance may be arduous for some. The ascent from the depth of loss may seem nearly impossible for many. We may want to stay in the darkness, not sure how we will manage in the light. But this day, which is finally, a day of joy, calls to us. Make the journey. You will find that darkness is rich and fruitful, a place of awe and beauty. Come down, and then come up. And in the ascent, you may discover that your heart is unburdened and that your mind is clear. And that you can face the new year with a new-found sense of joy and perhaps even hope.

 

Remember the High Priest and his ancient journey into the Holy of Holies? Rabbi Jill Hammer teaches,

 

“The high priest does not overly prolong his prayer so as not to worry those who wait for him. We too do not prolong our prayers more than necessary. We finish the service at the moment of [sunset], and emerge from the fast into our daily lives.”[5]

 

When the sun sinks below the horizon, we conclude our Yom Kippur prayers and kindle the havdalah candle. We return from the depths, and from our individual encounters with our Source. And we discover that those who accompany our descent have become essential companions as we reclaim the light. We ascend from silence and open our mouths with song. After a day of petition and prayer, we have exchanged fear for awe, and despair for joy.

 

So let us go forth, each one of us, into this Yom Kippur day and into this new year, with a new appreciation for the power of the deep. May we enter this day and this new year with strength to face the darkness that awaits us all, and with the confidence that our faith—and our community—can illuminate unexpected paths to beauty and to joy.  

 

Our Community & Miracles             5769                            Rabbi Joe Blair

 

This past year was a year of much activity in our community, much going on. Most of you can think back and recall it.

 

This past year, we have had more than our share of illness; we suffered deaths, close calls, health scares, a number of personal tragedies, and many troubles. We saw job losses, estrangements, and accidents. The number and variety of traumas among our community has been greater than anyone could have guessed. We have seen many lives of those among us changed in significant ways; much sadness, sorrow, and loss. And we have ALL been touched by it.

 

At the same time, some (even much) of what has occurred has been good, sometimes even wonderful. Our community has been strong, and supported each other and those in the larger community.  We have given; financially and personally. We have striven to make a difference, to help others, to live out the Jewish values we hold dear.

 

A few examples: We held healing services for our community to help address the pain we felt. The caring committee came into formal being and has been active ever since. We established the Chevrah Kadishah, the holy burial society, and the members stand ready to perform, offering the most selfless act possible – for those whom they help in this way can never give anything in return.

We added regular Shabbat morning services to our calendar, providing another opportunity and way to join together and to share the peace of Shabbat. We had the first Holocaust Education Week, and worked with the larger community to make known the fact that it is everyone’s responsibility to support the idea of ‘never again.’ The Staunton Jewish Film Festival was successfully initiated, reaching out to Jews and non-Jews alike. We added many opportunities for education and Jewish learning at all levels.

We were blessed with several new Jewish souls, and in the course of this year we celebrated at least one naming, one bris, one marriage, and one B’nai Mitzvah.

 

We know that our community is a blessing. In times of trouble our community supports and sustains us. In moments of celebration the same members of the community share our joys and uplift us.

 

What we don’t know until it is our turn to be supported is just how much of a blessing our community really is. We can not even imagine how important, how meaningful, how supportive it is to have the community members there when they are most needed to keep one from feeling utterly alone and abandoned. At those times, when we question G-d most, at times of pain and trouble, to have others stand beside you as you face those feelings is more than anyone can describe. It is a deep, loving, and life-sustaining link that is felt and understood, but is inexplicable and unexpressible.

 

Our community is more than those we happen to live amongst. The community we live in is our place of prayer, and often, as we have seen, it is also the answer to our prayers. It is the locus for our life cycles, and the stage where we live out our life. Our joys and sorrows play out against the backdrop of that community. Community is always there, around us. Without community, we would be lost.

Just as others are there for you, you have also been there for those others. Make no mistake: you are as much needed by them, as they are by you.

 

Recently I have heard someone say, ‘but I was just doing what is right, or what I should’, or ‘I really didn’t do anything, I just said a few words’ or ‘I just brought by some food because I knew they wouldn’t have a chance to stop and get something’, or ‘I just called or dropped by to let them know I was thinking of them – they didn’t really need me to talk to them, and I couldn’t do anything for them.’ 

 

Not so, my friends. Not so at all. You can have no idea how much your simple presence, or your smile, a friendly word, or a small gesture can mean to someone as they face the dark moments of the soul. What you do is NOT a small thing.  Never say, ‘just’.

 

A story to help me illustrate this point:

 

            [Here I reold the story of “Just a Miracle” by Rabbi Mitch Chefitz about Elijah and recognizing

             miracles, where the word 'just' blinds everyone to their presence.]

 

My friends, never imagine that there is not a miracle in the very existence of each one of us. Every moment is full of miracles – what I call ‘everday miracles’. The smile of a child, the beauties of the setting of the sun, the rainbow after a storm, the mountains and foothills rising up, the mist lifting above the trees in the morning, and the waves on the shore.

It is up to us to make the effort to find them, to see them, to recognize them for what they are. Each one is a tiny, perfect moment, a glimpse of what is and what can be, and we can find them when we look. That is why there are specific blessings for such experiences in our tradition.

 

And sometimes, just sometimes, we are fortunate enough to discover and to see that these tiny everyday miracles join together to form larger miracles. When we think of the wave, we see this in microcosm.

At the moment, we look and see that there is one perfect wave, one tiny miracle that hits the shore. If we continue to watch and see , we see another, and another, and another - an unending stream of waves that each roll up and crash upon the beach. This endless ebb and flow of wave following wave following wave is what makes for the larger miracle, an ongoing miracle.

Each single event is a tiny miracle. Together they create something much more than the sum of their parts.  So it is with us and our community.

  

When you look around you in this sanctuary, when you see the others here, and feel the sense of kehillah kedoshah (holy community) that together we create, you sense how all of the other people are here and supporting you in creating this community. Their presence is important to you now, today. Equally so, you are supporting them, and your presence is important to each of them.

That sense of mutual suport is one of the ways that you know that our community would not be as strong, and vibrant, as healthy, or as full of love as it is without you, as it is with you as part of it. Your very presence is one of the tiny miracles, as is the presence of each other person here. All of us together are what makes up this community. And we all, together, add our tiny evertday miracles one on top of another, building up, and creating the larger miracle that goes on and reaches far beyond any one of us can imagine.

 

So always remember: you are not ‘just’ anything – you are a tiny miracle to others, and an integral part of the larger ongoing miracle of our community. Our community is there for you, as you are there for it. Chazak, chazak venitchazek. May our community go from strength to strength in strength.

 

Leshanah tovah umetukah tikateivu

 

Rabbi Joe 

 

““???? ??? ????

Hayom Harat Olam

 

Erev Rosh HaShana

Temple Beth El, Harrisonburg, VA

September 29, 2008/1 Tishrei 5769

 

 

““???? ??? ????

These three words, which are found in our machzor, our High Holiday prayerbook, are often translated as “today the world is created,” or “today is the birthday of the world.” 

My colleague Rabbi Ayelet Cohen teaches that a closer look at these three words “tells us much more.  ???? means ‘today,’ that part is simple enough.  But the Hebrew word????  means not only ‘world,’ it also means ‘forever/eternity.’” Today eternity is created. Today forever begins.

 

So a simple phrase that might have led us into a chorus of happy birthday rather stops us– and asks us to think not only about marking time, but rather to consider the nature of time. We are invited to consider the relationship not only of then and now, but how now relates to forever.   

 

Rabbi Cohen continues, and further challenges us: “The word ??? is the most difficult one in the phrase.  It comes from the Hebrew ?????, or pregnancy.  Here it functions as a verb and a noun at the same time, implying a creative act that is not sudden or abrupt but one that requires a long period of gestation.  The elasticity of the words and of this phrase teaches us to go beyond the simple meaning.  When we read???? ??? ????  in our ????? we are saying, ‘Today the world was created,’ but also ‘Today we celebrate the constant creation of the world.’  Today is pregnant with eternal creation.”[1]

 

Hayom Harat Olam becomes, then, not only a statement, but also a challenge. On this day, we consider not only how we live in and measure time, but also how we honor, mirror and illuminate the mystery of continuing creation.

 

Let us take a moment to listen to the world. Let us take a moment to listen to eternity. Don’t get up. Stay in your seat. Begin to listen. You may settle more deeply into the pew, letting go of any physical stress or discomfort you may have been experiencing. You may want to straighten up to better hear the sounds that are waiting for you to hear. You may feel your spirit moving to the back of the sanctuary, or even out of the door, ready to dance in the evening breeze. Let yourself listen.

 

What do you hear? Do you hear the clouds whispering as they glide across the night sky? Do you hear the earth settling in for the night, relieved that the majority of humans who have illusions of control as they drive and cycle and walk on the earth are now, because of the dark, huddled in their frail buildings, leaving the out of doors to the insects and birds and animals who know how to navigate the night? Do you hear those creatures calling to one another in forests and deserts and on mountain tops? Do you hear the quiet murmurings of parents on the other side of the globe as they tuck their children into bed or as they gently wake them as the new day dawns? Can you hear this beautiful, fragile universe breathing, humming, singing?

 

Listen.

 

Do you want to respond? Do you want to join in?

 

Can you find a voice in which to harmonize with or provide a counterpoint to this song?

 

Some of us are life long members of the world choir. Some of us hear—and join—in the song of eternity every time we garden, or when we sing a child to sleep, or when we sit beside one who needs our presence. Some of us feel our hearts open in song every time we enter this building.

 

Others of us are straining to hear the music. Some of us have closed our ears and our hearts. Some of us have accepted deafness as our permanent condition. But the universe is singing to us, every day of our lives. On this night, Judaism urges every one of us to rouse ourselves from the slumber that has prevented us from hearing eternity’s song. Hayom Harat Olam: today is the day when birthpangs rock our world, when creation begins anew.

 

What is one of the messages of eternity’s song? The Torah teaches in the Book of Numbers:

 

And in the seventh month, on the first day of the month, you shall have a holy convocation: You shall