Archive for the ‘israel’ Category

Yom Kippur 5769 Sermon by Rabbi Sue Levi Elwell

Friday, October 17th, 2008

 

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.  

 


[1] Jill Hammer, The Jewish Book of Days (Philadelphia: JPS, 2006), 38.

[2] Translations from The Gates of Repentance (NY: CCAR Press, 1978), 327

[3] Ibid., p. 251.

[4] Psalm 139, ibid., p. 296

[5] Hammer, idem.

Posted in Torah, blogging, culture, holidays, israel, prayer, reform judiasm, religion, virginia, world | No Comments »

What does your rabbi do? Part 8

Monday, December 24th, 2007

Outreach/Inreach:Chaplain:I have been called by RMH and AMC to serve as ‘chaplain’ to unaffiliated Jews on a few occasions, and when possible I have done so. I have tried to convey to the hospital’s staffs that I will try to come when possible, but there is no assurance that I, as a member of the clergy and representing the Jewish community in our area, will always be able or willing to come when called.  Contacts from Jewish non-members: I have continued to be welcoming and invited them to observe and attend. It is my sense, and I remain hopeful, that if they feel comfortable with our community they will join. We have had some success this year in membership growth (more on that from our VP of Membership, I hope). Whenever I had contact with a potential new member I have passed that information on for follow up. Shenandoah Valley Holocaust Education Project: Recently, as one of the founders of the group establishing the Shenandoah Valley Holocaust Education Project, I worked to bring another performance/presentation to our community. This was the play presenting Corrie Ten Boom Live, by Evelyn Hinds. This is the first program of the year. Our major focus will be a series of events spread around the area in early March. We are looking at additional and different types of programs. I am very excited to tell you that Norman Weinberg has agreed to come and speak at THOI on March 9th, 2008. He is an exciting, dynamic and fascinating speaker, and he will tell us about the Cemetery Recovery Project he is involved with leading.  In the days around that event, there will likely be a performance of a play (based on the book Number the Stars, by Lois Lowry, dramatized by Kelly Brock), a dramatic reading of monologues from actual survivors (written by Kelly Brock), a visit by a survivor (or more than one), and possibly other programs, all at different venues in Waynesboro, Staunton, and Harrisonburg. There are also other very exciting possibilities that may come to fruition. I have great hope that this will be an ongoing event over many years, bringing in different people, speakers, programs, and events.  The THOI Staunton Jewish Film Festival (SJFF):I have been in contact with a few people, seeking sponsors, and have been working with Laurie and the committee to make this a success. We are planning it for April 11-17th, 2008. At this point, it looks excellent. We have arranged for the use of the Visulite theater, and our festival can consist of up to seven films during the weekend (Friday to Sunday), with repeated showings over the course of a week. This is very exciting. Now we have to jump in and make it happen. My vision for this project is that it can become an annual event, and grow to be a major draw for THOI, Staunton, and the Valley. We need to start ‘small’ and grow it organically, but the potential is definitely there.   Social & Communal Events:We have had a successful start to the THOI Welcome Committee, holding a lovely New Member Welcome Brunch, which I happily attended, and I am looking forward to more such events.Next week, we have scheduled a Mitzvah Day and Pot Luck on December 9th at 2 to 5. Bring your favorite food, and join us in maintaining our building through tasks ranging from cleaning and straightening inside to clearing leaves from the roof. On the books next after that is a new initiative which I suggested we try; a Game Day Social on the 25th of December, when everything else is pretty much closed. This is intended as a social event, with everyone bringing ‘pot luck’ hors d’oeuvres and whatever games they like to play to the synagogue to get together and have a relaxed afternoon (from 2-6) when not much else is going on.  Israel Trip:One of the highlights this year for the ten congregants (three from Beth El and seven from THOI) who participated (along with me), was the trip to Israel. Even now, in fact this weekend at Shabbat services at Beth El, six of those who participated sat at the Oneg and looked at pictures, reliving the trip, telling stories  and laughing, for almost an hour and a half after the service. More than once in that conversation the question was asked about ‘when can we go back?’ Leading the trip was, for me, a very significant effort, quite exhausting, but given the responses, extremely rewarding, and definitely worthwhile both on a personal level, and for the long-term benefits that have flowed to both congregations from it. I don’t believe that we have the numbers to try to do an annual trip to Israel, but perhaps we should be looking ahead and planning another trip so people can plan and prepare themselves with plenty of time in advance. Similarly, perhaps we should also begin to plan some lesser congregational trips in years we don’t have an Israel trip: a long weekend in ‘Jewish New York’ for example. The costs for such a venture would not be prohibitive for most of our congregants, and with a shorter time away more congregants might be encouraged to participate. I would love to see this possibility explored for feasibility in both congregations.   Cont’d.  

Posted in blogging, culture, education, israel, misc, reform judiasm, religion, virginia, world | No Comments »

A Thought on Light at Chanukah Time

Wednesday, November 21st, 2007

A Thought on Light at Chanukah Time

Rabbi Joe Blair

 

Chanukah is often thought of as the holiday of light, or lights. After the difficult times of oppression and persecution, a moment arrived when we (through the Hasmoneans) were victorius, with G-d’s help carving out a respite in the ongoing war, lightening and enlightening the world for a time. We recall the re-kindling of faith and hope as the Temple was re-dedicated, at that time when the menorah was re-lit to shine out and dispel the darkness that had come in those days. That light has served as a beacon of hope and faith and comfort to many, then, and in all the years and centuries since.

 

That light, the light of the presence of G-d among us, shines on still. That light cannot be extinguished, but it can be made dim and difficult, even impossible to see. In our day, there are reasons that the light is not apparent to us.

 

Today, we must acknowledge that the holy light of the presence of G-d among us is not visible to us. It is clouded by the darkness of war in many places. It is obscured by the existence of hate, bigotry, and prejudice among us, and within us. It is masked by the use of violence and bloodshed as tools to quash others. It is concealed by the cries of those who feel the sting of poverty and degradation. It is hidden by the intolerance and lack of acceptance of others not exactly like us. It is covered by the actions and choices of our elected and appointed officials, in our name, in perpetrating actions we do not and cannot condone or accept. It is veiled by the actions and words of our leaders, religious and secular, who use their position to further their own ends and not G-d’s.  It is buried by the vicious, genocidal actions of so many in too many places. 

 

If we are to truly kindle the light of Chanukah, we must re-dedicate ourselves to the pursuit of justice and righteousness. We must partner with G-d in making the world more perfect, more fit for the presence of G-d among us, so that the light of G-d’s presence will shine forth brightly, illuminating all in every corner of this world.

 

There are so very many needs, and so many worthy ways to work towards this end. I pray that we each choose at least one among them, and dedicate and re-dedicate ourself to the holy tasks of Tikkun Olam (repair of the world) and Rodef Tzedek (pursuit of righteousness) to help bring light to the world at this season of the year when light is on our mind. .

  

Rabbi Joe

  

Posted in Torah, culture, education, holidays, israel, misc, prayer, reform judiasm, religion, virginia, world | No Comments »

Sermon: Yom Kippur – Chance Encounters

Thursday, October 18th, 2007

Yom Kippur 5768  Chance EncountersRabbi Joe Blair 

Monday evening, after a fairly long and very busy day, I left the office at the synagogue, and made my way towards home. My day had started with a flat tire when I went out to the car, and after changing the tire and cleaning up, I made a detour on the way to the office to drop the car off to have the tires replaced, the car aligned, and the brakes checked – a routine service which had been delayed a little too long. In the late afternoon, they called and I went and picked up the car, then returned to the office to continue what I was working on for a few more hours. It was after eight when I left, and it was already dark. As is so often the case, for me, at least, my mind was full of the events of my day: fragments of conversations, nagging problems, unresolved feelings; the list of things I would need to do, things I had forgotten to do, things I should not have done; and a whole host of other bits of the flotsam and jetsam of my day. Nonetheless, I was still alert, awake, and attentive as I steered my car towards home. There was a good amount of traffic on the main highways, but once I got off on the smaller secondary roads it dissipated, and there were few cars on the road as I came close to home. I have driven the same route almost daily for the last four plus years. I am quite familiar with it, and there are few locations along it that I can’t pick out or picture in my mind’s eye. Consequently, I am fairly comfortable driving along it, and have a sense of when to slow down for upcoming curves and hills, as well as knowing where the straightaways make for easy driving. Never, however, have I imagined anything out of the ordinary happening along that route, so I was utterly taken by surprise when suddenly, out of nowhere, seemingly from thin air, a deer dropped  from above me onto the roadway no more than one foot in front of my car. I tried to swerve, and I did my best to stop, but it was completely futile. I was traveling at between 45 and 50 miles per hour (the speed limit there is 55), and a car just won’t turn or stop in one foot of distance. I hit the deer. In less than the blink of an eye, that deer flew off my hood and into the brush and trees on the side of the road at that place. A cloud of steam billowed out from under my hood, and the front of the car bounced violently up and down, bottoming out. The tires squealed as I stomped on the brake pedal. It all took just an instant. By the time I could stop the car, and pull over and get out to try to see if there was anything to be done, I heard a crashing of brush receding into the distance. I had to accept that as indicating that the deer had survived and was able to resume its progress. My car was not nearly so resilient. It is in the body shop having most of the front end replaced. So much for the alignment done that afternoon! I know that deer are overpopulated in this area, that they are not suited to survive in a suburban environment, and that Virginia has the largest number of deer-car accidents in the US, but I still felt and feel badly. I can’t help but wonder if I had done something a little differently, or come along ten seconds earlier, or five seconds later, if the whole incident would have been avoided. The very chance nature of our encounter, intersecting only for a split second, only at that precise time and place, is amazing. Any small change on the part of the deer or by me would have changed that incident significantly. In a sense, the very fact that we did intersect is a small miracle.  It seems that we are constantly ‘happening’ to have things occur to us, that chance plays a huge role. Perhaps, on a personal scale, this is what chaos theory is supposed to help explain. (If I am mistaken in my use of the term, I know that the physicists in the congregation will correct my misapprehension shortly enough.) I couldn’t help but think about this idea of chance and happenstance as it plays out in our daily lives. Think about these examples: If I had stopped for coffee instead of going straight home, I would have missed that deer. If I had not had the tires changed and the alignment and brakes done, I might have been less able to steer, slow, and stop and much worse could have happened. Similarly, if I had not forgotten to pick up the book to return, I would not have had to make an extra trip to the library. If I had not gone back into the house to retrieve something I forgot, I would not have missed the phone call at the office. If I had not missed the phone call, I would have been able to meet my friend for dinner. If I had not turned off my cell phone, I would have known that my appointment was cancelled and been able to do something else. It all seems so random, so subject to chance. Is this really the organizing principle for our lives? Of course, chance is one way to describe it, but perhaps a better term would be ‘opportunity.’ At the risk of exposing my age, I recall reading a series of books by Carlos Castaneda about a Yaqui sorcerer named Don Juan who lived largely in rural areas of the west coast of

Mexico. Castaneda was ostensibly an anthropologist or sociologist, and intended to study the culture of Don Juan. In fact, what we discover through the various books is that Don Juan was waiting for Castaneda, and in fact lured and then captured him as a student. Castaneda thought he was meeting this old man by chance, but Don Juan knew that this was the arrangement he had been seeking. In a number of the encounters described, Don Juan described to Castaneda how life presents us with opportunities, saying that each opportunity is a chance that pops out in front of us, and each chance presents us with a choice about what to do. The secret, he teaches, is to be alert, aware, trained, and prepared to make a choice, and to seize the chance presented. He calls each one of them a ‘cubic centimeter of chance’ which comes once and is then gone forever.  In light of this, Deborah Lipstadt, professor of modern Jewish thought and Holocaust studies at

Emory University wrote this story about her father, and the intersection of chance and opportunity. “On Rosh Hashanah in the mid-1960s, my father received a cancer diagnosis. The doctors scheduled radiation treatments, but the initial treatments fell on Sukkot and Simchat Torah…. He asked that he be allowed to come in for treatment during the middle days of the festival. The hospital spokesperson explained that those days were reserved for in-patients. Outpatients generally found it too depressing to see the terrible shape these patients were in. My father, unfazed, said that even if it was too depressing, he would come during the in-patient days. Reluctantly, they agreed. On his first visit, he sat in the waiting room surrounded by terribly disfigured, desperately ill people on gurneys. While reading his newspaper, he began to hum. A lady on a gurney nearby said, ‘That’s pretty. Sing louder.’ My father agreed and did. The lady quietly joined in. Others followed, and soon the room was awash with song.  Shortly thereafter, a nurse emerged and asked my father to come in. He rose, but before leaving, he turned to the other patients and said, ‘That is a tune by Shlomo Carlebach. I knew his family in

Germany. He set a verse from the book of Psalms to this music. The words you were singing are, ‘Esa eynai el heharim meyayin yavo ezri. Ezri meyim Adonai, osey shamayim ve’aretz’ (From whence shall my help come? My help shall come from the Lord, the creator of heaven and earth.) He concluded, ‘And so may it be’ then went in to his treatment”Mr. Lipstadt seized the chance when it arose and made it an opportunity to make a difference to those around him. He made this opportunity in the midst of a chance encounter, thinking of and reaching out to those around him, acting on his values, doing what he had been preparing for for many years. The same Shlomo Carleback that Mr. Lipstadt mentioned told this parable about chance and opportunities. This is adapted from the version of it retold by his daughter Neshama.  “Imagine you are on a subway, and suddenly realize that your soul mate, the one you have been waiting and praying for your entire life, your basherte, is standing beside you. You’re full of love and disbelief; and you can’t speak. Then the doors open, and your soul mate is leaving, walking off the train. Frozen, you manage only, ‘What’s your number?’ You hear only the first three digits. Then the doors close. At the next stop, you run to a pay phone, frantically trying every combination of numbers imaginable. Failing that, you drive through the streets, crying, searching. Overwrought, you begin to drive dangerously, hurrying, running red lights. You are arrested for reckless behavior. Imprisoned, brokenhearted, and alone, you await your trial. You prepare yourself, terrified of the possible judgment you will receive.  As you enter the courtroom, you look up to see that the judge you have feared  to meet is your soul mate, the very person you’ve been seeking, and whose absence created the sadness that made you lose your way. You break down. Your soul mate says the words that change your life. ‘I know you’ve made mistakes, but let’s not think about that now. Today, I just want to be close to you.’On Yom Kippur we stand in judgment before G-d. We beg forgiveness for our mistakes. In Elul G-d comes to us. If we listen closely we will hear G-d’s voice saying, ‘I know how hard this world can be. I know you long for meaning, and sometimes make mistakes. But now, I just want to be close to you.’ Sometimes, it is when things are falling apart that we have the opportunity to hear G-d’s voice.“ 

Of course, all this begs the question of whether there is really any such thing as chance, or is it foreordained? It has been a subject of debate for centuries. It is too large and too hard a question to answer today, so I will leave it for exploration another time. For the moment, it is enough to know that there is something that we call chance, or coincidence, and we must live in such a way as to take that into account. We cannot live in a rudderless, undirected fashion. There must be a guiding light, and an organizing principle, for our lives to have any meaning. For the moment, we will just accept that this light is G-d, and the principles are those enumerated in the Torah and Mitzvot. Taking advantage of the sudden appearance of a chance, turning it into an opportunity, is not something that simply happens. It requires that we prepare ourself. Like an athlete, we must train and practice and make ourself ready to recognize the chance, and to act at the instant, without notice. Thank G-d, that is what all my years of driving did: I knew to first slow and then stop the car, to continue steering, to hold steady in my lane, and so on, all without taking any time to think. Training, preparation, and practice, all came together, and took over to the point that it was all integrated into my bones. I didn’t have to think at all, I just KNEW what to do and automatically did it. This is also the purpose of our traditional routine of prayer, and meditation, and kavvanot, of tikkun olam, and mitzvot, of avodah, tzedakah, and gemilut Chasidim. These are the exercises and practice that we undertake to make ourselves ready to recognize the chance, to seize the instant, and to actualize the opportunity. This is what we do to prepare, to train, and to ready ourself to recognize our beloved when we encounter them. What we do becomes a part of us, so deeply ingrained that we do not need to give it a thought – we simply do the right thing when we have to act.  That is why it is so important to have meaningful spiritual practices that are in synch with our values, and a regular routine of reinforcing them.Today, Yom Kippur, is the culmination of all of that work and preparation for the past year. Now, here, we stand before G-d, our judge, and our basherte. It is up to us to seize this opportunity, to reach out, to take this chance to be close to G-d, and to seek to hear the words telling us that G-d will  ‘just want to be close’ to us, as we seek to be close to G-d.  In that way, our lives will be fulfilled, and we will be a blessing and a light to the world. May you see G-d in the face of all you love, and love in the face of all around you. May you be sealed for a good and sweet year of blessings and joys. May you find that G-d wants to be close to you. May there be peace in the world. Let us say, Amen. Shanah tovah. Chag sameach.

Posted in Blogroll, Torah, blogging, culture, food, holidays, israel, misc, prayer, reform judiasm, religion, virginia, world | No Comments »

Rabbi Sue’s Rosh Hashanah Sermon 5768

Tuesday, September 18th, 2007

Standing on One FootRosh HaShana SermonRabbi Sue Levi Elwell 

Staunton/Harrisonberg,

Virginia12/13 September 20071 Tishrei 5768 

Three months ago, I broke my foot. It is still in the process of healing. Two people suggested that I speak to you today on “The Torah that I have learned while standing on one foot.” Knowlegable Jews both, they hoped, perhaps,  that I would be able to use Hillel’s famous response to the sceptic as a jumping off point, so to speak, for my Rosh HaShana derash. As you may remember, the 1st century sage Shammai was approached by an individual who asked him to teach the entire Torah as he stood on one foot. As the Talmud relates the story, after Shammai chased away the questioner, chiding him for the foolishness of his question, the sceptic approached Shammai’s colleague and rabbinic rival, Hillel. Hillel responded: “that which you hate, don’t do to others. That is the entire Torah, the rest is commentary. Go and learn! ” (BT: Shabbat 31a). 

I have been blessed over the last year to have completed a three year study program at the Shalom Hartman Institute in Jerusalem where I was one of thirty rabbis from across the US and Canada who traveled to

Israel to study for a month in the summer and for a week in the winter. While in

Israel, and every week when we were not together in person, we studied with leading Israeli scholars, exploring traditional texts and asking new questions and acquiring fresh insights. This cross-denominational program brought together an extraordinary group of teachers who are privileged to serve large and small congregations, and communities of elders and lay learners. By sharing our expertise and experience, we were all able to deepen our rabbinates and to strengthen our ability to read and interpret the rich textual legacy of our tradition. 

In July, I began another study program. Together with 36 rabbis from across the world, I am now a student at the Jewish Spirituality Institute. In many ways, this is the perfect complement to my years of immersion in text study through Hartman. The IJS program welcomes rabbis to explore meditation, yoga, Hasidic teachings and silence as means of deepening our own spirituality and, ultimately, our rabbinates.  

Both of these intense study programs send the rabbis who choose to study in them back to the sources, back to the text. In both programs, we ask again and again: what is the essential message of the text? What is the “ikar,” the root, the essence, the basis, foundation, importance, the principle of the teaching? So, armed with my teachers’ direction to take a second and third and a fourth look at texts that I thought I understood, or texts that seem to be so basic that they teach themselves, I ask you to join me in a consideration of this Talmudic story of Hillel and Shammai.            This is one of the first stories we, as Jews, as Jewish parents and as Jewish educators, learn and teach. The questioner first approached Shammai. The question Shammai heard was: “Teach me the entire Torah in the few seconds that I wobble before you attempting to stand on one foot.” Shammai, who is often portrayed in our ancient texts as impatient or unreasonably stringent, dismisses the questioner. 

What are some other understandings of standing on one foot?The practice of yoga includes a number of positions that focus on balancing the body on one foot, and then on the other. The practioner learns to focus attention so completely that it is possible to stand without falling, gracefully posed and balanced on one foot. For years, I have been working on this pose. Sometimes, I am able to sufficiently focus my attention and intention, compose myself, and, for a few magic seconds, I am balanced. But I must work at paying attention, to being fully present, to focusing, to listening to my body and quieting my mind. Standing on one foot demands work.  

Perhaps Hillel sensed this when the questioner, who is referred to as an outsider or foreigner, a ger, approached him and asked the same question. The Talmud does not record the exact formulation of the question, nor any helpful details about the questioner. So we must use our own life experience, and our imaginations, to reconstruct this simple tale. Is a scoffer approaching our sages to make fun of them—and of Judaism? Or do we have here a person who senses that she stands near the entrance to a beautiful castle filled with rooms set with magnificent banquets. She has heard from travelers of the beauty of this place, the generosity of its inhabitants, the peace of those who make this their home. She is simply seeking a way in. When Hillel was approached, perhaps with the same question as was posed by Shammai, Hillel listens for the question behind the question. Perhaps he looks into the eyes of the one who questions and sees hunger and desire and loneliness. As recorded in the Talmud, Hillel responds, “”that which you hate, don’t do to others. That is the entire Torah. All the rest is commentary. Go and learn!”  

That which you hate, don’t do to others. In other places in our tradition, this double negative becomes a positive commandment: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” (Leviticus 19:18). This direction, to behave towards others as we would like others to behave towards us,  to treat others as we would like to be treated, is often called The Golden Rule, for it is a value held by many of the religions, ethical traditions and spiritual pathways that guide the world’s people.  This ethics of reciprocity is considered here by the Dalai Lama:“Every religion emphasizes human improvement, love, respect for others, sharing other people’s suffering. On these lines every religion had more or less the same viewpoint and the same goal.”          How would our lives change if we began taking this teaching, Hillel’s teaching to heart? Take a moment to think of ideal circumstances of waking up each day. Where would you like to awake? What words or music would you like to welcome you from sleep into wakefulness? What would you like to see when you open your eyes? Once you’ve gotten out of bed and stand on your feet, what feelings or thoughts or movements would help you prepare for the day ahead?  How would you nourish your body and then step out of your home to greet the world?  

Now think about how that vision of perfection directs us to treat others. Whether we live alone or with others, whether we wake up alone or beside another, whether we begin our day by waking others in our care or by responding to eager, waiting pets, what might it mean to be keep Hillel’s direction in our minds? How could we, from the moment we awake until we lie down again to sleep, how could we treat others as we would like to be treated? How do we love another throughout the day as we wished we were loved? When we learn to treat ourselves with compassion, intention and care, we have a much better chance of treating others with sensitivity. Once we begin listening to our own hungers and needs, to how we need to be in the world throughout every day, we will discover that we have also learned to listen to others’ hungers, to others’ joys, to others’ suffering.  Like Hillel, we can become experts at listening to the words beyond and behind the words that are articulated. We, too, may learn to hear the words that are never uttered.  

Tomorrow Jews across the globe will stand to listen to the blasts of the shofar, calling us to wake up and listen. For what should we listen? My goal for tomorrow is to be present, to be intentional, to use the same powers of concentration that I muster when I attempt to balance on one foot. I hope to open my heart to the raucous, ancient sounds of the shofar.  If I listen with full intention, perhaps I may be privileged to hear my own voice, echoing the voice of the ancient petitioner, seeking a way in to wisdom, to community, to a sense of the possibility of this new year.  I hope also that I will be able to hear Hillel’s kind and clear direction: begin with the most immediate action. Start treating others the way you want to be treated. This is indeed the ikar, the essence, the foundation of the whole Torah. Let us now go and listen and learn. 

L’shana tova.  

Posted in Torah, blogging, culture, education, holidays, israel, misc, prayer, reform judiasm, religion, virginia, world | No Comments »

Blogging and The Congregational Trip to Israel in August

Wednesday, July 25th, 2007

I am going to point out to you here that I have created a secondary blog in another location to report on the Congregational trip to Israel. I did this because I cannot update this blog readily from Israel, so wanted to be able to put entries up. I hope to move that blog wholesale to this one after the trip is completed. Meantime, please feel free to visit that blog at

                              SORRY. Link removed. No longer available on line.   [12/276/2007]

Rabbi Joe

Posted in Blogroll, blogging, education, israel, virginia, world | No Comments »

The nature of nature

Wednesday, October 11th, 2006

Sukkot, the time of our rejoicing, the harvest festival, the feast of booths…. All names for the same holiday. A seven day period celebrating the harvest, and the relationship to G-d in the wilderness, and creation – nature. This seems to cover a wide range and a lot of territory….

Maybe it helps to remember that this is THE Universal holiday. The holiday for ALL peoples. When we read in the Torah about the Temple times, what we learn is that a sacrifice was offered to G-d on behalf of every single people/state/nation/group. That is why there are a total of seventy sacrifices described – one for each people that the Torah believed existed. No exclusions mentioned….

Anyone who wanted could come and offer their sacrifice in the Temple – it just had to meet the requirements to be a suitable type. No one had to say they were a Hebrew, or claim to be anything at all. They simply brought their offering to G-d. No checking at the door to make sure you were ‘one of us’, or that you believed ‘correctly’. That was your business, and G-d’s. I like this – it makes me positively recall that all humanity are of one kind. What we see as our differences are just how we do things, not what we are or where we come from….

The sense of being close to nature here is very physical. We sit in a hut, or booth, the Sukkah. The roof is made from growing plants. It is incomplete and not water tight. We are exposed to the weather, to the wind, to the air. We do not control our environment, we are not in charge! The walls and roof of the Sukkah are only partial barriers to the wind, rain, and sun. A physical metaphor for life…..

Happy Sukkot!

Rabbi Joe Blair

Posted in culture, food, holidays, israel, misc, prayer | No Comments »

Why blog? Why not! It is VERY Jewish!

Tuesday, November 8th, 2005

I have been writing these blog entries over the past few weeks to a month. I decided to try to add at least one new entry a week, and I think I have done a bit better than that so far. I hope that you will read them and post your comments, telling me what you think. I would appreciate and hope to learn from the thoughtful and considered responses I expect you to submit.

The benefit of a blog, it seems to me, is that it shares some aspects of a page of Talmud. We have the Mishnah – the central statement, the essential assertion. The Gemara is the additional expalantory material offered as the body of the blog entry. The cataloging and storage and the categories with which the entry is tagged are the apparatus, similar to the cross-references and the translation of Onqelos in the Talmud. Your comments are the commentary of Rashi, Ralbag, Rambam, Ramban, Ibn Ezra, and all the rest. The ‘conversation’ between the original post and the comments and later comments feels like the back and forth between the text and the commentators in the Talmud, adding richness and depth, expanding the meaning, and furthering our understanding.

So here is another entry. I look forward to hearing from you about it.

Rabbi Joe Blair

Posted in blogging, culture, education, israel, religion, technology, world | 2 Comments »