Shabbat Sukkot

            Shabbat Shalom v’moadim l’simcha! This Shabbat, our scriptural calendar takes a break from the chronology of the Torah. On Sunday, as we celebrate Simchat Torah we will read from the last parasha of Deuteronomy and the first parasha of Bereshit, but for Sukkot we revisit Exodus chapters 33-34. This Torah reading tells us of Moses’s and God’s special relationship, and what God allowed Moses to see of the Divine Spirit. It has the verse we refer to as “The 13 Attributes of Mercy” that is a part of our High Holy Day liturgy. And it concludes with the commandments for the three Festivals, including the Festival in Ingathering, Sukkot.

The Haftarah, from the exilic prophet of Ezekiel, tells us that God will make the Holy Spirit seen through natural disasters expressing God’s displeasure at those who displace the Israelites from their homelands and cause them to question God’s love for them. We see that God has many manifestations, the wave of goodness that passes by Moses in the cleft of the rock, the Divine inspiration for the Commandments on Mount Sinai, and the wrath that causes earthquakes and landslides. We see too that the Earth, though it predates us by billions of years and will last long after we’re gone, is not eternal and steadfast as is God. The face of the earth can be shifted if God so chooses and everything is temporary.

At this time of year, we celebrate the fall harvest, and we cele brate God’s shelter through times of upheaval. Sukkot reminds us of our physical bounty, and the Sukkah reminds us of our ancestors wandering in the wilderness whose bounty was thanks only to God. And we remember as we sit in our temporary huts with roofs of organic material that will decay, that nothing in life lasts forever. Neither bounty nor hardship is eternal. And so it is with this remembrance in mind that we read Kohelet, or Ecclesiastes, as the Festival Scroll for Sukkot. You probably know the words of the first half of chapter 3 of this scroll, we will sing them in Pete Seeger’s tune at the end of the service. But if you are less familiar with the rest of the 11 and a half chapters, it’s pretty nihilistic. Ascribed to Solomon, the words are written in the first person by a wealthy and wise king who is simply over it all. Everything in life is fleeting, and none of it really matters in the world to come, so what is the point, asks Kohelet. God will see to it that each thing is done in its season, and man really does not have the power he thinks he does. However, they aren’t really sad verses. They remind us to pursue the things in life that will truly uplift us. To trust in a higher power and a greater world, not in possessions or material wealth. To appreciate love and the warmth of friendship. To keep a keen perspective of a situation and never fall into either despair or manic excitement, for both will lead to mistakes.

This Shabbat, let us take a moment to appreciate all that we have, to remember those who have not, and to express our gratitude to those who provide for us physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Let us take this opportunity of openness and wisdom to broaden our love and strengthen our community. May we find shelter, comfort, bounty, and peace this Sukkot and throughout the year. Amen and Shabbat Shalom.

Parashat Ha'azinu and Sing-a-longs

    Shabbat Shalom! This week’s Torah portion is Parashat Ha’azinu. It is Moses’s Swan Song, his final address to the people of Israel and also likely literally a song. It is written in a certain rhythm and physically written in the Torah in such a way as to suggest to us that it was a song, though of course we have long since lost Moses’s tune. Our Haftarah comes from II Samuel chapter 22, in which David’s last communion with God is also a song, and there the Tanakh does tell us explicitly so that it was a song. David’s final words to the People of Israel were not a song, but they are introduced as being the saying of “the sweet singer of Israel.”

    Music is important in Judaism. We chant our prayers, our Torah. We have 6 sets of cantillations for chanting the different books of the Tanakh or at different holidays, and each culture within Judaism has a different sound for their particular 6 sets of cantillations. We sing Nigun to get into the spirit of prayer, or sometimes to set intention before Jewish learning. We have tunes we call “Mi Sinai,” meaning they feel so old and ubiquitous we treat them as if they were the tunes Moses himself brought down from on High and the Jewish people have been singing ever since. We have tunes written within this decade we like so much much we played them three times on Yom Kippur. Tradition holds that music has always been an important part of prayer, since the writing of the Psalms, and was used in Temple worship. The Talmud, Masechet Sukkot 51a, even says that singing is the primary form of worshipful music, though instruments were used to support the vocals in Temple worship.

    And the singing doesn’t have to be great, either. The Shulchan Aruch says a spiritual leader should not be chosen for their singing voice alone, even if the community wishes to be led in beautiful songful prayer. I know I once read a Talmud quote that was something to the effect of, “When the tone deaf raise their voices in in prayer, a miracle happens,” though when I searched for the citation and exact wording I could not find it.

    The point is, music uplifts the soul, and singing has been used from time immemorial to communicate religious expression. The songs shift and change, and they’ve been doing that for millenia too, but the meaning remains the same. This is why it is important to try to get beyond the tunes that remind you of your childhood or the tunes you think are the most traditional and experience the wide range of Jewish music that exists with an open heart. Something may be new to you, but actually older than the the tune you are familiar with. Or it may be new, and there was a reason someone felt the need to write a new tune for a prayer or concept we’ve been singing another way for a decade. It is important to take the opportunities to learn other Jewish tunes, and share the ones you know and love as well, for the sake of enriching our prayer experiences as a community. As Moses enriched his last treatise to the Israelites by singing it, as David enriched his communication with and about God by singing it, as the Levites enriched the Temple service by singing while the Kohanim presented sacrifices, and as Jewish musicians have continued this tradition for the last 2000 years since the Temple worship ceased, we continue this by trying different music and ways to express our prayer. So please join me at the next pre-Shabbat sing-a-long on October 19th at 6:30 PM as we practice some tunes less commonly used at Ner Shalom that will be used when we host the Women of Reform Judaism on November 2nd. Join other future sing-a-longs and nigunim practices here at Ner Shalom and elsewhere. Search Jewish music on YouTube. Check out the artists featured on the Transcontinental Music website.

May your life be full of song, your song full of prayer, and your prayer give you peace. Amen and Shabbat Shalom.

Yom Kippur Afternoon

Shalom, y’all! Hang in there as we continue through, and soon enough we’ll be in our concluding prayers. Remember, if you’re not feeling well, lie down in our lounge or take a quick fast break if you need some water or a snack before Break Fast. It is important to feel some discomfort to sit with the magnitude of this day as we cleanse our souls, but it is more important to take care of yourselves. 
Now, our final Torah reading for the day comes from Leviticus, the holiness code. Some of it is a repetition of the Ten Commandments, while many other lines give us other commandments around sacrifices, about leaving the corners of the field for the hungry to come and eat, and guidelines to take care of ourselves, each other, and the environment. It starts with the commandment, “You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy.” And what does this commandment mean? How can we hope to live up to God’s holiness? 
Maimonides, who had a lot to say about how to properly repent and be holy and mark these days of awe, suggests that we must emulate specifically the 13 attributes of mercy that have become a piece of the High Holy Day liturgy: “The Lord! The Lord! God, Compassionate and Gracious, Slow to anger and Abundant in Kindness and Truth, Preserver of kindness for thousands of generations, Forgiver of iniquity, willful sin, and error, and Who Cleanses (but does not cleanse completely, recalling the iniquity of parents upon children and grandchildren, to the third and fourth generations)”. 
If we are compassionate and gracious, slow to anger and abundant in kindness, if we are honest, forgive those who hurt us and apologize to those we hurt, we learn to walk in the holy ways of God. In doing so, we not only make ourselves holy for God, we help create a holy community, a kehillah kedosha, for those around us. Creating holiness within ourselves and our communities is an important step toward tikkun olam, and transforming these traits into actionable change for the world. 
As the Gates of Repentance start to close this evening, may we find the strength for the coming year to emulate the Holy One and embody the mercy that leads to holiness on earth, for ourselves, for our friends, family, and community, and for the world. 

Yom Kippur

    Good Yontif. We gather here once a year to fast and pray and beat our chests and stand as a community to cleanse our souls. We stand as our ancestors stood at Sinai, and as they stood before Moses throughout much of the rest of the Torah and their wandering through the wilderness. The words I read from the Torah today, “Atem Nitzavim Hayom Kulchem” translate to, “You are all standing here today,” and then Moses goes on to explain to all the people of Israel how they are equal in access and in responsibility. The Torah belongs to all of them, to cherish and to guide their lives, and for them to care for and obey. All stood together to receive it, and now they all stand together to embrace it as they are about to enter the Promised Land.

    The word “nitzavim,” however is not the usual Hebrew word for standing. The common word is Omed or you may recognize the variation Amidah, as we sometimes call the core set of blessings we stand through. So why “nitzavim” here? Rabbi Nelly Altenburger suggests that where Omed has the connotation of standing casually, implied to move at any moment, nitzavim means to stand firm or to be stuck in one spot. Standing firm could be a good thing. It is important to stand by one’s principles. But to be stuck in one spot is another thing entirely. Sometimes we get rooted to a spot, and stick firm to it simply because change is scary. If we are nitzavim, are we ready to do teshuvah, to return? Returning requires movement, and a swallowing of the pride and fear that has led us astray in the first place. But the root for teshuvah, “shuv,” returning, appears in the Parashat Nitzavim 7 times, which allows us to have hope that even when we feel rooted, we are able to make necessary changes. After all, trees are rooted, and they are able to bend and sway in the wind. To withstand this world, that’s what it takes.

    Altenburger then offers three obstacles or excuses that often stand in the way of doing teshuvah to those that are nitzavim: “This is who I am”, “I was raised this way,” and “Change is too much work.” Our great rabbi of the 12 century, Maimonides, tells us that certain personality traits are innate, while others are learned. He also hints at the idea the the Musar teachers I spoke about on Rosh HaShanah took a bit further: that every disposition has an equal and opposite disposition, and none of us are very good at holding moderate or balanced traits. He does suggest, however, that we can temper these traits through careful self-reflection and hard work. In his own way, Maimonides taught the path to the Middle Way, as the Buddha would call it. That it is possible to train one’s body to only desire what it truly needs, to study and meditate and look inward to find true meaning and spiritual sustenance, and in doing so we can find the equilibrium in our temperaments in order to ease the difficulties of change. Though this in itself requires change, and is difficult, it is the most important first step to learning to avoid other missteps that will cause real harm to ourselves or others. As will all things we confess to on Yom Kippur, these truths can apply on a personal scale, a communal scale, and a worldwide scale.

This year, the U.S. has accepted the lowest number of refugees than it has in 40 years. According to the UN, there are more than 65 million refugees in the world, fleeing from war, famine, drought, other natural disasters, and genocide. Historically, the U.S. has had the highest rates of refugee resettlement in the world, and I know many of us in this room would not be here if our parents, grandparents, or great-grandparents were not granted asylum here when fleeing from the pogroms or the Holocaust or any other number of events in history that created Jewish refugees. Now, as the cap is cut by more than half, it remains to be seen if we can wear that badge of honor this year.

    There may be many reasons not to accept refugees, reflecting Altenburger’s boulders to change

“This is who I am” - this first boulder does not have to be true, but it’s certainly not untrue. Accepting refugees has been a part of who America was at times in history, and turning them away to almost certain death has also been who America was at times. This was who America was when the Asiatic Barred Zone Act prohibited any and all immigration from the entire Asian continent, including the Middle East, India, and many of the Pacific Islands. This was who America was when it turned back the St. Louis. But it's not who America was when it let in my great-grandparents fleeing from the czar and it’s not who it was even last year, when it allowed nearly four times as many refugees as the next leading countries.  

“This is how I was raised” - this is very similar to the first boulder. The founding of this nation was very much built on exclusionary practices, limiting or controlling the immigrations and settlements of certain populations, only allowing rights to certain types of people. But again, this has not always been who we are and it doesn’t have to be who we are in the future. The founders were also seeking religious and financial freedom, and established a set of law that allowed itself to be amended to the changing times in which we live. That is what has enabled us to be the light of peace to so many refugees in recent years. These limitations may be reflective of certain points of our history, but they don’t have to be the embodiment of American values.

“Change is hard”  - any and all change is hard. The more diverse America becomes, the more new customs people have to adapt to. The more crowded our cities get, the more certain other populations see displacement. Resettlement of populations is expensive and complicated and takes a lot of work from a lot of people, including but not limited to those seeking new lives. But this is all also true of young white middle class professionals moving into Flatbush and Oakland and Anacostia. People move. Populations integrate. This has been true since the first homo sapiens and the neanderthals interacted and has continued to be true through every epoch in history, though the ease of and reasons for migration of course have been varied greatly in each period and for each population.

And of course, none of these standard obstacles to change actually address the main reason for limiting refugees and immigrants: fear. Whether caused by xenophobia or serious concerns for security, there is a lot of fear around letting in masses of new people. But the reality is that refugees are the most vetted people in the country. Obviously more so than those born and raised here, and often more so than than even other immigrants or visitors. They are thoroughly screened before being resettled into new places and only allowed in if they can be determined to pose no danger. Though fear is legitimate feeling and cannot simply be brushed off, the reality is, refugees are really not a threat to us. Barring them is a threat to our values. This is why organizations like HIAS exist. HIAS used to be known as the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society and had been known for a tagline, “We used to help refugees because they were Jews. Now we do it because we are Jews.” Since they now work with so many immigrants and refugees who are not “Hebrews”, they exclusively go by their acronym these days. Their current mission statement is “Guided by Jewish values and experience, HIAS is working to address the global refugee crisis.  We protect refugees and displaced persons throughout the world, helping them to build new lives in safety and with dignity. Why? Because as long as there are still places where it is a crime to be who you are, we have a mandate to be who we are.” They help provide information for people and communities who are unsure of where to stand on the refugee crises and they offer material aid to the refugees seeking asylum through resettlement help here in this country, legal assistance and care for those awaiting admittance into the country from international refugee camps, and they provide tools for advocacy and policy changes to help keep the U.S. refugee-friendly.

We as American Jews who know what it is to be kicked out of nearly every country and who have found safe haven in the U.S. can be among the nitzavim - standing firm in our values for equality, for welcoming the stranger, for seeing their inherent value in every human life. We can also be fomed - on our feet ready to move for practical changes that allow for us to better live out our Jewish values.

This Yom Kippur, as we cleanse our souls, forgive those who trespass against us and hope they do the same for us, let us open our doors and our hearts further to others. May this be a year of health and safety, freedom and dignity to all people, in our community, in our country, in our world. Amen and g’mar chatimah tovah.