I am spending much of my summer thinking about the purpose of public prayer. What do we hope to accomplish when we come together and engage in worship?
As part of my summer reading, I just finished “The Art of Public Prayer” by Rabbi Lawrence Hoffman (which is much more interesting than the dry title would imply). For Hoffman, one of my favorite teachers as a Wexner fellow, public prayer connects us to our past, enriches our present, and directs our future. Communal prayer reminds us that in our past our people were slaves in Egypt and a wandering tribe, and that memory informs our lives today. Our present lives are both enriched by our connection to those with whom we are praying and grounded by our awareness of God/Oneness/Source of Life. And our future, the world that we hope to bring about, is made real through our actions which are shaped by our past and our present.
At the end of June my mother turned 80. Our multiple generations gathered from across the country to celebrate my mother and her vibrant spirit. To paraphrase Abraham Joshua Heschel, my mother “prays with her feet.” Not much of a shul-goers an adult, she grew up in a synagogue full of form but bereft of spiritual content. She has spent much of her life protesting for change to create a more equitable world. From women’s rights and Vietnam to El Salvador and disability rights, my mom is either marching in the crowd or writing letters to the editor stating her views. I am my mother’s daughter, but in this arena of spiritual practice, she takes the lead.
As our family gathered to enjoy the warmth of each other’s company, to welcome in the sabbath, and to share our lives, we were acutely aware that not far away, protests were occurring against the current administrations’ immigration policy, that other families were torn apart and not together. Sitting on the couch in our vacation home grousing didn’t seem to be enough and so as a family, we chose action. We drove 20 miles and joined the protests in Watsonville, a small farming community nearby. It was a powerful moment for all of us. To know that we were standing up for what we believe, as a family, with our parents and grandparents, our children and grandchildren, our cousins, and our brothers and sisters. It was a moment where you could see that the lessons and values of one generation had been passed to the next, and now the torch was burning to light the way for the youngest in our family. M’dor l’dor – from generation to generation.
If public prayer reminds us our past and where we came from; if it enriches our present as we encounter community and Oneness; and if informs our future as we build a better world; then my family spent that Shabbat morning publicly praying in Watsonville, praying with our feet.
May the memory of our past, and the warmth of our community in the present, help us to build the world of our future, the world to come.
As part of my rabbinic training I am learning to deepen my daily prayer practice. My initial motivation was the graduation requirement to be fluent and facile in our understanding of the services and to be comfortable in leading them. As I grow in my understanding of the components of prayer, I see that the service takes one on a journey. Most often these days, from the time I rise, make my way to BART and stand on the platform waiting for the train, I internally engage in Shacharit, the morning service. My morning begins with gratitude that I awoke; awareness that each day is full of potential and thus one has the responsibility to do good in the world; and acknowledgement that there is a power that nurtures and directs all things (some would say God).
Initially I was wary of embarking on this prayer journey. After all, I am a rational woman with my feet grounded in science. How could I find meaning in this mandatory endeavor? As I have become more familiar with the words on the page, as the Hebrew has morphed from just sounds which I struggled to enunciate, to words with meaning, I have begun to recognize the signposts of the prayer journey. The path through the service has become comforting and profound. Much to my surprise, the words and the concepts have begun to resonate… bein yom oovein laila (who gives the heart understanding to distinguish day from night…Shema (Listen Israel, everything is One)…v’natati esev b’sadcha (the rain will fall, or it won’t because our actions have consequences)… honen deah (You grace humanity with knowledge and teach mortals understanding). The service has come alive for me in ways unexpected, meaningful in a profoundly personal way.
In the morning service on many days we recite is a section entitled “Tahanun,” supplications. Until now I generally have dismissed this section as just another thing to get through… but the translation “supplications/pleadings” does a disservice to the immediacy of the endeavor. Behind this lofty language is the opportunity to express what we personally need in our lives now. For example, it may sound trite, and I acknowledge that this is “a first world problem,” but my morning commute gives me a lot of stress. Every day from the moment I open my eyes to the time I board the train, I worry I won’t find a parking place and I won’t get a seat. Today, after these thoughts ran through my mind, happily and surprisingly, I found an open spot on the street as close as possible. And as I stood this morning on the BART platform, thinking “please may I get a seat for the hour journey into SF,” I realized that I was actually pleading to the powers that be for something that I needed in the moment. Tahanun came alive for me.
As I grow in my comfort with personal prayer and my skills at leading community services, both are profoundly meaningful to me and I feel blessed to share this journey with you. (And yes, I did get a seat on the train this morning!).
I spend a lot of time in my car between San Ramon and Los Angeles. Lately I’ve been listening to the podcast Judaism Unbound. Judaism Unbound explores out-of-the-box thinking about what is working and what is not and where the Jewish community is headed. Their first guest was Rabbi Benay Lappe who spoke about the way people react when the structure around them (in this case institutional Jewish life) no longer works for them. According to Rabbi Lappe, people have 3 options – they can stay, they can leave, or adapt or innovate to create something that does work. I fit into the third category.
For years, since my kids went off to college, most Friday nights you will find our family gathered to light Shabbat candles and to share our week. This might not be so unusual in some circles but for the fact that one son lives in Irvine, one in Vermont, my father and step-mom are in Idaho and we live in Northern California. Come sundown and 7:30 PST we all gather via Zoom technology, on our computers, as a family. We sing, we bless, we eat, we laugh. Our pets meow and bark and we create special, sacred time. We could let the distance get the better of us and we could drift apart but using the structure of Shabbat, we are strengthening our connection as a family and experiencing a time-honored Jewish ritual.
Judaism Unbound asserts that in today’s Jewish world our focus should be on the quality of our interactions; rather than how big our congregations are. They observe that it seems to many that to lead an authentic Jewish life you must buy into the “whole package” – to do every ritual and every prayer. But their point is that we can be “unbounded’ from this notion and “unbundle” the different elements of the package. We can do the things that are relevant and meaningful in our lives, and not focus on what is not.
There are some who say that we shouldn’t be using computers on Shabbat, and others who might take umbrage with the cats and dogs in the background, and others who for whatever reason say that our Shabbat gathering doesn’t work, but this works for us. It infuses our lives with connection to each other, with connection to our family’s history and our family’s future, as well as with ideas of creating sacred Jewish space. And it is no small thing that on a Friday night, my 27-year old son chooses to light Shabbat candles, to mark Jewish time, before he does whatever a single 27-year old does on a Friday night.
With age and experience comes understanding. It used to sound cliché but now I really understand the expression “The Jews don’t keep the Shabbat; the Shabbat keeps the Jews” because it is my reality.
Wishing you all a Happy Passover filled with food, friends and family,
How do we bring Jewish ideas and ethics off our bookshelves and make them come alive to inspire our lives today? Sometimes inspiration comes from left field when you least expect it. Inspiration takes you out of your normal status quo and beckons you to try something new. And, if you combine your inspiration with a bit of whimsy, you get something really special.
As you may have gathered from the repeating food references in my writing, I love to cook, and I love to bring my friends and community together under the umbrella of Jewish life and values. I have been traveling a lot and so with an open Friday night at home, we decided to invite over a couple, of which the wife is a ceramicist. She commented to me that she is finishing up a piece based on the Sephardic Jewish philosopher Maimonides, that she created for a mutual friend who really is taken by him. As it happens, a third friend and I have both been reading the same biography of Maimonides. What are the odds that besides me, three of my friends would be aware of and interested in Maimonides at the same time? Very, very, verysmall.
Maimonides (Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon, also known as the Rambam) was born in Spain around 1135. Maimonides was a renaissance man, extremely learned and well-read, he was “one of the most prolific and influential Torah scholars of the Middle Ages (Wikipedia).” He wrote a magnum opus, the Mishneh Torah, which distilled the oral tradition into the essence of the ideas presented and provided a comprehensive “how to” manual for Jewish life. The Mishneh Torah continues to be studied today, almost 1000 years later.
With this weird convergence of interest in this great scholar, our small Shabbat dinner morphed into an ode to him with the meal inspired by the physical journey of his life. Forced to flee from Spain, Maimonides made his way to Fez, Morocco; Jerusalem; and to Egypt, first to Alexandria, and finally to Fustat which is now modern-day Cairo. In his honor, we are having appetizers from Spain, a starter course from Morocco, the main dish from Jerusalem, and dessert from Egypt. And while I am sure the food will be delicious, I am most excited about the conversation that will flow. In addition to talking about our children and how the Warriors are doing, Maimonides will come alive at our Shabbat table. I imagine that it would please him to know that he is the honored guest after 1000 years.
So next time you are inspired to have friends over, throw in some whimsy and invite a Jewish scholar who has been dead for almost a 1000 years. The past will come alive and your present will be richer for it.
Our Torah portion this Shabbat was Trumah. Trumah is often taken as “to contribute” but the root of the word is reysh-vav-mem which means “to elevate.” The contributions given in our portion were used to build a sanctuary so that God could dwell among people. The process of building the sanctuary brought the people together for a unified purpose to create the society in which they wanted to live. We must follow their example. We each have the power to change the world in which we live. With our voices. With our votes. Silence is complacency.
Wednesday our country suffered the 18th school shooting in 46 days. We in Las Vegas know too well the pain and suffering of this event to be silent.
Yesterday, Rabbi Joe Black of Temple Emanuel in Denver read the following opening prayer Colorado State House in the aftermath of the tragedy.
Our God and God of all people, God of the Rich and God of the poor. God of the teacher and God of the student. God of the families who wait in horror.
God of the dispatcher who hears screams of terror from under bloodied desks. God of the first responder who bravely creeps through ravaged hallways. God of the doctor who treats the wounded.
God of the rabbi, pastor, imam or priest who seeks words of comfort but comes up empty.
God of the young boy who sees his classmates die in front of him.
God of the weeping, raging, inconsolable mother who screams at the sight of her child’s lifeless body .
God of the shattered communities torn apart by senseless violence.
God of the legislators paralyzed by fear, partisanship, money and undue influence.
God of the Right. God of the Left.
God who hears our prayers. God who does not answer.
On this tragic day when we confront the aftermath of the 18th School shooting in our nation on the 46th day of this year, I do not feel like praying.
Our prayers have not stopped the bullets. Our prayers have changed nothing.
Once again, a disturbed man with easy access to a death machine has squinted through the sights of a weapon, aimed, squeezed a trigger and taken out his depraved anger, pain and frustration on innocents: pure souls. Students and teachers. Brothers and sisters. Mothers and fathers- cut down in an instant by the power of hatred and technology.
We are guilty, O God. We are guilty of inaction. We are guilty of complacency.
We are guilty of allowing ourselves to be paralyzed by politics. The blood of our children cries out from the ground. The blood of police officers cut down in the line of duty flows through our streets.
I do not appeal to You on this terrible morning to change us. We can only do that ourselves.
Our enemies do not come only from far away places. The monsters we fear live among us.
May those in this room who have the power to to make change find the courage to seek a pathway to sanity and hope.
May we hold ourselves and our leaders accountable. Only then will our prayers be worthy of an answer.
There was no cocktail hour, no chicken dinner, no teary-eyed mothers and fathers, and no beaming grandparents. But this was a grand Jewish wedding celebration, which took nine months to plan, in one of the largest synagogues in the United States.
Three couples, each denied Jewish wedding ceremonies in Israel for various reasons, were married on Dec. 3 in a ceremony at Temple Emanu-El in Manhattan.
Gady Levy, the executive director of the Temple Emanu-El Streicker Center, and Rabbi Joshua Davidson, the senior rabbi at the temple, began planning the event last March. “We met with people from the Israel Religious Action Center in Israel to find a way to make a change in the marriage laws there, and we decided that having a real wedding in New York was the way,” Mr. Levy said.
In order to produce the wedding, Mr. Levy said with a smile, “I became a part-time wedding planner.” The event he arranged was a stunner: Three couples were married in a traditional ceremony with klezmer music, violins, flowers, white wedding dresses and cupcakes. It was an event he called “Three Weddings and a Statement.”
The festivities started at the Friday evening service at Temple Emanu-El, where Rabbi Davidson spoke, beginning the pre-wedding ceremony for the couples with a traditional blessing.
“We love Israel and wish it to be the spiritual homeland for all Jews,” he said. “We wish for all Jews and non-Jews alike to be treated equally there. The events this weekend are about religious and civil liberties in Israel.”
The three couples had no bridesmaids, no groomsmen, no parents attending. But there were more than 1,300 guests, six rabbis leading the ceremony and about 40 more who stood with them to bless the newlyweds at the closing of the Sunday wedding ceremony.
It was produced flawlessly, like good theater, set in the sanctuary of the Romanesque Revival building with its 60 stained-glass windows and an altar built of marble flanked by sturdy columns of golden mosaics that soar. It might have seemed like theater (tickets, which were free, were needed for admission), but the message and the messengers were very serious.
Since there is no separation of church and state in Israel, there is no going to city hall to be married. And for a Jewish wedding in Israel, a couple must fulfill the Orthodox rules of marriage. Those rules include the fact that same-sex unions are not permitted; the acquisition whereby the groom pays a bride price as is reflected in the wording of the traditional marriage contract (ketubah); and if the marriage does not work out, only the man is allowed to initiate a divorce.
However, in New York City any couple, gay or straight, may obtain a marriage license; have a legal, civil ceremony; or ask a rabbi or other person who is certified to sign the license.
And so, there in the huge, majestic Emanu-El sanctuary, under a wedding canopy, and dressed in a strapless wedding gown designed by Danielle Caprese, stood Ori Berwald Shaer, 30, ready to marry her best friend and the love of her life, Alona Livneh, 26, who wore a blue pantsuit and a pink bow tie. Both women, who live in Tel Aviv, are activists in the gay and lesbian community in Israel.
The couple arrived in Manhattan on Friday morning, went to City Hall — where they obtained a marriage license in 30 minutes — and were off to find a wedding dress for Ms. Shaer to wear. (Kleinfeld Bridal donated the three wedding dresses.)
“The ease of getting a marriage license here was very exciting,” Ms. Shaer said.
Ms. Livneh said: “The dream is to get married in Israel, in our language, in our culture, with our family and friends. But with that not being possible we’re going with the next best option.”
Dani Dayan, the consul general of Israel in New York, said in a text message that it is “no secret many members of the American Jewish community disagree with existing Israeli legislation on civil status issues. Israelis pay serious attention to the positions of our brethren across the Atlantic, and ultimately the Israeli Knesset — elected democratically by the Israeli citizens — legislates. I wish a heartfelt Mazel Tov to the couples married today in New York.”
(The Israeli Ministry of Religious Services and the Chief Rabbinate in Israel did not respond to a request to comment about the event.)
But legally recognized weddings abroad — whether civil, or any other form — are recognized by the Interior Ministry for the purposes of being registered as a married couple in Israel.
Gali Geberovich, 29, and Alon Sela, 30, met seven years ago on a kibbutz. Both finished their military service and were working, without pay, he in a cowshed, she in a factory.
“We smelled really bad after a day of work, but it was very romantic,” Ms. Geberovich said. They now live in Tel Aviv, where she works for the reform movement while studying for a master’s degree in Jewish education at Hebrew University in Jerusalem, and Mr. Sela is an analyst in an investment banking consulting firm with an interest in high technology and renewable energy.
“We didn’t want any ceremony that doesn’t reflect our beliefs and values as a couple,” Ms. Geberovich said. “We have a really respectful and equal relationship, and the ceremony of the Orthodox does not reflect it.
“We didn’t want to use our privilege and be part of an institution that doesn’t recognize other couples. We have in our family, we have our friends, same-gender couples and they don’t have the right to get married and it’s unbelievable. And also, I didn’t want to be part of that institution.”
For Valentine Boldovsky, 29, and Elizabetha Komkov, 27, students at the Technion in Haifa, a wedding in the United States was also a solution to a spiritual problem they have in Israel, a country they both emigrated to with their families for reasons of oppression where they were born.
Ms. Komkov and Mr. Boldovsky, both born in St. Petersburg, Russia, met as young teenagers at a Jewish Sunday school run by the Jewish Agency in St. Petersburg. Both families immigrated to Israel; hers in 2004, his in 2005. The two had lost track of each other but became reacquainted five years ago on Facebook.
Even though Ms. Komkov was raised in a Jewish family, she decided to convert in Israel with a reform rabbi in order to have proof of her Jewishness. She did not have proof, she said, because her maternal grandmother was given to a Christian family during Stalin’s time in Russia, when many Jewish families were persecuted. Therefore, Ms. Komkov had no documents to prove maternal religious heritage. A reform conversion is not recognized by the strictly Orthodox religious authorities in Israel.
Mr. Boldovsky said, “It’s really important for Liza to bring this heritage and the memory of her grandmother.”
He said that because Ms. Komkov is not considered Jewish enough for the Orthodox rabbinate in Israel they wanted to make a statement. “So someone will hear it, so people will pay attention, so they will know that there is a problem,” he said. “And that this problem will not go on for our children and so on and so on. I’m not separating the marriage from the political aspect, I am separating my vows to my wife from the political aspect, because it’s about love, not about any of this mess.”
On Sunday, before the ceremony, while guests were taking their seats in the sanctuary, a klezmer band led by Michael Winograd entertained the audience and set a joyful, foot-stomping mood.
Then at 11 a.m., as the ceremony was about to begin, 10 violinists strolled down the center aisle of the temple playing “Sunrise, Sunset” followed by “Erev Shel Shoshanim,” a Hebrew love song often played at weddings.
When the music ended, each couple entered from side aisles, one partner from each side, joining in the center to walk up the steps to the altar, taking their places under three wedding canopies that were on the stage. Each canopy had one of three words printed on the front: “Equality,” “Justice,” “Love.” Under each canopy were a couple and two rabbis, one female, one male.
The traditional ceremony included drinking wine from silver goblets, the chanting of the seven blessings by Cantor Mo Glazman of the temple and the breaking of glasses (both brides and grooms stepped on glasses, which is not traditional but served as a nod to feminism and equality; historically only the groom breaks a glass). Afterward, about 40 rabbis from all denominations, including Modern Orthodoxy, joined the couples on the stage for concluding prayers, songs and spirited circle dancing.
The klezmer band started up again as the now married couples happily pranced back up the center aisle to a loud, collective yell of “mazel tov” from the crowd.
And just outside the temple doors on Fifth Avenue, there were 1,400 white wedding cupcakes waiting, each with a tiny plastic solitaire ring atop the shiny frosting.
I am sitting on the BART train writing my sermon for yizkor on Yom Kippur. Yizkor, meaning “he will remember” is the service where we remember our loved ones who have passed away. Traditionally those who still have their parents do not stay for the service. And I have an admission to make… I am blessed that both my parents are alive and I have never been to a yizkor service. This is my first. And so, I ask myself, what can bring to this moment that won’t be trite or off the mark, coming from someone who has not had to confront that finality of death?
I am afraid of death. Not so much for myself but I have been afraid of losing my father for as long as I can remember. Perhaps it is a remnant of the loss that I experienced as a child of divorce but I don’t have the same inner voice of panic when I think about the other losses that, if life unfolds in the natural order of things, must come one day to those for whom I care deeply.
My parents are both at the stage where they are cognizant of their mortality. My father tells me “you live on through the good deeds you do while you are here on Earth”, and my mom tells me “the dead never leave you, it’s the living who move away.” My mom’s comment is a “glass half-full, half-empty” statement about independence, about the power of love, and the power of memory but it is true, the dead never leave you because they are a part of you. Both my parents are right. We are imprinted upon by those who came before us, good or bad. In studies of the brain, powerful events form physical imprints in the brain structure. While we cannot yet translate those imprints to reveal their secrets, we can see that they exist. And so, the memories of our departed really do live on in the minds (and bodies) of those whom they have touched.
I am not the first person to have grappled with the inevitability of loss or with what happens when we die. Do we simply cease? Do our souls continue while our body returns to the earth? Do we have souls? I have found comfort in several ideas that are a bit varied and perhaps unconventional in their sources.
I was a huge fan of the TV show Star Trek Voyager which has a lot of Jewish themes running through it. In one of my favorite episodes, the starship Voyager encounters a people who believe that when they die they will be transported to their moon, a sacred place which is situated within a band of rings that surround their planet. There, after their lives on the planet are completed, they will join their ancestors and live for eternity. As the Voyager crew explores said moon, all they find are the mummified remains of the dead which have been transported from the surface below. The Voyager crew can see there is no afterlife, no eternity with relatives on the moon. Through a transporter mishap, one of Voyager crewmen, Harry Kim, lands on the planet and as the story unfolds, he tells the people on the planet what the Voyager crew now know – that when the inhabitants of the planet die, there is no afterlife with their relatives as their tradition teaches. This knowledge challenges and threatens the way of life on the planet. The ruling powers do not want this knowledge to get out and they try to kill Harry. Ultimately Harry trades places with someone who is about to die and he escapes taking the knowledge of what really happens on the moon with him. Harry survives and the way of life on the planet is preserved. As the Voyager crew is getting ready to leave the planet, they analyze the rings that surround the planet of which the moon is a part, and they find that they have an unexplainable bio-energy signature. They find that rings are alive and they themselves house the energy of those who have died, and this energy in turn is nurturing the planet. I love this story. It incorporates the mystery of what happens when we die with the possibility that our desire to live and to be in contact with our loved ones who came before us, may be a reality.
Jewish tradition has a strong vision of a soul that is separate from the body. Jewish practice in burial rites recognizes this and respects the soul’s process of departing from the physical world. An example would be that after a person has died but before the body has been buried, it is not permitted for the attendants or mourners to eat, drink or perform a mitzvah in the presence of the dead. To do so would be considered mocking the dead because the dead can no longer do these things, and until the departed is buried, there is a sense that the soul is still “hanging around.”
This idea that the soul, or the life energy remains for some period, can be found in the Jewish Kabbalistic mystical idea of רצו ושוב. Ratzo V’Shov is a Chassidic term; literally meaning “run and return.” Ratzo is a state of longing to cleave to G-d; the passionate desire of the soul to transcend its material existence, to “run forward” and cleave to its Source. Shov is the soul’s sober determination to “return” and fulfill its mission in the body, the resolve to live within the context of material and physical reality, based on the awareness that this is G-d’s ultimate intent. In the Voyager story, the souls of the people on the planet longed to cleave to their source, to the energy and souls of their ancestors who now resided in the planets’ rings… and the souls of the ancestors were determined to return, to fulfill their mission to the body and to nurture and infuse the planet.
The idea that we are a part of a closed system of energy that recycles itself is not new. I found the following reading intriguing from Aaron Freeman, as heard on National Public Radio. “You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.
And at one point you’d hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him/her that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let him/her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her/his eyes, that those photons created within her/him constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.
And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.
And you’ll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they’ll be comforted to know your energy’s still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you’re just less orderly.”
Today as I look out from the bima, I see friends and family. My mother is here and so is one of my sons. It is a beautiful thing to see your children grow and flourish and become adults. And as they do, I look in the mirror and I can see the passage of time. Each time I look in the mirror, more and more I see the face of my mother looking back at me. And when I see my mother drive up to my house, more and more I am struck by how much she resembles my grandmother. We can’t stop the passage of time. It is an on-going cycle of renewing and recycling of which we an integral part.
And so now, when I think about the inevitable, I am less afraid. I am comforted by the knowledge that we really do live on in the good deeds that we do on earth, and the memories of those whom we have impacted; that we are part of a closed system that recycles itself; and that “according to the law of conservation of energy, that when death comes, not a bit of me will be gone; I will simply be less orderly.”
G’mar hatimah tovah – may you be sealed for a good year.
If you are looking for something different for the upcoming High Holidays, please join me and Congregation P’nai Tikvah in Las Vegas where I will be co-leading the services.
High Holidays – Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur
High Holiday Services and Programs – A sweet New Year is sweeter WITH YOU! The High Holidays are just around the corner. Join us for our profound, meaningful Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur Services. We offer our services for FREE, to the public, but deeply appreciate your optional donations so that we can continue to serve the community with our religious and educational programs.
Featuring: Rabbi Yocheved Mintz, Cantor Marla Goldberg, and Rabbinic Intern Jamie Hyams, along with the Congregation’s choir “Voices of Hope” under the direction of Dr. Ellen Royer with musical accompaniment by William Chenoweth for a deeply spiritual, reflective, and meaningful program. Jeremy Woolstenhume, cellist with the LV Philharmonic and the orchestra director for Hyde Park Middle School will accompany the religious services on Kol Nidre.
P’nai Tikvah translates as “Faces of Hope.” Serving the broad Las Vegas Jewish Community (we have members from Henderson, Green Valley, Summerlin, North Las Vegas, and greater Las Vegas), Congregation P’nai Tikvah is a warm, welcoming spiritual home for all who are seeking a meaningful Jewish life—blending creativity and innovation with tradition.
With a foundation deriving practice from the progressive Reconstructionist and Renewal movements, Judaism is seen as an evolving civilization—a relevant, meaningful way of life that is rich with tradition—where the past has a vote, but not a veto.
Join with the Congregation Beth Emek Sisterhood for an evening exploring women’s rituals to support the modern lives we lead today. What is different today from the past that has led to the need for something new? We will consider rituals for weddings, adoption, miscarriage, fertility and abortion. How and why are these new rituals created and what is the thinking behind them?
When: Thursday, October 19th, 2017
Where: At a private home in San Ramon. Ping me for the address and to RSVP.
Who: This women’s evening is sponsored by the Beth Emek Sisterhood. There is no charge to attend and you do not have to be a Beth Emek member.
Learning and discussion will be led by Jamie Hyams. Jamie is a third-year rabbinical student at the Academy of Jewish Religion in Los Angeles and she serves as the Rabbinic Intern at Congregation P’nai Tikvah in Las Vegas.
‘But do Israelis even care?” asked my friend, a leader of an international Jewish organization, on Monday.
It was the day after Diaspora Jews had learned that, once again, the prime minister had slapped them in the face and had broken his word. In response to haredi pressure, he refused to block legislation that would grant all authority regarding conversions to the Chief Rabbinate (which detests non-Orthodox Judaism) and was freezing plans to dedicate a pluralistic prayer pavilion at the Western Wall, where Reform and Conservative men and women could pray together. Both of these moves were cowardly steps by a prime minister who was, as always, loyal to the one principle that always animates him – that principle being his own political survival. They were moves that people like Natan Sharansky had begged the prime minister not to take. Sharansky understood the rupture this would cause in the Jewish world. But the prime minister doesn’t care about the Jewish people nearly as much as he cares about himself.
Employing his now characteristic obfuscation, Bibi will insist that this is just a delay and that construction on the promised space will continue. His health minister (whom he appointed), however, was more honest. Ya’acov Litzman minced no words, saying that the cabinet’s decision “sends a clear message to the entire world that Reform Judaism does not and will not have access or recognition at the Western Wall.”
Do Israelis care? Not one little bit.
The vast majority have no idea what Reform Judaism is. They know little about any non-Orthodox form of Judaism. Most also have little regard for religious pluralism, a value that most American Jews see as fundamental to a decent, democratic society. Whatever Bibi has done, they say, is a problem for American Jews. They are wrong. It is a problem for the Jewish people.
So, if American Jews want to win (and preserve Israel as the nation-state of the entire Jewish people at the same time), they have to make this Israelis’ problem. They have to create a coalition crisis larger than anything Litzman can precipitate.
How? Here, with apologies to Jonathan Swift, is a modest proposal.
First, it is time to educate the Israeli public about the values of pluralism and Jewish peoplehood. One person needs to pick up the phone and in 45 minutes raise $10 million (it would take less than 45 minutes) to give to leaders like Rabbi Benny Lau and Rabbi Shlomo Riskin, Orthodox rabbis who understand pluralism and value Jewish peoplehood.
They should be told that the money is theirs to use to promote their vision of Judaism. Billboards. Signs on buses. Educational materials distributed everywhere.
Television appearances. Radio.
Support for their own students who can join the chorus. And, they should be told, when that money is used up, there will be more forthcoming.
Then, Netanyahu, his party and anyone in his coalition must become toxic.
No meetings with American Jews, not in Israel and not in the US. Delegations that would normally meet with him should stop. Israel’s consuls-general in the US should be shunned and disinvited. Birthright mega-events? Netanyahu (and Naftali Bennett, who cleverly managed not to be present for the vote) should be disinvited. Can’t be done? Then cancel the event.
Ultimately, though, if American Jews cannot use financial pressure, they cannot create a coalition crisis, and they will lose. There has to be a price to having appointed Litzman to the Health Ministry. Israeli hospitals survive in part thanks to American Jewish philanthropy. The flow of money should stop. Meetings with hospitals’ fund-raisers should be canceled.
The hospitals did nothing wrong, but when they start running out of money, Israelis will start to care. That is the kind of coalition crisis the prime minister does not want. You don’t feel comfortable doing that? That’s fine and decent. So prepare to lose.
Don’t forget El Al.
The last thing that American Jews should do is to sever their relationship with Israel. To make it clear that they are committed to the Jewish state and that it is this prime minister and his government that they detest, they should come to Israel now more than ever before. En masse. But not on El Al.
They should cancel every El Al ticket they have already purchased and fly United or Delta.
Why? Isn’t El Al a private airline? Yes, but it is critical to Israel’s security, and Israel cannot afford to let it fail. El Al survives on a thin margin; American Jews shunning it for half a year could break it. There will be layoffs, terror in the industry. Netanyahu will have a massive problem.
Then, Israelis will care. When their hospitals (which are also my hospitals, I hasten to note) begin to falter, when their airline faces bankruptcy, when their prime minister is a publicly humiliated pariah, Israelis will begin to notice and will start to care. Only then will American Jews and the religious pluralism they represent have a chance of winning. Only then, actually, will a decent (non-haredi) Judaism in Israel have a chance of winning.
Are American Jews sufficiently united to pull this off? It’s hard to know. Do they have the stomach to play hardball? I doubt it. But this is the Middle East, and that’s how things work here.
American Jews have to decide whether they want to complain, or they want to win – and in so doing remind Israel that it is the state of all the world’s Jews. Those are two entirely different enterprises.
The writer is the Koret Distinguished Fellow at Jerusalem’s Shalem College. His book Israel: A Concise History of a Nation Reborn received the National Jewish Book Award as the 2016 Book of the Year.