Greatness in Small Things * Rosh HaShanah 5780

Rabbi Joel M. Levenson, DMin

“From a distance, the world seems like a big, bad, scary place. If you listen to the news, or even ask the person next to you, they will likely talk about war, poverty, corruption, and hate. And they are right, from a distance. But I believe that up close there is enough good, enough love, and enough pure kindness to make the world go round.”

These are the words that open each episode of The Kindness Diaries, a series on Netflix that chronicles a man’s trip around the world — a trip about kindness, generosity, and the human spirit, and he meets people doing small, but great things.

In a world where so much is out of our control – how does doing one small thing make a big impact? 

Today I want to talk about how to appreciate the greatness in small things.

Today I want to consider the heroism of ordinary people trying to do what life demands of them in a world that doesn’t always make it easy, sometimes almost impossible, but never failing to make the effort, achieving greatness by doing small things.

Ordinary people showing extraordinary courage, extraordinary devotion, extraordinary generosity, extraordinary willingness to forgive.  

I believe that it is in these moments we can see the face of God.

I believe in God, not because of philosophical arguments.

I believe in God because I am constantly seeing people asked to do things that they fear are too hard for them to do, asked to come up with qualities of soul that they are not sure they possess.  

And from some source beyond themselves, in a way they will never be able to understand or explain, they do it. 

They persevere. 

You have taught me that.  

I’ve seen you asked to deal with illness, your own or that of someone you love.

I’ve seen you compelled to deal with loss, -- bereavement, betrayal, diminished income. You said to me, “I don’t know if I can handle this,” and I said to you, “You have a choice here.”

And you tried because you really believed you had no other choice, and you found out that you could do more than you ever thought you could.

Greatness in small things, ordinary people doing difficult things that the moment demands of us, showing a depth of character one might not have expected they were capable of.  

I want to focus this morning on one biblical character who exemplifies that miraculous quality, the ability of an ordinary person to do great things in small ways.

It’s hard to imagine a major biblical figure remaining nearly anonymous, to the point where we don’t really know much about him, but that seems to be the case with the person I have in mind.  

He is the central character of our Rosh HaShanah Torah readings, yet nobody ever talks about him.

I’m speaking of Abraham’s son Isaac.  

This morning’s reading was all about his birth, but the Torah narrative keeps talking about everybody else except him.  It keeps talking about Abraham, Sarah, Hagar, Ishmael. 

Tomorrow’s reading is about how he almost got killed.  The story is referred to as Akedat Yitzhak, the Binding and Near Sacrifice of Isaac, but when we talk about the story, we never talk about Isaac.

We talk about Abraham, should he have obeyed God’s command?   Should he have protested?  

We talk about God, how could God have demanded such a thing?  

Or maybe we talk about Sarah, how did she respond when she found about it?  

The one person we never talk about is the person whose life was at stake, Isaac the anonymous patriarch. 

When it’s time for him to get married, he doesn’t take a wife for himself the way every other man in the Bible does.  His father finds him a wife.  

In the space of just a few verses, he goes from being the son of Abraham to being the father of Jacob and Esau, with hardly a thought given to who he is. 

And yet, Isaac does some remarkable things, things in which he can be more of a role model for us than either his father Abraham or his son Jacob.

Rabbi Harold Kushner points out that there are at least three occasions in his life when he shows greatness in small things.  

The first has to do with laughter, making someone laugh.

The second has to do with forgiveness, forgiving his father for a mistake.

The third has to do with forgiving his children when they disappointed him.

The first case.  There is a verse in the Torah, at a time when Isaac and his wife Rebecca are house guests of the king of Gerar.  At one point, the king looks out the window V’hinei Yitzhak M’tahek et Rivka (Gen. 26:8).  

Now that verse is subject to a number of interpretations, but the simplest, most literal translation is “he saw Isaac making his wife Rebecca laugh.” 

Nobody else in the Bible does that.

There is nowhere else in the Bible where somebody tries to make somebody else feel good by making them laugh.  

Obviously we can’t tell at a distance of four thousand years what they were laughing about, whether they were sharing something funny or whether she was feeling sad and he was trying to cheer her up.  

There is not a whole lot of laughter in the Bible, and when it’s there, it is usually mocking laughter.  

But Isaac seems to care about how Rebecca feels.

Let me tell you from personal experience – if your spouse is upset or sad or frustrated, and you can find a way to her laugh, it’s priceless. 

Isaac is that rare person who appreciates the holiness of laughter,

its healing quality, its ability to connect people who had been separate until then.

And that’s not the only place.   Infertility is an ongoing theme in these patriarchal narratives.   

Every one of the patriarchal generations had to contend with it, but listen to what happens when Isaac and Rebecca find themselves childless. Vaye'etar  Yitzhak LaAdonai L’Nochach ishto ki akarah hi (Gen. 25:21), “Rebecca was childless and Isaac (without being asked) prayed for her, and she conceived.”  

That’s Isaac, the anonymous patriarch, the one nobody talks about, the one nobody gives sermons about, but he was the man who cared about making his wife laugh, he was the man who really listened to his wife and heard even the words she wasn’t speaking, the only biblical figure for whom his wife’s feelings were as important as his own.

It’s a very special thing to be able to put another person’s feelings, another person’s needs ahead of your own, to think of them first.  

I know this is easier said than done, but I know it intellectually and as father I try to model this for my own children. 

I’ll ask them to consider – why do you think your friend is upset?  What can you say or do to let them know you understand or just care how they feel?

Isaac has a lot more to teach us beyond the importance of taking other people’s feelings as seriously as we take our own.  

He does two more things that most of us, when we are called on to do them, find hard to do and they both qualify as greatness in small things. 

This brings me to the second case - he is able to forgive his father for all the things his father got wrong when he was raising him.

And we’re not talking about small things here, his father missing a ball game or a play he was in in high school.  

His father tried to kill him.  But Isaac was able to forgive him for that.  

We read that when Abraham died, both his sons,

Isaac whom he almost killed and Ishmael whom he virtually disowned, came together to bring him to his final rest with honor.  There is even a midrash suggesting that it was Isaac who persuaded Abraham to re-marry after Sarah died.

That is no small thing, to forgive your parents for their mistakes.

It is so human, so perversely satisfying at some level to blame and hold on to a grudge and so hard to let go of it. 

This summer I spoke with a woman after her father died. She told me, “I never loved my father.  He left the family when I was young and never sent us the money he was legally supposed to. My life would have been a lot better if I had had a real father when I was growing up.   I can’t think of a single reason why I should go to his  funeral or say Kaddish for him.”

I told her, “Let me try to give you one or two.  First, in your case, when you say Kaddish, you won’t be mourning the man who died because you miss him.  You’ll be saying Kaddish for the father you always wanted and never had, the relationship you yearned for and never had, and now it’s too late ever to have it. That’s the absence in your life that you’ll be grieving over.   And as far as the funeral goes, let me put it this way: If you attend and later feel that it was a mistake to go, you’ll feel badly for a short while, and the intensity of your pain will dissipate over time. If you stay away and later decide you should have gone, you’ll feel ache for the rest of your life.  You have a choice here.”

She didn’t come to the service.

            The probability is that in this congregation there are a number of families where grown children are estranged from their parents.  

They could probably make a good case for why the parents deserve it.

But for your sake and for theirs if they are still alive, it would mean so much to them and to you if you did what Isaac was able to do and bridge that gap.  

I can’t imagine your grievance is more serious than his.  

All it would take is a phone call wishing them a Good New Year. If you’re unsure about what to say or how to begin, tell them the Rabbi told you to do it.   And if they don’t appreciate it, that’s their loss.  

There is greatness in making the call, and at least you’ll know you did the right thing.  Greatness in small things.

And then there is one last act of quiet heroism that Isaac, this very ordinary, uncelebrated, unappreciated man, did.   This brings me to the third case -- he was able to forgive his children when they disappointed him.  

There is a passage in the Midrash which says that, on the Day of Judgment when all of us stand before God to answer for the things we did wrong, Isaac will be asked to plead Israel’s case as our defense attorney. 

              Isaac – the defense attorney for the Jewish people.  Why Isaac of all people?  

Because he will be able to say, “Master of the Universe, I had two children, Jacob and Esau.   One turned out to be a liar and one was a scoundrel, but they were my children and I was able to love them despite their faults. Can’t You do the same for your less-than-perfect children?”

We give our children life.  We feed them and nurture them and worry about them.

And then we send them out into the world.

But where is it written that, in exchange for what we’ve done, they have to spend their lives making our dreams come true?  

Why can’t they have their own dreams? And let them learn through their own mistakes.

Leora and I tried to let our kids follow their own interests when we had a few weeks this summer where our children were each doing different things – our 6^th grader was in cooking camp, our 5^th grader was at Yankee baseball camp, and our 3^rd grader literally ran off an joined the circus – iFlyTrapeeze camp. 

Where is it written that they have to fill in the gaps in our lives, living out our unfinished agendas instead of their own,         and passing our frustrations on to the next generation, like Cain becoming a tiller of the soil to make up to his parents Adam and Eve for the garden they had once had and lost, like Esau trying to gain his father’s love by being the hunter, the physically strong man his father yearned to be and never was? 

Can we accept the hard truth that they will be what they need to be, not what we need them to be?   

Can we accept the sometimes painful truth that our children will inevitably make the mistakes of youth, and when they do, our most helpful response should be Isaac’s response, to show them love rather than disappointment?  

Leora and I had a parenting light bulb moment when we heard the following lesson:  “When your kids are at their worst is when they NEED YOU the most”

I think this gem applies no matter how old they are or how rough “their worst” gets.

At this time of the year when we crowd our synagogues to admit before God that we have done some things this past year that we should not have done and we pray for that cleansing sense of acceptance despite our faults, how can we withhold from our own children the blessing we ask for ourselves?

There have been plenty of times in our people’s history when Jews were called on to perform extraordinary acts of heroism, to endure martyrdom because they were Jewish, to remain faithful in the face of discrimination and resourceful in a time of exile.

Ours is a time that calls on us to show a very different form of heroism, the heroism of achieving greatness in small things that are not really that small. 

In a world increasingly full of divisiveness, we need to recognize and honor greatness in small things more than ever.

Today’s heroism includes the parent dealing with a child with mental or physical challenges.

Today’s hero is the caregiver – yes, women, and also a silent army of husbands, brothers, sons and friends — about 16 million men — caring for their spouses, parents and other loved ones.

Today’s hero is the young person resolute enough to withstand the temptations that destroy so many lives.

Today’s hero is the teenager maintaining a strong Jewish identity in a world that so often mocks and devalues it.

Today, I ask you to commit to doing an act of kindness, on purpose and with intention:

make someone laugh,

make that phone call, send that text,

forgive yourself,

forgive others, encourage someone to pursue a goal.

Take a moment now.  Bow your head, and decide what you think you can do—for yourself, and for someone else. 

When you’ve landed on your small and great thing – raise your eyes. 

After Yom Tov, I’d love to hear about it – text or email me.

How did it go?  For you? For the other person?

As is said in the Kindness Diaries, “From a distance, the world seems like a big, bad, scary place. But up close there is enough good, enough love, and enough pure kindness to make the world go round.”

Today’s world asks of us the small-scale heroism of generosity, of kindness, of cheerfulness, of dependability, little things that change the world for the better.  

Today’s world asks of us that we exemplify the quiet greatness of Isaac, the willingness to see other people’s needs and other people’s feelings  as being as important to us as our own,  the readiness to forgive, to listen and not to judge, and sometime even to hear words that were not spoken.

There is greatness in being able to do that, the greatness that can be found in small things, and it is a greatness of which we are all capable. 

A new year has started. 

May it be God’s will that we fill each of our days with words and deeds that will increase the happiness of people around us, and in the process augment our happiness as well. 

SHANAH TOVAH. 

Gambling For Security * Rosh Hashanah 5778

      Who Shall Live and Who Shall Die—Mi Yihye U-Mi Ya-mut:  When it comes to security, that is the ultimate question.  Here we are a week after the 16^h anniversary of 9/11. We didn’t need Unetaneh Tokef to fill us with fear and trembling.  But the impact of that prayer penetrated to the very core of our beings.  Mi Yihye U-Mi Yamut.  

          Mi BaHerev-  Who  by sword:  will there be a war with North Korea?  And what about Israel, where we still see terrorists kill, as they attacked the Solomon family on a Friday night as they were together to welcome a new baby boy to the family?

          Nor has the economy been a source of comfort.  The stock market goes up and then down, then up.  Mi Yeani U-Mi Yeasheyr—who shall become poor and who shall wax rich?  It’s a rhetorical question; you don’t have to answer.  

          Since last Rosh Hashana we’ve instituted new security here.  Today - tickets, decals, police, private plainclothes professionals all over the building.  I almost didn’t get in today.  I don’t get a ticket and I don’t carry my wallet on Yontif—no ID.    That’s the type of year it has been.

          Even nature seems out of sorts - The US Forest Service says 2017 is a worse than average year for forest fires, and then there’s - Hurricanes Harvey & Irma, Jose and Maria. Mi BaEysh U-Mi Bamayim—Who by fire and who by water?  It’s all over the world!  Mi BaRa’ash - who by earthquake - just in the last week in LA, Mexico?  You know.

          Mi Yanua, U-Mi Yanuah—Who shall tremble and who shall rest at ease?  In Hebrew that question is a play on words.  The difference between Yanua, to tremble, and Yanuah, to be at rest, is one letter.  It underscores our vulnerability and fragility.  This year, liturgy speaks to life in a language that is visceral.  We feel it.

          So where do we turn to restore our sense of security?  U-tshuvah, U-T’fillah, U-tzedakah—That’s the Mahzor’s response:  Repentance, Prayer and Righteousness.  But somehow that sounds too philosophical…and instead, the Torah reading for Rosh Hashanah finds its answer in family.  Not that there aren’t crises in the story of Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Hagar and Ishmael.  It’s not all peace and tranquility.  Far from it.  Arguments, confrontations, fragmentation all coming to its conclusion in a terrible test in which a parent and child are called upon to face the ultimate sacrifice.   Abraham and Isaac both know where they are going, both know what may happen.  How can they cope with what seems to be coming…the answer is formulated in one recurring phrase.  Listen:

And it came to pass that God put Abraham to the test…and Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering and laid it upon Isaac his son; and he took in his hand the fire and the knife, Vayeylkhu Shneyhem Yahdav—and they went both of them together.  And Isaac spoke unto Abraham, his father and said: “Father.”  And Abraham said “Here I am my son.”  And Isaac said:  “Here are the fire and the wood but where is the lamb for a burnt offering.”  And Abraham said:  “God will provide my son.”  Vayeylkhu Shneyhem Yahdav—And they both went on together.

God willing we will never face such a test.  But do you know how many times parents have called the synagogue to ask how they can help their children feel more secure?  On Tuesday we ran emergency drills with our preschool and religious school students, the situations of which I never practiced for when I was a kid.

Security was even the topic Rabbi Rank and I discussed with our colleagues of the Interfaith Clergy Council in our meeting with Syosset School Superintendent Tom Rogers, Board President Dr. Michael Cohen and our own member and VP of the Board, Tracy Frankel following the discovery of the anti-Semitic hate crime at the Syosset high school last month.  How are we to feel safe in an unsafe world?  What do we do when our children ask the very questions posed by our prayer book?   When they are vulnerable, scared, and unsure for what these events mean for their safety and direction of the country.

What do you say when your 9 year old asks the very questions we are asking ourselves:  Mi Yihye U-mi Yamut?  Who knows?  That’s the very heart of insecurity—not knowing what will be.  And maybe the answer comes not from the head but from the heart—Vayeylkhu Shneyhem Yahdav—And they both went on together.  That’s the only line of the entire Torah portion, today and tomorrow that is repeated twice.  We and our children can get through any test together as a family.  No fancy psychological analysis necessary for a sense of security.   A hug.  Together.

One of the questions I’m hearing these days is “what do I do with the anger I’m feeling right now?”  For many parents, the struggle is “how do I deal with my anger so I don’t let it affect my children?”  How do I teach my 9 year old what the word Nazi means because she heard it on the news, how do I help her to live the life that a 9 year old should live and yet be aware of the world.    Part of my response is that we need to project acceptance for one another, preach love, celebrating what we have in common - regardless of race or ethnicity or religion or certainly sexual orientation.   If we inundate our community with love, there will be no room for hate.

          Vayelkhu Shneyhem Yahdav—actually goes beyond family.  It’s a lesson learned from life as well as Torah.

          This summer Leora and I saw the Broadway musical Come From Away which tells the story of 38 airplanes that were forced to land in Newfoundland on 9/11.  The locals and the ‘plane people’ - they drew together.  Their response to that ultimate question of security Mi Yihye U-Mi Yamut—Who shall live and who shall die--that was no miracle.  They drew together.

How many of you have stayed closer to home this year?  Traveled less or when you have been away called home more often?  How many of you have appreciated the holiday gatherings even more this past year.  In Israel, when a terrorist draws a knife or a plows a car into a crowd cell phones begin to ring all over the country.  People call home; the family draws together any way that it can.  

          Vayelkhu Yahdav

Do you remember what happened in this country in the days after 9/11?  Americans drew together in ways I don’t think I have ever experienced.  

          Right here, right now, we need to remember what binds us to one another.  Last month in Charlottesville, Neo-Nazi’s and white supremacists marched directly in front of Congregation Beth Israel as Shabbat services were going on.  It was all described in a post after the march by the president of the synagogue.  No police officers were visible as 3 people dressed in military fatigues stood outside the synagogue, carrying automatic weapons, which lead the Jews inside the sanctuary to draw together, remove the Torah scrolls and exit via the rear doors.  Following which, we remembered the words of Elie Wiesel:  “We must always take sides.  Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim.  Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.”

When our security is threatened we draw together…because we need to remember that we are part of something bigger than ourselves.

          Now look around this room.  There are people standing because we don’t have enough seats.  Despite all the insecurities that have marked this past year and are still very much with us, despite the need for police and plains-clothes men, and decals, and tickets and ID, despite all the inconvenience and discomfort, despite concern about crowds and gatherings, here we are.  In all my conversations about the High Holidays, out of this entire congregation, only one person told me she would not be at services for fear of safety.  We gather on the High Holidays, like no other time, because when we begin a New Year and face all the uncertainties of the season, we need to feel that we are part of something bigger than ourselves.  

          And that goes beyond congregation.  We are part of an ancient tradition, a people that has persevered through all sorts of tests and trials over centuries and millennia.  Abraham and Isaac walked together 3700 years ago.  Some of the prayers in this Mahzor are 2000 years old.  Unetane Tokef—with all its penetrating questions about security—comes to us from the Middle Ages.    We are here today to tie ourselves to each other and to our tradition.   We are here today to reaffirm the covenant of Judaism…we are here today…to reaffirm our faith in God.

          Let me share with you a message that Rabbi Harold Kushner, author of When Bad Things Happen to Good People, sent to the members of the Rabbinical Assembly for this season.  It’s titled “Beyond John Wayne.”

We once had this fantasy that we could take care of everything with American intelligence, American know-how, American resources. Since then, we’ve learned something about our vulnerability. My aphorism is: Our awareness of God starts where self-sufficiency ends. We pray for health and peace, family and justice, because we cannot achieve them on our own. We find strength when we acknowledge our interdependence. I hope that our culture will finally outgrow the John Wayne ideal of the hero who goes it alone.

God’s promise was never that life would be fair. God’s promise was that we won’t have to confront the pain and unfairness alone. The 23rd psalm doesn’t say, “In the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil because there is no evil in the world.” It doesn’t say, “I will fear no evil because people get what they deserve and I’m a good person.” It says, “I will fear no evil because Thou art with me.” Accepting our vulnerability is the beginning of wisdom.

Folks, John Wayne is dead.  What about faith?

          The secret of faith and security is a paradox:  Both require risk.

          Let me remind you of a cute story that I’ve shared once before—it was told by Rabbi Sydney Greenberg:  

                    

The man sitting on the park bench facing the synagogue was a picture of dejection.     His shabby clothes looked as if he had slept in them, and his tired face was covered by a heavy growth.  Overcome by pity for the derelict, the rabbi pressed a five-dollar bill into his hand, whispered “Godspeed,” and was gone.  Several hours later the stranger burst into the rabbi’s study and with obvious delight, threw a fistful of bills on the rabbi’s desk.  “Rabbi,” he exclaimed, “Godspeed paid fourteen to one!”

          A suggestive truth leaps at us from this humorous anecdote.  Like the charitable rabbi, we are all gamblers—whether we realize it or not.  Even those of us who have a strong moral objection to gambling with money, take risks all the time with much more precious stakes.

          Every relationship comes with a risk.   When we fall in love we gamble.  When I asked Leora to marry me, it went like this:  “I love you, will you marry me?”  And after she said yes, she asked how did I know that it would be different for me this time -- my second time.  And I said, I know it’s a risk, but I know what I know, and what I’ve learned, and I’m willing to take the risk. When we decide to have a child, we gamble.   This day itself challenges us to take a risk and give birth to new beginnings.

One of the main themes of Rosh Hashana is “HaYom Harat Olam” - today is the birthday of the world!  Today the world is born!   The phrase originally comes from the book of Jeremiah.  When he is burnt out and having a breakdown. ‘If only my mother had remained pregnant forever’ - that is what HaYom Harat Olam means - words that Jews recite with such joy on Rosh Hashana.  The true translation is “today is pregnant forever” - and that is not a happy phrase, but more like a curse.  So what does “today is pregnant forever” mean for us?  

Let me tell you - Leora has had 4 pregnancies, we have 3 beautiful kids - for both of us -- being pregnant forever, not a good thing.  That is not a healthy state of mind. Rabbi Naomi Levy, author of a new book called Einstein and the Rabbi explains that it’s a state of unliving, of life being held back.   

She explains “pregnant forever” this way:  

“I think Jews pray this phrase every year because it comes as a warning.  Every single one of us, somewhere in our lives, we are pregnant forever.  There is something we have already conceived that is pleading:  ‘Let me be born.’  Maybe it’s a creative endeavor:  a book, a painting, a poem, a script, song, a story, a business idea, a career shift -- you’ve been privately exploring it, but doing nothing about it.  Maybe it's the words:  ‘I love you.’  Or the words:  ‘I forgive you.’  They are fully formed inside your mouth but you haven’t gotten the courage to actually speak them.  Pregnant forever is not a blessing.  Many of us suffer from this affliction. Maybe it's a departure you’re holding on to, a break-up:  you know it’s time to go.  You know it's time to stop pretending that everything is fine when nothing is fine.  Maybe you’ve already created something, but you’re just too scared to let it be seen.”  

But our faith in God, and God’s faith in us, gives us the security to gamble, and take a risk.  According to legend, even God gambles.  Midrash Rabba says that when God was about to create human beings on the first Rosh Hashanah, 5778 years ago, the angels objected.  “Adam will be full of lies,” they said, “and his descendants will make war.”  But God gambled that his creation would have the capacity to make peace, practice justice, and achieve love.  God bet on us.  There is a dream that wants to be realized by you.    Remember:  God’s candle is the human soul.  We’ve been put here to light up the world - all of us.  

          As we walk together into this new year, we’re mindful of the ultimate insecurity, the recognition that life is fragile and fleeting, that we are merely dust and ashes, and that challenges us to use each precious moment wisely, and play our hands carefully.  It is our faith in God and the realization that God has faith in us…that God created the world for us… that gives us the security to take the risks required to live most fully.   

Let’s take a risk. Let’s take a risk and learn, let’s take a risk and lead, let’s take a risk and give.  Let’s take a risk and love and love and love and love and love and let’s take a risk and live as fully as we can in this New Year.

Parshat Bo: I Shall Not Be Silent

Parshat Bo:  I Shall Not Be Silent

January 24, 2015

     Did you know that immediately before Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. delivered his famous "I have a dream" speech at the 1963 March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom that a rabbi spoke at the march? That rabbi was Joachim Prinz.  Prinz's rabbinic career began in Berlin, and he was expelled from Berlin in 1937.  He resumed his career in the States, serving a congregation in New Jersey.  (As an aside -- he was a friend of Leora' father, Rabbi Samuel Cohen who was in Livingston, NJ and Rabbi Prinz officiated at the wedding of Leora's parents.) Prinz later served as President of the American Jewish Congress and became a leader of the civil rights movement. He worked to organize the 1963 march and the title of his sermon that day was "The Issue is Silence" declaring:

"When I was the rabbi of the Jewish community in Berlin under the Hitler regime, I learned many things. The most important thing that I learned under those tragic circumstances was that bigotry and hatred are not the most urgent problem. The most urgent, the most disgraceful, the most shameful and the most tragic problem is silence."

(Click here learn about a new documentary about Rabbi Prinz.)  

     We cannot be silent about naming a plague in our midst:  the plague of anti-Semitism.  We saw another example of it just last Thursday at the New York City Council meeting.  At the NYC Council meeting on January 22, the council planned to vote on a resolution to honor the 70th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz.  Most would have expected resolution on that topic to be non-confrontational. But it turned out that there were pro-Palestinian protesters at the NYC Council, in the chambers. They waited quietly for 86 minutes until the resolution on Auschwitz was being discussed.  Then they disrupted the meeting.  Watch and hear how Council Member David Greenfield responded: 

The parsha this week, Bo, begins in the midst of the plagues.  We read seven in the previous parsha, and three in Parshat Bo.  It's as if the narrative is interrupted.  Why is the story read over two weeks?  The very name of the parsha, Bo, means 'come' and implies this:    God is saying freedom is important, and it's important to speak out for it, and when you do, I will be with you. Even as we rejoice in freedom and are prepared to fight for that freedom, God says "Bo" -- "Come with me, try to put an end to the plagues that impact upon humanity -- upon you and others."  

Like Rabbi Prinz and Councilman Greenfield, we need to speak up, speak out, and interrupt the narrative, to do everything we can to stop the plagues before they multiply.

May God be with us in that task.

Why I Shaved My Head

I’m bald. At least for a few weeks until my hair grows back. I allowed my head to be shaved as a participant in a fundraiser to fight childhood cancer. I joined a group of Rabbis from around the country for an event called “36 Rabbis Shave for the Brave”.   As a group, we have raised over $360,000, and every dollar makes a difference. Our goal is to find a way to stop childhood cancer.

Every day I give thanks to God for my health and for my family. Every family has a story. Leora and I are blessed, and each and every day I give thanks to God, for granting us a beautiful daughter, Shir, and our sons Sam & Gideon. But before we had Shir, we had another son. Following a perfect full-term pregnancy, we arrived at the hospital full of hope and with great expectation. But things didn’t turn out as we expected. The doctors explained that there was nothing more to do. And our hope turned to sorrow, and instead of planning a bris, we planned a funeral. With the passage of time we tried again to build our family tree.

We recognize the limitations of our power while recognizing that we can still bring healing, comfort and new hope to those who mourn. I wish I had had the power to save the life of "Superman Sam," an 8-year old in Chicago diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia in 2012. But I didn't. I never even met him, nor his parents, but his parents, Phyllis and Michael, both rabbis, chronicled Sam’s cancer journey on their blog Superman Sam. He died last December.

I would not dare to compare my experience that the Sommers, but I was moved to join the group of 36 Rabbis Shave for the Brave, rabbis fighting back in memory of Sam and for all children who are fighting cancer. Rabbis Phyllis Sommer & Rebecca Shore started looking for 36 Reform Rabbis who would shave their heads and support the work of St. Baldrick’s. I’m not in the CCAR, but those denominational lines mean nothing when it comes to standing together to bring comfort and healing to our world. I shaved to remember Sam, and to support his mom, dad and siblings, and my colleagues who are joining in this fight. My hope and prayer is that through our efforts we can spare other parents from the pain of telling their child that there is nothing that the doctors can do to save his life.

Now, for every person who asks me, "Why did you shave your head" I'll be able to share Sam's story, the story of my colleagues and our effort to raise money for the St. Baldrick's Foundation. This volunteer-driven charity funds more in childhood cancer research grants than any organization except the U.S. government. Your gift will give hope to infants, children, teens and young adults fighting childhood cancers. So when I ask for your support, I'm really asking you to support these kids. Thank you!

Before my head was shaved last night, I told our high school students about St. Baldrick's and explained why I am doing this.  I invited Debbie Loeb, a beloved teacher in our nursery school to be there.  She spoke about her son Scott of blessed memory, and about the organization she started in his memory called  "Smiles for Scott". 

This week's Torah portion is Shemini, and it begins with the loss of life.   It is at a time of celebration, the dedication of the Tabernacle, the installation of Aaron and his sons as Cohanim, when suddenly two of Aaron's sons die. Life is not about death -- it is about joy and celebration and making the most of all our time together.  It's about community and simchas and all that is good and meaningful.  It is our memories of those whom we've lost that sustain us in life's sad moments - in it is in these moments that those we loved and lost are most with us, and we know that they would share our joy.

I shaved - my job in this particular effort is done. To those who have donated, I thank you.  If you haven't yet made a donation you may still do so.

Click "Make a donation" to give online, or donate by phone or mail.  You can still help make a difference.

Below is a brief video hightlight of my shave which took place at Midway Jewish Center with our high school students in attendance.

Thank you for your support.

Parshat Ki Tissa: Going for the Gold & Calf

Last Friday was a notable day on the Jewish calendar – Purim Katan, the little Purim, so called because it was the 14th of Adar I in a leap year.  Our observance of Purim is in Adar Bet, in one month from now.  So to increase your joy in advance of Purim I’ll refer you to 3 Ice Jewish Boys:  3 Jews in USA’s figure skating delegation:  Charlie White, singles skater Jason Brown, and pairs skater Simon Shnapir. 

Then there’s the Israeli delegation:  Figure skaters Alexei Bychenko and the duo of Evgeni Krasnopolski and Andrea Davidovich, as well as short-track speed skater Vladislav Bykanov and skier Virgile Vandeput are in Sochi to represent Israel.

How does Israel, a country which made the desert bloom, in which snow in Jerusalem makes international news, come to have 5 athletes in these Winter Olympics?  Soviet Olim.

There is not a hockey team from Israel competing in Sochi. Ice hockey in Israel began to grow when several Russian Jewish émigrés, who had played professionally in the Soviet Union, began coaching in Metula, the site of Israel's first and currently only full-size rink. Most notable among these Russian coaches was Boris Mindel, a former defenseman on the Red Army Team, who established a junior program at the Canada Center rink in Metula.

Ice hockey in Israel received an additional boost of momentum when Roger Neilson, coach of several NHL teams including the New York Rangers and Toronto Maple Leafs, opened a branch of his summer ice hockey camp in Metula and attracted young North American players to train and compete with young Israelis interested in the sport.

Back when nobody was getting out, we were getting out Jews.  Made possible through Mahatzit Hashekel, which symbolizes shared giving and shared effort.

What does this have to do with the Parsha?  Census taken by a contribution of a half shekel.   Why a half and not a whole?
In the Talmud Yerushalmi we learn that Yohanan Ben Zakkai taught that at the time of the golden calf they transgressed 10 commandments, so to atone and equal number they gave Mahatzeit HaShekel, an amount equal to 10 Gerah. 
Another idea: Samson Raphael Hirsch wrote,  “Even the most complete and most perfect work of any single individual is never the whole…. Can never accomplish everything, the work of any single person will always remain but a fragment.” Requiring what?  An equally devoted offering on the part of another.  Out of a concern for others some in the Jewish world in particular are protesting the Sochi Olympics  to protest the Russian government’s civil rights abuses, particularly with regard to the LGBT community.  We should be concerned with what's happening in Russia, for each of us is only a fragment.

This week’s parsha also includes the episode of the Golden Calf & Moses breaking the tablets.  Midrash & Talmud teach that the broken fragments are placed in the Ark along with the second set Moses eventually received.  Why save those fragments of the shattered tablets?  Because we don’t sweep away mistakes, errors, failures, we don’t simply forget –we remember and we learn from them.  

Consider US ice skater Jeremy Abbott who fell, but he got up and kept going.  He said, "As much of a disappointment as this is, I am not in the least bit ashamed. I stood up and finished this program, and I am proud of what I did in the circumstances."

Going for the Gold – how many times have we heard that expression in the last week?  In the Olympics it’s the Gold Medals and in the Torah it’s the Golden Calf, sports and theology --   anybody know people who makes a religion out of sports?  

Of course, they’re not here today – they’re out skiing, or skating, and this spring they’ll be on the golf course and the kids will be in little league.  But that’s not what the gold is about – it’s about idolatry, and you can have that in sport as well as religion – when the gold is the God.  

Anyone remember the origin of the Olympics?  They were originally for the pleasure of the Greek gods who dwelt on Mt Olympus.  The gods loved to see humans compete, struggle against one another.  But that’s not what the God of Israel wants.  Through the 10 commandments God challenges us to live up to the best within each of us, to achieve a life of mitzvoth- - which are also good deeds.  

Lo Nitna Torah Ela L’tzreph et HaAdam – say the sages.  The reason for Torah was given is to refine human beings – by practicing its precepts we refine our best qualities.  

Sport is supposed to work the same way.  The object is to do your best, to be your best, and medal or no medal, that makes you a winner.  But there’s more.  In Hebrew the word “L’Tzafef” to refine, can also mean “to join together”.  It has the connotation of joining with others to achieve a goal.  It implies teamwork.  That’s something else the commandments are supposed to do.  Unite us as a people – because no individual can possibly do them all – which certainly fits in with the theme of the Half Shekel as well; and the commandments are supposed to refine our behavior such that it reflects caring for all people – l’tzref.  

Anything less is idolatry symbolized in Torah and sport by going for the gold.

To be fair, though, there are exemplary athletes on and off the ice.  But you may have to go beyond the front page.

Russian cross-country skier Anton Gafarov was about a minute and a half into the men’s sprint free semifinals race when he fell. Hard. When he got up, he was struggling his way down the course on a broken ski, pushing himself along using only his poles for momentum. Just trying to finish.

“This is what the Olympic spirit is all about,” says the commentator on NBC’s stream, admiring the determination.

As he hits the downhill stretch into the stadium, Gafarov falls again. This time the ski looks shredded. “Can he keep going?” asks the commentator. “Will he?” Gafarov gets back up, now balanced on one ski.

And then, a man runs onto the course and, with the efficiency of a NASCAR pit crew, swaps out the broken ski for a new one so Gafarov can ski his way across the finish line – to uproarious applause.

That man was not Gafarov’s coach or teammate. Instead it was rival coach Justin Wadsworth, of Canada’s team, who ran out to help the struggling skier.

“I wanted him to have dignity as he crossed the finish line,” Wadsworth was quoted by the CBC as saying.

Both Wadsworth and Gafarov must have known that changing skis on the course is against the rules of international competition. But in that moment it seemed not to matter. “It’s kind of like seeing an animal in a trap,” Wadsworth said. “I just couldn’t let him sit there.”

That is what the Olympic spirit is all about.

He was going for more than gold.  From the Half Shekel & Golden Calf there are lessons for B’nai Yisrael:  sharing, sportsmanship, learning from our past, and uniting us as a people, connecting us one to another and to God.  
Let’s go for it!