Saturday, August 22, 2020

The Four Weeks of Elul 5771-Week One: Our Communal Selves

Dear Friends

Today (August 21st) marks the first day of the Hebrew month of Elul.  It is customary during this holy month that precedes the High Holidays to begin intensive personal preparations for the New Year. This process, called Cheshbon Ha-Nefesh – an inventory of our souls – requires that each of us engage in a process of self-examination. During this sacred season we look closely at our relationships, thoughts, deeds, fears and dreams. We do this so that we can enter into the Yamim Noraim– the Days of Awe – spiritually and personally refreshed and prepared for the process of teshuvah (repentance/returning). Our tradition teaches that the month of Elul compels us to ask those around us whom we have wronged to forgive us for our actions if we have wronged them. We are also commanded to forgive those who ask us as well.

This past year has been filled with many challenges: physical, economic, spiritual and emotional.  We have been isolated from one another. We face uncertainty in so many areas of our lives. A dangerous virus lurks all around us and we do not know when, if or in what capacity it may strike. Our economy is suffering.  Jobs have been lost. We cannot be present with our loved ones in times of both difficulty and celebration. This has taken a huge toll on all of us.

Sometimes, when we are in the midst of a crisis, it is hard to find perspective as we confront our challenges head on. And yet, perhaps now is the perfect to try to put every aspect of our lives into perspective. If we only stay rooted in the here and now, we risk losing the possibility of finding hope in what is yet to come.

I started a tradition 24 years ago during the month of Elul where I sent weekly lists of seven questions (one for each day of the week) to members of our community and to all who wish to receive them. These questions are designed to help us examine our lives in all of the varied aspects and arenas in which we live: Communal, Interpersonal, Spiritual and Physical. Hopefully, by answering these questions we will be better prepared to enter into the Days of Awe.  This year, I have invited the members of our incredible clergy team at Temple Emanuel to join with me and choose a week to pose their own questions. The purpose of these questions is not to make us feel bad or unworthy, but rather to “nudge” us into looking at these vitally important aspects of our lives.
In the Torah portion that we will be reading for this coming Shabbat, Shoftim, we are introduced to the concept of Bal Tashchit – which is literally translated as “do not destroy. In our text (Deuteronomy 20:19) Bal Tashchit refers to the prohibition against cutting down fruit trees when we wage a siege against an enemy:

“When in your war against a city you have to besiege it a long time in order to capture it, you must not destroy its trees, wielding the ax against them. You may eat of them, but you must not cut them down. Are trees of the field human to withdraw before you into the besieged city?”

Our tradition took this very specific Mitzvah and broadened it into a general rule                                     about the need to not be wasteful of anything. Many Jews have used this text to                                     justify and reinforce the essential aspects of conservation of resources and the preservation of our environment.
If we broaden our perspectives and apply this to the area of Cheshbon HaNefesh and the essential tasks we must take on during the month of Elul, we can also find a powerful metaphor for our own process of exploring our relationships with others in the community. Most trees can care for themselves, but sometimes they need pruning. If we neglect caring for them, they can be damaged.  So too, our relationships. They need care and feeding like everything else in our lives. 

When we look at how our relationships with the communities in which we live are functioning, the metaphor of Bal Tashchit can be very powerful.  Communities are built around the proposition that each of us is responsible for holding the community together. It takes work to maintain healthy institutions. In this time of COVID-19, many communities are endangered.  Not being able to come together physically means that we need to work especially hard to ensure that the values, experiences and basic vision of the communities in which we invest our time and treasure can survive.

The fact that we, at Temple Emanuel, have been able to pivot our worship and life-cycle experiences to on online platform has been both edifying and disconcerting. Yes, we can pray, celebrate and comfort one another when the need arises, but it truly isn’t the same as when we can be together in person. The shifting of priorities brought on by this pandemic can threaten our very survival – a fact about which our clergy, lay and professional leadership are very aware.

This extends beyond our synagogue into every arena in which we operate.  The                                     following questions are designed to help us explore ways in which we can work to strengthen our communal relationships:

  1. Have I allowed myself to become less connected to my congregation and community over the past year?
  2. During this time of political turmoil, have I found myself less open to others’ ideas and concerns when they conflict with my own?
  3. In a “virtual” world, where it is easy to shut out people and ideas that make me uncomfortable, have I allowed myself to “block” people or institutions with whom I otherwise would have engaged in different times?
  4. Have I worked to improve my community?
  5. Have I been able to understand the issues that affect communities other than my own – for example, people of different ethnic, racial or sexual orientation than me?
  6. Have I reached out to support those community institutions that have been especially hard hit by the impact of COVID-19?
  7. Understanding that everyone has been impacted by the pandemic, have I reached out to help those who have been less fortunate than me?

These questions are in no way complete.  They are designed to help all of us to begin the process of looking deep within ourselves and our souls as we enter into the month of Elul. We want to hear from you. If you have thoughts, questions or comments about anything we encourage you to let us know. 

May we all utilize these and all of our questions to help gain a better understanding of our communal selves.

L’Shanah Tovah,

Rabbi Joseph R. Black

Friday, August 14, 2020

The Salty Taste of Tears



My mother, Sophie Black z"l, was born in Leipzig Germany in 1926.  She died in June of 2017.  This photograph of her as a young girl has always haunted me. In December, 1938 - one month after Krystallnacht - the "Night of the Broken Glass" that marked the beginning of the end for European Jewry - my mother and her parents fled Germany for America.  They left everything behind and started a new life in a new land.  She was 12 years old when they left. Eventually, she found a path of meaning and purpose in America. She earned an MA in Library Science from Columbia University in NY and served as Associate University Librarian at Northeastern Illinois University. She married the love of her life, my father, Sidney Black. She had two children -  my sister, Nina Black and me. She was the first woman president of Beth Emet Synagogue in Evanston, IL and was beloved by many.  And yet, the experience of being a refugee - of facing the terror of Nazi Germany and feeling like an outsider - never completely left her - despite all of her successes, friendships and loves.  I recently wrote this song as a tribute to her life and legacy.  If you'd like to see a video of me singing it, here's the Youtube link:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J8UN_4XYu7M


The Salty Taste of Tears
She was a refugee with glass in her shoes
Just 12 years old – scared and confused
Peeking through the curtains at American Jews
Who never walked in fear.
The dread that lived within her bones
Was birthed on ancient cobblestones
And repossessed abandoned homes
And the salty taste of tears 

CHORUS:
The dreams that kept her up at night were vague and undefined
Boulevards where yellow stars marched lockstep in straight lines
Consonants and syllables that she had left behind
The smoke that never clears
With the salty taste of tears.

She did what she was told to do
Minding all her p’s and q’s
As if compliance could undo
The past 2,000 years
She catalogued and turned the pages
A lifetime lived in different stages
Learning lessons of the ages
And the salty taste of tears.

She lived with dread as if someday
Her fragile peace might go away
She knew God’s grace just couldn’t stay
It always disappears
And all this time I’ve tried to see
And understand her legacy
That she has now bequeathed to me
With the Salty taste of tears.