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

Dear Friends

Today (August 21^st) 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

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.

Memory and Black Lives Matter: Questions for Parshat Behaalotecha

In this week’s Torah portion, BeHaalotecha, we find the following: 

4. And the mixed multitude that was among them had a strong craving; and the people of Israel also wept again, and said, Who shall give us meat to eat?

5. We remember the fish, which we ate in Egypt for nothing; the cucumbers, and the melons, and the leeks, and the onions, and the garlic;

6. But now our soul is dried away; there is nothing at all, beside this manna, before our eyes. (Numbers 11:4-6)

It’s amazing to me how the Children of Israel could have such a selective memory….. Just a few months prior to this utterance, they were slaves.  And yet, the memory of the horrors of their enslavement had begun to fade away and all that they could remember about Egyptian bondage is the fact that their bellies were full….

I think of this as we enter into a new week because now is a time that we, as a nation, are seeing history playing out in front of our eyes. We have witnessed an uprising – people taking to the streets in protest. For those who have marched, and those who have watched - transfixed as hundreds of thousands of people – of every race, religion, gender, and ethnic group – have demanded justice – not merely for the martyr, George Floyd, but for our entire nation, we realize that THIS is a time of revolutionary change; of cheshbon Hanefesh – soul searching and radical rethinking…the culture of separateness and division that has resulted in deep divides, cultural inequality and violent repression is being called out and condemned. “Black Lives Matter” is more than a slogan, it is a call to conscience and consciousness. Or is it?

We have been here before….

In the 1960’s we saw marches in Selma, in Montgomery, in Chicago, New York and Los Angeles. As a young child, I have vivid recollections of sitting on my father’s shoulders as we marched in protest – against the war, against segregation, against corruption….. and things changed, somewhat, but not enough. And so, once again - the same cries for equality; the same brutality against people of color; the same inequities and imbalances against which people marched are once again paraded on the streets of our cities.

Memory is selective – it is also fickle.

As one crisis wanes, another takes its place.  Two weeks ago, I would not have predicted that a virus that stopped the world in its tracks could be removed from the forefront of our consciousness and replaced by a popular uprising of historic proportions. What will next week bring, or the week after that? 

In our text, our ancient ancestors had recently witnessed and participated in an Exodus from slavery that would become the archetype for every liberation movement throughout history. And yet, just a short time later, all they could remember about their time in Egypt was the food that they ate when they were slaves.

And so, the questions that I pose for this week revolve around the lessons that we are learning as we are living in history. How will we be changed as we move ahead? How will we understand our responsibility, not only to witness change, but to BE the change that our society so desperately needs?

1. Change is neither easy nor comfortable. The images of protests we see in our streets can make us anxious and afraid. The violence that has erupted alongside peaceful protest – no matter the source - is disturbing and unnerving. Have we allowed ourselves to focus on the violence and ignore the message of the protests themselves?
2. The phrase, “Black Lives Matter” has become a rallying cry. There are those who hear this phrase and reply: “All lives matter! Why only Black lives?” Other voices in the Jewish community focus on unfortunate and yes, anti-Zionist and anti-Semitic phrases that have been linked to a small group of leaders of the Black Lives Matter movement. It is important to understand that these ideas are neither central to nor definitive of the protests we are witnessing. Again – will we allow these concerns to deflect us from understanding and internalizing the reality of oppression that people of color experience on a daily basis?   
3. Most Jews in America are white. We have benefitted from White Privilege and give thanks for opportunities that we have been afforded simply because of the color of our skin. Yes, as Jews we have been victims. And yes, we know that many of the same people who hate people of color also hate us. We have witnessed a dramatic rise in anti-Semitic events over the past few years. And yet, we have the ability to blend in – to hide our Jewishness, should we choose to do so. Our shared vulnerability and history of oppression can and, at times has been a bond that has brought our communities together. Are we willing to work to rebuild ties that bind us to our Black brothers and sisters?
4. And while most Jews are white, there are men, women and children of color in our congregation and in Klal Yisrael – the Jewish people – who feel invisible, abandoned and neglected by the faith and community that they love. Over the past few weeks, several members of Temple Emanuel have reached out to me in pain and shared that they feel out of place – that our kehilla kedoshah-our sacred community is not a place of comfort or love to them. How can we reach out, not only to welcome them, but to hear their pain, their stories and the tension of their lives?
5. And finally, one of the key lessons that I have learned is that I have a great deal that I need to learn. I am committed to understanding not only the roots of racism in America, but also the seeds of segregation that have been planted within me. Like our flawed and wounded ancestors in this week’s torah portion who longed for and were corrupted by the comforts of 440 years of slavery in Egypt, we, too, have allowed ourselves to be lulled by the false promise of the past. It is not enough to be an ally or an advocate to our black brothers and sisters. We must also dig deep into our own behaviors, experiences and prejudices and acknowledge the role that we have played in maintaining a system that is flawed. Are we willing to do the work? Are we willing to take the risk? Are we willing to make mistakes and learn from them?

My friends, these are not easy questions. If I have made any of you uncomfortable by asking them, that’s OK. It is only by confronting our fears, assumptions and discomfort that we can begin to make change. Let us not allow ourselves to revert to the way things were – that ship has sailed. Longing for the creature comforts of what was in the past will only lead us to futile wandering in the wilderness.

Parashat Naso. We Are Not Nazarites: The Call to Confront Racism.

In this week’s torah portion, Naso, we learn the laws of the Nazarite. Nazarites are those who separate themselves from society by taking a vow of poverty, abstinence or forced separation in order to be closer to God. While the laws around becoming a Nazarite are clearly enunciated in our text, they are also designed to be limited in both time and scope.  Judaism teaches that the act of separating ourselves from the society in which we live is discouraged – actively. We need to live IN society – with all its flaws. We cannot separate ourselves from ugliness around us – any more than we can pick and choose to see the beauty in the world.

During these past 11 weeks that we have been socially distant, it feels like the world has become much smaller. We are so involved in our sheltered selves that we run the risk of losing perspective. And yet, as we know all too well, even though everything seems to have slowed – events are taking place around us at a frantic pace.

Minneapolis is a city that I know and love. I served as Rabbi for 9 years at Temple Israel in Minneapolis. It was where I met my wife Sue.  Both of our children were born there. We still have family and friends in the Twin Cities, and we travel to Minnesota almost every summer to visit.

Seeing the images of violent rioting in the streets, of looting and fires is profoundly upsetting – not only because of the damage and danger that is very real, but because of the fact that these acts are in response to yet another case in which a person of color – George Floyd (z”l) has died in an act of violence.  There have been too many similar incidents like this around the country – where black men are viewed with suspicion, are seen as a threat, are targeted and, all too often have died – not only at the hands of the police.

I do not believe that the rioting in Minneapolis and the responses to it that have arisen all around the country stem from any one particular incident. I also do not see all police officers as evil or racist. Rather, these incidents are the result of a system of White Privilege that most of us who are not African American do not experience directly, do not necessarily agree with, but from which we benefit every day of our lives.

That Mr. Floyd died while he was restrained by the police is a matter of record – but this is not merely a case of police brutality.

How he died. Why he died and the meaning of his death will be determined by both a court of law and the court of public opinion.  If, however, we see this only as an isolated incident, or a court case, or a miscarriage of justice – we will have allowed a painful but necessary window into the ugliness, disparity and despair that separates people of color and everyone else in our society to close without acknowledging the extent of the ugliness that it has illuminated. People are not rioting in the streets because, as some of our national leaders have said, “They are thugs.” What we are witnessing – in Minneapolis, in New York, Los Angeles, here in Denver and around the country is a cry of anger, desperation and frustration that has risen from the depths of over 400 years of systematic racism and oppression that I have benefitted from – as has every person whose skin color is not dark.

One merely has to look at recent protests in State Capitals around the country against sheltering in place orders to see images of armed militias made up of mostly white men – some (not all) of whom are affiliated with White Supremacist ideologies and who exhibited no fear or compunction whatsoever as they threatened lawmakers and peace keepers in order to get their messages across.  Imagine the response if those same rifle-wielding protestors had been people of color. 

Now – please understand – I do not condone violence of any kind. It is wrong. I support our police and first responders as they work to keep the peace.  But I understand it.  The protests that we are witnessing are a visceral reaction to inequality, inequity and intolerance that are part and parcel of our nation and its history.

As Jews who understand the significance and who bear the intergenerational trauma of genocide and hatred, we have a choice. We can shut our eyes to injustice and say that it is not our issue – or we can use our shared experience to build coalitions of solidarity with our brothers and sisters in the African-American and Minority communities.

Over the next days and weeks, you will be hearing about ways that we, as Jews, as caring and concerned citizens, can come together in interfaith prayer, public action, and solidarity. I am currently in dialogue with partners in the African American and general interfaith community to formulate a plan that will help us to become partners and allies with our brothers and sisters who are people of color. Now is a time for banding together against the common enemies of racism and hatred.  Now is also a time for us to look deep into ourselves and our souls to identify, acknowledge, come to terms with and work to eradicate the many ways that our society contributes to and perpetuates a system of oppression and persecution – often subconsciously. In order to help us along in this process, I offer the following questions related to our parasha and our current crisis:

1.     For those of us who are not African American, can we see how our “Whiteness” affords us privileges that others do not have? In our heart of hearts, can we truly say that this is acceptable?

2.     If you were to be pulled over by a police officer during a routine traffic stop, would you fear for your life?  Do you think your experience would be different than that of a person of color?

3.     How many times have you found yourself judging another person by the way that they are dressed, the color of their skin, the sound of their voice without knowing who they are, who they love, how they pray, or the extent of their fears?

4.     Watching the protests and violence occurring in our city and around the country, how can we show support without condoning violence?

5.     As Jews, we have inherited the intergenerational trauma of the Shoah. Can we understand how our African-American brothers and sisters may also experience trauma based on 400 years of slavery and its aftermath?

6.     For those who may not agree that White Privilege is an issue, are there areas of common ground upon which we can build  a foundation of healing  - not only from the recent events surrounding the death of George Floyd (z”l), but from the increasing mistrust and anger that has been given voice in the streets of our cities around the country?

7.      As we continue to shelter in place, most of us (but not all) are relatively comfortable. How can we make sense of the fact that this virus has taken a much higher toll in communities of color than affluent White communities?

My dear friends, these are not easy answers. And yet – we cannot allow ourselves to retreat from society. We are not Nazarites. The ugliness in our society has been peeled away by recent events. Now is the time for us to acknowledge our complicity in building the walls of separation and mistrust in our nation. We also must work to tear them down and build a better future for all children. AMEN

A Jewish Values Matrix for Reopening Temple Emanuel

After several weeks of sheltering in place, we are beginning to formulate a plan that addresses the issues involved in reopening our facilities at Temple Emanuel. In order to facilitate the decision-making process, we have commissioned a COVID-19 Reopening Task Force made up of lay leaders, Temple Staff, Clergy and professionals from a wide variety of disciplines.  The fluidity surrounding this pandemic makes the process of setting up a timetable for reopening both imprecise and difficult. Nonetheless, we feel it necessary to do all that we can to anticipate and respond to whatever situations might arise. By assembling a group of talented, dedicated and visionary individuals, we feel that we will be strengthened in our decision making process.

In March, when we first realized that we would be closing our facility, we created a Matrix of Jewish Values that guided us in our deliberations.  As we approach the prospect of gradually reopening our building, we feel that it is appropriate to revisit and update this matrix. What follows is an attempt to begin this discussion. Some of the values listed are repeated and/or revised from our previous document.  Others are new.  This should not be seen as a complete listing of values. It is quite possible and probable that it will be revised as we get deeper into the decision making process. We currently do not have a specific timetable in place for opening up Temple Emanuel. We hope that this process will guide us to achieve this goal.

The following Jewish values will guide our discussions, deliberations and decisions as we move forward with re-opening Temple Emanuel facilities in the days, weeks and months to come

1. Pikuach Nefesh – Preserving Life.  This most important of all Jewish values once again tops our list. Our sacred texts teach that we can forgo almost any commandment or prohibition in order to preserve life.  In the context of the COVID-19 pandemic, our top priority must be the health and safety of all. Every decision around reopening our facilities will be made with this in mind.
2. Kehilla - Community. Every decision we make about cancelling or reinstituting programs or experiences revolves around the question of how it will enhance our community. Judaism teaches that life is best experienced with others. The concept of Minyan - the ten adult individuals required to perform certain mitzvot or engage in prayer or Torah reading - teaches us that we need to be together. The inability to congregate in person takes an emotional and spiritual toll on all of us. The more ways that we can find ways to gather - both virtually and in person - the more we will be able to experience God's presence.
3. Kedusha – Uniqueness. Often, we translate Kedusha as “holiness.” But a deeper understanding of kedusha teaches that we experience holiness on the deepest level when we look at every individual, relationship and moment as unique. When two individuals fall in love, for example, their experience is unlike that of any other. But this concept extends into every aspect of our lives. Each of us is holy – not only because we are created in God’s image - but also because our own experience is different, sacred and set apart. This also has practical applications that must be applied when we examine the unique aspects and needs of different parts of our congregation. For example, the essential childcare needs of households in our Rabbi Steven Foster Early Learning Center have a different urgency than those who participate in worship or Torah study. Some program areas (like worship and study) can be effectively and powerfully experienced online.  Others (like childcare) cannot.  Consequently, decisions that are made in one area of our congregation may not apply to others. We will work to find the holiness and uniqueness in every situation and respond as best we can under the circumstances.
4. Dina d’malchuta dina—“The law of the land is the law” (Shulchan Aruch).  Jewish history has taught us that, as loyal citizens of the countries in which we have lived, we have a sacred responsibility to support and follow the laws of our nation – unless they violate basic and fundamental aspects of our faith. In this light, we believe that we are bound by an essential Mitzvah (commandment) to support whatever decisions our local and national leaders make in response to this pandemic. Rules around safely congregating, social distancing, health and security will be followed. We also affirm our right and responsibility to respectfully and clearly speak out when we see injustices being carried out in the name of the law.
5. Lo Ta’aShok Sachir – “Treat Workers Fairly” (Deuteronomy 24:14) Temple Emanuel is a large institution. We employ many people from different walks of life. Each person in our employ is unique and has their own needs. We are committed to doing all that we can to ensure that reopening  will have minimal impacts on our employees’ abilities to care for themselves and their loved ones. We must be very careful to understand, anticipate and support each individual’s unique needs and comfort level when we speak of reentry into our facilities. No one will be forced to comply with any policies that they feel are unsafe.
6. Simcha – “Rejoicing.” Even in times of difficulty, it is important that we look for ways to celebrate Jewish life. This can be challenging when life-cycle events are cancelled, postponed or radically reshaped due to health concerns. We are determined to do all that we can – within the constraints of the reality of our situation – to help everyone achieve this.
7. Nechama – “Comforting the Afflicted.” Pastoral care is central to our mission at Temple Emanuel. When personal contact is limited, this can be difficult. We will continue to strive to be present for all who are in need in any way that we can. But comforting others is not limited to our clergy.  Each member of our congregation has a pastoral function in our sacred community. We are fully aware that the past weeks of sheltering in place have been traumatic– on differing levels. We have suffered personal, professional and economic losses. There is a palpable sense of grieving taking place in our homes. Some of this grief is a result of serious illness and potential or actual loss of life. But we also are grieving the loss of normalcy. Painful changes have taken place overnight. These changes can take their toll. In addition, we know that the pain of loss we feel is often amplified by memories of prior experiences. Each new loss can bring up the pain of previous grief. We need to be caring for and sensitive to one another as we navigate these uncharted waters. 
8. Chazon - “Vision”.  This pandemic has forced us to examine and question every aspect of our congregation. With all the pain and upset caused by our need to close our building, we have also discovered new options and opportunities to celebrate Jewish life. We know that when this crisis is over, the lessons we have learned and the new modalities of worship, learning, communicating and congregating will serve us well as we move into the new normal of Post-COVID-19 life. We also have discovered the centrality and importance of sacred community in our isolation from one another. We need one another and are determined to continue to provide multiple portals of entry into our Kehillah Kedoshah – our sacred community.
9. Hevei M’tunim – “Patience”.  In the Mishnah (Pirke Avot 1:1), our ancient rabbis taught that being patient while deliberating is one of the most important values we can possess. While they were most probably speaking of how Rabbis should conduct themselves while in a court of law, this value has much more far-reaching implications for us all. Given the fact that we are dealing with a situation that is constantly changing and unprecedented in our lives, we do not have all of the answers to the problems with which we are confronted. We feel confident in our abilities to make well-reasoned and appropriate decisions most of the time, but we also are prepared to learn from mistakes and missteps that we will make along the way. We are determined to learn from every experience – as well as glean important lessons from other congregations and communities around the country. One concept that we embrace, however, is that every decision we make will have been for what we believe is in the best interest of our congregation.

We hope and pray that soon we will be able to worship, study, celebrate and comfort one another in person. We give thanks for the bonds that keep us connected in this liminal and difficult time.

L'Shalom,

Rabbi Joseph R. Black

Scapegoating and Sacred Self-Awareness. Questions for Acharei Mot/Kedoshim

Dear Friends,

This week’s double torah portion, Acharei Mot/Kedoshim contains two familiar narratives. The first is the ritual of the Scapegoat: on Yom Kippur, two goats are selected.  One is sacrificed and the other is sent off to Azazeyl with the sins of the people upon its head (Leviticus 16:7-8).  The second passage contains what we now call the “Holiness Code.”  The words, “You will be holy, for I, Adonai your God am Holy, (Leviticus 19:1-2)” resonate as a powerful exhortation to find the holiness implanted within us all as we attempt to uncover God’s presence in our lives.

At face value, these two commandments appear to have very little in common. The Scapegoat – or Seir L’Azazeyl - is an ancient ritual of purgation that, to our modern sensibilities, has little, if any meaning. The commandment for us to find God’s holiness within ourselves, however, resonates strongly within many who seek to understand our purpose in the world.

And yet, if we attempt to dig just a little deeper than the literal meaning of our text, we can find powerful truths that are especially relevant during this difficult time of social distancing.  Scapegoating, as we know, is the act of looking to find others to blame for underlying problems in society. The term comes from the ritual we find in our parasha of banishing a goat into the wilderness with the sins of the people placed upon it by the High Priest. We don’t exactly know how this was observed in ancient days, but the symbolism of finding a target upon which to place our troubles has been part of our history as a people. Scapegoating, in essence, is an attempt to externalize our fears and find ways to explain away those things which plague our society. As Jews, we know all too well the dangers inherent in being scapegoated as well as scapegoating others.

Our second text, however, teaches us that holiness is not some external force that can be captured or controlled. On the contrary – it is part of our very nature.  “You Will be holy, because Adonai our God is holy.” We who are created in the Divine image understand both our ability and the inevitability of experiencing the sacred simply because of how we were created. The text continues on to teach us how to act with holiness:  to honor our parents, form a just society and treat the weakest among us with the respect and dignity deserving of holy beings.

In a very real sense, these two concepts create a dichotomy of human behavior. On one extreme, we all too often look outside of ourselves to point blame and rationalize our actions and missteps. Scapegoating is a refusal to accept responsibility for our failures. The other extreme, however, teaches us that the mitzvah of understanding our intrinsic, internal holiness leads us to own and embrace our actions and our humanity. When we see ourselves as striving to be holy, everything we do leads us towards our goal and helps us to celebrate all of God’s creation rather than looking for easy targets for scorn and hatred.

These past weeks have shown us both sides of our two parashot. We have witnessed how ignorance, fear and prejudice have blinded people and created irrational and racist tropes which begin in the far fringes of society, but all too often are rapidly and eagerly consumed by those looking for easy answers. The targeting of Asians, medical professionals and accusations of conspiracy against leaders who set boundaries in order to help save lives are just a few examples of the kind of ugly behavior brought about by scapegoating. And yes, Jews have been targeted as well.

But we also have found examples of incredible holiness in response to the Pandemic. The selfless caring exhibited by health care professionals, first responders and all those who literally risk their lives by going to work every day so that the rest of us might be safe shows us holiness in real time. Their sacrifice and dedication remind us to look for God’s presence wherever we gaze.

And so, my questions for this week revolve around our tendency to both externalize our fears and embrace the holiness that is within us.

1. How often, over the past weeks of social distancing, have I found myself blaming others in order to rationalize my fears, anxieties and self-doubts?
2.   How tolerant have I been of others’ weaknesses – especially those exhibited by our leaders?
3.  Have I been quick to judge policies and emergency measures without looking for the underlying reasons they were put in place?   
4. How often have I allowed myself to give thanks for the ability to shelter in place and be safe in the midst of this pandemic?
5.  Have I been able to see the holiness in myself?
6. Have I been able to see the holiness in others in my household?
7.  As a sacred “work-in progress,” have I been able to acknowledge that only God is perfect – even though I have the capacity for holiness within me?  Have I been able to see my mistakes and flaws as benchmarks towards my personal journey to find internal holiness?

Again – these questions are in no way complete.  They are designed to help us look within ourselves and our souls as we journey together through the unknown.

May we all learn to accept, embrace and anticipate our growth as imperfect beings with the capacity to seek out holiness and celebrate it in our lives.

AMEN

Tazria Metzora - Confronting Our Fears

My Dear Friends,

This week’s Torah portion, Tazria Metzora is difficult. It also has a reputation for inspiring fear and dread of any bar or Bat Mitzvah student who receives it for their shabbat service.  Tazria Metzora speaks of bodily functions, illness and quarantine.  It talks about:

o   Childbirth

o   Disease

o   Contact with bodily fluids

o   Afflictions of the skin

It also speaks of how, when a person contracts this condition, they need to go through a series of ritual cleansings, inspections and separation before they are allowed back into the community.

The disease, Tzaraat (which I’ll talk more about below) is not only a human disease – it can affect the walls of people’s homes as well – thereby giving it another dimension that expands its reach from that of a human disease – to a more global condition

It’s tempting to try and draw parallels from the fact that these two torah portions speak of disease and quarantine while our community, state, nation and, indeed, the entire world is coping with the corona virus – but, rather than succumbing to this temptation, I want to talk instead about why these chapters are included in our sacred text in the first place.  What lessons can we learn – not only from the content of our parasha, but the context in which the discussion takes place? You see, I don’t think that all of these laws about tzaraat – which we translate as leprosy – but clearly is something else – are included in the narrative to teach us about cleanliness, diagnosis or medical care, rather, I think they are about our fears.

Tzaraat, in our text, is a disease that clearly has a powerful impact on the Ancient Israelite community. It is not only experienced physically, but spiritually.  The fact that houses can be infected as well as humans should give us a clue that there is more going on beneath the surface than is readily apparent.

This past month has taken its toll on all of us. The facts that we cannot be physically close to one another; that our economy is suffering; that our national political discourse has become so toxic are taking a toll on us physically, emotionally and spiritually. We do not know how long this will continue. We worry about our health and those of our loved ones – some of whom are dealing with the virus, others who are vulnerable, and others who are on the front lines providing medical care, research, support and other crucial services that allow us to function. We worry about how we will emerge from our isolation and what our world will look like once we do.

In Tazaria Metzora, our ancestors had to deal with the unknown. They were afraid of something over which they had no control. The rituals of isolation, immersion, and re-entry were designed to provide a safe framework for the people to feel that they were not endangered by this unseen enemy.

I’ve been reading a lot lately about how psychologists and other mental health professionals are keenly aware of the fact that everyone is affected (infected?) by COVID-19 – regardless of whether or not they contract the virus. The radical overturning of our daily lives that we are experiencing is enough to shift our emotional equilibrium.  This can manifest itself in many different forms – from depression to compulsive behaviors, to denial, revolt and even other physical ailments.

Perhaps one of our key tasks at this time is to try to understand and anticipate our fear of the unknown and our reactions to it. As such, I want to propose the following 7 questions for us to explore as we continue on our journey:

1.  Research has shown that staying physically active during quarantine is an essential part of staying healthy. Am I engaging in enough physical activity?
2.  For those who are in quarantine with others: Am I aware of the needs of others in my home? Am I doing all that I can to understand what they are going through as well me? Am I tolerant of my own missteps as well as those of those with whom  am living?
3. Am I doing all that I can to be productive during this time? Are there tasks that need to be completed? Do I have outlets for creativity and meaningful outlets other than Television, the internet and other passive activities?
4. Am I looking for ways to help others? Are there ways that I can volunteer my time or expertise as well as my financial resources?
5. Am I willing to receive help from others?
6. Psychologists teach us that it is important that we not dwell too long on the length of time that we have been – or will be – socially distant. We need to remind ourselves that this is a temporary situation that will be resolved someday. We also need to be “in the moment” as much as we can.
7. There will be times when our fears will get the best of us. No one can be strong all the time. Have I been able to forgive myself for those moments when I don’t feel productive or give into the despair of the moment?

Again - these are only a few questions designed to help us process our fears of the unknown. Like our ancestors wandering in the Wilderness, there is much that we do not know. At the same time, however, we also have the blessing of being part of a sacred community that cares for one another.

If there is anything that I – or any of us at Temple  - can do for you – now or in the future; or if you need a referral for help – please let us know.  Send an email to Shalom@EmanuelDenver.org and we will get back to you as soon as we can.

I look forward to seeing you soon!

L’Shalom,

Rabbi Joseph R. Black