Masks and Faces - Kol Nidre – 5781/2020

 

My Dear Friends,

Gut Yuntif – L’Shanah Tovah!

Were we sitting together in our Sanctuary tonight, I would begin my remarks asking you to raise your hands if you have worn a Mask at some point in the past week?

My guess is that most of your hands would be up. I hope we all understand that the wearing of masks can help us to fulfill the Mitzvah of pekuach Nefesh- preserving life. 

No matter how we feel about masks – and no one really likes them - they are an integral and inescapable part of the landscape of our daily lives in this pandemic-inspired period of social distancing and self-isolation. They pose all kinds of problems that no one anticipated.

For example - It's very frustrating when I try to use my iPhone, but I can’t because face recognition doesn’t work when I’m wearing a mask….

How many of us, in the grocery store produce section find it impossible to open up the plastic bags because we can’t lick out fingers?

And let’s not even talk about glasses fogging up…..

At our second day Rosh Hashanah “drive through” shofar sounding, it was wonderful to see some of you in person at Temple. But since everyone was masked and we maintained social distancing, it was difficult at first to recognize everyone - I couldn’t see your faces from far away.  It was only when I got close enough (within the appropriate 6 feet) that I could see who who had come.

Masks have become part and parcel of our lives - whether we like it or not.

Tonight, I want to talk about masks – and faces.

This sacred day has many names.  One of those names is Yom Kippurim.  We just heard Cantor Sacks’ hauntingly beautiful rendition of Kol Nidre in which she sang:  “Mi Yom Kippurim zeh, ad Yom Kippurim ha ba aleynu l’tovah – from this Yom Kippurim to the next – May it be it good for us…”

In previous years, I’ve shared with you how our rabbinic tradition takes the name, “Yom Kippurim” – which we translate as the “Day of Atonement” – and makes a pun:  Yom K’purim – “a day that is like Purim.”

How are Yom Kippurim and Purim connected?  One answer is that on Purim, we put on our masks – on Yom Kippur, we take them off. Another refers to the book of Esther. “Esther” is not a traditional Hebrew name. Some scholars believe that it is linked to the Babylonian goddess of fertility, Ishtar (which is also the name of a terrible movie…) – while Mordechai refers to the Babylonian god of war, Marduk.

But the name Esther is also connected to the Hebrew word, Hester, which means hidden.” The concept of Hester Panim refers to God’s hidden face. Esther is the only book in the Bible in which God’s name is never directly mentioned. God is hidden in the Purim story.  While Esther does not wear a mask, she was hiding something – as her name suggests. 

·         She hid her identity as a Jew.

·         She hid her dignity while dealing with the boorish King Achashverosh.

But eventually, she needed to show her true self – for her own sake and that of her people – and reveal who she really was. This became the heroic act that allowed justice to prevail and the Jews to defeat Haman.

During the next 24 hours – we, like Esther, will be removing our masks, standing before God and pleading our case for the New Year. We will show our true faces.

The Hebrew word for face is panim.  In Yiddish, it’s punim – same thing. An interesting thing about the word, “panim,” is that it is one of the few Hebrew words that is singular but written and pronounced in the plural. There are a few others – but not many. 

·         Mayim – water

·         Chayim – life.

But if you think about it – the plurality of panim makes sense. Our faces are constantly changing. And the truth is, we have many faces -   Some we show.  Some we mask.

In English – as well as in Hebrew, “face” is both a noun and a verb.  We can see a face, but we also face: 

• our fears
• the unknown
• the future
• the truth

We face one another, but we also face ourselves – and we don’t always like what we see. Sometimes we go through all kinds of efforts to fit a preconceived notion of who we think we are or want to be:

A story is told of a man who was to be married in three months.  He wanted to make sure that he would look his best at his upcoming wedding, so he went to a tailor and ordered a custom-made, bespoke suit.  The Tailor took his measurements, showed him the options for fabrics and told him to return in two months for a final fitting.  Two months later the man returned to the tailor shop - expecting to find his new suit.  He was greeted by a very apologetic tailor who told him that he was so busy, the suit wasn't finished yet, but if he come back in two weeks, his suit would be ready.  The groom had no choice and, two weeks later he returned.  Again, the tailor apologized and said that the suit was not ready - but it would be in a week.  A week later he came back and - you guessed it - no suit.  The groom was panicking.  His wedding was a few days away.  “Don't worry,” said the tailor – “come to my store on the morning of the wedding and I absolutely guarantee the suit will be ready.” 

The day of the wedding came.  The groom walked into the tailor shop and the tailor, with a broad smile on his face presented him with his new suit.  The groom was in such a hurry that he didn't even stop to try it on.  He got to the synagogue, put on his brand-new suit and to his dismay he discovered that it didn't fit at all!  One sleeve was too long, the other too short.  One leg was shorter than the other.  It was a mess!  There was no time to fix it - the wedding was scheduled to begin in just a few moments.  His best man looked at the groom  and at the suit and said:  "You know, if you twist your shoulder, and bend one of your legs when you're walking down the aisle, the suit looks like it just might fit."  And so, as the music began for the processional, the poor groom walked down the aisle with his shoulder high in the air and one leg bent.  And as he passed the guests who were seated on the aisle, he could hear them whispering to one another:  "That poor man! Look at him - all bent out of shape like that – but look at that suit…what a great tailor!!!”

How often do we twist and turn ourselves in order to fit some preconceived notion of who we wish we were, but deep down, we know we never will achieve?

On this Yom Kippurim, we stand, unfiltered before God and ourselves. All pretense gone. All masks discarded.

Tomorrow, we will read Moses’ stirring words: 

“Atem Nitzavim Hayom Kulchem Lifnei Adonai Eloheychem.

You stand -ALL of you – this day – facing Adonai Your God.”

Moses is both a troubled and, often and troubling figure in the Torah. In the last verses of the last chapter of Deuteronomy we find the words:

“And there has not risen another prophet like Moses who knew God Panim el Panim – face to face.”

The intimacy between God and Moses is remarkable.  When Moses returned from Mt. Sinai with the second set of Tablets his face was radiant, and the people could not look at him. Every subsequent time Moses encountered God in the Tent of Meeting, before speaking to the people he would cover his face with a Mask so that he could communicate with them. Some commentators posit that Moses always wore a mask when speaking to the Israelites.  Think about that for a moment. Moses could speak to God Panim el Panim – face to face – but he could not face his own people without a mask. Like so many of us, he hid his true self.

On this Kol Nidre night – we come together – but we are hidden from each other. This year we are separated by our computer screens.

There is a passage in the Zohar, the 11^th century Kabbalistic text, that teaches that in the beginning of the Hebrew month of Elul each of us stands Achor el Achor – back to back. But, as Elul ends and we reach Rosh Hashanah, we begin to turn, and on Yom Kippur we stand Panim El Panim – face to face: With God // and with one another. That is the power of these days of awe. These words take on a significant and powerful meaning  - especially during this time of isolation.

We need to stand Panim El Panim.  We need to face God, ourselves and one another. That, I firmly believe, is one of the most important and central aspects of belonging to a congregation. These past 7 months have been so difficult, and yet so filled with creativity and a new comprehension of community. We have prayed together online. We have studied, celebrated simchas and found comfort in times of sorrow. One of the main questions that Jewish professionals and prognosticators are asking today revolves around the future of the Synagogue. Will our success in providing a virtual platform ultimately harm us? After all, as we said on Erev Rosh HaShanah: it’s nice attending services in your living room… You don’t have to get dressed up. You don’t need to rush to get a seat or a parking space. You can chat with those around you or online.  I’m actually quite fascinated with the discussions that take place on Facebook when our services are simulcast. The greetings, comments and heartfelt prayers that many of you post are quite beautiful. But not everybody agrees with me.  Some of my colleagues don’t like them at all.  They feel that they are a distraction from the service and are inappropriate. Not me.  Comment away!  (Right now…write a comment!!!! I’ll wait)

There’s a saying attributed to the 20^th century Jewish humorist, Sam Levinson who was once asked why he went to synagogue since he wasn’t religious. Levinson responded: “There are many reasons one would go to the synagogue,” “Take Ginsburg. He goes to talk to God. Me? I go to talk to Ginsburg.”

So, in this age of virtual community, what will happen to the Synagogue?  There are two answers: 

The first is that those congregations that cannot or will not adapt to live streaming technology will suffer. I don’t mean just turning on a camera in the sanctuary and broadcasting the service. That will not be enough. We have learned a great deal over the past 7 months. A key lesson is that meaningful worship can and does take place online. But – it needs to be carefully crafted in such a way as to open a doorway of welcome and spirituality to all those participating. It can’t be a show – but it also should not be inaccessible. It must be a moving experience for all – designed to include those who are present and those who are unable to attend in person. We at Temple Emanuel are committed to providing engaging and powerful online worship: now and in the future. We are particularly grateful to the Reynolds Family Foundation for a grant that has enabled us to purchase and soon to install new, state of the art broadcasting technology in our sanctuary, chapel, social hall and throughout our building that will enable us – when we can return safely - to stream classes, worship services,  meetings and life-cycle events anywhere around the world.

The second answer to the future of the synagogue in a post-COVID-19 world lies in the concept of Panim El Panim – face to face. As important as virtual worship has become, it will never replace the power of real-time, face to face connection.  It is here in the synagogue where we foster and create sacred community - that we can take off our masks and find meaning. It is in the ancient rituals and their modern interpretations that God’s presence can be found with others. It is in moments of awe and spiritual awakening - in the laughter we share and the tears we shed.  It is in the power of Torah and the excitement of learning; it is in the beauty of the simchas and the depths of sorrows that take place within our walls.

When we stand Panim El Panim – face to face – with ourselves, our God and one another, we create a Kehilla Kedosha – a sacred community that no pandemic can possibly destroy.

And this brings me to one more aspect or community - the need to heal and ask one another for forgiveness: the process of teshuvah – of repentance that this night – that the next 24 hours - is all about. When we remove our masks, sometimes, we see painful things. We acknowledge how we have hurt one another. We know that we are not perfect and that we make mistakes. We see the path we need to take to make amends. This is our sacred task.

And so, once again on this holiest night of the year - as I do every year - I challenge you

• Tell the people you love that you love them – whether you can do it in person, by phone or zoom.
• Reach out to those who need you.    
• Ask for help from those who want nothing more than to be there for you.

·         If you can – and sometimes we cannot - make amends with those who have hurt you – and to those whom you have hurt as well. 

My dear friends, on this Yom K’purim- this day that we remove our masks - we are fragile and fearful, but we are also renewed and reinvigorated.  May our striving for holiness allow us to face our fears and the future. May we be strong and May God’s choicest blessing be on us all.   

G’mar Chatimah Tovah – may we all be sealed for a blessing in the book of life. Amen

Passing the Test - Rosh HaShanah Morning 5781

My Dear Friends,

Every year, when we read the story of the Akeda - the binding of Isaac, I am struck by the power of the narrative. No word is wasted, every nuance, every action, every moment is carefully choreographed to heighten the drama, the emotion, the energy and the terror of the events being described. Once again we listened to the story of God's asking Abraham to sacrifice his son, Isaac – read and chanted so beautifully for us this morning. In our text, father and son walk together to an unknown destination. Abraham leads Isaac to the altar, ties him up and prepares to slaughter him according to God's command. At the last minute, God stops Abraham and a ram which happened to be caught in a nearby thicket was offered up in Isaac's place.

On a literal level, the text teaches us that the binding of Isaac is a test of Abraham's faith. God needs to know if Abraham and his descendants will be able to fulfill their part of the Covenantal relationship.

And yet, we must ask: What kind of a God would ask a parent to sacrifice a child - as a test? And so, each year, I try to find another perspective to help me to come to grips with the Akedah.

This year, I had no trouble. This year, the answer came to me quite clearly - in the sounds of people marching through the streets of almost every city in our nation. These marches and protests took place following the deaths of several Black Americans:  George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmad Ahbrey and Elijah McClain – to name only a few.

I want to share with you a poem composed by the Israeli Poet, Chayim Gouri. It is called "Heritage"(Yerusha):

The Ram came last of all.
And Abraham did not know that it came to answer the boy's question -
First of his strength when his day was on the wane.

The old man raised his head.
Seeing that it was no dream and that the angel stood there -
The knife slipped from his hand.

The boy, released from his bonds,
Saw his father's back.

Isaac, as the story goes,
Was not sacrificed.
He lived for many years,
Saw what pleasure had to offer,
Until his eyesight dimmed.

But he bequeathed that hour to his offspring.

They are born with a knife in their hearts.

Gouri's final stanza: "They are born with a knife in their hearts" would suggest that Isaac's bequest to his offspring is the memory of the violence that shaped his childhood.

Gouri wrote this poem in the aftermath of the Shoah. The wound of which he speaks is etched into our consciousness as Jews. Indeed, many studies have demonstrated the intergenerational trauma experienced by children and even grandchildren of Holocaust survivors. 

Last year, at our Selichot services, Rabbi Tirtza Firestone shared her research and writing on the topic of intergenerational trauma and the holocaust. I must confess, I was deeply moved by her words. She shared how the descendants of survivors face many fears, trauma and even physiological issues even though they never directly experienced trauma. My mother escaped Nazi Germany when she was 12 years old and my sister and I grew up in a home where fear of the “other” and a perpetual sense of dread were constant companions. This had a profound impact on every aspect of our lives.

Intergenerational trauma, however, is not an exclusively Jewish phenomenon. There is ample evidence in American history of those who were victimized, brutalized and dehumanized and who bear scars to this very day. The legacies of Slavery, Jim Crow, racial segregation, and White privilege have been passed down from generation to generation. They live on in the many hidden and not so hidden barriers, policies, and daily practice of American life. As such, the murders of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Elijah McClain and so many others did not cause the protests of this past summer.  The slogan, “Black Lives Matter,” did not suddenly emerge as a provocative call to radical revolution. Rather, all these events and ideas were formed and forged in a crucible of history that reached a boiling point that had been set in motion for generations. Add to this the tensions created by the realization that the danger, infection and mortality rates of COVID-19 were highest in communities of color and those on the bottom of the economic ladder. It is clear that the explosion of anger, frustration and fear we witnessed was both understandable and inevitable.

Last year, I also spoke about racial justice during the High Holy Days. In the months that followed, we convened a series of conversations at Temple that resulted in a dedicated group of learners who gathered to explore issues of race and injustice. These were very difficult conversations. No one wants to acknowledge that they may somehow have contributed to or benefitted from a system that was built to promote White Supremacy and privilege. But the evidence is overwhelming.

The African American academic and author, Roxanne Gay, wrote the following this past May:

 “…Some white people…fret over the destruction of property and want everyone to just get along. They struggle to understand why Black people are rioting but offer no alternatives about what a people should do about a lifetime of rage, disempowerment and injustice…The rest of the world yearns to get back to normal. For black people, normal is the very thing from which we yearn to be free^[i].”

As Jews, I believe that our response to these events– the marches, demonstrations, calls for radical reform and self-reflection – are as much a test as was the binding of Isaac.

·         If we ignore the clarion calls for understanding, for justice and equity that have emerged from the streets of our cities - then we / have failed / our test.

·         If we focus only on the destruction and chaos caused by extremists with vested interests in disrupting and obfuscating messages of pain and trauma - then we / have failed / our test.

·         At the same time, if we do not condemn the demonization and random violence directed against Law Enforcement - - then we / have failed / our test.

·         If we only hear the scattered voices of anti-Semitism and anti-Zionism that a small number of organizers of the Black Lives Matter movement have spoken – and do not hear the condemnation of these individuals and ideas within the movement – or, even worse, allow these few outliers to provide us a reason to disregard the entire movement, then we / have failed / our test.

·         If we allow ourselves to stand silently while our neighbors, family members, fellow congregants, friends and colleagues bleed – then not only have we failed our test, but we have forsaken the sacred, prophetic cry that our faith, our history and our Torah have bequeathed to us.

Elie Wiesel, in his 1986 acceptance speech for the Nobel Peace Prize said the following: 

Sometimes we must interfere. When human lives are endangered, when human dignity is in jeopardy, national borders and sensitivities become irrelevant. Whenever men or women are persecuted because of their race, religion, or political views, that place must – at that moment – become the center of the universe.

And if you feel that cries for racial equity do not apply to us as Jews, then you are cutting off members of our own congregation – our children, spouses, leaders and students. A recent study showed that 12% of American Jews are either “Jews of Color” or live in multi-racial households[ii] - and these numbers are growing.  While these statistics may vary in different parts of the country, the fact remains that our community is changing – for the better. If demographic trends continue, then the Jewish people will continue to grow increasingly diverse and the beauty of multi-ethnic and racial harmony could very well be part and parcel of the legacy of American Judaism.

Like Abraham, we are being tested, my friends. And the way that we, as a community, as people of faith and as a congregation of conscience rise to the challenge will determine, in no small way – our ethical core and consistency. We who have inherited a prophetic legacy of social justice cannot remain silent, passive or oblivious to the reality of racism in our community and our national history.

It is for this reason that I am incredibly proud of the following resolution drafted by members of our racial equity working group that was voted on and overwhelmingly passed by our Board of Trustees in August.  It reads, in part:

Temple Emanuel … strives to create a kehillah kedoshah – a holy community – for all past, present and future members. We believe that Black Lives Matter.  As such, we unequivocally condemn expressions of bigotry, intolerance, violence, and white supremacy.  We firmly stand alongside our friends and colleagues of color as we struggle together toward equity and righteousness. We believe that it is not enough to merely condemn these societal ills, but we must actively become anti-racist by addressing and working to change them. Temple Emanuel and the Reform Jewish community have a long and proud history of partnership, activism and solidarity with Movements for Social Justice and Civil rights in our country. But there is still a great deal of work to be done to achieve racial equality….

As a result, we are fully dedicated to becoming an anti-racist congregation.

To become an anti-racist congregation, we will initially look inward and focus on the following:

• Providing ongoing educational content and opportunities for self-reflection on issues of racial justice - for our clergy, staff, lay leadership and membership.
• Implementing an institutional assessment to measure where we are organizationally in terms of diversity, inclusivity, and equity. 

We pledge to work in solidarity with others as we live out the essential Jewish value of B'Tzelem Elohim - all Humanity is Created in God’s image. We are committed to dismantling systems of white privilege wherever they might be found as we celebrate the holiness in every human being.

At Temple Emanuel, the time is now for our voices to rise together so that we can live out the biblical injunction: 

“Justice, justice, shall you pursue.” (Deuteronomy 16:20)

Our Congregational leadership has stepped forward to proclaim our values as Jews, as concerned citizens and as children of Isaac who know all too well the pain of intergeneration trauma.

I am also very excited to announce that the Rose Community Foundation will be partnering with Temple Emanuel. They have provided us with a substantial grant that will support our enable us to begin the work of becoming an Anti-Racist agenda. We received the following letter this past week:

Rose Community Foundation is proud to provide seed funding to support Temple Emanuel’s commitment to becoming an anti-racist congregation…

In addition to ongoing funding to increase the strength and capacity of Jewish organizations and support programs that are reflective of diverse Jewish communities and offer meaningful and relevant ways to engage in Jewish life, Rose Community Foundation aims to support local Jewish efforts that seek to advance social justice by engaging Jewish people and using Jewish values and traditions to respond to key social issues of our time…We pledge to continue listening, learning and directing our philanthropy toward advancing equity, justice and inclusion, and we are honored to have Temple Emanuel as a partner in that work.

On Yom Kippur afternoon, at 2:00 PM, members of our Racial Justice Task Force will be joining with me to discuss the vitally important work that we will be continuing and expanding over the course of the next year. Our High School Youth Programs will be engaging in a similar discussion this afternoon at 3:00. Join us. Help make a change – in our community and most importantly, in ourselves.

My friends, there is a tremendous amount of work that needs to be done. Today, our tradition teaches, we stand before God. We are being tested. Like Abraham and Isaac, the way that we respond to the pain and suffering around us will determine whether or not we have passed the test.

I look forward to partnering together to make our world more complete.

AMEN L’Shanah Tovah

---

[i] https://www.nytimes.com/2020/05/30/opinion/sunday/trump-george-floyd-coronavirus.html

 

[ii] https://jewsofcolorfieldbuilding.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/Counting-Inconsistencies-052119.pdf

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