Purim 5776 - More Esthers Needed

It’s easy to spot the Hamans out there, it’s hard to embody Esther when we encounter him.

In this current political season, it is not hard to imagine Donald J. Trump sporting the three-sided, Hamentashen-looking hat donned by our least favorite Purim villain. It is not a stretch to see the same bigotry, prejudice and fear-mongering woven into the narrative of the Book of Esther echoing today when we watch and listen to the message emanating from the camp of the presumptive Republican presidential nominee.

In listening to Mr. Trump’s recent speech at the AIPAC convention, I am reminded how difficult it is to confront Haman. I do not think I have spoken with any Jews who are not at the least uncomfortable with this candidacy and at the most outraged by it. When the scheduled speech was announced, my inbox was flooded with reactions and plans by those in attendance at the AIPAC conference to protest in some form or fashion. And yet, as I watched and listened to his speech on YouTube ... I was surprised to hear ovations and cheers as the candidate offered the platitudes about Israel, the U.S. and Iran that for which the 19,000 Jews in attendance were waiting.

All 19,000 of the attendees were not cheering and there were some people who actually did protest and walk out. And yet, it is probably safe to say that there were still thousands of Jews applauding and cheering on the candidate with the Hamentaschen on his head. After all, his inflammatory remarks have not been about Jews ... and he did march as marshal in the Friends of Israel parade in New York City ... his daughter is a Jew, about to give birth to a Jewish child ... and it seems by the things he is saying about Israel as if we Jews might be ‘safe’ in the crazy world in which Donald J. Trump is elected to the one of the most powerful positions in the world.

It’s easy to spot the Hamans out there, it’s hard to embody Esther when we encounter him.

Esther’s challenge was in overcoming her relative comfort and safety. Chances were, or at least it appeared, that her status within the kingdom would preserve her life in the face of Haman’s decree to kill the Jews. He did not appear to be a direct threat to her. By standing up to Haman and the King, she threatened her relative comfort and safety. Her genius, her courage lay in her risking this lack of immediate threat ... and remembering her highest values and paying attention to the larger realities ... she named and confronted Haman. The consequences of her safety and security be damned.

It is easy to confront Haman when he threatens us directly, it is more uncomfortable and unsettling to do so when the threats are toward the other. The other who seems not like us, but in truth in not very far from us. In this case it is the ‘illegal’ immigrant, the muslim ... but there are plenty more ‘others’ out there whom Haman threatens.

The challenge of Embodying Esther is about using our Jewish lens on the world ... the lens shaped by our values of justice, mercy and peace ... to recognizing the injustice and intolerance that impacts others. Embodying Esther is not simply about recognizing such things, but putting aside our relative comfort and security and confronting them. Whether the other who faces injustice is a Muslim, an immigrant, a woman, a Palestinian, an African American ... anyone whose security, liberty and dignity is threatened by someone donning the three-sided, Hamantaschen-looking headwear.

We’ve got plenty of Hamans. We need more Esthers.

The Divinity Principle - Yitro 5776

The Mediocrity Principle. I came across this scientific notion while listening to this week’s This American Life radio show podcast. Its premise is that no place in the universe is more ‘special’ than another place. All places are scientifically the same, mediocrity abounds. This philosophical construct is used to argue the position that there may be life on other planets - i.e. that earth is not unique or special and that there exist millions of other planets like earth that could produce life.

I do not think anyone (or any planet) wants to think of ourselves as mediocre. Once I finished feeling the rejection of being told that I lived on a mediocre planet ... I began to acclimate to the idea, with a twist. The concept that many places could be similar in their potential for life ... makes sense. It is a hopeful idea. I extrapolated the concept to the varied and diverse places here in our planet, in our country ... to the varied and diverse people in our world ... to the varied and diverse moments in our days. And, I liked the idea ... that each was held equally the possibility for ‘life’. Every place, person and moment holds the same potential.

But, I was still stuck on ‘mediocrity.’ Potential for ‘life’ is not mediocre at all, it is anything but ‘mediocrity’. Mediocre is ‘Meh’. The potential for life is ‘Wow.’

Torah this week tells us the story of the Sinai moment and the revelation of the Ten Commandments to the Israelites. (Get that Mel Brooks version of this moment out of your mind!) In the course of our story (whether one reads it literally or as myth), Sinai is a singularly special moment of encounter with the Divine. Seen through the lens of the Mediocrity Principle, it is not at all singular and limited, but varied and diverse.

The great 20th century rabbi, Abraham Joshua Heschel, put it this way, “Sinai is an event that both happened once and for all and an event that happens all of the time. What God does happens both in time and in eternity.” Even though it may seem to us that this moment was at only one point on the storyline, such is not the true nature of Sinai or of our moments. Every moment is a potential moment for revelation, for connection to the holy ... for life.

So, I humbly offer this spiritual spin on the Mediocrity Principle. For now, let’s call it the Divinity Principle. There is no place, no person and no moment that has any more divinity than the place you are in right now; the person with you whom you are interacting right now; or the moment you living right now ...

So ... forget the “Meh” and watch out for the ‘Wow.’

Vayikra 5775 - The Levitical Lens

I am sad. I am disillusioned. I am angry. It is not that the recent Israeli election changed the status quo. There will be a similar ratio of a ruling ‘conservative’ block and an opposing ‘liberal’ one. It is not even that there were any true surprises coming from Prime Minister Netanyahu -- he was manipulative, combative, parochial and ... consistent. My sadness, disillusion and anger result from how his efforts were rewarded by the electorate. This response gave him - at least in the context of Israeli politics - a landslide victory. It is a harsh reminder of the kind of rigidity, chauvinism and myopia that has Israel’s present and future in what is akin to a death grip.

How fitting for me that the mysterious machinations of our spiritual tradition would present the beginning of the book of Leviticus as the Torah lens for me to reflect on these feelings. Each year as we are confronted by Leviticus’ antiquated and anachronistic notions and practices: ardous sacrificial offerings; an officious and domineering priestly caste and all the graphic descriptions of how’s, what’s, when’s and who’s involved. Yes, we endeavor (with moderate success) to translate the sacrificial system into some mythic and metaphorical meaning. At the end of the day - no matter the eloquence of our transformative tale - we have no problem rejecting the relevance of these obligations and relegating them to their appropriate place in our past. I became a Reform Jew - because I was drawn to this willingness to unashamedly, unabashedly and respectfully leave such attitudes and practices where they belong - in our past.

Using this levitical lens, I examine these elections and the things that are said, done or promised to be done in the name of Judaism. With the same vehemence with which I reject the relevance of sacrifices in our present and future view of the world, I am compelled to reject these narrow (Mitzrayim like?) attitudes toward other human beings -- no matter how one may label these human beings: Arabs, Israeli Arab Citizens or Palestinians. I am compelled to reject such attitudes that embrace a supposed divine promise for a swath of land while negating the actual divine gifts of compassion, justice and peace.

No, the election has not changed the status quo in the Knesset, the Israeli electorate or even Prime Minister Netanyahu. The election, however, has changed me.

Vayechi 5775 - Farewell, Joseph

(A digest of my D’var Torah from Kabbalat Shabbat services on 1.2.15)

Rabbi Joe Goldman died just more than a week ago ... and he added something to your life.

‘What?!” you say, ‘I never knew Rabbi Joe Goldman!’ You may have never met Rabbi Joe Goldman, but if you are reading this email and you have a connection to me or to Temple Micah or to someone else who values Temple Micah ... then you owe a debt of gratitude to Rabbi Joe Goldman.

Rabbi Joe Goldman was Temple Micah’s first rabbi in the 1960’s. It was his spirit, character and vision that set the tone for our community, our values and how a rabbi and congregation partner to create a kehilah kedosha -- a sacred community.

There are few narrative moments from Rabbi Joe’s tenure that show us who he was and how that spirit still abides among us today. 

• Rabbi Joe taught about the trust that is an essential part of a successful partnership between rabbi and congregation when he insisted (and the community responded positively) that the community introduce the teaching Hebrew to its students. (Micah - as a congregation who identified with Classical Reform ideals - did not have a Hebrew component in its education curriculum.)  This decision took two partners to make and successfully integrate.
• Rabbi Joe taught about the important balance for a religious organization to apply its values to operate both as a community and as a business. Complete with business degree and sales experience, Rabbi Joe understood that it was essential for a congregation to be able to talk about money and conduct its business in a way that reflected Jewish values and the best practices of our contemporary society. He would later use this experience and outlook, to help shape the pension plan and retirement for hundreds of rabbis and Reform professionals.  
• Rabbi Joe taught about the ideal of radical welcomeness, as he would have no problem speaking about his lack of faith in God - from the bimah or in his office. He set the tone for a Micah community that still prides itself on inclusivity regardless of ideology, theology, socioeconomics, sexual orientation or family construct.

The Hebrew version of the name, Joseph - who we read about in the last portion of the end of Genesis - is Yosayf. It means: To add, to increase, to enhance. Rabbi Joe Goldman added something, increased and enhanced the lives of any of us who value Temple Micah.

Thank you, Rabbi Joe. May your memory continue to be a blessing.

Toledot 5775 (Violence in Our Sacred Space)

This one hits very close to home. I doubt that if I had ever met my colleagues who were murdered on Tuesday in Jerusalem. I doubt, too, that we would have had much in common or to agree upon if we had the chance to know one another. (I must admit, I have been wrong on such assumptions in the past.) And yet, the fact that the violence occurred in a such a sacred space and time; while the victims were doing something that I do so frequently - in a synagogue participating in communal prayer - feels like a cosmic punch to the gut.

This tragic act of violence occurs during the week that Jews around the world read the Torah portion, Toledot. Toledot is the story of the conflicted brothers - Jacob and Esau. These twins begin their conflict - in a sacred space - in the womb of their mother, Rebecca. Rebecca feels the physical discomfort and pain of two fetuses wrestling in her belly. She also feels the spiritual discomfort and pain - a cosmic punch to the gut - as these two brothers engage in this conflict in a setting that protects and nourishes them. In a moment of existential angst and fatigue - responding to this conflict and its physical and spiritual impact on her, Rebecca cries out to God: Why? - Why does it have to be this way? Why does it have to be my burden?

Many of us can identify with Rebecca’s angst -- her outrage, her frustration ... even her sense of violation of a respected order of things. We, too, want to cry out - to the perpetrators of such pain, to the enablers of such a violation - but also to a broader and deeper Facilitator of our cosmos and cry out: Why? Why does it have to be this way? Why is this our continual burden?

I find it compelling to consider an etymological point of interest about the conflict within Rebecca’s womb. The Hebrew word for this place where life is given and protected is Rechem. It is within her Rechem where the violating conflict occurs. In our tradition when we speak of Mercy, we use the word Rachamim. It looks familiar because the root of the word for ‘womb’ is the same root for the word for ‘Mercy.’  I wonder, what is this profound interplay between the conflict within Rebecca’s Rechem (womb) and the value of Rachamim (Mercy)? How does such conflict exist because of a lack of Rachamim? In what way would Rachamim mitigate the impact of this conflict? How does one end conflict without the presence of some modicum of Rachamim?

The violation of such a sacred space in Jerusalem this week angers, worries and frightens us. It does not give us cause to forget why we construct such sacred spaces and times and what we endeavor to realize within them. No matter the pain, plight or the suffering one faces and no matter how one’s actions might be cloaked in fighting tyranny and seeking justice - perpetrating such acts in such a vulnerable space is reprehensible. Ironically, it should be within the context of such a space and time, that one would hope to bridge the abyss between people - collectively and individually. We must look beyond the willingness by a tortured few to desecrate such spaces, to our own willingness to continually open those spaces - and in turn ourselves - to the realization of our highest ideals and values.

See Clearly, Now! - RH 5774

In the last couple of weeks through the medium of video … some very sad, disturbing and tragic events in remote or more private places have been seen by millions of people around the world.  ISIS or ISIL has recorded and shared the dastardly beheading of two American journalists.  The start to the NFL football season has been overshadowed by the release of a video that records one of its star players punching his then fiancé. In both cases, the videos released contained events that, sadly, are not new - either in human history or in the daily lives of some of the world's inhabitants.  And yet, the sharing of the videos served as potent catalysts in dramatically impacting reactions toward those who perpetuated the violence. ISIS/ISIL has been acting in the Middle East for months, but these videos seem to have been part of the impetus for the President to respond in the public and aggressive manner in which he did and plans to lead the country.  The NFL had already punished its player for the suspected violence, but the punishment was dramatically increased once the video was released to the public.

These are two very negative and powerful examples of how actually seeing something, affects us more profoundly than hearing about it, reading about it or even just thinking about it.  There exists a potent element to taking the time, utilizing the tools or technology we have to examine and understand the events that unfold around us … and within us.  Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur serve as a kind of spiritual technology that can be used to see our lives more closely and clearly.  It is a kind of seeing that is beyond the scope of our physical senses.  It is a kind of seeing that one does with our spiritual 'senses'.

These High Holydays stake claim to set aside sacred time from our lives to examine our choices and their consequences for us and the world around us.  The close viewing - witnessing - of those aspects of our lives that we many not give such close attention to the rest of the year - can be empowering and frightening; transforming and intimidating.  This spiritual technology demands self-awareness and the constructive actions that follow.  As raw, honest and vulnerable that we may feel by seeing ourselves so closely and clearly - those feelings cannot compare to the numbness, rigidity and stuckness that results when we do not bear witness to the life of our own souls.

As Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur approach us once again, I pray that we may all see them for the challenge, utility, necessity and opportunity they present … to look honestly, justly and compassionately on the state of our lives … and understand enough from what we see to make this next  year one of growth, joy and meaning.

The Weapons of War - Devarim 5774

The weapons of war are heartless, inexact and utterly destructive. Bombs, missiles, shells, bullets, grenades, knives, fists and feet bring pain, injury and loss. Those of us outside the physical theater of war find our hearts heavy with sadness, shock and anguish as we glean the news about and lament the violence and destruction of people and property. We are not soldiers in these battles and cannot feel or know the anxiety, shock and fear that accompanies being there. Nonetheless, It is from afar we feel and experience faint aftershocks of each act of violence.

However, there is another battlefield that is not limited to a military theater - bounded by geographic constraints and physical boundaries. It is the battlefield of identity, ideas and values. It is the battlefield of communities, nations, peoples. These battlefields cannot be constrained by geography, distance or any physical border. And while there are times when we encounter some of the weapons used in the military theater of battle, these are not the most prevalent weapons in this virtual theater. In this theater, in this battlefield words - and the ideas, feelings and meaning behind them - are the weapons used by the masses for destruction. We are quite impotent when it comes to directly affecting the use of weapons on the physical battlefield, such is not the case with the verbal weapons we witness, experience and utilize in this larger battlefield.

This week’s Torah portion begins the book of Deuteronomy or Devarim. The portion and the book begin: “Eleh Devarim - These are the words that Moses addressed to all of Israel ... “. The entire book of Deuteronomy/Devarim (34 chapters) are Moses’ words of reminder, encouragement, chastisement and guidance to the Israelites. A simple, yet pithy teaching speaks of the power of these words used by Moses. It also speaks to us about the way that the power of words may be wielded for destruction or construction. A midrash teaches that the word: devarim (meaning ‘words’) can be vocalized in Hebrew to also read d’vorim (meaning: ‘bees’). It suggests that just as sharp, painful and even destructive that a bee’s sting may be - a bee’s honey may also be sweet, pleasing and nourishing. Moses’s words - the words of Torah - contain the nourishing nature of honey and the pain inducing nature of the stinger.

Even though we may be overwhelmed by the physical violence and destruction of the implements of war, we would be wise not to ignore or underestimate the power contained in the implements of our battlefield - the words we use. It will be the words of politicians, diplomats, soldiers AND the words of the individuals of those communities that will tear down or build up. After this fighting ends - and hopefully it will soon - it will be devarim - words that either continue the destruction wrought in this conflict or somehow, someway begin the work constructing a peace.

Let us keep these words, these devarim and the message behind them prominent in our minds and hearts as we process and respond to the events unfolding on the physical battlefield in this place so precious to the Jewish people and to the rest of the world.

Take a Mountain Moment - Shavuot 5774

It may not be on your radar, but the Jewish holiday of Shavout is upon us. Historically, it is a big one ... one of the three pilgrimage festivals for which our ancestors congregated in Jerusalem at the Temple. Currently, as far as popular recognition or observance goes, it could be said that Shavuot does not reside on the Mt. Rushmore of Jewish Holidays.

Originally, an agriculturally based observance of first fruits, Shavuot also became the medium to celebrate a fairly significant event in the mythic life of the Jews - the Sinai moment. In our story that is told in Torah, the Sinai moment is where God speaks to the Israelite community directly (not through Moses as is commonly thought in the collective Jewish psyche -- or as Mel Brooks or Cecil B. Demille portrays).

For most liberal Jews this significant moment in our collective story is hard to embrace. Accepting the literal or figurative truth in the story can be challenging. For me, I certainly lean in that direction ... and yet, somewhere and somehow I do not want to completely reject the possibility of an encounter or experience that wow’s us, moves us and transforms us. When I consider the Sinai story and its implications, I understand it as our tradition’s code for expressing the possibility of encounters with the divine ... and its challenge to think about our readiness and openness to such encounters.

So, Jews around the world will focus on the Sinai moment this week. (Tuesday night or Wednesday are the actual days on which Shavuot falls this year). In the spirit of encountering the divine, perhaps you have a few moments (actually on Shavuot or sometime this week) for consideration, cogitation or contemplation of Sinai-esque moments. If you are so inclined, please use this Shavout exercise as a guide.

Mountainous Moments - A Shavuot Exercise

• Carve out some time where you can sit, relax and reflect.
• If you can make it a space where you can experience of bit of the majesty that is part of our Colorado mountains, better yet! 
• Bring along something to write with (if that is something you prefer) or something to sip on (if that is something you prefer). 
• Make yourself comfortable ... first physically, make sure you are good to sit for some time. 
• Then mentally, take a few moments, focus on your breathing, empty your mind of what you have to do or what you did not do ... just clear out your mind of the clutter of the everyday. 
• Let’s put aside trying to get our heads and hearts around the actual experience of the divine encounter. Let’s consider the preparation or readiness for such an encounter. 
• Read this description from Torah about the organization of the Israelites in the wilderness (as they prepared for their spiritual journey) and the explanation of it from the Etz Hayim Torah Commentary: 

NUMBERS 2:1: The Israelites shall camp each with his standard, under the banners of their ancestral house; they shall camp around the Tent of Meeting at a distance.

ETZ HAYIM TORAH COMMENTARY: A person’s identity consists of three elements: the self (the standard); the family (the ancestral banners); and the community (the Tent of Meeting.) 

• To sum up: Knowing one’s sense of self or place prepares one for encountering the divine. 
• How ready are you for a divine encounter? How clear, defined or grounded is your own sense of self. Take some time to consider each of these aspects - as named by Torah - of your own place. As you do, write or draw (or some combination of these) as you process.

1) Your Standard: What does your ‘standard’ - that which represents you as an individual - look like? How do you regard yourself at this place in your life? What are your blessings? What are your limitations? 

2) Your Ancestral Banners: What does the banner or your family look like? What is the nature of your relationship with the people in your family? Which relationships are most challenging? Which relationships are most rewarding? What are the gifts of your family that you most cherish? What ‘gifts’ are more burdensome?

3) The Tent of Meeting: What does your communal tent look like? What the communities of which you find yourself? How do you participation in each of them? How do you contribute to each of them? How do your communities sustain you?

• Imagine your standard, banner and tent before you. Name, visualize and imagine the potential Sinai moments on your current path.
• Take a few more moments to be in the moment, reflect on what you thought about, wrote or drew. 

Shema Yisrael Adonai Elohaynu Adonai Echad.

Listen all you Godwrestlers, 

that which you call ‘God’ is Oneness itself.

What A Mess?!? - (Bemidbar, May 2014)

My garage is a disaster right now. Between planting the garden, helping a friend with a building project, upgrading kids rooms with new beds (which means the old beds live in the garage until they are sold) and the usual collection of bric-a-brac that resides in it … my garage (have I mentioned?) is a disaster. Now, most people who know me (and definitely those who live with me) would not consider me a neat freak by any means. Still, this level of disorder unseats and unsettles me. It frustrates me and makes me impatient with the other contributors to the mess. It inhibits my creativity (the garage is where I do most of my woodworking). In a small, but not insignificant way it makes my home base feel a little less homey.

In this week’s Torah portion, Bemidbar ... the Israelites are being ordered and organized for their march through the wilderness to the Promised Land. I imagine that this collection of stubborn, unruly  and recently liberated slaves had the potential to mythically resemble the state of my garage. Perhaps it is for this reason that they are given very mundane, specific instructions - tribe by tribe and person by person - where and how to stand and with what implements and adornments. Apparently, reaching the Promised Land needs some level of order and even discipline.

The Etz Hayim Torah commentary explains these machinations in this fashion:

• “Many commentators note the details here of tribal encampments as a way of emphasizing the need for order and organization in achieving a spiritual life. Simcha Zissel Ziv writes: “A person disorderly in behavior is also confused in thought, incapable of stable, consistent work.””

Or stated differently, how we order the physical impacts the spiritual. And perhaps, too, how we order the physical reflects the spiritual. The various aspects of we human animals (physical, emotional, intellectual, spiritual) do not live in separate silos from one another. They exist, interact and react in a rich, complex web. It is web of connectedness the we ignore at own peril and embrace with the possibility of profound growth and meaning.

It’s time for me clean my garage.

Lech L'cha 5774 - Pack Your Bags!

We meet Abraham and Sarah (or Abram and Sarai, as they are known at this early point in their story) this week again in Torah ... The portion is called Lech L’cha and these are the words that Abram hears from God. These words are the first clue we receive into the character of Abraham. God tells Abram to, ‘Pack Your Bags! ... go, leave your homeland, the land of your birth, your parents’ house ... to a place that I will show you.’ Abram, in order to become Abraham (and Sarai, in order to become Sarah) needed to leave what was familiar, comfortable and insular. This journey was not a mere physical one - but an existential, emotional and spiritual journey. In order to grow, evolve and mature - Abram needed to pack his bags (physical and emotional) and leave home.

Anyone one of us who is a parent or a child (which I think should be most of us!) understands this important aspect of becoming a person. As much as our parents may love and guide us, as much as our homes or homelands may be familiar and life giving to us ... there comes a point (often a painful one) in which we need to extract ourselves in order to better become ourselves. We do not cut off or reject these important relationships, people or the ways that they have impacted us. We do, however, heed the same call that Abraham heard from God: “Leave what is safe and familiar and go to a place that I will show you ... and I will make your name great.”

As the Rocky Mountain Rabbinic Council began its iEngage Israel class this week ... I hear echoes of God’s call to Abraham within the class materials, lectures and discussions. The class (and its supporting curriculum from the Shalom Hartman Institute in Israel) is designed to give Jews across the political, denominational and age spectrums a chance examine our relationship with Israel and with other Jews in our community. It is a class that will challenge its participants to re-examine our Jewish community’s accepted narrative about why Israel is important and how we translate that importance into relationship. The participants are being asked to leave the friendly confines of their intellectual and emotional homes - at least in the context of their relationship to Israel. They are being asked to extract themselves from a life long narrative and perspective about Israel - in order to consider other ideas about how that relationship may grow, evolve and mature.

And like those journeys from our parents’ homes for Abram, us and our children ... this intellectual one may be painful and cause anxiety, but it also promises greatness. We must remember no matter the journey upon which we may find ourselves: the place that God wants us to see, the greatness ... only comes if we are genuinely ready to pack our bags and and go.

Sukkot 5774 - Build, Dwell and Depend

The festival of Sukkot begins tonight (September 18th). Many Jewish Coloradans and their families and friends will find their way to physically sit, eat and/or sleep in a Sukkah this year. As with any ritual, the physical choreography is a way to directing the one observing the ritual to encounter an awareness of a spiritual reality. For many in Colorado - Jewish or not - I believe that the last week of rains and flooding have already opened their hearts and minds to an important spiritual reality related to building and dwelling in the Sukkah.

The recent flood waters devastated so many lives - destroying homes, businesses and taking lives. Across the spectrum of this impact were realizations by tens of thousands of people in Colorado that no matter how physically secure we feel, we are actually quite vulnerable. And in our vulnerability, we discover the true nature of our power and strength. This awareness is a fundamental intention of the mitzvah to build and dwell in a Sukkah. The 14th century Spanish scholar known as the Menorat HaMaor framed is this way: “The human being must leave his or her permanent home and move into a temporary abode that is devoid of wealth and security to remind her or him how deeply each person depends upon God.”

The Sukkah is a temporary hut. It is fairly sturdy for something that is supposedly easily put up and torn down. The Sukkah building at Micah every year seems to coincide with at least one good windy, storm. A couple of times in the past few years I arrived at Micah to see the Sukkah on its side, feet away from its original location. I think this uncertainty is part of the intended feel of the Sukkah. We get ourselves out of our comfortable and secure homes, erect these huts with almost open roofs and flimsy walls and spend our time within those walls and under that roof with those we love. If it rains (or even snows some years) we simply move our meal inside. Perhaps, though, for even a fleeting moment (or more if we are fortunate) we appreciate our blessings; acknowledge how little control we have over the forces of nature and where or upon whom our true dependence lies.

We build a Sukkah and dwell in it so that we understand where our dependence and strength dwells. So, when we realize the vulnerability in ourselves and in other - we know where to turn and we know when to help. As we dwell in our Sukkot this year - the ones in our yards or the ones in our hearts - let us turn to one another and help one another.

Re'eh 5773 - Peace Talks ... Again.

For the first time in three years official representatives of Israel and Palestine are sitting down to engage in formal discussions about creating parameters for peace. We do not have to look very far to find those who think such an endeavor meaningless, hopeless or even dangerous. Cynics question the sincerity of either side’s intentions toward peace, pundits warn that very little movement is possible and then there are those who tell us the talks themselves are too little (Israeli-Palestinian Peace Talk Charade) or too much (Christian Israel-Backers Blast Obama on Peace). If this most recent round of talks were a horse race, the filly called ‘Peace’ might make the odds of a long shot look good. Forget about betting on ‘Peace’, is it even worthwhile watching the race?

Yes.

Admittedly, the more that the current situation between the state of Israel and the Palestinian people continues the less optimistic I become about a resolution (even) in the near-distant future. Each side continues to become more and more entrenched in its position - building walls (both physical and psychological) between one another. Peace seems like an unattainable, naive abstraction. Reality is too messy, disjointed and plain unfair. Should we just batten down the hatches and defend ourselves against those who would threaten and take what is ours?

No.

I came across a verse in this week’s Torah portion that - while I am sure that I have read it before - surprised me. This week’s portion, Re’eh, continues recounting Moses’ final speeches to the Israelites. This week Moses is reviewing various laws that relate to preserving the community’s holy place and helping to create a community in which holiness is cultivated. As Moses speaks to the people about being aware of and caring for the poor and needy in the community, he tells them: “There will never cease to be needy ones in your land, this is why I command you to open your hand to the poor and needy ... “ (Deuteronomy 15:11) Never?! For all the talk and promise of covenant; for all of the possibilities in redemption from slavery ... I was surprised by this non-utopian, messy, gray vision for the society that they will create. I find two important ideas in this statement: (1) An acknowledgement that no matter what the Israelites might do - their community will always have those in need, those who lack. It will be messy, imperfect and unfair. (2) Despite the messiness, imperfection and unfairness the Israelites are still (choose your own word here:) expected/obligated/commanded to confront it and do something about it. In the face of the size of the task at hand (in this case, hunger and homelessness), it is not acceptable to resign oneself to impotence.

Is it irony? Paradox? A sense of divine humor? Or, maybe it is just a Jewish way of seeing the world. No matter how dire or insurmountable before us the iniquity in the world may seem, we cannot stop opening our hands, our minds or our hearts to those whose lives are impacted by these iniquities. With this nudge from Torah, I will pay attention to the discussions between Israelis and Palestinians. While I will be all too aware of the messiness of our situation, I will also strive to to see the possibilities.

V'etchanan 5773 - Crossing Lines

Being a young baseball fan, my son is having a hard time getting his head around the concept of an All-Star game. All of the players and teams have been playing so hard against one another (especially those hated Yankees) and then they just stop in the middle of the season and play with each other? Then in a few days they are going to go back to playing against each other? Seriously? When, where and which lines we cross can be a confusing concept for a young baseball fan.

Even for those of us who can wrap our heads around the idea of baseball’s midsummer classic, still may have a tough time with other kinds of lines and the conditions, variables and situations that mandate crossing them or not. Ask President Obama. As president he looks around the world and sees turmoil, injustice, cruelty and violations of basic human rights. When is it the right time and what is the right way to cross the lines between sovereign countries and governments and say something or do something? Ask any Jewish person who cares about the land of Israel. We look across the ocean and see things we love and see things that seem dissonant from our deepest values. When is the right time and what is the right way to cross that line of loyalty and support and offer loving and respectful critique and feedback? Ask any human being. We see a family member or dear friend in trouble (or at least what we perceive as trouble). When is the right time and what is the right way to cross the line to say something that may not be heard or understood and quite possible may injure that person or the relationship?

Unlike baseball’s mid-summer classic, there are no clear and fast rules that tell us when to cross what lines. These life decisions vary, change and depend upon the particular relationship, situation and other variables at play. Then how do we know the right time and right way to cross those lines between us and those around us? In this week’s Torah portion, V’etchanan (from the book of Deuteronomy), we find what may be the most often recited verse in Jewish history: The Shema. “Listen Israel, YHVH/Adonai is our God, YHVH/Adonai is One.” The Shema is not a declaration of monotheism, but something else. It is a declaration of Israel’s relationship to this deity - that YHVH/Adonai is the ONE and ONLY understanding of divinity for the community called Israel. ‘YHVH/Adonai is OUR god.” This declaration is Israel’s attempt at definition and differentiation. This declaration of self-understanding guided, guides and continues to guide Israel as it grows, loves and acts.

In wondering when and how to cross the lines in our lives, we all need what the Shema provides Israel - an understanding of who we are and where we begin and others end. There is not a steadfast template as to when to step on or over those lines between us and others. There is no handbook that guides us how to constructively involve ourselves in the problems of a friend - whether that friend is another country or another person. In each of those moments of decision perhaps the most helpful template is having a clear understanding of how each of us understands the nature of justice, compassion ... of divinity.

Korach 5773 - Shooting Messengers

We don’t have to pay attention too closely to hear messages from people telling us things that we do not want to hear. These messages originate from varied communication methods we access in the public domain and from the people with whom we work, live and love. The messages relate to all kinds of matters: what we put on or in our bodies to what we put through and in our minds. The packaging of these messages can be harsh, loving or somewhere in between. Because these kinds of messages do not feel good, our first defense is to deflect, deny or destroy them by whatever means we have at our disposal. And yet, even though these messages may be unasked for, unexpected, unrefined and even hurtful ... some of them, maybe even just a few might actually contain something of value.

In Torah this week Moses and the Israelites receive a decidedly unfriendly message. In the portion that bears his name, Korach (with some of the Israelites firmly behind him), stands up to threaten the authority of Moses and the Levites. Korach and his followers joined together and confronted Moses: "You have gone too far! For all the community are holy, all of them, and the Eternal One is in their midst. Why then do you raise yourselves above the community of the Eternal One?" (Numbers 16:3) In the account that follows in the Torah (and in the generations of commentary, as well) Korach and his followers are taken to task for their arrogance and ambition. Korach’s rebellion ends as he confronts Moses before the entire community in a high-noon-esque showdown ... and he and his band are swallowed up by the earth.

It does not seem that Moses or God had any intention to listen to their claim that the entire community should enjoy access to divinity and the holiness that follows such access. And while the form and presentation of the message may have been suspect, the actual message seems downright, uh ... Jewish. At least to my contemporary Jewish ears. Despite their dramatic reaction and violent rejection of Korach, it seems that the core of Korach’s idea has some staying power. How many of us - if reading Korach’s statement completely out of context - would disagree or even reject its meaning? And yet, the people who delivered that message - one that Moses and the Levites did not want to hear - were deflected, denied and summarily destroyed.

I would not suggest every message we hear has the same amount of accuracy or truth. I would suggest that there is probably a significant amount of truth that we reject out of hand because we are not open to hearing it. It may be the messenger or the way that message is delivered that turns us off ... that turns on the mechanisms of deflection, denial and destruction. Whatever it is, we allow that kernel of truth to be swallowed up so that it is out of sight and out of mind - just like Korach. And so, we may miss out on important truths -- truths that help us grow as individuals or ones that help us to understand the people who bring us these truths and in turn strengthen our relationships and our communities.

There is a Korach out there who will soon confront and challenge you ... pay attention and listen before you deflect, deny and allow him and his message to be swallowed up.

Shavuot 5773 - Bringing The Mountain To You

Tonight and tomorrow Jews around the world will commemorate the most significant mountain experience in the history of the Jewish people - Sinai. On the festival of Shavuot we relive this mountain moment that is such an essential part of the Jewish story. At Sinai our spiritual ancestors stood together and directly engaged with the divine - and their lives were changed. In honor of that part of the Jewish story and in the spirit of opening up to such moments in our lives, I invite you to take a few moments to commemorate Shavuot in the next couple of days.

Bringing the Mountain To You - A Shavuot Reflection

1. Carve out some time where you can sit, relax and reflect.
2. If you can make it a space where you can experience of bit of the majesty that is part of our Colorado mountains, better yet! 
3. Bring along something to write with (if that is something you prefer) or something to sip on (if that is something you prefer). 
4. Make yourself comfortable ... first physically, make sure you are good to sit for some time. 
5. Then mentally, take a few moments, focus on your breathing, empty your mind of what you have to do or what you did not do ... just clear out your mind of the clutter of the everyday. 
6. Read this teaching from our tradition a couple of times about the Sinai mountain moment: "When the Israelites arrived at Mount Sinai, they miraculously were made whole, so that their physical perfection reflected the integrity of their souls. This the Torah describes all the Israelites as ‘standing’ at the foot of the mountain, implying none was crippled; ‘hearing’ the words of God, implying that none was deaf; ‘seeing’ the thunder and lightning, suggesting that none was blind. As they distanced themselves from Sinai and began to grumble about the hardships of the journey, the effect of the miracle began to wear off. Their blemished souls began to be reflected in their blemished bodies." (Numbers Rabbah 7:1) 
7. Consider the nature of this moment that the commentary suggests. You may think, write or even draw in response to the following prompts: 

• Remember a time in your life when you felt you were able to ‘stand’ without any weakness or injury. 
• Remember a time in your life when you felt you were able to ‘see’ with great clarity and vision. 
• Remember a time in your life when you felt you were able to ‘hear’ with lucidity and comprehension. 
• Compare and contrast those times - what is similar and different about them? 
• The commentator names these moments of standing, seeing and hearing at Sinai as ‘miracles’. How comfortable are you applying that term to your moments of standing, seeing and hearing? 
• How easy or difficult are your moments of standing, seeing and hearing to recreate? 
• What can you do enable more moments like these in your life?

Take a few more moments to be in the moment, reflect on what you thought about, wrote or drew.

Shema Yisrael Adonai Elohaynu Adonai Echad.

Kedoshim 5773 - Why We Run

I am thinking about the heinous crime that was committed on Monday near the finish line of the Boston Marathon. Each and every time a tortured soul chooses violence in this way we all feel more vulnerable. We feel more open - than we already are - to pain, loss and death. It is our gut reaction to minimize that vulnerability in the face of such wickedness. And yet, we cannot forget that when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable is when it is possible that we experience incredible things ...

The marathon itself is an exercise in vulnerability. Each runner exposes herself or himself to her or his physical and emotional limits - in the hope of pushing oneself to higher levels of experience. To approach those limits is to spend some time ensconced in vulnerability. Each runner knowingly and trustingly accepts that a community of organizers, volunteers, civil servants, medical professionals and citizens will be present - witnessing that vulnerability and each (in their own way) helping every runner find the transformation she or he seeks by allowing for and facing that vulnerability. Without this community, the runner cannot realize that goal.

Speaking of goals, in Torah this week our spiritual ancestors are given quite a goal. In the portion of Leviticus called Kedoshim, the Israelites are charged and challenged: Be Holy - Kedoshim Tihyu. Commentators like to make note that this charge is given not to each individual (in the singular), but to the entire community (in the plural). The idea being that the state of Holiness is something that needs to be achieved - not merely among others, but with others. I like how Martin Buber might have understood this concept: “For Buber, holiness is found not in rising above the level of one’s neighbors, but in relationships, in human beings recognizing the latent divinity of other people, even as God recognizes the latent divinity in each of us.” (Etz Hayim Torah Commentary)

The experience of the marathon - for the community it takes to host a marathon - is emblematic of this concept of Holiness. The criminal or criminals who planted those bombs at the Boston Marathon sought to strike directly at this vulnerable and holy place of ours. Even as we reel at the images and stories from the scene, we cannot abandon that charge to ‘Be Holy’, we cannot stop seeking to realize and liberate the divinity in others, we cannot stop running marathons.

Shemini 5773 - When Was Your Last Good Blush?

When was the last time you blushed? Physiologically speaking, when was the last time you were in a situation when uncomfortable circumstances caused an irregular flow of blood to your head and caused a reddish tone to appear in some form on your face (often the cheeks)? Emotionally speaking, when was the last time that you felt embarrassment or shame because of something you heard, said or did that was inappropriate, disrespectful or disgraceful??

We do not live in a society in which we blush a lot. We live lives in a more public eye - everything we do seems to get quickly and abundantly documented and shared via the wonders of the web. So, perhaps we are immune to frequent moments of shame. We live in an era that encourages (and even rewards) personal expression (the more outrageous, the better). So, perhaps a feeling like shame inhibits such pursuits and developments.

Are we evolving past the point as a species that we find shame a useful emotion or blushing as a productive physiological response to shame? Will shame and the blush go the way of the appendix - as anachronistic remnants of once useful ‘organs’? Or, do these built in ‘defenses’ of shame and the blush hold some deeper meaning or purpose for we human beings as we continue to understand our existential place.

In this week’s foray (Shemini) into the book of Leviticus, we continue wading through the accounting of the priestly and cultic laws and customs. Early on in the portion - in a seemingly innocuous line in the text - the Torah says that Moses told Aaron to approach the altar where the sacrifices were to be done. Aaron was the high priest, so it seems rather obvious that he would be the one approaching the altar. Not so obvious for the 11th century French commentator, Rashi. Rashi wanted to know why Aaron - who was the high priest - needed Moses to tell him to approach the altar at all. Rashi’s answer to his question: Aaron was ashamed. (He does not tell us why.) Not only does Rashi suggest that Aaron was ashamed (he may have been blushing, too), but Rashi teaches that Moses said something very helpful to Aaron (to help get him to the altar) and instructive to us as we consider the emotion of shame: “Why are you ashamed? For this you were chosen!” Moses (or Rashi) suggests that because Aaron was able to feel shame, that he ascended to this sacred role of high priest.

Our tradition suggests to us to consider the powerful place that shame may hold in our lives. Our spiritual development depends partly on our ability to emotionally and physically experience the impact of actions that are inappropriate, disrespectful or disgraceful. This kind of healthy shame empowers us to understand our limits and to establish healthy boundaries between the human beings with whom we share the world.

Pesach 5773 (Too Much)

We can be too much for our own good ...

As many of us look at our Seders in the rear-view mirror (and I hope they were joyous and meaningful Seders), we still have the prospect of plenty of Matzah in our near future. Matzah is the symbol of the Exodus from Egypt, the bread of affliction and ultimately it is the culinary actualization of a chametz free-world.

Chametz is the name for those things that do not pass the Passover test. It is the name for foods that have been allowed to leaven - to puff up, to expand or to enlarge. The foods we eat during Passover are the ones that fall in line behind the Matzah and limit their amount of puffing, or expanding or enlarging.

Let us not only think of Chametz as a culinary category, for that only touches the surface of the depth of Chametz. Chametz names a spiritual element, as well. It describes what happens to human beings when we make choices that cause 'puffing up', expansion and general enlargement that is detrimental to our collective well being. While, this kind of Chametz may be more difficult to find than the food related Chametz that we find in our pantries each year - this kind of Chametz may be more pervasive in our lives.

Now that Passover has arrived and houses around the world have been successfully searched for Chametz, it is time for another kind of search for Chametz to commence. Pay attention to the puffiness, expansion and enlargement in your life. What choices have you made that have caused an unnecessary and possibly harmful expansion of your physical world? Parts of your body or your home may feel as if there is too much of something (or many things). What decisions have you made that have caused a destructive and limiting puffiness in your spiritual world? You may be feeling emotions or harboring attitudes that have become so large that they inhibit your ability to make loving connections with those closest to you.

The fact of the matter is that in our efforts to make our way in this world and create safe and nurturing places for us and our loved ones - we can make, collect and acquire too much for our own good.  So much stuff - things, emotions, attitudes - that it gets is the way of living and loving.  Don't just spend this week eating Matzah and worrying about putting Chametz in your mouth, accept the gift and challenge that Passover offers to consider and pay attention to the Chametz that you put into your mind, your heart and your soul.

Vayakel/Pekudei 5773 (Drones Beget Drones)

This week I am wondering why I am not so outraged that Rand Paul will not shut up ... Senator Paul is engaging in a ‘Mr. Smith Goes To Washington’ kind of filibuster, protesting President Obama’s nomination to head the CIA. The point that Senator Paul keeps returning to is his grave concern that the President holds the power to order a drone strike on American citizens under ‘extreme circumstances’. I have never found myself on the same side of a political issue as Senator Rand. Nor I as I try to understand the reasons behind his filibuster, do I see a lot symmetry in this case between our political ideologies. And as outrageous as his claim and fear of drones striking Americans on American soil may be, I have studied too much history to blithely discount such a concern.

It is not at all an uncommon historical occurrence for those in power (or those who seek power) to consider their fellow human beings an impediment or threat. Such situations occur when those in positions of authority or influence stop seeing the humanity of the other human beings who inhabit the same state or community. (i.e when governments see their citizens as drones, then it is easier to send drones to deal with them - (seeing) drones beget (using) drones). Instead of seeing human beings - who contain and emanate sparks of Divinity and the Sacred, they see obstacles and threats. And then they act accordingly.

In this week’s Torah portion - Vayakel/Pekudei - we (again) have an accounting of the structure, elements and various details of the portable Tabernacle that traveled with the Israelites in the wilderness. One would hope for a more dramatic and fitting end to the book of Exodus -- the book that begins in slavery in Egypt, then sees the dramatic redemption of the Israelites and then their revelatory encounter with God at Sinai. Instead, we get a rehashing (It is the second or third time already!) of the pieces, parts and instructions for the Israelites wilderness DIY project.

Within this rehashing is a subtle, yet helpful perspective as we consider the ways that - when at our worst - we human beings tend to regard one another. The book of Exodus begins in Egypt -- in slavery. Slavery exemplifies the worst of this inability to see the divinity in the other. It is the ultimate in seeing others as things to be used or to be disregarded when their utility ends. We end Exodus in Pekudei -- which derives from the Hebrew root that has to do with ‘taking a count’ or ‘taking note of’. We end Exodus with a laborious counting and noting of each and every element of the Tabernacle.

Here I turn to Ovadiah Sforno (15th century Italian commentator) who had something to say about this counting and noting:

“ …each one of them (the articles counted) was worthy to be considered as important and to       be called by its private (individual) name, not only as part of a generic group (category). This is certainly justified (regarding) each one of the holy vessels …"  (Sforno on Exodus 38:21, translation from Sforno: Commentary on the Torah, Rabbi Raphael Pelcovitz)

Sforno speaks of the act of counting the vessels as a way of remembering and acknowledging their inherent worth and value. If such an approach is true of the articles of the Tabernacle, how much the more so is this concept is true for living beings? The counting of these mere vessels is an interesting contrast to the way that our ancestors were ‘counted’ at the beginning of Exodus.

... and an important reminder for us, as well. This tendency toward having trouble remembering, counting or taking note of the humanity in others is embedded deep within our psyche. We find its roots within responding to the needs and demands of surviving in the world. Living only in that perception of reality is akin to being slaves in Egypt. Expecting that our leaders and our institutions seek to honor the sparks of divinity in all human beings liberates us from that bondage. Seeking to cultivate that spark within one another enables us make the entire world a Tabernacle (just like what is described in Exodus) and to encounter the divine in each and every moment and place in our world.

Ki Tissa 5773 (Why Can't We Get 'It'?)

This week I am wondering why it is so hard for us to get 'it'. By ‘us’ I mean not only the Israelites in this week’s Torah portion, but ‘us human beings’, as well ...

In this week’s Torah portion, Ki Tissa, we encounter our ancestors’ dramatic plunge into spiritual philandering. One Redeemer, who is not seen for forty days. One Golden Calf, which is constructed. (In a frenzied panic the Israelites feel abandoned by ‘that man, Moses’ and cajole Aaron in to building an idol and facilitating all of the debauchery required by the worshipping of such an idol) That One Golden Calf is destroyed by that One Redeemer. (Moses has none of it, smashes the hot-off-of-the-divine-press tablets of the law into the aforementioned calf, grinds the remainder of the calf to dust and forces the Israelites to drink a Golden Calf cocktail - guaranteed to cause internal and intestinal distress.)

Clearly, the bad guys, the antagonists, the fools in this week’s installment are the Israelites. (Alright, Aaron should get his fair due, as well ...) This group of spiritually stunted slaves are just a few minutes (figuratively, not literally) removed from their redemption from centuries of slavery through a series of miraculous natural events: darkness that fills the Egyptians homes, but not their own; death that comes to the first born of their overlords, but to their children; a body of water that splits in time for them to cross to safety and then conveniently un-splits to wipe out the greatest military force known in that corner of the world. Then following their exodus from Egypt, the entire group of them settle in at Sinai for an unprecedented, yet intimate encounter with God. After these events are still in their rear view mirror, despite their current reality (freedom), the evidence (there seems to be some powerful entity who has their collective backs) and the consequences (how about this little ditty from Sinai: I remember the iniquity of those who turn against me until the THOUSANDTH generation) ... they still look to Aaron and say: “Hey, you ... we’ve got this idea about a calf.”

These people just plain don’t get it! They are dense. They are clueless. They are ... us. Yes, I said that they are us. It is very easy to pile on the Israelites at this point. The narrative of the story encourages us to do so ... from God and Moses’ anger, to their imbibing of the remains of their sin, to the eventual killing of those who Moses feels do not learn from this incident. I think that we are missing a larger picture if we simply look down our noses at ‘those poor, misguided and ignorant Israelites’ without at least acknowledging a larger truth that is a spiritual reality for you and I. Despite everything our ancestors knew about God and Moses, despite their own experience and despite their understanding of the facts on the ground - it was still exceedingly difficult for them to overcome their upbringing, their slave mentality or the immediate impact that building and worshipping the calf would bring them.

Do you know anyone like that? Someone who knows from their own experience the significance of a certain course of action. Someone, who sees the concrete evidence that suggests avoiding this course of action would be advisable. Someone, who understands the negative consequences that will follow such a course of action. And yet, there are powerful forces - internal and external - that push that individual to decide to act in contrast to all of this experience, evidence and potential harm.

I do - and I do not have to look farther than the face staring back at me in the mirror. I do - and I do not have to look further than stories entrusted to me of families who struggle with addiction or abuse. I do - and I do not have to look further than than politicians and ideologues who cling rigidly to destructive economic or social policies. This reality - as revealed in this week’s story - is one we confront every day in both mundane and monumental moments. Mundane moments when (like in my case) they are deciding whether or not to enjoy that maple frosted donut, again). Monumental moments when they are struggling to not take that drink or trying to express their fear, anxieties or even love in a manner that is not hurtful or destructive.  Whether the moments are mundane or monumental, we can each fill in the blanks.

I do not believe that we should make excuses for our ancestors or for ourselves. We should not be investing our bodies, minds and souls in pursuits - like Golden Calves - that block our way from the Sacred. However, we should not underestimate - when judging ourselves or others - the profoundly powerful forces we confront when reaching for the Divine in our lives. Our ancestors found these forces - on their journey to their Promised Land - to be genuine, real and formidable. We, too, are on a journey and to reach our ultimate destination must honestly acknowledge these forces and unwaveringly commit ourselves to facing them, overcoming them and instead of building calves - to welcome the Sacred and the Divine into our lives.