Here are a few of my selected Sermons, D'vrei Torah, and Editorials.
Yom Kippur Day, 5779
“During the Day of Atonement, the sexton told Rabbi Hayyim Sandzer that a congregant, who was both wealthy and miserly, had fainted due to the fast and asked if he could give him some water.
‘According to the law, you can give him a spoonful of water,’ the rabbi said.
A few minutes later the sexton reported to the rabbi that the man was revived but had fainted again and asked for more water.
This time the sage decreed differently:
‘Tell him that he can drink as much water as he requires provided he donates one hundred gilden to charity for each spoonful of water.’
As soon as the rabbi’s ruling was told to the revived congregant, his thirst disappeared, and he felt sufficiently refreshed to continue with the Yom Kippur Prayers.”[1]
A little levity on a very heavy day. Yom Kippur – the Day of Atonement. Judaism teaches that even on Yom Kippur, even on the holiest of days, we are required to take care of our bodies…even if that means breaking the fast on Yom Kippur. For many Jews, the idea of breaking the fast is not even thinkable. After all, we are standing (or sitting) in front of the Gates – in our most vulnerable state. We are standing in front of God, hoping and praying that our sins are forgiven. We do not even want to imagine the alternative.
The story I began my sermon with is an old Chasidic tale. The congregant who fainted seemed to be more afraid of giving his money away (or perhaps of his rabbi). For those around him, who may have been in fear of God on Yom Kippur, the request to take care of the one who has fainted is vitally important. In Mishnah Sanhedrin 4:5, we are taught, “…anyone who destroys a life is considered by Scripture to have destroyed an entire world; and anyone who saves a life is as if he saved an entire world.”
This morning, I would like for us to focus on the word Yireh. This Hebrew word translates to mean fear or awe. The most common use of this word is Yireh Adonai – the Fear or Awe of God. Fear and Awe – these are two words that can bring up different images for each of us. What things are you afraid of? What things do you think are awesome? On Yom Kippur, what many of us might fear is the unknown – what will happen next? However, if you take a step back and think about the image of standing in front of the Gates…standing in front of God – this is also an awesome concept. Of course, our liturgy on the High Holy Days also speak of this tension – fear or awe.
The Un’taneh Tokef is one of the most disturbing texts in our tradition. God is seen as the Judge – who judges each of us in Truth. It begins:
Un’taneh Tokef k’dushat hayom, ki hu nora v’ayom. Uvo tinasei malchutecha, v’yikon b’chesed kisecha; v’teisheiv alav be-emet: “Let us proclaim the power of this day – a day whose holiness awakens deepest awe and inspires highest praise for Your dominion, for Your throne is a throne of love; Your reign is a reign of truth.”
The word Nora (a form of the word Yireh) is translated as awe as we are speaking of God’s dominion, God’s throne and God’s reign. Here, we do not see something to be afraid of, rather we need to remember to take this very seriously, thus we are in awe. Rabbi Richard N. Levy wrote about this prayer:
This prayer is meant to follow the month-long work of t’shuvah and self-reflection of the month of Elul, and I think the prayer has its intended effect only if we have encouraged our people to take Elul seriously, if we have helped them to develop a discipline for looking at some of the issues in their lives, perhaps with a different agenda each week; perhaps taking advantage of prayer services during Elul to help them do that. If they have done this work, if we have done it (which we often don’t give ourselves the time to do), Un’taneh Tokef becomes like a major final exam. We can go in with confidence, with fear, with a rushing adrenaline; but the adrenaline can be interpreted as similar to the rushing angels (second stanza), who are our representatives, our advocates in heaven. These malachim (angels) insist that we help people develop a sense of yirah, and if we can help them do that during Elul, this prayer offers them a great opportunity to experience yirah (fear or awe of God) in all its power.[2]
Fear or awe – there it is again. We are here today on Yom Kippur – in awe but also afraid. I mentioned earlier that one thing we are afraid of is not knowing exactly what our future holds. There is more, though. We may be in awe at the magnitude and greatness of today…but the immense importance of this day also causes fear for us – but why?
Perhaps the following story may shed some light:
A Fearful Cantor
Although he had no experience as a cantor, a pious Hasid was invited by his rabbi to lead the services on Yom Kippur. He approached the rabbi as the Kol Nidre service was about to start and said:
“Rabbi, I am fearful.”
The rabbi reassured him:
“Precisely for the reason that you have the fear of God I want you to lead the services.”[3]
On page 212 of our Yom Kippur Machzor, we find part of the Un’taneh Tokef prayer section:
On Rosh Hashanah it is written,
On Yom Kippur it is sealed:
How many shall pass on, how many shall come to be:
Who shall live and who shall die;
Who shall see ripe age and who shall not;
Who shall perish by fire and who by water;
Who by sword and who by beast;
Who by hunger and who by thirst;
Who by earthquake and who by plague;
Who by strangling and who by stoning;
Who shall be secure and who shall be driven;
Who shall be tranquil and who shall be troubled;
Who shall be poor and who shall be rich;
Who shall be humbled and who exalted.
This section of our High Holy Day liturgy gives us a lot to think about, a lot to perhaps be afraid of. However, this reading may seem quite troubling to some of us. Should we assume that if we live, we are successful and if we die, we are failures? That sounds like a God many of us would have trouble believing in. Throughout this sermon I have mentioned the words fear and awe. We have pondered the differences between fear and awe. Well, we understand our God to be a God of mercy, a God who loves the people Israel. So, while we may have fears, we also recognize the awesomeness of God in our lives…especially as God judges us in truth on Yom Kippur.
17 years ago last week was one of the darkest days in the history of our beloved United States. On September 11, 2001, I was woken up very early in the morning by Batya. "Get up, Erin, you need to see this..." What I was about to spend the next 5 hours watching (really glued to the TV) was something that seriously affected my life then and continues to affect my life every day. You see, I had a sister who was supposed to be campaigning about a block or so away from the Twin Towers. And my brother? He was supposed to be in NY (with my sister) for a meeting and some campaigning. "Oh my God," I thought. "What about Bekki and Jason?"
Fortunately, I was able to get through to my Mom in Columbia, SC. She told me she had spoken to Bekki and Jason. Mom described for me in detail the story Bekki had told her of running as fast as she could away from the Twin Towers. She relayed a story of New Yorkers uniting and walking together for miles and miles to get to their homes or away from the destruction. What about Jason? For some reason, Jason never made it on the train to NY - so he missed being in harm's way. There were millions of Americans, however, that were never able to feel the same relief I was. Yes – one of the darkest days of American history; but even in the darkest of times, Americans walked hand and hand to safety.
I have told this story many times throughout my rabbinate. Today, however, I want to add more to the story. When I was interviewing for my first job out of seminary, I was interviewed by one of the first responders who went without hesitation to help those in need. He had moved down to Johns Creek, Georgia shortly after 9/11. In our conversations, he mentioned to me what that day and the days that followed were like. As the doctor in charge of assigning medical staff to various places, he was right there – at Ground Zero. Today, he has a permanent asthmatic condition – because of his exposure to the smoke and debris filled air at Ground Zero.
Often, while we remember those who were killed on September 11, we neglect to think of those who put their bodies in danger to help others, those who acted first without worrying about what might happen to their own health later on. Whether they suffer permanent health challenges or not, we much consider them and the challenges they face today. As we think about them, we also consider those in our community who may want to fast today but are unable. We pray that God send healing to all of them and to all of us.
YOM KIPPUR. The Day of Atonement. Should we fast? The question was hotly debated. To fast could mean a more certain, more rapid death. In this place, we were always fasting. It was Yom Kippur year-round. But there were those who said we should fast, precisely because it was dangerous to do so. We needed to show God that even here, locked in hell, we were capable of singing His praises.
I did not fast. First of all, to please my father who had forbidden me to do so. And then, there was no longer any reason for me to fast. I no longer accepted God’s silence. As I swallowed my ration of soup, I turned that act into a symbol of rebellion, of protest against Him.
And I nibbled on my crust of bread.
Deep inside me, I felt a great void opening.[4]
The story I just read came directly from Elie Wiesel’s Night. In his book, Wiesel teaches us of his own memories/experiences during the worst period in Jewish history. This period – the time before during and after the Shoah – was not just devastating for World Jewry (in particular European Jewry), it was also one of the scariest or most fear filled times of human history. When it came time for Wiesel and his fellow Jews to decide what to do on Yom Kippur – fast, potentially speeding up their own demise or Not Fast – I do not believe fear even entered their minds – or at least not the same kind of fear we face today on Yom Kippur.
For the Jews suffering through living in the concentration or death camps, their fear was of their captors – the Nazi soldiers who made the decisions as to their futures – not as Jews, but as living, breathing humans. While there were many God-fearing people in the camps, there were also those who turned inward for their hopes and dreams of living through the hell they were experiencing.
My sermon this morning began with some levity – perhaps a break from the power of today. I have also presented to you a few stories that speak of different aspects of the High Holy Day period and more specifically, Yom Kippur. While we recognize that God judges us today, we also know that God looks out and cares for us…sometimes we have a hard time understanding either the judgement or that God cares for us. Today is the day to dig deep, hold yourself accountable and work hard to be a better person…a better self.
I end my sermon this morning with the following prayer I wrote for Yom Kippur:
God - grant me the strength to ask for forgiveness.
Help me to regain the trust of those whom I have wronged.
May Your light shine upon each of us in the new year.
God - grant me the strength to give forgiveness.
Ease my anger against those who have wronged me.
May Your guidance drive me to being a better person.
God - grant us all the ability to move forward in 5779.
Alleviate our pain and sorrow, help us to feel refreshed and ready for what lies ahead.
May Your Countenance be with us and point us to peace.
G’mar Chatimah Tovah – May we all have a meaningful fast and may our New Year be sweet.
[1] “A Quick Thirst Quencher.” The Yom Kippur Anthology, pg. 123. Phillip Goodman. The Jewish Publication Society of America, Philadelphia 1971.
[2] “Un’taneh Tokef: Contemporary Usage and Innovation,” by Rabbi Richard N. Levy. Machzor Challenge and Change: Resource Pack for Individual and Group Study, pg. CCAR, New York, 2010.
[3] “A Fearful Cantor.” The Yom Kippur Anthology, pg. 121. Phillip Goodman. The Jewish Publication Society of America, Philadelphia 1971.
[4] Night. Elie Wiesel, pg. 69. Les Editions de Minuit, 1958. Translation by Marion Wiesel, 2006.
V’ahavtah L’reacha Kamocha and Lashon Hara
“ואהבת לרעך כמוך”
These words from Leviticus 19:18, “Love your neighbor as yourself,” have tremendous meaning for Jews today. When we open up the newspaper or watch the news, we are faced with many opportunities to live these words. Organizations such as the American Jewish World Service, the Susan G. Komen Foundation and the One Campaign present us with stories of people who are in need of our help and support. We open up our wallets and donate willingly to these causes; yet, the answer is not in the act of giving, it is in the understanding of why we are giving and the value in helping those who are in need.
These organizations open up our eyes to the larger global world we live in. However, we only need to look to our left and right for ways to live out these important words from Leviticus. Very early on in our lives, we are told “Do unto other as you would have them do unto you.” As young children, we may not really understand what this “golden rule” means, but as we get older, we may come face to face with gossip or slander. Maybe a rumor was started about you or about someone you care about. All it takes is for one person to start a rumor for gossip to occur. In Judaism, we refer to לשון הרע, the evil tongue.
So, what is lashon hara? What does it mean to be considered a ba’al lashon hara? (bearer of the evil tongue) According to the Chofetz Chaim, Yisrael Meir (Kagan) Poupko, a very influential eastern European rabbi of the 18th and 19th centuries, a ba’al lashon hara is a person “who becomes accustomed to violating the very serious prohibition against speaking ill of others.”[1] According to the Sages, our beloved great Rabbis of the past, lashon hara kills three parties: the speaker, the listener and the one spoken about. Our Rabbis are making a very important point: Gossip is bad for anyone who is a part of it.
The Chofetz Chaim outlines the ten categories of forbidden speech: evil speech, tale-bearing, falsehood, flattery, mockery, oppressive speech, shaming others, expressions of conceit, controversy and expressions of anger.[2] The first category, evil speech, is what we refer to as lashon hara. However, each of the other nine categories are equally important to consider. What may stand out in the list is the category of flattery. After all, when we flatter someone we usually have the best of intentions. According to the Chofetz Chaim, “the halakhic definition of chanufah (flattery) is ‘minimizing another’s iniquities in his presence.’”[3] In a discussion recently with one of my colleagues, I learned that even giving flattery to someone “behind their back” is considered to be lashon hara. The explanation is that you are putting higher expectations on someone who may not be able to attain those expectations later on.
In Jewish Living: A Guide to Contemporary Reform Practice, Rabbi Mark Washofsky teaches about the effects of lashon hara in a variety of settings. “The Rabbis have long condemned the practice of gossip and slander in no uncertain terms, to the point that the impurity of slander is compared to that of leprosy and that the sin of lashon hara is said to be equivalent to the sins of idolatry, sexual immorality, and murder combined.”[4] Life is so important and so valued in Judaism that it is stated that to kill one life is as if you killed the world. When one participates in the act of lashon hara, they are killing all of those involved. The serious nature of this act is duly noted time and time again by our Rabbis. Although it may be impossible to eradicate gossip from the world, we should take every step we can to prevent ourselves and everyone around us from participating in gossip or slander.
[1] Cohen, Israel Meir, Gavriel Rubin, and Esther Chachamzedek. 2004. Day by day: readings for the soul from the Chofetz Chaim : collected from his writings. Jerusalem: Machon Bais Yechiel. Volume 1, pg. 10-11.
[2] Ibid, pg. 3
[3] Ibid, pg. 5
[4] Washofsky, Mark. 2010. Jewish living: a guide to contemporary Reform practice. New York: URJ Press, pg. 306.
“ואהבת לרעך כמוך”
These words from Leviticus 19:18, “Love your neighbor as yourself,” have tremendous meaning for Jews today. When we open up the newspaper or watch the news, we are faced with many opportunities to live these words. Organizations such as the American Jewish World Service, the Susan G. Komen Foundation and the One Campaign present us with stories of people who are in need of our help and support. We open up our wallets and donate willingly to these causes; yet, the answer is not in the act of giving, it is in the understanding of why we are giving and the value in helping those who are in need.
These organizations open up our eyes to the larger global world we live in. However, we only need to look to our left and right for ways to live out these important words from Leviticus. Very early on in our lives, we are told “Do unto other as you would have them do unto you.” As young children, we may not really understand what this “golden rule” means, but as we get older, we may come face to face with gossip or slander. Maybe a rumor was started about you or about someone you care about. All it takes is for one person to start a rumor for gossip to occur. In Judaism, we refer to לשון הרע, the evil tongue.
So, what is lashon hara? What does it mean to be considered a ba’al lashon hara? (bearer of the evil tongue) According to the Chofetz Chaim, Yisrael Meir (Kagan) Poupko, a very influential eastern European rabbi of the 18th and 19th centuries, a ba’al lashon hara is a person “who becomes accustomed to violating the very serious prohibition against speaking ill of others.”[1] According to the Sages, our beloved great Rabbis of the past, lashon hara kills three parties: the speaker, the listener and the one spoken about. Our Rabbis are making a very important point: Gossip is bad for anyone who is a part of it.
The Chofetz Chaim outlines the ten categories of forbidden speech: evil speech, tale-bearing, falsehood, flattery, mockery, oppressive speech, shaming others, expressions of conceit, controversy and expressions of anger.[2] The first category, evil speech, is what we refer to as lashon hara. However, each of the other nine categories are equally important to consider. What may stand out in the list is the category of flattery. After all, when we flatter someone we usually have the best of intentions. According to the Chofetz Chaim, “the halakhic definition of chanufah (flattery) is ‘minimizing another’s iniquities in his presence.’”[3] In a discussion recently with one of my colleagues, I learned that even giving flattery to someone “behind their back” is considered to be lashon hara. The explanation is that you are putting higher expectations on someone who may not be able to attain those expectations later on.
In Jewish Living: A Guide to Contemporary Reform Practice, Rabbi Mark Washofsky teaches about the effects of lashon hara in a variety of settings. “The Rabbis have long condemned the practice of gossip and slander in no uncertain terms, to the point that the impurity of slander is compared to that of leprosy and that the sin of lashon hara is said to be equivalent to the sins of idolatry, sexual immorality, and murder combined.”[4] Life is so important and so valued in Judaism that it is stated that to kill one life is as if you killed the world. When one participates in the act of lashon hara, they are killing all of those involved. The serious nature of this act is duly noted time and time again by our Rabbis. Although it may be impossible to eradicate gossip from the world, we should take every step we can to prevent ourselves and everyone around us from participating in gossip or slander.
[1] Cohen, Israel Meir, Gavriel Rubin, and Esther Chachamzedek. 2004. Day by day: readings for the soul from the Chofetz Chaim : collected from his writings. Jerusalem: Machon Bais Yechiel. Volume 1, pg. 10-11.
[2] Ibid, pg. 3
[3] Ibid, pg. 5
[4] Washofsky, Mark. 2010. Jewish living: a guide to contemporary Reform practice. New York: URJ Press, pg. 306.
“Selma” and the Jews
**Appeared in the Atlanta Jewish Times on January 30, 2015
On Monday, January 19, Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, I invited my 9th grade students to join me as we watched “Selma,” the recent movie directed by Oprah Winfrey. My 9th grade class curriculum focuses on the history of Reform Judaism, specifically focusing on growing up as a Jew in the South. Prior to our trip to Selma, Alabama, in March, we will be spending some time at The Temple on Peachtree Street learning about and discussing the role the Atlanta Jewish community played in the Civil Rights movement of the mid 20th century. Of course, with the release of “Selma,” I believed this to be a great introduction for my students.
Having recently read “What Selma Means to the Jews” by Dr. Susannah Heschel, I was keenly aware of some of the criticism that has been given to “Selma.” The criticism specified in Dr. Heschel’s Op-Ed seems to focus on a few key points. In the first paragraph, Dr. Heschel writes, “Regrettably, the film represents the march as many see it today, only as an act of political protest.” Yes, it is true – the film does focus on the politics of the Civil Rights Movement. However, there is also a special focus on Dr. King’s invitation to clergy nationwide to join him in Selma. The movie’s emphasis on this invitation is significant. As a matter of fact, the brutal murder of one of these ministers happens to be one of the most difficult and tense scenes in the entire movie. In my opinion, the most spiritually uplifting scene in the movie occurs when Dr. King knelt down to pray and then turned around and walked the other direction, back from where he came.
As a rabbi, I have always appreciated Dr. King’s comparison of the march from Selma to the Exodus of the Jews out of Egypt. Dr. Heschel writes about this as well in her Op-Ed: “Not only were the Israelites leaving Egypt, the place of enslavement, but also the Egyptians, because there was a hope at Selma that white America was repudiating its racism.” It is true that we still have a long way to go in this country in order to finish the “Exodus from Selma.” However, the march was a great step and a foundational moment in our history. This cannot be ignored, just as any first step in achieving the prophetic vision of total justice for all peoples.
The most significant criticism of “Selma” was that there was not more of a focus on the relationship between Dr. King and Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel. Dr. King and Rabbi Heschel had a very special relationship. The very famous picture of Rabbi Heschel walking alongside Dr. King, Ralph Bunche, Rep. John Lewis, Rev. Fred Shuttleworth and Rev. C.T. Vivian is one of the most well known artifacts from the Civil Rights period. While the picture represents a future filled with hope, one in which justice can be achieved, the focus of “Selma” was on the struggle of African Americans and the eventual outcome.
As a rabbi in the South, I understand completely the significance of the shared history of Blacks and Jews. When I walked out of the movie theater, I was not upset or frustrated that there was not more of a focus on the Jewish community and their role. I was not upset that a particular person or group was not included. I was inspired, not only by the actors and the roles they played, but also by the message from 50 years ago that still applies today.
“…Let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream” (Amos 5:21-24)
**Appeared in the Atlanta Jewish Times on January 30, 2015
On Monday, January 19, Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, I invited my 9th grade students to join me as we watched “Selma,” the recent movie directed by Oprah Winfrey. My 9th grade class curriculum focuses on the history of Reform Judaism, specifically focusing on growing up as a Jew in the South. Prior to our trip to Selma, Alabama, in March, we will be spending some time at The Temple on Peachtree Street learning about and discussing the role the Atlanta Jewish community played in the Civil Rights movement of the mid 20th century. Of course, with the release of “Selma,” I believed this to be a great introduction for my students.
Having recently read “What Selma Means to the Jews” by Dr. Susannah Heschel, I was keenly aware of some of the criticism that has been given to “Selma.” The criticism specified in Dr. Heschel’s Op-Ed seems to focus on a few key points. In the first paragraph, Dr. Heschel writes, “Regrettably, the film represents the march as many see it today, only as an act of political protest.” Yes, it is true – the film does focus on the politics of the Civil Rights Movement. However, there is also a special focus on Dr. King’s invitation to clergy nationwide to join him in Selma. The movie’s emphasis on this invitation is significant. As a matter of fact, the brutal murder of one of these ministers happens to be one of the most difficult and tense scenes in the entire movie. In my opinion, the most spiritually uplifting scene in the movie occurs when Dr. King knelt down to pray and then turned around and walked the other direction, back from where he came.
As a rabbi, I have always appreciated Dr. King’s comparison of the march from Selma to the Exodus of the Jews out of Egypt. Dr. Heschel writes about this as well in her Op-Ed: “Not only were the Israelites leaving Egypt, the place of enslavement, but also the Egyptians, because there was a hope at Selma that white America was repudiating its racism.” It is true that we still have a long way to go in this country in order to finish the “Exodus from Selma.” However, the march was a great step and a foundational moment in our history. This cannot be ignored, just as any first step in achieving the prophetic vision of total justice for all peoples.
The most significant criticism of “Selma” was that there was not more of a focus on the relationship between Dr. King and Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel. Dr. King and Rabbi Heschel had a very special relationship. The very famous picture of Rabbi Heschel walking alongside Dr. King, Ralph Bunche, Rep. John Lewis, Rev. Fred Shuttleworth and Rev. C.T. Vivian is one of the most well known artifacts from the Civil Rights period. While the picture represents a future filled with hope, one in which justice can be achieved, the focus of “Selma” was on the struggle of African Americans and the eventual outcome.
As a rabbi in the South, I understand completely the significance of the shared history of Blacks and Jews. When I walked out of the movie theater, I was not upset or frustrated that there was not more of a focus on the Jewish community and their role. I was not upset that a particular person or group was not included. I was inspired, not only by the actors and the roles they played, but also by the message from 50 years ago that still applies today.
“…Let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream” (Amos 5:21-24)