Parashat Tetzaveh - 2008

A true Tzaddik died this week. Rabbi Ben Hollander z”l was a talmid muvhak – a dedicated student - of Nehama Leibovitz, a gentleman in all of the meanings of the word, and a mentsh. Ben was a scholar-in-residence for many years at Camp Ramah in Canada and at Camp Ramah in Wisconsin. He touched the souls of thousands of students. There were few like him.

I only really met Ben once. Four years ago, Rabbi David Soloff and I had the privilege of enjoying Shabbat lunch with Ben and his beloved wife, Judy, who would die unexpectedly one year later. The conversation was invigorating and the aura of Torah emanating from Ben was exceptional. I left with incredible admiration for this exceptional teacher and mentsh. Upon returning home to Atlanta from that trip, I learned that my father had cancer and he would die one month to the day from when he received his diagnosis. One night during Shiva, the phone rang. It was Ben Hollander. This man, who I met for a total of two hours at a Shabbat table, was calling to comfort me as a mourner. We talked for over half-an-hour and the conversation was deeply moving. It was as if Ben was sitting next to me in my home even though he was across the world.

In his final years, Ben suffered like Job suffered. One struggle after another: the death of his beloved wife, Judy; cancer that wracked his body; a stroke and other tragedies. Yet, from all of the eulogies delivered in his memory, it was clear that Ben never expressed misery. He was always upbeat and optimistic. An exceptionally gentle soul, Ben took every tragedy, every pain, with a sense of humor and a smile.

Our parashah opens with instructions regarding the Ner Tamid – the Eternal Light – that was to burn in the Mishkan – the Desert Tabernacle. The Cohanim were to tend to it in order to insure that it would burn eternally. I don’t know whether or not Ben Hollander z”l was a Cohen, but I do know that he was a glorious keeper of our Ner Tamid, our Torah, working tirelessly to make sure that each successive generation would be warmed by its fire and illuminated by its light. May we all aspire to live as genuinely, as authentically, as happily as Ben did and may we all strive to inspire others to live and learn Torah, in its broadest definitions, in the fashion that our teacher, Rabbi Ben Hollander z”l did.

May his memory be for a blessing.

Shabbat Shalom.

Parashat Mishpatim - 2008

Sitting in Café Aroma on Thursday, the young girl energy produced by Mira and Amalya was increasing as the sugar from the hot chocolate / decaf milk and sugar coffee was kicking in. It grew so quickly that Elan escaped back to the apartment on his own. Mira and Amalya and their friends, Hannah and Abigail were drawing looks from the emergent adults at the surrounding tables – looks that were not of aggravation but more of the “oh…they are SO cute” category. As they chatted away, Judah and I were able to maintain some semblance of complete sentence, “grown-up” conversation.

So, there we sat, discussing the upcoming parashah, Mishpatim, especially in relation to last week’s portion, Yitro. The center piece of last week’s reading was God’s revelation to the Children of Israel at Mt. Sinai, both revelation of the Divine Presence and of the Ten Commndments. Power, mystery, thunder, and lightning frame the drama of the moment. Fast forward to this week, ואלה המשפטים – And these are the laws… - a compendium of rules, one after the other, completely absent of drama. At the time, I noted that I loved that the Revelation at Mt. Sinai was followed by a more mundane, or seemingly mundane, set of rules. For me, this represented the reality that not every moment in every day was going to have the power of the Revelation, that some moments in life, in fact the majority would be mostly mundane.

Thinking about it today, however, I wish to amend my thoughts from yesterday. The fact that Mt. Sinai and the Ten Commandments is followed by day-to-day civil law actually comes to remind us that every moment of every day can be imbued with kedushah – with sanctity and specialness; that every human interaction we have contains within it the potential to encounter the Divine – literally to meet God; that each mitzvah we do brings a modicum of tikkun, of repair, to the world. Moreover, Mishpatim reminds us that the earth need not rumble, the heavens need not cry out in thunder or burn in lightning, for every day moments to be Revelatory in nature.

How we relate to the “other,” to the person for whom we do not particularly care, for personal property, therefore takes its place together with the laws of sacred time – Shabbat and the Yom Tovim – as equally important in meeting God in this world and of even greater import in bringing God into more places in this world.

So…as you traverse the minutiae in this week’s Torah reading, remember that these are guide posts to remind us that even our smallest choices bring us into interaction with God and turn the most mundane moments into those that are as powerful as the thunder, lightning, and Divine voice at Mt. Sinai.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Loren Sykes

Update:

We had a wonderful, though cold, trip to Ein Gedi. We arrived on Sunday and after dropping things off at the hotel, we went down to the Dead Sea. Mira was brave and went into the water despite the waves, wind and cold. We then retired to the hot mineral pools in the spa which were gevaldic until we emerged with bright red rashes all over our bodies.

On Monday, we hiked in Nahal David, a beautiful spring and waterfall area just beyond our hotel. Again, the cold got the better of us and after one swim in the pools, we were out and moving on, first to the ancient synagogue floor and then to lunch. In my brilliance, I decided that we should drive to see the end of the Dead Sea, which, of course, REALLY excited Mira and Amalya, and which also meant that they needed to make a pit stop at precisely the moment when there was no gas station to be found. Brilliance I was only exceeded by brilliance II which was driving to what the map showed as towns where we might find bathrooms which really meant tiny villages where we found none.

Tuesday, we left Ein Gedi early to make it to Tel Aviv. We wanted to avoid Jerusalem because of the heavy rains and so once again headed to the end of the Dead Sea toward Arad. The drive was really glorious. The road takes you back above sea level and into the desert where we met wild camels in the middle of the road. We made our way through Arad to the coast and then to Tel Aviv, where we stopped at the Azrieli Towers for lunch and shopping.

We made it home before the snow started and Burger’s Bar was waiting for us just after we arrived!

Snow Days!

If I didn’t know better, I would think I was already in Chicago. I experienced snow in Jerusalem a few years ago, but this was a totally new level. It started snowing two nights ago and with a few interruptions for rain, it did not let up until Thursday morning. Several times, we had white-out conditions. I didn’t even dare go out on the mirpeset but from the window you could not see very far down Derekh Khevron. The wind was gusting up to around 60 miles per hour (I have no idea what that means in kilometers) and it was really howling.

The kids didn’t have school on Wednesday or Thursday –snow days in Jerusalem! Our friend Tova told us that the Tayelet, the Promenade that overlooks the Old City, is where everyone goes to play on a Jerusalem snow day, so Elan, Mira, Amalya and I bundled up to make the five minute trek to the Haas – Sherover Promenade. We were outside for less than two minutes when Amalya demanded to go back inside! The wind was so strong that it was pushing her backwards. Hovering at around freezing, the air felt like it was significantly below zero, especially when the wind kicked up. Elan and Mira, however, wanted to get out and play, so off we went.

We don’t have winter clothes here and certainly not Chicago winter coats. It was freezing! Worse than the general cold was the fact that I only had gym shoes, mostly mesh, and the ground was exceptionally shlushy so my feet were instantly frozen. We got to the Tayelet after what felt like an hour – I am sure it was only five minutes – frozen to the core. Elan and Mira ran to the snow and made Shlomo the Shnowman and had a great time. This of course changed when the snowball fight started. I am sure you remember the expression it is only fun until someone loses an eye – and then it is twice the fun? Well, that was pretty much the case for the kids.

When they finally agreed to head home, the weather took a turn for the worse. The wind kicked up and what started as snow was now a driving sleet storm. Each small frozen pellet struck the face like a boulder. There was more slush now so we got more and more soaked through – pants, coats, gloves, shoes – until we finally made it back to the apartment. We are really going to have to toughen up a little bit before we move back to Chicago. The blood really does thin when you move to the South for a decade or more.

The rest of the day was like any other snow day – stay inside, make do with what there is to eat, watch the Marx Brothers, Tom and Jerry, and other oldies, make some hot drinks, and just hang out (in the hopes that the children won’t drive each other, and us, crazy. The snow trucks – bulldozers not being used for other purposes – were out trying to clear the roads, and were moderately successful. The snow continued well into the night and the next day. Because so few people knew how to drive in the snow, everything stayed whiter longer. It was and it is truly beautiful. The snow blowing down Derekh Khevron was a natural wonder and kept accumulating.

Thursday was similar to Wednesday except that the sun finally came out and it warmed up just a little. We moved slowly along and finally left the house at around noon to have lunch and hot chocolate with our friends Judah, Hannah, and Abigail. Sarah joined us at home later and we watched more films, ordered in (the kosher delivery business probably made its entire year in the two days that just ended) and then it was time for bed for the family.

The snow overshadowed the major news of the day on Wednesday, the much awaited release of the Winograd Report on the Second Lebanon War. The report was highly critical of the IDF and, evidently, less critical of the government. It is still unclear as to whether or not Prime Minister Ehud Olmert will survive the report, what Barak will do, or what will happen next. But for two days, the snow covered the city and future concerns were put aside in favor of a rare two day Jerusalem snow. We had a wonderful time and…are looking forward to returning to our regular schedule!

Parashat Yitro - 2008

A few thoughts before the arrival of Shabbat:

There was a fascinating article in Harper’s Magazine, the January 2008 edition, titled “The God of the Desert: Jerusalem and the Ecology of Monotheism” by Richard Rodriguez. The cover of the magazine adds: “Richard Rodriguez in the Barren Birthplace of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.” It is not a lite article. Rodriguez views desert as emptiness, most holy places as spaces designed to contain THE Emptiness, and speaks mostly of loneliness. And yet, it is desert where Moses, and the children of Israel, encounter God, to whom we refer as HaMakom, THE Place, the opposite of emptiness.

On Sunday, I am taking Mira and Amalya to Ein Gedi, on the edge of the Dead Sea, for few days (Elan is in Atlanta for the weekend and Becca has lots of rehearsals for The Man of La Mancha). Ein Gedi is an Oasis, a spot of rich beauty, of water and sustenance, at the lowest point in the world. It is also, I believe, and excellent metaphor for finding God, and not Emptiness, in the desert. In our modern world of urban sprawl, of constant noise, of traffic and ambient sound, the city can often be a place of utter loneliness. Despite the cacophony of humanity, the individual is often lost, forgotten, lonely, empty. In the desert, senses are heightened and we find the ability to perceive and experience God in a different way. It is no wonder that Moshe and B’nai Yisrael, at the foot of a humble mountain in the midst of the desert, are able to experience Revelation. Instead of loneliness, they find God.

I am not sure what we will find at Ein Gedi on Sunday, but based on prior experience, I think we can count on a pretty powerful, and Divine, encounter.

דבר אחר

This past week in Atlanta, there was a conference about expanding Camp Yofi: Family Camp for
Jewish Families with Children with Autsim to other Jewish camps across the country. When the children of Israel, and all of us as well, stood together at Mt. Sinai, children with autism and their families were included in the Revelation. Torah, and membership in the Jewish People, was given to them equally and it is time for the leadership of the community to recognize this and act on it. It is my hope that this conference will lead to a spreading of the model across the country so that more lives can be touched and the entire Jewish people strengthened.

The first Camp Yofi would not have taken place without the vision of Ramah Darom. Camp Yofi could not have gotten started without the generosity of The Barry and Judy Silverman Foundation, the Covenant Foundation, the Foundation for Jewish Camping, and many others. Without the support of The Marcus Foundation, neither the expansion to a second session nor the conference could have transpired. And without the exceptional talent and dedication of Susan Tecktiel and Dr. Sue Kabot, the entire endeavor never would have gotten off the ground. They were our Moshes.

Now, it is time for other Moshe’s to step up, to hear the call, and make this important program happen across North America. Many of them showed up in Atlanta this week. Whether you are a Jewish camp helping to expand this program, new leaders to execute it, or new funders making investing to make it possible, I hope you will, to paraphrase – and modify Hillel the Elder: “Go and Learn and Do!”

Shabbat Shalom.

Becca and Mira Debuts in Israel

Becca is starring in the Man of La Mancha in the role of Aldonza. You can see the promotional poster at http://www.israel-theatre.com/. Tickets for Jerusalem performances are available at 02-671-8281. Jerusalem dates are February 13, 14, 16, and 17. Tickets for Tel Aviv and Raanana performances are available at 03-636-4007. The performance in Tel Aviv is on February 11 and the Ranaana performance takes place on February 18. Becca will also be playing the role of Glinda the Good Witch in the upcoming performance of the Wizard of Oz, where Mira will make her international debut as a munchkin.

Parashat B’Shallach – 2008

The city finally returned to normal since President Bush’s departure last Friday - well normal for Jerusalem anyway. During his visit, downtown resembled a cross between a ghost town and a police state. Citizens were nowhere to be found while 10,000 soldiers and police officers occupied the center of the city. It was truly stunning.

I couldn’t see a thing from my mirpeset on Thursday morning. It was dark and the fog was incredibly thick. The traffic was unbearable because the fog grounded the President’s helicopter and he had to drive to Ramallah for his day with Abu Mazen. The cab driver wanted to spare me the time so he asked if he could take an “an alternate” route. “Of course. Whatever will make this faster.” He turned into Abu Tor, a mixed Jewish – Arab neighborhood, into Silwan, through Wadi Joz and Sheikh Jarah until we reached French Hill and the University.

I had not driven through the above mentioned neighborhoods since 1983 on Ramah Israel Seminar. Back then, we visited churches, the Mount of Olives, etc. With the advent of Intifada II, however, visitation for the most part ended. I forgot how beautiful the view was, if, of course, you ignored the decrepit state of East Jerusalem. Baka-land this was not.

I could not help but notice that the “darkness, cloudiness, and fog” I was driving in was a foreshadowing of last week’s parashah. The penultimate plague, Darkness, is described in exactly those terms , words that indicate ambivalence and fear. Fog is deceptive. You never know what is beyond it – good or bad, safety or danger. And this is a foggy place and a foggy time in the Middle East. What does the future hold?

The optimist in me wants to tell you that suddenly, in the middle of class, I looked out the window and the fog was gone, the golden tiles of the Dome of the Rock blazed in the late morning sunlight atop the Temple Mount, a siman min hashamayim – a sign from Heaven – that Peace was possible, that it was in the offing, that something more immediate would come from the President’s visit. All of that, up to the Peace part, actually did happen. But then there were more rockets on Sderot, the fog started to return, and I was reminded that before the Exodus, there was the final plague, the death of the first born children of Egypt, a measure for measure consequence for Pharaoh’s decree against the first born male children of the House of Israel. Before radical reordering of the world came the painful death of children on all sides.

This part of the world has been in the” painful death of children” phase long enough. It is time to cross the major barrier, the Sea, and perceive what could be for all the children of this region in the future, the beauty and the glory and the life. It is time for all parties to learn from Pharaoh’s greatest limitation his inability to change, to see past what was in order to see what could be. In the end, Pharaoh couldn’t do it and he and his army were wiped out. But from that came a radical reordering. So to here, now. The stormy sea before us will consume those on all sides who cannot see what could be. And those who can will stand together and sing songs of Joy and Praise.

May we all be counted among their number, and soon…

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Loren Sykes

Parashat Va’era – 2007

In one of my previous posts, I cited one of my favorite quotations which is ascribed to Albert Einstein. Einstein defines insanity as “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” The next two weeks of Torah readings present us with an excellent application of Einstein’s definition of insanity. Pharaoh is given multiple opportunities to give in to Moshe and to God by releasing the Israelites from slavery. Each time, he gives the same answer – NO! - and each time he, his people, or his land (or all three simultaneously) suffer disasters of, well, Biblical proportions. Even after the suffering of every house in Egypt from the tenth plague and his finally giving in, Pharaoh cannot deviate from his standard response. He gathers his army and goes out with the troops to either destroy or re-enslave our ancestors. If this is not insanity, I don’t know what is.

Not only does Pharaoh make the same mistake over and over again, he avoids accepting responsibility for the national consequences of his choices. While not the intent of the Divine story, we never hear Pharaoh apologize to his people for going down the path of destruction, let alone to the victims of his opression. He never accepts responsibility, personal responsibility, for the consequences of his poor leadership choices. He never resigns. He is willing to do whatever it takes to stay in power and to divert blame for failure. He has no vision, is incapable of changing direction, of making a different choice in light of the facts. In the end, what is left of Mitzrayim is a shadow of its former glory, and a shrunken people with less soul. In the end, Pharaoh is a flawed and failed leader.

Jewish leaders – professional and lay, clergy and educator, fundraiser and philanthropist – should read the Pharaoh narratives closely, for we are charged with having vision for the future. We are charged with recognizing when the status quo is no longer enough. We are charged with changing direction, of seeking out and giving different answers. And we are charged with accepting responsibility and apologizing for our failures. If we put those failures in vision and in repetition on others, then we fail our People, our God and our mission in this world.

Recently, I read articles in the Jewish press from national leaders who bemoan the current state of commitment and engagement with Jewish living – and learning – and then place the blame exclusively on local professionals or local lay leaders. In so doing, they ignore their own responsibility for the crisis.

Another set of articles I am exploring advocates again and again for less – less learning, less knowledge, less depth, less meaning, less doing – as if all that stops the Jewish People from growing is that we are not disciples of Mies Van Der Rohe, the famous architect whose approach was “Less is More.” We have been down that road for at least thirty, if not forty or fifty, years. This approach is the embodiment of not only Van Der Rohe, but of Einstein definition of insanity. It is clear that lite does not equal long term commitment.

Fortunately, I am reading another set of articles regarding the impact of independent minyanim; on new directions for Israel education; on innovative approaches to continuity (see Continuity and Discontinuity by Cohen and Kelman) ; and on new understandings of the concept of Jewish Peoplehood. That is, I am exploring innovations that could make a significant and positive difference in the future of our People. It is to this third group of articles, the ones that speak to depth of learning, depth of experience, depth of Torah, to which we should look for leadership for the future.

Pharaoh cannot choose, or chooses not to choose, differently. We can and we must. We must look with new vision. And we must look to depth, to content, to meaningful long term Jewish interaction. We must be leaders, or expect from them and from ourselves, no less. We must hold leaders and ourselves accountable for leading in the right direction. That is the key to our future. It is why we are set free in this world by God in the first place. It is one reason why Pharaoh fails and Moshe succeeds. And why we will succeed, or fail, in the future.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Loren Sykes