Ekev -- 5776

After a 40 year-long slog through the wilderness, haven’t the Israelites waited long enough?  The Promised Land lies sparkling before them, ready to be entered and occupied.  Destiny, and a place to hang their hats, await. 

Not so fast.  Moses tells them that “the Eternal your God will dislodge [the inhabitants of the land] before you little by little; you will not be able to put an end to them all at once” (Deuteronomy 7:22).  Even though the Israelites are ready for the land, it is not ready for them.

There’s a good reason the natives aren’t to be vanquished all at once.  Were the land to be emptied of human inhabitants, “wild beasts would multiply to your hurt.”

Even when doing something wonderful or exciting, the pace must be right.  Moving either too fast or too slow can be harmful.

My natural instinct is always to rush forward with a good idea.  As a congregational rabbi, however, I’ve learned the value of taking my time.  I’ve realized that success requires asking the right questions, planning thoughtfully, listening actively to supporters and naysayers alike, and communicating the vision – and the logistics! -- in multiple ways.  It’s a slower process, but makes success more likely. 

You’ve likely heard the news by now that Beth Olson, the synagogue’s Executive Director, has resigned her position.  Although it’s tempting to jump right in to the search process, it is wiser to be thoughtful about it – to acknowledge our feelings of sadness, to think through the options, to assemble the right team of decision-makers, and to do our research before moving forward.  That is exactly what we’ll do, so as to ensure the congregation’s continued success.

“Remember the long way that the eternal your God has made you travel in the wilderness these past forty years, in order to test you by hardships to learn what was in your hearts” (Deuteronomy 8:2).

Va’etchanan -- 5776

My dvar Torah in this week's Jewish News.

Dvarim -- 5776

Moses describes the wilderness as “great and awesome/hagadol v’hanorah,” (Deuteronomy 1:19), using two of three adjectives used later to describe God: “great, mighty, and awesome/ha gadol, hagibor v’hanorah” (Deuteronomy 10:17, cited as well in the Amidah).  God, then, shares important qualities with the land.

The land represents the unknown to the newly-freed slaves.  Similarly, God represents the unknown to many contemporary Reform Jews.

The Hebrews believe the land is a land of punishment – home of war, starvation, and beast.  Many Reform Jews believe that God is a God of punishment.  After all, this is the image of God presented to us when we were children: the wizened male God who punishes and rewards.  Who wouldn’t fear such a Being?  Sadly, our theological education typically ends when we turn 13 or 15.  The turbulent world we encounter after high school doesn’t jibe with such just and orderly God.  The view of God we were taught can’t accommodate adult questions and problems.  No wonder so many reject the idea of God.

As the Israelites mature, they come to see the land in a more nuanced manner.  What was once overwhelming becomes nourishing.  What was once impossible becomes possible.  After their slave mentality, incapable of nuance, drops away, they are permitted to enter. 

The same is true for us.  If we consider God through an informed, thoughtful Jewish lens, we can find a God idea that meshes with our experience of the world and that helps us in times of trouble. 

• ·         Instead of seeing God as an actor in the world, determining the course of human events, we might see God as the Source of the World. 
• ·         Instead of a God who Rules Over, we might understand a God who Dwells Within. 
• ·         Instead of a God in heaven, we might feel God everywhere. 
• ·         Instead of a God who wants to be worshipped, we might envision God as the Source of Energy and Abundance. 

These God-concepts are far more expansive than the one we were taught as children.  And they are fully grounded within the Jewish tradition. 

We can see God as punitive.  Or we can see God as Great as the Rockies, Mighty as the Colorado, and Awesome as the Grand Canyon.

How do you understand God?

Matot -- 5776

A neder is a vow.

“If a householder makes a neder to God or takes an oath imposing an obligation on himself, he shall not break his pledge; he must carry out all that has crossed his lips” (Numbers 30:3).

Judaism understands that our words have extraordinary power.  That’s especially true of words declared to God.  Even so, our tradition holds that all speech has great impact.

Speech is an essential dimension of the human animal.  We are called “HaM’daber – the Speaker,” for that’s what distinguishes us from the other species.  In the Torah, Adam’s very first action is to give names to every creature (Genesis 2:19-20).

Words shape reality.  When a rabbi declares “I now pronounce you married,” the couple, their families, and the IRS accept the change in status.  When a judge declares a person “guilty,” their life heads off in a profoundly different direction.

The rabbis of old understood that words can cause extreme damage, and named several language-related sins, among them humiliating, gossiping, lying, and rebuking improperly.

The principle of not humiliating another person is called “lo levayesh.”  According to a sage in the Mishnah, public shaming is equivalent to shedding blood.  So grave is the offense that “one who whitens a friend’s face (by putting him or her to shame) in public has no share in the World to Come” (Baba Metziah 58b-59a).

It is sometimes necessary to rebuke one who is doing wrong.  Leviticus instructs us to engage in rebuke/tochechah when we can correct faulty behavior (Leviticus 19:17).  But, Maimonides added, we must do so privately, gently, and for our friend’s own good – not our own self-aggrandizement.  There are right ways, and there are wrong ways, to instruct others.

Through this thoroughly surprising election season, I’m reminded of the power of words.  We’ve seen that words can energize and inspire, and also that they can inflame and harm.   Words can help us articulate our shared values and understand our differences.  They can chart and refine our collective path.  They can also belittle, deceive, and hide.

As Jews, we are asked to choose our words carefully so that they will be true, helpful, and good.  We value honesty, integrity, and modesty in speech and we ask that God will, in the words of prayer Elohai Ntzur,

guard my tongue from evil and my lips from deception. 

Before those who slander me, I will hold my tongue; I will practice humility. 

[Mishkan Tfilah 100]