Thursday, April 16, 2020

Parashat Shmini during Covid-19

Parashat Shmini for the Jewish Chronicle
8 April 2020
Rabbi Larry Freedman

What do you do when you don’t have time for the niceties, for the honors and rites you believe should be offered?  You have to make tough decisions.
Moses and Aaron and all the Cohanim and Levites were just about to begin the operation of the Mishkan, offering korbanot before the Ohel Moed as we enter the Torah portion, Shmini (beginning at Leviticus 9:1).  We have concluded the set-up, the preparation, the ordination of the right people to do the right job.  The mission is set, it is time to engage.
And so they engage and no sooner does it begin that Nadav and Avihu rush in and try to offer their own korbanot in, clearly, not the fashion as laid out in the regulations.  They were punished by death for such a breech.  What did they do?  It’s not clear.  Commentators over the years have offered ideas: hubris, improperly kindled fire, whatever.  The point is that they didn’t do it correctly.  Aaron, their father, when faced with this awful moment famously remains silent.  Silent because he doesn’t care?  Maybe not.  Perhaps he was silent prefiguring modern day shiva tradition where the mourners are allowed to be silent in grief with no obligation to make chit-chat.
But Aaron is admonished.  There is work to be done to get the offerings in the mishkan up and running.
I’m writing this as I sit in Manhattan as part of the National Guard’s response to help overwhelmed civilian agencies.  I am working in cooperation with the city medical examiner.  We are not necessarily interacting with those who are covid-19 positive but the virus has caused the system to be swamped.  I’m here as a chaplain, mobilized out of my unit in Newburgh, NY (I’m working on my transfer to Pittsburgh).  My primary task is to be a pastoral presence to the troops who are under high stress.  They need to talk.  I’m also here to provide religious services so I put together a socially distant seder (no crowding at the table) and I bought Easter candy while also arranging for a pastor to video in an Easter Sunday sermon.  There’s a first time for everything. 
Back to Shmini.  You can argue if you disagree that the operation of the mishkan is more important than time for Aaron to grieve but within the context of Shmini, the mission of the mishkan was primary and the proper rituals and rites would have to wait.  Nadav and Avihu were hauled out by their tunics, Moses tells Aaron that now is not the time to sit in silence and the mission goes on. 
This is a terrible situation with hardly a “best” solution but remember this.  The operation of the mishkan was for the benefit of the people, all of the people.  It was designed to have the Israelites and God connected and thus protected.  Proper functioning was for the benefit of all.  One man’s grieving can hardly equate to the safety of the entire population.  I don’t say that cavalierly.  I say that as an objective reality. 
Our work here is not easy but it is holy work.  If we were to slow down or even pause this mission so that full and proper rites could be offered, other people would be neglected.  I am impressed with the professionalism of the civilians and military members I meet who do their best to bring dignity to a process most of us don’t want to think about.  Still and all, there is a certain tempo that must be maintained.  It isn’t rushed but it isn’t slow either.
The streets and highways are all but deserted.  We think nothing of running up to the Bronx and back.  The farthest of Far Rockaway is 40 minutes.  So our troops head out and do their holy work, finish a 12 hour shift, eat dinner, fall into bed.  We are the first step in a process that must be done.  There will be rituals and rites that others will offer in days or weeks to come.  Families will take care of that.  There is a proper conclusion to our work.  We will never see it. 
My condolences, Aaron, upon the death of Nadav and Avihu.  I truly mean it.  But there is a whole thing going on as the mishkan and ohel moed mission is spinning up and there are so many other people to take care of.  Baruch dayan ha-emet.  My team is ready to head out.  I gotta go.

From New York City 15 April 2020

Letter to Parents

If you’ve ever been to New York City, you know how much of the joy here is found in the energy, the constant moving, the stalwart buildings and the creativity coming out of storefronts.  Now it’s almost a ghost town.  David Remnick in the New Yorker wrote that he half expects to see tumbleweeds blow across the avenues.

I came off work visiting troops around the city at 1:00 AM.  I was with a young corporal who hadn’t been to NYC since a quick trip as a 10th grader.  Coming back into Manhattan we made a small detour to Times Square.  We parked, well, anywhere we wanted in front of any theater you wish on 44th.  We walked over and there were 4 guys from Con Edison working on something, one police car, four or five other people and us and that’s it.  Times Square completely empty.  It was all lit up.  M&M store with bright colors, Forever21 showing its video on loop for an audience of nobody.  So weird.  That’s all I could say.  So weird.

Before that I was visiting the Queens morgue and a site on the Brooklyn waterfront that will be processing thousands of bodies.  My job is to be a constant presence so that the soldiers and airmen begin to trust me and come talk to me.  We are the tip of the spear in a process that will end in a dignified funeral with attention paid and prayers said.  But before that final honor can happen, we have to enter small apartments of mostly poor or working people, sometimes nursing homes, and recover the bodies. 

The NOICs (higher ranking sergeants) and officers trust my position (and slowly me) so they send troops my way.  No one I meet carries that macho sense of the soldier immune to emotional stress.  They just don’t think it applies to them.  When they see what happens when hospital morgues are overwhelmed, when recoveries in homes don’t happen as fast as they should, our troops are doing okay but they are stressed.  They understand that they are doing good things, important things, holy work.  It’s just that they need to talk about it.  That’s where I come in along with a behavioral health officer.

There is another time they come and talk to me.  What happens when you’re on orders and your mother gets a serious diagnosis and she’s just 17 miles away but you can’t go to her?  The Army will let you.  That’s not the issue.  You can’t go because you worry that you might have been exposed to the virus and don’t want to pass it on.  It’s heartbreaking.

Some days are a little slower.  Some days are a little busier.  We have more help here so the troops aren’t running as hard as they had.  A slower pace is a healthier pace.  And a slower pace may just mean we are entering the other side of the curve.  We are all hopeful.

Just a little bit of what it’s like here.  Today it’s a sparkly blue sky day and my view of the Empire State Building is really cool.  And the streets are still empty and the work still continues.

I’m so grateful to the whole J-JEP community for letting me leave you for a month so I can help my soldiers and airmen and the city and state of New York.

Sunday, June 23, 2019

Final Sermon


Final Sermon
Temple Beth Jacob
June 21, 2019
Rabbi Larry Freedman

This is a sermon I have not been looking forward to writing.  It is the last big sermon I will write for you and it ends this portion of my rabbinic career.  Eleven years is not terribly long in the tenure of rabbis but it is a fair amount of time.  A lot of the children here don’t know any other rabbi.  A lot of the adults, don’t either.  I’ve been present at baby namings and funerals, so many b’nai mitzvah, and I have even had the greatest joy for a rabbi, officiating at weddings of former students.  I’ve taught some of you some things, learned a lot from a lot of you, challenged you greatly, been right often, been wrong often, too, although depending on who you ask one could score me as wrong more often.  You know who you are members of Torah study.
I’m proud of my work here.  I’m proud of the new ideas and proud of adding some oomph to old traditions.  Sure a few things have fallen aside since I first came.  Some of you may still not agree with swapping out tallit making in place of wimple making.  That was a hard thing to convince you of.
Show of hands.  Who knows what a wimple is?  And a tallit?  Yup.  I was right.
On the ritual side, I’m proud of our changes, bringing in two new prayer books and focusing on other traditions in addition to or sometimes in place of just liturgy.  I hope I’ve advanced the notion of what being religious means.  I hope it can mean attention to Jewish living beyond “Orthodox” which includes an assortment of rituals and customs and new traditions.  We have 80 come out for Sukkot and we had 40 for our Tikun Leil Shavuot.  You really missed a good one, by the way.  That evening deserves more attention.  A Rosh Hashana hike and community seder.  A long time ago we blessed the sun, I managed to get one trip to Israel and we praised Yoda and Yochanan ben Zakai the same evening.  Yes it is rituals, yes it is prayer and yes it is a bunch more creative stuff.  I’ve tried to bring some of that in so that you can without hesitation consider yourself religious.  More work, always more work is needed.
On the ethical side, I hope you’ve gotten the message that your obligation to Torah is the path that will make the world a better place and make yourself a better person.  I feel like I’ve said that a few times over the years.  Don’t worry about the other guy.  Don’t worry that “society” isn’t ready.  You are the other guy.  You are society.  You are the impediment to a better world or the catalyst for a better world.  You determine if you will be better person.  Don’t worry about anyone else because that is just an excuse to keep you from making the world a better place and yourself a better person.
And of course we have moved to the notion of partnership and this past year the Board of Trustees has read Relational Judaism.  Both of these initiatives are to remember that you are not members who pay for a service but partners in an ongoing process of maintaining a Jewish presence here in the Hudson Valley and developing deeper meaning and value of that presence in the lives of our people.  It is a difficult task to express that but it is the path we are on.
I’m proud of my style.  I’m maybe too direct, maybe too voluble, maybe I goof around too much but on the other hand, I’m very direct because I believe you deserve the respect of a direct answer.  My answers are too long because I think adults deserve nuance and complexity.  I try to be funny because Judaism should not be a dour experience but when we talk about personal things, I am all in with no distractions.  I have always taken you and your concerns very seriously. 
What I have not done is taken myself too seriously.  Rabbis can become self-absorbed and arrogant.  I’m sure that’s a shock to you.  It is what can happen when you are in the front of the room with all eyes on you.  It is what can happen when you begin to believe not just that you are helpful but that you and only you have the qualities to be helpful.  I know myself and I know I can succumb to that which is why I’m not great with accepting compliments.  I do love the pat on the back, the word of appreciation or expressions of gratitude.  It lets me know I’m on the right track, that my work is effective.  It’s good to get an attaboy every now and then as feedback.  More than that is hard to take.  My therapist couldn’t shake that out of me, my wife can’t shake that out of me, you won’t succeed either.  And why should you?  We all have quirks.  Human beings are quirky.  Thank you for accepting me as I am, quirks and all.  Thank you for your willingness to never, ever get me a birthday cake.
I am pleased and proud to have served as your rabbi in this corner of the Jewish world for 11 years.  All I’ve ever wanted to do is serve the Jewish people in the trenches.  I never wanted to write books, I’m not on national committees.  I just wanted to do the work.  It is all about the work, all about helping Jews and Jewish families deepen their connection to our heritage.  It is all about helping you, guiding you, teaching you.  It is not about me and never should be.  If you truly want to express your thanks, let me ask for this.  Think of something specifically I was able to do for you or for the congregation as a whole that helped connect you even a little closer to the Jewish people and our heritage.  Let me know that.  Did my efforts work for you?  Tell me specifically how I moved you, how my work connected you to Torah and the Jewish people just a little bit more.  Truly that will be the sweetest feedback and thanks of all.
What am I doing now?
I am returning to Pittsburgh, to a place that feels like home, to a whole lot of friends with whom we raised our children, to run a 180 student religious school.  Twenty teachers, assistant director, cantorial soloist attached as well.  Big job.  It is called JJEP, joint Jewish educational program.  It is a collaboration between a Rodef Shalom, Reform, and Beth Shalom, Conservative.  Right now it is a 5 year old experiment that runs K-7.  They have great hope to increase post-B’nai Mitzvah offerings and there is lots of talk about what to do about high school education.  Should it be synagogue based?  Should it be JCC based?  I’m excited for these conversations.
It is true that I do not as of now have pulpit responsibilities.  If you include my student days this fall will be the first time in 30 years that I will sit next to Deborah for Rosh Hashana.  Will I miss being in charge and up front?  Yes.  Will I miss being in charge and up front?  No.  Maybe next year I’ll take on some youth services leadership and return to telling the story of Jonah with calls to, “Go to Nineveh.”  But for now, there’s enough to do to get oriented with my main job.  I’m good.
One thing, though.  Now, I know what you mean, truly, and I don’t let too many things get to me but it is wearing a little thin when people offer, with sad faces, their supportive sorrow that I won’t be a rabbi anymore.  It’s a little like saying to a dentist that you are sorry they never became a real doctor.  Would you say to a Rosh Yeshiva in Riverdale that he’s not a real rabbi?  But feel no sorrow.  No sad faces.  To me, I have a congregation of 180 students and 360 parents.  You don’t think I’m bringing all my pastoral skills to that?  Unlike the pulpit where you don’t see many people but two or three times a year, I will have over 500 people all of whom see themselves as very concerned stake holders and they all show up every single week.  Oy.
It is time for some thank you’s which will be wholly inadequate.  When we arrived here, I was coming off a disastrous two years at a giant synagogue.  My head was reeling but you took a chance on me and for that I will be forever grateful to each and everyone one of you.  My thanks to all the presidents and members of the executive committee, in particular our current officers and board to whom I handed a monumental headache.  A great thank you to all the members of the boards of trustees who have listened to me, ignored me or some combination of both but always with respect and courtesy.  More important than anything we do, more important than any idea we accept or reject, more important than all of it is that we’ve always treated each other respectfully and with trust.  That is how you keep a congregation strong.  When we have failed in that goal, we have been on rocky shores.  Differences of opinions are fine.  Passionate conversation is great because, certainly because, we are all committed to the Jewish people staying strong here along the shores of the Hudson.  When that becomes our only goal, when we stay mission focused and stay away from gossip and drama, we do very well.  We moved in to a different building with a whole other congregation and JCC and it has worked out very well and the future looks even better.  How did this happen?  We stayed mission focused and we stayed away from gossip and drama.  We built trust and we built a busy, vibrant home for us all.
Thank you to all the custodians who help keep this place running and cleaned up after me.  I have an especially heartfelt thanks to Maryjean Dominick who does so much for so many and has been, in many ways, a partner to me helping to keep things together.  Great appreciation, thanks and so much more for my friendship and professional partnership with Stefanie Kostenblatt.  I regret that we only just began to imagine what this place can be.  So much appreciation for my musical partnerships with Jim Blanton and over years, Cantor Wunch, Cantor Anna, Amy Goldstein, Chris Mason and Cantor Hirschenfang.  Of course, George Levy and Steve Pearl and  everyone who has stepped in to sing.
My great appreciation to Federation and all they do for our community and to our interfaith community who come together infrequently but with great purpose and support and respect.  And to my partners across the aisle, Rabbis Edelman and Cella and, of course, Philip Weintraub without whom Kol Yisrael could not have happened.
And thanks to Shari Franco and all the teachers who work very hard to inspire our next generation.
Shelach lecha is this week’s parasha.  It tells the story of the 12 spies who go to reconnoiter the Land of Israel.  They all see how great it is but when they see some of the inhabitants, they become afraid and think they can’t do it.  Well, ten of them think they can’t do it but two encourage them to be brave and have confidence.  But it wasn’t to be.  As I leave and a new rabbi comes forward remember to be pragmatic, be realistic as you reconnoiter your context here in the Hudson Valley but be brave going forward.  Don’t imagine you cannot.  Look clearly at your resources and then dream big.  As always, more people need to step up and lend a hand.  We really need all 12 spies being supportive, not just two, so volunteer even if it is for just a small project.
Use the time with your new rabbi to reconnoiter yourselves, to understand who you are, what you want, where the value is in this community.  Dig into values of our heritage and create novel ways to live them out.  Be brave as you always have been, and this place will be here for many more generations.  Don’t be negative.  Don’t be negative about each other or ideas or initiatives.  Be positive and forward looking.  Don’t look around for someone to do something.  You do something. 
Be brave.  Be like the two brave spies, not like the doubting ten.  Be brave and thoughtful and helpful and upbeat and you will do very well for a very long time to come.
Thank you for all you have done for me and my family.  Thank you all.  Chazak v’ematz.  Be strong and courageous.  Let me end not with my voice but your voice because my voice, while appreciated, is never as important as your voice which is crucial.  When we end a book of the Torah, a chapter in our story, I say this and then you repeat.  As you end this chapter in the story of Temple Beth Jacob, let us say:  Be strong, be strong and we will be strengthened.  Repeat after me.  Chazak chazak v’nitchazek.




Friday, September 21, 2018

The secret meaning of the bagel.



The secret meaning of the bagel.
Yom Kippur 5779
September 19, 2018
Temple Beth Jacob of Newburgh
Rabbi Larry Freedman

Behold the humble bagel, modest staple of East European Jews, abused with various colors and flavor combinations including the disgusting combination of cinnamon raisin with lox, red onion, tomato, and capers.  It had to be said.  But I digress.  The bagel is the delivery vehicle of choice for your lox, your whitefish, your cream cheese.  Behold the bagel, keeper of the secret of Yom Kippur.
Yes, the secret to Yom Kippur but we must travel quite the path before we understand.  We must travel a road of repentance, a path of penitence, engage a travelogue of teshuva.  We will find bumps along the way, frustration, denial, refusal and confusion but we will make our way and the secret will be revealed, the bagel will be there to welcome you.  Let us begin.  Indeed we already have.
Last night we began with meals more festive than just a bagel and we arrived here dressed in white, wearing a tallit, standing for Kol Nidre.  We stood at attention as we heard the solemn decree that our vows we made under oath which after earnest attempt we could not fulfill, be not held against us.  At different times there have been different versions.  There is this version, that we wish to be absolved for when we failed.  There is a version stating that future vows be not held against us.  This from a time when it was possible Jews would be forced to convert to Christianity by the sword.  And then there is the understanding that this has to do with vows we made to God alone, not to others in the course of regular business.  Kol Nidre is serious about your soul.  It is not an excuse to get out of a contract.  Indeed to use it that way would bring shame upon you and embarrassment to God.  Not a good way to start this day of atonement.
We finished the night in our tallit.  Why is that?  Because we were dressed formally for a trial.  We were before the great beit din, the rabbinic court.  No, even greater:  it is the heavenly court.  This is the metaphor and we embrace it.  The secret of the bagel demands that we give these proceedings great awe and seriousness.
We have arrived to this morning.  It will be, you will see, a roller coaster of prayers.  We begin with the usual.  Opening, barchu, shema.  Soon enough, though we reach the theme of the day.  “Remember us for life, sovereign God who treasures life.  Inscribe us in the Book of Life, for your sake, God of life.”[1]  The famous book of life where we all want to be listed, the book of life that is opened, our lives are judged, we are written somewhere and then the book is sealed.  We pray for a good seal.  “Chatimah tova; a good seal for you,” we wish our friends.  “Chatimah tova, a good seal for you,” they say in return.  And please note that we do not ask for this chatimah tova for our own selfish reasons, a good seal so that we simply live.  “Inscribe us in the book of life for Your sake,” we pray.  It’s not for me, it’s for God.  Let me have another year so I can do what You have asked, to make the world a better place, make myself a better person.
The theme becomes clear.  We are on shaky ground.  We ask to be given a chatimah tova by convincing God it would be in God’s best interest.  Shaky ground, indeed.
Just a few pages later, Unetaneh tokef.  “Let us proclaim the power of this day… In truth You are judge and plaintiff, counselor and witness…”[2]  If you missed it before, you cannot miss it now.  The day has taken a turn.  The Day of Judgment is before you.  There is no escaping it.  We learn again that some will die this way, some will die that way.  We know this to be the very truest bit of liturgy ever written.  Some with us last year are not with us this year.  Some with us this year will not be with us next year.  But who that will be is completely unknown.  The frail live on, the healthy struck down.  There is no prediction, no way to know.  And now we know why white is the preferred color of the day.  We dress in our burial shrouds.  This is a day of the rehearsal for our deaths.
And how fortunate we are.  Most people are not blessed to know that death is coming and so they are not blessed to be able to sit and reflect and consider.  They are not blessed with the chance to have one last conversation with so many people.  But here we are as though we are attending what could be our own funeral.  This is not macabre.  This is not creepy.  This is a blessing!  Since we do not know when the day will come we pretend today is that day.  We are blessed to have such a day not so that we can hear what people will say about us but so that we can say what we must to those we love.  We all know those who had died never having the chance to say this or that to him or her.  We all know that regrets are found when we find ourselves out of time or simply too ill to say what we truly want to say.  Here is your day!  And it can be more than just, “sorry.”  Perhaps today is a day to say, “I love you,” or “I’m proud of you,” or “I didn’t understand then but I do now so thank you.”  We pretend it is the end so we can repair the present and live on for a better future.
How great is this day!  Never mind, we move on and we are dragged down again to this prayer:  “Our God and God of our forebears, pardon our failings on this day of Atonement; erase our misdeeds; see beyond our defiance.”[3]  Defiance?  Defiance.  Who am I kidding?  I’ll never make it.  Deep down I’m defiant, stubborn.  I don’t want to have those conversations, I can’t bear to pretend about my death.  We are told this is the day set aside for us, a gift for us.  But we resist.
No, we do not resist.  We embrace the opportunity of this day and indeed, we recreate the birkat cohanim, the priestly benediction as those with tallitot create duchenen, the spectral sending of blessings.  We bless our congregation invoking God’s name.  “May God bless you and protect you,” we intone with arms out and fingers spread.  See, God, you have to bless us!  We’ve already involved you, we’ve already called you! 
The tempo increases.  Avinu Malkeinu:  a series of statements that are both pleas and demands, acknowledgement of who we are and insistence that God hear our voice, end pain and sickness and grant us a good year.  This may be a rehearsal for our death but we are not going down without a fight.  We are humble in our approach but demanding in our words.  We demand, politely, but demand nonetheless before our father, our king.
Torah, haftarah and then we backtrack.  Have we been too bold?  Have we shown insufficient humility?  Now we make up for it.  Ashamnu, bagadnu.[4]  We betray, we steal, we scorn.  We do all these things.  We stand before God without embarrassment and just honestly admit that we are not perfect, that we have  made mistakes.  (But we don’t back down.)
Then, a little break but many of you don’t want to break the spell, don’t want to leave this world we are creating, this roller coaster of prayer.  Back home there is the radio and the email and television.  Probably best if you just ignore them all and take a nap.  Stay away from the kitchen.  It is too tempting.  It is torturous and the fast is not meant to be torture.
That is why so many of you stay.  We have a study session and a short break to put your feet up somewhere in the building.
We are back for mincha.  Torah, haftarah and then something old that is new to us.  The avodah section will return in this new machzor, the recitation of the ancient ritual.  The fight is renewed as we gather some strength.  The avodah section is a telling of the Yom Kippur ritual as performed in the Temple in Jerusalem.  Our machzor has broken it down into 15 steps each one another level of holiness, another aspect of holiness.  Each step sets us up as reaching, striving for holiness.  It is a challenge to God.  We are coming to You.  Will you not reach for us?
And then we get into the meat of it all the avodah service.  Once the Temple was destroyed, the rabbis had a decision to make.   Either our connection to God was forever broken or something else would have to replace it.  They chose the latter.  Prayer replaced animal offerings.  The three daily sacrifices became prayer three times a day.  The ritual of Yom Kippur became the prayers of Yom Kippur and so on for every holiday we have.  The prayers, the words weren’t just tokens.  The words, the prayers themselves were just as valid as the offerings themselves.  So now, instead of one Cohen Gadol in Jerusalem going into the holy of holies there are a million recitations of the Cohen Gadol going into the holy of holies in a million synagogues around the world.  Large and small, around the world the ritual takes place right at this very moment.  If God could be moved by one Cohen in one place saying it one time, what chance does God have with a million recitations in a million places? 
Let us review.  We are on trial.  We acknowledge our faults and we demand God judge us fairly.  We are blessed to pretend this is our last day so as to say what we would want to say to those whom we care for.  We recreate the greatest ritual on the greatest day to force God’s hand.  We arrive at Yizkor, a break to remember our ancestors.  We pause to remember parents, siblings, spouses, and even children.  We remember what they taught us.  We remember what we wanted to say to them.
Then Neilah.  The conclusion and so close to the secret of the bagel.  All day we have been dying.  We don’t eat or drink or indulge luxuries like the dead.  We wear white like the dead.  We fear for the book we will be inscribed in, like the dead.  But we are not dead… we are just pretending which is why we are so demanding of God.  Neilah, the final service.  It means “locking.”  The gates of repentance are closing, slowly but closing all the same.  We make one tired last ditch effort.  El norah alilah, the song repeats and repeats this urgent plea:  “Small in Number, “ we are called, we who lift our eyes to seek You, and with trembling hearts, beseech You in the hour of Neilah.  Or this:  Recall our mothers, remember our fathers; renew their righteousness in our days.[5]  Be near to us as You were to them, in this hour of Neilah.
We will be tired tonight, we will be thirsty but we will not give up.  We will have caffeine withdrawal headaches, and sitting too long backaches but we will not give up.  We are in this fight and we will prevail.  We will claw our tired bodies and our tired souls through Neilah to the very end.  We have sinned but we are not sinners.  You are the Judge but we demand compassion.  And so it comes to pass.
And we have havdalah and we shake each other’s hands and we head out tired but victorious and this brings us to the secret of the bagel.  The bagel that you will eagerly seek is not simply food for a hungry belly.  It isn’t even a reward for making it through the day.  It is the crust of victory and the symbol of the meaning of Yom Kippur.  We have not eaten because the dead do not eat and we are pretending as if we are dead.  But the living eat.  The living eat to survive, no, to thrive!  The living eat to live on and do great things.  The bagel says, Yom Kippur, you have taught me well.  You have, once again, been a difficult adversary.  You have forced me to see who I am and how I wish to be and so I will eat this bagel not as the finish of the day but as the start of the year!  The bagel is not the end of the day, it is the start of your life.  You are not dead.  You are very much alive and you have things to do, people to help, a world to make better.  You eat that bagel and drink that juice to begin, to start, to announce this year I will be even better.  I have been through the ordeal and now I start!    We have struggled, we have humbled ourselves, we have striven, we have demanded, we have pleaded and we have won.  That is the meaning of the bagel.  We eat because we have won.  We rise, we eat, we plan.  We begin another year, a sweet new year, a great new year.  The bagel is not the conclusion of the day.  The bagel is the start of your life.


[1] Mishkan HaNefesh, p. 202.
[2] p. 208
[3] p. 234
[4] p. 296
[5] p. 615

It's the fast of justice.


 Kol Nidre 5778
It’s the fast of justice.
Temple Beth Jacob of Newburgh
September 18, 2018
Rabbi Larry Freedman

Let us begin with the words of Isaiah from our haftarah.[1]  Isaiah the prophet who famously comforts the troubled and troubles the comfortable has his words selected for this holiest of days as a reminder, a call, a scold and a challenge.  He begins, “Yes, they seek Me daily/As though eager to learn My ways.  As if they were a nation that does what is right/and has not abandoned God’s laws.  They ask of Me the right way, eager for God’s nearness.”
And do we not?  For the faithful, for the questioning, for the unbeliever, are we not all aligned, all as one in our desire, our yearning to know that we are doing what is right?  There is goodness in this world and we want to be part of that, do we not?  Is there anyone here who wishes to do, who prays to do what is wrong?  Is there anyone here who says, “Goodness exists; I want no part of it.”  Who says that?  Who says they wish to traffic in evil?  Who here looks to embrace the wrong way?  Alright then.  I will hold you to that.
Isaiah’s words resonate.  We seek to be near God, to be near what is right.  But Isaiah knew his audience back then and he was having none of it.  He quotes those Jews of yore who complained to God, “Why, when we fasted, did You not see?  When we starved our bodies, did You pay no heed?”  Isaiah brings the condemnation:  “Because on your fast day, you see to your business and oppress all your laborers. Because you fast in strife and contention, and you strike with a wicked fist!  Your fasting today is not such as to make your voice heard on high.”
God via Isaiah says, You say you are fasting so as to reach all that is good but you do all that is not good even as you fast!  What is this, then?  Do you think I don’t know?
Isaiah’s words condemned back then.  They challenge us today.  Are we just as guilty?  Would Isaiah have some choice words to say to us?  We pray “no.”  We fear “yes.” 
Isaiah offers help.  Without suggesting you actually not fast, he is reminding you then, he is reminding you now how this works.  Completing the fast is what we do for us.  Fulfilling the intent of the fast is what we do for God, for our community, for our world.  Isaiah offers God’s words:  “No, this is the fast I desire: To unlock the fetters of wickedness and untie the cords of the yoke.  To let the oppressed go free; to break off every yoke.  It is to share your bread with the hungry and to take the wretched poor into your home.  When you see the naked, to clothe him and not to ignore your own kin.”
What is our challenge?  What is the call Isaiah cries out even to this day?  Look out from your own self, from your narrow viewpoint, look out and around and find those who suffer from injustice.  I have been saying a variation of this for all my rabbinical days.  Your obligation cannot be simpler.  It is to make the world a better place and make yourself a better person.  This is my quip of Isaiah’s poetry which encapsulates the very reason we are Jews.  That is it. 
And how are you doing with this?
This past year the Air National Guard sent me to New York for disaster chaplaincy training.  We began as usual going around the room with introductions.  It was just the broadest group of people.  Christians, Buddhists, Jews, Muslims.  Immigrants, gay, straight, men, women and on and on. Perhaps you’ve been at a similar conference.  It was quite the collection of earnest folks who wanted to alleviate suffering for those hit by natural disaster.  I remember being struck by the vast array of Americans in that room thinking to myself something surprising: being open to the wide variety of humanity is really hard.
It’s hard to be with different sorts of people.  A person has to admit to a lack of knowledge of what makes other people, other cultures tick.  A room like that requires that you speak honestly to people whose background you don’t understand.  You’re in a place with new people with whom you don’t share cultural shorthand, or inside jokes or food or history or anything. 
Now, plenty of people get to know their co-workers or neighbors or even simply the other conference attendees and become friends, truly friends, with an understanding of what makes the other tick.  It’s nice, you know?
But some people have trouble with this.  They don’t see a wide range of people as the glory of America but as the dilution of America.  Some people can’t do the work to get to know others and simply fear the influx of different kinds of people.  It’s a fear of being replaced.
Last year in Charlottesville, at the ugly white supremacist rally, we heard the chant, “You will not replace us,” and “Jews will not replace us.”  It comes from a 71 year old Frenchman, Renaud Camus.[2]  He wrote in 2012 of “the great replacement” of native white Europeans by immigration of people not white.  From this grew many anonymous websites fearing for the extinction of the white European race.  This, slightly different from white supremacy, is white nationalism.  This is jacket and tie tiki-torch racism, not your backwoods cross burnings.  This is earnest racism.  This is the racism from people who cannot see past their own skin color and fear that anyone who comes from outside of Europe is a threat to Europe and by extension, a threat to America because, to hear them explain it, we are culturally European and must ever be so.
That is where the cry comes from.  You will not replace us, they cry, as though white people and white culture are under attack in this country.  And they add, let us be very clear, that Jews regardless of pigmentation, are never, ever white and never, ever European.  We are guests or interlopers, depending on how bigoted they wish to be.  Most cleverly, white nationalists explain that they don’t hate anyone at all.  They simply wish to defend white culture from dilution and white people from extinction.  These people, once under a rock, are growing.  They look back to some era when men (it’s mostly men) had decent jobs with decent wages and life was simple and everyone knew his place.  These men complain that white men just can’t get a break anymore.  Not that they can’t get a break because of their own skills or merit but that their race is the cause of so very much discrimination against them.  Well, they are done with this and those people will not replace them.
And what is our response?  Isaiah continues saying, “Then, when you call, the LORD will answer; When you cry, He will say: Here I am.  If you banish the yoke from your midst, the menacing hand, and evil speech, and you offer your compassion to the hungry and satisfy the famished creature- then shall your light shine in darkness, and your gloom shall be like noonday.”
Do what is right and God will return to you and care for you and reward you because that is what we fast for, that is what this is all about.  We must not give up.
It’s hard work to listen to someone else.  It’s hard work to learn something difficult, to have your assumptions challenged.  It’s hard work to truly hear and discern and consider.  That is why conspiracy theories hold great allure.  Great complex ideas are dispatched preferring a game of connect the dots resulting in pablum.  Conspiracy theories offer the promise of giving you the truth no one else will tell you but, ironically, prevent you from thinking for yourself.  Conspiracy theories require you to reject anything intellectual, thoughtful, fact based, challenging.  They begin with a dismissal of any data that would counter the conclusion.  Conspiracy theories give you chants of, “Jews will not replace us.”
I was talking to a nice guy at the base.  I arranged for an imam to come visit and talk to different groups of people so the topic of Islam was in the air.  This nice guy stops in while a bunch of us are chatting and says, “you know, Muslims are allowed to lie to further their agenda; it’s in the Koran.”  I did not know this so I looked it up.  It took me .44 seconds to find a thoughtful well written article about taqiyya, this idea.  To make it short, to avoid being persecuted or killed, Muslims can lie about their faith.  It would be as if I said Jewish law permits a Jew to deny being Jewish if an uncertain Nazi in 1942 is looking to shoot him or her in the head.  That is a very different situation than saying, Jews are allowed to lie all day long.
Somehow, my friend can read one hateful website and become an expert on Islam while actual experts on Islam are suspect because, you know, they always lie. My friend, he’s not a bigot but he is willing to give up thinking for himself and join in among actual bigots.
Isaiah understands that life puts you to the test.  He offers encouragement:
“The LORD will guide you always; He will slake your thirst in parched places and give strength to your bones.  You shall be like a watered garden, like a spring whose waters do not fail.”
We must stand against this.  It will be hard but God will give strength to your bones.  We must rise up against this hate, this foolishness.  Tolerance does not extend to nonsense, there is no right to spread ignorance and each and every one of us must have the strength to stand against white supremacy and conspiracy theorists and bigots wherever they are whether on the left or right because we fear for the soul of our country. 
Knowing you for 11 years, I tell you this:  y’all are fine.  A few mistakes here, some great things there, you’re fine.  I send you with a charge for this next year to worry slightly less about your own soul –you’re fine- and much more for the soul of America.  I call on you to speak out against hatred as an overt act of patriotism, as a Jewishly mandated sacred obligation, -a mitzvah- to make the world a better place.  You must call out these people, shut them down, tell them they are wrong.  There is no reason to be so open minded as to let the enemies of the glory of America run free.
I offer you a quote from a man I didn’t always agree with but whose heart was always in the right place.  Can you guess who?
 “I've spoken of the shining city all my political life, but I don't know if I ever quite communicated what I saw when I said it. But in my mind it was a tall, proud city built on rocks stronger than oceans, windswept, God-blessed, and teeming with people of all kinds living in harmony and peace; a city with free ports that hummed with commerce and creativity. And if there had to be city walls, the walls had doors and the doors were open to anyone with the will and heart to get there. That's how I saw it, and see it still.” President Reagan’s farewell address of 1989.
You can say what you want about President Reagan and I’m sure I did back then but I never questioned his belief in this place and his belief that he was doing the very best he could to uplift his country, his people.
Isaiah spurs you on to toss aside feel good piety and do what is needed to better your world.  President Reagan, to name just one, used his oratory to dig deep and work hard for the betterment of our nation.  We are all called to do that every day and we must never give up on that call.
That is our fast, that is what we are charged to do not in a theoretical manner but in real world conversations and confrontations.  We will keep this country as a shining city on a hill and not give in to bigotry.  We will fast the fast of justice and righteousness.  We must never give up on that.  We will never give up on that.  And when we do that, when we defend and extend liberty and justice for all, then and only then can we honestly ask God to bless America.


[1] Isaiah 58:1-14
[2] “You will not replace us” by Thomas Chatterton Williams, The New Yorker, December 4, 2017, p. 24-30.

Tuesday, September 11, 2018

What the Talmud teaches is what we need now. Rosh Hashana 5779


What the Talmud Teaches is what we need now.
Rosh Hashana 5779
September 10, 2018
Temple Beth Jacob of Newburgh
Rabbi Larry Freedman

Almost a year ago in November, the Forward published an article in their ongoing series of asking various rabbis the same question.  This time they asked 27 rabbis, “What is the one lesson Jews today need to learn from the Talmud?”[1] 
Seems like a simple enough answer.  No doubt each rabbi will pick a favorite quote and expand upon it.  Sure enough Rabbi Rachel Timoner from the Reform Congregation Beth Elohim wrote in with this:
Today, when Nazis and white supremacists are on the march, immigrants and Muslims threatened, people with disabilities mocked, Sanhedrin 37a calls out to us urgently:  “Adam was created alone… so one person will not say to another, ‘My father was greater than your father’… And to tell of the greatness of the Holy One blessed be He, who stamped all people with the Stamp of Adam, the first [human] and not one of them is similar to another.  Therefore, each and every person is obligated to say, “The world was created for me.’”
This is a classic quote and truly a foundational way Judaism organizes itself.  At the very heart of the mitzvot regarding how we treat each other is the notion that we are all equally children of God, equal in our place among the great family tree of humanity.  We can criticize each other’s behaviors but there can be no place for any suggestion that one type of person is any less than any other type of person.  From this it follows that since no type of person or we might say class of persons is any less than any other, that means we have an obligation to create laws and systems that insist on fairness among all, equal justice for all, equal civil liberties for all, equal access for all.  We simply are forbidden to exclude people based on who they are. 
So that’s a good one.
The Humanistic Rabbi Adam Chalom from the International Institute for Secular Humanistic Judaism offered this:  “I am partial to ‘do not say one thing in the mouth and another in the heart’ (Bava Metzia 49a) as a call for personal integrity.”
Some rabbis offered an assessment of Talmud as encouraging Judaism throughout the centuries. One rabbi said that while one can certainly learn wisdom from any number of sources, there is something particularly moving from a “deep and honest study of our own sacred literature.”[2]  Very nice.
Conservative Rabbi Scott Perlo from Washington, DC’s Sixth & I Congregation offered this:
“That being a good, decent person requires a lot of thought.  We’re American and we’re influenced by the strain of American Protestantism that claims that goodness comes from the heart and a person has to follow their conscience in order to do what’s right.  But it’s not that easy!  The Talmud is full of examples where what’s right isn’t clear at all…  The Talmud believes that the moral intuition has to be trained, and it’s right!”

I do think he’s on to something here.  People sometimes treat Judaism as an ethnic extra-curricular but at its heart, it is trying to teach you something, it is trying to impress upon you morals.  Failure to listen means a failure to learn.  We do not believe that you can just pick up morality in the street.  It is something to be cultivated.
So far, so good.  All very nice.  But the real surprise came from the Orthodox world because these rabbis chose to focus not on a quote but on the very nature of the Talmud, what it is when you open it. 
A quick history:  Talmud is two parts.  The Mishna is the oral law passed down from teacher to student as a memorized extremely large document.  Yehuda ha-Nasi, born around the year 135 in the Land of Israel worried that the mishna was being forgotten, that the Roman Empire was limiting study and so he began the process of having it all written down.  After he finished, rabbis from the years 200 to 600 more or less, added commentary on that law.  And so what we have is law surrounded by argument to decipher what the law means and how to apply it in various situations.  That’s called gemarah.  Taken together we have a large numbers of rabbis arguing with each other over the course of centuries.  The Talmud is the written record of these legal arguments and Talmud study is the continuation of this legal arguing.  But here let me remind you that arguing in this case is not name calling but offering an idea, an opinion, an actual fact and having others parry with their own idea, opinion and actual fact.
And this is why Orthodox Rabbi Avram Mlotek, co-founder of Base Hillel writes this:
“The idea of a Talmud itself is the greatest lesson Jews may learn from its vast text.  We live in a time where we often speak only within our echo chambers of shared backgrounds and perspectives.  We often do not encounter those with whom we passionately disagree.  The Talmud records a plethora of dissenting voices, conversations and practices.  This is because the Sages understood there was a value to respectful discourse and exchange of ideas.  We have lost the capability to engage with the other and when we do it often resorts to antagonistic language especially on the blogosphere where the human being is removed from the conversation.  Judaism reminds us that our words have the power to create and destroy and the Talmud teaches us this with every page.”
Talmud, as a concept, reminds us that passionate argument can retain its decency.  Talmud reminds us, indeed all Jewish study reminds us, that excited engagement with the text may incur raised voices but only because of the urgency of finding a true, logical, convincing answer that can pass muster before others and can stand up to intellectual scrutiny.  Talmud offers a model for how a society can argue honorably amongst itself.
And what do we have today?  We have arguments based on snark and conclusions based on wishes.  We have sarcasm and insult that passes for wit with people congratulating themselves on their ripostes and rejoinders.
And worst of all, we have a willing rush to reject objective fact.  We have high-falutin nonsense that convinces us not to believe objective science.  We embrace the dumbing down of ourselves convinced that if it’s complicated, then it’s probably not true.
We are in a bad place right now in this country because we are giving up decency and thoughtfulness.  And we are doing this on purpose.  We are standing down from our very basic civic job of being an intelligent informed citizenry.  We are letting ourselves be mesmerized by internet graphics and TV production values and radio hysterics and we do this happily endangering our very democracy.
People say to me all the time, “Thank you for your service,” when they find out I’m a chaplain.  It’s very nice but misplaced.  No doubt the troops do sacrifice with their deployments and talented people truly do amazing things but it is all in the support and defense of the Constitution.  Our service is just to protect our country.  Your service is far greater.  Your service is to make yourself an informed citizen and this is far more crucial.  Your service, to vote, is far more crucial.  Your service, to push back loudly, vocally against foolishness and stupidity and neo-Nazis and white supremacists and emergent fascism, that is far, far more important.   Members of the military defend the country.  You determine the nature of the country.  Your service is far more important. 
There are troops leaving their families to do their jobs in Afghanistan for six or eight months.  The only sacrifice they ask of you is to put down the crank emails and read a newspaper.  The only sacrifice they ask of you is that you be a member of an informed citizenry with actual facts from actual sources, not some conspiracy theorist from a corner of the internet.  The only sacrifice they ask from you is to support a free press the same way you support the troops because it too is on the front lines of preserving our democracy. Will you do that?  Can you make that sacrifice?
One last rabbi.  Orthodox Rabbi Shmuly Yanklowitz from Uri l’Tzedek:  Orthodox Social Justice.  He writes:
Perhaps the most important lesson we learn from the Talmud is that everything matters – how we speak, what we eat, how we spend our money, and even our thoughts.  It is easy to fall into a mindset that the ends justify the means, or to listen to only one opinion about matters of importance.  But the Talmud’s expansiveness reminds us over and over again that the thinking process matters.  Indeed, the sages don’t recite dogmas.  They constantly engage in argumentation to agitate for a new understanding, which in turn brings new opportunities for light and truth in every moment and encounter.
Reform Jews may not know a lot of Talmud but we have inherited the passion for study, the respect for scholarship, the insistence that arguments be made with logic and have a factual basis.  We have inherited the idea that our faith is not off limits to questioning.  We embrace our heritage that insists nothing is off limits and everything matters and everything can be subject to scrutiny with respectful passion.  This year, as we enter into the period of introspection, let’s do more than think of our obligations to our fellow but also our obligation to truth and facts and civic responsibility.  Let’s remember that the glory of our Talmud and of all Jewish learning is a desire and respect for good, helpful discussion.  Let us reject loudly ignorance and hateful speech and dogma and propaganda.  Let us be the ones who will stand up for our country and remind everyone of the value of the heritage of honest debate found in Talmud and Jewish learning.  Then, we may just push back the ever-growing assault on the soul of our country and we can be truly a light to the nations.




[1] 27 Rabbis on One Lesson Jews Should Learn from Talmud, The Forward, November 21, 2017. https://forward.com/opinion/spirituality/387998/one-lesson-jews-today-should-learn-from-the-talmud/
[2] Gil Student, Orthodox, Editor of TorahMusings.com