Rabbi Julie Saxe-Taller

Have you ever worked to gain an opportunity and found that it was very different than you expected? Or been appointed to a position without expecting or planning for it? Jewish sacred teachings, particularly the Torah, are meant to prepare us for all kinds of circumstances, so that when we find ourselves in new situations, we have thought about at least some of the questions and challenges that will confront us. This is especially true of circumstances when we find ourselves with practical and ethical choices that will impact other people.

Numerous areas of life are addressed in this parasha. When we find something that someone else has lost or left behind, we may be inclined to leave it be, or feel it’s not our problem. This week’s reading emphasizes that we are to go out of our way to return a lost item to its owner. We are also instructed to take responsibility for safe conditions when building a house, keep our promises, and refrain from cheating our customers in business. All of these instructions demand that we act with thought and compassion even when we may feel like acting on greed or convenience instead. Reading, discussing and thinking these things through gives us a leg up when we find ourselves in a situation that requires a considered response.

Some commandments in this week’s reading are confusing or even offensive to a modern sensibility, such as the prohibition against wearing clothing presumed to be for a different gender, and the inhumane and antiquated treatment of a disobedient son (which the Rabbis later legislated out of application). While the mitzvot in this parasha range from deeply humane and timeless to more questionable, studying the text and its commentaries can prepare us for circumstances we might not otherwise think through – part of the beauty of a Jewish-style text study is the conversation that it sparks and the ways that these conversations and the insights from them can stay with us and inform our choices when we might least expect it. So, next time you see your neighbor’s ox wandering in your local park, you know you can’t just turn your head and pretend you didn’t notice.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Julie

The right to a fair trial is vital to a justice system. Impartiality of judges is part of the foundation for such trials. Our Torah reading this week, Shoftim (Judges), instructs judges against accepting bribes or rendering a decision they know is unfair. Some of the instructions seem clearly aimed at those who serve as official judges, and others can be understood to be part a moral code for all of us. The text includes the fundamental and all-encompassing directive, Tzedek, tzedek tirdof – Justice, justice you shall pursue – which animates much of what many Reform Jews as well as others find most compelling in our Judaism.

The repetition of the word for justice has been interpreted to convey emphasis, resulting in the translation “you shall surely pursue justice.” Medieval commentator Rashi takes the repetition to mean that just ends must be achieved by just means, while his contemporary in Spain, Ibn Ezra, writes that Moses repeats tzedek to indicate that one should pursue justice whether it leads to one’s gain or loss.

We are now witnessing and experiencing the dismantling of our country’s justice systems, from deporting immigrants without due process to misusing the power of the legal system to investigate political opponents as a means of retribution. The unabashed and purposeful attacks on our educational, economic, political and health institutions flaunt the Torah’s teachings against partiality, bribes and the taking advantage of people’s vulnerabilities.

In this context, how shall we read the repetition of the word tzedek? Today, I offer us this reading: Our tradition teaches us to persist in pursuing justice – to stand, sit, speak, write, love, sing, dance, defend and fight for justice/tzedek for ourselves and others, to share our actions so others will be strengthened and share theirs with us, and to know that our tradition and our ancestors stand behind and beside us.

Wishing everyone a restorative Shabbat,

Rabbi Julie

The Jewish path is not just a collection of laws or a schedule of holidays, but a way, a trail or course. And the course has purpose – it is meant to guide us to fulfill the values of our covenant.

There is a lovely linguistic construction in Hebrew that conveys directionality.  When we are heading somewhere, we can add the letter hey to the end of our destination, conveying the sense of motion. This gives us words such as habayitah – homeward; ha’irah – toward the city; and yamah – toward the sea. These words can help us feel simultaneously the importance of both the journey and the places or goals we are aiming to achieve.

In this week’s parasha, Re’eh, we continue to look toward the life we are to build together as a people. While some details are spelled out (You shall not gash yourselves in mourning), other instructions are broad and require interpretation in each new context (Open your hand to the poor and needy kin in your land). In the instructions for bringing offerings to the Temple, the place is not simply sham – there, but shamah – to there. While we are headed there, we are to travel with the goal in mind. This seems obvious, but when the way is long, such as a lifetime, it requires decision and practice to maintain our sense of direction, of heading toward our goals.

Whether we are thinking of personal spiritual goals (serenity, mastery of our actions, honesty, gratitude) or large-scale societal goals (creating a sustainable relationship with the earth, ending poverty, protecting our communities and the next generation), Jewish practices point the way. The path of mitzvot or regular Jewish practice both blesses and pushes us to step on the path and stay the course. As we near the month of Elul, which begins this Sunday and precedes the New Year, I look forward to building our communal pathway together!

Rabbi Julie

When we refer “the Shema,” we may think just of the two lines, Shema Yisrael… and Baruch Shem K’vod…But “the Shema” also refers to the paragraphs from the Torah that follow it, starting with the v’ahavta. And what makes up the Shema brings up what a friend of mine loves to call a “Big Jewish Question.”

Here is the issue: in classical Jewish tradition, there is a paragraph after the v’ahavta that is included in traditional prayerbooks but was removed from Reform siddurim (prayerbooks). Why? Let’s take a look – Here it is, (straight from this week’s Torah reading in Deuteronomy):

If, then, you obey the commandments that I enjoin upon you this day, loving your God יהוה and serving [God] with all your heart and soul, I will grant the rain for your land in season, the early rain and the late. You shall gather in your new grain and wine and oil— I will also provide grass in the fields for your cattle—and thus you shall eat your fill. Take care not to be lured away to serve other gods and bow to them. For יהוה’s anger will flare up against you, shutting up the skies so that there will be no rain and the ground will not yield its produce…(Deuteronomy 11:13-21).

So many of us don’t believe that God operates in this way, directly rewarding and punishing us based on our actions – we can see why our Reform prayerbook editors removed this message from our recitation of the Shema. But there has been a series of changes in the various Reform prayerbooks, and our current machzor (High Holy Day prayerbook) includes all three paragraphs of the classical Shema as an alternative reading in the Rosh Hashanah volume.

Why would we put this idea back into our liturgy? Sometimes, as much as Reform Jews say we don’t interpret the Torah literally…we do, and then we reject it because it doesn’t work for us. Maybe we removed that paragraph because we were taking the idea of divine reward and punishment literally. Now, especially in light of the ways human activity is warming the climate system, some may find it appropriate to acknowledge some truth in the teaching that our disrespect for the Creator of the natural world can result in “no rain [or far too much for us to handle] and the ground not yielding its produce.” Here is one of many places where religion and science connect, and also where they lead us to more Big Jewish Questions…

Can reading a threatening text frighten us into action? How do our thoughts and beliefs relate to our feelings about Jewish prayers and texts?

I’d love to hear your thoughts! See you Friday for potluck dinner and celebrating Shabbat together.

Rabbi Julie

I know we’re just starting to approach the season dedicated to teshuvah, but I have a confession to make. Here I am, your new rabbi, writing about the Torah portion in which we read the 10 commandments, and I have to admit that I’ve often had trouble with the whole idea of commandments, let alone 10 or 613.

I’m not saying I don’t try to follow them. – my issue is not with the content of the commandments. But our tradition teaches that God created us and called us “very good”. So why is our religious life built on commandments to ensure that we behave well? Does it not rob us of our self-confidence if we are always being told to “Be good!” when we already ARE good? Sometimes I read the ten commandments, and I feel a bit like a young child who is told to be nice before I have had a chance to show just how nice I really am. Of course, I know although we are good, we are also complicated, and we stray from our best behavior even when we know better, and the wisdom of the ten commandments is clear and deep. But I also believe that the core of Jewish practice is a path for the development of our inherent goodness, in the hopes that acting ethically will come naturally.

The ancient Rabbis taught that “with ten utterances was the world created.” (Avot 5:1) If we follow this idea for a moment, then we can make the connection: the One God who later gave us ten commandments first created the world through ten acts of speech. In other words, the ten commandments grow directly from the creation of the world, from the root of who we are, and maybe we are to hear the commanding Voice not only from the outside but also from inside ourselves.

Let’s look at one commandment to see how this might apply: the commandment to keep Shabbat. In the words of Isaiah:

If you refrain from trampling the Sabbath, from pursuing your affairs on My holy day;

If you call the Sabbath ‘delight’, God’s holy day ‘honored’;

And you honor it, without doing what you always do;

Not pursuing your business, nor even speaking of it;

Then you shall delight yourself in the Holy One.

(Isaiah 58:13-14)

Here Isaiah teaches us that if we observe the mitzvah of Shabbat, through it we will come to know God. This is a pretty big promise. Rabbi Rachel Mikva asks, “How do we make the Sabbath holy?” “To sanctify Shabbat must be more than guarding against technical violations of the Sabbath, and more than thoughtlessly performing a few rituals. To sanctify the Sabbath, we must make it the essence of our being, the soul of our time. We seek in each moment to draw closer to God, and discover the powerful spirit of the day. Then we will know the true celebration of holiness. There is no greater thrill” (Rachel S. Mikva, Broken Tablets: Restoring the Ten Commandments and Ourselves, p44).

How can we make something the essence of our being, unless it IS already the essence of our being? Maybe Rabbi Mikva is teaching that we must spend Shabbat discovering the essence of our being, in order for that essence to be manifest in our lives and in the world. So, in observing the commandment to keep Shabbat, we come to know and to become more like the essence of who we already are.

This Shabbat may we each come to know more of the essence of who we are.