Drashot

Since Hamas’ attack on Israel on October 7 we have seen a profound increase in antisemitic speech, at demonstrations, on social media, written on walls and repeated in the media. We saw it with our own eyes at the recent Richmond City Council meeting. Antisemitism is the hatred that transcends political boundaries. Many American Jews are shocked that this ancient hatred has once again become permissible to speak in public. But antisemitism has been on the rise for many years now. Hamas and Iran have been calling for the annihilation of Israel and its Jewish population for decades. The alt-right and their defenders on conservative media have been attacking Jews since the mid-2010’s. The progressive left has made the eradication of Israel part of its ideology. Antisemitism is the hatred that cuts across all political boundaries and it always has. In response many of us feel a need to connect to Jewish community and in ways we never have. But it is critically important not to let Jew haters define who we are. In this week’s Torah portion, Jacob is on the run from his brother Esau. He pauses for the night and in his dreams has a vision of God, “Remember, I am with you: I will protect you wherever you go and will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.” (Genesis 28:15) Upon awakening, Jacob says, “Surely God is present in this place, and I did not know it! How awesome is this place! This is none other than the abode of God, and that is the gateway to heaven.” Jacob comes to understand that he and his descendants (us) are a living connection between God and humanity. To be a Jew means to know our history, our culture, our religious practices and our traditions and then to live them out as authentically and truly as we can. We can never let our enemies define us. We must define ourselves. Or, as David ben Gurion, the first Prime Minister of Israel said, “It doesn’t matter what the world thinks. It matters what Jews do.” Live your Jewish life openly and proudly and you will make a positive difference in the world.

Rabbi Dean published an op-ed in the Nov. 22 edition of the East Bay Times.  Read it here

What is the value of living honestly and what is the cost of lies and manipulation to get what we want? In this week’s Torah portion we read about the life of Isaac, Abraham’s son, through his marriage to Rebekah, the birth of his twin sons, Esau and Jacob, their rivalry and ultimate estrangement from each other. The story climaxes with Jacob deceiving his father, with the help of his mother, to gain Isaac’s blessing which should go to Esau. When Esau comes to him, after Isaac has blessed Jacob, we read, “Isaac was seized with very violent trembling.” (Genesis 27:33). Commenting on this verse, Rashi (11th C. Germany) wrote, “The Midrashic explanation (Midrash Tanchuma, Toldot 11) is that he saw Gehinnom opening beneath him (Esau).” Rabbi Michael Dolgin (21st C. America) expands on this idea, “In rabbinic literature, Esau represents Rome: the empire that conquered the Jewish people, desecrated our holy places, and destroyed the Temple. In this passage, we can discern the roots of our conflict with the civilization that surrounded and dominated us. The issue is fundamentally the lack of honesty in this biblical family.  Esau and Jacob (who represents Israel)  maneuver and deceive rather than interact truthfully.” Think about how in personal, political and national conflicts each side is willing to manipulate the conflict narrative to achieve their own ends. How much better off might we be if we faced each other honestly, admitted our flaws and shortcomings and the validity of each side’s narrative. We might have less conflict and suffering in the world.

It is a commonly accepted view that our society is fractured and polarized, that we have less in common with each other and are becoming more tribal: liberals against conservatives, coastal “elites” against heartland dwellers, whites against minorities, “native-born” Americans against immigrants, and the college educated against those with a high school diploma or less education. But does it have to be this way? This week’s Torah portion teaches us a different way to act toward a stranger, radical hospitality. “God appeared to him [Abraham] by the terebinths of Mamre; he was sitting at the entrance of the tent as the day grew hot. Looking up, he saw three figures standing near him. Perceiving this, he ran from the entrance of the tent to greet them and, bowing to the ground, he said, “My lords! If it please you, do not go on past your servant.” (Genesis 18:1-3). Abraham sees three strangers. He rushes to greet them and then prepares a feast for them. It turns out that these three strangers are God and two ministering angels. Soon they reveal to Abraham and Sarah that their wish to have a child will be fulfilled. But what if Abraham had turned away from these strangers? What if he had feared them rather than welcomed them? How would human history have been different? There is a lesson here for us. By welcoming the stranger, the one who is different, we open a door to new, positive possibilities. The weak live in fear of those who are different. The strong welcome the new and create a richer society, full of new possibilities.

Is our future destined by factors beyond our control, our genes, our upbringing, our environment, or our age or are we capable of growth and change at any age? Judaism clearly argues the latter, that up until the day we die we have the capacity to change, to grow, to become better and more capable people, to use our God-given talents and potential for good. Just a month ago we sat together at Yom Kippur, young and old. We prayed, we confessed our shortcomings, and we vowed to do better in the coming year. What could be a more optimistic view of human nature and the capacity for growth and change than that. In a sense we are commanded to always continue to change and grow. In this week’s Torah portion we see that in the life of Abraham. God calls him, “God said to Abram, “Go forth from your native land and from your father’s house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, And I will bless you; I will make your name great, And you shall be a blessing.” (Genesis 12:1-2) The entire Jewish story begins with a challenge from God to Abraham to move from a place he knows and where he feels at home to an unknown place of discomfort. The challenge is great, but the price is growth for himself and to become a blessing for all humanity. As we read in our Rosh Hashanah liturgy, “You stayed long enough in this place, God said. Time to go forward. Turn your face to the future.” It is a new year, let’s answer God’s call and become our best selves.

We feel like we are living in overwhelming times, with huge forces and processes that are beyond our control: climate change, a frozen (or broken) political system, terror in Israel, a world-wide conflict between liberal democracy and authoritarianism, a profound lack of trust in our basic institutions by a large segment of the population. In the face of so many interlocking problems that seem to be beyond our control it is easy to want to turn away and ignore these many crises.

This is, in a way, the situation Noach is in at the beginning of this week’s Torah portion. The destruction of the world is at hand and God commands him to build an ark to save some of human and animal life to begin the world again. The threats we face are not that simple. The destruction of the world and our institutions are not a certainty. But, like Noach we have the opportunity to do something to save our world. But we can’t do that if we turn away, no matter how overwhelming the problems we face seem to be.

Our sages taught us a basic truth about the importance of human action.,  “Rabbi Tarfon used to say: It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you at liberty to neglect it.” (Pirkei Avot 2:16) Judaism is ultimately an optimistic religious practice that reminds us that our choices and our actions matter. If we want to make the world better we must act to make it so, just like Noach.

(Please note that this Drash was written prior to the events of October 7th.)

The Jewish Holy Days of Tishrei are behind us: Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot, Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah. Once more we begin reading our Torah from the beginning, “When God began to create heaven and earth— the earth being unformed and void, with darkness over the surface of the deep and a wind from God sweeping over the water—God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light.” Our Torah begins with God creating the Universe by bringing order out of chaos and creating light. But why does the Torah begin with the creation of the Universe, rather than with Abraham, the first monotheist, or the story of Israelite enslavement and liberation in Egypt? Rashi (11th C. Germany) provides this explanation, “Rabbi Isaac said: The Torah which is the Law book of Israel should have commenced with the verse (Exodus 12:2) “This month shall be unto you the first of the months” which is the first commandment given to Israel. What is the reason, then, that it begins with the account of the Creation? Because of the thought expressed in the text (Psalms 111:6) “He declared to His people the strength of His works (i.e. He gave an account of the work of Creation)” In other words, the Torah begins with creation because it is more than a book of laws or a history of the Jewish people. It is an account of the human understanding of God and begins with God as the creative source of all existence. Without a universal God, the Jewish people do not have a universal message. This continues to be our task, to share the message of God with the world.

Our month of holidays is approaching the end, with Shemini Atzeret/Simchat Torah this coming Shabbat. Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and the eight days in between are a time of deep introspection, contemplation of the way we have lived in the past year, and the promise to change and live better lives in the coming year. Their heaviness is, in great part, because they are days when we ponder our mortality. Life is not guaranteed. How will we use the hours, days, months or years left to us? After these heavy days comes the joy of Sukkot, where we enjoy and express gratitude for the life-sustaining bounty the earth gives us. Shemini Atzeret is the closing coda to these days. A holiday in itself, our rabbis compare it to the end of a family wedding. Guests have come from all over to celebrate the joyous event and after eight days of celebration they have gone home. Mother and father say to their children, stay with us one more day. Let’s just enjoy each other as a family. So God says to the Jewish people, stay with me one more day. Let’s just enjoy each other’s company. So Shemini Atzeret is a day to dwell in gentle, intimate contact with God. The idea itself is astounding and essential, that we can have an intimate and personal relationship with the creator of all life. It is an essential component of Jewish religious belief and practice: that God cares about us as individuals. In Israel and the Reform movement we combine this sweet day with Simchat Torah, where we celebrate the end and the re-start of the annual cycle of Torah readings. This Shabbat, Shemini Atzeret, Simchat Torah join us at TBH Friday night for a special, fun celebration of these three sacred days and then spend the rest of Shabbat with  those you love, and with God, in intimate connection.

We have just passed through Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, ten days when we examine who we are, what we have done in the past year, and how we want to change, grow and become more true to the purity of our soul, or God-given essence. It is a time of contemplation, prayer, and fasting. After this intense spiritual and psychological work we celebrate the holiday of Sukkot, which begins this Friday evening. Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are a pause, a deep intake of breath, and Sukkot is like an exhale of satisfaction. We have emerged from the other side of a difficult and serious experience and now it is time to give thanks and celebrate. For this reason Sukkot is called z’man simchateinu, the season of our joy. For eight days we are commanded to build fragile, temporary booths, and dwell in them. The holiday is marked by festive meals with family and friends. In the Land of Israel, Sukkot is the fall harvest festival. It is like one long motzi, giving thanks for the bounty the land yields that will nourish us in the coming year. In the Mishnah our sages debated whether the sukkah represented the booths our ancestors dwelled in during their time in the desert, after the Exodus from Egypt, sukkot mamash. Or whether they represented the protective Clods of Glory that God used to shelter the Israelites in the desert, aninei ha kavod. Perhaps the sukkah represents both, reminding us of our history of liberation from slavery to freedom and the role God’s presence can play in our lives, if we are open to it.

We are almost at the end of the Torah, with only two portions left before we complete the cycle of reading. Ha’azinu, the penultimate Torah portion is a final poem sung by Moses to the Israelites as they prepare to enter the Land of Israel. He tells how God took the Israelites from Egyptian slavery and set them on a path to freedom and success. But that success will lead the Israelites to turn away from God as they enjoy their material life. God will be angered, but the Israelites will return to God again and God will take them back in love. It is appropriate that we read this portion right before Yom Kippur, because this is the message of Yom Kippur. God has given us the gift of life and a way to live and be good and yet we turn away, because our lives are busy, or we worry, or we are greedy, or we are emotionally shut down. There are any number of reasons we lose our connection with the Source of all life. And yet, Yom Kippur reminds us that all we have to do is turn back toward our true selves and the path of goodness and righteousness and God will take us back in love. Or, that all we have to do is stop, take stock of who we are and our higher values and get back on the path. G’mar chatimah tovah. May we be sealed for the good in the coming year.