Friday, June 12 : Parashat Beha'alocha

June 13:  Beha’alocha – Numbers 8:1-12:16

Summary: The Jews continue to wander through the desert.  God tells Moses to speak to Aaron to light the menorah and keep it constantly alight.  We find a discussion of the 2nd Passover and its sacrifices.  We also learn that the Tabernacle is covered with a cloud during the day and fire at night, and in a repetitive theme, the people complain and rebel!  At the end of the portion 70 elders are chosen to assist Moses because the burden of leadership is too much for one person.  

Lesson: The people of Israel truly have Chutzpah.  They truly have nerve.  It wasn’t long ago in the Torah that the people witnessed God in action when the 10 plagues were unleashed in Egypt.  And then, the same people stood at the shores of the Red Sea and witnessed the splitting of the sea.  Upon entering the Sinai desert they complained they were hungry and God responded by providing Manna and fresh water for them, including a double portion on Shabbat!  A bit later the people stood at the foot of Mt Sinai and received God’s greatest gift – the Torah.  And now, as they continue to wander in the Sinai desert, they complain once more.  “It was better in Egypt.  We remember the meat.  The free fish.  The cucumbers, the melons, the leeks, the onions and the garlic.  Now our stomachs are shrivelled.  There is nothing at all.  Nothing but this manna.”  Wow!  What Chutzpah – what nerve.  What an ungrateful people!

If you were Moses, how would you respond to the complainers?  I think my mother might have said: “you can go straight to your room without dinner!”

Rashi, the great rabbinic commentator, defends the people.  He suggests that they are exhausted from the heat and from their journey.  Moses is pushing them too hard.  They are simply cranky and tired and complain like children.  Another commentator, Nachmanides, agrees with Rashi.  He believes the people “react like others under duress and compulsion.” However in the end he is not so forgiving.  He sees the self-centered demands of the people as a lack of faith.  He condemns the people for their refusal to trust in God. 

A contemporary commentator, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch responds in manner quite different from Rashi and Nachmanides.  He suggests that the complaints of the Israelites come about as a result of boredom, of entitlement.  Life in the desert is too easy.  God provides the manna and the water.  Moses leads them upon their path. The tabernacle is complete.  Nothing is lacking.  Life is simply too easy.  They want a bit of excitement and stimulation, along with a variety of food!  Frustrated at having no goals or challenges, they begin to murmur against Moses and God.  

Too often we are like the Israelites in the desert.  It's easy to complain.  Yes, our world is filled with pain, with illness, even with despair.  Over recent months and in recent days we have experienced challenges beyond our imagination.  Yes, like the Israelites in our Torah portion this week, it’s easy to complain.  What isn’t easy is, in moments of hopelessness, to have faith. Our faith need not be blind.  As Jews we must remember.  We cannot gloss over the pain.  Yet to be Jews is to have hope. Our challenge is to remember the goodness in our world, in our lives, in humanity. Like the Israelites we must continue to march forward toward the promised land.  With our tradition offering guidance, with our past teaching us important lessons of life, we can look to the future and know that a better day is ahead. 

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Don Goor

Friday, June 5 : Parashat Nasso

Summary:  Moses continues with the census of the people that had already begun.  The focus shifts to the duties of the Levites in the Tabernacle.  The Parsha also teaches about the laws relating to unclean people and how they should be distanced from the camp.  We learn about the Nazarites who took special vows and then finally we read the Priestly Benediction.

Lesson:  

When I was a student rabbi at Central Synagogue in New York, our rabbi emeritus (retired rabbi) would appear on the bimah at the end of every service to bless the congregation. He was a tall, distinguished man who wore black robes.  He would stand on the edge of the bimah, his robes flowing with the slight breeze, raise his arms high over the congregation and in his rich voice offer up a blessing.  I felt such a deep sense of awe. It was as if the rabbi with his sonorous words brought the presence of God into the gorgeous sanctuary, and in a deeper sense, into my heart and my soul.  Only later, after I’d left the sanctuary and returned to my apartment, would I begin to wonder:  Does a rabbi in black robes with a deep and resonant voice really have the power to bless me?  

And that leads me to wonder. When the rabbi stands in front of the synagogue and recites a blessing, does she or he really have the power to bless us?  Commentators on our Torah portion have been puzzled by the apparent power of the priests to bless the people: "Speak to Aaron and his sons: Thus shall you bless the people of Israel" (Numbers 6:23). In the Talmud, Rabbi Ishmael suggests: "The priests bless Israel and the Holy One, blesses the priest". However, the idea that humans— even if they are biblical priests or tall rabbis in dark robes - have the power to bless in God’s name has been overwhelmingly rejected throughout our tradition. Our commentators interpret the Biblical verse as "The priests (they) shall link My name with the people of Israel and I ('the Eternal') will bless the people (them)."   The power of the priest, or the rabbi, is simply to connect God with the people.  Connecting God with humanity - that is the power of blessing.  

Yet we often do ask for a blessing from others; receiving the blessing of a person we respect or admire--often our parents or our rabbi -- can have immense power and significance for us. After witnessing one person bless another, the poet Dan Bellm wrote: "I thought about this scene for a long time afterward, wondering, 'What is a blessing?' and really wanting one. Was this only an exchange between two people, or was something more present-something else, something deeper? When people meet closely and truly, when a person blesses another, is God present? What is a blessing?"

The blessings we offer are indeed powerful, but they are not magical. We do not have the power by uttering simple words to bring about even our deepest hopes.  Nor do we have the power to demand that God respond to a specific request, even through words of blessing.  No, like our other prayers, blessings are aspirational; we express in word and gesture our deepest yearnings. As my friend and colleague, Rabbi Yoel Kahn taught me, a blessing is an expression of hope.

Even though I am a convinced rationalist, I continue to be moved by the power and meaning of blessing, whether I am the recipient as I was at Central Synagogue or the deliverer of the blessing as I often am at Beth Shalom.  The performative speech of blessing, as Vaclav Havel states in his book, “Hope” "is an orientation of the spirit, an orientation of the heart; it transcends the world that is immediately experienced and is anchored somewhere beyond its horizons." 

We learn elsewhere in the Torah (Exodus 19:6) that we are meant to be a kingdom of priests, each of us with the power to bring blessing.  When we speak our words of blessing, we are God's messengers, our own words and gestures becoming the means by which, "I shall bless the people".

Chag Sameach!

Rabbi Goor

Friday, May 29: Shavuot

I’ve always felt a little sorry for the holiday of Shavuot. In Israel it’s celebrated for just one day (outside of Israel, two days). There’s no home ritual like Sukkot when we build a Sukkah and shake the lulav and etrog. There is no seder like Passover and all the food and concoctions we can create from matzah. There’s no candles and gifts like Hanukkah and all the special foods we eat for Shavuot are dairy based: cheesecake, blintzes, kugels…Which for Ashkenazic Jews like me—who are often lactose intolerant, it’s a cruel culinary joke. And Shavuot often suffers from calendar inferiority. It occurs late in the school year- often when the religious school is closed, vacations have begun, and families are already thinking about summer vacation (well- not this year…).

But in recent years I’ve begun to appreciate Shavuot more. The daily counting of the Omer has made the spiritual journey from Passover to Shavuot more meaningful and the wide varieties of study opportunities as part of the Tikkun Leyl Shavuot has enhanced the celebration of the Festival.

A few years ago I participated in a late-night study session here in Jerusalem analyzing selected excerpts from the Book of Ruth. The story of Ruth is a beautiful book and a highlight is the often-quoted verse Ruth tells her mother-in-law Naomi:

Do not urge me to leave you, to turn back and not follow you. For wherever you go, I will go; wherever you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God.

Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. Thus and more may the Eternal do to me if anything but death parts me from you.” (Ruth 1:16-17)

These are the words of the convert- those who are not born into the Jewish faith- but choose it of their own free will.

The professor teaching that class pointed out that in this modern era in which we live, we have all essentially become “Jews by choice.” We no longer live in ghettos. We no longer wear clothing or badges that mark us as Jews. We can assimilate as much or as little as we want into the greater cultures surrounding us. We can deny our Judaism or announce our Judaism as it pleases us. Regarding this passage, the teacher reminded us of a famous midrash written by Resh Lakish a famous commentator from the 3rd century:

“The proselyte who converts is dearer to God than Israel when they stood at Mt. Sinai. Why? Because had Israel not seen the thunders and the lightning and the mountains quaking and the sound of the shofars, they would not have accepted Torah. But this convert, who saw none of these things, came, surrendered himself to the Holy One, and accepted upon himself the Kingdom of Heaven. Could any be dearer than he?”

Resh Lakish suggests us that those who are not born into Judaism but choose to become Jewish are in actuality closer to God. We born Jewish metaphorically experienced the revelation at Sinai: we were convinced of Judaism’s beauty and majesty as we all stood at Mount Sinai—the convert didn’t have that experience.

 As we celebrate Shavuot, we all reaffirm our Judaism. In an important way, we are all Jews-by-choice. We all choose to be here, to be a part of this special global community and to apply a Jewish lens to our lives. No matter how you celebrate Shavuot—be it with a plate of blintzes, a slab of cheesecake, or an evening of prayer and study---may we use this Festival of the Giving of Torah as an opportunity to live lives filled with justice, caring, goodness, and righteousness.

Chag Sameach!

Cantor Evan Kent

Friday, May 21: Numbers

Last week, we completed the Book of Leviticus, and this week we begin the Book of Numbers. In English we call the this fourth book of the Torah “Numbers”- and it’s a fitting title as a lot of the book is all about counting. God instructs Moses and the Israelites to count the number of able-bodied men who are a part of the Israelite camp as they eventually will have to fight to enter the Promised Land.

In Hebrew the book is called “Bamidbar”- in the desert—and this is the title I prefer. I like the desert. I like the desert in California where I lived for 25 years and I like the desert in Israel. They are very, very different sorts of deserts, but they both offer a certain sense of lonely beauty and opportunity for thought and contemplation.

A few years ago, I rode my mountain bike as part of a fund raiser for Reform Judaism in Israel from Jerusalem to Eilat. To get to Eilat we had to cross large swaths of the desert. Dry, dusty, and hot desert with the sound of our group’s bicycle tires on the jagged dry desert floor and the hot Israeli wind singing through the vacant landscape.

In the evening in the desert you can escape from the sights and sounds of the cities and encounter the heavens in all of its glory. Stars and planets, the moon, the galaxies suspended above you. The stars make no noise--- they neither sing nor speak—but their blinking light reminds us that the earth and the heavens belong to God.

The desert is a wild, desolate place, but it is also a place where we encounter Torah, we experience vulnerability, and the escaping slaves come together as a people. My friend and colleague Rabbi Zoe Klein wrote a beautiful poem in which she explores the desert as a place of discovery.

In the next weeks, together we will discover the desert. We will encounter miracle and marvel, we will encounter truth, we will encounter each other and we will encounter God.

There are three regions in each of our souls,

There is Egypt, there is the Desert, and there is the Promised Land.

Many of us have glimpsed our Egypt,

Or perhaps some are still there,

Wearing the chains,

Bearing the burdens of fear, insecurity,

Doubt, and weakness,

Mustering the strength to clamber up . . .

Still fewer of us have glimpsed our Promised Land,

Our destiny,

Fulfillment of dreams,

Our fruitfulness, our blossoming,

Our purpose,

We talk of Egypt often . . .

Every holiday, every prayer service,

Mentions we once were slaves,

Recalls our hardships under Pharaoh.

We talk of the Promised Land often,

Every holiday, every prayer service,

Longs for Israel,

For the Voice to come forth from Zion,

We turn to the east,

Reminisce Jerusalem.

But rarely do we talk of, or pray about, the Desert . . .

Yet that is the region in which most of us are,

Pushing forward in the wilderness,

Dragging our footsteps across that forty year stretch

Of pristine, barren, moonscape,

It is there we encounter truth,

It is there we encounter miracle,

We are nomads still,

At the shore of some sparkling oasis,

And we sing our nomad song . . .

Friday, May 15: Behar-Bechukotai

This week’s torah portion is actually a double portion: Behar-Bechukotai. In the first portion , “Behar” (meaning “at the mountain”) we learn about the laws of “Shmitah”- a ruling that requires that the land lay fallow every seventh year.

Just as we human beings observe a Shabbat every seven days after working for six days—God asks that the land be farmed and harvested for six years, but on the seventh year, it is allowed to rest.

After seven cycles of shemittah, the fiftieth year (7 x 7 = 49, it's the year following the 49th, so it's the 50th), is called yovelor thejubilee. It is also a year of rest for the land, but in addition to that, all servants go free, and all property returns to its original owner. That means that whenever somebody buys a plot of land he knows he will only keep it until the year of yovel when the land will go back to the original owner.

In Bechukotai ( “In my laws”), the Israelites are told that if they follow God’s commandments they will have enough food to eat, rain will come to nourish their crops, there will be peace and safety in the land, they will defeat enemy armies, and God will always be with them.

The portion then concludes with severe warnings: if the people do not follow God’s commandments, they will be punished. The words of Torah do remind us, that regardless, God will always be with us.
I have a lot of difficulty with the theology presented in this Torah portion: God rewards when commandments are followed and God punishes when the mitzvot are not followed. For a nascent society like the Israelites, perhaps this sort of stern parent theology worked. It most likely served to keep a recently freed from slavery people in line and law-abiding.

It goes without saying that the doctrine presented in the Torah is not palatable for many of us: the good are rewarded and the bad are punished, as we all know good people who have suffered terribly and evil people who seem to be rewarded. So what are we to make of the precepts as presented in this portion?
My teacher, mentor, and friend Rabbi Richard Levy (of blessed memory) addresses this in his High Holiday prayerbook “On Wings of Awe.” Rabbi Levy approaches these words in the torah not from a didactic and foreboding place, but rather from a place of love and compassion. He writes:

If we can hear the words from Sinai,

then love will flow from us;

and we shall serve all that is holy

with all our intellect and all our passion

and all our life…

But if we turn from Sinai’s words

and serve only what is common and profane,

making gods of our comfort or power,

then the holiness of life will contract for us,

one world will grow inhospitable…

Let us honor the generations that came before us,

keeping the promises or those yet to be.

Levy tells us that we can only do the best we can- to hear the words from on top of the mountain and serve the Almighty as best as we can. We need to hear these ancient words and understand what they mean for us in our own lives at our own time.

As we come closer and closer to Shavuot—the time of the giving of the law to the people- take a moment to listen: hear the words from Sinai, acknowledge the commandments in your heart, embrace what you are able to do, and teach them diligently to the next generation.

Parashat Emor: These are the appointed times and seasons May 8

In Parasha  Emor, the verses in Leviticus 23:1-44 describe for us the festivals and holidays as sacred dates and times on the Jewish calendar. The torah expounds on the celebrations and commemorations: Shabbat, Rosh HaShanah, Yom Kippur, and the Three Festivals of Pesach, Shavuot, and Sukkot. Time becomes holy and the concept of sacred time versus secular time is born.

Though the festivals are appointed for God, they are not actually appointed by God. Leviticus 23:2 states, "The appointed seasons of the Eternal, which you shall proclaim to be holy convocations, even these are My appointed seasons." In other words, once we as humans proclaim a day holy, it becomes holy to God. Maimonides makes a startling statement of law about the declaration of those times, in his code of law, Mishneh Torah, he tells us regarding the Sanctification of the New Month: "A court which sanctifies the month, whether by accident, whether they were mistaken, whether they were forced, it is sanctified and everyone is obligated to fix the festivals on the day they sanctified…” In other words, if a holiday is declared, even though it might be an error, the community must still observe the holiday as has been declared.

What about if we -as as the Milan Jewish community wanted to move Shabbat? Let’s say that Friday night and Saturday just isn’t convenient and we wanted to move Shabbat to Tuesday night and Wednesday? If the community leaders decided to do this- according to Maimonides and other Jewish theologians, seemingly this would be possible. So on Tuesday night we would gather (either in person or as we do now on Zoom), people would show all the challah they had baked, we would sing “Ma yafe hayom” and “L’cha dodi” and we would declare Tuesday night and Wednesday Shabbat. How would we feel? Would it really be Shabbat? 

I do not want to try this experiment—but I can imagine how we would feel. At first it might be a lot of fun: Shabbat in the middle of the week!! But we would most likely conclude that it doesn’t feel like Shabbat. And we would have to wonder why? 

First, we would know were out of synchronization with the rest of the worldwide Jewish community. Why we were singing Shabbat melodies on Tuesday night, the rest of the Jewish world was not. When we celebrate Shabbat on Friday and Saturday, when we sit down to seder, when we light Chanukah candles on the first night of Chanukah, when we hear the  sound of shofar on Rosh HaShanah, we imagine how Jews all over the world are celebrating. On Passover evening, as we sit a our tables, we can see Jews in Italy, the United States, Israel, and even South America dipping their parsley into salt water. Through our appointed times and seasons and their associated rituals we can see images of other Jews celebrating as we do. 

This image of Jewish community is a concept expanded by Benedict Anderson in his book “Imagined Communities” (1991). In this volume he explored how nations, states, and ,communities imagine themselves as part of a people often connected by culture, religion, and language. Although we do not know most of the members of this world-wide community of Jews, we are connected by the sheer fact that we share culture, food, language, and a calendar.

I look forward to seeing you on this upcoming Friday on Zoom and I can’t wait to see the challah you’ve been baking and I can’t wait to imagine all the millions of Jews all over the globe basking in the glow of Shabbat candles, tasting the wetness of the Sabbat wine, and showing friends and family the beautiful loaves of challah they have baked. Even though we are currently singing and praying via a computer screen---we are still part of this strong community of worldwide Jews celebrating. 

Shabbat Acharei mot/Kedoshim May 1, 2020

There are five books of the Hebrew Bible: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy and the Book of Leviticus is at the center of the entire torah. And the center of the Book of Leviticus? It’s a section of this week’s portion Kedoshim that we refer to as “The Holiness Code.”

The “Holiness Code” is so named because it presents rules and obligations for living a sacred or holy life. It is a seemingly relentless. Running on for almost ten chapters (Leviticus 17-26), the code includes laws for animal sacrifices, eating, cleanliness, priestly conduct, speech, and sexual regulations. The code stresses that the people of Israel are separate from the rest of the world because the Almighty has chosen them. By following these laws as presented in Leviticus, the Israelites are told they will be ritually pure.

The Holiness Code is lofty and an idealized vision of Jewish life and it asks Jews of every age and every sort of denomination to elevate themselves to attain its ideals. Some Jews interpret these rules as solely ritual and behavior. For example: keeping kosher, observing the strict letter of the law on Shabbat and the holidays, whether rituals are performed in the manner dictated by the laws and ordinances.

Other Jews see Judaism as a religion devoted to social justice and ethics. These Jews show support for social justice, write their elected leaders, and join demonstrations and protests.

But neither of these approaches really fully embodies the essence of the Holiness Code. The Holiness Code expresses a Judaism, that at its heart, is both the practice of ritual and ethics. Ritual behavior is informed by ethical behavior and ethical behavior is informed by ritual behavior. As contemporary Jews—this is our goal: to live lives that are sacred both ritually and ethically. Ritual without ethics becomes cruel and ethics without ritual becomes hollow.

The torah is complicated and the Holiness Code doesn’t make it any easier. The chapters’ series of laws and regulations are complex and at times often confusing and no justification for any of the laws is given aside from: “You shall be holy, for I the Lord, Your God, am Holy.”

This is a difficult challenge. A Jewish shopkeeper cannot rightfully observe all the rules of Shabbat and then refuse to pay his workers on time and a Jewish social activist cannot demonstrate for peace in Israel and then fail to understand why it’s not appropriate to hold a meeting on Saturday afternoon.

How do you balance ritual and ethics in your life?

What guides your ethical behavior?

What prompts your ritual actions?

How do you achieve holiness?

Shabbat shalom.

Friday, April 17: Shmini – Leviticus 9:1-11:47; Numbers 19:1-19:22

Summary:  In our portion this week Aaron and his sons follow Moses’ instructions and offer sacrifices so that God will forgive the people.  In a tragic moment, two of Aaron’s sons, Nadav and Avihu, offer “alien fire” to God.  For this act God punishes them immediately by killing them.  Moses, Aaron and the surviving sons, are forbidden from mourning.  However the rest of the people are commanded to mourn and make sacrifices in the Temple.  Finally, laws are given that distinguish between pure and impure animals, birds, fish, and insects.

Lesson:  When reading the Torah, our sages pay close attention to each and every word.  In our portion this week they notice an odd repetition.  In order to be ordained as the high priest, Aaron is commanded to bring two sacrifices, the first for both himself and the people and the second for the people.  What is the purpose of the second offering for the people when Aaron has already made an offering for the people the first time around? 

Maimonides, the great commentator of the middle ages, teaches that “only the innocent can atone for the guilty.”  In the first sacrifice Aaron atones for himself and the people.  Only once Aaron is free of guilt can he then atone for the people. Abraham ibn Ezra, another commentary from the middle ages, expounds on Maimonides when he writes: “No one can atone for another until first cleansed of all personal sin.”

Our leaders must be role-models, living examples for each us, setting the bar a bit higher so that we can strive to be like them.  True leadership requires more than skill, insight and experience.  True leadership, according to our portion this week, involves modelling our highest ideals. When we look at our leaders today, we see that many of them fail in this regard.   Aaron was the first model of a leader committed to embodying in his personal lives the values he taught.  Only once he was truly pure of sin could he then serve his people. 

Friday, April 10: Pesach – Leviticus: 22:26-23:44; Numbers 28:16-25

Its adorable watching little children learn to count.  You can see in their eyes the frustration as they struggle to get the next number right.  And you can see the pure joy on their faces when they reach 10!  I must admit that I’m not good at math!  Beyond basic counting I am easily frustrated.  And yet we Jews have a holy obligation to count!

Beginning on the 2nd night of Passover, we begin the practice of the Counting of the Omer, a nightly reminder of the approach of Shavuot – only 49 days away.  In the days of the ancient Temple, the Omer was an actual offering of barley, which was offered each day leading up to Shavuot.  Since the destruction of the Temple we bring this offering  by counting – an offering of words.

One explanation is that the counting shows the direct connection between Passover and Shavuot, our next Holy Day on which we celebrate the giving of the Torah on Mt Sinai.  The Exodus from Egypt led to a physical freedom, yet it was only the beginning of a process that eventually led to a spiritual freedom gained at the foot of Mt Sinai.  Another explanation is that the new-born nation which left Egypt needed time to learn what it meant to be free.  Only once they received the Torah at Mt Sinai did they understand that freedom entails relationship and responsibility. 

For Jews mathematics is important –for 49 nights, between Pesach and Shavuot, we count. Our words become our offering.  We count the blessings of freedom, of relationship and of responsibility.  By counting we are reminded that even today, we continue to be on a journey toward Sinai, a journey toward holiness.  

Friday, April 3: Tzav – Shabbat HaGadol: Leviticus 6:1-8:36

Summary:  Very similar to last week’s parasha, this portion reviews the instructions given to the priests on how to prepare the sacrifices in the Temple.  The end of the portion focuses upon the ordination and consecration of both the altar and the priests.

Lesson:  Another name for the Book of Leviticus is “Torat Hakohanim – the Torah of the Priests”.  The primary focus of the Book of Leviticus is the life of the Priests and their service in the Temple.  Yet the Torah also teaches that the entire Jewish people are meant to be like priests, that each one of us has the potential to live a life of holiness.  Our portion this week can guide us as we strive to create holiness in our lives and in our world.

The Kohanim in the ancient Temple were installed in an elaborate ceremony.   They purified themselves, they wore special clothing and then were anointed with special oil so they could offer a special sacrifice on the altar.  And then…after the sacrifice was offered…” Moses took blood from the ram and placed it on Aaron’s right ear, on the thumb of his right hand, and on the big toe of his right foot.”  Moses then repeated the same ritual for each of Aaron’s sons.  What a strange ritual!  Why blood and why on the right thumb, toe and ear? 

Philo, an ancient commentator wrote that “the fully consecrated must be pure in words and actions and in life; for words are judged by hearing, the hand is the symbol of action, and the foot, of the pilgrimage of life.”  Philo finds meaning in each of the three body parts in terms of how we use them.

Ear, hand, and foot are symbolic of our entire body.  Through ears our words are heard, reminding us that our words, what we say, make a difference.   Through our hands we touch others.  Our actions are important and make a huge impact in our world.  And our feet, remind us that we can’t just talk about holiness, we must pursue a life of holiness.  Our portion teaches us that with our ears, our hands, and our feet, we, like the Priests of old, have a responsibility to suffuse our words, our actions and our lives with purpose and meaning.

Shabbat Vayikira March 28, 2020

This week we begin the third of the five books of the Torah: Leviticus or Vayikra in the Hebrew. For the next weeks we will read over and over about the sacrificial system developed by the Israelites and enacted in the portable tabernacle. There are rules for offerings if one sins, if one wants to express gratitude…How many pigeons are to be offered, how many goats, how the ancient priests deal with the blood, the carcasses…

When I was the cantor at Temple Isaiah in Los Angeles, I was blessed to work with thousands- truly thousands- of Bar and Bat Mitzvah students. Those B’nai Mitzvah students who were reading from the portions in Leviticus often had the most dififcult time writing their “d’var torah” or speech. The concept of a system if worship in which animals were slaughtered as a way to worship God was remote and distant and repugnant to many of the students.

Although the killing of animals, the dashing of blood, and the burning of these animals was often beyond their comprehension (and I’d add that it’s often beyond my understanding, as well) the concept of sacrifice was something almost all the students could understand.

Most often, the Bnai mitzvah students understood sacrifice as a sports metaphor: when one player makes a “sacrifice” for the good of the team or the sacrifices needed to excel at soccer, basketball, or tennis: hours of practice, maybe not watching so much television, physical aches and pain from working out, and maybe limiting social life.

If I were working with Bar and Bat Mitzvah students this week, I’d imagine their idea of sacrifice would be a little different. As we battle the Coronavirus worldwide, there are many who are making sacrifices: doctors, nurses, medical technicians, respiratory therapists, and ambulance drivers. The pictures of medical professionals literally collapsed on hospital floors and almost too exhausted to stand have been seen around the globe. These people are heroes- they are making sacrifices: lack of sleep, far away from families, endangering their own lives. And there are others who are making tremendous sacrifices: the grocery clerks making sure we have food, the bakeries staying open, the delivery men and women who are risking everything to make sure your package of whatever arrives at your door.

The Hebrew word for sacrifice is “korban”- and the root of the word (koof, resh, nun) means to draw close. In a very odd and tragic way, this current situation of illness and sacrifices has drawn us closer to one another. We have reached out ot neighbors and family. We have spent countless hours on zoom calls and skype checking in with friends and colleagues across the globe. And we have become closer to God- through whatever means we can muster: prayer, song, meditation, poetry.

As we begin the reading of the Book of Leviticus- with its emphasis on sacrifice and drawing nearer to the Almighty, may our prayers ascend to the Most High and find healing and comfort for all.

Shabbat Shalom

Canto Evan Kent

Vayakhel- Pekude: This Week’s Torah Portion 20 March

In this week’s Torah portion, we continue the description for the building of the Tabernacle- the portable sanctuary that the Israelites will take with them as they wander through the desert. The architect of the sanctuary is named Bezalel- a Hebrew name meaning “in the shadow of God.”

            Our names tell us so much about who we are. Bezalel literally was so close to God, that he walked in God’s shadow. As I read this week’s portion, I wondered  what it would be like to walk so closely to God- to feel God’s presence so intensely, to essentially rub shoulders with the Almighty.

And then I realized that I stand in God’s shadow every day. We all stand in God’s shadow every day. When I wake up, I give thanks to God. When I go to sleep, I give thanks to God- and yes, even when I go to the gym or go running, I offer thanks.

Today, we live in a troubled world: where so many are sick and thousands are dying. We live in a world where friends are quarantined, cities are locked down, and borders are closed. And I can’t help thinking, “Where is that shadow of God?”

And then I realize—that God is in those heroic doctors and nurses caring for our sick and ailing. God is in the neighbor delivering a basket of food to an elderly man living in the same building. God is found with those researchers toiling hour after hour searching for  a vaccine.

And God is found in the opening buds on trees here in Jerusalem---because trees don’t delay their beauty because of a microbe.

Prayer is often how I connect to the Almighty. Sometimes it works, often it doesn’t. Sometimes when I pray, I feel as if I’m talking to a distant relative on a bad long-distance phone call. And sometimes I’m amazed at the clarity of that connection. But regardless if I get a busy signal on that call or my “call” goes right through, I continue to dial. Day after day. Year after year.

As we battle the Coronavirus, I share with you a prayer written by my colleague Rabbi Naomi Levy. Read it to yourself, read it to a friend, share it with a loved one.

A Prayer of Hope During this Pandemic
by Rabbi Naomi Levy

We are frightened, God,
Worried for our loved ones,
Worried for our world.
Helpless and confused,
We turn to You
Seeking comfort, faith and hope.

Teach us God, to turn our panic into patience,
And our fear into acts of kindness and support.
Our strong must watch out for our weak,
Our young must take care of our old.
Help each one of us to do our part to halt the spread of this virus

Send strength and courage to the doctors and nurses
In the frontlines of this battle,
Fortify them with the full force of their healing powers.
Send wisdom and insight to the scientists
Working day and night across the world to discover healing treatments.
Bless their efforts, God.
Fill our leaders with the wisdom and the courage
To choose wisely and act quickly.
Help us, God, to see that we are one world,
One people
Who will rise above this pandemic together.

Send us health God,
Watch over us,
Grace us with Your love,
Bless us with Your healing light.
Hear us God,
Heal us God,
Amen.

Shabbat Shalom

Cantor Evan Kent

March 13: Shabbat Ki Tisa Exodus 30:11-34:35

Summary:  This very exciting portion begins with Moses taking a census of the Israelites – collecting a half-shekel from each person.  Then the Israelites are instructed to keep Shabbat as a sign of our covenant with God.  After the people ask Aaron to build them a golden calf, Moses ascends Mt Sinai a 2nd time and returns radiant, with a new set of tablets.   

Lesson:   After being freed from slavery and witnessing the miracle at the Red Sea, the rebel and build an idol.  Why? What led the Israelites to build the golden calf?

In their heart of hearts the people have not left slavery and Egypt far behind.  Forty days and nights have passed since Moses left the people and climbed Mount Sinai. The people despair.  The longer he stays away, the more uneasy they become. In their doubt and despair, in a state of growing concern, the people return to their idolatrous roots and demand that Aaron build them a visible sign of God's presence in their midst. We know what happens next…they build the Golden Calf.

Without Moses, the people grew increasingly anxious. In the land of Egypt there were many physical manifestations of God.  The Israelites might have viewed Moses as their physical connection to God. When Moses vanished on the mountain the people looked for a replacement.  Without Moses the people doubted they would ever experience God's presence again.  Yet they were wrong.  Moses did not ensure God’s presence in their midst.  The people were only beginning to learn that God is in our midst at all times and in all places.   

We too often feel the absence of God in our lives.  God's intangible nature makes it hard to feel God's presence in times of anxiety and despair. Perhaps then, the Golden Calf was merely a request for tangible proof of God's existence brought on by the insecurity of a people who felt abandoned and alone.

The people were not alone in their need to know an intangible God. Moses too struggled; he asked to see the Divine Presence. And God tried to honor Moses's request, at least partially. Moses is told to hide in a cleft in the rock so that God can pass by allowing Moses to see God's back. This direct encounter with strengthened Moses's resolve to do God's will.

We, like the Israelites, struggle to feel God’s presence in our lives.   When we open our eyes to the blessings in our lives and our world; when we open our hearts to the depths of emotion we can feel; when we allow our souls to be touched by everyday miracles that surround us, then we can sense, even without a physical manifestation, that God is always near.

Shabbat Shalom

Shabbat Tetzaveh Exodus 27:20-30-10 March 6, 2020

Summary:  Our portion this week continues with instructions for building the tabernacle for the journey in the desert.  It focuses specifically on Aaron and his sons, the priests in the ancient temple.  The portion begins with the details of the clothing they should wear and continues with the dedication of Aaron and his sons to the priesthood.

Lesson: I remember as a child worrying that our Eternal Light in our synagogue might go out! I asked my father (the rabbi), “what happens if the lightbulb burns out…will God leave the Temple?”  When we built our new sanctuary in Tarzana our architects proposed a solar powered Eternal Light.  Again I worried about a cloudy day…if the light went out, would God’s presence depart? 

While purely symbolic there is still something very powerful about the Ner Tamid/Eternal Light.  Even as a child I sensed that it was a meaningful and powerful symbol of God’s presence in the synagogue and in our lives. 

In our portion this week we find the first reference to the light, including instructions for lighting and maintaining the flame.  (See Exodus 27:20-21) What is clear throughout the portion is that the light does not exist for practical purposes.  The Ner Tamid is sacred.  When we see the Eternal Light, we are moved to remember God’s presence in the synagogue and in our lives.  

There is a beautiful rabbinic commentary in Sh’mot Rabbah that reads, “Why does Proverbs 6:23 say: ‘For the mitzvah is a light’? Because just as a light is not diminished when a flame is kindled from it, so he who does a mitzvah is not thereby diminished in his possessions” (36:3). The Eternal Light in our synagogue can act as a metaphor for the light that shines within us all —a power that is infinite, shareable, and the source of goodness, for us to bring forth into the world.  The light that shines consistently in our synagogues reminds us that we too have an obligation to bring light into a dark world.  In another rabbinic commentary, Itturei Torah, we read: “Every Jew must light the ner tamid in his own heart.”  

As a child I stared at the Ner Tamid and worried that if the light went out God would depart.  Now I realize that the concern isn’t only for God’s presence in the synagogue. The concern is for the light in our own souls.  The Ner Tamid can act to link us — from the ancient Tabernacle to the modern-day synagogue to our own world.  The Eternal Light in the synagogue can remind us that each of us is responsible for own, internal Eternal Light, an ever-present flame, limitless in its capacity for kindling and sharing, that challenges us to bring mitzvot into the world. 

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Don Goor

Shabbat Terumah February 28, 2020

In this week’s torah portion, Terumah, God provides Moses and the Israelites the literal blueprints for constructing the “mishkan”- the portable sanctuary they will travel with in the desert. The details are very precise: what kinds of fabrics, what sort of woods should be used, even the spices that shall be used as part of the sacrifices.

“In this sanctuary,” God says, “the Israelites are to bring me gifts.”

The gifts can be of any kind from any person whose heart moves them in a giving way. God continues, “And let the people make Me this sanctuary so that I may dwell among them.

This sanctuary in the desert was not just a canvas tent and the ark was not just a wooden box. The mishkan was designed as a place of great beauty and dignity. It was commanded to be a place where the spirit of the Almighty would dwell and the ark was imbued with a sacredness that would contain the “testimony” of God-often presumed to be the Ten Commandments.

I have worshipped and sung in sacred spaces great and small, highly adorned and also quite simple. I’ve sung in cathedrals throughout the world and synagogues on multiple continents. However, the presence of God was not determined by the architecture, the pipe organ, the marble steps, or the gold leaf. Instead, the presence of God was predicated on the community that inhabited the space.

One of the most spiritual environments I can recall both praying in and leading prayer in is the outdoor sanctuary at Camp Hess Kramer in Malibu, California. It is the camp where I worked, where Rabbi Goor worked and where we were married. It was a cathedral of simple wooden benches, an stained glass and redwood ark crafted by campers, and the ceiling of this outdoor space was created by giant boughs of eucalyptus, sycamore, and maple trees.

When I think of this chapel, I hear the voices of hundreds of campers, dressed in white, singing L’cha Dodi as Shabbat begins. I see these same campers with their arms wrapped around each other swaying to the melodies of “Shalom Rav” and “Ose Shalom.”

Last year, fires tore through the Malibu hills and destroyed much of Camp Hess Kramer. The torah scrolls were saved, but much of this beloved sanctuary was reduced to rubble and ashes.

But those voices were not silenced- the camp found a temporary space and once again Shabbat at camp was created. And in the near future the camp will be rebuilt and those voices will echo among the sycamores again.Sanctuaries are spaces—but communities are comprised of people.At Beth Shalom, we often pray in a simple hotel conference room that is temporarily converted for Shabbat worship or our High Holiday prayers and songs. But that doesn’t stop our prayers from ascending to heaven or our love for our community from being real and tangible.

The famous American poet Emily Dickinson wrote:

Some keep the Sabbath going to Church –

I keep it, staying at Home –

With a Bobolink for a Chorister –

And an Orchard, for a Dome –

Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice –

I, just wear my Wings –

And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church,

Our little Sexton – sings.

God preaches, a noted Clergyman –

And the sermon is never long,

So instead of getting to Heaven, at last –

I’m going, all along.

Dickinson’s poem reminds us that even a simple orchard can become the cathedral or sanctuary and that the most outstanding music doesn’t need to come from an organ or choir—but can come from nature itself.

This Shabbat- wherever you may be- may you find the presence of God, a sense of community, and a moment of personal renewal.

Shabbat shalom.

Cantor Evan Kent

Shabbat Mishpatim 21 February

I grew up in the USA and I’ll admit that as a teenager I was addicted to television. Morning, noon, and night--- I’d watch almost anything and everything.

In those days, you had to actually watch all the commercials and you couldn’t fast forward through them. One of the best and memorable commercials was for Alka-Seltzer- a product that helped you get rid of indigestion and heat burn. In the commercial, the actor is encouraged by an off-screen voice to try a lot of foods- at a buffet. “Try it- you’ll like it” the voice repeats. And he tries it all- and he ends up with indigestion.
So, what does Alka-Seltzer have to do with this week’s torah portion?
This week’s portion continues with the laws and rules from last week’s portion (Yitro). Last week, Moses presented the Israelites with the Ten Commandments and in this week’s portion, Moses shares rules and laws about slaves, punishments for certain crimes, laws on how the Israelites are to remain a holy people, and some dietary restrictions.
Additionally, the concept of the sabbatical year is presented, as well as the laws regulating the Shalosh R’galim (Sukkot, Pesach, Shavuot).
All of these rules are new to the Israelites—God is presenting Moses with a framework for a just and compassionate society. I can only imagine the Israelites’ trepidation in adopting these rules and laws. Butupon hearing these laws from God they respond: “Na’aseh v’nishmah...” (We will do and we will understand...)
It’s like the famous Alka Seltzer commercial: “Try it- you'll like it!” Until they try the rules and laws---how will they understand. How do you know you like asparagus, until you’ve tried it. (However, I’ve tied beets many times- and I’m still not a fan!)
In the early 11th century, the philosopher Ibn Ezra remarked that many of the laws in this portion focus upon just treatment for those in our society who are most vulnerable: slaves, minors, resident aliens and those who need to borrow money.
Ibn Ezra sees the Shabbat and Festivals in this way as well. He saw the Israelites as a people whose belief system may have been weakened by outside influences. Therefore the stringent laws of Shabbat and the Chagim are presented as a way to maintain Jewish life and identity. Centuries later, the early Zionist writer Ahad HaAm declared: More than Israel has kept the Sabbath, the Sabbath has kept Israel. His words echo Ibn Ezra’s sentiments.
Can the same be said today? Does Shabbat provide a framework for your life? Is your Shabbat observance all it could be? How could you expand your current observance to be filled with more spirit, meaning or ritual?
If you have no Shabbat observance, why not start with the candle blessing….or buying a challah. Or making a challah. There are many online resources to help you in your “try it, you’ll like it” quest. Try Shabbat, even if it’s a “virtual” experience.

Remember the Alka-Seltzer commercial, “Try it, you’ll like it…” Try Shabbat- you’re bound to like it.

Shabbat Shalom

Cantor Evan Kent

Parashat Yitro for Shabbat on February 14

The namesake of this week's Torah portion is Jethro (in Hebrew"Yitro"), the father-in-law of Moses.

The portion opens with Jethro bringing his daughter (Moses' wife) and her two sons to join Moses in the desert after the Israelites exodus from Egypt. Moses relates all the wondrous things that have happened to the Israelites since their escape. Jethro responds by praising God and hosting a festive meal for Moses, Aaron, and the Israelite elders. Jethro observes Moses spending his days settling disputes among the Israelites and Jethro suggests that Moses share this burden and delegate chiefs to judge all but the most difficult cases. 

Moses accepts this advice. Jethro departs and the next stage of the Israelite experience begins: Sinai.

On the third new moon after the Exodus from Egypt, the Israelites enter the wilderness of Sinai and camp at the base of the mountain. Moses, speaking for God, informs the people that if they obey God's teachings, they will be for God, "a kingdom of priests and a holy nation" (Exodus19:6). 

The Israelites agree and a nation is born. Three days later, in a cloud of smoke and fire, God appears to the people and proclaims the Ten Commandments. The Israelites frightened by this spectacle, appeal to Moses to intervene and to speak to God for them from that moment on. God instructs Moses to remind the people that they had heard God speak and thus must remember to never worship idols. 

This Torah portion is only one of six named after an individual (Jetro) and the only one in Exodus thus named.

As we read the Ten Commandments  to ourselves or listen to them chanted in synagogue on Shabbat we are transported back thousands of years to Mount Sinai. And just as Moses shared these awe inspired words with the Israelites so many generations ago, each new generation hears these hallowed words with new ears.

On this Shabbat Yitro we hope:

Like Moses, may a message of faith and truth always come from our lips.

May we be blessed, as Moses was, with the courage to lead others along good paths. May we be blessed, like Moses, with great wisdom and tremendous faith.

May we be like Aaron-and offer support to all those around us who may need our guidance and care. May we be like Aaron and speak for those who cannot .May we give voice to those whose words have been silenced by the despair of poverty, the anguish of homelessness, the weakness of illness or the cries of hunger.

May we be like Miriam and approach our daily blessings with dance in our souls and a new song on our lips.

Shabbat Shalom

Cantor Evan Kent

Parashat Beshalach February 8, 2020

In this week’s torah portion (Beshalach) the liberated Israelites flee Egypt only to be pursued by a regretful Pharaoh. At the shore of the Red Sea, the Israelites are frightened by Pharaoh’s approaching chariots. Moses lifts us his staff and the waters of the sea part. The Israelites rejoice by singing “The Song of the Sea” (Shirat HaYam). These stirring words include the verse that is part of every morning and afternoon liturgy: Michamocha ba-eilim Adona (Who is like you Adonai). According to the Midrash, this Song of the Sea was a special kind of singing---a sort of song that was reserved for the momentous occasion of the parting of the Red Sea.

The torah tells us (Exodus 15:1-2) Then Moses and the children of Israel sang this song to God, and spoke, saying: I will sing to God, for God is highly exalted; Horse and rider God has thrown into the sea. (2) God is my strength and song, and will become my salvation; This is my God, and I will glorify God My father’s God, and I will exalt God.
But later in the portion, the torah also tells us (Exodus 15:20121) And Miriam the prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took her drum in her hand; and all the women went out after her with drums and with dances. (21) And Miriam answered them: Sing to God, for God is highly exalted: Horse and rider God has thrown into the sea. The text tells us that both Moses and Miriam sang and according to the Torah and they both sang a very similar song. The medieval French commentator Rashi wonders if there any difference in what
Miriam sang and what Moses sang? He tells us: Moses sang the song for the men—he would say it and they would respond after him---and Miriam sang the song for the women (and they too repeated it). So although they both sing similar songs, Miriam’s song is for the women and Moses’ song is for the men, according to the commentary. Think about this: Describe a time you impulsively expressed gratitude, relief, or joy for a miracle in your own life What is your natural, spontaneous way to express gratitude? Have you had any “Red Sea” moments in your life? What are the “miracles” in your life? When you experience “miracles” do you tend to praise God for them? Do you offer thanks in any way? What- if any- kinds of singing or music express your deep feelings of joy? Moses and Miriam begin their songs almost identically. Why did the women and the men sing separately rather than together? What message might this have for contemporary society?
Shabbat ShalomCantor Evan Kent

Parashat Bo – Exodus, February 1, 2020

Summary:  We are still in the midst of the narrative leading to the redemption of Israelites from Egypt.  Two plagues take place – locust and darkness. We also learn the laws of Passover – that we should keep it throughout the generations; Finally we hear of the plague of the death of the first born. The Israelites leave Egypt with no time for dough to rise.

Lesson:   Memory is a tricky thing.  When we lose our memory we lose our identity.  Memory is a recurring theme in the Torah.  In our portion this week there is a great emphasis placed on memory – on keeping the story of the redemption of our people alive which we do each year at the Passover Seder.  In our Kiddush each Shabbat and every holiday and Sabbath we are reminded that the days are to be observed as "a memorial of the Exodus from Egypt."

One of the reasons that we perform rituals…the Kiddush each week or the Seder meal each year, is to remind us to remember.  Its nice to join with family and friends, and at the same time its important to remember the story of our people, to review the miracles of our history.  Another reason to remember is so that we enlarge our vision beyond our own story. Passover reminds us that while we are free, there are people in our world who are not yet free.  Our remembering calls us to act so that all might be free. 

Yes, memory is a tricky thing.  While we are commanded to remember, we are also commended to forget.  When Joseph meets the brothers who sold him into slavery, he puts the pain in the past and forgives them.  We are a remarkable people – we remember in order to better our world. And we forget so that we can move forward without resentment or bitterness.   From our portion this week we are commanded to forget the evil that befell us and instead remember the good and strive to bring that goodness into our world. 

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Goor

Shabbat Vaera January 25, 2020

January 24 – Vaera – Exodus 6:2 – Exodus 9::35

Summary:  Once again God introduces God’s self to Moses with the unknowable name.  God promises freedom for the people.  Moses and Aaron go before Pharaoh and ask Pharoah to let the people go.  The story of 10 plagues begins…the first seven appear in this week’s portion.  After each plague Pharaoh’s heart is hardened.   

Lesson:  Our portion this week is all action. The first plagues take place and the confrontation between Moses and Pharaoh ensues – the plot for a good movie!  

Blood. Frogs. Lice. Insects. Pestilence.  And yet Pharoah refuses to free the Israelites.

However, in Exodus 7:3 it is actually God who says, “I will harden Pharaoh’s heart, that I may multiply My signs and marvels in the land of Egypt.”  Strange…is it actually God who is responsible for Pharaoh’s hard heart?

The plagues are clearly evidence of God’s absolute power.  The Egyptians learn of God’s power in a painful way. However the Israelite slaves are also witness to God’s strength.  

At the very end of this portion God says: “I have spared you for this purpose: in order to show you My power, and in order that My fame may resound throughout the world” (Exodus 9:16).  .Here God teaches us that even the Israelites had to learn of God’s power. 

For over 400 years the Israelites have been slaves.  They only know oppression.  For generations they have been demoralized and dehumanized.  Over the years of their slavery they have been distant from God.   They are used to not having God around.  After 400 years it would have been difficult for them  to believe that God would save them. 

After witnessing God’s power in the first set of plagues, the Israelites come to know a God who is present in their lives, an all-powerful god, a God who could actually free them from slavery.  God hardens Pharaoh’s heart to force the Egyptians to free the Israelites.  God hardens Pharoah’s heart so that our people could come to know the all-powerful God who would redeem us then and journey with us for thousands of years to come

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Goor