From The Bimah: Jewish Lessons For Life

One fine August night, after I got home from evening minyan, I picked up the phone and called my sister Beth, who lives in Los Angeles, just to check in.  Beth shared that one of her summer projects was to feng shui their house that she and her family had lived in for 50 years.  Just that afternoon she was working on the closet in her bedroom, one bag for goodwill, one bag for garbage, when she came upon a box in the bottom of her closet that she had not seen in years.  She did not even remember that it existed.  She opened the box, and it contained old birthday cards.  Determined to clear her home of clutter once and for all, she was preparing herself to throw out even these sentimental relics when she noticed that one of the birthday cards was in our father’s unmistakable handwriting. Our father died in 1981.  This card was very old.  When she opened it up, it said simply:  Dearest Beth, you are my rock. Happy Birthday, Love Dad. So much for the feng shui.  Beth took out her black marker and wrote on the w

What do we do when the way we feel on the inside doesn’t match what we feel we have to project on the outside? Or even more generally, what do we do when our insides don’t match our outsides? I was thinking about this recently as I was reading a fascinating New York Times interview with Steve Burns, the actor on Blue’s Clues. If you weren’t tuned into preschool television in the late 90s and early 2000s, Blues Clues was a show on Nickelodeon wherein the host, Steve Burns, invited little kids to help figure out what Blue the dog had been up to by interpreting Blue’s pawprints. On the show, Steve was a gregarious, curious, engaging adult who reveled in the joy of simple discovery. Viewers saw him ensconced in a cozy, cartoon living room and surrounded by friends including the cheery dog, Blue. Viewers saw him as a star—the show became immediately and wildly popular. In its heyday, it was the highest rated American tv show for preschoolers and was syndicated in 120 countries and translated into 15 languages.

“The unexamined life, a philosopher said, is not worth living. No one who has genuinely experienced Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur lives an unexamined life.” Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, Introduction to The Koren Rosh Hashanah Mahzor (2011) This coming Shabbat is our last Shabbat before Rosh Hashanah. Our tradition bids us that we prepare ourselves for the Days of Awe by hearing the shofar every weekday morning, by reciting Psalm 27 every morning and every evening, and by attending Selikhot Saturday night (8:00 pm) that re-introduces us to the haunting liturgy and themes of our holiest days of the year. In Talmud class on Shabbat, I would like to add two additional moves. One is to read a part of the introduction of the late Rabbi Jonathan Sacks to The Koren Rosh Hashanah Mahzor, written in 2011. In a few pages, Rabbi Sacks captures ten principles of the human condition that are at the heart of Rosh Hashanah. His insight sparkles. He captures our lives in his words. The second move is to encounter a real story that

In late August Joshua Leifer, author of Tablets Shattered, was going to be in dialogue about his new book with a local Brooklyn rabbi. They were infamously banned from the bookstore because they are Zionists. While the employee who tossed them was fired, it is sobering that in America, in New York, in August of 2024, an author could get banned for believing that the Jewish people have a right to a homeland. The day that Josh Leifer was banned by the bookstore I called him. His mother and Shira have been the best of friends for more than forty years, since they were roommates in college. I invited him to come to Temple Emanuel, and he said yes on the spot. Josh will be talking about his book on Wednesday night, September 18. His talk will be from 8:00pm to 9:00pm, and he will sell and sign books after his talk. This book brilliantly addresses two questions that people my age ask about our children: Jews in their 20s and 30s. Why are our adult children so seemingly disconnected from their Judaism? We br

This morning has been so beautiful. And an example of life imitating art. The prophet Isaiah talks about a great light shining. Ari and Zoe talked about that light. And they embody that light. Our bride and groom, Beth and Adam, and their parents Marlene and Errol, may he rest in peace, and Cindy and Jon, embody that light. We know what to do with this light and this simcha: savor it, feel it deeply, do not let it go unappreciated. This morning reminds me of a conversation I recently had with a good friend I have known for over forty years. We were at a wedding in Lakewood, New Jersey, after the chuppah, before dinner. We were sharing a scotch and reflecting on one curious aspect of the human condition. Both of us are in our early 60s. He said I have so much good in my life. So much joy and blessing. And, I also have a lot of sorrows, problems that do not have solutions, pain that just is and must be borne. I know what to do with the joy, he said. But I always wonder: what am I supposed to do with th

In How to Know a Person, David Brooks devotes an entire chapter to what he calls life stories. https://files.constantcontact.com/d3875897501/1021ea46-026b-4259-9de3-6f87a6cefd69.pdf?rdr=true "Coming up with a personal story is centrally important to leading a meaningful life. You can’t know who you are unless you know how to tell your story. You can’t have a stable identity unless you take the inchoate events of your life and give your life meaning by turning the events into a coherent story. You can know what to do next only if you know what story you are a part of. And you can endure present pains only if you can see them as part of a story that will yield future benefits. “All sorrows can be borne if you put them into a story,” as the Danish writer Isak Dinesen said. (p. 217)" Our Torah reading this week offers the official, canonical life story of the Jewish people. This story is so central that it is the heart of the the Haggadah and the foundation of our Passover seder. https://files.co

Last Sunday evening Shira and I were in Lakewood, New Jersey for a wedding.  Lakewood is the capital of the charedi, or ultra-Orthodox, world in America.  Lakewood boasts a world-famous charedi yeshiva called Beth Medrash Govoha which is the second largest yeshiva in the world, second only to the Mir Yeshiva in Jerusalem.  The wedding was charedi.  Men and women sat separately during the wedding.  Men and women danced separately after the wedding. There was a thick wall separating the men and women dancing.  And a strong majority of the men wore black hats.  It was the first black hat wedding we had ever attended. Being at this wedding called to mind, for me, a famous story about Dr. Paul Farmer in Tracy Kidder’s biography called Mountains Beyond Mountains.   Paul Farmer would go to impoverished third world nations and provide modern health care to people who otherwise did not have access to modern medicine.  One day Paul Farmer is in Haiti where there had been a tuberculosis outbreak.  Many locals believed

On the first day of Rosh Hashanah, we encounter the well-meaning words of a loving husband whose consolation of his very sad wife did not work. Hannah could not get pregnant. Her husband Elkanah’s other wife Peninnah got pregnant easily and, the text notes twice, would taunt Hannah for her inability to conceive. https://files.constantcontact.com/d3875897501/3774939d-786f-4595-b167-b4fcafa95e06.pdf?rdr=true This happened year after year: Every time she [Hannah] went up to the House of the Lord, the other [Peninnah] would taunt her [Hannah], so that she wept and would not eat. Her husband Elkanah said to her, “Hannah, why are you crying and why aren’t you eating? Why are you so sad? Am I not more devoted to you than ten sons? We know that Elkanah’s words did not help to heal Hannah because the story continues that, after their conversation, she went to the temple at Shiloh. “In her wretchedness, she prayed to the Lord, weeping all the while.” Elkanah meant well. He loved Hannah. According to the commentator

I have a question for you this morning. How do we keep clean and pristine things clean and pristine? Imagine that in your home, in your living room, you have a sofa. The sofa is clean and pristine. The sofa is white. How do you keep your white sofa white? How do you think about inviting a family for dinner that has, say, a four-child old child? Let’s further stipulate that that four-year old child loves chocolate and has chocolaty fingers. How do you think about the prospect of those chocolaty fingers encountering your formerly clean and pristine white sofa? This is not only a practical question. It is also very much a philosophical question. How we think about keeping the white sofa white is prismatic of how we live our lives, and how we think about mess in our lives. There are basically two schools of thought.

Our ice maker in our fridge broke again. I called the service line. You know the drill: obnoxious faux classical music, repeated robotic recordings, “we care about your business and will answer your call as soon as possible. Please stay on the line.” Finally my call was answered by a woman who said her name was Jennifer and sounded like she was answering from South Asia. I told her our ice maker saga and once she had gotten all the information, she sai,d “thank you ma’am, I just submitted this request and am waiting for a response from my manager.” “Ok, thanks,” I said. There was silence. Then, since we were waiting on the phone together, I asked, “how’s your day going?” There was no response. “Are you there?” I asked. “Yes, I’m here ma’am.” “Oh good,” I said, “How’s your day going?” “Ma’am, are you talking to me?” “Yes, of course, who else would I be talking to? I figured as long as we were waiting, we could chat.” “Oh, ma’am, I am so sorry. No one ever talks to me, I just thought that you were

Every Friday Shira calls her brother and sister-in-love in Jerusalem, Ari and Tziporit, to check in, to hear about their Shabbat plans, to hear about their children who are serving in Gaza or up north, and to wish them a Shabbat shalom.  Two weeks ago they had a particularly evocative conversation.  That week Ari and Tziporit had been blessed with a new grandson, and that very Friday night they were hosting what is called a Shalom Zachor, a festive gathering the first Friday night after the birth of a boy.  Since the baby’s father had been on miluim up north for 8 months, and had gotten home only a few weeks before the baby was born, this would be an especially joyful Shalom Zachor.  The conversation was about the delicious food they were serving, the gorgeous flowers and flower arrangements that we could see with FaceTime, and the many family and friends who would show up to share the simcha.  So far, so good.  And then Tziporit added:  We are setting up the dining room, the living room, and the outdoor gard

August 10, 2024

Friendship has the power to shape our lives. Join us this Shabbat morning in the Rabbi Samuel Chiel Sanctuary as our member Ruth Tepper and her dear friend, Brit Kammler, share the profound impact a connection first forged through grappling with the trauma of the Holocaust has had on their lives in the decade since.

Did you or your children go to summer camp? If so, do you remember the songs you or they sang? For me, my childhood soundtrack of classic summer camp songs is filled with silly ditties like “I Said a Boom-Chicka Boom” and “Sippin’ Cider through a Straw.” Throw in a “Zum Gali Gali” and a “Shalom Rav” or two, and it always made me smile that my kids are singing those same summer songs – a joyful summer soundtrack filled with ruach (spirit) and a camp legacy. Last week, I visited our Temple Emanuel kids at Camp Ramah and found them singing a very different tune. After lunch, they gathered in the middle of the dining hall, swaying in large circles, serious and spiritual. Mournfully, they belted out Acheinu, a prayer for the hostages: “As for our brethren, the whole house of Israel, who are in trouble or captivity… May the Almighty have mercy upon them, and bring them from trouble to abundance, from darkness to light, and from subjection to redemption, now speedily and soon.” My heart broke, as all our hearts brea

There’s a story that lurks in our family lore. I don’t remember anyone ever telling it outright. But it was there. Fuzzy around the edges. Bleeding into every day. When my grandfather was very young, his father died tragically. He went duck hunting, got pneumonia, and, without antibiotics, the infection quickly took his life. My great-grandmother was not only broken-hearted, but also understandably terrified about her future. It was 1927. Women didn’t work outside the home except under serious duress. There were no federally funded social safety nets (FDR’s New Deal including aid for dependent children wouldn’t come for another eight years). Without her husband, my great-grandmother had no idea how she and her young son would survive. My grandfather remembered her anger, her fury that no one stepped up to help her in the ways that she needed, following her husband's sudden passing. She was so upset that she cut off contact with her family. My great-grandmother became a schoolteacher. She was disc

Last week I had two meetings that I just can't get out of my head. The first meeting was with an elder who has recently experienced some significant health challenges. He’s at an assisted living facility now where he spends his days being wheeled around by an aide, going where they take him and eating what they serve him. His wife passed away years ago. His memory is slipping. He’s dealing with significant health challenges. And yet, when I asked him how he’s doing, he said, “I am just so lucky.” “So lucky,” I said, “what makes you so lucky? Tell me about your life.”The story he told was just so interesting. He told me about generational pain and trauma. About how his family escaped Poland just in time but lost their entire extended family. He shared about losing his father when he was eleven, and about how his brother became convinced his mother needed to remarry, pushing her to marry a man who turned out to be abusive. He spoke about escaping home and trying to build a life for himself. He talk

July 6, 2024

This week, we laid to rest a pillar of our community, our beloved Channah Berkovits. As we were reflecting with her family about her incredible life, I kept thinking about what a powerful teacher she was for me and for our whole community. Channah radiated positive energy. I remember when I first met her—she was this petite woman dressed in a bright purple suit, who seemed to always be here for every class and every service. Whenever she saw me, she would call me over and would start speaking to me in Hebrew, usually to give me a heartfelt blessing. If I asked her how she was doing, she would always say something positive about how grateful she was to be here, about her wonderful family, about the beautiful day. And she always ended every conversation with her trademark phrase, חיבוק של אהבה. She was so positive that at some point I asked my colleagues if they knew her secret. I remember them saying to me, “I don’t know what her secret is, but you should know she is a survivor.” At her funeral, I heard f

June 15, 2024

Dr. Rochelle Walensky served as the 19th Director of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (2021-23), Professor of Medicine, Harvard Medical School (2012-2021), and Chief of the Division of Infectious Diseases, Massachusetts General Hospital (2017-2021). Dr. Walensky is an infectious disease clinician whose research career is guided by a belief that the clinical and economic outcomes of medical decisions can be improved through the explicit articulation of choices, the systematic assembly of evidence, and the careful assessment of comparative costs and benefits. She has focused these beliefs on mathematical model-based research toward the promotion of global access to HIV prevention, screening, and care. Her ground-breaking work and over 300 research publications have motivated changes to US HIV testing and immigration policy; promoted expanded funding for HIV-related research, treatment, and the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPfAR); and led to policy revisions toward aggressive HIV sc