Facing God In Our Passover Haggadah

19 Apr

Shabbat HaGadol, loosely translated in English as the “Great Sabbath,” falls on the Shabbat preceding Passover, which is where we find ourselves this evening. According to Jewish law, it is on Shabbat HaGadol that we observe the beginning of the process of the Israelite redemption from Egypt. We are instructed to study the laws of Passover and there is even a tradition of reading portions of the haggadah as a rehearsal for the upcoming seder. The reasoning for this is to familiarize ourselves with the content of the haggadah so that we show up to the seder prepared with our questions and our answers. Like most ritual and religious experience, the more prep we do the more meaning we may find. It is with this in mind that I want to share with you this evening some thoughts on the content in our haggadah that we will read at our Passover seders next weekend.

I began thinking about the narrative we encounter in the haggadah after I met with a man who adamantly told me he was an atheist. “Even though I don’t believe in God, I care about Jewish tradition,” he told me.

And then he shared that Passover is his favorite holiday. In fact, it seemed to me his passion for the Passover seder was almost equal to his passion for atheism. So I asked him, “How do you relate to all the talk of God in the Passover Haggadah?” And he said to me, “Oh we just don’t make a big deal about those parts.”

I assume that he is not the only one who takes this approach. I bet many of us are more interested in spending time discussing the themes of slavery and freedom over the subject of the dominion and might of God. Themes of slavery and freedom are more tangible and more easily applied to the societal injustices we face today. Yet, if we skip over the God parts we risk not fulfilling our main obligation of the Passover seder, which is to tell the story of the Exodus. A story, where it is hard to ignore God. The biblical commandment of how to observe Passover calls on us to, “tell your child on that day, saying, ‘Because of that which God did for me when I went out from Egypt.” (Exodus 13:8) According to this text God is the main protagonist, God is the mover and shaker, leaving Moses, Pharoah, the Egyptians, and the Israelites all in supporting roles.

If we were to look through our haggadah we may find that theirs is actually too much God to ignore.

The text says, “Adonai Brought Us Out of Egypt with a strong hand and with an outstretched arm and with great awe and with signs and wonders.” The imagery of God using God’s strong outstretched arm and strong hand is frequently repeated. God is behind the 10 plagues according to the haggadah, “These are the 10 plagues that the holy one of blessing brought upon the Egyptians of Egypt.” God is the star of one of the famous Passover songs, Dayeinu. The core message being that of God’s might. “If he had brought us out of Egypt and not brought judgment upon them…Dayeinu (it would have been enough…” You know the song…it keeps listing all the ways in with Gods help we were able to get out of Egypt and then the song expands reminding us that it would have been enough if God had given us Shabbat (dayeinu). It would have been enough if God had given us the Torah…dayeinu!

So what do our modern and perhaps skeptical minds do with these notions of God as miracle worker, God as punisher, God as mighty?

One option may be to simply say, “that was then and this is now.” God no longer reveals Godself in our world and in our time. Therefore, it is up to us to bring about redemption to those who are not yet free. Yet, when we hold that line of thinking we make the assumption that God only reveals Godself through signs and wonders and through reward and punishment. If we don’t see those things today then God must not exist, but what if divine presence and divine acts exist in different ways and what our haggadah present is how our ancestors saw and experienced God.

None of us may truly know what God is really like. We can only interpret, make assumptions, and experience. This how we as humans cope with and manage something that is ineffable. Dr. David Arnow argues that the haggadah’s, “theological polemic likely comes as a response to beliefs within and beyond Judaism that recognized the existence of more than one supernatural actor carrying out pivotal events in Jewish history.” Meaning our Exodus story was an attempt by our ancient ancestors to make sense of events that were inexplicable. They believed and were committed to the notion that God is an active God, that God had the power to shape the course of human events, and that there are times that God must act in ways that are harmful. If we see the haggadah as a recounting of our ancestors understanding of how God works in the world then the descriptors for God can be seen as metaphor. God may not have an arm and a hand, but this is the language our ancestors chose to describe God. This is how they knew how to speak about God.

So when we read the text we can view it as the mindset of those who came before us. The words of our haggadah are how they understood what happened in Egypt. Our task at the seder then is to discuss how we make sense of what they concluded about God and God’s actions. We then have the sacred opportunity to offer our own gloss just as generations of Jews have done before us.

Our Rabbinic ancestors did just this. They suggested that God is only as powerful as our willingness to acknowledge God. In a commentary on this topic they wrote, “When you are my witness, I am God, but when you are not MY witnesses, I am not God, as it were.” Or put another way, “God saves us, but acknowledgment of God provides redemption.” So imagine reading from the haggadah as witness to what happened in Egypt, as witness to the plagues, as witness to the parting of the red-sea. When we witness something it is our role to take note, to acknowledge, to be present to the events that are occurring. We are not called to pass judgment. We are just called to pay attention and in doing so perhaps we can see God in a different way. We can imagine the pain God must have felt to see God’s children, “the Israelites” enslaved. The work they endured everyday. Their powerlessness in the face of the Egyptians.

Perhaps, God felt helpless for decades until God said, “Dayeinu” and decided to intervene. We can imagine the look on God’s face when the Egyptians were drowning in the sea. Our Rabbis certainly did, and as a result wrote a midrash that says God scolded the angels who wanted to sing while the Egyptians were drowning. God cries out, “The works of My hands are downing in the sea, and you would sing in My presence!” When we go through the haggadah as witness we don’t have to judge whether it happened or it didn’t, whether God was fair or not, all we have to do is be present and experience. And in witnessing perhaps being open to seeing the many faces. God’s glory and God’s pain.

For those challenged by God in the haggadah, who identify as atheists or those who can’t make sense of an all powerful God, a punishing God, a non-compassionate God, or a God who we just can’t possibly believe could make frogs rain down from the sky there is the option to skip over the parts you don’t understand or agree with. Or you could choose to find a haggadah that meets your own personal theological needs.

However, if you don’t want to make that choice or if you feel connected to the traditional text you can wrestle with has been passed down you can choose to look at it through a new lens.

When we risk seeing God and the Passover story in new ways we leave room for the possibility of coming out of our seders with new insight …we leave room to maybe even come out as new people…changed by what we have experienced. We can be curious observers of our ancestors, analyzing their interpretation of God and how they thought to make sense of all the events that unfolded in the story. We can zoom out and act as witnesses to God as main protagonist. We can stretch our logical and intellectual minds to see what might be revealed to us. The Kotzker Rebbe teaches, “Where is God? Wherever we let God in.” May we enter Passover this year with our hearts and minds open to the retelling of our people’s journey from a narrow place to an expanded place filled with possibility.

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Volunteering: Why should we do it? How do we make the time?

16 Sep

Rosh Hashanah Morning 5776

Brooklyn Heights Synagogue

Rabbi Molly G. Kane

During rabbinical school I was the Student Rabbi at Congregation Kolot Chayeinu in Park Slope. Kolot rents space from a church. One Shabbat morning I arrived early to find that the folding chairs had not been set-up for services. The Rabbi of Kolot, Rabbi Ellen Lippmann was already there busy setting up chairs and like a good student rabbi I began to help. This was not the first time I had assisted in setting up folding chairs for a service or a program and it was not the first time I wished there was someone else to do it. With that mindset I asked the following question, “Ellen, do you ever get sick of having to do things like set-up the chairs?” She immediately responded, “Molly, even Moses had to set-up chairs.”

I have never forgotten her response to me. And I have a feeling I never will. While I have never found anything in the bible or in our midrash where Moses is actually setting up chairs I knew what she meant or what she was trying to teach me: Moses was the kind of leader who was so humble nothing was beneath him. Even the greatest leaders sometimes have to get their hands dirty in order to make something happen.

This story comes back to me every time Purim rolls around here at BHS.

I love Purim. I dread having to recruit volunteers for the Purim carnival. Last winter as Eve Hall (one of our religious school committee chairs) and I met to discuss volunteer recruitment I wondered to myself, “Why is this so hard?” “Why is it so difficult to get people to volunteer for a few hours at a carnival?” ”Moses would have done it.” “Is it Purim or is it the volunteer part?” “Do people not know how fun Purim is?” Since Eve and I had spent many times over the last year discussing ways to get people to volunteer I began to deduce, this isn’t about “Purim.” It’s just hard to get people to volunteer.

And I get it. You are busy.

We live in a city and an age where we constantly feel like there is not enough time to do everything. We feel over extended. It’s a gift when we have time to watch TV. And yet when we do, we feel bad…like how could we be just relaxing when we didn’t write back to whole bunch of email, and we didn’t clean up the kitchen.

Yet, in spite of the “time scarcity” problem, there are people who give of their time on a regular basis. Whether it’s to sit on a committee, sleepover at the homeless shelter, stuff a bunch of envelopes, greet people on Shabbat, or run a game at the Purim carnival they choose to volunteer.

This summer I sat with some of our members who volunteer in various capacities in our congregation. I wanted to know what motivated them to volunteer their time. I wanted to understand how they made it a priority in their lives. I wanted to know what their reward was.

This sermon is based on what they shared with me.

 At the beginning of July, I sat with Anne Landman at Starbucks on Montague Street. Anne is a past president of BHS, a coordinator of the homeless shelter, currently our treasurer and she has taught in the BHS religious school. She has occupied multiple roles as a lay leader. Anne’s deep commitment to giving of her time inspires me.

I was actually hoping meeting with Anne would be enough. Her personal reflections would be the answers to all my burning questions. And in fact, my meeting with Anne led me to understand one of the first core things about volunteerism, “You have to ask.”

When Anne told me what motivated her to volunteer her time she said, “Cause I was asked.” She never considered volunteering for the synagogue. She was not brought up Jewish and this was not how she thought she would spend her time. When Rabbi Rick Jacobs, the rabbi at BHS at the time asked her to the volunteer at the shelter she was hesitant. I asked her, “What was your reluctance?” She honestly answered, “I was afraid.” She went on to explain that it was New York City in 1982. The homeless situation was out of control, worse than what we see now. Anne said seeing the amount of homeless on the street would bring her to tears. She ultimately said yes to Rabbi Jacobs. And then continued to say “yes” when she was asked to volunteer to do other things. Her motivation she told me: “to fulfill a need.” Yet, what she shared with me after that really reverberated within me. She said, “When you say, ‘yes’ (to someone who is asking you to do something) you give the person on the other end of the ask such a sense of hope. And I’ve been on the other side of that.”

I know this feeling too and I bet you know it as well. That feeling when someone says, “yes, I can do that for you.” “Yes, I can show up for that.” “Yes, I am happy to make a contribution.” There is a sense that when a person answers in the affirmative that person is affirming our request and as a result affirming us. Our request matters. We matter. Our tradition teaches that through positive speech we can build each other up we can remind each other that our presence is necessary to the world and to one another. When you are on the other side of “yes” the feeling is one of shleimut, wholeness or completeness. Your sense of optimism increases, causing a wonderful chain reaction of motivation to make other positive things happen.

Is giving someone a sense of hope enough motivation? Maybe, but maybe not.

After all, we live in an age with many opportunities to say yes and many different ways to spend our time. Back to the “time scarcity problem.” We also live in an age where we perceive that time must equal production. Meaning if we have time we must do something productive with it. According to an article in The Economist entitled, “Why are we so busy?” the author claims that ever since a clock was first used to synchronize labor in the 18th century, time has been understood in relation to money. When hours are financially quantified, people worry more about wasting, saving, or using time profitably. Time then becomes more valuable. And the more valuable something becomes, the scarcer it seems.

Our culture values the notion that time=money, and therefore, there is an emphasis on achievement over engagement. There is an emphasis on productivity over leisure and I would go on to say that there is an emphasis on quantity over quality. So if this is our culture, that we all contribute to and buy into, how do we override the feeling of a constant need to achieve? How do we create a culture shift? At least for ourselves? Stories I heard from our members provided me with some insight. Many who I spoke with taught me that, a sense of obligation to a community, can cause a shift in mindset, to make it a priority to volunteer their time.

Our member, Nelson Tebbe, shared with me this story: He and his wife Diana got married in Vermont. Their officiant was a justice of the peace and professor at Middlebury College. Nelson asked him what could he and Diana do in return for him officiating at their wedding? Nelson recalls that he was very thoughtful and deliberate with his answer. He said, “What you can do for me in exchange for me officiating at your wedding is get involved in your local community in some way.” Nelson has never forgotten this request. When he and Diana began to make this area of Brooklyn their home they began to seek ways to oblige this request. And once they did start giving of their time in various ways they felt a deeper and stronger connection to the community. As Nelson put it to me, “You want to feel a sense of belonging and rootedness. There’s no way sure to do that then to give something. To get involved.”

At first what was just a request for him and Diana to give back turned into a passage way towards a feeling of belonging and connection. Their sense of obligation to pay it forward was their motivation and what ultimately led them to the rewarding feeling of belonging. A Jewish mystic once taught that, “Someone else’s physical needs are my spiritual obligation.” I would expand that sentiment to include community needs as well as physical needs. When we help people and when we help institutions that help people we are not just meeting an obligation we are allowing our deeds to express our faith. Nelson’s story demonstrates a transformation from obligation to gratification.

Research and anecdote show that volunteering creates bonds. Relationships form with fellow volunteers, the organization that is hosting the volunteers, and the beneficiaries. This all leads to the feeling of “belonging” that Nelson described to me. This unique way of connecting with people and a place taps into parts of ourselves that are only awakened when we move beyond our own personal needs. We cultivate empathy, which opens up places in our hearts that often slumber in our daily lives.

Our member Sara Horowitz and founder of the Freelancers Union enhanced my understanding of the power of social bonds. She suggested to me that when we build something together we experience a sense of solidarity like none other. Solidarity she noted has two components: a spiritual component and an economic component. The economic component is obvious: if we don’t build it, then it doesn’t exist. The spiritual component is a bit more difficult to grasp. It is the feeling of losing yourself in something greater. In knowing that you are a part of something larger than yourself and that what you contribute is unique to you and to the time you are living in. Meaning we don’t all give back the same things year after year, generation after generation. We look at a particular need in this moment and we respond. In answering the “call” we experience solidarity, a sense of unity with all those who are responding together. God’s first question to humankind in the book of Genesis was, “Where are you?” This question reminds us of our responsibility to each other and to God. When we listen for the call and are willing to respond, “Here I am” we live the notion that life is not just about taking, but also about giving back.

Sara shared with me, “The biggest gift in life is that you are a part of something larger than yourself…when you get to that realization…[when you experience] that moment of connection that ends your alienation to the world. [In that] tmoment you feel so connected…if an [experience like that] were a drug you would take that drug. Why aren’t people volunteering like crazy? I don’t think people know [how good it can feel].” Sara may be suggesting that for many it is difficult to get past the notion that we need each other to reach a sense of purpose and meaning in our lives.

When we are plagued with feelings of dissatisfaction and unhappiness we often look within. Yet some would suggest look beyond our selves. The psychiatrist and neurologist Victor Frankl once noted that, ‘The true meaning of life is to be found in the world rather than within human beings or in our own psyche…Human existence is essentially self-transcendence rather than self-actualization.” Or as Rabbi Jonathan Sachs puts it, “Meaning takes place when something within us responds to something outside us.”

While there are many issues and places in need of our time, expertise, and money, my focus today is synagogues and more specifically our synagogue. In my mind, the synagogue is a gift from generations before us and it is up to use to decide how we want to receive it year after year. We too must remember though, that a gift left unwrapped, can provide us with nothing. No joy. No life enhancement. No enrichment. Rabbi Henry Berkowitz a prominent rabbi in the Reform movement in the late 19th century wrote in the very first ever Temple bulletin at his congregation in Kansas City, Missouri, “To make congregational life a part of the people’s life is to be our aim…We should strive to create opportunities for each individual in our community to participate actively in some one department at least, of the congregation’s purpose. Each one must feel he is serving Judaism by helping, however humbly, to conserve religious, moral, educational or charitable life of the community.” Rabbi Berkowitz’s statement was actually a departure from an old model of Reform Jewish congregational life that centered around the rabbi and his sermons. Now, Rabbi Berkwotiz suggests that the synagogue should be an instrumental part of the lives of all who wish to join it. Both the institution and the members should strive to integrate the fabric of their lives creating a synergy between individual and community. The question is what does this look like?

In my mind, the best example is that of a food “co-op,” where not only do you join by investing financially, but you also must give of your time; both equally important. Here at BHS there are many ways to get involved and I think getting involved is a direct way to feel more connected and even to explore the multi facets of Judaism. There are many ways to live your Jewish identity. Often we think that the “best” way is through prayer, ritual, and study (and food), but really living by deeds can be just as meaningful, if not more.

In addition, to the usual ways you might hear about being involved in our congregation through committee work or volunteering to help with programs we are also striving to provide additional ways for you to volunteer your time. I am proud to announce that Amy Leszman and I along with the help of our member Jennifer Neumann with the help of a grant from UJA Federation we will be offering a new program geared to RS families called, “Mitzvah Angels.” This program is an expansion of our existing program called, “Shabbat Angles.” We’ve partner with an organization called “Self Help” that will train our members to visit Holocaust Survivors in the Brooklyn area who could use company and companionship. Of course the homeless shelter always needs folks to spend the night and I know that we at the religious school always love more parent involvement and are open to ideas about what that can look like. A friend of mine who is an active volunteer at her synagogue shared with me this past week, that she volunteers her time because she thinks it is really important for her kids to see her do this kind of work. Whether we have kids or not, we can be role models for each other, inspiring one another that belonging to a synagogue is about investing into that synagogue and not just about what the synagogue can give to us.

There is a contested trend in American synagogues today. Even the NY Times ran an article about it this past February. And that is the trend of transactional Judaism, the “pay for what you want model.” I understand the allure of such a model. Eliminate membership dues and allow members to pay per service that the synagogue can offer. This model certainly allows for more financial transparency and may provide financial relief for those who wish to be a part. Financials aside, though, this model sends a very different kind of message about community building: which is it’s not about investing for the long-term, its more about a short-term gain. It’s also a model that I think sees the relationship between member and synagogue as one sided: What can the synagogue offer me? As opposed to what can the synagogue offer me and what I can offer the synagogue?

Both Mark Landman and David Smetana shared with me stories of their grandfathers starting synagogues from the ground up. Mark’s grandfather started a congregation in Hornell, NY and David’s in West Germany. Mark and David grew up knowing how important having a synagogue was to their families and to the larger community. Mark shared with me that in his mind building a synagogue means, “sustaining Judaism.” A long-term investment with both a short-term and a long-term gain. We have a synagogue that exists, but we can continue to build it up.

Maimonides teaches that a person who dwells in community after thirty days is obligated to contribute back to the community. That obligation increases after three months, sixth months, and nine months as well. His teaching suggests that when we start to “settle in” somewhere we must give back. For Maimonides, this meant tzedakah. For us, I suggest expanding this to include not just money, but time and energy as well.

We live in a “time paradox,” where on the one hand time is the invisible hand and never ending wheel that allows us to live and create and on the other hand it feels finite and scarce, where we are constantly craving more of it and aware that our time on this earth is limited. Time also plays tricks on our brains. As Albert Einstein once noted, “An hour sitting with a pretty girl on a park bench passes like a minute, but a minute sitting on a hot stove seems like an hour.” Time is currency and when we spend it wisely we gain more than we lose. Time management experts suggest that we“ concentrate on results not on being busy.” Meaning, common practice is to spend our days in a frenzy running from activity to activity…appointment to appointment, rather than focus on doing things that matter, and provide you with the most fulfillment. The happiness scholar at Harvard University Tal Ben Shahar suggests that simplifying our lives and focusing on doing more quality things with our lives is a key element to living a happier more fulfilled life.

There are many entry points into synagogue life. Some may seem more fulfilling at first glance than others. Certainly spending a night at the homeless shelter may leave you with a greater sense of fulfillment than moving folding chairs or volunteering at the Purim carnival. However, all entry points lead to connection. The more connection, the more there is to give. Nelson Tebbe called this the, “economy of giving.” And it is my hope in this upcoming year that we can strengthen our economy. When you are asked to help, I hope you say “yes.” If you are called on to be the asker, I hope you find your inner chutzpa and confidently make the “ask.” And for some –and myself included in this I hope we figure out ways to give without being asked — knowing that our life will be richer and more meaningful because we went beyond our comfort zone and saw the bigger picture that we are a part of.

May we lead with our deeds this year, rather than our verbal promises. May we strengthen our “economy of giving,” and act as role models for one another as we strengthen our bonds to each other and to our congregation. We can’t all be Moses that’s for sure because a congregation full of chiefs doesn’t necessarily get the work done either. We can however all be Israelites, with Moses as our example.

Shanah Tovah!

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10 Jokes for 10 Plagues

2 Apr

10 Jokes for 10 Plagues

By Rabbi Molly G. Kane and Michelle Citrin

10plagues

1. Why were the Egyptians happy when the Nile turned to blood?

“Because it was B-positive.”

2. What did the Egyptian pyramid architects say after frogs fell from the sky?

“Well, now there’s more green space.”

3. Why did the Egyptians comb the desert?

“Cause there was lice.”

4. What was Pharaoh’s favorite strip club? (pun intended)

“Wild Beasts”

5. Why did Trader Joe’s Egypt announce a recall?

“Diseased Livestock”

6. When “boils” struck why couldn’t anyone make a phonecall?

“Service was spotty.”

7. What Xbox game was inspired by a plague?

“Hailo”

8. What is Ricky Martin’s favorite Passover parody song?

“Living La Vida Locusts.”

9. What caused the Egyptian baby boom?

“Darkness”

10. Death of the first born?

“No joke.”

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Rosh Hashanah 5775

29 Sep

Rosh Hashanah 5775
Brooklyn Heights Synagogue
Rabbi Molly G. Kane

There is an old not so funny Jewish joke that goes like this:

After the assassination of Tsar Alexander II of Russia,
a government official in Ukraine menacingly addressed the local rabbi,
“I suppose you know in full detail who was behind it.”
“Ach,” the rabbi replied, “I have no idea, but the government’s conclusion will be the same as always: they will blame the Jews and the chimneysweeps.”
“Why the chimneysweeps?” asked the befuddled official.
“Why the Jews?” responded the rabbi.

Before this past summer this joke felt out dated to me.
In fact, before this past summer anti-semetism felt out dated to me.
This summer, for the first time in my life,
I felt nervous to outwardly display that I was a Jew.
Incidents of arson and vandalism,
protests where people shouted anti-semetic phrases,
boycotts of Jewish businesses,
vandalism of synagogues,
and targeted violence against Jewish individuals
swept across the world including here and throughout Europe.

I thought twice about wearing t-shirts that have Hebrew on them.
I thought twice about the Jewish star
I wear almost everyday around my neck.
In August, I went to the place
Where I don’t think twice about these things: Israel.
Despite rockets being launched at southern and central Israel,
I felt safer there to be myself,
in a place where “Jewish” is the dominant culture.

This is not a sermon about making aliyah, moving to Israel.
And this is not a sermon about Israel in general.
Although I am always happy to talk about either topic.

What am I going to discuss with you this morning
is how to find the balance
between two significant identifications:
being a citizen of the world,
(a somewhat inhospitable world at times)
and about being Jew.

This is a sermon about
how being a member of a particular tribe
has major benefits in both good and bad times.

For those of us who try and straddle these two identities,
there are times when it’s much easier to be a citizen of the world.
And there are times when it’s much easier to be a member of a specific tribe.
My partner Michelle and I tried to decide whether taking a vacation in Israel would be relaxing and rejuvenating amidst a war.
We ultimately concluded that we would rather be in Israel
where we felt more comfortable in a place with a Jewish majority
caring for our safety and well-being
than in any other part of the world.
For us, this summer it felt hard to be a citizen of the world.
Yet, there have been times in my life
where Israel does not feel like a comfortable place to be,
specifically, when I feel like there is not a place for me
as a Reform female Rabbi.
When I experience Jewish community,
as being intolerant, closed, and unwelcoming,
it is much easier to be just a citizen of the world.
As Jews, each of us must struggle to balance our Jewish and secular worlds,
be it in the workplace, in the synagogue,
when traveling or even amongst friends and family.
So how do we balance both states?

The scholar and writer Yossi Klein Halevi wrote this week,
“Most Jews instinctively know
that to be a Jew means to balance paradoxes –
security and morality,
realism and vision,
particularism and universalism,
self-defense and self-critique.”

The trick to balancing paradoxes
is to hold both in mind.
Our main biblical protagonist this morning, Abraham,
is a great example.

Abraham is a man intensely concerned
with the comfort and well being of others.
When he sees strangers approaching his tent,
he ignores being ill and the desert heat
and shows them hospitality.
He pleads with God to spare the cruel sinners of Sodom and Gomorrah
because he cannot stand the thought of innocent life being lost.
Abraham’s value and habit of kindness
is so inculcated in his life
that when his servant Eliezer
goes out to find a wife for his son Isaac,
the right girl,
must be one who demonstrates deep compassion
not just for him,
but for his camels as well.
Abraham values unadulterated kindness.

Abraham’s kindness stems both from his humanism
and his covenant with God.
Abraham represents a fresh start for humanity.
He is the 10th generation from Noah
and 10th in descent from Adam.
Abraham is considered to be more than Noah ever was
and a hope for a reversal of the curses placed on Adam.
Abraham’s strong moral compass is an outcome of growth
from generations before him.
Abraham is humanity the way God intended.

In addition, Abraham is a deep man of faith.
He is chosen by God to be a blessing and a great name.
His kindness…his choices in life are influenced by
the pact that he has made with God.
And he does not just passively expect God to make good on his word.
Abraham knows he too must be active in bringing about the promised results from God. Therefore, Abraham acts with covenant in mind.
He believes his actions are in line with what God demands of him.

Like Abraham we too are called to do what is right in this world,
to be good people,
to act with kindness towards others
because we believe this is what it means to be human
or as Victor Frankl puts it,
“Being human means being conscious and responsible.”
We hope and pray that all human beings hold this universal mission.
Yet, we are also like Abraham because we too
are involved in a particular covenant:
a contract between us and our tradition.

Our tradition teaches these same values,
but asks us to be mindful that when we act
we do so with a Jewish consciousness.
And when we do this we give honor
to both our tradition and to our covenant with God.

When balancing both our universal and particular mindsets,
we must ask ourselves,
what does it mean to act with a Jewish consciousness?
And to complicate the matter further,
wondering about Jewish consciousness often leads us to ask,
“Why be Jewish?”
Some of you who feel firmly rooted in your heritage
may find these questions irrelevant.
But, even if you don’t ask these questions,
I bet you know someone who does
because increasing numbers of Jews want to understand
the relevancy of Judaism in their lives.
Spiritual seekers want to understand what its like to call Judaism,
a unique spiritual and cultural home.

Our High Holy Days seek to answer these questions of identity and balance,
through prayer, our liturgy, and communal gathering.
These Days of Awe affirm our identity
both as Jews and as citizens of the world.
The message is: we Jews are a particular people
who share a universal mission with all people
who wish to live in a just and peaceful world.
We are a tribe amongst other tribes
with the goal of peaceful coexistence.

Our universal mission is clear, as portrayed in our liturgy.
The Aleinu, originally written for Rosh Hashanah,
depicts a messianic time, a time when all people, not just Jews,
will repair the world with divine presence.
Our ancestors did not see Rosh Hashanah
as the birthday of the world just for the Jews, but for humanity.
Therefore, Rosh Hashanah provides us with a prophetic vision
of a world that will be inhabited by nations
that will not lift up swords against nations,
a world, that is filled with truth and light.

The “particular” part is clear too.
The core of our Rosh Hashanah service
is the re-enthronement of God
as sovereign of the universe,
who will announce a world
that is a spiritual and moral whole,
with only one ruler to whom we owe loyalty.
And as Rabbi David A. Teutsch points out,
“the universalism of this vision assumes
that Zion will be the center of God’s reign
and that the Torah,
God’s central teaching,
will become universally accepted.”

So at the core of the universal messages of the High Holy Days
there is a very specific,
very particular, message at the heart of it all:
the notion that ultimately we pray
for Torah and our God to be universally accepted.
Before this can even be realized
or perhaps even debated
we must first try it out ourselves.
Balancing may actually mean,
placing Torah and tradition
at the center of our world
as catalyst and core
for our universal mission.
How do we do this?

How do we make Torah and tradition at our center?
Through storytelling…
As social animals we often share stories as a way to connect with others. Through storytelling we are able to understand what we have in common with one another, what are values are, and from where we’ve come. We as a people are bound together through the telling of particular stories. The most famous probably being the Exodus from Egypt. We glean our values from these stories that bind us. A value learned from our collective story is far more likely to stick to our souls than a value without any personal context. We learn from the story of Abraham the value of hospitality. We learn from the Exodus that we should never oppress the stranger for we were once strangers in the land of Egypt. The value of giving gifts to the poor is embedded in our Purim story.
The value of gratitude for the nature around us is highlighted in the story of Sukkot. Our particular stories enrich the values they proscribe, reminding us of the how to act and when to act. Without them, we loose our moral direction manual and we loose our moral reminders.

How do we make Torah and tradition at our center?
Through looking out for one another…
In addition to our particular narratives, we also have our particular sense of communal responsibility for one another. Kol yisrael arevim zeh bazeh…all of Israel are responsible for each other. This basic Jewish tenant implies that we have an obligation to ensure that other Jews have their basic needs met and that if one Jew sees another Jew on the verge of sinning, we have an obligation to step in and help. While obligation can feel burdensome, this particularistic responsibility gives us accountability and a network of support that is unique to us as a community.

How do we make Torah and tradition at our center?
Through being proud…
Being a part of a particular group means taking pride in its achievements. Pride is a complicated feeling as it can often lead to arrogance and narcissism, but when felt genuinely it is a swelling up feeling of joy and admiration. In Yiddish, we might call this “kvelling or “sheppiing naches.” When Jewish immigrants flooded into America during the late 19th and early 20th century, they built synagogues, schools, and cemeteries to serve their own communities, but they also created hospitals and charitable organizations that were designed to serve anyone in need regardless of race or religion. Our immigrant ancestors perceived their role here as new citizens as twofold: to become productive citizens of their new society and to ensure that values they held in their own community was extended to those in the larger community. They took pride in their accomplishments and contributions and demonstrated to the larger world all that we have to offer and contribute to humanity.

How do we make Torah and tradition at our center?
Through allowing Judaism to be a framework for our time…
The rituals that mark Jewish time are designed to make us present to the gift of life, family, and community. Rabbi Lawrence A. Englander writes that, “When we observe the particularistic rituals of lighting Shabbat candles, singing the Kiddush, and saying the Motzi we affirm the universal values of freedom and justice for all.” Engaging in these rituals remind us the important lessons of gratitude, rest, and empathy.
They renew and center us each week so that we can be productive at our missions in this world. Marking life’s transformative moments through life-cycle ritual reminds us not to take time for granted. So that we know the precious lesson of making our moments count here on earth.

Torah and tradition at the center
provides an anchor of support
for our universal missions
and aspirations.
Rabbi Jonathan Sachs writes,
“Happiness is the ability to say:
I lived for certain values and acted on them.
I was part of a family, embracing it and being embraced by it.
I was part of a community, honouring its traditions,
sharing its griefs and joys, ready to help others, knowing that they were ready to help me.”

When it feels like the world is plagued with hatred
and when some of that hatred is aimed at us
it is hard to no where to turn…inward or outward?
I vote that we do both.
We look inward and strengthen our identity and our tribal bonds,
and we look outward and take our tradition to the streets.
Let’s show the world a Judaism that teaches and preaches
values we are proud of.

Cynthia Ozick, an American Jewish novelist and essayist writes that,
“If we blow into the narrow end of the shofar
we will be heard far.
But if we choose to be Humannkind rather than Jewish
and blow into the wider part,
we will not be heard at all;”

Ozick’s words remind us that if we stay entrenched
in our tribe and our tradition
we then have the power and strength to
make our universal missions and desires heard.
Starting the other way around will leave us voiceless.

May we enter this New Year
five thousand, seven hundred and seventy-five
rooted in our Jewish paradoxes,
with a willingness
to place our covenant with God,
our teachings,
and our traditions,
at the center of our lives
with hope that they provide us with instruction and meaning
to work towards a world filled with
kindness, compassion, and love.

Shanah Tovah.

Reflections on the Kidnapping and Murder of Naftali, Gilad, and Eyal

2 Jul

Last week at the URJ Kutz, camp during most of our worship services we prayed that Naftali Frenkel, Gilad Shaar, and Eyal Yifrach would be found and returned to their families and their homes. Along side of these prayers other faculty members and I talked about where we thought the missing boys were, what the abduction meant for the peace process, and Zionism in general.  I had the opportunity to teach a group of enthusiastic teens about Israeli culture and share my list of 65 things I love about Israel that I created for Yom Ha’atzmaut two years ago. In addition, during the week there was an all camp skype session with Rabbi Rick Jacobs to talk about the BDS (Boycott and Divestment) movement and the Presbyterian vote.  On Sunday right before I left camp we went to a program led by Joel Chasnoff called the, “Schizophrenic Zionist.” The program was engaging, informative for the teens, and of course funny. In sum, the week was filled with enriching and meaningful engagement with Israel, it’s values, and the relationship between North American Jews and Israel. I was glad to be a part of these conversations and programs. It left my heart hopeful that a strong and engaged group of young people cared deeply about the future of the Jewish state.

And now my hopeful heart has been filled with despair. From the news of the teens being shot dead soon after they were abducted to the now breaking news that a Palestinian teenager was found dead in a Jerusalem forest in what appears to be an act of revenge. I am saddened by the news that I read about some Palestinians celebrating the death of the three kidnapped Israeli teens. I am saddened that hundreds of what Ha’aretz is reporting as “right-winged” Israelis are taking to the streets rioting and targeting Palestinians with violence. My hopeful heart from Sunday, is filled with disappointment by all of these events. In particular, I am saddened by this “eye for an eye” mentality.

The biblical concept of an eye for an eye can be interpreted in different ways. One could argue that it teaches us that one is punished with exactly what one inflicts on another. Or we can see it as an instructive: someone who damage’s an eye must pay the value of that eye. In Hebrew, an eye for an eye is ayin tachat ayin. Literally translated as, “an eye in place of an eye.” When we render the phrase in this way perhaps we can understand “in place of” to mean that punishment must take place, but not necessarily the same action that was done to the victim. Mahatma Gandhi reminds us that, “an eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind.” Anat Hoffman wrote today, “We mourn. We do not avenge.” I hold these words in my heart as it breaks, over the death of these teens and over the violence that has erupted in my beloved Israel.

I pray these words from our weekday Amidah, “V’li’rushalayim ircha b’rachamim tifneih viy’hi shalom bisharehah v’shalvah b’lev yoshvehah.” “And turn in compassion to Jerusalem, your City O, G-d. May there be peace in her gates, quietness in the hearts of her inhabitants.”

May the memories of Naftali, Gilad, and Eyal forever be a blessing. May their kidnappers be brought to justice. May all those who crave revenge choose words over swords. May our hearts be brought back to hope.

 

Zionism: Jewry’s solution or problem?

11 Jun

Zionism: Jewry’s solution or problem?

Reflections After Our Brooklyn Heights Synagogue Women’s Israel Trip

Originally Published in the Brooklyn Heights Synagogue 2014 Spring Bulletin

By Rabbi Molly G. Kane

The Brooklyn Heights Synagogue Women’s Trip spent their last day in Jerusalem visiting Mount Herzl Military Cemetery. While Har Herzel (as it is known in Hebrew) is often a stop on many Israel trip itineraries, our visit felt significant as it was erev Yom HaZikaron, Israel’s Memorial Day for soldiers and victim’s of terror. We were not able to visit some of the graves we had planned to see due to the preparations for the next day’s ceremonies. We tried to go to the grave of Hannah Senesh. Unfortunately, we were unable to make our way to pay our respects. So we walked around other parts of the cemetery looking for some shady spots to talk about the cemetery itself and visit soldier’s graves. We found ourselves a place to gather and we read the words of Hannah Senesh from her diary as we looked out at the graves of too many fallen soldiers. She writes in her diary,

I’m convinced Zionism is Jewry’s solution to its problems, and that the outstanding work being done in Palestine is not in vain.

As I prepared to travel back to New York with so many memories and thoughts in my mind these words in particular were echoing the loudest. They are a snapshot of a belief system that rang true for Senesh and many others. Today, a paraphrase of her words seem to ring true for me:

I’m convinced that Zionism has become one of Jewry’s biggest problems, and as a result do we take Israel in vain?

I see Israel as one of the greatest achievements of Jewish people in the modern period. A Jewish nation state devoted to the protection and advancement of world Jewry. Yet, we often overlook this achievement as Israel struggles…how to be both a Jewish and a democratic state…how to protect its citizens while working for peace…how to be both a western and an eastern country.

Israel’s struggles plague us and divide us.

A few days into our trip we heard that the influential Conference of Presidents of Major Jewish Organizations voted against admitting J Street, a leading political advocacy organization with the mission of supporting a two-state solution. While I am not sure of the set of principals that the voting members use about who should be “in” and who should be “out” of such an organization, it is clear from the 17-yes versus 22-no vote the conference was divided. The vote feels indicative of a divided North American Jewry that questions who can sit at the table when it comes to discussing Israel.

In March, I witnessed a similar rift at the Central Conference of American Reform Rabbis. In a discussion about Rabbi Rick Block’s presidential sermon, colleagues heatedly debated how critical one should be of Israel from the pulpit. They argued about what lines should be drawn when it comes to letting organizations like BDS (Boycott and Divestment) speak at our congregations.

Rabbi Block said, “Israel needs a many things, but one thing it does not need is more public criticism, which is ubiquitous. Some is legitimate, but lacks context.” I support his use of time during the convention to speak about Israel. I prefer we talk about it then we don’t talk about it at all. And while I am not sure I agree that we should silence our criticism, I do think we must always speak with context and I would add from a place of hope and love.

Yet, so often we don’t want to talk about Israel or we talk and feel on the defensive. We feel we have to defend one side or another or we share a personal experience that we feel makes us right in order to negate some one else’s.

This type of dialogue leaves us feeling unheard, unwelcomed, and with little enthusiasm to return to the discussion. I wonder if this is what the peace talks look like. Each side with their grievances and their narratives, neither side actually willing to listen. It is too bad our leaders can’t model behavior for us. To me this is a sign that we must model it for them.

Throughout our trip to Israel we visited with community leaders and political leaders who focus on listening to their constituents and figuring out ways to create programming and policy to improve their quality of life. From the principal of an Arab school in Lod who makes it her personal goal to see that her students feel like their existence matters in this world to a Jerusalem city councilwoman who despite the difficulties of being a woman in politics seeks to make sure that all inhabitants of Jerusalem have equal rights.

Their examples are instructive. Peace comes when people make peace not when heads of state do.

When we invite everyone to the table we send the message that even if we don’t agree we know we can’t move forward if we do not find common ground. Zionism doesn’t have to be the problem that divides us. It can be the problem that unites us. It can force us to figure out new paradigms of what it means to be a people with a state.

During Hannah Senesh’s time the Jews needed Zionism. They needed an ideology that gave them hope and that politically reestablished the Jewish peoples right to a nation in Eretz Yisrael. And now we must re-think the outcome of what our ancestors achieved. We must passionately decide that we can be both critics and participants.

A few days into our trip our guide joked that this was not the, “Disney Land Tour of Israel.” Meaning we were not seeing Israel in its ideal, rather we were seeing it with its rough edges and cracked surfaces. We were seeing both its failings and its successes. And when we heard and saw things that made us quiver as we asked questions…we did not shy away. And when we saw things that made us optimistic and gave us hope…we were inspired.

We allowed ourselves to be open and experience, and as a result we left as a strong cohesive community of women. Perhaps divided internally, but not externally… ready to continue our learning and participation in the unfolding narrative of the State of Israel.

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My Remarks from the Brooklyn Interfaith Pride Service

11 Jun

“Coming of Age” Brooklyn Pride  Celebrates 18 Years

My Remarks from the Brooklyn Interfaith Pride Service

June 9, 2014

 

Thank you to St. Anne and the Holy Trinity Church for hosting this year’s Interfaith Pride Service and thank you to the organizers of Brooklyn Pride. There is always an energizing feeling this time of year as the weather is warm, folks are out and about, and the sun is shining bright. And then there is the joy of seeing the city adorned with rainbow flags and all of the exciting events taking place.

 

Congratulations or as we say in the Jewish tradition, mazal tov to Brooklyn Pride, on 18 years of hard work and accomplishment.Over the past 18 years, not only has Brooklyn become one of the best places to live in New York City it has also become one of the best places to be out and proud. We celebrate this and offer much gratitude to all those who have worked so hard to make Brooklyn a safe and welcoming place for the LGBTQ community. Brooklyn pride has come of age and all this week we revel in that!

In preparing for this evening, I wondered, what does it mean to “come of age?” In the Jewish faith, coming of age happens at 13 years old. Our ancient rabbinic text tells us that, “at thirteen years of age, one begins to fulfill the mitzvoth.” (M.Avot 5:21). Meaning at age 13, one becomes fully obligated to observe all of the laws of the Torah. Since the Middle Ages, we have marked this moment with what is known as the Bar or Bat Mitzvah ceremony.  This rite of passage usually entails a worship service where a Jewish boy or girl 13 years of age, is called to the Torah for the very first time in his or her life. Typically he or she reads from the Torah and offers his or her own interpretation of the words. The ceremony is meant to be an entry point into being a Jewish adult, where one is now obligated to fulfill all of God’s commandments.

Today many Jewish 13 year olds are not necessarily concerned about the “obligation” part of becoming bar or bat mitzvah. Most are worried about, “doing well” during the ceremony, the party afterwards, and other typical 13 year old worries. When I was becoming Bat Mitzvah I remember being worried about my dress and what I looked like. I am not quite sure what I was thinking, but I had gotten a cream colored dress made out of taffeta…it felt like I was dressed to be a flower girl at a wedding. Needless to say becoming a full fledge adult member of the Jewish people was far from my mind.

Yet during the actual ceremony, I remember knowing that I was doing something very special. As I helped to lead the service, read from the Torah, give my “mini sermon,” and receive blessings, a part of me very much understood that in the eyes of Jewish tradition I was making a transition. I had prepared very hard for that day and as a result, a part of me felt like I had “come of age.” The obligations I felt centered around continuing my Jewish journey and not letting my bat mitzvah be an exit strategy from Jewish life.

What is our obligation as Brooklyn Pride comes of age? First, is for us to keep on being proud. The second is for us to be an example to other communities that it is not just enough to make sure our laws are fair and just. We must also make sure that our values are reflected in how we treat each other and how we advertise who we are.

Brooklyn is a borough that talks the talk and walks the walk.Businesses are gay friendly, our houses of worship are welcoming, and our schools profess a no tolerance when it comes to bullying.We are obligated to continue these trends and to be a role model to other communities as our country learns more and more about how to be accepting of the LGBTQ community.

Another part of “coming of age,” is the acknowledgement of accomplishment. Traditionally a Bar or Bat mitzvah has always been followed by a festive meal. While that can look very different today as some like to have elaborate parties. The festive meal is rooted in the idea of acknowledging and celebrating the accomplishment of coming of age. I remember thinking at my own Bat Mitzvah party, “am I really here?” “Have I really made it to this moment?” And the question I think I was really asking is, “Did all of the past really just happen?” “Am I really in this new reality?”

Similarly, when I turned 18 years old during the very first month of my freshmen year of college I remember asking the same questions. I really wanted to understand and feel present to where I was. On my own, no longer in my parents house, with new friends, and a new daily schedule…mixed with shock and awe of the moment of being an 18 year old. I wondered, “am I really here?” “Did the past 18 years really happen?” “Am I now really a young adult in college?”

I have these moments of question and awe when I think about how far we have come in our fight for LGTBQ equality. A year ago, I was sitting in SaraBeth’s on the Upper East Side eating breakfast with my sister and my Mom when my phone started chiming with Facebook messages and iMessages. The Supreme Court had embraced gay rights and struck down section 3 of the Defense of Marriage Act. Thus recognizing that all loving and committed same sex couples deserve the same rights under the law as straight couples. Overwhelmed with joy I started clapping, I wanted the whole restaurant to celebrate the moment with me. I spent the whole rest of the day in awe, beaming with excitement and pride that we had finally made it to this moment. And as more and more states this year have legalized same sex marriage I continue to sit with amazement. My partner and I have often remarked over this past year,“Wasn’t it just yesterday that Ellen came out of the closet?” “Have we really made it to this moment? Is coming out not as scary or taboo?”

In Judaism to mark a moment of “firsts” and of accomplishment we often recite the following blessing, Baruch ata adonaieloheinu melech haolam shechiyanu v’kiimanu, v’higianu lazman, hazeh. Blessed are you Adonai, our God, ruler of the universe who has helped us to reach this season. This blessing is a way of grounding us in the present. It reminds us that we have made it to this moment. Pride month has always been a way for us as an LGBTQ community to say,

“We are here.”

And this year here in Brooklyn not only are we acknowledging our presence, but we are also acknowledginghow far we have come.

The number 18, has a tremendous amount of significance in Judaism.In Hebrew, each letter has a numerical value. The number 10 is the letter yud. The number 8 is the letter chet. Chet-Yud spells the word Chai meaning “living” or “life.” As a result of this, “chai” (18) has become a good omen for life.

May this 18th year of Brooklyn Pride be an omen for much to live for in the many years to come. May it be a sign that next year we will have even more to celebrate for the LGBTQ community. May it be a sign that as we continue to live…equality will no longer be something we are amazed by because it will have be a natural  part of our reality.

And inequality will be a thing of the past.

Kein Y’hi ratzon.

Be this God’s will!

 

Tu B’Shevat Higiah (Tu B’Shevat is coming!)

16 Jan

Tu B’Shevat Higiah (Tu B’Shevat is coming!)

Tu B’Shevat is here and for the past few weeks in thinking about the arrival of Tu B’Shevat I did a lot of wrestling and a little kvetching in search for a connection to the themes of this holiday.

During much of Jewish history, the only observance of this day was by eating fruit associated with the land of Israel. I’m not a big dried fruit and nut fan, (which is just a minor complaint). What bothers me more is that I have often found that Tu B’Shevat often gets translated into a celebrate Israel day, which feels far from the intended agricultural meaning of the holiday. While I am happy to celebrate the wonders of the land of Israel, I do not believe that Tu B’Shevat is about celebrating Israel as a sovereign nation. This is not the case for all Tu B’Shevat celebrations.

Many American Jews have turned this holiday into a Jewish environmental day, where the rituals of the Tu B’Shevat seder are used to remind us of our connection to the earth and our responsibility for caring for our environment. We recall a particular midrash on this day that teaches, that we are suppose to be partners with G-d in caring for all of G-d’s creations.

Our Kabbalistic tradition provides us with a spiritual twist to the holiday.  The tradition teaches to look at trees as symbols of human beings as we read in the book of Deuteronomy, “For a human is like the tree of the field” (Deut 20:19). For the Kabbalists, eating a variety of fruits on Tu B’Shevat is a way of improving our spiritual selves. Each fruit that one should eat is connected to four levels of creation. Through consumption we symbolically go through each of these levels in hope of awakening and nourishing our spiritual selves.

After much wrestling with what this holiday means, this year I have found that Tu B’Shevat resonates with me through the words of the poet Marge Piercy in her poem entitled, “New Year For The Trees.” Piercy’s poem tells it like it is. She begins her poem with these words, “It is the New Year of the Trees, but here the ground is frozen…” Our Trees are snoozing while in other parts of the world things have already begun to bloom. As Piercy’s poem continues, she writes about what is blossoming here. She calls us to pay attention to what aspects of nature are active right now playing their parts in the cycle of our own seasons. As we trudge our way through the cold, Piercy and Tu B’Shevat can awaken us to appreciate all that must occur in our winter season now so that we can rejoice in the buds and sparkles of spring in just a few months time.

To read Marge Piercy’s poem click here:

http://poetrypill.blogspot.com/2011/01/new-year-for-trees.html

Wishing everyone a Happy Tu B’Shevat…eat some fruit, hug a tree, breathe in some fresh air and be thankful for the inter-connectedness of all living things!

Molly’s Top Ten Ways To Spice Up January and February

15 Jan

Molly’s Top Ten Ways To Spice Up January and February

Sometimes these next several weeks can feel like a drag…or they actually do drag on and on and on. And you think to yourself if I have to stuff myself into my big puffy winter coat one more time I am going to scream. Well, I’ve been thinking about some ways to keep the spirits up and the cider or rum (or both) spiced. Here’s my top ten ways to spice up January and February (and March…oy…let’s hope not too much of March):

1. Buy a new a pair of shoes. – Or really something new for your wardrobe to keep yourself interested in your winter clothes. Nothing says fun like a new pair of shoes with that same warm pair of pants you’ve been wearing every other day. Plus, it’s a great time to shop with so many end of season sales!

2. Go see a Broadway show. – I know it’s expensive, but it’s really worth the splurge and a fun and unique activity during the cold. If you don’t live in NY go see something that you don’t typically think to make plans to see… a comedy show, a concert…entertainment warms the heart and the soul!

3. Keep eating things that are peppermint. – I think it’s totally still acceptable to eat and drink peppermint things even though the holiday season is over. Having a sip of a peppermint mocha or hot chocolate will remind you of that joy that really was only a month ago and is quite a refreshing treat. We can keep ‘the most wonderful time of year’ going for a little longer!

4. Get a massage. – Treat your body to some relaxation, as your muscles are probably tight from the cold and from sitting in doors more often than when it’s nicer out.

5. Pick a day where you aren’t going to schlep anything. –Let’s face it, schlepping in the winter is way worse than schlepping in the spring, summer, or fall. It’s cold, it’s wet, it’s windy…you are in your big coat…who needs it?! Pick a day where you are just going to stuff your wallet, phone, and keys in your pocket and go hands free.  It’s so liberating not to schlep!

6. Watch movies that you didn’t catch last summer. – There’s nothing like watching movies geared toward warm weather to get you out of the cold winter mind set. Movies that I missed last summer that look fun and entertaining are: “The Way Way Back,” “The Heat,” (I’ve always had a soft spot for Sandra Bullock) and “The Internship.”

7. Make a fun winter play list. – I love celebrating whatever is happening in the moment…like wearing red on Valentine’s Day or dressing up in my best colonial clothes on Patriot’s Day in Boston, so of course a playlist celebrating some winter themed songs feels like a fun thing to do.  Here are some ones that came to my mind:

“Hazy Shade of Winter” both the Simon and Garfunkel version and the Bangles version

“February” by Dar Williams

“Urge for Going “by Joni Mitchell

“Cold As Ice” by Foreigner

8. Read one of Martin Luther King’s speeches. – Always inspiring and important to read his words.

9. Figure out your summer vacation plans. – Nothing like a few hours on trip advisor looking at beautiful places to keep your mind off the winter cold.

10. Make something from scratch. Great time for making something delicious from scratch…I’ve been thinking about sourdough bread or a lamb stew.

11. (One for good luck.) Volunteer – Take some time this winter to volunteer, our shelter at the Brooklyn Heights Synagogue can use people to sleepover and/or make dinner, I also recently saw a news story about this food pantry that seeks volunteers: http://www.nycommonpantry.org/volunteer.html.

Here’s to keeping things warm, spicy, and exciting all winter long!

Rabbi Molly G.

65 Things I Love About Israel

16 Apr

65 Things I Love About Israel

In Honor of Yom HaAtzmaut – Israel@65

(in no particular order, except I am counting up cause it’s the Omer.)

1. Galgalatz – there’s nothing like a radio station whose playlists sound like old mixes your camp friends made for you.

2. El Al – despite the screaming babies and the feeling that you are on a pick up truck bound for the shtetl, it’s all worth it as soon as you see that little white airplane on the map, bound for Tel Aviv.

3. Israeli Dancing – Even though you don’t land in Israel anymore to find people dancing the Hora on the runway (did that ever happen?) Our early Israeli pioneers brought us many a ways to put aside our rhythm challenges and slowly follow the person next to us in such classics as Mayim and Yoya.

4. Super Sol, Super Pharm, etc. – they are all just super, not for any particular reason, but just cause who doesn’t like saying “super” in an Israeli accent?

5. The kova tembel – it’s like peter pan meets a fly fisherman…you can crumple it up easily and shove it in your pocket, it provides shade from the hot Israeli sun, and it may look foolish, but it’s a Zionist classic!

6. Bedouin tea – is it the sugar? Or those small Middle Eastern tea glasses? Or the one mint leave? Who knows?….but, I love it.

7. Israelis feel like your mother – I once was laying out on the beach in Tel Aviv and the guy who charged us for our beach chairs told us we better put on sun tan lotion or we are going to burn. And maybe that day we got one of the worst sunburns ever…best to listen to your “mother” everyone once in awhile.

8. The presentation of condiments – Classic Israeli dining décor…all the little dishes Israeli restaurants use for salt, pepper, jams, you name the condiment and Israelis have a cute little dish for it.

9. Kan kan mayim – along the same lines Israelis love a real nice pitcher of water, but only in Israel can you get a salad in your pitcher of water. I love cucumber, lemon, mint water. So refreshing!

10. Heshbon b’vakashah – I don’t mind asking for the check. I think its actually kind of nice that it’s up to me to decide when I’m done dining as opposed to impatient American culture that asks me to eat and pay as fast as I can.

11. HaTikvah – I’m a sap. It gets me every time.

12. Hadag Nachash –  You can’t get much for free anymore in Israel, but for some reason I always feel like Hadag Nachash is doing a free concert somewhere. Although, sometimes I get nervous that American Jewish teens think Shirat HaSticker is right up there with such classsics as Shir HaShalom and Yerushalayim Shel Zahav.

13. The Israeli Scouts – These are really the happiest Israelis I have ever met.

14. Israeli breakfast – I essentially could eat Israeli breakfast everyday for years and not get sick of it. Eggs, salad, cheese…brilliant.

15. Israeli movies –  After most Israeli movies I feel like killing myself cause they are usually so depressing, but I still watch them anyway cause it’s Israel and it’s Jewish and it’s Hebrew and I am just happy to see Israeli culture on screen.

16.  Nana – How’d “mint” get such a cute name? This is an amazing herb that the rest of the world should learn to use as much as Israelis do!

17. Pargiyot – When this is translated on english menus in Israeli restaurants it is often written as “young or baby chicken.” It’s delicious, but I sort of wish they would just call it chicken.

18. Festivals – Israel knows how to put on a good festival from arts festivals to film festivals to the light festival in the old city. It’s always quirky and a lot of fun.

19. Choco – move over Nestles there is nothing like chocolate milk in Israel. It’s rich, but light all at the same time and it doesn’t taste like chemicals.

20. Culinary explorations with the sweet potato – I learned from Israel the wonderfulness of putting sweet potatoes on salads and in ravioli. I am sure they have done more and I hope to experience it!

21. Israeli Wineries – Move over Nappa Valley, Israel’s wine country (I actually feel like most of the country is wine country), is tasty, a great way to explore Israel, and  get to know Israelis outside of Jerusalem and Tel Aviv.

22. Matula – I know what you’re thinking…why on earth do I love Matula? Well, it holds a special place in my heart as it is where I spent a good several hours figuring out how to use my Orange cell phone I also am proud to say I have met the former mayor of Matula. Different trips, but both special times.

23.  Mitzpe Ramon –  Israel’s very own “grand canyon” only with alpacas instead of donkeys.

24. Sesame coated pretzels with hummus – an absolute love and Israeli snack classic.

25. Volcano Chocolate Cake –  on every desert menu in Israel and they all describe it as unique to that eating establishment.

26. Neve Tzedek –  Williamsburg meets a cute street in Europe. All I want to do is sip a coffee here and feel like an artist.

27. Nescafe – I mean it’s not the best cup of coffee ever, but it’s such a distinct taste and it is often the free cup of coffee you are offered whenever you are at a meeting or a conference in Israel.

28. The road to the Dead Sea – I love the moment when the scenery completely changes and one second you had the backdrop of Jerusalem and the next it is the desert.

29. The Elvis rest stop in between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem – Post cards of Elvis in some of Israel’s most famous tourist destinations. The King lives!

30. Café Afukh – I love that ordering a coffee in Israel automatically means a latte!

31. Nachalat Binyamin – This artists market never gets old. From great jewelry and judaica  to more kitchy stuff like Artik bottles turned into clocks or toilet paper holders from old Zionist posters.

32. Orna V’Ella – This Sheinken street restaurant has two amazing things…gay waiters and the best sweet potato pancakes (yeah there’s that sweet potato again). The pancakes come with this chive sour cream sauce that I essentially could bathe myself in…it is that good.

33. Ein Bokek – When I came to Israel in 2002 during the end of the second intifada Ein Bokek felt like the safest place in Israel. It will continue to always hold that place in my heart as sort of a refuge and is my favorite spot for taking a “dip” in the Dead Sea.

34. Israeli Supreme Court  – this is sort of an unknown tourist attraction, but it’s really cool to take a tour of the architecture that used the bible for inspiration and when I went to visit I was even allowed to sit in on a trial.

35. Abu Shukri – it’s worth getting lost in the old city in order to find this place for what I think is some of the best hummus and falafel in Israel.

36. Austrian Hospice – Nearby Abu Shukri is the Austrian Hospice, which I highly recommend you go into and head up to the roof. Bring up a Tuberg or a Goldstar and just stare out at the wonders of the Old City.

37. The Colony Hotel – This is what Israel was like during the British Mandate period. British tea here in the afternoon and the hope that Ari Ben Canaan could come by. #ExodustheMovie

38. Mount of Olives – You know that church with the golden tops…be the person who has actually seen it up close!

39. Temple Mount – This may be a controversial love, but I liked the idea of thinking about being closer to the holy of holies and seeing the old city from this point of view.

40. Kesem HaMaga – is a really wonderful spa in the North in a moshav called Beit Lehem Haglilit. There are hot tubs and bottles of Tishbi wine to relax with.

41. Decks Restaurant in Tiberias – I know Tiberias is not the most happening city in Israel. Although if you want to fall in-love with Tiberias I highly recommend the movie, “Ahuva Ahuvati.” Anyways, Decks is worth going to Tiberias for. Great meat and great fun.

42. Zichron Ya’akov – I love walking on the main drag of this town just south of Haifa. I have many art pieces hanging in my apartment from Zichron. Not to mention the Tishbi winery is there for good wine and food.

43. The beaches of Tel Aviv – Whether you are sitting in front of the Sheraton, the Hilton, or the Dan…the beaches of Tel Aviv are such a fun scene. The people watching is the best and who doesn’t love the sound of matkot (paddle ball) as you bask in the sun or go for a swim.

44. Amirim – this vegetarian yishuv is a wonderful place to get away in Israel. All vegetarian, beautiful views, hippies, and the best of Northern Israel.

45. The english edition of the Ha’aretz magazine on Friday – this is kind of like reading the Sunday times. The best sections are the features on a particular town and when they spotlight a particular family.

46. Tekkesim (ceremonies) –Israel is really good at creating meaningful ceremonies. Whether it’s for Yom HaShoah or Yom HaZikaron or for a Birthright event…Israel knows how to mark a moment real well.

47. Machaneh Yehudah – Beyond Marzipan and all the fruits and vegetables the shuk in Jerusalem has actually gotten quite schmancy and European. There are cute places to eat and drink coffee and I believe one of the best restaurants in Jerusalem called “Machaneh Yehudah” is located there.

48. Eilat – The Jersey Shore of the Middle East; trashy and no sales tax! It may be far, but it’s fun to say you’ve been in the Med and the Red!

49. Avatiach (watermelon) – in both its fresh form and in it’s popsicle form. Love, love, love.

50. Hapoel Yerushalayim – this one is dedicated to my friend and colleague Rabbi Jonathon Prosnit who helped me become a fan of Jerusalem’s basketball team. We went to see Hapoel play in Israel’s basketball finals. I have to say with all the cool lights and smoke it was almost like we were at a Phish show, well except for the basketball part.

51. Yom Kippur in Israel – life literally stops. In Jerusalem, folks are dressed all in white and when evening services are over everyone just gathers in the streets and greets each other. It is magical.

52.  The bike lanes in Tel Aviv – psyched that Israel has become so bike friendly and even though Israeli drivers have not gotten any better and I am petrified to be on a bike on the streets of Israel, I’m glad there are now dedicated bike lanes for bikers to stay as far away from cars as possible.

53. Israeli’s charm – sometimes this American Jew is put off by Israelis directness. And then sometimes this American Jew is completely turned on and wishes all Jews could just tell it like it is and be so good looking while doing it.

54. Intermissions during the movies – I love that there is a hafsakah (intermission) during movies in Israel. I don’t have to conserve how much I drink or run to the bathroom before the movie starts because there is a bathroom break built in to the film. Although it’s funny how abrupt it can be.

55. Pants that flare – the 70s will forever be “in” in Israel and I am glad that I can wear all my flare jeans proudly when I’m there.

56. The wide selection of kippot/yarmulkas – as a kippah wearer it’s great that there is literally millions of color combinations, sizes, and sport logo kippot available in the Jewish state.

57. Desert wind in the Negev – just feels like G-d or for the more technical Hebrew term ruach elohim.

58. Magnum ice cream bars – I always thought this was an Israeli company, but I guess it’s British or Dutch anyways, these things are a must next to a big bottle of Ein Gedi water after a long hike in any Israeli park or at a gas station on the side of the road.

59. Aroma – brilliant that they give you a little piece of chocolate with your coffee.

60. Oral hygiene – it’s so much cheaper in Israel to get your teeth cleaned. I do it every time I’m there! Is that weird?

61. French Fries/Tzips – there is something about eating french fries in Israel. They taste so good…whether its’ on the beach, at a bar, or in a falafel sandwich…it’s the best!

62. Hebrew – I love that there are far less words in the Hebrew language than in English and that therefore each Hebrew word is filled with so many meanings.

63. The quick reflexes of an Israeli– I once spilled hot water on myself at a friends in Tel Aviv and before I could feel the last drop spill he had torn off a leave from his aloe plant, cracked it open, and put it on my burn.

64. Directions in Israel – everything is just smola, smola, yamina, yamina, away…trouble is even when I have done that I don’t get where I’m going without asking three more times.  And when I ask each time the directions, funny enough they still remain the same – smola smola, yamina, yamina.

65. Israeli toilets -The half flush or full flush depending on the occasion – brilliant and so smart in how it conserves water. You can learn a lot about a country by its flush.

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