Tag: Spirituality

A Love Affair with the Holy Tongue

Today my kids join me as we choose a Hebrew script for the new Torah Congregation Or Ami will scribe next year. Picking a script is akin to picking a computer font: each scribe has a unique way of writing letters, designing the crowns atop them. Some more ancient, some more modern. Decorative or simple. Which is easier to read, which one is more pleasing to look at? Many people will offer input into the choice of the scrip, but there is a unique pleasure in sitting with my kinder (kids) – each of whom can read and speak modern Hebrew on various levels – as we harken back to ancient times to bring to life Holy Letters to life. It led me to recall my many encounters to with the Holy Tongue of our people:

I remember reading Hebrew from Torah when I became a Bar Mitzvah. Like all BM kids, I found it very, very cool to read without vowels, from our most sacred ritual object.

I remember sitting in my rabbi’s office – Gary Glickstein, then of Temple Sinai in Worcester, MA – secretly learning conversational Hebrew to prepare for an upcoming trip to Israel. I wanted to be able to speak the holy tongue like they did in the Israeli street.

I remember sitting in Ulpan – an intensive immersion Hebrew program – in Israel during my post-High School, pre-College summer on the Reform Leadership Machon. Daily, for three hours, we spoke only Hebrew, learning grammar and vocab. We read songs and poetry, stories and Eton l’Matcheeleem (a newspaper for beginners). It was frsutratingly slow, yet – in those in-between moments when I reflected upon it – so meaningful to learn to speak in the ancient language now reborn. I felt like I was walking (or talking) in the ways of Ben Yehuda (the early Israeli pioneer who, in his quest to revive the language, spoke only Hebrew to his family).

I remember making Rabbinical School in Jerusalem, learning Hebrew in its multiple forms – modern language, Biblical and Mishnaic varieties, Aramaic even (a Hebrew/Arabic mix, which was the street language and study language of Mishnah and Talmudic times). Whole swaths of the Jewish past came alive as I continued to crack open the basics of each Hebrew varietal.

These past years I have watched my children begin to call the Holy Tongue their own. The older two learned their Torah portion like you and I would practice reading an article in the newspaper. When my eldest and I together read (and translated) her parasha for the first time while I was running on the treadmill (since she already knew Hebrew, it wasn’t so difficult to guide her through this study). They work on their Jewish Day School Hebrew homework alongside Math, Science and English. Its just what we do. Hebrew is part of their/our lives.

Last January, during a sabbatical from the synagogue, I hired a Hebrew tutor- Belle Michael – to help me improve my conversational Hebrew. Paired with another course studying a Medieval Midrash in ancient Hebrew, I was immersing myself again. We meet regularly at local coffee shops – catch me Wednesday or Friday mornings at Corner Bakery or Barnes and Noble’s coffeeshop. Speaking about religion, life, children, politics – all in Hebrew. Sometimes I work through sermon ideas. Sometimes we read from an adult-level collection of modern Israeli anecdotes. I am so energized to spend one full hour rak b’ivrit – only in Hebrew.

How far have I come? I started reading my first modern Israeli novel in only Hebrew last night. I even smiled when my daughter – impressed as she was with my progress – noted that she read this book in ninth grade. Overnight, in my dreams, I recall thinking about the characters and ideas presented in the book. NOT sounding out the words. I didn’t struggle with the meaning. No, I was reading a modern novel in the language of our people. Truth be told, this version of the book was simplified somewhat for learners, nonetheless, I was reading a book in Hebrew. It felt like another momentous step on a long love affair with our Hebrew Holy Tongue.

I’m reading an Israeli novel. In The Holy Tongue, come alive again! How cool is that!

Counting 100 Blessings

As we sat around the Thanksgiving Dinner Table, taking stock of our blessings, sharing sadness at those who were not with us (either because they were at other Thanksgiving Tables or they had passed on from this life), many of us took comfort in these lean times with a bountiful meal. Our ancient rabbis teach us that we should count 100 blessings per day. For some the rabbis offered the standardized “Baruch Ata Adonai” formula. For others, they just expect us to open our eyes, get out of our heads, and open our hearts to the beauty on even the darkest of days. Was this just their way of pushing people to pray more? Or did they recognize an antidote to depression, coveting and anxiety? I am interested in how you count your blessings. I am interested too in the family Thanksgiving rituals you enjoy which help you take stock of your blessings. Please scroll down to the comments box below to be part of the conversation. Don’t forget to give your name (only if you are comfortable).

A Rabbi’s Dream: Attending Services Cuts Risk of Death

I’m bracing now for a flood of new worshipers…

JTA reports: Study: Attending services cuts women’s death risk (November 25, 2008)

Regular attendance at religious services reduces the risk of death for women by 20 percent, according to a new study. The study by researchers at Yeshiva University and its Albert Einstein College of Medicine was published Nov. 17 in the Psychology and Health journal. The researchers evaluated the religious practices of 92,395 women aged 50 to 79 participating in the Women’s Health Initiative, a national, long-term study aimed at addressing women’s health issues and funded by the National Institutes of Health. Those who said they attended religious services at least once a week showed a 20 percent mortality risk reduction compared with those not attending services at all. The study did not attempt to measure spirituality; its authors stress that it examined self-reported measures of religiosity. The study adjusted for the women’s participation in organizations and group activities that promote a strong social life and enjoyable routines, behaviors known to lead to overall wellness. “Interestingly, the protection against mortality provided by religion cannot be entirely explained by expected factors that include enhanced social support of friends or family, lifestyle choices and reduced smoking and alcohol consumption,” said Dr. Eliezer Schnall, the lead author of the study. “There is something here that we don’t quite understand. It is always possible that some unknown or unmeasured factors confounded these results.”

Thanksgiving: A Very Jewish Non-Jewish Holiday

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays. It is one of the few holidays that combine three of my favorite things: great food, family and NO responsibilities for me as rabbi. It is also so familiar, so Jewish. Some thought-provoking scholarship suggests that Thanksgiving is actually an interpretation of our Jewish holy day Sukkot, the fall festival designated to thank God for the bountiful harvest. As American Jews, we should revel in celebration of this American holiday, and infuse it with ahavah (love), ruchaniut (spirituality), tzedakah (giving). Thanking God, after all, is a value we all share. So enjoy these blessings, Thanksgiving Haggadot, and ideas for a meaningful Thanksgiving. Click here to read my complete eLearning Newsletter on Thanksgiving.

To Say Before the Meal: A Prayer for Thanksgiving
As we gather around a table, family and friends, to enjoy the bounty of this Thanksgiving meal, we pause to offer thanks for the blessings we have received. (We read together)

For the expanding grandeur of Creation,
worlds known and unknown, galaxies beyond galaxies,
filling us with awe and challenging our imaginations,
we gratefully give thanks to You
Modim anachnu lach מוֹדִים אֲנַחְנוּ לָךְ

For this fragile planet earth, its times and tides,
its sunsets and seasons,
Modim anachnu lach מוֹדִים אֲנַחְנוּ לָךְ

For the joy of human life, its wonders and surprises,
its hopes and achievements,
Modim anachnu lach מוֹדִים אֲנַחְנוּ לָךְ

For human community, our common past and future hope,
our oneness transcending all separation, our capacity to work
for peace and justice in the midst of hostility and oppression,
Modim anachnu lach מוֹדִים אֲנַחְנוּ לָךְ

For high hopes and noble causes, for faith without fanaticism,
for understanding of views not shared,
Modim anachnu lach מוֹדִים אֲנַחְנוּ לָךְ

For all who have labored and suffered for a fairer world,
who have lived so that others might live in dignity and freedom,
Modim anachnu lach מוֹדִים אֲנַחְנוּ לָךְ

For human liberties and sacred rites:
for opportunities to change and grow, to affirm and choose,
Modim anachnu lach מוֹדִים אֲנַחְנוּ לָךְ

We pray that we may live not by our fears but by our hopes,
Not only by our words but by our deeds.

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ייְָ, הַטּוֹב שִׁמְךָ וּלְךָ נָאֶה לְהוֹדוֹת.
Baruch Atah, Adonai, ha’tov shimcha ul’cha na’eh l’hodot
Praised are You, Adonai, Your Name is Goodness, and You are worthy of thanksgiving.

[Click here for other Thanksgiving Table prayer options.]

Beyond Eating: Investing Thanksgiving with Meaning
America’s Table: A Thanksgiving Haggadah. American Jewish Committee writes: In a world too often threatened by differences, Thanksgiving is a day to appreciate how our various backgrounds make America vibrant, while our democratic values unite us and keep America strong. America’s Table: A Thanksgiving Reader tells this story and helps us express gratitude for being part of it. Download AJC’s Thanksgiving Haggadah.

Rabbi Paul Kipnes’ Making Thanksgiving Spiritually Meaningful: 10 Ideas for Your Thanksgiving Table. Rabbi Kipnes writes: From blessings, to Shehecheyanu moments, to yahrzeit candles to learning, Thanksgiving can be a time of Jewish spiritual inspiration. Download Rabbi Kipnes’ Thanksgiving 10 Thanksgiving Ideas.

Rabbi Phyllis Sommers’ Thanksgiving Seder for Families with Young Children. Much like Passover, this is a holiday whose primary ritual centers on a meal. So here’s a short Haggadah for the Thanksgiving meal. Download Thanksgiving Seder.

Rabbi Paul Kipnes’ Blessings for Your Thanksgiving Table. Words to say before you dig into dinner. Download Rabbi Kipnes’ Blessings.
Precious Preschool People: Our Union for Reform Judaism offers Thanksgiving ideas for Precious Little People, explaining: For the Jewish community, Thanksgiving offers a special opportunity to be grateful not only for the bounties and comforts of our lives but especially for the religious freedom we have found in the United States of America. Download URJ’s Thanksgiving Holiday Happenings 2008 and URJ’s Thanksgiving Holiday Happenings 2007.

Social Justice Guide for National Holidays: Our Religious Action Center for Reform Judaism a guide which explores Jewish and Socially Just celebrations of Thanksgiving, as well as Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day. It also includes a section on the Super Bowl, for good measure. Download RAC’s Social Justice Guide for National Holidays.

Click here to read the complete eLearning with Rabbi Kipnes on Making Thanksgiving Meaningful.

Rebecca’s Pregnancy Problems: Finding a Way Through the Pain

As we read in the Torah (Toledot, Genesis 25) about Rebecca’s pregnancy problems and the pain it brings to her life, I recall a sermon I gave during one of my first years as a rabbi. Talking about infertility brought forth a whole series of emotions: those who were dealing with it and were pleased to have their rabbi recognize it; those dealing with it who we pained to have to face their pain; those with kids who did not understand what was the big deal; those who thought the issue had no place as discussion on the High Holy Days.

I learned a great deal from that sermon: about contextualizing such issues, particularly about those that touch only a specific group – so that larger messages of healing and caring come through. Nonetheless, I remain aware that infertility is one of the most painful of issues we face.

Rabbi Natan Fenner, of the Bay Area Jewish Healing Center, offers this touching drash on Rebecca’s infertility this week’s parasha:

In the unfolding narrative of the first Israelite family, Rebecca and Isaac experience a period of infertility, followed by a difficult pregnancy. In the depths of her pain and fear, Rebecca cries out, voicing profound uncertainty and existential doubt (see Genesis 25:22). She is given to understand that she is carrying twins with vastly different personalities, struggling even in her womb and destined to part ways from their earliest days. Thus is the stage set for a life of conflict and irreconcilable differences between sons Jacob and Esau, which Rebecca will witness and try to manage as a mother.

Where can one turn when in the midst of overwhelming or long-term suffering? When facing a persistent family conflict; a chronic and painful condition; a seemingly bottomless or endless personal trial? Reflect on your experience, or with a conversation partner: In such circumstances, when the pull toward despair may be strong, what allows us to tolerate the pain and fear, to endure with some sense of hope?

Rebecca’s prayers to God are answered not with an immediate end to the painful experiences of her pregnancy, but she emerges with some clarity about what is happening (she is carrying twins); with the knowledge that some element of her suffering (the intense internal ferment preceding the boys’ birth) is finite; and with the assurance that God is aware of her condition and is in some way accompanying her in this journey (in the promise of the “two nations” that would ultimately flourish from out of her womb). While the text does not state it explicitly, we are left to infer that Rebecca finds a renewed sense of purpose and determination both during the remainder of her pregnancy and beyond.

Whether we cry out in the depths of our hearts, to God, to a trusted confidante, or out into the Universe, we are following in Rebecca’s footsteps. And when we have understanding companionship in response, we may be soothed, or strengthened, even as our underlying condition remains deeply challenging. Realizing that we are in motion, if only in our
yearning or in the expressions of our grief, can counterbalance a sense of stagnation or being stuck in an interminable state. Similarly, having a sense of direction for “afterward”, or having some confidence that aspects of our situation will eventually improve—even having the mental and spiritual space to allow for that possibility—can similarly bolster us as we “hang in there”.

Take note also: in response to the spiritual dimension of Rebecca’s plea for help and understanding, she connects with a new contextual frame and a part of life that transcends this moment of anguish. Like Hagar and Sarah before her, and like countless generations that follow, Rebecca finds strength in a vision of her place in the flow of life as she reconnects with the Divine and with a larger future.

May we, too, in our times of deepest fear and existential questioning, our wearying seasons of bleak horizons, our moments without apparent comfort, find ways to cry out and to direct our pleas where there might be a compassionate ear, an understanding heart, a spiritual perspective, or a Divine embrace; and may all who wrestle with despair receive the strength and support to endure and reach a place of greater fullness and blessing.

A Thanksgiving Seder for Families with Small Children

One of my favorite bloggers, Ima On (and off) the Bimah, offers this posting for Thanksgiving:

A few years ago, our family started to do a Thanksgiving Seder, a retake on the Passover Seder. Much like Passover, this is a holiday whose primary ritual centers on a meal. There isn’t, however, a set liturgy for the Thanksgiving meal…and that’s where I come in. I’ve made some changes and additions to the Seder my family has used for a number of years. My own kids are, as you know, pretty young, so I’ve decided to create 2 different documents. The first is here today, for your viewing and downloading pleasure, for families with small children. Hopefully I will have the second soon, with more readings and opportunities for discussion with a more mature crowd.

Take a look at her Thanksgiving Seder (or Haggadah) here.

Check back in later for my eLearning Newsletter on Making Thanksgiving Meaningful.

Recovering Addicts are Our Teachers

Choose Life That You Should Live:

Recovering Addicts are Our Teachers

By Lydia Bloom Medwin
Former Rabbinic/Education Intern (pictured at left)
Congregation Or Ami, Calabasas, CA

“Acquire for yourself a teacher…” This passage from the Mishnah encourages us to seek out those more knowledgeable than ourselves and to become their students. After meeting with four Or Ami congregants, each recovering from alcoholism or an addiction in one form or another, I have found for myself some wonderful teachers.

During the past month, I met with three alcoholics or addicts and one spouse of an addict. Each had a unique history with their own addiction – the first time she drank, the transformation of his alcoholism into a heroine addiction, her sifting through the credit card bills to find her husband’s unknown charges – yet all four had so much in common. The most important commonality emerged in discussions around a twelve-step program. Each day they surrender their lives and their will to God – their lives depend on it.

My teachers are some of the most spiritually centered people that I have ever met. They have all developed close relationships with God, however they define their Higher Power. They know that when the world becomes overwhelming or when something makes them fuming mad, there is only one solution: give it over to God. These moments of prayer and meditation, both spontaneously spoken and ritually observed, anchor them in the truth on which their lives depend. This truth is comprised of the first three steps in a twelve-step program: 1. I can’t do it. 2. God can. 3. I think I’ll let Him.

But these are only the first few steps on the journey toward recovery. Even in recovery, the addict (and even the spouse of an addict) can find that he or she becomes consumed by the fear and pain that pushed him or her towards addiction in the first place. They are forced to learn completely new ways of dealing with their problems, because they cannot turn to the bottle or the pills or whatever addiction used to dull their pain. They know that if they ignore these fears, the disease of addiction can progress on. If the alcoholic stops drinking but does not deal with his or her fears, the addiction continues to intensify. When the addict returns to the addictive substance, the abuse of that substance is far more serious, as if they had been drinking and getting progressively worse during the entire period of sobriety. Talking about their fear and pain is just as much a part of recovery as abstaining from the substance itself.

My teachers taught me that they can only find the power to face their fears by constantly refocusing on “giving over one’s problems to God.” This is the only path that can lead to recovery and healing. I was amazed by the incredible strength they evidenced as they moved from addiction to recovery. Imagine truly believing that “I will not survive unless I continually remind myself that I must give my life over to God.” Would you have the strength to surrender to your Higher Power? But it is only this surrender that helps the alcoholic/addict choose to abstain from using. In the Torah, we are commanded to choose life that we may live. An alcoholic actually chooses life every day.

“Only a drunk can help another drunk.” This quote from the movie The Story of Bill W. completely baffled me when I first heard it. How could two people with such a disease help one another get sober? What does this mean for me, a rabbinic/education intern who wanted to be of service to the recovering alcoholics in our congregation? Once we realize that the only way to stop the addictive behavior is to continually find fellowship with others who understand, we can embrace the truth: No one can understand the internal life of an alcoholic like another alcoholic. No matter how much the person’s loved ones care and want to help, only a community of people who have the same disease can speak the language with and feel the empathy for the alcoholic or addicted person.

It was this seemingly simple discovery that led Bill Wilson, an alcoholic himself, to develop the first twelve-step program, a system of recovery, lifetime support, and anonymity for people with addictions of all kinds. It remains the only known way of helping people who struggle with addiction. Presently, there are over two thousand Alcoholics Anonymous and other addiction recovery meetings each week in the greater Los Angeles area, including many in the West San Fernando and Conejo Valleys. AA has a rich, proud, and private history; its members are protective of their meetings and the organization because of its incredible healing power in their lives.

As a rabbinic intern, I thought that through these discussions, I would be able to better to talk to the Jewish alcoholics or addicts that exist in every Jewish community. I learned instead that it was my role to listen: to their stories of pain, of hitting rock bottom, of survival. Then it was my responsibility to educate others about the disease of addiction and to the program of recovery, about the ones who don’t make it and the ones who do, and the ones who thrive despite all of the odds against them. I would like to thank those people who shared their experiences and their lives so openly with me for the sake of our communal learning. I deeply respect their incredible journeys. It also means a lot to me on a professional level, as their stories will certainly inform my rabbinate for years to come. You are four really great teachers. One of you said to me, “In seeking God, I find relief.” I pray that you all find many moments of relief.

We can all learn from the addicts in our lives and in our community. They have so much to teach us in terms of hope, personal change, strength, and spirituality. Or Ami is a place that strives to better understand addiction and the Twelve Step program. We are a place to come for understanding, acceptance, and spiritual support. We welcome all those struggling with these issues to contact Rabbi Paul Kipnes (rabbipaul@orami.org) or Rabbinic Intern Sara Mason-Barkin (Sara@orami.org) for support or Jewish resources regarding addiction and recovery.

Eulogizing a Woman who Saved our People

This week we eulogize our matriarch Sarah. In this week’s Torah portion (Genesis 23:1ff), called Chaye Sarah (the life of Sarah), we read about the death of Sarah at 127 years old. Who was this woman who, as we say at every Jewish wedding, “helped build up the household of Israel”? Who was this partner with Abraham, about whom the Zohar (Jewish mystical text) says that Sarah’s agreement to go on the journey of Lech Lecha was necessary before Abraham could venture forth?

For her eulogy, let me read a passage from a page from Sarah’s (imagined) diary. Here she reflects back on what really happened behind the scenes during the incident known as the Akedah (the binding of Isaac):

I was still awake, lying quietly in our tent. Long before, Abraham had fallen asleep beside me. Ah, a moment of quiet amidst the frenetic activity of desert life. My mind began drifting, back to my favorite recollection, that of a fateful day some years back… I remembered the three men who had come to announce my imminent pregnancy with Isaac. Pregnant, after so many years? I actually laughed at them in disbelief until God reassured me it was true. God couldn’t have given me any greater happiness than all I have gleaned from my Isaac.

And then it happened. Abraham began stirring, and with a sudden jerk, he sat up and called out, “Hineni, Here I am.” He was talking to God. He walked out to stand beneath the stars near the camp’s altar. So I leaned forward trying to share in this latest revelation, as I had with so many others.

At first what I heard made little sense. Though I could only hear Abraham’s responses, I understood that God requested something involving our son Isaac. Abraham’s usually strong, even voice was filled with shock, then anger, and finally acceptance. I was intrigued, and sat silently to hear more.

I started listening more intently. For a moment I thought I heard the word “sacrifice,” but I had to be mistaken. As Abraham spoke again, his words came as a choking sob from deep within his throat. My body started to shake with horror. This was a nightmare! The Eternal One could not have requested that my husband sacrifice our only son Isaac. I was simultaneously incensed and terrified. God had given us Isaac. Why would God take this special gift from me now? And without even speaking to me directly! No, I must have misunderstood.

I pretended to be asleep as my husband returned to the tent. Through cracked eyelids, I watched him. I had never seen him so overcome with sadness, not even when we were commanded to leave the land where we were born, or on that awful day Sodom was destroyed. But I could see in his face that I had not been mistaken. He truly believed that God wanted him to sacrifice our son.

I wanted to hold Abraham in my arms, to cry with him, to help him rethink what God had said, to convince him to speak to God, but his eyes were distant and I was scared. I had been excluded from hearing God’s voice and for the first time I felt powerless to involve myself in what had passed between Abraham and God. For a moment I wondered if this strange command was my punishment. Had I done something so evil to deserve the loss of my only son? One thing I knew. I would give up my life before I would let Isaac be harmed.

Lying in the dark, I was so tied up in knots that I could not cry. Abraham did not even try to wake me. Instead he had fallen into a restless sleep, as if struggling with an unseen demon. I could not bear to lie beside him any longer. I needed to escape. I needed to think. I could not believe that this God of goodness who created the world and who had given us Isaac would now take him away.

I started walking aimlessly, until I approached the camp’s altar where Abraham’s special knife leaned against one side. I began to tremble as I thought of the knife sliding against Isaac’s throat. I remembered all the sacrifices I had witnessed over the years, sacrifices that served as a sign of our commitment to and appreciation for God’s protection and guidance. Could God be looking for that kind of sign? Why would God suddenly seek reassurance of our commitment? Why now, and why involve Isaac? All these questions suddenly merged into one: if Abraham was so committed to obeying God’s command, did my concern matter at all?

I asked myself, “What did God expect of us?” I remembered God’s promise that our offspring would inherit this land and become a great nation. It had been many years since I thought about that promise. I had always assumed that Isaac and his future bride would follow in our footsteps as the heads of tribe, but I never considered just how he would inherit our commitment to serving God. Abraham and I were not getting any younger. If we were to pass on the Covenant to our son, it would have to be soon. Perhaps God’s discussion with Abraham was the sign that the time had arrived.

My heart began to pound. The future of our values depended upon our actions now. What better way for us to pass on that commitment than for the three of us to journey together, to meet God on a mountaintop, and to begin the transition of leadership to the next generation! God commanded a sacrifice so that Abraham and I could prepare ourselves to relinquish the leadership of the people, and Isaac could begin to assume this sacred duty. Abraham misunderstood God’s message. God did not want Isaac as a sacrifice. A sacrifice of the finest of our flocks was called for, not of our children. I now knew what I had to do. I had to prevent a nonsensical death, and ensure the perpetuation of our covenant with God.

I now understood that God wanted me to follow Abraham and Isaac to help them. Yet I wanted to allow Abraham the chance to figure out God’s intentions for himself. So I went back to bed and waited patiently for morning.

Abraham got up early, gathered his supplies, and announced that he was going off with Isaac. He did not explain why. As soon as he was out of sight, I prepared for my own journey. With my own supplies, I also took along the finest ram in camp. I was careful to stay out of sight on the opposite the side of the mountains. On the third day, before they woke up, I knew my time had come. I hiked up the side of the mountain, ram in tow. When I could no longer catch my breath, I released the ram and shooed it up the slope. As I watched it run up to the heights where I knew Abraham and Isaac would find it, I relaxed. Content at having ensured the survival of our people, I lay down in the grass and drifted into a peaceful sleep.

[Adapted by Rabbi Paul Kipnes and Michelle November. This midrash was adapted from a modern midrash written by Faith Rogow, which appears in Taking the Fruit, Modern Women’s Tales of the Bible (San Diego: Woman’s Institute for Continuing Jewish Education, pp. 51-56). It answers two questions: Where was Sarah during the Akedah? AND Where did the ram – sacrificed in Isaac’s place – come from?

An Ethical Will for My Children

Some years ago, I wrote this ethical will for my children. With a few adjustments, I shared it with the congregation as a High Holy Day sermon. I still stand by these values.

As Congregation Or Ami’s New Dimensions (activities for adults only) prepares for a seminar on Writing an Ethical Will (Monday, November 17, 2008 at , I went back to my Ethical Will to see what I wrote. I still like it:

On Aaron’s Advice: An Ethical Will for My Children
Rabbi Paul J. Kipnes, Congregation Or Ami, Calabasas, CA
Rosh Hashana 5763 / September 2002

When Becky asked me to officiate at a minyan after her father Aaron’s funeral, I stepped forward without question. Friends help friends. It was only as I stood there, for two nights, before our extended group of friends, before Becky, that I realized the daunting task of trying to find words of wisdom to comfort someone whom I considered more a family member than a friend. Doctors do not operate on their loved ones; rabbis probably should not officiate for family members either. It is just too close.

But there we were. We prayed the prayers, moving forward without comment. Becky seemed to take strength from the regularity of the ritual and comfort from the companionship of the community surrounding her. I worried about what to say to bring uplift to her heart, solace to her soul. I was saved, however, by none other than Aaron himself – yes, the deceased. Before heart surgery ten years earlier, being well aware that “you can never be sure when the end will come,” Aaron, wrote an ethical will to make sure that his ideals would survive. A short, two-page letter to his loved ones, the ethical will bequeaths to them the values he holds most dear. As the letter was read aloud, Aaron himself comforted his daughter and his grandchildren, and led us all with wisdom and humility to a meaningful moment of kedusha, of holiness.

A few weeks later, emboldened by Aaron’s example, I sat down to write. You don’t need 10 years as a rabbi officiating at funerals to know that all it takes is some freak accident, unexpected disease or, however unlikely, some terrorist action to end your life prematurely. So I accepted for myself Aaron’s implicit invitation to impart words of comfort and wisdom to those who would survive me. I will share now but a few of the words I have written down in an ethical will to my family. Should I live to watch my three children mature, make their way in the world, and create their own lives and family, I hope to have passed on these values both in name and by example. But if not, God-forbid, I want them, and you, to know what is in my heart as you all continue to live your lives. With the High Holy Days upon us, this just might be the most important sermon I write this year.

To My Beloved Children:

We live in a world in which celebrity seems more important than what good you have accomplished. Where America’s leading businesses and business watchdogs lied to thousands of investors who counted on their honesty to plan for their future. … Where anti-Semitism – unadulterated hate – has raised its head in Europe, endangering our people yet again. … Where the bravado, self-interest and violence of the Palestinian leadership destroyed our realistic heartfelt offers to end the Mideast conflict. These are frightening times for our people, for all people.

With so many spurious values abound, I find myself contemplating the awesome responsibility we have to guide you in life. As you navigate the uncharted waters of life, I wonder, have we filled your life raft with a strong enough set of ethics and ideals to keep your heads above the raging waters?

The key, it seems, is to remember that you have all you need to bring goodness to yourself and into the world. Do not allow yourself to be limited by others, whether because of your gender… or your religion, race, orientation or age. These provide you with unique tools with which to navigate our world. You can do anything you put your mind to, anything you truly wish to accomplish. By the way, that is the central lesson of the modern Bar and Bat Mitzvah. Having completed an arduous, complex task, you will have learned that nothing is too difficult or beyond your reach.

When each of you was born, we celebrated with a Jewish ceremony. Surrounded by family and friends, and delicious desserts baked by PaPa and LaLa, we shepped nachas, shared the joy. At its most basic level, these ceremonies proclaimed that you were Jews and that we intended to bring you up as Jews. More significantly, it taught, even before you could understand it, that you are inheritors of a sacred tradition. As you grow, immerse yourself in our Jewish values and become our ideal, an Or LaGoyim, a light unto the nations.

My children, you are part of Am bachor, a chosen people. Not necessarily better than others. Merely chosen for a special responsibility. You are chosen to receive Torah values and effectuate them in our world. To help you understand this, we have prioritized our lives around enabling you to gain a strong Jewish education, learning the teachings of Torah. Torah encompasses all that is good and worthy. Hafach ba v’hafach ba d’chula ba – turn it and turn it, everything is in Torah: our stories and traditions, rituals and ceremonies, ethics and values. Taken together, Torah goads us into making our special contribution to this world.

Of course, the pursuit of wisdom begins with Torah, but should not conclude with Jewish learning alone (although your ability to evaluate the world will be severely limited without it). As Am hasefer, the People of the Book, we value secular scholarship too, for its own sake and as the key to our survival. Complete your studies with vigor; pursue college and advance degrees thereafter. Jewish knowledge and secular studies, combine these and you will be able to more easily pursue your dreams. It is a marriage made in heaven.

Speaking of marriage, back in ancient days, I would have had the privilege of picking out your spouse. Today, thankfully, you choose your own. Allow me to share with you what I have learned about love and marriage. Look not to movies or Madison Avenue advertisements for guidance in your search for a soul mate. Look, rather, for a partner who loves you, who helps you realize your fullest potential, with whom you feel enabled to expand your horizons. And find someone who has a commitment to Jewish life. With them you will share a heritage, and an ethical and spiritual encoding that was programmed into you at the moment of conception, nourished within you from the time you nursed at your mother’s breast. With such a partner, your life will be easier and, I believe, fuller. Yet whomever you choose, Jew or non-Jew, a male or a female, know that we will love you and your partner, and will try to support the life you build together.

I have learned that marriage takes as much if not more work than whatever you get paid to do, but the rewards of these efforts far exceed the paycheck you bring home. Continue to date your partner throughout your life. Make your time with him or her a priority, even when you have children, and share the responsibilities equally. That sage Dear Abby wrote, infatuation is to marriage like fireworks are to fireflies. Though infatuation (even lust) will light up your skies with an overwhelming display of light and noise, a mature, strong marriage – like a firefly – will provide you with a beacon of light to guide you home after a long lonely day in the world. And that, the beacon of light shining forth from my wife’s love, is what keeps me sane in our crazy world.

Mishpacha, your family needs to be a high priority. Mom and I made decisions about where we wanted to live based on our desire to raise you in proximity to your grandparents. Yes, family has the ability to push your buttons like no other, but they also have the ability to accept you and love you unconditionally. Find a way to love your family and they will sustain you through the most challenging of times. Let yourself be separated from them when you are adults, and the tragedy of separation will be passed on as a model for your children as they develop their familial relationships. So call your adult siblings regularly and your parents even more. Throughout your life, make Shalom Bayit, peace in the home, one of your goals, and you will find unparalleled strength as you to venture out into the world.

About work, I have learned this: Find a career path that will allow you to bring goodness into our world. Making money for money’s sake, or even just to support your family, will slowly consume your soul. At the end of the day, you will not sustain yourself without seeking a greater good because the sole pursuit of money and material things is unending. And by the way, don’t try to keep up with the Jones’, because you can never keep up with the Jones’, because there will always be more Jones’ who always will have more.

Be ethical in all that you do – especially at work. Not because otherwise you will get caught – which ultimately you will. Rather, be ethical because it is the right thing to do. Always remember that Hebrew National hotdog commercial. It says it all. You are “responsible to a Higher Authority.”

As you prioritize your time, seek out a synagogue that speaks to your heart. Help it fulfill its mission to educate Jews and to respond Henaynu, that we are here to support each other. Attend services frequently. They will heal and uplift your soul in ways that you will recognize only after you have expended the energy to show up. Al tifros min hatzibur, do not separate yourself from the community, since within community, can we best feel God’s loving Presence.

Pray for the peace of Jerusalem. Sha’alu Shalom Lirushalayim. Nowhere is the need for shalom more clear and yet often more difficult than in relationship with the State of Israel. But Kol yisrael areivim zeh bazeh – all Jews are responsible for each other. As you know, I am drawn to Israel even now, when most people are staying away. I have traveled there in both good and in difficult times. And I will again. Ahavat Yisrael, the love of Israel that courses through my veins, calls me to stand on her soil and to speak with her people, even at times that others deem dangerous. Just as I cannot imagine a world without you, neither can I imagine a world without Israel. As such, we all must wrap our arms around this tired little nation, comfort and support her, and tell her that Od yavo shalom, peace one day will come.

We can discern in our hearts a special love for Israel as we learn about her past and her present and as we visit her unique, precious places. As this love and connection grows – even before it fully matures – we need to support Israel with our time, energy and money; and dedicate ourselves to her wellbeing b’chol l’vavcha uv’chol nafshecha uv’chol m’odecha – with all our heart, soul and might. That too is part of the purpose for which God placed us on this earth.

You know that I have been studying Talmud with my colleagues. I recently studied the Talmud’s short list of six responsibilities of a parent to his or her children. Curiously, number six was “teach your children to swim.” Why swimming of all things? Did the rabbis witness their own set of tragedies and understand the simplicity of prevention? I wonder if they recognized the poignant symbolism inherent in swimming: that on occasion we all will be thrown into waters over our heads and we need the skills to keep ourselves afloat. In teaching you to swim, we endeavor to provide instruction in more than just the physical act of treading water and self-propulsion. We confirm that within each of us are many diverse tools – physical, emotional, spiritual – to help us navigate the currents of life. We have taught you the power of seeking out others for help and the wisdom of listening closely to their advice and counsel. I hope we have taught you that turning to others for support – friends and school counselors, rabbis and therapists – is the mark of courage and strength, not of weakness or shame. So seek out help when you need it.

Life, you may be learning, is filled with mysteries. The greatest perhaps is why God placed us upon this earth. Recently, I have discovered a hint of that ultimate purpose. Embedded in Torah, in a portion we read every Yom Kippur, are the words: Kedoshim tihiyu ki kadosh Ani Adonai Eloheichem – you are holy because I, the Eternal your God am holy. Life, I believe, is supposed to be about Kedusha, holiness, about those significant yet indescribable moments of inspirational uplift that result from right-minded actions and intentions. Holiness, like spirituality, is not just a state of being; it is a manner of acting within the world by being compassionate, pursuing justice and seeking truth. When we do this right, our actions reflect shutaf Adonai, a partnership with God.

Well, these are the values I cherish. Values which carried me through the dark days of years gone by. I hope they carry you through too. I wrote these down, on Aaron’s advice, as a way to guide and comfort you in the years ahead. Perhaps one day soon you too will follow Aaron’s example and write down your ethical will. It truly is a holy task.

For now, mine kinderlach – my children and the children of my Torah teaching – honor my memory, and your family’s memory, and the tradition passed down midor lador, from generation to generation since the time of Moses, by being holy, by being kadosh. I know you are… May you know you are…

I love you. Love, Daddy.

Rabbi Sharon Brous on Religulous: “Defying Despair: Why I Believe”

Have you seen the movie Religulous by Bill Maher? My colleague Rabbi Sharon Brous of Ikar (a social activist, highly spiritual, conservative-ish synagogue community) responded to Maher’s movie on Kol Nidre. She said:

I recently heard Bill Maher speak about his new film, Religulous (a made up word that combines religion and ridiculous), which offers a blistering attack on religion and the religious life. He argues that faith necessarily means a lack of critical thinking, that “to be religious at all is to be an extremist, [because] it is to be extremely irrational.” I understand his critique of religion. I understand the problems inherent in the notion of an all-powerful God in a world of brokenness and pain, of poverty and disease. I understand the damage that religious faith has wrought, the bigotry, close-mindedness and narrowness that is so closely identified with religious communities and ideology. I understand why smart, discerning people might reject religion so fiercely.

Later Rabbi Brous, acknowledging that there were plenty who misused religion for their own abusive purposes, says, nevertheless:

So here’s what I — a person of faith, an Exodus Jew — say to Bill Maher: Guess what? The God you mock is not my God. My God does not tell people to blow up buildings, oppress women, or even build gas pipelines. My God tells us to treat all people with dignity and love. My God does not advocate for the war in Iraq, or any other brutal conflict that separates people from their loved ones and treats human beings like “collateral damage.” No, the God I love demands that we pursue every possible path toward peace. My God does not make children sick, but gives them and their parents comfort and strength as they struggle with illness. Belief in my God does not free human beings to defer responsibility, it demands of us that we take responsibility. As the great Rev. William Sloane Coffin:

“It’s clear to me… that almost every square inch of the Earth’s surface is soaked with the tears and blood of the innocent, [but] it is not God’s doing. It’s our doing. That’s human malpractice. Don’t chalk it up to God. Every time people… lift their eyes to heaven and say, ‘God, how could you let this happen?’ it’s well to remember that exactly at that moment God is asking exactly the same question of us: ‘How could you let this happen?’ So [we] have to take responsibility.”

That most of the terrible heartache in the world is perpetrated by people — and often people who cloak themselves in religion — is a great travesty and a bruise on our shared humanity. But that is no reason not to believe. It is, rather, a reason to challenge, to reinvent. To search deeply within our traditions for the ikar, the sacred essence that is truly at the heart of our faith that compels us to engage one another not with condescension and brutality, but with respect and compassion.

Read Rabbi Sharon Brous’ complete Yom Kippur Kol Nidre sermon here. And thanks to Rabbi Eric Berk for bringing this wonderful sermon to my attention.

Forgiveness: A Favor We Do Ourselves

A few years ago, our then Rabbinic Intern, now Rabbi Alissa Forrest, gave a sermon on Erev Rosh Hashana about forgiveness, which focused on forgiveness for particularly aggregious sins. In it, she quoted Rabbi Harold Kushner (author of When Bad Things Happen to Good People):

One year, my Yom Kippur sermon was on the theme of forgiveness. The next day, a woman came to see me, very upset about the sermon. She told me how, 10 years earlier, her husband had left her for a younger woman and she has had to raise two children by herself for the past 10 years. She asked me angrily, “And you want me to forgive him for what he did to us?”

I told her, “Yes, I want you to forgive him. Not to excuse him, not to say that what he did was acceptable, but to forgive him as a way of saying that someone who would do that has no right to live inside your head any more than he has the right to live inside your house. Why are you giving a man like that the power to turn you into a bitter, vengeful woman? He doesn’t deserve that power over you.”

Forgiveness is not a favor we do for the person who offended us. It is a favor we do for ourselves, cleansing our souls of thoughts and memories that lead us to see ourselves as victims and make our lives less enjoyable. When we understand we have little choice as to what other people do but we can always choose how we will respond to what they do, we can let go of those embittering memories and enter the New Year clean and fresh.

From Egypt to the Promised Land: Coming Out with the Help of Rabbi Paul Kipnes

We rabbis offer support and counseling to people through the many transitions in life. I recently received this from someone who years ago called me for help:

Coming out in my 50s was painful in the extreme, but having emerged at the other end of a prolonged coming out process, I am so grateful that I had the courage to finally live my truth…and it was Paul Kipnes, rabbi of Congregation Or Ami, who pulled me through the darkness and into the light.

I came home one day a few years back, and my ex-wife asked me if I was seeing anyone else. After having tried for so many years to keep my gayness secret from myself and then, when I could hide from myself no longer, to hold my family together until my youngest child left home, I finally said, “yes,” and all hell broke loose. She became so angry that I had lied to her, not told her of my struggles, not let on how tormented I was. From that moment, my life became almost too much to bear, as all my carefully constructed fictions crumbled.

Rabbi Paul was my refuge. When I called him up, he met me that very afternoon. We sat for hours. I cried, I mumbled, I stumbled my way through my story…and he held me, hugging me and providing me a safe space to try to figure out my life. He talked with me about the Jewish master narrative, leaving the narrow places of Egypt, wandering aimlessly in the desert, and finally arriving at the promised land. In my darkest moment, he showed me a flicker of light.

Today, I am filled with gratitude that I am in the promised land. I have achieved serenity, I have a serious relationship that is almost a year old, I have strong relationships with my grown children, and most important, I have a strong relationship with myself. In those dark hours when I first met with Rabbi Paul, I could not see a way out. He showed me that like Jews and gays so many before me, I too might one day arrive at a promised land.

I could not have seen that on my own. Because of Rabbi Paul, I was able to leave my personal Egypt, was able to muster the courage to wander through my own personal wilderness, and arrived joyously to today. When I say shehechiyanu thanking God for sustaining me, keeping me alive, and allowing me to reach a joyous day, I recognize that I am also thanking Rabbi Paul Kipnes and the divine within him that he showed me that dark day.

13 Ways to Commemorate 9/11 (It is Still Not Too Late)

A favorite blog, Ima on (and off) the Bima, offered these 13 ideas of how to commemorate 9/11.

  1. Attend a ceremony. We will be at the flagpole at Am Shalom, 840 Vernon Avenue, in Glencoe, at 7:45am.
  2. Give blood.
  3. Donate money to a political campaign. Any campaign. Being able to participate freely in the democratic process is a victory!
  4. Call or connect with an old friend.
  5. Tell your children where you were when it happened.
  6. Send a card or care package to soldiers overseas
  7. Visit a veterans’ home or hospital.
  8. Bring flowers, cookies, or just a note to your local police or fire department.
  9. Read the biographies of some of the victims of the attacks. Share them with your family or friends.
  10. Fly a flag.
  11. Read the Bill of Rights. Remember how important it is to us.
  12. Wear red, white and blue.
  13. Smile at a stranger. Try to remember what it felt like on September 12th and 13th…we all felt connected, bonded. Everyone was a little kinder, a little gentler.

How did you commemorate this holy day?

For Those Dealing with Chronic Illness: A Prayer for Persisting

In her article, Prayer for Persisting: Moving Beyond Mi Shebeirach, my colleague Rabbi Julie Pelc, Assistant Director of the Kalsman Institute on Judaism and Health, reflects upon facing the constant long term of chronic illness:

During Rabbinic school, I spent more time in doctor’s offices than in seminary classrooms. Whereas it was initially an acute illness (for which the traditional misheberach and prayers in hopes of a “refuah shleima” would have been appropriate), the years of recovery and the resulting, permanent disability ensuring thereafter no longer qualified for such a hope or wish.

She thinks about the many who are with incomplete health, yet, are not entirely “sick” either:

I think of my coworker with diabetes, a friend with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, an aunt struggling with chronic clinical depression, a classmate with lupus and ulcerative colitis and an acquaintance living with HIV. I think of my own incomplete recovery. To pray for “complete healing” for those whose ailments cannot or will not ever be completely “healed” seems audacious and even offensive. My coworkers, colleagues, family, friends, and I will negotiate medications, medical appointments, dietary needs, and fears throughout our lives. We will face unexpected side effects, professional and personal repercussions of our special needs, and stigma from many well-meaning strangers every day. Our everyday reality is one of incomplete health; yet, we are not entirely “sick”, either.

She offers a new kind of Mi Shebeirach, a prayer for a different kind of healing:

To pray for the “complete healing of body and spirit” is to misjudge the realties of many people’s lives. To understand or redefine “healing” as “making peace with one’s fate” is to alter the meaning of the prayer and it may also serve to ignore our specific kind of suffering and its ever-changing realities… We need a prayer that acknowledges the reality of chronic illness. We need a prayer that asks God for the strength to persist even in the face of challenges that may seem insurmountable. We need a prayer asking that we be granted the courage to continue in life even as we face the reality of our death; to rage and to praise, to bless and to curse, to accept and to reject diagnoses simultaneously.

Her prayer:

“May the One who blessed our fathers and our mothers, bless _______ son/daughter of _______: strengthen his/her heart and raise up his/her hand, with the blessings you gave to Yaakov, to Yonatan and David, to Daniel the Prophet, to Tamar mother of Peretz, to Miriam the Prophetess, and to Naomi.
May God give to him/her grace, compassion and loving-kindness; love, harmony, peace, and companionship. Speedily, Adonai our God, hear our voices, take up our prayers, and watch over his/her life-force, spirit, and soul. With respect to your power, your loving-kindness, and your great compassion, behold we say to him/her: be strong and of good courage . Spread over us all Your shelter of peace. And let us say: Amen.”

Why these Biblical ancestors?

Rabbi Pelc writes:

  • Jacob struggled with an invisible being in the night, emerging with a limp. He would not cease his wrestling until he also emerged with a blessing from his adversary.
  • Jonathan was the rightful inheritor of his father’s (King Saul’s) throne but desired instead to yield leadership to his beloved friend, David. Because he refused to abandon his deeply held convictions, he fought against his father and died in battle defending his companion and his beliefs.
  • David (King David) is perhaps best known for his battle against the giant, Goliath, though the odds were firmly not in his favor.
  • Daniel’s enemies threw him into the lion’s den, by order of the king.
  • Tamar was twice widowed, childless, and then denied remarriage by her father-in-law because he feared that she would somehow cause the death of a third husband, were she to be allowed to marry again.
  • Miriam was struck with a skin disease, tzarraat, which forced her to live outside the camp until she was healed.
  • Naomi lost her husband and both her sons in quick succession in a foreign land. She cried out, “God has embittered my soul”, feeling that she was left completely empty, devoid of blessing or hope.
  • As Moses passes the mantle of leadership to the next generation, he says, “hazzak v’amatz”, meaning: “May you be strong and courageous”

So often we are able to deal with the crisis of illness. We know how to reach out before or after the surgery or visit to the hospital. But when illness moves into the long-term – like Fibromyalgia, chronic depression, or…, we often do not know how to sustain our support. This prayer may help both the person living with chronic illness and the community as we try to change attitudes.

Read Rabbi Pelc’s full article here. Read my more complete teaching on this topic here.

Maintaining the Bible as Inspiration, and Science as… Science

Rabbis across the country are joining with Christian and other clergy to “affirm our commitment ot the teaching of the science of evolution.” In a world where various fundamentalists want to mix religious teachings (so-called “creationist theories”) with bone fide scientific theory in science classes, we raise our voices to challenge this religious indoctrination. Our Union for Reform Judaism passed a policy statement on “The Politicization of Science in the US“. I signed onto the Rabbis Letter today. Read about the project here.

An Open Letter Concerning Religion and Science From American Rabbis As rabbis from various branches of Judaism, we the undersigned, urge public school boards to affirm their commitment to the teaching of the science of evolution. Fundamentalists of various traditions, who perceive the science of evolution to be in conflict with their personal religious beliefs, are seeking to influence public school boards to authorize the teaching of creationism. We see this as a breach in the separation of church and state. Those who believe in a literal interpretation of the Biblical account of creation are free to teach their perspective in their homes, religious institutions and private schools. To teach it in the public schools would be to assert a particular religious perspective in an environment which is supposed to be free of such indoctrination. The Bible is the primary source of spiritual inspiration and of values for us and for many others, though not everyone, in our society. It is, however, open to interpretation, with some taking the creation account and other content literally and some preferring a figurative understanding. It is possible to be inspired by the religious teachings of the Bible while not taking a literalist approach and while accepting the validity of science including the foundational concept of evolution. It is not the role of public schools to indoctrinate students with specific religious beliefs but rather to educate them in the established principles of science and in other subjects of general knowledge.