Tag: Spirituality

Can We Pray That the Red Sox Win The World Series?

A young student stopped me at services to ask if we could pray to God that the Yankees would win the World Series. Clearly this was a ridiculous question from an unschooled, theologically naïve youngster. I had to keep from laughing at him. Of course, had he phrased his question differently, say, “Could we pray to God that the Red Sox would win the World Series?”, now that would be a serious inquiry worthy of our time, attention, and theological consideration.

As my daughter would type JKJK (just kidding). Yet as I sat in front of the television watching game 2 of the ALCS as the Cleveland Indians trounced the Red Sox in an 11 inning game, I caught my heart veering into a prayerful place. Can we pray to God that our favorite professional sports team will win? I turned to some rabbinic colleagues for their answers. Read on…

Rabbi #1: Yes, But…: Dr. Jerome Groopman, in Anatomy of Hope, said it’s good to hope for a miracle but not to count on it. To me, prayer is often a way to bolster our inner strength, and to set eyes on the ideal moral behavior. When it comes to baseball or serious illness, prayer seems to be a way to help us keep going in the face of sometimes insurmountable difficulties.

Rabbi #2: Why Waste Your Prayers?: My stock answer to such questions is, “If prayers work, which I hope they do, I wouldn’t waste them on weather or sporting events.”

Rabbi #3: That’s Not Why Jews Pray: [This question points to] what is the purpose and function of prayer in Judaism. My answer is that Judaism is far more of an Eastern religion than a Western religion, which is why they call it the Middle East, and not the Middle West. Eastern prayer utilizes prayer as Mantra, as a means to change the one who prays, not to change the mind and actions of G-d. Prayer is used to focus, so that we can transcend that moment and that place. Jewish prayer is sing-song and lends itself to movement and davening (moving back and forth while praying). Jewish prayer is meditative in order to transcend. The only line in the siddur (prayerbook) that one is supposed to actually think about as one says it is the shema. All else is rote, and therefore lends itself to being meditation that transcends. But that is, IMHO (in my humble opinion), the purpose and function of prayer in Judaism. Western (read Christian) prayer is “gimme-gimme-gimme-now-now-now,” the expression of what we want, need, as if G-d cannot know without our asking. Magic is defined as when something is recited, like an incantation, like a magic word like Ev-ra-K’adabrah (I will create as I will speak), which becomes abracadabra, and which forces the gods, or G-d, to act according to our will, my will, and thus changes G-d, rather than changing my will. Prayers like the Mi Shehbayrach, are meant, again IMHO, to express a hope, to state something out loud and thereby gain strength from it, inspiration from it, and not to force the hand of G-d to do my will. Can G-d respond to my prayer by changing G-d’s will, and do what I ask? Of course, that is up to G-d. But that is not, IMHO, why we Jews pray.

Rabbi #4: Does God Sit in Front of the TV on Sunday Afternoon, Remote Control in One Hand, Beer in the Other? Adapted from Rabbi Andy Vogel, Praying for the Ball to Go Through the Uprights: [From a football metaphor] …Does God really sit in front of the TV set on a Sunday afternoon, remote control in one hand, beer in the other, wearing His team’s colors, hoping, praying to… Himself (!) for a first down on the next play? If enough people pray, will God push the ball through the uprights, regardless of the skill of the placekicker? Or, to put it another way: Does God hear and answer our prayers in such simplistic terms? What is the point of thanking God after we get what we have prayed for? What can we expect from God? …

I’ve watched enough last-minute kicks to know that God does not always answer our prayers. God does not do what we want simply because we pray for it. That is what a child wants to believe. We do not get everything we ask for, like mailing in our wish list to Santa Claus at the North Pole. God is not mechanistic. God has God’s own plan, and that we may never know what it is…

The Jewish tradition depicts God as knowing everything. God knows all that we pray for, all that we want, all our desires. Why do we pray, then, if we know that God knows? Perhaps it is that we hope that someone, maybe God, is really out there listening. Perhaps it is that we feel the need to give concrete expression to what is deep inside our hearts. But as Rabbi David Wolpe has taught, God doesn’t need our prayers, but instead, “they are for us, so that we might connect to each other, to ourselves and to God.” [“Musings,” in the New York Jewish Week.] God knows what we want, but we need to voice it anyway – even if we think we don’t. But this question misses the (extra) point. The purpose of prayer is not necessarily “to get what we want.” To think so is to misunderstand the purpose of petitionary prayer, those prayers we say when we ask God for stuff…

The purpose of prayer is to take the opportunity to meet God, to unite our hopes with God’s plans. As Rabbi Lawrence Kushner and Rabbi Nechemiah Polen have taught: Prayer can be a time for us to say, “in effect, I now want what God wants… We don’t nullify our will, our desires, but we seek to unite them with God’s… The innermost desire of the worshiper is… to be with God, just as the innermost desire of God is to be with us.” [In The Amidah, p. 160.] That might mean, having the courage to accept when God’s will isn’t identical with our own. [Read Rabbi Vogel’s Complete Article]

Rabbi #5: Maybe, But God May Answer “No”: … the theological answer may be simply to pray to God that each baseball player play to the fullest of his potential; that he treat the game and his opponents with dignity and respect; that nobody gets injured in the course of the game; that the umpires have vision to call plays correctly; that the players have strength to hit the balls well; that the players are filled with the spirit of determination to do the best they can. And, if in the end, your team loses, it isn’t because God cursed them, or because life is unfair, but simply because the other team played better that game, and reached its potential better that series. (Although, perhaps God does hate the Yankees these days. . .) In general, when people ask if God hears prayers, I sometimes give the answer that I think [Rabbi] Harold Kushner [author of When Bad Things Happen to Good People] has shared: “God hears our prayers; God just doesn’t always say yes.” This may be effective for someone who has a deep and abiding faith in general, and is going through tough times. I don’t use this theology on those whose faith and belief are shaky to begin with, especially with matters of life and death, which baseball, of course, is not.

Rabbi #6: If You Pray That No One Is Injured: One night at services, the senior rabbi of my shul prayed for the Lakers to win. [A teenager] was so offended that he scheduled an appointment to speak to the rabbi. The God that he didn’t believe in, the teenager was sure, would not choose sides in a human endeavor of no moral import, and it trivialized the idea of God to ask God to do so. He would be OK with a prayer that no one be injured in the game and that both sides play their best, however. I think the original prayer had been somewhat jokingly offered, which more or less illustrates [the] point that it trivializes both the idea of God and the idea of prayer – no matter what team is involved!

Rabbi #7: Prayer Is Not Magic! [Adapted from Rabbi Harold Schulweis on Is Prayer Magic?: …To convince people about prayer, show that it’s a winner. Blaise Pascal the 17th century philosopher understood the bettor’s mentality. He devised a wager that contended that it is smarter to pray than not to pray: If there is a God and you pray to Him [sic], you’re going to get something. If there is a God and you don’t pray to Him, you’re going to lose something. If there is no God and you pray to Him, what have you got to lose? And that’s not a bad argument for religious gamblers. It may explain why in certain circumstances people still do pray. Who knows what people on the death bed may calculate that after all to pray now, who knows, there really may be a God and if not, what have they got to lose? But when we are healthy and normal and things are going all right prayer seems to be a waste of time and energy….

…We want prayer to work. In fact, for most people prayer is closest to magic. Magic is practical. You want certain results and you want to be able to get it. To get results there are certain formulas, certain chants, certain incantations and that magic is going to be a shortcut to your desire. In magic you have to use certain words. You have to say open sesame and only then will the cave open. If you forget the right word and use another word the cave will not open. There is a formula to magic, a name to magic – abbr cadabbra is a word that has a magic of its own. According to some scholars abbr cadabbra can be traced to a form of gnosticism and the word abbr cadabbra is made up of three words. The first word is “aba” which means father, the second is “bar” which means son and the third is “ruach” for the holy spirit. This word was written over and over again on a parchment in various geometric forms and folded into a cross. Abbr cadabbra is a talisman hung on a string around the neck of an afflicted person. Magic is formulaic, it is a shortcut and it has power. The magician has power and he has the wisdom to know the secret word that will give him that power. Significantly in Judaism God is nameless. God has no name. The name of God is ineffable. One cannot pronounce His name (4 consonants – tetra grammatic). The reason for that is that if you know the name of God, you think you can control God, you can manipulate God, you can use the formula of His name for any purpose that you want. But the namelessness of God, the fact that throughout the Bible Moses tries to find out what God’s real name is and God avoids telling him what it is. He gives him an enigmatic answer like “I am that I am”.

That illustrated the opposition, of Judaism to magic, sorcery, witchcraft, shortcuts to God. What has this digression to do with prayer? Everything. Magic is not prayer and prayer is not magic. In magic you are concerned with getting the end and you don’t care about the meaning or character of the means. Magic is impersonal. In prayer you have to be concerned with the means to achieve that end and those means that achieve the end invariably depend upon you, your attitude, your mind, heart and soul.

Let me give you an illustration. A child asks “Can I pray for an ‘A’?” That child is interested in the end and she expects that in prayer she can touch some secret occult power that will give her the result that she wants. So the proper answer to the question “can I pray for an ‘A’?” is “no”. You can pray properly for the means for getting that A. You have to pray to pray to that within you that can achieve that A. This is the beautiful prayer that we recite in the morning. “Imbue us with the will to understand, to discern, to hearken, to learn, to teach and to obey. To practice and to fulfill all the teachings of Thy Torah.” The child must be taught that prayer must be worthy. The worthy end is not getting the A. The important thing is the growth and learning for which you may receive a sign of accomplishment. Just get an A, just to get on the Dean’s list without any effort, without any growth, without any maturity, without any knowledge, is to miss the whole point of life and education. … [Such] prayers are not “worthship,” the original spelling and meaning of “worship.” …

You can’t pray for anything that you want. You can’t, for example, pray that this amputated limb should suddenly spring to life. You can pray for courage. You can pray for the acquisition of prosthetics. You can’t pray for things which violate the laws of logic or the laws of nature. You have to respect nature and nature’s laws.

…In prayer you pray to move God. But the way you move God is through moving the divine in yourself. If you divide God from the image of the divinity within you, if you separate the two, then you speak about moving God without it affecting you at all. You ask “can I move God”? without asking whether you can move yourself. You ask “does God listen to prayer?” instead of asking “am I listening to my prayer?”. All your questions are directed toward somebody totally other than yourself. But the purpose of prayer is to activate the godly in and between ourselves. To put it more bluntly, we cannot pray for anything that doesn’t call on us to do something whether it’s in terms of our attitude, our will, our energy or our intelligence. You can’t pray for health however earnestly by expecting God to say yes or no. To pray for health means that you take seriously the means and meaning of health. You can’t properly pray to God for health with a cigarette in your mouth or a hot pastrami sandwich in your hand. You can’t pray to God for peace with folded arms, crossed legs, and unopened hands. As Rav puts it in the Talmud “man’s prayer is not accepted unless he puts his heart in his hands” (Taanit 8a). Prayer is meant to move you, otherwise you depend upon magical thinking. You cannot pray for peace and do nothing about it. You cannot pray that God should love the Jewish people without expressing your love for the Jewish people, nor pray for the rebuilding of Israel without personal involvement.

Does prayer work? Only if you do. If you expect magical results it’s foolish to pray. Prayer works only if you are willing to work with it. It is dangerous to confuse prayer and magic. So when the child or yourself asks can I pray for anything, the answer really has to be thought out very carefully.[Read Rabbi Schulweis’ Complete Sermon]

Talk Back: What do you think?
  • Do you think it is appropriate to pray to God that your favorite sports team will win?

  • What do your husband/wife/partner, friend, parents, kids think?
Share your thoughts with me and with others. Log your thoughts on my blog by clicking below:

Just Two Weeks After Yom Kippur and I’m Already Sinning Again

I confess. It has only been two weeks since Yom Kippur and, oops, I did it again. I sinned. And I feel bad. It happened here in Calabasas around the corner from A.C. Stelle Middle School on Friday, October 5th, at about 3:15 pm.

I was making my way home when I turned off the main road. I immediately found myself negotiating my way through a narrow passage between SUVs lining both sides of the street as they waited to pick up carpools. I watched the steady stream of cars driving down one street veering left and right to avoid the children crossing mid-street.

There in the street stood a woman, leaning toward the window of a big SUV, having a conversation. After observing a few cars swerve around her, I came to believe that she was endangering herself and others by standing in the road. I opened my window and called out, “Could you move to the other side of the car? By standing there you are making it unsafe for our kids.” She and the woman in the driver’s seat of the SUV looked strangely at me and said, “What?” I repeated my concern, “Standing in the street, you are making it unsafe for our kids and yourself. The cars are swerving…” She looked at me again, pondered what I said, and called out, “Shut Up!”

With cars now lining up behind me, I continued forward. I was irritated. My first impulse was to pull off to the side, park and walk back to talk to her. What kind of a response was “Shut Up!”? I wanted to rebuke her for her crassness. Our Torah teaches us (Leviticus 19:18), “Tochecha – You shall surely rebuke your neighbor, and not bear sin because of her.” I only wanted to protect the kids and to ensure that we were all safe. I wanted to protect her too. I didn’t want anyone to be killed by a swerving car.

“Shut Up!” She Called Out

Was that civil conversation? Is this the kind of response one would want their kids overhearing?

The impulse to shake it off won out over the impulse to talk it through. I had two boys at home, waiting (im)patiently for dad to arrive home for a game of catch. Nothing good could come out of a conversation between a do-gooder (as I thought I was) and a woman who responded with “Shut Up”. It is just as the Talmud explains: Rabbi Tarfon said, I wonder if there is anyone in this generation who knows how to accept reproof, for if one says to another: Remove the chip of wood from between your eyes, he would answer: [No, you] remove the beam from between your eyes! (Arakhin 16b) So off I drove, home to my kids.

My Heart Wasn’t Fully into Playing Catch

I kept returning to the concluding line of the Talmud passage, Rabbi Eleazar ben Azariah said: I wonder if there is anyone in this generation who knows how to give reproof. Had I been inappropriate with my comments? Regardless of intent, had I somehow transgressed the bounds of appropriate critique? After all, didn’t Rashi, the 11th century commentator, warn us, Though rebuking him, you should not publicly embarrass him, in which case you will bear sin on account of him. Had I embarrassed her by calling out my critique in front of her conversation partner and the other people – kids included – who were standing around on the sidewalk? I was so lost in thought that I missed a few perfectly thrown balls. When one throw narrowly missed bonking me in the noggin, I realized that I had to get my head back in the game.

But I stewed. Why had she reacted so strongly? I remembered a line from 12th century Maimonides, One who rebukes another, whether for [personal] offenses or for sins against God, should administer the rebuke in private, speak to the offender gently and tenderly and point out that he is only speaking for the wrongdoer’s own good… (Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot De’ot 6:7). Was there enough gentleness or tenderness in my voice? Or had I been frustrated by this continual back-up on the road home? Did I smile as I shared my concerns or did I have a scowl on my face? Did I say “please”? I was beginning to believe that in my attempt to help others I had somehow harmed this anonymous woman.

Drive-By Criticism

My friend Rabbi Alan Henkin reminds us regularly of the Talmudic caution (Yevamot 65b), Rabbi Ilea said in the name of R. Eleazar son of R. Shimon: Just as one is commanded to say that which will be heard, so one is commanded not to say that which will not be heard. As it is written, “Do not rebuke a scoffer, for he will hate you; reprove a wise man and he will love you.” (Proverbs 9:8). Was this woman just a “scoffer”, one who expresses disdain about everything? I really didn’t know anything about her. Perhaps her child was struggling in school and she was asking advice about how to handle the situation. Perhaps she spent a horrible morning in the hospital, caring for a family member, and now, emotionally exhausted from trying to “hold it together,” she inadvertently lashed out. Was her marriage in trouble and just at that moment, she was sharing her fears for the first time with a friend? I know that if I were in emotional turmoil, I would not react kindly to any kind of rebuke. Especially from someone shouting drive-by criticism.

With this new perspective, I started feeling a little guilty for being so public about my rebuke, wishing I had taken the time to address the problem privately. Yet, at the same time, I am still stinging from her two word response: “Shut Up!” And I know that she was making it unsafe for her, for other drivers and for the students.

Talkback

As I grapple with this issue, I would love to hear you weigh in:

  • What is your reaction to my critique and to her response?
  • Are these issues “black and white”? If not, where is the grey?
  • Do you agree with Maimonides’ instructions that we should “administer the rebuke in private, speak to the offender gently and tenderly, and point out that [we are] only speaking for the wrongdoer’s own good”?
  • How do you react to Rabbi Ilea’s caution that “one is commanded not to say that which will not be heard”?

As always, I invite your insights and comments.

How Do You Do a Bar Mitzvah in the Dark?

Did I tell you about the Bar Mitzvah service held on the 112 degree day? And then the lights went out! The Jewish Journal posted my article The Shabbat the Lights Went Out in Calabasas. Read on…

Our synagogue’s name, Or Ami, means “Light of My People.” The name reflects our hope to shine brightly the values and lessons of Torah and Jewish spirituality into our little corner of the world. We are a community of individuals who each carry the light as far as they can.

But a funny thing happened to young Jeffrey Rosenberg on his way to becoming a bar mitzvah on Sept. 1 — the lights went out all over town. Nevertheless, the boy took his first steps by candlelight on the road to becoming a man, and in the process, taught us all what it really meant to be a bar mitzvah.

Lessons Learned While Sweating Profusely

It was hot day in Calabasas. The thermometer was topping out at 112 degrees.

As Jeffrey Rosenberg’s parents came to accept that they would have to forgo the family tradition of watching their child read Torah in their backyard (both sisters Jill and Lynn had given their parents much nachas [joy] at their backyard simchas), we made the decision to move his bar mitzvah service back into our Mureau Road synagogue.

It did not take long to realize how amazing this bar mitzvah experience would be. I sat with Jeffrey and his dad Richard as the decision was finalized. I offered support and counsel to the teen.

I said, “You see, perhaps there is a lesson here on what it means to become a man. When disappointments happen…”

“We need to accept them and find a way to move on,” Jeffrey concluded, without missing a beat.

It was then that I caught a glimpse of why this child, yet to read Torah, had already made the transition onto the path to becoming a man. Just four hours before his ceremony was scheduled to begin, when plans envisioned for more than a year were being upended by devastating heat, this amazing boy found it within himself to wax philosophical.

I arrived at the synagogue early to ensure everything was set: chairs arranged, siddurs laid out, air conditioning set low and working. Jeffrey’s family arrived soon after to snap a few photographs. Although harried by the change in venue, all expected everything to run smoothly from there.

Not five minutes later — a mere 30 minutes before the ceremony was to start — the electricity cut out. With it went the lights, the Ner Tamid (Eternal Light above the Ark) and the air conditioning.

As the Darkness Descended, New Lights Shined

What do you do when Torah needs to be read, but the sanctuary is dark?

Break out the candles.

A yahrtzeit memorial candle was placed above the Ark as our makeshift Ner Tamid, reaffirming God’s presence among us. Rows of votive candles, originally set aside for an upcoming meditational Selichot service, illumined the bimah podium. After a guest returned from the local Albertsons, warm light and sweet fragrance wafted forth from scented tea candles placed on aluminum foil in the aisles. Cantor Doug Cotler’s wife Gail brought over a few more flashlights and a battery-operated lantern so the Torah could be read without worrying about dripping wax.

Guests arrived to a sanctuary that glowed. Delicious hibiscus-flavored lemonade arrived from the caterer to quell our growing thirst. Cantor Cotler and I huddled together to discuss which prayers and songs could be passed over in anticipation of the rising warmth.

Setting a High Bar at the Bar Mitzvah

I looked around for Jeffrey, figuring any 13-year-old might need some calming words as he contemplated chanting Torah by candlelight. Calling out a refrain heard many a time during his wandering-filled life — “Where’s Jeffrey?” — I discovered him smiling happily, posing for pictures and hanging out with relatives and friends. Dark room, air conditioning out, still this kid did not even break a sweat. On this Shabbat, Jeffrey set a high “bar” for maturity at his bar mitzvah, ensuring that we too took it all in stride.

At the last moment, I opened the Ark just to make sure that the Torah was properly rolled. I was met with a gush of cool air. I called over Cantor Cotler and then the bar mitzvah boy. Each experienced the same rush of air. The Ark was the coolest place in the room. As a rabbi, I recall saying that “the words of Torah warm the heart”; I now learned how “cool” Torah really could be.

Jackets removed, we all settled in for a meaningful, though somewhat abbreviated service. Just as the first sounds emerged from the cantor’s guitar, an amazing thing occurred: the electricity — and with it the lights, the Ner Tamid and the air conditioning — miraculously popped back on. Looking back, it was as if God was saying, “Lesson learned. Proceed to manhood.”

Perhaps wanting to enjoy the lemonade we made from lemons, Jeffrey requested that we keep the lights off. And so we did, basking in the unique aura of spirituality created by the candles. He even whispered that we should say all the prayers now that there was no rush.

Jeffrey led us from Chatzi Kaddish through Silent Prayer with confidence and comfort. The room filled with melodies of songs sung, aliyot chanted and sniffles as tears were shed. In the midst of Jeffrey’s d’var Torah (speech), the electricity cut out again. Except for the fact that two pages were out of order in his speech, nothing could trip Jeffrey up. His mother, Katie, and dad, Richard, couldn’t have been prouder.

Blessings for an Amazing Bar Mitzvah Boy

At each bar or bat mitzvah service, I especially look forward to standing before the Ark for a private moment of blessing with the student. Each blessing I craft especially for each individual, taking into account each student’s bar/bat mitzvah process, life challenges, and my hopes for his/her future. I also remind the students that when they began the process, they couldn’t read Hebrew, never read from Torah and were anxious about the path ahead. Now with the service all but concluded, they learned the supreme lesson of becoming a bar/bat mitzvah: that when they put their minds to it, nothing is beyond their reach. Parents and friends often ask what we talk about before the Ark; usually the student and I cherish these words as our own confidential conversation of holiness.

Standing there before the Ark with Jeffrey, I found myself momentarily at a loss for words. What meaningful words could any rabbi possibly say to a young man who never broke a sweat as he faced down multiple challenges?

So I asked him, “How do you think you did?”

Jeffrey nodded his head nonchalantly and answered, “Pretty good.”

I responded, “Yup, you are a bar mitzvah now.” And the words of blessing flowed easily from there.

How Does Being a Synagogue Member Make My Life Better?

I invited a former synagogue member – a wonderful and very pleasant person – to rejoin the synagogue after a few years away. She said she had thought about it and wondered “How would being a member make my life better….or different?”

I thought about her question a lot and struggled. I’m wondering how YOU would answer. My answer was:

Depends on what you mean by “better”.

If you mean physically healthier, it won’t… Join a gym.

If you mean more beautiful physically, it won’t, go to Nordstroms or a make up artist or…

If you mean richer, it won’t, get a higher paying job.

If you mean more mentally stable, it won’t, go to a shrink.

If you mean more knowledgeable, it won’t, take a class at Pierce.

If you mean… Then go …

But being part of a synagogue allows you to be part of a larger community… of YOUR people.

Being part of a synagogue means promulgating values that your tradition, and you, hold dear.

Being part of a community is like ensuring that your “room” is still there even if you go away to college. You can always come home. Or if you are an adult, you can not show up but we are still here.

Being part of a community teaches future generations that being a Jew matters, even if you aren’t a power user of the synagogue at the moment.

Being part of a community means that there will always be high holy day services for you and the community.

…That you have a place to turn if you are in need.

…That there is always Torah in your community

…That you have a spiritual home.

…That your values are played out through social justice

…That you have a place to go to sing Mi Shebeirach…

…That Israel has an advocate in the community.

…That you take responsibility for the next generation, like the previous one did for yours.

Its not about money, because everyone can join regardless of wealth or lack of money. Its about commitment to community.

We live in a world that speaks of consumer values. What do I get if I pay. Judaism is a people/religion/nation/culture/ethnicity/more that transcends that, asking what will being part of a community do for OUR world, ALL people, OUR people, OUR community. That’s how I think and its how I want my children to think.

If it is how you want to think, come home. If not, home will still be here for you if you ever decide you want to come home.

(Oh, and Judaism, synagogue and community can make you more beautiful because you feel better about yourself when you are spiritually centered. You will be richer because you will have enriched your life and those of others. You will be smarter because you will be able to partake in 5000 years of Jewish knowledge. You will be mentally more stable because you will have adjusted the balance of the mind, body, spirit. Of course all this presupposes that not only do you join but you also connect in and come.)

So, that’s my answer. The shofar’s in your court…

Thank You’s, Baseball with the Boys, and Dirty Sexy Money: How the Rabbi Spent the Day After Yom Kippur

Every wonder what the rabbi does right after Yom Kippur?

Following weeks of preparation – writing sermons, preparing kavannot (meditations to introduce prayers), meeting with potential new members and organizing Torah readers, Shofar sounders and more – what does the rabbi do with his first “down time” in a month?

Thank You’s: Putting on the High Holy Days is the result of the collective efforts of hundreds of volunteers. Led in our congregation by Debi Young (officially, High Holy Day Transformation Chair, and Or Ami president Susan Gould, the crew of volunteers are the real angels of these Yamim Nora’im (Awesome Days). If Rabbi and Cantor are the face of the services, these volunteers are the body! So I spent the first hours of the morning compiling a list of everyone – chorale, musicians, paper-putter-outers, ushers, prayer readers, donated SOVA food bag schleppers, “will call “ticket hander-outers, and … Each deserves to be recognized; each deserves a letter in the weeks that follow. (Even better: at Or Ami, once we publicize this whole list, I get to sit back and watch the thank you emails go flying around from members to the volunteers.) At Or Ami, saying thank you, for gifts big and small, is central to our vision. Because at Or Ami, people matter!

Baseball with the Boys: Being part of the rabbi’s family means that in the month prior to the High Holy Days, you have to share your daddy with hundreds of other people – potential members, new lay leaders who want to move forward on projects, and High Holy Day organizers – as well as the all consuming “sermon writing” process. Then, while others squirm while sitting next to mom and/or dad, you watch your daddy from afar as he stands on the bimah and leads. You might be proud of him. It is cool he tells good stories. But it doesn’t stand up to the opportunity to spend time with him while he’s focused.

So on the day after Yom Kippur, I give my kids well deserved attention. The boys wanted Daddy time, playing baseball. So off to the park we went where I spent three hours hitting the ball to my star first and second basemen. One of the boys said how great it was that we could play baseball together. Truth be told, it didn’t matter what we did. It was great just that we could be together!

Dirty Sexy Money: It was a night off but we still found ourselves schepping nachas (sharing pride and joy) about Or Ami in Hollywoodland. My wife and I went out Sunday evening to attend a premier showing of the ABC TV show, Dirty Sexy Money. Or Ami congregant Matt Gross executive produced this highly engaging drama about the Darlings, a wealthy quirky family. “The absurdly wealthy Darlings of New York have asked humanitarian lawyer Nick George to take over his father’s job as their personal lawyer, but the money that will allow him the freedom to be an altruistic do-gooder is only part of the picture. That same money pulls him into the dubious doings of the Darling clan. Power, privilege and family money are a volatile cocktail.” We loved the show! I think its a winner! I’ll be in front of my TV on Wednesday night, pulling for Nick’s humanitarian values to win out over the materialism and privileged attitude of the Darlings.

I thought it would be just a relaxing, adult evening out. We had fun meeting the stars, watching the red carpet walk, sitting in Paramount Studios’ theater watching the pilot, sampling the food from the delicious buffet spread. While Matt was shmoozing the adoring crowd of stars, crew and Hollywood type guests, his wife Hedi and her sister Michelle Feinstein (membership co-chairs) were recruiting film editors and others for Or Ami. Between bites of those tantalizing mini-chocolate souffles, we were kvelling about the High Holy Day services, Or Ami’s warm community and inviting people to our upcoming campfire Sukkot service. (Truth be told: I was eating the souffles; Hedi was kvelling). My favorite picture (even more than those of Donald Sutherland, Jill Clayburgh, Billy Baldwin and others) was the one of the two clergy – Glenn Fitzgerald (who plays the Reverend Brian Darling) and me. I hope I am a nicer guy than he!

What does the rabbi do after Yom Kippur? Give thanks. Spend time with the kids. Reconnect with my wife. And, watch a show whose name alone probably set me up next Yom Kippur for a few more Al Chet’s (prayer asking forgiveness for sins).

Why Fast? Thoughts from the Yom Kippur Yenta

Why Fast? I am reminded of a true story, about a Rabbi driving to services on Yom Kippur. There he was, driving down the highway, reviewing the sermon in his head, while apparently, pushing the gas pedal to the mat, when lights flashing and sirens blaring, a motorcycle cop pulled him over.

Smile on his face, hands on the wheel, the Rabbi turned to the uniformed officer by his side. Said the cop, “I’ve been following you for a block and a half. Did you realize you were speeding?” “Not really”, replied the Rabbi honestly. “Well, I clocked you at 55 in a 30 mile per hour zone”, “he said. “What’s your rush?”

What’s my rush? wondered the Rabbi. Do I tell him that I’m a Rabbi about to lead services on Yom Kippur, the most sacred of Jewish days? Do I admit being so caught up reviewing the sermon I was to preach within the hour that I failed to notice how fast I was driving? Do I face up to my sins by admitting that I regularly speed on this stretch of roadway or do I ask for a mere warning? Figuring Yom Kippur was not the day to shade the truth, the Rabbi responded, “sorry, sir”.

The officer wrote out the speeding ticket and handed it over, saying “sorry about this, sir, but you really should slow down.” And then, just before he left, the cop turned and in a voice dripping with irony, whispered, “oh, and Rabbi, next time, try to stay out of the fast lane”.

Stay out of the fast lane, he says, to a Rabbi who has not eaten since the day before. Slow down, he says, to a person who like so many in this room, spends much of his day rushing around from one place to the next. We cannot slow down! We rush from home to office, to school or on errands, from meeting to meeting and from activity to activity, shlepping ourselves, our kids, or our parents to the next important event, rarely stopping to fully enjoy the moment because we are desperately trying to remember the next place we have to rush off to.

Slow down, he says. But there is not enough time, we reply, as we think back over our day. “Hurry up, we are going to be late”, we yelled at the kids this morning as we rushed them off to school. “Hurry up, or we will miss the deadline,” we heard this afternoon from our boss or our co-workers. “Hurry up and make a decision,” we called out to our friends, even though the best decisions are often made when we take them slowly. “Hurry up, hurry up! We will miss the next opportunity!” So we hurry even though we realize that in rushing onward, we failed to savor this opportunity. And so it continues, until the officer dressed in blue, our angel from on high, cautions us to slow down. Like the angel in the story of the binding of Isaac who commands Abraham to slow down and consider what he is about to do before he plunges that knife into the heart of his much loved son Isaac, our motorcycle angel warns us to slow down, to get out of the fast lane, before we end up killing ourselves.

During the High Holidays, the most sacred days of our year, we are warned to bring about radical change in our normal behavior, to stop blindly rushing onward, to start looking inward, and yes, to get out of the fast lane, so that we can focus on the task at hand: self-judgment and asking forgiveness.

[That’s the Story, Now Read on for the Reasons to Fast]

Abraham Failed God’s Test! But God Loved Him Anyway

Each Rosh Hashanah, we read the horrid tale of the Akedah (Genesis 22), the almost sacrifice of Isaac by Abraham. Commentators throughout the ages characterize this story as an example of the heights of faith. Abraham loved God so much he was willing to give up the child he waited so long to bear.

But in as much as this might have been a test of Abraham, I read the story as a clear indication that Abraham failed the test.

Consider this: Did God really command Abraham to sacrifice his son as a burnt offering? Read closely. According to one commentary, Midrash Tanhuma, it all hinges on one word – olah. In the Torah, God said to Abraham v’haaleihu sham l’olah, bring up Isaac as an olah. The Hebrew word olah, comes from the root Ayin-Lamed-Hey, meaning, “to rise up.” Must olah here mean, “sacrifice,” as in the smoke of the sacrifice rises up? Or might it be connected rather to a more familiar word aliyah, also from the Hebrew root Ayin-Lamed-Hey, meaning “spiritual uplift?” In this reading, God only said, “raise up your son with an appreciation of your devotion to Me.” Perhaps Abraham was so dazzled to be speaking to God that he became confused. What if he misunderstood God’s intended purpose?

Rashi, the greatest Biblical commentator of all time, also hangs his interpretation on the same word. He explains (on Genesis 22:2), perhaps God was saying, “When I said to you ‘Take your son’… I did not say to you, sh’chateihu, ‘slaughter him,’ but only ha’aleihu, ‘bring him up.’ Now that you have brought him up, introduce him to Me, and then take him back down.” Instead of wanting Abraham to sacrifice Isaac, God really only wanted him to spend some spiritual “quality time” with his son. Had Abraham only paid close attention, he might have spared himself, Isaac, and Sarah a significant amount of stress and pain.

But in a strange twist, the angel of God who stopped Abraham from killing his son responds with love, not rebuke. God praised Abraham. Why would God praise him if Abraham misunderstood the command? Perhaps God, through the angel, reaffirms to Abraham how much God loves him, but also signals that Abraham and his followers should no longer employ cruel or intimidating means to ¬¬show their love for God.

This need not, however, be understood as condoning Abraham’s actions. Rather, the angel’s words remind me of that parent who walked into his freshly painted house. Dad is greeted at the door by his young son who, with a big smile on his face, says, “Daddy, come see how much I love you.” The boy brings his father into the next room and proceeds to proudly show him a picture drawn in magic marker on the living room wall. It was a red heart, inside of which were the words, “Daddy, I love you.” How does a parent respond to such a display of love, especially after spending thousands of dollars to paint the house just right? Most of us would yell, and yell loudly. But if we stopped first to think about it, we might say, with tears in our eyes, “I love you too, my son. Try to use paper next time. And you may not write on the walls. But, I love you too!” Similarly, through the words of the angel, God, the patient One, who cherishes Abraham, teaches love and forgiveness as an example for future generations.

Now consider this… Prior to the Akedah, each encounter between God and Abraham occurs in direct one-on-one conversations. But from this point on, God never again speaks to Abraham directly. All further communication is passed through an angel. Why? Because Abraham simultaneously passed and failed the test. He showed his love of God, yes, but he employed violent means to pursue that love. The use of an intermediary – the angel – proclaims a message for future generations: Abraham really didn’t listen to God’s teachings of compassion, did he? [For footnotes and citations on this reading, see What Does God Want from Us?]

Interested in the implications of this reading of the story? Check out:

Goodbye Rabbinic Judaism, Hello Judaism’s Third Phase: “Freedom Judaism”

Rosner’s Domain, a blog on Haaretz newspaper, invited Gil Mann to be Rosner’s Guest for the week. Mann is author of 2 books: Sex, God, Christmas & Jews, Intimate Emails About Faith and Life Challenges, a finalist of the Koret International Jewish Book Award, and How to Get More Out of Being Jewish Even if: A. You are not sure you believe in God, B. You think going to synagogue is a waste of time, C. You think keeping kosher is stupid, D. You hated Hebrew School or E. All of the above!

Mann talks about something called “Freedom Judaism“, the third phase of Judaism after Temple Judaism and Rabbinic/Halachic Judaism. Fascinating. Read on:

When the temple was destroyed 2000 years ago, Judaism was forced to reinvent itself. Over time, our leaders brilliantly came up with a way to perpetuate Judaism that was not centered on the temple. They invented Rabbinic Judaism or what some call Halachic Judaism.

Today, perhaps as many as 90% of the Jews on the planet no longer lead a life governed by Halacha. (Orthodox Jews and a small number of others make up the remaining roughly 10%). Yet Jews and Judaism still exist. If we do not live in era of the Temple or Rabbinic Judaism, what is this era? I believe we are reinventing ourselves as radically as when the temple was destroyed.

I call this third new era Freedom Judaism. It began when Jews were first emancipated in Europe. In the last 100 years or so, Freedom Judaism has become a radical new reality for Jews because of 7 phenomenon. Read more.

Anticipating the New Reform Movement Prayer Book

The New York Times reported on Mishkan Tefilah, the new Reform Movement prayerbook due out later this fall. In the article In New Prayer Book, Signs of Broad Change (September 3, 2007) we learn that “The nation’s largest Jewish movement is preparing to adopt a new prayer book intended to offer something for everyone, including people who do not believe in God.”

While that may be a bit of overstatement, this new prayerbook does seem to have been constructed to provide a meaningful experience for all who come to the synagogue during services. Having used an early draft version for more than a year and a half, Congregation Or Ami is greatly anticipating the arrival of the new prayerbook.

Wisdom from the Middle Movement: Conservative Judaism at a Crossroads


In anticipation of the upcoming inauguration of Arnold Eisen as Chancellor at Jewish Theological Seminary, the Conservative Movement’s central institution, the Jewish Forward invited Conservative leaders to consider, “Is Conservative Judaism suffering from malaise? If so, what is the nature of the problem? And how should Conservative Jews steer their ship into the future?” Two responses caught my interest.

David Wolpe, LA’s star conservative rabbi, wrote lyrically and poignantly (as usual):

Covenantal Judaism. That is our philosophy and should be our name. Renaming heralds our rejuvenation. We believe in an ongoing dialogue with God. Not everything significant has already been said, nor is the modern world uniquely wise. Our task goes beyond mere clarification of the old or reflexive reverence for the new. As with a friendship, we cherish the past but are not limited to its formulations or assumptions. Venerating the teachings of Maimonides does not negate that tomorrow, with the tools of modern study, a new Rambam may arise. The Judaism of relationship. Covenantal Judaism. Such is our creed, our dogma, our gift.

Now that’s a Judaism that grabs me! Sounds like Reform Judaism at its best.

Jay Michaelson, director of Nehirim: GLBT Jewish Culture and Spirituality and a professor at Boston University Law School, wrote eloquently about the challenges that all streams of Judaism must face:

First, we live in an age of terror and unprecedented change, and the religions that are responding effectively to those conditions are the ones which get us in our kishkes — in the non-rational, spiritual, primal, mythic and even mystical aspects of ourselves.

Second, American Jews today are pragmatists: They want what works. Meditation works; serious, lively text study works (for educated elites, anyway); drum circles work; spirituality works. Rattle-your-jewelry Judaism, old clichés about antisemitism and Israel, and the sober, boring conventionality of much of Conservative Judaism just doesn’t work. Nor do dead theologies and dogmas which no one believes anymore.

Finally, the Conservative movement spent so much energy worrying about whether gays could be good Jews that they forgot to ask why anyone would want to be. Now it needs to ask, “What do we provide that nothing else does?” The answer isn’t community, ethics or culture; Jews can get those elsewhere. But the spark of divinity, the charge of holiness, the power of myth — these are treasures that we can’t get anywhere else. We just have to dare to embrace them.

I hope they, and we Reform Jews, listen to this wisdom.

A Prayer for our Children, Returning to School

As Shabbat approaches, may we take to offer the following prayer and intention for all of those in our community who may have children, grand-children or loved ones who are on the verge of a new school year. In the next few days, or perhaps this Shabbat evening, please take a moment to recite it with your children, grand-children or loving friends.

A PRAYER FOR OUR CHILDREN, RETURNING TO SCHOOL
In this time, as our children return to school
And those who for the first time, are exploring a classroom,
We pray to You our God and God of our ancestors – patient and compassionate
Grant them a safe beginning and throughout the year
With good health
Choosing life at every moment.
May you provide for our children’s needs and for our families —
Allowing encouragement, kindness and inspiration.

May our children’s teachers be responsible and confident and may they be well-supported.
May this year be a year of transformation – to recognize what is possible.
May we love our children as they are
And may we be gentle with them as they develop their skills.

May the days of our children endure as the heavens above the earth
Everlastingly and in peace – may they know not bullies in their midst.

May we create the world that we envision for our families and let us appreciate this moment as it is,
As it quickly flies away.
Let us not be afraid of new beginnings
And may appreciation and purpose resound in every assignment.

May school corridors be safe and may new friends emerge
May our children be happy, refreshed and loved.

Baruch atah Adonai, Elohaynu Melech haOlam
Shech’yanu, v’kiymanu, v’higianu, lazman hazeh.

Praised are You, our God, Guide of the Universe
for giving us life, for sustaining us and enable us to reach this time.

Composed by Hazzan Neil Blumofe, Austin, Texas, 24 August 2007, Congregation Agudas Achim, 7330 Hart Lane/PO Box 28400, Austin, Texas

Make High Holy Days Meaningful: Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff


Let’s face it. The High Holy Days can be stressful. For those with school-age children, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur coincide with the beginning of the school year. The lighter workload of the summer is replaced by the need to buckle down at our jobs. Traffic increases. Sports teams organize. Religious School begins. We are back in the rat race.

Amidst the Back to School Nights and the resumption of volunteer responsibilities come the High Holy Days. While promising spiritual uplift, they are often shrouded by a demanding “to do” list:

• Make the brisket.
• Buy new Temple shoes for the kids.
• Find an outfit to “keep up with the Steins.”

• Negotiate the family gathering.
• Send the High Holy Day cards.
• Does honey have an expiration date?

Then there is shul time:

• Long services.
• Lengthy sermons.
• Kids fidgeting and bored.

• Dread the fast.
• Confront the guilt.
• Acknowledge how much we missed the mark.

Our prayerbooks ask “who shall live and who shall die in the coming year?” Many of us are more concerned with how to make it through this hectic Holy Day season! Where is the payoff for the energy we exert and the exhaustion we endure?

Oprah and others chant “don’t sweat the small stuff.” Our kid’s baseball coach tells him “keep your eye on the ball.” We can find meaning in the midst of the madness. How? Try out this alternative “to do” list for a spiritually meaningful season:

• Think about your year, the ups and downs. Celebrate the ways you have grown.
• Consider your shortcomings. Figure out how you might bridge the distance between who you are and who you would like to be.
• As our yoga instructor teaches, get rid of the chatter in your head and focus on breathing. Inhale deeply.
• Create space for prayer. Let tradition wind its way into your soul.
• Embrace the new beginning and the possibilities of the New Year.
• Choose age-appropriate prayer experiences for your children. Find a service or more just for yourself.
• Simplify your menu; it will still be delicious.
• Wear comfortable shoes.
• Use Chinette.

Shana Tova U’metuka. May this be a sweet New Year. Incidentally, honey lasts for three years. Serve it with apples, and it will still taste sweet!

Written by Rabbi Paul Kipnes and Michelle November. Rabbi Paul Kipnes is the spiritual leader of Congregation Or Ami, Calabasas, CA. Michelle November has worked professionally in the Jewish community for over 20 years. Together they have three kids and have survived fifteen High Holy Day seasons together as a family.

Orthodox Paradox: A Reflections on Boundaries, Danger and Possibilities

I just read an interesting article in the New York Times Magazine by Noah Feldman, Harvard Law School professor, called, Orthodox Paradox (Published: July 22, 2007). Summed up, it describes “The 12 years I spent at a yeshiva day school made me who I am. Now the school doesn’t acknowledge who I’ve become. A reflection on religion, identity and belonging.”

I see it as a fascinating reflection on the boundaries set by “traditional” religious groups, the dangers inherent in these, and the possibilities of merging serious religious living with modernity. Check it out.

They are “High on Judaism!” Camp Newman Shabbat

One quickly becomes enamored with Shabbat at URJ Camp Newman. The energy, excitement and spirituality are overpowering. On Friday night, a sea of campers and staff, dressed in white, greets the Sabbath bride with endless waves of singing, energetic dancing and continuous hugging. The tefillah (prayer services) weaves a spiritual tapestry of traditional prayers, inspirational kid-friendly music and timeless Torah teachings delivered through an engaging story. Counselors stretching tallitot over the heads of their campers, creating a sukat shalom (shelter of peace) as we sing Hashkiveinu (a prayer of peace). Later, candles, Kiddush and motzi lead us into an especially delicious traditional chicken dinner. (Note on what’s memorable to kids: my son anticipates his return to camp by counting down the weeks until he can eat Camp Newman’s “extra delicious” Shabbat roast chicken dinner!)

Lazy day breakfast – sleep late and then come on in whenever you wake (unless you are in the cabin with the youngest Bonim campers who still rise at an ungodly 6:00 am) – sets the tone for Shabbat morning, while tefillah by eidah (unit) ensures that each group of children experience an age-appropriate spiritual experience and Torah learning experience. We anticipate camp’s traditional miznon (snack) of Its It ice cream cookies. Soon swimming and schmoozing give way to an evening of eidah songs and cheers, a concert by beloved Jewish songster Dan Nichols, and uplifting Havdala services. Yes, Shabbat at camp is framed by Friday evening Kabbalat Shabbat services, Saturday morning Shacharit services and Saturday evening Havdala.

Still, I find that the late Friday song and dance session truly captures the ruach (spirit) of Shabbat at camp. Take 450 children, staff and faculty. Crowd them together under an open-air tent. Surround them with almost a dozen talented guitar-play songleaders singing their favorite Jewish songs. Let this group sing, dance, wander around, laugh and play. Circles form for a song. They jump and sing. New circles form; conga lines collect stragglers.

It’s a Jewish rave. Except no one is drunk. No one is doing drugs. They are just “high on Judaism!”

I have 3 children. Since being a kid means being filled with energy, needing to run and dance and make noise, I am thrilled that they are doing up here at camp. Jewish kids singing Jewish songs in a safe, nurturing Jewish environment. And watching my wife and our friends dance around freely with them is an added bonus!

Karen Harris Writes: When “Our” Special Needs Student Brandon Kaplan Became a Bar Mitzvah

Congregant Karen Harris writes:

The anticipation had been growing for months. Plans were being made, prayers were being studied and learned in sign language and the Brandon Kaplan Special Needs Fund was being established. When the invitation for Brandon’s Bar Mitzvah service arrived, I immediately responded that of course I would attend. I was honored to be included in those able to witness Brandon becoming a Bar Mitzvah. I was also curious and, if the truth be told, skeptical about Brandon’s abilities to actually perform the mitzvot necessary. After all, he does not speak, his sight is impaired, and I had no idea about his intellect. I have seen Brandon at services for the last seven years and always delighted in seeing how responsive he was to Cantor Doug Cotler’s music. I have seen him hug his beloved plush Torah to his chest and smile lovingly as Rabbi Paul Kipnes taught us Torah. But does he know what that represents? I was not sure . Certainly Brandon found joy in the midst of our congregational family. Certainly he was a shining fixture at services. But Torah? and God?… could that be beyond Brandon’s grasp?

On the Friday night before his Bar Mitzvah service, congregants gathered at Congregation Or Ami in Calabasas to celebrate with Brandon. One member who is a professional flautist even came to play for him. When we were told that Brandon would be unable to attend the services as he was resting and preparing for his “big day,” it did not matter, we were there to celebrate Brandon and what he was about to achieve. The excitement in the sanctuary was palpable. After services members happily stayed to help set up chairs to accommodate the large group that was expected the next morning. It seemed that everyone wanted to be a part of this simcha. It was not because Brandon’s father Michael has served our congregation as President for the past two years. It was not because his mother Dina is an advocate for all children with special needs. It was because we have all watched Brandon grow over the past seven years. Grow as a person and as a member of the congregation with involvement in the Mishpacha Family Alternative Learning Program, the support group for families with Special Needs children, and regular attendance at services. Pretty impressive for a child so severely impaired that he remains undiagnosed within the medical and Special Education communities!

There was a thrill in the air Saturday morning. As Brandon’s guests arrived they each received a red bracelet commemorating the day and a package of Kleenex. The sanctuary was filled beyond capacity as the service began. It was explained that while we do not ordinarily applaud our B’nai Mitzvah, this was a most appropriate way for us to show Brandon our love, pride and approval.

Moreover, Rabbi Kipnes taught, “”There are two values being played out today, simultaneously, Brandon is a kid like any other kid created in the image of God, worthy of love. But Brandon is also a special kid and there is an honor and joy to our congregation that he participates to the fullness of his abilities. So he’s normal and special, but here’s the secret: so is every other kid.”

So Brandon stood on the bima with his dad and sister Jennifer. As he faced his mom for prompts, he clearly and distinctly signed the Shema and parts of the V’ahavta! He swayed with the liturgical music in the arms of his father. He had a look of pure unadulterated joy on his face as he marched around the congregation holding the Torah. No one in that sanctuary could deny that somewhere within his universe Brandon had connected to God and to the light and teachings of Torah. The Kleenex were not going to go to waste!

When it was time for the rabbi to have “the private moment of blessing” before the ark as he has with all our B’nai Mitzvah, he turned to Brandon, held his shoulders, touched his smiling face and spoke so no one but Brandon could hear. It was then that I was struck. This is just another kid becoming a Bar Mitzvah! How beautiful it was, how right and normal it felt. I suddenly “got” that Brandon is a uniquely spiritual young man who has served as a teacher to all of us who too often use the words “can’t” and “unable.” Although the attention to detail was extraordinary on the part of Brandon’s parents, teachers and clergy, it was clearly Brandon’s day to shine, and shine he did.

Afterward there was a wonderful party at Brandon’s Village, Calabasas’ universally accessible playground established in his honor. The weather was beautiful and everyone had a terrific time. As I was leaving I saw Rabbi Kipnes and told him how proud I was of Brandon and his family and of our congregation for being a place in which such an event would be so openly embraced. The Rabbi remarked, “See what happens when you get out of the way and let things happen!” As we say at Hanukkah, “A great miracle happened here”.