Jews, Christmas, and Coffee Cups – Parshat Chayei Sarah 5777

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To this rabbi, last year’s Starbucks red cup “controversy” (because these days even a few tweets count as a controversy) was completely baffling. The complaint among a small number of customers was that Starbucks had lost the Christmas spirit, since they had replaced the previous festively decorated cup with a solid red design. To a vocal few, this move represented another offensive attack in the perceived “war on Christmas.”

Just to be clear, I never want anyone to feel that their right to celebrate the religion of their choice is being infringed upon in any way. But when you walk through the mall before Halloween to see the first signs of the Santa photo booth and related Christmas décor, I have a hard time believing that Christmas is in the slightest danger.

Jews are in the minority in America, and especially so in Portland. It is no more obvious than during the months of November and December that I am a resident alien. When the green and red appears in every storefront and Bing Crosby starts a continuous rotation on the radio, I want to hide. Again, it’s not that I don’t enjoy seeing other people celebrating their own faith; I’m happy to live in a country where we are free to do so. It’s that the in-my-face commercialization for two straight months simply becomes overwhelming.

This week we read parshat Chayei Sarah. We read about Abraham and Sarah and their continued journey to raise their son Isaac to the chuppah and a life of good deeds. Our reading begins with the death of Sarah and Abraham looking for a proper place to lay her body to rest. Immediately after Sarah’s burial, Abraham sets out to find a life partner for his own son; hoping to ensure that he has comfort and support as he mourns his mother. The text continues with Isaac and Rebekah meeting, marrying, and falling in love (an appropriate order of events in Biblical times), and it ends with the death of patriarch Abraham.

Back at the beginning of the text, when Abraham is coping with the loss of his beloved wife Sarah, he is a stranger in a strange land. He has no Jewish cemetery, no chevra kavod hamet to help him with his burial. He is alone and in need of sacred space. So with nothing to lose, Abraham pleads in chapter 23, verse 4, “I am a resident alien among you; sell me a burial site among you that I may remove my dead for burial.” The townspeople respond, “Hear us, my lord: you are the elect of God among us. Bury your dead in the choicest of our burial places.”

Abraham needs the cemetery plot, and he has no idea how his neighbors will react to his request. Will they accept him as a fellow resident or treat him like an unwelcome outsider? As it turns out, Abraham is surprised not only by their kindness, but at their perception of him. He is seen as faithful, and the Hittites admire him for the way in which he is tied to his faith.

Let’s face it. Passover and Easter will never get equal display space at most grocery stores, and perhaps as a minority, that’s as it should be. However, particularly during the winter season, there should be a way to give appropriate time and space to a commonly celebrated holiday, while acknowledging that it is not the only one celebrated. At least it would be nice to work toward that inclusive goal. This week’s Torah portion is a reminder of what it takes to respect the traditions of others, to embrace the diversity in our community, and to inspire – rather than alienate – one another with our faith and our ideals.

Standing Still – Parshat Vayera 5777

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Some moments in life leave you stuck, standing still, unable to move forward (or in any direction for that matter). I felt a literal version of this when it was time to leave the grave after we buried my father. I was stuck. I just stood there. All I could do was stand and cry, thinking about the life we just lost, thinking or praying to God that I would find comfort and that we would be OK. It was my own thoughts and emotions that paralyzed me, froze me to the spot.

Moments like these can happen for a variety of reasons; the question is what do we do with this paralysis?

This week we read Parshat Vayera, where Abraham and Sarah contemplate the son that will be born to them in their old age. We then turn to Sodom and Gomorrah and Abraham’s attempts at saving the cities. This is followed by the birth of Isaac, additional covenants, and God’s final test of Abraham’s faith with the “Binding of Isaac.”

At the beginning of the text, Abraham is sent out to Sodom and Gomorrah. The text reads, “The men went on from there to Sodom, while Abraham remained standing before the Lord.” It is from this verse, according to the Babylonian Talmud, that morning prayer became a practice. Rabbinic tradition teaches that Abraham prayed when he rose early to face God. However, this doesn’t strike me as a “rise early to pray” moment. Abraham is standing, about to deliver some devastating news to a community, which to me appears more like a “stuck in his place” moment.

Abraham does regain his composure and then actually has a face-to-face with God in order to try to save the city. But that moment of pause, that moment of being stuck, was perhaps the moment that gave Abraham the presence of mind and the courage to move forward. So often we jump into action or react without thinking things through. Here, Abraham takes a moment right at the start of a situation to reflect.

Parshat Vayera reminds us of this important step in providing for ourselves clarity and confidence. Perhaps our version of standing still or “morning prayer” is that moment each day when we pause, reflect, and prepare for what lies ahead. Whatever you call it, sometimes you simply have to give in to being “stuck” before you’re able to push forward.

Winning the Lottery – Parshat Lech Lecha 5777

Winning the Lottery

In January of this year, TIME magazine published an article about the terrible things that happen to lottery winners. The article quotes a study that found that 70% of people who come into large sums of money lose it only a few years later. The author goes on to cite several examples of worst-case scenarios involving big ticket winners, including bankruptcy and even murder.

Monetary wealth comes at a price. Literally. Of course your chances of surviving the pitfalls of being rich are probably greater if the wealth is accumulated over time rather than all at once. However, in either case money (in all amounts) carries the burden of responsibility to use it wisely.

Perkei Avot teaches, “More money, more problems,” of course borrowing from Notorious B.I.G., who teaches “Mo Money Mo Problems.” The rabbis were trying to remind us that with the good comes the bad. As some Powerball winners discover, more money seems like a blessing until it creates more problems than you started with. This week’s Torah portion, Lech Lecha, also has an interesting take on that very idea.

Parshat Lech Lecha brings us finally into the narrative of Abraham and Sarah and the true beginning of our history as the Jewish people. The text begins with Avram and Sarai leaving their land, the land that they knew and felt comfortable in, to follow God’s command and go to Egypt. The text continues with their ongoing problems in Egypt and ends with the changing of their names from Avram/Abram to Avraham/Abraham and Sarai to Sarah.

Early in the parshah we learn that Abraham went from Egypt back to the Negev with all that he had, together with his nephew Lot. The Torah teaches in chapter 13, verse 2, “Now Abram was very rich in cattle, silver and gold.” That is to say, Abraham had a lot of possessions, and that meant that theoretically he also had a lot of power.

But the Hebrew word for “rich” the Torah uses here is not one that suggests the power of riches. Instead, the word kaved is used, which translates to mean heavy or burdened. Furthermore, wealth is relative and subjective. Abraham was rich with material items, but as we learn later, felt “poor” before he and Sarah were finally able to build a family together. The Torah leads us to believe that perhaps for a righteous person like Abraham, great wealth is accompanied by the great burden to use it responsibly. May this be our lesson as well.

[photo credit: apardavila PowerBall jackpot is a whopping $800 million via photopin (license)]

What I Told Teenagers About the Election

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Many of my rabbinic colleagues have eloquently put into words much of what is in my heart. Tonight I addressed a group of teens during Hebrew school, and I offered these additional thoughts.

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Truthfully, this was a difficult morning to wake up to. I started the day with a lot of questions. Is my country safe and secure? Are our savings and investments stable? Will my 3-month-old son be denied health care? Will my daughter still be able to freely belt out the same Hebrew songs many of you learned growing up in this very building?

But amid all these scary feelings that kept piling up, here’s what I realized. I didn’t change. Having a different person in the White House doesn’t make me a different person. I’m always going to fight for what I believe in. I’m always going to teach my children the values that are important to me. You have every right to be disappointed or happy about the outcome of this election. But these feelings will pass, and you will remain. You will fight. You will teach. And you will look past today because you learned these three lessons:

  • First, don’t even for a second think that your voice or your vote doesn’t count. This presidential race was won because enough voters made it clear they wanted change. So we got change. And we’ll find out over the coming weeks and months if it’s change for the better or not. And just because this election is over doesn’t mean you can’t still make your voice heard. You don’t have to be old enough to vote to write a letter to your representative if there’s an issue you care about.
  • Second, pay more attention to what people do than to what they say. Bullies use meaningless words because that’s all they have. It’s a magic trick, and sometimes people are fooled. Don’t be fooled by bullies.
  • Third, v’ahavta l’reyecha kamocha. Love your neighbor as yourself. Your neighbor, no matter the distance between your houses or the “color” of the states in which you live, was created in the image of God. We all have a spark of divine potential. Let’s not diminish it by reducing each other to red or blue, this side or that side.

How will I teach my daughter that she has value and worth? I will love her, and I will teach her to love and respect herself. How will I teach my son that it is unacceptable to degrade others? I will love him, and I will teach him to share that love and to give others, including leaders with differing points of view, the benefit of the doubt.

Regardless of the results of this election, my values and morals have not changed. So how will I move forward? I will simply love harder, speak out louder, and represent myself every step of the way. And you will too.

Noah for President – Parshat Noach 5777

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I’m sure by this point in the election cycle, you’ve heard plenty of people from all political persuasions talking about the dilemma of choosing the “lesser of two evils.” Though the label “evil” might be intended as hyperbole, that doesn’t change the fact that our two major parties nominated candidates who are viewed unfavorably among a significant number of people, even from within their own parties.

Our Torah portion this week is also about a man who, as some scholars suggest, was not necessarily an ideal leader, but was simply the best choice available. This week we read parshat Noach, which tells of the evil impulses running rampant in society, Noah’s building of the ark, a covenant with God through a rainbow, and the building of a tower to approach God. Noah is the man in charge. He receives God’s call to build the ark and the call to put his family and pairs of animals on this vessel. And, when the flood waters have subsided, he is supposed to regenerate the earth and be in covenant with God. One can imagine this to-do list and the weight of responsibility here sitting heavily on Noah’s shoulders.

Even among the great commentators on our Torah text there is debate over who Noah was for his generation, in our story, and in our lives. Noah is referred to as “Ish tzadik b’dorotav,” a righteous person in his generation. The commentators question what exactly that means. Is he righteous compared to others in his generation, thus if he’d been in another time (for example among Abraham or Moshe) he wouldn’t be that great? Or is it suggesting that in spite of his generation he is still a good person? Furthermore, did he do enough to try to save others like Abraham did with S’dom and Gomorrah or like Moshe in response to the golden calf? In both of these cases, our people’s leaders fought to save more people, while Noah doesn’t appear to save anyone but himself and his family.

The question remains is Noah to be lauded for his work or is he simply the best of the worst? While I’m not sure there is ever anything to be gained by making these subjective comparisons, I still wonder what Noah’s place is in our tradition. He is our prime example of at least relative righteousness, standing up when no one else had the courage or conviction to do so. However, he later acts immodestly when he disrobes in front of his sons. He goes to work to save other living beings, but does he go far enough to try to save other humans?

Sometimes the good we are able to do is limited by surrounding factors, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try, and it doesn’t mean we should resort to a “best of the worst” mindset. The lesson of Noah is to be our best possible selves, no matter the circumstances.