Our long awaited celebration of Bernie Goldblatt's retirement. Hear from Bernie about his journey to recovery from COVID-19 and his experience of immense gratitude. We honored Bernie Goldblatt for his 20 years of service as Adath's Executive Director. 

Bernie and his family have established the Bernie Goldblatt Fund of Adath Jeshurun. A focus of this fund is to support Kiddush lunch at Adath to strengthen the social bonds of our community. Donate here in honor of Bernie.

Jewish Disability Awareness, Acceptance and Inclusion Month (JDAIM), a world wide event every February, started right here in our community. JDAIM co-founder and author, Shelly Christensen, shared how Jewish communities have evolved in 13 years, and why belonging is the new approach to supporting people with disabilities and mental health conditions and those who love them to flourish in Jewish life.

To learn more about JDAIM, click here.​

Join us for Interfaith Action in Concert with Minnesota Commissioner of Public Safety, John Harrington, on Sunday, March 20, from 10:30-12pm on Zoom. For more information and the link to register, please click here or visit Adath's Antiracism page.

Shabbat Mishpatim, January 29, 2022
​Click here to learn more about MAZON: A Jewish Response to Hunger

Shabbat Shalom.

They are known as “food insecure.”

They are the households that, at times, do not know if they will have enough nutritious food to eat, or have the money to buy it.

In 2019, before the pandemic, more than one in ten American households were food insecure.

The number was higher in households with children.

The number was higher in households with one parent.

The number of Americans living in food insecure households before the pandemic is incomprehensible:  38.3 million.

As the pandemic dragged on, it pushed tens of millions more Americans into food insecurity.

38.3 million food insecure Americans before the pandemic?  Double it now, says the respected nonpartisan Brookings Institution.

The number of food insecure households with children before the pandemic?  Triple it now, says Brookings.

Second Harvest Heartland reports that one in ten Minnesotans expects to face hunger in the coming months. Direct assistance from food shelves, shelters, meal programs, and after-school programs feeds over 500,000 people in Minnesota every year.  Many will seek food help for the first time in their lives.

Who are the tens of millions of Americans who are food insecure?

We know they are out there, so for decades, members of our congregation have snapped up grocery bags on the way out of Rosh Hashanah services, brought them back full on Yom Kippur, and filled that big semi-trailer in the parking lot for STEP, the Saint Louis Park Emergency Program. 

So, yes, we know of them, but, if you are like me, we don’t know them. 

They are strangers in our midst.

Last week, we read of the thunderous giving of the Ten Commandments. The Parsha this week is Mishpatim, a far less dramatic recitation of rules for the Israelites to follow for living in the Land of Israel and creating a just society there. 

Among the rules of Mishpatim are humanitarian laws of social responsibility, justice, and compassion.

In Parshat Mishpatim, we also read the first two of thirty-six times in the Torah the injunction to not oppress the stranger.

The verse Rabbi Kravitz mentioned in the poem by Ruth Brin-Exodus v-22, l-20:  You shall not wrong a stranger or oppress a stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.  Note, the use of two verbs-wrong and oppress-to emphasize the strictness of the prohibition.

Exodus v-23, l-9:  You shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the feelings of the stranger, having yourselves been strangers in the land of Egypt.

Rabbi Fred Schwartz of blessed memory, formerly at Mount Zion Temple in Saint Paul, wrote in his great work “Teacher of Torah,” that the “high point” of Mishpatim is that legislation concerning the stranger. Rabbi Schwartz asks, Is it necessary to include the last phrase that reminds us that we were once strangers in Egypt?  His answer to his own question is yes, so that today, we deepen our sense of compassion, and remind ourselves of times in the past when we Jews did not fare very well. 

The poor today might be strangers, but Mishpatim commands us to remember the past, when that was our lot, and to comfort them. 
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Throughout the Torah, and our other sources, the Jewish view is that there is nothing in the world worse than poverty.  It is the most terrible of all sufferings.  On this Shabbat Mishpatim, the Torah implores that we see the millions of our fellow citizens who cannot afford enough food, or enough of the kinds of food, to meet their household’s nutrition needs.  The Parsha seeks to instill in us a sense of humility, to more fully experience empathy and compassion for others:  The strangers-the invisible poor-the food insecure whom we do not know.  When we advocate for them and try to raise awareness of hunger, we are doing what Mishpatim commands, to ask all who will listen to be empathetic-to have some rachmones-for the hungry strangers. We may not know the hungry strangers, but we see them in our midst. I don’t mean the solitary individuals holding cardboard signs on street corners and at intersections.

Shockingly, and indefensibly, food insecurity is persistent among currently serving military families.  Food pantries operate on or near just about every military base in the country.  Demands on them from junior personnel are at an all-time high. More on that in a few minutes.

Like these and other people, Jews have frequently experienced hunger. 

Because of famines, Abraham was forced to go to Egypt.  Isaac went to the land of Abimelech, king of the Philistines.  The children of Jacob went to Egypt to buy grain in order to avoid death.  Pogroms, ghettos, the Holocaust, Jews have been hungry.  Jews know the sorrow of hunger.

From our own experience with food insecurity, the verses of Mishpatim support Jewish involvement in efforts to protect the most vulnerable and marginalized members of society.  There are important strategies to fight food insecurity.  One is ensuring that all people have access to nutritious food, now, when they need it.  Our Adath has a rich legacy of helping to meet that need.  For decades, led by our Hesed Committee, we have collected food and household items.  In 2018, our holiday effort brought in over 5,000 pounds for the shelves at STEP.
In 2021, we raised almost $4,000 in cash donations to STEP.

But donating to direct service providers like food pantries that provide vital emergency services cannot possibly address the full scope of hunger, and philanthropy was never designed to do so. The charitable sector collects less than ten percent of what it takes to fight hunger. 

So, another strategy addresses the reality that much more is needed to confront and address the systems and policies that allow hunger to persist, and develop and advance long-term solutions to ending food insecurity.  That takes marshaling political will and leadership to bolster and protect federal and state nutrition programs and policies that are the country’s frontline defense against hunger, and have the capability to reach the tens of millions of households struggling with food insecurity in a way that philanthropy’s resources alone simply cannot succeed.

At MAZON:  A Jewish Response to Hunger, our mission is to apply our Jewish values to the central belief that regardless of a person’s circumstances, no one deserves to be hungry.  MAZON is not a food shelf.  MAZON was the first organization to rally the American Jewish community around ending hunger, and MAZON remains the only national Jewish organization dedicated exclusively to advocating for an end to hunger among people of all faiths and backgrounds in the United States and Israel, and to educate policymakers, the public, and the media to build partnerships and coalitions to raise awareness about hunger.

The bedrock of MAZON’s work is tzedek, the pursuit of justice, and the value of Bit-SELL-em Elohim, respecting the inherent dignity of every person, addressing the root causes of hunger, and changing the circumstances to strive to end food insecurity.  MAZON is guided by the wisdom and compassion that Mishpatim requires of us.
MAZON is fortunate to have built an extended family of nearly 700 synagogues, Adath Jeshurun among them, and tens of thousands of donors, including many in our congregation, who share the commitment to end hunger in the United States and Israel.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, of blessed memory, the celebrated moral thinker and globally renowned intellect of Judaism, gained fame in secular society and in the Jewish community as a sought-after voice on many topics, including issues of war and peace and ethics.  In his title, The Dignity of Difference, Rabbi Sacks wrote that poverty humiliates, and a good society will not allow humiliation. 

SNAP is the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, formerly called food stamps.  It is the nation’s most important anti-hunger program.  Thinking of the words of Rabbi Sacks, one of the most important things that MAZON has done in its thirty-six years of existence has been to work to debunk humiliating stereotypes of the poor who are beneficiaries of SNAP and other nutrition programs and resources…that they are lazy…that they are freeloaders…that they abuse the system...that they cheat.  Those old canards are unconscionable.

The federal government’s own studies prove these characterizations to be false, and to be cruel.  In 2019, almost 9 out of 10 SNAP beneficiaries were those who struggle the most.  They are households with children, elderly, or persons with disabilities.  Most had income at or below the federal poverty level.  Most do not receive cash welfare benefits.  Here in Minnesota, the StarTribune has reported that one in 14 residents, over 400,000, received SNAP benefits.  The majority are families with children, and working families, and many were families with elderly or persons with disabilities.

MAZON has worked with policymakers and community leaders to protect and strengthen SNAP and other nutrition programs, and has advocated for public policies that address the root causes of hunger and dismantle barriers to assistance for millions of Americans. 

Remember I spoke of the shonda of food insecurity in military households?  It was MAZON that has shined the spotlight on this complex problem for ten years.  There are flaws in the system of military pay.  Compared to more senior members, and those of the past, pay for those entering military service today does not go nearly as far as it did for their predecessors, because they are more likely to support families than previous units of armed forces.  They also face unique financial challenges including high spousal unemployment, lack of access to affordable childcare, and frequent relocation.

MAZON has long forcefully advocated to federal lawmakers and officials to understand and fix the problem of food insecurity in today’s military families.  Last year, MAZON released a report that offers reasonable recommendations for how the nation’s leaders must address military hunger, so that military families are not stigmatized, they are not cut off from essential nutrition assistance programs, and their pay meets their needs.
MAZON’s work in this area has earned bipartisan praise, and inroads have been made this year to cut into food insecurity in the military, but much more needs to be done.  It shows though what effective advocacy can do to make progress in solving the root causes of hunger.

MAZON does much more to promote the end of barriers to participation in food assistance programs, and champion responsible government policies to end hunger and address its root causes.  If you are interested in learning more, please visit mazon.org.

The rules of Mishpatim are a measure of the moral health of our society, informed by compassion, in which the spirit of justice breathes freely.  Rules are not enough.  Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel taught that law itself cannot guarantee a just society until it is reinforced by the moral commitment of all of its citizens, motivated by a conviction that God cares and demands that we act ethically.

Today, many in the American Jewish community have attained wealth and privilege.  The opportunities that have come with prosperity and the lessons of our history continue to motivate and inspire the work of MAZON.  Our founder intended for MAZON to be the bridge between the relative abundance of the American Jewish community and the desperate need felt by millions of hungry people. 

So, on this Shabbat, we are to know the heart of the stranger, and continue to know of and see the poor.  For we Jews were strangers in the land of Egypt, and we Jews are no strangers to hunger.
​
Shabbat Shalom.

To learn more about MAZON: A Jewish Response to Hunger, click here.

Yom Kippur 5782
September 16, 2021
Jews and Race
Rabbi Harold J. Kravitz

Earlier I asked us to consider the many times in the Torah the people of Israel were counted in a census and the concerns it raised. Now I ask that we turn our attention to a contemporary census and its challenges as the results of the 2020 United States census were recently released. Hearing about the census took me back to my experience responding to it. There is one question I always find myself getting stuck on, whether in a census or elsewhere. It is the question that asks us to indicate our race. Do you relate to that quandary, wondering which box to check?  
I have heard a lot of our people describe similar discomfort.   

It starts with the fact that the US census is not permitted to ask questions about religious identity, so we can’t check off that box. Further, there is discomfort about the whole idea of race, knowing that race is a social, not a biological, construct, so the entire question makes us uneasy. While we know that the concept of race is based on questionable science, the category of race continues to exert a powerful influence on this country and must still be accounted for. A unique challenge we have as Jews is that in our gut, many of us don’t really relate to being described as white. Speaking for myself, I see my primary identity as being a Jew, and we know that Jews around the world, come in all colors.  

If we overlooked that fact, it was made clear by a study of Jews of color in the United States, the largest of its kind, reported on in August. Studies estimate that between 6 and 15% of American Jews identify as Jews of color and all agree that this number will grow in the future, a reality we need to respect and to address. The study confirms the complexity of labelling Jews by race. This is especially true given the soul searching this nation has had to do since the murder in Minneapolis of George Floyd, an event that literally reverberated around the world. An outcome for our Jewish community is that we have had to take a hard look at issues of race and what they mean for us.  

For many years when discussing Jewish identity, I’ve always taught that we could best define Jews as a people, or an ethnicity, or even as a tribe. I would dismiss the suggestion that Jews are a race. Having delved further into the issue this year, I learned that the matter is far more complicated than I realized. Last year, when I delivered my Yom Kippur sermon on our responsibility to be anti-racist, I recommended that people read a fine book from 2008 by Emory University American Jewish historian Eric Goldstein, The Price of Whiteness: Jews, Race and American Identity. Our Downtown Study Group read it together and it really challenged us. I am especially grateful to our member Riv Ellen Prell, Prof Emerita in American Studies from the U of MN, who led the class when I was on my three-month sabbatical and who graciously joined us for the entire year studying Eric Goldstein’s The Price of Whiteness.  

Goldstein opens our eyes to new ways of understanding how Jews in America have related to the issue of race going back over the last 150 years. I was surprised to learn that in the late 19th century, Jews were fine with describing themselves as a race, and were commonly described that way by others. Jews immigrating here in that period largely came from Central Europe. They assimilated quite rapidly and often sought to leave behind what they saw as old-world religious observance, but they still saw themselves and were seen by others as Jews by blood. This racial identity distinguished Jews from other Americans, while enabling them to integrate into American society and enjoy its benefits.  

Goldstein captures the ambivalence Jews felt about our differences from the majority of Americans and especially our mixed feelings about being associated with black Americans, also a separate race, but one seen by most white Americans as a lesser kind of human. The most important distinction in America has long been between being labeled as black or white. Jews, most of whom migrated in the 19th and early 20th century from Central and Eastern Europe, did not want to be identified as black, with the persecution that accompanied that label. At the same time, they were not seen, nor did they really see themselves as white. Recalling our own past oppression, Jews would often recoil in horror at the ways black people were treated in the Jim Crow era after the civil war and beyond. On the other hand, we maintained our claim that while we were surely a race, ours was a praiseworthy race and we touted our accomplishments so as to enjoy this country’s benefits.  

Goldstein traces how the Jewish embrace of the concept of race receded with the rise of Nazism. New language emerged to describe ourselves, as anthropologists in the 20th century dismissed the validity of race as a biological category. The despicable use of race by the Nazis turned American Jews away from a racial definition and led us to instead describe ourselves as a Jewish people, or an ethnic group.   

During World War II, many Jews who served in the military got to see up close for the first time the horrendous racism experienced by black people who also served our country. Yet when they returned home from the war, blacks and Jews experienced vastly different prospects. Jews were able to take advantage of veteran’s benefit and of greater social acceptance. Discrimination against Jews in housing and employment that was pervasive before the War diminished, but it was still very real for black people. A powerful example of this are housing covenants, promoted by the real estate industry to preserve white neighborhoods, stipulating that homes in certain neighborhoods could never be sold to black people. Jews had generally broken through those barriers that once applied to us as well.  

This pattern of systemic racism has been uncovered in ground breaking research by the U of MN’s Mapping Prejudice Project whose efforts are especially critical given this city's contemporary racial disparities, which remain some of the largest in the nation. As their research shows, “covenants created demographic patterns that remain in place in Minneapolis today. Residential segregation reinforces other disparities in employment, education and health care. Most notable is the gap in homeownership rates. While 78 percent of white families own homes in the Twin Cities, only 25 percent of African-American families have title to their dwelling.” Their research shows that these disparities did not happen accidentally and that everything since then has compounded upon that initial pattern. https://www.aclu.org/aclu-magazine/aclu-magazine-fall-2021 p. 21. 

As we consider the challenges facing this country, I ask that we as Jews use this Yom Kippur to do cheshbon hanefesh – personal and communal introspection of what this means for us as Jews. Having benefited from privileges we have enjoyed as American Jews, because for the most part we are seen as white, places special responsibilities on our Jewish community to right the wrongs that pervade American society. Just as our Torah repeatedly reminds us of the lesson of the Exodus story, that we are obligated to care for the stranger because we were strangers in a strange land, I believe we have a special responsibility to work to end racism because we know what it means to experience persecution because of who we are.  

  I am grateful that our congregation has been taking this responsibility very seriously. After the events related to the murder of George Floyd, we established an Antiracism Committee chaired by Dudley Deshommes Kohls and Sharon Garber that has worked hard to better understand the dynamics of racism, to educate our congregation about this and to engage our congregation in the work of ending racism wherever we encounter it. A starting point of that effort has been to better understand the feelings and to support Jews of color in this community who often feel marginalized. Some 80% of respondents to the survey I cited earlier report having experienced discrimination in Jewish settings. 

Adath’s Antiracism Committee is attuned to the reality that it is very tempting for us to ignore systemic racism, or to discount it as something that is for the most part behind us. But we have seen how real is the continued impact of racism in this country. We saw it on terrifying display in Washington DC this past January 6th when our US Capitol was assaulted by a mob trying to overturn through violence what they failed to accomplish through elections. It is no coincidence that this mob carried Confederate flags into our US Capitol building for the first time ever. It is a serious threat to the very essence of American democracy when the peaceful transference of power is upended by fake claims of voter fraud. Make no mistake that this insurrection was grounded in continuing and deeply embedded racism and that many of those who promote these lies also promote violent antisemitism as well.  

We know that just like racism is very real and deeply embedded in this country, antisemitism is sadly not a thing of the past. We must not hesitate to speak out as Jews when antisemitism is ignored or downplayed. The threat of violence is quite real as we saw just three years ago at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh and elsewhere. Sadly, we were reminded of the reality of these threats last week when our neighboring Beth El Synagogue had to close for the day and all local shuls had to enhance our security at considerable expense. We are grateful to the JCRC for the role they play coordinating security for our Jewish community and for other endangered faith communities. We are also grateful to the Minnetonka Police for their support. With the help of our Antiracism Committee, we are taking very seriously the need to balance the real need for security with an understanding of how a police presence adds to the anxiety of black people and people of color when they come here. We will continue to work on this issue in the coming year as we hopefully meet increasingly in person.  

This year we will have an opportunity to closely study the issue of antisemitism when in early November we welcome as our scholar in residence Sister Mary Boys, a renowned expert on this issue and collaborate with the Minneapolis Institute of Art when they display an exhibit of the work by Des Moines based Argentinian Jewish artist Mauricio Lasansky’s Holocaust prints. Sister Boys will share her life long experience educating people to end antisemitism. She will help us to better understand what it means to be anti-antisemitism at a time when we are working as well to be antiracist. One effort need not come at the expense of the other. Let us stand together to combat hatred.  

A powerful true story brings that message home. It is told in a drama entitled “From Behind the Sun” that premiered in February 2019 at Metro State University’s Whitney theater. Written by a local musician Stan Kipper and a Seattle artist Laura Drake, it is based on the Kipper family’s experience trying to buy a home as a black family in Minneapolis in 1956. His father Obie and mother Mary had moved here from Chicago believing that there were good opportunities to be found. Obie Kipper found a good job working for the US Post Office and Mary was one of the first black school teachers in Minneapolis. Living in the Nicollet Park neighborhood, they found a home at 45th and Oakland between Park and Portland they believed would be better for their growing family. They also knew that it was located in south Minneapolis, where black people were blocked from living through a practice known as redlining.  

Obie Kipper and one of his co-workers from the Post Office cooked up a plan. The co-worker named Abraham in the play, based on a real person, was a Jewish guy who had been encouraged to move to Minneapolis by Obie. They had served together in Italy in World War II in the 92nd Infantry Division, a segregated division for African Americans, the only one to see combat in Europe. Abe, a white Jewish guy had served as Obie’s sergeant in that division and they formed a powerful bond. These were tough guys who would not back down from a good fight. They came up with a plan for Abe and his wife to present themselves to the realtor as Obie and Mary Kipper so as to get approved for the mortgage they would not otherwise be able to get.  Abe brought Obie all the documents to sign and it was not until it was time to hand over the keys that the real Kippers showed up to the realtor’s shock.  

The family was jubilant at having been able to buy that home, but that was not the end of it. After moving in to their new home at 45th and Oakland they received terrible abuse from there “neighbors” who hollered curses and epithets at them, did disgusting things to them, and made it clear that a black family was not welcome. After a brick was hurled threw the picture window, Obie and Abe stood guard in front of the house to put a stop to the attacks. Stan reports that the attacks did stop after about a month, but “for-sale signs” started to pop up all around the neighborhood. That is what black people who had served their country experienced in Minneapolis and elsewhere. Stan has turned his family’s story into a drama that teaches an enduring lesson of the meaning of true friendship and what it looks like to be a fearless ally. I had the privilege of speaking to Stan Kipper to hear him tell his story. He described to me how people from that neighborhood showed up at performances of the play with their mortgages in hand to show that they still included racist covenants, even though the courts had long since made them illegal.   

It is an incredible story that I feel privileged to be able to share with you today. It reminds us of how we can stand up fearlessly as Jews against racism.  

In the New Year, let us strive to balance working to end systemic racism in our country, while standing up for our rights as Jews to live in peace. I continue to maintain that Jews are not a race, but we have seen that race continues to exert a powerful influence on our society and on us as Jews. My study this past year of whiteness and of Jewish identity have made my choice somewhat easier when asked to identify my race. I still bristle at seeing the question about race, whether on a census, or in some other survey. I still do not really self-identify as white. But since I, like most Jews, are seen as white in this country and have the privileges that come with it, so I check the box on the survey that says I am white and accept my responsibility for continuing to end racism and to end antisemitism in our country. May that time come soon and in our lifetime. 
 
 
 
 
Intro to Musaf 
 
In Judaism there is great ambivalence about counting people. There is a custom that when needing to count up ten people to make a minyan, one does so by saying “not- one, not-two and so on. Another custom for determining that there are ten people in the room to make a minyan is to recite a verse from the early part of the morning service (Siddur Sim Shalom Daily p, 113) Psalm 28:9-  
Rescue your people Hoshea et Amecha, bless your heritage, uvarech et nachlatecha, tend to them and carry them forever ur’aim v’nasem ad olam.  

In the Hebrew that is ten words.  
Why the ambivalence about counting people in Judaism? In the ancient world a census was taken primarily for two reasons, one was to collect taxes and the other was to prepare for war, which meant they needed to know how many men would be available for combat. These are two good reasons explaining ancient concerns about a census.  

There were at least four times in the Torah that a census was taken of the people of Israel. They anticipate the arrival of the people to the land of Canaan where they will engage in combat. We see this in the book of Numbers in Parashat Naso when such a count is taken and again in Parashat Pincus. In both places the language that is used is to lift up the head of each person, reminding us that even as we count the group each individual counts.  
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In Parashat Pinchas there is the counting of the Jewish people and the appointment of Joshua as Moses’ successor. God is referred in that parashah as “God, Source of the breath of all flesh (Elohei Haruchot L’chol Basar)… (Bemidbar 27:16), it is the only time this name for God appears in the Bible as  

According to Rabbi Mordecai Silverstein of the Conservative Yeshiva in Jerusalem this name of God is the basis of the special beracha – blessing that is said when a large group of Jews gathers- we say “Blessed are You, Lord our God, who knows all secrets” Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech HaOlam, Chacham HaRazim.  

Why is this the blessing for a large gathering of Jews? What exactly does that mean. Rabbi Silverstein explains that according to our sages, God Chacham HaRazim is the one who know all secrets because God is Source of the breath of all flesh E-lohei Haruchot L’chol Basar.  

As Rashi says in his comment there: "Just as no two faces are alike, so, too, no two people's ideas are alike." But most important for our sages, God knowing the thoughts of every individual means that God values the individuality of each and every person. (See Bemidbar Rabbah 21:2). 

Let us consider this idea of the value of the community and the value of the individual in which every person is created in the image of God and counts. 

Yom Kippur Day Final Prayer  
 
God Chacham HaRazim the one who know all secrets because  
You are the Source of the breath of all flesh E-lohei Haruchot L’chol Basar.  

We appreciate being able to gather as a community whether in person or on line and are thankful for the blessing of resilience providing us with the strength to get through this challenging time.  

We long to be able to gather together in large groups again to praise you and give thanks and to once again life our voices together in song.  

God who knows the thought of every individual and places value on each and every person,  
​
give us the clarity of vision and the determination to build a world in which justice reigns, in which we stand up against hated and in which every person is treasured because they are created in your image.  
And let us say Amen 
 
Note: 
 
On Rosh Hashana I introduced the congregation to Robert Putnam and Shaylyn Romney Garrett’s, The Upswing: How America Came Together a Century Ago and How We Can Do It Again. This week I call your attention to what they have to say about race in this country. The Upswing calls for us to embrace the values evident from 1895 to the 1960s when this country experienced greater communal social cohesion and economic equality, following the rampant individualism of the Gilded age, which we have seen reemerge. Putnam and Garret have a powerful chapter showing that this national upswing was also experienced by African Americans primarily because of the Great Migration that brought many black people North to improved living conditions and through gains achieved in the lead up to and during Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s. Sadly, Putnam and Garrett also document how that progress was reversed in the last half century. The 1970s saw white backlash against black progress, which they consider, “an important part of the story of how and why America turned from “we” back to “I.” It may even be the case they say, “that America’s larger turn toward “I” was, in important respects, a response to the supreme challenge of sustaining a more diverse, multiracial “we” against a backdrop of deep, historically embedded, and as yet unresolved racism.”      p. 242.   

Shabbat, October 16, 2021
Rabbi Harold J. Kravitz
Adath Jeshurun Congregation
Minnetonka, MN

Sermon titled: Abraham's Journey through the lens of Mussar.

Sign ups are open for our selection of Mussar classes. To learn more and to find the links to sign up, please visit www.adathjeshurun.org/mussar.

Two years ago, in October of 2019 (which now feels like a lifetime ago), I had the privilege of a spending a Shabbat in the Philadelphia area at a Mussar retreat organized by the Center for Contemporary Mussar. It was led by Rabbi Ira Stone, a leading figure in bringing a contemporary understanding of Mussar to a new generation.

Define Mussar: Jewish spiritual practice to work on character development through the lens of traditional Jewish text and sources, as reflected through various middot/ soul traits such as patience savlanut, or orderliness seder.

We have developed a vibrant Mussar learning community here at Adath and similar classes can be found at various synagogues and schools around the Twin Cities.
We were fortunate to have hosted Rabbi Stone at Adath as a scholar in resident in March of 2017. We had a great turn out and he commented, “Who knew that there was such a vibrant Mussar community in MN? We have built it up considerably since then.

Today I want to spend some time studying the text, at least part of it, that formed the basis of that Mussar Kallah I did with Rabbi Stone two years ago this week.
Look at the opening verse Gen 12:1


Rabbi Berezovsky was born in Belarus. He made Aliyah in 1933 and eventually was designated the Rebbe of the Slonimer Hasidim and the head of their Yeshiva in Jerusalem, Bet Avraham. His teachings are captured in the text before us Netivot Shalom, as Rabbi Stone labels it, or Nisivos Sholom as it would be pronounced in the Slonimer’s world. It is a considered an important contribution to Mussar literature, combining the rigor of the Lithuanian yeshiva world, where the Mussar started as a Movement by Rabbi Israel Salanter, with the religious passion of Hassidism.

In May of 1998, I actually got to meet with him in his study with my friend Rabbi Elie Spitz at his Yeshiva Bet Avraham in Meah Shearim. I spoke about that encounter in a sermon I gave on Yom Kippur in 1998. Elie had been in Israel that year on sabbatical studying with Prof Zev Falk of Hebrew University, who was intrigued by the writings of the Slonimer Rebbe. I was in Israel for a short time and Elie and I got to spend the day together in Jerusalem. Elie wanted to make a future appointment to see the Slonimer at this Yeshiva. We made our way over there and got to speak with his secretary to see if an appointment could be arranged. He told us to wait and when he returned much later, he said that the Rebbe would see us now. I was not expecting to be part of this. We encountered the Slonimer Rebbe in his study, frail and in his bed. It was about two years before his death. We introduced ourselves and explained that we were Conservative rabbis from the United States and he gave us his message. I will return later to what he said to us.

For now, let us turn back to the Slonimer’s commentary on parsahat Lecha Lecha.
Rabbi Isaac Luria – HaAri of Sefat 16th c Leading rabbi and mystic whose conception of the creation story forms the basis of contemporary Kabbalah often referred to as Lurianic Kabbalah. You may be familiar with Luria’s teaching found here that every person is put into the world for a unique purpose. We often see it in the version written by Martin Buber, used at baby namings, that every person is brought in the world with a unique purpose.

The Slonimer is raising the key Mussar question: How are you perfecting your neshama/soul, which you alone were put into this world to achieve?
That destiny is unique for each of us. This is in line with the Mussar practice that while the principles of Mussar apply to all of us, each of us has our own work to do. This makes the soul curriculum of our Mussar work quite individualized.

Each of us, like Avraham, is on a soul/sole journey.

The Slonimer says this is “To teach that this is the task of the person, to walk always forward on the path of their destiny. This is hinted at by the three times the language of (Hebrew) journey.” He explains that this is exemplified in the three lecha lecha periods of Abraham’s life.

There is much more in the Slonimer’s commentary to Lech Lecha. In Phila at the Mussar retreat we spent the entire Shabbat in study unpacking it with Rabbi Stone’s guidance, along with other activities.

Before I conclude let me return to the encounter with the Slominer. When we left the Yeshiva, one of his Hasidim came chasing after us wanting to know what their rebbe had said to us. In Hasidism they believe that the Rebbe has a special pipeline to God so it was very important to know what he said. Well, the Slonimer heard that we lived in the United States and pronounced that we both should be living in Eretz Yisrael and not in galus or diaspora, or really in exile, as he sees it.

Unlike his Hasidim, I do not subscribe to the idea that their rebbe has a pipeline to God. I suspect that the Slonimer was imposing on us his view of the world, understandably given that he narrowly escaped the Shoah and saw his entire world destroyed by the Nazis. But following his teaching here, that each of us needs to realize and fulfill our unique destiny, I do not believe that mine had to conform to his view that all Jews should life in Israel. But who knows? Avraham didn’t get called to go to Israel until he was 75.

Each of us has to do the work of finding our destiny and Mussar provides a spiritual practice for clarifying it and perfecting it in the service of others.

Our Intro to Mussar will begin Mon evening Nov 15. I will be teaching it with our member Hope Melton. Heidi Schneider, who attended that Mussar retreat with me, will be teaching our continuing Mussar Vaad. I will also teach an advanced Va’ad studying a kabbalistic Mussar text Tomer Devorah that I will be learning with Rabbi Ira Stone this year. See our Adath website Mussar page for more information.

Let me conclude with one last comment from the Slonimer’s comment on Lech Lecha:
“Year after year the Holy One gives one opportunities in order to journey further in holy service and not to stand in one place.”
I invite you to take the next step in your journey
___________________
Parahshat Lech Lecha לֶךְ־לְךָ֛
וַיֹּ֤אמֶר ה' אֶל־אַבְרָ֔ם
The LORD said to Avram,
לֶךְ־לְךָ֛ מֵאַרְצְךָ֥ וּמִמּֽוֹלַדְתְּךָ֖ וּמִבֵּ֣ית אָבִ֑יךָ
“Go forth from your land, your birthplace and from your ancestral home
אֶל־הָאָ֖רֶץ אֲשֶׁ֥ר אַרְאֶֽךָּ׃
to the land that I will show you. Genesis 12:1

We find in the Midrash (Beresheet Raba 39.9) Rabbi Levi said: “Twice it is written “Lech Lecha” and we don’t know which is more beloved - the first (Genesis 12:1) or the second (Genesis 22:2). From what is written “to the land of Moriah,” it seems the second is preferable to the first. However, it is still unclear between the two tests that are described in the language of Lech Lecha which is greater and more beloved. Whether it is the test of Lech Lecha from your land, your birthplace your ancestral home, or the test of the Akeda.

Seemingly we are greatly surprised. How is it possible to compare the two? Isn’t the test of the Akeda higher and more difficult for a person akin to giving up everything in their own life? And especially according to what is written in the Torah, “Take your son, your favorite, the one you love, Yitzchak.” For at the very hour the Holy One said this to him that love put every other middah of love in the world to shame and it is not possible that there is any test greater than this. So, how is it possible to doubt which (test) is more beloved?

In addition, we can say regarding the locution “Lech Lecha,” if according to the commentary of Rashi “Lecha” means “for your benefit” behold that which is written Lech Lecha to the land of Moriah does not fit this interpretation. Moreover, we find in the Torah three times when God spoke to Abraham in the language of journeying: “Lech Lecha from your home.” Gen 12:1 “You shall walk [Hitalech] before me and be upright” Gen 17:1 and Lech Lecha to the land of Moriah – the test of the Akeda 22:2 and we will discuss the meaning of this.
​
It can be said about this matter what we find in the introduction to “The Foundation of Worship” in the name of the Ari Hakodesh [Rabbi Isaac Luria], that no person is comparable to another person from the day of their creation and forward. And no person can repair that which is another’s to repair. Namely, each individual has their own destiny and task that their life is meant to work out. Included in this are those particular tasks that befall them for them to repair, as is well known. The Holy Blessed One appoints for each person all the tests and challenges for which they have all that they need to repair the task that they are meant to repair and to fulfill their destiny and task in the world.

Every challenge in the life of a person, material or spiritual, good or bad, all of them are given to them in connection with the repair of the world for only by way of these challenges are they able to achieve their destiny. And except for these they are not able to fulfill their task to repair. Since to each person there is a specific destiny, therefore there are different challenges for each. To one life is easy and to another it is more difficult.

Generally, what appears to one to be the course of their life’s journey cannot be the same as the life journey for another. Since each person has their specific task given to them with all its challenges, they are given the faith that they are able to fulfill their destiny. Even if their situation in life is difficult, they must strengthen themselves that this is only so that they may arrive at their particular repair, for nothing evil comes down from heaven and all is for the good of the person in order that they may repair everything connected to that which they must repay and, in this way, fulfill their destiny in the world…
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This brings us to Lech Lecha from your land, your birthplace and your ancestral home. “Go forth” – that is to your destiny, to the correction of your neshama that you need to do in this world. This is the essence of your task as a person as it is said in the Torah of our ancestors - while a person in this world learns, prays and does good deeds, if they do not correct their destiny regarding what they must correct in this world then when they ascend to the upper world they will be asked: “What did you work at in this world?” In other words, if they did not correct the important things, the task that was your destiny, in the world. And this is what God said to Avraham and included in this also a lesson for all Israel, the seed of Avraham, “Go forth” in other words, journey toward the correction of neshama that is appropriate to you, is your goal, is allotted to you, regarding your land, your birthplace, your ancestral home, that is, all of the conditions and intentions that are natural for you…
​
Slonimer Rebbe, Netivot Shalom, (Jerusalem, 1982), Parashat Lecha Lecha
Translated by Rabbi Ira Stone, The Center for Contemporary Mussar, 2019

Bob is a member of Adath and an immigration attorney at Fredrikson & Byron in downtown Minneapolis. Bob concurrently serves as the Chair of HIAS. Bob was named as the 2017 recipient of the Sidney Barrows Lifetime Achievement Award of the Cardozo Society, the affinity group of Jewish lawyers, jurists and law students in the Twin Cities, for his professional achievements, community service and love of learning. 

​Rosh Hashanah 2021 5782
First Day September 7, 2021
Rabbi Harold J. Kravitz
Adath Jeshurun Congregation
Minnetonka, MN

         We are so not where I thought we would be this Rosh Hashanah. Earlier this summer, I was hopeful that by the time we got to these High Holidays my sermon would be a chance to look at the pandemic from the rear-view mirror and to reflect on lessons learned. The reality of the past month or so has been truly disappointing. We had tasted and were starting to enjoy our growing freedom now that so many of us have been vaccinated, but with the sudden onset of the Delta variant things have sadly taken a turn for the worse. We are seeing hospitalization and even death rates in our country paralleling last year, because not enough of us have been vaccinated, and not enough of us have taken seriously the need to mask, especially indoors and when in the midst of large groups of people. 

         I am grateful that here at Adath Jeshurun, we have showed so much good sense in the face of the pandemic and that our people have taken the needed precautions so seriously. People at Adath Jeshurun have really lived up to our Hebrew name, which means “the gathering of the righteous” by being so supportive of our decisions to prioritize people’s health and safety above all, as we have adjusted to these challenges. It has required an extraordinary effort of shuls, schools, medical centers, really anyone with responsibilities for keeping people safe and has surely tested everyone’s resilience. 

         We can be proud that our Jewish community nationally has been highly responsible in the face of this pandemic. You may have heard of a survey done by the Public Religion Research Institute in late July indicating that Jews have, “the lowest levels of vaccine “hesitancy” of any religious group in the country…with 85% vaccinated or planning to get the shot — compared to 71% of all Americans. https://forward.com/news/473643/jews-accept-covid-vaccine-religious-groups-survey/
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         The Jewish approach to the matter is captured beautifully in an article published in January by my rabbinic colleague Micah Peltz, who serves as Senior Rabbi of a prominent Conservative shul in New Jersey. Micah grew up here at Adath and is still closely connected to our congregation. Rabbi Peltz wrote a teshuvah (a rabbinic response), unanimously approved by the Conservative movement’s Committee on Jewish Law and Standards. He concludes definitively that, “vaccination is a Jewish imperative when recommended by medical professionals.” He further observes that this conclusion is shared by all mainstream Jewish religious movements. https://www.jewishexponent.com/2021/01/28/getting-a-covid-19-vaccine-is-a-jewish-imperative/

         This is not something we can take for granted. Despite the willingness of the majority of Americans to follow necessary public health practices, we are still in a difficult place because too many people have chosen to ignore medical evidence by resisting mask mandates and refusing to be vaccinated, which they see as an infringement on their individual rights. I understand that my speaking about this issue touches on politics, which makes some people uncomfortable. The reality is that it is quite impossible to separate moral issues from the realm of politics. To suggest we should not touch on politics is to assert that clergy should be silenced on the great moral issues of our day. To be silent, or avoid speaking about tough issues, would leave us “standing idly by the blood of your neighbor, lo ta’amod al dam re’echa,” which our Torah explicitly forbids. To do so would be a betrayal of Jewish tradition in which religious figures, whether it was the Biblical prophets, or our ancient sages, did not shirk the heavy responsibility of speaking to the real-life situations faced by people, which invariably have a political dimension. Certainly, we are obligated to be respectful of differences of opinions and conflicting values. Certainly, we must stay above partisanship, because no party has the corner on truth. Still, we have a moral and Jewish obligation to address issues even when they touch on politics where people may disagree.  

         It pains me to say it, but the truth is that the extreme assertion of individual rights and liberty in the political and social life of our country have had deadly consequences for this country and for the world this past year and a half. Literally hundreds of thousands of people in this country have died needlessly because of the denial of developing scientific understandings and recommendations for best health practices related to COVID-19. 

        The extreme assertion of individual rights and liberties is very much at odds with how Judaism views the place of individuals and community. My teacher Rabbi Elliot Dorff, a leading thinker of our Conservative Movement, illuminates this issue in his outstanding book To Do the Right and the Good- Fundamental Principles that Guide Jewish Social Ethics writing that, “Jewish tradition places strong emphasis on the worth of the individual. Human worth derives first from being created in God's image.  Dorff, p. 5.     
                       
         While affirming the sacred value of each individual, Rabbi Dorff goes on to explain that Judaism is fundamentality communitarian in its approach. He cites the legal philosopher Milton Konvitz who captures the normative Jewish view, which I quote, without adapting to our normally egalitarian approach: 

         “The traditional Jew is no detached, rugged individual…He is an individual but one whose essence is determined by the fact that he is a brother, a fellow Jew. His prayers are, therefore, communal and not private, integrative and not isolative, holistic and not separative....  [Konvitz goes on to write]
This consciousness does not reduce but rather enhances and accentuates the dignity and power of the individual. Although an integral part of an organic whole, from which he cannot be separated, except at the cost of his moral and spiritual life, let each man say, with Hillel (Sukkot 53a), "If I am here, then everyone is here."   (Dorff, p.20-21) 

         What a powerful point Konvitz makes based on a less well-known teaching of our ancient sage Hillel: 
"If I am here, then everyone is here."  אִם אֲנִי כָּאן — הַכֹּל כָּאן
that on one hand when I am here, I am here on behalf of everyone.
In the Talmud Sukkot, Hillel goes on to say 
“And if I am not here who is here? וְאִם אֵינִי כָּאן — מִי כָּאן”
, which can be understood to be teaching that no one is expendable to a community. As Hillel conveys in this and his other teaching I introduced earlier, the community and the individual in Judaism are inextricably linked. 

        This view of the world is consistent with an approach to American Democracy called Communitarianism developed in the 1990s to push back against excessive individualism and narcissism in asserting that citizens have a responsibility to uphold the common good. 
https://slate.com/news-and-politics/1996/07/the-abcs-of-communitarianism.html
https://www.britannica.com/topic/communitarianism

         It should come as no surprise that many of the scholars who advanced this concept of communitarianism have deep Jewish roots, such as the respected political thinkers Amitai Etzioni and Michael Walzer. Another is Michael Sandel, the distinguished Prof of Law at Harvard University. Forgive me for expressing some Adath pride in noting that Sandel spent his early years in Minneapolis and celebrated his Bar Mitzvah at Adath in 1966, before his family left Minnesota. 

         I want us to consider the work of yet another champion of the concept of communitarianism, the American social thinker Robert Putnam. Putnam did not celebrate his Bar Mitzvah at Adath. Still, his is an important voice for us to hear. His now classic book Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community (2000), published more than twenty years ago documented the significant decline in America of communal organizations and activities, as the title suggests, people were becoming less inclined to join bowling leagues and instead did things alone, or with a small circle of family and friends. Putnam provided us with an early warning about the consequences of this trend. This past year he finished a new book, co-authored with his student Shaylyn Romney Garrett, The Upswing: How America Came Together a Century Ago and How We Can Do It Again.

         Here Putnam and Garret carefully review the economic, political and social data of the last 100 years to support their claim that we are living in a time that is the most radically individualistic since the period that extended from the 1870s to the end of the 19th century known as the Gilded Age. That was the age of the robber barons, when great fortunes were amassed by those who led the way on the latest technologies at a time of mass industrialization. The Gilded Age was a time of unbridled individualism in which the few benefited at the expense of the many, in which there was rampant inequalities of wealth. Putnam and Garret powerfully make the case that this country has returned to a state where similar conditions exist doing enormous harm to the fabric of our country and to the wellbeing of so many. Like that of the Gilded Age our time is also marked by:

Dramatic economic inequality
Lack of compromise in politics
Less cohesion in social life
Less altruism in cultural values.       Does all of that sound familiar?

         So what is the upswing to which the title of Putnam and Garret’s book refer? Charting diverse economic and social trends, they illustrate how the excesses of the Gilded Age began to be reversed from about 1895 until the 1960s when a spirit of progressive reform took hold in this country. In every area of American life, from bottom to top, there emerged a sense of revulsion for the rugged individualism that did so much harm to this democracy and replaced it with an ethos of people committed to working for the common good. During that period- about 65 years long- greater economic equality was achieved, there was more cooperation in the public square, a stronger social fabric developed, and there was a growing culture of solidarity. Putnam and Garret reveal that beginning in the 1960s, that progress started to be dismantled, a downswing began and we have now sunk back to low points, by all kinds of measures, equaling the worst excesses of the Gilded age.
         Thankfully, Putnam and Garret do not leave us with just a lament about what has transpired. They also offer a message of hope. At the start of the 20th century Americans of all kinds and from every quarter pushed back against the focus on the “I,” rampant individualism and selfishness of the Gilded Age that had corroded the country. People across lines of party began to commit instead to the “We,” the widespread adoption of communal norms and values that resulted in the upswing they ably document. Their book is a call for Americans to once more stand up for each other and for the common good. They reject radical solutions, calling instead for a different kind of politics that once again allows for compromise to achieve the greatest good. Putnam and Garret assert the need to champion the rights of all over the rights of some, in keeping with the principles of communitarianism championed by thinkers such as Sandel, Etzioni and Walzer.  

         This communitarian ethos is very much in the spirit of how Judaism views the world in which we honor the value of every individual, created in the image of God, while joining together in a communal covenant for the sake of the common good. This view grounded in the teaching of our ancient sage  Hillel has always been at the heart of Conservative Judaism, which is respectful of individual difference and individual conscience, while urging us to join together as a community and as a Jewish people to work for the perpetuation of Jewish values and practices and the betterment of the world. 

         Putnam and Garret’s book, published last year, may have come at just the right time when the devastating pandemic has shown us how damaging the assertion of individual liberties can be when promoted at the expense of the greater good. Perhaps his pandemic will provide the needed wakeup call to the dangers of radical individualism, which has done enormous damage to the fabric of our society and literally cost the lives of so many.  

​         Only time will tell whether we will embrace a commitment to community and the wellbeing of all and witness a new upswing as the decades unfold. We stand ready as an Adath Jeshurun Congregation to realize that hope and to support that vision. It is the vision taught so powerfully by the ancient sage Hillel-
If I am here, then everyone is here."  אִם אֲנִי כָּאן — הַכֹּל כָּאן. And if I am not here who is here וְאִם אֵינִי כָּאן — מִי כָּאן?”  teaching us that the community and the individual are inextricably linked and that we are each responsible one for the other. Let us stand together and see to it that this necessary shift happens soon and in our times. And let us say Amen.

​         One of the best-known teachers of the rabbinic period is the sage Hillel.              His teachings continue to be invoked. One of his best-known teachings is found in the collection of rabbinic sayings- Pirkei Avot- The Wisdom of the Sages where in chapter 1:14 we find his often-quoted aphorism: 
If I am not for myself who will be for me?
אִם אֵין אֲנִי לִי, מִי לִי.
But if I am only for myself, what am I?
וּכְשֶׁאֲנִי לְעַצְמִי, מָה אֲנִי. 
And if not now when?
וְאִם לֹא עַכְשָׁיו, אֵימָתָי ?  
         In the Hebrew you can hear the cleverness of the language and the rhyme. 
As we prepare for our Rosh Hashanah Musaf, Amidah I ask that we consider what this teaching means to us at this time and why it has held up so well all these hundreds of years? In our times, when looking out for oneself is such a preoccupation, we might think that Hillel is supportive of that stance, while putting limits on it, which is a reasonable interpretation. 

       Dr. Joshua Kulp of the Conservative Yeshiva in Jerusalem offers an alternative explanation (Kulp’s Mishneh Commentary Sefaria) to unlock another possible meaning of Hillel’s enduring words. He writes: 
         
         This first statement of Hillel’s [If I am not for myself who will be for me?]
is not a statement lauding selfishness, but rather a statement which places a person’s character and qualities squarely on [their] own two shoulders. A person must work in this world to acquire [their] own merits, for no one else can do this on [their] behalf. 

         The second statement [But if I am only for myself, what am I?] balances out the first. Although a person must be concerned for [themselves], these responsibilities do not end there. One who does only for [themselves] does not contribute to [our] people and to the world. [A person] is not important, for when [they pass] away, no one else will be affected. 

         Kulp concludes: Finally, [explaining the third clause- And if not now when?] if a person puts off their responsibilities, when will [they] find time to carry them out? As we say in English, “now is as good a time as ever.”

         It seems to me that Hillel here is echoing other similar teachings of his. 
I will explore one of those from the Talmud Sukkot later in my sermon.  Another well-known teaching of Hillel’s is found in the second chapter of Pirkei Avot 2:5 where he states: 

Do not separate yourself from the community
אַל תִּפְרֹשׁ מִן הַצִּבּוּר
Do not trust in yourself until the day of your death. 
וְאַל תַּאֲמִין בְּעַצְמְךָ עַד יוֹם מוֹתְךָ

         In this teaching Hillel observes how easy it is for an individual to go it alone, being a community of one and convincing themselves of the rightness of their position. So, Hillel here tells us be careful about that. Adopt a position of humility, rather than assuming with confidence that you are right. 

         As we begin the repetition of the Amidah, consider where you are in light of this teaching. If we understand Hillel as commonly interpreted- are we looking out for ourselves within the appropriate limits of not being overly focused by taking responsibilities for the needs of others? Or as Josh Kulp asks: Are we working to improve ourselves, as no one else can do it for us and also working to improve the world? And as we find in his second text- are we separating ourselves from our community? Are we overly confident in the rightness of our position, or do we carry ourselves with necessary humility? 

        Let us take this time of reflection of the Musaf Amidah to consider these challenges and to seize this moment to correct course in the New Year. 

     Reflecting on the devastating impact last week of Hurricane Ida, when so many people succumbed to the horrible storms and had to be saved from their cars and homes, reminded me of a favorite story that makes a powerful point. I heard this parable long ago and delighted when I saw it used as the key lesson of an entire episode of the West Wing called “Take this Sabbath Day.”

          In this episode, President Bartlett is asked by his senior staff to consider commuting the death sentence of a convicted drug dealer whose appeal was dismissed by the Supreme Court. The advisors seek their own advice from various sources including a rabbi, and a Quaker campaign adviser.  President Bartlett, a devout Catholic, requests his parish priest, Father Tom Cavanaugh [played by the marvelous actor Karl Malden], come to the White House for his guidance on the matter.

       President Bartlett had his advisers look for a way the public would find palatable to commute the sentence.  But in the end, he tells the Priest “I’m the leader of a democracy, Tom. 71% of the people support capital punishment. The people have spoken. The courts have spoken.”
Father Cavanaugh asks if President Bartlett has prayed about the issue, and the President replies that he had prayed for wisdom.  “And none came?” Father Cavanaugh asks to which the President replies “It never has. And I’m a little PO’d about that.”

        Father Cavanaugh then tells the President the following parable: 

      You remind me of the man that lived by the river. He heard a radio report that the river was going to rush up and flood the town, and that all the residents should evacuate their homes. But the man said, "I'm religious. I pray. God loves me. God will save me." The waters rose up. A guy in a rowboat came along and he shouted, "Hey, hey you, you in there. The town is flooding. Let me take you to safety." But the man shouted back, "I'm religious. I pray. God loves me. God will save me." A helicopter was hovering overhead and a guy with a megaphone shouted, "Hey you, you down there. The town is flooding. Let me drop this ladder and I'll take you to safety." But the man shouted back that he was religious, that he prayed, that God loved him and that God will take him to safety. Well... the man drowned. And standing at the gates of St. Peter he demanded an audience with God. "Lord," he said, "I'm a religious man, I pray, I thought you loved me. Why did this happen?" God said, "I sent you a radio report, a helicopter and a guy in a rowboat. What the hell are you doing here?"

       I love that story that teaches a very Jewish lesson that prayer can only take us so far. Our prayers can give us clarity about values to strive for and provide an opportunity to reflect on our circumstances and express gratitude even in the most difficult of situations. But prayer in Judaism is never a replacement for taking action. Waiting on God to act is no replacement for the responsibility we each have to reach out to others in need and for those in difficult circumstance to have the wisdom to accept that divinely inspired assistance when it is offered. 

       Sadly, it requires no stretching of that story to write a new ending that applies to our times in which God replies, “I sent you public health warnings about appropriate distancing, I sent you masks, I sent you vaccines. What are we doing here?

        As we turn to the Malchuyot section of the Musaf, let us have an appropriate sense of God’s role in the world and our individual and communal responsibilities.

     ​Several weeks ago, when we were reading Parashat Ki Tavo toward the end of the book of Deuteronomy, I came across a wonderful D’var Torah by Ilana Kurshan of the Conservative Yeshiva in Jerusalem that I knew immediately I would want to share with you today. In that Torah portion, Moses describes the kinds of blessings the people of Israel will experience if they are loyal to God’s covenant and the kind of curses they will experience if they fail to uphold it. The list of curses are very rough, culminating in God’s threat to return the people to Egypt to endure a fate even worse than the original experience of Egyptian bondage. Kurshan points out that the curses seem to be based on the plagues that struck Egypt before the Israelites were liberated. 

       One of the most vividly described curses echoes the plague of darkness: “The Lord will afflict you with madness, blindness and dismay. You shall grope at noon as a blind man gropes in the dark” (28:28-29). The rabbis often comment when they notice Biblical language that seems to be repetitive or superfluous. In the Talmud tractate Megillah (24b), one of the sages Rabbi Yose raises a question on this verse from Ki Tavo, “Why must the Torah specify that the blind man is surrounded by darkness? If he is blind, won’t he have to grope around regardless? What difference does it make to a blind man whether there is light or not, since the blind man cannot see it anyway? 

     Rabbi Yose’s question about this curse comes up in the context of the rabbinic discussion of communal prayer where the rabbis pose a question about whether a blind person may lead the congregation in the Shema, which is preceded by a blessing about the creation of the sun, moon, and the stars. Rabbi Yehuda argues there that since a blind person has never benefited from the light of these heavenly bodies, he may not recite this blessing. The other rabbis challenge Rabbi Yehuda observing, “Who says you’re not allowed to speak about something just because you haven’t experienced it first hand? People often expound on matters with which they have no direct experience.” As an example, they point to the many rabbinic comments on the divine chariot from the prophetic book of Ezekiel that none of them had actually ever seen. 

       At this point Rabbi Yose chimes with his question to justify the blind person reciting the Shema and the blessing before it referencing the heavenly lights by telling the following story: 

      Once Rabbi Yose recalls he was walking around in the darkness of night when he saw a blind man pass by holding a torch. Rabbi Yose asked the blind man why he was carrying a torch given that he is blind and could not see its light. The blind man responded, “As long as I have a torch in my hand, people see me and save me from the pits and thorns and thistles.” 

    Rabbi Yose explains that throughout his entire life, he was troubled by the verse from Deuteronomy 28 about the blind man groping around in darkness, but after this encounter with this blind man, he realized that even a blind person can benefit from light because it enables others around him or her to come to their aid. He thus came to understand that the curse in Ki Tavo is so severe because the blind person described there did not even have the benefit of a torch to alert others; and instead, gropes around in darkness, and no one can help. 

       Ilana Kurshan offers us a lesson based on this parable of Rabbi Yose’s encounter with the blind person as a reminder to all of us to allow others to help us in our own journeys through darkness. We all go through periods in life when we feel like we are groping around, unsure how to move forwards and terrified of all the stumbling blocks in our path. In such moments, we should not be afraid to shine light on our own distress and allow others to alleviate our suffering. 

      Indeed, as Rabbi Yose learned, it was not just the case that he was in the position to help the blind man; the blind man was also able to help Rabbi Yose by illuminating a puzzling text. The blind man’s torch thus cast light not just on the pits and brambles, but also on a thorny verse from our parashah that had previously tripped up and blinded Rabbi Yose. 

       We should never think that we are in things alone. As we begin the section of the Zichronot, let us not forget that we are blessed to have people whether it be family, friends, or community to help us illumine the path and to remember that we have a responsibility to carry that torch for others as well even at a time when we are stumbling in the darkness. 
 
      Based on the teaching of Ilana Kurshan of the Conservative Yeshiva. Torah Sparks Parashat Ki Tavo
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