Click here for the running list:
http://avimayer.tumblr.com/post/70821835473/universities-standing-strong-for-academic-freedom-and
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Thursday, December 19, 2013
To The Virginia General Assembly: What Will You Do In January?
To The Virginia General Assembly: What Will You Do In January?
From the Heart
Rabbi Gary S. Creditor
Somewhere around the
end of December/the beginning of January we complete reading Sefer Bereshit and
begin reading Sefer Sh’mot. We move from the story of the patriarchs to that of
the enslavement. In the very first parsha/sedra we read about Moses, the person
who will dominate four books of the Torah. His life is threatened by Pharaoh
twice, first anonymously in the original edict to kill all the Hebrew boys and
secondly after he defended a Hebrew slave and killed the taskmaster. Either
Moses ran away or was certainly put to death.
He flees to the
wilderness of Sinai where he marries Tzipporah, works as a shepherd for her
father Jethro. While doing so he has the transformational experience of meeting
God at the burning bush. God commands Moses to return to Egypt and be His agent
in freeing the children of Israel. This is a compelling, forceful and driving
narrative. We read it every single year
without fail. Every year we hear God’s command to Moses to set the people free.
Is it just
coincidental that we read this section of the Torah when the General Assembly
meets and has days set aside for lobbying by the people of the Commonwealth? I
don’t. You and I are not Moses and the General Assembly is not Pharaoh. Yet
there are many people crying to be free. There compelling issues that cannot be
ignored if we want to make a better, healthier and freer society. In January
God says: “Go down Moses…” In January I hear God’s voice: “Go to the General
Assembly…”
What shall we say to
our representatives?
I want to ask them
one and only one question:
Who is more hard-hearted: Them or Pharaoh?
Answering that question
will answer everything.
Pharaoh wanted to
kill all the Hebrew boys and let the girls live. Today it seems that they don’t
care if its boys or girls. How many times will a young person obtain a gun and
kill – in schools, in hospitals, and in the streets of Richmond? Do the names
Sandy Hook and Newtown not resonate and cause trembling, the same as Moses felt
before God and the Burning Bush? Did Bonnie Marrow and all her brothers and
sisters in death die in vain?
So I will go to our
representatives in the General Assembly and lobby for more extensive back
ground checks on gun buyers, reduction of available fire power and other means
of reducing the bloodshed that stains our streets and breaks our hearts.
In the reverse of
the Israelites’ predicament of wanting to get out of Egypt, we have a
population who want to stay in America. For them, this is the Promised Land. Remember, the Israelites did not
have visas to get into Canaan. Our ancestors were truly illegal immigrants.
These people, here, are our neighbors, workers in the grocery stores, tending
to our lawns, picking the vegetables and fruits and raising their children to
be honorable and dignified Americans. How shabbily we treat them. I am not
aloof from the complexity of the matter. But I believe that the Senate passed a
bill that is the best approach. In Sefer Sh’mot we are commanded to care for the stranger because we were them.
So I will go to the
General Assembly to lobby for laws that, at least locally, will improve their
lives, include a measure of justice, and reflect the attitude that we sought
for our ancestors.
I have really one
question for the General Assembly:
Who is more hard-hearted: Them or Pharaoh?
Answering that
question will answer everything.
In January I will
ask that of the General Assembly.
What Will You Be Doing This January?
Friday, November 22, 2013
Intersecting Holidays
Intersecting Holidays
From the Heart
Rabbi Gary S. Creditor
Normally Hanukkah and Christmas are juxtaposed by the
secular and Jewish calendars. Christmas is a central holiday for Christianity
and Hanukkah is considered of the minor Jewish holidays, not recorded in the Bible
and only minimally mentioned in the Talmud. These two holidays are theological
opposites, one celebrating the birth of the central figure of the faith and the
other commemorating the fight to preserve Judaism. Why is this year different
from every other year?
The answer is found in the intricacy of the Jewish
calendar being a hybrid of a lunar calendar adjusted to the solar calendar. The
holidays must occur in their proper seasons. Just imagine Passover in December
and Rosh HaShanah in July! Can’t happen! The Jewish calendar is designed to
keep order. Yet this year we celebrated the extraordinary event of Hanukkah
juxtaposed to Thanksgiving. It won’t occur again for many millennia.
Long discourses could be written on the origin of Thanksgiving,
debunking some of its myths. We know that the early settlers to this continent,
illegal aliens to the Native Americans, would shortly dispossess those who had
helped save their lives. We have created self-serving mythology. Yet the need
to be thankful and express it is rooted in the Torah with the holy day of
Sukkot and the bringing of the First Fruits to the Temple. More important than
the sales and football games is the need to acknowledge that we have been
blessed to have what we have. Furthermore, if we are really truthful with ourselves, we need to act upon the knowledge that not
all people have been blessed like we have been. We need to be a blessing to
others. Our sacred liturgy compels us to assist all others in need, the poor, the stranger, the orphan and
the widow, in Biblical language, to rise from their poverty and enjoy the same
level of blessings that we do. I am glad that our Biblical teachings are the
foundation of the thoroughly American holiday. Our Judaism and our American
heritage are complementary one to another.
Hanukkah must be understood accurately to have its
authentic power. It was not a fight for “religious freedom.” It was war by the
Jews against the onslaught of Hellenism, culture and religion, to be Jews faithful to God and Torah.
In the beginning it was civil war among the Jews themselves, those who would be
faithful and those who abandon it. The struggle began with a small number, a
faint light in the Judean mountains and would last for decades. The liberation
of Jerusalem and the rededication of its Temple were temporary. Yet because of
the Maccabees Judaism would survive, thrive and triumph while the Greek and
Roman empires would crumble. Hanukkah is a distinctive holiday for the Jewish
people. It is a specific narrative of the Jews would who fight even to the
death to preserve the faith. It is a very different holiday than Thanksgiving.
I am proud to observe both holidays, as a Jew and as
an American. Their juxtaposition gives me pause to realize how blessed I am, we
are, to have such a personal richness. But
I do not combine the two. One expresses a general thanks for what we have.
The other celebrates our existence and our purpose as Jews. I hope that you
enjoyed a wonderful Thanksgiving. From our far-flung family to yours we wish a
happy and meaningful Hanukkah.
Chag Sameach!
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Admat Kodesh – Holy Ground – Sinai and Richmond
Admat Kodesh – Holy Ground – Sinai and Richmond
November 15th, 2013
Rabbi Gary S. Creditor
While Moses is tending his
father-in-law’s, Jethro’s, flock, he sees a strange sight in the distance and
goes towards the bush that is burning yet not consumed. From that bush God speaks to Moses and says: “Remove
your shoes from upon your feet because the ground you are standing on is ‘admat kodesh’ – holy ground.”
What makes ordinary soil ‘holy’?
To answer that question I really need to define the
word holy.
Then we need to deal with the implications of that definition.
Clearly in the Torah God specifies that the precise
soil where He and Moses meet has transcendent
meaning because it is the meeting place between man and God. The
planet has inherent kedoshah, holiness, because it is God’s creation and thus
we have certain obligations to take care of it. Yet this exact spot is
holy because here Moses meets God, the ultimate
human experience. But it was not
just a tête-à-tête. Moses will leave this meeting under Divine command to lead
the Israelites out of Egyptian slavery to freedom and into national existence.”
Holiness indicates something that is ultimate,
above and beyond all else has
happened here. Indeed, Moses was standing on admat kodesh, holy ground.
As best as I can discern, everywhere else in the
Bible, human beings declare ‘holy
ground.’ When Jacob sleeps at the place he will call Beth El, he proclaims
that God was in that place and makes it special by pouring oil on its stones.
After the Tabernacle is built in the wilderness of Sinai, every time and every
place it is erected, the specific place for the Ark with the Ten Commandments
is chosen by Moses and Aaron. Solomon will build the First Temple on the
mountain top and this meeting place for God and Israel becomes holy forever. Each of these places has transcendent
meaning. It never loses its holiness. It is holy, sacred, sanctified – forever
and ever.
This is a critical concept: transcendent
meaning caused by a transcendent event
can change the status of otherwise mundane soil.
Death
does this too.
A cemetery is admat
kodesh, holy ground. It obtains this status because our human body, created
in God’s image is, after God Himself, the
holiest thing in existence. Our body is holier than the Torah. When buried
in ordinary soil, it changes its status to admat kodesh, holy ground, and
imbues that status to the entire area, even where no one is buried. That changes our behavior. We don’t eat
on a cemetery. We don’t play music – except for military honors – on a
cemetery. And we are not supposed to walk on graves, a difficult task in
cemeteries without distinct demarcations. Death, as
well as birth, is a transcendent event
for us and for God. It is the ultimate
event in human existence, for, in
traditional Jewish belief, it marks the transition of the soul’s existence from
this world to the-world-to-come and life everlasting.
Auschwitz, Treblinka, Sobibor and all the named and
unnamed places of the genocide of our people is holy ground. I say that not because of the horrors that occurred
there but rather because death has
ultimate meaning and thus ultimate power. Death sanctifies the soil.
Besides all else that can be rightfully said, the death of our people in those
places was testimony to the eternality of the Jewish people
to triumph over that evil.
Those places are admat kodesh because our people there maintained their dignity,
their Jewishness, their honor, their humanity and in death triumphed over evil. Their suffering and their humanity made
ordinary blood-soaked and blood-stained soil admat kodesh, holy ground.
And you don’t play baseball on admat
kodesh.
We do not have proprietary rights over suffering
because of the Holocaust.
We do have a deeper empathy and sensitivity to
suffering because of the Holocaust.
We do not own the word “slavery” because of Egyptian
bondage.
We gave the world the belief in “equality” - that no
person will be a master and none a slave.
Admat kodesh, holy ground is not just on the Temple Mount in Jerusalem or
wherever was the Burning Bush.
Admat kodesh, holy ground is not just where our dead our buried, but wherever
anyone is buried.
Admat kodesh, holy ground is not just where our people have suffered, but
wherever other people have suffered, too.
If God could hear the groans of the Israelites in
Egypt, then He could hear those of the African-Americans in Richmond, Virginia.
You don’t play baseball at Arlington
National Cemetery.
You don’t play baseball at Auschwitz.
And maybe they shouldn’t play baseball
at Shockoe Bottom either.
Shabbat Shalom.
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
The Symbolic Statement for Equality by Richmond City Council
The Symbolic Statement for Equality by Richmond City
Council
Rabbi Gary S. Creditor
November 1st, 2013
Richmond, Virginia
This past Monday
night I listened to language that was laced with hatred, venom and
vituperation. It could have been used at
many early junctures in American history. It was fortified with theological
certitude over what God wants. And it was spiked with threats of eternal
damnation. If I was somewhere else other than the chambers of the City Council
of Richmond I might have feared for my life. Personally, I have not heard such
language in a very long time. The issue that attracted such diatribes was the proposed
ordinance that, at such time that the Constitution of the Commonwealth of
Virginia permits, partners in same-sex marriages of employees of the City of
Richmond would receive equal benefits as all others. The ordinance had three sponsors on the City
Council. It needed two more votes to pass.
Sometimes it is hard
to imagine that we live in the year 2013 or even better, 5774.
I wonder whether
fellow citizens have paid attention to the development of society.
The arguments voiced harkened back
to the denial of civil rights for African-Americans.
The positions espoused could be used
to subjugate any segment of society that was
different than the speaker's.
I was stunned but
not really surprised. I did want to shout “Oy veys meir!” But I didn’t.
The vote of five to
four by which it ultimately passed was partial vindication for the experience
of the evening.
I am proud that a
colleague in the ministry, when his turn to speak came, publicly noticed me in
the audience in support of the ordinance. There were too many speakers to fit
into the thirty minute allotment. But with my appearance and the whitest kipah
I own on my head, I was easily identified. It was important personally and for
our religious community to be present so that my position could be acknowledged.
If I had the podium
and more than three minutes to speak, these are the points I would have made to
the City Council.
1. God has not
spoken to me recently, so I don’t know what God wants. It is
vital to come with humility and not with certitude. We have a holy text that has historical narrative,
specific laws that surely reflect an earlier time and place, and a theology
about humanity. One speaker cited the Book of Leviticus and would have been
very pleased if, based on that text, LBGTQ population would all be put to
death. I would have asked the gentleman: What about unruly children? What about
Sabbath desecrators – regardless of Saturday or Sunday? What about adulterers?
If you are going to cite the Bible for killing one group, then at least be consistent
and kill them all!? I wish the absurdity of that statement to be apparent. I
don’t deny the verse in Leviticus. I just don’t apply it, and I certainly can’t
imagine that this is God’s absolute last word on the matter and that He - or
She – [that would have caused the speaker an apoplexy] wants me to commit
murder. I have to work very hard to believe that I know what God wants.
2. I would have
asked the Council members: what are the two most important verses in the Five
Books of Moses? And I would have referred them to the same Book of Leviticus
where it states that we should love our neighbor as ourselves. On a previous
Shabbat I have explained that the Hebrew word usually translated as neighbor
really means ‘the other.’ And The Torah doesn’t restrict this verse just to men
and not women, young and not old, Israelite and not foreigner. The second most
important verse comes from Genesis where it says that “these are the
generations of Adam.” It refers to all
humanity, implying that the Divine design is to have a varieted humanity
that looks different, sounds different, talks different, is different and yet
are all related to each
other. Those who are LBGTQ are just as much related. And if Leviticus commands
us to love each other, meaning to take care of each other, be considerate of
each other, see to the welfare of each other, then it means that we should love
them too.
3. Judaism expounds
the view that our understanding of anything and everything evolves, even as a
core bedrock values are eternal. So I would have asked the Council: What is the most important value of all? Is
it democracy? Capitalism? Conservativism? I would recommend to the Council that the most important value of all is
that of holiness, the holiness of each and every person, of the air, of the
land, of life itself. Holiness is the reflection of the Divine in
all of creation. It adheres to all that is with no distinction. There are no
restrictions to holiness. It can be found in all. It can be found in everyone
that stands in relationship to something other than themselves, and even in the
relationship of one to one’s own self. It can be found in all segments of
society, the straight and the LGBTQ alike.
From all of this it
is preeminently clear to me that the granting of spousal benefits to gay
employees of the City of Richmond, at such time as we change the constitution
of the Commonwealth, was and is the just and righteous thing to do. This is
what I believe God wants of us. I commend my Council member, Mr. John Baliles
for voting in the affirmative. I wish the other members had made it unanimous.
Yet I have one
further comment. Several Council members said that this was “only” symbolic, and as such, was inappropriate for the Council to do.
I would suggest that they consider the
inherent power of symbolic statements. What is the difference between a sign and a symbol? The answer is that a sign points only to itself or a
limited action or moment. A stop sign does nothing more than indicate that a
car at that place stops before proceeding. It has no greater message. A flag is
a symbol for it indicates history, evokes devotion, galvanizes action,
stirs emotions, and points to the past and to the future. Symbols, symbolic
actions, symbolic statements have great power and meaning. It was and is worthy
of the City of Richmond to make symbolic statements for they reveal what we
think of ourselves and what we dream for the future.
With its particular
history, it is right and dutiful that the City of Richmond to have stepped
forward in the extension of rights and benefits for the partners of all of its
employees. Now all we have to do is change the Constitution.
Shabbat Shalom.
What’s In a Name?
What’s In a Name?
Rabbi Gary S. Creditor
October 25th, 2013
One of my favorite songs is by Johnny Cash and is
entitled “A Boy Named Sue.” In the song, Sue wants to meet the person who gave
him that name and ultimately will meet his father and they will have a big
fight yet wind up embracing. Yet at the end he swears that if he ever has a
son, he will give him any name other than Sue.
What is such a big deal? There are boys names that are
used by girls, so what is it that made this song so popular in its time, other
than Johnny Cash is singing it?
The issue is that in a mysterious way we come to
identify with the name we are given. We respond when called by that name and by
no other. Some people use an initial for their first name and use their middle
name as the given one. Our name identifies me to myself and to everyone else.
Some names are rare, like my first name, and it even sounds a bit odd when you
meet someone else who also has it.
Names give power. When my mother or father called my
name, the tone and tenor of how it was pronounced and where they put the
accent, and how loud or soft, was all that I needed to know. They gave it to
me. They labeled me. At least until a certain age, they had the power. As they
were my parents, they had the inherent right to give me my name and call my
name.
That is why God names Adam and Eve, with the meaning
inherent in each name, his meaning ‘earth’ and hers relating to ‘life.’ God
created the earth and put them on it, and they will be the progenitors of all
human beings. Similarly the first thing that God had Adam and Eve do in the
Garden of Eden was to give names to all the animals. It indicated that there is
a hierarchy in the world and that human beings are at the epitome of the ladder
of existence. Human beings are ultimately permitted to slaughter animals for
food, but an animal that kills a human being is put to death. Giving a name to
another has many implications about their relationships and even their destiny.
That is why God changed Avram to Abraham and Sarai to Sarah, by adding the
letter “Hey” referring to God to each of their names.
The Ashkenazic Jewish tradition is to name our
children after the deceased, so as to perpetuate their memory in the family. I
know that I am named after my two maternal grandfathers. Ruby and I named
Menachem, Yonina and Tzeira after family members and made sure that they knew
who their namesakes were. Through names we can tie the generations together and
keep some cognizance of from where we come. It is a powerful dynamic. With
Moshe Tzvi’s second name, Tzvi, and Raya’s name, though deceased, my father and
my uncle are kept ever present in the family by the mention of their names.
What’s in a name? Everything.
Those following something besides the World Series and
Wall Street might have guessed where I am leading, but before getting there I
want to inject one other issue.
Judaism has core values and one of them is entitled “K’vod HaBeriyot,” – “The Honor of
living beings.” It isn’t relegated just to one sphere of existence. It is
applicable to animals and human beings alike.
It is fundamental in Judaism that everything in existence must be respected. Religiously
we say that everything traces its origin back to God who is the supreme
Creator. The insertion of Va’yachulu in our tefilot tonight stresses that
religious belief. Thus everything inherently has, inherently reflects God’s
holiness. Even the earth, an inanimate object, is God’s creation and thus requires our respect. The earth
is holy, too.
It is easy to connect my two subjects, names and respect. How we name someone, how we call someone, indicates what
we think of them, how we relate to them, what is our relationship with them.
Does it indicate power or honor? Does it show respect to ancestry or
diminishment of the past? How we feel about ourselves is reflected in the names
we call ourselves and the names we reject when used against us. I am proud to
be called a Jew, when someone says “You’re Jewish.” I have to correct them we
they call me a “Hebrew,” usually used out of ignorance. It has been a long time
since any derogatory term has been used against me. I bristled and called them
out when they did. I want to be respected for, with and by my name. I give
respect in using others’ names.
So what should we do about the National
League Football team in Washington, D.C., currently called “The Redskins.” Only slightly distant are the Atlanta Braves and the
tomahawk chop, the Cleveland Indians and the Kansas City Chiefs. All other
major league teams in baseball, football and basketball have benign names. Yes,
these nicknames have a long history with their teams. I also confess to not
knowing how they were chosen.
But should they keep them?
The Cleveland team is currently asking their fans
about using their name. The Atlanta team is already under demands to reevaluate
theirs. I haven’t heard anything from Kansas City. But the term “Redskins” is certainly derogatory. It
reflects an attitude to the only group that is native to this continent or
surely antedates us by millennia. It is pejorative no less than the Yiddish
word used for African-Americans. For those who remember television in
black-and-white era, let us recall how Native Americans were portrayed. How did
they speak? What were they called? [Answer – savages.] How did they dress? How
were the women and children portrayed?
Did this show respect?
Did is show insight into their culture?
Did is reflect the honor and holiness that they showed
to the earth?
Did is reveal their spirituality?
Did it present the values of their cultures?
Hardly
if ever.
How would we as Jews feel if the period of sojourn in
Eastern Europe or in the Middle Eastern countries (besides Israel) was held up
to satire, lampoon and ridicule? I think that this could be done to everyone. It should be done to no one.
So let’s find another name for the
National League Football team in Washington, D.C.
Given their location I could suggest a few: the
nudnicks; the do-nothings; the empty tea-cups; the disgrace; the ruinations.
They don’t sound good in a cadence, but they are more befitting than the
current appellation. Of course these suggestions are just a little satire. But
if we can have the “Flying Squirrels” I am sure that they come up with
something useful for Washington.
What’s in a name?
Respect.
Self respect.
Honor.
Dignity.
Identity.
Destiny.
I am proud to be called a Jew. Let’s join our voices
to show honor and respect to others.
Shabbat Shalom.
Friday, October 18, 2013
Washington, D.C. and Sodom & Gomorrah
Washington,
D.C. and Sodom & Gomorrah
Rabbi Gary
S. Creditor
October
18, 2013
In this week’s Torah
portion the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah are destroyed by God because of their
evilness. Lot, Abraham’s nephew chose to live there because of the external
beauty of the area. He clearly never heard the maxim: “don’t choose a book by
its cover.” The Torah describes it as something akin to a cross between the
Garden of Eden and well-wateredness and fertility of the land of Egypt.
Certainly there had to be plenty for everybody.
And yet the Torah
indicates that amidst this land of plenty there was an embedded evilness that
warranted its destruction. It is so bad that God Himself must go down to
inspect and see if it is true. What did God find? Jewish commentators indicate
an endless number of sins, even as the text will center on the episode of the
strangers that come to visit Lot. They are more than unwelcome in Sodom and
Gomorrah. There is an abject hatred of these strangers, so much so that the
city descends on Lot’s home and demands that they be handed over for whatever
malicious evil will be done upon them.
There are many
questions for this complex story, but I will pose just two.
1. Why amidst the
plush lushness of the valley, so much so that it is the object for takeover by
several neighboring kings, that there is clearly more than enough for everyone,
that the people didn’t want to share the wealth?
2. Why did God turn
to Abraham and not Lot to save the city? God reveals His design to Abraham and
affords Abraham the opportunity to enter into negotiations for the future of
the city, all the way down to ten righteous people, which since God can’t even
find that many, He destroys the place. Why didn’t God engage Lot, who was
already living there instead of Abraham who was far off and didn’t even know
the kind of people that were there?
Both questions and
answers have immediate applicability to today. While I am loathe calling
Washington, D.C. the modern day incarnation of Sodom and Gomorrah, as the old
adage goes, “if the shoe fits….”
1. The answer to the
first question – for some people, no matter how much they have for themselves,
it is never enough. And not only that, because they do have so much, they care
even less about anyone else. The people of Sodom and Gomorrah had an innate
jealousy that their abundance could be shared and thus an equally innate hatred
of the other. I am really mystified how they could accept Lot to live there and
then turn on three measly strangers that come to visit. Nevertheless it is
clear that even though Lot welcomed them into his home and he tried to bribe
off the mob, he was not prepared to go any further. They overstuffed society
had no ‘golden rule’ of ‘love thy neighbor as thyself.’ They had no
consideration for anyone else who might have been poor or injured or incapable.
They were self-center, concerned with self-aggrandizement and self fulfillment
that they could not bring themselves to share the wealth.
2. Why not Lot?
Didn’t he grow up in Abraham’s home; listen to his uncle’s teaching about
justice and righteousness? While Lot is certainly a good person who welcomed in
the strangers, that was about as far as he could go. He did not go outside his
home to argue with the mob. He did not proclaim a vision of society. Lot did
not share the ideals of loving others, sharing and caring, of chesed and
mishpat, righteousness and justice. He was good enough to practice it himself,
but he was not good enough to fight for it in the public space. Abraham was
different. He didn’t give lip service. He walked enough of the walk to earn the
right to do the talk with God.
What we have
witnessed and endured this past period of time is surely a modern day
incarnation of these issues.
While there might
significant issues in the details of the Affordable Care Act, can anybody say
with any sense of dignity and self respect that they deserve health insurance
and others don’t?
Can anybody say that
the richest country on the face of the earth cannot take care of each other,
while Israel, which has a much larger per capita cost to defend itself, can
have universal health coverage and we can’t?
Can anybody justify
hurting millions of people, from veterans who have defended us in the past to
those in the military who defend us now, from those validly counting on their
weekly SNAP and social security to those hardworking men and women in other
arms of the government which then extends like a spider’s web throughout our
society with untold damage and harm, financially, psychologically and
spiritually?
If that’s not Sodom
and Gomorrah, I don’t know what is!
While debt is a
serious issue and American financial health is very important, like Lot, where
is the vision? Where is the wisdom to implement responsible government that
addresses all the issues and all the needs of this country?
Maybe all of them are no better than Lot in the Torah, a good man, but no
better. A moral person in an immoral world, but no better. A likeable guy in an
evil place, but no better. His best answer was “take my girls and leave me
alone.” “Where there is no vision, the people perish” said Solomon in Proverbs.
How close have we come?
That is why we are
called the children of Abraham, because he had a vision of justice and mercy,
kindness and consideration and was prepared to enunciate in the highest public
place, before God, and Lot did not. When Abraham had no children, in the custom
of the ancient world, Lot his nephew could have become the inheritor of the
line of the family, and his descendants become the leaders. Oy for a world
filled with people like Lot!
The need to be the children
of Abraham is needed now more than ever before. “For I have known (Abraham),
that he will command his children and his household after him, and they will
keep God’s ways, doing righteousness and justice.” [Genesis 18.19] The battle
has just begun.
Shabbat Shalom
What is wrong with this picture?
What is wrong
with this picture?
From the Heart
Rabbi Gary S.
Creditor
From
the dawn of my religious awakening in fourth grade when I began “Hebrew”
school, I have lived my life inside Conservative synagogues. I grew up in USY
and the short lived college program ATID, worked in Camp Ramah at different
locations on the east coast, served as a USY advisor and youth director at
Conservative synagogues. My education was centered at the Jewish Theological
Seminary. Since 1974 I have been a Rabbi of six United Synagogue affiliated
synagogues. I have spent a lifetime dedicated to facing the dynamics that
confront us in the open society and to strengthening Jewish identity
qualitatively and quantitatively.
There
is nothing in the recent Pew report about the American Jewish community that
surprises me.
There
has been the long-running mantra that “being” “Jewish” is more than just
being “religious.” Some offered “culture” referring to cuisine, arts, music,
literature that are “Jewish” but not “religious.” Others turned to campaigns to
create or fulfill their definition of “being” “Jewish,” such as the campaign to
free Soviet Jewry and then the resettlement programs. The Six-Day War in 1967
and the Yom Kippur War of 1973 made Israel a major focus of “Jewish” “identity”
and activity. And certainly philanthropy for Jewish/Israel causes filled the
“Jewish” “identity” quota by the amount of activity enjoined and the sense of
doing good (which it certainly is). These were and are good and worthy
endeavors for and the Jewish people.
And
certainly there were and are many Jews, however self-identified, who are not
attracted to Judaism or any of the above. To some degree, that could be the easiest
to expect and anticipate.
So
what is wrong with this picture?
The
answer is that, while valuable, unto themselves these are not sustainable, transmittable nor transformable.
They have no internal compelling force. In a world of infinite
possibilities, many have answered: “Who cares?”
These
are really just derivatives of the
eternal, nuclear core which is Judaism: is a faith that believes in a God who
chose Abraham and his descendants to be His representatives and exemplars in
the world for all time, standing in a covenantal relationship with God
expressed through rituals and prayers that refer to our sacred history;
lead to holy living; and, creates a community of those who share
the faith.
After
all is said and done, adults need to determine: do they have the faith?
Adults
need to determine: will they transmit
the faith?
Adults need to determine: will they live the faith?
Adults
need to determine: will they
make communities of faith?
This
is not a question about children,
the old Yiddish quote: “Alle fun de kinder”-“everything for the children.”
Faith is an adult issue. One has to look inside themselves for that
answer. The future of Judaism rests on the answer to these questions. That is
what the Pew report tells us.
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Do You Love me? Yom Kippur Yizkor 2013
Do You Love me?
Yom Kippur Yizkor
5774 2013
Rabbi Gary S. Creditor
Richmond, Virginia
I normally write the
Yom Kippur Yizkor sermon first. It breaks the log jam in my writing. Yet this
time I left it for last. The reason will be self-evident, as this has been the one
most difficult to compose.
Introduction
In the musical “Fiddler On The Roof,” after deciding
to permit Hodel to marry Perchik, Tevye turns to his wife Golde and asks her: “Do you love me?” I am sure that everyone, hopefully, remembers
this scene. In a shrill voice Golde responds: “Do I what?” Tevye repeats the question and Golde responds. He asks
again a second time and she responds and then Tevye asks Golde one more time
and she responds:
“Do I love him?
For twenty-five years
I’ve lived with him
Fought with him, starved
with him
Twenty-five years my bed
is his
If that’s not love, what
is?
And Tevye, finally
responds: “Then you love me?” Golde answers: “I suppose I do.” And he rejoins:
“And I suppose I love you to.”
In a final duet they
sing together:
“It doesn’t change a
thing
But even so
After twenty-five years
It’s nice to know.”
And when we are
laying in a hospital bed, or in a nursing home, or perhaps in our own bed at
home unable to speak for any number of reasons;
Or perhaps we are
the ones standing at the bedside of a loved one, a parent, a spouse, a friend,
for me it has been congregants, and we can only see their eyes but cannot
communicate;
As the doctor or
nurse is asking: “What do you want us to do?” I imagine that the one laying
there is asking: “Do you love me?” And we are standing there responding: “Do I
love you?”
The supreme question
of life and death is contained in that question: “Do you love me?”
Perhaps we say under
our breath: “God! What should we do?”
Though I am neither
God nor His surrogate, too many times in my Rabbinate families have turned to
me and said: “Rabbi! What should we do?”
It is a question
that must have an answer.
And the answers
should have been given a long time ago.
If we love them and
if they love us, as hard as it is, we must ask them and we must answer them,
when we are still able and in full control of our thoughts and speech. If we
love them, we won’t make them answer these questions. They will know ours.
I.
Perhaps when you
were admitted to a hospital they asked you questions pertaining to Advance Medical Directives which
included documents for a Living Will
and Durable Power of Attorney for Health
Care. These are important documents but do not allow for us to give
specific directions or express our wishes. The document Five Wishes to which I
will refer later goes a few steps further. Fortunately the Committee on Jewish
Law and Standards, through its sub-committee on Biomedical Ethics has created
an excellent instrument for these purposes. At this location in the electronic
edition of this sermon I am inserting the link to the page on the web. http://www.rabbinicalassembly.org/sites/default/files/public/publications/medical%20directives.pdf I recommend this document most highly because not
only does it provide the detailed questions that are necessary to address, but
it does through the prism of Conservative Judaism and allows us put our faith
into action while we live for when we are dying. It helps us face our
decisions. I wish to share a section from its introduction, Jewish Teachings about Health Care.
“Jewish tradition as
understood by Conservative Judaism teaches that life is a blessing and a gift
from God. Each human being is valued as created b’tselem elohim, in God’s image. Whatever the level of our physical
and mental abilities, whatever the extend of our dependence on others, each
person has intrinsic dignity and value in God’s eyes. Judaism values life and
respects our bodies as the creation of God. We have the responsibility to care
for ourselves and seek medical treatment needed for our recovery – we owe that
to ourselves, to our loved ones, and to God. In accordance with our tradition’s
respect for the life God has given us and its consequent bans on murder and
suicide, Judaism rejects any form of active euthanasia (“mercy killing”) or
assisted suicide. Within these broad guidelines, decisions may be required
about which treatment would best promote recovery and would offer the greatest
benefit. Accordingly, each patient may face important choices concerning what
mode of treatment he or she feels would be both beneficial and tolerable.
“The breadth of the
Conservative movement and its intellectual vitality have produced two differing
positions put forward by Rabbis Avram Reisner and Elliot N. Dorff both approved
by the Conservative movement’s Committee on Jewish Law and Standards. I am
pasting the web connection to both these documents into this sermon at this
location so that you can read them in their entirety.
“Both positions
agree on a large area of autonomy in which a patient can make decisions about
treatment when risk or uncertainty are involved. Both would allow terminally
ill patients to rule out certain treatment option, to forgo mechanical life
support, and to choose hospice care as a treatment option.
“Nevertheless,
important differences between the two positions may be found regarding both
theoretical commitments and practical applications. Rabbi Reisner affirms the
supreme value of protecting all life. Even the most difficult life and that of
the shortest duration is yet God given, purposeful, and ours to nurture and
protect.….Rabbi Dorff finds basis in Jewish law to grant greater latitude to
the patient who wishes to reject life-sustaining measures…In such circumstance,
a patient might be justified in deciding that a treatment that extends life
without hope for cure would not benefit him or her, and may be forgone.”
The Rabbinical
Assembly document Jewish Medical Directives for Health Care which you can
download and print or purchase, guides us through the questions of goals,
knowledge, treatment, health care agent, Rabbinic consultation and the detailed
questions for irreversible terminal illness with options to follow either Rabbi
Reisner’s posture or Rabbi Dorff’s. I must stay that the former is a personal
friend and the latter has been my teacher. Both opinions are heartfelt,
sensitive, thorough and compelling. It is a matter of personal choice and
vision.
At the very end,
above the place for our signature it says:
“As God is my rock
and my fortress and my deliverer, so may God be my refuge, my shield and my
salvation forever.”
So may He be.
II.
The organization “Aging With Dignity” [www.agingwithdignity.org]
created a booklet entitled “Five Wishes.” The fifth wish is entitled: “My Wish For What I Want My Loved Ones to
Know.” In looking through many documents, I found this section to be most
special and moving.
*I wish to have my
family and friends know that I love them.
*I wish to be
forgiven for the times I have hurt my family, friends and others.
*I wish to have my
family, friends and others know that I forgive them for when they may have hurt
me in my life.
*I wish for my
family and friends to know that I do not fear death itself. I think it is not
the end, but a new beginning for me.
*I wish for all of
my family members to make peace with each other before my death, if they can.
*I wish for my
family and friends to think about what I was like before I became seriously
ill. I want them to remember me in this way after my death.
*I wish for family
and friends and caregivers to respect my wishes even if they don’t agree with
them.
*I wish for my
family and friends to look at my dying as a time of personal growth for
everyone, including me. This will help me live a meaningful life in my final
days.
*I wish for my
family and friends to get counseling if they have trouble with my death. I want
memories of my life to give them joy and not sorrow.
It concludes with
the following, allowing space to write in the answer: If anyone asks how I want
to be remembered, please say the following about me….
I would like my
family and friends, my congregants and colleagues to know that these are my
wishes and I will include them there for all to know. Could you echo these
sentiments? Would like to make statements similar to these to family and
friends? Maybe you have personal ones to compose? Don’t wait.
When this sermon is
distributed electronically, the web site for this document will be included.
I close this section
with a famous quote that has been alternatively attributed to Professor
Reinhold Niebuhr or to Admiral Halsey:
“God give us grace
to accept serenity in the things
that cannot be changed, courage to
change the things that should be changed, and the wisdom to distinguish the one from the other.”
Conclusion
For over forty years
I have been writing four yizkor sermons each year, talking about death, the
meaning of life, relationships, what might be life-after-death, rituals and
rites. I have written hundreds of eulogies for all the funerals at which I have
officiated. In the beginning it was quite difficult and I was happy to have
material shared across the non-electric Rabbinic network. It was very difficult
when I was young because I had to face my own mortality as I looked at my young
children and wife and couldn’t deal with thinking about life for them without
me. Buying life insurance the first time was spiritually very traumatic. I have
grown accustomed to these sermons, eulogies and introspection. My children are
all adults on their own two feet, and the three young ones have their parents.
With the passage of time and the changes in medical technology, life has
focused me on dying more than death.
I am comfortable and
at peace in my faith that there is an “other side,” that there is another realm
of existence after this one. I embrace the classical Jewish belief that in its
incorporeality I will be near God, held close in His non-physical warmth and
light. I hope that the Rabbis were correct in saying that God holds class on
high for all eternity. I might even, metaphorically, “sit” in the back of the
room.
At this time in my
life I am more concerned on “how to die,”
even as I work hard at “how to live.”
I have the same fears that most of us have.
I must add – pooh-pooh-pooh! – that
-
I want to live out the maximum years
of my life.
I
want to grow old with Ruby.
I
want to see the continuing episodes of our children’s exciting lives.
I
dream about being at our grandchildren’s life-cycle celebrations.
And
I won’t push God too hard to ask for more.
But I want my family and doctors to know:
what I want,
what I don’t want,
what to do,
what not to do,
when to wait,
and, when not to.
I need to tell them
while yet I can and not wait for when it is too late. So I this summer I sat
down and answered all the questions. Now you know why I wrote this sermon last.
I procrastinated quite a bit and needed the time to do so. So I wrote all the
others and got them out of the way.
I most strongly encourage
everyone who hears these words or who reads them to take the time and do the
same. Get it done. Put it in the right places. And may they not be needed for many
years.
But when the moment
comes, as surely it must, when we lie there in bed looking or sensing the presence
of our loved ones, we will ask them: “Do
you love me?” And they must surely respond: “Do I love you?” Or, perhaps we are the ones standing by the
bedside and our loved ones are in the bed and we sense them saying to us: “Do you love me?” And we must surely
respond: “Do I love you?” And then
we will have all the answers to all the questions.
And there will be peace.
May God bless us all
with many years.
May God bless us
with those who love us.
May God bless us
with peace.
“And I suppose I
love you, too.” Amen.
What does God want from us? Peace.
What does God want from us? Peace.
Kol Nidrei 5774 – 2013
Rabbi Gary S. Creditor
Richmond, Virginia
Forty years ago
tonight Ruby and I went to sleep in our room in the Seminary building of Neve
Schechter in Jerusalem contemplating our Kol Nidrei prayers. Little could we
have known that the next day would change the course of Jewish history. The Bar
Lev line on the Suez was pierced, Israeli jets fell from the skies, and Medinat
Yisrael’s very existence was in grave jeopardy, as were our lives. As communications
with the outside world were severed, as windows were blacked out and food
rationed, we sensed the danger even as the battles were being fought at a
distance from the city. You knew more here than we knew there.
Once there was a war
that we thought would be our last.
Once there was a war
which we prayed would be a harbinger of peace.
Once there was a Yom
Kippur whose silence was shredded by sirens and by bombs.
Once we hid in a
make-shift bomb shelter, and implored God that we should emerge in safety.
Once there was a war
on Yom Kippur.
I never looked at
life again the same way after that Yom Kippur.
I never looked at
Israel the same way again.
I thought of the destruction of
Solomon’s Temple and the Babylonian exile.
I thought of the destruction of the
Second Temple and the Roman exile.
I thought of the defeat of the Bar
Kochba rebellion and the end of Jewish life in Judea.
I could not bear,
abide the thought of life, of Jewish history, of being a Jew, without Israel.
Sometime afterwards
a song was written by Dov Seltzer and sung by Yehoram Gaon that encapsulated
all the tumultuous emotions. It was written and sung as an oath, that that war
would be the last. A poetic translation of “Ha-Milchamah Ha-Achronah” – “The
Last War”:
A.
“In the name of all
the farm boys who let fruit spoil on the vines
To die, themselves
unripe, on shrapnel-spitting mines;
In the name of all
the pilots who streaked out with somber aims,
Who fused with
missiles and were purified in flames.”
Ani mavti-ach lach, yaldah
sheli k’tanah, she-zot tihyeh ha-milchamah ha-achronah
I swear my little
girl, I swear to you once more,
I swear that this
will be the last of all the wars;
I swear, I swear to
thee,
I swear on all
that’s free,
I swear that this
war will be the last you’ll ever see.
B.
“In the name of
gentle teachers who went out to take their stand
And left their marks
on blood-red blackboards in the sand;
In the name of
children forced to sleep in sandbag sheltered holes,
Or front line
doctors who pumped blood back into souls.
Ani mavti-ach lach,
yaldah sheli k’tanah, she-zot tihyeh ha-milchamah ha-achronah
I swear that this
war will be the last you’ll ever see.
C.
In the name of men
of vision who came out with blinded eyes,
Of grief –struck
mothers who saw sons burst into skies;
In the name of
fathers bandaged white – but still in place,
Who dream each night
of going home to kiss your face.
Ani mavti-ach lach,
yaldah sheli k’tanah, she-zot tihyeh ha-milchamah ha-achronah
I swear my little
girl, I swear to you once more,
I swear that this
will be the last of all the wars;
I swear, I swear to
thee,
I swear on all
that’s free,
I swear that this
war will be the last you’ll ever see.
Yom Kippur comes
every year, but it has been forty years, a number fraught with Biblical meaning
and power, since “Yom Kippur.” And times does not erase the memories nor remove
the ache as I recall embracing friends who exchanged talit for khalki green,
and machzor for an M-16. The synagogue was so empty at Mincha on Yom Kippur. In
place of confronting God, they were now on their way to the front.
Left behind in their
absence, we sat and contemplated more seriously than ever before the words of our
prayers. On Yom Kippur 1973 we wept as we chanted the U’ne’ta’neh Tokef:
“B’rosh Hashanah yiy-katay-vun,
u’v’yom Tzom Kippur yay-cha-taymun.”
“On Rosh HaShanah we
are inscribed, and on the fast of Yom Kippur it is sealed:
Mi yichyeh - who will live
U’Mi yamut - and who will die
Mi b’kitzo - whose life will end in its
appointed time
U’Mi lo b’kitzo - and whose life will be cut short
Mi ba-aysh - who by fire – of tanks,
artillery and napalm
U’Mi ba-mayim - who by water – in the Bar Lev line
on the banks of the Suez
Mi ba-cherev - who by sword
Mi ba-ra’av -
who by hunger – after days of unending battle on the Golan Heights
U’Mi ba-tzamah - and who by thirst in the Sinai sands
Mi Yishaket - who will be tranquil, in the
still after the battle
U’Mi yitaref - and who will be torn apart –
by mortar and mine, grenade and bullet.
B’rosh Hashanah yiy-katay-vun,
u’v’yom Tzom Kippur yay-cha-taymun.
On Rosh HaShanah we
are inscribed, and on the fast of Yom Kippur it is sealed.”
“Ani mavti-ach lach,
yaldah sheli k’tanah, she-zot tihyeh ha-milchamah ha-achronah
I swear that this
war will be the last you’ll ever see.”
When Secretary of
State John Kerry announced the resumption of negations between Israel and the
Palestinian Authority you may well imagine every thought and emotion that
flooded through me, every shred of optimism and pessimism, every wisp of skepticism
and cynicism, every memory of Camp David and of Prime Minister Yitzchak Rabin
z”l on the White House lawn. I had an instantaneous flash of Jewish history
from the Dreyfus Affair and Russian pogroms to the Holocaust, of Israel’s four
major wars – 1948, 1956, 1967, 1973, two in Lebanon, those with Gaza and the
Intifadas, of buses blown up and of the school Ma’alot, a name hardly recognized
or remembered. I can, but not here, make every case for every position, for two
states, one state, confederation or domination. I can explicate the Palestinian
views even as I reject them yet acknowledge them. Everyone is right. And
everyone must be somewhat wrong. I do not care about the shape of the table or
who sits around it. I do not plead nor pray for a particular plan or line of
border, settlements here or there.
I
plead and pray for sanity,
for reason,
for humanity,
for the end
of pain and death and destruction.
I
plead for peace.
A real peace.
A true peace.
A peace for everyone.
A peace that will last forever.
And I plead to hear an echo to my
plea from every church and mosque.
Embedded in Yom
Kippur is the expectation of the coming of the Messiah. The purpose of Yom
Kippur rituals of the Temple and of Judaism ever afterwards is the cleansing of
our souls, represented by the color white. In removing our sins we are able to
unite with all other human beings and with God is pristine purity. And thus when the Messiah finally comes, after the
millennia of our tears and prayers, our belief is that there will be perfect
peace. But that peace is not just for Israel and for the Jewish people. We
are not self-centered. Judaism has a universalistic vision for all humanity.
So, we believe in peace for all peoples in every place on earth. It is for
Israelis, Jews, Palestinians, Moslems and Christians, Egyptians and Syrians,
Iraqis and Iranians, Libyans, Afghanistanis, and on the streets of Richmond too.
I don’t know how he or she will arrive, what language they will speak, or how
they will look. As Danny Siegel once wrote, we don’t have to worry if we will
recognize the Messiah. The question is: will the Messiah recognize us? We
believe that when the Messiah really does come, there will be peace for all and
forever, and borders will not matter.
What Israel needs
from us, what God wants from us, is our love, our unmitigated support as it
navigates treacherous and unknown paths, our public voice of encouragement, and
as Americans, to our government to continue to be Israel’s undying partner for
its existence which is beyond any particular issue. We live in a dangerous
world and Israel lives in a most dangerous neighborhood. Perhaps God has
directed us to be a strong community in this country so that we can advocate
for our people who have rebuilt and populate our homeland, who in blood, sweat,
tears and sacrifice created the Third Commonwealth in our history, gathered in
the exiles, saved those in distress, rescued the saving remnant of the
Holocaust, and redeemed our honor and dignity. And God, by His very name, wants
peace, for them, for all, for the world.
So I want to share
with you tonight, and share with the world, with all those who say “I can’t,”
“I won’t” or any other negative, contrary and adversarial verbiage, the
following story. I read it in the publication “Teaching Tolerance” published by
the Southern Poverty Law Center. It is entitled: “Rabbit Foot: A Story of the
Peacemaker,” told by Joseph Bruchac.
Many hundreds of
years ago
before the Europeans
came
the Five Nations of
the Iroquois,
Mohawk and Oneida,
Onondaga, Cayuga and Seneca,
were always at war
with one another.
Although they had a
common culture
and languages that
were much the same
no longer did they
remember
they had been taught
to live
as sisters and
brothers.
Once they had shared
the beautiful land
from Niagara to the
eastern mountains,
but now only revenge
was in their hearts
and blood feuds had
made every trail
a path leading to
war.
So it was that the
Great Creator
sent once again a
messenger,
a man who became
known
to all of the Five
Nations
by the name of the
Peacemaker.
To help the people
once again
make their minds
straight
he told them stories
about peace and war.
This is one of his
tales.
Once there was a boy
named Rabbit Foot.
He was always
looking and listening.
He knew how to talk
to animals
so the animals would
talk to him.
One day as he walked
out in the woods
he heard the sound
of a great struggle
coming from a
clearing just over the hill.
So he climbed that
hilltop to look down.
What he saw
surprised him.
There was a great
snake
coiled in a circle.
It had caught a huge
frog
and although the
frog struggled
the snake was slowly
swallowing its legs.
Rabbit Foot came
closer
and spoke to the
frog.
“He has really got
you, my friend.”
The frog looked up
at Rabbit Foot.
“Wa’he! That is so,”
the frog said.
Rabbit Foot nodded,
then said to the frog,
“Do you see the
snake’s tail there,
just in front of
your mouth?
Why not do to him
what he’s doing to you?”
Then the huge frog
reached out
and grabbed the
snake’s tail.
He began to stuff it
into his mouth
as Rabbit Foot
watched them both.
The snake swallowed
more of the frog
the frog swallowed
more of the snake
and the circle got
smaller and smaller
until both of them
swallowed one last time
and just like that,
they both were gone.
They had eaten each
other,
the Peacemaker said.
And in much the same
way,
unless you give up
war
and learn to live
together in peace,
that also will
happen to you.
I would like to
dream that in whatever number of years from now, perhaps a Sabbah, a
grandfather, or a Sabbah Rabbah, a great-grandfather, will sit his
grandchildren or great grandchildren on his lap and will tell them about Yom
Kippur, 1973, where he were and what he did, what he saw, and how he lived.
And then he will
sing to them in slight variation:
Ani mavti-ach lach,
yaldah sheli k’tanah, she-zot hayitah
ha-milchamah ha-achronah (2x)
I swear my little
girl, I swear to you once more,
I swear that this was the last of all the wars;
I swear, I swear to
thee,
I swear on all
that’s free,
I swear that this war
was the last war there’ll
ever be.
I pray that we will
live to see the coming of the Messiah.
I pray that tears,
and cries, and pain and anguish for all will end.
I plead and pray for
peace.
On this night of Yom
Kippur, this is my only prayer to God. Amen.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)