Rabbi Gary Creditor's Blog

What Do We Owe (Parents) Our Children?

2012-01-26T21:45:00.001-08:00

What Do We Owe (Parents) Our Children?

January 27^th, 2012

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Perhaps it is my heightened sensitivity in these recent weeks, but I found myself intently following the details of the tragic death of sixteen year old Brett Wells, shot in his home in Mechanicsville. As events would unfold, I was invited to join other clergy in a meeting at his high school yesterday (Thursday), even though there are but a few Jewish students. As this subject transcends all boundaries, and because it again was a death caused by a gun, I felt compelled to attend, despite only receiving the invitation on Wednesday afternoon. I had no idea how or if I could personally contribute to the conversation.

Indeed I had little to say other than introducing myself and our synagogue and thus bringing our faith community to the meeting. The students are predominantly Christian and Hanover Country does not have a pronounced Jewish population or any synagogue. Yet it is vital that we participate.

There was much said at the meeting. The faith communities want to somehow assist the students, parents and faculty to come to grips with this tragic death, the issues that it raises, for their community, their school, and to console each other in their grief. The school needs the faith community's help. It is a formidable task for the local churches. I pray that God will give them the strength and the insight to raise up the broken hearted, soothe their spirits and point to a better way.

Particularly because the electronic world allows me to send these words far beyond those in this sanctuary who can hear me deliver them, I want to focus on two thoughts that came to me as I listened to the conversation Thursday afternoon. As I sat to compose this, I chose the title: "What do we – the parents – owe our children?"

My first thought is that even if parents do everything right, and I mean everything and I mean absolutely correctly in raising their children, there remains an element of luck, mazal that plays an undetermined role. I don't envy our son raising our grandchildren. How can you possibly protect and insulate them from all the elements of the world, good and especially the bad, that incessantly bombard them? From a commercial from long ago: there is no Gardol shield. No one lives in a vacuum. We need God's invisible help. We need good fortune. We need luck.

My second thought, with all the need of luck, we as parents, even as grandparents owe many things to our children. None of my list is creature comforts. None of this is monetary. The list begins the moment are children are born. It continues with decreasing ability to enforce it as they grow older. Our obligation lasts for as long as we live. We teach to our dying breath.

We owe our children a value system. The world mitzvah is not translated as "good deed." It is "commandment." There are things that are right and there are things that are wrong. It is not negotiable. It is absolute. We cannot be wishy-washy. We must enunciate that value system clearly, concisely, and consistently.

We owe our children to speak with integrity. It cannot be "do as I say and not as I do." Our word and our action must be synonymous, harmonious, unanimous. We cannot talk about honesty if we are not honest. We cannot demand respect if we don't give respect. We cannot make demands on our children if we don't make demands upon ourselves.

We owe our children to be exemplars. There is a song by Rodney Atkins entitled "Watching You." How perfectly does it speak to us today.

"Watching You"

Driving through town just my boy and me
With a happy meal in his booster seat
Knowing that he couldn't have the toy
Till his nuggets were gone
A green traffic light turned straight to red
I hit my brakes and mumbled under my breath
His fries went a flying and his orange drink covered his lap
Well then my four year old said a four letter word
That started with "s" and I was concerned
So I said son now now where did you learn to talk like that

[Chorus one]

He said I've been watching you dad, ain't that cool
I'm your buckaroo, I wanna be like you
And eat all my food and grow as tall as you are
We got cowboy boots and camo pants
Yeah we're just alike, hey ain't we dad
I wanna do everything you do
So I've been watching you

We got back home and I went to the barn
I bowed my head and I prayed real hard
Said Lord please help me help my stupid self
Then this side of bedtime later that night
Turning on my son's Scooby Doo nightlight
He crawled out of bed and he got down on his knees
He closed his little eyes, folded his little hands
And spoke to God like he was talking to a friend
And I said son now where'd you learn to pray like that

[Chorus two]

He said I've been watching you dad, ain't that cool
I'm your buckaroo, I wanna be like you
And eat all my food and grow as tall as you are
We like fixing things and holding mama's hand
Yeah we're just alike, hey ain't we dad
I wanna do everything you do
So I've been watching you

[Bridge]

With tears in my eyes I wrapped him in a hug
Said my little bear is growing up
He said but when I'm big I'll still know what to do

[Chorus three]

Cause I've been watching you dad, ain't that cool
I'm your buckaroo, I wanna be like you
And eat all my food and grow as tall as you are
By then I'll be as strong as superman
We'll be just alike, hey won't we dad
When I can do everything you do
Cause I've been watching you

We owe our children to give them a strong, enduring, edifying, comforting and demanding faith. Faith gives us a vision of the world, of others, of ourselves. Faith gives us a perspective in order to comprehend a crazy, complicated and incomprehensible world. Faith gives us a community which helps us maintain our balance along the journey, to share our joys and our sorrows, temper the highs and elevate the lows. Faith gives expectations for us to fulfill. We owe something to others. We owe something to our families, our communities and ourselves. Faith sets the bar. Faith gives us a voice outside of ourselves, the voice of the universe, the voice of eternity, the voice of God. It gives us His teachings and His love. How dearly we need them both.

Being a parent never was and never will be easy. It isn't easy being a grandparent, watching from a distance and having to trust your son and daughter to raise your destiny, and be just a presence for them as they face the challenges, different and same that we did. Maybe someday I will write a sermon what grandparents owe.

I pray to God for strength to all those facing adversity, sadness and grief.

I pray that those who bring lives into this world and those who shepherd them along the way will realize how much we owe them so that they will have long, happy, productive and blessed lives. This is priceless.

Shabbat Shalom

Who are We? What are We?

2012-01-20T15:05:00.001-08:00

Who are We? What are We?

January 20^th, 2012

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

In response to my sermon last Friday, Erev Shabbat, entitled "Bonnie's Law," I received an email from one of our congregants informing me of a rally held last Monday at the Capitol, sponsored by the Virginia Council for Public Safety. It is a small, long standing, dedicated voice for gun control in our Commonwealth. After articulating my feelings last Shabbat, Ruby and I felt the necessity to attend and be counted. It was regretful that this was not known sooner and wider so that more people could have attended, something that I will work to emend. The man who leads the organization took this on because his son was shot at Virginia Tech, and while surviving, thank God, the event changed both their lives.

He said publicly and to Ruby and me privately afterwards: "You think that if you lead a clean life, no guns, no alcohol, no drugs, live in a good neighborhood and go to a good school, nothing like this will happen to you. And then one day…" He is a very good, dedicated man, who is knocking his head against the wall. We joined him.

At the ceremony, people were invited to write the names of those killed by guns on hearts and put them in baskets. Ruby and I each wrote Robby and Bonnie's names on hearts and put them, heartbrokenly, into the basket. It is still surrealistic that all this has and continues to happen.

Then we went to visit our representatives in the General Assembly. It was disheartening. I met another wall. I indicated the litany of numbers needed to observe a myriad of laws in the Commonwealth of Virginia required to own and operate a car – the paste on tag on the license plate, the license plate, registration, inspection sticker, property tax, insurance policy – and we are breaking the law if we violate any one of these requirements, and they can arrest, fine and/or revoke our license, suspend registration. And a car, while it can kill, is not intended for that purpose and usually not used that way. And yet it is so easy, because of the lack of laws or because of the loopholes in the laws to illegally obtain and own a gun; and despite having a number on its barrel, so many of these guns of so many calibers are illegally in the hands of individuals and criminals resulting in so many deaths that nary a day goes by without the reporting of such tragedies. When I recited this litany the response was: "A car is not protected by the second amendment." While not allowing this to go unchallenged, it basically ended the conversation. Did he not see my point? Why didn't he get it? Do they think that the writers of the Constitution specifically put in a self-destruct clause that protected/enabled people to take up guns to overthrow the very government that they were just establishing? How many dead does it take? Someone special? Someone personal? Someone rich? We will need to keep knocking our heads against the wall; even for a long time.

A second congregant wrote me in response to the sermon and reflected on my remarks about when we used to "put up our dukes" and now that we just shoot them dead, and about my list of heroes and how they were portrayed as not killing the opponents and the righteous use of guns. He globalized my thoughts about society and I would like to share a few feelings developed from much reading and personal observations.

We live in a world that is violent, that espouses violence, that glorifies violence and rewards violence. It is on the television, the computer games, the movies, the magazines, and the sports field. It is aided and abetted by the enhanced electronic techniques that enable the presentation of explosions and destructions of every nature, from buildings to objects, to people. I cringe when the movie theatre runs the promotions of other movies because I am trapped and can't get out and have to witness the most vicious, violent and malevolent acts, accompanied by the staccato drumbeat of ear-shattering music. And while my Atari computer had programs for science, math, it also had programs for basketball and football, but without the senseless violence. Where is "Pong" when I need it? What sells at the football game? The brutal collisions of beast-like men, the violent sacking of the quarterback, the ripping of the ball from the carrier, and then the manic dancing over the fallen opponent! Is there anything human about locking two men in a cage until one beats the other one to near death? I am almost ready to thank God that FIOS will fill the empty time with golf and tennis! Is there anything left to blow up? Is there anyone left to shoot? Is there anyone that hasn't been hated, hunted, and hounded left on the face of the earth? Any arm not shot with drugs, any liver not saturated with alcohol, that the media has not yet glorified, and the actors and players not walk away with titanic sums of money? Fire them all!!

Is this the society we want?

Is this the world we want to live in?

Is this why God put us on this earth?

I want to elect an official, local in Richmond, state in the Legislature, regional to the Senate and House of Representatives and to the Presidency who will enunciate a vision of society that will be just and honest, that will struggle with all presentations so to reduce the vision and thus the reality of violence in this country. All the candidates parading before us are parodies of leadership. We need real, brave and courageous leadership at every level. It is more than "jobs." It is more than "the economy." It is about us! Our nature! Our essence! Violence occurs everywhere, and our society propagates it.

We need to reshape the nature of society itself, to recreate the vision of what we are supposed to be, how we are supposed to live, how we are supposed to talk to each other, at work, in school, in our homes. Our faith provides many answers; provides much guidance and direction. From just one source: Micah the prophet (6:8):

"He has told you, O man, what is good,

And what the Lord requires of you:

Only to do justice

And to love goodness,

And to walk modestly with your God."

And (4:3-4)

"However distant:

And they shall beat their swords into plowshares

And their spears into pruning hooks.

Nation shall not take up

Sword against nation;

They shall never again know war.

But every man shall sit

Under his grapevine or fig tree

With no one to disturb him.

For it was the Lord of Hosts who spoke."

Borrowed from the man murdered by the gun, "I have a dream."

Shabbat Shalom.

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Temple Beth-El

3330 Grove Avenue

Richmond, VA 23221

Phone 804-355-3564

Fax 804-257-7152

www.bethelrichmond.org

Bonnie’s Law

2012-01-12T12:35:00.001-08:00

Bonnie's Law

January 13^th, 2012

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Within two weeks, national data, not local, of severely contradictory nature has been published that has painfully intersected with our personal and congregational experience. At the end of December the Times-Dispatch published an article that indicated the immense number of inquiries concerning the number of people buying guns at Christmas time. It is equally clear without publication that the number of guns purchased illegally severely compounds the number of guns sold legally. Yesterday's paper published an article that homicides – by any manner - are no longer among the top fifteen causes of death in the United States. And yet, virtually every day that I open our newspaper there is another death, or at least severe injury, that is caused by handguns. I must imagine, I cannot consider otherwise, that our experience is not duplicated over and over again throughout this country. It does not matter in what segment of our population this is occurring. It does not matter in what part of town it is happening. Each and every one is a tragedy that compounds grief with grief, misery with misery, loneliness, pain and anguish to their family and friends. Society as a whole is mutually wounded by each death. We in our congregation know firsthand of what I speak, in the murder a year and a half ago of Bonnie Marrow's son Robby, and on December 20^th the past, her murder. I confess that when I have seen the title of an article of such a crime, not knowing the participants, I am quick to avert my glance to something else. No more. The particulars do not matter. We are members of one human family. The death of any, diminishes us all.

In the brevity of this d'var Torah, it my intention to just establish the basis of my appeal to our civil authorities to enact a law, I call it "Bonnie's Law," to address this plague, this disease, that of illegal hand guns in our population and to end the scourge of death that they inflict. How many deaths of sweet, good, honest, loving people will it take? How much pain must we collectively suffer? When will segments of our populace stop saying, "It doesn't occur in my backyard?"

Our Judaism is certainly not pacifistic. The Torah and the rest of the Tanakh is filled with military exploits. Their weapons were no less lethal. Abraham will save Lot with an armed militia that will overthrow numerous kings. In tomorrow's Torah portion Moses will kill the Egyptian beating a Hebrew. Joshua conquers the land of Israel by force. David and Solomon will also use deadly force in uniting and maintaining the kingdom. Israel fights the Assyrians, Babylonians, Greeks, and Romans, long before the twentieth century, those who fought to build the State of Israel and those who fought in the sewers and bunkers of the Warsaw Ghetto and other such places during the Holocaust. We are not a bunch of patsies. Judaism is not a pacifistic religion. I don't propose that society should roll over and play dead.

Our Judaism does not make anyone's blood redder than another's. As there is One God, One Creator of the Universe, then all men and women are brothers and sisters, all children are cousins, all are grandparents, and all are children. Judaism does not draw lines and say, "over there, for them, we don't care." God asks Cain: "Where is your Abel your brother?" Cain denies, refuses to accept any connection to Abel with the spiteful, pitiful words that echo through the centuries: "Am I my brother's keeper/guardian/protector?" In its literary structure God in the Torah thunders: "Of course you are!" That is the essence of our human condition! Judaism demands that we care whether the murdered is a member of our congregation or not, whether they are Jewish or not, of any color, of any faith, of any race.

Most of us in this room are old enough to recall instantaneously our emotions when, in an era before the speed of our current electronic gadgetry, we heard that JFK was murdered. First shot, then dead, and then the funeral. Of all the pictures that I carry in my mind and heart it is that of his son standing and saluting his father's casket. It is the child in all of us who did not yet realize what he had lost. We are all that child. And not so many years later was the murder of MLK, commemorated this weekend. Is it not possible to dream that we can all die in our beds of the natural causes of old age and even disease? But not from guns? Is it not possible to dream that we can go to work, go to school, go to the mall, and not be afraid? Are we so forgetful that shortly after MLK was murdered RFK was murdered too? Has that shock to our moral compass passed out of our consciousness and out of our conscience? Not mine. While all those initials might just seem like an alphabet soup to others, I carry them right next to my heart. How dare we do otherwise? In the course of human events, the next generation will only learn it from the media, Kindles and Nooks if not from books. I have the drying pages of the newspapers. But my memory doesn't fade.

Through the precepts of Kashrut, our Judaism rejects hunting animals of any sort because it brings them pain and rejects killing animals except for food. But lest supporters of the NRA surmise that I have gone over to the Dark Side, let me say, that I don't care about game hunters, duck shooters and the sort. When I was a child I had my cap guns and air rifle. In the changing of the times, our children did not. I am unsettled by the presence of guns of any sort. They are not a sport. They are lethal and instruments of lethal force. But I am not appealing to restrict legitimate citizens who follow the laws from owning guns. My personal view is that they don't make us safer. When I was a kid if you wanted to fight you said: "Put up your dukes" or something of the sort. Today they pull out a gun and shoot you dead. Which would you prefer? My heroes are the Lone Ranger, Roy Rodgers, Gene Autry and Hopalong Cassidy. While they all carried guns, they never shot them dead. It was only in defense, self defense and in the cause of justice. Today the images are gruesome, ghastly and horrific. Which society should we be?

In "Bonnie's Law" I call upon all our authorities, local, state and federal to close all the loopholes that allow for illegitimate and illegal obtaining of guns of any sort. I call upon the manufacturers of guns in cooperation with civil authorities to create a comprehensive system of documenting and registering every single gun and rifle they make. You mean to tell me that I have to go through so many rules and regulations to register, inspect, insure, tag, decal and pay tax on my car with a myriad of different numbers – Go forbid you mess up, and I can buy a gun with impunity at a gun show? That all the pieces of my car have VIN numbers hiding someplace and when I sell it I have to go through more hoops to make sure that the authorities know who owns it or what has happened to it, but not for a gun? Are we so insane?

In"Bonnie's Law" I want stiff penalties, not a slap on the wrist, for those who violate these laws, who smuggle in guns, who sell them under the counter, who remove numbers, and those who use them to murder and maim. Enough is enough.

I will circulate these remarks and my eulogy for Bonnie to our authorities at every level.

I want "Bonnie's Law" as a measure of justice not only for Bonnie Marrow but for all the Bonnie's of the world and for all the children of the world, and for the child that must reside inside the human heart, the pure, innocent, the just, the righteous child who does not know right or wrong; who only knows love.

Only then will we all rest in peace. In life and in death.

Shabbat Shalom.

“Yes, Sarah, There is A God”

2012-01-05T21:07:00.001-08:00

"Yes, Sarah, There is A God"

From The Heart

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

At the second night of shiva for our dear Bonnie Marrow, several of her daughter Angel's classmates from Confirmation class came to be with Angel and the family. Others came the next night. It was most meritorious of them to be present in such a heart-rending circumstance. They each fulfilled a great mitzvah.

After tefilot was over, one of them said to me: "I am having a problem with God." I was caught in that moment, in that place, after what had occurred to talk about God. What could I say to this young woman who grew up in our shul, was Bat Mitzvah and Confirmed on our bemah, and now in college was absorbing sophisticated learning? And to do it on one foot!

I cannot recall all that I said in that precious moment, but to whatever I did say, I want to add the following. Borrowing a literary phrase from a totally different origin:

"Yes, Sarah, there is a God" who is responsible for all existence and that it contains, good and bad. I marvel daily, never taking for granted, this planet, the life of every plant, animal and human. In our totality, we are too magnificent to be the result of chance. While I would like to "see" God, to prove God, to have Him/Her pop out and say "Here I am" [that would be neat], our very existence proves God.

"Yes, Sarah, there is a God" because there is an 'unseeable' force that is greater than the entire cosmos. I am intrigued by science, but science can only answer the question "how" and I ask "why?" Science says "Because…" but I seek that which lies behind the 'how.' The answer is God. Why does my heart beat with pain in the face of tragedy and why does heart throb when I see my grandchildren, when I see toddlers running around in shul? Because God made me that way. God is responsible that there is life itself. All the discoveries of science, attest to God.

"Yes, Sarah, there is a God" who presence is attested to by every sunrise, sunset and constellation of stars in the sky. The beauty isn't God. God lies behind; God is responsible for the beauty. The radiance of the universe attests to God.

"Yes, Sarah, there is a God" because in the moment of pain, we all stepped into the breach, because we felt someone else's pain. I said to you: we proved God. For our faith posits critical values/characteristics/traits of our God that we are supposed to emulate: love, mercy, compassion, honesty, integrity. When you and your classmates came to the Marrow home, a place of tears and grief, motivated by the core values that we posit as divine, you proved God existed.

"Yes, Sarah, there is a God" who allows us to do wrong, sin the most grievous of sins, murdering another human being. There are times when I wish that God was like the Superman show I watched when I was very young. I had to come to grips with the truth that Superman was fiction. That was very difficult. On this planet human beings are able to do good, to do the best, and to do bad, do the worst. In the opening chapters of Genesis, in the Garden story, God endows us with autonomy and responsibility. That is how and why we are human.

"And, Yes, Sarah, there is a God" to whom I cling to, to whom I turn to with copious tears, when life is unfair, unjust, and tragic. I turn to God for strength, for courage, for a power more than I think that I can have on my own. I turn to God who I believe is eternal, with the faith, the hope, the belief, that life doesn't end with death. That He/She gathers up the incorporeal soul, the life-animating force, and brings it close to the source of all existence, to a glow that radiates in a way that will never be detected by any antenna, any radar, any telescope, yet is as real as the ache in my heart. I can't prove it, but I believe it. There is a God, who enables us to triumph over despair and raise our heads up again.

"Yes, Sarah, there is a God." Your question is veritably the proof.

“Like baseball or chess, Judaism is…”

2011-12-16T10:07:00.001-08:00

"Like baseball or chess, Judaism is…"

From The Heart

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Jonathan Mark is a much respected Jewish columnist whose articles are printed in The Jewish Week of New York. I stay informed of the events and dynamics of the wide Jewish world through many sources such as this newspaper. Several years ago it created a "Jewish magazine" called "Text/Context: Fresh Encounters With Jewish Tradition." Available in quantities to congregational Rabbis, I distribute copies to my classes, in the Okun Chapel, at the school and at the Mikveh.

In the December 2^nd edition, Jonathan Marks wrote an article entitled "Rav Kingfish: The Problem with 'dynamic' Rabbis." It is a fascinating article, well-written, deeply researched and insightful about the existence of the synagogue and of the Rabbinate. I truly appreciate his focus. Aside from his main thesis, he wrote a sentence that was high-lighted in the hard-copy edition. It literally 'jumped off the page.'

"Like baseball or chess, Judaism is slow and boring – until it isn't, or until the observer learns to see the beauty and understand the mysteries inherent in the cerebral stillness and anticipation."

I read that sentence over and over. Jonathan "nailed it."

We live in a world that forces our decreased attention, diminishes quality because we are inundated with quantity. There is no time to dwell on anything. We deal with sound-bites. The TV raises the volume on commercials to get our attention (that should be changing, thank God!), and all I hear advertised are cell phones that can do everything and each one can go faster than the next. What a life!

Judaism says: slow down, ponder, contemplate, imagine. Judaism is a religion of words that you need to savor, roll around on tongue and in head so it can touch the heart. When we go to a museum and stand before the works of the masters, do we just rush by? Or do we stand back, come close, look from one angle and then another, and then stand back looking at it as a whole or focusing on one part? If we do it right, we stand there for some time and allow us to be impacted. Then we can walk on to the next experience.

Judaism is the art of looking at life through a divine prism. It takes time to peer into eternity, to gaze into existence, to examine the ebb and flow of life, with Torah and tefilah as the fulcrum upon which we lift each piece. You can't do it at 4G speed. Even my old Atari is much too fast.

I can fall asleep watching a baseball game. It seems like each pitcher is determined to through as many pitches as he can and the batter will foul off many of those. It is very slow going, especially when I watch baseball on TV. The media selects what I will see and how long I can see it. But at the game! Ah, then I can watch intently, deeply, to each orchestrated move, each glance, the arc of each pitch and the return path of hit. There is beauty in the intricacy, of the head and the heart at work governing the body.

Judaism is filled with joy and celebration, happiness and festivity. But to be my faith, Judaism takes time, investment, attention, my heart and head going slowly, thinking, feeling, slowly, meaningfully, deeply.

"Like baseball or chess, Judaism is…"

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Temple Beth-El

3330 Grove Avenue

Richmond, VA 23221

Phone 804-355-3564

Fax 804-257-7152

www.bethelrichmond.org

“What Is Your Glory?” – “Have A Little Faith”

2011-11-28T06:33:00.001-08:00

"What Is Your Glory?" – "Have A Little Faith"

From The Heart

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Last night Hallmark produced the movie edition of Mitch Albom's latest book, "Have A Little Faith." I sincerely recommend that every one of all ages, children with their parents and grandparents, watch this movie. Its message resounds with a clarion call across every divide. The plot involves a reformed drug addict and a Rabbi, Rabbi Albert Lewis, a colleague whom I knew, visited his synagogue, and whose son is also a colleague. There were many themes that riveted me to my seat.

Religion was treated seriously. Judaism was treated seriously. Too often the media make a mockery of religion. Too often media hold up a caricature of Judaism. Here a Conservative Rabbi was revealed in a most positive light, Conservative Judaism was depicted as the mainstream presentation of Judaism, modern, vibrant and meaningful. Martin Landau gave an exquisite portrayal of the intimate work that Rabbis do with people, as they bring their existential questions to us, out of the fanfare of the public light. Through this script the wisdom of non-fundamentalist Judaism was held up for all the world to see, through the transmission of Rabbi Lewis. This script showed the inherent humility that both age and the pulpit bestow upon those who represent religion, faith, to people of all faiths. I was very much taken by the depiction of the minister, in his ministry to his woe-begotten flock. For whatever reason, synagogues are usually not populated with the same demographics. I learn by watching others. We all need to see the faces of "the others."

This movie bored in on the most important religious question: With all the bad, evil, inequity that surrounds us, can we still believe in God? This movie says: Yes! Even though it might be difficult. It reveals the quest by Mitch Albom as he struggles to see God's hand in the world. He learns how he needs to be God's instrument.

There is so much more in this movie than this column can contain. I will return to it as the sermon for next Rosh HaShanah. By then I hope that all of you will have viewed the movie. For me the core piece connected to the book that Rabbi Lewis gave me long ago, which I quickly read cover-to-cover: "What is Your Glory?" By the title he means to ask us: Wherein do find the most important piece of ourselves? What precisely defines us? What exemplifies us best? To what should we aspire? It is a slim book that you probably never noticed sitting on the shelf directly behind me among thicker volumes. It wasn't as much a book about answers as it is about the questions that we need to ask ourselves and find within ourselves.

As the age old juxtaposition of Hanukkah and Christmas is soon upon us, let me phrase the question for the season: "What is our Glory?" Is it in the menorah in ultra modern presentation, or the simple metal unadorned ones whose light was undiminished? Is it in the imitation of gifts (we have done that too) or the replication of Macaabean spirit for the sake of the faith of Judaism? Is it in the quest to imitate others, or the life-long, year-long living of a vital, informed, uplifting life of Judaism? "Have a Little Faith" is an exquisite answer. I urge you to watch it. I pray that its message will resound and rebound in our lives.

From our far-flung family to yours, wherever they may be, Ruby and the children and grandchildren wish you a very happy and light-filled Hanukkah. Chag Sameach.

Sermon, Friday November 18th, 2011 Teachers of Children Are Always Warned

2011-11-18T14:00:00.001-08:00

Teachers of Children Are Always Warned

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Richmond, Virginia

November 18^th, 2011

When I was in Rabbinical School at the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York City, Dr. Gershon Cohen, zichrono l'vracha, was our Chancellor. Every fall we had a breakfast with him. On one of those occasions he told us that he wanted to know what we were doing. At that time I was creating a booklet for the instruction of Hebrew language in Religious School. I submitted a copy to him. He notated in red my mistakes. On one hand, I was totally embarrassed. And on the other hand, I was deeply impressed, that the Chancellor of the Seminary had taken the time to read through the entire twenty, thirty page booklet and read every page, because he marked them all, including the last.

For a long time I wondered why Dr. Cohen did that. I don't think he ever put my face, name and that document together. He never mentioned it to me. He clearly had invested enough time from his very busy life and schedule. I wonder what I did with it? Though he didn't write me a note, there was clearly a message embedded in this. What was it?

Only later did I learn a piece of Talmud, that I need to do a global word search to find the exact citation, which said that "makrei dardekei" – "teachers of children" stand perpetually warned about making mistakes in their instruction and do not need any warning before being fired! The Gemara, in my recollection, does not comment on this statement, but a commentator, maybe Rashi (from France) did. He used language that refers to twigs making lines in the earth that can never be made clear again. So, too, when teachers teach errors, the students' minds assimilate the error. Like erasing a blackboard, the mind remains clouded by the first, incorrect information, which it needs to remove in order to learn the new, correct information. But it is learned on a clouded background and is never as good when done on a fresh, clean surface. According to the Talmud, teachers must know the tremendous impression they make through their teaching. They can really "mess up." While I cannot say that I have never made a mistake since Dr. Gershon Cohen corrected my booklet, when I learned that Gemara, I immediately remembered him and that episode. I have never forgotten it. It speaks to me always.

In my lifetime, before I was a Rabbi I taught sixth and seventh grades in Religious School, worked as a youth advisor and youth director, and taught in several Ramah Camps. From then and through my Rabbinate, I have stood in juxtaposition to hundred and maybe thousands of students, youth and adults. It is an awesome responsibility. What I say, how I say it, what I impart can make a tremendous difference in people's lives, attitudes and understanding. I remember once getting a message from members of this congregation who attended a Bar/Bat Mitzvah at a Reform congregation elsewhere. When mentioning my name as their Rabbi, he responded that I was the reason he had become a Rabbi. I never knew. It had been decades and many miles since I taught him in 6^th grade. I was flabbergasted. One just doesn't ever know the effect of being a teacher.

I learned the power of the position of teacher, a hidden, unarticulated power. The student posits a certain faith, a certain trust in a figure of authority, of knowledge, that can influence the future. The Rabbis understood this dynamic when they elevated the position of teacher to be on par with that of parent. It was more than stressing the importance of learning. It clearly inferred the inherent control and influence of the position. Along with that came utmost and ultimate responsibility and accountability.

I felt that many years ago, in a community far away. I wore many kippot: Rabbi, religious school principle, Bar/Bat Mitzvah teacher, and high school teacher. We rented two public school buildings, one for tefilot and one for school. It was confidentially shared with me that two children in our Religious School were being physically, not sexually, abused. I was a very young and newly minted Rabbi. I was very scared of this information. No one had ever discussed this situation with me. I was unprepared. The children were students in the public school we rented for our Religious School. I made an appointment with the Principal. I told this person what was told to me. The public school had as much a vested interest as the Religious School, but they were more trained and more protected from false accusation, if it was such, that I was. I had no training and no protection. I did my duty. I handed it off. I had fulfilled my obligation as a teacher and supervisor of teachers. And every day that I came to that public school I went in to that principal to ask what was being done. I never let it rest until the process was completed. My conscience would not rest. How could it?

I cannot, for the life of me, fathom how any teacher of any subject and of sports, for that is what a coach is, can sleep at night while knowing that alleged behavior has occurred without staying with it, following it up, and protecting the students that are in his charge. This is exactly what the Gemara was saying about the position, the authority and the responsibility of the teacher. How could Joe Paterno assuage himself by just "passing it up the line?" How could the President of the University, ultimately responsible for the welfare of all the students, not demand immediate investigation and a thorough examination of the matter? Is this subject new? Have we not had enough cases and exposés? Are lives so cheap? Are they not fathers of their own sons? I cannot understand. I will not understand.

The accused are deemed innocent until proven guilty. Their day in court will come. But for those who remained silent, for those who just "sent it up the line" without further ado, for the lack of culpability, the lack of conscience, they have sinned and should be rightly punished. The lives of the students who were abused cannot be rewritten. The perpetrators, when proven guilty have grievously sinned. All the students currently at the universities have had their lives significantly impacted: all of this continued because no one blew the whistle loudly, shrilly and ceaselessly. Their silence is a sin. How can they atone? Who can forgive them? I don't know.

Judaism teaches us that teachers are perpetually warned for the power of their position. It is more than Joe Paterno and all the others need to learn a little Gemara. Every person in every teaching position needs to feel in the marrow of their bones the responsibility, the duty, the moral obligation for the welfare of their students that they carry on their shoulders, that is embedded in their title: teacher, coach, instructor. It is more than just the material. It is life itself.

May God heal the broken hearted and bind up their wounds.

Shabbat Shalom.

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Temple Beth-El

3330 Grove Avenue

Richmond, VA 23221

Phone 804-355-3564

Fax 804-257-7152

www.bethelrichmond.org

The Five People I Want to Meet in Heaven

2011-10-19T11:48:00.001-07:00

The Five People I Want to Meet in Heaven

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Yizkor – Yom Kippur

October 8^th, 2011

Perhaps the one question that I have been most asked during my career is:

"Rabbi, do Jews believe in Heaven and Hell?"

I answer them with the gamut of Jewish responses from the classical, Maimonidean and rationalist perspectives. The concepts of heaven and hell connect to larger theological questions about good and bad, reward and punishment, and the afterlife. We want to, need to believe that there is an eternal, everlasting reward for our struggles in our lifetime, that the injustices in this world are somehow addressed, even if in another reality, that life makes sense.

The description of heaven that I like the most is the imagery of metaphorically sitting around the table studying Torah with God for all eternity. It is something like my Talmud class, except that it never ends and we never grow old. And God has all the answers. It is a warm, comforting, secure dream. The true Jewish answer is: we won't know about heaven until we get there, wherever "there" might be. In this existence we can only speculate, fueled by vague notions in the Prophetic writings and the conjectures of the Rabbis contained in the Talmud, Midrash and mystical literature. Here, we just don't know.

Given that introduction, I call to your attention a wonderful book that was written some years ago by Mitch Albom entitled: "The Five People You Meet in Heaven." It is a wonderful story about lives that are intertwined without realizing it until afterwards, in heaven. Only there will the protagonist, Eddie, have his life explained to him. Only there will he find out whether his last act on earth, indeed whether his whole life, was a heroic success or a devastating failure. It is a fascinating book, 196 small pages, a quick read.

In the untitled page before the story begins, Albom writes the following:

"This book is dedicated to Edward Beitchman, my beloved uncle, who gave me my first concept of heaven. Every year, around the Thanksgiving table, he spoke of a night in the hospital when he awoke to see the souls of his departed loved ones sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him. I never forgot that story. And I never forgot him.

"Everyone has an idea of heaven, as do most religions, and they should all be respected. The version represented here is only a guess, a wish, in some ways, that my uncle, and others like him – people who felt unimportant here on earth – realize, finally, how much they mattered and how they were loved."

The book's title provoked me to thinking and I have adapted it slightly. The title of this sermon is: The Five people I want to meet in heaven. If we have the choice, if we can somehow arrange in advance who we will meet in heaven, of all the possibilities spanning the history of humanity, Jewish or not, current or ancient,

Who would you choose?

Why would you select those particular people?

What would you ask them?

What do you want to learn from them?

How will these people explain our lives to us?

While we live, can we, do we expect, that we will have mattered in this world?

I hope to provoke your thinking. I hope to provoke your conversation at the table after Yom Tov. You can share with me your choices via email. Here are mine, with the whys and the wherefores. They are all Jewish. When I thought about this sermon, I immediately knew the five. These are: The Five People I Want to Meet in Heaven.

1. I would like to meet our Patriarch Abraham, Avraham Avinu. Why did I choose him? If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be here today. We wouldn't be here today. There would be no Jewish people, no Judaism. No chosen people. I see myself, my life, as a Jew, not the Rabbi part, as a link on a chain that stretches back to him. No Abraham, no me. I have so many questions for him.

How did you discover God, or, how did God discover you?

What was the "Aha" moment like?

Where you numbed, stunned, dazed?

What did God's voice sound like?

How did you know it was God speaking?

Was it actual words or something like ESP?

The Torah doesn't answer these questions, it just presents us with Abraham hearing what God was speaking, and asks us to make the same leap of faith. I want to know: what made Abraham leap? It will help mine. I have the Torah's text. I want to know about Abraham's experience. More questions:

How did you turn your back on the world you knew?

How did you leave home?

Weren't you concerned about sticking out like a 'sore thumb'?

It must have been strange being the only Jew in the world. Sometimes when I go places I feel like that too. Again, the Torah doesn't describe the feeling in his kishkes. That's what I want to know. What was churning on the inside? Did Avraham's heart go 'thump, thump, like mine? It will help my kishkes.

What did you think when you were walking up Mount Moriah to sacrifice Isaac?

Why didn't you say something to him?

How could you even imagine that God really wanted you to do this?

I have no idea how Avraham took even one step with his son. I have walked with our children and grandchildren, felt little hands in mine, and larger and larger as they have grown. I cannot fathom Avraham's trial, and yet, his image inspired millennium of Jews to sacrifice their lives, otherwise, our journey would have ended. I want to know of his faith that gave him the power to do this. I want to meet Avraham Avinu in heaven. I want to feel his faith.

2,3,4. I want to meet my maternal grandfather, Abraham Liebhoff maternal grandmother, Anna Liebhoff and paternal great-grandfather Harry Creditor. They all left Europe: Smilovitch, Russia, Bielsk, Poland, and Soroka, Moldova, respectively around 1900. It wasn't in vogue to ask these questions in their lifetimes. But I would like to know:

What it was like to live in the village of Smilovitch, the town of Soroka, and the shtetl of Bielsk? [I don't want the 'Fiddler-on-the-Roof' edition, but the daily lives that they led.]

Did you go to cheder?

What did you do in the 'pre-electronic' world?

How hard was it to be a Jew?

Were you persecuted?

How did you make the decision to leave your hometowns with such little knowledge of the outside world?

[My maternal grandparents were young and travelled by themselves.]

[My great-grandfather Harry came with several children and my great grandmother Bertha.] How did you have the guts to do that?

What did you expect about America?

What did you encounter?

[Grandma Anna rolled cigars and made umbrellas on the Lower East Side.] How did you face the crisis of having to work on Shabbat?

How did you remember to sing Lecha Dodi when you visited us in Belleville and came to Friday night services fifty years after leaving Europe?

I want to know all the details. Because of them, the seed of my family was planted in this country. Because they were contemporary "Abrahams and Sarahs" my family was in America and not Europe for the Shoah and survived. We got our names from them and we gave them to our children.

5. I want to meet my father. Maybe as much as I have questions for him, I wish to tell him about my life since he died in 1991. Then again, if heaven is heaven, maybe he has known all along. Even so, I want to tell him that especially at key junctures, I have acutely missed his presence. There has been an empty space next to me at the b'not mitzvah of Yonina and Tzeira, at all their graduations, Menachem's marriage and the birth of the three grandchildren, particularly Moshe who carries his name, Tzvi. I have looked at the raspberry plants which came from his garden and wondered what he might be thinking about them transplanted to Virginia. In heaven, I get to know. Does not everyone have empty spaces?

But I have questions for my father.

What was it like growing up in Brooklyn, having to defend yourself against the anti-Semitic gangs? [He told me that they existed, and I saw from his pictures that he was quite a strong, tough guy, but I don't know his story. I never asked. He never told.]

[He was a volunteer in the Orphan Home of Brooklyn, where he met my mother who was also a volunteer there.] What were you doing there?

What did you think when you saw your wife-to-be for the first time?

Was it an "aha' moment? [I think of the video with Andy Griffith for the song "Waiting on a Woman" that he and I can sit on a bench in heaven and he will tell me about those years, and courting my mother. Just that my father wouldn't be caught dead in a white suit. Not here. Not there. Neither would I.]

But most of all, I want to know:

How did you have the courage and dignity to live when you knew that you were dying?

[My father was a well read man. He understood his fight with cancer and yet never complained, never kvetched, never railed against the injustice in his life, that he had been just briefly retired before it struck and lived but one more year. He did not speak of it to me or anyone else, and we respected his privacy not to pry, fearing that we might somehow disturb the equilibrium that he maintained. But I want to know:

How did you take each step? [I learned the lessons by watching him that enabled me to be a Rabbi, to stand with others as they fought and crossed over to the other side. Yet he was silent. All his thoughts he kept to himself and I loved him too much to ask. Perhaps I was afraid of the answer. Perhaps I was afraid to make him cry. It wasn't my right. But in heaven, I would like to ask him, I would like to know:

How did you do it?

I need to know before it is too late.

These are my five.

I don't have the foggiest notion if I will meet these five people in heaven, or if I will meet anyone at all. It could just be "lights out." I hope not. I wish to believe, I believe, that I will meet these people. I accept the faith that there is a metaphysical place that is not discernable by test tube and telescope where neshamas exist forever. And I hope that in the right time, may it be far, far away, I will merit to be there too and meet these people and ask them these questions. There is an infinite list that I could have proposed, but I selected these five because they have always captivated me. Just this very speculation on whom to ask and what to ask has been instructive and enlightening. It touches the innermost hidden recesses of my heart, my very being. These are my core questions. They speak to my essence. Though I really want the answers, the questions themselves help me organize my life. At this juncture writing this sermon has help me reflect on the meaning and purpose of the life that I have lived, the family I have created, the service I have done as a Rabbi. Does all this have eternal meaning or is it over when I die?

What is your essence, hiddenmost, innermost self?

When you get to heaven, who do you want to meet?

Why?

What key questions do you want to ask them?

Will the answers make a difference in you?

Heaven may come,

Will contemplating these questions now make you a better person in this life?

I hope so. Composing this sermon made a difference for me.

It gave me clarity. It gave me focus. It gave me hope.

In traditional texts of the Yizkor prayer it said that we recited Yizkor for the "Illuyi haNeshama" – for the "illumination of the soul" of the deceased, that it may be ever closer to God, and His radiance. Today I say Yizkor for my father and family members, for members of our congregation who have died. I recite it not only for "illuyi nishmotam," "their illumination," but for mine, for ours. Perhaps in contemplating special people in our lives and their core teachings that are eternal, we will live more wisely, more richly. In reflecting upon theirs, we will be illuminated.

Yizkor Elohim. May God remember. And here, may we. And in heaven, may they. Amen.

GOD

2011-10-19T11:47:00.001-07:00

GOD

Kol Nidrei

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

October 7^th, 2011

Some time ago I had decided to write this sermon about God. For many years I have "explored" God with my Confirmation and "Discovering Judaism" classes. In any expression, it is probably the first or second most frequently used word in our liturgy. And in our liturgy, God stands at the center. Contrary to our current environment that puts you and me, our wants, desires and creature comforts at the center of concern, Judaism teaches that we are not the center. God is. Perhaps this night focuses our attention to God as does no other moment. We realize our finiteness, our limitations, our errors. We stand before "something" greater than ourselves. The echoes of the Kol Nidrei chant summon up eternity. They invoke us to stand in God's presence.

In thinking about topics for my sermons, especially with the introduction of Machzor Lev Shalem next year, with these few opportunities remaining to me, I need to speak about God. In every language and in every name, God is most dear to me.

Let me begin with a story that Rabbi Harold Kushner records in the end of his book "Who Needs God."

"In his classic novel One Hundred Years of Solitude, Columbian author Gabriel Garcia Marquez tells of a village where people were afflicted with a strange plague of forgetfulness, a kind ofcontagious amnesia. Starting with the oldest inhabitants and working its way through the population, the plague causes people to forget the names of even the most common everyday objects. One young man, still unaffected, tries to limit the damage by putting labels on everything. "This is a table," "This is a window," "This is a cow; it has to be milked every morning." And at the entrance to the town, on the main road, he puts up two large signs. One reads "The name of our village is Macondo," and the larger one reads "God exists"."

From the first time in my youth that I ever heard the word "God" I always accepted believing in "Him." I don't know why. I couldn't define God. I probably couldn't have explained 'why.' I didn't ask for proof. Nevertheless I believed, I accepted God as "real," that God exists. He wasn't real like the 'things' in my life, the things that I could see and touch, 'show and tell.' There was a different sense of real. How can I explain this?

God was real to me because he was real to Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, and Isaiah from where my Bar Mitzvah haftorah came from. I received this as the belief of my people andaccepted it into my heart. I took my Hebrew School classes seriously. As I increased my reading of the Tanakh, God became more real. If Jewish history was the stage and the Hebrews, Israelites and Jews were the seen actors, then God was a participant too, just unseen. As a young person I didn't ask how did God speak and how did our ancestors hear Him. I acceptedthat there was some form of communication, in both directions, and that God was real. Otherwise, to me, the Jewish journey made no sense. Abraham and Sarah could have stayed in

Ur. There would be no Judaism, no Christianity and no Islam. Yet the history of being a Jew, the defining characteristic, the journey of the Jewish people, has been predicated on exactly and precisely one fundamentally accepted truth: God exists. God is real.

One of the most frequent questions I am asked is: Who wrote the Bible? There are many approaches to explain the Tanakh. The traditional classical Jewish answer, for the Torah section is: God. And even if modern scholarship can show me how the complicated text came to be, I still need to hear God's voice in, through, above and around its words.

What am I to do with the phrases: "And the Lord said"? And: "The Lord commanded"? Is it only some inner conscience talking to myself? Is it only an imagination, even if vivid, of my own creation? Is it a crutch for human weakness? Is it all only a metaphor? Or are these words from the highest, invisible realm of reality? Are they eternal? In my teaching I use the metaphor of a seven-layer-cake to illustrate that truths can be co-existent and not necessarily contradictory. No matter what is said about the text of the Torah and Bible, at some level, at some layer of meaning, for me, there must be The external reality that stretches from the furthest beyond and reaches to the reality of the human here and now. There must be God.

There are many sources that influence and exemplify my thinking. In the past year there was a particular presentation of the comic strip "The Family Circus" written by Bil Keane. In it, as one girl is holding a cell phone to her ear and obviously not getting an answer, the other is saying to the other: "I can talk to God wherever I am without a cell phone….and I never get a busy signal." [We could add: "And never have a 'dropped call'!] I saved it for this sermon. That is how I feel when I daven, when I take the siddur or the Machzor in hand. Instead of email and Gmail and tweets, I have an unlimited conversation and I predicate my entire experience on the faith that God hears me, that I have a companion, who doesn't have to say a thing. Praying, tefilah, is not a matter of my head as much as it is a matter of my heart. The girl in the comic intuitively understood the belief in the openness of God, the availability of God, and the nearness of God. Without needing a long excurses, in simplicity, the comic strip articulates the faith that all of us can call upon God simultaneously and He will be there for all of us at the same time. In this sublime innocence, is the faith of God's presence. I need that faith when I pray. I need it when I live. Don't we all? Rabbi Kushner pointed out in his book, with faith in God's existence, we are never alone in the unending universe.

In our Machzor, based on our extensive, classical literature, God is called by many names. The common convention is to use the pronoun "He" and masculine grammar, even as our faith declares that God is incorporeal, has no body, and thus defies the logic of language. Each term has connotations that weave a complex relationship. A selection includes: Creator - Boray; Guardian – Shomer; King - Melech; Healer – HaRofeh; our Father - Avinu; Master – Adon; Savior – Moshiah; Judge – Shofet; Comforter – Menachem; the First – Rishon; and, the Holy One, Blessed be He – HaKadosh Baruch Hu. We invoke God to be present in our lives. We summon national memory and personal consciousness. Language presents a true, not virtual, reality.

Here is another way. The last segment of Art Linkletter's TV show "House Party" was called "Kids Say the Darndest Things." In that vein, fifth graders of a Religious School were asked by their teacher to look at TV commercials and see if they could use them in twenty ways to communicate ideas about God. The following selection was shared on the network of the Conservative Rabbinate by my colleague Rabbi Matthew Futterman.

God is like. Bayer Aspirin. He works miracles.

God is like. A Ford. He's got a better idea.

God is like. A Coke. He's the real thing.

God is like. Hallmark Cards. He cares enough to send His very best.

God is like. Tide. He gets the stains out others leave behind.

God is like. General Electric. He brings good things to life.

God is like. Wal-Mart. He has everything.

God is like. Alka-Seltzer. Try Him, you'll like Him.

God is like. Scotch Tape. You can't see Him, but you know He's there.

God is like. Delta. He's ready when you are.

God is like. Allstate. You're in good hands with Him.

God is like. VO-5 Hairspray. He holds through all kinds of weather.

God is like. Dial Soap. Aren't you glad you have Him? Don't you wish

everybody did?

God is like. The U.S. Post Office. Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet nor ice will keep

Him from His appointed destination.

God is like. Chevrolet. The heart beat of America.

God is like. Maxwell House. Good to the very last drop.

God is like. Bounty. He is the quicker picker upper..Can handle the

tough jobs..And He won't fall apart on you.

All these cute quips make manifest a faith in the transcendent yet immanent God. They don't deny the great theological questions of good and evil. They do affirm wonderful answers. They all reflect the faith that God exists; that He loves us; that we matter to Him; that He is responsible for human existence; that we are not alone. In a charming way, they reflect the Psalmist's eloquence "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want." We can ask for nothing more.

When I was a child I tried to imagine God. I wanted to understand Him concretely. Once I was lying on the lawn and looked up to the clouds. Captivatingly they looked like human ribs and I imagined that I was inside God's chest cavity. That was cool! Since the clouds stretched to the horizon and I must have been a little speck, I was utterly impressed with God's grandeur, and yet completely overwhelmed with the thought that I could be near God. Later I was to learn that that experience reflected a Talmudic discussion about God: "Rabbi Halafta wrote: We call God 'Makom,' – Place – but we do not know if God is the place of the world, or the world is the place of God." There is no final answer. Maybe we are just near to each other. Today I get the

same feeling from pictures from the Hubble telescope and space probes. The vastness of existence is linked to the God of the Tanakh, to the God to whom I speak with Machzor in hand,

whose words I read when I open the Torah. This is the Psalmists faith, and mine, as he writes: "Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me."

I did not intend for this to be a theological treatise but rather to share with you my personal posture with God for your consideration. It is a simple faith. I know that there are questions for which in this life I will never have answers. I am okay with that. Not everything needs to be answered. Eternity can wait. These beliefs comfort me and sustain me. They echo through the millennium from prophets and sages. They enable me to accept the sorrows in life along with the joys, for as I turn to God, here in the Sanctuary, in my home or backyard, I feel God is near, my friend and comforter, encourager and supporter, and teacher. He does not stop bad things from happening, but gives me the strength and sustenance to face them. He reveals the magnificence of all creation and humbles me to be alive. I cannot "prove" God. I cannot go "puff" and make Him appear as a slight of hand or magic trick. Sometimes I wish that I could.

And yet I am unshakably certain of Him and His love. I could not live life without God. That faith informs my life, as an answer to Him for its gift. Believing in God evokes my response, through mitzvot, through tefilah - prayer, through righteous living. It guides me to seek the synagogue as a community of faith, who act in faith, who join souls together in faith to God.

In the naivety and innocence of the child-within-us-all, I hear the still small voice that Elijah heard in the pages of Talmud and Tanakh, siddur and Machzor, and in our voices raised in prayer.

So like in the story with which I opened this sermon, let me label things before I forget:

This is a talit.

This is a kippah.

This is a Machzor.

This is Temple Beth-El.

God exists.

G'mar Chatimah Tovah.

Shanah Tovah Tikatayvu V'Taychataymu.

The following was not included in the sermon delivered in synagogue on Kol Nidrei but attached to the electronic edition as a postscript.

There is a great website that I encourage you visit: www.theinterviewwithgod.com.

The Interview With God Poem

I dreamed I had an interview with God.

"So you would like to interview me?" God asked.

"If you have the time" I said.

God smiled. "My time is eternity."
"What questions do you have in mind for me?"

"What surprises you most about humankind?"

God answered...
"That they get bored with childhood,
they rush to grow up, and then
long to be children again."

"That they lose their health to make money...
and then lose their money to restore their health."

"That by thinking anxiously about the future,
they forget the present,
such that they live in neither
the present nor the future."

"That they live as if they will never die,
and die as though they had never lived."

God's hand took mine
and we were silent for a while.

And then I asked...
"As a parent, what are some of life's lessons
you want your children to learn?"

"To learn they cannot make anyone
love them. All they can do
is let themselves be loved."

"To learn that it is not good
to compare themselves to others."

"To learn to forgive
by practicing forgiveness."

"To learn that it only takes a few seconds
to open profound wounds in those they love,
and it can take many years to heal them."

"To learn that a rich person
is not one who has the most,
but is one who needs the least."

"To learn that there are people
who love them dearly,
but simply have not yet learned
how to express or show their feelings."

"To learn that two people can
look at the same thing
and see it differently."

"To learn that it is not enough that they
forgive one another, but they must also forgive themselves."

"Thank you for your time," I said humbly.

"Is there anything else
you would like your children to know?"

God smiled and said,
"Just know that I am here... always."

-author unknown

Daily Prayer in a Minyan, Chevrah Kaddishah, Machzor Lev Shalem

2011-10-19T11:46:00.001-07:00

Daily Prayer in a Minyan, Chevrah Kaddishah, Machzor Lev Shalem

Rosh HaShanah Day 1, 5772

September 29, 2011

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

I am taking this unique opportunity to deliver this sermon to both parts of our congregation who assemble this Yom Tov in the Social Hall and Main Sanctuary. There are three subjects that are vital for the entire congregation and instead of relying on electronic media to share these messages, I am doing so in person. I stress their importance and elicit your response. In the heightened spiritual aura of this holy day I hope that these words which reflect the innermost feelings of my heart will be similarly received by yours. As I am bringing my pulpit rabbinate to a close I scan the shelves that hold the hard copies of my all sermons and realize, that with nary a repetition, with my best efforts, I have been pouring out my soul and Judaism, specifically Conservative Judaism, to the congregations I have served as their Rabbi. I guess that every Rabbi hopes and prays that it makes a difference in people's lives and that of their communities. I do too. The three subjects of this morning follow in that tradition: daily prayer particularly in the community setting of a minyan; chevrah kaddishah who perform the rituals of taharah – purification for our dead; and, a new Machzor for next Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur, whose name is "Lev Shalem," translated alternatively, "A Full Heart," "A Complete Heart." Each is worthy of a separate sermon, but I will share my thoughts in the most concise manner. I speak from my heart.

Daily Prayer in a Minyan

While a Jewish identity is very complex, Judaism is really simple.

Judaism is a faith that sees the world refracted through a distinct belief in God.

Jews are those who bear that faith.

The Jewish people was called into being, or willed ourselves into existence in order to propagate a very distinct faith, different from all others. That was true in antiquity. It is true today. Whatever brings you/us to the synagogue on any day, on every day, on this day, this is a place that proclaims and bears witness to the faith of Judaism.

One core belief in that matrix is: we owe gratitude to God for our lives. Not only on Rosh HaShanah. Every day, we say "Thank you" to God:

that we are alive, despite aches, pains, ailments, heartache and grief;

that we live on the only blue marble in the galaxies and shouldn't ruin it;

that we have rules and laws that guide us to moral and ethical living;

that He, or if you prefer, She, loves us even in an earthquake and hurricane; and,

that He gave to Israel alone His special gift of Torah.

Instead of doom and gloom, of onus, pressure and duress, the faith of Judaism bestows upon us the gifts of wonder, awe, amazement, blessings and love, to accompany the caffeine and calories to begin each day of our lives. We do that in tefilah, prayer, to God. Each day. Every day. In and through tefilah we proclaim, we renew, we live the faith. Not sometimes. Not just today, tomorrow and Yom Kippur. Every day of the year. Every Shabbat. Every day of our lives. That is the privilege of being a Jew with Judaism as our faith.

A second core value in the matrix is: we live the faith as a community. The synagogue is a building. We are a congregation. We are a community. We seek, find, and pray to Godtogether. We celebrate our religious history and life-cycle rituals together. We care for each other together. We mourn together. We pray together. The word that expresses communityin this context is minyan.

The best translation for minyan is quorum, the minimum community. Reflecting an ancient tradition, the required number is ten. Reflecting our Conservative Judaism, both men and women over the age of thirteen are entitled to be included in that number. It is a honor to be counted. Regardless or not if you had the celebration, every Jewish man and woman is by dint of age a Bar and Bat Mitzvah for life. With privilege also comes obligation.

If we are truly a congregation, then we owe something to each other.

If we are a synagogue congregation, then we owe something to our faith.

If we are Jews, then we owe something to God.

We pray on Yom Tov. We pray on Shabbat. We pray on weekdays.

We pray to God.

We pray together.

Now I will tell you that I love the porch of our home where I belong to a congregation of three: me, myself and I. All three agree on everything all the time. And I don't have to announce pages. But nothing can replace the companionship, the friendship, the inspiration of a minyan, of a congregation in tefilah, on Shabbat and on weekdays.

I am sorry that I have heard my whole lifetime the negativity surrounding daily prayer, "the minyan." Wherever it is held and whenever it meets, you/we will have to go out of our way. It will take time "out" of our day. It will delay dinner or require an earlier alarm clock setting. But:

There is nothing negative. It is only glorious.

There is no inconvenience. There is only beneficence.

Instead of loneliness there is togetherness.

In times of sorrow, there is love.

Instead of being downcast, we are uplifted.

When those whom we love die, we are joined by those who share the journey.

After our personal journey is over we continue to come to minyan to be there for others.

While we say Kaddish for the dead, the saying of it is for us. That is its power.

How beautiful it is to pray each day.

How magnificent it is having caring shoulders.

How beautiful it is to share Shabbat together.

It doesn't take time out of my day. It puts life into it. It puts God into it.

Temple Beth-El has had a long tradition of daily prayer, tefilah, and maintaining a quorum, the minyan. As generations have come and gone, that tradition has faltered. We have even truncated the schedule. I share these words to illuminate a treasure that has been hidden and awaiting you in the Okun Chapel Monday and Thursday mornings and Monday through Thursday afternoons, and at the religious school on Sunday mornings. I elicit your positive response to attend the daily minyan, and to join us in shul on Shabbat, not because you have to, not because you are forced to, not because of yahrzeit, not only when we are in mourning (when we should anyway),: because you need it.

Because we need each other.

Because we need a sense of religious community.

Because we need companionship, friendship, love, and strength.

Because we need God. Together. In minyan. On Shabbat. On weekdays. All our lives.

Chevrah Kaddishah

The Chevrah Kaddishah is that anonymous group of men and women who perform the rituals of rechitzah, washing, taharah, purifying, and halbashah, dressing our dead in tachrichim, in shrounds and placing the met/metah, the deceased in the aron, in the casket. There is no greater mitzvah in Judaism. The dead cannot repay the chesed, the loving kindness done to them. It is one of the most difficult mitzvot to perform. There is no doubt. I participated for the first time this summer, when my schedule allowed me to join the men's chevrah. I know that I will be joining them in the future. It was an awe inspiring experience. It was humbling. It was illuminating. I am grateful that the men included me. I saw with my own eyes the love that will be shown to me as I transition from this world to the next, may that day be far. far away.

This summer I read a book entitled: Dignity Beyond Death, The Jewish Preparation for Burial by Rochel Berman. I want to share just a few touching quotations.

"When death comes, when the technology is turned off and the technicians can do no more, what remains is a sense of incompleteness – a need for spiritual closure. It is uplifting to know that at this venerable moment we are able to perform this final act of lovingkindness." Pg.29.

"What it taught me is that this ritual has multi-dimensional power. It even allows us to think better of the living. It has underscored my feeling that taharah brings out the best in those who are privileged to do it." Pg. 66.

"If we did it wrong, we would have left the dead impure; we would have failed to repair death's spiritual damage. We would have failed in our roles as religious emissaries of the community and of God." Pg. 68

"In the process of the taharah, I felt as if we had managed to wash away the suffering and to provide some comfort for his soul. When he was dressed in the shrouds and placed in the casket, a great sense of relief settled over me. Now, at last, he was at peace." Pg.78.

"I feel that I have been blessed with the ability to do this mitzvah. Some people have beautiful voices and others play musical instruments. I feel that being able to perform taharah is a gift from God." Pg. 93.

"…there will emerge a new generation of young people who view death as a function of life. They will be proud to be part of a people that believes that, "In death no less than in life,solitariness is replaced by solidarity." They will learn that the collective response of the Chevrah Kaddishah to a death brings dignity to the deceased and simultaneously strengthens the caring community." Pg. 186.

Since I began this appeal years ago, many women and men responded to this summons. I am humbled by them. I really wish that I could recognize them by name, but they profess their desire for anonymity and in my love for them, I honor their request.

For whatever reasons, more women have responded than men. So this appeal is a stronger, louder clarion call for men to respond, even as the women's chevrah certainly desires and welcomes more members. I especially appeal for men to join me with those who already serve so devotedly. There is a community of the living that serves the community of the dead.Even as we give our souls to God, we give our bodies into the loving hands of the Chevrah Kaddishah. I am the conduit for men and women interested in joining the Chevrah Kaddishah. You may contact me at any time. May God bless the living as they show infinite love to our dead.

Machzor Lev Shalem

I grew up with the Machzor edited by Rabbi Morris Silverman which became the standard edition in Conservative synagogues. The opening page was a meditation he composed entitled: "The Old Prayer Book." Through its words I felt a splendid rootedness and sense of God's presence and purpose for my prayers. Its language inspired me to feel God's majesty and in reflection, my humble humanity and finite mortality. It led me to pour out my soul to Him on these days. I didn't need to understand every Hebrew word or its translation. Though it took me years to comprehend its content, I took that Machzor in my hands with trembling. It was my doorway to God. I have used many Machzorim since. When I came here I inherited Mahzor Hadash. None every impacted me the way my first Machzor did.

Ten years ago the Rabbinical Assembly began the task to produce a new edition of the Machzor that would speak to us both with its authenticity and with modernity. The Rabbis of the editorial board recognized the need to explain more than just to translate, the need to supplement with meditations and readings in order to stimulate our hearts and heads. Stressing the beauty of congregational participation in the Hebrew yet with many unable to read, they added transliterations of key passages. To capture our eye, they designed a new page layout. Toenrich the Machzor they drew upon Sephardic poetry to supplement our well-known Ashkenazic repertoire. To enable everyone to participate in the synagogue ritual there are concise and yet unobtrusive instructions. As much as Machzor Lev Shalem is a new edition, as I held it in my hands, I felt our glorious antiquity and exquisite faith. I took several days this summer to read every page, and imagine that I was sitting here with this volume in hand. I was inspired. I was stirred. As our children would say: "It was awesome."

A year ago I proposed to the Ritual Committee that we replace the Machzor Hadash with Machzor Lev Shalem as it addressed our spiritual needs in a vastly superior way. It has already been adopted by a growing number of congregations, and has received excellent reviews. The committee earnestly investigated and reviewed this proposal. It recommended it to the Board of Governors which ratified the decision. Next Rosh Hashanah we will welcome Machzor Lev Shalem as our Machzor. I am thrilled at the opportunity to introduce it next year. In that case the Ritual Committee has authorized that after Yom Kippur you may take home a copy of Machzor Hadash to keep in your personal library.

Yet a book is only a cover holding together a bunch of pages. The invisible yet necessary ingredient is your soul. This book is like the portal of the worm-hole to God, no matter how you conceive of Him, Her – just don't say "it." This Machzor needs our active, personal, neshamahdick engagement that only each one of us can bring. We must bring ourselves to the book,ready, willing and desirous of its words to touch our hearts and open up our souls to God. We will use this new Machzor differently. There will be more times of silence to allow each of us to peruse, ponder, and pray. We will pause to read the commentary on the right margin. We will pause to reflect on the meditations on its left. My preparation this year for next excites me. Next year will be a grand experiment, even as it will have so much that is familiar and echoes brilliantly in our ears. But when all is said and done, it will need each of us.

**************************************************************************************

I have been as concise as I could while tackling three significant subjects: enlisting your response to attend the daily minyan and Shabbat services; join the Chevra Kaddishah; and, introduce Machzor Lev Shalem. It was a challenge to keep it this short. Yet I have fulfilled my personal mandate to pour out my soul to you honestly and earnestly. The title I bear and the place where I stand echoes in my heart the voices of the ages and of our glorious and incomparable faith. As I began so I end, I hope that these words make a difference in your lives and in our community.

I close with a Meditation from Machzor Lev Shalem:

In Your great kindness, aid us Adonai our God to embrace this Rosh HaShanah with love and overwhelming joy, as a gift from You. Through the celebration of this sacred Rosh HaShanah may we attain a full and true faith. Help us to gather together the sparks of holiness within ourselves, as we join with all the people Israel congregating from their individual homes and joining together on these holy days of Rosh HaShanah to bless Your sacred name.

L'Shanah Tovah Tikatayvu v'Taychataymu.

May we be written and inscribed for a happy, healthy and blessed new year.

“Exodus,” “Masada” and My Soul Erev Rosh HaShanah Day One

2011-10-19T11:38:00.001-07:00

"Exodus," "Masada" and My Soul

Erev Rosh HaShanah Day One

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

September 28^th, 2011

For nearly the past two weeks, except for sports, I have tried to ignore the media. Standing between the pain of the memories of 9/11 evoked by the tenth anniversary of that terror, and the events at the United Nations, my soul has been sorely distressed. Tonight I share a few thoughts which I first expressed last Friday night. I do not provide any answers to your questions and mine. I wish I could. I have searched for adequate words to explain this.

The two most influential books in my youth were "Exodus" by Leon Uris and the extended poem "Masada" by the Israeli poet Yitzchak Lamdan. They shaped my embrace of Zionism as part of my reading of Jewish history. In simplicity: It is us against them. This juxtaposition in extreme hostility, in extreme antagonism was understood to serve two functions: (1) it justified our existence and (2) fortified us to defend ourselves, even at all costs. This attitude is alive and well. I don't think that we corner the market on this approach. Being a child of the Cold War I well remember crouching under desks as part of air raid drills, the movies, the comic books and even advertisements for commercial products that proclaimed that it was: It is us against them. Nazi Germany, Stalinist Russia and countless times throughout history this is the way the world was portrayed: It is us against them. It is the Book of Joshua in the Bible. In a world in which I can use Google World and walk down nearly any street on the planet Earth, when stock markets rise and fall because of events far away, when Israel stands in danger of isolation, when the United States risks increased isolation and economic impact because it supports Israel at the U.N., I reflect and wonder with great consternation about our world, our posture and the books that I read.

I thought that Leon Uris was a semi-historian and that "Exodus" was this side of the Bible. Its thesis was very simple: the world didn't care what happened to the Jews, not before the Holocaust and not after; that the Holocaust proved our powerlessness and the return of the Jews to Palestine was the renaissance of our re-empowerment; that there were Ohavai Yisrael, lovers of Jews amongst the non-Jews who would help us, though they were few in number; that it was right and proper for Jews to skirt and even abrogate laws in order to save other Jews, particularly the Jews of Palestine; and, while we might not do everything right, they would always do everything wrong. We were the good guys. They were the bad guys. And this was the OK corral. There was no alternative. And we had to win.

There was no middle ground.

There was no balance.

There is no shading.

There is no compromise.

Since they wouldn't extend that to us,

We wouldn't and couldn't extend that to them.

It is us against them.

That is our story.

I read Yitzchak Lamdan's "Masada" in the Hebrew original long before I ever saw the mountain. In fact, I was prepared to see the mountain through the eyes of his poem. Masada was the last outpost to fight against the Romans in the first great revolt that ended in 70 C.E. and included the destruction of the Second Temple and a significant dispersion of the Jews from the land of Israel. It ended any semblance of Jewish autonomy. Masada is a stark mountain created by eons of water rushing around it towards the Dead Sea, literally carving it out of the surrounding area. The sides are exceedingly steep. Even in winter it can be very warm. The summertime is excruciatingly hot. For all the eye can see North, West and South, it is barren, and to the East is the Dead Sea. When Masada fell, it was over. For Lamdan, Israel is Masada. There is no retreat, no place to go. The sea into which we would be pushed is the Dead Sea, literally. Therefore we swear: "M'tzada shaynit lo ti-pol" – "Masada Again Will Not Fall." For this reason, for decades new inductees were taken to Masada to be sworn into the Israeli Defense Forces. This was not to be service in some far off place. The army is to protect the Homeland. They are defending Masada once again, and it shall not fall, for if it does, - forget about us, the Jews of the Diaspora - they, their parents, their families and friends are doomed, forever. This is as stark as the landscape that surrounds them.

In this story there is no place for the story of Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakkai who pleaded not to revolt and to seek a better way to deal with the Romans, even under duress.

There is no contemplation of the ultimate consequences from this course of action.

The lines are starkly drawn.

There is no compromise.

It is us against them.

Victory or death!

This is our story.

Perhaps this psychological posture once served us well.

Perhaps it fueled generations of Jews to be faithful to Judaism, to remain part of the Jewish people, to be martyrs for the cause.

Perhaps it inspired Jews to return to a wasteland called Palestine and suffer every deprivation as they and their children built it into the country you see from the plane as it lands at Ben Gurion airport.

Perhaps it motivated the soldiers of the IDF to climb the Golan not once but twice, in 1967 and 1973 to stop Syrian advances down the slopes bent on destroying the entire North of Israel.

Perhaps it motivated the soldiers of the IDF to offer up their lives on the Bar Lev line to slow down the Egyptian advance over the canal on Yom Kippur 1973 so that eventually they could mobilize and save Israel.

Perhaps this has allowed the Israelis to clean up the body parts after countless terrorist attacks, and live.

Having lived in Israel for cumulatively over three years of my life, with a daughter who calls it 'home,' having absorbed "Exodus" into my bloodstream and stood on Masada, I understand this perfectly. From that mountain top, after learning what the world has done to us in the vulnerability of our powerlessness for 2,000 years, with Ruby having been in Jerusalem when the sirens went off on Yom Kippur 1973, after standing on the Golan, and driving that road to Eilat, I get it. I feel it.

And yet in these weeks of turmoil and anxiety, as the so-called Arab Spring truly leads into the Arab Winter, as Assad murders thousands of Syrians and the world is silent, as treaties with Turkey, Egypt and Jordan are either de facto or de jure abrogated, as the only friend on the UN Security Council is the U.S., weakened, isolated, alone, I wonder if this posture," It is us against them" still serves us, or instead, harms us.

It will be very difficult for me to say the words "The State of Palestine." But at some time you and I will need to do it. There are millions of Palestinians living cheek to jowl with Israelis, and they are not leaving.

Why write the script with the same thesis? Why not force the hand of destiny?

Leon Uris was not a historian. My second Bible is riddled with inaccuracies and distortions and omissions.

IDF soldiers are no longer inducted on Masada. And few read the poem by that name.

For Israel's sake, for our sake, for the destiny of the Jewish people whose largest group of Jews now live in the State of Israel, for our daughter, I hope they find a different way.

I ask for nothing from God in this New Year, nothing, but for sachel, sanity, and peace.

[June 17th & 18th, 2011] Anthony Weiner & Sexting

2011-10-03T22:10:00.001-07:00

Anthony Weiner and Sexting

June 17^th & 18^th, 2011

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

[This past Shabbat through Q&A I taught about Jewish values that reflect on the disgraceful situation surrounding the recently resigned Congressman and the subject that is of tremendous importance. It is not only about teenagers. The misuse of electronic media spans all ages. I offer these Jewish teachings in the fight for what is decent and right. I cannot reconstruct the delivery of the remarks. These are just the points that I shared.]

Erev Shabbat [Friday evening]

1. Moses' greatest value/characteristic is humility – Hebrew – Anavah. We see it in the episode where his brother Aaron and sister Miriam attack him (Numbers 12:3) and he will not defend himself by attacking them.

2. When God first revealed Himself to Moses He did it at the Burning Bush, which is a very low plant. (Exodus) This is expanded in the Midrash Bereshit Rabbah 2:5 to stress the humility of God when revealing Himself and the proper physical posture as a spiritual model.

3. When God created mankind He said: "Let us…" which the Rabbis take to mean that God consulted the angels before creating us. (Genesis 1:26). Again, this illustrates God's humility.

4. The parallel Jewish value/characteristic to humility is modesty. It is sometimes translated in the Hebrew with the same Hebrew word –Anavah, but usually the Hebrew word is tzni'ut. It comes from the meaning "hidden." It only occurs twice in the entire Bible, once referring to wisdom and intelligence and the other "walking modestly with God." (Proverbs 11: 1-2 and Micah 6:8)

5. Tzni'ut is connected to holiness. When Moses first encountered God's holiness at the Burning Bush, he covered himself. (Exodus 3:6). Clearly Judaism enunciates an attitude that our holiness derives from God's holiness, as we are made in His image, and in reaction to His holiness we act with modesty and humility in all ways, our behavior, speech and dress.

In preparing these remarks I founding the following quotation:

"Hiddenness and privacy are the reaction to holiness."

6. In looking at the window in our Main Sanctuary from the prophet Ezekiel, we see that the angels had six wings. When they encountered God's glorious holiness they proclaimed: "Kadosh, Kadosh, Kadosh…Holy, Holy, Holy…." Accordingly, they used two wings with which to fly, and two wings to cover their legs, and two wings to cover their faces.

Clearly, where holiness exists, modesty and hiddenness exist.

7. We rarely open the Aaron HaKodesh, the Holy Ark, out of a sense of modesty and respect to the Torahs, God's words to us. Modesty and respect is shown and seen by being covered and not revealed.

8. Traditionally, when the reading the Torah, between aliyot when the Torah is not being read, it is covered by a cloth called the 'ben gavra' which means 'between each person'. The Torah is covered out of a sense of respect and modesty. We use the ben gavra when the Torah is not being read for a prolonged time.

Another quote I found:

"We are to imitate God in His Holiness and Hiddenness – leading us to humility and modesty.

[After mentioning the title for these remarks I never mentioned his name or the subject again. I stressed the cardinal Jewish values of modesty, humility, privacy, being covered, as how we connect to our holiness and to God. While these values might be counter-culture, they are our authentic and core values of Judaism. We must enunciate them to our children and grandchildren. They are vital for all of us.]

Yom Shabbat [Saturday morning]

We learn from the laws of Shabbat that there are two main realms – domains, with one of them being subdivided into three parts.

There is the private domain, namely our home. Within its precincts we may carry items that are Shabbat-permissible. The private domain is distinctly marked by either being the house, or the perimeter of our property.

There is the public domain, which is all the space outside our private domain. The public domain is subdivided into the general public space that is frequented by the public, a road, a square that is totally open. There is also the karmelit which is public space that is unfrequented. It is governed by all the rules of public domain. Lastly, there is free space which is a small part of the public domain and airspace above it.

On Shabbat, for reasons not to go into here, one does not take things from the private domain into the public domain. There is a clear separation between these two realms that is not to be violated. While the laws of Shabbat reflect the idea of 'doing business,' embedded in them is a value that particularly addresses the usage of electronic media.

In the private domain, behind closed doors there can be things appropriate for that realm, that domain, which are not appropriate for the public domain. Not all things are appropriate every. There is a difference. There are boundaries. There are things that should remain private and personal and there are other things that may be disseminated in the public domain. Through the laws of Shabbat we see how our Jewish values separate these two spaces. This Jewish value system has something to teach everyone, young and old. It is not just about carrying things from our homes on Shabbat. There are different reshuyot, spaces, and what is private should remain private. What is personal should remain personal.

These two teachings should be understood as two pieces of one whole teaching on the subject of the use of electronic media. Today, Monday, June 20, 2011, I listened to a discussion on the radio whether or not youngsters should have access to social media. While it might be impossible to disconnect them, we must connect them to a value system that puts forth a cogent, coherent rationale for specific behavior. I share this with you.

Shalom uv'racha,

Rabbi Creditor

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Temple Beth-El

3330 Grove Avenue

Richmond, VA 23221

Phone 804-355-3564

Fax 804-257-7152

www.bethelrichmond.org

Sermon from June 24, 2011 "O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave."

2011-10-03T22:08:00.001-07:00

"O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave."

The flag: To fly or not to fly, that is the question!

June 24, 2011

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Perhaps the most evocative symbol of any group is the flag. When I fly into Israel and see the Magen David on the white background with the blue stripes, my heart flutters. The three thousand five hundred year Jewish journey is captured in that flag. And when I fly back into the United States and see 'Old Glory,' in a millisecond my mind embraces Washington crossing the Delaware, Fort McHenry, D-Day, Iwo Jima, Korea, Viet Nam and more. When I see the Stars and Stripes paraded in at the Diamond, my eyes tear. The flags summon up memory, emotion, and devotion. Flags lead us in parades. Flags lead us in battle. Flags capture the expanse of history. Flying at the Pentagon, in the Pennsylvania field, at ground zero, the flag spoke and said: "We will survive. We will triumph." And we have. To honor those who serve our country, their casket is draped in our flag. The President of the United States and the whole country escorts them to their final resting place. There is no higher honor.

While we don't know the designs, earlier in the Book of BaMidbar the Torah indicates that the tribes aligned themselves behind their flags, a different one for each tribe, in the encampment and when they marched through the wilderness. I wonder what they looked like. We learn that flags give us our orientation and direction. They pointing to the path ahead. Flags enable our organization that leads to implementing our vision of ourselves and our purpose on earth.

While Israel is a political entity, the flag of the State of Israel summons up the full gamut of religious emotions. So, too, does the flag of the United States summon a response from the deep well-springs of our emotion.

It should be no surprise that when the Federal Reserve Bank of Richmond flew the Rainbow flag below the American flag that it evoked strong vocal support and opposition. It was a major piece in the Commentary section of the Times-Dispatch: http://www2.timesdispatch.com/news/2011/jun/12/tdcomm01-the-feds-flag-let-it-fly-ar-1100630/ and http://www2.timesdispatch.com/news/2011/jun/12/tdcomm01-the-feds-flag-dont-fly-it-ar-1100618/

These articles leave me in a conundrum to accurately understand the Federal Reserve Bank whether it is a truly independent business or an official branch of the government. I have tried to better understand this from the Federal Reserve website, to no avail. They don't clearly address the issue. Yet I deduce that there is some amount of autonomy at each of the twelve Reserve Banks in the system.

If that is the case, I am proud of our bank.

I want to offer a few thoughts from Judaism.

1. Despite all other preachers from all faiths, I have no idea what God wants when it comes to specific questions. For those who believe in direct verbal revelation, then God has spoken through the words of Torah, the quotations and citations of the prophets. The Rabbis declared that for Jewish purposes, that ended with Malachi the last of the prophets. After that we have to figure it out for ourselves by examining those texts. I cannot accept someone citing a scriptural verse and telling me that God wants this or that. What does God want us to do to that part of society to whom we respectfully identify as LBGTQ? Does God want us to stone them or hug them? To kill them or respect them? Did God ever imagine those initials, and in English to boot?!

2. The sacred texts did not anticipate some, even many of our modern dilemmas. We have new realities and the Rabbis handled our texts with care to evince and deduce answers and responses to unanticipated questions. How do you define "commitment?" What is a "household?" If you can't give birth, for whatever reason, how do you define "your children?" These are core terms in the religious vocabulary, but no faith community ever considered the high rate of divorce, the low rate of marriage, and that existential, financial, political and philosophical realties would have certain human beings living together under one roof.

Judaism has sacred values – sacred because they reflect a conception of the Divine that we consider ultimate – about human beings. These include, but are not limited to fidelity, honor, trust, love, confidence.

We intersect and interface these values with our current realities to respond those self-identified as LBGTQ about respect and acceptance within our community. I don't know how many of whomever ever existed in the past. I don't have any idea if closets were full or bare. Today, no one should have to live there. No body needs to deny who they are.

We as Jews understand that very well. We had to change our names, alter our noses, empty our souls and forsake our identity in order to secure our physical existence in America. Sometimes I think that we gave up too much.

3. The Rainbow flag flying from the Federal Reserve Bank of Richmond speaks about us as a society at large. It enunciates the vision that God has made us all different. We are different in beliefs, in height and weight, in language, in color, in accent, in gender and in sexuality. If any of us are "God's children," then we are all people "God's children." If any of us are made "in God's image," Then we are all made "in God's image." The flag says: we are God given because of our differences. Our differences are not the result of random selection, the quirks of an evolving planet. They are the result of a creative God, who made us such majestic creatures.

The end of our anthem is appropriate in this condition too. May the Rainbow flag at the Federal Reserve Bank fly "O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave." For I am of perfect faith, that in our freedom, in our bravery and in our love, God blesses America.

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Temple Beth-El

3330 Grove Avenue

Richmond, VA 23221

Phone 804-355-3564

Fax 804-257-7152

www.bethelrichmond.org

"10 years later" by Yonina Creditor

2011-09-11T09:01:00.001-07:00

"10 years later"

by Yonina Creditor

Would you believe me if I told you that I was envious of Job - how there are similarities between my life and his.

Job loved God and shunned evil and through a bet between God and the Adversary, Job is tested through loss.

His children die tragically and all his possessions are destroyed or taken.

His friends and wife are no comfort to him.

Eventually Job cries out to God for answer and he is given one. He is told that he does not need to understand why things happen in the world.

God restores Job's wealth and children and lives to be 140.

We have both lost in traumatic fashion. He lost his children, and I lost fellow EMTs and firefighters in New York City who were like family.

We both know that we did nothing wrong and regardless of how many times we tell ourselves this, it does not lesson the burden of summering and feeling the guilt of having survived.

I do not envy Job with friends who did not support him. I at least had support from fellow unit members and family. But both of us still sit with all this pain that we can not seem to set aside.

And despite all of this, I envy Job.

I am envious because though he had experienced total loss, God returned everything to him.

I have lost friends who are irreplaceable.

I have lost a part of myself.

I am not the person I was before 9/11.

That person is gone and never coming back.

I envy Job most of all because after all his suffering, he got an answer.

It does not matter to me whether the answer was enough - he got one.

I am still waiting.

I want to know that their deaths had meaning, that they served a greater purpose.

I envy a man who was made whole again.

Because after 10 years, I know that I am not.

I wonder if he looks at his grandchildren and sees the echos of the children he lost.

A look, a laugh, a gesture.

Does he see ghosts like I do, walking around the streets of Manhattan?

Do his ghosts disturb his sleep like mine?

Does he feel like he has lived his life remembering and honoring his dead children?

Does he carry the burden like me, that I should live my life because others died in my place?

Does he look back and realize he's changed and misses who he once was?

Does he laugh less like me?

Does he commemorate the day with others or does the overwhelming pain choke him into silence?

Does he feel guilty that it has become easier to mark the day and feels like that alone is doing his children a disservice?

Did he ever explain to the new children about where their names came from?

We both have one day that we mark to remember publicly with private moments throughout the year.

As time passes, it feels different and uncomfortably comforting.

We set this time aside to remember, to not forget the sacrifices of those we have lost.

We rely on the strength of those around us to carry us when we have not the strength to commemorate alone.

We give ourselves permission to share our grief today with you.

We allow ourselves to feel the pain this day, rather than hide behind the armor of numbness with which we walk around all year.

We remember them today and always.

Through us, their brave spirits carry on.

Through this moment of sharing, they live on through you now too.

Yonina Creditor

NYS EMT 1999 - 2009

JTS Rabbinical School 2012

Abraham’s Eternal Covenant

2011-07-27T05:58:00.001-07:00

Abraham's Eternal Covenant

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Judaism is a Scripture-based faith that has continued to evolve during its 3,500 year journey. Among its earliest commandments is that of male ritual circumcision. The Hebrew term is brit milah, meaning, circumcision for the sake of the covenant. This procedure transcends its physicality.

From Abraham the patriarch to this very day, it is the sign of the everlasting covenant between God and the Jewish people. While the Torah [the first five books of the Bible] is silent about its rationale, I deduce that its location in the area of procreation indicates the actual, physical transmission of the covenant from generation to generation as it is being created, from the first Jew to the newest member of our religious community. It is our fundamental religious observance from our very beginning.

Elsewhere, the Torah records the prohibition of willful mutilation of the body. This is usually understood as a rejection of idolatrous practices. Fortunately it still permitted jewelry! Today I am often asked whether tattoos are a violation of this commandment. Brit milah is certainly not. In Judaism, performed on the eighth day, by a specifically trained and ordained person, with its attendant liturgy, it completes the birth process and indicates membership in a covenantal community. For Judaism it is irrelevant if there are any beneficial effects of medical circumcision. We only fulfill brit milah because the Torah records God's specific ordination of this commandment.

I vividly remember the brit milahs of our son, our nephew and our grandson. Of course there was concern for the medical procedure, but I had complete confidence in the mohel, the person who is ritually and medically trained and dedicated for this purpose. As I held all three babies, and looked into their faces I tried to imagine their future, even as my mind traversed our history and I said in my heart to Abraham the Patriarch: "We, too, follow in your footsteps."

Throughout history, those who sought to destroy the Jewish people always forbid brit milah, usually upon penalty of death. They thought that if they could eradicate the sign of the covenant, they could eliminate the covenantal people. They failed.

That is the issue that reverberates these days in San Francisco with the attempt through legislation to ban all circumcision. It is a thinly veiled attack upon Judaism and the Jewish people. Anyone who objects to this ritual has the democratic right not to do so. Yet as parents with a religious persuasion, we make decisions on behalf of our children. One of those is the perpetuation of the faith. This is how we do it. This attack is not new, just its method. It violates core American principles.

Which faith community will be the next to be held in disfavor and attacked? Which faith-based ritual will not pass muster? Will it be the immersion of baptism? The incense of the cathedral? The removal of shoes in the mosque? The head-coverings that bespeak several different religious values? The self-accepted religious law of a given community? Who is next? What is next? The greatness of America is the freedom to practice our different and distinct faiths without interference. The magnificence of America is revealed in the multi-textual religious communities all "present and accounted for." In our different ways we all seek the path to the One God who demands us to live moral, ethical and meaningful lives. For Judaism, brit milah enters the child into the covenant with God. I hope that the legislature and people of California understand the glory of America and thoroughly reject this attack upon American values and upon the Jewish people.

Rabbi Creditor can be reached at Rabbi.Creditor@bethelrichmond.org

Some Day the Rabbi Will Retire

2011-06-30T21:47:00.001-07:00

Some Day the Rabbi Will Retire

From the Heart

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

In the mid 1960's the author Harry Kemelman began writing a series of eleven books about a fictitious Rabbi Small, clearly a Conservative Rabbi, in a town in New England. Seven of the books were connected to the days of the week. One title he did not use was: "Some Day the Rabbi Will Retire." If he is still alive and interested, I can now write the book for him.

While it is probably true for most professions, when I thought to become a Rabbi and when I began my student pulpit two years before I was officially ordained by the Jewish Theological Seminary I had no idea what it meant to be a Rabbi. Since I was in fourth grade I grew up in synagogue and watched "my Rabbi." I saw a little of what he did on the bemah, his teaching in religious school, and standing in the church pulpit for interfaith Thanksgiving services. Now looking back from this vantage point, I had such little knowledge of being a Rabbi and yet, that much inspired me to follow in his footsteps. Only upon daily living this path does one really know. I am glad that long ago I chose to be a Rabbi..

Thirty-seven years ago this summer Ruby and I returned from a year of study in Israel the small town of Maywood, New Jersey and I began serving as a student Rabbi. I did everything a Rabbi did while I completed my last two years in Rabbinical School at the Seminary. There was a lot of "on the job training." There and then I knew that I had made the right choice. I have never swerved from that belief. I have always kept the faith.

Being a Rabbi is a privilege. The title spans two thousand years of history. It was held by scholars and saints, visionaries and dreamers, authors and preachers. That I have two shingles on my wall, Hebrew and English, that proclaims that I follow in their path, is humbling.

Being a Rabbi is an honor. The title permits me to represent Jewish tradition, our faith, to those far and near, young and old, Jewish and not, publicly and privately, in synagogue and in the public square. When I am called by that title I represent all my colleagues of all the ages; I represent the God of Israel, our wisdom of the ages. It is personally uplifting to have this opportunity.

Being a Rabbi is being entrusted to advise, counsel, and comfort a community of Jews along the path of life. I have learned that as much as anyone sees publicly what the Rabbi does, there is a myriad more of the unknown that has been the largest part of my life. I am thankful to be trusted by the six communities that I have shepherded.

By the time of my retirement I will have worn this title for nearly forty years, the span of time that it took the Israelites to traverse the distance from Egypt to Israel. It is the length of Moses' ministry. I am in awe of this path. I have been and am still blessed in many countless ways.

What does a Rabbi do when he retires? Study, pray, teach, have a little more time to look at the stars and at the flowers, play with grandchildren, see games at the Diamond and root on VCU. Walk hand in hand with Ruby, as we always have, and keep the friendships that have been the substance of my life.

Yet we have quite some time ahead to learn, pray, celebrate, and enjoy. I have privately said one Shehecheyanu. We have some time and then we will say the next one together.

Have a wonderful, refreshing and blessed summer. And give thanks to God. This is from my heart to yours.

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Temple Beth-El

3330 Grove Avenue

Richmond, VA 23221

Phone 804-355-3564

Fax 804-257-7152

www.bethelrichmond.org

Anthony Weiner & Sexting

2011-06-21T23:25:00.001-07:00

Anthony Weiner and Sexting

June 17^th & 18^th, 2011

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Erev Shabbat [Friday evening]

3. When God created mankind He said: "Let us…" which the Rabbis take to mean that God consulted the angels before creating us. (Genesis 1:26). Again, this illustrates God's humility.

In preparing these remarks I founding the following quotation:

"Hiddenness and privacy are the reaction to holiness."

Clearly, where holiness exists, modesty and hiddenness exist.

7. We rarely open the Aaron HaKodesh, the Holy Ark, out of a sense of modesty and respect to the Torahs, God's words to us. Modesty and respect is shown and seen by being covered and not revealed.

Another quote I found:

"We are to imitate God in His Holiness and Hiddenness – leading us to humility and modesty.

Yom Shabbat [Saturday morning]

We learn from the laws of Shabbat that there are two main realms – domains, with one of them being subdivided into three parts.

Shalom uv'racha,

Rabbi Creditor

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Temple Beth-El

3330 Grove Avenue

Richmond, VA 23221

Phone 804-355-3564

Fax 804-257-7152

www.bethelrichmond.org

Rabbi Gary Creditor: The Land May 21st, 2011

2011-05-20T12:58:00.001-07:00

The Land

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

May 21, 2011

The Torah along with the book of Joshua can be summed up in the following way: While we begin the Jewish journey outside of the Land of Israel the goal is to establish Abraham's family in the Land of Canaan. Isaac never leaves. Jacob goes on condition to return. Joseph's brothers go to Egypt only to get food and must return. Jacob is again permitted to leave but tells his sons: "You are eventually going back. Take me too." After the exodus from Egypt the rest of Torah is about getting back to the Land. Moses will lead them to its doorstep, see it from afar, and his successor Joshua will lead the people back. The land is used as the platform for our origin and initial history. The enslavement is but a detour in the journey. We have to get back and there establish the people covenanted with God. It is the platform for the existence of our religion. The syllogism is simple: no land, no people, no faith :: no faith, no people, and so the land is irrelevant.

This morning's Torah portion is also focused on the Land of Israel. Like individuals, the land is to be respected through observance of the Sabbatical year which is essentially a moral issue. If we treat both the people and the land immorally, we will lose the land. Loss of land is a punishment for sinning. The chastisement section of Behukotai explicitly connects the exile from the land and our terrible existence as the consequence of breaking the covenant with God and calls into question its existence at all. The books of Genesis and Joshua make evident that other people live on the land of Canaan. In the Torah God enunciates a theology and ideology that permits the Israelites to have this land instead of the original inhabitants: their idolatry was essentially the basest immorality. In Torah language, the land "spit them out" because of their idolatrous immorality which then permitted the Israelites to possess it as their own. The book of Leviticus with its Holiness Code is the substance of the contract that enabled this ideology. As long as Israel will live morally, they are entitled to live on that land. I think that this is matchless in the annals of human history. Which people have ever used moral behavior as the basis for acquisition of the land of others? Was that what manifest destiny in America was about? Was that the basis for Nazi Lebenstraum, living space? Were Greece and Roman moral empires? I don't think so. This is the unique, exquisite Jewish philosophy, to link the right to exist on a specific piece of land with obedience to a moral code which then enables certain claims; one was to the land of Israel.

Yet it is also clear from the Prophets that the land is not to be an idol to be worshipped. Confronting the paganism of its ages, prophet after prophet demanded from Israel obedience to the covenant which required complete faith in the One God, and moral behavior according to the standards in the Torah. The land was not to be worshipped. Possession of the land by Israel was conditional and not absolute. The ultimate Prophetic vision had less to do with the land than it did with fidelity to God and living holy lives, which could be done anywhere in the world. Ezekiel in Babylonia foresaw that the exile from the land might last a long time and that they needed to reinforce themselves as Jews covenanted to God without the land. While they might dream of returning, they would only warrant that if they atoned for their sins of idolatry and immorality. The prophets created a new era in our journey: people in faith and obedience to God remained covenanted with Him no matter where they were.

After the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 C.C. and the defeat of the Bar Kochba rebellion in 132 C.E. the Rabbis extended the Prophetic vision as they created the Judaism that we live out of the Temple-based cult. Especially for Babylonian Jewry, Judaism was not a land-based faith. It was rooted in the people, the family, the synagogue, the Torah, the Bible. We could go anywhere, anytime and be 'in faith' with God. As the years extended, the land remained a vision, a history, a memory and we lived in the Anatevkas, in the Richmond's of our lives, vibrant, meaningful, faithful, and moral. We read the Torah and for the most part oriented our synagogues eastward. Our journey lasted two thousand years with a growing, deepening, expanding faith without a land. The Rabbis created the mythology of the land intertwined with the ideology of faith.

Zionism was born fifty years before the Holocaust as Herzl and others understood that the past 2,000 years had been filled with physical danger, and would continue to be so, because of our landlessness. It was not connected to faith, God and covenant. It was a political movement that recognized our existential condition of persecution. They believed that if we could have a homeland and, for the most part, get out of everyone else's, they wouldn't hate us any more. It would end the pogroms. It would end the church forced conversions. It would end persecutions.

Perhaps if the State of Israel existed before the Holocaust, either it would not have happened or at least there would have been a place to which to run. We will never know. The leaders of Zionism wanted to build a country like any other country, but where the Jews could be safe. There were arguments over what kind of country it would be, what would be its language and the role of religion. I wonder what they would think of Israel if they could rise from the grave today. With all that has been achieved they would still bemoan the truth that Jews are not safe. That has not changed.

There are three pressing questions for the global Jewish people today:

Will Jews define their identity with religious content or enable its crumbling away through secularism and amphorphousness? Will there be specificity to the title "Jew?"

Will Jews feel a sense of peoplehood in a world that stresses the autonomous self, independent and unattached? Will Jews feel in their lifeblood the need of community, or will they use bits and pieces wherever and whenever they wish, in effect destroying the broadcloth of Judaism and the Jewish people? Will the Jews of the world care about Israel?

Will the leaders of the State of Israel insure the destiny of the State of Israel or make their political parties and the land into idols? In our history, that approach insured our destruction. What will be holy? The people? Our destiny? The land? Our moral fiber? How will now the largest part of the Jewish people in the 21^st century be safe? Or in our idolatry will we miss the mark, miss the boat and miss the moment to insure that the State of Israel, the Third Commonwealth of the Jewish People, will last until the coming of the Messiah?

With my life I believe that I have the right to say these words. Our daughter lives there. I have walked the land, east to west, north to south. I have lived there. I give my money there. I think of Israel every day. My computer homepage is the Ha'aretz newspaper. It is the first thing I see, the first thought I have. I cannot imagine my life, our lives, the Jewish people without the State of Israel. In my dreams I rewrite history by shooting Hitler dead before he could implement the Holocaust, or that the State already exists with open arms to embrace every Jew. Those dreams are of the past. They are dead.

I want our leaders, I demand of our leaders, of America and of Israel to forgo their idolatries, relinquish blindness and secure our destiny. Make our people truly safe! Make all peoples safe!

I want to dream of the future.

Shabbat Shalom.

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Temple Beth-El

3330 Grove Avenue

Richmond, VA 23221

Phone 804-355-3564

Fax 804-257-7152

www.bethelrichmond.org

Shabbat Sermon: For Whom The Bell Tolls

2011-05-13T12:24:00.001-07:00

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Richmond, Virginia

May 13, 2011

When I was in seventh grade in public school we took a trip to Philadelphia. With a box camera I took a series of black and white pictures of the Liberty Bell. I was old enough and aware enough to feel a quiet pride that a verse from my Bible was inscribed on such an important piece of American history, not that I really understood the verse, nor how that verse came to used instead of any other. Today, removed from seventh grade by a series of decades and with a deeper understanding of Torah, I have a few answers about a most critical verse from tomorrow's Torah portion: Leviticus 25:10: "And proclaim 'd'ror' throughout the land and to all its inhabitants." I really wish they might fix that bell, for this verse still needs to ring out across the land and around the world.

The official website is http://www.ushistory.org/libertybell/. It was commissioned by the Pennsylvania Assembly in 1751 to celebrate the 50^th anniversary of William Penn's Charter of Privileges, which had served as their first constitution and was remarkable for the framing of liberties, including that of religion. As the verse refers to proclaiming d'ror in the 50^th year, and d'ror was usually translated freedom, it seemed like a fitting verse for the commemorative bell. I really couldn't appreciate at Larson's age that this big hunk of metal before me was part of a process that enabled me as a Jew to be an equal American and go to public school without being coerced into being a Christian. I now realize how remarkable and phenomenal that is. There is a direct line from William Penn to the American Revolution and to the Bill of Rights in the Constitution.

I have resisted translating d'ror into English though on the bell it says "liberty." The dictionary uses a synonym for definition of liberty: "freedom; the right to do as one pleases, power or opportunity to do something." That misses the point and lacks the punch of the original Hebrew language of the verse. Therein lies the tale.

Our Hebrew d'ror has its antecedent in the ancient cognate language of Akkadian. In that context the word "designates an edict of release issued by the Old Babylonian kings and some of their successors….issued by a king upon ascending the …(which) declared a moratorium on debts and indenture." In the Babylonian world the king owned the people. They were his slaves. They owed him everything. It was only he who could release them from their servitude to him and annul the debts they owed him. This word d'ror is a very specific, very precise word. It defined the relationship of the people to the king. By its very use it specified their lowly and subservient condition.

In the Torah God uses this word, with this language and background and commands the Israelites to religiously institute its proclamation throughout the land. By transposing the language this verse decrees: no human being is king over another; no one is the enslaved subject to another. It is the cornerstone verse to democracy. That is why it is really engraved on that bell. Instead of the colonists being subject in an abject manner to the British King, rather than imbuing him with Divine right, William Penn and the Founding Fathers employed our Torah's understanding that no one owns us, no one enslaves us, no one demeans our humanity, no one controls our holiness. In the history of the Israelite people, this idea was a revolution. In borrowing it, the American colonists used it for their, for ours. Democracy, the entire concept of voting to elect leaders who do not inherit their place nor rule over us is based on this teaching in the Torah. Only God has Divine Right. Humans are not divine. They don't have this right; they do not yield such might, over others. This is what makes America different. This is what makes Israel different. This is our unique contribution as Jews to America and to the world.

This verse needs to ring out in America.

This economy had indebted more people than ever before. I try to understand the concept of foreclosures. How many families, adults and children, young and old have lost their homes? Where did they go? How do they go to school? How do they have a sense of normalcy? How do they take care of their health? Does this democracy proclaim d'ror? Where is the protection from greed and from criminality? Whatever was done was too little, too late, and unless you were affected, we turned our backs.

How many people use the emergency room as the primary care while congressmen who serve in one term have the most exquisite health care for free? Most of us are concerned about how much we will pay, not whether we will have it. Most seniors might have to pay a little more each month, but will have their Medicare and Medicaid. What about those who have nothing? What about those who will lose what they have? The debt of this country must be lowered, but they must use wisdom and never forget the d'ror inscribed on the bell.

I could embellish the list, for there are many, from issues of the rights of workers, of gender discrimination, of forced child labor to sex-trafficking that occurs in this country. But we are a good country because at least we know that d'ror must exist, that in its silence the bell still tolls, that while not perfect, we demand from our leaders keep on trying to perfect our country. I am proud to be a Jew, of the people who wrote the verse. I am proud to be an American, the country that enshrined it.

This verse needs to ring out to the world.

I would be extremely careful to misread the events in Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, Syria as the birth of democracy. They are not necessarily proclaiming d'ror to their people. It would be nice if they were truly fighting for democracy, but then the Muslims would not be killing the Copts in Egypt. Then the atrocities of Darfur and the Sudan would not be happening. Then women and children would not be smuggled across the Middle East to be slaves even as the fighting is going on. Then children wouldn't be working in old fashioned sweat shops across Asia so that you and I could buy cheap clothing and shoes, and we don't have a choice because there is nothing more made in America! If there was true d'ror in the world this wouldn't be happening.

As a Jew I am proud that Israel is a democracy. It, too, is not perfect, yet the heart of the legal system is based on the value in Torah that each person is holy, is free from the tyranny of any other, and is entitled to d'ror, complete release, liberty, to live only under the rule of God, to whom we owe our lives, and endows us with holiness.

Perhaps it is because the United States and Israel proudly proclaim this verse that we draw the ire and hatred of others. Both countries are checker-board, multi-colored, patch-work societies that proclaim the holiness of each citizen, and through their political systems, strive to make a more perfect union. I am proud to be a Jew that brings this verse to the world. I am proud that Israel is our homeland, a country that implements it.

So if you are looking for a car trip that won't use too much gas and for a religious, national meaningful place to go, I suggest Philadelphia. Stand at the Liberty Bell. Look at its crack. See the verse from Leviticus inscribed in its metal. In its silence the bell still tolls.

Shabbat Shalom.

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Temple Beth-El

3330 Grove Avenue

Richmond, VA 23221

Phone 804-355-3564

Fax 804-257-7152

www.bethelrichmond.org

What Blessing Said Upon Hearing That Osama Bin Laden Was Dead?

2011-05-06T16:14:00.001-07:00

What Blessing Said Upon Hearing That Osama Bin Laden Was Dead?

May 6^th, 2012

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Richmond, Virginia 23221

Judaism has several practices to help us heal after a death. There is the initial isolation from the outside world called shivah, followed by the gradual re-entrance called sheloshim. Subsequently is the extended recitation of kaddish for eleven months for a parent, and then the close of one cycle with yahrzeit. No time frame is an absolute cure, but it helps guide our vision and our steps.

I/we have been living like that since 9/11. There was the initial period of intense grief, pain and disbelief and anger. [Someone should write a thesis on the music composed in the following days and months.] That was followed by a slow reemergence: we had a community service here in this Sanctuary and the Thanksgiving Interfaith Service. The next phase was observed on the fifth year anniversary. The "yahrzeit" has been in the planning stage, namely, the tenth anniversary to be held here this September 11^th. I finally had been able to put the pictures particularly of the Twin Towers in the recesses of my mind. Ruby and I took down the black & white picture of them from our bedroom wall. It has been nearly a decade of healing. In the metaphor of a scab over a wound, the scab over our hearts has gown thick, enabling us to gain a measure of balance and restoration. Ground Zero is being rebuilt with the Freedom Tower.

The events of the past week have evoked the anguish and agony of ten years ago as if it was yesterday. The TV clips and the sirens have nearly undone all the healing and leave my soul red and raw. There is no emotion left untouched.

I did not rejoice with the news that Osama bin Laden was dead. Instantaneously I was transported to 9/11. I am glad that he is dead. But "Getting him" did not even the score. His death did not execute justice. No fist heavenward raised equated to the thousands of dead from that day and subsequent days and terror attacks. We will still have to go through the screening at the airports. We will still be creating new technology to discover other weapons of evil. And numbers and/or colors will indicate the state of alert. The dead have not returned to the living. I did not rejoice when hearing that Bin Laden was dead. I said a blessing, and the next day at minyan, by random occurrence or by divine intervention, recited a Psalm.

The beracha that came to mind comes from the middle section of the weekday Amidah. It has a history of its own which accounts for some of its language. But late Monday night, early Tuesday morning I said the following:

J‰k©N‹k±u

"And for the slanderers let there be no hope; and may all wickedness perish in an instant; and may all Your enemies be cut down speedily. May You speedily uproot, smash, cast down, and humble the wanton sinners – speedily in our days. Blessed are You, Adonay, Who breaks enemies and humbles the wanton sinners."

I meant every word of it. I said it with all my heart, with all my soul and with all my might. But not with joy. There is a staccato drum beat in the Hebrew text that is not reflected in its translation. It is almost like a fist pounding on a table demanding of God that He rectify the imbalance of the dominance of evil over us. The scales must be balanced. I like the literal translation and not the poetic ones that try to mollify and temper its language. The prayer is raw. Personal tranquility has been an illusion created by time and distance. That protection now stripped away, I am still raw, for nothing can return the dead; nothing can restore our innocence; nothing can change history. The scales have just been tilted a little better.

It was completely by accident – or was it? – that in our custom to recite the following day's Psalm after Mincha, that last Monday we recited Psalm 94 with its ending from the first three verses of Psalm 95.

God of retribution – Adonai, God of retribution appear!

Judge of the earth, punish the arrogant as they deserve.

How long, Adonai, how long shall the wicked exult?

Swaggering, boasting, they exude arrogance.

They crush Your people, Adonai, and oppress Your own.

Widows and strangers they slay; orphans they murder.

They say: "Adonai does not see;

The God of Jacob pays no heed."

Think clearly, you simpletons;

When will you fools be wise?

Surely the One who shapes the ear can hear.

Surely the One who forms the eye can see.

Surely God who disciplines nations will chastise,

Teaching mortals to understand.

Adonai knows human schemes, how futile they are.

Blessed are those whom God disciplines and teaches Torah,

Training them to wait calmly in adversity

Until a pit is dug for the wicked.

Adonai will not abandon His people;

God will not forsake His very own.

Justice will return to the righteous;

All the upright in heart will strive for it.

Who will stand up for me against the ungodly?

Who will take my part against evildoers?

Were it not for Adonai's help, I would be in my grave.

When my foot slips, Your love, Adonai, supports me.

When I am filled with cares, Your comfort soothes my soul.

Will the immoral claim You as their partner,

Defending evil under the mantle of law?

They conspire against the righteous;

They condemn the innocent to death.

But Adonai is my refuge;

My God is my sheltering Rock.

God will turn their own evil against them

And destroy them with their own guile.

Adonai our God will destroy them.

Let us sing to Adonai.

Let rejoice in our Creator.

Let us greet God with thanksgiving, singing psalms of praise.

Adonai is exalted, beyond all that is worshipped.

Perhaps it was the divine hand that caused that Psalm to intersect with that day, and with my heart. Its text articulated many themes that were percolating within me and shaped my thoughts and feelings. Perhaps you have felt this way, too.

God doesn't ignore injustice in the world. Allowing our human freedom which makes room for evil, God will at some time in some way using some one as His instrument bring about an accounting for evil that is done.

The evils ones should not think that they will get away with it forever. On 9/11 that thought was beyond imagination. We were in abject agony; they in their glory. We might have asked or questioned: was God going to ignore all of this. The Psalm says "No!"

God does not abandon us. Our faith gives us strength to endure the terror of the night and day, because we have His surety that the wicked will be ultimately punished. God is our strength, our true tower of shelter, our support. He will comfort us.

When we have survived the evil, we give thanks to God.

Of all the possible emotions I ever had, the one that never abated was the desire that the deaths on 9/11 and subsequently should be avenged. I wanted God to set aside His quality of mercy and only use His quality of strict justice and not to spare the evil. On late Sunday night, that came true. I give thanks to God and praise to the U.S. military, the instrument of His justice.

In following the string of Rabbinic conversation on my Rabbinical Assembly Rabbis' listserv, Rabbi Michael Bernstein of Alpharetta, Georgia referred to the observance that when hearing bad news we say "Baruch Dayan HaEmet" and when we hear good news we say "Baruch HaTov v'HaMetiv" "Blessed is the One Who is Good and does Good." This short phrase is reflected in the Birkat HaMazon and is the fourth beracha. According to the Talmud it was created after the catastrophe of Beitar, the last defeat of the Bar Kochba rebellion against the Romans. When they allowed the Jews to bury their dead instead of leaving them to rot, the Rabbis coined this beracha. By its language it turns us away from the evil that was perpetrated, from the calamity and ruination, to acts of goodness, deeds of loving kindness, and feats of restoration. Ground Zero is being rebuilt. The subway runs past it on time. The Pentagon has been rebuilt. A memorial park exists in Pennsylvania. The White House or whatever was the target of the third plane stands unharmed. "May those who suffered at the hands of evil find some measure of solace in the fall of the wicked." "May God continue to comfort their souls."

And now Osama bin Laden is dead. According to Jewish tradition, when mentioning Amalek, its king Agag, its descendant Haman and his metaphoric descendant Hitler, and now, for such as Osama bin Laden, one says "Yimach Sh'mo v'zichro." May his name and his memory be blotted out."

May we never see such evil again.

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Temple Beth-El

3330 Grove Avenue

Richmond, VA 23221

Phone 804-355-3564

Fax 804-257-7152

www.bethelrichmond.org

My Journey: Our Journey

2011-04-27T23:13:00.001-07:00

My Journey: Our Journey

From the Heart

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

I did not begin my life "religious." My parents were representative of their time and place from Brooklyn, New York. We were very "Jewish." All four of my grandparents were European. Our cuisine was typical. I grew up hearing Yiddish. We were unaffiliated.

Where did you begin?

The town we moved to N.J. only had a Conservative synagogue. I attended its Religious School three days a week. It was typical. But it caught my soul. I can't explain it. I began a personal, religious journey, self-orchestrated and infused with learning, passion, and Yiddishkeit from teachers from every direction. From little or no observance I personally moved across a continuum, adding pieces as a result of my experiences. When I graduated high school I made a quantum leap – I would now observe Shabbat, Yom Tov and Kashrut completely. I grew and gave direction to my life.

What was your Jewish influence?

All this time I remained firmly entrenched and engrained in the Conservative Movement. I prayed with our siddur. I worked in our camping movement, Ramah. I was a participant in USY and the little known LTF. I studied at our center of our learning, the Jewish Theological Seminary and its center in Jerusalem. My life has been entirely intertwined with Judaism, as proposed, taught, perpetuated through the prism of Conservative Judaism. My sermons, classes, teachings, presentations of Judaism are exclusively through that lens. My (and my family's) observance of Judaism reflects the core and foundational teaching of the Conservative Judaism. Make no mistake.

Is some part of Judaism uniquely yours?

I have grown up watching the synagogue change. I was an active participant in its becoming egalitarian. My rabbinic career mirrored its struggle. I have been confronted with intermarriage and have responded to hundreds of pleas, questions, requests – some that I could not say 'yes' which pained me– as American Jewry has had its journey. I had to form policies and procedures to respect all sides of equations that are more complex than any mathematical formula. My answers affected the lives of my congregants, to whom I felt responsible, and my synagogues.

Have you been responsible for others' welfare?

It has been a fascinating journey, at times a difficult journey, and always a challenging one. I grew into a set of principles. I see them as the inheritance and the distillation of thousands of years of our people's faith while being immersed in an intense vortex of changes. Sometimes I think that a roller-coaster ride would have been easier.

How would you describe your journey through life?

I share this preface with you, so that it is understood by all, that my journey has led me to much soul–searching, listening, consultation, reading, meetings of colleagues, and studying of our extended scene. It was not easy or comfortable. Yet it resulted in my writing a proposal for the Ritual Committee to create an Alternative Erev Shabbat Tefilah venue. We analyzed it deeply and honestly. I revised and rewrote it in light of that conversation. This proposal was accepted from the committee by the Board. I came to believe there is too large a stretch in our community so that one venue can be the right one for all members. Whether I personally subscribe to one or the other is not relevant. It is more important to create other/new doorways into our synagogue center under our umbrella while being a Conservative synagogue. I hope that the lay leadership will now actively bring this forward. It should be very exciting. It creates many opportunities. Time and experience will show which resonate with our current members and attractive new ones. Perhaps the imagination of the prophets of many people streaming to the Temple in Jerusalem can come alive in our synagogue. We have many locations to become sacred spaces. There is no limitation.

I ask you: What has been your journey? Where did you begin? Where are you now? Have you drawn from the well of Judaism? What does it mean to be "religious?" Who sees themselves in the context of the Jewish people, and not just on an individual journey? Maybe we can join journeys together.

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Temple Beth-El

3330 Grove Avenue

Richmond, VA 23221

Phone 804-355-3564

Fax 804-257-7152

www.bethelrichmond.org

The Passover Seder: Order out of Chaos

2011-04-15T16:45:00.003-07:00

The Passover Seder: Order out of Chaos

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Temple Beth-El

Richmond, Virginia

The Passover ritual observance on the first and second nights of the holiday known as Seder "makes order out of chaos." It is more than just a play on words, the Hebrew term for the ritual, 'Seder' referring to the order of the rituals of the night. It is more than restoring order to the household after a thorough cleaning and complete change of dishes, pots and silverware. There is a higher meaning that reaches from antiquity to us. Passover is timeless and speaks to every generation.

The Biblical text of Exodus gives scant information about the Israelites' condition in slavery, but it must have been chaotic. The ancient world devoured slave populations in building their monuments. As grandiose was the project, so was the consummation of the population. The Biblical reference to 'rigour' and the Israelite pleas only points towards their unimaginable subservient condition. Especially Pharaoh's decree to exterminate the male children wrecked havoc upon the Israelites. Their redemption restored order to the human condition and set a model for all times. Slavery is morally and ethically wrong. It is a sin. God finally intervened to end it. We must act in God's place and with His inspiration and assistance to forbid its recurrence.

At the Seder table we use 'action' symbols that just barely indicated the cruelty but are the best possible way to remind us, awaken in us to the abhorrence of slavery. They give us a taste that will linger on our mouths and in our souls. We dip twice. First a piece of green vegetable that symbolizes the yearning for birth, for optimism, for the future, is dipped into salt water, symbol of the copious tears shed. Who remembers crying so hard that tears stream down cheeks and into their mouth? At Seder table we do. The second time a bitter herb, often a slice of horseradish is dipped into a ground mixture of apples, nuts, and wine symbolizing the mortar used in construction. The biting sting of the horseradish is only slightly tempered. Who ever eats anything purposefully bitter? At Seder table we do. I can't possibly know what it means to be a slave, to live in bondage 150 years ago, never mind three thousand. But I can remember. I can taste the saltiness of the water and the painful taste of a bitter herb, used two separate times in the Seder. I never forget not the taste nor history.

The most popular symbol of Passover is the Matzah, called 'poor man's bread' or 'bread of poverty.' It must be unleavened because leavening is really a process of fermentation which is really a corruption of the grain. Every time I eat a piece of matzah I remember that slavery is a corruption of the human condition, that bondage destroys both the enslaver and the enslaved. Matzah is dry. Slavery dries up the human spirit. Even tears don't necessarily help the matzah go down. Just as normally we wish for bread that has risen, we realize the need to raise our fellow citizens from poverty, out of economic or any other enslavement to a redemptive life.

The unique booklet used at the Seder is called the Hagaddah, meaning 'the telling.' Created in antiquity with continued layers added, it cites passages in Deuteronomy and Joshua for it speaks to generations like us, who weren't there, who didn't have the personal experience. In unique fashion, we the readers of the Hagaddah speak in first person, present, citing other Biblical verses as if "we were there." We read ourselves into history. Psychologically, spiritually, we transport ourselves in time to imagine the horror of Egyptian bondage and then give abundant gratitude to God for our redemption. In the Hebrew language there is no clear delineation of tenses, the past, present and future merge into an unbroken continuum. I am part of the Israelites in Egypt and they are part of me sitting at Seder in Richmond, Virginia.

Of the rich content of Seder and the Hagaddah I cite the inclusion of Elijah the prophet and a special glass of wine set for him. Elijah is the only Biblical figure that doesn't die but is whisked to heaven in a fiery chariot. In Jewish tradition he will return and be the forerunner of the Messiah. In Jewish thinking there are three Passovers: the historical one in Egypt; all the Seders of the present, and the ultimate Passover, harbinger of the redemption of all humanity from enslavement, from poverty, from cruelty of any form. At the Seder we open the door, and ceremonially invite Elijah in our homes, into our hearts and into our lives. We hope that our Seder will presage the imminent redemption of all. Then the true divine order will be restored and we will all live in peace and tranquility.

Easter and Passover: Bound in Time; Bound Forever

2011-04-15T16:45:00.001-07:00

Easter and Passover: Bound in Time; Bound Forever

April 19^th, 2011

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

The holy days of Easter and Passover have been inextricably bound together from the death of Christianity's central figure of Jesus. The Gospel traditions, written decades, even a hundred years after the actual events, portray, with significant differences, the last days of Jesus' life as connected to Passover. He is in Jerusalem, the center of the pilgrimage festival. The last meal is understood to be a Seder. His death occurs on the holiday. There are significant issues to be raised with the Gospel traditions. Yet Christianity has deep theological motivations for this association. It combined the Jewish ideas that Pesach of the past-and-present augurs the Messianic ultimate redemption of Pesach-of-the-future with the Paschal sacrifice of the lamb and the first Pesach in Egypt where the blood of the lamb was smeared on the doorposts to ward off the Angel of Death, thus effecting salvation. This was then connected to the Yom Kippur sacrifice which effected atonement from sin through the dashing of the blood on the Ark of the Covenant in the Holy of Holies. All these elements are necessary for Christianity's foundational theology. For that faith, his death must be on Passover. Easter and Passover are forever linked.

Passover must fall on the full moon after the vernal equinox which falls on or about March 21^st every year. The Torah describes Pesach as Hodesh HaAviv, the holiday of springtime and that all the holy days must occur in their proper season. There is an elaborate and complex formula to maintain the Jewish calendar. For Christianity, the Council of Nicaea in 325 set the celebration of Easter on the first Sunday after the first full moon following the vernal equinox. Because of both systems, Easter and Passover are bound forever in time.

In the church calendar Friday April 15^th was "Good Friday." Together with Easter Sunday, it is the most holy time in the Christian calendar. It is the culmination of the period of Lent and several observances such as Ash Wednesday and Maundy Thursday. For the Jewish people, after Christianity became the official religion of the Roman Empire, making it the Holy Roman Empire, this period of time was the most dangerous for the Jewish people. Church preaching indicted us then and forever as guilty of the death of Jesus. Even to our own day people such as Mel Gibson created a terribly powerful movie, the Passion of Christ, visually transmitting the words preached for nearly two thousand years. Based on a passage in Matthew (27:25) put into the mouths of Jews: "His blood be upon us and our children," our blood flowed in every corner of Europe by the hands of those enflamed by Easter preaching.

While there are many causes for the Holocaust, it is clear that hatred of the Jew flowed directly from the symbiosis of Easter and Passover. If they could have been disconnected theologically, if they could have been separated chronologically, but when added to this lethal brew the canard of the Blood Libel, that we used the blood of Christian children to make matzah, the die was cast. There is no one cause to explain the Holocaust. While the imagery of the binding of Isaac shed no blood, the binding of Easter and Passover shed copious amounts of Jewish blood throughout the millennia.

Perhaps that makes the recent publication of Pope Benedict XVI's book "Jesus of Nazareth" so important. We live in a time of theological wind shears. There is a great tension in Christianity over the true direction of the Gospels, whether it is towards fundamentalism or over the issue of married priests or homosexuality. Judaism is stressed by the tension between fundamentalism/orthodoxy as the only true path or interpretive approaches that are also strained between conservative, with a small 'c' and liberal wings, all concerned with a growing secularism. And Islam is certainly under the microscope theologically, its view of non-Muslims, its geopolitical postures, and its vision of the world for the future. That is in parallel with Christianity – that everyone be Christian, or, that everyone should be Muslim. It leaves little room for us Jews, Hindus, Buddhists and other faiths, and those having no faith. I wonder if Heaven can even sort this out. Into the mixture comes Easter and Passover.

This is really a course in comparative theology, but to keep within our time frame I offer excerpts from the review by Rabbi Eugene Korn, American director of the Center for Jewish-Christian Understand and Cooperation, who I met and learned with when the Interfaith Center for the Christian and Jewish Studies met here in Richmond.

"…Benedict provides an extensive rationale and a close biblical analysis of why Jews bear no blame for Jesus' death. In his reading of the Gospels and Catholic theology, it is clear that no one should be blamed for Jesus' death, since, as he argues, the crucifixion was necessary for God's plan of universal redemption. In Benedict's keen hermeneutic, even the hitherto toxic cry of the Jewish mob is a plea for purification and salvation because that is what Jesus' blood signifies in Christian teachings. It is a cry for reconciliation, not of vengeance or admission of guilt."

Concerning the idea that Christianity superseded Judaism, Benedict has always written that that would occur at the end of time, "and he has maintained that Jewish unification with the church is 'hardly possible, and perhaps not even desirable before the eschaton.' In his latest book, he expands this idea, insisting that for now 'Israel retains its own mission' and that saving Israel 'is in the hands of God' – meaning, presumably, not in the hands of Christian missionaries." I echo Rabbi Korn's further comments: "Had Christians followed this doctrine throughout the millennia, less Jewish blood would have ran in the streets, and Jews would have been freer to practice their faith with dignity."

It is critically important that this message of our religious validity be transmitted in the widest forums. There is much interfaith work to be done because there remains much misunderstanding and even distrust. We, especially through our Pesach observance, renew in ourselves the faith that human suffering is morally wrong; that everyone is responsible for other's welfare; that we believe that the world is still unredeemed; that we eagerly await and welcome – through the opening of the door for Elijah – the ultimate redemption of humanity from all of its ills; that we pray for universal peace. For some that translates into social and political activism. It is right and proper to hear his Excellency Pope Benedict through his book arrive from a different theological path to similar conclusions. The world needs to hear from the highest religious leadership respect for Judaism and the Jews. It has profound impact in a multitude of places. We need to hear the respect given to us and our faith for its theological existence and message and take it to heart. This same message needs to be uttered by leaders of Islam. They are inseparable partners in the world's redemption. We have articulated our respect for other faiths while maintaining allegiance to our own. If we leave the ultimate disposition of earth and its inhabitants to God to occur at the end of time, whenever it may be, people of all religions can be united in saving us from ourselves.

"Now we are slaves, may next year find all people free."

“The Old Will Be Renewed and the Renewed Will Be Made Holy”

2011-04-15T15:31:00.001-07:00

"HaYashan Yitchadesh v'Chadash Yitkadesh"

"The Old Will Be Renewed and the Renewed Will Be Made Holy"

From the Heart

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

I attended the recent annual convention of the International Rabbinical Assembly. We are over 1,500 men and women Rabbis serving world Jewry in pulpits, universities, organizations and educational institutions around the world. We come from seminaries in New York, Los Angeles, Argentina, Budapest and Jerusalem. We are diverse in every way: language; gender; theology; age; backgrounds. We are all united in our love of God, Torah and the Jewish people. For us the Rabbinate is a dedication, not an occupation. It is who we are, beyond what we do. At convention we conversed honestly, openly, painfully, deeply. Every Rabbi present and those who weren't are facing the challenges presented to us in a world that spins faster and faster each day and by a society we didn't create with values that are at variance with Judaism.

We spent four days day together. We engaged in inner examination, self scrutiny and honest evaluation. It was important to hear from Minister of Kenneset Tzipi Livni, who almost became Prime Minister of Israel, that she sees the Conservative Movement, known in the rest of the world as Masorti Movement, as the only vehicle for the religious salvation of the State of Israel. That was echoed the next day by Minister of Kenneset Gideon Saar. Even as we contemplate the changing American scene it is vitally important to know that in Israel, Europe, Africa and Central and South America, the Masorti Movement is growing significantly in the number of congregations and adherents.

We agreed: there is everything right – we believe in our vision and proposition of Judaism. Conservative/Masorti Judaism has the right message for the Jewish people and the world. We need to propagate our message clearly and loudly. We need to continually adopt the new technology to spread far and wide our teachings of Torah, social responsibility, and God. We need to continually experiment without fear of failing in creating appealing formats. There is no guidebook. There is no manual. We are writing it as we go. We have faith and commitment in and to Conservative/Masorti Judaism. We Rabbis are committed to its future for the sake of God, Torah, the Jewish people and the world. There are significant challenges. We are facing them directly.

The heading for this column accurately describes my feelings during and after convention. It is written by Rav Kook, one of the leaders of the Jewish settlement in Palestine in the beginning of the 20^th century. Our proposition is not the jettisoning of our tradition. In every class I teach, with every visit to a Religious School class, with questions by young and old, I see how steeped in wisdom and meaning is our tradition and our vision of it. When I receive classes from J. Sargent Reynolds and VCU, from St. Michaels, St. Gertrude and others and I tell them that our wisdom stretches from 3,500 years ago to right now, they are dazed in amazement. The challenge is to discover the formats, the models, the vehicles to make it known, make it felt; to take new ideas and imbue them with sacred meaning so they are not just fads and passing fancies but rather transmit authentic messages from Judaism. It will be trial and error. Some will work and some won't. Some will last and some will have a short shelf life. For God, Torah and the Jewish people, we are committed to try.

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Temple Beth-El

3330 Grove Avenue

Richmond, VA 23221

Phone 804-355-3564

Fax 804-257-7152

www.bethelrichmond.org

Jerusalem, O Jerusalem

2011-03-24T11:00:00.000-07:00

March 24, 2011

18 Adar II 5771

Dear Friends,

Yesterday morning Ruby and I were called by our nephew Avi who was on the phone with Tzeira in a beautifully usual phone call between cousins when the terrorist bombing occurred in a place where Ruby, Tzeira and I have often stood. Our nephew told us that Tzeira was fine, working in her office far from the place. It didn't matter that she was well, because my heart rose in my throat, a reaction I have had in the past. It took a little while for my heartbeat to return to normal. It has been a long time since the last terrorist act in Jerusalem. I remember when our children did not want Ruby and me to ride the buses when we lived in Jerusalem on Sabbatical in 2004 because they were prone to attack. Today's Times-Dispatch put this on the last page of section A. The missile and rocket attacks on the major cities of Beersheba and Ashkelon and the mortar attacks on the towns near the Gaza Strip never even made the paper at all. Today's letters-to-the-editor includes one that makes the Fogel family, adult and infant, brutally murdered in their beds, into the perpetrators instead of the victims. Allow me to share several brief reactions and include a moving piece by the head of the Conservative Yeshiva in Jerusalem, the place where Ruby and I studied and which I most highly encourage collegiates, post-collegiates and others to study there either in person or on line.

The world does not have the highest regard for Jewish blood. It takes it as a matter of course that it will be shed, and no one will shed a tear. There is no denying the enormousness of the tragedy in Japan that calls for world support. But that does not give the world a pass and allow Jewish blood to be splattered with impunity nor deny Jews the right of self defense.

I use the word "Jew" instead of Israeli because the world does not distinguish between them. Those who hate us do so because we are Jews no matter our political stance towards Israel. Those who hate Israel hate us because they no do not separate between faith and nationality. Anti-Zionism is anti-Semitism and vice versa. Israel and Judaism/Jews is indivisible to them. It should be to us, too.

Nothing that happens could ever deter me from visiting or living in Israel. It is not that one is oblivious to the events. Every security check, every extra security tax, every days' newspapers make sure that no one ever lives in oblivion. Yet it would never interfere, come between my love of the State of Israel and of the people of Israel. They are my family. It is the homeland of the Jewish people. My roots of three thousand, five hundred years is in that soil. I am proud of Tzeira in her choice of aliyah to Israel.

I had prayed, like many, that terrorism was truly thwarted and ended. I fear, like many, that the upheavals in the Arab world would spill over. I hope that the condemnation by the Palestinian Authority will be helpful in avoiding others. I pray that Muslims and Jews, Palestinians and Israelis can show the world a different paradigm, not of killing but of harmony. I would rather be an idealist with my feet on the ground than a cynic with my head in the sand. Times like this just leave me in pain and tears.

Rabbi Daniel Goldfarb, author of the piece below, is the head of the Conservative Yeshiva in Jerusalem, a most warm, welcoming educational leader, who made our stay in Jerusalem such a rewarding experience. I feel the need to share it with you.

Shalom,

Rabbi Creditor

It is 6.5 hours since the bomb went off near busses across from Binyanei Ha'ouma, leaving 1 woman dead and 45 wounded, 2 in critical condition. My wife Ada has not come home yet from Hadassah. Her "emergency" role is as physician in the chadar mishpachot, where families of wounded or of those in search of their loved ones are cared for. When she called an hour ago they were awaiting the arrival of the parents of a 14 year old girl, one of the critically wounded, still in the operating room. Keep Odelia in your prayers.

If I remember correctly, this is the first bus pigua in Jerusalem since 2004 and the first "major" pigua here since the bombing at the Mercaz Harav yeshiva in 2008. The period of relative quiet we've had in Jerusalem has ended, no one knows for how long. The tough times in the world (Japan) and the Middle East have not passed Israel by. The terrible murder of the Fogel family at Ithamar, the worrisome heating up of the border with Gaza, and now the bombing today. The world today is not the same as it was three months ago, and the instability of the terrestrial plates, in the sea off Japan and in the Arab shuks, has not come to rest. How things will look in weeks, months, years is anyone's guess; R' Yochanan warns us in BB 12b not to presume that we are prophets.

Today at the Conservative Yeshiva, even though we could hear the police cars and ambulances rushing to the scene, we continued classes. Our general policy is to continue Torah study unless there is an immediate reason not to.

That's consistent with the basic Israeli response to such events, to get back to "normal" as quickly as possible. That is a term I've never understood; after 35 years in Jerusalem I don't know what "normal" life here is. But that's one of the things that makes it so special – the simchas of Jerusalem are like none anywhere else. And, on days like today, neither is the pain.

With prayers for quieter days and better news for all, best, Daniel

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Temple Beth-El

3330 Grove Avenue

Richmond, VA 23221

Phone 804-355-3564

Fax 804-257-7152