The Custom of Dipping Challah into Honey on Rosh HaShanah

The Custom of Dipping Challah into Honey on Rosh HaShanah

Erev Second Day Rosh HaShanah 5770

September 19^th, 2009

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

 

There are many rituals that we do that are customs, minhagim, and not law, halacha. Some minhagim become so set and accepted that people consider them as halacha, even if they are not. Some minhagim are very transitory. They are in vogue for some time and then fade away, only to be remembered and recorded in books. Some minhagim are relative to geography, only in vogue with a certain group of Jews and not with others. One minhag of Rosh HaShanah is to dip an apple in honey. While not going into the issue of the apple, the use of honey is simply understood in its symbolism of sweetness. We hope that this coming year will be a sweet one for us, for Israel and for the world.

 

The usual custom is that after we recite HaMotzi, after the beracha, we dip the challah into or sprinkle salt on it. The usual explanation is that the table replaces the mizbeach, the altar; the bread replaces the korban, the sacrifice, and as each sacrifice had to be sprinkled with salt, so, too, is the bread sprinkled with salt. Except that on the evening of Rosh HaShanah, the custom is to dip the challah into the honey, which is already on the table because of the apple, instead of using the salt. Why?

 

The answer seems to be similar to the use of the honey for the apple. We make a symbolic statement for sweetness in our lives. But there are two additional explanations for this minhag.

 

The Hebrew word for money is "Devash." In gematria, the numerical value of "Devash" is 306 (4+ 2+300=306). This is the same numerical of the words "Av HaRachamim" which means Merciful Father (1+2+5+200+8+40+10+40).  Thus, the use of honey and not salt on the challah reinforces the request and our faith that God will turn towards His middah, of rachamim, of mercy, and bestow upon us sweetness, instead of the saltiness life, our daily toil.

 

Interestingly, tradition also calls our attention to the fact that most honey is produced as a result of the bees collecting sweet nectar from many flowers, bringing it to the hive and there its transformation into honey. So, too, the honey we eat on Rosh HaShanah symbolizes our prayer that God not judge us as individuals but as part of the entirety of the nation of Israel, Klal Yisrael. We do not stand alone before God, but together with our families and other Jews and even the Jews of every preceding generation, back to our patriarchs and matriarchs. We stand with their zechut, their merit, as we ask God for a sweet year.

 

This interpretation of the minhag seems to imply that sweetness is a quality of life that is imposed upon, that is bestowed to us from the outside. I would like to share a very short story, a vignette, that was shared with me that illustrates that sweetness could, and maybe should, come from the inside. Again, I thank those who share these stories with me so that I can share them with you. This story is entitled: "Attitude."

 

The 92 year old, petite, well-poised and proud lady, who is fully dressed each morning by eight o'clock, with her hair fashionably coifed and makeup perfectly applied, even though she is legally blind, moved to a nursing home today. Her husband of seventy years recently passed away, making the move necessary. After many hours of waiting patiently in the lobby of the nursing home, she smiled sweetly when told her room was ready. As she maneuvered her walker to the elevator, I provided a visual description of her tiny room, including the eyelet sheets that had been hung on her window.

 

"I love it," she stated with the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old having just been presented with a new puppy.

 

"Mrs. Jones, you haven't seen the room…just wait."

 

"That doesn't have anything to do with it," she replied. "Happiness is something you decide on ahead of time. Whether I like my room or not doesn't depend on how the furniture is arranged…it's how I arrange my mind. I already decided to love it…It's a decision I make every morning when I wake up. I have a choice; I can spend the day in bed recounting the difficulty I have with the parts of my body that no longer work, or get out of bed and be thankful for the ones that do. Each day is a gift, and as long as my eyes open I'll focus on the new day and all the happy memories I've stored away…just for this time in my life. Old age is like a bank account…you withdraw from what you've put in. So, my advice to you would be to deposit a lot of happiness in the bank account of memories. Thank you for your part in filling in my Memory Bank. I am still depositing."

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

 

While the author of this sketch uses the word happiness, I see it as evidence of this lady's internal sweetness. It is a middah, a value, a quality, an inner essence that indicates how we will view each day, how we will speak to others, how we will envision our future, how we will deal with the bumps in the road. Part of the salutations of this season is to wish each one a Shanah Tovah u'm'tukah, a good and sweet year. Perhaps the sweetness has to come from within and not from without.

 

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

The piece that follows the vignette quoted above, appends the following:

 

Remember the five simple rules to be happy:

            1. Free your heart from hatred.

            2. Free your mind from worries.

            3. Live simply.

            4. Give more.

            5. Expect less.

 

No one can go back and make a brand new start.

Anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.

 

God didn't promise days without pain, laughter without sorrows, sun without rain.

But He did promise strength for the day, comfort for the tears and light for the way.

 

Disappointments are like road bumps, they slow you down a bit

but you enjoy the smooth road afterwards. Don't stay on the bumps too long. Move on!

 

When you feel down because you didn't get what you want,

just sit tight and be happy because God has thought of something better to give you.

 

When something happens to you, good or bad, consider what it means.

There's a purpose to life's events, to teach you how to laugh more or not to cry too hard.

 

You can't make someone love you. All you can do is be someone who can be loved.

The rest is up to the person to realize your worth.

 

It's better to lose your pride to the one you love,

Than to lose the one you love because of pride.

 

We spend too much time looking for the right person to love,

or finding fault with those we already love,

when instead we should be perfecting the love we give.

 

Never abandon an old friend. You will never find one who can take his place.

Friendship is like wine, it gets better as it grows older.

 

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

 

L'shanah tovah u'metukah tekatayvu - May we be written for a good and sweet new year.

Ultimate Questions

Ultimate Questions

Rosh HaShanah Day I, 5770

September 19^th, 2009

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

 

Introduction

 

In the Flair section of the Times-Dispatch, May 3^rd, 2004, Dr. Henry Carl Simmons, author, gerontology bibliographer, educator and aging-center director is quoted in reference to the "big questions in the last third of life": "These are the fundamental questions of life:

                        Who am I?

                        What am I going to do?

                        And with whom am I going to do it?

These questions are really about identity, legacy and intimacy."

 

We are all bombarded from within and from without by questions: questions about finance and trading in clunkers; questions about healthcare for ourselves, our children, our parents; questions about our jobs - how many in our shul community have been significantly to severely hurt and/or have lost their jobs; global questions about weather and wars, spread of nuclear arms and, for a number of our families, of concern for their sons, our bar mitzvah boys now grown-into-men who served in Iraq and Afghanistan. There are questions we can answer and those we can't. For some, we just have to ride the waves of time as best we can. For others we have tried to help, as through the job-bank we developed on-line. As Dr. Simmons accurately focused, the existential questions bore into our souls and question our very selves. There is no one here today who has escaped questions. The Unetaneh Tokef in Musaf is laden with such questions: who will live and who will die; who will die untimely and who will die timely (however you define that).  Our magnificent tradition presents us with ultimate questions. By asking them and in attempting to answer them, perhaps we can find the shveel hazahav, the golden path to help us, to help our neshamas in the year ahead to live with happiness and sweetness, with goodness and with love, and in peace.

 

I.

 

In the Talmudic tractate of Shabbat we read the following:

            Did you deal (in business) faithfully [that is, with integrity]?

            Did you fix times for learning?

            Did you engage in procreation?

            Did you hope for salvation?

            Did you engage in the dialectics of wisdom?

            Did you understand one thing from another?

 

In the Rabbinic Midrash on Tehillim - Psalms, we find another question:

            In the world to come, each person will be asked:

            How did you occupy your time?

            If the person says, "I fed the hungry," then the angels say to him:

                        "This is the Gate of Adonay; those who fed the hungry may enter.

            If the person says, "I clothed the naked," then the angels say to him:

                        "This the Gate of Adonay, those who clothe the naked may enter."

            And similarly with those who raise orphans, and those who give charity,

                        and those who engage in deeds of loving-kindness.

 

In the Palestinian Talmud, the Yerushalmi, there are four more questions:

            Did you live in Eretz Yisrael?

            Did you eat food in purity?

            Did you speak Hebrew?

            Did you recite the Shema evening and morning?

 

And let me add a few more personal ultimate questions:

            Do we have enough time for those whom we love?

            Do we only worry about ourselves and not of others?

            Do we care whether this planet after us will sustain healthful life?

            Do we see ourselves as the context of this synagogue community?

            Do we see ourselves as the context of the Jewish people?

            Do we exemplify - not preach, not teach, but exemplify this

                        to our children and grandchildren?

 

In the answers to these questions we can find our way.

 

II.

 

Let us look at the questions from Masechet Shabbat.

Did you deal [in business] faithfully [with integrity? What a year for such a question!! How many lives have been ruined, charities undermined by the most disgusting greed and avarice! How many vulnerable human beings have been cast adrift and valuable programs terminated! How much pain and suffering!

 

Yet on a personal level, this question asks:

            Is our "yes" a "yes"?

            As customers, are we fair to our merchants?

            We are quick to complain when overcharged,

                        but do we return to the cashier when the error was in our favor?

            Do we treat salespeople with respect?

            Do we pick up something that we caused to fall?

 

Dr. Abraham Heschel played with the Hebrew of the phrase and reconstructed it to ask "did you make faith your primary business?" Simply phrased, is religion, is Judaism, is faith just a competing part of the pie-chart of our lives, or is the ground upon which we live? Is being a Jew with the faith of Judaism our core or our periphery?  The heavenly halo of life depends on our answer. Faith enables us to rise, to have inner strength, to believe in ourselves because we believe that there is a God believes in us. Faith gives us meaning. Faith gives us purpose.

 

Did you fix times for learning?  This question refers to Jewish learning, of Torah, of the vast sea of our wisdom. I am sure that if I was to count in this sanctuary the number of college degrees, undergraduate, post-graduate and post, post-graduate, and the tuition we paid to get them, it would be a stupendous number. Yet,

            What is the level did of our Jewish learning?

            How comfortable are we with the Machzor, with Hebrew,

                        with knowledge about Israel, basic Jewish beliefs, Rabbinic literature?

Life-long Jewish learning and Jewish literacy opens the doors of our tradition to find ultimate answers to ultimate questions.

 

I invite you to join a dedicated and fabulously glorious group of people who study Talmud every week and Torah every other week. We ask every question; go slowly; do it in English (with reference to the Hebrew); we plumb; we soar; we explore. I invite you to join the Basic Judaism class to know the fundamentals of our faith, that meets weekly, and to learn Hebrew on Sunday mornings. Our Shabbat listserv appends great learning. It costs nothing - or next to nothing - to enrich our minds and nourish our souls from the well-spring of our faith. Our study of Jewish texts and tradition defines us. The questions elevate us.

 

Did you engage in procreation? Literally it asks "Did you have children?" but there is a deeper question: Did you have the faith in the world, to bring them into this world? Menachem's wife Liz, our daughter-in-law was pregnant on 9/11 and gave birth the following March 31^st. At Ariel's naming Menachem asked me to say a few words. I said that having children then, before and now as well, was an act of faith in the existence of the world and an act of obligation to insure its existence. Do we have that faith? I expand this question: Do we make time for our grandchildren? Are we role models to our children and our grandchildren, of morals, of ethics of Judaism? Do they make Shabbat at home, come with us to shul, sit in our sukkah, light the menorah, put on Purim costumes, ask the 4 questions, visit Israel? Do we by our deeds, insure the continuity of Judaism and the Jewish people?

 

Did you hope for salvation? The origin of this question is connected to the belief in the future coming of the Messiah. It is the foundation of our belief in the eventual salvation of the Jewish people and manifest in our vision of the State of Israel. The framing of this question expects us to have faith that the times will be better, to have faith in ourselves, in our self worth. Judaism inculcates in us to live with hope. On that, a little story.

 

A poor man, gathering sticks of wood in the forest, packs them in a torn sack, throws the sack over his frail shoulders, then stumbles, the sticks scattering to the earth.  Frustrated, the man cries out to God, "This is the last straw! I am poor, my wife is sick, my children are neglected. Send the angel of death and let him take me from this earth!" His prayer is promptly answered, and the angel of death suddenly appears, asking, "Did you call for me?" Startled, the poor man stammers, "Yes, yes, could you help me gather up these sticks?"

 

Is it any wonder that the national anthem of Israel is HaTikvah - The Hope, written before the State was a reality? Isaiah implores us not to be faint hearted and have faith in our successful destiny, personally and as a people!! On the walls of the Warsaw Ghetto were written the words: Gevalt!! Don't despair.  Our faith gives us hope for salvation and redemption. It strengthens us to live through these difficult economic times.

 

III.

 

The Midrash on Psalms presents the belief that when we die and go heaven, we will be asked only one question to determine if we are worthy to enter: Have we actively involved ourselves in helping others. Let me ask specific questions:

            How many here contribute dollars AND food to the Central Virginia Food Bank?

            How many contribute dollars to similar agencies that feed the poor?

            How many send back the envelope from Dominion Power to Energy Share?

            How many volunteer here when we house and feed the homeless through our

                        participation in Caritas?

            How many give volunteer hours in any helping cause?

The Midrash, reflecting the Rabbinic attitude, says that at heaven's gate we won't be asked about our advanced degrees, our stock portfolios (no matter their current state of depletion), or the number of rooms in our houses. We will be asked:

            Did we help people?

            Did we, in this time of crisis, reach out to others?

This is the question to discuss at our Yom Tov dinners today!

 

IV.

 

The Jerusalem Talmud reflects the centrality of the land of Israel, our momaloshen - mother tongue of Hebrew and the core of faith, Shema Yisrael. These are politically challenging times. I waited to the last moment to write my sermon about Israel for tomorrow. Yet,

            Who can articulately present Israel's position, fears, needs?

            Who can give to their neighbor, coworker, a thumbnail sketch that cogently argues

                        for the very existence of the State of Israel?

            How many have visited Israel, how many times and for how long?

            Who have encouraged their children and grandchildren to spend a year studying in

                        Israel undergraduate, postgraduate, or at the Conservative Yeshiva in                                 Jerusalem as an interlude, as study for its own sake?

            How is our Hebrew reading?

            How is our Hebrew vocabulary?                    What are we doing about both?

            It is valuable beyond all things precious to hear Menachem sing Ariel, Moshe and

                        Raya to bed with Shema Yisrael, just as we did with him, Yonina and

                        Tzeira.

            Do we pray before going to bed, giving thanks for the day past, wishing to wake

                        up in the morning, that we will enjoy another day of life?

            Do we talk to God at home? Just to have the conversation and not it times of

                        crisis.

 

V.

 

Following upon my story last night, do we spend real time with our families, dedicate time for our children, rearrange vacation schedules to be with our grandchildren, and not fit it in between appointments?

 

Do we do our best to make this a better planet for us and the generations to come?

            Do we conscientiously recycle our paper, plastics, metal and glassware?

            Do we use water-saving devices?

            Do we use electricity saving light bulbs?

            Do we divert runoff water onto our lawns and not the street to fight pollution?

 

Lastly, from where I began, what is the core of our being?

            Who are we?

            What are we doing with our lives?

            With whom are we sharing the days of our lives?

 

There are many questions to ask ourselves. Many are transient, superficial, mundane. They burden us. They cloud our vision. They divert our attention to the more trivial. These are the ultimate questions that are worthy to be asked on Rosh HaShanah and every day, and whose answers set the path for a fulfilling, happy, and good life, all else not withstanding.

 

Conclusion

 

Glenn Frankel was editor of the Washington Post Magazine and was the paper's correspondent in South Africa in the mid-1980's. He wrote a book entitled: "Rivonia's Children: Three Families and the Cost of Conscience in White South Africa." The Jerusalem Report reviewed his book in the February 28tyh, 2000 edition. One of the three families he interviewed was Hilda and Rusty Bernstein.  Frankel ends (his book) with Hilda Bernstein's thoughtful comment: "The meaning of life is not a fact to be discovered, but a choice that you make about the way you want to live." I saved this article just for that quote. "The meaning of life is not a fact to be discovered, but a choice that you make about the way you want to live."

 

May we hear the ultimate questions.

May we ponder them these holy days.

May we respond with heart and soul.

May we affirm the meaning of life every day of our lives.

 

A wise person once wrote: "What we are is God's gift to us;

                                                What we do is our gift to God."

L'Shana Tova, Metukah, Mutzlachat, u'merutze ttekatevu

May we be inscribed for a good, sweet, successful and meaningful year.                 Amen.

 

 

 

Shalom from Jerusalem IV

Shalom from Jerusalem IV (written in Richmond, after two weeks home and time for reflection)

February 26, 2009

It is so different living in Richmond than in the Israeli cities of Ashdod, Ashkelon or the town of Sderot. On Wednesday, February 11th, two buses of Rabbis and some spouses, traveled to the above named localities in southern Israel. Because of possible danger, we signed wavers. I don't think I read the fine print, but I was going anyway and would have signed it regardless. We first came to Ashdod, one of the major ports of Israel. The sea is shining blue, the temperature moderate, and from the coastal highway, the former empty sands have sprouted over the years a beautiful sun drenched city. We were taken to a project funded by the Joint Distribution Committee that provides home housing support for the elderly. We met with several women and with people who support them living at home. It was impressive. Instead of segregating elderly people, they enable them to live in their familiar surroundings, in comfort, yet with all their necessities taken care of. They going shopping for them, get their medications, arrange all necessary transportation, create programs that fill their lives with meaning and purpose and maintain a deep sense of community. I didn't ask them one question: how do you take care of them when the air raid sirens go off? Maybe they rely on prayer as their protection, because there is no way that all of them could get to bomb shelters in time. But they are hardy and sturdy people. Many are Russian immigrants who survived Stalin, WWII and the Cold War. I don't know if I could have their courage and mettle.

Then we went to Congregation Netzach Yisrael, the Conservative (in Israel called Masorti [traditional but not orthodox]) congregation inAshkelon. Before warm greetings and introductions, the Rabbi of the congregation stood up and said: "Everyone sitting on this side of the room will follow that person out that door to the bomb shelter and everyone sitting on that side of the room will follow that person out that door to that bomb shelter, should the siren sound." Then he added the postscript: "And you only have fifteen seconds in which to do it." The obvious reason was because from the time the rocket/missiles/katyusha/mortar is spotted it only takes 15 seconds to hit Ashkelon. That was a very sobering announcement. There was silence in the room. The active war in Gaza to stop this insanity was over but Hamas was still firing intermittently. During the briefing they showed us maps pinpointing every hit on Ashkelon. We have not seen that information in America. Why? Does the international media not care how one million civilians have been living for years under the bombardment of 10,000 such attacks fora decade? Why haven't Jewish media reported this? Does it get boring? Afraid to frighten away American Jewish tourists? And then they took us to see several of the five kindergartens at the synagogue. The children's eyes were so radiant, so joyful, their voices so filled with song and prayers, so happy to see us that you have to stop and pinch yourself and ask "what planet have I come to? They are living under unbearable conditions, at least I couldn't do it, and they look like this?" Maybe God's miracles have not ceased. We visited to two classes. Then they showed us the bomb shelters. Poured concrete reinforced with metal made to withstand everything but a direct hit. Yet amazing: they have loops on all four corners, so that when they are no longer needed, the crane that lifted them from the flatbed and put them there, can one day come and take them away. There are 10,000 such bomb shelters that look like bus stops. May they soon disappear from the landscape.

Sderot has only been a name. Not even a place on the map. Just somewhere near the Gaza Strip. Let me tell you, it is a beautiful town. There are parks with green grass, two story apartment buildings of different vintages, and single family homes with beautiful tiled roofs. Its climate is one you could die for. And if a bomb hits you, you will. With my colleagues we ascended a bluff and looked down into the lions den. Using my camcorder I could look right into the apartment complexes from which the multitude of armament has rained down upon Sderot which is defenseless. It is a small town with its few strip malls, its police station, synagogues, and town center. There are a few restaurants and many small grocery stores. They probably don't have any large ones. It is a completely civilian location. Shooting at Sderot has only one reason: to kill civilians or otherwise terrorize the population. And for years, and with thousands of attacks, the town has refused to die, even if nearly half have temporarily relocated, maintaining ownership of their homes so to return some day. I cannot describe the complex intersection of feelings that I had standing there, looking at Gaza in one direction and Sderot in the other. I am no hero. I didn't want to see anything launched at us. I just didn't understand how these people could live. I just couldn't understand why Israel waited so long and took such a torturous route until they defended these people. The distance between the two is less than from Richmond to Ashland. It is as if someone is lobbing mortars into downtown Richmond from the airport! Who would tolerate that for an instant!

Then they took us to what they fondly call "The Katyusha Museum." It is a space behind the police station where they display a fraction of the katyushas and Grad missles that they have cleaned up. Irony is that the katyushas are made from metal fabricated in Israel with Israeli markings that were sent into the Gaza Strip to be used for building homes and schools and hospitals. Instead Hamas uses them to shoot at Israel. The Grad missles are made in Iran. They have the markings. Who cares? I have never served in the military and have never been under fire. Standing in front of those shelves was a reality check and shock. These were not words in a dispatch like this. These were real. They were meant to kill me and any others like me. I took pictures but had nothing to say. Afterwards we walked around this area of Sderot but we were told: always know where the nearest bomb shelter is located. It's like the announcement on airplane that "the nearest escape hatch could be behind you." I paid attention. Nothing happened. We ate lunch outside the bus and departed fro Beersheva and a visit to the Conservative/Masorti Congregation Eshel Avraham. They too are under the gun. There they spoke about dealing with post traumatic stress syndrom which is just not "post." Then we returned to Jerusalem much later in the evening.

I write this last installment thousands of miles, thirteen days and light years away from Israel, in the comfort of my home in Richmond, Virginia. It is hard to verbalize the cross currents that run through me. I have never known an unembatled Israel. I have never lived without the State existing. I don't know what that means and never want to. I was born in New York, English is my native tongue and I route for sports teams far away, the Dodgers and Mets. Yet I live in two realities. I spoke in synagogue last week of the last episode of Voyager in the Star Trek series. Its Captain Janeway is trying to bring it safely home but cannot. At the last minute, Enterprise captained by Jean Louc Picard (pardon my spelling) comes from another time through the worm hole to save the Voyager. How can these two coexist? The Enterprise preceeded the Voyager. Picard is dead and Janeway is alive. And yet, for this instant, they both existed! There was no past separate from a present and it impacted on both their futures.

So I live. I wear two watches. One set on Eastern Standard Time. One set on Jerusalem time. One keeps me on target here. One keeps me rooted in Jerusalem. One tells me what time to be in the office. The other tells me what time it is to call our daughter. I live with two realities constantly present, just one more up front and the other not too far back. I see tiled roofs in Richmond. I see the tiled roofs of Sderot. My street is peaceful May their be too.

The next time I write a column will be next summer when I will walk the streets of Jerusalem and visit the village of Sderot again. Meanwhile I pray for peace. For everyone. In every language. Wherever they live.

Shalom from Jerusaelm, but written in Richmond.

Writings From Jerusalem Feb 2009

Writings From Jerusalem Feb 2009

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Feb 3, 2009

The clouds over the coastline of Israel as we approach in the late afternoon are beautiful, puffy and peaceful. As I look at them I think of every time I have flown into Israel and the changing skyline, the modern soaring expanding expanse of the Tel Aviv vicinity and the luscious green country side that surrounds the Ben Gurion airport. Perhaps because of my sense of history I am looking at eons of time along with the physical surroundings. I remember the smaller, younger Israel of my first trip in 1968 and the pictures of earlier pioneers and immigrants and then the drawings of what it is imagined what Jerusalem looked like inTemple times and then informed by what I have seen in excavations. It is all one seamless, continuous panorama in my mind that has no beginning, no interruption, and flows towards the future. With that flowing picture in my mind, I also have the layer of current reality of war, and conflict, that is so disjunctive to the peaceful clouds in my airplane's window. In constantly studying the complex history and its dynamics, especially from the end of the 19th century to this very day, I search for an angle to see how these forces can be truly harmonized and peoples who tell such different and conflicting stories, who have such seemingly different visions for the future, can be brought into conjunction, coordination and a true, honest, sincere, peace. I can only say that having lived here for extend periods of time for study, undergraduate, rabbinical and sabbatical, as well as for several trips, the yearning for peace and quiet, the desire to build a socially just society, the dream to be a safe haven for Jews whenever they are persecuted and the vision of reconstituting the Jewish people in their natural corporate nationhood, undoing two thousand years of Diaspora is the complex weave of emotions that animates this country. They do not wish to send their sons and daughters off to the army and war, generation after generation. This country lives with hope, with dreams, and with an internal strength born of the millennia of Jewish history. One thing is for sure, that Israel is reaching towards every tomorrow with every expectation and action that will insure its existence and vitality. The time for its acceptance by its neighbors, the time for peace is now.

I would like to touch on a quote that I gave in the interview for the article that appeared in last Saturday's paper. My reference to hurricane Katrina was that the people in the Gulf states physically experienced the hurricane, while we in Richmond did not. Similarly, the one million Israeli's in the area around Gaza were under the gun and bombardment while those elsewhere, like our daughter in Jerusalem, did not. The terseness of the quote might have sounded callous. I am not. I supported every effort to aid the people hurt by Katrina. We prayed on their behalf. My comparison was solely to the point that those in the area have the physical experience. Those further away do not. That is true here in Israel also.

February 5th, 2009

While Richmond is in a deep freeze, I traveled in a part of Israel called Emek Hefer, which is the partnership region here with the Richmond Jewish community. It was at least 80 degrees! While it was a beautiful sunny day, it should have been much cooler and rainy. This entire region depends on the winter rainfall to fill the Sea of Galilee, Kineret, the aquafier along the coastline and the small network of small rivers and ponds. From the standpoint it has been a terrible winter. I pray every day, three times a day, for the descent of rain and dew. I hope to see rain clouds, good heavy, soaking wet rain clouds that will drench me while it blesses the land.

An observation: nearly every place I turn there is construction. Cranes decorate the horizon. Boring into rock to clear land booms in different corners. Trucks laden with construction materials pass by frequently. Whatever is on the economic horizon, whatever else is happening, Israel is building itself every day. There is a certainty that courses through this phenomenon. There is a certitude that infuses the sounds and sights. The infrastructure is growing. New electronic networks go up. I saw a bride and groom get married this afternoon. And politicians are arguing and now I see some banners, as the elections are next week. Depending on how you count, through seven wars, several intifadas, the influx of the refugees from the Holocaust, the ingathering of the most diverse group of Jews from all points of the Arab world as they fled for their lives and little else to an infant state, what has been created here is unimaginable. If those who do would stop its hate and crusade to destroy Israel and instead look at what has been done as a model to build a country, care for human beings, turn its attention to the environment and develop medicine to heal friend and foe (I am waiting for the international media to carry front page stories of how many Palestinians are cared for, cured, and healed in Israeli hospitals not related to war and even from the war), maybe they would beat their tanks, Grad missiles, katyushas, and bombs into hospitals, agricultural farms, and libraries that teach respect and not hate. I know that dreaming can be illusive. But in this place reaching for God is a natural activity.

Of the places I visited today, a special waterfront that teaches swimming and boating in a two - three thousand year old natural harbor, meeting with students at a school where they are preparing to visit Richmond, was visit to Yovalim. It is a school in the kibbutz Givat Chayyim. What made this visit so unique and moving was the loving care given to children with autism that are being taught here. The entire school is 580 students. There are classes from grades 1 to 6 for these children. In one class I visited they were learning about canyons. In another class, several where mainstreamed for mathematics. I sat with the director and another staff person as they described the gamut of professional attention given to the children so that they can learn and grow into productive, happy lives. It was beautiful. There is no fanfare. There is little money. There is abundant love. There is overflowing graciousness. The walls were decorated by students who had studied Picasso and painted their works in his style. Others completed a multifaceted document about the 'greening' of the region. No war slogans. No hatred of Arabs. No denunciation of Islam. Just a place of learning and love. Just a place of children dreaming. Through the Jewish Community Federation of Richmond we give support to places like this in Emek Hefer. Late into the night I sat as part of the Emek Hefer committee speaking with its counterpart in Richmond about which projects to fund that will bring benefit and blessings to both communities.  I returned to Jerusalem on a sherut with is a shared taxi and arrived in my daughter's apartment about 10:45 P.M. What a heartfelt day. What a blessed day. I wish everyone - I mean everyone, Israel and Arab, Jew and Moslem, young and old, should have blessed days. God by any name did not put us on this earth to suffer. I saw that quest in the eyes of the children that I saw today.

Shalom from Jerusalem III (but written in Richmond)

Feb 17, 2009

 

Last Friday, February 13^th, I landed in Atlanta and then flew on to Richmond and have continued to live in two time dimensions, eastern standard time and Israel time, which are seven hours apart. It is such a strange thing to live into these different realities. I may walk these streets, but at the same time, I see the streets of Jerusalem, the newer and older cities, the stores and hear multiple languages, Hebrew, English, French, German, and Amharic, all being spoken at once. I don't know how to settle my brain down from functioning in "warp speed!"

 

I was in Jerusalem for the elections and watched the results starting at 10:00 P.M. that Tuesday night. The Israeli political system is based on the British model in which you vote for the party of your choice. They receive a representational amount of seats in the government and then the president invites the leader of one of the largest parties to form the government. This has always been a coalition of several parties garnering more than 61 votes (60 being 50%) and thus insuring that a vote of 'no confidence' will fail and not bring the government down. This is always a very delicate maneuver.

 

It is fascinating to watch this process from close up. I was amazed how little material was in public view. I was looking for hand-outs, large banners, advertising on buses and billboards. There was so little! Yet somehow they got their message out. We are used to two parties and rarely a maverick third. In Israel there were many parties running slates, some of which did not receive the threshold necessary for even one seat, such as the Pensioners Party and the Green Party. When I was interviewed by Alberta Lindsey I thought that the Kadima party had the best overall posture on the issues. Tzipi Livni really surprised the pundits, yet the complexity of issues and the variations on themes within each party, makes the choices ever more complex and difficult when you look at it while in Israel than looking at it from here.

 

The concerns spread over a vast panorama with consequences for the survival of the state:

how many will be above or below the poverty line;

will education be enhanced, will the ultra religious community continue to receive state subsidies for education and the size of their families while not being obligated to military service or any other comparable service to the country;

will the religious parties maintain their monopolistic control of marriage, divorce and conversion;

will the Arab citizens of the State of Israel be singled out to make a pledge of loyalty, a move that threatens the very fabric of any democracy (remember what was done to the Japanese Americans who were interned during World War II in the USA).

No party had all the answers that I wanted. Some answers were better in Likud, others better in Kadima, and some in Labor.

 

To borrow a Yogi Berra'ism and change it: "It's not over even when it's over!" Even while I watched the celebrations at the Kadima headquarters on television, I learned that they still had to count the ballots of the soldiers in service and then, depending on other pieces, who will President Shimon Peres tap first to make the new government, Tzipi Livni or Benjamin Netanyahu? Even as I write this on February 16^th, this is not clear. And meanwhile the events of the economy, military and foreign policy, the desire for the release of Gilad Shalit, continue under the caretaker government of Prime Minister Olmert.

 

It was a fascinating time to be there, for here is democracy in action, the only democracy in thousands of miles. No country in the entire Middle East can claim to be a democracy, but Israel. In the newspaper and on billboards were posted official notices of the voting places, hundreds in Jerusalemalone. There were notices of the guaranteed write to vote, about non-interference, about who was eligible (our daughter got there just a few days too late to vote), with detailed write ups of each candidate and party and what they stood for. And then the post election analysis that continued endlessly. Amazing!! The deep grasp of its citizens to the complexity of the forces that shape their world! In Richmond we struggle to have one newspaper. In Israel there are at five large and at least as many smaller ones, especially those that are in other languages. Official signs are in Hebrew, English and Arabic. And the consequences are not theoretical. The answers, the decisions, influence the very survival of the state, for the welfare of its citizens. Israel is not immune from the economic situation. People are losing jobs. There is serious concern about homeless and poverty. There are many organizations and volunteer efforts to alleviate this. And the enemy is only as far as the nearest katyusha missile and Grad rocket, or the threats from Iran to wipe Israel from the map. And yet the sunrise which I watched from our daughter's window and the sunset that I absorbed into my soul as I worked to her place of work, the Ramah Programs in Israel, were stunning and elevated my soul to look heavenward, as to say to God, there has to be some way to hold evil at bay, to bring tranquility and serenity. If from this little spot on this spinning globe we all pray to You, can there not be some way that from way out there can come an answer to help us find the way down here? Even if I just watch the hues in the sky, I feel a measure of reassurance that the efforts, at least human, will strengthen this country and continue its efforts to build a Jewish, democratic, progressive country. My wife and I are thrilled that our daughter is part of this great enterprise in human and specifically Jewish history. I was blessed these past two weeks to walk the streets of Jerusalem with her, absorb the sounds, music and aromas. In my sleep I am still there.

 

And then I visited Sderot and looked into Gaza. I was told where to run and how to hide if a missile came. That will be the next piece, from Jerusalem, at least in my heart and soul, even as I type from my synagogue office here in Richmond.

 

What It Means to Be a Pastor/Preacher/Teacher/Rabbi

What It Means to Be a Pastor/Preacher/Teacher/Rabbi

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

March 21, 2008

 

I begin these remarks by stating that there is a clear ruling by the I.R.S. concerning what those in the pulpit can say that risk their synagogue/church loosing their tax-exempt status. While some might flaunt that or skirt its edges, I have always followed the Jewish practice of observing a buffer zone so as never to infringe and risk violating and endangering the welfare of my shul.

 

My next statement is that there is no way that I can frame my feelings about this week's speech by Senator Barack Obama concerning his minister Reverend Jeremiah Wright nor his statements within the contexts of a sermon. Despite Purim and all my other work as your Rabbi, this week I have followed the speech and the ongoing analysis that will influence voters in the remaining primaries, and, should he become the national candidate, influence the rest of us in the November election. My Rabbinic network alone lit up like the proverbial "Christmas Tree." My colleagues have dissected the speech like a Biblical and Talmudic commentary with much depth and perception. I am still digesting their wisdom. I also follow national commentators such as Charles Krauthammer, and recommend that you read on the widest scale. Just search the Web.

 

I want to share a few moments about being a preacher. It was the one aspect of the Rabbinate that scared me the most.

What do you say?

Why do you say it?

How do you say it?

Does anybody care about what you are saying?

Will they like me after I have said it?

How accurate do I have to be, or can I get away with hyperbole and rhetoric?

Should I be controversial and say it anyway, just to light their fire?

We all respond to these questions in our own ways. Some of us patterned ourselves after the Rabbis we grew up with or who were our mentors in school. I have saved every sermon I have ever delivered. It would be an interesting read.

 

I don't know if the adjectives "most," "some," or "many" apply to how many of my colleagues preach from a written text. I nearly always do. It means that I have shaped these words to say exactly what I want to say. It keeps me focused. It allows me to delete, cut and paste, or insert to make this as finished a product as I possibly can. I 'commune with my keyboard.' On the other hand, I practice the art of reading a text and talking to you. It inhibits off-the-cuff, spontaneous, and impulsive comments. It restrains passionate outbreaks unless they were preplanned into the text. Because I prepare sermons by writing them, printing them, reading them and revising them, I try to put myself in your place as if I was hearing someone else deliver them and then decide, is that what I want to say and how I want to say it? Rabbis' sermons are quite different from African-American preaching. Sometimes I thunder and even hit the lectern. Most times I desire to teach, to illuminate, to share insights and attitudes. I gave up yelling and telling people what to do a long time ago. I still hope to influence people in their thoughts and behaviors, but rather from a posture of reason, learning, values that come from our tradition rather than banging on the pulpit.

 

In writing sermons I hope people will agree with me. Even if not, you can still like me. I would like that. But I don't think of that question when I write sermons. I think of my feelings on the subject. I think about our Jewish treasure-house of wisdom. I think of whom we are and what we could do about the matter, or who we could become, or how we can contribute to society, to the Jewish people, to Israel. My scolding has been couched in my teaching and pointing a direction. I gave up "shreiking gevalt" because it was only a good exercise, maybe it let me vent, but didn't change anything, didn't make anybody change anything. Since teaching is the original calling of the Rabbi and not preaching, my style evolved into that form and format. I do watch an occasional Sunday church service on TV and note that my preaching is very distant from that of my colleagues in the African-American churches, as well as from the evangelical minister of any color.

 

But after sermons that have related to any controversial issue, people have never ceased to let me know their views, especially if they disagreed. I have never inhibited anyone from saying what was on their mind. I have missed many an oneg Shabbat or Kiddush because someone wanted to bend my ear. Maybe it will happen again tonight?

 

What I have always tried to do was to be accurate.

If I have accused, I did so on firm foundation.

If I didn't like something, I could support my reasoning.

I have been careful of what I have said because I knew that I could influence people to do or not do something. My words have consequences and repercussions.

 I review my words because I know that I can be quoted and while I know the game of 'telephone' at least I could control first transmission.

I have criticized the United States. It happens every day in the newspaper.

            But I do it responsibly.

I have been very careful about criticizing Israel, maybe not as much as I feel about a particular policy, because I feared that my comments could be lifted out of context and misconstrued and misused.

I have been careful, particularly careful of how I speak about Christians and Christianity, Muslims and Islam because that is what is proper by Jewish standards, and I wish them to speak respectfully about us and our faith. It is a dialogue, even when it is preaching. There is a respectful way to say the truth, as I see it. I can disagree with honor and dignity.

 

So tonight I have not banged on the lectern. I have not thundered against Reverend Jeremiah Wright. I have not infringed on our tax-exempt status concerning endorsing a political candidate. I can just say that the Reverend didn't write his sermons by my standards, if he wrote them at all. He didn't help his people by railing at other ethnic or religious groups. He didn't review his words for accuracy. And while they don't have Kiddush and oneg in church, Senator Obama could have found the time to personally and verbally disagree with his minister. I don't think that he had to leave his church. He didn't have to turn his back on his minister. But he could have argued with him. He could have made an appointment and met with him. That was a mistake. I can't reconcile swearing in as an official of this country, from the most local to the highest national level and not stand up to accusations against this country that are factually and historically wrong. I expect ministers, priests, rabbis to check their facts, even twice, before proclaiming it as the truth.

 

I acknowledge that each community is different.

                       Each community has its own needs.

                       Each community has its own agenda.

                        Each minister has his/her own style.

                        Each minister comes from his/her own background.

But every congregant/parishioner brings their full acumen to the pew.

                        Every listener brings their sense of right and wrong.

                        Every worshiper brings their knowledge to the service.

No one is excused.

No one gets a pass.

Not from one side of the lectern or the other.

 

We are a partnership of learners, of seekers, of those in search of God and His path.

Our task is to improve the world, make society better and make us better human beings,

while walking humbly with our God.

 

Shabbat Shalom.