Monthly Message
Rabbi George Gittleman

A Story: Once, the great Hassidic rebbe, Rabbi Shneur Zalman was imprisoned by the Russians for his teachings. It was a cruel jail, cold and dark, but the rebbe didn’t notice because he was so long in prayer and meditation. A guard passed by and, being no fool, he could tell just by looking at the face of the rebbe that he was no ordinary man. Intrigued by the rebbe, he entered his cell and began to converse with him. The guard was a religious man and so he asked the rebbe a number of questions that had occurred to him in his reading of the Bible. Finally, the guard asked a question that had been bothering him for many a year.

“How are we to understand that God, the all-knowing, said to Adam (in the Garden of Eden): ‘Where are you?’ Surely God knew all along where Adam was.” The rebbe began his response with a question: “Do you believe that Scriptures are eternal and that every era, every generation and every person is included in them?”

“Yes,” responded the guard.

The rebbe began to speak…

“In every era God calls to every person, ‘Where are you in your world? You have been allotted so many days and years and much time has passed...What have you done with your gift of life?’” The rebbe continued, locking his sage eyes with the nervous gaze of the guard. “God says something like this, ‘You, guard of the prison of St. Petersburg, you have lived 46 years, how far along are you?’” The guard was astounded; how did the rebbe know his age? “Bravo,” he shouted, slapping his hands on the rebbe’s shoulders, but his heart trembled. Why did the guard’s heart tremble? One would think it was because of the rebbe’s clairvoyance in knowing his age, but it was not so much what the rebbe knew, but rather what he saw in his soul that was so awesome. His heart trembled because through the rebbe, he saw how empty his life was up to that point. When asked, “Where are you?” the guard had to respond, “No where,” or at least, “Not where I should be.” You will find this story in a small book by Martin Buber called “The Way of Man.” It is the perfect story for the time we are about to enter, the Yamin Noraim, the Days of Awe, the Holy Days. It is especially during this time of year that we are attuned to the Eternal question ayeka, “Where are you? Are you on the right track? Is there anyone you need to forgive? Are apologies in order? How’s your family? How’s your work? How’s your sense of self? Can you look yourself in the mirror? Are you ready to stand naked before The Ground of All Being in the days ahead?”

“Ayeka?” God asks. It is up to us to respond.

For over a year now I have been participating in a Rabbinic Leadership Program run by the Institute for Jewish Spirituality. The mission of IJS is to nurture and develop rabbis and lay leaders inner/spiritual life through meditation and other mindfulness practices, as well as an in-depth encounter with Hassidic thought. The program includes 4 five-day retreats (I’ve participated in 3 already) and a couple hours of study in Hevruta (with a partner) every week for 18 months. Occasionally as part of our study, we are asked to reflect on a text we are learning and post it for the other rabbis in the program to read. Below you will find my latest comments. I share them with you to give you a window into the IJS program and the development of my soul.

The Text I comment on is from the Hassidic Torah Commentary Kedushat Levi, of Rabbi Levi Yitzkhak of Birditchev. In his discussion of the Torah portion Pekudei (Exodus 38:21- 40:38), he writes: "The root of the evil eye is like that found in Balaam: wherever he turned his gaze he cursed that thing. How does that work?... (It happens) when one looks at something separate from its supernal source of the wellspring of life – since one lusts after that thing and thinks that it has some intrinsic value… But, one does not gaze upon the divine power in it!"

I’ve been fishing since I was 3 and fly fishing since I was 18. It’s only a small exaggeration to say that my other “religion” is fly fishing. These days I only get to go about once every 6 weeks. It’s pitch black when I leave my house. The sun begins to peek over the horizon just as the flat agricultural plain of the Sacramento Valley gives way to the undulating terrain of the Sierra foothills. The Yuba River is a golden ribbon glistening below the spot where I park my car. My heart rushes as I move to get my gear together, put on my waders and head toward the beaten fisherman’s path that leads me to the first riffle.

There really are no bad days on the river but some are better than others and it is not about catching fish. In fact, if I focus (or should I say obsess) on catching fish, my experience is considerably diminished. Like Levi Yitzhak, the Buddhist call this form of suffering, “lust”. Our attention is taken from the reality of the moment and we experience an insatiable longing for what we don’t have. We think, for example, “if I catch that one beautiful rainbow trout, I’ll be happy”, but one fish leads to another and we are never sated.

Beyond what the Buddha teaches or maybe included in it is Levi Yitzhak’s teaching that the root cause of this “evil” is that we see the object of our desire separate from its supernal source. You see, when I am obsessed with catching fish, I miss so much, like the wild purple lupine along the bank, the huge clusters of California poppies in the meadow down the way, and the swallows swooping down from the bridge to catch tiny mayflies, hatching and lifting off the glassy, swift moving surface of the water, tiny, delicate, translucent in the morning light. It is also true that when my vision is not limited by my lust for fish, I catch more fish only to lovingly and reverently release them back into the river.

Blessings… R.G.

The earthquake that struck Haiti devastated the country, and is still sending shockwaves around the world. Aid workers and reconstruction dollars are pouring in, and at least for the moment, the world has awoken to the misery that is Haiti. One of the first countries to arrive on the scene with the largest rescue and medical team relative to its size was Israel. Israel sent over 200 personnel, the majority of which were called up from the army reserves, to go to Haiti. When asked why Israel was offering humanitarian assistance to Haiti, Prime Minister Benjamin Natanyahu said that it was a reflection of the “historical values of the Jewish people”. What might those values be?

Many possibilities come to mind, but the one most obvious to me is, pekuach nefesh. The Talmud teaches that “to save a life is to save the world.” Pekuach nefesh literally means, “to save a life”. According to Jewish law (Halakhah), pekuach nefesh supercedes all the other commandments. Israel’s response to the crisis in Haiti is a beautiful reflection of this basic Jewish value, the ultimate worth of any human life. When I heard of the Israeli response, I was not surprised; Israel has exceptionally trained emergency response personnel and has responded repeatedly over the years to international humanitarian crises around the world. What did surprise me were some of the responses to Israel’s efforts.

Bradley Burston in an opinion piece for the Israeli daily Ha’aretz, put it well when he wrote that, “the work of the Israeli medical team has become a kind of Rorschach for how people view Israel and Israelis.” He notes that while there were many positive responses to Israel’s efforts, there were “a shocking number of others; the bottom line is simple: Israel, and Israelis, can do no right.” On the extreme end of the spectrum there were those who accused Israel of going to Haiti to harvest organs! But he writes, “even many of those who shun blood libels have seized on the Haiti mission to bash Israel, revealing in many cases a hatred — and a bigotry — that borders on the visceral.” Here is one example he cites: “I guess giving Israel credit for good deeds in Haiti,” wrote reader John Smithson on the widely-read Mondoweiss site, “is like watching a serial killer or other sociopathic type mow an old woman’s lawn (or some other charitable thing).”

What we see in these comments are attempts to demonize and de-legitimize the state of Israel. It’s also clear that for more and more people the distinction between criticizing Israel and blatant anti-Semitism is lost. So how are we to respond?

First, we need to acknowledge that anti- Semitism is a real and growing problem and that while there are legitimate ways to criticize the state of Israel, when the critique serves to de-legitimize or demonize Israel it is really anti-Semitism in the guise of political commentary. Second, and more importantly, we need to take care not to let detractors of Israel or anti-Semites define Israel or us. Israel’s response to Haiti is noble and a beautiful expression of the most precious of Jewish values, pekuach nefesh, the saving of a life. That others can’t see it as such is a sad reflection on them and a wake up call for us.

About a year ago Leira and I decided to study the worship patterns of our congregation; what brings you to services, what keeps you away, what you like, don’t like, etc. We were motivated by both the practical and the spiritual. On the practical side, having finally settled into our new building, it seemed like the right time to take a fresh look at our minhag (our way of praying). We also sensed that attendance at services was flat and perhaps a little down. This was especially concerning since we added several new members when we moved into our new home.

On the spiritual plane, the questions are really about relevance and meaning. Recall for a moment when you were in the congregation and you were moved in some way. Maybe it was the words of a prayer, or the melody, or your mood, melding with the feel in the sanctuary. Whatever that moment might look like, imagine if we could multiply that for you and everyone else; what would happen? How might you/we be transformed? What would it be like, for example, if we had 850 people singing the Shema together, not twice a year on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, but every Shabbat! Ok, I know I am at this point “off the deep end” into the realm of rabbinic fantasy, but backing off just a bit from the “messianic”, I ask the serious question, could we become more of a praying community, and, if so, what would that look like?

Of course as soon as we embarked on this project we encountered the expected, “two Jews, three answers” challenge. Nevertheless, what you told us was helpful on a number of levels. First, I am happy to say that, simply stated, most of you are satisfied with services the way they are. As Judith Klonsky, a member of our community and a sociologist by profession, remarked after helping us analyze the data, “nothing is broken.” A little more troubling is the number of you who said you enjoyed coming to services when you could, but you were already so stretched and tired from work and “life on the run” that actually getting to Shul was the biggest stumbling block. I guess the fact that we desperately need Shabbat does not readily translate into making it happen at home or in the synagogue.

On a more positive note, we were happy to know how important music is to many of you. We have worked hard over a number of years (Leira especially!) to develop an array of musical options for services; music more than anything else has the potential to lift us out of ourselves and into a sense of the transcendent. I was also happy to see that folks still are interested to know what I have to say and teach from the bima.

So, you may be asking, what comes next? Given what we have learned to date, we plan to “pray on” pretty much as we have been up until now. We hope to build on the areas most important to you which, thankfully, already reflect our priorities. In addition, I’ve ordered a magic wand from “Harry Potter.Com” and I plan to wave it quite a bit, casting a powerful spell to ease everyone’s schedules, while at the same time placing in the congregation’s heart an insatiable desire to come sing, pray and learn together every Shabbat!

As Hanukkah approaches this year I am reminded of the choice our ancient sages made when they created the holiday to stress the miracle of light (or to create one!) rather than the triumph of war. Ever war-weary, the Rabbis of old saw beyond the short-lived military victory to the larger picture of the cost of war on those that fight and those caught in between. They were not pacifists; rather they saw war as a last resort, justifiable only as an act of self defense.

My approach to war is informed by our tradition’s caution. The Rosh Hashanah after 9/11, I preached against going to war in Afghanistan. Before and during the war in Iraq I have written and spoken against the war. Now, as President Obama prepares to send more troops into Afghanistan, I again find myself saying, “No, there has to be a better way…”

I’m not a political scientist nor an expert on the Middle East, so I can not speak with any authority regarding the greater geo-political issues at play. My concerns arise out of simply being a U.S. citizen, a Jew and a rabbi. First, I worry about the men and women fighting for us; they are so invisible! If there was a draft, and all our kids could be sent to Iraq and Afghanistan, would we still be fighting on either front? If we were seeing daily scenes from the wars on our TV screens, watching coffins come home, hearing regular accounts of the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder that these soldiers face when they return, would the wars end sooner? I wonder with great sadness how we as a nation can be advocating a continuing conflict when we cannot adequately care for returning soldiers who have already sacrificed so much.

I am not so naïve as to think that Al Queda and radical Islam are not real threats: they are. The question is: are the current conflicts we are fighting making us safer? Is an expanded war in Afghanistan in our country’s self-interest? From a Jewish perspective we might also ask, how is it justified? In what way is it a defensive war?

The Hanukkah story, the story of the miracle of the oil that was only to last a day but miraculously shed light for eight days, is the ancient sages’ answer to the question Mai Hanukkah? What is Hanukkah? For the ancient sages, the transcendent, timeless, holy message of Hanukkah was the miracle of the lights, not the victory on the battlefield. Ever wary of war, the Rabbis of old rejected the glorification of bloodshed for the message of the miracle of the oil. And whether or not one believes in miracles, most everyone can relate to the hanukkia (Hanukkah menorah), the symbol of that miracle. The hanukkia is all about light and its power to illuminate the darkness in our lives, our communities and our world.

This year, as we light our Hanukkah menorahs, let us pray for light, light within, dispensing the darkness of our lives. And light for a world darkened by war and the threat of war.

Or chadash al tzion tahir, v’nizkeh chulanu m’herah l’oroh.

May a new light shine upon Zion and may we all share in its radiance…

As a rabbi I get lots of mail from Jewish organizations around the world. The Jewish World Service, the Jewish World Watch, the Jewish American Congress, the Jewish Fund for Justice, The Jewish… you name it. If your mail is anything like mine, it’s hard to keep track of all the Jewish groups out there looking for support. There is, however, one organization that is the single most effective place from which to support the greater Jewish Community both here in Sonoma County and as far off as Israel or the former Soviet Union. That is the Jewish Federation of San Francisco, the Peninsula, Marin and Sonoma Counties.

'The Federation' is the umbrella for general Jewish communal fundraising in our community. By supporting the Federation you are also supporting a host of other organizations like the Jewish Community Center, The Jewish Home in San Francisco, Jewish Family and Children’s Services and even Shomrei Torah. In fact, the Federation has made a sea change (and this is not rabbinic hyperbole!) in its work with synagogues, making extraordinary efforts to get to know who we are, what out needs are and to partner with us. You may not know this but the security fence that surrounds our building came from a Federation grant. Chaverim, the community wide Teen program that was started here at Shomrei Torah and at Congregation Beth Ami, has been generously funded by Federation for a number of years now. Also, along the way, the Federation gave us a grant to fund an outreach program called Gateways, which sought to open the doors of our congregation to folks who had rarely, if ever, been in a synagogue before. And, as if that is not enough, this year, in response to the financial crisis we are all facing, the Federation gave us $9,500.00 in emergency funds to help cover the overwhelming requests we received for Religious School scholarships (without that money I don’t know what we would have done this year).

There is a saying from the Talmud, kol yisrael, arevim zeh l’zeh, all Israel is responsible for each other. There have been a number of years when that phrase really did not seem to apply to Synagogue Federation relationships. What an inspiration it is to experience this renewed and promising new partnership. It’s an inspiration as well as a responsibility; let us match their renewed interest, commitment and concern with our own gratitude and support as well.

CLICK HERE FOR HOLY DAY SERVICES CALENDAR

By definition, Reform Jewish Practice is hard to summarize. Nevertheless, I thought it would be helpful to have an outline of the essentials.

The Month of Elul:

We often think of the Holy Days as beginning with Rosh Hashanah and ending with Yom Kippur. In fact, the Yamim Noraim (The Days of Awe) officially begin a month before the start of Elul. I think of Elul as the month of conditioning before the big climb, not up Mount Sinai, but rather inside ourselves. The primary task of Elul is to perform a Heshbone Ha’nefesh: An accounting of the soul, a time to ask the tough questions: Where have I gone wrong? Whom have I hurt? How have I let myself down? It is traditional during this time of year to ask people if you have offended them, and to ask for forgiveness. Related to asking for forgiveness is the Elul: The Tradition of New Year’s greetings. As you send out your cards this year, note whom you do and to whom you don’t send cards. Please also consider attending our S’lichot service on September 12 at 9:00 PM.

S’lichot comes from the Hebrew root “to be sorry”. Our S’lichot services are a wonderful way to begin the process of opening our hearts up to who we are and who we want to be in the year ahead.

Rosh Hashanah:

First, please set the time aside to actually go to services! Also, remember a festive meal before services and after is an important part of the celebration. It is traditional to eat apples dipped in honey (the apple symbolizes the earth and the honey our wish for a sweet year). It is also traditional to include a round and sweet challah in your meal, as well. If you’re at a loss as to what to cook, there are a plethora of Jewish cookbooks on the market and there’s always the web! Another important element of the observance of Rosh Hashanah is Taschlich. We gather at Lake Ralphine in Howarth Park at 4:30 PM to symbolically throw our sins into the water.

The Days in Between:

According to tradition, during these intermediate days, The Book of Life is still open, and our fate for the years has yet to be sealed. We may not take this literally, yet the image works well as a metaphor for our work during these holy days. This is the time when our own heshbone ha’nefesh, our own accounting of the soul, intensifies. Whatever you have put off—reaching out to a loved one from whom you are estranged, paying a debt, telling someone “you care”—this is the time to do it. It is also traditional during these days to contribute to the Jewish Community and to give tzeddakah. Are you paying your fair share? Are you giving enough to the needy in our community or elsewhere? This is the time to make an honest accounting. Finally, one of the holiest Shabbatot of the year falls between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. It is called Shabbat Shuvah, the Sabbath of Return. Make every effort to come that Friday evening and Saturday morning.

Yom Kippur:

As with Rosh Hashanah, the first thing you need to do is make sure you show up. If you have control over your work, plan to be absent. The same is true of school and any other activities that conflict with the observance of this holiest of holy days. Also, plan to stay for the whole day. I know it is long, but without going through the whole process, you won’t have the full experience. For those who can, fasting is also a must. Fasting really does elevate and deepen the experience of contrition and renewal on this most awesome of days.

The next essential element of Yom Kippur (and the rest of the Yamim Noraim) is an open and contrite heart. If what you do during the Holy Days doesn’t touch you “inside”, it is all for naught. Thus, I’ll share here the Holy Day wishes of a friend: “May you be like a filleted fish before God.” Now that is open!

One last thing: Breaking-the-Fast. Fasting is important, as is getting together with family and friends afterwards to break-the-fast, share your Holy Day experience and celebrate the New Year. Try to plan some kind of fast-breaking celebrating with family and/or friends. If you are at a loss as to where to go, know that the congregation always breaks the fast together right after services. I look forward to the privilege of sharing the Yamim Noraim, the Days of Awe, with you in the coming weeks.

Shanah Tovah!

CLICK HERE FOR HOLY DAY SERVICES CALENDAR

Following is the invocation delivered by Rabbi George at the May 1 International Workers Day March for immigrant rights, supported by the Social Action Committee of Congregation Shomrei Torah.

“In a recent newspaper editorial President Obama was criticized for caring about fairness — as if fairness was a bad thing or un-American. The writer said that ‘Obama’s real agenda is to create a level playing field.’

What is wrong with that? Is fairness a bad thing? Is fairness un-American?

Fairness is an essential religious value.

Fair wages, fair and just treatment on and off the job.

Fair and just immigration policies.

Fair and just law enforcement.

Fair and just benefits including access to good health care and education.

Fairness is a Jewish and Christian value and it is an essential American value.

I’m here today to offer the invocation for the March; this was just the prelude.

Invocation is really a fancy name for prayer—to invoke God’s presence. I’d like to do that now.

There are many ways to pray:

You can use a prayer book and read a prayer.

You can offer your own personal plea or praise; the prayer of the heart.

You can sing…

You can praise God through the use of your mind.

You can also praise God through your feet—dancing, yes, and also by marching!

Let us pray with our feet today as we march for fairness.

Let us pray with our feet today as we march for justice.

Let us pray with our feet today as we march for a better America for everyone. Amen.”

Lately I’ve been ruminating about e-mail. Those who know me know that I’m not exactly a fan of this most modern and at times, really annoying form of communication. Beyond my own aversion to the medium, I do think there are some serious e-mail issues that any community needs to/should address.

E-mail is an efficient but flawed way to communicate. When we write or receive an e-mail, the human contact is missing; we don’t see the person, how they are reacting (are they smiling, agitated, crying), nor do they see us. The lack of a face-to-face connection is de-humanizing. Cut off from the other, we are much more likely to be both misunderstood and meanspirited. Another related e-mail issue is the way e-mails are often “passed around” taking, l’shone harah (gossip or hurtful speech), to a new and much more egregious level.

Perhaps an analogy is helpful: My neighbor is a Sheriff’s Deputy. I once asked him about “road rage” and he said to me that “it is amazing what happens to a person when he/she gets behind all that steel, glass and power behind a wheel… suddenly they think they are invincible and say and do the most outrageous things, which they would never do if they were directly in front of the other person!” E-mail at times seems to me like “road rage” with words, but even worse because, unlike the person in the car next to you blowing his horn and shouting unseemly things, we live in community together; the recipient of the e-mail you just sent may be sitting next to you at services or in a class, if not that same day, sometime very soon!

From a religious perspective, the challenge of e-mail is to see the other, the person you are communicating with as a “Thou” rather than an “It”. A “Thou” is another human being with emotions, concerns, dignity and feelings. You can be in conflict with a “Thou”, but you will handle that conflict differently than someone whose humanness you can not see.

Given how hard it can be to recognize a “Thou” when using e-mail, it is incumbent on all of us to be very careful with e-mail. Before you send an e-mail, think about what it will be like to receive the message. Ask yourself if it is a kind and accurate portrayal of what is going on. Perhaps the most important question is whether e-mail is the best format for the “conversation”. In my experience much of what is “covered” via e-mail is better handled “face to face”. Having been both the perpetrator and the victim, I am not claiming innocence here, just awareness. I am also suggesting that especially when things get heated or we are feeling a little “snarky”, one ought to be especially careful with the way we communicate to each other.

E-mail may satisfy the “need” to react and “get it done”, but in the end it may cause more harm than good.

It’s tough to read the paper these days, tougher still to watch TV, where a seemingly unending stream of bad news assaults our senses. (My advice: blow up your TV!) There is the economy (is the sky falling yet?), the drought (it’s raining as I write this, but we’ll still need more), violence in Israel and the Middle East, and, it seems, suffering everywhere. It’s enough to depress even the most upbeat among us. How do we cope during such challenging times?

You may recall the saying of Rabbi Nachman of Brestlav that I shared with you at Rosh Hashanah: “The whole world is a narrow bridge and the essential thing is not to be afraid.” Fear is natural and at times necessary, but fear unchecked is toxic in every way — physically, emotionally, spiritually. We may not be able to stop feeling fearful about what’s happening locally, nationally or globally, but we can try to keep what frightens us from coloring every other aspect of our lives. The sky may be cloudy but it has yet to fall, and it helps to remember that.

Another teaching from our Tradition that I find helpful is the simple concept of a minyan. What do I mean? When things get tough we naturally want to withdraw into ourselves, yet isolation often magnifies our fears. The simple wisdom of a minyan is that there is comfort in community. Praying alone has its place, but praying with others who in some way share our concerns, hopes, and dreams can offer considerably more solace as well as inspiration.

And finally there is the famous saying from the ancient Jewish sage Hillel: “If I am not for myself, who will be for me, if I am only for myself, what am I, if not now, when?”

In trying times like these it is essential that we take care of ourselves while at the same time look to the needs of those around us. The time to act is (always) now! Whether it be participating in the writing of our Torah, one of the many educational or social venues we offer, a Social Action sponsored activity, Community In Conversation, or Shabbat services, we are here. In fact, we are you! Whether you’re upset about the falling market, worried about your job, concerned for our environment, or scared just because these are scary times, give yourself a break and let your community share a little of your load.

Shomrei Torah is a busy place! We really are meeting our goals to be a Beit Tefillah (House of Prayer), a Beit Midrash (House of Study) and a Beit Kennesset (Community Center). Given all the activity, it’s hard to keep up with everything. That’s why when Meredith Cahn suggested a rabbinic internship, I was intrigued: what a great opportunity to bring more support and inspiration to the life of our community! I hope you’ll join me in welcoming Meredith as our/ my first rabbinic intern. As you will see from her introduction below, she has much to offer our community! — Rabbi George

Shalom! I am very honored and thrilled to be your new, your first rabbinic intern. I am happy to take this opportunity to introduce myself. I live in Marin, with my husband Sam and our daughter, Olga, who is a student at New Horizon School, which is down the hill from CST. I am a third-year rabbinic student at the Academy for Jewish Religion California (AJR), a transdenominational school dedicated to preparing clergy to serve the Jewish people. I have worked in public health for more than 25 years, to help improve the lives of the most vulnerable people in society, as director of women’s health clinics, and as a consultant helping counties and non-profits to increase health care access and community mental health services.

My family and I are members of Congregation Rodef Sholom. My first real involvement there was with Sisterhood — I answered the call to write the hagaddah for our first women’s seder 17 years ago. It allowed me to study haggadot, think about ritual, inject feminism, some humor, music and dance, and help to create a magical event. From there, my involvement in Sisterhood grew. A friend and I went to biennials and together we would enact what we learned there in our community. I found that I was good at it, it was incredibly satisfying and fulfilling, and people appreciated what we did. I also became a leader in the congregation’s “alternative” lay-led High Holy Day services. As I listened carefully, I could hear the call to study more, and share more. I was hooked, and it only took a few years to figure out how to make rabbinic school happen.

An important part of my inspiration comes from my daughter, Olga, whom Sam and I adopted from Russia 15 years ago. Olga is a very special human being, with the sweetest soul I have ever known. She is the first person whose soul I could identify, which made it easier for me to see other people’s. This soul of hers lives in a person who has significant learning and developmental disabilities. Because of these, Sam and I have had to learn to negotiate the special education system, to advocate for her needs. As a result, we helped to found a committee at Rodef Sholom that works on issues of inclusion of people with disabilities into the congregation.

For me, the rabbinate is about creating holy community, where people are welcomed, cared for and expected to lift the fallen, comfort the mourners, make peace where there is strife, and keep faith with those who sleep in the dust. Like the braided wicks of the havdalah candle, it is the power of community that gives us the real strength to meet our responsibilities, to walk in the ways of God, and really count our blessings. In my visits to Shomrei Torah, I have felt the presence of such a community and I look forward to deepening my role with you.

— Meredith Cahn

Days after filling in the first letter of our new Torah Scroll, I still find myself at times emotionally overwhelmed. The blank leaf of the scroll was rolled out on the Torah reading table, a sea of gleaming white velum, with the very first letters outlined in crisp black ink — Bereshit bara Elohim… In the beginning God created…

The sight of the blank scroll took my breath away. We built a community and then a building to house it and now, now we were going to actually bring a new Torah, the single most potent symbol of Jewish life, into the world. My heart leapt into my throat. My soul quivered. I was having trouble staying in my body. I was beyond nervous. Before I began to write, Rabbi Youlus said that writing a letter in the Torah was an auspicious time to pray. My family, Laura, Levi & Sophie, were right behind me. In fact, they also wrote letters and did a much better job! In any event, as I began to fill in the first letter a flood of petitions came into my mind… Let my family be healthy, let the congregation thrive, let the Torah be alive in my children, … Recalling it now, it feels like a dream, as if I have to pinch myself to make sure it really happened.

It really did happen, for me and my family and for the 200 people who were there either to witness or to write their own letters.

From the start I knew this would be an exceptional project for the congregation. Now having actually written a letter in the scroll and having had the incredible nachus of witnessing my family doing it as well, I can say that this is one of the most meaningful Jewish experiences of a lifetime, certainly in my top 10! Why? In truth, I’m not exactly sure – the experience is beyond words. I can say this; it is a profoundly concrete way to help bring forth a new link in the venerable, ancient and at times imperiled chain of Jewish Tradition. Think about it — we Jews are not great builders of monuments, cathedrals, material artifacts of any kind; the retaining wall of a destroyed Temple is our greatest physical monument. What do we do? We write books! Books! And the Torah, it is the book of all books for us, the single greatest symbol of what it means to be a Jew.

Monuments turn to rubble over time, buildings come and go, but the Torah, thanks to generations of Jews like us, still lives on; by writing our own scroll we give life to our congregation, our community and the Jewish people as a whole.

Barukk atah Adonai Eloheinu Melekh Haolam, shehekhianu, v’kiyamanu, v’higianu la-zman ha-zeh. Blessed is the Ground of All Being, who has created us, has sustained us and has enabled us to reach this day…

A number of years ago, I remember Rabbi Robinson calling me during a pretty tough time in my life and saying that he hoped this Hanukkah would bring a little more light into my life. It was a simple, sweet gesture, but it stuck with me. It was, one might say, illuminating.

Mai Chanukah, what is Hanukkah? The Rabbis of the talmud ask. At first glance this story seems strange—wouldn’t they know the meaning of Hanukkah? Why ask the question?

It is interesting to note the story of Hanukkah—the war and the fight for religious freedom—is not found in either the Torah or the rest of the Hebrew Bible. The revolt against Assyria is recorded in The Book of Maccabees, but that book, while recognized as part of the Catholic Canon, did not make it into the Jewish Canon. The ancient Sages knew the story (they quote from it and other Apocryphal works), yet chose not to include it in their narrative. Why? No one knows for sure, but it appears that they found the historical record troubling. In fact, the Hasmonian Dynasty that followed the revolt was short-lived, violent and corrupt, ending with the rise of Roman hegemony in the area. Assuming they were aware of the historical record, we can make a guess at why they ask the question, “What is the meaning of Hanukkah?” They ask the question because they were searching for a meaning that transcended what actually happened. That is where the story of the miracle of lights enters the picture.

The Hanukkah story, the story of the miracle of the oil that was only to last a day, but miraculously shed light for 8 days, is the ancient Sages’ answer to the question Mai Chanukah? What is Hanukkah? For the ancient Sages, the transcendent, timeless, holy message of Hanukkah was the miracle of the lights, not the victory on the battlefield. Ever wary of war, the Rabbis of old rejected the glorification of bloodshed in favor of the message of the miracle of the oil. Whether one believes in miracles or not, most everyone can relate to the symbol of that miracle, the Chanukia (Hanukkah Menorah). The Chanukia is all about light and its power to illuminate the darkness in our lives, our communities and our world.

Do you need a little more light in your life? Has the recent financial meltdown gotten you down? Worried about the state of the world? Struggling at home, or at work?

This year as we light our Chanakiot (Hanukkah Menorahs), let’s pray for transformative, healing light; light displacing the darkness in our lives, and the world around us.

Or chadash al tzion tahir, v’nizkeh chulanu m’herah l’oroh.

May a new light shine upon Zion and may we all share in its radiance…

Why, as a Jew and a rabbi, I am voting “No” on Proposition 8:

My support for same-sex marriage, which Proposition 8 seeks to delegitimize, is grounded in the Torah. The Torah teaches, for example, that humanity was created B’tzelem Elohim, in God’s image. The text does not say that only straight, white men are created B’tzelem Elohim, but rather all people, regardless of their sexual orientation, are an image of the Divine. If this is the case, why should same-sex couples be in any way inferior to straight couples?

Torah Teaches: Love the Stranger The Torah also teaches that we should “Love the stranger, for we were strangers in the land of Egypt.” Who is the “stranger”? The stranger is anyone on the outside, anyone at risk, vulnerable or oppressed. For too long same-sex couples have been “strangers” in our society, ostracized, persecuted, and legally discriminated against. Progress has been slow but steady and the recent California Supreme Court ruling in favor of same-sex marriage — giving these unions equal protection under the law — was a historic step forward.

If passed, Proposition 8 would undo much of the forward progress we’ve made. As Jews we are commanded to “love the stranger”. Love can mean many things: in this case it means to defend the right of same-sex couples to enjoy the privileges and protections marriage offers in our society.

According to Jewish Tradition, marriage is a holy institution. In fact, in Hebrew, the word for the marriage ceremony is k’dushin, which means “to sanctify” or “hallow”. It comes from the root – k-dsh – which means “to set a part”, or “to be unique”. How is it that only straight marriages are holy? Given the almost endless sexual scandals paraded across our public consciousness committed by prominent straight men and women almost every day, it should be obvious by now that holiness in relationships is less a function of sexual orientation than one of true love and commitment. In my view, holiness in relationships exists on a continuum with marriage, in the ideal sense of the word, at its pinnacle, regardless of the sexual orientation of the couple. To deny same-sex couples the right to marry is, from a religious perspective, an attempt to deny them their dignity as human beings created in God’s image who, like all other human beings, desire holiness in their lives.

Join me in voting “No” on Proposition 8. Prevent state-sponsored discrimination against same-sex couples and send a message to all Californians about the dignity and sanctity of all people, regardless of their sexual orientation.

Congregation Shomrei Torah has much to look forward to in the coming year. We will, of course, offer the same range of religious services and programming that make our congregation so compelling for so many people (with some outstanding additions like Bible By the Bay and an unprecedented array of Shabbat Evening speakers). But we’ll be adding three very special new elements to congregational life. First and foremost, year 5769 will be our Sh’nat Hatorah, our Year of the Torah as we participate in the process of writing our own Sefer Torah, our own Torah Scroll. Secondly, we recently joined Industrial Areas Foundation to help us engage the congregation in a series of conversations designed to deepen our understanding and connection to each other, while at the same time organizing our community around the issues we really care about. And, as if that were not enough, starting this fall, after the Yamim Noraim, the Holy Days, we will begin the introduction of the Reform Movements new siddur (prayer book), Mishkan Tefilah.

Looking for change

Mishkan Tefilah literally means Tent of Prayer and it’s been in the works for over a decade. A survey of Reform Congregations in 1994 showed that congregations were looking for a change. What did they want? For starters, they were looking for “transliteration [of the Hebrew so non-Hebrew readers could more fully participate], meaningful and expanded God language, relevant and compelling English prayer, faithful translation, and a response to the feminist critique.” There was also a sense from the survey and the pews that we were all yearning for a renewal of the spirit through reconnecting more deeply with our Tradition, varied and accessible music and intellectual engagement with the Torah (CCAR Journal, Fall 2004).

Given the big, open tent (mishkan) of Reform Judaism, and the many different styles and approaches to prayer our movement manifests, creating any prayer book that works for the majority of our congregations is quite a challenge. But that is what they did — it’s really amazing! What you’ll find is much that is familiar and some real differences. Overall, things like the order of the service, the Hebrew of the core prayers, and some of the translations will be similar to what we are already accustomed to. At the same time, the layout has been altered to include more transliteration and alternative readings on facing pages.

See for yourself

I’ll admit, it might be a little confusing at first, but worth the richness it offers over time. Since we choose the music based on the Hebrew and English text, at least initially, much of what we sing will stay the same. But, over time, we will have many more options than our current array of prayer books offers us now. Rather than attempt to describe in depth what you can only really understand through experience, I invite you to come and see/pray for yourself. Our plan is not to abandon our other siddurim, but rather to introduce the new Mishkan Tefilah, the new Reform Prayer Book, into the ongoing, dynamic, progressive and we hope, meaningful prayer life of our community.

Of the 613 Mitzvoth (commandments), participating in the writing of a Sefer Torah, a Torah Scroll, is one of the most exciting and challenging; yet most Jews never get the opportunity. Think about it: Who has the expertise, let alone the time, for such an enterprise? Happily, in the coming year our Congregation Shomrei Torah community will be able to participate in the writing of our own Torah. We are calling it Shennat Torahtenu, The Year of Our Torah, to mark what will surely be a rich experience and important milestone for all of us.

At this point, you may be asking yourself, why are we writing a new Torah when we have two already? You may wonder how this will affect our special relationship to our precious Czech Torah. Let me explain:

On a practical level, while we can function with our existing scrolls, having an additional scroll will facilitate b’nai mitzvah training, where we have many students often practicing at the same time from different places in the Torah. In our worship, there are certain times of the year when we read from different places during the same service. While it’s possible to roll the scroll from one place to the next, it is both more practical and considered more respectful of Torah and Jewish tradition to alternate between scrolls. If we were assured use of at least two Torah scrolls at all times, it would be hard to argue for the writing of a new scroll. Unfortunately, though we currently have two scrolls, you may be surprised to learn that our special Czech Torah is not in great shape.

Even when I arrived 12 years ago, we realized that our Czech Torah was suffering from age and overuse. Due to its many fading letters, at least one sofer (scribe) who inspected it declared it unfit for regular use (literally, “not kosher”). This scribe also said that the parchment would not withstand the needed repairs and therefore the Torah should be “retired.” We chose to continue to use the scroll, but in time the problem worsened. A second sofer who recently inspected it made similar recommendations. Repairing the Czech scroll is possible, but the needed work will be very expensive and may not last.

After much deliberation, we decided neither to fix our Czech Torah nor “retire” it. Rather, we would preserve its venerable place in our community, and at the same time engage a scribe in the writing — with our help and participation — of a new scroll. In this way, we can honor our name, Shomrei Torah/Guardians of The Torah, and our communal and collective past, while creating something of value for the present and future generations. It’s true, our relationship to our Czech Torah will change. We won’t read it regularly as we do now, but its place in our community will, if anything, be elevated: we hope to display it in the entrance of Shalom Hall and read from it during special occasions like Simchat Torah.

As for our new scroll? What a mitzvah it will be to help build a new link in the chain of our tradition! We built a physical home for our community and now we will both symbolically and literally help foster the neshema, the soul of our congregation.

As Yom Ha’Atzmaut (Israel Independence Day) approaches, many of you may be wondering what it is we should actually be celebrating this year. After all, the Peace Process is moribund, and the war of attrition with Gaza grinds painfully on with no end in sight; life is close to unlivable in Gaza and S’derot receives almost daily rocket attacks. Even Ashkelon is now regularly in the sights of rocketeers from Gaza. As if that were not enough, Hezbolah has effectively rearmed along the Lebanese border, and their sponsor, Iran, which has already vowed to “wipe Israel off the map,” moves closer every day to acquiring a nuclear bomb. So nu? What’s there to celebrate?

To answer that question, we need to look both backward and forward. Looking backward, we remember that 60 — that’s right, just 60 — years ago, there wasn’t even a State of Israel at all. We were struggling just to be in the country; no one knew if we would survive. When, in 1948, Ben Gurion declared our Independence, it was as much wishful thinking — or a prayer — as it was a reality. Since then, amazing things have been accomplished: a nation has been reborn; a language revitalized; a people, in many ways, renewed. No doubt, the current reality is far from perfect for us or for them. Even so, when one asks, “What is there to celebrate?” remembering where we came from helps us realize that indeed, we have much to be thankful for.

While looking backward helps us recognize the blessings that Israel, even today, embodies, looking forward reminds us of the ideal which Israel, as imperfect as it is, still reflects: the ideal of a people living in their own land, living by their own religious/cultural calendar, and realizing their own unique potential amongst the other nations of the world. In the context of the current conflict, it is difficult to remember the glory of Israel’s past or the promise of Israel’s future. Celebrating Israel Independence Day helps us put aside the images of violence and hatred we see on the TV and read in the paper, while opening up for us the memory of the miracle of a nation renewed and a people reborn. Beyond the realization of what has been accomplished is an even greater and more distant vision which Israel in the ideal represents: a homeland for the Jewish people, a center for the study of Torah in the broadest sense, and as the Prophet Micah proclaimed, a place of peace where “…they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.”

On Wednesday, May 7 at 6:00 pm we will celebrate Yom Ha’Atzmaut. Join us as we enjoy an Israeli feast for dinner and then Joel ben Izzy’s exceptional story telling!