Saturday, September 11, 2021 –
20 years later – Rabbi Lader will lead a short interfaith service of thought, community, and togetherness.9:00 a.m.Lakewood Park Gazebo, NE corner of the park. Please invite your friends and neighbors [Luis Fernandez will be leading Torah Study and the Shabbat Morning Service by Zoom that morning.]
Once again this year we have made arrangements with Blackbird Bakery in Lakewood
(1391 Sloane Ave, Lakewood, 44107)
to make Round Raisin Challahs for Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur.
They will be available at $5.50 each.
Call Blackbird to reserve your challah: 216-712-6599
Check out their website for a listing of all their delicacies: http://www.blackbirdbaking.com
[This d’var Torah is from Rabbi Jethro Berkman, a program officer in Jewish education for the Jack, Joseph and Morton Mandel Foundation, in Newton MA]Cultivating a Culture of GivingA D’var Torah for Ki Tavo – Deut. 26:1-29:8. One of my most vivid memories of attending Hebrew school as a child is the passing of the tzedakah box at the beginning of class. When I arrived at the synagogue and took my seat in class, the teacher would pass a wooden tzedakah box around. On the days I had remembered to grab some coins from my parents, I would proudly slide them through the slot and hear the satisfying clink of the coins in the box. On the days I forgot, I would murmur an excuse and pass the box on to a classmate, feeling a bit embarrassed. Although the money wasn’t my own, and I didn’t know exactly where the tzedakah was donated, this ritual conveyed powerful messages that have stayed with me: giving to those in need is important and is deeply intertwined with being Jewish; I am part of a community that gives; giving is a holy obligation; giving is something that happens regularly; Jewish spaces are spaces where giving happens. This week’s Torah portion, Ki Tavo, conveys some of these same messages. It is part of a web of laws and stories that have shaped the Jewish imperative to give to those in need and that surely lies behind the tzedakah box ritual in my Hebrew school classroom. Ki Tavo begins by linking material abundance with Jewish peoplehood and gratitude to God. When the harvest ripens each year, each Israelite is commanded to bring an offering of his “first fruits” to the Temple and then to recite a declaration of thanksgiving to God, offering gratitude for being redeemed from slavery and brought to the land of milk and honey. The declaration is followed by a commandment for Israelites to set aside a tenth of their yield every third year and to distribute it to “to the Levite, the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow, that they may eat their fill in your settlements.” (Deuteronomy 26:12) By linking giving to the stranger, fatherless, and widow with the bringing of the first fruits to the Temple, the Torah frames giving to the needy as a sacred act. By requiring giving in triennial cycles, the Torah [makes real the abstract of giving tzedakah] as a regular obligation, not an act of benevolence dependent on the stirring of one’s heart. And by linking the giving to the needy with the altar “where the ETERNAL your God will choose to establish [God’s] name” (Deuteronomy 26:2), the Torah locates giving in sacred space. One can see in these verses the framework for giving that was echoed millennia later in my Hebrew school classroom. With its image of a basket of first fruits and its command to tithe the yield of the harvest for the poor, this portion also evokes the specter of hunger, as real today as it was in biblical times. We are living through a time of significantly increased food insecurity for millions of Americans, due primarily to the COVID-19 epidemic. Experts estimate that more than 50 million Americans have experienced food insecurity during the pandemic, an increase of 15 million people since 2019. A friend who works for a local food bank told me he has never experienced demand for food support like he has in the past year. And with the disruptive effects of climate change on crop yields and the prospect of increased inflation on the horizon, food insecurity may continue to grow. Ki Tavo’s verses linking regular giving, God, and sacred space to crops and food have a powerful resonance during this time of food insecurity. It is concerning, then, that in this time of food insecurity both religiosity and individual charitable giving in America are in decline. While in 2000, some 66% of American households donated to charity, in 2018 (the last year for which we have comprehensive data) the number had dropped below 50% for the first time in decades. While it is difficult to prove a causal connection between these figures and America’s well-documented decline in religiosity, the correlation is notable. It seems quite possible that the decreased participation in religious community and spaces in our increasingly secular age has led to a decrease in charitable giving, and one worries about the effects on both local soup kitchens and food banks and national hunger-fighting charities in this time of need. For the sake of the food insecure in these difficult days, and for the future health of our country, I hope that Ki Tavo’s powerful linking of sacred space and religiosity to the obligation to give to those in need can be strengthened. As Americans increasingly seek spirituality and community outside of organized religion, community builders, religious and non-religious alike, must work to cultivate cultures of giving. Looking back on my childhood, I can’t think of another space or club or activity that celebrated and normalized giving to those in need the way my Hebrew school did. The sacred space of the synagogue was where I (and hundreds of my Hebrew school classmates) learned that it is right and normal and holy and expected to give tzedakah, where we absorbed our sense of obligation to give to those in need. May the places we gather, the communities we build and the spiritual messages we share continue to inspire giving to those in need.
The Jewish ideals of giving to those in need – tzedakah – were summarized and taught by Rabbi Moses Maimonides.
Instruction for the Jewish value of bal tashchit – do not destroy — do not waste…
Crowds are moved by great speakers, but lives are changed by great listeners…”
Attaching ourselves to God does not blur our individual identity, it sharpens it.
This week’s Torah portion is Ki Teitzei – Deut. 21:10-25:19, and contains one of the largest concentrations of mitzvot in the Torah, including the commandment to send away the mother bird before taking its young. In her commentary on this week’s portion, teacher and writer, Ilana Kurshan shares: The Torah does not give any reason for this commandment, and while we might assume it is a way of showing compassion to animals, the Talmud cautions against this way of thinking. As the rabbis argue (Mishnah Berachot 5:3), we cannot presume to know the reasons for God’s commandments; we must fulfill them because God commands us to do so, and not speculate further. In rabbinic literature, the commandment to send away the mother bird—described in just two verses in our parashah—becomes an occasion for exploring the inscrutability of God’s justice and the seeming arbitrariness of divine retribution. The Talmudic rabbis discuss the details of how this commandment must be performed at great length. The Torah teaches, “If, along the way, you chance upon a bird’s nest in any tree or on the ground, with fledglings or eggs and the mother sitting over the fledglings or on the eggs, do not take the mother together with her young” (22:6). The rabbis explain that “chance upon” indicates that this commandment does not apply to domesticated birds kept within the house, but only to birds one happens to come across while outside (Hullin 139a). They specify that even if there is only one egg or one fledgling in the nest, it is still necessary to send away the mother bird. Even if the mother is not sitting on the nest but merely hovering over it, it is necessary to send her away as long as her feathers are touching the eggs or fledglings. The rabbis note that in the next biblical verse, when the Torah says “Send the mother away and take the young for yourself,” the term for “send” is written in a doubled form (shaleach te’shalach), which they interpret as signifying that if the mother bird keeps returning to the nest, it is necessary to send her away repeatedly. Although the Torah does not give a reason for the commandment to send away the mother bird, it does stipulate the reward for doing so: “Send the mother away and take the young for yourself, in order that you may fare well and have a long life” (22:7). It is rare for the Torah to list a reward for performing a commandment; one of the only other instances is with the commandment to honor one’s father and mother “in order that you may have long life and fare well” (Deuteronomy 5:16). The Talmudic rabbis are troubled by all the cases in which people fulfill these commandments and do not receive the promised reward. On the final page of tractate Hullin (141b), they tell of one such incident: “There was once someone whose father said to him: Climb up to the top of the building and bring me fledglings, and he climbed to the top of the building and sent away the mother bird and took the offspring. But as he returned, he fell and died. Where is the length of days for this one?” How to account for the boy’s death while he was simultaneously fulfilling the two commandments for which the Torah promises long life?
The rabbis explain that although the Torah promises length of days for fulfilling these commandments, that reward refers not to this world, but to the world to come… They explain that “in order that you may have long life” refers to life in the world that is entirely long, and “that you may fare well” refers to the world that is entirely good. In this world divine justice seems completely arbitrary; bad things are forever happening to good people. But that is only because the world we live in is only part of a larger totality. What we see is not all there is, because there is another realm, the world to come, where justice will be served. This notion may not be very comforting to our secular, this-world-oriented sensibilities, and yet to the rabbis it was very clear that our human perspective is only a fraction of what God perceives… The Talmud’s discussion of the mitzvah to send away the mother bird concludes with a reference to the most famous (or infamous) ancient Jewish heretic, Elisha ben Abuya, known in the Talmud as Acher, meaning Other. According to one view, Elisha witnessed this incident of a boy plummeting to his death after sending away the mother bird as per his father’s instructions, and in response he became a heretic. The rabbis explain that he did not know that the Torah’s reward refers to the world to come, and thus he lost faith. [For an interesting historical novel, read As A Driven Leaf by Milton Steinberg.] Kurshan invites us to consider: “In the face of so much injustice in our world, it is sometimes hard to remember that what we see is not all there is. We can never fully understand the workings of divine justice, and perhaps it would be presumptuous to try to do so. May an awareness of our own limited perspective instill in us a deep sense of humility in the face of a world so much larger and more complex than any of us can fully make sense of, or even sense.” D’var Acher – Another Word/Perspective… from Rabbi Harold Kushner: “The painful things that happen to us are not punishments for our misbehavior, nor are they in any way part of some grand design on God’s part. Because the tragedy is not God’s will, we need not feel hurt or betrayed by God when tragedy strikes. We can turn to Him for help in overcoming it, precisely because we can tell ourselves that God is as outraged by it as we are…” Read more about When Bad Things Happen to Good People here.
Instruction for the Jewish value of bal tashchit – do not destroy — do not waste…
Crowds are moved by great speakers, but lives are changed by great listeners…”
Attaching ourselves to God does not blur our individual identity, it sharpens it.
What does it mean to be wise? Is it insight? Good judgement? Common sense? An orderly and balanced sense?
From Ken Dunn, Social Action Co-chair: Help us win $1,000 toward a sustainability project with The Brit Challenge! As a Seal of Sustainability site, we support our community’s dedication to green practices.
The Brit Hazon is a personal commitment to change for the planet. Each person who signs up brings us one point closer to the $1,000 grand prize.
Signing up is easy!
Visit Hazon.org/brit and select from 1 of 6 guided paths or lead yourself through the Brit Hazon. Make sure you select Beth Israel – The West Temple as your community group. And if you join their Facebook Group, too, we get a bonus point!
Anyone can sign up with our community group, so please share this with your friends & family!
NEXT Saturday, August 28th – In Preparation for the High Holy Days…
7:30 p.m. – Zoom in for our Selichot Program, followed by Selichot Service led by Rabbi Enid Lader and Larry Sheir “Sacred Seasons – Sacred Times” Join us as we welcome Rabbi Jill Hammer, Ph.D. as she discusses the role of ritual as wejourney through the year and through our livesJill Hammer is the Director of Spiritual Education at the Academy for Jewish Religion. Jill is the author of three books: “Sisters at Sinai: New Tales of Biblical Women” (JPS, 01) and “The Jewish Book of Days: A Companion for All Seasons” (JPS, 06), and “Return to the Place: The Magic, Meditation, and Mystery of Sefer Yetzirah” (Ben Yehuda Press, ’20). She is the co-founder of the Kohenet Institute, a program in Jewish women’s spiritual leadership. An essayist, poet, midrashist and ritualist, her work has been in publications including Zeek Magazine, The Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion, The Torah: A Women’s Commentary, The Forward, The Jewish Spectator, and Lilith as well as on-line on many websites. Zoom in for the Selichot Program and Service:https://us02web.zoom.us/j/84862199429?pwd=Q3UyaldMVjhmZHJtdzN4OXBnREF6UT09 Meeting ID: 848 6219 9429Passcode: 539504Dial in: 646 876 9923
Since we will be livestreaming our High Holy Day Services, You can pick up your prayer books for the High Holy Days: Sundays – August 22nd, 29th, and September 5th11:00 a.m. – 1:00 p.m. Or call the temple office to make other arrangements216-941-8882
Also included: Calendar for the 5782/New Year and, if you would like one, a Yahrzeit Candle (for Yom Kippur)
Pick up your prayer books… and drop off food donations… Each year, a highlight of our High Holy Day season is supporting the work of SCAN Hunger Pantry. We will have collection boxes by the temple’s rear entrance to receive your generous (and timely, i.e. non-expired) donations of canned and boxed foods, or you can send your tzedakah donations to: SCAN c/o 11556 White Tail Run, Columbia Station, OH 44028.
Emily Volz, daughter of Beth Darmstadter, is a rabbinic student at the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York, and a graduate of Oberlin College (with degrees in Jewish and Gender Studies) and a graduate of our religious school. I wanted to share her recent email with our congregation, as she updates us on how she will be donating her kidney, and includes information on organ donation. Our prayers for a refuah sheleimah – a complete healing – are with her and her recipient… and I hope to share post-operative updates as I receive them.
Dear Family, Friends, Professors, Rabbis, and Colleagues—
If you’re receiving this email, it’s either because you have requested that I keep you abreast of significant updates regarding my intention to donate my kidney, or because I assume that you would be interested in hearing this update. You likely already know this, but I have been planning on and actively working towards donating my kidney to a stranger for just over a year now. I’ll spare you of the many details that have transpired over the past twelve months (but feel free to ask if there is anything more you would like to know or need to be convinced that this decision isn’t reflective of a loss of sanity on my part), except to say the following: Surgery has been officially scheduled for Thursday, August 5th, at 11:00 am, at New York Presbyterian-Columbia. Now, even though this is less than two weeks away, we still have to hope that any number of things won’t go wrong on either mine or the recipient’s end. I have some pre-op labs and appointments this week, just to make sure that I have remained healthy since my initial battery of medical tests late last year. I imagine that no major surprises will be discovered, but I suppose the definition of a surprise is that it is unexpected. I have been reflecting on an excerpt from Bereishit Rabbah 95:3 (with thanks to Aryeh Bernstein, whom I do not personally know, but whose post on his own kidney donation is where I originally encountered this text): “…But at that point [the time of the Patriarchs], Torah had not yet been given, yet it is written about Avraham, ‘And he has kept my charge: [My commandments, my laws, and my teachings/Torah]’ (Genesis 26:5). So from where did Avraham learn the Torah?! Rabbi Shim’on says: his two kidneys became like two pitchers of water, and they flowed Torah. And from where is it that this can be so? ‘My kidneys instruct me in morals at night’ (Psalms 16:7).” Humorous mental image of talking kidneys aside, I think there is truth in the idea that the enterprise of teaching and learning Torah is a profoundly embodied act. I believe that Rabbi Shim’on is revealing a truth that remains fundamental today: we are sustained by both the mental and physical strengths of the people around us. These are not separable realms, and (in my opinion) we all face a moral obligation to sustain life by giving both of our minds and of our bodies. According to Rabbi Shim’on, we have Torah flowing through our bodies, and, according to me, we must be willing to give of this source in order to be considered authentically engaged in matters of Torah. Kidney donation also calls on a lot of metaphors of childbirth, at least for me. In this weekend’s New York Times Magazine, I read a wonderful article by Leslie Jamison, a favorite author of mine, called “The Imperial Cut: A Personal History of the C-section”. In describing the history of the caesarean section, Jamison quotes an earlier (1925) history of the procedure by Herbert Spencer, who calls it “the greatest of all operations, in that is directly affects two lives”. I was immediately struck by the realization that any living organ donation surgery also fits into this rare surgical category. However, whereas a c-section represents the severing of the physical connection between two lives, donor nephrectomy represents the beginning. By the time I wake up from my procedure (with an incision that will scar to closely resemble one from a c-section), my life will be entangled with that of a woman who is presently a stranger to me. These parallels have been floating in my mind for quite some time now, to the point that about a month ago I dreamt of a surgeon pulling out my kidney to find that it had been attached to me via an umbilical cord. I am holding these two ideas—kidney donation as an exchange of Torah and kidney donation as echoing birth—as I move forward towards next Thursday, and then hopefully through a smooth recovery process. If you are of the davening/praying type, my Hebrew name is Amalya Miriam bat Batya עמליה מרים בת בתיה, and for those who are of the Tehillim-reciting type, I am asking people to recite Psalm 16 for me on the day of my surgery. There will be more to follow sometime soon in regards to a Meal Train and other types of support/bikkur cholim; if you are local to NYC and would like to be looped in to that, please let me know. L’chayim—to life,Emily P.S. – I have been meaning to send out an ‘annual letter update’ of sorts for many months, and pledge to get around to it before my surgery, so be on the lookout for that if you fall into the ‘friends and family’ categories. P.P.S. – My surgeon is supportive of my request to take a picture of my kidney after its removal. Let me know if you’d like to see that (to avoid traumatizing this entire listserv).
Last week we shared that Emily Volz was having surgery this past Thursday to donate one of her kidneys. The surgery on Thursday was successful; Emily got to speak with the very grateful recipient before their surgeries. Emily is now home from the hospital and looks forward to a 3-4 weeks recovery. We wish them both continued renewal of body and spirit.
Our Torah portion this week is Re’eh – Deut. 11:26-16:17. Moses continues to set the parameters for creating a supportive social structure, as the Israelites prepare to enter the Promised Land. Chapter 15 paints the idealistic picture that “[T]here will be no needy among you… if only you heed the Eternal your God and take care to keep all this Instruction that I enjoin upon you this day…” (Deut. 15:4-5) Then, verses 7-8 come to a more realistic vision and action to take: “If, however, there is a needy person among you… in any of your settlements… do not harden your heart and shut your hand against your needy kin. Rather you must open your hand and lend him sufficient for whatever he needs.” (15:7-8) In order to give people a sufficient amount for what they need, one must have an idea, some level of understanding of what they are going through. Understanding implies active listening, taking seriously what people are sharing and experiencing. In verse 8, the Hebrew that is translated as “…You must open your hand to him…” is a doubling of the word for open: Ki fato-ach tiftach et yadcha lo. When there is a doubling of a Hebrew word in the text, this implies emphasis. Rashi (1040-1105) teaches that the doubling of the instruction to do this implies doing this many times. By doing this many times, the person develops the midot (character traits) of lev patuach (open heartedness) and n’divut (generosity). In other words, the opening of one’s hand can lead to the opening of one’s heart — and/or perhaps vis versa. The Jewish ideals of giving to those in need – tzedakah – were summarized and taught by Rabbi Moses Maimonides (RaMBaM) – 1138-1204.
Maimonides believed that there are different ways one can give to those in need; it is like a ladder with eight rungs, from bottom to top. Each step you climb brings you to a higher level of giving:
Note that there is no rung for those who do not give. The giving of tzedakah is a “given;” how you choose to do so is up to you.
Crowds are moved by great speakers, but lives are changed by great listeners…”
Attaching ourselves to God does not blur our individual identity, it sharpens it.
What does it mean to be wise? Is it insight? Good judgement? Common sense? An orderly and balanced sense?
In essence, the Torah is saying that there is inherent value to journeys, to life experiences.
This week’s Torah portion is Shoftim – Deut. 16:18-21:9, and includes the instruction for the Jewish value of bal tashchit – do not destroy — do not waste… Rabbi Rachmiel Gurwitz, writing for T’ruah – the rabbinic call for human rights, teaches: “We create tons of waste. Each person generates about five pounds a day. In our fast-paced society where convenience and cost are supremely valued, the result is a “disposable” lifestyle. From to-go containers to plastic packaging, old clothes and millions of other items, we are quite accustomed to tossing things in the landfill. Waste, though, is not just bad for the environment, it is a biblical prohibition. We read in Shoftim :
When in your war against a city you have to besiege it a long time in order to capture it, lo tashchit – you must not destroy its trees, wielding the ax against them. You may eat of them, but you must not cut them down. For is the tree of the field a person, that it should be besieged by you? (Deuteronomy 20:19-20)
The setting is striking. Even during a war, a moment of life and death, the Torah implores us: Do not destroy. All the more so in our own lives when the choice is far less drastic, we must always search and seek out ways to avoid unnecessary destructive action… Rambam (12th century, Spain & Egypt) basing his interpretation on numerous examples in the Talmud, wrote that the mitzvah of bal tashchit goes beyond just preserving fruit trees: “Do not destroy fruit-trees (wantonly or in warfare), nor may anything else be (wantonly) destroyed.” (Sefer Mitzvot, Lo Ta’aseh 57) He sees this mitzvah as far more expansive. Destruction without purpose is a violation of the Torah. It seems odd, though, to read what seems like a narrow context so expansively. It is understandable that fruit trees that support human survival would be protected from destruction, but Rambam… focuses on the act of destruction, as opposed to the thing that is being destroyed. Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch (19th century Germany)… frames the lo ta’aseh (“thou shalt not”) of bal tashchit in the context of creation. Creation is a divine act, so to destroy is a violation of that initial divine action. When we dispose of things prematurely, we flippantly discard the creative divine energy within them.
Bal tashchit compels us to reflect on our own lives and the waste we generate. Where are places we can reduce our waste, change wasteful habits, or give items new life? It might mean taking on new commitments, like pledging to shop only secondhand or use only reusable plastic containers, composting, switching to digital billing, or using cloth diapers. It is incredibly difficult to break fully free from our disposable culture, but bal tashchit is a call to action urging us to think about the full life cycle of the things we need and use each day… We too should be distressed by wanton waste, and it is all around us. We live in a luxurious time where many of us can afford to toss the old and buy something new. Let’s first ask ourselves, is there some way to mend, repair, repurpose, reuse, pass down, recycle, donate, gift, sell, or give this item a second life in some way? Through this process we will not only fulfill the mitzvah of bal tashchit, but join in the creative and spiritual cycle (and recycle) of all things.” * You might wonder why, if the Hebrew from our Torah portion says – lo tashchit, why is the mitzvah called bal tashchit? The term we use – bal tashchit – comes from the Aramaic; “bal” is the Aramaic equivalent of “don’t [do this]”.
Attaching ourselves to God does not blur our individual identity, it sharpens it.
What does it mean to be wise? Is it insight? Good judgement? Common sense? An orderly and balanced sense?
In essence, the Torah is saying that there is inherent value to journeys, to life experiences.
We walk in the footsteps of the Rabbis who understood the damage done by extremism.
