“A Winter Without Snow: What’s G-d Got to Do with It?”
By Rabbi Meredith Cahn, ‘11

It didn’t snow much this winter in the Sierra, where I live now. This week, the Tahoe Weather Geek shared the final snowpack report for this winter: only 40% of normal fell in the Sierra. People all over the mountains are suffering economic hardship; unemployment, bankruptcy and hunger. Indeed, our local food bank is serving twice the number of people this year as last year, when the snow fell in abundance and the tourists arrived in droves. Elsewhere in California, predictions of drought are causing much quaking in boots, for good reason.

With this in mind, it’s hard not to think about the opening verses in Bechukotai, the second of this week’s double torah portions:

If you follow My laws and faithfully observe My commandments, I will grant your rains in their season, so that the earth shall yield its produce and the trees of the field their fruit. Your threshing shall overtake the vintage, and your vintage shall overtake the sowing; you shall eat your fill of bread and dwell securely in your land. (Leviticus 26:3-5)

These verses commence five blessings and curses that are echoed later in Deuteronomy 11:13-15, the verses we internalize as the second paragraph after the Sh’ma. Jacob Milgrom writes in his commentary of Leviticus that these blessings or curses, including our expulsion from the Land, would come as a result of our not resting the land during its Sabbatical and Jubilee years. If the curse comes, it will be because we will have broken covenant with G-d, but we will have also broken covenant with the land itself, and by doing so, been exiled.

Should we think that the lack of snow—and the ensuing economic catastrophe—result from our breaking the covenant and G-d’s punishment/curse for not treating the land well; for not recognizing that the earth does not belong to us and we have to treat it well?

Many people reject that idea out of hand, because their image of the Divine does not act in such a way, in such a tit for tat manner. But what if this possible effect of climate change is indeed a product of our abandoning our task of stewardship, our turning to the gods of greed and comfort? What if the choices we have made are coming home to roost, and we will be paying the price for generations to come, for as many generations as we did not give the land its Sabbatical and Jubilee rests?

Our behavior matters in the life of the planet, and Bechukotai catalogs an ancient version of the potential blessings and curses for living up to our end of the covenant. When we lose sight of our responsibilities for more than the bottom line, we risk everything. As Wallace Stegner writes,

Something will have gone out of us as a people if we ever let the remaining wilderness be destroyed; if we permit the last virgin forests to be turned into comic books and plastic cigarette cases; if we drive the few remaining members of the wild species into zoos or to extinction; if we pollute the last clear air and dirty the last clean streams and push our paved roads through the last of the silence.”

May we preserve those remnants. Shabbat shalom.

“Come closer to Me”
By Belle Michael, AJRCA Fourth Year Rabbinic Student

We are counting the days now towards the festival of Shavuot. This Jewish holiday celebrates a mythical moment of revelation. We experience a wholesome encounter with G-d.  As we are preparing ourselves both physically and spiritually for this sacred meeting, we read in our parasha (Leviticus 23:2):

“דבר אל בני ישראל ואמרת אלהם מועדי ה’ אשר תקראו אותם מקרא קודש אלה הם מועדי”

“Speak to the Israelite people and say to them: “These are My fixed times, the fixed times of the Lord, which you shall proclaim as sacred occasions” (JPS translation).  The root KARA means “to call”; therefore, “Mikraei Kodesh”– could be understood to mean sacred callings. In Leviticus 23, G-d lists the times He/She would expect the people of Israel to come for a meeting. It is surprising to find out that the All Mighty G-d is the One who is calling us. Isn’t it amazing that G-d wants to meet us?

Not only does G-d want to meet us, but G-d also provides us with a detailed time frame and structured ritual for these sacred encounters. At these sacred meetings, the priests play a significant role mainly by officiating with “Korbanot” (that is, sacrifices). The word “Korban (sacrifice) in its different conjugations and variations appears repeatedly in this passage. The medieval commentator, Rashi, explained that “Korban” comes from the root KARAV, which means to come closer.

Reading this week’s parasha, I got the sense that G-d is calling us, “Come closer, Come to meet Me,” and makes sure that we have many opportunities to do so. Like a longing parent or companion, G-d wants us to know when, where, and how we can meet: “Come for Shabbat, “Come for Rosh Hashanah,” “Come to see me on Sukkoth.”

Apparently, it is not only G-d who is longing for connection and meeting; we all are. We all are waiting for someone to call us and reconnect. Some of us do so in lightning and thunder, and others with a still, quiet voice.

Coming   closer to G-d starts with coming closer to Adonai’s creatures – to human beings. Martin Buber stated that the way to a relationship with G-d is through real contacts with people and nature. ”In each Thou, we address the Eternal Thou.” According to Buber, “All real life is meeting.”

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel heard G-d’s call and urged us to act, saying that our deeds and actions are responses to that call. Through deeds and actions, we meet G-d.

This understanding of G-d’s calling aroused in me a personal memory. I thought of my grandmother, Baba Koka, calling in her gentle voice: “Come to see me on Shabbat –I’ll bake you shtrudel”; “Come for Shavuot”– I’ll make you blintzes..”

Unfortunately, we have lost Baba Koka to Alzheimer’s disease, and I can no longer connect with her.  I miss her so much.

This painful memory makes me regret missed opportunities for meeting. It also makes me wonder what other opportunities I am missing to come close to others. How can I come closer to G-d without coming closer to Adonai’s human family?

On this Shabbat, maybe this will be your question too. On this Shabbat, surely each of us can find the time to call and make somebody happy to hear from us.

Shabbat shalom

“Loving the Un-Lovable”
By Rabbi Eli Schochet, PhD, AJRCA Professor of Talmud

An election year is proverbially characterized by politicians doing a great deal of kissing.  But upon whom do our candidates for public office choose to bestow their oscillatory gifts? Not upon the infirm elderly in hospital rooms, nor upon the unwashed, impoverished skid-row denizens.  It is invariably the cute, cooing, fragrantly scented little baby who is the helpless recipient of politicians’ slobbering smooches. This is perfectly understandable, is it not?  If you are to kiss, kiss the kissable.

According to Rabbi Akiva, the most important of all mitzvot in the Torah is the injunction appearing in this morning’s Torah reading bidding us “Thou shalt love your fellow as yourself.”  This maxim encompasses the essence of the faith of Israel—to strive to engage in loving behaviors toward our fellows.  However, one may inquire, who is the “fellow” we are bidden to love?  Clearly some fellows are decidedly less lovable than others.

Abraham Joshua Heschel’s ancestor, the Ropitchnitzer Rebbe, in addressing his Hasidic followers, emphasized that this mitzvah does not apply only to one’s “frum” fellow.  It is easy to relate lovingly to the “like” and to bestow affection upon one’s fellow streimel and kapote bedecked Hasid.  But what about the bare headed non-believer?  What about the Litvak?  Need one love such a person as well?  Replied the Ropitchnitzer Rebbe…One is obligated by this mitzvah to love the other, the unlike, even the unlovable.

The immediately preceding lines in our Torah portion enjoin us not to hate others in our heart and to refrain from bearing grudges and exacting vengeance from our fellows.

I recently attended a concert by Neshama Carlebach at my old shul, Shomrei Torah Synagogue, and I recalled a powerful moment in the life of Neshama’s father, Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach, that focused on the injunction not to hate.  Over the years Shlomo had performed on concert stages in countries all over the world except for one country, Germany.  He could never bring himself to sing on German soil, he was precluded from doing so by the haunting horrors of the Holocaust.

But then there came a shocking turn of events.  Carlebach performed a concert in Berlin!  Some of his followers were incredulous and enraged.  “How could you do it, Shlomo?”  “How could you possibly go to sing on that cursed, blood-drenched, German soil?”  Replied Shlomo, “If G-d had given me two neshamas (souls), I would probably not have gone there, for one of my souls would have persisted in hating, but since the Rebbono shel Olam gave me only one neshama, how can I continue to pollute it with hatred?”

Agree or disagree, one must respect the agony underlying Shlomo’s decision.  At times it is all too easy to hate the “hate-able” and persist in one’s hatred.  At times it is difficult to love the “unlovable”, and so we persist in limiting our kisses to cute babies.  Our Torah presents us with a difficult challenge.  We are bidden to strive to love our fellow humans, even those difficult to love, and should love fail us at these times, at least let not hatred possess us.

“Illness: A Message from G-d?”
By Rabbi Avivah W. Erlick, ‘11

When I work as a hospital chaplain, I look up a patient’s diagnosis and age before I meet them. It gives me a starting point for our conversation. Strangely, though, it sometimes tells me what they are like as people. Men in their 30s through 50s with heart troubles, for example, tend to be independent business owners who never let themselves take a day off. They will sit in their hospital beds, their chests hooked up to medical devices, and tap away at their laptop computers, afraid to miss even an hour of potential work time. Women in their 50s through 70s with pneumonia, on the other hand, often are caregivers to members of their immediate family. They will speak at length about their family members’ problems, and how they commit all their time and energy to assisting them, yet feel powerless to truly help.

When I ask folks if they know why they are sick, they often have no answer. Illness comes from nowhere, they say, and interferes with your plans. When can they break free of their hospitalization and return to their lives?

Perhaps Miriam felt the same when she contracted a terrible case of tzara’at. Tzara’at looked like an eerie skin disease; it turned Miriam “white as snow,” we learn in the Book of Numbers. Her illness was not random, however; it was a punishment from G-d for gossiping about her brother, Moses. Moses, however, held no grudges, begging G-d to cure her by intoning the mantra, “El Na, Refah Na La” (Please, G-d, heal her. Please!).

This week’s parsha, Tazria-Metzora, is a double-dose of Levitical rules about the care and treatment of tzara’at, as well as other conditions that seem to blur the lines between the physical and emotional/spiritual worlds.

While Western medicine often takes the approach that illness is something to be tackled and cured, a random ailment with no particular connection between body and soul, Tazria-Metzora takes a different tack. The connection is not just detectable, it’s obvious. We can, and do, bring on our own illnesses by our behaviors. Not on purpose; not every time; and, like Moses, it is never appropriate to blame the ill for what they are doing to themselves, even when we see it clearly and they do not.

This week is also the third between Passover and Shavuot. We are halfway through the Omer Count, permuting the aspects of the Sefirah (G-d-aspect) of Tiferet (Harmony). Tiferet, which is pictured at the heart, teaches the middle course. Avraham Ya’akov Finkel in his book, In My Flesh I See God, explains this middle road well:

“Generosity is the happy medium between stinginess and wastefulness; courage, between recklessness and cowardice; dignity, between pridefulness and boorishness. Friendliness … between aggressiveness and submissiveness, humility … between arrogance and self-abasement; contentedness, between greed and laziness; and goodheartedness … between meanness and extravagance.”

Everything in moderation, as they say. No achievement and no helping are worth losing our lives. This is not G-d’s will for us. Our health can be the barometer.

Shabbat Shalom.

“And the World Was Silent”
By Rabbi Cecilia Herzfeld-Stern, ‘11

Fire and silence.  In a strange way, they go together.  There is power in fire, in its capacity to create, or transform, as well as to destroy.  Depending upon the outcome, we are transfixed in a silent awe or horror.  At such times, we are rendered speechless, and silence seems to be the only response we can have.  But is it always?

The image of fire is used dramatically in biblical narratives to convey G-d as Creator or Destroyer. This week’s parsha, Shemini, contains an especially enigmatic example:

The sons of Aaron, Nadab and Abihu, each took his fire pan, put fire in them, placed incense upon it, and brought it before HaShem [the unspeakable Name of G-d], an alien fire HaShem had not commanded them.  A fire came forth from before HaShem and consumed them; and they died before HaShem…and Aaron was silent (Lev 10:1-3)

Though biblical commentary is replete with numerous speculations about the strange fire, and inadequate explanations for why G-d would make “burnt offerings” of his priests, only Rashi, the great medieval commentator, addresses Aaron’s silence directly.  He wrote:  “He [Aaron] received a reward for this silence.  And what was it?  That a divine utterance came to him privately.”  What could Rashi mean by this?  How can one be “rewarded” for a response of silence to the horrific death of his sons?  And, what is this “divine utterance”?

Biblical commentary always begins with the Hebrew.  Noted German theologian and biblical scholar, H.F.W. Gesenius, in his Hebrew-Chaldee Lexicon to the Old Testament, extrapolates on the Hebrew word yeedom, translated as silent or “hold his peace” in this verse:

“This root [d-m-m] is…an imitation of the sound of the shut mouth (hm, dm)…to be dumb, applied both to silence and quietness, and to the stupefaction of one who is lost in wonder and astonishment; in the causative and transitive conjugations, it is applied to destruction and desolation, inasmuch as things or places which are destroyed and made desolate, are still and quiet.”

Again, silence has a different quality dependent upon the experience.  Aaron’s initial silence might have been shock at his sons’ creative fire offering (an “alien fire G-d had not commanded of them”) becoming a destructive burnt sacrifice of them.  Perhaps the “stupefaction” gave way to “stillness” or “quiet,” in which Aaron was “rewarded” with the divine utterance of G-d that the prophet Elijah later heard, kol d’mamah dakau, literally the “sound of silence” (I Kings 19:12).  Perhaps, this place brought Aaron divine comfort and strength in his grief, as the psalmist wrote:  “Truly my soul waits quietly (d’umeeyah) for G-d…Truly G-d is my rock and deliverance, my haven; I shall never be shaken” (Ps 62:1-3).

As we make our way through this text, we are reminded of another “strange fire”—in this week’s commemoration of Yom HaShoah.   We are reminded of the silence, the shock, the “stupefaction” of the world, “lost in astonishment to the destruction and desolation,” that defied any human comprehension. The human mind still tries to make sense of what is incomprehensible, when silence is the most appropriate response.   As the late Slonimer Rebbe* expressed so poignantly:

“A person’s heart and brain are incapable of grasping what happened here [in the Shoah].  There is no expression for this, for natural human emotions are too inconsequential to feel pain of such breadth and horrible depth.  Only mute silence, as it says, ‘And Aharon was silent,’ expresses our crushed hearts, better than any expression, which is not appropriate or correct for such a matter.”

(Al Hahashmada v’haChurban)

*(Almost all of the Slonimer Hasidim in Belarus, Europe perished during the Shoah.)

Perhaps, Aaron’s initial silence of his “crushed heart” gave way to the silence of his faith—where the prophets heard the Divine Utterance.   Biblically, this inner guidance always led to outer action.  G-d would not leave the prophets alone until they spoke out against the injustices of their times. And, so, too, our initial shock to atrocities in the world needs to give way to appropriate action.

The world’s silent response to the Shoah was deafening and oppressive.  As Nobel Peace Prize survivor Elie Wiesel wrote:

“The victim suffered more…profoundly from the indifference of the onlookers than from the brutality of the executioner…It was the silence of those he believed to be his friends—cruelty more cowardly, more subtle—which broke his heart…If this is the human society we come from—and now are abandoned by—why seek to return?”

There were few who were able to hear the stories so necessary for healing.  Once the world was finally ready to listen, there has been a continuous outpouring of unending grief—too overwhelming for our fragile psyches to confront, much less address. Yet, confront and address it we must.  What we do not face and deal with, rules our lives—collectively as well as individually. The Shoah represents the worst, and perhaps even the best, of what we, as human beings, are capable. We need to look at, and remember, it all.

The Shoah is receding into history, into the recesses of our forgetfulness, soon to be a distant memory, to which we cannot relate.  Rather than surrender it to the many simplistic clichés that already accompany its residence there, we need to engage with the struggles we have with this history.  Our initial shock of silence to atrocities in the world needs to give way to appropriate action.  Numbing silence can fuel destructive fires.  The divine utterance of wisdom can lead to tikkun olam, the repair of the world.  May we have the courage to listen and respond to the deafening silences of the world.

“In the Place where the Lord shall choose”
By Gregory D. Metzger, AJRCA Third Year Rabbinical Student

I love Passover!  It is by far my favorite holiday.

“You shall eat it before the Lord, your G-d, year by year, in the place the Lord chooses-you and your household” – Deuteronomy 15:20

Where is the place that G-d chooses?

I grew up in a Jewish family.  We did not spend lot of time in synagogue, nor did we speak a lot of Hebrew. Yet I was always aware that we were Jewish and that Judaism meant something.  Passover was the one holiday that we observed “religiously”.  And it was at my Grandparents’ table that I first learned about being Jewish. For me, this table was “in the place the Lord chooses. . .”

At the Seder, my Grandfather taught me about Torah and the history of the Jews.  He taught with words from the Haggadah and shared insights into the meaning of all the symbols and readings.  My Grandmother taught with deeds. For her “All who are hungry, let them enter and eat. All who are in need, let them come celebrate Pesach”, was a sacred and joyous commandment.  She would always go out of her way to find “strangers” and bring them home for a meal.  My mother would talk with passion about all the people in the world who were currently enslaved and what we needed to do to liberate them.  My father would talk with great sadness about the Warsaw Ghetto and the absence of G-d’s hand in the moment of need.  We always had a large table and discussions ran long and often became heated.  In the end, we ate drank wine and sang songs.

“You shall eat it within your cities, the unclean and the clean together . . .” Deuteronomy 15:22

Where is the place that G-d chooses? 

This year, I love Passover.  Again, I am blessed to attend Seders at California Jails and Prisons.  Pesach is a particularly meaningful holiday for Jewish inmates. They teach me about “the place that G-d chooses”.  They share insights into “Mitzrayim”.  They know that they are not slaves or captives of the State, but of their own making:

“Yet, amazingly, prison became a doorway that helped me escape that narrow place – Mitzrayim, Egypt – in my life”  – D.M. (inmate).

“I choose happiness.  I experience freedom each day.  I have a good life even in prison.”   - L.J. (inmate)

“No. There are no chains to bind my mind or my voice.  Nothing to keep me from climbing the mountain that will heal me.  It is there that Torah teaches me love, kindness, foregeviness and wisdom” – E.H. (inmate)

Inmates teach that this awareness, found in the Torah, the Haggadah and the traditions of Judaism brings about freedom from an inner slavery.  In Prisons and Jails, we always have a large table; discussions run long and often became heated.  In the end, we eat, drink juice and sing songs.

“Seven days you shall celebrate the Festival to the Lord, your G-d, in the place which the Lord shall choose, because the Lord, your G-d, will bless you in all your produce, and in all the work of your hands, and you will only be happy.” – Deuteronomy 16:15

We know the place that G-d chooses.  It is in the place where and when we choose to let G-d in.

“Where is G-d to be found? In the place where He is given entry” – Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk.

Wherever you choose to observe Passover, whenever you choose to celebrate freedom, May you be blessed to have a large table, May you be blessed to have great discussions that run long and become heated.  And, in the end, may you be blessed to eat, drink and sing songs. May you be blessed to be the Place where the Lord shall choose.

All who are hungry, all who are in need, let them come to The Place, let them celebrate Pesach!

“With Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness for All”
By Elisabeth Kesten, First Year AJRCA Rabbinical Student

Pesach: Yetziat Mitzraim means liberation.

And how are we supposed to celebrate?  “Ve’samachta B’Chagecha” – by being happy.

How are these two related? Very easy, only truly free people can be happy.  As long as a person is in the clutches of …….. (fill in his/her limitations/bad habits/addictions/moods/etc……..) he/she can’t be truly happy. Only people who are ‘grown’ up spiritually can be happy.

Strangely, as the Constitution has it, we actually need to pursue happiness, just as the Torah commanding us to celebrate in happiness. Pursuing happiness means actively strengthening the middot we need for a happier life.

To grow up, we need to be grateful. “You took us out of the Land of Milk and Honey,” complained the Israelites to Moses.  Ingratitude doesn’t contribute to happiness, taking things for granted without appreciating them is a recipe for misery.

To grow up we need to accept responsibility for ourselves. “We miss the free fish and the garlic in Egypt.” This mentality is the reason that the Israelites had to stay in the desert for 40 years. They had to outgrow the immature slave mentality, the wish that you don’t have to take care of yourself, but that someone else should do it.

To grow up we need to stop complaining.  Complaining and whining doesn’t contribute to happiness because there is not much reached by complaining, besides making our lives more miserable, and happiness will be far from us.

To grow up we need to learn perseverance and forget about instant gratification.  “We want meat.” They want it now, and Moses is desperate. Expecting instant gratification is a big factor in attaining unhappiness, especially when it comes to more complex desires. One example is praying. If someone goes to shul once and expects to “feel a spiritual high”, or even expects an answer to his/her prayers, this person is like a child who believes in a fairy godmother.  There is no instant gratification in spirituality.  Perseverance is the secret, don’t give up. You will not know the outcome, but just the fact of not giving up will contribute to our happiness.

To grow up we need to accept the responsibility and the consequences of our mistakes and sins. Blaming others when we make mistakes will make us unhappy.  (“The woman that YOU gave me, gave me the fruit and I ate,” was Adam’s answer to G-d.)  Not accepting responsibility is a very juvenile trait that can be seen in many children.  Kids never say: “I dropped the glass.” It’s, “It fell!” As if it happened by itself! As Aaron said to Moses, “I threw gold into the fire, and out came this calf.”

To grow up we need to control our emotions. Throwing tantrums is another sign of an unhappy person.  After such tantrums there is much unhappiness to deal with, like having to apologize, being known as an uncontrolled person, and inspiring fear in others, instead of love and good thoughts, etc.

To grow up we need to use our value-system to make judgments. Basing our actions and on our feelings, will not make us happy. We will re-act instead of acting. Nobody should judge others based on feelings, but we should judge people/issues/opinions based on values.  After all, feelings can be bad!  Pharaoh felt, that it was a good idea to enslave the Israelites and kill Jewish baby boys.

Alas, this is a long (probably not even complete) list of obstacles to happiness!  All of these above mentioned traits are impeding happiness and the ability to grow up spiritually.  It is childish behavior that makes us unhappy.

So Pesach is celebrating growing up to gain the freedom to make responsible choices.

The Torah wants us to grow up, to become truly free human beings, free from human domination, free from childish urges, free from serving some “thing,” in order to be free to serve G-d.

The Torah teaches us that happiness is related to holiness and goodness. It also teaches that actions are more important than thoughts. As all behavioral psychologists know – if we act happy, we will feel happy (in most cases) and we’ll be able to increase not just joy and happiness in the world, but also peace – because happy people don’t go around committing crimes and murdering innocents.

Chag Pesach sameach!

Prior to assuming the position of Chief Financial Officer, Ralph Mannheimer was a long-time lay leader with the Academy serving as a member of the Board of Directors as well as Chair of the Finance Committee. Mr. Mannheimer has also held leadership positions in other nonprofit organizations including serving as President of B’nai B’rith’s Woodland Hills Chapter, Temple Solael in Canoga Park, CA and the San Fernando Valley Chapter of the American Society of Financial Professionals. He holds a Bachelor of Science degree in Business Administration from California State University, Northridge.

“Becoming Closer to G-d”
By Rabbi Paul Shleffar, ‘06

In this week’s Parsha, Tzav, G-d, speaks to Moses instructing him to relate to Aaron and his sons, the instructions for the Olah, the burnt offering as well as for the management of the fire on the altar. The word tzav, which is at the root of the word mitzvah, is interpreted by many commentators to mean “to draw near.” It has been said that the Torah is, in fact, a relationship manual which teaches us not only how to relate to other human beings, but to the world around us; and to be near G-d. It seems that by prescribing these difficult, dirty and mundane activities for the priests, the Torah is actually showing us a way to be closer to G-d. It is showing us that it is possible to find that closeness in everything we do throughout our day.

Pesach is upon us and we would do well to remember the reasons for our redemption from slavery in Egypt, which, according to the Torah, is to serve G-d. When we pray in the synagogue, it is called a prayer service, the priests in the Temple were performing the Avodah, the sacrificial service. It is here that we begin to see the deeper meaning to what many of us often see as an anachronism, for what does it mean to serve G-d in these days or in our daily lives? What does G-d want from us? Is it prayer? Is it ritual sacrifice?  The Zohar teaches that ”The Compassionate One wants the heart” and that we are an expression of G-d’s love. In other words, no matter what we are doing when we are the truest, fullest expression of ourselves, when we come from the heart, we become the embodiment of Divine love and light in the world.

Whatever we do may we be blessed with the passion, clarity and strength to do it wholeheartedly. The heart is the altar, and as it says in verse 6:6, “The fire shall be kept burning upon the altar continually; it shall not go out”.