8 Tammuz 8 5765,  July 15, 2005 Mark Segal

This week’s Parsha is Balak, from Bemidbar, the Book of Numbers. Balak, king of Moab, has seen how, while journeying to the Promised Land, the People of Israel defeated the Amorites. In defense, he sends messengers to Bilaam, a pagan prophet, to curse the Israelites. 

God forestalls this curse, but in ways that confuse Bilaam, using hidden angels and a talking ass. Eventually, things become clear. Bilaam sees all Israel camped tribe-by-tribe, the spirit of God comes upon him, and he recites “Mah tovu, ohalecha Ya'acov, mishk'notecha Yisrael - How goodly are your tents, O Jacob, Your dwellings, O Israel! ” Strife and confusion yield to peace and clarity.

So, how can Jews in a liberal community think about Israel? The simple answer: “any way we wish”; the reality, like that initially facing Bilaam, is complex. How can we, like Bilaam, reach peace and clarity?

Gary and I explore this in detail in [the Temple’s online journal] Open Space, and we hope you will read it. Despite our differing views, this project has strengthened our common ground as fast friends and fellow Jews. It is a vivid example of how our Temple can thrive with differing views on hard issues

This evening, I will touch on a few themes.

Can you be a Jew and not a Zionist? Of course, although this places one outside Jewish mainstreams and guiding principles of Reform. An even deeper test is to answer this question, echoing a famous Haggadah passage: is Israel “we” or “they”? 

Of course, even as we identify with Israel, other Jews will judge the impact of our actions on our tribe, a term many of us use tongue in cheek, or with scorn, but which captures who we are. We are a people in covenant with God and each other, with Israel our eternal homeland. 

So, where does this leave us? There truly is a wide range of “inside the tent” positions within our Jewish community on Israeli actions. What these share is a commitment to Israel as a Jewish state and homeland. Israel is “we.” I have many close friends who shade well left of my views on Mideast issues, while being deeply and vocally committed to Israel

Certainly, Israelis have always had a wide range of views; though such debates are within the “family.” For American Jews, I suggest that responses to Israeli actions should be more restrained. This view troubles and even offends many, but Diaspora critiques of Israel can reinforce broader attacks on its legitimacy. They can strengthen Israel’s adversaries, and those who serve their purposes. 

And make no mistake; Israel is at war, with mortal enemies, no less so than the Moabites. And, like Balak, these enemies use others, including those of good heart, like Bilaam, to seek Israel’s defeat.

Many Mideast activists use the Occupation as the rationale to criticize Israel, arguing that without occupation, there would be peace, Israel would be secure, and terror would end. These arguments ring true to many Jews, for whom the notion of Jews as occupiers is repugnant.

My reading of history is that this view on the role of the occupation, held by many on the Left and not a few Jews, is wrong and, deeply harmful, in its effect, to Israel. It leads to a fundamentally unbalanced stance that makes Israel’s action, or inactions, the sole driver of current hostilities.

Arab hostility to Israel long predates the Occupation, and extends far deeper. And the Occupation itself emerged from Israel’s 1967 victory in the Six Days War, a war of self-defense against Egypt, Syria, Iraq, and Jordan. Moreover, the West Bank is the historic heartland of Israel. It is Hebron, not Tel Aviv, that has had a central role in Jewish religion and history over millennia.

So, though I favor a two-state solution, with Israel leaving Gaza and much of the West Bank, Jewish presence in the West Bank is neither illegitimate nor to be given up lightly. In calling for evacuation of settlements, we must do so with a heavy heart and not ease. Finally, we must be mindful that, to military experts, the 1967 Green Line is not a defensible border.

The writer Yossi Klein Halevi has crystallized our internal tensions and how they must be resolved. He argues that the “right, has won the argument over the true nature of Palestinian society, but the left has won the argument over the disaster of occupation” and that “left and right have to listen to the warnings of each other.” He reminds us that “[t]he twin teachings of our past are ‘Beware of Amelek’ -- those who are out to destroy the nation of Israel -- and 'Remember you were once strangers.” Halevi’s point is that, while “the ideas that we have real enemies and that we must treat others justly are on the surface contradictory,” it is that very “paradox our history and tradition forces us to wrestle with.”

Closer to home, we need to reframe the “dissent” issue, which Gary discusses so well, whose latest incarnation dates back three years to the effort to bring Israeli Refusers to our Temple.

Much that has been called dissent, by “both” sides, is really not. Disagreement is not always dissent; it is often simply disagreement, freely expressed. Moreover, when Temple leadership does not agree with or act on the views of some congregants, or communicate those views through Temple channels, it is not chilling dissent; it is simply agreeing to disagree and acting on formal mandates for leadership.

Of course, no member should be ostracized or penalized for holding or expressing specific views – opposing the Sharon government, agreeing on dividing Jerusalem, opposing single payor health care, even voting Republican. But life does not guarantee comfort and these are serious matters. The freedom to disagree with others implies their freedom to disagree with you.

Our recent Scholar-in-Residence, Zohar Raviv addressed this tension between two essentials: community norms and individual viewpoints. Zohar emphasizes the importance of a “commitment to the communal aspect of Judaism: understanding that one’s view – as cherished as it is – is exactly that: one view. It is therefore essential to come to dialogue with other views, even if risking one’s own preconceived assumptions.” He emphasized that we can simultaneously maintain community norms and values, properly arrived at, while encouraging learned, and informed free expression. 

We must also be open to the fact that profound insights come from unexpected places, just as a pagan prophet is the surprising source for one of our most famous prayers, Mah Tovu.

Together, we must build the internal connections and common identity that can foster shared norms and weather inevitable, and indeed, indispensable, disagreements. With these connections, we need not fear losing a friend or congregant because of our views . . . or theirs. Shared worship, in this Sanctuary, is one powerful way to build those connections, but that is a topic for another time.

To close; in approaching Israel-related issues as a community, we should be intentional, acting consistent with our mission statement’s call for support for Israel. In this regard, let me draw on the latest Reform Judaism magazine, which has excellent essays on Zionism. 

Two essays are especially on point. One author, finding herself estranged from Israel for reasons familiar to many of us, reports growing up in a deeply Zionist home and then, as an adult, joining a Reform synagogue characterized by critiques of Israel and a focus on Israel's negative treatment of Reform. She asks, “how is one to feel ‘spiritual closeness’ with Israel amid the swirl of critiques and contentiousness.” How indeed? 

Building on this theme, ARZA’s President notes in that same issue the “difficulty of communicating liberal Zionism to a richly diverse American Reform constituency [born after the 1967 and 1973 wars] and those who were not born into Jewish families.” 

In considering, therefore, how we approach Israel as a synagogue and community, we must recognize that, to paraphrase Kohelet, we reap what we sow. So, let us take care that our congregation acts in ways that sow love of Israel in the hearts of our children and our members.

Thank you and Shabbat Shalom.

Lauren Levrant, April 22, 2005 

As translated by Everett Fox, this chapter begins with God instructing Moshe to tell the Children of Israel, What is done in the land of Egypt, wherein you were settled, you are not to do; what is done in the land of Canaan, to which I am bringing you, you are not to do; by their laws you are not to walk. My regulations you are to do, my laws you are to keep, walking by them. Of course this is followed by a laundry list of sexual encounters that must be avoided, but to me, the very first lines speak more broadly. The Children of Israel, they are not really Jews yet, have been living as slaves in Egypt for 400 or so years, and were then moving into the land of the Canaanites. They were always a people apart, and that is the way it was supposed to be. By following their own set if laws and not the ways of those around them, this small group was able to survive. They survived the destruction of their kingdom, twice. And by transforming into Rabbinical Jews, and staying a people apart, have been able to survive for close to 2000 years. We were instructed not to assimilate, and its worked. At least for now.

Right now, anti-semitism is once again rearing its ugly head, right in our midst. Some of it is right out there in the open, as when eggs were thrown at a memorial service in London, commemorating a World War II bombing that killed 134 people, mostly Jews. And some of it is cloaked in Anti-Zionism, as it is on many college campuses. When we try to hide who we are, and forget that we are a people apart as God commanded, we allow this to happen.

On Sunday, May 15, we have a chance to show our community who we are. That we stand with Israel. Regardless of whether we agree with their government, we need to show our support of the Israeli people. Our people. Please join us, right here in Oak Park, for our Solidarity with Israel Walk.

Dvar 4/2/04
Lauren Levrant

This week, we read Tsav, which includes the instructions given to Aaron and his sons, on how to perform 5 kinds of ritual sacrifice. We read similar instructions last week, in the Parashat Vayikra which discusses what to do when a person brings an offering to God. This week, the language is more serious and demanding. These are the laws of sacrifice as God tells Moses to command Aaron and his sons. Here the language is more specific, the demands are higher. The sacrifices are discussed in terms of kodesh kadashim, the holiest of the holy, and they are listed in order of their degree of holiness.

The first of these offerings (or korbanot) is the “whole burnt offering” or torat ha-olah. It is important to note at this time that the word korban, offering, or sacrifice, comes from the same Hebrew root as l’hakriv, which means, to draw near. These ritualized sacrifices were the peoples way to draw nearer to God.

Words are important here. The word used when Abraham was told to go to Moriah to offer his beloved son Isaac was olah, or sacrifice.

On Moriah, God’s messenger stopped Abraham, from killing his son as a sacrifice to God.At the last minute a substitution was made, and a ram was offered in place of a child. After that one incident, other korbanot were prescribed. Rams, oxen, doves, grain, and oil, to name a few. The practices became more and more ritualized, and were finally formalized here in the Book of Leviticus.

Never in all of the instructions regarding offerings to God are the people asked to sacrifice their children. Nowhere does God ever ask that humans ever be sacrificed in his name.

As a matter of fact, in Deuteronomy, chapter 12, where we once again are given instructions for offerings, we are warned against copying the rites of the nations who were in the land before us. It states, “You shall not do so to your God, for everything that is an abomination of God, that He hates, have they done to their gods: for even their sons and their sons and their daughters have they burned in the fire for their gods.” It seems pretty clear here that human sacrifice is not what God wants.

In Jeremiah 32 we are told that the Israelites were once again drawn to the sacrificial practices of those around them, and built alters to give their sons and daughters to Molech. While that may sound attractive to those of us with teenagers, our God did not command it , and considers it an abomination, worthy of punishment. God has given his instructions on sacrifice, and he does not want our children.

Again and again, in the writings of the Prophets, we are warned about the punishments God will mete out if children are sacrificed in his name.

Let’s fast forward to 2004. Today on Palestinian Authority TV, a popular music video, broadcast during a show called “The Childrens’ Hour” states, “How sweet is the fragrance of the shahids, how sweet is the scent of the earth, its thirst quenched by the gush of blood, flowing from the youthful body.” Shahida, is the Arabic word for “death for Allah.” Millennia after Abraham is told not to sacrifice his child, his descendants are doing exactly that.

Once again, people who consider themselves “children of God” are worshiping at the alter of human sacrifice. Mothers, like Reem Reyashi, who’s goals to kill and be killed, are greater than their obligations to, and love for their children. Parents, who’s belief in a deity who thirsts for human blood, out weighs their desire to protect their offspring, Fathers who rejoice in the deaths of their children who blow themselves up in the hopes of taking a few Jews with them. Mothers who cry upon hearing of their childs death, not because they have lost a child, but because the shahid is to be envied, because they believe that angels in heaven are ushering the martyr to his wedding.

Religious and political leaders in Palestine are teaching their followers that they are born for the very purpose of dying for Allah, and the people are buying this message. A message that specifically contradicts the wishes of God.

In a day and age where human sacrifice is deplored by all civilized peoples, children, and adults alike are being called by their leaders to kill themselves in the name of the God.

Remember, korban is the word for sacrifice. It is derived from the word for “draw near”. We can be drawn nearer to God by worshipping in many ways. We are given instructions to do so in this week’s portion, and in many other places in the Torah. But, nowhere, does God ask us to give up our lives, or the lives of our loved ones for his sake.

And let us say, Amen.

Cindy Barnard, March 12, 2004

Ki Tisa has a tremendous amount going on - for instance, the Golden Calf and the 13 attributes of God, Moses' radiance and veil - but I hope we'll talk about those tomorrow morning. Tonight I want to focus on one particular part of the parasha, and that is - Shabbat.

Exodus / Shemot 31:15-17 - Six days may work be done, but on the seventh day there shall be a sabbath of complete rest (shabbat shabbaton), holy to the Lord…(16) The Israelite people shall keep the sabbath, observing the sabbath throughout the ages as a covenant for all time. (17) It shall be a sign for all time between me and the people of Israel. For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, and on the seventh day He ceased from work and was refreshed.

Does this sound familiar….? Of course - it's the text of the V'shamru, which we just sang a few minutes ago. But look more closely at the language in verse 15 -shabbat shabbaton. What is the significance of this grammatic emphasis?

There are two key items I want to link together tonight. One is the language of the parasha, this shabbat shabbaton. And the other is our place in the calendar - that moveable feast which keeps us connected to the foundation of Judaism. Even and especially over the millenia in which we did not have a geographic home, we have always had the calendar, wherever we go.

So, here we are in the weeks leading up to Pesach, in the midst of the "four parashiyot," the four special Torah readings which are added to the usual portion for each week. A few weeks ago it was Shabbat Shekalim, the census; then it was Shabbat Zachor, the shabbat before Purim, reminding us of Amalek (and, by implication, preparing us for Haman)… and now it's Shabbat Parah. This shabbat, we add the section from Numbers which discusses the strange ritual of the ashes of the perfect red heifer which are used to purify after contact with death.

I don't want to dwell on this ritual tonight, but only to focus on the idea that this special parasha is about separation and purification, leaving behind one identity and becoming new, different - separating what we have been from what we will be. Now what does THAT remind us of… Shabbat and Havdalah, right?

Which brings us back to "shabbat shabbaton." What is this interesting construction and what does it signify?

First, notice where it appears in the parasha. God gives Moses incredibly detailed instructions for the building of the Tabernacle - even a bit tedious, really, to read. And guess what, the instructions are structured in seven sections (what is THAT reminiscent of?). And the seventh one begins, "HOWEVER" and then the commandment regarding the "shabbat shabbaton."

…However? In other words, build this Tabernacle; however, interrupt your building when Shabbat arrives.

So we have instructions to build the Tabernacle - and the first six sections are all about construction - and the seventh is to interrupt even this extraordinarily important construction to observe Shabbat!

In other words, Shabbat is the 7th portion – the completion – of the instructions for the tabernacle. And this reminds us of what? Creation - God created the world in six days & completed creation on the 7th. .

Shabbat is not just an absence of doing, it is a creative process all its own - more on that in a moment.

So, we learn from this "however" that time - Shabbat - is more important than space - the tabernacle - and God wants our time more than our material “stuff” - even the building of a temple to be God's place in our midst.

In fact, in a wonderful resonant twist, one of God’s names is MAKOM, the place – in other words, the physical places are really ephemeral, illusions, God is the REAL “place” - and wherever you go, that Place is with you.

So what do we have so far?

We have a special shabbat of separation and purification. We have the mitzvah of "shabbat shabbaton," which is so important it must interrupt even the building of the tabernacle. Now, this term - shabbat shabbaton.

The Lubavitcher rebbe says "shabbat" means to stop our normal work, and "shabbaton" means to begin our special Shabbat activity. Rashi, our 11th century endless source of insight into Torah, says "shabbat shabbaton" is not a "casual" rest. It's not "I'm tired, I'll rest." Even if we are not tired on Friday night, we still observer Shabbat! No, this is a rest which is profoundly creative, and in fact transformative.

Shabbat doesn't mean simply that we stop doing certain things. It also means that we do certain other things. It's not a day to recover from fatigue in the ordinary sense. It's a day in which to examine ourselves, spend the day on God's work rather than what the employer needs or the house needs or even the self thinks it needs. It's a day to work on being better as a person in God's eyes and to start the next week transformed.

If we are going to talk about Shabbat we have to see what Heschel has to say. If you have not read "The Sabbath" lately or at all, I must recommend it to your attention. Heschel points out most wonderfully that the first time in Genesis we encounter the word kadosh, holy, it is not about a thing - not about light, or earth, or man, or animals - but about - yes - Shabbat. "And God blessed the seventh day and made it kadosh, holy" - no OBJECT is so sanctified.

So, this is a special shabbat parah, or shabbat of purification and rededication. And today we are given the commandment to observe shabbat shabbaton, a shabbat of very special and complete rest and transformation.

It’s a day to devote to God’s work instead of our everyday work – not “casual” rest when we do nothing, but transformative rest when we undertake very specific activities which are not “work” but which teach us, change us. This is the special kind of "rest" which actually completes us and our work - just as it completed God's work of creation, and the Israelites' work on the tabernacle.

What a gift – not to be wasted - and the most precious evidence of Israel's chosenness. We could just stand here & read Heschel all evening - but here is one more wonderful thought he offers. If Shabbat is a time when God completed creation - not just a day of non-activity - then what was created on this day? Heschel tells us, "What was created on the seventh day? Tranquility, serenity, peace and repose…This then is the answer to the problem of civilization: not to flee from the realm of space [and material goods]; to work with things of space but to be in love with eternity. Things are our tools; eternity, the Sabbath, is our mate."

With this, then we can truly understand the words of Ahad Ha-am, the 19th century Zionist, who wrote, "More than Israel has kept the Shabbat, the Shabbat has kept Israel."

Shabbat can transform us, if we will allow God the time to do so.

D’Var Torah – Vayigash Genesis/Bereshit
Mark Burger – 2 January 2004 - 8 Tevet 5764

One year ago, I gave a dvar on this same portion on our Egyptian slave-like dependency on cheap energy to maintain our affluent lifestyle. I am unhappy to report that, in spite of some improvements, that slavish dependency has not changed as we look to our present-day Josephs to mortgage our children’s future and increasingly our own future in view of the coming lean years. The peril comes in three forms – first, we continue to rely more and more on countries that harbor terrorism or instability for our daily energy needs. Second, we fail to take full advantage of the on-going revolution in cleaner energy products and services, costing us jobs, businesses and a worsening balance of trade. Third, environmental degradation of our world and our children’s world still threatens to poison us in the name of affluence.

The numbers continue to be alarming – the U.S. will soon be importing over 60 percent of its petroleum from outside its borders and shores, most of that coming from violent, corrupt or unstable regimes like Saudi Arabia, the former Soviet Union, Nigeria and Venezuela. In spite of all the financial incentives and advanced exploration and extraction technology, the world is consuming about one billion barrels of oil more than it is finding every month, which is what the U.S. consumes about every fifty days. So draining Alaska of its 10 billion barrels of oil would last us about 1-1/2 years. U.S. oil production peaked in 1972, world oil production will peak sometime between 2006 and 2012.

Next year, we may also be importing for the first time over ten percent of our natural gas consumption, with the biggest increases coming in hazardous liquefied form from Saudi Arabia and Algeria. Reliance on these resources is inherently unstable for countries that extract them, like the OPEC countries, or that use them, like the United States.

Another issue is that other countries with growing middle classes, like China and India, want the affluence we have, quickly soaking up existing resources and making out of date comfortable predictions of resource longevity. Canada will soon begin large-scale exports of coal to China, with U.S. coal extractors soon following suit. So the supply of centuries of coal usage within our borders may change to merely decades.

While it is best to have a concerted national effort to free ourselves from dependency, pollution and economic non-competitiveness, there is much we can do as individuals, communities and states. Indeed, that has been most of recent American progress in becoming greener and cleaner - action from the grass roots. So here is the call to action focusing on three significant fronts to make an immediate impact.

(1) Reduce petroleum consumption. Your next vehicle purchase should be a hybrid model. There exist right now cars that can take five passengers very nicely. Starting later this year, you can get a choice of sports utility vehicles, and next year pickup trucks or mini-vans. You will save up to half of your present fuel consumption. Every five hundred vehicles that switch from a guzzler to a hybrid will eliminate one gas pump. Every one hundred thousand vehicles that switch will avoid the need for one super tanker from an OPEC member. Your buying a hybrid vehicle sends a clear message to the world’s automakers of the need to phase out the internal combustion engine. If you don’t want to personally own a hybrid car, you can look to share in one.

(2) Reduce natural gas, coal and nuclear power consumption. Reduce the energy consumption of your house or building now, using insulation, better windows and replacing appliances with ones that are Energy Star rated and, after that, installing solar heating or electric systems, if appropriate. It is affordable if financed by mortgages or other long-term instruments, plus you will have a more comfortable place and one that will increase in value. If you can’t, or don’t want to install solar, buy green power or their emission credits, also called “green tags” from solar or wind sources, which you can do now through the internet.

(3) Use clean energy technologies. There is a new way to economically support Israel, and that is to use the clean energy technologies that they develop. Clean energy systems can go on temples and schools as well as private buildings. Buying handicrafts from Israel is nice, but this goes one better.

There is of course communications with our elected and appointed officials on getting more funds, improving our codes and standards and so on. But there exists an infrastructure that we can use to deliver us from supporting pollution, terrorism and economic instability. I have more information on this call to action in the rotunda. We can deal with the coming lean years by being green. Amen.

RESOURCES

Center for Neighborhood Technology - www.cnt.org
Chicago Center for Green Technology – www.cityofchicago.org/Environment//GreenTech/
Clean Car Campaign – www.cleancarcampaign.org
Coalition on the Environment and Jewish Life – www.coejl.org
ENERGY STAR? - www.energystar.gov
Greener Cars - www.GreenerCars.com
I Gosm – The Smarter Way to Drive – www.i-go-cars.org
Illinois Clean Energy Community Foundation – www.illinoiscleanenergy.org
Illinois Department of Commerce and Economic Opportunity, Bureau of Energy and
Recycling– www.illinoisenergy.org
Illinois Solar Energy Association – www.illinoissolar.org
Mainstay Energy (Green Power) – www.mainstayenergy.com
Methane Madness - www.eeba.org/conference/2003/presentations/Udall_Randy.pdf
Rocky Mountain Institute – www.rmi.org
Solar Energy In Israel - www.us-israel.org/jsource/Environment/Solar.html
Solel Solar Systems Ltd (Israel) – www.solel.com
U.S. Green Building Council, Chicago Chapter – www.usgbc.org/chapters/chicago/
When Will The Joy Ride End? - www.oilcrisis.com/debate/udall/joyride.htm 
hubbert.mines.edu/news/Udall-Andrews_99-1.pdf
Zero Energy Buildings – www.eere.energy.gov/buildings/zeroenergy

D'var Torah: Nitzavim / Vayeilech September 19, 2003 by Cindy Barnard

It is Elul, and the summer and the old year are dying. It's a poignant time of year, full of spiritual hard work. We're trying to put away old regrets and unfulfilled hopes and promises while we cling to the hope of a new year and another chance at possibilities.

In Nitzavim, Moses does not have the hope of another year, new possibilities, to soften his regrets. He knows that he is about to die, and he is leaving his fractious tribe in full knowledge that they are entering generations of exile, conflict, and pain.

So Moses says to us, as he is about to die and he has his last opportunity to teach: Nitzavim etchem hayom hakol. "You stand here, all of you, this day."

Nitzavim, you stand. Neitziv is different from omed, which also means to stand. Neitziv is more like "be present," almost like stand up and stand FOR something. Rashi, the great Torah commentator of the eleventh century, links neitziv to the similar word in Hebrew for monument. In other words, Stand up, be a monument to your faith and to God.

In fact, standing up for what you believe leads us to the idea of hineni - "I am here" -- remember, that declaration of faith from Abraham we read nearly a year ago - and will read again over the high holidays.

Neitziv - Stand up, stand up for something, be a monument, hineni, be here and present with your people and with Gd.

And that idea, hineni, I am here, leads us once again back to today's parashah. Because what does Gd say? "It is not with you alone that I make this covenant… I make it both with those who are standing here with us today before Gd, and with those who are not here with us today." Asher yishno po imanu omed hayom - Not only with those who are with us today, but asher eineini po imanu hayom. With those who are not here with us today.

Our tradition is full of troubled exploration of this problem - How can Gd make a covenant with those who are not here? How can unborn generations be obligated to a covenant which they did not negotiate and choose? Is this a real covenant? This resonates particularly strongly with contemporary American Jews, who have been imbued with powerful secular ethical concepts of free will and the right to make autonomous decisions.

The Jews-by-Choice among us have solved this problem. They have come to covenant afresh, have studied and made the decision to choose.

What of Jews by birth? How can we be part of a covenant without free will to choose? How can Gd have made this covenant with us three thousand years ago? How can we be asked to "stand up and be a monument" for something we didn't agree to?

Judaism is incredibly realistic. Just as we inherit the color of our eyes and the shape of our jaw, we do absorb the values and ethos of our families. It is simply the truth that a covenant with the parents will in fact bring the children along. We are born into this covenant just as we are born into ideals of democracy and fairness.

What we make of the covenant is, of course, entirely up to us. Rav Hanina teaches in the Talmud that Gd will predict whether an unborn child will be strong or weak, wise or foolish, rich or poor - but is silent when asked, will this child grow up wicked or good? Rav Hanina concludes, "Everything is in the hands of heaven except the fear of Gd."

So it's a paradox. We are obligated - and we choose. We are part of the covenant - but even Gd cannot say whether we will fulfill it.

It is up to us whether we are "here" or not for the covenant. We make that choice. When Gd, through Moses, says, I make this covenant not only with those who are here today, but also with those who are not here - Gd is offering the covenant, but knows that yirat shamayim, the fear and awe of heaven, the acceptance of the covenant and all its treasures and obligations, is not up to Heaven but to each of us. And so we read later in this shabbat's double parashah, the Torah and covenant is not in the heavens and beyond reach. It is "very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart."

But we have to take it, accept it, speak it with our mouth and embrace it with our heart and do it with our hands and bodies.

If you have ever been in a kindergarten Hebrew school class at Oak Park Temple, you know the favorite joke. The teacher takes attendance, calls each child by name, and each is supposed to say, "ani po,” I am here. But of course they love to answer, "ani lo po," I'm not here. It gets rollicking giggles, every time.

But guess what? We all have to say, ani po. Hineni. I AM here. Because nitzavim, you stand here, you stand for something, chides Moses. Indeed we do.

We all know the phrase, kol yisrael arevim zeh ba zeh, "All Israel is responsible one for the other." There is a rabbinic tradition that this mutual responsibility was born as Moses died. When we had Moses, we relied on his leadership to pull us together and forward. We could squabble and kvetch, because we knew he'd rescue us. Rather like orphaned siblings, though, when Moses died, we were left to rely on each other. And here we are, reading parashah nitzavim-vayeilech, and Moses is dying, and here we are together, and we have to take care of each other. All Israel is responsible, each one for the other.

It is time, as Moses dies, to listen to nitzavim, you stand here, you are a monument, to faith and to our covenant with Gd.

We are here, we are responsible for each other and the continuation of our tradition. Paradoxically, it is our obligation and it is our free choice to accept the covenant, and to live it. As we say in the Torah service, the world stands on three things. We live the covenant through those three: we live it through study, faith and acts of loving kindness. Here at Oak Park Temple, the autumn is rich with opportunities for all three. Learning, worship and community.

As the fall closes in, and 5764 approaches, may we all reflect on how each of us can fulfill nitzavim: to stand up, to be here, to be a monument to the precious, rich, irreplaceable covenant Gd offers us. 

August 8, 2003 by Carol Gerson

This sidra can be summarized like this: God is talking…

There are rules and I am giving them to you. Here they are, you need to follow them. If you do, things will be good for you and if you don’t things will be bad for you. Here are all the things I’ve done for you, and I will do for you. You get this land, all set up with good things that you did not grow or build, you just get them. 
IF you do what I tell you.

This basically gets repeated about a zillion times. Over and over, with slightly different phrasing, but the same message. Let’s face it, us Jewish mothers come by it honestly. Skilled nudging can be learned from Torah study.

So here I am, raised in a very intellectual, classical reform, home. I do not relate to this God. In fact, that is my problem with fundamentialist Christians who believe that God looks and talks like us, and talks directly to them telling then that they are doing it the right way and all the rest of us are going to hell.

So, how does someone whose concept of divinity leans much more toward the ineffable than the anthropomorphic deal with a portion like this? The only possible approach is to see it as metaphor. A metaphor for what?

Having mulled this over for a long time, mostly while commuting, I have concluded that it is about community. That is so relevant today because most what we see in the media and popular culture is about individual needs and wants. How do I win? How can I beat out the next guy for more money, for the better looking mate. How to I get the better car? How do I actualize myself? How do I get to be the last one on the island? In short, how do I get?

This sidra says, it’s not about you. It’s about guidelines, rules, a system that allows us to function in community. It’s about giving rather than getting. It’s not about moral relativism, but about moral reality. This portion is the antithesis of the “whatever feels good” approach to life. It tells us that unless we function as a community, bad things will happen.

In this world, so different from the world in which these words were written, the community in which we have to function is truly a global community. If we fail to create a system of guidelines that will allow this country and this planet to function as a community we do so at our peril. AIDS and SARS have taught us that we are a community when it comes to health care. Care not provided to all puts everyone at risk. Poor education for some, puts the progress of this country and this world at risk. Environmental neglect and destruction by the few, put all at risk. Restricted civil liberties for some, put everyone’s civil liberties at risk.

This sidra is about the dangers of selfishness and about redemption through community. May we strive toward creating community in our homes, our villages, our country and our world. Ken Y’hi Ratzon. Amen

June 13, 2003 by Steven Jordan

This chapter of the Torah is dramatic, vivid, troubling, magnificent. I will outline the story, and then touch upon one recurring theme - the revelation of God to his people. Here are the sections -- for each item we can ask "what is this really saying," and "why" and "what does this mean for us?"

• The Lord has just given the priestly benediction to Moses
• The second Passover, and interesting laws
• The wondrous silver trumpets
• The sacred cloud of the Tabernacle lifts and the Israelites begin a splendid procession, but Hobab and his people do not go.
• In 10:35-36 we have the marching song of Moses, bracketed with inverted nuns -- this is a treat for esoteric scholarship.
• The people complain bitterly, and a fire of the Lord breaks forth at the camp.
• The riffraff in their midst feel a gluttonous craving, because they were tired of eating manna.
• Moses tells God he cannot bear the burden of the demands of the people.
• The Lord tells Moses to set up a leadership council of 70 elders.
• The spirit of the Lord visits the elders and then leaves them.
• Eldad and Medad, who are not elders, prophesy in ecstasy; Joshua objects, but Moses says, "Would that all the Lord's people were prophets."
• Because the people demand meat, the Lord gives the Children of Israel so much quail meat that they get sick. The language is terrifying and so is the thought.
• Miriam and Aaron chastise Moses for taking a Cushite wife; God speaks to them; Miriam is stricken, and Moses prays for her.

Why are the Israelites complaining again? Are they merely fickle, neurotic whiners? This is the stereotype. Is it because they are the generation of Egyptian slaves, only impressed by magic and not ready for freedom?

But why should the Israelites embrace the Lord? Because Moses is their leader? Where is their revelation? They see signs and wonders and the outstretched arm of the Lord. There are speeches and songs and miracles and rituals and adventures. Wonders and magic speak to their Egyptian roots. And signs are profoundly important for us all -- but the signs and symbols must echo our experience and reality. Moses and Aaron see an urgent reality behind the symbols. The Israelites do not see God face-to-face, nor hear his word directly. Their signs and symbols are transitory.

One theme of the book of Numbers is revelation. This is the blessing when the Lord shines his face upon us. How can a person see the way of the Lord? In Numbers there are a few suggestions -- the dedicated ascetic Nazirite (a route looked upon with caution by the Rabbi's), -- the way of ritual and service -- the path of righteousness, especially for the community -- the study of the word of God -- the praise and fear and delight in God.

There is a hierarchy of Jewish mysticism. First, experience with the world. Next, study, with the goal of maturity, and wisdom. The unexamined life is not worth living. Isn't it a blessing to have clear goals and priorities! We all relish meeting people who show us a clarity and dedication to the path to righteousness. But beyond ethical humanism, with the spirit of God comes revelation. Then, prophecy. That sounds like a word we hear when surfing the cable channels on Sunday. But it is a Jewish word that did not disappear with Daniel.

The Talmud shows that the most important revelation is not merely an awakening, but prophecy, when God tells a person in ecstasy what he or she must do. Prophecy is genuine in the Torah; a prophet does not have to prove himself.

The great Maimonides devotes 17 chapters to prophecy in the Guide to the Perplexed . He calls prophecy, "The highest degree and greatest perfection man can attain." As an Aristotelian philosopher, Maimonides searches for the First Cause of prophecy, which must be God or his agent, an angel. Sounding like the physician, Maimonides gives a fascinating diagnosis of 11 degrees of prophecy, including psychic, emotional, and religious aspects.

These prophetic dramas start within our experiences. Maimonides writes, "The first degree of prophecy consists in the divine assistance which is given to a person, and induces and encourages him to do something good and grand..This degree of divine influence is called 'the spirit of the Lord.'"

Revelation and prophecy seem so un-American, such quaint ideas -- so uncomfortable words for a well-read, Reform Jew. But let us put aside our modern prejudices, open our hearts and minds, and listen to the priestly blessing with less intellectual arrogance and more humility -- may we see God reveal his way as we walk down the path.

May Adonai bless us and keep us!
May Adonai shine his face upon us and deal graciously with us!
May Adonai lift up his face towards us and grant us peace!

D'var Torah: Parsha Ki Tisa
February 21, 2003 by Morris Seeskin

During my childhood, there were two Biblical stories that puzzled me more than any others. One, of course, was the binding of Isaac and the other from today's parsha was the golden calf. I didn't understand why the Israelites standing at Sinai, waiting to receive the Law of The Almighty, would turn to such a base form of idolatry. As I have matured, both stories have remained puzzlements. To help make some sense out of the story of the golden calf I offer this midrash.

By our tradition when Moses led the Israelites out of Egypt, across the Sea, and into the desert and later when he brought God's Law down from Sinai, all the Jewish people were there. Not just those we might think of as being present, but all those who would come. Your grandparents were there, so were you, and so were your as yet unborn childrens' childrens' children. Remember from the Passover Seder the story of the parent telling the wicked child, "It is because of what the Almighty did for me, when he led me out of Egypt."

Thirty two hundred years ago the Jewish people stood at Sinai to receive the word of Adonai, and by tradition each of us here tonight was present when Moses descended. Moses led YOU and ME out of Egypt and came down from Sinai with the Ten Commandments while YOU and I watched. By tradition we all were there, not just in spirit, but actually there.

Remember now what happened in those long ago days. Our ancestors had been slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt for 400 years. During that time the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, of Sarah, Rebecca, Leah, and Rachel had become a distant memory. Then one day Moses arrived from the Land of Midian. He said that he was an Israelite, but there were rumors that in fact he was an Egyptian, possibly of the royal house or maybe a priest. He claimed to have spoken with the almost forgotten God of our ancestors. Aided by Aaron, who he said was his brother, he demanded that Pharaoh release us from slavery. Some of us took him at face value, but many of us had doubts, doubts about Moses, doubts about his motives, doubts about his authority, and, yes, surely doubts about his invisible God.

Moses and Aaron said that unless Pharaoh let us go, their God would afflict the Egyptians with plagues. Pharaoh's heart hardened and he resisted. Ten plagues followed. Some said that the plagues were natural events and others said that they were evidence of a test of powers between Moses and Pharaoh's court magicians. Some said that Moses won a battle of wills with Pharaoh, that he wore Pharaoh down. Others said that he was lucky. Still others said that he was just a better magician. Of course, some said that Moses prevailed because he was doing God's will.

Whatever really happened, after the slaying of the first born of the Egyptians, Pharaoh finally relented and said that we could leave. Moses said it was due to the power of his invisible God, but many, maybe most, thought that Moses had been lucky, had outwitted Pharaoh, or possessed more powerful magic.

Moses led us out of Egypt in the middle of the night. By the time we reached the Sea, Pharaoh had changed his mind and sent his forces after us. The Sea parted and we crossed, but Pharaoh's pursuing forces drowned. Again Moses said it was due to the power of his invisible God. Moses and Miriam led us in songs of praise and thanksgiving. Many again said it was magic. Some thought it was natural, having to do with tides, winds, and the weight of people on foot as opposed to warriors on horseback and in chariots. Many of us weren't sure about the cause, but were not inclined to challenge Moses.

Moses goaded us into the desert. He said that God in the form of a pillar of smoke during the day and a pillar of fire at night would lead us. Not everybody believed him, but the pillars he promised did appear. They hardly seemed natural, but those who leaned toward magical explanations were sure that they knew what was going on. We all followed Moses and the pillars nonetheless. We wandered for months, finally arriving at the base of a mountain called Sinai.

One day Moses called us all together. He said that this mountain was holy to Adonai, who had summoned Moses to the summit to receive God's Law. Moses told us to wait in our camp at the base of the mountain for him to return with the Law. On pain of death we were not to touch yet alone ascend the mountain.

After months wandering in the desert, everybody, particularly the elderly, the infirm, and parents with young children, appreciated the opportunity to rest. We settled into daily routines and waited for Moses to return from the mountain. We mended torn clothing and tents. We repaired broken equipment, utensils, and tools. Injured and sick people and animals healed. Friends gathered around campfires to share memories and to tell stories. Children played.

Days passed and we waited. People began to wonder. How long would Moses be gone? What if he were hurt? What if he were dead? How would we know? A few wanted to climb the mountain themselves, but Aaron forbade it and no one was willing to oppose him.

Days turned into weeks and still we waited. We saw lightening at the summit, we heard thunder, and we were fearful. Some talked about returning to Egypt. No one said that directly to Aaron, but he knew. At least in Egypt there was real food to eat. Back to Egypt? Who among us knew the way? How would we recross the Sea? What if Moses returned to find us all gone? Wouldn't Pharaoh pour out his wrath on any who returned, particularly if Moses wasn't with us? We waited. In fear we waited.

One week ran into another. Real fear, a sense of dread, resided in our camp. At times even Aaron seemed to waver. During the days small groups of men gathered and talked in hushed tones, always looking to be sure that no one else overheard. At night husbands and wives whispered their fears to one another. The hearty stopped looking at the old ones, as if their mere looks would kill. The children seemed to understand that they might have no future at all. The boys became much more aggressive in their play; the girls turned inward, hiding in their tents.

After a month, ... after a month, life, if we can call it that, was filled with outright terror. Still there was no sign from the mountain. Moses had led us into the desert and abandoned us. Aaron stayed in his tent, afraid to face the community. Miriam, too, was unseen. Even Joshua, the fearless one, showed doubt in his face. People openly cursed the day when they had listened to Moses, following him out of Egypt and into the desert. What kind of God led people out of slavery and into the hostile desert to sit, to sit and wait, to sit and wait and die?

Do you now remember how it was? As we neared forty days in that hellish desert, someone recalled the almost forgotten story of Noah and the rain that killed everyone not in the ark. God had promised no more such floods, but had said nothing of the arid desert heat. Fear became terror, terror became anger, and anger became rage. The whispers were now spoken aloud. The spoken word became uncontrollable sobbing and screaming. Do you remember those days? All pretense of supporting one another disappeared. Moses was surely dead and soon we all would follow.

I was there to hear the first mention of the calf. I was ready to grasp at any hope and I was not alone. Do you remember? We gave our jewelry to make the calf. Aaron understood our need. We danced and we sang and we revelled. Lovers embraced. New lovers were found. After forty days of fear, hope returned and we welcomed it with wild abandon. We forgot about Moses and his invisible God.

And then, ... there he was..., Moses, with a radiant face and two stone tablets in his arms. There he stood and the rage that had so recently been in us rose in him. Ah ... the rest you know.

Until I started writing this D'var Torah, the meaning of the golden calf episode had escaped me. Think of it. The message we were to hear was the word of Adonai, our God. The messenger was Moses. We turned away, unwilling to accept the message and unwilling to listen to its holy messenger. Instead we chose to be with our ignorance, our fear, and our anger.

That was three thousand two hundred years ago when you and I were at Sinai. Today ... well today, the message of God's Law is the same. The messenger, though is different. Moses died before crossing into the Promised Land. Today the messengers are rabbis, teachers, and friends in Torah Study groups. Still today we often turn away from God's Law. We turn away in ignorance, fear, and anger.

And yet, we are only human and incapable of strictly following God's Law. God understands this, even if we do not always. What is more important than our strict compliance is that we strive to comply with Adonai's Law. It is the striving to comply rather than strict compliance that truly matters. Notwithstanding the golden calf, Aaron became the High Priest and the Israelites became a kingdom of priests, a holy people.

Despite our many faults, weaknesses, and set-backs, may we be counted among those who strive to comply with God's law.

Amen.

Roberta Baruch, August 23, 2002

Parshat Ki Tavo is a description of entering the land, that is Israel, and begins by describing the annual mitzvah for the farmers of Israel to bring their bikurim, or first fruits, to the Kohen (priest) in the Temple. Also there is a description of how stones shall be found and Torah written on them. Following a recounting of the wonderful blessings that God will bestow upon the Jewish people for remaining faithful, Moses gives a chilling prophecy of what will befall the Jewish people for not following the Torah. Known as the tochachah (admonition), Moses graphically describes the horrible destruction that would come to pass if we stray from God.

Ki Tavo tells us to get into action, it plays out at the margin between curses and blessings, chaos theory in action if you will. A very simplistic definition, based on Donahue's explanation, is that chaos theory is a study of unstable aperiodic behavior in deterministic nonlinear dynamical systems. Aperiodic behavior never repeats and it continues to manifest the effects of any small perturbation; hence, any prediction of a future state in a given system that is aperiodic is impossible. Whether or not you understand this definition, and I understand it only in its most simplistic form, I see its application to Torah, and to Ki Tavo in particular.

The blessings and curses are listed as a result of behaviors. Although the curses are pronounced for seemingly specific actions, in the case of blessings, behaviors are not spelled out, one is simply to observe faithfully the teachings. Thus, receiving a blessing or a curse by performing any specific action cannot be predicted. Torah is not temporal, Judaism manifests the effects of perturbations, and since the teachings are ambiguous, I describe the action of Ki Tavo as being at the margin of the curses and blessings. That is why taking action, and thereby, risks, I believe is the lesson of this parsha.

Being Jewish has always been a risky occupation. Besides the risks of the responses and reactions of the external world, very much on our minds right now, there are personal and internal risks - of choosing to do the right thing, when for so much of our lives, we do not know what the right thing is. We do not know what the outcomes of our actions may be. The future of our actions is unpredictable.

Let's take the simplest of the curses "Cursed be he who insults his father or mother." How are we to know what insults our mother or father? For instance, it is accepted in our society that when elders become too disabled, whether from physical deterioration or mental incapacity, to maintain a home, they are institutionalized, even though a parent may protest at length-and even revile us for our decision. What is the proper Jewish action? Is giving a parent a safe place to live with adequate supervision and activities that a working adult child cannot provide an insult? Or a necessity? Or even a blessing and a joy, for the elder, for the family, maybe even for the institution? One can't know, at least not in one's own lifetime, the real outcomes of such an action.

That's why I say being Jewish is risky. We have to make our decisions at the margin of the blessings and curses without full knowledge of where our behaviors or the perturbations of Judaism will lead us. We know what not to do, at least according to this list of curses, but as my example shows, even the most simple of the curses is not at all clear. The real question is what to do, what actions to take. I think Ki Tavo tells us not to stay on the margins, where perturbations of dynamical systems can confuse us about Jewish values. Ki Tavo says take action and not only that, to take action with joy, because it tells us if we are not joyful in our actions, God is not pleased, and the action has neither the right intent or nor the proper meaning God requires. We will have strayed from God. So we must try to make our lives for a blessing. Enter it, as God told the Jews to enter the land. Take risks. And give thanks, if not on stones, then at least by reciting the blessings. One joy we can all agree on. A bat mitzvah is for a blessing.