Summer Sermon Series #2: Elevating Ourselves Through Words of Welcome - Mattot/Mas'ei 5773

Shabbat shalom! We are into the second topic of the seven-part summer sermon series about the most essential parts of Temple Israel’s vision: being a welcoming congregation. Here is a brief sketch of the series:

1. Telling our narrative (6/29 - Pinehas)

2. Welcoming (7/6 - Mattot-Mas’ei)

3. Learning / Torah (7/13 - Devarim)

4. Egalitarianism (7/20 - Va-ethannan)

5. Israel (7/27 - Eqev)

6. Repairing the World (8/3 - Re’eh)

7. Tradition and Change (8/10 - Shofetim)

Considering the list of topics above, you might think that Torah comes before welcoming. Let me tell you why we are addressing welcoming first. Consider the following mishnah from Pirqei Avot, the collection of rabbinic wisdom which is traditionally studied in the summer months (3:21):

אם אין תורה, אין דרך ארץ; אם אין דרך ארץ, אין תורה.

Im ein Torah, ein derekh eretz. Im ein derekh eretz, ein Torah.

One possible translation: “If there is no Torah, there is no respect. If there is no respect, there is no Torah.”

“Derekh eretz,” while often translated idiomatically as “respect,” is more literally rendered as “the way of the land.” It refers to how we treat others as we go through life, and suggests to me, from an ancient Middle Eastern perspective (arguably the most important one when interpreting Jewish text), how strangers are treated when they are passing through your village, or how you might be treated when passing through somebody else’s territory. The point, of course, is that in the desert, you pay it forward: this time, I’ll give you food, water, and shelter; next time, you’ll give some to me.

Our patriarch Abraham is an exemplar of derekh eretz when he welcomes traveling strangers (acutally angels) into his tent and gives them food and water at the beginning of Parashat Vayyera. But even in today’s world, derekh eretz still carries a traditional sense among desert-dwellers, and it refers specifically to welcoming others into your tent.

When I was studying at the WUJS Institute in Arad, Israel in 1999, I did a lot of hiking in the desert around Arad, which is located not far from the Dead Sea in the southern Judean Hills. One day, a friend of mine and I were hiking nearby, and we wandered into a Bedouin camp - there were a few tents (well, temporary structures made of corrugated iron) surrounding a pen with a few horses and other animals. And there was a dog, which, when it spotted us, started barking and raising a ruckus. A middle-aged Bedouin gentlemen in contemporary Israeli clothes came out of his tent, spotted us, and beckoned to us to come in. We obliged, and sit on his poured concrete floor (this was a fancy tent) covered with rugs and pillows, alongside his Japanese SUV, and chatted in Hebrew about his work in the construction business as he gave us tea and water. A few other men in kaffiyas joined us, and we sat politely and soaked up the derekh eretz, and schmoozed with these Bedouin, whom we would otherwise never have met.

Without welcoming others into our tent, we will never get to the Torah. Without derekh eretz, there can be no Torah, no Israel, no community. Welcoming others in is the foundation of Judaism, and it is time for us to take it to the next level.

We read today at the beginning of Parashat Mattot about the power and significance of our words. We are able, through vows, to make a binding commitment that cannot be violated. As Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch taught, a vow is “self-imposed legislation.” Vows are so important that there is an entire tractate of the Talmud, Massekhet Nedarim, devoted to the particulars of what constitutes a vow and its implications.

This is just one example of how our tradition elevates words, and how words can elevate us; our lips can praise and curse, heal and wound, impose a vow and break it. Jewish ritual is always accompanied by powerful words.

I would like to suggest the following: We as individual members of this congregation should all take the following vow: to work as hard as possible at welcoming others into this community.

Now, I am not suggesting that we are not friendly. On the contrary, as synagogues go, we are pretty good. In fact, we were roundly complimented by the Board of the United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism, which met here about a month ago. (United Synagogue is, of course, the umbrella organization of Conservative congregations.) Our member Marty Werber, who serves on the USCJ Board, reported back to us that many members of the Board came away from their visit to Temple Israel with the impression that they were made to feel welcome here, and that is a strong statement; these guys see a lot of congregations, so they have what to compare us to. And we came up pretty well. So Kol Hakavod.

Here is another example: at Tot Shabbat two weeks ago, the first held in the Blue Room, a guest parent exclaimed to my wife Judy, not aware that she is the rebbetzin, how friendly our congregation is. That’s another nice compliment.

And look at all we have accomplished in this regard in the last couple of years:

• We have pioneered the Nitzanim Family Connection, a program that brings together parents of children who are beginning their religious school experience to discuss what it means to be Jewish parents;
• We put together a phenomenally successful pre-bar-mitzvah retreat for the Vav class families;
• We have started a social group for empty nesters and one for parents of young children (called Temple Israel Bonds, the first event, a barbecue, is on August 1 - see Jackie Astrof for details, and there is a flyer out front);
• We have created new offerings in the Youth House to reach out to teens more effectively;
• We have offered adult learning programs in congregants’ homes that welcomes both TIGN members and non-members and thereby creates new connections within our wider community that synagogue-based programs do not necessarily foster.

We have also made it a point, as you may have noticed, to re-arrange the sanctuary (at least some of the time) in a way that many find more inviting, and we often have one rabbi standing at the back with the other greeters and Shabbat officers, to make sure that everybody is properly welcomed, and we have initiated a task-force discussion to talk about our religious services here, and to consider more carefully how we approach them. Focus on the welcoming aspects of our tefillah / prayer experience will surely be a part of that discussion.

However, there is always room for improvement. A few years back, a colleague and friend of mine, Rabbi Kate Palley, was visiting here at Temple Israel for Sukkot. She came early to services, and was davening quietly to herself when she realized that somebody sitting in front of her seemed somewhat agitated, and was looking and pointing at Rabbi Kate and talking to a friend in an animated fashion. At some point, the friend comes over and says, “You’re in his seat!” She moved, and was otherwise undeterred. But is that really the impression that we want to give visitors?

Furthermore, we cannot afford to welcome only those who are already in the building. We have to work a little harder, to reach beyond these walls.

Why is being welcoming so important? Because building this community, as I mentioned last week, is the central pillar of maintaining Temple Israel's strength, for supporting the egalitarian approach to Judaism that we value in an increasingly non-egalitarian community, for ensuring that modern understandings of Judaism and an open approach to the Torah are given a fair shake in the theological marketplace. And there are many people in our wider community who respond positively to our take on Jewish life when they experience it.

By inviting others in and making them feel like a part of us, we stand a chance of growing.  There is no shortage of unaffiliated Jews out there, some of whom may be amenable to finding a spiritual home in a qehillah qedoshah, a sacred community such as ours. But they likely will not join unless we reach out to them and make personal connections.

I am going to frame this issue another way. We read elsewhere in Pirqei Avot the following (2:5):

הלל אומר, אל תפרוש מן הציבור

Hillel omer: Al tifrosh min hatzibbur

Hillel says, “Do not withdraw from the community.”

Well, ladies and gentlemen, we are living in a time in which many Jews have, in fact, separated themselves from their community. But I think that this statement implies that just as we personally are obligated not to separate ourselves, we are also encouraged to act on the converse of that statement: that is, not to allow others to separate from us, the Jewish community. Chabad, Aish HaTorah, and other such Orthodox organizations commit much of their energy to doing exactly that; we need to do so as well, so that those who are unaffiliated are exposed to all of the values that we cherish as modern Jews committed to traditional Judaism.

In other words, we, individual members of Temple Israel, and not just the clergy and the officers, have to reach out, to take on the personal challenge of inviting others to join us. Like Abraham and my Bedouin buddy, we have to go outside the tent and invite others in.

So that is why I want everybody here to take a “vow” today: to be an ambassador of welcoming for Temple Israel, even off the synagogue grounds. Let’s kick it up a notch - let our words of greeting and invitation elevate ourselves and this community. To that end, here are a few action items:  

1. Whenever you are in the building, take Maimonides’ advice and greet everybody with a smile (Mishneh Torah Hilkhot De’ot 2:7).
2. If you have a friend who is unaffiliated but may be open to visiting, let Rabbi Stecker or I know and we might be able to suggest a point of entry best suited to her or him.
3. Find one person whom you do not know at kiddush each week with whom to strike up a conversation. Likewise, you might even want to introduce members of this community who may not know each other.
4. If you bring a guest to TIGN, introduce him or her to me and to a member of the Board or the Membership committee. If you do not know any board members, ask me, and I’ll hook you up.
5. If you have a tech-savvy young person in your orbit, ask them to “like” our Facebook page, and/or to follow @TempleIsraelGN on Twitter. Spreading information far and wide is easy today if you’re connected to the Internet, which we are.

Shabbat shalom! Next week, we’ll talk about the value of learning Torah.


~
Rabbi Seth Adelson
(Originally delivered at Temple Israel of Great Neck, Shabbat morning, July 6, 2013.)

Old Wine, New Flask: Shabbat Dinner Online

In Pirqei Avot / Teachings of the Fathers, we read the following (5:27):

Rabbi Meir used to say: Do not look at the flask but at what is in it; there may be a new flask that is full of old wine and an old flask that does not even have new wine in it.

A piquant piece from the Huffington Post crossed my desk late Friday afternoon on January 18. I wouldn’t necessarily call this news, but it is Jewishly relevant. Posted on Craigslist, this ad received replies from all over the world:

Shalom! We are five handsome and two not so handsome single men. And, yes, we are Jewish. Bound by tradition and emboldened by wit, we are hosting an epic Shabbat dinner -- a little challah, a little wine, and a lot of gefilte fish -- in downtown Washington, DC on Friday, January 18, 2013. In a nod to our orgiastic traditions, we are inviting seven lucky ladies to feast with us. Echoing the State of Israel's Declaration of Independence, we will consider you, "irrespective of religion or race," as long as you "bring your own lactaid pills." 

To be considered, please submit a picture of yourself. We'd also like to hear more about you!

Please answer two of the following questions with another question: What's your favorite Shabbos activity? Which biblical forefather do you admire most and why? What would you establish as the 11th Commandment? What's your favorite episode of Seinfeld? Curb Your Enthusiasm? Which character from Girls speaks most to your personality? What is your favorite double mitzvah? Why would you answer a Craigslist ad about a Shabbat dinner?

You must also answer two of the following, not in question form. Where do you go to get your hair straightened? Are you a self-hating Jew? Have you read Portnoy's Complaint? Explain why a two-state solution would or would not work? How do you feel about the Shoah? What is your favorite yiddish word and farvus? Zach Braff: Dreamy, or in your dreams? Do you appreciate hairy backs?

If you answered yes to any of the questions above, what year did you go on Birthright?

If you are one of the seven chosen people, you will receive additional information regarding the time and location. We look forward to reading your reply and gawking at your picture.

If I were grading this as a school project, I would give it a B for effort (how hard is it to post an ad on Craigslist, after all?) and a B+ for creativity. I'm a tough grader.

But for finding a new way to honor Shabbat, a fundamental feature of Jewish life? A+ all the way.

As our 24/7 culture sails forward into infinite connectedness, never powering down, it’s good to see enterprising Jews using technology to find ways to reconnect for Shabbat; that is what Shabbat is all about: restoring the 24/6 week and rejoicing on the seventh day. The flask may be new, but the wine is properly aged. 

Shabbat shalom!

UPDATE (2/7/2013): One of the female participants was interviewed anonymously by the website Jewcy.com. Click here to read about her Shabbat dinner experience.


~
Rabbi Seth Adelson

Unaffiliated, but Potentially Engaged - Korah 5772

When I was in rabbinical school at the Jewish Theological Seminary, I took a philosophy course that examined contemporary spirituality.  The professor, a somewhat non-conventional rabbi, Rabbi Alfredo Borodowski, emphasized that the primary struggle of religion in our day is to bring meaning to people’s lives.  Some of the questions that we ask are:

What does our tradition teach me?  
How can I apply it to my life today?  
I only have so much time and so much energy, so if I am going to pay attention to anything, it better be meaningful.  What can I possibly gain from paying attention to Jewish life?

This search for meaning is bound up in our character; it is the reason that we are called “Yisrael,” the name given to our patriarch Jacob as “one who struggled with God and with humans” in Genesis 32:29.

Our job as a Jewish community is to answer the question, “What does this mean to me?”  Yes, we must offer many points of entry.  Yes, we must be open, welcoming, and accessible.  But even with all that, we have to offer deep, serious, meaningful content alongside the opportunity to interact with God.

It’s not enough, for example, for a synagogue to offer services on a Saturday morning and merely expect that people will show up, no matter how wonderful the sermon or the cantor’s vocal pyrotechnics.  For people to come, even those who grew up going to shul, there has to be some meaning to it.

It’s not enough to encourage 7th-grade students to continue on into the Youth House Hebrew High School program after they have completed their Bar/Bat Mitzvah.  Those kids have to see that there is some value, some personal meaning in continuing their Jewish education, and their parents have to see this as well.  We have to demonstrate that value, teach that meaning.  If we do not, they are not coming back.

It’s not enough for me to stand here before you and talk about the essential mitzvot / commandments of Jewish life, like the observance of Shabbat and kashrut, without making a case for how doing so will mean something to us as individuals and the community.  Otherwise, such suggestions will not be heard.

***

Perhaps some of you saw the results of a demographic studythat came out two weeks ago, funded by the UJA-Federation of New York.  The conclusions were not surprising, although the Jewish newspapers spun it as big news. Among the major findings were the following: New York Jewry saw a small uptick in population, and most of the growth was in the Haredi / “ultra-Orthodox” sector.  Jews in the metropolitan area are on the one hand growing more rigorously traditional and on the other more unaffiliated, and particularly less identified with the Conservative and Reform movements.  

To be fair, this study does not represent the entire region -- only NYC and Westchester, Nassau and Suffolk counties.  As journalist J. J. Goldberg pointed out in the Forward, the 1.5 million Jews counted excluded about 500,000 who live in NJ and Connecticut, and those numbers skew more heavily non-Orthodox.  

(By the way, while it is true that Orthodoxy saw growth since the last study in 2002, it might be worth noting that Haredi families average something more than six children per family.  Conservative families have an average of 1.5 children.  I’ll leave the math to you.)

The biggest point of concern from my perspective, however, is the dramatic growth of the category known as “Other.”  More than a third, 37% of area Jews, identified themselves as something other than Reform, Conservative, or Orthodox.  Those categories include “just Jewish,” “something else,” “no religion,” non-Jewish religion (but respondent is Jewish), “traditional,” “Sephardic,” “cultural,” “secular,” and other answers.

(from forward.com)

But what do these numbers mean?  Aside from the obvious conclusion that the non-Orthodox movements are shrinking (which, by the way, has been true for several decades), the more accurate observation is as follows: We must be doing something wrong.  Why are younger people who grew up in our movement not joining synagogues or signing up their kids for Hebrew school or even identifying themselves as “Conservative” when a pollster calls?  Maybe it’s because we are expensive, and Chabad is cheap.  Maybe it’s because we stand for Israel in a world that has grown hostile to the Jewish state.  Maybe it’s because assimilation has led our people astray.  

Or maybe it is because we have not made an adequate case for why the non-Orthodox Jewish experience is meaningful.

You see, Orthodoxy has a strong, built-in meaning machine.  It’s what much of our tradition says over and over: buy into the system, accept the yoke of halakhah, and it will be good for you.  I know people who have left the non-Orthodox fold for frummer pastures because it all seems so simple: do what we tell you and it will all make sense.  Much of Orthodoxy includes with that the very simple condition of not asking questions that probe too deeply, such as, “Why are women excluded from Jewish rituals?”  Or, “Why must there be only one path to God?”

But our message, the Conservative Jewish message, reflects the richness of humanity and the complexity of the Jewish textual discourse.  Life is not black and white, and neither is rabbinic literature, or for that matter, the Torah.  There is always a dissenting opinion; there is always room for debate. The Talmud teaches us that women can be called to the Torah in synagogue and wear tallit and tefillin.  Conceptions of God by modern philosophers such as Abraham Joshua Heschel or Martin Buber are as relevant as the Torah’s multiple perspectives.

To arrive at the meaning, however, you have to dig deeper, says the Conservative movement.  It is not enough just to recite the words of tefillah / prayer quickly and accurately, it is just as important to understand them, and to re-interpret them for our times.  There is more meaning in mindfulness than in performing rituals by rote.  

I find meaning, and I hope that some of you do as well, in careful analysis, in familiarizing ourselves with these ancient texts and making them come alive. I also find meaning in asking the hard questions: “How can I believe in a God that allowed the Shoah to happen?”  “How can I accept the stories of the Torah at face value when they sometimes contradict scientific principles or archaeological evidence?”

Disagreement is an ancient tradition, and should be encouraged.  Tolerating multiple opinions was something that came out of rabbinic tradition, and is even highlighted as being “leshem shamayim,” as having a Divine purpose. As we read in Pirqei Avot, the book of the Mishnah dedicated to 2nd-century rabbinic wisdom on life and learning:

Avot 5:17:

כל מחלוקת שהיא לשם שמיים, סופה להתקיים; ושאינה לשם שמיים, אין סופה להתקיים.  איזו היא מחלוקת שהיא לשם שמיים, זו מחלוקת הלל ושמאי; ושאינה לשם שמיים, זו מחלוקת קורח ועדתו.

Every disagreement that is for the sake of heaven will stand; every one that is not for the sake of heaven will not stand.  What is a disagreement that is for the sake of heaven? One between Hillel and Shammai.  What is a disagreement that is not? The one concerning Korah and his sympathizers.

The disagreements between Hillel and Shammai, two schools of thought referenced in the Talmud, are usually about finer points of halakhah / Jewish law.  (A classic dispute, one that I know that is taught in our Religious School, is how to light the Hanukkiah, the Hanukkah menorah.  Shammai says to start with 8 candles the first night, and to lose one on each successive night; Hillel says that we should start with 1 and go to 8, as we all do today.)

Korah, however, brought together a group of malcontents merely to struggle against Moses and Aaron, claiming an unfair distribution of power. In pleading his case before Moses, he said:

כִּי כָל-הָעֵדָה כֻּלָּם קְדֹשִׁים, וּבְתוֹכָם ה'

For all of the community are holy, all of them, and the Lord is in their midst. (Numbers 16:3)

In other words, we are all endowed with some of God’s holiness, says Korah. What makes you guys, Moses and Aaron, so special? Rashi concurs, offering that all the Israelites stood at Mt. Sinai together, not just Moses and Aaron. Korah is advocating for a share in leadership that he thinks that he deserves.  

On some level, Korah is right: we all do have a share of the Divine.  We all stood at Mt. Sinai.  We all received the Torah.

And this is still true, by the way.  Regardless of the validity of Korah’s claim on leadership, and regardless of what synagogue we choose to attend or join or not, there is no question that we all have a share in the Torah, a share in holiness.

In today’s complex, multi-layered Jewish world, we do not necessarily disagree about the meaning of the text.  More pointedly, what we disagree about is the “how.”  How do we create holy moments?  How do we relate to Jewish law?  How do we observe?  How do we make our tradition relevant?

This is, in fact, the essential mahloqet leshem shamayim, disagreement for the sake of heaven, of our day.  This disagreement an essential part of who we are. Remember that we are Yisrael, the ones who struggle with beings Divine and human.  We challenge ourselves as much as we challenge God.

But we cannot let this dispute distract us from our holy task -- that is, bringing meaning to all those who enter this building.  As Rabbi Howard Stecker pointed out to me the other day when we were discussing this, what were the people doing while the leaders were arguing?  Did Korah’s dispute pull Moses and Aaron from their holy work?  Perhaps that is precisely why the Mishnah labels this as an un-heavenly debate.

**

The fifth line on the chart, the one that we do not see, is the line of the “Unaffiliated, but Potentially Engaged.”  Or maybe “Unaffiliated, but Still Seeking.”  That line is also on the way up.  It may not include all of the Unaffiliated, but it certainly includes some proportion of them.  

And that is where we come in.  Those are the ones who might enter this synagogue, and even stick around, if:

1.  If they are greeted and welcomed properly.
2.  If they make connections with others in this building.
3.  If they get a personal boost, a shot of meaning, out of the time spent at Temple Israel of Great Neck.

That third item, conveying the meaning of our brand of Jewish life, is the most difficult of all, because we set the bar higher in terms of understanding.  We dig deeper, and that is hard to convey in 140 characters or less, or even in the context of a Shabbat morning service that is already chock-full.  

But that’s where we should aim.  Let’s talk about why women and men can be understood as equal under Jewish law.  Let’s talk about how modern perspectives on the Torah add to our understanding.  Let’s teach that it’s not all or nothing, glatt or treif.  Let’s engage with those questions that bring meaning to who we are as modern people, as modern Jews.

Thoughtful analysis of Jewish ideas couched in a friendly, easily-accessible format that includes a healthy dose of spiritual openness is one thing that will bring those in that other category in. That’s where we need to focus our energies.

In the wake of the UJA study, plenty of commentators lamented the disappearing center of the New York Jewish community. I say, bring it on. The center is still here, but we have to work harder to pull others in with us. All we have to do is make it meaningful, and that invisible line of the Potentially Engaged will start to creep back down.  

Shabbat shalom.

~

Rabbi Seth Adelson

(Originally delivered at Temple Israel of Great Neck, Shabbat morning, 23 June 2012.)