Sukkot is a holiday that is centered on the little structures we build and eat and sleep in for a week every fall. In our tradition, the sukkah is referenced often, but really only in two contexts. The first is physical, referring to the huts we build yearly and for all practical purposes live in. The second is metaphorical, the sukkat shalom/the sukkah of peace that we pray EVERY NIGHT to be spread over us.

Continue Reading Seeing The Stars…

Six weeks ago I was ordained a Rabbi. Two weeks ago I started a new job. Here are some thoughts on Tisha Be-Av that came out of those first days in my new work. I pray they help to provide some context for this terrible day, and help us all come out of it prepared for Elul and the High Holidays to follow.

Monday evening, July 15 begins Tisha Be-Av, the day marking the destruction of the two Holy Temples in Jerusalem, as well as many other tragedies that have befallen the Jewish people. The day begins in a striking fashion: Together, we sit on the floor as if in mourning and chant the book of Eicha/Lamentations. This very sorrowful book speaks to the ravages of war, to the suffering of our people, and to our collective sense of loss at the destruction of the Holy Temples and our ultimate dispersion from our homes in the Land of Israel. It is a solemn and contemplative day, with the ability to affect each of us differently at different times. Personally, I find it nearly impossible not to weep when this verse is reached:

טָבְעוּ בָאָרֶץ שְׁעָרֶיהָ, אִבַּד וְשִׁבַּר בְּרִיחֶיהָ; מַלְכָּהּ וְשָׂרֶיהָ בַגּוֹיִם, אֵין תּוֹרָה–גַּם-נְבִיאֶיהָ, לֹא-מָצְאוּ חָזוֹן מֵיְהוָה.

Her [Jerusalem’s] gates are sunk into the ground; her bars are destroyed and broken; her king and her princes are among the nations, there is no Torah; and her prophets find no vision from the LORD. (Eicha/Lamentations 2:9)

The experience of bearing witness to utter destruction and the hopelessness that is wrought in such a moment is almost too much to bear. And yet, year in and year out, we are tasked with encountering this pain head-on. In a very significant way, this day has served for millennia to keep one eye of the Jewish people always turned toward Israel, toward Jerusalem. For centuries, we have re-enacted the experience of witnessing this destruction in order to maintain a visceral connection to the physical place itself. The pain is so great that it carries over to the morning, where we come to prayer but do not don tfillin, and do not say a beracha when putting on our talit. We are still too shaken, too broken, to take on the tasks of the everyday.

And then, towards the end of the day–a summer day spent without food or drink–something changes. When we are most tired, most thirsty, most apt to sit or lay on the floor, we get up. We sit on chairs again, we stand a little taller. We recognize that we are not in reality sitting by a destroyed Jerusalem, we are here! Wherever we are.

At Mincha, our talit gets her beracha, we wrap our tfillin, and we take out the Torah. Eicha’s words were but a moment in time. Today, there is Torah! Reliving the destruction lasts but a few hours; Torah–our wisdom, our source–is eternal. The arc of the day takes us from the deepest depths of sorrow back to standing with our feet firmly on the ground. We see the rubble of great tragedy, we sit in it, and then year after year we get up.

This is where we as a people have found ourselves for two thousand years. Holding on to a deep-rooted, real, tangible connection to that part of us which is eternally tied to the Land of Israel, while at the same time being present and grounded in the life that we are living among the nations. Our challenge is: How are we to balance these feelings?

The day, I believe offers some guidance. We begin with Eicha, with lament, with pain and sorrow, with trauma. Much of this day is there to remind us that, for most of our history, we as a people have been a target. And we should conduct ourselves as such. Yet, we end the day at Mincha with a different tone.

וַיֹּאמֶר, הִנֵּה אָנֹכִי כֹּרֵת בְּרִית, נֶגֶד כָּל-עַמְּךָ אֶעֱשֶׂה נִפְלָאֹת, אֲשֶׁר לֹא-נִבְרְאוּ בְכָל-הָאָרֶץ וּבְכָל-הַגּוֹיִם; וְרָאָה כָל-הָעָם אֲשֶׁר-אַתָּה בְקִרְבּוֹ אֶת-מַעֲשֵׂה יְהוָה, כִּי-נוֹרָא הוּא, אֲשֶׁר אֲנִי, עֹשֶׂה עִמָּךְ.

And God said: ‘Behold, I make a covenant; before all your people I will do marvels, such as have not been wrought in all the earth, nor in any nation; and all the people among which you are shall see the work of the LORD that I am about to do with you, that it is tremendous. (Shemot/Exodus 34:10)

The Torah reading for Mincha on Tisha Be-Av ends with a reminder of the covenant, a vision of the future where the works of God and the Jewish people are to be “tremendous.” Certainly our history has pain and suffering in it, but our future holds promise of “marvels such as have not been wrought in all the earth.” And so while our reality may be one of trauma, our faith must always be one of optimism. The day holds both of these sentiments, and, by extension, so should we. We are to live a reality that is constantly vigilant, knowing and understanding that to be Jewish has never meant to be safe; yet at the same time we are tasked with the notion that we must have the full-hearted faith that our future is to be “tremendous.” We are to be cautious and optimistic. We have to be visionary, and watch our backs.

Leon Wieseltier, writing in the New Republic, states the following:

ISRAEL MUST be defended and Israel must be criticized. Almost nobody any longer practices the lost art of doing both at the same time, with similar emphasis, out of equally intense convictions, in a single breath. Instead there is the party of security and the party of justice, as if the country, any country, can endure without both. The debate is a stale contest in cursing between gangs, a tiresome exchange of to-be-sure sentences, uttered by people with anxieties about credibility, or worse, with no such anxieties at all. To be sure, the settlements are a terrible blunder, but centrifuges are spinning in Iran. To be sure, centrifuges are spinning in Iran, but the settlements are a terrible blunder. When I studied the history of Zionism as a young man, I was impressed by Ben-Gurion’s remark, about Britain’s restrictions upon Jewish immigration to Palestine even as Hitler was conquering Europe, that he would fight the White Paper as if there were no war and the war as if there were no White Paper. It seemed almost impossible and altogether correct. There is never only a lone danger or a lone ideal. We should fight the centrifuges in Iran as if there are no settlements and the settlements as if there are no centrifuges in Iran. Welcome to the gang of no gang.

Friends, we are sitting at a moment in history where this challenge is laid at our feet. As Secretary of State John Kerry shuttles back and forth between Washington, Ramallah, and Jerusalem, we are pulled in different directions. Surely, there is historical precedent to be skeptical. Surely, our past experience proves that we have no one to trust but ourselves. And yet, we know better. Our tradition knows better. The wisdom of our people, as evidenced by Tisha Be-Av, teaches us that no matter how disastrous the past has been, we can look to the future with nothing but optimism. Because that is the promise of our eternal covenant.

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel famously referred to himself as “an optimist, against my better judgement.” It is time for all of us, Jewish people everywhere, to live his example. It is time to share with our colleagues and friends the imperative to seize this moment, where the full weight of the efforts of the US government is pushing for the creation of two states living side-by-side, securely, in peace.

As Alan Johnson writes, “the deal is not impossible. To paint it so is not only unwarranted; it is also politically impotent. Despair is not a programme. Let’s hear it for scrupulous optimism. And get to work.”

I wish you all a fast of meaning and depth.

It is Elul, the time leading up to the Yamim Noraim, the HHD.  We are tasked with Teshuvah, with a return to our inner selves, with the mission to seek out who we really have been in this past year, and to judge ourselves – before Yom Kippur, when God and only God is judge.  But Judgement is a complicated word.  It stirs up emotions.  It makes us uncomfortable.  We use it in so many ways.  When I first think about judgement, it is personal, it is about how I make decisions, about who I am and how I act.  But it is also about others.  It is about how we approach those around us, and how they approach us.  We act, and when others see what we do or hear what we say, they judge us.  Its human nature I think, its just how we are wired to behave.  Of course, that does not mean we have to like it… I cant tell you how many times someone else has told me I did something wrong and I have said “don’t judge me.”  But deep down I always know the truth, that I have no right to say that.  No right because I judge others constantly, no right because we are all judging each other all the time.  And in any case, its not really what I mean.  When I say “don’t judge me” what I really mean is “judge me fairly” “consider my position, my experience” “listen to me before deciding about me.”  I know that it is by my judgement that I am judged, and I want others to understand where that judgement came from.

יח שֹׁפְטִים וְשֹׁטְרִים, תִּתֶּן-לְךָ בְּכָל-שְׁעָרֶיךָ, אֲשֶׁר יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ נֹתֵן לְךָ, לִשְׁבָטֶיךָ;

you shall appoint judges and officials for your tribes in all the settlements that adonoi your god is giving you

וְשָׁפְטוּ אֶת-הָעָם, מִשְׁפַּט-צֶדֶק.

and they shall judge the people with due justice

  יטלֹא-תַטֶּה מִשְׁפָּט,

don’t judge unfairly

 לֹא תַכִּיר פָּנִים;

don’t show partiality

 וְלֹא-תִקַּח שֹׁחַד

and don’t take a bribe

—כִּי הַשֹּׁחַד יְעַוֵּר עֵינֵי חֲכָמִים, וִיסַלֵּף דִּבְרֵי צַדִּיקִם.

because bribes blind the eyes of the wise and distort the words of the just.

These verses speak of appointing judges and officers, of their responsibilities, of the potential pitfalls, and of proper action.  The Torah understands that there are times when judgement must be formalized, that a system needs be put in place where respected members of the community can apply their good judgement for the welfare of the whole society.  In the desert God had served as ultimate Judge, but as the people enter the land, and begin to construct their community God recognizes the need to step back and let the people figure some things out on their own.  They need to be able to develop good judgement.  Understand, God gave us the ability to judge, and wants us to use it.

The following is from Midrash Rabbah on Devarim:

ר’ אליעזר אומר: במקום שיש דִּין אין דַּיָּן, ובמקום שאין דִּין יש דַּיָּן.

R’ Eliezer says: In a place where there is judging, there will be no further judging, and in a place where there is no judging there will be further judging

ומהו כן?!

And what is meant by this?

אלא, אמר ר’ אליעזר: אם נעשה הדין למטה אין הדין נעשה למעלה. ואם לא נעשה הדין למטה הדין נעשה למעלה

Rather, R’ Eliezer says: If justice is carried out below (on earth), there will be no further judging above (by God), and if there is no judging (no justice) below, there will be further judging above.

The midrash teaches that the power is in our hands to mold and create the world the way we want it, that Hashem has left it in our hands and sits in judgement of our actions only when we shirk our responsibility.  Of course, we all too often do drop the ball.  And this is why during the month of elul and during the yamim noraim we speak so much of divine judgement, because we know that in a world like ours, where so much feels broken, where judgement seems so sorely lacking, where we open the newspaper daily and read of stories endless litigation, of judges who pursue personal or political agendas, of horrific crimes and compassionless retributive punishment – we all know that the collective of humanity is not using our best judgement.  And it is by our judgement that we are judged.

And so I want to turn our attention back, back to those first three verses, back to the ikar, back to the fundamental basis of the parasha.  Everybody knows that the torah does not speak by accident.  The parasha speaks of judgement before speaking of justice, and that is no accident.  The judge is a symbol, a living breathing manifestation of all of our hopes and expectations for our society.  We trust judges to exemplify a kind of judgement that we can respect.  We put our faith in them to be the living embodiment of the command of this parasha.  And when we put our faith in the judgement of these people to manifest justice, we buy into the system because it represents our highest ideals and expectations.  And when, through the actions of judges that system lives up to the expectations we have set, our faith is rewarded – we see our potential actualized and believe in ourselves.  And our actions change accordingly.

There is a story of Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, the Rebbe of Apta

A case once came before him, when he served as a rabbinical judge in the town of Kosbolov. While the case was underway, he suddenly felt inclined in favor of one of the litigants, though his initial leaning was against him. This sudden change roused his suspicion that something was amiss, and he ordered a halt to the proceedings. Upon investigation, he discovered that someone had slipped a packet of money into his coat.

Said the Rebbe of Apta: Although I was totally unaware of the attempt to bribe me, my judgment was affected. How true are the words of the Torah that “bribery blinds the eyes of the wise”!

Bribery comes in many forms, and always impairs judgement.  Sometimes it is with money, like in the story of the Apta – but sometimes it goes deeper.  Sometimes we want to be blinded, and so we enable it.  Sometimes we bribe ourselves to cloud our judgement, but we forget that it is our judgement by which we are judged.

שֹׁפְטִים וְשֹׁטְרִים, תִּתֶּן-לְךָ בְּכָל-שְׁעָרֶיךָ, אֲשֶׁר יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ נֹתֵן לְךָ, לִשְׁבָטֶיךָ

Rav Chayim Vital, the protégé of the holy Arizal (R. Isaac Luria) points out that this verse is written in a very peculiar way.  It uses the word לך Lecha, to you, in the singular – we would have expected לכם lechem, the plural.   Vital notes that this use of the singular means that each of these  commandments that seem to be directed only to the judges, apply to us as well. We all must strive to be fair, to show no favorites, to avoid bribery.

Based on this understanding, the Shelah Hakodesh focuses in on the word שְׁעָרֶיךָ which though translated in the eitz chayim as settlements, literally means ‘gates’.  Our gates.  He says that there are 7 gates to the soul.  2 ears, 2 eyes, 2 nostrils, and the mouth – these are the passages through with external impressions travel through to the depth of the individual.  Our judgement is based on what we let into our gates, and we are judged by what we allow to leave through them.  The Torah says: “Appoint for yourself judges and officers in all your gates.” Meaning that we should pay close attention, that we must make certain that all kinds of terrible things are not able to pass through these gates. That our ears should not hear harmful things, our eyes should not see evil in others when it is not there, and our mouths should not speak malicious gossip – lest our judgement become impaired.  Because it is by our judgement that we are judged.

But it is so hard.  How can I, how can we possibly set up these judges?  How can we judge everything we see, hear, smell, say… It just seems impossible.  When I first began to think about this, I was frozen, shaken, for a moment – heartbroken.  I had self doubt, I didn’t think I could do it.  All those moments when I used poor judgement while knowing it was poor, all those times I judged others without ever engaging them to discover their truths, all of these failure came flooding back.  I did not even know how to start.  I did what I always do when trying to turn my brain off – I turned on the Facebook…  But I was blessed.  I followed a link and read a wonderful story from Imam Khlid Latif:

Last night I tried to give some food to a homeless man after we had broken our fast following sunset. The man said thanks, but didn’t take it and continued to ask passers-by for money. I wondered to myself why a homeless person wouldn’t want free food. Was he really not homeless? Was he doing drugs? Then I realized the only person who can answer the question is him. So I asked him. When I asked him why he didn’t want the food, he said that he has no place to keep it. He had four sandwiches in a plastic bag that would stay good for a couple of days and taking more food right now would just be excess. Why would he take something knowing that he might not be able to eat it? Then it would just go to waste. He then asked God to bless me and I, in turn, asked God to bless him for teaching me to not assume. 

The Imam realized he was judging another without the benefit of the doubt, and then he acted on this realization.  He checked himself, he pushed through all sorts of barriers – personal and societal – and discovered the truth.  He was a guardian of his gates, a true judge.  I felt inspired.

But this is just one story about one man, about one moment.  Surely he can not act this way all the time, surely we cant, surely the Torah is not commanding us to be perfect, to always use good judgement.  And what about those times when its unclear what the right thing to do is?  How can we know?  The torah’s directives here, difficult in their simplicity, demand a great deal.  They demand because Hashem knows who we are, knows what we do, and knows what we are capable of.  The Torah comes to show us the best of what we can do, and commands us to use good judgement, to judge fairly.  Because the Torah understands how we work, understands that it is by our judgement that we are judged.  Like in this case, many mitzvoth are difficult, challenging, demanding a seemingly unattainable perfection.  But i promise, the torah does not command us to do anything that we are not capable of doing… the torah tells us to strive to grow, to always expect more from ourselves, to live up to our extraordinary potential. We all have the ability to judge fairly, not to play favorites, not to allow ourselves to be bribed – even if the bribe is coming from within.  Remember that it is by our judgement that we are judged.  We can all be the Apta, we can all be Imam Latif.  The Torah says we can do anything, but the choice is ours.

Elul is upon us, the time of teshuvah is here.  It is time to return to ourselves, to dig deep, to work had to become the person we know we should – and can – be.  May this intense time bring all of us closer, closer to our true selves.  May we gain clarity of judgement and become a people who judge others with kindness and compassion, who listen to one another, who see each other’s inherent potential.  May we, together, create a world where everyone’s potential is actualized, where there is no need for the judgement from above – because there is true, clear judgement right here.

]]> https://jcastnetwork.org/ishbenpartzi/better-late-than-never-parashat-shofetim-5771/feed/ 0 2519 https://jcastnetwork.org/ishbenpartzi/a-blessing-and-a-curse/ https://jcastnetwork.org/ishbenpartzi/a-blessing-and-a-curse/#respond Tue, 23 Aug 2011 17:26:38 +0000 https://jcastnetwork.org/ishbenpartzi/2011/08/23/a-blessing-and-a-curse/ There is a challenge to us all found in this week’s parasha - Re’eh - it is there right from the start.  Put up or shut up, says God. 

“Behold, this day I set before you a blessing and a curse.” (Devarim 11:26)

We have a choice, says God - chose the right path or the wrong one.  This is the reality of freedom, the idea that we constantly make decisions and that those decisions have consequences.  I have been thinking a great deal about this idea in the wake of this past week’s terror attacks near Eilat.  

Each and every moment of life we make decisions, and no matter how much we like to blame others for forcing us to make them - it is us in the end who acts, who does the deed.  Those who snuck into Israel with the intention to kill as many as possible almost certainly blame Israel for causing their actions - but they pulled the triggers.  They chose the curse. 

And those who decided to respond in kind by ordering bombs dropped, those who fired across the border, those who drop their quest for a new social order, they chose too.  And they also chose the curse. 

Its just now hitting me that Yom Hazikaron is here.  I havent given it enough attention I guess, life pushing forward as it does.  But right now, my thoughts are with all those who lost their lives because of this conflict.  With those souls lost to anger and violence, drawn into the unnatural state of war.  With those who were not actively fighting, those who died simply by living in a conflict zone.

I lost a cousin recently who I barely knew.  He was in the Army because that what young Israelis do, and died by accident.  A casualty of being placed in a situation where one is constantly surrounded by things designed to kill.  His family, like so many others here mourns twice a year here.  Once for his Yartzheit, and once more today.

Today I join a nation in mourning, and pray that next Yom Hazikaron the number of those who have lost their lives to this conflict is the same as it is today.  I pray that this suffering brings with it healing, that this collective day of Shiva brings with it the comfort that sitting in mourning with family can bring.  And that comfort begins to allow us to move forward, to rise up from the dust of mourning and face the rest of our lives with courage and compassion.  I pray that we are able to experience this pain of ours, so profound, and steel ourselves with the determination to end suffering – all suffering.

הִתְנַעֲרִי מֵעָפָר קוּמִי

“The bill’s controversial third clause states that anyone who “entered” Israel as a non-Jew (and did not have a father, grandparents or spouse who was Jewish and therefore was not eligible for Israeli citizenship under the Law of Return) and converted to Judaism at some later date, whether in Israel or abroad, would not be eligible for automatic citizenship.”

So if someone went to Israel, fell in love with Judaism and decided to convert, but happens to believe that Halacha dictates an equality of the sexes in Synagogues and so converts Conservative – they are going to be DENIED Israeli citizenship.

And if any Orthodox people think this is not their argument, the same is true for their converts as well. Any convert will be scrutinized, and I can assure you that Modern Orthodox conversions will be declared null as well.

Hell, the chief rabbinate could just decide not to recognize the conversion of anyone outside of Israel who had had the poor judgment to visit Israel as a Gentile.

Folks this bill speaks to a deeper flaw in modern Israel. The power of the chief rabbinate must be abolished altogether. Judaism of all types should be recognized without state coercion. Power has corrupted the Haredi/Dati Israeli rabbinate – it needs to end. Separate our beautiful faith from the trappings of the state…and watch it flourish.

Do we hold our own to a different standard than we hold the rest of the world? I mean, if Fox is right about Israel maybe they are right about America? Right about Iraq? This is the network of Hannity and Beck people, don’t forget that. And if you, as I, find yourselves nodding in agreement with either of those two…get up and walk to the closest mirror and look deeply into your own eyes, into your own soul. Are you still being true to yourself? To your beliefs? To your people?

Sending love and prayers to all those around the world who are feeling such pain over this incident. May this be a restful and healing Shabbat.

“A former underage worker cried Monday while testifying she was exposed to harsh chemicals at an Iowa slaughterhouse where she and other teens worked 12 hours a day, six days a week. Yesenia Cordero Mendoza, now 18, was one of two former underage workers to testify against former manager Sholom Rubashkin, who faces 83 child labor violation charges stemming from a May 2008 raid at the plant in which 389 illegal immigrants, including 31 children, were detained.”

How can you be outraged at his sentence but not at his actions? How can you try to act like what went on in Iowa was not wrong? This is not a case of people out to get us, this is a case of us forgetting ourselves. When I ate meat I mindlessly ate Rubashkins meat. I feel ill now because I am convinced that the meat I ate then was not Kosher. I didn’t know, but I supported this.

We must be more mindful. We must infuse all aspects of our lives with Torah if we are going to avoid this ever happening again. This was Jewish industry that sold to Jewish people, and it had 16 year olds working 12 hour days for pennies. This plant was not Torah True.

So now I am “non-Orthodox?” The majority of the worlds Jews are to be defined by what we are NOT? I refuse to accept that. How can we be such a weak majority? Time to rise up people, we have the numbers so we have the power here. Word, how bout all us non-Orthodox just start calling ourselves Orthodox? Then all those who define themselves by being not-us (yeah I’m calling you out Hershel Schachter, tell me what you stand for without it being a response to other Jews; wanna know what I stand for? Check the words of one of MY Ravs), can find a new name or just take over the title of non-Orthodox.

On the more real tip, this piece presents the problem as being the conveying of some “responsibility” over conversions (I’m assuming those performed in Israel) to the Haredi Chief Rabbinate. Ok, fine. I dont like it but it does not affect Diaspora Jews too much, its more about the half a million Israeli-Russians who are not halachically Jewish). However: “The bill contains a provision that would bar converts to Judaism from gaining automatic Israeli citizenship under the Law of Return if they had entered the country before their conversion.”

Seems to me that “if they had entered the country before their conversion” could have been any time, and could be applied to people who do not convert in Israel. So if you went on a visit to Israel as a Christian, then returned home to the US a changed person and converted to Judaism with me as your Rabbi – you are not covered under the law of return. THAT IS A PROBLEM.

Since this summer I have spent a great deal of time in contemplation of our tradition, our history, and how to study each with a mind to the other. Each day I read the news from Israel waiting for some glimmer of hope, and am often left wanting. But I have come to realize one thing. I do not believe that we have chosen to come to complete terms with our tradition. I believe we ignore our past reality when dealing with our present. And that we do so at our peril. But I know that Torah is truth. And so the answers are there.

And so we come to parashat Vayeshev, a story where dreams dance between reality and fantasy, where truth and lies are intermingled, where hatred and love seem to exist simultaneously. Joseph is sent to search for his brothers as they tend their flocks in Shechem. This seemingly innocuous introduction to the story leads, as we all know, to the eventual acts of the brothers that lead to Joseph’s sale into slavery and, later on, the entire Jewish people’s as well. The gemara
תלמוד בבלי מסכת סנהדרין דף קב א

on the verse
וַיִּשְׁלָחֵהוּ מֵעֵמֶק חֶבְרוֹן, וַיָּבֹא שְׁכֶמָה (בראשית לז:יד)
So he sent him out of the vale of Hebron, and he came to Shechem (Braishit 37:14)

notes that Shechem is

תנא משום ר’ יוסי מקום מזומן לפורענות בשכם עינו את דינה בשכם מכרו אחיו את יוסף בשכם נחלקה מלכות בית דוד (מלכים א יא)
It was taught in the name of R. Yossi: A place predestined for evil: in Shechem Dinah was violated; in Shechem Joseph was sold by his brothers; and in Shechem the kingdom of the House of David was divided (I Kings:12:1).

Shechem is trouble the tradition says, and implies that we should stay away.

And yet, today Shechem is the subject of dispute. It is a city called Nablus, which sits in the West Bank. And in it is “Joseph’s tomb.” And so Jews, religious Jews like you and I have connection to it. At the onset of the 2nd Intefadeh it was a centerpiece, destroyed by rioters it became a symbol for many that peace was an current impossibility. That the other had nothing but hatred for us Jews, that when given the opportunity they destroy our history rather than protect it. And so a “holy” place became a site of hatred and contention.

Yet it seems apparent that we discarded one piece of the wisdom of our tradition for the sake of another. Joseph is buried there, so the place is holy. Yet tradition teaches us that this is also “a place predestined for evil” – a place where bad things happen. And so the question arises, when we returned to Eretz Yisrael after 2000 years, when our holy sites heretofore existing only in the communal memory of our people became real places – we CHOSE a specific narrative as our truth. Shechem ceased to be a place of evil, and became only a holy place. And so our truth ceased to be shalem, as we left part of it behind.

I see similarities in our discussions of an egalitarian approach to Halacha in the manner presented to us this summer by Rav Eitan. More specifically, in the existing reaction to Halacha of our type from the other halachic minded Jewish communities of the world. The current focus seems to be that Halachic rulings that are lenient in essence, are less true than their stringent counterparts. And so a Torah-true halachic reading that increases egalitarian practice in the Synagogue by Rav Eitan is on its face less real than a reading that says buses in Israel should be gender segregated. Each opinion is a halachic reaction to modernity, each is a departure from Jewish tradition as it has existed up to this point, yet the Halachic community seems to only value the strict. Why? It is choosing a half truth. It is an existence that denies shalem. It is calling Shechem a holy place while ignoring warnings that it is also dangerous.

So our goal then is, I believe, to attempt to see the whole of the lessons of the tradition. It is our responsibility to search deeply into our texts, locate the wisdom, and if it sets before us difficult situations, if it shows a complete truth that is complex and requires conscious decision-making – then we must take it upon ourselves to make the hard choices.

For Israel, this is leaving Shechem – and by extension the holy site of Joseph’s tomb – in the hands of a non-Jewish population that is at current time a hostile population. And to do so with the comfort of knowing that we are, in fact acting in a way that is Torah-true.

For us it is to always remember that we are as true to the tradition as anyone else, that we have chose different emphasis, turned right where others turned left – but have not left the system, have not left the wisdom behind.

My friends we are the present כלי קודש – the receptacles of holiness. The wisdom of the ages is within you. Use it wisely.

“The first intifada gained significant diplomatic ground as far as the Palestinians are concerned since its symbol, a boy throwing rocks at a tank, made it impossible for Israel to claim it was defending itself against terror as it did in the second intifada, followings the city-center bombings,” the official said…

This worries me. Why? Because stones may not be arms (although I bet David and Goliath would disagree), but throwing them does constitute violence. And protest – no matter how just its cause – if initiated through violence will beget violence. And in this case stones thrown in one direction will almost certainly find bullets returned.

Third Intifada? Not a terrible idea. Something new needs to happen. But in my humble opinion this Intifada will only succeed in altering the status quo for the positive if it is NON violent.

Gather. March. Sit together in the middle of the road. But do not cast the first, or any stones. The image of a boy throwing a stone at a tank may be powerful, but did that Intifada really accomplish anything? No. Why? Because it was violent.

Change the game, change the result.

Initiate fully peaceful protest.

The weekly anti-separation fence rallies in the villages of Na’alin and Bil’in are NOT non-violent and have NOT accomplished a thing. They should not be the paradigm to look for. A powerful image? How about a million walking peacefully to Jerusalem on a Friday morning, praying at and around Al-Aqsa, and then walking peacefully home. Numbers show power. And control shows power. And non-violence shows hope for the future.

Shabbat Shalom. May just causes beget just action. May people begin to see the failure of violence. May the wonderful people of the Holy Land find peace speedily in our days.

יהי שלום בחילך שלוה בארמנותיך