The National Museum of American Jewish History (NMAJH) which opened just a year ago is the only museum dedicated exclusively to American Jewish history. 20,000 artifacts paint a compelling and complex portrait of American Jewish life. And there could hardly be a more moving or meaningful location than directly across from classic symbols of American freedom, such as the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall. Indeed, beyond simply providing perspective on the past, the NMAJH instilled in us pride — pride for being Americans and pride for being Jews.

But for all of its compelling features (a treasure trove of Judaica, a thought-provoking storyline, an impressive façade) this museum, like many Jewish museums leaves me proud but also troubled. I can’t help but feel saddened when I see elements of a once flourishing Jewish life relegated to historical artifacts: a Torah scroll from the 1700s rolled open for passers-by to admire; candlesticks in a display case, apparently no longer valued by the descendants of a Midwestern Jew.

In this sense, the NMAJH’s parent organization, Congregation Mikveh Israel, offered a valuable addendum to our museum visit. Mikveh Israel is the oldest continuous synagogue congregation in the United States. Like the museum just one block away, Mikveh Israel has a collection of historic documents. There are, for example, letters to the community from Presidents George Washington and Abraham Lincoln. But there is an important difference. Unlike the NMAJH, at Mikveh Israel, the Judaica are not only museum pieces. They are used. A two hundred year old Torah crown is paraded weekly around the sanctuary. A four hundred year old melody is sung in full voice by cantor and congregation. At Mikveh Israel, history is kept not under UV-protected glass and backed with acid free paper, but in the hearts and minds of congregants who cherish it.

“We must experience our history as something personal, something which touches us and inspires us… not [simply] as a collection of data,” wrote Rabbi Marc Angel, rabbi emeritus of Shearith Israel, America’s first synagogue community dating back to 1654. “In the case of nostalgia, we attempt to transfer ourselves out of the present and into the past. But in the case of living history, we attempt to take the past out of the past and bring it into the present.”

We need museums in our communities. We are enriched by them. But it is not enough to visit a museum and leave it. The museum must live in us and leave with us. So that truly, we are the museum — a living museum, endlessly growing, displaying our ever changing exhibits, retelling our ever new story.

Our group left the NMAJH with a sense of optimism but also with a warning. Optimism because we learned that throughout our history, each generation has renewed Jewish life in America; a warning because we understood that this responsibility now rests with us. To meet this challenge, we must do more than build repositories of the past. Inspired by our history, we must establish vital and vibrant Jewish communities of today. For the best museum can bring history to life. But only a community can make history. And make history live.

The story of Joan began in NYC in 1926 (she was 84). Joan was the only child of Jacob and Sally Leff.  Jacob was a dentist, Sally an opera coach. Joan graduated from Julia Richmond HS at age 16, and then a BA from Barnard (English major). Her first brush with rabbis was almost immediate, as she served as a Research Asst for Louis Finkelstein at the Seminary. There she met Jack (and Rhoda) Cohen who fixed her up with one Jerry Lipnick (already a bit of a legend for his heroic activism in late 1942 and early 1943 to urge American Jewish leaders to be more responsive to the Holocaust – you can google that impressive effort of Jerry and Noah Golinkin and Buddy Sachs).  Jerry’s brother Bernard/Bernie, who also was a rabbi, had a wonderful pulpit career at Bnai Amoona in St Louis MO and just died this winter; his widow Harriet is with us today. Joan and Jerry were married at the Hotel Pierre on December 21, 1947 and soon both were off to his pulpit in Utica NY, the first Beth El in Joan’s life, where between 1946-1960 Jerry and Joan were a wonderfully successful rabbi/ rebbitzin team and where their three children – Miriam, Robert, and Jonathan (her favorite according to the siblings)– were born. The three kids would ultimately give Joan and Jerry a son in law (Forrest) and two daughters in law (Barbara and Susan) and 10 grandchildren. Together with the 11 of Kass we get 21 grandchildren, and also there are 2 great grandchildren.

The Lipnick’s left Utica to serve at Adath Jeshurun in Minneapolis, Minnesota, where they spent five good years. During those years (1960-1965) they met and became friends with another rabbinic couple, Kass and Shirley Abelson. Kass was the new senior rabbi at Beth El in St Louis Park.  The two couples became friends; Miriam was involved w LTF and Shirley was the Twin Cities advisor.   Who could imagine then that the deaths – each long before their time – of Jerry and Shirley would someday bring Kass and Joan together?

After Minnesota, Jerry and Joan lived a year in Israel (he was the educational consultant for the World Council of Synagogues in Jerusalem) before returning to pulpit work in 1966 as the rabbi of the Jacksonville Jewish Center in Jacksonville, Florida. From 1969-1976 Rabbi Lipnick worked as the Director of Education for the B’nai B’rith Youth Organization in Washington D.C. Jerry Lipnick died in March, 1977.

Joan and Jerry were active in the Jewish community here and were involved with Beth El, fast friends with some of my favorite people, Ilya and Edith Weisz, Harold and Vera Fassberg z”l and of course their rabbi and rebbitzin Sam and Judy Scolnic – I say “favorite” because they were among the key figures in fixing me up with my wife.

Joan had gone back to work already in Florida and continued after Jerry died. She had earned an M.A. in education after she and Jerry moved here, and she began serving as a Title I reading specialist for MCPS. Among her colleagues in the system was my wife.  She did that for 20 years. In 1989 she and Kass met up again at the R.A. Convention, seemingly by accident but evidently some shrewd rabbinic heads were involved in the “accident.” They cut out on some of the Convention, grew more and more serious as the weeks and months went by, and were married the following year. As Morty Leifman put it, Kass was “blessed with two wonderful wives and marriages.” And he is the first to admit that. On Sunday he spoke to me glowingly of his 20 year “loving and meaningful relationship” with Joan. And he noted that, while neither Joan nor Kass took the place of Shirley or Jerry, they did fill it.

Joan took well to living half the year here and half in Minneapolis where Kass was serving as Rabbi Emeritus but hardly retired. She hooked up with old friends from the earlier days, was in sewing and story telling groups, did book reviews, even helped edit some of Kass’s sermons – I probably was just one of many  who benefited from her efforts as his sermons reached the colleagues. She was happy to be part of Kass’s rabbinate, her second rebbitzinate, which was a different kind than Jerry’s:  more high profile – Kass was a major, major figure in the Conservative movement and American Jewry/ R.A, President/Law Committee Chair/ creator of USY – different from the activist more grass roots more prophetic kind of rabbinate that Jerry favored from his seminary days on.  In Minneapolis Joan also got to enjoy some of the 20-21 grandkids, 7 of whom lived in Minnesota.   We in the D.C. area got used to sharing her with Minneapolis, but it always seemed like she was gone more than the “half of the time” that we had been promised.  Our hearts go out to Kass, who has now lost two wonderful wives. Watching him these last 7-8 months since erev Purim – when Joan first ended in the hospital for what seemed like an innocuous infection in her shoulder – I can say that I have rarely seen such tireless devotion and care giving.  From Kass, also from her kids and grandkids, and Kass’s kids.  That Joan never really recovered was not because she lacked loving and caring.

It takes no genius to figure out Joan Lipnick Abelson. She was beautiful on the outside and on the inside- tochah kvara. She loved life, loved people and looked for the good in them.  She was bright, sweet but no pushover and had a myriad of interests, hobbies and intellectual pursuits. Her liberal politics was matched by her liberal use of the telephone. She loved family, Shabbat. She was a wonderful wife, mother, grandmother and lately great grandmother twice over.  She was a lady, a class act which ended much too soon. And we are left to mourn a special woman who made life – wherever she touched it – better than it was before.  Amen

Once 15,000 members strong, the Cuban Jewish community has shrunk to a mere 1,500. Between the revolution in 1959 and the fall of the Soviet empire in the 1990s, synagogues were closed. Judaism like other religions on the island was practiced underground if at all. An entire generation of Jews was thus lost to Castro’s regime.

More recently, many of the most committed and knowledgeable Jews moved to Israel through the clandestine “Operation Cigar.” Today, with great determination, those who remain have not given up on their heritage. Their story is inspiring so I would like to share it with you.

Part of what made our mission so meaningful was traveling with Dalia Katz and her family. This was Dalia’s first return to the country of her birth in over 50 years. Her story is featured in the June 30th Star Tribune.

I hope you had a good Pesah. We had the great fortune of being able to spend the hag (holiday) in Israel with family and friends. While there are lots of memories of our trip that come to mind, I wanted to share one with you.

I think the thing my kids were most excited to see was The Wall in Jerusalem. And it lived up to its reputation. They were fascinated with the b’nai mitzvah taking place that morning. They wrote notes to put in its crevices and particularly enjoyed the tunnel tours that introduced us to the history of this ancient, holy site.

For my kids, the Western Wall was just what they envisioned. I was struck with what followed. Once back in the neighborhood of our Jerusalem apartment, I realized that for our kids, every wall had become “The Wall.” Since the entire city is made of Jerusalem stone, they delighted in taking pictures of each other in front of random buildings and occasional retaining walls saying “I am standing next to The Wall!”

At first I tried to remind them of the history of the Kotel, it’s location in relation to the Temple and its support of the Temple mount. But eventually I gave up and came to love their perspective. In Jerusalem, they taught me, every wall is sacred. Every stone is holy- not just the walls from the old city but even those in the new city, not just ancient Temples but modern municipal buildings.

The history of biblical Israel which is evident throughout the country is fascinating. But no less compelling is the way modern Israelis have returned to the land of our ancestors to create and build a modern society on the ruins of the old one. It is really is an “Altneuland,” an old-new land in which the new is becoming sacred in its own right.

My kids joked that if Jerusalem is made of gold then Tel Aviv must be made of copper. But truly if all of the walls in Jerusalem are holy, then perhaps all of Israel is Tel Aviv, “the spring of an ancient hill.”

Read further reflections on our recent trip.

Bivracha,

Rabbi Davis

Half way around the world a very different story has played out this past week. There was some hope on Sunday that Israel would strike a deal with Hamas for the release of captured soldier, Gilad Shalit. The government claims that it was willing to pay an exorbitant price. And while some Israelis argued that the price of Hamas’ extortion was too high, many were willing to pay just about any amount. Rather than angry, Israelis ended up heartsick.

Clearly the situations are very different. But since they happened simultaneously, I can’t help reflect on the two.

Kidnapping was well known to Jewish communities of the middle ages and therefore halakhic sources deal extensively with the topic. Speaking of the allocation of limited communal funds, Rambam writes: “redeeming captives takes precedence over sustaining the poor and clothing them and there is no commandment more important than redeeming captives. The community may even reallocate money it collected for communal needs for redeeming captives.”

Rambam doesn’t say anything about allocating money for executive bonuses. But I can guess what he’d say. His teaching does speak to the priority of giving; it is a calculation of what needs take precedent. This is helpful in dealing with Shalit or our own tzadaka donations. I get the sense that our American society needs an additional lesson- not just on the priority of giving but on taking. Under what circumstances, for example, is it kosher for executives, athletes, rock stars, etc. to ask for multi million dollar compensation packages and bonuses? How much should we expect to earn when our co-worker or employees earn this amount; when our business nets this amount? I don’t have answers. But, just as our tradition teaches the value of life, so too can it offer insights into the values in life.

Even as the mess in our financial system gets sorted out, our thoughts and prayers remain with Shalit and his family. Just as God redeemed the Israelites, so may God redeem our captive soldiers.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Davis

In addition to the Purim carnival and shpiel, this year’s Purim was enhanced by the visit of some special guests. Sponsored by the National Peace Foundation and the Islamic Society of North America, Beth El hosted a delegation from Yemen, Qatar and United Arab Emirates. These twenty journalists, human rights lawyers and activists are traveling around the States visiting various sites for cross cultural exchanges. For most of the delegates, this was their first time meeting Jews and first time in a synagogue.

What must they have thought with a visit on Purim?! “Who are these strange people dressed up and acting crazy in their house of worship?!” Despite the unusual timing, it was a really interesting visit. The group joined us for part of shaharit and witnessed Torah and Megillah reading. They had a tour of our main sanctuary and enjoyed a traditional Jewish breakfast- bagels! All along, they asked (some through an interpreter) about Jewish life- holidays, customs, intermarriage, etc.

One question from a Yemini newspaper editor was unexpected but interesting. He asked, “if the Torah mandates punishment for adulterers (strangulation, stoning or burning depending on the situation), how are adulterers dealt with in today’s Jewish community?” The question led to an interesting exchange of thoughts on Jewish and Islamic legal systems. And the answer, “today we do not physically punish adulterers,” is directly related to Purim.

We know that the Jews received the Torah on Mt. Sinai. But what at Sinai was a system of law externally imposed by God on the Israelites, becomes on Purim a legal system internalized and adjudicated by sages. The modern Israeli thinker, David Hartman, speaks to this very transformation in his book, a “A Living Covenant,” in a chapter appropriately titled, “Assertion Versus Submission.” On Purim, he explains, we rise and say “God has commanded us to read the megillah.” But there is no such commandment in the Torah! How then can we claim to be “commanded to read the megillah?” The Talmud’s Rabbi Yoshua ben Levi interprets a verse in the megillah to prove that the heavenly court ratified the rabbis’ decision.

This is boldness approaching hutzpa! The rabbis turn to the Book of Esther (which never mentions God) and find proof that God commands us to read the book in the first place! And the implication of this move applies directly to the Yemini editor’s question. Hartman writes: “Just as the rabbis are competent to introduce new legislation how the community is to behave (i.e. reading megillah), so too can they define how God will act with the sinner.”

I don’t want this already thick email to get even more complicated. After all, some of you may still be sleeping off the effects of Purim! But the lesson here is profound: the sages “liberated Judaism from literalism” and applied its teachings to their lives. And we are charged with doing the same.

As is often the case in interfaith dialogue, we learn as much about ourselves as we do about those sitting across the table.

Bivracha,
Rabbi Davis

This message was originally posted to Beth El’s eTorah mailing list.  You may sign up to receive periodic messages from Rabbi Davis and Rabbi Olitzky, delivered right to your e-mail!.

One of the essential lessons of Purim is recognizing one’s responsibility as a member of the Jewish community today. The entire Purim story permeates the cultural memory of Jews. Still, out of the entire story, there is one verse that speaks specifically to this sense of communal responsibility.

Queen Esther approaches King Ahasuerus after Mordechai tells her of Haman’s evil plans for the Jews. The King asks, “Whatever is your wish, Queen Esther, it shall be granted you. And what is your request? Even to half the kingdom, it shall be fulfilled” (Esther 7:2).

Esther could have asked for anything. She had the king in the palm of her hand, “ad hatzi hamalkhut”-she could have taken over half of the kingdom! Without hesitation and without fear, Esther acted as a Jew first. She saved her people and she saved the future. She saved us.

Think about it: if someone gave you the opportunity, “You can have whatever you want, even rule over half of the world,” how might you respond? Just like the three wishes, would you ask for the material items for which we so often long? Or, would you answer the call and make changes where they are truly necessary?

In today’s world, there is hate, pain and suffering. It is a reality of the world in which we live. Where there is wealth there is poverty. Where there is health there is sickness. And where there is life there is death. We as a Jewish community have not only a responsibility to stand up for each other, but to think about our neighbors just as we think about ourselves. Each day that we walk this earth is another Kingly offer: “What is your wish? What are you going to do? What do you want today?” We do not live in this world alone; we should never ever think solely about ourselves.

Esther teaches us that it is not enough to be Jewish, one must act Jewishly. Esther teaches us that it is not enough to be human, one must act humanely. As we approach Purim this year, take stock in the life and world around you. This year is already gloomy for many of our neighbors, our brothers and our sisters. And even for many of us. We can appreciate the challenge that we are blessed with the opportunity to appreciate what really matters. We each need to find a way to give that “half of the kingdom” to someone else because that is essentially what Esther does: she turns her own prominence into future redemption.

When the time comes for us to do something for someone else, and when the time comes for us to use our stature in the world to brighten someone else’s day, we must seize the opportunity. It may only come once-and that once may change the world forever.

May this be a Purim where we all have the opportunity to the save the world, yet again!

These are historic days made all the more significant by the confluence of significant events.  Today is M.L. King Jr. Day on which we reflect on our inalienable rights to live in freedom. Tomorrow we anticipate Barak Obama’s inauguration and understand that without King, this day could not come to pass.  Finally, we take note of last Shabbat’s Torah reading in which we were introduced to Moshe whose story inspired King whose movement led to Obama.  Whether you voted for Obama or not, I think we all sense the significance of these days and so the words of the shehehayenu come to mind thanking God for giving us the strength, fortitude and will to reach this precious day.

The Torah reading on Shabbat presented us Moshe’s early, less glamorous history.  Before there was a Moshe who lead his people out of Egypt and through a wilderness for forty years, there was a leader who declined to lead, a leader who was simply overwhelmed by his charge.  Moshe did not campaign for his job saying “Yes we can.”  When God approached him at the burning bush to appoint him leader of the Jewish he responded emphatically, “No, I can’t.” And who can blame him? The challenges he faced were enormous!

Moshe responds to God’s job offer, “Who am I to lead the Israelites out of Egypt?”  In addition to questioning his own ability to handle the job, Moshe raises doubts about the worthiness of the Israelites to be freed.  But God will have none of it:  To Moshe’s question, “What has Israel done to deserve this,” God answers, “When you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall serve God on this mountain” (Rashi, Ex. 3:11).

The Israelites are not deserving of the exodus as a reward for previous good behavior but in expectation for their future destiny, their receiving the Torah on Mt. Sinai.  The great, modern Torah scholar, Nechama Leibowitz explains it this way: “This release from slavery was inspired by a purpose and a goal rather than a motivating cause.  God did not release Israel from slavery to set them free from all burden of responsibility. God wished them to become free to accept another responsibility- the Torah and mitzvot.”

What an important message for our time!  What a timely reminder on this M.L. King JR. Day and this day before a presidential inauguration!  Freedom is not simply a privilege.  It is a responsibility.

In 1958 A.J. Heschel wrote an essay entitled, “Religion in a Free Society.”  Having marked Heschel’s yahrzeit last Wednesday, it is to his words that we turn for they capture the spirit of the Torah and the significance of this day:

“We all share a supreme devotion to the hard-won freedoms of the American people. Yet to be worthy of retaining our freedoms we must not lose our understanding of the essential nature of freedom.  Freedom means more than mere emancipation.  It is primarily freedom of conscience, bound up with inner allegiance. The danger begins when freedom is thought to consist in the fact that “I can act as I desire.”  Freedom is the liberation from the tyranny of the self-centered ego.  It comes about in moments of transcending the self as an act of spiritual ecstasy.  Freedom presupposes the capacity for sacrifice.”

Moshe learned that freedom is empty if not linked to responsibility.  This is the essential lesson of the story of the Exodus and a central tenant of Judaism: not simply “freedom from” but “freedom for.”   Only when we embrace that message can we truly call out, “Free at last. Free at last. Thank God All Mighty I am free at last.”

With the situation in Israel unfolding, last week’s vacation seem like a long time ago already. But I do want to share with you what I did over “winter break.” Last week I participated in the third annual Food Conference run by Hazon. Hazon is a growing, cross denominational, Jewish social justice organization. Hazon means vision and their vision is to create a healthier and more sustainable Jewish community as a step towards a healthier and more sustainable world for all. The words on their bentscher says best what they do: “The people of the bike; The people of the hike; the people of the bite!” They organize week long bike rides and hikes in the States and in Israel and have a food division of which this conference is just one component.

The conference brought together over 500 Jews, young and old, vegans and omnivores, orthodox, non affiliated, post denominational and every combination you can imagine for classes and discussions on a variety of topics. For example, there were sessions on hallah making and gluten free diets, urban agriculture and the history of Jews and chocolate, the ethics of eating in the 21st century, a class on the safety of genetically modified food and a documentary film about affording a nutritious diet while living on food stamps. Perhaps the best way to describe the conference is to say that Michael Pollin, author of “Omnivore’s Dilemma,” was repeatedly referred to half jokingly as Reb Pollin.

Conference participants included Jewish farmers and rabbis, food policy activists and Jewish educators, business owners, chefs, nutritionists and more. We gathered to explore food, Jewish tradition and contemporary life. With news this past year of food shortages and of Agriprocessors in the back of everyone’s mind, the conference could not have been more timely.

At some later date, I’ll be happy to share with those interested a draft of the goals of this new Jewish food movement or repeat the class that I taught. But for this eTorah I’d like to examine a prayer that really struck me upon my return home.

We read in the siddur a beracha known as “Birkat Hashanim, the Blessing of the Years:”

God, bless this year and all its varied crops for well being. Give a blessing of dew and rain on the face of the earth and satisfy us with Your bounty. Bless our year like the best years. Blessed are You, God, who blesses the years.

It sounds like a New Year’s prayer but it is actually part of the weekday amidah recited three times a day. Birkat Hashanim focuses on agriculture as an essential component for a year of blessing. That was true in ancient times and in our own day. Still, today this prayer is understood to be a blessing for general prosperity. Shimshon Raphael Hirsch explains it this way:

We request a blessing on our general business activities and then go on to ask for abundant crops. Even in bad times some prosper, and even in good times some farms and businesses fail. We ask not only for general prosperity but that we be enabled to share in it.

One thing I notice in this beracha is a subtle change in language. While it begins by asking for a blessing for “this year” it concludes asking God to “bless the years.” What is the message here?
Seasonal agriculture cycles do not operate with one year in isolation from the next. Jewish tradition, for example, speaks of multi year cycles such as shmita (every seven years) or orla (a three year cycle). Moreover, we know that how we treat the land this year affects it for years to come. That fact was a major focus of the food conference. Many speakers criticized our nation’s shortsighted agricultural policies and practices that offer bumper yields “this year” but have negative impact on the health of our bodies and our planet in the years to come. Writing on this beracha, Reuven Hammer echoes sentiments expressed at the conference:

Since our lives are dependent upon the crops of the earth, we pray that conditions be such that the earth will be fruitful and thus none will go hungry. At the same time we should be aware of the role the we as human beings, God’s partners in creation, play in this. Through our actions we can affect the very climate in which we live, for good or for ill. Our responsibility is to preserve the earth that has been given into our keeping.

We never know what a new year will bring. We don’t have that kind of insight. But with “hazon” (proper vision), we can plan for the future. We pray that this year should be a year of prosperity. And not knowing what the coming year will bring, we ask God to give us the foresight to live wisely to ensure that in the years that follow we will likewise be blessed and satisfied by God’s goodness.

Happy New Year and Shavua tov,

Rabbi Alexander Davis

“V’akhalta v’SAVATA u-verakhta. And you shall eat, be satisfied and bless God.”

This sentence is a verse from the Torah that teaches us the mitzvah of reciting birkat hamazon, the blessing after a meal. After eating, when we are full, we offer a blessing of thankgiving to God.

The word “savata” means satisfied or full. Imagining tomorrow’s feast, my stomach already feels full! But the word comes to mind this “erev Thanksgiving” because it was featured prominently in last week’s Torah reading. It is the last word describing Abraham before he died- saveiah. In that case, the word saveiah means Abraham was satisfied with his life. Having amassed wealth and honor, having lived a long life and having raised a family, Abraham looked over all with which God had blessed him and was content.

Ramban, the medieval Torah commentator writes on this verse: “Abraham witnessed the fulfillment of all of the desires of his heart and was sated with all good things.” Many people leave this world, Ramban teaches, amassing barely half of their desires. If they have one hundred, they want two; two hundred and they want four. But Abraham was content. In the words of the midrash, “his soul was full and he fell asleep.”

Tomorrow we will gather around a table of food and will eat until we are full (and then likely eat some more!). But before we fall asleep from the tryptophan in the Turkey, we should take time to say in the words of the birkat hamazon, v’akhalta v’savata u-verakhta. Looking around the holiday and table, we should sense not only the fullness in our stomachs but contentment in our souls. For when we take time to give thanks, we will feel our souls sated by God’s blessings.

Happy Thanksgiving,

This past Shabbat, Beth El hosted JJ Goldberg, editor of The Forward for the thirtieth and final Eiger scholar-in-resident weekend. Goldberg presented on American and Israeli politics and tied these timely topics to parashat Noah. While he offered a number of insights into today’s election, his editorial from last week helps put into perspective this election cycle:

Who will miss this incessant advertising, the scratch robo-calls and up-to-the-minute polls, or the constant chatter on cable TV? If you expressed even minor interest in a candidate this election season, your e-mail inbox was never empty, Americans have been on election overload… [but] for all that, this year we should count some blessings. For all the ways political campaigns can bring forth the worst in human nature, they also can elevate the best. The 2008 campaign reached and surpassed important milestones while challenging assumptions and changing the way citizens view each other. It will be hard to go back now. The election was long, contentious, messy, sometimes ugly and occasionally enlightening- and it made history. If voting is the central ritual of American civic life, perhaps it’s time for all to say, Amen.

This morning, as my children and I stood in line waiting to enter a Catholic school to vote in a civic election that featured a black man and a woman on the presidential ticket, I sensed the tremendous privilege of living in America in 2008. And when we left the polls, we not only said “Amen” to this long election season but took pride singing “this land was made for you and me.”

Bivrakha (with blessings),
Rabbi Davis

This is the first year I can remember waking up to the sound of pouring rain the day after Shemini Atzeret. I walked to that Simhat Torah morning in the rain, the words of the previous day’s Tefilat Geshem (prayer for rain) entreaty ringing in my ears. Was this actually an answer to our prayers?

It is true that when we pray for rain on Shemini Atzeret, we really are praying for rain to fall in the Holy Land, in eretz yisrael. Still, it led me to stare up at the sky and smile at my Maker.

When rain pitter-patters on our roofs, and we often curse the weather. We are concerned for our clothing, for our hair, for our warmth and for our schedules. The weather at this time of year challenges us to deviate from original plans. Inclement weather gives us grief as we struggle to stay on time and as we yearn for sunshine to help brighten the affect of our days.

Irrespective of our dismay and delay, the parched earth following the summer, here and in Israel, thirsts for the sluices that come with autumn and winter. Without these rains we could not survive. All life on this planet would cease to exist. If there is one thing upon which we depend, with utter certainty we can say the blowing wind and the falling rain. And the Holy Blessed One is just that: the One who causes the wind to blow and the rain to fall-mashiv haruah umorid hageshem.

We add this line during this season at the beginning of the Gevurot section of our Amidah-the second blessing detailing the Almighty’s Might. But beneath these four simple words rests significance much greater than a simple addition to our daily prayers. This phrase is a straight-forward epithet for God’s sublime greatness.

And while the beginning of this section is straight-forward, the end is not. Generations have fought over the meaning and semantics of the closing blessing (hatimah) of this second section: Barukh atah Adonai, mehayeh hametim – Blessed are You, Adonai, Who gives life to the dead. This last blessing, a statement of praise extolling God for resurrection, has always been controversial. So controversial that Maimonides taught that in order for a person to be Jewish, s/he had to believe in resurrection. So controversial that the Reform Movement once modified the liturgy of the Amidah to read mehayeh hakol (gives life to all), a much more metaphorical transmission of life, rendering the blessing to suggest a present rejuvenation in place of future resurrection.

Nevertheless, our tradition does encapsulate God’s great power by way of the vehicle of resurrection. God not only is the One who set the world spinning, but God is the same One who can transcend the laws of nature. God gives everything a beginning and an end, but God can also give each end a new beginning. And this resurrection is uniquely tied to the change of the seasons and to the opening of the floodgates in the sky.

But what if this resurrection is not only about the restoration of breath to lifeless souls at the end of days? What if this resurrection happens daily? We look around and we see the changing of the colors of the leaves, just before they fall to the ground, defeated by the wind. We look around and we see the grass fighting through the frost and struggling beneath the piles of fallen foliage. We see the flora around us begin to enter its death stage. And as it withers and dies, God showers over the earth blessings in liquid form. And the cycle of nature ensues: the winds blow and the rains fall.

Some months from now, we will open our doors to the greens of spring and summer yet again. But only because God caused that wind to blow and the rain to fall, for that rain is the power behind mehayeh hametim. The rain is God’s driving force of resurrection.

I smiled up at the sky rejuvenated. I smiled up at the heavens knowing that the Mekor Hayim (source of life) was ensuring that life would continue. And now, every time I hear the wind howl as I utter the words of the Amidah, I am grateful to our Creator for providing each day as another page in the Book of Life and the Book of Death – resurrection the mediator of the two-causing the wind to blow and the rain to fall.

May we all come to feel the wind on our neck and the rain on our cheeks.

Faithfully yours,
Rabbi Avi S. Olitzky

Ulpan Akiva is located in Netanya on the Mediterranean Sea. The campus is just five minutes from the beach where we often studied in the afternoons. Lest you think I was living a life of luxury, the accommodations and the food were, as one of my fellow students said generously, “adequate.” And when our taxi driver from the airport got to the Ulpan he said, “I can’t leave you here. You’ll come stay at my house.” Get the picture?

But in spite of the food and the rooming conditions, the Ulpan (and specifically the teachers) was amazing. There were over 200 students taking classes this summer. We were an eclectic bunch from around the world all with a variety of interesting reasons for spending a summer studying Hebrew. My class was full of olim hadashim (new immigrants) from France, America, South Africa, and Russia, who live in Netanya and study at the Ulpan for free.

Formal classes were five hours each day and included music, dance, computer and listening labs. In addition we had lectures, field trips, evening programs and more. Hearing Hebrew began to sound natural. And in Netanya, many people do not speak English, which forced me to use my Hebrew in taxis, stores and on the streets. Of course Israelis speak very fast and often I would have no idea what they said back to me. But I managed. It was fun.

With the Ulpan, we went on a field trip to the Carmiel Dance Festival. We were there the last evening of the festival and before the performance we wandered through the streets eating yummy foods and watching hundreds of people Israeli dancing on tennis courts and in parking lots. I am amazed at the amount of people who dance – all ages, both sexes, all the time. The festival itself had thousands of people sitting on the lawn and between songs we were treated to performances by famous Israeli singers. I was particularly moved by the group of dancers in wheelchairs whom had all been wounded in the Army. After they finished the entire crowd gave them a standing ovation. And at the end of the evening, the entire crowd stood again and sang “Hatikvah” with so much gusto and pride, followed immediately by the best fireworks display I’ve ever seen. It was impossible not to be swept up in the emotion.

Classes were from Sunday through Thursday, giving me a bit of time to travel. I spent one weekend in Jerusalem, one in Tel Aviv, and one at my home base in Netanya. In Jerusalem, since I was there just last year, it was like coming home. And how fun to be in the old city on my way to the Cardo and run into my daughter, Rachel, along with Jesse Goldfarb and Rachel Davis (on the Young Judea Israel Trip). I also stopped at the Fuchsberg Center to see Josh Lieberthal and Adam Heifitz who were on USY Pilgrimage, ate way too much chocolate rugluch from Marzipan bakery in Mahaneh Yehuda, enjoyed watching more Israel dancing in the Gan on my way back to my hotel in Baka and had Shabbat dinner with friends from my trip last year. In Tel Aviv I went to a wonderful production of “Joseph and His Amazing Techicolor Dreamcoat” at the Opera House. While it was great for practicing my Hebrew, I did find it hard to focus on the Hebrew when I knew every song in English.

My religious experience in Israel was mixed. I am fascinated by different synagogues and took full advantage of the opportunity to attend services at a variety of shuls. In Netanya I went to a reform congregation that had a woman rabbi, attended an Ashkenazi Shabbat morning minyan and spent Tisha B’av at a Sephardi shul. In Jerusalem, Friday night I went to Shira Hadasha, the very well-known modern orthodox minyan in Emek Refayim, and to the Great Synagogue for Shabbat morning. In Tel Aviv I davened on the Port with Beit Tefilla Israeli. In all these places I was acutely aware of what was my place.

At the reform congregation in Netanya, Shira Hadasha in Jerusalem and Beit Tefilla Israeli in Tel Aviv, I was allowed to sing. In all the others, I wasn’t. I sat either behind a m’hitza or upstairs and watched. I wasn’t even compelled to pray as “lifting my voice in song” is what often opens me to prayer. It felt odd, isolating and sad. I did, however, thoroughly enjoy the music in the Great Synagogue. While it was more like a concert than prayer, the cantor’s voice was beautiful and the male choir that sits right up at the Ark filled the room with glorious music. It was a passive experience but very spiritual.

The best davening experience I had was with Beit T’fillah Israeli (the “Secular” Minyan) on the Port in Tel Aviv. They spend the summer davening on the port in Tel Aviv looking out over the Mediterranean. They meet on the port for the wonderful view and to expose passersby to a “secular” davening experience. The music is beautiful – a cello, piano, flute – and Israeli songs are inserted into the traditional service, punctuating prayer in a secular way. When these songs are sung, everyone is singing. We were staring at the water as we sang,  “Eli, Eli, She lo y’gameir l’olam…” – (Oh Lord my God, we pray that these things never end….the sand and the sea…the rush of the water…the crash of the heavens…the prayer of the heart), and we finished ma’ariv just as the sun was setting. Very powerful. My trip this summer was intended to improve my Hebrew speaking. Living in Israel the way I did, however, was something I’d never done before and gave me lessons I did not anticipate. I know that as I continue to process the summer, things I learned, felt and experienced will trickle out. I look forward to sharing these trickles with you…in Hebrew (limited) or in English. B’Shalom.

I recently came across the following website: www.panoplanet.net/synagogues. It offers an incredible tour of dozens of exquisite synagogues around the world. (My favorite are the Italian synagogues.) Click on a synagogue to take a 360 degree tour of the shul.

While Beth El is not among the architectural treasures collected on the website (it should be), I want to give you a brief “tour” of Beth El: Over the course of 5768, we have conducted a 360 degree analysis of the synagogue. Everything from finances to facilities has been examined. Where changes were necessary, they were made. Programs such as Tarbut have been and are continuing to be revised to meet today’s needs. The Aleph School has been updated. New staff (including a rabbi, a youth director, a finance director and facilities director) and a new caterer are brining renewed energy and accountability to our congregation. An interfaith task force is meeting to review policies. A committee is considering how we can become even more warm and welcoming. And on and on.

Today, Beth El is abuzz activity. Women’s League Gift Shop is selling beautiful merchandise. The Sunday minyan breakfast continues to be strong. A new class of b’nai mitzvah is our largest ever. Yad v’Lev and our congregational nurse are busy reaching out to congregants in need. Study groups are active and our new Shabbat religious school called Shorashim is set to launch this fall. All of this combined with our strategic plan and capital campaign work means that Beth El is well on its way to having a productive and wonderful 5769.

The idea of a 360 degree analysis need not be reserved for synagogues and synagogue architecture. It is what is required of us to prepare for the coming Yamim Noraim (Days of Awe). During Elul we are to complete a full analysis to reflect our own lives. Going the full 360 degrees, we see family, friends, community, work, hobbies, and more. We identify areas that need repair and begin to work on them. In our personal lives and our synagogue, the improvements are never complete. But with determination, we can make our lives and our synagogue sparkle.

If you would like to become more involved in Beth El activities, please contact me.

Enjoy the website and feel free to pass this message on.

Shanna tova,

Rabbi Alexander Davis

Incredibly, there is something holy and powerful about watching life swiftly leave a living creature. I was awed.

Today, a small band of Beth El and Adath Jeshurun representatives visited the home of Noah’s Ark Processors in Dawson, Minnesota. We made the trek to Dawson and were pleasantly surprised by the product distributed under the Solomon’s Finest Glatt Kosher Meats label. Owner Ilan Parente was open to all of our questions and very forthcoming and sincere in his answers. For a small slaughterhouse outfit, the production output rate is quite superb. The staff and workers seemed to receive great support and care from their employers. Their product is free range, organic and free of antibiotics and growth hormones. Noah’s Ark Processors slaughters and distributes a variety of kosher mammals, including bison, beef, lamb and elk. In fact, 70% of their product is determined glatt following the slaughter.

Some of you might be surprised to learn that glatt does not mean strict, but in fact smooth. It is a term to describe the condition of the animal’s lungs at death. If those lungs were smooth without defect, then the animal was a healthy, sprightly animal. At many slaughterhouses, the glatt rate is closer to below 30%. Glatt was never meant to dictate and indicate stringency in kashrut. It was meant as an indicator of the life the animal led and the health and condition of that animal. Noah’s Ark Processors’ kosher product consists only of animals that lived a robust and favorable life.

With the exception of the fluids that one might expect in a slaughterhouse and on the killing floor, the facility was quite clean. In the roughly two hours I spent at the Dawson outfit, I observed a single fly.

But I write not only because I look forward to seeing the Solomon’s label in the Twin Cities. I write not only because I was moved by the care and commitment to good business ethics and proper service I witnessed. I write not only because I was relieved that a wholly wholesome local operation exists, with the potential to remove the tarnish that has scorned the Kosher community.

I write because of what I witnessed today.

I stood with one of the shochatim (ritual butchers) as he prepared his knife for the shechitah (slaughter). Slowly he examined both planes of the blade, and sharpened it several times. With each pass, I saw the humility in his eyes and watched as he unassumingly cared for an instrument of death. Although the shochet took what seemed to me like five or ten minutes to sharpen his blade, it was a mere five seconds after for the blood to first spill out of the beast and life to pour forth with it. I was nearly moved to tears. Not because of the pain I felt for the animal, but because of the beauty of the process and the tradition.

Before the kill, a berakhah (blessing) is recited: Barukh Atah Adonai, Elohenu Melekh haolam, asher kidshanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu al ha-shechitah – Praised are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the universe, who sanctified us with God’s commandments, and commanded us with regard to the ritual slaughter. Blessings with that formula are only recited when we are commanded to do the act (i.e., we are not commanded to eat bread; thus, hamotzi is of a shorter formula, but Shabbat candles are not). I thought to myself, are we really commanded to perform shechitah? Need we really slaughter the animals?

When I returned home today I turned to my Tanakh. I reached Genesis 1:29: “And God said, Behold, I have given you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree, on which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed; to you it shall be for food.” On that verse specifically, as if calling out to the vegetarian in me, Ramban indicates in his commentary that we are prohibited biblically (as referenced in BT Bava Metzia 32b) against showing cruelty to animals (Tza’ar Ba’alei Chayyim), and therefore, the berakhah recited over shechitah acknowledges not a commandment to slaughter, but a commandment to care for the animal and prevent its suffering during the shechitah. Again, I was humbled.

After each kill, the shochet would check the slaughter-spot (m’kom shechitah) to see that it was thorough, rinse the blood from his hands – blood that I once thought would blemish the hands but instead seemed to bless his – and return to sharpening and cleaning his blade.

To many, this might have seemed robotic and cold. But I heard the shochet mutter the berakhah. I saw the trepidation the shochet had in his eyes, that should he err, he might take this animal’s life unwarrantedly. I witnessed the beast succumb almost instantly to the final blow. The mechanical draining of the beef is somewhat jarring, but it was appropriately practical.

I watched a living creature become a holy and pure sacrifice to sustain humanity.

Humbled and daunted, alas, I will remain a vegetarian, but I do not condemn the consumption of meat, nor is it my goal that all of us turn vegetarian. In fact, I must concede, I would not feel guilty eating the meat produced by Noah’s Ark Processors. I, myself, do not intend to do so any time soon, but the thought of future training as a shochet – the conduit to bridge the circuit of life – is something that I now will entertain. And the goal to bring to the masses kosher meat free of cruelty and superfluous suffering, untainted by mistreatment of workers and poor business ethics, is hopefully one we will soon realize as here-and-now.

May we all come to deeply appreciate the life with which God blessed every living thing, human and animal alike.

Faithfully yours,
Rabbi Avi S. Olitzky

Organized in large part by the local group, Jewish Community Action, the rally attracted over a thousand people- Jews and non Jews from Minnesota, Wisconsin, Iowa, Illinois and across the US to show support for the workers of the Agriprocessors kosher meat packing plant. National attention has been brought to this sleepy town in the aftermath of immigration raids that has once again lead to charges of labor violation by the company. You can read more about treatment of the workers- which is a shanda for the Jewish community- in yesterday’s New York Times.

People traveled to the rally for all different reasons- to call for immigration reform, to protest the plant, to call for workers right. My reason for attending is captured in the words I shared at an interfaith prayer service that kicked off the rally (see below). Attended by a thousand Jews and Christians and conducted in English, Hebrew and Spanish, the service was very powerful. It brought together rabbis, Catholic priests and Lutheran bishops, labor organizers, plant workers, and supporters from across the Midwest.

When we first arrived in Postville, a friend and fellow Minnesotan struck up a conversation with a woman from Mexico and her daughter. Using her daughter as an English translator, the woman asked my friend “do you (meaning “you Jews”) like us?” We should not be surprised by the question. After all, the only Jews this woman has ever met were the managers and owners of the kosher plant that has treated them so poorly these last few years. For me, the most significant moment of the day came on the march when I heard an answer to this woman’s question. Passing by the plant, a group of children chanted in Spanish to the beat of a drum- “Jews are our friends.”

There is much work that needs to be done to address the plant’s working conditions, the plight of these workers, US immigration policy and sadly, the image of the Jewish people. I invite you to get involved in these and other issues in part by participating in the Heksher Tzedek initiative that will work to ensure that “kosher” lives up to its name and to our highest values. Contact Leslie Levine for more information- levineadlerlp@yahoo.com.

Bivracha,
Rabbi Alexander Davis

Below is the drasha I gave in St Briget’s Catholic church.

A Psalm of Postville

On the bus ride here I asked people why they were coming- why they were getting up early on a Sunday morning and driving four hours to a small Iowa town.

Some spoke of being embarrassed about what happened here in our name.

Some wanted to confirm with their own eyes the awful accounts of what they read.

Still others wanted to make a statement to the company and to the government that what they did was wrong.

I share these sentiments. And voicing them brings our spirits very low. And yet, inspired by the beauty of this church, inspired by the hesed (the acts of loving kindness) performed by its members, inspired by all of you who cared enough to come, my heart is not full of somber tones. My spirit is not so low. I have a song in my heart that I want to sing out. It’s a really simple song, only one word long- “Halleluya.” Let me hear you say “Halleluya!” I am a rabbi not a cantor but I want to teach you this song. Some of you already know it…

It may seem out of place or perhaps inappropriate to sing such an uplifting song in at this time, in this setting. But I am not the one who made the connection. I am not the one who connected the plight of the oppressed and a song of Halleluya, the fate of the imprisoned and a song of rejoicing, the torment of the impoverished and the song of the soul. I did not think up the connection. It was made by the Hebrew Psalmist over 2000 years ago.

Psalm 146, a Psalm that Jews recite daily, speaks to this moment. The Psalm begins: “Halleluya. Let my soul praise God. I will praise God all my life, sing to God with all my being.”

We might expect at this point for the Psalmist to describe some beautiful scenes of nature- hills and trees, valleys and fields. Or maybe the author would describe God’s awesome acts- bringing thunder or sunsets, wind or lightening. These kind of scenes moves us to call out “Halleluya.”

But that’s not how the Psalm continues. Listen to what it says:

God brings justice to the oppressed
provides food for the hungry
Frees the bound
And raises those bowed down.
God loves the just.
protects the stranger
supports the orphan and widow.
And frustrates the designs of the wicked.

The oppressed. The impoverished. The imprisoned. The weak. The vulnerable. This is Psalm covers them all. But not in a mood of despair. Not with dejection. This Psalm is about faith, about change, about justice, about hope. And so the author concludes as he began, “Halleluya.”

There is plenty of reason to be angry, to be down cast, to be embarrassed. But that’s not why we have come.

We’re here… because we care.
I’m here in the name of the Jewish people… because we care.
Together, we are here in this House of God, in the name of God because we like the Psalmist know… God cares.
And so I want to sing out … “Halleluya!”

Responding to Critics

One of the criticisms I have heard of the rally is that Agriprocessors has not been officially charged with violations of workers rights. So how dare we protest before the company has had their day in court. I tried to answer this critique in the teaching I led on the bus ride down to Postville.

We read in the Psalm for Sunday (Psalm 24): “Who can stand in God’s presence? One who has clean hands and a pure heart.” In this verse, the Psalmist teaches that ethical living is the necessary precursor to “religious” living. Commenting on this passage the midrash asks, “Who has clean hands? Answer: Moshe when he struck the Egyptian taskmaster. This is the scene: An Egyptian “employer” was abusing an Israelite “employee.” Seeing that there was no one with the courage to stand up for the underdog, Moshe rose up stopped the taskmaster’s abuse by killing him.

Did Moshe act prematurely? After all, the taskmaster was not charged nor tried by a court. No, the midrash answers, Moshe’s hands were “clean.” He saw and was convinced by the Court on High that the abuse was real so he did not hesitate to respond.

Defenders claim that Agriprocessors is innocent until proven guilty. And of course that is true, legally. But we need not silence our concern and wait until the New York Times or the courts confirm what we have heard over and over by victims- the abuse is real and it is being carried out by Jews and in the name of Jews.

As I sit back and reflect on a truly celebratory weekend (Nov. 3 & 4), I am reminded of what an amazing congregation we are. The children’s choir singing with the adult choir was a beautiful display of L’dor Vador and of “going forward with our young and our old.” The dancing in the aisles showed the spirit and joy that we bring one another through our observance of Shabbat as a community. The singing of Ilu Finu demonstrated a willingness to participate, to learn and to unify ourselves in song. The teasing and laughter throughout the weekend was evidence of our love for one another and our ability to accept differences and uniqueness. The children running on the bema to collect candy sends an important message of tolerance and inclusion. The financial support that was given in a variety of ways for this weekend showed an understanding of what is needed to help make our endeavors a reality and truly special for the entire community. The numbers of people who attended both Shabbat services and Sunday night’s festivities indicates that we want to be together and celebrate together. And the talent displayed, from the music to the attention to every detail in executing the events, was proof that we are indeed a congregation that can do anything.

Thank you….

….. to Amy Stern and Dana Yugend-Pepper, their entire committee and all the volunteers for all they did to facilitate the weekend. Their energies were tireless and it showed. Each committee member paid such close attention to details and the outcome was obvious – the food, the décor, the flow, the sound, the advertising, the actual programs – all done with class. And a special thank you to Valerie Podolinsky of Event du Jour for volunteering her time and expertise.

….. to the sponsors of the evening, Fern Badzin, Saul & Diane Mashaal, Bonnie & Alan Ziskin and family, Marlys & Elliott Badzin. Your help gave the necessary support to make the evening move from good to spectacular.

….. to the sponsors of the CD who helped me make a dream a reality – Buddy & Phyllis Harris, Ellis & Nancy Olkon, Lisa Heilicher, Andrea & Stan Levich, Joyce & Ed Prohofsky, Amy & Michael Stern, Rivel & Phil Greenberg, Ione & Alan Stiegler, Anonymous, Lisa & Steve Neuman, Gail Bender Satz & Mark Satz, Anonymous, Bobby & Elliot Cohen, Holly Schmidt, and Marilyn & Harvey Chanen.

….. to the Beth El and non-Beth El musicians – a truly gifted group of individuals who not only performed beautifully themselves, but certainly made me look good: Cantor Art Shragg, John and Debbie Orenstein, Tom Lieberman, Cantor Neil Newman, Bill Torodor, The Yixie Chicks: Jill Blustin, Pam Lehman, Gilah Mashaal, Diana Snyder, Marge Prohofsky; The Beth El choir under the direction of Bill Torodor, the Yad B’Yad choir under the direction of Pam Lehman, my daughters – Rachel and Sally, Dale Mendenhall, Shai Hayo, Andrea Stern, Lynette Eastwold, and the Minnesota Cantors. Also, a special thank you to John Orenstein, MC extraordinaire!

….. to the present board and the past boards for your leadership and for your confidence in my abilities to serve this congregation. I look forward to many years of working together.

….. to the Beth El professional, support and maintenance staff without whom the shul would not run. And to my fellow clergy who have been so instrumental in helping me to develop who I am as a clergy today.

And finally, thank you to my family– David, Rachel and Sally– for giving me the love and support to pursue this path.

As I make this transition in my life, that of becoming the next cantor of Beth El Synagogue, I feel fortunate to be a part of this community’s past and its future. May we continue to demonstrate our blessings and celebrate together for years to come.

Cantor Abrams’ new CD, “Shirei Nafshi…Songs of my Soul” is now available for $15 from the Beth El office or the Gift Shop. Proceeds go to the Celebrate the Arts Fund.

Now these days, expect to see more of us on the pulpit. We have recently added a new element to our already strong program – “Bar/Bat Mitzvah Anniversary Torah Readings”. Although in the past, some of our regular Torah readers chose on their own to commemorate such occasions by reading from their anniversary portions in subsequent years, we ourselves have recently reached out to those who have become bar or bat mitzvah over the past several years as well as to our regular adult readers in order to register their specific parasha so we can actually call on them to celebrate their anniversaries by reading. In this way, we are not only renewing the fond memories of the life-cycle occasion; we are reinforcing and strengthening skills at the same time.

I want to thank Dr. Bonnie Bongard for all of her efforts and phone calls to this end. Without her able assistance and commitment to this project, we could not have accomplished our objective.

Now that we have somewhat of a complete list of those of you who have chosen to participate in this program along with the names of your respective parashiyot, Marilyn Sussman will be contacting you in advance to assign you a reading. However, if for any reason we have missed you inadvertently, please be in touch with Marilyn Sussman (952-920-3512, ext. 103) or with me, Cantor Newman (952-3512, ext 110) so we can include you on our list of participants.

Walking along New York’s Fifth Avenue, it is easy to gaze upwards at the enormous buildings or into the many shops. But the one object to avoid looking at is another person. Sure, you glance at people walking in the opposite direction, but only long enough to get out of their way and to dodge their dog. God forbid you should smile or say “hello.” You would get a look and an expression that says “what’s wrong with that guy?”

This picture of New York is, of course, a generalization and in some ways outdated. But the Midwest is noticeably different. People feel comfortable smiling at strangers, even saying “hi” in almost every situation. But there is still one place where a hesitancy to greet strangers exists. It is a most unlikely place…in shul. At Beth El and in synagogues around the country, people are strangers to each other. We often do not know “the regulars” who sit just a few rows in front or to the side of us. And when services conclude, too often we offer “Shabbat Shalom” or a “Hag Sameah” only to the people we know.

Some words of our tradition offer good counsel. The wise sage Shammai taught: “receive every person with a cheerful countenance” (Avot 1:15). The message hardly needs elaboration. It is simple and always applicable.

There are three essential components of Shammai’s teaching: 1) Countenance: We should not greet anyone with the side of our face. Instead, we must turn our entire countenance to them; 2) Expression: It is not enough to confront people with an expressionless look. We must face each other with a sign of interest, and 3) Cheerful: With the tone of our voice and a smile on our face we can bring others cheer.

Many reasons exist why a person might hesitate to greet others. In a big shul like Beth El it is hard to know who is a member and who is a guest. Often we may make eye contact, but feel awkward about taking the initiative. Shammai asks us to look beyond ourselves, to overcome our reservations, and to offer others our blessing. This is more than a way to welcome a stranger or make a new friend. It is a way to emulate God.

In the well-known blessing called birkhat kohanim (priestly blessing), we describe God as One who will bless you and guard you and who will make His face shine upon you (Num. 6:25). As Jews, we learn from this example. Just as God offers His cheerful countenance, so too must we. And in doing so, we transform a simple greeting into a prayer that makes God’s presence manifest in the world.