A Most Unusual Shabbat

There was a great deal of anticipation last Friday night as we anxiously awaited the arrival of Israel’s Ambassador to the United States. Our synagogue has been honored to have hosted his predecessors: Ambassadors Rabinovich, Shoval, Ayalon and Meridor.

I have known Michael Oren for a number of years. From the moment he walked into the synagogue and came up to the bema, it was clear that something was wrong. He sat down and whispered to me that he had just come from speaking with Prime Minister Netanyahu after having been summoned to the State Department to be read a formal letter of condemnation over the announcement made during the visit to Israel of Vice President Biden about the approval of housing permits for construction in Jerusalem. Right before I got up to introduce him, he said to me that he really was not sure what to say, and what not to say in light of what had just happened.

Somehow, he got up and spoke eloquently about the “risks associated with peace.” Midway through his talk, as he was delineating the threats and challenges faced by efforts to delegitimize the State of Israel, Sally, his wife, stepped out to take a phone call. She stood in the back and tried to get her husband’s attention. He had to take an urgent call from Prime Minister Netanyahu. It was 3:00 a.m. in the morning in Israel, so we knew the situation was serious. He excused himself saying he had to take this call from his boss. He came back, resumed his talk and was again interrupted for the second time. After the service, Ambassador Oren met in my office with Congressman Eliot Engel, the leader of the pro-Israel forces in the House of Representatives, and a member of B’nai Tzedek to discuss the implications of what had happened. All who were at B’nai Tzedek that night felt they were witnessing history. I couldn’t help but think of the saying, “Inside the Beltway.” This was inside the “inside of the Beltway.”

Throughout the week I was involved in a number of conversations with public officials and leaders in regard to the crisis of the rift between the United States and Israel. I wrote a letter to Congressman Steny Hoyer and a number of other members of Congress. The letter was widely circulated and distributed on the internet, and I have received numerous comments from across the country in support of what I wrote.

I can’t promise that this coming Shabbat will be as dramatic, but do hope you will come and join us, nevertheless.

Below is my introduction of the Ambassador.

Rabbi Weinblatt’s Introduction of
Ambassador Michael Oren
March 12, 2010

As anyone who follows the news, which is just about everyone here tonight, knows - Ambassador Michael Oren has just returned earlier today from a whirlwind trip to Israel. The primary purpose of his trip was to relax at a spa in order to rest up and prepare for this evening. In between he managed to have a little time for business and squeezed in a meeting or two with Envoy Mitchell, Vice President Biden, and Prime Minister Netanyahu.

I have known and been friends with Ambassador Oren ever since I first met him a number of years ago when I was a rabbinic fellow at the Hartman Institute. After a very distinguished academic career and as author of a number of important scholarly articles and several major books about the Middle East conflict, he left his position as senior fellow at the Shalem Center and answered the call to serve as Israel’s ambassador to the United States.

There is no finer choice Israel could have made to represent the Jewish nation at this difficult time than Michael Oren. He is bright, articulate, passionate and most of all a truly devoted servant of the Jewish people. I am gratified to see such a large turnout this evening. What Mr. Oren doesn’t know is – people are not really here to hear him speak. They are here to see if they are going to collect on their bets to see if he would actually show up. I saw someone last night who is a member of another congregation. I mentioned that the ambassador was coming to speak at our shul this evening. The guy said to me, “Hasn’t he already been at B’nai Tzedek a couple of times?” And I just said to him, “Yeah. This is his third visit.”

Ambassador Oren: the members of B’nai Tzedek are among the most loyal supporters of the State of Israel, with many of our congregants holding leadership positions in our local Jewish community as advocates for the Jewish state. It has been my pleasure to lead a number of congregational visits and trips, and you have even spoken to a few of our groups when we were in Jerusalem. Many of our members have deep connections and ties to the land of Israel, and our children have traveled there, with some serving in Israel’s armed forces and a couple of our members have made aliyah.

Each of your predecessors, since the dedication of our facility by Ambassador Itamar Rabinovich has been to B’nai Tzedek. We are pleased that you are accompanied this evening by your wife, Sally, who joins with you in your sacred work. I will warn you in advance – I cannot predict how your talk will be received, but I can guarantee you Mr. Ambassador that you are at home here, with friends, and that you will at least be far more welcome than you were at the University of California in Irvine. It is my pleasure and honor to welcome, His Excellency, the Ambassador of Israel, Michael Oren.

“Of Shuls and Country Clubs:” A Frank Conversation

This is the time of year we receive inquiries from people wishing to join our synagogue. It is also when we learn which of our members will not maintain their affiliation.

People leave a synagogue for any of a variety of reasons. Sometimes they join another congregation. While I wish they would stay, I respect and understand that we may not meet everyone’s needs or expectations or that their religious philosophy may cause them to be more comfortable in a different setting. One of the nice things about living in a diverse Jewish community is that individuals have choices and options.

What concerns me are those who decide not to renew because they assess the frequency of their attendance or participation at synagogue events, and they conclude that their “limited use” does not justify the expenditure. As I have written and said before, synagogue affiliation should not be viewed in the same way one looks at belonging to a country club.

My goal is to build a vibrant and vital synagogue which touches the lives of many and plays an influential role in the Jewish community as well as in the lives of its members and their families. Even if one does not take advantage of all that our shul has to offer, I hope those who are not active realize how important it is to continue to be members.

We can only achieve our goal of serving the Jewish community when we have a strong membership. I cannot emphasize enough that by being a member you are supporting all that we do. You should feel good knowing that your support enables us to do what we do on behalf of the local and greater Jewish community. Paying dues helps allow us to maintain our facility, so you are indirectly supporting the religious education of our youth, as well as other educational, social, cultural programs and acts of hesed (loving kindness). Think of it as a contribution, as tzedekah you are giving to strengthen the Jewish community and to help to ensure that our facility, staff and programs are here for the benefit of all.

I urge individuals who can increase their contributions to do so at this time, as our needs are greater than ever. If someone is experiencing a true financial setback, we want to be there for them. Financial hardship should not be a reason to drop out of the synagogue. We are always willing to help to ensure that members can and do stay affiliated. I want you to know that we have had more requests for dues and fees variances than ever before. The only way we can survive these rough times is if those who can afford to contribute do. In the final analysis, it is a choice. I urge each of you to stay as members and increase your contribution regardless of your level of involvement. Do not exempt yourself from the obligation to support the synagogue, and do not leave the responsibility to others.

An Approach to Torah

Here is an excerpt of a sermon I gave about my approach to Torah.

….Professor Israel Knohl of the Hebrew University seizes on the parallel narratives describing the creation of the world and concludes that this is not unintentional. The Bible purposefully begins with a mahklohet, differing opinions, and a dispute, for it is symbolic of the multiple voices and strands found throughout the Torah.

Rabbi Robert Harris, professor of Bible at the Jewish Theological Seminary, takes this even further and notes that Rashi and other commentators point out that the Torah essentially “begins with a text that requires our involvement and intervention in order to achieve some meaning.”

The only way to comprehend its meaning and what the Bible is telling us is to struggle with it by becoming actively engaged in wrestling with the possibilities of understanding what it means. The ambiguity, the uncertainty, is the way it is presented as if the Torah is shouting out at us that it is not meant to be simplistic or quickly understood. The Torah, by its very nature, does not lend itself to a straightforward, monolithic, fundamentalist interpretation. We have an open invitation to speculate, conjecture and to explore the text. A classic rabbinic term is often employed to introduce a comment about a word or sentence, darshani, meaning: “explain me,” implying that the rabbis believe the passage calls out for the explication, and then a number of possible ways of understanding the words are offered. The Bible is not a clear, unambiguous text that lends itself to an absolute universally accepted understanding with only one way of interpreting its words.

Rashi actually winds up suggesting that the very first word, Bereshit, should be substituted by the word, berishonah. He says this is necessary because otherwise not only do the words not make sense, but they are grammatically incorrect. Rather than read it as “In the beginning God created,” and so on, it should be read, he tells us, and makes a strong and compelling case by bringing in a number of proofs and evidence from other citations, berishonah,” “In the beginning of God’s creation.” The change may not appear to be that significant, but he suggests that otherwise the Hebrew construct would not make sense since it is not logical in the Hebrew language to follow the word Bereshit by a gerund or infinitive.

As I was studying this passage, which I have learned many times before, it suddenly dawned on me – Rashi and other commentators had the chutzpah to feel comfortable correcting the grammar of the Torah. They believed the Torah was from God, that it is infallible, that it has no mistakes, and yet, they had not problem reinterpreting and thus emending the text.

Professor Harris teaches that the nafka mina, the lesson we learn from this is that “God’s Torah requires human involvement in order to achieve its meaning – it is incomplete without the participation of humankind.”

This is why text study is so important, and this is the approach I advocate when reading Torah. Come and join our Thursday morning Torah study class and be a part of the ongoing conversation that spans across the generations.

Bringing the Messiah

It snowed again this past Shabbat. It reminds me of some of the summers I spent at Jewish camp when it seemed to rain every Shabbat.

When trying to decide what to do about Shabbat services and other weekend activities, I recalled a number of years ago when the weather forecasters had given dire predictions of a heavy snowfall, and several of the local school systems announced that they would be closed the next day. Imagine how the administrators must have felt when the next morning the much anticipated snow did not arrive.

Although the weather forecasters had been predicting a record-breaking heavy snowfall, nevertheless, I waited until the first snowflake actually fell before making the decision to cancel services and other activities.

I subscribe to the notion that it is best to be skeptical about predictions – especially when they are about the future.

Rather than just notify our congregation that we were going to be closed, I wanted to use this as a teaching opportunity and to convey a spiritual message.

Here is what I wrote our members to announce that we would be closed:

“I would like to encourage families to use this Friday and Saturday when most all of Washington will be covered by snow to enjoy and appreciate a true Shabbat together.

Have a leisurely Shabbat dinner tonight - - Light the Shabbos candles, say the blessing over the wine and challah, sing Shalom Aleichem and bless your children. On Saturday, you can also enjoy a Shabbat meal together as well, and say the kiddush and motzi.

The Torah portion for this week, Parashat Yitro (Exodus 18 – 20) includes the 10 Commandments. Take this opportunity to speak as a family about the Torah portion.

The Talmud tells us that if every Jew observed a true Shabbat we can bring the Messiah. Maybe we can make it happen - - and even if we don’t, you will be the beneficiary of having had a meaningful Shabbat."

As we prepare for yet another one – two feet of snow, I am suggesting that this next Shabbat, people come to shul – to cure their “cabin fever.”

What Brings Us to Where We Are

I recently met the Security Guard who shot the man who came to the Holocaust Museum this past spring to kill others.

The retired non-Jewish police officer told me how excited he was to have the honor of lighting the Chanukah menorah at the Embassy of Israel.

He told me that his dad had fought in World War II and landed at Normandy Beach, and always had a love for Israel and the Jewish people. He then said how proud his dad, who died many years ago, would be if he knew that his son had received the honor of lighting the menorah at the Embassy of Israel.

My initial response was to tell him, “In some way he is here with you tonight.”

I then thought a few more moments and added, “Actually, it is because of him that you are here tonight.”

A Sports Dinner Invocation

I was recently invited to give the invocation at the annual JCC Sports Hall of Fame fundraiser dinner.

I opened with the following story --

There’s an old line that asks, “What does a Jewish woman make for dinner?” And the answer is: “Reservations.”

I then proceeded to suggest a different punch line, one which is more positive and truer and more accurate. Instead of saying, “reservations,” I suggest the answer to the question should be, “Donations.”

I then went on to explain that during any typical week, there are a number of dinners sponsored various Jewish organizations. It is possible to make a contribution and eat out just about every night of the week.

The significant point is that this is a reflection of our Jewish values. As a people and community, it is truly remarkable to note how much we do on behalf of others. We Jews should take pride in our collective and individual philanthropic efforts.

Pride in One's Work

When I was a student in rabbinical school in Cincinnati, I wrote the annual Purim spoof. A few years after I left Cincinnati and was an ordained rabbi, a friend happened to tell me about that year’s play and said, “Stuart, it was even funnier than anything you ever wrote.” As they described the play to me, I realized that in fact, the play was one I had written several years earlier for our class in Jerusalem. I was somewhat disappointed that it was being performed without proper attribution.

Fast forward a few years later.

I was visiting family in Miami when my sister-in-law returned from a baby naming and told me that the rabbi had read a beautiful and moving poem at the ceremony. She proceeded to show me the booklet with the poem that had been used in the service. Imagine my surprise when I read the poem and realized it was one I had written when my oldest son, Ezra, was born.

I mention these incidents because recently, a congregant told me about a sermon they heard delivered by a rabbi from a nearby synagogue in our area. As the member was telling me about the topic of the sermon, I realized that I had already read the sermon. It was written by someone else, not the rabbi who delivered it.

I cannot help but feel disappointed when colleagues deliver a sermon they have not written as if it was an original piece of work. Unfortunately, with the advent of the internet, this is becoming more commonplace. Some justify it by the many demands on our job and pulls on our time. But congregants rightfully feel robbed of authenticity when work that is not original is presented as if it were. My personal feeling is that if that is the case and a sermon written by someone else is delivered, then they should indicate this and give attribution.

Traditional Jewish sources place an emphasis on quoting “b’shem omro,” in the name of the one who spoke. The rabbis were meticulous about insisting on this. When you read a passage of the Talmud, sometimes you go through three or four names before you get to the actual text because so many rabbis are citing their teachers and other rabbis. They discuss the sin of genavat da’at, plagiarizing, long before copyright laws or Nilli Vanilli were around.

People occasionally ask me how I go about preparing a sermon. I relish the challenge of sharing with congregants the message of Judaism as it applies to our lives and of how it speaks to me. I prefer the old fashioned way of looking in books, although I do use the internet for some of my research. If it is for the weekly Shabbat service, I usually begin by reading the section of the Torah we will be reading that particular week, along with commentaries from between six - twelve different books. I also read a wide variety of newspapers, journals, magazines, books and articles of a religious as well as secular nature, (not to mention my collection of books of humor). Sometimes I already have an idea of what I want to speak about and will look to see if there is a way to tie the theme or topic into that week’s Torah reading, and sometimes the idea will emerge from the text or a commentary I have read.

The High Holidays are a much longer and more arduous process. I think about High Holiday sermons and collect articles and potential topics all year round and in the upcoming months I will begin working on the themes I want to address this coming year. I find that it takes anywhere between 20 – 40 hours to write, research and edit each of the six sermons I give on the High Holidays. It is intense, but gratifying to impart a message from our tradition at a time when people are receptive and anxious to be inspired or touched.

I often feel as if I am painting a picture and think of it as creating a work of art. And as true of any work of art, while imitation may be the highest form of flattery, we especially value and appreciate original art more than reproductions.