DRASHOT - Torah Explanation...
Jewish Time - Yom Kippur Daytime Drash 5775 – 2014
Over the past 10 days, I have shared with you my perspectives on God, our tribe, and the mitzvot, the ancient practices of Judaism that binds our community together. Today, I want to speak about time, one of the essential ingredients in Judaism’s potency. We are ancient, and have survived through the long ages with our beliefs, our identity, and many of our practices all fully intact. We have withstood the test of time, and how we understand time is a component of that impressive accomplishment. Without time, you can’t have memory. And memory is a key mitzvah for us. So many of the commandments are prefaced by “remember:” “… that you were slaves in Egypt” “…the Shabbat” “…the day you left Egypt.”
As proof of the powerful role time plays in Judaism, we have not one, but three simultaneous ways we measure time, each with their own purpose and intricacies. We measure the passing of time through the annual holiday cycle, starting with our birth as a people on Passover. We also have the annual Torah reading cycle focused on Shabbat, the rhythms of the week and the year interwoven with the calendar of festivals and seasonal observances. And we have our life cycle, from birth and naming, through Bar or Bat Mitzvah, often to weddings and sometimes divorces, to death and how we bury and mourn our dead, and honor them forever after their passing. These three cycles of time: holidays, Torah, and life are the most primal and core of all Jewish connections. How these cycles interact and what memories and teachings they each tell and whisper to us, plays a huge role in who we are and what brings us here today. There are very few Jews without their favorite holidays, their treasured memories of life cycle moments with family and friends, their go-to Jewish stories and traditions, and their own sense of time passing, of growing up and then growing old. This is not the domain of Judaism, this is the content and meaning of life itself.
Let’s take a few moments to look at each of these cycles of Jewish time. Our holidays, which are often about food and joyous celebration, move us through the year with a distinct and often confusing rhythm. Because our calendar follows the lunar calendar with a leap month course correction to keep our holidays connected to particular seasons but not exact solar dates, our holidays drift back and forth over the Gregorian calendar. The high holidays are sometimes early, sometimes late, but never seem to be right on time; Rosh HaShanah can be a few days after Labor Day or in October. And add the fact that our New Year is in the seventh month of the year, it’s clear that we have a beautiful and confusing calendar. So, here is how it works. We start in Spring, the season of new life, and observe the full moon as Passover, the week-long festival of freedom, new beginning, matzah, and Seder meals. Forty-nine days later, we reach Shavuot, the second of our three pilgrimage festivals, the Festival of Weeks, First Fruits and receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai. On the journey between Passover and Shavuot in late Spring, we count the 49 days of the Omer, and pause for Yom HaShoah – Holocaust Remembrance Day, Yom HaAtzmaut – Israeli Independence Day, and Lag B’Omer, the mystical holiday of bonfires, archery, and haircuts.
After Shavuot, the holiday action quiets down for summer other than three weeks of semi-mourning culminating in Tisha B’Av, our only sad holiday when we mourn the destruction of Solomon’s Holy Temple at the hands of the Babylonians and the second Temple in Jerusalem at the hands of the Romans. Six days later is the full moon of late summer, Tu B’Av, an ancient Jewish holiday of sex and love. Two weeks later we start Elul and the daily blowing of the shofar. Then, one month later, we have Rosh HaShana preparing us for today, Yom Kippur – the day of spiritual cleansing and forgiveness. Five days from now will be Sukkot, the full moon of Autumn, the last and most happy of the ancient pilgrimages, a week of celebrating the Harvest with festive meals in the Sukkah and the waving of the sacred and aboriginal Lulav branches and Etrog fruit. The end of Sukkot is Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah – we pray for rain and conclude and re-start the annual Torah reading cycle with much dancing, singing, and l’chaims. Then the rains hopefully come and the days darken. It’s the end of the Biblical calendar, but three later holidays add meaning and texture to the winter: Chanukah, the festival of lights, Tu B’Shevat, the new year of the trees, and Purim, the full moon holiday of Esther, costumes, carnivals, shpiels, and drinking. And then, one month later – it’s Passover again.
Interwoven into the annual holiday cycle is our annual Torah reading cycle. The fall is for Genesis / B’reishit, stories of our ancestors. The winter is for Exodus / Shmot, stories of Moses and our freedom, the 10 commandments and building the Mishkan. Late winter is when we read Leviticus / Vayikra, teachings of holiness and how God was worshipped in the Mishkan portable tabernacle. Spring is for Numbers/ B’midbar, stories of our wanderings in the desert and Summer, and early fall is for Deuteronomy / Devarim, Moshe’s farewell teachings and history lessons. We read these stories every year, noticing different things, asking different questions, and receiving different revelations and teachings. Every day has its poetic cycles of daily prayers and mitzvot: those of the evening, those of the morning, and those of the day. Each week moves us towards Shabbat. Every month has its re-birth and fullness of the moon. Each day and every moment is a gift, an opportunity that will never come again.
Our life cycle observances are thoughtful and deep. We celebrate life and welcome each baby into the community. We mark puberty as a right of passage, celebrating each teen’s unique accomplishments and perspectives. Our ways of sanctifying marriage are sweet and rich; our understanding of divorce is honest and real. Our ways of mourning life’s ends shows our people’s truest sensitivity and ancient wisdom. A time of sitting, and feeling the hurt, a month of mourning, eleven months of Kaddish, every year marking the yahrtzeit anniversary with memory and praise. These lights are each for a loved one, cherished and never forgotten. On Passover, Shavuot, Yom Kippur and Shemini Atzeret, each year, every year, we say Yizkor, remembrance, the power of memory. Every Shabbat when we have a Minyan we recite Kaddish and remember those who made us who we are. These names are not lost – they are treasured and recited aloud every week in this room. Each person is a universe, a gift, a unique creation, and a mirror to the face of God.
These three closely knit cycles move us through our days, our weeks, our months, our seasons, our years, and our lives.
So while we have many ways of measuring time and different ways of charting our progress around the sun or through our ultimate journeys, what does it all mean? Why are we so focused on time? Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel explained it very well: the Sabbath is a monument in time. Our accomplishments as a Jewish civilization are not our mighty buildings, it is our understanding of time, that time has the potential to be deeply meaningful, that ideas may be timeless, and our God’s most sacred name may mean “eternal existence,” but we are finite. Our days are numbered despite none of us knowing what that number is. Time passes, every second, despite if we are mindful of it or not. “The day is short, the work is great, and the laborers are tired.” Life is short, what we want to do only increases. Few people complete their bucket lists. The task of improving our world, improving our lives, and working on our relationships often remains undone. We all die with things on our to-do list, which should remind us of how we could prioritize those lists better. These days of the high holidays have the potential to help us reshape our lives, remake our world, and change who we all are. And either way, time moves forward, always forward. Judaism brought monotheism to the world, but that was far from our only gift to humanity. We offer a teaching of cosmic importance: the passing of time is holy; time, itself, is sacred.
I mentioned last night that all mitzvot elevate the physical world, they lift up an object, a place, a person, or a time. Some mitzvot lift all four up at the same moment. Each of us has amazing potential to improve our own existence, to help others, to partner with God, and to repair the world. And in each moment, each year, month, week, day and second, is an opportunity. Seize the day; use time wisely. This moment will never come again. And, as we pause in a few minutes to remember our deceased loved ones, as we celebrate our break-the-fast under the growing new moon in a few hours, and as we gather in a few days in the sukkah, the timeless sheltering presence, let us sanctify time’s passing. As we move past these High Holidays, may the impact they have had on us move us not only further, but forward, towards becoming who we want to be, who we have always been in our souls all along. “Teach us to number our days, so that we may earn a heart of wisdom.” “If not now, when?” Shanah Tovah.
Rabbi Shalom Bochner
Over the past 10 days, I have shared with you my perspectives on God, our tribe, and the mitzvot, the ancient practices of Judaism that binds our community together. Today, I want to speak about time, one of the essential ingredients in Judaism’s potency. We are ancient, and have survived through the long ages with our beliefs, our identity, and many of our practices all fully intact. We have withstood the test of time, and how we understand time is a component of that impressive accomplishment. Without time, you can’t have memory. And memory is a key mitzvah for us. So many of the commandments are prefaced by “remember:” “… that you were slaves in Egypt” “…the Shabbat” “…the day you left Egypt.”
As proof of the powerful role time plays in Judaism, we have not one, but three simultaneous ways we measure time, each with their own purpose and intricacies. We measure the passing of time through the annual holiday cycle, starting with our birth as a people on Passover. We also have the annual Torah reading cycle focused on Shabbat, the rhythms of the week and the year interwoven with the calendar of festivals and seasonal observances. And we have our life cycle, from birth and naming, through Bar or Bat Mitzvah, often to weddings and sometimes divorces, to death and how we bury and mourn our dead, and honor them forever after their passing. These three cycles of time: holidays, Torah, and life are the most primal and core of all Jewish connections. How these cycles interact and what memories and teachings they each tell and whisper to us, plays a huge role in who we are and what brings us here today. There are very few Jews without their favorite holidays, their treasured memories of life cycle moments with family and friends, their go-to Jewish stories and traditions, and their own sense of time passing, of growing up and then growing old. This is not the domain of Judaism, this is the content and meaning of life itself.
Let’s take a few moments to look at each of these cycles of Jewish time. Our holidays, which are often about food and joyous celebration, move us through the year with a distinct and often confusing rhythm. Because our calendar follows the lunar calendar with a leap month course correction to keep our holidays connected to particular seasons but not exact solar dates, our holidays drift back and forth over the Gregorian calendar. The high holidays are sometimes early, sometimes late, but never seem to be right on time; Rosh HaShanah can be a few days after Labor Day or in October. And add the fact that our New Year is in the seventh month of the year, it’s clear that we have a beautiful and confusing calendar. So, here is how it works. We start in Spring, the season of new life, and observe the full moon as Passover, the week-long festival of freedom, new beginning, matzah, and Seder meals. Forty-nine days later, we reach Shavuot, the second of our three pilgrimage festivals, the Festival of Weeks, First Fruits and receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai. On the journey between Passover and Shavuot in late Spring, we count the 49 days of the Omer, and pause for Yom HaShoah – Holocaust Remembrance Day, Yom HaAtzmaut – Israeli Independence Day, and Lag B’Omer, the mystical holiday of bonfires, archery, and haircuts.
After Shavuot, the holiday action quiets down for summer other than three weeks of semi-mourning culminating in Tisha B’Av, our only sad holiday when we mourn the destruction of Solomon’s Holy Temple at the hands of the Babylonians and the second Temple in Jerusalem at the hands of the Romans. Six days later is the full moon of late summer, Tu B’Av, an ancient Jewish holiday of sex and love. Two weeks later we start Elul and the daily blowing of the shofar. Then, one month later, we have Rosh HaShana preparing us for today, Yom Kippur – the day of spiritual cleansing and forgiveness. Five days from now will be Sukkot, the full moon of Autumn, the last and most happy of the ancient pilgrimages, a week of celebrating the Harvest with festive meals in the Sukkah and the waving of the sacred and aboriginal Lulav branches and Etrog fruit. The end of Sukkot is Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah – we pray for rain and conclude and re-start the annual Torah reading cycle with much dancing, singing, and l’chaims. Then the rains hopefully come and the days darken. It’s the end of the Biblical calendar, but three later holidays add meaning and texture to the winter: Chanukah, the festival of lights, Tu B’Shevat, the new year of the trees, and Purim, the full moon holiday of Esther, costumes, carnivals, shpiels, and drinking. And then, one month later – it’s Passover again.
Interwoven into the annual holiday cycle is our annual Torah reading cycle. The fall is for Genesis / B’reishit, stories of our ancestors. The winter is for Exodus / Shmot, stories of Moses and our freedom, the 10 commandments and building the Mishkan. Late winter is when we read Leviticus / Vayikra, teachings of holiness and how God was worshipped in the Mishkan portable tabernacle. Spring is for Numbers/ B’midbar, stories of our wanderings in the desert and Summer, and early fall is for Deuteronomy / Devarim, Moshe’s farewell teachings and history lessons. We read these stories every year, noticing different things, asking different questions, and receiving different revelations and teachings. Every day has its poetic cycles of daily prayers and mitzvot: those of the evening, those of the morning, and those of the day. Each week moves us towards Shabbat. Every month has its re-birth and fullness of the moon. Each day and every moment is a gift, an opportunity that will never come again.
Our life cycle observances are thoughtful and deep. We celebrate life and welcome each baby into the community. We mark puberty as a right of passage, celebrating each teen’s unique accomplishments and perspectives. Our ways of sanctifying marriage are sweet and rich; our understanding of divorce is honest and real. Our ways of mourning life’s ends shows our people’s truest sensitivity and ancient wisdom. A time of sitting, and feeling the hurt, a month of mourning, eleven months of Kaddish, every year marking the yahrtzeit anniversary with memory and praise. These lights are each for a loved one, cherished and never forgotten. On Passover, Shavuot, Yom Kippur and Shemini Atzeret, each year, every year, we say Yizkor, remembrance, the power of memory. Every Shabbat when we have a Minyan we recite Kaddish and remember those who made us who we are. These names are not lost – they are treasured and recited aloud every week in this room. Each person is a universe, a gift, a unique creation, and a mirror to the face of God.
These three closely knit cycles move us through our days, our weeks, our months, our seasons, our years, and our lives.
So while we have many ways of measuring time and different ways of charting our progress around the sun or through our ultimate journeys, what does it all mean? Why are we so focused on time? Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel explained it very well: the Sabbath is a monument in time. Our accomplishments as a Jewish civilization are not our mighty buildings, it is our understanding of time, that time has the potential to be deeply meaningful, that ideas may be timeless, and our God’s most sacred name may mean “eternal existence,” but we are finite. Our days are numbered despite none of us knowing what that number is. Time passes, every second, despite if we are mindful of it or not. “The day is short, the work is great, and the laborers are tired.” Life is short, what we want to do only increases. Few people complete their bucket lists. The task of improving our world, improving our lives, and working on our relationships often remains undone. We all die with things on our to-do list, which should remind us of how we could prioritize those lists better. These days of the high holidays have the potential to help us reshape our lives, remake our world, and change who we all are. And either way, time moves forward, always forward. Judaism brought monotheism to the world, but that was far from our only gift to humanity. We offer a teaching of cosmic importance: the passing of time is holy; time, itself, is sacred.
I mentioned last night that all mitzvot elevate the physical world, they lift up an object, a place, a person, or a time. Some mitzvot lift all four up at the same moment. Each of us has amazing potential to improve our own existence, to help others, to partner with God, and to repair the world. And in each moment, each year, month, week, day and second, is an opportunity. Seize the day; use time wisely. This moment will never come again. And, as we pause in a few minutes to remember our deceased loved ones, as we celebrate our break-the-fast under the growing new moon in a few hours, and as we gather in a few days in the sukkah, the timeless sheltering presence, let us sanctify time’s passing. As we move past these High Holidays, may the impact they have had on us move us not only further, but forward, towards becoming who we want to be, who we have always been in our souls all along. “Teach us to number our days, so that we may earn a heart of wisdom.” “If not now, when?” Shanah Tovah.
Rabbi Shalom Bochner
The Miztvot – Kol Nidre Drash 5775 - 2014
Shanah Tovah and Shabbat Shalom. We are here because it’s important to us to connect with our Jewish heritage and to observe this most holy day of the year. Tonight I want to talk about the mitzvot, the Jewish practices and observances that have held us together as a community for thousands of years. As I explained on Rosh HaShanah, this is part three of a four talk presentation on Jewish beliefs, peoplehood, practice, and time. I think as we gather here, with minds attending to our spiritual side and our hearts open at the start of a new Hebrew year, it is worthwhile to discuss our commonalities and our sense of purpose in the world.
The word mitzvah means an instruction, a commandment, a holy act. While we often use the word as synonymous with a good deed, there are good deeds that may not be mitzvot, and there are certainly mitzvot that are not good deeds. Some of the mitzvot help others, all interact with the world, but their purpose is not only goodness. The word mitzvah refers to the 613 commandments of the Torah and the many explanations and enactments of the oral tradition.
There are 365 “thou shall nots,” the so called “negative mitzvot” in the Torah, such as don’t murder, don’t steal, don’t testify falsely, and don’t mistreat the stranger. There are 248 “thou shalls,” the so called “positive” mitzvot, rules such as honor your father and mother, blow a shofar on Rosh HaShana, build a fence around your rooftop hang-out so guests don’t fall off, etc. The Rabbis explain the number of negative mitzvot is the number of days in the solar year to teach us that every day presents opportunities to stray off the path or not. The number of positive commandments is said to be the same as the number of organs and vessels in the human body, teaching that when we do even a single mitzvah, our entire body becomes part of the sacred act. The mitzvot are divided into other categories beyond things to do and things not to do.
Jewish tradition teaches that all of the mitzvot are either Mishpatim, Edot, or Chukim. Mishpatim refers to civil judgments, acts between people to maintain a sense of justice and order in the world. Examples include the prohibition of murder and the importance of paying workers on time. Many of these are seen as common sense; we may not require a divine messenger to understand that murder is wrong. While these have become the basis of western civil law, the Torah presents all of them as an integral part of Judaism. Our holy books don’t just concern themselves with when and how we pray and serve God; a huge focus in the Torah, Mishnah, and Talmud are teachings about human relationships.
The second category is Edot, acts that bear witness to our Jewish history. These include eating matzah on Passover to remember the haste that our ancestors left slavery, and spending time in a Sukkah to remember how we once wandered like homeless people and lived in temporary, simple, and fragile huts. Edot don’t make sense on the surface; they require a back-story, and, in fact, help us tell and remember our tribal stories. Just seeing a person eat a flat cracker on the full moon of spring doesn’t mean much at first. When they tell you their ancestors ran to their freedom from Egyptian slavery without letting their dough rise and the full moon of spring is when this happened, the story and the act becomes meaningful, instructive, and potentially very powerful.
The last category is Chukim, para-rational instructions. These teachings are not accompanied with a logical explanation or even any explanation. Examples are not making fabrics with a mixture of plant-based linen and animal-based wool, what is called shatnez. The mitzvot regarding kashrut, the kosher foods we are told we can eat and the non-kosher ones we are to not, are examples of Chukim. While there may be a reason for these rules, such as health concerns or energetic balance, the Torah simply says to do it or not do it.
Mitzvot are also designated as either being relevant and observed only in the land of Israel, like the sabbatical year of resting the agricultural fields, or mitzvot which are observed in all places. The Talmud frequently divides the mitzvot into those that are directly from the Torah, D’oritah in Aramaic, and those that are Rabbinical fences and additions, such as Chanukah candle-lighting, which are D’rabbanann. Lastly, Mitzvot can be divided into those that were only performed when the Mishkan Tabernacle or Beit haMikdash Temple stood in Jerusalem, and those that are described as being “for all generations, until forever.”
It may also be useful to separate the Mitzvot from Minhagim, customs and observances that may be ancient and meaningful, but are not commanded. Wearing a tzitzit on the corner of a tallit is a mitzvah; wearing a kippah is a minhag.
Why all the details and obsession? Because more than just a list of rules or instruction details, the mitzvot have been the glue which has held us together through all our wanderings, persecutions, challenges, and changes we have been faced with. As Achad haAm said: “More than the Jews kept Shabbat, Shabbat has kept the Jews.” Our beliefs led to our formation as Jews, our sense of shared identity helps define us, and the mitzvot are the means for survival.
Wherever Jews have gone, they followed the mitzvot and continued to study about the ones they could no longer perform. This was a huge part of encouraging Jewish literacy, which often led to our success and adaptability as people. For Jews throughout the ages, a leader was not someone with muscle, but with brain, with words of wisdom and morals, words of Torah, and mitzvot.
While the mitzvot may appear to just be the packaging that enshrines our deepest beliefs, they are not Jewish styrofoam peanuts. Mitzvot are the way we connect with our heritage, the way we feel connected to the divine forces I spoke of on Rosh HaShana, and the way we connect with ourselves and each other. Every mitzvah elevates the physical world. A mitzvah is an act that lifts up a time, a place, an object or an act. It is all about realizing potential. If I placed old animal skins and tendons, charcoal, gum Arabic, gall nut powder, and copper sulfate in a pile on your lap, you would probably not be happy. But these same ingredients, turned into a Torah scroll, would probably give you a sense of holiness or at least ancient Jewish wisdom and tradition. We often talk about Tikun Olam, repairing the world; mitzvot are how we do it. Mitzvot lift up the hidden sparks of holiness found in all things, particularly found in our own hands and hearts.
There are two appeals included in this Service on our most sacred day. We have asked for your financial support to maintain our building, programs, and staff; and I now ask you for your spiritual support and activism to maintain our community and to bring healing to our world, a world that needs our help more than ever. You have been handed a pledge card for “Easy Mitzvot for the Coming Year…” Please take these home, fill them out, and send them back to us. I draw your attention to one example on the middle top of the card: Make a Minyan at Shabbat morning Services. Last Shabbat, on one of the holiest Sabbaths of the year, we didn’t have a Minyan, a quorum of 10 Jewish adults. This is an easy and sacred way to make a difference in the new year.
Tonight, we fill this beautiful sanctuary with our prayers and hopes for a new year. I ask you to turn these inspiring sentiments into action, to take on an additional mitzvah, to make a pledge to step forward in a way that is meaningful to you. Mitzvot add beauty and purpose to our lives, and they contribute greatly to our congregation, community, and world. In the words of the great Rabbi Hillel: “say little, and do much.” There is a time for prayer and meditation; there is also the time for action. Now, at the start of a new year, during this most intense day of spiritual cleansing, make a pledge to make a difference, to do a mitzvah, and to elevate the world and your life.
Shanah Tovah!
Rabbi Shalom Bochner
Shanah Tovah and Shabbat Shalom. We are here because it’s important to us to connect with our Jewish heritage and to observe this most holy day of the year. Tonight I want to talk about the mitzvot, the Jewish practices and observances that have held us together as a community for thousands of years. As I explained on Rosh HaShanah, this is part three of a four talk presentation on Jewish beliefs, peoplehood, practice, and time. I think as we gather here, with minds attending to our spiritual side and our hearts open at the start of a new Hebrew year, it is worthwhile to discuss our commonalities and our sense of purpose in the world.
The word mitzvah means an instruction, a commandment, a holy act. While we often use the word as synonymous with a good deed, there are good deeds that may not be mitzvot, and there are certainly mitzvot that are not good deeds. Some of the mitzvot help others, all interact with the world, but their purpose is not only goodness. The word mitzvah refers to the 613 commandments of the Torah and the many explanations and enactments of the oral tradition.
There are 365 “thou shall nots,” the so called “negative mitzvot” in the Torah, such as don’t murder, don’t steal, don’t testify falsely, and don’t mistreat the stranger. There are 248 “thou shalls,” the so called “positive” mitzvot, rules such as honor your father and mother, blow a shofar on Rosh HaShana, build a fence around your rooftop hang-out so guests don’t fall off, etc. The Rabbis explain the number of negative mitzvot is the number of days in the solar year to teach us that every day presents opportunities to stray off the path or not. The number of positive commandments is said to be the same as the number of organs and vessels in the human body, teaching that when we do even a single mitzvah, our entire body becomes part of the sacred act. The mitzvot are divided into other categories beyond things to do and things not to do.
Jewish tradition teaches that all of the mitzvot are either Mishpatim, Edot, or Chukim. Mishpatim refers to civil judgments, acts between people to maintain a sense of justice and order in the world. Examples include the prohibition of murder and the importance of paying workers on time. Many of these are seen as common sense; we may not require a divine messenger to understand that murder is wrong. While these have become the basis of western civil law, the Torah presents all of them as an integral part of Judaism. Our holy books don’t just concern themselves with when and how we pray and serve God; a huge focus in the Torah, Mishnah, and Talmud are teachings about human relationships.
The second category is Edot, acts that bear witness to our Jewish history. These include eating matzah on Passover to remember the haste that our ancestors left slavery, and spending time in a Sukkah to remember how we once wandered like homeless people and lived in temporary, simple, and fragile huts. Edot don’t make sense on the surface; they require a back-story, and, in fact, help us tell and remember our tribal stories. Just seeing a person eat a flat cracker on the full moon of spring doesn’t mean much at first. When they tell you their ancestors ran to their freedom from Egyptian slavery without letting their dough rise and the full moon of spring is when this happened, the story and the act becomes meaningful, instructive, and potentially very powerful.
The last category is Chukim, para-rational instructions. These teachings are not accompanied with a logical explanation or even any explanation. Examples are not making fabrics with a mixture of plant-based linen and animal-based wool, what is called shatnez. The mitzvot regarding kashrut, the kosher foods we are told we can eat and the non-kosher ones we are to not, are examples of Chukim. While there may be a reason for these rules, such as health concerns or energetic balance, the Torah simply says to do it or not do it.
Mitzvot are also designated as either being relevant and observed only in the land of Israel, like the sabbatical year of resting the agricultural fields, or mitzvot which are observed in all places. The Talmud frequently divides the mitzvot into those that are directly from the Torah, D’oritah in Aramaic, and those that are Rabbinical fences and additions, such as Chanukah candle-lighting, which are D’rabbanann. Lastly, Mitzvot can be divided into those that were only performed when the Mishkan Tabernacle or Beit haMikdash Temple stood in Jerusalem, and those that are described as being “for all generations, until forever.”
It may also be useful to separate the Mitzvot from Minhagim, customs and observances that may be ancient and meaningful, but are not commanded. Wearing a tzitzit on the corner of a tallit is a mitzvah; wearing a kippah is a minhag.
Why all the details and obsession? Because more than just a list of rules or instruction details, the mitzvot have been the glue which has held us together through all our wanderings, persecutions, challenges, and changes we have been faced with. As Achad haAm said: “More than the Jews kept Shabbat, Shabbat has kept the Jews.” Our beliefs led to our formation as Jews, our sense of shared identity helps define us, and the mitzvot are the means for survival.
Wherever Jews have gone, they followed the mitzvot and continued to study about the ones they could no longer perform. This was a huge part of encouraging Jewish literacy, which often led to our success and adaptability as people. For Jews throughout the ages, a leader was not someone with muscle, but with brain, with words of wisdom and morals, words of Torah, and mitzvot.
While the mitzvot may appear to just be the packaging that enshrines our deepest beliefs, they are not Jewish styrofoam peanuts. Mitzvot are the way we connect with our heritage, the way we feel connected to the divine forces I spoke of on Rosh HaShana, and the way we connect with ourselves and each other. Every mitzvah elevates the physical world. A mitzvah is an act that lifts up a time, a place, an object or an act. It is all about realizing potential. If I placed old animal skins and tendons, charcoal, gum Arabic, gall nut powder, and copper sulfate in a pile on your lap, you would probably not be happy. But these same ingredients, turned into a Torah scroll, would probably give you a sense of holiness or at least ancient Jewish wisdom and tradition. We often talk about Tikun Olam, repairing the world; mitzvot are how we do it. Mitzvot lift up the hidden sparks of holiness found in all things, particularly found in our own hands and hearts.
There are two appeals included in this Service on our most sacred day. We have asked for your financial support to maintain our building, programs, and staff; and I now ask you for your spiritual support and activism to maintain our community and to bring healing to our world, a world that needs our help more than ever. You have been handed a pledge card for “Easy Mitzvot for the Coming Year…” Please take these home, fill them out, and send them back to us. I draw your attention to one example on the middle top of the card: Make a Minyan at Shabbat morning Services. Last Shabbat, on one of the holiest Sabbaths of the year, we didn’t have a Minyan, a quorum of 10 Jewish adults. This is an easy and sacred way to make a difference in the new year.
Tonight, we fill this beautiful sanctuary with our prayers and hopes for a new year. I ask you to turn these inspiring sentiments into action, to take on an additional mitzvah, to make a pledge to step forward in a way that is meaningful to you. Mitzvot add beauty and purpose to our lives, and they contribute greatly to our congregation, community, and world. In the words of the great Rabbi Hillel: “say little, and do much.” There is a time for prayer and meditation; there is also the time for action. Now, at the start of a new year, during this most intense day of spiritual cleansing, make a pledge to make a difference, to do a mitzvah, and to elevate the world and your life.
Shanah Tovah!
Rabbi Shalom Bochner
One God - Erev Rosh HaShana 5775 /2014
Shanah Tovah, a good year to all of us. I’m sure many, perhaps too many people in this room, have memorized what the motto of the City of Modesto is: “Water, Wealth, Contentment, Health.” This phrase was created in 1914 just about the time when the Jewish community of Modesto was becoming more established. I understand it to mean, where there is water there can be wealth, which can lead to contentment, which can be conducive to health. It got me thinking earlier this year, what would the Jewish version be? What sign should be posted on the ancient and modern path labeled Judaism? So my version, which does not rhyme nearly as well is: “One God, Our Tribe, The Mitzvot, Jewish Time.” During the Days of Awe, which conclude with Yom Kippur, I plan to address these four topics, in less than 10 minutes each, for the main Drashot of the high holidays: tonight, tomorrow morning, Kol Nidre, and Yom Kippur day
Our idea of God is both simple and very abstract: there is one God; there is only one God. While today a large majority of the humans on planet earth accept this premise, it was an incredibly radical idea at the time of Abraham and Sarah almost 4,000 years ago. At least, partially due to our people’s sense of perseverance in the face of hardship, our revolutionary idea is now shared by many. It’s hard to appreciate when we live surrounded by many people who are also monotheistic how out-of the box this idea was at first; there is one God, not many; each locality did not have its own deity; and different gods do not compete and fight against each other. God, according to the Jews, was and is the one and only ultimate power of the universe. The one God of Judaism is all-powerful, ever present, and the source of all wisdom.
Yet, when it comes to defining God, we, as Jews, are much more clear about what we don’t believe, but what we do: God is not corporal, not limited, and not able to be represented in any form or drawing. God is not male or female as humanity in all of its diversity, and orientations were made in God’s image.
Judaism is very comfortable not being able to know or understand God fully. We know that the universe is infinite, and we accept not being able to truly comprehend what that means. We can’t, of course, fully fit that concept into our finite brains. If the universe is beyond our comprehension, then it goes to reason we can’t understand the Creator of such a universe who, by definition, is even greater than what was created. We can know of God, but according to our sages and mystics, God is not knowable, not fully understandable. We can’t grasp why there is suffering, for example, as we are not privy to God’s thoughts or to God’s unique perspective on the universe.
Not only can we not fully understand or know God, we don’t even know God’s name. The most common name for God in Hebrew prayers and texts is pronounced as “Adonai” which simply means Master. We don’t pronounce this name as it is written with a Yud, Hay, Vav and Hay. This name was pronounced once a year, only on Yom Kippur in the days of the Holy Temple, and only by the Cohein Gadol – the High Priest, and only in the Holy of Holies. We no longer know how this name was pronounced, but we do know what it means. These letters are a combination of four Hebrew words: was, is, will be, and the power behind all that ever was, is, and will be. God is not only One, as compared to two or three or 700, God is All, all there ever was, all there is, and all there will ever be. As Rabbi Gerson Winkler playfully translates this most holy of words and concepts: God is the Iser of the universe. God is what makes existence. According to Kabbalah, all that there is God and we are all a part of it.
God has many names in Hebrew: God is HaMakom, the place of the universe, Shalom – the ultimate peace, Elohim – the judge of the world, Yah, as in Hallelu-Yah – the breath of the universe, Rabbino Shel Olam – the Rebbe, the teacher of the universe. God is almighty, God is the Compassionate one.
I often meet people who tell me they don’t believe in God. When they explain what they mean, we often come to the conclusion the God they don’t believe in is not a God I believe in either. The Torah and Jewish tradition never speaks of God as an old man in the sky who strikes people with lightning when they misbehave. The angry god of the Hebrew Bible is not an authentic Jewish understanding. Yes, God shows different faces, different emotions, as we do. The parent who yells in fear when their child puts their hands on a hot stove is not angry, they are acting from a place of love. God’s anger, God’s flared nostrils, are anthropomorphic language not to be taken literally just like God’s Erech Apayim, God’s long nostrils, is meant to illustrate God’s is patient and loving. God doesn’t have a long nose; the Torah is indicating we can get a glimpse of God’s patience in our own deep breaths.
Our beliefs and our language should be revised with the modern age. What might be the contemporary language for explaining the ancient, Jewish, monotheistic God? For me and other modern Jewish teachers, God is connection and connectivity; God is meaning; God is the sense of higher purpose in our lives. God is the unseen power that unites all living things. Modesto native son George Lucas explained it very well: God is the force, an energy field connecting all living things, that surrounds and penetrates living beings and binds the galaxy together.
We all have a different understanding of life, different ideas about its meaning and purpose, so it makes sense we have different comprehensions of the Divine. Moshe knew God better than anyone, God spoke to him face to face, and still Moshe had questions, Moses wanted to know more, He asked to see God’s face, his essence. God told him, no one can see all that I am and continue to live, but you can see my back, what my power leaves behind, my wake. And on the 10th day of Tishrei, what we now celebrate as Yom Kippur, God revealed the 13 attributes: compassion, grace, patient as elongated nostrils, great in kindness and truth, forgiveness, clearing wrong doing, erasing mistakes…
God is connection, meaning, purpose, forgiveness and kindness. Connecting with God happens when we connect with each other, our world, ourselves. Being made in God’s image means we have free will, our lives have the potential for meaning, we can achieve a sense of purpose, and we are to be forgiving and kind, to each other, our world, and ourselves.
Our people’s name is Israel and Israel means to be a prince of God, a facer or interface with God, a wrestler with God.
We are not really a religion; we are a tribe, a culture, and ethnicity. While there are no such things as atheist Catholics; there are many Jewish atheists and agnostics in this world and probably in this room. Some of us believe, some of us practice our faith in a traditional manner, but you don’t have to believe in the higher power of connection to experience a connection. It’s here right now as we connect with our extended family, the Jewish people, all over the world, and as we connect with our people through time as we chant these same words as they did throughout the centuries and millenniums.
I feel there is a power found in the sacredness of us being together in this room with positive intentions, hopes for the new year, and a spirit of forgiveness. Call it the power of the group, the force, good vibes, or the presence of God, it is what brings us together. Thank you for being a part of this holy gathering. Shanah Tovah!
Rabbi Shalom Bochner
Shanah Tovah, a good year to all of us. I’m sure many, perhaps too many people in this room, have memorized what the motto of the City of Modesto is: “Water, Wealth, Contentment, Health.” This phrase was created in 1914 just about the time when the Jewish community of Modesto was becoming more established. I understand it to mean, where there is water there can be wealth, which can lead to contentment, which can be conducive to health. It got me thinking earlier this year, what would the Jewish version be? What sign should be posted on the ancient and modern path labeled Judaism? So my version, which does not rhyme nearly as well is: “One God, Our Tribe, The Mitzvot, Jewish Time.” During the Days of Awe, which conclude with Yom Kippur, I plan to address these four topics, in less than 10 minutes each, for the main Drashot of the high holidays: tonight, tomorrow morning, Kol Nidre, and Yom Kippur day
Our idea of God is both simple and very abstract: there is one God; there is only one God. While today a large majority of the humans on planet earth accept this premise, it was an incredibly radical idea at the time of Abraham and Sarah almost 4,000 years ago. At least, partially due to our people’s sense of perseverance in the face of hardship, our revolutionary idea is now shared by many. It’s hard to appreciate when we live surrounded by many people who are also monotheistic how out-of the box this idea was at first; there is one God, not many; each locality did not have its own deity; and different gods do not compete and fight against each other. God, according to the Jews, was and is the one and only ultimate power of the universe. The one God of Judaism is all-powerful, ever present, and the source of all wisdom.
Yet, when it comes to defining God, we, as Jews, are much more clear about what we don’t believe, but what we do: God is not corporal, not limited, and not able to be represented in any form or drawing. God is not male or female as humanity in all of its diversity, and orientations were made in God’s image.
Judaism is very comfortable not being able to know or understand God fully. We know that the universe is infinite, and we accept not being able to truly comprehend what that means. We can’t, of course, fully fit that concept into our finite brains. If the universe is beyond our comprehension, then it goes to reason we can’t understand the Creator of such a universe who, by definition, is even greater than what was created. We can know of God, but according to our sages and mystics, God is not knowable, not fully understandable. We can’t grasp why there is suffering, for example, as we are not privy to God’s thoughts or to God’s unique perspective on the universe.
Not only can we not fully understand or know God, we don’t even know God’s name. The most common name for God in Hebrew prayers and texts is pronounced as “Adonai” which simply means Master. We don’t pronounce this name as it is written with a Yud, Hay, Vav and Hay. This name was pronounced once a year, only on Yom Kippur in the days of the Holy Temple, and only by the Cohein Gadol – the High Priest, and only in the Holy of Holies. We no longer know how this name was pronounced, but we do know what it means. These letters are a combination of four Hebrew words: was, is, will be, and the power behind all that ever was, is, and will be. God is not only One, as compared to two or three or 700, God is All, all there ever was, all there is, and all there will ever be. As Rabbi Gerson Winkler playfully translates this most holy of words and concepts: God is the Iser of the universe. God is what makes existence. According to Kabbalah, all that there is God and we are all a part of it.
God has many names in Hebrew: God is HaMakom, the place of the universe, Shalom – the ultimate peace, Elohim – the judge of the world, Yah, as in Hallelu-Yah – the breath of the universe, Rabbino Shel Olam – the Rebbe, the teacher of the universe. God is almighty, God is the Compassionate one.
I often meet people who tell me they don’t believe in God. When they explain what they mean, we often come to the conclusion the God they don’t believe in is not a God I believe in either. The Torah and Jewish tradition never speaks of God as an old man in the sky who strikes people with lightning when they misbehave. The angry god of the Hebrew Bible is not an authentic Jewish understanding. Yes, God shows different faces, different emotions, as we do. The parent who yells in fear when their child puts their hands on a hot stove is not angry, they are acting from a place of love. God’s anger, God’s flared nostrils, are anthropomorphic language not to be taken literally just like God’s Erech Apayim, God’s long nostrils, is meant to illustrate God’s is patient and loving. God doesn’t have a long nose; the Torah is indicating we can get a glimpse of God’s patience in our own deep breaths.
Our beliefs and our language should be revised with the modern age. What might be the contemporary language for explaining the ancient, Jewish, monotheistic God? For me and other modern Jewish teachers, God is connection and connectivity; God is meaning; God is the sense of higher purpose in our lives. God is the unseen power that unites all living things. Modesto native son George Lucas explained it very well: God is the force, an energy field connecting all living things, that surrounds and penetrates living beings and binds the galaxy together.
We all have a different understanding of life, different ideas about its meaning and purpose, so it makes sense we have different comprehensions of the Divine. Moshe knew God better than anyone, God spoke to him face to face, and still Moshe had questions, Moses wanted to know more, He asked to see God’s face, his essence. God told him, no one can see all that I am and continue to live, but you can see my back, what my power leaves behind, my wake. And on the 10th day of Tishrei, what we now celebrate as Yom Kippur, God revealed the 13 attributes: compassion, grace, patient as elongated nostrils, great in kindness and truth, forgiveness, clearing wrong doing, erasing mistakes…
God is connection, meaning, purpose, forgiveness and kindness. Connecting with God happens when we connect with each other, our world, ourselves. Being made in God’s image means we have free will, our lives have the potential for meaning, we can achieve a sense of purpose, and we are to be forgiving and kind, to each other, our world, and ourselves.
Our people’s name is Israel and Israel means to be a prince of God, a facer or interface with God, a wrestler with God.
We are not really a religion; we are a tribe, a culture, and ethnicity. While there are no such things as atheist Catholics; there are many Jewish atheists and agnostics in this world and probably in this room. Some of us believe, some of us practice our faith in a traditional manner, but you don’t have to believe in the higher power of connection to experience a connection. It’s here right now as we connect with our extended family, the Jewish people, all over the world, and as we connect with our people through time as we chant these same words as they did throughout the centuries and millenniums.
I feel there is a power found in the sacredness of us being together in this room with positive intentions, hopes for the new year, and a spirit of forgiveness. Call it the power of the group, the force, good vibes, or the presence of God, it is what brings us together. Thank you for being a part of this holy gathering. Shanah Tovah!
Rabbi Shalom Bochner
Our Tribe - Daytime Rosh HaShana 5775 / 2014
Shanah Tovah. Today, I’d like to talk just a bit about our family, our tribe, the Jewish people. As I explained last night, this is part 2 of a 4 part series on basic elements of Judaism: our beliefs, who we are, our practices, and our unique understanding of time. Last night, I covered the idea of One God, and today I want to talk for 10 minutes or less about who we are.
We are an ancient tribe. We are the descendants of Abraham and Sarah who lived almost 4,000 years ago. We are not a race. We come in all colors, speak dozens of languages, and have lived in all four corners of the world. We are an ethnicity, a set of customs and teachings, a philosophy, and for some, a religion. We are a very small people. The world is 1/3 Christian and 1/5 Muslim. 53% percent or more of the world claims to share or have borrowed our root beliefs and sacred texts, but we number less than 1/5 of one percent of the world’s population. There are currently about 13.9 million Jews in the world. The largest concentration of us, as of just a few years ago, is in Israel, home to 6,000,000 Jews. Our community here in the U.S. is by far the second largest community with about 5,800,000 members. Small amounts of Jews also live in France, Canada, the UK, Russia, Argentina, Germany, Australia, and Brazil. There are much smaller numbers who live in places such as: Ukraine, South Africa, Hungary, Mexico, Belgium, Iran, Morocco, and many other nations all over the globe. Here in Modesto, where an organized Jewish community has been active for almost 100 years, we are about 1/10 of a percent of the city’s population.
We come in many varieties. Many of us are Ashkenazim, Jews from Eastern Europe, Poland, Russia, Ukraine, the Old Country of Galicia, where less than 75 years ago there were many small cities, town, and shtetles that were 50 – 75% Jewish. Some of us are Sephardim, Jews from Spain who fled the inquisition to Turkey, Rhodes, Morocco, and South America. A very sizable percentage of Jews, particularly in Israel, are neither Ashkenazim or Sephardim, but are Mizrachim, Jews from the East. These communities, many of which were established hundreds of years before the Common Era, lived in Yemen, Iran, Babylonia (today’s Iraq), Kurdistan, and many other lands. We are truly Semites, not only because Hebrew is a Semitic language, but also because many of us never left the Middle East. A small number of us never even left our homeland, the land of Israel, the western shores of the Fertile Crescent. We are also Semites because we are the descendants of Shem, the son of Noah.
There was a time Jews were mostly described in just two categories: very observant and slightly less observant.
Then, with the Haskalah, the enlightenment and modernity, and the impacts in Europe of the Protestant Revolution, we have become self-divided into modern movements, of which there are many more than just three: Conservative; Reform; Orthodox; Reconstructionist; Renewal; Secular Humanists; Chassidic, which itself is divided into dozens of dynasties, such as Chabad Lubavitch, Satmar, and Bobov, to name but a few; Ultra Orthodox; Modern Orthodox; Traditional, and Traditional Egalitarian. We come in as many varieties as Heinz 57 ketchup tomatoes.
This past year, a significant study of the American Jewish community was released, the Pew Study. It indicated a number of contradictory findings: many congregations, particularly Reform and Conservative are shrinking; Orthodoxy is growing; that the rates of inter-faith marriage and not raising children as Jews are about 50%; levels of Jewish observance are increasing; children of inter-faith couples have an increasing interest in Judaism; and levels of Jewish pride are at un-precedented levels. A significant and increasing percentage of Americans hold positive views of Jews.
Here at Congregation Beth Shalom, we conducted our own survey, which many of you participated in. 40% most closely identify with the Conservative Movement and 40% most closely identify with the Reform Movement. About 5% each said Reconstructionist, Renewal, Chabad or secular and culturally identified. Responding to a changing American Jewish community and shifting demographics in the local community, we have needed to re-evaluate who we are as a congregation. My personal goal is to make 90% of you happy 90% of the time. I know we can’t make everyone completely happy, and no one event or program will work for all of our members. Our weekly Friday night services are a deliberate mixture of Reform and Conservative elements and approaches. We often include musical instruments and have had two very successful and enjoyable Rock Shabbats with an entire band. Our Shabbat morning services are more traditional, with most of the prayers being recited in Hebrew. We have heard your feedback and responded actively: Friday night services are one hour short, and the Drash is about 8 minutes, covering relevant and modern topics. Shabbat mornings begin at 10 am and usually last an hour. This is followed by 30 minutes of lively, interactive Torah discussion. Every Shabbat service is followed by Kiddush and food. Once a month we offer a full Shabbat morning service with Torah reading and other traditional elements from 10 am - noon. We know many of you don’t consider yourselves traditionally observant or deeply religious, so we offer many ways to connect beyond Shabbat and Holiday Services: our wonderful Sunday concert series, weekly Adult Ed classes in Hebrew and Judaic topics, cultural celebrations like Hebrew Fest and Café Shalom, monthly Shabbat dinners, movies, social action projects, sports events, and lots of opportunities for us to be together, to schmooze, to eat, to connect and to kibbitz. We have a wonderful Beit Sefer Sunday School, preschool and youth programs for children of all ages and their families. We take great pride in being the only Jewish congregation here serving this very diverse community. As THE Center for Jewish Life in Greater Modesto and Stanislaus County, we work hard to provide engaging and meaningful programs and events. Please consider participating in our ever growing menu of ways to be involved. We are here every week, and really do welcome your feedback and ideas.
So, if we are such a diverse and scattered people with differing definitions of what Jewish identity means, what do we have in common? We share a connection with our ancient and modern homeland, the land of Israel. We also share a connection through the Hebrew language, the language of the Bible, our prayers, and sacred texts. And, perhaps most importantly, we have a shared sense of family. We have a common history. If you are a Cohein, a member of the priestly clan who is a descendant of Aaron with the genetic testing results to prove it, or if you have chosen to be Jewish through a conversion process, either way and for all points in between, we are one family. We are one tribe, one amazing people.
Much ink has been spilled debating who is a Jew. The Reform movement insists that anyone with even a single Jewish parent is a member of the tribe. According to ancient traditions, the child of a Jewish mother or someone who has undergone an authentic conversion process is Jewish. Another approach has been offered: being Jewish is not about having Jewish grandparents, it’s about having Jewish grandchildren. The Jews who will be here and identify as Jewish in the future will resolve these debates. Our job is not to decide what the future will be – our job is to ensure that there is a future. Shanah Tovah!
Rabbi Shalom Bochner
Shanah Tovah. Today, I’d like to talk just a bit about our family, our tribe, the Jewish people. As I explained last night, this is part 2 of a 4 part series on basic elements of Judaism: our beliefs, who we are, our practices, and our unique understanding of time. Last night, I covered the idea of One God, and today I want to talk for 10 minutes or less about who we are.
We are an ancient tribe. We are the descendants of Abraham and Sarah who lived almost 4,000 years ago. We are not a race. We come in all colors, speak dozens of languages, and have lived in all four corners of the world. We are an ethnicity, a set of customs and teachings, a philosophy, and for some, a religion. We are a very small people. The world is 1/3 Christian and 1/5 Muslim. 53% percent or more of the world claims to share or have borrowed our root beliefs and sacred texts, but we number less than 1/5 of one percent of the world’s population. There are currently about 13.9 million Jews in the world. The largest concentration of us, as of just a few years ago, is in Israel, home to 6,000,000 Jews. Our community here in the U.S. is by far the second largest community with about 5,800,000 members. Small amounts of Jews also live in France, Canada, the UK, Russia, Argentina, Germany, Australia, and Brazil. There are much smaller numbers who live in places such as: Ukraine, South Africa, Hungary, Mexico, Belgium, Iran, Morocco, and many other nations all over the globe. Here in Modesto, where an organized Jewish community has been active for almost 100 years, we are about 1/10 of a percent of the city’s population.
We come in many varieties. Many of us are Ashkenazim, Jews from Eastern Europe, Poland, Russia, Ukraine, the Old Country of Galicia, where less than 75 years ago there were many small cities, town, and shtetles that were 50 – 75% Jewish. Some of us are Sephardim, Jews from Spain who fled the inquisition to Turkey, Rhodes, Morocco, and South America. A very sizable percentage of Jews, particularly in Israel, are neither Ashkenazim or Sephardim, but are Mizrachim, Jews from the East. These communities, many of which were established hundreds of years before the Common Era, lived in Yemen, Iran, Babylonia (today’s Iraq), Kurdistan, and many other lands. We are truly Semites, not only because Hebrew is a Semitic language, but also because many of us never left the Middle East. A small number of us never even left our homeland, the land of Israel, the western shores of the Fertile Crescent. We are also Semites because we are the descendants of Shem, the son of Noah.
There was a time Jews were mostly described in just two categories: very observant and slightly less observant.
Then, with the Haskalah, the enlightenment and modernity, and the impacts in Europe of the Protestant Revolution, we have become self-divided into modern movements, of which there are many more than just three: Conservative; Reform; Orthodox; Reconstructionist; Renewal; Secular Humanists; Chassidic, which itself is divided into dozens of dynasties, such as Chabad Lubavitch, Satmar, and Bobov, to name but a few; Ultra Orthodox; Modern Orthodox; Traditional, and Traditional Egalitarian. We come in as many varieties as Heinz 57 ketchup tomatoes.
This past year, a significant study of the American Jewish community was released, the Pew Study. It indicated a number of contradictory findings: many congregations, particularly Reform and Conservative are shrinking; Orthodoxy is growing; that the rates of inter-faith marriage and not raising children as Jews are about 50%; levels of Jewish observance are increasing; children of inter-faith couples have an increasing interest in Judaism; and levels of Jewish pride are at un-precedented levels. A significant and increasing percentage of Americans hold positive views of Jews.
Here at Congregation Beth Shalom, we conducted our own survey, which many of you participated in. 40% most closely identify with the Conservative Movement and 40% most closely identify with the Reform Movement. About 5% each said Reconstructionist, Renewal, Chabad or secular and culturally identified. Responding to a changing American Jewish community and shifting demographics in the local community, we have needed to re-evaluate who we are as a congregation. My personal goal is to make 90% of you happy 90% of the time. I know we can’t make everyone completely happy, and no one event or program will work for all of our members. Our weekly Friday night services are a deliberate mixture of Reform and Conservative elements and approaches. We often include musical instruments and have had two very successful and enjoyable Rock Shabbats with an entire band. Our Shabbat morning services are more traditional, with most of the prayers being recited in Hebrew. We have heard your feedback and responded actively: Friday night services are one hour short, and the Drash is about 8 minutes, covering relevant and modern topics. Shabbat mornings begin at 10 am and usually last an hour. This is followed by 30 minutes of lively, interactive Torah discussion. Every Shabbat service is followed by Kiddush and food. Once a month we offer a full Shabbat morning service with Torah reading and other traditional elements from 10 am - noon. We know many of you don’t consider yourselves traditionally observant or deeply religious, so we offer many ways to connect beyond Shabbat and Holiday Services: our wonderful Sunday concert series, weekly Adult Ed classes in Hebrew and Judaic topics, cultural celebrations like Hebrew Fest and Café Shalom, monthly Shabbat dinners, movies, social action projects, sports events, and lots of opportunities for us to be together, to schmooze, to eat, to connect and to kibbitz. We have a wonderful Beit Sefer Sunday School, preschool and youth programs for children of all ages and their families. We take great pride in being the only Jewish congregation here serving this very diverse community. As THE Center for Jewish Life in Greater Modesto and Stanislaus County, we work hard to provide engaging and meaningful programs and events. Please consider participating in our ever growing menu of ways to be involved. We are here every week, and really do welcome your feedback and ideas.
So, if we are such a diverse and scattered people with differing definitions of what Jewish identity means, what do we have in common? We share a connection with our ancient and modern homeland, the land of Israel. We also share a connection through the Hebrew language, the language of the Bible, our prayers, and sacred texts. And, perhaps most importantly, we have a shared sense of family. We have a common history. If you are a Cohein, a member of the priestly clan who is a descendant of Aaron with the genetic testing results to prove it, or if you have chosen to be Jewish through a conversion process, either way and for all points in between, we are one family. We are one tribe, one amazing people.
Much ink has been spilled debating who is a Jew. The Reform movement insists that anyone with even a single Jewish parent is a member of the tribe. According to ancient traditions, the child of a Jewish mother or someone who has undergone an authentic conversion process is Jewish. Another approach has been offered: being Jewish is not about having Jewish grandparents, it’s about having Jewish grandchildren. The Jews who will be here and identify as Jewish in the future will resolve these debates. Our job is not to decide what the future will be – our job is to ensure that there is a future. Shanah Tovah!
Rabbi Shalom Bochner