Forgiveness is hard, and it begins with truth. In order to truly forgive, we must confront the truth of what happened to us; and in order to reconcile with those who have harmed us, we must face this truth together with them. It's a difficult process, but the example of a local advocate on restorative justice--who follows the same path as the prophet Jonah--can inspire us to take the first heavy steps toward forgiveness.
Some reflections as Elul dawns on this season's potential to help us drawn close to the divine power of connection and concern we call God.
Texts whose beauty and simplicity spark the imagination often offend our reason when we look at them critically. But even through the eyes of reason, we can appreciate the value of simple and powerful texts as catalysts to moral behavior. The blessings and curses in parashat Eikev fall into this category, asking us to consider: What if it were true that my behavior could impact the flourishing or demise of my community? How would I act then? And even if the rain won't fall on my account ... shouldn't I act that way anyway?
For my first sermon at Oak Park Temple, I reflect on the memory of Thomas Jefferson, whose Declaration of Independence we celebrated this week. I share a bit about myself as well as my own struggles with how to remember prominent figures of the past whose impact has been both tremendous and terribly flawed.
This was my final Shabbat at The Temple, Congregation B'nai Jehudah. I used this opportunity to thank the congregation for enriching my three years in the community and to reflect on the power and importance of strengthening one another at times of transition and adventure. Chazak, chazak, v'nitchazek -- Be strong, be strong, and let us strengthen one another!
What is the source of health? And what is the source of healing? Our tradition teaches us to turn to human healers when their expertise can help us. At the same time, we are urged to remember the divine Source of healing from which these experts draw. As Abraham Joshua Heschel teaches, "The doctor is God’s partner in the struggle between life and death. Religion is medicine in the form of a prayer; medicine is prayer in the form of a deed."
This year's Shavuot Yizkor occurred during the sheloshim of Rabbi Aaron Panken, former president of the Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion who died tragically on May 5, 2018. My message at yizkor was inspired by the poetic reflection of his sister, Rabbi Melinda Panken, which is included in the text below.
From its earliest days, Judaism has existed in contrast to one prevailing culture or another. Jews are perennially "inside-outsiders" who participate in their broader communities but always at something of a remove. This isn't a bug but rather a feature of our tradition, providing the key ingredient to our ongoing ability to add our particular truth to the project of human flourishing.
Leadership is not a position; it's an activity. Our tradition calls us to exercise leadership even and especially when it's difficult or uncomfortable. Stories both personal and traditional help illustrate this them.
Parashat Tazria-Metzora deals famously with the disease known as tzaraat, translated (not entirely accurately) as leprosy. The image of the isolated leper is a familiar one, but the Torah insists that the reintegration is the ideal. No one should be separated forever, and it is upon us to go to the margins of society to reach out to those who have been cast off--even if for good reason--to welcome them back to the whole the moment they're ready to return.
“To be effective, the preacher's message must be alive; it must alarm, arouse, challenge; it must be God's present voice to a particular people.”