From the Pulpit: Parshat Yitro – Our most central defining moment

Rabbi Elizabeth Bolton

By Rabbi Elizabeth Bolton

Or Haneshamah

The book of Exodus contains many familiar stories, ones that come with enduring iconic imagery: the Hebrew baby, who would become the great leader, floating in a basket on the river Nile; Moses slaying a cruel taskmaster who is beating a fellow Hebrew; the shepherd Moshe, awed by the bush on fire, called by the Divine voice to free his people back in Mitzrayim; the river divided for the Israelites to escape on dry land; and the most magnificent gift of Torah, with the people assembled at the base of Mount Sinai.

Woven through these stories are also the stories of the women and men in Moshe’s life who come from other tribes. While his mother Yocheved and sister Miriam clearly had the foresight, and the plan, for saving the newborn boy’s life, figures from other tribes play critical roles in his life’s journey.

The first is Pharaoh’s daughter, who plucks the baby in the basket from the river and brings him up. The second is his wife Tzipporah, daughter of the Midianite priest Yitro, whose name identifies the parshah in which the Torah is given. There is rich meaning to be derived from this name heading the parshah, chapters and verses of the most central defining moment of Jewish peoplehood.

“Yitros” and “Tzipporahs” abide in our communities, our families, our synagogues and chavurot. Though their origins are in other tribes, they bring up Jewish children, marry Jewish partners, and live lives that are deeply impacted by Jewish life cycles and year cycles. Some chose to stay affiliated with their own tribes, some formally convert, yet all are living some form of the pledge offered by Ruth, who declares to her mother-in-law: “Wherever you go, I will go. Your people will be my people.”

At the core of these experiences and the layers in our peoples’ narrative is the notion that folks from varied tribes can walk a common path, one of integrity, sacred experiences and shared humanity.

Contemporary Jewish life is complex and nuanced. Terms like interfaith, concepts like conversion, or Jew-by-choice, or families-formed-by-adoption do not do justice to the layers of experiences in our families’ lives.

Think back to Moshe, who was adopted at a very young age into a different culture, and whose closest sibling during his childhood years was not Aaron but the son of the Pharaoh, who was enslaving his people of origin. Looking at our biblical narrative in this way helps us see more fully the impact many of our own community’s children and parents, in the fullness of their stories.

Jayne K. Guberman and Jennifer Sartori, founders of the Adoption and Jewish Identity Project put it this way:

“The biblical narrative in fact recounts a very complicated adoption story. With its traumatic passages back and forth, from one mother and one identity to another, this foundational story of the Jewish people may resonate in complex ways with all members of the adoption triad: adoptees, their adoptive families, and their birth families… In an age of increasing Jewish diversity and boundary-crossing, reading the story of Moses through an adoption lens may lend richness to our understanding of this foundational text and a more nuanced sense of the source of his greatness.”

Nuance and complexity. Diversity and boundary-crossing. This is part of our origin story as well as the contemporary Jewish story, and the Jewish future. Our people are enriched by the Yitros and Tzipporahs in our lives.

From the Pulpit: Living mindfully is at the heart of Judaism

Rabbi Idan Scher

By Rabbi Idan Scher

Machzikei Hadas

I have been thinking a lot about being present, about really living. It seems as if a lack of living in the moment has forever been a human malady, but at this point in time, with technology glued to our bodies, it sometimes feels as if we are about to implode.

We spend an unbelievable amount of time on our phones. And as we look out for our next Instagram photo op, we often miss what is right in front of us.

It’s like the joke I heard first from an Ottawa rabbi: Someone was at a funeral and he asked the officiating rabbi for the Wi-Fi password. “Have some respect for the dead!” the rabbi said. “Thanks Rabbi, is that all lowercase?”

Unfortunately this joke is inching ever closer to reality.

I think the description of Rabbeinu Behaye, the mystic, philosopher and ethicist of the 11th century, is the best description of them all: “pizur hanefesh (the scattering of our soul or our spirit).” We are scattered and we are missing the peaceful soul, the equilibrium, the reflectiveness, that couldn’t be more important for who we are.

And it’s not like we aren’t realizing this.

Apple’s app of the year pick for 2017 was Calm, a meditation and relaxation aid based on mindfulness that is now valued at close to $1 billion.

Living mindfully, in the present, has been at the heart of Judaism from the very beginning.

Just take a look at some of the most significant parts of our religious practice.

Prayer strategically placed three times a day – a time to stop and think and reflect on who we are and where we are going, a time to refocus and recalibrate.

Shabbat, what a brilliant construct. The Tech Sabbath is becoming more and more popular but Judaism brought this concept to the world. A day unplugged. A day of reflection. A day of experiencing the here and now, our loved ones and our spirituality. There has been no more powerful tool in the history of mankind in inspiring living in the moment than Shabbat.

Or we think of berakhot (blessings). We are told of the benefit of saying 100 blessings a day and this should come as no surprise.

Because blessings are those moments of reflection. They are moments that allow us to refocus and soak in the richness of the experience we are about to have.

And as Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan – one of the most prolific English-language Jewish authors, who died way too young at the age of 48 and gave the layperson access to so much wisdom and many texts that were previously inaccessible – explained, a comparative study of meditative methods shows that the Jewish systems may have been among the most advanced in the world.

And these few examples are just the tip of the iceberg.

Judaism is about really living. Living with our hearts and eyes open, ready to soak in all of the wonders of existence being present has to offer.

Like those beautiful words of Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel: “The beginning of our happiness lies in the understanding that life without wonder is not worth living. What we lack is not a will to believe but a will to wonder.”

From the Pulpit: ‘It is never too late and it is never too dark’

Rabbi Eytan Kenter, Kehillat Beth Israel

By Rabbi Eytan Kenter

Kehillat Beth Israel

With a five-year-old and an 18-month-old, the time that I wake up in the morning is largely not of my own choosing. Yet, even when I can wake up on my own, we are still in the most depressing time of the year, when we wake up in darkness and return home from work in that same darkness. Shabbat starts earlier and earlier as it grows cold, snowy, and dark.

This annual reality can serve as an apt metaphor for the challenges that we all too often encounter within our world. Whether it be the problems of climate change or increased tribalization and polarization, there are immense problems that we are encountering and the fear of their growing impact permeates within us. These huge global problems can’t help but worry us and the darkness of hopelessness and fear for the future can, all too often, consume us.

But then, as the end of December approaches, something remarkable happens: the light begins to return and days start getting longer. It is not a coincidence that Chanukah, the festival of lights, falls at this time of year. Not only is the lighting of this candelabra our attempt to remember the miracle of the oil from the story of Chanukah, but it also serves as a reminder, that light can and will return in the face of great darkness. While the situation looked bleak for the Maccabees, they were still able to be victorious. So too, can light overcome darkness in our lives as well.

Martin Luther King Jr. taught, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” No matter how dark it may seem, light can overcome it. No matter how bad our problems may seem, our light and our love can face it, if we are willing to do what it takes to fight back. The Maccabees didn’t simply hope for a better future, they made it happen. They stood up against seemingly insurmountable odds, and with God’s help, were able to win the day.

There are days when I fear the challenges we will face in the years to come will be too difficult to overcome. There are times when I worry that it is already too late to change course, that the darkness has already overwhelmed us. But then I remember the story of Chanukah, then I remember that lighting of the candles in the face of the creeping darkness. If we can find the love deep in our hearts. If we can reclaim the dedication and commitment of the Maccabees. If we can remember that light can always conquer the darkness, we know that the better future we need is still possible. Through our hard work and dedication (literally the meaning of Chanukah), we will be able to repair our world. It is never too late and it is never too dark. As long as every day we add a little more light, one candle at a time, we can once again take pride in returning the world to where it ought to be. One light, one act, and one person at a time.