Last week Joel talked about Lech Lecha – go out, leave what is comfortable, go and make something of yourself. Become something perhaps you hadn’t even imagined a decade ago.

WHO are we becoming?

How do we describe ourselves? What labels do we wear?

Do you describe yourself by your job title or the type of work you do?

Doctor – Lawyer – Accountant – Consultant – Engineer – Student

If you ask a high school student to describe him or herself, you will likely hear what they are good at or their academic goals: I’m a good math student. I want to go to college to study law.

Or they may focus on their perceived flaws: I’m not very popular. I write well but I’m not good at science. I love to sing but I didn’t get the lead.

Do we left others define and describe us?

Oh, she’s smart!

He’s a good dancer.

She’s a good cook.

We have a bad habit of defining ourselves in terms of what is ‘normal’ or what is ‘expected’. Are we normal, better than normal, or not quite cutting it? We judge ourselves and we allow others to pass judgement on us.  And labels are too limiting to really reflect who we are becoming.

I recently read an article on Forbes.com where I found this excerpt:

We mention what we do, where we live, where we went to school. We describe ourselves in bullet points and keywords, instead of telling stories of our personal histories and victories. We rarely mention our core character traits, or even hint at our true personalities.

          You are not your job title

          You are not your real estate, nor your tax return.

          You are not your social media profile

          You are not a bullet point list of mistakes. Nor a bullet point list of your skills

You are not your proclaimed beliefs

Your actions tell your story far more convincingly

In Lech Lecha, Abram becomes Abraham. Sarai becomes Sarah.

They each got new names for goodness sake. It seems the perfect question to ask Abarham and Sarah ‘Who are you?’ but that is not what God asked.

In Vayera, God asks Abraham, ‘where are you?’

And it’s not even the first time God asks this question. In Beresheit, shortly after Adam and Eve have eaten from the Tree of Knowledge… God asks Adam, “Where are you?”

Adam doesn’t answer the question at hand.

And they heard the voice of the Lord God going in the garden to the direction of the sun, and the man and his wife hid from before the Lord God in the midst of the trees of the garden.                    

And the Lord God called to man, and He said to him, “Where are you?”               

And he said, “I heard Your voice in the garden, and I was afraid because I am naked; so I hid.”       

And He said, “Who told you that you are naked? Have you eaten from the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?”                   י

And the man said, “The woman whom You gave

You may remember that the phrase lech lecha is one of my favorite expressions in the Torah. I used it when I gave my Kehillahversary talk last spring, speaking of how our members faced a difficult choice when services were terminated at Beit Aryeh. We collectively made a bold decision, and we’ve been rewarded for it.

In today’s parashah, Lech Lecha, Gd tells Abraham to seek a new life in a new land, where his people will ultimately grow in number. Leave your comfort zone, Avram! Be bold. Seek something better. And I, Gd, will be with you. So here I go again.

Lech lecha, James Rosenberg.

On October 2, 2010, James helped establish “Arts & Education 4 DFW Youths.” This is a life-enriching program providing disadvantaged youths the opportunity to experience live performing arts and educational programs at local colleges, and museums. These are coupled with scholastic programs to enhance their knowledge. In 8 years, it has facilitated the attendance of more than 5,500 youngsters at performing arts productions, educational programs, and sports’ venues. A decade or more ago, could James have imagined he would have been involved with such a project? Yet here he is. And still davening on Shabbat. Reading Lech Lecha.

In today’s parashah, Gd tells Abraham, “Lech lecha.” To leave all that was familiar. At first, he wasn’t even told where he would wind up. Personally, I view it as a call to action – imposing a more active role in his life. As we read the parashah today, I view it as a call to us – a challenge.

In a similar vein, we read in Etz Chaim that Gd told Abraham Gd would make him a blessing. I favor a different translation – one that was actually used in the Hertz Bible, where it says, “BE a blessing.” I believe that Gd was challenging Abraham, and now us, to become a blessing to others by leaving our comfort zones and to look for ways to fulfill Judaism’s vision of the world. Well done, James.

Lech lecha, Larry Tobin.

Larry first learned that he had liver disease in 2005, only a few months after moving to Dallas from California. A doctor at Baylor advised him that he had cirrhosis – no alcohol involved in Larry’s case. Larry was told that his liver would last a maximum of five years with there being no cure, and with a low probability of getting a liver transplant. She advised him to enjoy the next several years.

Well, his own liver lasted more than eleven years, and he did indeed subsequently undergo a liver transplant, receiving it in December, 2016. Back in the early 2000s, Larry and Terry couldn’t possibly have foreseen what they would have gone through. Yet Larry maintained courage and good humor through it all. And here he is. Still davening on Shabbat. Reading Lech Lecha. (Truthfully, I’m not sure that the Chicago Cubs’ World Series win in 2016 wasn’t part of some Faustian deal Larry made with Gd. I mean, how improbable was THAT?)

As I spoke about on Rosh Hashanah, and as with other lessons from the Torah, the key question in our parashah today isn’t, “Was Abraham a real person?” but rather, is his story real? Am I living it today? When Gd said to Abraham, “Lech lecha! Go from this place!” That’s our story, isn’t it? We don’t know what’s in store for us; we don’t even know what will happen tomorrow, but that story – our story – our narrative depends largely on us. What we do and how we act. You’re a shining example of grace and courage to all of us, Larry.

Lech lecha, Ron Steiner.

When Ron realized that both his girls would be going off to college in August 2015, and Melissa had taken a job they thought would have her traveling a great deal, he felt he had to do something to keep himself busy, so in mid-2014, he made the decision to enter a PhD program. Can you imagine doing such a thing? To get back into the academic world, study, write, and still maintain a full-time job? You know, Ron is as smart as the next guy, but to go full-bore into this academic pursuit? Hmmm. I know you haven’t finished yet, Ron, but yasher Koach!

It’s hard for us to imagine the future, what it holds in store for us and what we ourselves will be like. Not only can’t we know what it holds, but we can’t imagine how we will react to it. Almost all of our lives’ major events are experienced by us differently than how we would have anticipated. Additionally, we can’t accurately predict how we ourselves will change.

In a recently published psychology study, people were asked how much they anticipated they and their lives would change over the next 10 years. They consistently reported that they felt they would change very little. What they are now is what they will be later.

Now we could look at young adults in their late teens and say to them, “Just you wait. You’ll see. Your life will change very much. And indeed, when people were then looked at in their late 20s, 10 years older, they reported wholesale changes in their behavior and habits. Much more change than they as 18-year-olds would have guessed.

Certainly, we might anticipate this discrepancy when it comes to young adults, but what was so interesting in the study was that the same discrepant results occurred through the whole spectrum of life. So when, for instance, the researchers asked people in their late 50s how much they felt they and their lives would change over the ensuing 10 years, the answer was generally, “Not very much. I’m pretty well cooked. This is how I will be.” But when people in their late 60s were asked how much they and their lives changed in the past 10 years, they reported that things changed a lot. And the discrepancy was similar to what the responses were of those 40 years younger!

Ten years ago, my office was in Richardson, I was 57 years old, and going along smoothly. Listening to Rabbi Glickman each week. For a number of reasons, I decided to leave Richardson, and start a solo practice at the Baylor Plano Heart Hospital. The financial people in my company were strongly against my decision, feeling that my practice would die on the vine. But a year later, I was so busy that I was looking for an associate to join me, and we just added a third doctor. And oh, yes, in the interim, I battled metastatic lymphoma, Beit Aryeh closed on Shabbat, and, well, here I am. In a new practice setting, giving a D’var Torah at Kehillat Chaverim! About Lech Lecha! Who could have guessed?

And finally, lech lecha, Mike Raboy.

Mike was born in 1950 in a Displaced Person camp in Munich, Germany after World War II ended. Through the auspices of a Jewish Federation program, he was brought to San Antonio exactly one month later. And by the way, Mike’s bar mitzvah parashah is . . . Lech Lecha! Can you imagine?

What’s in store for you? Are you ready? Lech Lecha!

Shabbat Shalom.

Parashah Noach begins and ends with two great events: the flood in the beginning, Babel and its tower at the end. On the face of it, they have nothing in common. The failings of the generation of the flood are explicit. Babel, by contrast, seems almost idyllic.

After the flood, man again began to multiply and fill the earth. Everyone spoke one language understood one another. Generations of people before the flood had been interested only in themselves; they thought of themselves as supermen and each one lived for himself alone; they used violence and force against their weaker neighbors, paying no attention to laws and rules. The new generation of mankind after the flood was different. They stressed the opposite code of living. The individual did not count for himself; he counted only as part of the community, and he had to align his own interests to those of the group. Had they confined themselves to this kind of social life, all might have been well. But they over did it. The tremendous strength that grew out of their organization made them proud, but their overblown pride made them turn against God.

The people crowned Nimrod as their King and he essentially became king of the entire population of the earth. Nimrod said:” let us build a tower so high that its top will reach the heavens and let us make a name for ourselves.”  The builders were bent on construction, not destruction. They learned how to make strong bricks because there was no stone available.

The people thought that if they built a tower to reach to heaven, it would make them equal to God, and at the same time, to make it possible for them to stay together in one geographical area in the land of Shinear.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks notes that despite their seemingly good intentions, from the Torah’s point of view, Babel represents another serious wrong turn, because immediately thereafter God summons Abraham to begin an entirely new chapter in the religious story of humankind. These events of the flood and Babel are depicted because they represent a profound moral – social – political – spiritual truth about the human situation as the Torah sees it. The flood tells us what happened to civilization when individuals rule and there is no collective. Babel tells us what happened when the collective rules and individuals are sacrificed to it.

Catholic writer Paul Johnson said:” there have been, in the course of history, societies that have emphasized the individual –like before the flood, like the secular West today. And there have been others that placed weight on the collective – like the people of Babel, or now like Communist Russia or China, for example. Judaism, he continued, was the most successful example he knew that managed the delicate balance between the two, giving equal weight to individual and collective responsibility. Judaism was his religion of strong individuals and strong unities. This, he said, was very rare and difficult, and constitutes one of Judaism’s greatest achievements.

The results of human behavior are often the opposite of what was intended. The builders of Babel wanted to concentrate humanity in one place with one language. As mentioned, they wanted to make a name for themselves by building a tower to reach to heaven. This was the world’s first totalitarian regime, in which to preserve the masses as a single entity, all freedom of expression was suppressed. They became intoxicated by their own technical prowess of creating strong bricks. The builders were so fanatical in their desire to complete the tower that when a brick fell and broke, they lamented:” how hard will it be to replace it.” But when a person slipped and fell to his death, no one looked upon him or cared. The builders of Babel believed they had become like gods and could construct their own miniature universe. This was the beginning of the end for the tower of Babel.

God became angry with the inhabitants of Babel for several reasons:

First, they were being disobedient by settling in one place instead of multiplying and filling the earth as God commanded.  Second, they were being prideful, which was considered a wicked sin. They were so bent on pride, and so consumed by it that they wanted to create a monumental skyscraper to show off just how good they were. Third, the fact that they wanted to ignore God and make a name for themselves reveals that they were already committing idolatry by worshiping themselves.

God decided to destroy their arrogance by destroying their ability to understand one another. He confused people by splitting them into 70 nations and tribes, scattering them over the face of the earth. Each had its own language and no longer understood one another. Hence, the name Babel became the symbol of confusion.

I have told you that the pride of the Babylonians was one of the factors that ultimately destroyed them.  It begs the question:  Is pride a good thing or a bad thing?  Leon Seltzer writes:  I’ve always regarded pride is a healthy human trait, linking it favorably to self-motivation, confidence, respect, and acceptance. But the Bible views it differently, labeling it as one of the seven deadly sins. So is there a good pride and a bad pride or does pride exist along a continuum – as in, pride is positive up to a certain level, but beyond that it becomes malignant as we saw in the story of the tower of Babel.

Pride is a personality characteristic that can be deemed healthy (or, is often designated as true, authentic, or genuine), versus the form of pride regularly viewed as unhealthy (or false, bad, arrogant, or hubristic). There are marked differences between healthy and unhealthy pride.

Healthy, or good pride is about self-confidence, reflecting a can-do attitude. It motivates one to become better every day. Unhealthy, or bad pride also is about trying to succeed but these individuals are abnormally driven to succeed.  They struggle with self-doubt and a feeling of shame.  Healthy pride represents a positive notion of self-worth. People with healthy pride are not satisfied with a mediocre performance; they strive to do their best. People with unhealthy pride have an overly favorable evaluation of self, based on giving oneself too much credit for accomplishments which may be rather modest. People with healthy pride feel good about themselves. Such pride is associated with a high, though not artificially high, self-esteem. People with unhealthy pride have an elevated self-regard which is bogus and covers for insecurity. People with healthy pride have strong egos whereas people with unhealthy pride have big egos. People with healthy pride have a quiet, self-assured affirmation of their capabilities. People with unhealthy pride are more aggressive – there is a declaration of personal superiority. They look down on others or put them down. Healthy pride leads to more satisfying and fulfilling relationships. These people prefer to work with others. They are affable and agreeable. Those individuals with unhealthy pride are usually dogmatic, dictatorial, and defensive. Healthy pride has nothing to do with comparing oneself to others but people with unhealthy pride regularly brag about their exaggerated accomplishments. For them it is not about doing their best but doing things better than anyone else. Healthy pride is authentic – is an accurate, realistic estimate of one’s abilities. People with unhealthy pride have exaggerated or distorted claims about their capabilities which leads to bragging, arrogance and deceit. People with healthy pride are frequently successful whereas people with  unhealthy pride frequently fail. People with healthy pride motivate and inspire others and share their successes. People with unhealthy pride try to control others. They don’t want to share successes. Healthy pride, unlike the unhealthy variety, is not egocentric. And that is why those with healthy pride can take pride not just in their own accomplishments but in those of others as well. They can be proud of their children, their spouse, parents, friends, students. They are proud of anyone who has struggled to overcome an impediment, or who made sacrifices in an all-out effort to do something remarkable.  Is there anything wrong with that?  Not at all.  In fact, it is a good thing.  The pride demonstrated in the story of Babel was clearly an example of the unhealthy kind.

One has to wonder in today’s world:  Have we forgotten the lessons and consequences of the flood and Babel?  We frequently hear of people killing other people for no reason.  Nowhere seems to be safe -not schools or concerts or malls or other public places.  We have world leaders as well as US politicians who demonstrate unhealthy pride and seem only interested in advancing their own agendas, forgetting about we, the people, whom they are supposed to represent.

Rabbi Sacks notes that the flood and the tower of Babel, though polar opposites, are linked, and the entire parashah of Noah is a brilliant study in the human condition. There were individualistic cultures and there were collective ones, both failed, the former because they lead to anarchy and violence, the latter because they lead to oppression and tyranny. After the two great failures of the flood and Babel, Abraham was called on to create a new form of social order that would give honor to the individual and the collective, personal responsibility and the common good. That remains the special gift of Jews and Judaism to the world.

Just as in the creation of the Universe there are many points of creation in our own lives, that lead to new beginnings. These are moments of great discomfort and of great hope all at the same time. These are points of significant potential for growth or they can be times for disaster. No one will ever know how many times Hashem had created other worlds that failed, prior to creating this one that succeeded. In our own lives, how often have we had to pick ourselves up from the discomfort of failure, so that our hope and optimism could lift us to try one more time and finally succeed?

Think back, if you will, to specific times and places, the skinned knees of childhood, the bullying from peers as a teen, the bruising hard knocks of the adult “real world”. What would have happened to us if we had succumbed to self-pity and crawled into comfortable cocoons without further risk? Each of these points in our lives are moments of creation- times of growth – or if we let them, moments of destruction.

Creation comes out of chaos and darkness, much as in our parshat. Hope and optimism can and do spring forth as that proverbial silver lining in each dark cloud. In physics, the Big Bang which spawned the Universe came from a single point. In Hebrew, that point is Reshit. It is believed that this is much like a New Star or a New World coming out from the other side of a black hole, which as we know consumes and destroys.

The lessons of Creation are many, but for my simple mind, I focus on the most obvious. We, as often does Hashem, have choices to make at critical times in our lives. The right choice can lead to creation, that is- to new beginnings, to building new aspects of ourselves or building new relationships. The wrong choice can lead to a black hole of destruction, ruining relationships, or even ruining ourselves and our lives.

I urge us all to recognize these moments in our lives and to make the right choices. Let us embrace and become that creative light that illuminates the darkness and brings order out of chaos. Let us inspire one another. Let us lift each other up, when one of us is down. Let us create a better and brighter world, together!

Shabbat Shalom

“We are all going to die and that makes us the lucky ones”. And no, the scene is not set in a lake full of alligators where death by drowning is better than being eaten alive. This quote is from Richard Dawkin, an atheist. I may be the only one delivering a Yom Kippur talk quoting an atheist. While shocking to hear at first, this thought from Dawkin makes sense. All of us are destined for death, and yes, that makes us the lucky ones because we have had the opportunity to live and to share special times with family, with friends and with community.

This summer I read a book by Steven Pinker, Enlightenment Now: The Case for Reason, Science, Humanism, and Progress, which advocates the positive in the world rather than our natural inclination to focus on the negative. It is difficult to see the positive around us when we are constantly bombarded with bad news. It is unfortunate that ratings are always higher when broadcasting tragedy rather than the good side of the news. We see endless hours of reporters standing in the wind and rain during a hurricane, constant coverage of political infighting or the breaking news of a tragic event like a school shooting. In contrast, we may see a thirty-second clip of people helping others in times of need. I believe our concern for others draws us to these tragedies, but why is more attention not given to the good in the world?

In fact, overall the world is a better place than it has ever been.  There is less poverty, the illiteracy rate is down, and the developed world has become a safer place to live.  Yes, the acts by terrorists are increasing, yes there are still shootings in our schools and other public places, yes there are vehicles deliberately driven into crowds of people, and yes there is a rise in anti-Semitism in this country and even more so in Europe. But there were no babies born with Aids in Africa last year and there are less children dying around the world due to the advancements in health care funded by both government and philanthropic efforts. Pinker writes, “Most people agree that life is better than death. Health is better than sickness. Sustenance is better than hunger. Abundance is better than poverty. Peace is better than war…”.

In the past month, two national figures died, John McCain and Aretha Franklin.  They both rose to national prominence during their lifetimes.  The country was enthralled by their funerals held one and two weeks after their deaths. In contrast, we Jews bury our dead as quickly as possible. Our practices of mourning during the shiva and sholshim periods, has proven psychological benefits. In the African American, Christian culture, the funeral is known as a Homegoing.  Death is not just about mourning, but a moment of joy and celebration of going home to the Lord – going home to heaven. The funeral starts out with solemn prayer, the reading of scripture, and then transitions to the joyful and uplifting gospel prayers. Our custom is to transition the mourner back to the normalcy of life slowly while they begin the transition the same day. The reality sets in that death is a natural part of living.

Aretha Franklin’s funeral was an all-day service, about the same length as our Yom Kippur service. However, I am sure they were provided nourishment periodically during the day and were entertained by A-list celebrities singing gospel hymns.

Who needs celebrities when we have our wonderful troupe of chazanim to lead us in spiritual and uplifting prayer. We recited Unetaneh Tokef, the masterful and timeless piyyut during the Rosh Hashanah Musaf Amidah, and we will recite it again shortly. One of the most recognizable parts of the Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur service, this piyyut is remembered for the lines, “Who shall live and who shall die.” During the days leading up to Yom Kippur, we extend wishes of גמר חתומה טובה, literally translated as, “May your final sealing be good” or more commonly known as “May you be sealed in the book of life”.

The book of life does not just mean living. Being sealed for life is essential, but Unetaneh Tokef also focuses on being sealed for a quality of life.

“…Who shall be at peace and who shall be pursued,
Who shall be at rest and who shall be tormented,
Who shall be exalted and who shall be brought low,
Who shall become rich and who shall be impoverished.”

The questions are asked. Your behavior, as Larry so beautifully spoke about on Rosh Hashanah, will lessen the decree and determine the answers.

Despite the growing anti-Semitism in Europe and the US, we live in the diaspora as Jews with more influence, with more freedom and with more wealth than any time in history. We have opportunities that our grandparents and in some cases our parents would never have dreamed possible. And their wish of a better life for their children and grandchildren has come true. For those of you who are parents, I know your wish is for your children to have a comfortable and fulfilling life.

Sitting in Shul this High Holidays brings back pleasant memories. During the Musaf service on the second day of Rosh Hashanah, Shelley evoked a wonderful memory of a time when I would take my grandfather to High Holiday services at Shearith Israel in Atlanta.  The joyous tune Shelley used for ארשת שפתינו  immediately following the Shofar blasts was the same tune the cantor and the men’s choir used in Atlanta. I recall a pre-Bar Mitzvah boy in the choir who would belt out in his tenor voice singing Tekiah, just as we did.  Feelings I have not felt for 30 years. Memories that will never depart.

Like the news, it is easy to forget the good and dwell only on bad memories. Leave those thoughts behind and think of the joyous times you have had with parents, with grandparents, with children and with other family members. Think about how fortunate you are to have shared these experiences during your life. Take these experiences and the values passed down to you that have been essential to our survival for thousands of years and develop new memories. Our future as a people, your future and the future of generations to come is defined by these traditions, the passing down of values and the living of a righteous life.

As the book is closing, now is the time to remember these cherished relationships in the new year. Focus on the positive and minimize the negative around you. We all start tomorrow with a clean slate with G-d. Reach out to a family member you have not spoken to recently, repair relationships that may be damaged, do something to help those less fortunate than you. At sundown tonight, may the sound of the shofar awaken us to begin a year filled with health, happiness and memories to be made for generations to come.

The Shabbat between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur is called Shabbat Shuvah, the Shabbat of Return because of the special haftarah beginning with the words – ShuvahYisrael – “Return O Israel”. It is also referred to as Shabbat Teshuvah because it falls during the Ten Days of Repentance. And, this period, is a time for reflection leading up to atonement at Yom Kippur.

The themes of penitence and human reconciliation with God,

are appropriate for the week between Rosh Hashanah & Yom Kippur.

Every year, during the Days of Awe, we are urged to repent for our wrongdoings of the past year. This process of taking stock in ourselves and examining our actions, coupled with recognizing and regretting where we have gone astray is called teshuvah in Hebrew, repentance in English.

It is the single most important value within Judaism; actually,

the key to the entire system of mitzvot, HaShem’s commandments.

Small wonder, then, that our holiest days are devoted to its pursuit.

How is teshuvah the key to Judaism?

God and the Jewish people are linked through the brit, the covenant in which God promises to be our God and we promise to be God’s people. That brit is akin to being cast in STONE in the Torah, and made real through mitzvot, the 613 commandments of the Torah that are obligatory on each and every Jew, for all time.

Yet even the most pious Jew cannot perform all of them perfectly; and, many of us are unable to always do those mitzvot that we find personally compelling. What happens, then, when we have wronged another person, fail to perform a mitzvah, or when a Jew violates a prohibition.

Are we then always in a state of sinfulness?

Are we forever barred from God’s love?

For the system of commandments to work, there has to be a provision for how to wipe the slate clean in the case of an error or even an intentional sin. The curative is teshuvah, repentance. God’s love is bigger than any sin we might commit. And after asking forgiveness of the person we have wronged, after attaining their pardon, all it takes to get God’s forgiveness is a simple act of contrition; all it takes is teshuvah.

Teshuvah is the linchpin that keeps Jews connected to God and engaged in mitzvot. Without it, our sins would simply mount irreversibly.

Teshuvah is the oil that keeps the machinery of the Torah humming.

Ironically, there are few biblical examples of the act of teshuvah; few biblical figures that we see repenting for their sin against another, and then being forgiven by God.

Even the command to repent, is itself – a little murky.

Teshuvah may have first been mentioned within the Book of Numbers…  “When a woman or man commits any sin, then they shall confess their sin.” This sentence seems to be the mandate – the offering of a sin offering, is a sacrifice to atone for the sin that was committed. The Sages note that offering the sacrifice, is obviously preceded by the awareness that a sin was committed, and implies remorse about having erred.

There are few cases of teshuvah in the Torah. One of the most significant, however, involved Reuven and Joseph.   Reuven watched as his brothers decide to kill Joseph by leaving him in a pit. When he returns to the pit to save Joseph, Reuven learns that Joseph has already sold into slavery.

Unlike his brothers, Reuven is filled with remorse. He realizes that he has allowed his brother to be wronged, and he returned to the pit to try to correct his sinful act, to restore his brother, Joseph, to freedom. Reuven did teshuvah, and sat with sackcloth and ashes to mourn his tragic lapse.

As a reward for his act of repentance “God said ‘No one has ever repented after sinning before Me; you are the first!

Because Reuven “discovered” teshuvah, he was rewarded by having that mitzvah expounded on through the prophet, Hoshea, one of his descendants. Such is the greatness of teshuvah. It was Hoshea who cried out, “Return O Israel, to Adonai your God.

What does “return” in this context actually mean? On the most basic level it means a return to HaShem. When one commits a sin, one is distanced from God.     Repentance then is the act of returning to God. And, on a deeper level, it is about returning to one’s self and rediscovering the moral bedrock of one’s value system.

The essence of teshuvah is sincere remorse in the heart over the past, asking for forgiveness, and one must resolve not to do such a thing ever again. This confession is the essential part of repentance. By offering himself as a model of teshuvah, Reuven cleansed his family name, and gave a precious gift to his children, the children of Israel, and to us, his distance relations.

The whole process of teshuvah – atonement and forgiveness – relies on the heartfelt apology, the pardon by the offended party, and then asking God for forgiveness at Yom Kippur.

As the end of the year approaches very quickly, it is our duty to get right with those that we have wronged. That is the essence of teshuvah.

We all have been given a precious gift of time. We have been given a Jewish tradition that sees the past, the present, and the future as always linked in relationship to each other. We have been given an annual gift of time: the chance to spend ten days reflecting, praying, atoning and forgiving, renewing ourselves, our lives, and our community for yet another year.

We can wisely use The Ten Days of Repentance to return to our most pure selves, asking for forgiveness and speaking with those whom we have hurt. We can seek the forgiveness of others, attempting to get right with ourselves, and before God.

On Shabbat Shuvah one should be especially mindful to concentrate on Torah and prayer, with a reflection on repentance, thereby attaining forgiveness for unfitting behaviors of the past year.

I asked earlier…

Teshuvah, and repentance – where will they get us?

It’s my thought that the answer may be

Closer to HaShem.

This D’var’s inspirational message would not have been possible without the insights gained from…

Sara Debbie Gutfreund

Rabbi Allie Fischman, Associate Director – Camp Newman

Chabad.org

Rabbi Bradley Artson

CoffeeShopRabbi.com

The Jewish Virtual Library

G’mar Hatimah Tovar; may we all be inscribed and sealed for a good year.

Thank you for the honor of presenting a D’var Torah on Rosh Hashanah.

Our lives follow many rhythms as we go through the year – the seasons, the English calendar, birthdays, and others. To me, Rosh Hashanah means that the year is “officially” starting. The Holidays coincide with the academic year, and for so much of our lives, things pretty much revolved around that cycle. And in just one week, we will observe Yom Kippur, which of course begins with Kol Nidre.

My single favorite service of the year is that one – Kol Nidre. I always get a bit emotional as I hear the melody. My connection with the service and that particular prayer has little to do with its actual words. In fact, if you read the words, you can easily see why Christians used it against Jews – the prayer specifically says that all vows that we make in the coming year are to be annulled! Who could trust a person who would annul all promises as soon as they are made?

No, my emotional connection runs deep because of the haunting melody of the Kol Nidre prayer. The prayer and the melody go back centuries. Today’s melody is the same that my ancestors heard on that solemn night. I once mentioned to Cantor Zherebker at Shearith Israel what an emotional connection I had to Kol Nidre, how I envisioned my ancestors chanting the prayer right along with me. He told me that there is an old rabbinic midrash that on that night, they are all there with me. . . What a beautiful thought. Wow. . . Conjure up that powerful image for a moment. I still choke up at the very portrayal – we’re all together on that most solemn night. And even more, beyond Gd judging me, I will have to account to all those ancestors of mine as I ask the question, “Well, how am I doing?”

This year, I’ve had two emotional experiences that brought me together, if you indulge my vision, with my ancestors.

One occurred this past May. Our granddaughter Lucy had her baby naming in New York. Leah spoke beautifully about her grandmothers, for whom Lucy was named. Her Hebrew name is thus Tzippura. After Leah spoke, the rabbi said the priestly blessing over Lucy. Leah and Ross lowered their heads, and my emotional moorings began to get a little wobbly. At the conclusion of the blessing he took Lucy from her parents and – gad! – raised her aloft.

With Leah and Ross in tow, he marched into the congregation, announcing to the congregants that here was their newest member. As the rabbi held Lucy, I could feel the presence of those who were close to me – parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles – and even those who I didn’t know – the many who came long before me. They were all there, watching the service . . . and smiling. As I tried to hold it together, I kept telling myself, “This doesn’t have to be so hard!”

The second moving experience occurred as I gathered very old photos from Nancy’s and my family. I decided this spring to digitally scan many of these photos and create a book. I’m in the midst of the project now, simply awaiting the restoration of 6 or 7 old and worn photographs before they can be included in the book. I can barely look at some of these photos without becoming emotional – my parents on their honeymoon, for instance, looking right at me through the camera lens, with large, bright eyes. Or the last picture of my dad, only a month or so before he died, with the 8-year-old me draped over his shoulders, both of us smiling with glee and with pure joy.

When the Kol Nidre prayer is chanted, when I recall the image of Lucy being held aloft by the rabbi, and when I look at these old photos of my family and of Nancy’s, the two different extensions of my life come into sharp relief. One before me and one after. It becomes obvious to me that my narrative – my story – like your story – didn’t begin with me. With us. It didn’t begin when our parents met. Or even our grandparents. It goes further back – back all the way to Abraham. To Sarah. We are the sons and daughters of Abraham, of Sarah, of Rebecca, of Jacob. And our stories don’t end with us. We are part of a long chain – a chain that is as extraordinary as it is beautiful. A chain that is eternal. What a priceless gift! What a magnificent vision!

That story comes alive for me when I read the Torah each week. To me, the beauty of the Torah and in fact, of Judaism, is that our religion lives and breathes when we make its stories our stories. If we look at the Torah as a history book, we will inevitably have doubts and perhaps disappointments. But the Torah isn’t and was never meant to be a history book.

The key question isn’t, “Was Abraham a real person?” but rather, is his story real? Am I living it today? When Gd said to Abraham, “Lech lecha! Go from this place!” That’s our story, isn’t it? We don’t know what’s in store for us; we don’t even know what will happen tomorrow, but that story – our story – our narrative depends largely on us. What we do and how we act.

The Exodus – did it happen exactly as it was written in the Torah? Who cares? The lessons of the Exodus endure. Tyrants fall. Maybe not as quickly as we would like, but they ultimately fall. Freedom wins out. And making the story of the Exodus our story, we realize that it’s up to us to be Moses and help others unshackle bonds. It’s up to us to be Miriam and pack our tambourines when all looks beak, because better days are in store, if we make it so.

In some very deep sense, we all have a yearning, not only for our lives to matter today, but for our lives to have lasting significance. To leave the world better than we found it. When viewed in the context of the great sweep of time, we are here but for an instant. But if our lives are to have significance, if we are to be a force for good in the world, those seemingly trivial marks that we make each day add up, and we become part of something much bigger. And when placed in the context of those who came before us and those who will come after us, we are but a link in a very long chain. What a beautiful image, right?

In 1974, my grandfather died of pancreatic cancer. He was a tall, strapping man (like his grandson, maybe?). I never recall him being warm and overtly loving. And after my dad died in 1959, I never even recall him smiling. No laughter; no joy. He lived in Boston, where I was born and raised. His final hospitalization came while I was doing a clerkship in Hartford Connecticut, a few months before I was to graduate from medical school. I traveled home to Boston and went to the hospital to see him for what would be the last time. I recall the visit because it was so distinctive, and his behavior so unusual for him.

From his bed, saying not a word, he pulled me by my shoulders close to him, hugged me and smiled, looking deeply into my eyes. Very uncharacteristic of him. Maybe my Zadie tasted, for the first time, eternity. His father had been a doctor in a small village outside Moscow, and maybe now, in his last days, he viewed me and indeed his own life in a very different way. He was looking at eternity through my eyes, as his parents and grandparents surely looked at eternity through Zadie’s eyes, in their old Russian shtetl. They then put him on a boat to leave for America, never to see him again.

So next Tuesday evening when Mike chants the Kol Nidre prayer in that ancient melody, close your eyes. Taste eternity. Feel the presence of all those who came before you and who heard that same melody. It’s OK to shed a tear or two during the prayer. Soak in the moment. Hold it close. . .

Nancy and I wish all of our brothers and sisters in the kehillah a year filled with sweetness and joy, and may we all have much to celebrate together.

L’shanah Tovah. Chag Sameach!

So, it’s that time of the year again. It’s time to draw closer to G-d. It’s time to pray that the upcoming year is a good year. But how do we attain this lofty goal? Our High Holiday prayers conveniently provide the magic formula. Just do these three things and watch any bad decree miraculously disappear: Teshuva, Tefilla and Tzedakah. Easy, right? Well, maybe not so easy as it appears. And one part of this three-prong approach is particularly hard.

Teshuva relates to repentance. What have I done in the past year that I should not have done and that I should avoid repeating? How can I improve myself? The Al Chet prayer reminds us that we are not praying merely for ourselves.  Shechetanu, which means that we sinned, reflects that we are collectively praying for forgiveness for any sins that any of us committed. A strength in numbers approach. You may have copied me and reviewed the sins list at some time to determine which arguably apply to yourself. Hopefully, most do not apply. We trust that by combining prayers we will be on the path to redemption for all of us.

Tzedakah commonly refers to charity. Pretty easy to get by this one, right? Just open up your wallet and voila! The root word of Tzedakah, however, is Tzedek. This can translate into righteousness. Thus, in addition to giving charity, it’s probably a good idea to be your normal righteous self on a regular basis. Do good deeds. Volunteer time to worthy organizations and/or noble causes. Be nice to others. You are now a bona fide Tzadik or Tzadeket and have successfully overcome the second hurdle. In addition to this, please do not overlook the dictates of Parshat Shoftim which we read a few weeks ago. The Parsha commands “Tzedek Tzedek Tirdof”. This means that we must chase after Justice. Tzedek, which means justice, is actually the root word for Tzedakah and Tzadik. We may be successful in our attempt to get a good judgment from G-d by being righteous and giving charity. But if we also want to be recognized as a good Jew and a good person, we must seek justice and treat people justly.

Tefilla, prayer. This one’s kind of tricky. The Bible and other Jewish texts are filled with outstanding examples of the power of prayer. Abraham is credited with establishing Shacharit, i.e., praying in the morning. Isaac gets credit for Mincha, i.e., afternoon prayers. Jacob added Maariv, evening prayers. Hence, we have a longstanding history of prayer among Jews. On a more personal level, I remember my first encounter with intense prayer. I was a young lad. My beloved Zadie had been hospitalized. While listening on my transistor radio to the Cubs, I formulated a youthful plan to communicate with G-d. The Cubs were playing the Mets. It was late in the game and the Cubs were up by one run. Dear G-d, I said, You know how much I love the Cubs. Save my grandfather and I’ll make You a deal. The Cubs can lose. Sure enough. Cleon Jones of the Mets hit a two- run homer in the ninth inning just over the outstretched glove of Cub centerfielder, Sweet Lou Johnson, and the Cubs lost by one run. My grandfather survived and lived for several more years. Ah, the power of prayer. By the way, I never again made a deal against the Cubs. Also, I do not advocate making deals with G-d. This was simply a case of beginner’s luck.

Many of you know my daughter Sarah. But did you know that she was born with a severe immune deficiency? Life expectancy, we were advised, was 3 or 4. My wife Terry and I were grief stricken as we watched our baby continually develop colds, rashes and illnesses as a result of her IGA deficiency. Another Jewish couple who lived nearby faced the same dilemma with their baby. Did I pray? You better believe it. I prayed with all my heart and with all my might and with all my soul. At age 2, we started noticing some changes in Sarah’s readings. By then, Sarah was a regular customer of Children’s Hospital. One day we received great news from Children’s. Sarah had somehow undergone a spontaneous recovery and the critical period had passed. She would develop a functioning immune system and would survive. The other sick child I earlier referred to did not survive.

Have you ever experienced this scenario? You place a telephone call only to be greeted by the following message: Sorry but all of our representatives are currently busy . . . After waiting an eternity, you slam down the phone, mumble a few choice words, and storm off in utter frustration. Don’t you just hate it? Then why do we play this cruel game with G-d? We turn to G-d for help when we need or want something. We race to Him especially when we are in trouble. Please G-d. Drop whatever You’re doing and listen to me instead. Have you every missed praying or attending a Kehilla service because you were “too busy”? Have you ever put G-d on hold? Praying in a group setting amplifies our prayers. G-d may not always say “yes”. But rest assured that He will listen and never put you on hold. So, what can we do to give ourselves a better chance of having a good year?  Teshuva, Tefilla and Tzedakah. Give G-d a break. Quit the excuses. Better yet, give yourself a break. In addition to Teshuva and Tzedakah, PRAY! Attend prayer services on a regular basis. Maybe, even on time. The spiritual, healing and cleansing power of Tefilla may do you and your loved ones a world of good.

Wishing all of you a happy, healthy, blessed and meaningful New Year. May we all be written into the Book of Life this Rosh Hashanah for the following year, sealed on Yom Kippur and confirmed on Succoth.

Parasha Ki Tavo contains one of the most powerful and frightening chapters of the entire Torah. First, there are fourteen verses which outline all the good things which will happen to the Jewish people if they obey God faithfully and observe all the divine commandments. That is the good news. Then comes 54 verses warning of the curses that will befall the Israelites if they do not faithfully observe all the commandments. This is the second time in the Torah Moses tells the prophecies of the sufferings that will befall the Jewish people if they fail to honor their mission as the people of God.  The first was in Vayikra.

These curses are referred to as the tochachah which has a number of different English translations:  warning, rebuke, reprimand, admonition.  However, the actual meaning is “to provide proof”.  The purpose of the tochachah is as a prerequisite to teshuva-return to God and self. The purpose of punishment is not to harm, but to guide and direct. This is the most terrifying account portraying various kinds of Jewish suffering in our classic literature.

The curses are downright horrible. They are not just a simple rebuke. They are specific and even somewhat sadistic. The punishments explicitly threatened in this chapter include terrible diseases, conquest by merciless foreign enemies, famine to the point where parents will eat the flesh of their own children, exile and dispersion throughout the world, leading to idolatry and enslavement, and the apocalyptic sulfur and salt will burn the entire land.  Because of its content, for years no one wanted to have the aliyah in which this passage was read. In traditional practice, it is chanted at a very fast speed in a soft, barely audible voice.

What is going on here? In Deuteronomy 28:47, the Torah seems to identify the focal reason for all the punishments:” because you had an abundance of everything, you did not serve the Lord your God with joy and a glad heart. Really? You get curses because you aren’t happy? Rabbi Simcha Bunim explains this verse as follows: When joy stimulates a person’s actions, those actions are performed completely and correctly. But when joy is lacking, the actions become slipshod. Therefore, the Torah says, it is imperative to be joyous in the service of God. Otherwise, the lack of joy and its byproduct – halfhearted observance – will necessitate corrective consequences from God .

It is okay that the Torah brings up reward and punishment. But why the sadistic curses? Yes, maybe we will fail, but is this really how God will punish us? Doesn’t it seem like a little much?

Essentially these curses are warnings and predictions of the terrible fate that will overtake Jews if they neglect or abandon their covenant with God.  The curses are a form of passionate pleading.

While they seem scary, they, too, are necessary. They serve as a reminder that we are chosen people and that with the position comes a special responsibility, and if that trust is breached there will be consequences.

After 40 years of wandering the desert when the Israelites almost reached the promised land, you would think this would be the end of their challenges. But it will not be. To the contrary, it is in the promised land that the challenge will begin – and it will be the hardest of all the challenges because it will not look like a challenge. Moses told the Israelites that their greatest challenges were not slavery but freedom; not poverty but affluence; not danger but security; not homelessness but home. The paradox is that when we have most to thank God for, that is when we are in the greatest danger of not thanking – or even thinking of – God at all.

That is the story of our time. Throughout the almost unbearable centuries of exile, the wanderings, explosions, forced conversions and through the ghettos and progroms, Jews prayed to God, studied his word, kept His commandments, handed on his message to their children, and held fast to their identity as Jews with tenacity awesome in its strength.

When Jews were persecuted, with only a minority of exceptions, they stayed Jews. When Jews are not persecuted – when they reached heights of affluence and achievement – Jews abandoned Judaism unprecedented numbers. That is the tragedy Moses foresaw in the tochachah of this week’s parasha. It is almost as if Jews need suffering to survive.

Accordingly, Nachmonides explains that the warnings are not merely a scare tactic on behalf of God and Moses. They are an actual description of the persecutions that Jews will experience in the future.

If much of Deuteronomy is a prophetic vision or dream, then the tochachah is a nightmare. Reading the curses in the context of our time, after the Holocaust, they sound like terrible forewarning of what, in fact, occurred.

If these verses were not part of the Torah, they could be mistaken for a Holocaust memoir written by concentration camp survivor.” You will serve your enemies, whom the Lord will send against you- -famine, thirst, destitution, and lacking of everything… And your life will hang in suspense before you. Your being will fear night and day, and you will not believe in your life. In the morning, you say if only it were already evening in the evening you’ll say if there were only already morning…”

After experiencing such horrors of the Holocaust, it is only natural to ask,” where was God?” And,” if there really is a God, how could he allow the inhumanity and cruelty of the Holocaust?” No one questions the source of blessing, but after enduring excruciating pain, people begin to have doubts. Perhaps this is why all the suffering is so vividly portrayed in the Torah. How can the Holocaust be used to deny God’s existence when God, himself, informed us that this event will occur? It seems that Moses is doing more than informing us of the troubles which we will experience.  He is telling us not to lose our faith because of them.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks says the tochachah raises the most fundamental questions. Is God the God of anger and retribution? The question is most acute in relation to the Holocaust. Why did God not stop the slaughter? To put the dilemma in its sharpest form: either God could not have prevented Auschwitz, or he could but chose not to. If he could not, how then could he be all-powerful? If he could but did not, how can he be all good? These are difficult questions. No tradition has wrestled with them longer or with greater courage than Judaism. There is no answer that will resolve all doubts. The Talmud itself states that God answered every question Moses asked of him except one: Why do bad things happen to good people? There is a profound wisdom in the knowledge that there are some things that will always lie beyond the horizons of human understanding.

But, others argue the Holocaust does not tell us about God but about man. It tells us not about divine justice but about human injustice. The question raised by Auschwitz is not” where was God?” but” where was a man? Where was humanity?”

One principle has always been engraved on the Jewish heart, allowing it to emerge from tragedy with hope intact. It is the principle of” the blessing and the curse” of which Moses spoke so eloquently. When the Jews have suffered, their first reaction is not to blame others but to examine themselves. That is why at times – the times spoken of in the tochachah-have always led to a national renewal, and the worse the times, the greater the renewal. A people capable of seeing suffering is a call from God to return to the covenant, choosing and sanctifying life, is one that can never be defeated because it can never lose hope.

When affluence leads to forgetfulness, and prosperity to religious indifference, we’re in the midst of Judaism’s greatest challenge.

In preparation for Rosh Hashana we read the tochachah. The reason we read this before Rosh Hashanah is because the tochachah is not meant as a punishment. Rather, it serves to cleanse us as we are about to embark on a new year.

Rabbi Sacks says teshuva tells us that history can change because we can change.  We can act differently tomorrow than we did today.

This is the message of the last part of the Torah: the challenges and consequences of choices are the ever-present opportunity for personal growth and advancement.

Shabbat Shalom

In this week’s Parsha, there are Seventy-four of the Torah’s 613 mitzvot.

These include the laws o the inheritance rights of the firstborn, burial and dignity of the dead, returning a lost object, sending away the mother bird before taking her young,

and more…

Also recounted are the judicial procedures and penalties for adultery, for the rape or seduction of an unmarried girl, and for a husband who falsely accuses his wife of infidelity.  Included is the duty to pay a worker on time, and to allow anyone working for you, man or animal, to “eat on the job”; the proper treatment of a debtor, and the prohibition against charging interest on a loan.

JUST to name a few more…

 The last of the 74 mitzvot is the commandment to remember the deeds of the vilest of Israel’s enemies, the nation of Amalek… And, God said…

You shall remember what Amalek did to you on the way when you were coming out of Egypt.  Who is this nation of Amalek that deserves such harsh recognition?

Amalek encountered the Jewish people just after they escaped from the clutches of the Egyptians. The Torah tells us that “the people of Israel journeyed. . And, they camped in Rephidim. Moses named the place ‘Challenge and Strife,’ because of the strife of the people of Israel and their challenging of G‑d, saying, ‘is G‑d amongst us or not?’  Amalek attacked.

This is important! The Torah describes the explicit sequence: the Jewish people expressed their doubts, saying “Is G‑d amongst us?” And, the next thing that happened was – Amalek’s attack. Not only did their skepticism make them vulnerable to attack, but Amalek sensed their uncertainty, took advantage of the young nation, and did in fact, attack Israel.

Doubt is a funny thing. It is irrational, and yet it can penetrate almost any rational medium. Here was a nation that had experienced the greatest miracles of all time: the ten plagues, the splitting of the Red Sea and the manna. And yet they were not impervious to the plague of doubt.

This is the nature of doubt itself. It circumvents logic and proceeds to erode away beliefs. And, G‑d said, remember Amalek for all generations.

But doubt and apathy will look truth in the face and exclaim, “So what?”

G‑d tells us: Remember your enemy, Amalek.
Remember that apathy is an empty rival.
AND, there is a purpose here: it challenges the one in doubt to reaffirm and strengthen her or his faith in G‑d.

Let’s change the subject, and talk about YOU!

You know so much. That there is God, and that life has meaning and a purpose.
Or, that God gave his descendents the Torah at Sinai.
Or, you know how to read the aleph bet.
Or, you know a trick or two about marriage, playing mahjong, or Monopoly.
If you’d take a moment to consider, you would surely come to the conclusion that you know a good bit, and that you’ve accumulated a great amount of knowledge during your life.
On the other side of that coin, there are millions of people around the world who don’t know what you know.

They don’t have the humanitarian, Jewish, or ethical education that perhaps you’ve been privileged to experience. Ideas and ways of life that you might think are a given, have never reached hundreds of millions of people around the world.

You really have so much to share, with so many who know almost nothing. Yes, it’s true – there is life in a classroom, but you do not always need to be the student! Climb out of that knee-squeezing, student desk and walk up to the chalkboard, and teach the class a thing or two.  Show us what you’ve got!  Judaism was never an exclusive elitist group where only the learn’ed and the ordained have the right to teach and inspire; rather, in the words of one Chassidic master, “If the letter aleph is all that you know, then teach the aleph to someone who doesn’t know it!”

Simply: if you know something, teach it. The name of this week’s Torah reading is Ki Teitzei, “When you go out.” This teaches us that there is a time when we must go out and spread the message. Don’t be selfish with your knowledge. Practically speaking, you can always share what you know, with somebody who is not aware!

In closing, let’s talk about FAITH!

Believers know that our every waking moment is a gift from G‑d. They treasure the moments that He has planned for them, and express their gratitude with pride. Those with less faith take their moments as they come, and judge the quality of a day by the amount of pleasure they manage to wring out of it.  The Modeh Ani is the first prayer that a Jewish child is taught; and, taught to recite every morning.

“I offer thanks to You, living and eternal King,
for You have restored my soul within me;
Your faithfulness is great.”

We acknowledge our Creator and thank Him for the gift of a new day. By starting off the day full of humility and gratitude, we pledge to live up to G‑d’s vision for the world. But, I ask you: once you have gotten up, how much of the Modeh Ani do you take with you during the day? So you spent eight seconds admitting that you owe your life to G‑d. Did that really positively impact the rest of your day?

The Torah advises us to “fulfill the utterances of our lips;” to pay up our pledges to charity, and to live up to our vows. It’s a directive to listen and learn from the words said while praying. It is too easy to just go through the motions, letting the familiar words…rll off of the tongue and into oblivion.

The words we say must mean something. Prayer is not just dead time spent mindlessly repeating a repetitive refrain, but a unique opportunity to communicate with the divine.

When we train our children to say the Modeh Ani first thing after rising, it is in hoped that the feelings and emotions encapsulated in the prayer will permeate ALL the days of their life. G‑d demands that we fulfill our pledges and live up to our promises. Each morning we acknowledge our Creator as King, and thank Him for gifting us with our soul again. We approach the rest of the day with the enthusiasm and knowledge that we are following the route suggested in God’s guidebook.

We should fulfill the oaths we make to Him, and live by our promises, for now and forever.

Shabbat Shalom!