Shabbat Shalom!
Years ago, Arnold Schwarzenegger starred in an action movie called "True Lies," and while I long ago forgot the plot, I've never forgotten the title. How is it that something can be both true and untrue at the same time? Or put another way, what happens when we read or hear two versions of the same story, yet each one claims to be the truth?
That's the challenge we Jews faced last week when we read not one but two variant tellings of the Creation story. And again this week, we will read in adjacent passages of the Torah conflicting descriptions of how many animals Noah brought with him onto his amazing ark.
In the first version, he is commanded to bring aboard seven pairs of every pure animal, but only one pair of unpure animals. In the second version, which appears only a handful of verses later, Noah is commanded to bring one pair of both pure and unpure animals. So which version is right?
For the modern reader, the answer is there were once two stories about Noah and the ark and, in typical Torah fashion, rather than discard one version in favor of the other, both stories were retained. But to our Sages, who took such contradictions quite seriously, the two stories were not really different at all but were equally true. They merged the two and explained that Noah was actually commanded to bring one pair of all animals for the purpose of re-populating the world, but an additional six pairs of the pure animals to be sacrificed once the ark settled on dry land some 40 days later. Each story, in other words, was actually part of the same story looked at from a different perspective.
Two pairs? Six pairs? For most of us, this isn't so pressing an issue. But thousands of years later, our own ability to reconcile different truths in our own lives is a valuable skill that enables us to live, work and dialogue with people who see the world differently than we do. When we limit to ourselves the power to define what is true and see other versions of the same stories, events and issues as therefore lies, we create within ourselves an unfortunate and unfair worldview.
The radio commentator Paul Harvey used to broadcast an interesting true life story each day that always took something we thought we knew and then showed how much we really didn't know after all. Each show ended with the words "and that's the rest of the story." For the Sages, the different accounts of the same stories in the Torah didn't mean one was right and the others were lies, but that each version added something important for us to learn; each version gave us "more of the story."
If we can do that when it comes to politics, faith and people - if we can acknowledge that our versions of the "truth" may not be the only one - we will not only find ourselves freed from the burden of always having to be right, we will find our lives enriched and broadened in ways we might never have imagined.
Shabbat Shalom!
Rabbi Rosen
Welcome to the BYlines Blog!
Since 1999, it has been my pleasure to write a weekly message to my congregation called BYlines. Now, with the availability of the BYlines Blog, readers have the opportunity to write me back and to share their points of view with me and other members of our community. That's really what a blog is - a public conversation where everything is available for everyone to see and to share. So after you read BYlines each week, follow the link to the BYlines Blog and let me know what you're thinking. I look forward to a spirited conversation!
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Thursday, October 15, 2009
In the Beginning, There Was a Book
Shabbat Shalom!
I have never met Nina Sankovitch of Westport, Conn., but on her 46th birthday, she made a personal commitment to read a book a day for the entire year. As the New York Times reported, Nina has now read more than 350 books this year and is very close to finishing her self-imposed obligation.
I admire Nina's determination and steadfastness in never wavering in her goal, and I say that not only as someone who loves books but as a Jew. The commitment to study and learn every day is woven into the very fabric of Judaism, exemplified by our people's commitment this week to begin reading the Torah again from the very beginning, starting this Shabbat with Genesis 1:1 and continuing until we reach Deuteronomy 34:12 a year from now.
We are obliged to do this even as we juggle numerous other pursuits, such as jobs, family and the thousand-and-one distractions that are part of our daily lives. "Don't say you'll study when you find the time," Judaism cautions, "lest you never find the time." We are urged to set a fixed time each day to read and learn.
A book a day may be too much for most of us, but how about a book a month? All this leads me to announce my new online "Jewish Book Circle" that will start in November and to which you are cordially invited. Each month this year, I will choose a book that I think is worth the time to read - in other words, a serious book that, when completed, will hopefully leave us feeling it was time well spent. A new online site will offer an introduction to the book and an opportunity for us to talk about it. And one Friday night each month, I'll use that book as the basis for my sermon.
Yes, Nina Sankovitch has inspired me! And coupled with the start of the new Torah cycle for 5770, I'm looking forward to reading more, learning more and growing more in the coming year. I hope you'll join me.
Shabbat Shalom!
Rabbi Rosen
[To learn more about the Jewish Book Circle, please click here.]
I have never met Nina Sankovitch of Westport, Conn., but on her 46th birthday, she made a personal commitment to read a book a day for the entire year. As the New York Times reported, Nina has now read more than 350 books this year and is very close to finishing her self-imposed obligation.
I admire Nina's determination and steadfastness in never wavering in her goal, and I say that not only as someone who loves books but as a Jew. The commitment to study and learn every day is woven into the very fabric of Judaism, exemplified by our people's commitment this week to begin reading the Torah again from the very beginning, starting this Shabbat with Genesis 1:1 and continuing until we reach Deuteronomy 34:12 a year from now.
We are obliged to do this even as we juggle numerous other pursuits, such as jobs, family and the thousand-and-one distractions that are part of our daily lives. "Don't say you'll study when you find the time," Judaism cautions, "lest you never find the time." We are urged to set a fixed time each day to read and learn.
A book a day may be too much for most of us, but how about a book a month? All this leads me to announce my new online "Jewish Book Circle" that will start in November and to which you are cordially invited. Each month this year, I will choose a book that I think is worth the time to read - in other words, a serious book that, when completed, will hopefully leave us feeling it was time well spent. A new online site will offer an introduction to the book and an opportunity for us to talk about it. And one Friday night each month, I'll use that book as the basis for my sermon.
Yes, Nina Sankovitch has inspired me! And coupled with the start of the new Torah cycle for 5770, I'm looking forward to reading more, learning more and growing more in the coming year. I hope you'll join me.
Shabbat Shalom!
Rabbi Rosen
[To learn more about the Jewish Book Circle, please click here.]
Friday, October 9, 2009
Never Too Old for Simhat Torah
Shabbat Shalom and Hag Sameah!
Whenever we jokingly speak about "three-day-a-year-Jews," we are typically speaking about those Jews who only attend Rosh Hashanah's two days and Yom Kippur. But if I could re-define the three days that I wish every Jew would be in synagogue, one of them would have to be Simhat Torah.
Yes, I love the High Holy Days, but if all we take with us into the new year is the solemnity and sobriety of the Days of Awe, then we cheat ourselves out of enjoying a very different kind of spectacle, that of seeing hundreds and hundreds of Jews filling the aisles, dancing with the Torah scrolls and celebrating the joy of being Jewish.
One of my earliest childhood memories is of me sitting on my Dad's shoulders as he carried me around the Sanctuary of Beth Yeshurun on Simhat Torah. I must have been quite young, yet I can picture that scene as if it was yesterday. In my mind, I see throngs of happy people genuinely enjoying themselves, singing, dancing and thanking God for the gift of Torah.
But something has happened to Simhat Torah that has left me saddened, and that is the way this beautiful holiday has somehow become, in many people's minds, a children's holiday. Middle school kids complain they've outgrown it; adults too often come only if they have very young children to bring with them.
Yet throughout history, what made Simhat Torah so exhilarating was the way it turned adults into kids, ridding adults of the solemnity and sobriety of the just-ended High Holy Days and energizing these same parents and grandparents with a religious zeal their children often didn't see the rest of the year!
Yes, to me, we need a day like Simhat Torah to remind us that celebrating life is a vital part of Judaism. And nothing we do can demonstrate our embrace of life more than when we take a Torah in our arms on Simhat Torah. For that, you can never be too old.
Shabbat Shalom and Hag Sameah!
Rabbi Rosen
Whenever we jokingly speak about "three-day-a-year-Jews," we are typically speaking about those Jews who only attend Rosh Hashanah's two days and Yom Kippur. But if I could re-define the three days that I wish every Jew would be in synagogue, one of them would have to be Simhat Torah.
Yes, I love the High Holy Days, but if all we take with us into the new year is the solemnity and sobriety of the Days of Awe, then we cheat ourselves out of enjoying a very different kind of spectacle, that of seeing hundreds and hundreds of Jews filling the aisles, dancing with the Torah scrolls and celebrating the joy of being Jewish.
One of my earliest childhood memories is of me sitting on my Dad's shoulders as he carried me around the Sanctuary of Beth Yeshurun on Simhat Torah. I must have been quite young, yet I can picture that scene as if it was yesterday. In my mind, I see throngs of happy people genuinely enjoying themselves, singing, dancing and thanking God for the gift of Torah.
But something has happened to Simhat Torah that has left me saddened, and that is the way this beautiful holiday has somehow become, in many people's minds, a children's holiday. Middle school kids complain they've outgrown it; adults too often come only if they have very young children to bring with them.
Yet throughout history, what made Simhat Torah so exhilarating was the way it turned adults into kids, ridding adults of the solemnity and sobriety of the just-ended High Holy Days and energizing these same parents and grandparents with a religious zeal their children often didn't see the rest of the year!
Yes, to me, we need a day like Simhat Torah to remind us that celebrating life is a vital part of Judaism. And nothing we do can demonstrate our embrace of life more than when we take a Torah in our arms on Simhat Torah. For that, you can never be too old.
Shabbat Shalom and Hag Sameah!
Rabbi Rosen
Friday, October 2, 2009
Creating Sacred Space
Shabbat Shalom and Hag Sameah!
It may be difficult for some of us to remember, but the piece of land on which our beautiful Freedman- Levit Sanctuary now sits was just a parking lot before construction began just a few years ago. No one can suggest that a parking lot possesses any sanctity, but what our congregation did with a portion of ours acknowledges the power we possess to transform the ordinary into the extraordinary, the plain into the holy.
It's a transformation exemplified each year at Sukkot when we take a grassy yard or cluttered patio, clear everything away and build our booths. Suddenly that piece of earth becomes far more valuable than it was just moments before. When we sit in a sukkah, we are taken back 3,000 years to the time our ancestors made their epic four-decade journey across the Sinai, a journey fraught with fear of the unknown and a tenuous faith in God.
Tonight when we light our candles in our sukkah, recite the blessing "lei-shev ba'sukkah" and the "she-he-he-yanu," we know that it is not just on our patio that we are sitting, but rather in a sacred space created by our own hands in a place that is so ordinary the rest of the year.
It's the same transformation I see in my own home each Friday night when we dress up our dining room table with a cloth cover and beautiful flowers, and when we add wine to what is always the most delicious meal of the week. Suddenly that table, so ordinary the other six days of the week, becomes so wonderful. Everything smells different, looks different, is different. By our hands, we create each week a sacred space, a wonderful testimonial to the spiritual power with which God has endowed each and every one of us.
May this New Year bring us all many opportunities to use this gift in ways that can deepen our faith and nourish our souls.
Hag sameah!
Rabbi Rosen
It may be difficult for some of us to remember, but the piece of land on which our beautiful Freedman- Levit Sanctuary now sits was just a parking lot before construction began just a few years ago. No one can suggest that a parking lot possesses any sanctity, but what our congregation did with a portion of ours acknowledges the power we possess to transform the ordinary into the extraordinary, the plain into the holy.
It's a transformation exemplified each year at Sukkot when we take a grassy yard or cluttered patio, clear everything away and build our booths. Suddenly that piece of earth becomes far more valuable than it was just moments before. When we sit in a sukkah, we are taken back 3,000 years to the time our ancestors made their epic four-decade journey across the Sinai, a journey fraught with fear of the unknown and a tenuous faith in God.
Tonight when we light our candles in our sukkah, recite the blessing "lei-shev ba'sukkah" and the "she-he-he-yanu," we know that it is not just on our patio that we are sitting, but rather in a sacred space created by our own hands in a place that is so ordinary the rest of the year.
It's the same transformation I see in my own home each Friday night when we dress up our dining room table with a cloth cover and beautiful flowers, and when we add wine to what is always the most delicious meal of the week. Suddenly that table, so ordinary the other six days of the week, becomes so wonderful. Everything smells different, looks different, is different. By our hands, we create each week a sacred space, a wonderful testimonial to the spiritual power with which God has endowed each and every one of us.
May this New Year bring us all many opportunities to use this gift in ways that can deepen our faith and nourish our souls.
Hag sameah!
Rabbi Rosen
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
A Time to Say "I'm Sorry"
Shabbat Shalom!
Apologizing must be one of the most difficult things any of us ever has to do. It's hard to humble oneself and tell someone we're sorry for what we have done or said. And yet that is one of the missions and mandates of teshuvah during these Days of Repentance. Judaism teaches that we cannot stand before God until we have made right a hurtful or inappropriate act or word to another human being.
I am grateful to JTA for alerting me about Everett L. Worthington, a professor of psychology at Virginia Commonwealth University and a widely-quoted authority on forgiveness, who has a handy acronym - C.O.N.F.E.S.S. - to map the process which can move us to repentance with another human being and ultimately with God:
C - Confess without excuses;
O - Offer specific apologies;
N - Take note of the pain you might have caused another;
F - Tell the hurt party that you truly value the other person:
E - Equalize; make up for the pain the other person has experienced by making some kind of physical or emotional restitution;
S - Say that I/we will really strive that this never happens again;
S - Ask clearly for forgiveness; in doing so, we acknowledge that we did wrong
There is always a chance, of course, that the person to whom you apologize will not accept your plea. Jewish tradition compels us to try again, and if, after three tries, our heartfelt apology is still not accepted, then it is considered to our credit as if it has been accepted. We need, in other words, try only so hard to convince another person of our sincerity. Once we have done our best and made repeated attempts, the teshuvah is considered complete.
In the best of circumstances, apologizing to another human being is never easy. But before we can beat our breast on Yom Kippur and ask God to "forgive us, pardon us and grant us atonement," we must first seek it from those we have harmed or hurt. For us Jews, this is the week to do it.
L'shanah tovah...
Rabbi Rosen
Apologizing must be one of the most difficult things any of us ever has to do. It's hard to humble oneself and tell someone we're sorry for what we have done or said. And yet that is one of the missions and mandates of teshuvah during these Days of Repentance. Judaism teaches that we cannot stand before God until we have made right a hurtful or inappropriate act or word to another human being.
I am grateful to JTA for alerting me about Everett L. Worthington, a professor of psychology at Virginia Commonwealth University and a widely-quoted authority on forgiveness, who has a handy acronym - C.O.N.F.E.S.S. - to map the process which can move us to repentance with another human being and ultimately with God:
C - Confess without excuses;
O - Offer specific apologies;
N - Take note of the pain you might have caused another;
F - Tell the hurt party that you truly value the other person:
E - Equalize; make up for the pain the other person has experienced by making some kind of physical or emotional restitution;
S - Say that I/we will really strive that this never happens again;
S - Ask clearly for forgiveness; in doing so, we acknowledge that we did wrong
There is always a chance, of course, that the person to whom you apologize will not accept your plea. Jewish tradition compels us to try again, and if, after three tries, our heartfelt apology is still not accepted, then it is considered to our credit as if it has been accepted. We need, in other words, try only so hard to convince another person of our sincerity. Once we have done our best and made repeated attempts, the teshuvah is considered complete.
In the best of circumstances, apologizing to another human being is never easy. But before we can beat our breast on Yom Kippur and ask God to "forgive us, pardon us and grant us atonement," we must first seek it from those we have harmed or hurt. For us Jews, this is the week to do it.
L'shanah tovah...
Rabbi Rosen
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
What's Your Passing Grade This New Year?
Shabbat Shalom and Shanah Tovah!
An old joke has it that when the sea gets too high, you either have to raise the ship or lower the water. That’s something like what the New York State Department of Education decided to do this year when it discovered a way to help more students pass the state’s math exam for seventh graders. For years, a passing grade was 60, but last year it was lowered to 44, resulting in the highest percentage of students to pass the test in recent memory. Amazing!
It’s true that sometimes standards need to be lowered. An article in USA Today reported how some luxury hotel chains have decided to lower their standards (and their prices) somewhat in order to attract more budget-conscious travelers. Sometimes lowering standards is both necessary and constructive.
But as the High Holy Days begin, our tradition compels us to do just the opposite: not to lower our standards but to raise them. Not to be satisfied with who we are but ask how we can be more. Not to live at the standard everyone does, but to ask ourselves how we can live at a standard everyone should.
The writer Lewis Mumford once wrote, “The final goal of human effort is man’s self-transformation.” That also is the raison d’etre of the High Holy Days, to be transformed through the seeking of a higher standard for ourselves as men and women and children of God. When it comes to who and what we are as human beings and Jews, the standard can never be too high.
L’shanah Tovah Tikateivu.
Rabbi Rosen
An old joke has it that when the sea gets too high, you either have to raise the ship or lower the water. That’s something like what the New York State Department of Education decided to do this year when it discovered a way to help more students pass the state’s math exam for seventh graders. For years, a passing grade was 60, but last year it was lowered to 44, resulting in the highest percentage of students to pass the test in recent memory. Amazing!
It’s true that sometimes standards need to be lowered. An article in USA Today reported how some luxury hotel chains have decided to lower their standards (and their prices) somewhat in order to attract more budget-conscious travelers. Sometimes lowering standards is both necessary and constructive.
But as the High Holy Days begin, our tradition compels us to do just the opposite: not to lower our standards but to raise them. Not to be satisfied with who we are but ask how we can be more. Not to live at the standard everyone does, but to ask ourselves how we can live at a standard everyone should.
The writer Lewis Mumford once wrote, “The final goal of human effort is man’s self-transformation.” That also is the raison d’etre of the High Holy Days, to be transformed through the seeking of a higher standard for ourselves as men and women and children of God. When it comes to who and what we are as human beings and Jews, the standard can never be too high.
L’shanah Tovah Tikateivu.
Rabbi Rosen
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Both Beth Yeshurun and I also have Facebook pages. To access the congregation's Facebook site, which is edited by our member Michael Moore, please click here. To go to my personal Facebook page, please click here. I'd love to have you as a friend! (Note that to access Facebook pages, you must be a Facebook member yourself. To join Facebook (which is free), click here.)
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