Yom Kippur 5779
If we aren’t careful. If we aren’t intentional. We lose the chance to frame the conversation about fatherhood, the conversation about being a parent. If we don’t have those conversations on purpose, we let the next generation learn by accident. And given the state of masculinity in 21st Century America, that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.
And this comes at a time when we need to be asking new questions about masculinity. Well, overdue questions finally breaking through in today’s America. The public face of what it means to be a man, the public face of masculinity at this moment, is one of aggression, of violence, of abdication of moral responsibility, of the minimizing women’s voices, of concern for perpetrators of degradation while ignoring the impact on those who suffer…this is not the masculinity I want to raise my son into.
Rosh HaShanah 5779
בכל דור ודור (b'chol dor vador), in every generation, we tell our stories. And in each generation, we listen to the stories of those who came before. The stories of our family, so we might find empathy with past generations, and extend that empathy to the present. We learn who we are and where we come from.
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A story is not an unchiseled stone. A story is a set of tablets, etched with sacred words of commandment, commitment, and obligation. A story is not ambivalent about its circumstances and it is not ambivalent toward those who receive it. A story demands.
Shalu shalom Yerushalayim. Ask about peace for Jerusalem. Ask leaders in America, ask leaders in Israel, ask leaders across the world. How can we make a Jerusalem of peace? Shalu shalom Yerushalayim. Demand peace for Jerusalem. Demand it from governments, from individuals, from communities. Shalu shalom Yerushalayim. Pray. Pray for the peace of Jerusalem. That those who love her will live in tranquility. That she will know no violence or war. That she will be a city of light and a beacon of peace.
As your rabbi, I promise to work with you. I promise to be your partner in changing the world. Whether the world is the internal world of the soul and of personal healing. Or if it is the world of our daily interactions. Or if it is the world of the systems and structures that undergird our society. I promise that I will be here to work. And I pray that you will come to work with me.
Isn’t that what the synagogue is for? Isn’t that why we are here? The rabbinate I hope to build is rooted in the relationships that we will form. And through our relationships with each other and with the immortal words of our tradition and with the incredible power that comes from study, prayer, and community, that we will set about making a world worthy of our highest ideals.
Cheshvan is…Tuesday. It’s just any day. Nothing remarkable, nothing special. Except that it’s a day when we wake up to the sun and can marvel at God’s creation. A day when we have to make choices about who we are and who we hope to be in the world. And a critical time when we wonder, did the High Holy Days have an impact on us? After having been written into and sealed in the book of life, emerging from the day of Judgment to life, emerging with a clean slate…are we new people? There is nothing special there to goad us to righteousness. No soul-shaking reminders to stay on the path we swore to walk on during Yom Kippur. Cheshvan is the normal, everyday, real world, and Cheshvan asks us: truly, what are your commitments? No gimmicks, honestly, who do you want to be? With the pomp and circumstance of the Days of Awe in the rearview mirror, who are you?
Rosh HaShanah 5778
The mezuzah is affixed to our doorposts, at the threshold of our house, so that we might see it and be reminded of our ongoing responsibility to care for the stranger and the oppressed. To care for all those who might pass through that very threshold. It’s there to remind us to be active agents of freedom and redemption.
And it strikes me that America also has a doorpost. We also have a symbol that sits at the threshold of our nation. A sign we often think delivers a message to the outside world, but, maybe, it is more important as a sign lachem, to you, to us. Of our heritage, of who we claim to be, and of who we might yet become.
I believe that the Statue of Liberty is America’s mezuzah.
Erev Rosh Hashanah 5778
Our names aren’t just our names. Our names tell a story about our past, our present, and our future. Our names are full of hope, passion, and promise. When I tell you that I want to know your names, I tell you that I want to know you. Truly. Who are you? Where do you come from? What do you care about? Who do you want to be in the world? When we know each other’s names, that is to say, when we really know each other…that is when we enter into sacred relationship. That is when we build a spiritual community of meaning and purpose. That is what seals us for blessing in the Book of Life.
