Morning Blessing Experiment

For my week of leading services at HUC, I wanted to do a little experiment...Here is the introductory iyyun and the handout from the service.:

There’s this commercial for Febreeze that I haven’t been able to shake. Here’s the scene: a teenage boy in his room, thinks everything is just fine. Mom walks in and the screen shifts to what she smells: a dirty, unlaundered locker room. Febreeze warns us against “nose blindness” those things we think are fine just because we have become accustomed to them. But, when we stop to really take a nice long whiff, we realize that something is very very wrong.

Parshat Noach: Confounded Language

Today, I have no solutions. I have no new, novel ideas to solve the crisis and stop the violence. And, frankly, even if I did, I’m not sure I would be able to articulate it in a way that people could understand. I would be speaking in my own language, just as your solution would have its own language as well. But, despite our confuddled language, I hope that there is still space for us to talk.

For some of you, this might sound familiar. You could consider this my "take 2" at an Israel sermon after speaking on the subject back on the evening of Rosh Hashanah. I thought about just saying that one again. Who knows how many of you actually stayed awake through the whole thing. But, it has been suggested to me that that would not be a great idea. On Rosh Hashanah, I spoke about the importance of presence and hope as we create space for Israel conversations. Today, I hope to follow up on that message.

Rosh HaShanah 5775: Toward Healing on Israel

Most people spend their summers reading books, relaxing on the beach, and maybe catching a few Mets losses live and in person. I spent my summer as a chaplain in a hospital. On Mount Sinai Medical Center’s ninth floor I visited patients to talk, listen, and, hopefully, be a part of the healing process. I helped my patients as they tried to process their experiences of suffering and their co-occurring feelings of anger, fear, confusion, and sadness. You know, easy stuff.

One day in late July I had a referral to visit Mrs. B, a soon-to-be-discharged Catholic patient. I was feeling confident after a meaningful conversation with her, but then, the dreaded moment came. She looked up at the television, which had been on throughout our conversation, gave me a knowing glance and asked, “so, what do you think about all of that?” On the screen were scrolling headlines about the war between Israel and Hamas. There were images of rockets, demolished buildings, frightened people, and the occasional, requisite pundit. I took a deep breath.