Rabbi Meszler 5785 Holiday Sermons

Rabbi Meszler's Words of Inspiration and Comfort for the High Holy Days 5786

Rosh Hashanah
Erev Rosh Hashanah: Your Upcoming Interview with God
Rosh Hashanah Morning 1: Being a Reform Zionist Today
Rosh Hashanah Day 2: Caverns & Mountaintops, Also Known as Funerals & Weddings

Yom Kippur
Erev Yom Kippur (Kol Nidrei): Rabbi Nachman’s Tainted Grain
Yom Kippur:  Jewish Intergenerational Trauma & Wisdom

Watch video selections here:
Rosh Hashanah Day 1 

Erev Rosh Hashanah: Your Upcoming Interview with God

    When was the last time you prepared for an interview? 
    Perhaps for some of us it was this week, and for others it was years ago. Perhaps we had to go on an interview for a job, for a school, or for a role as a public servant in the community. Maybe you had to prepare your resume, your Linked-In profile, and write a cover letter. Maybe you needed letters of recommendation or references. Perhaps there was a first interview followed by a second. 
    Was there a time when you had an interview that didn't go as planned? Maybe there was an instance when things took an unexpected turn in the conversation? Was there a moment when you realized that maybe you were not being as forthright as you could have been, and that felt uncomfortable or awkward?
    Jewish wisdom says we each have an interview with God on the holidays. Meet your mortality: There are people who were here last year who are not here this year. There are also new (very small) people born into the world who fill us with hope and anxiety. What if you arrived at the Temple, ready to enjoy the music and happy to reconnect with friends and community, and suddenly, in an unexpected moment of wow, you get it. This year and every year, relentlessly, people will live and die, some more gently than others. We all have a real case of being human, and it's ultimately terminal! All will endure a certain amount of pain and suffering, but some will thrive and some will not. Some will have tremendous joy handed to them, and others will have to make their own happiness. 
    What if right now, in this very moment, seated in this sanctuary, you imagined that this is your opportunity, your life evaluation, your interview with God? And guess what? Unlike other interviews, God already has your resume and knows all of the good and the bad. There’s no hiding or glossing over things. No cover letter is necessary or will help. In the words of Rabbi Alan Lew, “This is real, and you are completely unprepared.” 
    And there is a metaphorical book, and we are each, every single one of us, noticed, known, and recorded. The title of the book is the Sefer Chaim Tovim - not the Book of Life, as is commonly said, but the Book of Chaim Tovim - Lives Well-Lived. It’s not a book about physically surviving, of who gets to live and who gets zapped. God does not literally seal our fate on Yom Kippur. God is not Santa Claus for adults, rewarding and punishing us depending upon if we were naughty or nice. After all, experience teaches us that good people can get sick, even children, while the undeserving can grow old and wealthy. Instead, the actual metaphor in Judaism is less about the physical and more about the spiritual. We ask if we are living a good life in God’s eyes, so to speak, which means without rationalizations and illusions.
    When I use the word God, I mean “unity consciousness.” It’s what Moses in the Torah, Maimonides, the Kabbalists, the modern poet Marcia Falk, and many Jewish thinkers seem to have in common. In light of the Unity Consciousness or Soul or Life of the universe that is God, will your life be seen as commendable? Will it be an honorable tribute to your ancestors and worthy of imitation by your descendents? An authentic response to that question is what a successful interview looks like. 
    Here is the thing about the annual Jewish interview process: God may have your resume and already knows every detail, and there is nothing you can get away with on a cover letter, but you are allowed to have references. References are encouraged! Your relationships matter. 
    But will they recommend you? Here is where you can actually prepare for the interview. What repair might your relationships need in order for them to be positive? What apologies are necessary, and what forgiveness might you need to give? Where do you need to be gentler, and where do you need to be more courageous? Where do you need to be patient, and where do you need to have more backbone? Tradition tells us that teshuvah, tefilah, and tzedakah - repentance, prayer, and generosity - can alleviate harsh judgments. What work do you need to do?
    And in addition to your references, for this interview you probably can guess what the questions will be in advance, so you can practice answering them. Only you know the very personal, private questions that are going to come up between you and God. Nothing should be a surprise. Perhaps your questions are similar to what Rava taught in the Talmud: “Did you conduct your business honestly? Did you set aside time to learn? Did you leave a legacy for future generations? Did you have hope in your heart? Did you get your priorities straight? Did you seek out joy in this world? Were you the best you could be?” (Shabbat 31a) 
    Those were Rava’s questions. The Torah has other questions, beginning with what God asked Adam when Adam was hiding in the Garden: Ayeka? Where are you? Not eifo - where are you physically located… God knows that. Ayeka? Where are you in your life? To quote Mary Oliver, “Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” 
    In the month of Tishrei, you get several opportunities to interview, first on Rosh Hashanah and then ten days later there is a follow-up interview on Yom Kippur. How will you show up? Will you use this time wisely? 
    Here’s the evaluation form: The Rabbis taught that we should imagine each one of us has a scale, a balance, with all of our merit on one side and all of our wrong-doings on the other. Imagine your scale is perfectly balanced. And then imagine that for the entire world, there is also a scale, and all of humanity’s merits are on one side, and all of humanity’s transgressions are on the other. And imagine that this scale, too, is perfectly balanced. The very next act that you do will tip the scale, not only for yourself but for the entire world. Maimonides teaches that one moral failure can knock the world over toward destruction, but one mitzvah can lead to redemption and deliverance. You are responsible for what happens next. (Laws of Repentance 3:4)
    Heavy stuff! The takeaway is that your words and actions matter. They have consequences. What you do affects yourself and others, often in ways you do not realize. 
    It might be comforting to know that the Rabbis also believed God is rooting for you and wants you to do really well at the interview. In fact, Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev (Haazinu) says that God puts a thumb on the scale in order to help you out. Avinu Malkeinu is gracious and merciful, because we have little merit, acting towards us with tzedakah and chesed - lovingkindness. God wants to prompt us toward healing. We are loved with our flaws, but we must show up with integrity. We can’t repair what we won’t admit. That’s the key. 
    So how are you facing your interview this year, and will you be inscribed in the Sefer Chaim Tovim - the Book of Lives Well-Lived? 
When it comes to the act of actually inscribing, when a sofer, a scribe, writes a letter in a Torah scroll on your behalf, the custom is that you put your hand on their shoulder or hand, and they write the letter for you and with you. It is a task you do together. There is partnership between you and the one doing the inscribing. You are not alone or on your own. We all need help.
    And if we earnestly try, if we, as Rabbi Lew says, face God’s “unblinking gaze,” we might also merit the joy of beginning again. This can be a new year with a fresh start and possibilities. 
    No one has control over mortality; life is deeply unfair. Some lives are long and some are short, some are deep and some are shallow. But whether or not our lives are well-lived in the face of adversity? That is within our power. That we can decide.
So let us pray that this year will be a year of health, happiness, and sweetness, full of lives well-lived - chaim tovim - and… b’hatzlacha! Good luck with your upcoming interview. I hope it goes well. Shanah tovah!

Rosh HaShanah Day One: Being a Reform Zionist Today

    The headlines are relentless. 
    We start this new year with the State of Israel yet again being overrepresented in the media. The calamities of Ukraine, Syria, and other parts of the world barely make the news. Israel is obsessively covered, almost always critically, which is indicative of the world’s antisemitic preoccupation. Meanwhile, the remaining hostages seem to escape the media’s attention. But we have not forgotten them. 
    I want to say that each of us is entitled to our opinions. I have passionate opinions, and you are welcome to disagree with me. Two facts that remain true are that, in order for the wound that was October 7 to ever stand a chance of healing, the hostages must come home, and Hamas must not remain in control of anything.
    What the media misses is that Israel is not a monolith. Israeli society is diverse and complex. You can love your country and passionately object to the leaders in its government, whether in the U.S. or in Israel. This means we need to stand against antisemitism and anti-Zionism and object to Israel being represented unfairly. Let us be clear:
    White supremacy, Neo-Nazism, and so-called “Christian” nationalism are obvious antisemitism. Tucker Carlson dog-whistling that Jews murdered Jesus at Charlie Kirk’s memorial is the most recent form of this.
    But holding all Jews worldwide accountable for the actions of the Israeli government is also antisemitism.
   Targeting Jewish college students for the war in Gaza is antisemitism.
    The double standards to which the State of Israel is held in the media and at the U.N. are antisemitism.
    So-called human rights organizations only focusing on one side is antisemitism.
    Women’s groups being slow to condemn the sexual violence against Israeli women that occurred on October 7 is antisemitism.
    Letting China, Russia, and Iran indoctrinate our youth through social media enables antisemitism.
    Yes, we are also against Islamophobia and all forms of bigotry, but the fact that we have to qualify our statements regarding hatred of Jews by saying we are also against other forms of hate in order to be heard and no one else does is a form of antisemitism. That’s another double standard.
    And yes, not all criticism of Israel is antisemitism. Of course not. Israelis criticize Israel. Hundreds of thousands of Israelis have been demonstrating in the streets almost daily for over two years. I personally support the Israeli protestors and think Israel needs to be saved physically and morally from Netanyahu and his right-wing coalition. Every time Prime Minister Netanyahu, Minister Ben G’vir, and Minister Smotrich open their mouths and say something hateful and indefensible, they undermine Israel’s cause and help make Israel a pariah state. There is also no contradiction between defending Israel and caring about Palestinian children. Our hearts break, and we don’t want Palestinians to starve, be displaced, or have bombs falling on them. It is devastating beyond words, but we also know all of this could end and would have ended long ago if Hamas would release the hostages. First and foremost Hamas is to blame. The Palestinians also need to be freed from Hamas.
    And yes, there are forms of anti-Zionism and non-Zionism that are not antisemitic. The Satmar Hasidim and the Yiddish Workmen's Circle are examples. Or Israel might not be your thing. You can be Jewish and not like Israel. You can be Jewish and not believe in God. You can be Jewish and never go to synagogue. But the Land of Israel is absolutely central to Jewish history, rituals, and prayers, as are God and the synagogue. These kinds of debates are red herrings, distractions from the substance of the issue, which is hatred and violence against Jews. Let’s not play games; the overwhelming majority of anti-Zionism today is antisemitic. 
    Anti-Zionism, singling out Israel as the Jew among the nations, is today’s most prevalent form of antisemitism. This past year, in the aftermath of the murder of Sarah Milgrim and Yaron Lischinsky in D.C. outside the Jewish Museum, the shooter said he did it “for Gaza.” It happened again in Boulder, Colorado with an arsonist, killing Karen Diamond and burning others. The overlap between anti-Zionism and antisemitism is overwhelming.
    Just as treacherous, the information war in the media is real and has consequences. Last month, I shared a post criticizing Netanyahu on Facebook, only to learn later that the photograph accompanying the news story I shared was taken out of context. Even the news sources we think of as trustworthy might no longer be relied upon.
    And what do we do when the Israeli government, the IDF, and the majority of Israelis are all on different pages and saying different things? What does it mean to “stand with Israel” under these confusing circumstances? We are either fed misinformation about Israel or read the actual words of Israeli politicians like Smotrich and Ben G’vir and are understandably repulsed. We apparently don’t need antisemites to alienate the next generation of Jews from Israel; ministers in the Israeli government can do that all by themselves. 
    Israel faces not only external dangers but an internal threat of fanaticism within our own ranks. If our first challenge is to stand against antisemitism and anti-Zionism, then our second task must be to stand up for Israelis who share our values. Hundreds of thousands of Israelis are fighting for the Israeli future, and they need our support and solidarity. To be a Zionist means to stand for a State of Israel for all of Am Yisrael.
    The situation is complex, more than the headlines mercilessly depict, so I want to shift from these negative challenges to something positive and important that is also happening inside of Israel. I would like now to point to the work the Reform movement is doing in Israel of which we should be proud. Let us lift up the wonderful side of Israel too few people are talking about. Israel is an incredible country with a tapestry of amazing people and extraordinary accomplishments, and our Reform movement in Israel is a part of that beauty and good work. Our Reform Israeli rabbis and their communities stand for a State of Israel that is both a Jewish homeland and a democracy, respecting the rights of everyone in a pluralist society. I will highlight the activities of just five Israeli Reform rabbis of the many who are trying to transform the State of Israel into the kind of Jewish State it was meant to be. 
    First, my friend and colleague, Rabbi Edgar Nof, heads Gesharim LeTikvah - Bridges for Hope. It feeds 21 Holocaust survivors’ households, all of whom are in their late 80s or 90s. As Rabbi Nof says, “They live in hostels or humble, small apartments in poor neighborhoods. Because of the bad economy in Israel following the long war with Hamas is so precarious, the support from the State of Israel to the Holocaust survivors decreased and the food is expensive with rising prices constantly. There are also 50 underprivileged families (representing about 200 souls) depending on our monthly help to buy food, and many parents called me saying that because nobody can go to work, they are even more in need.” Rabbi Nof also runs congregational and educational activities in five elementary schools, reaching about 1,000 children, and he often officiates at non-Orthodox B’nai Mitzvah. 
    Rabbi Naamah Kelman, Dean at our Reform seminary, Hebrew Union College in Jerusalem, reports that “our congregational and regional rabbis are ‘in the trenches leading tefillah, doing lifecycle rituals, comforting the mourners, and helping the vulnerable. We have 54 Kehillot (congregations) of varied sizes, but our impact is greater. Once people attend our weddings, and sadly the funerals, they discover the Judaism they seek. Our Rabbis lead in interfaith work and shared-society programs. We preach, speak, and model a Prophetic, caring, community-building Judaism without coercion and with love and inclusion. We do this DESPITE the constant dismissal and disinformation of the Orthodox establishment and the indifference of secular Israelis and with limited resources. We speak a Jewish Democratic Zionism committed to equality and social justice, all steeped in the Torah that belongs to all of us.”
    Rabbi Leora Ezrachi-Vered adds that Israeli Reform Rabbis are “leading communities and supporting members who have been directly or indirectly affected by Oct. 7th. They are leading prayer circles and protests for the hostages. Many are very political and are active leaders of the protest movement.” She says, “I have been focusing my work on Interfaith and shared society. I feel that my Rabbinate is for all citizens of Israel. Many of us are using culture and the arts to bring our message out with new music and poetry, including for a new Israeli Reform Machzor.” 
    Perhaps most prominently, Rabbi Gilad Kariv is not only an Israeli Reform rabbi but also a member of the Knesset. He is at the front lines of standing up to the Ultra-Orthodox and speaking for an inclusive and humane Israeli society. He has taken the brunt of bigotry from other Jews but has persevered. Recently he invoked the prophet Nathan who spoke up to King David to call his own government to account. He speaks the language of Torah to those who think they have an exclusive monopoly on its truth. 
    Finally, I want to highlight the work of Rabbi Chen Ben Or Tsfoni, the Senior Rabbi of Kehila Raanan - Beit Shmueli. In addition to her congregational work, she has been hosting meetings at her synagogue of the Parents Circle, which is a group of bereaved parents of both Israeli Jews and Palestinians who have lost a child in the conflict. They come together to share their grief with one another and ask for a different future. They say, “Our power is our pain.” If there is ever going to be peace in the region, it will be because of people like these. 
Devastatingly, because Rabbi Tsfoni dared bring Jews and Palestinians together for a joint memorial on Yom HaZikaron, Israeli Memorial Day, her synagogue was actually physically attacked by right-wing Israeli Jews in a riot that needed to be stopped by the police. In response to this disgrace, she wrote:
    "A time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance." (Ecclesiastes 3). The path from sorrow to hope is not linear. Grief and healing, despair and faith—they coexist. Jewish tradition teaches us that we cry with the same eyes through which we laugh. For a year and a half, we have lived in this tension—between despair and hope, between independence and its profound costs. And now, we must walk forward together, toward life, toward light.
“Since last night, we have received an outpouring of support and love from communities across Israel and around the world. We are not alone. Our synagogue has become a symbol—of faith, of resilience, and of love for all humanity. Together, we will continue to pray for peace, for the release of our captives, and for the enduring strength of hope.”
    So here is what we can do: First, we need to stand against anti-Zionism and antisemitism at home, but we have to do so in a joyful way. We don’t want our Jewish identities, especially for our young people, to feel like we are at risk. We want being Jewish to feel bright and celebratory. And I believe that nothing good ever came from being timid. Instead, we should be loud and proud. Wear your star out of your shirt and display the mezuzah on your home or office boldly for all to see. Remember: our mission is to live lives of public, joyful Judaism.
    In this vein, at Temple Sinai we send packages several times a year to all of our registered college students. This year, we are going to buy a mezuzah case and a kosher scroll to go inside of it for each of our registered students for their college rooms. If you have not yet registered the students in your home or you need to update their address, please do so ASAP. Housing changes frequently for students, and we need current information. We will be sending these mezuzot out in our next round of college packages. Yes, this is expensive for the Temple (the parchment costs much more than the mezuzah case), but proclaiming Jewish identity is important. We need to teach the next generation to be bold. Being Jewish is a blessing, and we are here to support you. 
     And just as we need to stand up against antisemitism here, we also need to stand up for Israelis who share our values there. We can visit Israel, send our youth on programs like Yallah Israel, and nurture our vision of Judaism there. We can read the Times of Israel, which is a good news source. In addition to JNF-USA and Hadassah, we should support Reform Zionism through ARZA, which is part of the Union for Reform Judaism, Women of the Wall, and the Israeli Religious Action Center, which is fighting for a pluralistic homeland that includes all of us. Israeli Reform rabbis are the leaders who are showing us the way.
    The future of Israel and Judaism might in fact depend upon them and us. 

Rosh Hashanah Day 2: Caverns & Mountaintops, Also Known as Funerals & Weddings

    We have celebrated creation today by not only reading B’reishit in the Torah but also hearing from Isaiah in the Haftarah. In addition to initiating the Ten Days of Teshuva, Isaiah always uses similes and metaphors from nature in his messages. In today’s Haftarah, Isaiah invokes ”the heavens …the earth …rain and snow …buds and blossoms …mountains and hills …and all the trees of the field… oaks …juniper… and myrtle.” (Isaiah 55:8-13)
    Being in nature is healing. When we go for a walk in the woods along a path together, we are often not in the same mood when we come out as when we begin. Something about creation lifts us up and makes us lighter inside. Our bodies feel the rhythms of sea and sky, the wind through treetops or the sound of the waves as we sit on a beach. Even if we don’t realize it on a conscious level, we are affected.
    One of my favorite pastimes is visiting our nation’s national parks. I have been to 15 out of 63 so far. I have spent time in caverns like Mammoth Cave and at the peaks of mountains like Cadillac in Acadia or Mount Ida in the Rockies, which was the hardest climb I have ever done. In January, I am going to have back-to-back days going down into Carlsbad Caverns and also climbing Guadalupe Mountain in New Mexico. I know many of you do similar activities.
    Following Isaiah’s lead of using nature as a metaphor, I am going to take this Second Day of Rosh Hashanah to connect two important aspects of my life, hiking in national parks on the one hand, and officiating at life cycle events on the other. It may sound odd, but it strikes me that funerals are an awful lot like caverns, and weddings are similar to mountaintops. 
    First, why funerals are like exploring caverns. Our biblical ancestors literally buried their loved ones in caves, like the Cave of Machpelah. Today, when death comes, like a cavern, we find ourselves often in a dark emotional place. Also like navigating a cavern, we face both logistical and emotional challenges when planning a funeral. Caverns are complex, and so is grief. Both can be hard to find our way through. We find ourselves watching our steps. Sometimes it is hard to simply put one foot in front of the other. Caverns can feel claustrophobic, and at funerals, sadness closes in on us. We are often disoriented, and we need help from others. As the 23rd Psalms says, we are in “the shadow of death.” The world might feel darker than it used to, and we literally dig up the earth for our loved ones. Often, we need guides to take us through, to bring a light, and to show us where to go. 
    But also like a cavern, there is beauty. Just as in caverns, we find gemstones, memories that come back to us. Crystals and dripping water reflect the light we carry. And as we move from the funeral through shiva through the first thirty days, we climb out of the cavern’s opening back towards the light. The year that follows with its Yizkor services on the holidays is the final ascent through a long tunnel.
    On the other hand, mountaintops are exhilarating. Picture being on top of a mountain. There are beautiful views, a lot of air, and pictures we want to remember. Sometimes there is ice, glinting like diamonds. Photographs can’t capture how we feel or the magnificence of the moment. We feel joy in the accomplishment of climbing, and sometimes tired from all that work. Maybe we feel giddy from the altitude.
    And as for weddings, they are similarly joyful and full of light. We refer to them as peak experiences. When people tell me about their weddings, in the aftermath, they often say that they “haven’t come down yet. It was so wonderful.” They look at the photographs afterwards and are reminded of how they felt on that day. 
The Rabbis say that when the Israelites gathered at Mount Sinai and Moses climbed upward, it was like a wedding. The mountain was our chuppah, and the Torah was our ketubah. 
    Both the depths of funerals and the heights of weddings create sacred memories, sad and joyful. Here is a secret: at every happy occasion, there are usually some tears as we remember people who are no longer with us who we wish were here, and at most funerals, there is usually some laughter at good times we shared. Mountaintops and caverns are made of the same stuff, the same earth. Adam and adamah - humankind and the land come from the same source.
    I have been here at Temple Sinai long enough now for two things to have happened. First, I have officiated at the funerals for many of my friends. I started my journey here at Temple Sinai with some wonderful people who welcomed me and helped my family become a part of this community. I accompanied them for years as they grew older, and now many of the people who sat in this sanctuary or next to me at Torah study are no longer with us. I can still picture them in their seats, and I miss them. Each one of their deaths has carved a mark. 
    And at the other end of the emotional spectrum, being at Temple Sinai for this long also means that many of the young people who became B’nai Mitzvah with me are now getting married. Just last year alone, I officiated at six weddings where the bride was one of my Bat Mitzvah girls, and there were more before that. There is no greater joy, honor, and privilege as a rabbi to be able to do this. Each one is as exhilarating as standing on a mountaintop.
    Thanking you for listening, and more importantly, thank you for the privilege of reaching this milestone with you. I hope to continue to explore the landscape of life together. 

Erev Yom Kippur - Kol Nidrei: Rabbi Nachman’s Tainted Grain

.THE STORY OF THE TAINTED GRAIN: A king once told his vice president, who was also his good friend: "I see in the stars that everyone who eats from this year's grain harvest is going to go mad. What do you think we should do?" 
    The vice president suggested they should put aside a stock of good grain so they would not have to eat from the tainted grain. 
"But it will be impossible to set aside enough good grain for everyone," the king objected. "And if we put away a stock for just the two of us, we will be the only ones who will be sane. Everyone else will be mad, and they will look at us and think that we are the mad ones. 
    "No. We too will have to eat from this year's grain, but we will both put a sign on our heads. I will look at your forehead, and you will look at mine. And when we see the sign, at least we will remember that we are mad." 
    This story was told by Rabbi Nachman of Breslov in Ukraine in the late 1700s, and the translation I shared is adapted from Rabbi Avraham Yehoshua Greenbaum. 
    Our society today has eaten tainted grain. Every day, we consume misinformation (erroneous data) and disinformation (messages that are deliberately misleading). We need to always ask: Is this true? Is this fair? We are right to trust nothing on face value. It might even feel like the world has gone mad. We live in what Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi in the Talmud calls an olam hifuch - an inverted world (Pesachim 50a). Up is down and down is up. Sometimes we feel like we’re playing emotional whack-a-mole going from headline to headline, and everything feels like an Orwellian partial truth or outright lie. We trust hardly any of our leaders or our media sources anymore. Meanwhile there are real dangers. If you feel disoriented and confused, you are not alone. 
    It is tempting to name every act of hypocrisy, bias, and corruption. What happens to our safety and the lives of our children and grandchildren in our community when well-researched studies and reports for our safety - from hunger to health to guns to jobs  - are canceled if they are displeasing? If you disagree with the data, show why it’s wrong. Don’t suppress it. Judaism insists on emet - truth-telling. Regarding Israel, it feels like every article starts and ends with the foregone conclusion that Israel is entirely and always to blame. Everything feels tainted, and it’s easy to feel fear and disgust. The more practical question is: what do we do with these feelings? When we feel powerless, what can we do? How do we cope?
    My friend and colleague Rabbi Ariel Burger understands Rabbi Nachman’ story for today to be about weaponized misinformation. We all consume tainted information and risk losing ourselves. In response, I want to share three takeaways from my chevruta, my study with him, that might help us navigate these times of tainted grain. These three tools are symbolized by the reminders from the end of the story when they look into each other’s faces. They are Jewish practice, learning, and song. When the king and the vice president look into each other’s faces and see the signs on each other’s foreheads, it represents how we can be a reminder for each other and bolster our resilience and spirit. 
    Tool number one: When the world feels like it has gone mad, pick one Jewish practice that is grounding to you that you want to add to your life. Make one thing your tradition or mitzvah to which you commit to this year. Maybe there is something you used to do you want to reclaim. Small steps lead to transformative outcomes. Perhaps you want to join our Shabbat morning Torah study class, bake challah for Shabbat, or volunteer to provide food for Jewish Family Table or Father Bill’s through Temple Sinai. 
    Rabbi Moshe Chaim Ephraim, in Degel Machane Ephraim (Va’etchanan), teaches that in the spectrum of light, each one of us is attracted to a specific color that God puts into the world, and with each color of light comes a specific mitzvah. While people may generally observe the commandments, such as going to a Passover seder or hearing the sound of the shofar, is there one mitzvah that speaks to you, that calls out to you, that is your ray of light that seems sown into your soul? I know some people who are average Jews all year long, but when Pesach comes, they go crazy. They go to the -nth degree. Someone else I know specifically gets super into Purim. Others are deeply attached to the shofar. And so on. So what is your mitzvah?
    A mitzvah is a commandment, not just a good deed. It is something we feel God wants us to do. It comes with a “should,” not just a “that would be nice if I can make the time” or “if I have surplus.” And the Rabbis, playing on the same letters, teach a mitzvah is also a tzavta, a connection. With whom or how do you want to connect this year in a new or deeper way? You have agency; you decide. And when you do your mitzvah, and people look into your face while you do it, and you look into theirs, you can transcend some of the craziness of our time. As the novelist E.M. Forster wrote, “Only connect.”
    For a second tool, we must reclaim learning and disagreement without being disagreeable. We can educate ourselves in community and hold complexity. To do so, we must cultivate civilized discussion. In Judaism, makhloket or Jewish argument for the sake of Heaven is an art form. Jewish peoplehood means sitting together despite our differences and sometimes because of them. Ask one another which sources you rely upon, because trust in different sources is often the root of our disagreements. As the historian Deborah Lipstadt has taught us, we need to learn to distinguish between facts, opinions, and lies. I also believe our polarization is partially a result of outside manipulation, so we should question who profits from our division.
    For example, the CNN commentator Van Jones, in a recent interview with the Union for Reform Judaism, talked about how his social media feed had no mention of the Bibas children who were kidnapped and killed in Gaza. He also reported that after he spoke at the rally for Israel in D.C., he abruptly became trolled. How did that happen? Who is curating our information? What are their agendas? And Van Jones deserves credit for braving a space where there could have been friction. We should be that courageous as well.
    Finally, channeling our Hasidic ancestors who knew from crazy times, I suggest we can learn to sing one uncomplicated but powerful Jewish song whenever we feel we need inner strength. Singing is miraculously transformative. It doesn’t matter which song you pick as “your song,” so long as it can represent your personal prayer. I find myself turning to Oseh Shalom, which can be found on page 81: Oseh shalom bimrovav, hu ya’aseh shalom, aleinu v’al kol Yisrael - and now I want to teach you some additional words that are in this book - v’al kol yoshvei teivel - which means, “and all who dwell on earth” - v’imru: Amen. “May the One who creates peace in the high heavens make peace here among us, all Israel, and all who dwell on earth, and let us say: Amen.” 
    Whenever you sing or even just hum your Jewish song, or whichever song you choose, in the car or anywhere, you will connect yourself to the Jewish people worldwide, the language of the Torah, and humankind. You will also, on a higher plane, connect with people past and future, “those who are standing with us today, and those who are not standing with us today” (Nitzavim). Somewhere in that connection is the Divine, the unity consciousness that transcends us.
    Adding a mitzvah to your life, collaborative and questioning learning, and singing your go-to Jewish song in times of stress: these are tools and reminders of resilience. They are rays of light shining through us. We may inevitably consume tainted grain, but we can look into each other’s faces, remind one another of who we really are, and be there for each other. And when we do so, we also can also support each other being visibly and joyfully Jewish.
Please join us in singing now, so everyone here knows that no one is alone and is part of the light in the spectrum of our community. (p. 81)

Yom Kippur: Jewish Intergenerational Trauma & Wisdom

    The past is never completely past.
    We are going to show the documentary October 8 privately at Temple Sinai next week during Sukkot. We are simply going to sit in front of a TV here in a room and watch it together. It details not only footage from October 7 but also the rise and overlap of antisemitism and anti-Zionism in the United States starting the very day after. This showing is not for the public. Please see the weekly email for details.
    I would like to point out one moment in the movie. In the documentary, Sheryl Sandberg, who worked for Facebook and is now a philanthropist, relates a conversation she had with a friend while going on a walk. She asks her friend, “Will you hide me, if it comes to that?” Her friend, who was not Jewish, was confused by the question. Sandberg explained who Righteous non-Jews were, who hid Jewish people during the Holocaust. Not that she thinks it would ever come to that, and Sheryl Sandberg has plenty of resources, but she said that it felt like the words came out of nowhere and just came out of her mouth to her non-Jewish friend: “If necessary, would you hide me and my family?” 
    Similarly, some of us have attended or seen online performances by the Jewish comedian Modi. He has a routine about how he always needs to have cash available. He always has cash on him and also has it hidden all over the house. Why does he need to have cash? For bribes “in case the Nazis come!” he exclaims. “You can’t Venmo the guard. What are you going to do? Use ApplePay?”
    We are two years past October 7, 2023, and one of the things that has been said repeatedly is that “it was the worst day since the Holocaust.” The past is never completely past. A few generations later, many Jewish people instinctively understand comments such as those made by Sandberg and Modi, and they evoke a visceral reaction in us. That is one of the reasons why the rise in antisemitism today in America is so alarming. It is retraumatizing.
    In her book, Wounds Into Wisdom, Rabbi Dr. Tirza Firestone explores Jewish Intergenerational Trauma. She is a rabbi and a psychologist. Raised in an Orthodox family, her mother was a Holocaust survivor, her father was a Jewish American veteran who helped liberate Bergen-Belsen. Rabbi Firestone claims the entire Jewish people have a form of PTSD - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Also a caveat before I go further: I don’t and you don’t have to agree with Rabbi Firestone’s politics if you want to bother to look them up, but nevertheless I believe she has something important to teach us as a rabbi and psychologist.
    Jewish Intergenerational Trauma means that antisemitic events legitimately “trigger” us. In addition to our reaction to October 7, Jewish Intergenerational Trauma shows up in other ways, such as panicking when we don’t know where our loved ones are. Researchers tell us that trauma can change our cells and alter our DNA. We carry memories with us even if we cannot ever consciously know them.
    When we watched Israel go to war against Iran this past year or when we see images of emaciated hostages digging their own graves, it brings up Jewish Intergenerational Trauma. We look at the hostages and think, “That’s just the way concentration camp victims looked.” And one of the most worrisome products of this war is that, for Israelis, going into a bomb shelter isn’t even a big deal any more. It has become normalized, even boring. It’s just what you occasionally have to do. As one Israeli told Rabbi Firestone, “I think the whole country would grind to a halt if everyone stopped to feel their pain” (68). 
    Rabbi Firestone turns not only to psychotherapy but also Jewish tradition to explain this phenomenon. In the Torah, we read the disturbing words that “God remembers the sins of the ancestors upon their children unto the third and fourth generations” (Deuteronomy 5:9). The ancient Israelites anthropomorphised God, but today we can understand this statement to be about God defined not as a king but as impersonal "Reality" with a capital R. Rabbi Firestone teaches that our experience with Reality demonstrates that “the violations and heartbreaks that are suffered in one era often continue to travel through time, creating a legacy of new suffering until they are finally faced and felt” (104). 
    And dare I even reference Palestinian trauma? Acknowledging that Hamas is absolutely responsible for the disaster we are in, and stating clearly that the IDF is in an impossible position, can we still recognize the catastrophe that is happening to the next generation of Palestinians as well as Israelis? Can we show empathy for Palestinian children who are also victims of Hamas and collateral killing? What happens when two communities keep getting re-traumitized, intertwined with each other? How many generations will it take to heal?
    Our emotional responses to trauma are understandable but often unhealthy. We might feel like we are in a perpetual emergency, and I think that sometimes we within the Jewish community tend to overcompensate and unnecessarily turn on each other. Rabbi Firestone tells us a healthier response would be to face our loss and pain, not identify ourselves as victims, and create new communities of action. She asks us to resist the call to fear, blame, or dehumanize other people. In a particularly powerful passage of her book, she relates a dream where her ancestors who were victims of the Holocaust called out to her. In her dream, these ancestors said to her, “Live the life we could not live!” (4)
    Jewish wisdom teaches that we should not deny or suppress our feelings, but we can strive to balance them out. Maimonides wrote about the shvil zahav or “the Golden Mean.” Mussar, or Jewish teaching on self-examination, says we must find a generous middle path for our emotions. Just as there is tikkun olam, repairing the world, so is there tikkun middot, repairing ourselves in our character traits. When we go to unhealthy extremes, we should try to find a way to rebalance ourselves, like a see-saw. And the middle path isn’t narrow; it can be a broad street. We just need to find a way to not live in unhealthy, extreme reactions. 
    When we feel fear, we shouldn’t deny or repress it. We can acknowledge our fears and then balance them with resilience. When we feel despair, we need to balance it with hope and faith. When we feel isolated, we need to balance it with friendship and community. 
    When I think of balancing fear with resilience, I think of paddleball. In case you don’t know, Israelis are wild about matkot - paddleball. On any given day on the beach at Tel Aviv, there is a deafening sound of people of all ages knocking small rubber balls back and forth. How can they do this? 
    Because they are tough. Because they won’t give up on life. Because they refuse to be paralyzed, even though their children and their breadwinners and their loved ones are all fighting a war, and even though people are on the fourth and fifth rounds of reserve duty, for a war that they don’t necessarily agree with, for a government that they protest, they go to work and at the end of the day or on Shabbat they go and hit a ball. Resilience sounds like paddleball batted between people with the waves crashing behind them. This sound echoes the words we chant when we finish a book of Torah: chazak chazak v’nitchazek - be strong, be strong, and we shall be strengthened.
    Just as we need to balance fear with resilience, we also need to balance despair with faith and hope. The key to overcoming despair is to refuse to identify yourself as a victim. When we see ourselves as victims, we absolve ourselves of responsibility and action. Dr. Edith Eger, a Holocaust survivor and psychologist, taught that pain and suffering are universal, and victimization is what happens to us. Victimhood, however, is what we do to ourselves. We do not have to define ourselves as victims. As my teacher Ruth Messinger said, “Despair is not a strategy.”
    Again, I look to Israelis for inspiration. In Tel Aviv, in front of the art museum, the plaza has been turned into a creative arts space called Hostage Square. Israelis have taken their pent up feelings and expressed them through sculpture, music, and story. There are yellow items, from balloons to masks to chairs, representing each of the hostages. Our yellow ribbons on our trees and lampposts at Temple Sinai are an extension of theirs. At Hostage Square, right now and at any given moment, someone who survived October 7 is speaking, sharing their testimony. And while this is all happening, they also sell necklaces that say Tikvah - hope. Think about that: Hope! If they can hope, certainly we can, too. 
    And let us not take for granted the extraordinary victory that Israel won against Hezbollah and Iran. It was a brilliant accomplishment, and the world is a safer place for it. We can be grateful. But it didn’t happen by accident! Not just the IDF, but our consistent support for Israel and protecting its security through Congress paid off. I believe we can protest the Israeli government, but our support for the IDF should be unconditional, and our commitment to funding Israel’s security is for the long term. Seeing Hezbollah and Iran defeated (at least temporarily) feels miraculous.
    Finally, we must balance isolation with friendship and community. Rabbi Firestone tells us to create communities of action that enliven us. I hope that Temple Sinai can be that community for us. When I am overwhelmed, and I admit that this happens more often than I would like, I feel better after Friday night services or Torah study here with all of you. It simply feels better to be together. 
    And social media is not the same as being together. Research finds that social media can both alleviate and contribute to isolation. Nothing replaces live community. Being together doesn’t mean we have to agree on everything. We can sit with discomfort, and it’s okay. We can model nuance in a time of polarized and extremist politics. Many of our young people are understandably turned off by the current Israeli government. Me, too! You can love a country and passionately protest its government, and we can still be together as a community anyway. I believe protest is part of being a Zionist, and my love and loyalty to the Jewish people endures. Hinei mah tov umanaim, shevel achim gam yachad - how good and how pleasant it is simply to sit together, even with people we disagree with. It is good for our souls.
    I want to return to the dream that Rabbi Firestone had about her ancestors. In her dream, her ancestors said to her, “Live the life we could not live…” That’s a message for all of us. It’s not just Jewish Intergenerational Trauma that we have inherited but also Jewish wisdom.
    We are allowed to feel fear, but we can balance it with resilience. 
    We are allowed to feel despair, but we should not identify ourselves as victims and live with hope instead. 
    And we learn in Pirkei Avot, al tifrosh min hatzibor - do not separate yourself from the community (Avot 2:4). Feelings of isolation need to be met with friendship and community. 
    From our ancestors to today, we have shared some tough experiences, but we have also inherited their strength and faith.