Eyes and Ears and Mouth (Rosh Hashanah 5774)

There is a curious pattern emerging in the Torah narratives we read on either side of Rosh Hashanah about eyes and ears and mouths.  

From "The School of Raphael"

Two weeks ago parshat Ki Tavo told us that not until that day -- as Moses formalized our community’s transition from reliance on him to reliance on each other for our spiritual and religious lives -- not until that very day did they have “eyes to see and ears to hear.” (Deuteronomy 29:3) A week ago parshat Nitzavim told us Torah is “as close as our mouths.” (Deuteronomy 30:14) Next comes Rosh Hashanah, literally the “head” of the year.  Followed immediately in Torah by parshat Ha’azinu or literally “giving ear” or listening. (Deuteronomy 32:1)  

Our eyes, ears, and mouths are all highlighted by Torah at this season that is the “head” of the year. All of which calls to mind a story about an ancient, ailing king of Persia.  (One 15th century version of this story is found in Yalkut Shimoni).  

The king’s doctors tell him he can be cured only by the milk of a lioness.  But no one in the kingdom is brave enough to walk up to a lion and take milk from her cubs.  Then one brave hunter comes forward volunteering, “Your highness, I will get the milk you need. your highness.”

When An Apology Gets Stuck on the Tip of Our Tongue (Nitzavim 5773)

Early in the school year last year, a few ninth graders approached me in the hallway to protest some aspect of the school’s dress standards.  I was running late to a meeting upstairs.  I regret it, but I only half-listened.  I did not give their concern the respect it deserved (which is different from agreeing with it).  I failed to give those students the respect they deserved. 

Every few days after that I felt the impulse to apologize to those students.  But then I would get distracted by something.  The apology got stuck on the tip of my tongue.  Then so much time has passed I have forgotten even to which students I needed to apologize.  

Now as I prepare for the new Jewish year of 5774 and am seeking forgiveness for my conduct last year, that particular apology still is stuck on the tip of my tongue.  So at our weekly school community gathering on Monday, I apologized to the entire student body.  

Listen Look & Learn: The First Day of School (Ki Tavo 5773)

At today's opening Hakhel (weekly gathering of students and the professional community) of the school year I told students that this week’s Torah portion, Ki Tavo, tells us everything we need to know about JCHS (Link to Jewish Community High School of the Bay) -- and in just two verses.  

The two Torah verses:  (a) Deuteronomy 27:9 has Moses instructing his people “Keep quiet and hear, Israel, for on this day you are becoming a unified people . . . “ ; and (b) Deuteronomy 28:29, as part of the “curses” for neglecting the Torah’s lessons, includes the dire warning, “May you grope around at noon, as the blind person gropes in darkness.”  

Nalagaat Theater Company (comprised of deaf and blind performers)  NY Times Review of Nalagaat

From these two verses we learn a lot.  From the fact that the imperative to listen is voiced in the singular, we learn about empowering the individual.  From the listening that transforms solitary individuals into a unified community, we learn about enriching community.  From recognizing that each of us carries a kind of blindness that moves us to seek guidance and support from others, we learn about embracing pluralism.

As to blindness, I recall a few summers ago I was asked as part of a group of volunteers to take a girl, Dana, who was blind, through the Tel Aviv zoo.  I was taught how to walk with her -- with her hand on my elbow so as to offer support without pushing or pulling her.  I concentrated on trying to describe the different colors and shapes I saw to give shape to those images for her.  

When we sat down for lunch Dana took out her mp3 player. She explained she was listening to an audio book.  I asked some questions about the book.  Dana answered, “Quiet.  Listen for yourself.”  She put the headphones over me and pressed the screen. 

Empty Seats at Graduation

"Elijah's Chair #6"
by Steven Spiro
(stevenspiro.com)

From JCHS Commencement 5773/2013

Even as full as the sanctuary is right now, there are a number of empty seats; I don't mean the ones way-up in the balcony.  I mean a number of empty seats in our hearts because of loved ones or dear old friends who are not physically here today.  Their seats may be empty, yet they are very much with you to celebrate your accomplishments with as much delight as anyone physically here.  

Thinking of empty seats brings up the image of an empty chair for the Prophet Elijah that is often reserved for him at ceremonies welcoming babies into the Jewish community. 

You might have thought Elijah worked only a couple of nights each year wandering from Seder to Seder.  But the tradition also imagines Elijah being present at every brit milah or welcoming ceremony for an infant.  That’s a lot of bagels and creamed herring!

Visiting Pesach Seders, Baby Namings, and Announcing the messianic age -- that’s the job description for Elijah.  A seat is left empty for Elijah because we believe every single infant potentially could be the messiah or bring the messianic age when the world will be restored to wholeness and hope -- no more broken pieces and parts.  

The possibility that Prophet Elijah is here in an empty seat witnessing your potential brings me to the Class of 2013.  Every single member of this class has the potential to bring wholeness and hope to our world -- in many ways you already have.  So, for you, this story . . . 

It begins in an aging, run-down monastery (a residential community of monks). Grounds overgrown with weeds; apartments a shambles.  

One day the abbot of the monastery was walking in the woods wondering if he needed to close the monastery because things were so bad.  The abbot found the community rabbi also walking in the woods that day.  The abbot asked her for advice about reinvigorating the monastery. But everything the rabbi suggested had already been tried.  Nothing was working to stem the monastery’s decline.  

As they were parting, the rabbi offered one last bit of advice, she said, “It’s nothing certain, but maybe it will help.  I have heard that one of the members of your community may be the Messiah” and then the rabbi walked away.

Returning to the dilapidated monastery the abbot shared this cryptic advice with the monks.  Crazy rabbi they all thought!  But during their daily chores, each of them started wondering:  “What if one of us is the Messiah?”  It could be the abbot each of them thought:  He brings visionary leadership.  

Or it could be John:  He brings so much wisdom.  Or maybe it is Luke:  He is so organized.  Thomas:  He is so happy.  Francis:  He is so compassionate.  Or, maybe it’s me! O my if it is me, am I behaving as I should to be the Messiah?”

Uncertain as to which of them might be the Messiah, the monks began looking at each other differently, treating each other with respect and kindness, demonstrating tenacity, creativity, and energy, committing themselves to repair and healing.  That mood transformed the monastery and attracted attention. The monastery slowly but thoroughly became more thriving and a more special place.  [This folk legend is adapted from the version told in Marc Gafni's "Soul Prints" (2002) pp.59-60.]   

So it is with you my dear students -- the Class of 2013 has transformed our school with respect and kindness, with tenacity, creativity, and energy, with deep commitments to repair and healing.  You act -- often -- as if one of you may be the 'messiah.'  We are a better school because of it.

Yet . . . that’s not enough. The challenge for you is that you embrace the possibility that every person you meet after today could possibly be the Messiah or be your partner in bringing wholeness to the world.  Let this inform how you treat others, how you pursue your passions, how you repair our world.  

Because ultimately the value of your JCHS education lies not in what you know, but in how what you know inspires you to act.  The value of JCHS learning is being able to ask questions about why and to pursue answers based on treating others (and yourself) as if they (or you) could help bring the world closer every day to wholeness and hope.  

Finally, in just a few moments, when you stand to receive your diploma – take a moment to pause.  To breathe.  Then turn your head to one side and take-in the joyful expressions of pride coming from your family and friends on one side.  Turn your head again to look at your tradition reflected in our people’s ancient Torah scrolls on the other side.  Then close your eyes to remember everyone in the empty seats of your heart.  Please know the world needs the courage and compassion that only you can bring, the encouragement and determination that only you can offer.  Act as if the hope for wholeness and healing can only come from you.

[Excerpted from Rabbi Ruben's charge to the Class of 5773, JCHS Commencement 5773, June 13, 2013 at Temple Emanu-El, San Francisco] 

Hard to Say Goodbye for the Summer - Part II: Compassion, Humility, Acts of Lovingkindness

Today was the last day of classes at Jewish Community High School of the Bay (JCHS); finals begin tomorrow.  

It is a bittersweet time of year.

Our students experience for themselves something similar to what it feels like to be an adult at graduation; saying goodbye through tears of sadness and gratitude, loss and pride.  

We all know in our heads that the next year will be special in its own way; but we feel in our hearts that what was most special about this year came from the people and relationships that can never be exactly replicated.  

By way of wrapping up, as we gather the entire school community, I offer words from the Talmud about three traits that mark members of the Jewish community and those who move through the journey of life with that community.  Those traits are compassion, humility, and acts of lovingkindnss.  (Yevamot 79a).  (All of us at JCHS -- whether Jewish or not -- are part of the life journey of some (many!) remarkable students.)  

Hard to Say Goodbye for the Summer - Part I: Key Moments and Keystone

Today was the last day of classes at Jewish Community High School of the Bay (JCHS); finals begin tomorrow.  

It is a bittersweet time of year.

The entire school community gathers as students share words of appreciation for and gifts with members of the professional community who are leaving to deepen their learning (like through a science educators program at Cal), teach elsewhere (like teaching English in Madrid), or pursue their passions (like returning to college coaching).  

The final group of Seniors conclude their Keystone presentations; we call it 'graduation by demonstration.' 




Outgoing Knesset (student government) President reads her "thank you letter" to students and professionals.  She finishes by remarking to faculty and staff how cool it has been to spend every day for four years surrounded by her role models!  Her final words are freshman, sophomore, and junior students urging them to cherish every experience and opportunity presented by JCHS.  

She and the other outgoing Knesset officers pass the torch (well, literally a vest or styrofoam microphone or hat with angels wings or gnome) to the new execs.  The Film & Media Club presents a short film about what makes JCHS special.  The Yearbook editor presents a slideshow of photos too goofy for the Yearbook itself.  One of the outgoing execs is quoted in the Yearbook:  "I remember pausing in the middle of a song during the Shabbat Stroll (at the Shabbaton) and listening to the voice so my peers and teachers all around me singing with such joy.  It made me think how lucky I am to be a part of such an exceptional community."  (YC, Class of 2013).

Counting on Your Compassionate Voice

We are coming to the end of the Omer -- the period of counting days from Pesach until Shavuot.  Just as our ancestors in the Torah wilderness prepared themselves physically for receiving the Torah, the Rabbis imagined this period as an opportunity for self-reflection and personal growth necessary before rehearsing the receipt of Torah on Shavuot.  They saw the Torah as a huge gift and felt it was a gift that we needed to earn.  

One traditional way to prepare is to study Pirke Avot (that portion of the Talmud devoted to ethical wisdom) throughout the period of counting the Omer.  In recent years some beautiful complementary materials have been created.  Thank you to Yael Raff Peskin for curating several of these resources at her blog, Omer Harvest.  One of the seminal modern resources is the flipbook (old-school on paper) crafted by Simon Jacobson.  He offers daily meditations, questions, and exercises that encourage self-reflection based on the so-called "lower" seven sefirot.

There have been years when the 49-days of self-reflection have been intense.  When my tendency to self-critique swallows-up my sense of self-realization.  At those times I recognize a need for self-compassion at the end of the Omer.