On the Path Toward . . . (Lech Lecha 5776)

Standing at chuppah with son

Walking my son down the aisle at his wedding capped one thrilling journey for me just as powerfully as it started a momentous one for him.

The relative shortness of the wedding aisle belies the long journey toward it. It begins at birth, if not sooner. It's customary to welcome an infant into the Jewish community with hopeful expressions including that she or he grow to find a life partner under the chuppah (wedding canopy).

But parent wishes for their children's path come to little unless the journey also is embraced by their children. While the destination may be similar for one generation as for the next, each generation takes its own unique journey.

That lesson is exemplified by two seemingly parallel statements separated by just a few verses in Torah. One comes at the end of last week's Torah portion about Terach and the other from the beginning of this week's Torah portion about his son, Abraham (still called Avram).

Your Brother's Blood is Crying Out . . .

"Your brother's blood is crying out to Me." Gen. 4:10

Our hearts ache over the turmoil in Israel. The world seems very dark when a 13-year old from East Jerusalem attacks and stabs another 13-year old simply because the other was an Israeli Jew. Or when a Palestinian man attacks and stabs a 70-year old woman on the street in front of Jerusalem’s central bus station because she is an Israeli Jew. Or when one Israeli Jew attacks and stabs another Israeli Jew because the first man mistook the second for an Arab. Or, when some Israeli Jews gather and chant “death to Arabs.”

The world is dark when innocents -- elders and children alike -- are targeted for no reason other than that they carry the name Jew or Israeli or Arab.

Standing Together on a Path of Purpose (Nitzavim 5775 and Rosh Hashanah 5776)

Standing Together: Asia and Aubrey

The journey of a school year is not a sprint, although it can feel like one when our plates are overflowing with opportunities or challenges.  But neither is it a marathon completely beyond the reach of most of us. 

Each new school year is more like a 10k race. That is, short enough to be finished. Long enough to require perseverance and partners. 

The start of each new Jewish year also is brief enough to be completed and long enough to require perseverance and partners. This idea is reflected in the final Torah portion, Nitzavim, of the year that is just coming to a close.  

But before more on Torah, I have in mind a particular 10k from March 2015 in Louisville. It involved two ordinary folks who did extraordinary things: Asia Ford, a black mom, and Aubrey Gregory, a white cop. Asia entered the race and Aubrey worked the race.

Heads or Tails (Ki Tavo 5775)

Have you every flipped a coin to help make a decision? For some it is way of handing decision authority over to 'fate' or letting a coin toss seem like an expression of divine will. "Heads or tails" also are invoked at some Rosh Hashanah (Jewish new year) tables. Around some Rosh Hashanah (lit. 'head of the year') tables one might hear a wish for the new year to be made "a head and not a tail." 

That odd formulation has ancient roots in in this week’s Torah portion. When Moses is describing the benefits of positive engagement with the ways of the Jewish people, those benefits include becoming "a head and not a tail . . . and never the bottom."  (Deut. 28:13) Although this is voiced in the singular, some commentators hear it as a group aspiration: the Jewish people wish to be autonomous and set their own destiny. Or wish to inspire or lead other communities toward acts of justice and mercy.

One commentator, Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev (18th century Russia/Ukraine) reads it differently. He questioned why "tail" and "bottom" was included at all - if coming out a head was all that mattered, why did the text even need to say "not tail, not bottom."

Who Taught You to Ride a Bike? (Ki Teitzei 5775)

Who taught you how to ride a bike? My dad taught me. But it was two, dear graduate school classmates that taught my kids how to ride a bike. There is plenty that we learn from our parents. Yet, there are so many valuable lessons that we learn from other adults, mentors.  

When I ask students to raise their hands if someone other than one of their parents taught them how to ride a bike, or dribble a basketball, or drive a car, or bake challah, or get over being homesick, or play a musical instrument, or act with kindness -- nearly every student raises their hands. 

Consider all the lessons that each of us learned from someone other than our parents.  In our modern world no parent can do it alone and every person needs the coaching and encouragement of people other than our parents.  

Finding A Path Out of the Forest: Together Pursuing Justice and Peace (Shoftim 5775)

Yesterday was the first day of classes at JCHS. Every student took a slightly different path to arrive. Though we traveled along separate paths getting to school, we join together daily to form a single, unified community. 

The first day of school is the start of a year-long journey that will endure a lifetime. In that spirit it has become my custom to use themes developed in Tefillat Haderech ("traveler's prayer") to acknowledge each class of students. Tefillat Haderech expresses hope for a safe journey. The explicit destination of every journey, in that sense, is not the place but the path, a path that is whole, complete, harmonious, and full of peace.

Identity: Not So Black and White (Summer Reading 2015)

Each summer, as students engage their assigned summer reading, the entire JCHS professional community (educators and staff) also have assigned reading. This summer’s reading was Beverly Daniel Tatum’s Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria: And Other Conversations About Race. Her language can be stark at times, but it is also instructive.

Tatum’s framework of domination and subordination brings to mind a Talmudic legend about a vision that comes to Rav Joseph during a near-death experience. In his vision, he sees the dominant and subordinate in society switch places.  He sees those who are dominant in his world inverted to become subordinate in his vision, and vice versa. In the midst of his inversion vision, one group stays in the same, respected place in both worlds -- righteous scholars. When R. Joseph wakes his