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From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
February 17, 2012
This week’s Torah portion is Mishpatim. One of the most familiar verses is the mitzvah, “You shall not oppress the stranger for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”
Being strangers in Egypt is remote from our contemporary circumstances. Our rabbis of old were likewise challenged. They lived in the diaspora. It was not Egypt, but it was not the Holy Land, either. They lived in times and places where Jews were tolerated. They were permitted certain freedoms, but they never felt at home. As tolerated Jews, their past imposed upon them an indelible alien status.
The rabbis took a biblical teaching and turned it into a contemporary lesson for all time. How did they do it? They used to teach the following, “Do not scold your neighbor with a fault which is also your own.” Here, fault doesn’t mean blame; it means weakness or tragic flaw. To find the tragic flaw, we have to look deeply within ourselves to tap into our historical memory as Jews.
First, historically, we are bound to our ancestors’ struggle in Egypt. If there were ever a tragic flaw from which our people needed to be redeemed it was 430 years of slavery in Egypt. Torah tells us their hearts were “crushed by cruel bondage.” They were redeemed from there by God and they arrived at Sinai to receive Torah. The remedy for Egyptian slavery was Torah, itself. Torah isn’t an elixir that heals because we hold it; Torah is a means to freedom and peace because we live by it.
Second, the rabbi’s lesson is personal and timeless. The lesson, “Do not scold your neighbor with a fault which is also your own” speaks to us every day. Whatever proverbial Egypt we struggle in, today, doesn’t have to be permanent. Torah is our means to freedom and peace, too. Torah is our salvation.
I know that salvation is an unfamiliar word to most Jews, but it shouldn’t be. In the Tefilah, the central prayer that speaks of Abraham and Sarah, etc., it also speaks of God as our Savior and our Help. We are delivered by God through Torah and mitzvot. In Judaism, salvation is personal. We are not overcoming original sin; it doesn’t exist in Judaism. Rather, we are overcoming human imperfections and limitations by “holding fast to Torah” and living by its teachings because “all its paths are peace.”
The only original fault we live with as Jews is the memory of Egyptian slavery. When we recall it we overcome it by recognizing God as Redeemer and Savior. And, then, rather than “save” others which is not our mission, we can empathize with others who are held back by contemporary forms of bondage and work to win their freedom and peace. Is it hunger or homelessness they have to overcome? Is it spiritual emptiness they need to revisit?
Our Jewish historical memory and personal experiences are linked. We have the unenviable responsibility to carry the weight of all of it with us, and the remarkable ability to learn from it so that we might live by it. May we never go back to times of bondage in Egypt, or in any other land. May we remember and learn from the fault which is also our own, and let us never visit it upon anyone else. Lech L’shalom, may we and all God’s children enjoy freedom and peace.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
February 10, 2012
The forces of nature couldn’t have acted as swiftly as social networking media did in the case of Susan B. Komen’s debacle. Apart from the issue itself, the race to the resolution was something few of us have ever witnessed. By the time I turned on the evening news the same day, the matter had been addressed, redressed, and dressed down by anyone with an opinion anywhere in the world. Like a swiftly moving river, the force of it was stellar. The organization faced a preponderance of support in favor of women’s health needs and was prevailed upon to think again about its core mission.
In record time, social networking has become a democratizing force. Most notably, social networking has collapsed the traditionally hierarchical structure of corporations. It has permitted access to boardrooms where seats at the table used to be for members only. “Managing the message”, once the purview of corporate management, has been co-opted by those upon whom the message is worn. That is to say, the public doesn’t mind being branded by the Nike swoosh on its t-shirts, hats and shoes, or Pink ribbons it wears for the cause of breast cancer, but it’s no longer going to be a silent partner. For years, the public allowed free corporate advertising on their bodies, but today it comes with a price and it’s called social responsibility. In the past, corporate boards didn’t easily hear the public groundswell over child labor conditions in China, bank fees on transactions, or social health policy and the public didn’t care much about by-law changes in corporate binders. But, today, social networking has made the people’s voice loud and clear. One tweet, Facebook post, or YouTube video, and the world suddenly collapses into a small neighborhood where people you never knew are sitting virtually across the table from you.
More than ever, the public is feeling more connected to the brands they wear, eat, and promote. When Coca-Cola switched to a new recipe for Coke, the public protested and Coke Classic was born. But, it didn’t happen in less than a week. Today, we “like” our brands on Facebook and we’re invited by corporations to create our own commercials for them. For the larger public, it was inevitable that owning stock in a company would become less important than the “identity stock” the public invested in its favorite brands.
Beyond the social networking implications, the issue at the core of the Komen matter was social justice and women’s health. This, above all, won a reprieve in the public forum, and the insidious attempt to undo a much needed and valuable program for women’s health was rescued.
Technology can be ridiculed for its own insidious place in our life, but when it’s fashioned into good works it can also be the salvation of those who would otherwise never be heard. Everyone in this democracy can be heard, and, today, unlike just a short time ago, it can be done with a Tweet, a post or a YouTube. Imagine that. When the prophet Isaiah said, “And they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks,” he could not have known that the swords would be Smartphones that would cultivate seeds of understanding or that spears would be virtual messages sent wirelessly to their intended targets in the name of justice.
Seize the power in your hands. Find your voice. Then text it. Be part of the community that stands all over the world for justice, equality and peace.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
February 3, 2012
In 1975, I was a camper at the regional Reform Jewish summer camp in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin, called Olin-Sang Ruby Union Institute Camp (OSRUI). I loved summer camp. It was about Jewish time in real time. I remember the fun and the sports; I remember the friends, many of whom I still know today. But, I also remember and was moved by the worship. It wasn’t only praying among the trees while sitting on wooden benches, or the carved wooden Ark that made worship meaningful. It was the music. Not just any music, but a new brand that was written and sung and taught by a remarkable young woman named Debbie Friedman.
Debbie’s “Sing unto God” and “Shema” followed by “And Thou Shall Teach” spoke to me as a young person and stayed with me for years and years. From her days in Chicago and regional summer camp, came concerts, tapes, cds, and inspired followers who also picked up the guitar and began singing. Debbie Friedman awakened generations and thousands of people to the power of singable and accessible Jewish music for communal worship and personal prayer.
In the mid-1970’s, Debbie moved from Chicago to Houston, at Rabbi Karff’s invitation to join him in his new congregation, our beloved Beth Israel. Here, Debbie’s presence inspired many young people in children’s choirs and special performances. Beth Israel commissioned Debbie to write “And the Youth Shall See Visions” for our Confirmation classes. Ever since, Confirmation services have begun with the singing of this remarkable piece of music and lyrics.
Debbie’s career continued to flourish long after she left Houston, in 1984. We have continued singing with her especially on Shabbat, when we include “Mi Shebeirach” a prayer for health and healing which she wrote. One of her students remarked, “Debbie’s Mi Shebeirach has become our national anthem.” Indeed, it speaks to all of us every Shabbat; we count on it and we always will. Last year at this time, we sang Mi Shebeirach as we always do, but we added Debbie, herself, to our list. She was in critical condition in the hospital. Despite the hopes and prayers of countless fans and friends around the world, Debbie died. This week will be the first yahrtzeit anniversary of Debbie’s death.
Perhaps not coincidentally, Debbie died during the week of Parashat Beshalach (Exodus 13:17ff), which includes “The Song of the Sea” (Exodus 15). She wrote music to inspire us to sing “Mi Chamocha” (Ex. 15:11) and to dance with our timbrels to “Miriam’s Song”. This is her Torah portion and this is her legacy: to walk through life carrying with us the struggles that are part of man and woman, to be redeemed with God’s help to be free and develop our God-given talents, and to share in the revelation of Torah through study and teaching; and, by virtue of Debbie’s life, to sing not only familiar words but also to “sing unto God a new song.”
This Friday evening at 6:30pm, in the sanctuary, we will celebrate the Song of the Sea in a Sermon in Song, with Cantor Mutlu and me. We will honor Tom and Judy Crow for 35 years of devoted service to Beth Israel; and we will remember Debbie Friedman as we memorialize her name and recite Kaddish. Judaism’s strength is found not only in what we plan to do in the future, but also in what we remember about the past. The place where they are mingled is our heritage and our hope.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
January 27, 2012
In the course of my personal study, I discovered a Midrash, a rabbinic interpretation, of a familiar verse that opened my eyes to a new insight. It was “awesome” as our teenagers might say; it was an “aha” moment as we’ve sometimes described it. The burning bush has often captivated my attention; not for its pyrotechnic qualities, but for its unassuming platform for God’s presence. There, of all places, God, who is on high, eternal, and without measure, appeared to Moses in a thorn bush. But, why?
A familiar Midrash I like to teach and which I included in my book (God of Me, Jewish Lights Publishing, 2011), explains that if God could appear there, in a lowly place, then God could appear anywhere (Exodus Rabbah 11:5). It was the rabbis’ use of Midrash that explained why God would choose such a lowly thing from which to appear to Moses. After all, God, being God, could have appeared in more beautiful things like a sycamore tree, as they explained. The question that remained unanswered for me, until I learned about it recently, was, “Why a bush at all?” Aren’t there other humble things from which God could have appeared, like trees and simple places?
The Midrash that caught my attention explained it as follows: God appeared in the bush, because it was pure (Mekhilta de-Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai I:III). A thorn bush was pure? Indeed. The bush was the only place in nature where pagan gods were not assumed to appear. In the ancient world, gods were said to have appeared in trees and they were worshiped. They were “ashterot”, idols and talisman. The lowly bush was not worshiped. It was pure (tahor). God could appear there and God did.
The Midrash, unfamiliar to me until recently, awakened me to the idea that God appeared to Moses in a remarkable place not only because it proved God’s omnipresence, but also because it set God apart. And, now, I understand that God appeared in this place because it was unused by other gods in other faiths and untouched by references to other deities. The Midrash satisfied the rabbinic standard that sought purity in life and which upholds God’s sanctity. The rabbis sought purity and sanctity for themselves, too; they assumed that their own purity devolved from God’s. While a bush seems an unlikely place for God to appear, it had to be suitable or God wouldn’t have appeared there. What was remarkably suitable about it? Purity.
I still derive understanding from the Midrash that God’s appearance there in a lowly bush proves God’s presence everywhere. But, I value this lesson that helps me understand that God’s appearance at the beginning of our people’s redemption from slavery began in a sacred place. We have been taught, “All beginnings are hard”, but they can also be sacred starting points where fresh ideas and clear intentions help us enjoy a sacred journey. Our Israelite ancestors were freed from slavery and found their way to a better place and a life of Torah. When we are unencumbered by doubt or self-defeating tendencies, we can nurture fresh ideas and pure intentions, too. Our sacred beginnings start with faith in ourselves and God’s presence as a source of all that we need to persevere. Moses wasn’t entirely confident at the start, but he didn’t fail in his purpose. Our lives begin with blessing, not sin. What we make of our days can be blessings, too.
As Shabbat begins, consider: Sacred beginnings can lead to sacred journeys.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
January 20, 2012
Last Sunday, after religious school teaching and life-cycle events, I returned home to do one of my favorite Sunday afternoon activities. Lisa and I sit quietly in the family room. She watches football on TV, and I read my New York Times. She was cheering for the Texans and commenting on the game, while I was reading quietly and commenting on the articles.
One article in particular caught my attention. Matt Gross, writing on his recent trip to Israel, reflected on his trip, “I will go pretty much anywhere, anytime.” But, he admitted, “of the world’s roughly 200 nations, there was only one --- besides Afghanistan and Iraq (which my wife has deemed too dangerous) --- that I had absolutely zero interest in ever visiting: Israel.” Through the entire article I waited to read about one redeeming moment when he was awed by history, religious diversity, or modernity in an ancient land, but it never came. It struck me as utterly offensive and stunning. I wasn’t the only one. David Harris, Executive Director of the American Jewish Committee (AJC) read it and reacted to it in his blog. You have to read his blog, because it’s the only way to begin to fathom Matt Gross’ remarkably unaffected presence in the Holy Land.
Naturally, I’m curious to know your reaction. I’m also adamant about our own roles as travelers to Israel. I claim that we go not because we aim to move there, though some do. We go not because we are duty-bound, though a so-called pilgrimage to the Holy Land can fulfill life dreams. We go not because we long for a return to the Land, though walking in our ancestors’ footsteps awakens us intellectually and spiritually. The most reluctant travelers to Israel come away moved by the experience. They are awakened by the religious devotion of some and the modern Israeli lifestyle of many more. They are taken aback by the richness of the history and the archaeology that illuminates Biblical stories and events of the past. They are inspired by the tenacity of the western, democratic, modern, state of Israel, which, despite the conflict surrounding her, thrives and prospers. And, they are dedicated to returning home to report the facts and to dispel the myths.
I have lived and traveled in Israel. Matt Gross didn’t see Israel. He didn’t have to find God on his journey, but had he been more introspective and less narcissistic he would have possibly discovered something larger than himself, his friends and his schwarma (beef/lamb meat found in corner markets and served in pita --- delicious but not necessarily a spiritual experience). Matt owes himself another trip to see Israel again for the first time. Perhaps Matt would like to join us on our trip!?
But, first, you’re invited to join me, my wife, Lisa, Rabbi Scott, Cantor Mutlu, and Mike and Marcia Nichols, when we travel to Israel, June 10-19, 2012. It will surely be an experience of a lifetime. This year in Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, and sights north, south, east and west, will inspire you to write your own article about Israel. Go to www.beth-israel.org, and click on the link for Israel. Register today and join us. You will be INSPIRED!
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
January 13, 2012
From peace to calamity. That’s the transition we read about when we close Genesis and begin Exodus, this Shabbat. Genesis ends on these words, “Joseph died at the age of 110; and he was embalmed and placed in a coffin in Egypt” (Genesis 50:26). Exodus begins with the names of the sons of Israel (Jacob) who “came to Egypt with Jacob” (Exodus 1:1). They were prosperous there. Torah teaches, “But the Israelites were fertile and prolific; they multiplied and increased very greatly, so that the land was filled with them” (Exodus 1:7). Then we read the verse that changes everything, “A new king arose over Egypt who knew not Joseph” (Exodus 1:8). Thus, begins the span of Israelite slavery that would last for 430 years.
There is nothing bright about the Israelite’s experience in slavery. We recall its gruesome and evil history when we read this portion of Torah, and in spring when we tell the Passover story. However, the remarkable epoch also includes the roles of Moses, God’s presence, and God’s covenant with the Israelites. We learn that Moses, though “slow of speech and slow of tongue” (Ex.4:10), is a man of justice and compassion. It’s a perfect combination that enables him to fight for justice and to lead the people to freedom. God appears for the first time to Moses in a bush. Midrash explains that God appears to Moses in a lowly thorn bush to teach us that “if God can appear there, then God can appear anywhere” (Exodus Rabbah 2:5). It’s a perfect lesson for a time when God is needed in Egypt and in the wilderness. God also recalls the covenant made with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; and, God promises to go with Moses and lead the Israelites to freedom.
Though the turning point in the story takes a terrible detour under a ruthless Pharaoh, it provides great lessons, too. In short, our story of tragedy in Egypt, also led us to victory in a story about faith. “Crushed by cruel bondage” (Ex. 6:9), the Israelites, nonetheless, responded to Moses’ message of hope and leadership founded on God’s promise to redeem them from slavery. They followed Moses. It wasn’t a perfect journey. There was doubt and rebellion. But, there was also victory after the Israelites crossed the Red Sea and received the Ten Commandments at Mount Sinai. The Biblical epoch is not stripped of grief and despair in order to spare us anxiety and disbelief. Rather, Torah records it all. It is a gripping story of human creation, redemption and revelation. It combines every human emotion and nuance to teach us about life as it is and also as it can be.
The heritage of interpretation found in Midrash empowers us to study and to seek lessons for living. That is the Jewish way. Even today, in the midst of crisis or trouble, in addition to praying that everything will be okay, we still need to know the truth and the bottom line. We want to be part of the solution that comes through real work and effort. Belief is part of the process when it gives us confidence that our work and effort are not for naught. Our rabbis taught us, “Pray as if everything depends on heaven; do as if everything depends on you.” Indeed, it’s a covenant between God and us.
As Shabbat begins, count your blessings and value every experience for its meaning in your life.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
Make a note: January 20th, 6:30pm in the sanctuary – “Down Home Shabbat” a special musical Shabbat featuring our favorite melodies set against the backdrop of bluegrass and country instruments and harmonies.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
January 6, 2012
This is a serious year with serious issues. The national election is around the corner. The easy part will be surviving ten more months of campaign ads and election rhetoric. Right now, the difficult part is sifting through the Republican candidates’ messages. They’ve all addressed myriad issues facing our nation and our world. But, their devotion to the Republican Party line makes it difficult to find significant differences between them, especially on subjects like the economy, Washington power, the military, and deficits. Every candidate makes nearly similar claims. That’s not the case with subjects like abortion, immigration and death penalty. These are “third rail” topics --- if they touch them they risk political death at the hands of party loyalists. Only Rick Perry, who is down in the polls has distanced himself from the pack by denying women access to an abortion even in cases of incest and rape. Even staunch conservative Republicans are scratching their heads and asking, “Really?”
We have the right to choose our favorite candidates based on educated choices about their positions on everything facing our nation, politically, economically and socially. But, as Jewish men and women we also have an obligation to choose a candidate who can summon more than political will to govern; he must also summon the human will to see everybody as persons of value and worth. We are Jews who know the heart of the stranger, who are commanded to pursue justice, and who have been taught, “What is hateful to you, do not do to others.” Within these principles are solutions to the ills of our nation facing disproportionately increasing numbers of families and individuals falling closer to the poverty line.
This past week, I watched the “60 Minutes” interview with House Majority Leader Eric Cantor, a Republican. He’s a Jewish conservative Republican. On camera, his wife disagreed with his conservative position on gay rights and abortion rights. You didn’t have to be an expert to see that Cantor was bothered by his wife’s admission on national TV. Though she was once a Democrat, she “converted” to be a Republican. Eric Cantor strikes me as an authentic Republican who subscribes to its serious tenets about the economy and taxes, but is he really, privately, a socially conservative Republican who would deny or turn back progress on women’s and gay rights? The menorah on the shelf of their family room in the background where the interview was held hinted that in his Jewish past he had to have learned familiar lessons about extending compassion to the stranger, giving tzedakah to the needy, and Rabbi Hillel’s Golden Rule on peace-making.
Sadly and regrettably, Eric Cantor’s agenda has become less about conservative economic and social issues --- we’ve had Republican compromises on these issues in the past --- and more about the destruction (annihilation) of Obama’s presidency. Has it ever been uglier? Regrettably, their plan is failing the country. Gridlock in congress is destroying families and threatening their financial futures. Every day, more households are slipping under the poverty line and losing hope. Should they have to wait for relief until November 2012? In Judaism, suffering and poverty are not virtues. We can learn from difficult experiences, but they aren’t our goals.
I honestly don’t know how I’ll vote yet, but my Jewish identity will surely inform the choice I will make. I do know that we cannot afford leaders who are trapped by ideology and then succumb to it. We deserve statesmen who understand their party’s principles as a subset of a larger national outlook that views prosperity, justice, liberty, and peace as inherent virtues available to every human soul.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
December 30, 2011
We celebrated the last night of Hanukkah this past week. It’s always my favorite night because the Menorah is full of light. In a darkened room, the lights glow in ways that we don’t often appreciate anymore. Today, we take light for granted. In a city like Houston, the fourth largest city in America, the lights will always be on. There is no such thing as a dark night anymore. The glow of the city’s light can be seen for miles. Even observatories struggle to maintain darkness around their locations to be sure they can get an unobstructed view of the night sky.
It’s a sign of the times, but it’s not the only sign. For decades in Houston, it has been the trend that new homes and buildings replace old homes and buildings that are barely 30-50 years-old. It’s part of the culture of the west, to be on the cutting-edge and in synch with the pioneer spirit. Houston epitomizes it for better and for worse. We enjoy living in a city like Houston, where we live on the cutting edge of modernity. But, when we embrace our pioneer heritage, alone, we can’t always embrace a heritage that is bound up in bricks and mortar.
When we want to relate to the ancient or even the not-so-ancient, where can we go? For Jews, history is not only about 200+ short years of American history. To us, history takes us back to our Biblical roots. That’s where we find stories about the past, and insights into our future. We don’t glorify the past when we preserve it; rather, we honor it by learning from it. Insights into the future don’t foretell it, they inform it. It’s a perfect balance that permits us to have both our heritage and our modernity. To have it all, we have only to travel to Israel. In 14 hours, we can be in one place that is, at once, all about our past and our future. And both, at one and the same time, are exhilarating.
In Israel, we can see the remnants of ancient towns and the roots of Biblical events. We can visit the tunnels along the Western Wall that take us back to the time of Hillel. We can see the remains of the wars of independence and freedom. We can also see the centers of industry that make Israel a critical leader in technology in the world, today. We can see holy religious sites of great world religions. And, we can see that Israel is a vibrant place where Jewish life is truly thriving in the present.
On June 10-19, 2012, I will lead our Congregation Beth Israel trip to Israel, with chairs Marcia and Mike Nichols, Rabbi Adrienne and David Scott, and Cantor Daniel Mutlu. It will be a full experience from north to south, and east to west. It will be political, religious, social, technological, and cultural. Most important, it will be community building for all who attend. Registration is now open. You can review the itinerary and details on our Beth Israel website at www.beth-israel.org. Click the box on the right side of the home page and begin your journey that will bring you to Israel for the trip of a lifetime.
As the new year 2012 comes into view, give yourself a gift you’ll cherish the rest of your life: a trip to Israel. “Next year in Jerusalem,” is not just a saying at the end of the Seder; it’s a hope we can make real this year, right now.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom and a healthy and prosperous 2012.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
December 23, 2011
Three days/two nights were on our itinerary for our wilderness journey to a Texas animal resort with our four children ages 13 through 21. In a Suburban and a sedan, we loaded up food to grill and games to play. Three hours later, we arrived after driving all morning in the rain. The long drought over the summer gave way to seasonal rains. The proprietor told us how lucky we were that it had finally rained. We weren’t so sure. We made several trips from our vehicles through the mud, up the stairs, and into the bungalow that sleeps six --- two comfortably. The bungalow’s deck overlooked the animals that came with our wilderness experience. Fairly up close and through one pair of shared binoculars we observed three pecking ostriches, one hyperactive zebra, one lost camel, one confused giraffe, and several prancing deer. It didn’t take long to anticipate their journeys as they wandered along familiar paths over the plains and into the woods. As dark fell, we settled in, started the grill, and looked forward to a night on the Serengeti.
We also anticipated the first night of Hanukkah. Who packed the menorah? I thought Lisa packed it; she thought I was in charge of all ritual matters. No menorah. But, I had my iPhone, and the iPhone had an app for a menorah. We gathered around the table, readied ourselves for the app to spring to life, and watched in hi-tech amazement as the menorah glowed with the light of the shamash and one light for the first night. Another push of a button and the music played to accompany us in singing the Hanukkah blessings! It was almost perfect and there was no way we could burn down the bungalow.
Our Hanukkah on the Serengeti folded into stories on the deck about the children when they were little. Some made them laugh and others made them turn red. To Lisa and me, they were all good stories. When it grew cold, we moved into the big room for charades that lasted the rest of the night.
Hanukkah began with only one small, virtual light; but even in the absence of candles and a menorah, we didn’t lose sight of the reason we were there. The winter holidays bring the older children home from college. And, while they still want to join us, we capture time with them by putting boundaries around the family for moments shared and special memories. It works for us.
The second day we set out for a nearby town. Lisa and I dragged our children through antique stores and old town squares. We found an old rotary phone and showed them how we used to dial it. Even they recognized that anybody with a “9” in their number required “a lot of work.” They thought the antique Royal typewriter was a torture device from the Middle Ages. Compared to keyboards, today, they might be right. By the end of the street and the last antique store, we had worn them down. It was time for lunch and everyone welcomed a sit-down restaurant and full menu.
Returning to the bungalow was not the highlight of the day, but we made it through another night and aimed for home when we awoke. We schlepped everything back to the vehicles taking care to walk our own familiar paths around the mud and through the grass. Before we left, we threw some feed over the deck railing for the pecking ostriches and took one last look through the binoculars at the animals as they showed up for work and moved to their familiar stations.
Hanukkah on the Serengeti is an acquired taste. Hanukkah at home on the second night with memories we brought home with us are something we will always treasure. I know you have stories to share with your children and grandchildren. You never know when you’ll need them to fill the hours with laughter and ways to remember the blessings that endure season after season and year after year.
From my family to yours, Happy Hanukkah and Shabbat Shalom.
Join us for Hanukkah Family Shabbat service at 6:30pm
December 23rd, Congregation Beth Israel Sanctuary.
Songs, lighting the menorah, latkes and fun for everyone.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
December 16, 2011
On the first night of Chanukah, December 20, 2011, in the darkness of the evening, one small candle plus the shamash (head candle) can hardly brighten the space around the Menorah. It reminds me of the rabbinic lesson, “All beginnings are hard.” Then comes the second night, and the third, and so on. The Menorah fills with light enough to brighten the space around it and the room where it proudly stands.
In the times of Zechariah the Prophet, the project of rebuilding the Temple in Jerusalem was getting underway. It was no small feat. Delays and overruns impeded progress. But, the prophet Zechariah spoke to Zerubbabel, the lay leader at the head of the community, “Not by might, nor by power, but by My spirit!” God’s promise inspired Zerubbabel. They all came to know that might and power were small matters compared to God’s spirit. Further, Zechariah said, “Zerubbabel’s hands shall complete it…Does anyone scorn a day of small beginnings?”
In addition to a victory over the ancient Greeks who defiled the Temple in Jerusalem, Chanukah unites the Jewish people in a unique covenant with God. Today, the Menorah still symbolizes our people’s victory over challenges to Jewish life in all ages. The prophet’s words speak to us at this season. “A day of small beginnings” marks the dim light of two small candles in the Menorah, and the small steps we take in new directions. Just because every beginning is hard, doesn’t mean that we can’t achieve new goals. Like the small glow of the Menorah on the first night of Chanukah, a new light of inspiration and creativity is sparked within us. As the lights of the Menorah grow, so do the skills and abilities we find ourselves enjoying as time unfolds.
Life changes fast. Events force us to acknowledge life’s blessings and burdens. More often than not, we are resilient in the face of life’s burdens and unexpected events. We don’t succumb to life’s hardships; we gather our resources and assemble a team to turn burdens into blessings. At first, small steps are taken and then bigger steps are made. Milestones are reached and resilience is replaced with fortitude. We look back and see how far we have come. Then, like the shamash lends its light to each candle, we share our strength with others now taking their first small steps.
God plants within us more than we know. The hard part about beginnings is believing that what we need is already in us. The Chanukah lights and the prophet’s words help us see and remember that God’s spirit is with us to illuminate our path and to inspire us along the way.
Tuesday night, December 20th , light the Menorah. The lights tell our Jewish story. We are a resilient people whose fortitude has permitted us to thrive in every generation. On Friday night, December 23rd, we will celebrate Chanukah together in the sanctuary at 6:30pm. With great music and the Chanukah story, we’ll gather before the Maltz Menorah and stand in the glow of all its lights. God’s spirit abides among us. May God’s gifts shine in us now and for ever.
From my family to yours, Happy Chanukah and Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
December 9, 2011
If I asked you to describe a person of faith, you might describe a person of age and wisdom, because faith is supposed to come after years of seeking and sometimes finding meaning in life’s experiences. You might be right, but you could be wrong. Judaism doesn’t equate age with wisdom. They can go together, but it isn’t a perfect formula. Rather, Judaism identifies faith in anyone who regularly seeks greater understanding of who they are intended to be in covenant with their community and God.
In Torah, this Shabbat, we read about Jacob’s wrestling encounter with an angel. Before the encounter was over, Jacob’s name was changed to Israel, because he wrestled with a man, presumably an angel of God, and prevailed. Thus, we are all Israel, “Yisrael,” because we, descendants of Jacob, are also “God-wrestlers.” That is, we are prone to ask, demand, inquire and interpret our Torah teachings for greater and deeper understanding. And, through such inquiry our faith doesn’t wither, instead it thrives. In fact, our doubting and inquiry strengthen our faith. Through the exchange of information and the process of inquiry we arrive at important reasons to remain faithful to our covenant with God. Very few have been lost in the process of inquiry. More often, many have found meaning, and through it, faith.
If you ever wondered aloud or silently about God, mitzvah, ritual, ethics, or Torah, for example, then you could call yourself a faithful Jewish man or woman. If you were firm in your belief but questioned events that seemed contrary to a world filled with God’s creative acts, then you could also call yourself a faithful Jewish man or woman. Only one who claims to have perfect faith and never inquires of Torah or Jewish teachings for greater understanding of human inclinations or God’s ways, would fail to be a truly faithful Jew. Since Jacob, our Jewish heritage demands that we ask, doubt and inquire of it for many reasons, not the least of which is that the process enables us to make progress in our constant search for greater faith. We also owe it to the next generation to ask, so that they might benefit from our insights when they embark on their own search.
There are no slack days when it comes to our pursuit of faith. Jewish life is a constant rhythm of study, worship, good deeds, and rest. God willing, our week has been filled with good deeds that reflect our best understanding of Jewish ethics in business and community; we’ve spent some time examining Jewish insights into current events; and we’ve chosen the end of this week to make time for Shabbat. We’re all people of faith when we admit that, whether or not we are “observant” Jews, by definition, we are all people with “inquiring” Jewish hearts and minds. Our task today is to ask and inquire; our task for all time is to keep the faith!
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
Mark your calendars NOW for our Chanukah Family Service in the Sanctuary, December 23, 6:30pm. Come with your whole family and go home with Chanukah lights!
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
December 2, 2011
Is it just a sign of the times? Over the holiday weekend, our house was full the way it used to be. All four children were home. My mother was visiting for the week. I walked into the family room where everyone was sitting, together. What I saw there was a sight I had never before seen. Everybody, including my mother, was staring into their laptop, iPad, or iPhone. The room was quiet except for the barely perceptible tapping sound of fingers on keyboards and screens. I stood in front of all of them and began to say, “I want you all to close your screens and devices; let’s watch TV…” and then I stopped. TV was just another bigger screen. I felt defeated, but not for long.
Bowed heads over computer screens and devices only appeared to be a bad sign of the times. But, it wasn’t. It was a sign of the way things are and where they are going. In actuality, the children were doing homework, window shopping and playing games; my mother was reading a book on her iPad2 (she loves to read and now the print is adjustable), and even I found a seat and began to play “Words with Friends” and “Scrabble” with unknown opponents and then with my son, who sat across the room waiting for my move. Ironically, the TV, once the mainstay of households, was ignored. The internet has become much more interesting, educational, and interactive.
Young people are taking to all the new devices like fish to water. In some places like the Shlenker School, they’re learning in classrooms on iPads. Imagine how these devices in their young hands will inspire the world they’ll build with increasingly changing technology. When they come of age, iPads will be like Model T’s in the auto world.
Older people are not far behind. Those who don’t resist it quickly find that the internet is a vital link to their family and grandchildren who live around the block or across the world. A “mouse” is already cumbersome and a desktop computer feels like a dinosaur to those who own a touch screen device. Today, connecting via the internet is an intuitive experience. It doesn’t make older people feel older; it makes them feel part of the world around them. The goal is to participate. If you don’t agree, then next time you want to change the TV channel get up and go to the set and turn the dial.
There are signs of the times all around us. If we’re merely bystanders then the signs will look like blurs to us as they move quickly past us. But, if we move with the times we’ll see that the signs are easier to make out.
By the way, at the end of the day my children and my mother closed their laptops and turned off their devices long enough to sit around the table and play an old-fashioned board game. We rolled the dice, moved our pieces, and read the cards aloud. Nothing buzzed, beeped or whistled and we had a lot of fun.
Being a Reform Jew is about being modern and Jewish at the same time. It’s my favorite part of being a Reform Jew. I love Judaism. I love modernity. What a remarkable time we live in. I want to read from my Kindle on Shabbat, and I want to tell my children in college that we can Skype or “Facetime” when I get home from services. Is there ever a time you and I don’t want to see our children? Especially on Shabbat! They’re all signs of the times. Thank God.
From my digital family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
REMEMBER: Shabbat Chazzanoot, Friday, Dec 2nd, 6:30pm, Sanctuary.
Special Music service featuring Cantor Daniel Mutlu.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
November 25, 2011
“How not to win the Jewish vote” was the headline of the article by Michael Medved in USA Today on Monday, November 21, 2011. It caught my attention. In the article, Medved writes, “Republican identification as the more viscerally, consistently pro-Israel party won’t attract American Jews as powerfully as they’ll feel repelled by the GOP image as the more outspokenly religious party --- and particularly the political home of the enthusiastic Christian Evangelicals.”
Medved is right. There isn’t any political aspirant who wouldn’t support Israel and its relationship with the United States. You know the drill: it’s the only democratic, western, and modern state in the tumultuous Middle East, and the only true ally we have. Assuming, then, that all GOP candidates hold this position and wouldn’t negotiate it, there must be another litmus test that might separate them from potential Jewish votes.
The single issue that would test even the most secular Jew would be a candidate’s outspoken religious message, and Medved means the Christian evangelical one. His article reminded me of an event that Lisa and I attended many years ago at Minute Maid Park, where a popular Houston preacher led a prayer on the occasion of George H.W. Bush’s birthday. Sitting with Jewish friends who invited us to join them, the preacher said, and I paraphrase, “Those who don’t join us in prayer to our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, please allow those of us who do to offer our thanks.” I remember feeling shocked; I turned to Lisa and remarked how alienated I suddenly felt for the first time in my life. It was a foreboding sign of the religious chasm that was growing in our country and with deep roots in Texas.
Years later, when Rick Perry supported and attended the August 2011 event at Reliant Stadium to pray for rain, it offended Jews and mainline Christians, alike. As a keen observer noted last summer, Rick Perry prayed for rain and the state burned. However, on Yom Kippur 2011, following a day of solemn prayer, worshipers exited Beth Israel and saw a magnificent rainbow in the sky after the first day of rain we had had in many months. Obviously, it’s not a contest; but their noxious religious boundaries which are nothing new to us will be --- should be --- reasons Jews don’t vote for any candidate who opposes our Jewish positions on matters beyond Israel. In America, issues such as abortion, civil unions, women’s rights, comprehensive immigration reform, education, health care, and tax reform are all causes that carry with them formidable Jewish points of view with roots in Torah, not Texas.
I’m not supposed to use my pulpit for partisan politics, but a Blog for religious rights seems terribly appropriate in our country that takes a cue from Torah, Leviticus 25:10, “Proclaim liberty throughout the land for all its inhabitants.” This year so much is at stake and not just for the 99%. America needs a leader who can reach 100% of our nation’s men, women and children. Full from Thanksgiving, it’s time to preserve the reasons we are all grateful Americans, by supporting candidates who speak for everyone, no matter how they pray. Tell anyone who asks, that God hears Jewish prayers and Jewish votes count.
From my family to yours, Happy Thanksgiving and Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
November 18, 2011
Thanksgiving is around the corner. You can tell that Thanksgiving is coming because the stores are decorated for Christmas. I know that doesn’t make any sense, but neither do Christmas store displays that begin in October. Nevertheless, the quintessential American holiday of Thanksgiving is coming and it’s one of our favorite times of year.
This year in my house, my four children will be home, three from college and one who thinks she’s an only child soaking up all her parents’ love. Well, some days she really is. And, my mother will be visiting for the first time without my father. Since his death, we’ve been anticipating what Thanksgiving will be like without him after so many years with them both. We can’t wait to see my mother, but when I pick her up at the airport it’s going to be one of those “firsts” we’ve been talking so much about. But, I am confident that after some tears, we’re going to dedicate this Thanksgiving to the gifts of his life and the cherished memories we still share. Something of him is not gone, and the closeness we’ve come to feel in the family is part of the thanks we’ll give when we gather this week. I know that many of you will do the same when you remember your loved ones at Thanksgiving, too.
As you come around your table, this year will be different in ways that are unique to your family circle. Some are gone, but others have joined you. There are new babies, new sons and daughters-in-law, and new friends. Our tables always seem to have room for one more chair and one more person to fill it. It’s the nature of the holiday. Some families will be coming around the table in the hospital where a family member is recuperating. Thanksgiving happens everywhere, not just in the dining room. Where family can be together in life, reasons to give thanks can be found.
Before the Turkey is carved and eaten, please take time to share words of thanksgiving. Let everyone share what’s in their hearts. Or, perhaps you might find meaning in one of the texts below. These citations are from original sources and from an anthology of Jewish quotations (1956), which I saved from a heap of books. Take a look. You’ll recognize many of them. Share them if you wish.
- “It is good to give thanks to God.” Psalm 92.2
- “Be not like those who honor their gods in prosperity and
curse them in adversity. In pleasure or pain, give thanks!” Akiba, Mekilta to
Exodus 20.20
- “Lord, I thank You for the goodness of growth, I thank you
for the slice of bread and the prayerful mood.” Ben Amittai.
- “Who directed the first prayer of thanksgiving to God? A
woman, Leah, when she cried out in the fullness of joy, ‘Now again will I
praise God!’”
- “If a Jew breaks a leg, he thanks God he did not break both
legs; if he breaks both, he thanks God he did not break his neck.” A Yiddish
Proverb
- “As long as the soul is within me, I will give thanks unto
You, O Lord, my God and God of my fathers.” Talmud, Berachot 60b; Union
Prayerbook Book
From my family to yours, Happy Thanksgiving and Shabbat Shalom.
P.S. Mark your calendar for December 2nd, and Shabbat Chazzanut (Ḥahz-ah-NOOT), a music Shabbat dedicated to Cantorial Arts, 6:30pm, in the sanctuary, www.beth-israel.org.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
November 4, 2011
We’re going to Israel! Congregation Beth Israel’s trip to Israel is planned for June 10-19, 2012. The details are now available on our website at www.beth-israel.org. Click on the “Our Communities” menu and you’ll find a link to “Join us on our Trip to Israel”. You’ll find the itinerary, a registration form, and lots of information.
Why go now? There is no time like the present to travel to Israel. Sometimes we say we’ll wait until the political climate is better. Nu? The political climate has been thorny for thousands of years and you’re going to wait until it subsides? Our trip is always safe. We never go beyond reasonable boundaries and security is always a top priority.
Who’s going? You’re going and you’re bringing your friends and family with you. This is a trip for first-timers and those who have gone in the past. We have a two-track system that will allow familiar travelers to see sights they haven’t seen and for first-timers to have the trip of a lifetime. In addition, we aim to see technological and innovative companies and demonstrations that make Israel a part of the past and the future.
Where are we going? From north to south, and east to west, we cover a lot of ground in a short amount of time. Our hotels are first class, our meals are first rate, and our time is planned to provide meaningful experiences at every point along the way.
What are we going to do? We’ll use all our senses when we’re in Israel. We’ll see, smell, touch, hear, and taste what we’ve never known and what we’ll never forget. We’ll worship, too, but not in the familiar ways. In Jerusalem, looking over the Old City, on Masada, at Yad Vashem, and in the hills of the Galilee, we’ll find words deep in our hearts and souls we could only find in Israel.
Perhaps you have questions before you sign up. Please call me or Marcia Nichols, our trip chair. We’re eager to talk to you and answer your questions.
It just so happens that this week we read in Torah from Genesis 12:1, where God says to Abram (Abraham), “Go forth from your native land and from your father’s house to the land that I will show you.” It’s a good sign that it’s time for us to leave home (though not forever) to visit the land that God showed our ancestors. What’s more, commentaries on this portion suggest that Abraham didn’t leave just for God; rather, he left for himself. The Hebrew “Lech-lecha” teaches that Abraham learned more about himself when he valued the journey and its purpose, personally. How could he have remained the same after such an experience? The Hebrew tells us that he didn’t. He was changed forever. This land flowing with milk and honey, technology and prosperity is for us to see and cherish. What do you hope to see there? How do you hope the experience might inspire you?
In advance of our trip, we will hold classes to prepare and even learn a little Hebrew. This is a unique and fun experience we don’t want you to miss. “Next year in Jersualem” is not so far off as you once thought. My wife, Lisa, and I look forward to leading the trip and to welcoming you in Israel.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
October 28, 2011
The story of Noah is familiar to us. We began reading it as children. It was then that we learned how God saved all the creatures from a destructive flood after concluding that the world was a rotten place. And, later God promised never to destroy the earth again by flood. The sign of that promise was the rainbow. Today, we’re still in awe of the beautiful colors that stretch over the earth on a sunny day after a rain shower.
A remarkable thing about Torah is how succinctly it said God would not destroy the world by flood waters ever again. That’s a comfort. But, God only made the promise about water. What about the means God gave us to destroy the earth by our own devices? We’re so smart we’ve brought about an age of nuclear weapons, world hunger, and global warming, all by ourselves.
Like God, in our own way we can promise not to destroy the earth again, too. Torah is rife with teachings on how to tend to the earth and its people with greater compassion. We’ve been taught to “make peace where there is strife,” how to “feed the hungry and clothe the naked,” and how to let the land rest after years of cultivation. In some measure, we are succeeding in making a positive difference that contributes to our well-being on earth. We do participate in peace-building programs. We do contribute food and clothing to those who are in need. And, we do take a vacation to restore ourselves. We’re being “green” in many ways; and, yet, an honest person would admit that there is more to do.
God’s rainbow that is set over the earth, even if it can be explained scientifically, is a marvelous symbol of God’s promise to us. Now, it’s time to send signs of our own to express our promises to God. Our signs come in the form of our deeds, and they aren’t only symbolic.
Houston is a model community for interfaith activities. I recommend that you peruse our website (www.beth-israel.org) to participate in Beth Israel’s Tikkun Olam (repair the world) activities, volunteer programs, and eco-friendly events; contribute to the Houston Food Bank; or the Good Works Fund at Beth Israel, which supports Braes Interfaith Ministries Food Pantry, and other community based social service agencies. The amount of hunger and need among us has grown steadily in the last two years, alone. And, everyone has something to give. Even if it’s a little, it’s more than what many have for themselves and their children, today.
We can be partners with God to achieve sacred ideals. Wouldn’t you agree that we can realize God’s “cosmic design” through active personal participation in “Tikkun Olam”? Besides being a core Jewish value, it’s a demonstration of our personal power to use our technological and industrial advances to inspire and affect a larger good beyond our selves.
In our drought conditions, it’s highly unlikely that we’re in danger of a Biblical style flood, but it’s highly likely that we can serve as partners in “Tikkun Olam,” by being good stewards of the earth that has been entrusted to us for the sake of all its inhabitants. Ask yourself, what sign can you send God to demonstrate that you are committed to making a difference in the world around you?
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
October 21, 2011
So much in the news, it’s hard to know where to begin. From my vantage point, we just celebrated Simchat Torah, when we begin reading Torah from the first word, “Bereisheet”, in the beginning when God created. It’s always a poignant time for the Jewish community. This year, it’s also a poignant time for the world as we absorb the enormity of significant world events.
First, Gilad Shalit, held captive for five years by Hamas, was released this week. The Torah portion, Bereisheet (Genesis 1:1), heralds a new beginning for him and his family. Literally, he and his family are experiencing the creation of a new day and their first Shabbat, together. As he and his family retreat to restore their wholeness, their “shalom,” we wrestle with the conditions Israeli leaders met to win his release. I know that some wonder about the cost of releasing 1000 prisoners for one Israeli. It sounds like an incalculable equation, but a close analysis reveals that it’s founded on a deep-rooted principle to redeem the captive. Gilad’s life is invaluable for its own sake. His life also symbolizes the devotion Jews have for the mitzvah to save a life and to choose it over any other options. Israelis redeemed a real hero; a man who served to defend his country. The prisoners are criminals of every stripe and they deserve to remain behind bars. But, whether or not they are imprisoned doesn’t change the reality on the ground. They always posed a risk for Israelis. To redeem Gilad, the prisoners became chips anted up by Israelis to fulfill their obligation to live by Torah, not die by Torah. The worst criminals remained incarcerated; even Torah teaches not to take certain calculable risks. We wish for Gilad and the entire Shalit family the strength to overcome this ordeal and to contribute to the epic struggle for peace to make a difference in Israel and in all places where people yearn to be free.
Second, Mohamar Ghadafi was killed. The brutal dictator whose legacy of terror is known to everyone has finally been silenced. Some might raise political questions about the process that led to his demise, but no one will deny the Libyan people their right to pursue their own future founded on greater democratic principles. The aftermath of this week’s events will not bring immediate peace, but in Ghadafi’s absence there exists the possibility that out of the hands of those who invested themselves in the fight there will come real and enduring freedom.
Finally, let’s take a cue from the power of this week’s events and their juxtaposition with the first chapter of Torah. Big events took place; the world changed in significant ways; not like earthquakes or hurricanes, but tectonic, nonetheless. They move and shake us out of our complacency and force us to see the world differently. Gilad Shalit is free and the Jewish people celebrates! A victory for Israel and Torah! And, in Libya, a country’s people revolt in the streets in the name of freedom and liberty. It’s not a new story, but it’s one we can relate to if we recall the building blocks of America. Is something beginning to happen (no pun intended)? In geology, time and pressure are required to turn raw stuff into gems. I see a parallel here. Not eons but years have passed and enough pressure has been applied to shift our orientation and see not only what the world is but also what the world can be.
Thankfully, a week of extraordinary events ends with Shabbat. May this Shabbat in the Torah reading cycle be as sweet as the first, and may it be a foretaste of greater rest and peace throughout the world.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
October 14, 2011
Just a
week after Yom Kippur, we’re still feeling the warmth and spirit of our season
of repentance. Thank you for your emails, letters, and calls you shared about
how much the worship services, sermons and music spoke to you this year. All
the rabbis and cantor appreciate your feedback and thoughtfulness.
We enjoyed, too.
From solemn days we turn to a joyous holiday. Sukkot is here and we’ve been spending time in the Sukkah. The lulav and etrog, and the fruit hanging from the roof and walls of the Sukkah tell us about the story of our ancestors and the Torah lessons we still observe, today. The fragile Sukkah is like the fragile nature of our life. We aren’t without inherent strength, like the Sukkah that stands sturdily for seven days. But, we’re also in need of faith, because like the Sukkah, our strength ebbs and flows. Faith is part of our enduring strength. When Sukkot ends we’ll celebrate Simchat Torah. This year, we’ll celebrate on Wednesday evening, October 19th, at 6:30 p.m. in the Gordon Chapel. What is Simchat Torah?
Following Yom Kippur, when the Gates of Repentance close as the Neilah (concluding) service ends, our rabbis teach that there is still time for repentance. The proverbial gates are not yet locked up tight. The goal is to wait until everyone has had every opportunity to repent and be sealed in the “Book of Life.” I’ve always believed that this is a great symbol of God’s compassion. It reflects God’s unconditional love of our people. Of course, there has to be a boundary, but it serves the covenant we make with God, by giving everyone the time they need to enter the Gates.
On Simchat Torah, the gates are finally closed. We celebrate the end of the Torah with the last words of Deuteronomy, and the beginning of the Torah with the first few words of Genesis. As we reach the end, take note of the last letter of Torah. It’s a “Lamed.” And, as we open to the Book of Genesis, take note of the first letter of Torah. It’s a “Bet.” When the letters are joined, from end to beginning, we form the word, “L-B”, or Lev (bet becomes vet), which means Heart.
Torah is at the heart of our people. Like the human heart that beats inside us and gives us life, the Torah beats within the Jewish people and sustains us. The heart is not about love and emotions. The heart is about wisdom and sincerity. To do something “with all our heart,” is the point. We also learn, “Eretz Yisrael b’li Torah, hi k’guf b’li neshama,” The Land of Israel without Torah, is like a body without a soul. The heart and soul of our people is Torah.
On Simchat Torah, we celebrate the privilege to begin reading our sacred teachings again. Over the years, students have asked me, “Do we have to read them AGAIN?” The answer is that the teachings are the same, but we have changed. In our lifetime, we’ll read the lessons differently, because we’ll bring new experiences to bear and we’ll find new insights. Torah is a living teaching. It inspires us.
As we mark this time, we will say together, “Chazak, chazak, v’nitchazeik,” Be strong, be strong, and let us strengthen each other.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom and Chag Sameiach, a happy holiday.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
September 23, 2011
Less than a week from now, we will be gathering for Rosh Hashanah and wishing each other a happy New Year 5772. It’s an ideal we wish for each other; we’re quite sincere and hopeful about it. Naturally, there are extenuating circumstances that get in our way. Not the least of which is what is happening in the Middle East.
Writing this piece a day before the vote in the UN on the matter of a Palestinian state doesn’t make it easier for me to comment, but it doesn’t prevent me, either. There is no question in my mind that the vote is an unnecessary and complicating strategy. While no one disagrees that negotiations for peace could be going better (when have they truly gone well?), bringing the issue to the UN, rather than directly to opposing sides, is simply wrong.
I listened to portions of the President Obama’s speech to the UN in the time that I had in the car. It was compelling in some ways and disappointing in others. While I listened carefully for inspiring and hopeful sound bytes, I must admit that there was one sound byte I truly wanted the UN and the world to hear from our President; but I didn’t hear it. I don’t believe he said it. In addition to expectations that Palestinians and Israelis deserve to build a future founded on important and particular principles dear to each respective people, the Israelis have been denied by the radical factions in Palestinian leadership the very right to exist. Enough banter and diplomatic-speak; it is time to tell the Palestinian radical leaders that they must eliminate the annihilation of Israel from their speeches and plans. Why can’t our President say it? It should be a game-stopper in any expectation that the UN and the world will ever work with Palestinian negotiators. And, though Netanyahu has been tougher than necessary in some areas of negotiation, why should he let down his guard and his people’s security if his negotiating partners want nothing less than the destruction of Israel?
First things first. We should identify as radicals any person or group that denies Israel the right to exist. Measure your neighbors and your co-workers against this standard. There are many roads to peace and the U.S. and Israel have described many over the years. But, no one in their right mind has ever described a solution that is predicated on the destruction of Israel. So, when you ask your neighbor or your co-worker if they believe that Israel should be destroyed, let it serve as a common denominator that either puts you and them on the same heading towards peace, or it doesn’t. It could be the beginning of deep conversations about the myths and facts on the Middle East. Many people believe they understand the sentimental cause conveyed by the Palestinian leadership, but they don’t understand its more sinister underpinnings.
Second, Israel and the Jewish people will live. Even a simple song is fundamental to our hope for peace with our enemies. We purposely and thoughtfully learn to sing songs like “Od Yavo Shalom Aleinu,” We Don’t have Peace Yet (loosely translated) which includes the words for peace, Shalom and Salaam, in Hebrew and Arabic, respectively. Our children sing the hopes of both peoples. But, we also sing, “Am Yisrael Chai” the people of Israel lives. I don’t expect our enemies in the world to sing with us, but they should know that we will never stop singing it for ourselves.
Finally, as the New Year comes, I will be speaking on Erev Rosh Hashanah about the Middle East situation and our congregation vis-à-vis Israel. There is never a last word but there is always more to say on the subject. Let’s include in our prayers this year a hope for Israel’s peaceful future and for the reasonable minds that our world desperately needs for the confidence, security and goodness we want to share with everyone in the New Year 5772.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
September 16, 2011
We’re getting close to that time of year when we arrive at Temple early to get a good parking spot and the best seat for services. For most of us it’s a familiar time of year that’s filled with great expectations for beautiful music, meaningful messages, and personal contemplation. For some of you it’s also the most confounding time of year. Separate from every other day of the year, you suddenly find yourself compelled to attend worship; Compelled, because it still feels foreign to you even after all these years. Why?
Among the reasons is the simple fact that praying to or with God is not necessarily consistent with your ideas about faith, in general, and Judaism, in particular. So, before you arrive, let me suggest that it’s time to revisit your image of God in your life.
I want you to read my book, “God of Me: Imagining God throughout Your Lifetime” ( www.JewishLights.com , 2011). It’s not about me; it’s about you and your relationship with One larger than you. If you’re seeking God who hears you, lives with you, honors you, and strengthens you, then there’s a reason for taking time before the High Holidays to prepare. The dormant God image from childhood isn’t going to satisfy you as an adult. Your needs for faith and hope are much larger than they were years ago.
To begin, you have to imagine that God is everywhere. In the familiar Torah story about the Burning Bush, God appeared to Moses from the midst of a bush that burned unconsumed. It was an unusual sight. The rabbis-of-old posed the question, “Why did God appear to him from a thorn bush? Why not something more beautiful like a sycamore tree?” They taught, “If God could appear in a lowly thing, then God could surely appear anywhere, including something spectacular” (p.13). It applies to physical locales like the beautiful mountains and personal moments with your families. It also applies to times when you feel blessed or grateful, and when you’re feeling lonely or abandoned. God is there.
In Judaism, God is not found. God is sought (p109). It’s a covenant that finds us seeking and needing one another. It’s also a covenant that is never broken; more often it is only in need of some repair. Like coming before a parent, God loves unconditionally. Now, at this time of year, we all come as far forward as we can, and God comes the rest of the way. Yes, we can encounter God anywhere. And, on the High Holidays, you and I encounter God in the congregational setting where shared wants, needs, hopes and ideals are expressed in liturgy and song. It’s the most unique hour of the year and it welcomes us all to turn what is unfamiliar into that which is more special than anything else we have known.
The High Holidays give you room to reach with your heart and our hands to be more and to do more. Now, God of YOU is part of the plan that helps you find within yourself what you were created with from birth --- strength, gifts, talents, courage, faith and hope.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
September 9, 2011
Ten years ago, on 9/11/2001, the country sat in shock as it watched or lived through the destruction of thousands of lives and the lives they touched. It was gruesome and horrifying. Years followed with enumerable questions about the event and wars to seek answers. We thought we would find justice along the way. I don’t believe that we’ve found answers or justice yet. Not even the death of Osama bin Laden has satisfied me. My feeling is that it hasn’t satisfied you, either. It’s a start, but it’s far from over.
In retrospect, our country has never fully recovered from it. In 2001, we were told by George W. to pretend that we were normal. We were told to go shopping, to go to school, and to travel as usual. It was abnormal behavior for anyone involved in a tragic life-changing event. We should have mourned more. Then we should have participated in rebuilding our nation’s psyche. Every faith tradition teaches their members to sacrifice something in order to rebuild a broken family or community. We all contribute money, time and energy to make a positive difference. But, ten years ago, we weren’t asked, urged or invited to pay taxes for the wars we were going to fight, or volunteer for national service beyond the armed services, or learn more about our neighbors whose religious faiths we didn’t know enough about.
Imagine if we had done more. Our country would have been rebuilt by scores of young people able-bodied and invigorated by a call to help their country. Our wars would have been paid down by appropriate taxes to fund it. And, Muslims, especially, would have been welcomed to our communities as the neighbors they have always been. Their houses and mosques didn’t just pop up after 9/11; they, like we, have been part of the American fabric for a long time.
My political appetite is growing sick of partisanship. I hope yours is, too. On this tenth anniversary, it’s hard to believe that we are committing what Emil Fackenheim once taught us about the years following the Holocaust. He taught us that the 614th Commandment (there are 613 in Torah) should be not to grant Hitler a posthumous victory. Our commitment to a Jewish future would forever deny him what he sought. In the last ten years, we have become a brooding, back-biting country tearing apart the very concept of what it means to be American. We should stop checking our shoes at the airport and begin bringing our 64oz sodas through security; because, economic impasses, social exploitation and political logjams will be the posthumous victory we give our enemies.
The way forward requires so much more than we are currently experiencing in our country. The arc of history has taught us more than the brief knowledge demonstrated thus far by some of our current politicians and by most of our political candidates, or nit-wits, as someone recently described them to me. Our nation is starving for a statesman or woman to speak to us intelligently. Honesty would be welcome; so would transparency, but they don’t come without intelligence, first.
September 11th is a day to remember. But, just as we’ve learned from so many other tragic and remarkable events in our country’s history, it is also a day to honor. Building a memorial to 9/11 is good. Building our country for the future is better. Let’s build together. Let’s serve together. Let’s know each other. Let’s demand from our political leaders in office and vying for office that mediocrity is not enough. The sweetest victory is a solid opportunity for every American to feel confident in America. That’s justice. That’s the answer I want. I think you do, too.
May God bless our people; May God bless us and all God’s children with a week of peace. From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
September 2, 2011
When the Israelites crossed the Red Sea, they sang to God (Exodus 15:1ff). Ever since, song has expressed our thanks, hopes, desires, and praises to God. In Hebrew, “song” and “poem” are the same words. Thus, Moses also recited a poem to the Israelites in one of his last orations to them (Deuteronomy 31:30ff). And, in Psalms there are many invitations to “sing” to God. Imagine the harp, lyre, and flute bursting with sound to express the Israelites’ blessings.
Psalm 96, begins, “Sing to the Lord a new song, sing to the Lord, all the earth.” On Friday night, August 26th, in our sanctuary, 950 people sang new songs to God. Imagine hundreds of individual worshipers quickly becoming a worshiping and singing congregation. It felt like we touched all the earth.
Jazz Shabbat was a celebration of our prayers enriched by the music of our times. Cantor Daniel Mutlu, who joined our clergy team at Beth Israel on July 1, 2011, chose musical settings, arranged many of the pieces for choir and instruments, and prepared an hour of worship with our rabbis. It was relaxing, inspiring, and engaging.
Lecha Dodi welcomed the Sabbath into our hearts and our homes. Mi Chamocha, from the Song of the Sea, was triumphant. It lifted our spirits as Cantor Mutlu reached each note with care and finesse. The choir was “hip” and the instrumentalists provided perfect accompaniment. V’shameru was stirring and many worshipers sang openly. Others closed their eyes to hear the notes and harmonies that brought new color and meaning to their favorite prayers. Shalom Rav was a perfect entrée to silent prayer. It set us down in a moment where personal reflection on the blessings of this Shabbat came into focus. Then Cantor Mutlu eased us out of our silent meditations with a soft and stirring Sim Shalom.
When I came to the pulpit to share a Shabbat message, I explained to the congregation that my prepared words were no longer suitable. I was inspired to share my feelings about the evening’s music and prayerful setting. In the Torah portion of the week, Re’eh, which means “see”, I taught that we can see in many ways. Not only with our eyes, but also with our ears we can hear and understand. But, some of us also shed tears that we wiped from our eyes. I saw it around the sanctuary. In the midst of God’s creative acts, God said to the Israelites, “See, this day the blessings and the curses…” In effect, God said, wipe away your tears of awe so that you might see the blessings before you. And, if you don’t wipe them away and see, then you won’t avail yourselves of God’s blessings. Instead, you’ll come to know a life without them; a life of curses. Music on Jazz Shabbat awakened us to the blessings of Cantor Daniel’s gifts. We saw with our eyes and with our ears, and felt it in our hearts and our souls.
At the conclusion of Jazz Shababt, we sang Ein Keiloheinu, to a rousing version by Shlomo Carlebach. And, before the benediction when I thanked Cantor Mutlu, choir and instrumentalists, a spontaneous applause broke out. The congregation said, Thank you Cantor Mutlu for a memorable Shabbat evening and for the promise of many more beautiful moments in Jewish music, together.
Now enjoy the Cantor’s Corner on the Beth Israel’s website to find audio clips from Jazz Shabbat and other musical pieces. From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
August 26, 2011
In Torah this week, Re’eh (see) is the first word of the portion. “See, this day I set before you blessing and curse…” Our Sages teach that the word is written here in the singular form. In subsequent uses, the word is written in the plural form. The reason is that while the “commandments are set before the whole people (plural form), each individual must ‘see’ (singular form) and decide whether to obey or disobey.”
Long before Reform Judaism was organized, our Sages recognized a reform idea. We are commanded as a people and inheritors of the same Torah. But, we also respond to God and God’s teachings as individuals. Reform Judaism is predicated on educated choices. Nowhere does Reform Judaism liberate Jews from Jewish obligations. On the contrary, Reform Jews are duty-bound to make Jewish choices every day. What kinds of choices do Reform Jews make every day?
Jewish questions should never lead to an answer as simple as “yes” or “no”. For example, “Do you observe Shabbat?” “Do you keep kosher?” “Do you give tzedakah?” Even if the answer is yes, it demands some qualification. It the answer is no, it requires more attention. Jewish questions should lead to full answers, and a Reform Jewish answer should include a reason thoughtfully formed. For example, “How do you observe Shabbat?” “How do you keep kosher?” “How do you give tzedakah?” These are questions that we are all obligated to answer, collectively and/or individually.
For Reform Jews, Shabbat is an essential part of our week. Rest from work and anxieties can refresh the heart and mind. Working on Saturday might be necessary to support the household and generations of Jews have done so, but not without also setting aside time for family. Keeping kosher was rejected by early reformers in order not to set themselves apart from full participation in society. Today, many Reform Jews keep kosher by making ethical food choices. Many choose not to eat veal or prefer free-range chickens. Obesity is at crisis levels in America. A Reform Jewish food ethic includes eating to live, not living to eat. Tzedakah is always a personal choice and it’s part of every person’s obligation to participate in repairing the world (Tikkun Olam).
Seeing God’s blessings is something we are all obligated to do. Some do it more easily than others. But, all of us are uniquely created to contribute to the world of God’s blessings. Personally, I have never been a total conformer or a total individualist. I have never been comfortable on either extreme. Rather, I cherish my individuality and the privilege to choose how I will participate in the world around me.
How will you observe Shabbat this week? How will you make an ethical food choice? And, how will you build a better world? Here’s a suggestion: at your Shabbat dinner table this week, talk about how you might answer these and other questions individually and as a family. Where is there room for individuality and where is it important to conform? You’re more than welcome to reply to me and share the outcomes of your discussions. It’s my job to ask! It’s all of our jobs to answer.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
August 19, 2011
There’s a reason this blog comes to you at the end of the week. It’s meant to be thoughtful and inspirational for Shabbat. It isn’t difficult to write because Torah lends itself to every thought and insight. But, I admit that some weeks are better than others. You can’t do better than the great stories in Genesis and Exodus; even Hollywood made them into motion pictures. But, you also can’t do much worse than a portion on leprosy. This week is special.
I was reading the news on the internet and came across a story with Senator Joseph Lieberman. Senator Leiberman is the Jewish senator we’ve learned to love or hate, depending on the season and the election year. Either way, he’s a Jewish man and a Jewish role model. Click on this link and watch Senator Lieberman at home with his wife, Hadassah, and tell me he isn’t a mensch: http://religion.blogs.cnn.com/2011/08/17/my-faith-sen-joe-lieberman-embraces-the-gift-of-the-sabbath/?&hpt=hp_c2.
Did you watch the video? Senator Lieberman becomes Joe at home on Shabbat. He puts away his senator’s pin, he sets aside his authority unless there is an emergency, and he enters his role as a man at home in the company of his wife and his God. As they set the table with flowers for Shabbat, and light the candles, the sun sets and Shabbat enters their home and their hearts. Without Shabbat, Senator Lieberman and his wife would know no peace.
You don’t have to be a senator to know how demanding and complex six days of the week can be. But, you might have to be a senator to discover the contrast between six days of work and one day of rest. Biblically commanded, it’s a wonder constitutionalists and tea-partiers aren’t choosing Judaism for themselves to keep the 4th commandment with greater regularity and importance. Leave it to an independent senator to lead the way through the muck of a week’s work in Congress, to find real peace at home with his wife.
I don’t know anybody who would trade places with a congressman today, but I know plenty of people who work as hard. They are working harder for less and still feeling insecure about the future. Shabbat is for all of us who seek perspective that comes with rest, quiet and peace. No Blackberry or iPad for a few hours turns our attention to larger matters like our spouse, children, and friends. And, time to feel grateful for what we have and what we can do lends perspective to our outlook even when we feel unsettled at the moment.
Recently, I’ve been trying to identify a statesman worth his salt. Today, I am relieved to know that Senator Lieberman (a Jew!) shot a video that, if it goes viral, is something we can all be proud of and don’t have to hide from view. Thank you, Senator Lieberman, for welcoming us into your home with your wife’s permission; for inviting us to your table which you helped set; and, for speaking and singing the words that remind us every Shabbat that family is a blessing, and that God’s presence can be a source of security and peace, not revolution and strife.
Ahad Ha’am taught us, “More than the people Israel has kept the Sabbath; the Sabbath has kept the people Israel.” Senator Lieberman brought it to video.
May God bless you and keep you; May God’s countenance shine upon you; May God grant you and your family peace.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
August 12, 2011
Turn on the news on any device you own and you’ll soon learn about strife and misery around the world. In particular, the Horn of Africa (including Kenya, Ethiopia, Somalia, and Djibouti) is drowning in the despair of starvation and homelessness. The misery that is pronounced in the eyes of malnourished children is outdone only by the anguish of their parents. The long and tortuous journey they make from their homes brings them to desolate and arid grounds where hunger and death await them. From the comfort of our living rooms we dare to compare their strife to anything else. I was moved by the graphic scenes and reports. What to do?
We can take a cue from what we read in this week’s Torah portion, V’etchanan, in Deuteronomy. In 4:30-31, we read:
When you are in distress because all these things have befallen you and, in the end, return to the Lord your God and obey Him. For the Lord your God is a compassionate God: He will not fail you nor will He let you perish; He will not forget the covenant which He made on oath with your fathers.
Don’t say that the Africans are not part of this covenant. Say, WE are part of this covenant. We are in distress over the hunger and starvation that is killing them in this unsightly display of inhumanity. “God is a compassionate God” but it is not God who will feed the children. It is you and I whom God will not fail in our efforts to reach across the globe and feed these children. “God will not fail you nor will God let you perish” in attempts to relieve suffering that is no fault of theirs.
The Torah portion continues with a repetition of the Ten Commandments. It is an assurance that just as God spoke to our ancestors, God speaks to each of us. Moses declared, “It was not with our fathers that the Lord made this covenant, but with us, the living, every one of us here today” (Deut. 5:3). The covenant that was sealed then is a living covenant. It lives in us and the way we bear witness to it.
So the Torah portion includes the Shema (Deut 6:4ff), the Watchword of our Faith, “Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.” We are witnesses to God’s teachings when we do them. We cannot proclaim faith, alone; it isn’t enough. We are obligated to bear witness; to do God’s teachings. We are not evangelical in our call to others; we are passionate in our effort to fulfill our covenant. Isaiah teaches (58:7ff),
“It
is to share your bread with the hungry,
And to take the wretched poor into your home;
When you see the naked, to clothe him,
And not to ignore your own kin.
Then
shall your light burst through like the dawn
And your healing spring up quickly!
The Horn of Africa is not the only place where war and famine exist. It is horrifying but also emblematic of world hunger and poverty. We, Americans, are uniquely poised to help. Before we can wish each other Shabbat Shalom, a day of rest for ourselves, let’s bear witness to the covenant. Go to www.urj.org and help today. Give something. Do a mitzvah.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
August 5, 2011
When we think of August, we think of heat. But, it’s not all about heat. August is also about transitions. For some of us, another school year is around the corner. It begins with a new kindergartner, a middle school child, a high school student, and, if you’re in my position, college students. Oh, the pictures we take and the memories we recall of days gone by so quickly. Someone once told me that the years with young children go by too fast. When I was in the thick of it, I didn’t understand; but, now I do. For others, August means that the Jewish New Year is coming though late in September, this year. It’s a milestone, too. On Rosh Hashanah, to be inscribed in the “Book of Life” is to wonder what the future will be. For others still, August means the coming New Year without loved ones who were once so near. Talk about time moving quickly. The heat is nothing compared to the emotional temperature we sweat through in August.
If Moses knew anything about August, he would have been sweating, too. This week’s Torah portion opens with the beginning of the Book of Deuteronomy. In Deuteronomy, we hear Moses’ last speeches to the Israelites whose future depended on their ability to maintain the covenant God was making with them. Moses implored them to remember the covenant, to keep the Sabbath, and to be holy as God is holy. In words and poems, he urged them to hold fast to all that they had come to know as a community and as a people singled out for service to God.
In many respects, Moses was successful. He became a remarkable orator and guide. He overcame many of his younger impulses and mastered the role he was chosen to play. His hope was that as the Israelites made their way to the Promised Land they would regard their experiences as noble and their future as ordained. It required the people to believe that there was meaning in their difficult journey, and purpose in the direction that God was showing them. Moses truly stood on the threshold of a moment in time when the people would, at once, embrace what they were given and make it their very own.
We have made successful transitions, too. We stood on the threshold of the kindergarten classrooms and with one more hug we told our children to remember everything they learned at home and how to be a star in the classroom. We graduated teenagers from high school who are leaving for college with all the advice and lessons they can hold, and with grand expectations for themselves now on their own. Sweating and nervous, we send them all on their way hoping that they will remember where they have been and what they were taught.
We could do as Moses did and give speeches about everything they should remember and do. Better yet, we can be like Moses who hoped that his passion for everything that was sacred would sustain the Israelites along the way. The roads we and our children travel cannot be disconnected from the past, either; nor can they be unrelated to the faith that brought us to these times and places. August is a month of transitions and the New Year is both our finish line and our starting point. Grateful, we give thanks for what has already been and prepare to make a difference in the year to come. Like Moses, who faced what could not be changed; we become part of a future that is still unfolding. We pass the baton to those we meet along the way, from strength to strength and from generation to generation.
From my desk to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
Mark your calendars for August 26, 2011, and join us at 6:30 p.m. in the sanctuary for Jazz Shabbat, a welcome service for Congregation Beth Israel, our visitors and friends.
From the
Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
July 29, 2011
In an old business demonstration made popular by guru Stephen Covey (“7 Habits of Highly Effective People” Free Press, 1989) we can learn a valuable life lesson. In one version of the demonstration, a large fish bowl, about 2 cups of sand, and three medium sized rocks are required. The demonstration begins with the challenge to fit all the sand and all the rocks into the bowl. Suggestions lead to three possible solutions. First, start with the sand. Pour it all in. It fits well in the bottom of the bowl. But, it fills up the bowl too high and now the rocks won’t fit. Try again.
This time start with the rocks. Put them in carefully. They fit well. But, the sand can’t get around the rocks and most of it pours outside the edge of the bowl. One more try. This time begin with a little sand, then add a rock; put in more sand, then another rock; finally, finish with the rest of the sand and the last rock. Now it all fits.
The demonstration proves a point. The bowl represents the capacity we have to accomplish all our work and obligations. The sand represents our small responsibilities. They are less critical but they are part of the process. The rocks are our big responsibilities and they are keys to the successful completion of our mission. The demonstration quickly makes clear that we can’t focus only on the small jobs at the expense of the large ones, and vice-versa. It would be ideal if we could enlarge the bowl, but more often than not, capacity is a fixed quantity and we have to work within our limits. The solution is found in the way we attend to small tasks while not losing sight of the big picture, and minding the larger vision while not losing hold of what matters every day.
The demonstration is about much more than multi-tasking. It’s about being clear about what matters in our life. All of us would include family, work, friends, hobbies, personal time, faith and more. Covey and others suggest what we should define as large items and what we should call small ones. But, those are judgment calls. How to get it all done depends on how we choose fit it all in, but the answer rests with each of us, personally. In “God of Me: Imagining God throughout Your lifetime” (Jewish Lights Pub., 2011), we learn how to understand the difference as we aim to fit it all in. “When spouse/partners work long hours at the office, it isn’t only because they are happier at work among colleagues and friends who share their ambitions. It’s also because they are ambitious… New parents don’t work long hours to avoid children at home; they work long hours to provide for them” (p. 88-89). Over years, our priorities often change. What doesn’t change is the duty we have to attend to work and home, family and friends, etc.
Now imagine that the bowl, which is our capacity to meet all our responsibilities, can actually grow with us over time. As we gain life experience, we should find that we have increasing amounts of patience, empathy, compassion, skills, abilities, and resources. They make us better able to assume more responsibilities that often come with growing children and demanding work. They also make us better suited to choose what really matters most. There will always be much to do (lots of rocks and sand), but there can also be increasingly meaningful ways to enlarge our hearts and souls to embrace all that our life has become, for good or for ill, and, God willing, for blessing.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
July 22, 2011
This past week, we were in the mountains visiting dear friends. Everyday we planned to try new activities and see new sights. One day we agreed to “hike Ajax”, one of the most challenging hikes in town. We did a vertical climb of 3,267 feet. The top of Ajax is exactly 11,212 feet and the base of the mountain is 7,945 feet. From all appearances, we were prepared. We had backpacks, water, food, sunscreen, and enthusiasm. Thankfully, nothing ran out during the hike, not even our enthusiasm. But, there were rough patches along the way.
Rising 3,300 feet in elevation slowed us down as we took more time to catch our breath and re-oxygenate ourselves. Then, urging each other on, we put one foot in front of the other and continued. Younger hikers passed us by in both directions. Some carried only water and no food, and others ran past us on what seemed to be their morning jog. We waved to some as they hustled past us. To others we called out, “How much farther?” “Is it much longer to the top?” They were honest. “You’re about 2/3 of the way,” and “Just two more pushes and you’ll be there.” The six of us trudged on. When we needed rest, we waited for each other, and spots of shade up ahead became short goals and rest stops along the way.
At one turn, we saw a white patch on the side of the trail. We looked and wondered and then realized that even in mid-July, it was real snow. Lisa and I made our way off the trail to reach the large mound of snow left over from winter. It was dirty on top, but we dug in our hands and scooped up enough to throw a few snowballs at each other and our friends. We even took some of it and put it down our shirts and on our skin for a quick cool down.
The well-marked trail continued. Our eyes, however, were set on the gondola that rose higher into the mountains. The goal was to reach the gondola station at the top, and ride it down for free which would be our reward for all our hard work. However, the gondola and the wire it followed seemed to reach over the mountains going higher and farther away. How could it be? Will we ever make it? Closer to the top, a small jeep approached us on its way down. Two men in the jeep slowed to answer our questions, “How far are we from the top?” and “How much for the jeep?” But, as it approached, the driver slowed and said, “Hey, Rabbi Lyon!” I couldn’t believe it. Even at nearly 11,000 feet, tired, sunburned, and sore, I was reminded that none of us is ever far from who we are and what we do. It was satisfying to see a Beth Israel member, a friend, and one who could account for my presence on the mountain in case of my absence.
Finally, the summit was in sight. Our pace grew slower and slower. Our calves ached. The air was thinner. Young 20-somethings played Frisbee nearby on the mountainside. We stared in awe at their ability to run, breathe, and balance at the same time. Yet, we weren’t discouraged. Indeed, the lodge was in sight and so was the gondola station. We arrived. We sat down. We rested. We drank some juice and shared conversations with fellow hikers about survival, elevation, and our achievement. Pictures followed with views of the panoramic sights and vistas. It was literally and figuratively breathtaking. We didn’t delay on the mountainside. It was time for the free gondola ride down the mountain and on to lunch at 8,200 feet, practically sea-level for us.
Ultimately, we agreed that the hike was a benchmark for us. In difficult physical, emotional or spiritual times in the future, we can remember when we hiked Ajax, and push on to accomplish goals we need to reach, no matter what. As Shabbat nears, your own personal hikes, whatever they might be, require enormous personal resources, too. Some say that “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle,” and I believe it. There are gifts that God has implanted in us that aren’t revealed until we need them. We don’t have to look for them only on the mountains, but they are there, too. Because I’m never doing that hike again, I’m grateful that we can find the gifts we need much closer to home. They are found in the presence of our family and friends and in our hearts, for sustenance, courage, blessings and peace.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
July 15, 2011
Phineas or Pinchas is the name of this week’s Torah portion. You might recognize it as the Hebrew name of your father, grandfather or great-grandfather. I recall long ago men who went by the name, Pinky. I used to think that Pinky was an unusual name until I became familiar with his namesake in Torah.
Pinchas is a Biblical personality who was known for his remarkable passion to serve God. In Numbers 25, we learn how Pinchas drove a spear through the bellies of an Israelite man and a Midianite woman who violated God’s covenant. For his zealotry, Pinchas was granted God’s “pact of friendship” or “Brit Shalom”. In addition, Pinchas and his descendants enjoyed a pact of priesthood for all time.
In general, zealotry in Judaism is not prized. As biblical events often do, this one inspires us to value Pinchas’ role in securing the faithfulness of the Israelite people against false gods and idol worship. But, zealotry is reserved for biblical stories and extraordinary circumstances. How do we know? The word that describes Pinchas’ passion here is the same word used to describe God’s passion in Exodus 20. In the Ten Commandments, God is called “an impassioned God (a jealous God)”, “El kanah”. Here Pinchas “took impassioned action for God”, “Kinei l’Eiloha’v”. K-N-H is the Hebrew root that means impassioned. Pinchas acted on a level we can only find in the Bible. Furthermore, it is passion that should only be found in the Bible.
Today, we observe zealotry in the world in the hands of fanatics. Such zealotry is singular in its purpose. It is frightfully dangerous. It preserves one people and annihilates another. Pinchas was motivated in a singular way to destroy forever the relationship between Israel and Baal-Peor, the foreign god. His reward was priesthood for all time. Does it sound familiar, like a reward that might motivate passionate people to act passionately (fanatically)? Every religion has them: Christian crusaders, Islamic jihaadists, etc. In our day, we aim not to live with a singular purpose that places value on some but not on others. These are not biblical times.
Yet, Pinchas is not irrelevant. He still teaches us a lesson about our efforts to preserve the Jewish people. Look around. In every community, by an extraordinary majority, only Jews support Jews. I am not discounting the role of CUFI, for those who know what it is, but by and large, the passion of our past still lives today in the ways we maintain our Jewish institutions and way of life. Who else but Jewish families support Seven Acres Home for the Jewish Aged? Who else but Jewish families make annual pledges to Houston Jewish Federation to sustain the well-being of Judaism here, nationally and overseas? Who else but Jewish families maintain our magnificent synagogues and preserve the legacy of a congregation like Beth Israel, organized in 1854? Who else but Jewish parents and those who are raising Jewish children insist on a quality Jewish education through real study and participation? Tell me all of this doesn’t take passion. It does take passion. We should all be moved by our duty to serve our Jewish community.
Pinchas was biblically passionate. How else was he going to make a point in Torah? You and I can just be passionate. It would do us well. As Shabbat comes, consider the role that you can play and the contributions you can make. Together, let’s be sure that in our world of many peoples and ideas, there will be a place for Jews and Judaism, and a “Brit Shalom” for all time.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
July 1, 2011
Would you rather read about the Red Heifer in this week’s Torah portion, or about Cantor Daniel Mutlu? Yes, I thought so. Cantor Daniel Mutlu (pronounced: MOOT-loo) will join us, tonight, on the bemah for the first time. Cantor Mutlu and his wife, Nina, and their son, Saya, will become an integral part of our congregation in quick order. Even as he unpacks his bags and begins to organize his new home with his family, Cantor Mutlu will engage us in worship and song on Shabbat.
Our Summer Services are relaxed and easy. Guitar, piano, and restful words and thoughts make an hour on Friday night a magnificent way to begin Shabbat and the weekend. Even while the rabbis are trading places for vacation during July, Cantor Mutlu will provide a consistent role in welcoming us on Shabbat.
When Summer Services end in mid-August, here are a few things I’d like you to anticipate with me in the New Year. Cantor Mutlu is especially interested in broadening the musical experiences we all have at Beth Israel. For example:
- Children’s Choirs. Boys and Girls love to sing and many demonstrate their talents on their bar/bat mitvahs. In the New Year, they will have a place to continue singing and new venues to perform their songs at Temple and in the community
- Music Ensembles. Many Beth Israel members are talented musicians. They play a variety of instruments and many perform in groups. In the New Year, they can participate at Beth Israel on a music Shabbat or in new programs to showcase their talents and share the joy of making Jewish music with friends at Temple.
- Religious School and Shlenker School music. Our children will be singing this year. Jewish music is for worship but it’s also for fun any time of the day. Children will be part of many new ways to sing and enjoy music for modern Jewish living.
- Sanctuary/Chapel Services. Formal liturgy and casual prayer music can be sung with a sacred quality. Cantor Mutlu masters both with tone and style that welcomes us in and moves us deeply.
- High Holidays. Everybody is moved by Kol Nidrei and Avinu Malkeinu. They represent the best of our experience on the holidays. There is more and I know that you will cherish the sacred sounds on these sacred days.
- Bar/Bat Mitzvah. Cantor Mutlu has new plans to take our bar/bat mitzvah program from good to great. We welcome his participation and warm manner with students of all ages and their parents.
In addition to Daniel’s musical achievements, I believe that you will come to know him as a fine man whose kindness and goodness are part of the reputation that precedes him and the qualities you will come to know for yourselves. July 1st is a holiday weekend and you might be out of town or unavailable. Not to worry. Cantor Mutlu is part of the Beth Israel family, and we look forward to sharing many Sabbaths, holidays, life-cycles, and occasions with him, Nina and Saya.
Now, if you really want to read about the Red Heifer, you’ll find it beginning in Numbers 19:1. From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
June 24, 2011
If you’ve ever driven on I-35 between Waco and Austin, you’ve probably passed a sign pointing in the direction of Bruceville, Texas. And, you’ve probably driven right by it on your way to somewhere else. But, if you’re parents of one or more of the 800+ Jewish children this summer who will attend Greene Family Camp, then you put on your indicator and made a sharp exit off the highway. At the top of the hill Greene Family Camp welcomes campers to do everything imaginable and with Jewish friends in Jewish time.
This week, I’m serving on faculty. With other rabbis and Jewish professionals to guide and lead programs and events, I love to see our Beth Israel children in action. They are having a great time in all the myriad ways camp is fun and exciting. Despite the lack of rain, it is the abundance of air-conditioned cabins and main rooms, swimming pool, lake, and comfortable mornings and evenings, that make camp beautiful especially in the Texas summer.
There is another pleasure that I find only at camp. Greene Family Camp attracts and employs counselors and administrators who are among the top Jewish students and young professionals you will ever know. Their academic and personal strengths are matched only by their outgoing and uniquely Jewish interests in sharing their summer with young campers. Having grown up as campers, themselves, in some cases, it becomes a certain rite of passage that brings them back to GFC, to serve in the roles that their own counselors once did. Two of my children chose to become counselors after years of being campers. They are having a lot of fun, earning summer money, and gaining skills for life. I anticipate that the joy they have discovered in their personal Judaism, rooted in camp experiences, will become part of their future in their own homes and families.
Camp isn’t for everyone and Jewish summer camp might not sound like camp at all. But, you would be wrong. Greene Family Camp takes everything you think camp will be and invests it with Jewish values that make it a place your children play, think and grow just they way you want. When they come home to you, they are more aware not only of their physical strengths and personal interests, but also in tune with what they are and who they are on their way to becoming. They have the vocabulary, the will, and the faith to do it. The man who makes it all possible is Loui Dobin, Camp Director. He is a friend to everyone who passes through the camp gates. You know him. He also leads music at Beth Israel at Rosh Hashanah children’s Chapel services and at our Yom Kippur Alternative Service.
If you’re an alumnus of GFC, your children attend or serve at camp now, or you would like to support the work I and other Jewish professionals do with inspired counselors and camp leaders, please consider supporting camp ( www.greene.org ). GFC is a Union for Reform Judaism camp. It’s not only my camp; it’s also your camp. I don’t usually solicit anybody for anything on my weekly blog, but I’m leaving camp on Sunday, to return home. With camp in my rearview mirror and Beth Israel coming into view, I don’t want to miss this opportunity to express my support for GFC, and to invite you to do the same.
As Shabbat nears, I will be with all my family at camp. Six Lyons will share Shabbat at camp and worship under the stars with thoughts of God’s blessings in our life and yours.
From Greene Family Camp this week, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
June 17, 2011
In this week’s portion, Sh’lach Lecha, messengers were challenged to scout out the Promised Land and report back to the Israelites what they found there. All but two of the scouts came back and said, “The country that we traversed and scouted is one that devours its settlers. All the people that we saw in it are men of great size—and we looked like grasshoppers to ourselves, and so we must have looked to them” (Numbers 13:32ff).
These messengers brought back a report that condemned the whole search process and doomed the people’s faith that God would deliver them to the Promised Land. In case you didn’t know, the ten men who failed to convey their faith in God were killed by plague. I’m sorry to disappoint you. However, Joshua and Caleb stood out among the men who returned. They gave an optimistic report that upheld God’s sanctity and the people’s ambition to enter the Promised Land. Caleb said, “Let us by all means go up, and we shall gain possession of it, for we shall surely overcome it” (Numbers 13:30). Furthermore, Joshua and Caleb said to the people, “The land is exceedingly good; [it is] a land that flows with milk and honey…” (Numbers 14:7-8).
Many commentaries have been written to explore whether the messengers were accurate but irresponsible, or if Joshua and Caleb were committing an early version of “bait and switch.” What do you think? Were Joshua and Caleb overstating their observations only to encourage the people forward? Do you think the other messengers were condemned too quickly for their accurate report? The fairest and most appropriate answer is often found somewhere in the middle. Let’s consider the possibility that God’s presence was at work in the Biblical account. Human fear and anxiety were real, but so was God’s promise. Joshua and Caleb’s faith overcame their fears. Surely, they saw the same things their fellow scouts saw. The difference was their faith. Whatever they would encounter in the new land could be overcome by an ample amount of faith. If God ordained it, then it would go well for them. Joshua and Caleb didn’t misrepresent their experience as scouts. They represented their claims truthfully. They would enter the Land successfully if God went with them, and God did.
Such faith still inspires us. How many “Promised Lands” have you thought about entering in your lifetime? How many forks in the road have you encountered? You didn’t move forward because you thought you were doomed. You moved forward because you believed that the next step was going to be better than the previous ones. On some level, you believed that God would be there. Down deep you hoped. You hoped and prayed that you made the right choice. Both are connected to faith in God whose presence is manifest in the “still small voice” within you.
Yogi Beara used to say, “When you come to a fork in the road, take it.” And Torah teaches us that when you and I come to a fork in the road, we don’t have to feel confounded. Instead, we have to hear “still small voice” within us. Then, with faith, we make the best decision we can; and, like Joshua and Caleb we exclaim, “Let us by all means go up!”
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi Lyon
June 10, 2011
Over 21 years, I have celebrated births, baby namings, bar/bat mitzvahs, and I have mourned at funerals with my family and with you; but I have never been a mourner, myself, until my father died on June 2nd. After six weeks following a massive stroke, he was finally at peace. Surrounding my father's hospital bed every day, my siblings and our mother shared personal words and private thoughts. We recited Hebrew prayers and final words upon his death, “Baruch Dayan haEmet” Praised be the Judge of Truth.
There is no possible explanation I can fathom to explain why my father who always feared dying of a heart attack would be taken by a stroke. My parents had just returned from their winter stay in Scottsdale, had Passover Seder with my sister's family in Silver Spring, and were anticipating joining my family in Houston for Emma's bat mitzvah. It wasn't meant to be. My sister asked how our faithfulness could deny us what we wanted and needed desperately now? We sought reasonable answers. My father's lifetime of high blood pressure, though checked, included a regimen of Plavix, a drug that no doubt made the bleed worse than it should have been; a daily aspirin would have served him better over the years. Despite the surgeon's success in the operating room, my dad's recovery was doomed by underlying conditions. We depended on therapies and medications to give him a chance to recover. But, our efforts on his behalf could not undo what was obviously ordained for him. At 76 years-old, my dad could not overcome the destructive blow.
At the funeral, we sought spiritual consolation. My parents' rabbi, Isaac (Ike) Serotta, delivered a magnificent eulogy. He included the words of Job, “God has given; God has taken; Blessed be the Name of God.” Indeed, the incidents of birth and death are beyond our comprehension; they originate in that which is larger than you and me. But, the times between birth and death belong to us. Therein lies the blessing of my father's life. The obituary and eulogy summarized 76 years of his life in a perfect synopsis of the times we came to know and enjoy with him.
Shiva, the prescribed period of deepest mourning was important and necessary. It permitted my family to refrain from everything but grieving without guilt or feeling that we were neglecting our responsibilities. We talked about what my father meant to us and what we meant to him. We explored what the future would be for my mother and extended family. Thankfully, we extracted out of this period of misery the many joys of his life, most notably 54 years of marriage to our mother, his four children and their spouses, twelve grandchildren, and a fruitful career and meaningful retirement.
If I've learned anything as a mourner, it's the wisdom found in what our Sages taught so long ago: Live as if each day were your last. They didn't mean that we should live recklessly; rather, we should value each day by doing mitzvot, commandments. My parents were role models. They grew to be best friends, they volunteered in the local library and their beloved synagogue, and they devoted their travels to be with their children and grandchildren in all the places they live. Then, every Shabbat, my parents lit the Sabbath candles at home and included a prayer of thanks to God for their good health and the love they shared. My father's good health ended the night of April 24th, but the love they knew and the love he shared with his family is eternal.
As you remember those who are gone from life, take them into your heart and make them part of your life every day. I pray for myself and for you that memories of our loved ones will recall the blessing they once were and will always be.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
May 27, 2011
“Bemidbar”, in the wilderness, is the name of this week’s Torah portion, and the Hebrew name of the Book of Numbers. The book begins with a census to account for members of the Israelite tribes. The rest of the book recounts the journey of the Israelites as they make their way to the Promised Land. The “wilderness” holds unique meaning when it connotes wandering in an unfamiliar place. Yet, it is precisely in this unfamiliar place where they are more open to signs, hints, and hopes.
Recall your favorite fairy tale. Deep in the woods, lost without parents, children wander helplessly. They’re hungry for any source of help. That’s just when the stranger lurking behind the gnarled tree comes into view. She offers them a way to safety and they follow her. Only later do they learn what we long suspected, that she is nothing but a witch aiming to do them harm. Repeated versions of helpless struggles finally get resolved in acts of redemption in the hands of the children’s savior, maybe a prince.
Our Biblical book is not a fairy tale, but its epic sequences surely provided roots for subsequent stories of the lost and the found. In our story of the wilderness, the Israelites’ savior was God, ably served by Moses. The Israelites questioned obvious signs of God’s presence. Aaron and Miriam questioned their brother’s authority and were stricken. Moses appealed to God, and healed them. Foreign rulers tried to curse the Israelites, but they were defeated by God’s plan for the Israelites. Eventually, the Israelites found their way when they learned how to act like prophets, when they heard reports about the Land and grew hopeful about their destiny, and when they made provisions to complete their journey upon entering the Land God promised on oath to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.
Our personal wilderness experiences are not fairy tales, but they have uncharted paths and unsavory villains, too. Pathways that we’ve never known because we haven’t dealt with sudden loss or tragedy in the family, pitch us into a thick and dark wilderness. We find villains there that appear in the form of anxiety, sleeplessness and depression. Like a fairy tale or biblical story, there are redemptive moments, too. We find them in saviors along the way. They are competent doctors, caring social workers, kind clergy, loving family and dear friends — all gifts from God. They truly save us from our trials and show us the way. The challenge is that the safe place we knew before we entered the wilderness is not necessarily the place to which we return when the story ends. The house might be the same but the life we live there is different now. Only fairy tales end with “happily ever after”. Biblical stories end with hope founded on faith that what follows has meaning, too. Except for moral lessons in fairy tales, we would do best to take our cue from biblical endings. The Israelites persevered, and though they didn’t know permanent peace, they were never without hope.
Normal people don’t like to be lost in the wilderness, but none of us can escape it forever. When we are in the thick of it, our goal is to save ourselves from it. We open ourselves to signs and help. Most of us have learned that we cannot always go back to where we used to be, but, thankfully, there are people whose caring and comforting presence is the light that shines in the darkness to reveal our way home, again.
May you and your loved ones find the light to illuminate the path you seek back to life, good health, and peace. From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the desk of Rabbi David Lyon
May 20, 2011
This Shabbat, we come to the last chapters of Leviticus. In Bekhukotai (Leviticus 26:3-27:34) we read a straight-forward rule, “If you follow my laws and faithfully observe my commandments,” then God will cause you to prosper and be blessed. Surely, Torah isn’t referring only to wise and able people who follow all God’s laws! You and I know that it must mean more, so what are we left to understand?
Our Rabbis respond to our concern with a reference from the Book of Job. There we learn, “[Job’s] days are determined; You know the number of his months; You have set him limits that he cannot pass.” Like Job, we have many human skills and abilities, and we are also limited. But, that doesn’t mean we don’t have what it takes to meet God’s commands. Our Rabbis didn’t mean to disillusion us; rather, they meant to develop our appreciation for what we have and what we can do with what we’ve been given.
Remember the young man who asked, “Can you tell me how to get to Carnegie Hall?” He was told, “Practice, practice, practice.” There are young people whose raw talent can get them to Carnegie Hall, but there are also those whose countless hours of practice will never get them out of the last chair in the band. When we accept our assets and our liabilities, together, we can be more realistic about what we can do, and the ways we can open ourselves up to God’s blessings.
It’s like our Rabbis also taught, “And I grant you also what you didn’t ask for, both riches and glory all your life.” There is the possibility that the young person who will never make it to Carnegie Hall, will nonetheless find blessing in the pleasure of his God-given musical talent. Not everyone can be Itzhak Perlman. It is human nature to be limited. It is also human nature to want more and even to demand it. How do we reconcile our thirst for more than we have with what we have been granted?
Too often, you and I don’t fully cultivate what is already true about us. We fail to live up to our best in areas where we have had some success. For example, have you ever wondered what you would do if you weren’t working in the job you have, today? What if you had the liberty to do what you love to do, and maybe even get paid for it? Would you do what you’re doing now, or some of it, or something completely different? I’m assuming that fishing and golf would still be your recreation and not your profession. If you asked me, I’d teach. Years ago, when I served a smaller congregation I taught Jewish enrichment courses at a small liberal arts college. Teaching college students and professors who also attended was one of the most exhilarating parts of my week.
Each of us has a God-given talent. Each of us has a way of fulfilling God’s commandments. No one said it was always going to be easy, but making an effort is a mitzvah, too. This week, take a moment to think about what you love to do most or what you’re really good at doing. Maybe you don’t earn a living from it, but what if the reward is that you really enjoy it? Is it cooking, reading, teaching, planning, fixing, constructing, or listening? Consider the Source from which it comes, thank God for it, and honor your gift through the ways you choose to use it. Then, as Torah teaches, you will surely prosper and be blessed.
From my desk to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk
May 13, 2011
In Leviticus 25, we find one of the most famous verses in the Hebrew Bible. Strangely, we don't know it from the Bible as much as we do from American history. Our founding fathers identified Leviticus 25:10, as the emblematic phrase of the future of America, and inscribed it on the Liberty Bell. You know it, “Proclaim liberty throughout all the Land unto all the inhabitants thereof.”
To students of American history, the bell was rung to mark the reading of the Declaration of Independence on July 8, 1776. For new Americans, the Biblical verse was more than a memorable passage. The fathers were learned men and knowledgeable of their Bible, both the Old and the New Testaments, as they would have called them. Their translation used the word “liberty” and it meant freedom from the tyranny of England, or any king or despot, forever. Their freedom began with the Bible's promise of liberty fulfilled in a new land, a Promised Land.
To students of Jewish history, the Biblical phrase chosen for the Liberty Bell is important for two reasons. First, there is a certain satisfaction to be had for the choice of a Torah verse on such an iconic American fixture. Second, any student of Biblical Hebrew will tell you that the translation of the text does not give us “liberty” but rather “release”. In the JPS (Jewish Publication Society) translation, the verse is rendered, “You shall proclaim release throughout the land for all its inhabitants.” The significance of this translation is found in the latter part of Lev. 25:10, where we read, “It shall be a jubilee for you; each of you shall return to his holding and each of you shall return to his family.” It was a period of release when all slaves were set free, and all debts forgiven. The chapter ends, “For it is to Me that the Israelites are servants; they are My servants, whom I freed from the land of Egypt, I the Lord your God.”
The Liberty Bell sits in Philadelphia. Its purpose still resonates with us as Jews and as Americans. Every effort to defeat terrorism and every trial in the name of freedom and democracy is a small echo of the bell's symbolism. Our commitment to be servants to no one but God, is satisfied for many people, but not for most people for whom there is no echo of any liberty bell. This week, at the Holocaust Museum Houston's gala fundraiser, which raised $1.1 million, Mia Farrow, actress and human rights activist, spoke movingly and genuinely about her role in Darfur. She emphasized that the rampant destruction of life there compelled her to try in whatever way she could to call attention to the genocide of a people. She is making a difference. Her lesson for us is an extension of what Holocaust Museum Houston tries to teach everybody about tolerance and humanity following the atrocities of the Shoah. I listened attentively to her words, and understood why she was chosen to receive the Moral Courage Award from the Museum.
For us, Jews and Americans, we have been reared on freedom and liberty. We have learned in the best schools and been taught how to be great Americans. We wave our flags, we pay our taxes, and we thank God we live in the greatest country that ever was in all of history. But, being an American is not simply a reward for being fortunate enough to have been born here or to have arrived here. It is a privilege to protect and defend so that others who strive to be free may also find their way here and build our nation with us, hand in hand. As we read Torah on the Liberty Bell, let's also read the words of Emma Lazarus, a Jewish woman, whose poem is inscribed on the Statue of Liberty: “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free; the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me; I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
May 6, 2011
This week, Osama bin Laden, the master terrorist, was killed by
Naturally, we would expect that some would react with great pleasure in knowing that the murderer was finally located and killed. Instantaneous demonstrations took place outside the White House and in
However, there are also reasons that others believe our joy should be strongly mitigated by the repercussions of the terrorist’s death. Bin Laden was not a wall; he was a figurehead to thousands of terrorist followers. Whether or not he still held power among all the ranks of the Taliban, is not the only issue. What likely ranks higher in the minds of the Taliban, is the audacity of
President Obama, who skillfully addressed the situation and approved of the operation, understands the position we must take in the
My suggestions are founded on Jewish wisdom. First, we don’t “turn the other cheek” as matter of scriptural dogma; we seek justice in order to compensate those who are wronged in order to restore them to wholeness, to the extent that we can. Pursuing bin Laden and capturing him, dead or alive, met the litmus test for justice. Second, we have learned that evil is not an external temptation we must avoid; rather, it is an internal quality that we must prevent from masking the good that we are born to pursue. When evil overcomes us and we sin against God’s creative acts, we destroy life in our path. Individuals are held responsible and called to account. There is no sadness that bin Laden is no longer among us; but, there is considerable and gross disappointment and horror that a man with such charisma could have organized a nation of terrorists, but not a nation of mindful, learned, industrious and contributing Muslims.
Finally, I would urge you not to be surprised by the dark humor surrounding the events of this recent week. Remember that during the darkest days of the Holocaust, Jews were prolific in their humor against the horrendous situation they faced. Books on Jewish humor include chapters on Holocaust humor. It cut the pain; it gave the Jews power over their oppressors; and, it served as a legacy of their will to live even if they didn’t survive. A classic bit of humor suggested that Hitler would die on a Jewish holiday. Asked which Jewish holiday, the answer was predictably, any day Hitler dies will be a Jewish holiday.
There’s much to think about this week. Let’s begin by welcoming Shabbat, a day of rest and thanksgiving. Let it be a time when you set aside your challenges and anxieties for time to replenish your personal resources. And, let it also be a time to thank God for our nation, its leaders, and the resolve to pursue justice and civility in a world that is sorely lacking both.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi
April 29, 2011
Where have I been all week? I took a very early flight to
To me, it felt like the ceiling fell in and I was lifting the beams off my body slowly and awkwardly to clear a path to safety. If I could only get to
My mother was stronger than I expected her to be. She was there for her husband, her soul-mate, with whom she deepened her friendship since the four of us left the house so many, many years ago. My dad was sedated and on a ventilator. He couldn’t open his eyes or speak, but he could hear us. Like my siblings and my mother, I held his hand and told him, “Dad, it’s David. I’m here.” He squeezed my hand with his strong right hand; thankfully his writing hand and his painting hand. A retired architect, he returned to his first passion which was painting, and has enjoyed his art and craft every day. My siblings and I stood with my mother at my father’s side and shared a prayer for his health and recovery. The diversity of faith in my extended family covered all the bases we needed to help my father know that there was nothing more important to us than his recovery. It was an unexpected moment in which we found each other; and the prayers that bound us were an unexpected gift we gave together to my father.
Later that day, my father underwent a 3-hour surgery. At the end of the interminable wait, the surgeon reported to us that he accomplished what he set out to do. He conveyed the results to us in a compassionate and clear way. We were overcome by relief and gratitude. We didn’t take the moment for granted; we shared a prayer of gratitude that we had reached this milestone with my father closer to the beginning of a real recovery. As of Tuesday night, he is off the ventilator and prepared to take very small steps on what will be a very long journey. Today, he experienced a setback. With confidence placed in an excellent medical team at an outstanding hospital, and faith in what we believe is possible, our prayer is that our father will be granted a “refuah sh’leimah” a complete healing.
Forgive me my open journal, but I thought of you as I stepped through each part of my urgent trip to
I promise not to write every week about the progress my father makes. But, this week I wanted to share with you that I know all too well what you have experienced, too, when your loved ones faced a medical crisis and your family ran with urgency to come from separate lives to fill a single room with love and hope. I have spent many times with you in hospital rooms; so thank you for being with me in my thoughts. It helps me help my family to maintain hope when the day grows long and the answers are not forthcoming. So, thank you for letting me share this with you, and for being part of my thoughts this week.
I will return late in the week and resume my care for you. My siblings and I will rotate time to see my parents, and my weekly call will grow to a daily call for news and time to talk with my father. Maybe we’ll Skype, too. In the event that you have a family member who is ill or on the mend, join me in our prayer for their health and well-being,
“Baruch Atah, Adonai, Eloheinu Melech haOlam, Rofeih haCholim,” Blessed are You, Adonai, our God, Ruler of the universe, Healer of the sick; help our loved ones feel Your presence; guide the hands of those who help in healing; and enable our loved ones to return to all that they have come to love at home and with family, speedily and in peace.”
As Shabbat nears, let it be a time of real rest and healing. Let it also focus our heads and our hearts on what matters most in our life, if even for the day: real health and wholeness, refuah v’shalom.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi
April 22, 2011
Passover Seders are behind us, but not the memories of a beautiful holiday. At Congregation Beth Israel, we held a second-night Seder. Open to all
At the end of the Seder, a couple approached me. They explained to me that they traveled in their RV year-round. They were passing through
Many guests and
Second-Seder is familiar to some, but not to all. My family enjoys two Seders. The first night is usually with good friends at their home, but second night has been a more personal night often at the request of our children to be together. But, as they make their way to college and the house is quieter, coming to Beth Israel is for us the place to be less alone and more included. It might sound redundant for me to say it, but for Lisa and me, Beth Israel is our home, too, and you are our
Looking around Wolff-Toomim Hall, I could tell that you share the same feeling. The Seder met the needs of those who can’t prepare a full Seder anymore, who don’t have the time to make it at home, or who can’t travel to be with family, but who want to participate in the mitzvah of telling the story of Passover with traditional foods, familiar prayers and songs, and special memories. We all came for the same reason, to celebrate Passover. No one was turned away. As the Haggadah begins, “All who are hungry come and eat,” and, so we fulfilled the meaning of Passover.
Our Second-Seder could not have happened without the extraordinary gifts and help of Kathy Knott, Beth Israel’s Executive Director, Marsha Gilbert, Beth Israel’s Catering Director and Event Planner, and
So, why was this night more special than other nights? Come next year and see for yourself. Until then, Lisa and my children join me in wishing you a pleasant Passover holiday, with hope for the future and peace for
Shabbat Shalom and Happy Passover.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
April 15, 2011
You thought I was going to write about tax day, but this year the deadline is April 18th, for reasons unclear to me. Like the Israelites’ offering before fleeing
The coincidence of tax day and Passover should not be lost on us. The fact that we pay taxes as citizens and not as serfs or slaves speaks volumes about the real journey our people has made. Though we have enjoyed relative freedom in other lands at different times in history, there is no question but that Jews and Judaism have enjoyed a relative golden age in
We aren’t always satisfied with the way our taxes are being used, but our participation in our democracy permits us to elect those who will represent us. And, even when our candidate loses, there are many civil and meaningful ways to effect change, anyway. At Beth Israel, we promote the Jewish value of “Tikkun Olam” to repair the world through active participation on local and state levels. Our Tikkun Olam Committee represents us in promoting Jewish values. Letters to
This Passover, our hope is bound up in our people’s prayer that Jerusalem will be at peace in the hands of a strong Israel; and, that we who live in Houston, will always know peace at home in America. At your Seder table next week, you might include this passage from the prophet Amos (9:15),
“I will plant them upon their land, and they will never again be uprooted from the land which I have given them.”
It is our duty to stand with our people wherever they may live. In Beth Israel, we stand with
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom and Happy Passover.
From the Desk of
April 8, 2011
Metzora is one of those portions in Leviticus that is generally skimmed by casual readers. It speaks of bodily emissions, skin infections and other ailments. It’s just not a pleasant portion to read in English, and not from the bemah on Shabbat. Nevertheless, it’s a particularly poignant Torah portion for us. In ancient times, the ailments were really a cause for fear and anxiety for the individual and the community. Such ailments were regarded as God’s punishment for personal transgressions. No wonder this is the same portion that reckless preachers cite when they look for reasons to condemn so-called “transgressors”. But, they and we misunderstand the Torah portion if we conclude that the purpose of the text was only to exclude ailing people. If read for the purpose it was recorded, the text also provides means to include them. The goal was not to ostracize, but to provide opportunities to return and participate in a sacred community. In Leviticus, those who were sent away expected that they would be welcomed back after they demonstrated their healing to the high priest.
Today, there are more serious concerns than ancient accounts of green stuff growing on the walls of a house (mildew) or scaly skin infections (eczema), for which we have real therapies. Today, we face real sins of homophobia, xenophobia (fear of foreigners), bigotry, racism, and anti-Semitism. These are the sins that plague us. They dismantle the social structures we depend on when we think of community. Torah is an antidote that provides us some relief from our learned fears. In Torah we find our Golden Rules, chief among them, “Love your neighbor as yourself; I am the Lord” (Leviticus 19). Our fear and insecurity often come from what we don’t know about ourselves or others. Unlike the plagues that affected ancient communities, no one can “catch” xenophobia or “catch” homosexuality. Unfortunately, modern records attest to the gross insecurity we have felt and later foisted onto minority groups in society. At times, our behavior has been no better than our ancestors’; perhaps, it has even been worse.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
The lesson from Metzora places the burden on the individuals to heal themselves from the conditions that caused them to be excluded. Likewise, today, anyone who possesses a personal challenge that can be overcome should strive to overcome it, including a medical ailment or even a language barrier. But, Metzora also places an equal burden on us, especially the leaders of the community, to be ready to receive those individuals again and to include them with full rights. I urge you to look around your neighborhood and into your heart to examine whether or not you have done what you should to meet the expectations of your Judaism, “to know the heart of the stranger because you were strangers in the
On Friday, April 8, 2011, in our sanctuary, we will worship using the Union Prayerbook (UPB) and Rabbi Samuel E. Karff will give the Shabbat message. Please join us at 6:30pm. All are welcome.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
April 2, 2011
[Reprinted by request] Not too long ago, Lisa and I saw the movie, “Date Night” starring Tina Fey and Steve Carrell. This isn’t a movie review but it’s a lot better than commenting on this week’s Torah portion, Tazria, which is about skin infections and bodily emissions. The movie is about a modest couple, both employed, two kids, babysitter, requisite dog and suburban home. Their marriage is in a rut after nearly 20 years. They barely have energy after work, they talk themselves into staying home on the weekend, and sex is about as interesting as dry toast.
Finally, they decided to throw caution to the wind and embark on a big-city dinner. The alternative was to go down the path of their friends’ whose marriage was failing. Upon arriving at a chic restaurant they learned that they would have to wait interminably for a table. When the hostess called a name and no one responded, they took a risk and pretended to be the people who didn’t show up for dinner. The rest of the movie is the result of their decision to have a little fun, to take a risk, and to shake things up a bit. You’re safe now to see the movie, because I won’t give away any more of it.
The madcap plot was everything they didn’t want to happen and everything they needed to happen. They discovered that their lifestyle suited them better than they knew. Being someone else or trading their problems for others’ was no way to solve the problems they thought they couldn’t overcome on their own. A modest suburban home with all their possessions and demands sounded like a perfect life for two people who just needed to save a little more time for themselves on a regular basis.
Date Night sounds a lot like what many of us need. Lisa and I have always reserved my day off for dinner out, alone. No kids, no friends. Just the two of us. We turn our cellphones off, find a quiet place for dinner, and talk. If the conversation falls silent for too long, we’ve learned how to ask each other, “Whatchya thinkin’?” It works every time. We talk about the kids, work, pressures, and pleasures. We usually conclude that the evening was just what we needed. When our kids were very young we’d come around the block on our way home, and before we entered the house we made sure they were in bed. Now, of course, we go to bed before they do, but our date night still means the same.
Come to think of it, date night has a lot to do with Tazria. It’s a portion that defines boundaries of holiness. In ancient times, skin infections and bodily emissions were taboo, because they were strange and infectious. Torah describes how they were contained for the welfare of the community. After many years, marriage can produce its own taboos: topics of conversation to avoid, sexual issues that can’t be addressed, and the inevitable rut that is something no one wants to touch. When they are left unattended the home, the marriage and the kids become infected with apathy and everything falls apart.
The goal is to address the issues that are most difficult to address. In ancient times they had methods and formulas for dealing with taboo subjects and issues. Their goal was not to let things fester; but, rather to deal with them directly and turn what was once taboo into something sacred, again. We can do it, too. Date night is just a beginning for any couple that needs to address taboo topics in their marriage or relationship. Rather than let years of partnership be dissolved, Torah urges us to take on the topics directly and turn dry toast into French toast smothered with butter, syrup and powdered sugar.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
March 25, 2011
The Book of Leviticus and the portion, Shemini, pose intriguing challenges. An underlying purpose in the Book of Leviticus is to promote ritual holiness in order to gain God’s blessing. Everything points to the efforts of the priests and the people to maintain a high level of order and cleanliness. Their reward is God’s blessing. It sounds like a fairly simple equation for righteous living, but it is more complicated than it appears.
It’s in this portion that we read about Aaron’s sons, Nadab and Abihu. Sons of the high priest, one could assume that the boys knew their way around holy matters. But, Nadab and Abihu brought an “eish zarah,” an alien fire as an offering to God, and “fire came forth from the Lord and consumed them; thus they died at the instance of the Lord” (Leviticus 10:1ff). In at least two responses to this event, rabbis have upheld the record that the boys were drunk when they entered the Tent of Meeting with their offerings; therefore, their punishment fit the crime. They’ve also suggested that they brought an offering that was not commanded. Their offering was the result of their personal interpretation of God’s commands, which was an affront to Moses.
After the boys were consumed by fire, Moses says to Aaron, “This is what was meant when God said, ‘Through those near to Me, I show Myself holy, and gain glory before all the people. Then Aaron, their father, said, and Torah records, “Aaron was silent” (Leviticus 10:3). Aaron’s silence has astonished readers ever since. Perhaps it’s the finality of God’s decree. Perhaps it’s the utter silence of Aaron whose grief is not recorded in Torah. Perhaps it’s the finality we’ve all felt at times in our life when “we didn’t see it coming” or “we should have known better.”
The clearest lesson is found in what God said about the matter, namely, “Through those near to Me.” It reveals that Aaron and his sons were called to serve God, and their position came with inextricable rules about comportment, leadership and holiness. The higher the office, the higher duty; or we might say, the higher you climb, the farther you fall. That is not to say that jobs with less responsibilities are more forgiving, but it is consistent with our expectations that a person who leads from on high also demonstrates exceptional moral and ethical judgment.
While there are no longer high priests in Jewish life, nor a priestly caste in modern Judaism, the covenant we enjoy in Judaism still holds us to a high standard for moral and ethical living. After all, a mitzvah is a commandment, and this presumes there is a commander. In a covenant such as ours, the commander is God. The ethical and moral teachings found in Torah, which we believe are inspired by God and written by man, are our best representation of covenantal law and duty. If, however, your vision of the commander is not God, but rather the duties of the heart that compel you, personally, it’s not impossible to conclude that your principal teachings don’t also come from the same source in Torah. Thus, Torah is our unifying text. We share the same duty to perform deeds that correspond to expectations that devolve upon us from our heritage of Torah ethics.
Whether or not we perform our duties well or often is a matter of personal conviction. Yet, I have observed time and again that events in our life, whether they are joyful or sorrowful, deeply move us emotionally and spiritually. In recent weeks, I have officiated at four weddings, three funerals, and a baby naming. Imagine the avalanche of emotions among everyone involved. Like Aaron, members of the families who tried to find words to reflect on their joy or their sorrow could not. They stumbled or they were silent. At best, they composed their words on paper to be sure they were prepared. To me their effort reflected the stunning reality and finality of the transitions we face as life unfolds. The small child who enters the chuppah is all grown up; the beloved who is accompanied to his/her final resting place on earth is physically no more; and the baby just entering the world is a miracle to his/her parents and grandparents. At these times, who isn’t rendered silent; who isn’t in awe? They are part of the rhythm of life we cannot control. Indeed, there is a commander who animates the Divine in each of us.
As Shabbat comes, reflect on the moments in your life when you were at a loss for words. Maybe they were holy moments and times of sacred transitions.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
March 18, 2011
Shabbat Shalom. It used to be easier to say. Nothing was looming around us except normal life events. Sure, there are challenges, crisis, even death that turns Shabbat into a salve to relieve our stress and sadness. There are also joys, achievements and births to remind us on Shabbat how grateful we can be. But, at this particular time, world events leave us nervous about what human beings are going to do about the disaster in
Living in
To the west of us, in
To the east of us, in the
Beth Israel’s work on behalf of
Our relative quiet in
As Shabbat comes, find the words that express your gratitude for the life you have. The calm and rest that Shabbat provides us also prepares us to take up the work that awaits us. So, as we tune into the news don’t despair; rather, be inspired to contribute your part to the work we all share. Give. Help. Make a difference.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
March 11, 2011
This week, we begin the book of Leviticus. It’s not a favorite book among Biblical readers. If it’s any indication,
For example, animal sacrifices were a large issue for ancient Israelites. Their aim was to bring the best of their flock or herd as an offering to God. Each offering, specifically prescribed, communicated a message between God and an individual. There were offerings of thanks, forgiveness, atonement to cleanse one from sin, to name just a few. What the bible doesn’t tell us about them is expounded on in Talmud and subsequent texts. All this concern for animal sacrifice ended completely when the
But, I’m afraid there is something that remains lost forever. In each person’s choice of animal for sacrifice was an intimate concern borne by the individual to bring something pleasing, even savory, to God. The physicality of it made it real without any room for imagination. Today, each person chooses prayer for offering, and at best, with a similar and intimate concern borne by him or her to bring something pleasing to God. The difference is that a prayer offering today lacks physicality. We’ve traded the burden of our hands that held the animal, for the duty of the heart that conveys prayer “up” and outward. We’re more advanced; therefore, we’re supposed to be able to make our experience before God more intellectual, emotional and spiritual. I guess so.
I’m not suggesting that carrying an animal to the High Priest for sacrifice was more meaningful than bringing one’s prayer to God, personally. I wouldn’t have it any other way and neither would you. But, it concerns me that the duty to pray is not felt as heavily in our hearts and souls as it once did in our hands.
Leviticus isn’t only for ancient times, it is meant for all times. Perhaps there is, indeed, heaviness in our hearts and souls. What if it’s the frustration in would-be worshipers who struggle to find meaning in prayer? Then we can take a cue from our ancient ancestors. They didn’t wait to bring an offering until they felt ready. They brought their offering according to God’s mitzvot, namely, festival holidays and other sacred occasions. Meaning was found through participation with others. They moved in common rhythm with the community. Now, that’s nothing new.
Shabbat is our day for worship, though daily prayer is also welcome. The duty to thank God for our blessings still devolves upon us. We can do it through offerings of prayer in our house of worship. We can do it through Sabbath rituals at home. Light candles, sip the wine, and eat the challah. Express gratitude to your family for the blessings they are to you. Whatever you bring and wherever you bring it, make it your best offering. Make it a reflection of the duty of your heart.
In your effort to relate personally to God, I encourage you to find meaning in my book, “God of Me: Imagining God throughout Your Lifetime”. Buy it at
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the desk of Rabbi
March 4, 2011
We have arrived at the final chapter of the book of Exodus. It’s called Pekudei and it includes final preparations for building the Tabernacle, the mobile sanctuary. The work that it required came from countless able hands and numerous resources. Recall that God singled out Bezalel and Oholiab as general contractor and master craftsman. In addition, all who were inspired to participate came forward to contribute to its construction. In the end, so much had been brought that Moses told the people to stop bringing goods and supplies. Never again in history has the Jewish community been so flush with goods and supplies.
The sacred task is worth noting, today. Thankfully, we are not a nomadic people anymore. Although the Jewish people have been settled for long periods in other eras, it’s difficult to compare the relative Golden Age of Judaism in
Look around the Jewish community, today. Our families who settled here demonstrated their expectation for longevity when they built synagogues, a JCC, a Jewish home for the aged, and other institutions of Jewish life. Yes, a cemetery came first (Beth Israel’s West Dallas Street cemetery was founded in 1844). But, the cemetery didn’t necessarily reflect longevity; it was a necessity even if the community had to move on. Obviously, it didn’t move on and in 1854, Beth Israel was organized. The contributions to build Beth Israel,
Over time, Torah doesn’t record the efforts made to maintain the Tabernacle. It didn’t report that it was polished or repaired. No mention is made of a part failure. Nevertheless, the community was organized to protect the Tabernacle and to preserve its sacred place. Just like Moses, Aaron, Bezalel and Oholiab, we had
As the book of Exodus is closed and the book of Leviticus is opened, let’s not fall between the cracks and forget the sacred duty that has come down to us. “Hazak, hazak, v’nithazek,” be strong, be strong, and let us strengthen each other. These are the words we say as we go from one book to the next; it’s a reminder that between the pages is our duty to pick up where others leave off.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
February 25, 2011
I was visiting someone at the hospital, today. A friend of the patient who didn’t know me was sitting nearby. I introduced myself, “Hi, I’m Rabbi Lyon.” “You’re a rabbi?!” he said. “Yes, I am.” He put his hands up as if to block me and remarked, “I don’t believe in God!” Thoughtfully, but correctly I offered, “That’s fine. I’m not here to see you.” The visit with the patient went well and her family whom I know appreciated the time I spent there.
Funny. When somebody tells me they’re a dentist, I don’t put up my hands and say, “I don’t like floss!” If I’m not sitting in the dentist’s chair there would be no reason for me to protest the dentist’s interest in my teeth and gums. There was also no reason for this person to assume that I wanted to train him for his bar mitzvah under duress. On my way back to
In truth, nobody wants a run-in with someone we differ with or with whom we’re uncomfortable. I understand that it’s not always easy to know what to talk about with a rabbi; but, why assume that the conversation should always be about Torah? Likewise, while some of my favorite people are dentists (even if I don’t enjoy being in their chairs), I prefer to ask them about their golf game and their family, rather than their drills and sample toothbrushes.
The point is that Judaism makes less demands on us about God than we think, and more demands on us about our deeds. I can’t speak for other faiths. If we actually thought more about God in Judaism, we’d have to open the back walls of our congregations and set up the extra chairs. The truth is that we don’t, because deeds, not rituals, have long been the most significant means by which we have fulfilled our covenant. They are the obvious measure of who we are as human beings. I can’t know what’s in you heart; I can only know what’s in your hands to do. That’s why I want to tell you about two important events coming up in the future.
Travel to
These events are all about deeds that bring us together through the work of our hearts, minds and hands. Did I say anything about God? I didn’t have to; it’s implied that our best efforts come through our meaningful relationship to the divine. It doesn’t diminish us or our scientific understanding of the world; rather, it helps us appreciate more deeply how remarkable we can be when we are guided by a heritage of good works that have come down to us. And, then, it’s often been my observation that good deeds lead us to give thanks for what we accomplished with our hands for the sake of others. And, when we’re done, to whom do we give thanks for our strength and achievements? I thought you’d say that.
I look forward to seeing you soon, and especially on March 24th, and in
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
February 18, 2011
It’s Adar. It’s the month when Purim is celebrated. Everything is turned topsy-turvy: the weak prevail over the strong, the men dress up as Queen Esther, and everyone drinks (moderately) to blur the distinction between Mordechai and Haman. From news reports, it seems that parts of the Esther story are coming true this month.
The
In true Purim fashion, the news from
Although some wait for history to vindicate him, Thomas L. Friedman, not George W., is the prophet of our times. Not a seer, but a visionary, Friedman recognized that our familiar global world was flat and becoming flatter with the increasing role of the Internet and technology. And, scientists have confirmed that the rate of technology’s role in the world is increasing exponentially. The thrilling part of it all is that it’s happening for us within our lifetimes. We’re witnessing political and economic changes that in the past would have taken generations to happen. However, the thrilling part can also be the terrifying part.
Don’t think for a minute that democratic-style victories will lead to instant democratic outcomes founded on democratic institutions. After technology makes change, it still comes down to people. And, don’t think for a minute that
The month of Adar and Purim take our minds off the reality of the day and its challenges. For once, the queen is Jewish, and Haman swings from the gallows. But, when it’s over, we might find out that a new Haman has come to town, and the king wants his crown back. Nevertheless, the reverie helped us imagine what is always possible when we remember who we are and what we can do with the power that God has already put in our hands.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
February 11, 2011
Take a look at Exodus 28:41, in the portion called T’tzaveh. Here, Moses adorns his brother, Aaron, and Aaron’s sons. He prepares for them tunics, sashes, and turbans, “for dignity and adornment.” Then Moses puts them on Aaron and his sons. Finally, Moses anoints them, ordains them and consecrates them to serve God as priests.
The Hebrew is very clear here. “Mashachta otam” means anoint them. “Kidashta otam” means consecrate them. It’s the middle term that is more complex than meets the eye. “Umileita et yadam” does not simply mean ordain them. It’s an idiom, and it literally means, “and fill their hands.” This teaches us that whenever a person of authority is set apart for a special task, especially a sacred one, he or she participates in a rite or ritual that distinguishes this person for the task at hand. We do it all the time. When a leader is inducted into a role or society, when an elected official is inaugurated into office, or when a clergy person is ordained or vested for sacred service, rites and rituals demonstrate the authority of their position and validate the process.
It is likely that when Moses ordained Aaron and his sons, he placed an object into their hands to convey some of his own authority to them. When they grasped it, they demonstrated their total commitment and ability to fulfill their respective roles. Can you imagine if they dropped it? Talk about a bad biblical omen! Likewise, throughout history and down to our own day, a scepter, gavel, or rod, has served as an object of authority when it was transferred to and wielded by a king, judge or presiding officer. These symbols are no small matter and they are never (or rarely) dropped.
Thankfully, we don’t live in an autocratic state. We don’t depend on a single person to carry the scepter, gavel or rod. All of us grasp responsibilities in significant roles at home, at work and in the community. At home, without physical signs of authority, every parent still bears the duty to provide a home where children can be heard but also guided by a benevolent hand. At work, with more signs of authority like titles and reserved parking, corporate heads and small business owners, alike, grasp their companies’ missions and are held to account. In the community, political leaders represent us in the legislature, and are daily challenged to keep promises to their constituents.
We are also very powerful people, individually. We can choose to do almost anything we wish. Naturally, there are consequences, but we are still free to choose. The goal isn’t to be a super-hero or a dictator; it’s to be a “mensch” who grasps the responsibility of being a human being, everyday. At home, at work and in the community, we all have some power over ourselves and many others, too. What will we do with the power? How will we use it to make a difference that matters? The covenant God sealed with our ancestors is the same one God seals with us. Today, it’s conveyed by different authorities, but our role in it is not much different. It’s still our duty to accept in our own hands the responsibility to live by it. It’s still our duty to learn it so that we may teach it to our children. It’s not always easy to do, but it begins where you are and grows from there.
You don’t have to be Moses, Aaron or a Talmud scholar to accept your place in the covenant. Don’t wait to be handed a gavel or a rod. Don’t ever wield a scepter. Wield the power that comes down to you through mitzvot, commandments. In Reform Judaism, we are equally endowed to fulfill commandments, both ritual and ethical. We all have a role to play in the Jewish community.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon In Torah this week, the Israelites are not facing the threat of snow and ice. They’re in the wilderness where it’s warm and dry. In the portion called Terumah, God spoke to Moses saying, “Tell the Israelite people to bring Me Gifts; you shall accept gifts for Me from every person whose heart so moves him” (Exodus 25:1). The gifts were for the purpose of building a holy place for God’s presence. Then it was called a Tabernacle. Today, we call it a synagogue, a
The power of the verse is found in what it implies about you and me. The rabbis taught in a Midrash, that even one person who is so inclined could accomplish the work of building the Tabernacle. More likely, we come together with our individual skills and talents to accomplish sacred tasks. That’s what the Israelites did. Everybody discovered their own skills and used them to make contributions to the work of the Tabernacle. They were so successful in their efforts that Moses later came before the people and announced that more than enough had been brought for the project. He told them to stop bringing. Ever since, it’s been the envy of every Jewish fundraiser. Having more in the coffers than is needed could only be a biblical event! It remains a high ideal we still strive to reach, today.
My point isn’t about fundraising. It’s about the work of our hands. You and I are skilled in special and unique ways. The other day, I learned more about the individuals who serve our congregation. Their professional skills and personal interests are vital to our well-being as a synagogue. Did you know that in our sanctuary, we have a special organ that fills the choir loft with its massive pipes and keyboard? And, did you know that 40 year-old pipes overhead were leaking and creating a real threat to the organ and to our sanctuary? With care, passion, and skills, members of our Board and staff organized the effort to repair and replace the pipes and secure the organ and the choir loft. You didn’t know about it, because the work was so carefully done; it never interrupted our worship or events in the sanctuary. Naturally, there were large costs associated with the physical labor of the job, but the time and attention that a few good men and women contributed was priceless.
Our sanctuary, our modern-day Tabernacle, is secure now. When we enter our sanctuary, look up to the bemah, the Eternal Light, and the Torah, and appreciate the ideals of our faith and heritage that inspire all of us to contribute to its well-being. We should find satisfaction in knowing that we kept the promise of our ancestors; just as God commanded them, “Make me a Tabernacle that I may dwell among them” (Exodus 25:8), so God has commanded us. The good works of our hands have enabled us to maintain our beloved Congregation Beth Israel.
What is your contribution to your Tabernacle, to your Beth Israel? Click on beth-israel.org, and find out how you would like to spend time with us. We’re eager to spend time with you.
As the weather is inclement this weekend, we have combined services on Friday evening, at 6:30pm, in the sanctuary. The bar mitzvah boy welcomes your participation, and we promise to turn up the heat.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
February 4, 2011
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
January 28, 2011
This past week, I attended our regional Reform rabbis’ conference. You might wonder what rabbis do at a conference. Do they have fun or is it a lot of rabbinic stuff? The answer is, yes. We do have fun and we do a lot of rabbinic stuff. We socialize and reminisce. We also study. During our days together, Jonathan Cohen, PhD, from HUC-JIR (Reform seminary in
Part of our lessons on heroes in biblical and rabbinic literature included important observations about Jewish thought. For example, we are surrounded by Christian ideas of religion as soon as we leave the house in the morning, or connect to a variety of media. Religion, we quickly observe, is about faith and belief. Sometimes it even demands perfect faith. But, Judaism is different. I’ve explained before that in Judaism we don’t have to come to faith, first. It’s just as likely that we come to deeds, first, and through doing, we come later to understanding and believing.
In fact, the fullest volumes of Jewish literature related to Jewish law are about ethics and good behavior. They are not about ritual. They are not about worship, holidays and life-cycles. God loves our prayers and offerings of the heart; but, even more, God loves our deeds (mitzvot) that link us to each other as Jews in community. This is what we learned in example after example about heroes in rabbinic literature.
In a Hallmark card, you might learn that heroes are ordinary people doing extraordinary things. But, beginning in biblical literature, following centuries of oral stories, heroes are simply extraordinary. They demonstrate how to make decisions that are both ethical and selfless. Inherent in their stories are the ethics we need to build cohesive Jewish communities that are bound in covenant with God. Read the story of Samson and Delilah, or the story of King Saul. You’ll discover their issues, tragedies, insights and sacrifices. You’ll also discover why they are biblical heroes. Their duty to the Israelite people came at great cost, but their lessons endure as their legacy for us. Our deeds often emulate theirs when we act selflessly for the sake of our own community. This doesn’t begin with rituals and holidays. Only later do rituals and holidays give expression to the ethical underpinnings of our community’s religious values. Purim, for example, is a celebration that followed the unfolding of remarkable selfless deeds for the sake of the survival of the Jewish community.
Ethics and rituals are not only part of biblical hero stories. On a personal note, my book God of Me: Imagining God throughout Your Lifetime (Jewish Lights Publishing) arrived at my house this week. After months of work to compile biblical and rabbinic lessons in a book for adults seeking to reconstruct a personal God image, it was the first time I saw the finished product. Writing is not a mitzvah, but teaching is, and that’s what this is book is meant to do for you. So, standing with my daughter, Abby, who was home when the books arrived, we held it in our hands and flipped through the pages. Then, we said “shehecheyanu,” a blessing to give thanks to God who sustained us and brought us to that moment. A labor of love and a mitzvah are rooted in the Jewish ethic to teach. An expression of that ethic is the blessing we felt moved to recite for the privilege to do so.
Perhaps this week, you’ll do a deed, a mitzvah, that binds you to the ethics of the Jewish community and be moved to recite a blessing, too. Don’t be hero unless you have to be; be a mensch, a decent human being.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
January 21, 2011
This past week, I joined six other faith leaders in
In addition to the Catholic and Protestant messages against the death penalty, which were stirring and passionate, it was vital that a Jewish message was included. The lack of understanding about the issue among Christians and Jews is nearly the same. Even before the program began, a minister asked me if I was prepared to address the texts in the “Old Testament” on crime and punishment. I assured him that I was.
The context of my message was the covenant God sealed with the Israelites in the past and which remains as vital, today. To define it, I cited Rabbi Dr. Eugene Borowitz, a Reform Jewish theologian of our time. He wrote:
“When we seek God as partner in every significant act, we invest our doing and deciding with direction, hope, [and] worth; and, where we fail we have the possibility for repair.”
Inherent in our covenant is God’s unconditional love and hope for God’s creations. Living in covenant we thrive; when we fail, the same covenant provides a path to healing and wholeness.
In Torah, the litany of offenses for which a person may be put to death includes murder, idolatry, blasphemy, adultery, violating the Sabbath, sorcery and even rebelling against one’s parents. But, to read only Torah and not the formidable laws in Talmud and other volumes of Jewish law, gives a terribly false impression of the actual incidence of capital punishment in ancient
In Judaism, today, across the movements and in the State of Israel since 1954, with one exception (one found guilty of genocide or treason during war time), the moral standards of our time and place demand nothing less than the abolishment of the death penalty. From the
While Biblical law mandates the death penalty for 36 offenses, we follow rabbinic interpretations that effectively abolished the death penalty centuries ago. [Talmud] stresses the importance of presenting completely accurate testimony in capital cases, for any mistakes or falsehoods could result in the shedding of innocent blood; prevailing Jewish thought in every movement (Reform, Conservative, Orthodox, Recontructionist) has followed previous opinions, which either oppose the death penalty outright, or allow for it only in the most extreme…circumstances. The major Jewish movements in the
The covenant saves us from personal, spiritual and moral destruction. In turn, through study of Torah and its teachings, further interpreted in Talmud, and performing deeds which reach the level of a “mitzvah” a commandment by God, we save the covenant from destruction.
There is nothing more painful than the death of innocent victims of senseless crime. Most recently, none of us has been untouched by the aftermath of the horror in
To hear the full text of my presentation, I will deliver it again on my radio program, Sunday, January 23, 2011, 6:45am, on KODA 99.1; and, for more information on opposing the death penalty in
From my desk to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
In 1975, I was a camper at the regional Reform Jewish summer camp in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin, called Olin-Sang Ruby Union Institute Camp (OSRUI). I loved summer camp. It was about Jewish time in real time. I remember the fun and the sports; I remember the friends, many of whom I still know today. But, I also remember and was moved by the worship. It wasn’t only the trees and the wooden benches, or the carved wooden Ark that made worship meaningful. It was the music. Not just any music, but a new brand that was written and sung and taught by a remarkable young woman named Debbie Friedman.
From the desk of Rabbi
January 7, 2011
A great football coach once taught his team that it wasn’t enough to aim for getting to the Super Bowl; the team had to aim for winning the Super Bowl. I use a football analogy because it relates to our Torah portion this week called Bo. Torah often references football whenever the text reports, “And then it came to pass…”
Back to Torah. In Bo, we read about
the Israelites who are just about to cross the Red Sea (
Like the Super Bowl, freedom for
the Israelites was not achieved until they reached the end zone, the other side
of the
For the
Israelites, God’s reassuring presence was evident when they crossed the
As Shabbat begins and we recall the long way of our ancestors, let’s remember their victory in God’s presence. Then let’s sing songs to celebrate God’s presence in our life and in all times.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
December 31, 2010
The end of 2010 is here. Amen. Notwithstanding weddings, baby namings, b’nai mitzvah, and other happy occasions, we can agree that this has been one of the more challenging years financially. If you have been personally spared economic angst, you’re surely aware that most of the nation, if not the world, is struggling. Columnists and editorialists share their perspectives. Some are liberal and others conservative in their views. I have no choice but to be Jewish in mine.
What does a year of economic angst mean for us? I often return to a Yiddish proverb that teaches us, “You can’t put thank you in your pocket.” Your pocket is your “pushke,” your personal holdings. Working for gratitude might come at a time in your life when volunteering is a priority. Working for “bubkes” might be necessary to make ends meet. But, everybody should strive to work for a decent living that provides the family what they want and need. In the old country before our ancestors came to
Economic aspirations included a can-do spirit that motivated our ancestors to work hard and to sacrifice selflessly. There were years that were better than others, but they rarely lost sight of their goals. They were consistently frugal, cautious, and wary. Some still struggled, but many succeeded and left large inheritances and legacies for their descendants. But, let’s not miss the point of their success. They didn’t replace hard work with wealth, and they didn’t serve themselves at the expense of the community. Indeed, their Jewish values about wealth and achievement drove them to live mindfully. As a result, they joined with others and built the Jewish institutions we depend on, today. They were capitalists, but they were also quasi-socialists in their efforts to bring everyone up to a place where human dignity was served with “menschlekheit.”
Some of us who grew up in
Like our ancestors, we can bring with us tried and true values that can bring us success and contentment on our terms. Judaism implores us to choose life in the face of adversity. It urges us to ask for help from the very institutions that were founded for our community: the synagogue, Jewish Family Service, Seven Acres, Jewish Community Center, and Houston Jewish Federation. In difficult times they’re here for us, and in good times, we’re their benefactors. The cycle continues. We are never alone and never without opportunities. Perseverance, resourcefulness, and vision are as much a part of Jewish values as tzedakah, mitzvah and shalom. Today is only one day. Tomorrow is part of a long future, God willing, that begins with the first day of 2011, and unfolds into whatever we want to make of it. That’s still part of the American dream. That’s still part of the Jewish dream.
As the ball drops on New Year’s Eve and we welcome 2011, let’s not only pray for economic security, let’s do something about it. Reach out. Help yourself and others. Give generously. Be grateful.
From my family to yours, happy 2011, and Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
December 24, 2010
From peace to calamity. That’s the transition we read about when we close Genesis and begin Exodus, this Shabbat. Genesis ends on these words, “Joseph died at the age of 110; and he was embalmed and placed in a coffin in
There is nothing bright about the Israelite’s experience in slavery. We recall its gruesome and evil history when we read this portion of Torah, and in spring when we tell the Passover story. However, the remarkable epoch story also includes the role of Moses, God’s presence, and God’s covenant with the Israelites. We learn that Moses, though “slow of speech and slow of tongue” (Ex.4:10), is a man of justice and compassion. It’s a perfect combination that enables him to fight for justice and to lead the people to freedom. God appears for the first time to Moses in a bush. Midrash explains that God appears to Moses in a lowly thorn bush to teach us that “if God can appear there, then God can appear anywhere” (Exodus Rabbah 2:5). It’s a perfect lesson for a time when God is needed in
Though the turning point in the story takes a terrible detour under a ruthless Pharaoh, it provides great lessons, too. In short, our story of tragedy in
The heritage of interpretation found in Midrash, empowers us to study and to seek lessons for living. That is the Jewish way. Even today, in the midst of crisis or trouble, in addition to praying that everything will be okay, we still need to know the truth and the bottom line. We want to be part of the solution that comes through real work and effort. Belief is part of the process when it gives us confidence that our work and effort are not for naught. Our rabbis taught us, “Pray as if everything depends on heaven; do as if everything depends on you.” Indeed, it’s a covenant between God and us.
As Shabbat begins and we enter this day of rest and joy, please remember that Beth Israel holds worship services every Erev Shabbat at 6:30pm, including December 24th and 31st. Shabbat morning Torah study, too, will take place at 9:45am, on December 25th and January 1st.
From my family to yours, happy holidays and Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
December 17, 2010
School is almost out for everyone. You can tell by the traffic around the school zones. One of my college-age sons wrote me (texted) that he finished all his finals. This was on Tuesday. He was relieved. I congratulated him. Then I urged him to spend his downtime before he begins his four-week college vacation to look on the internet for a summer job. The delay between my text and his reply told me everything I needed to know. I assumed he was looking up the word “audacity”; then he replied that he had other college-like activities to do instead.
We have four children: two in college, one who is graduating high school this month and one who is preparing for her bat mitzvah. Whether you have two, four or ten children, you quickly discover that though they share certain qualities there are truly no two alike. You begin to wonder how they were born of the same parents. As much as we know about genetics and DNA, we still scratch our heads when they come and go from the room like a review from a casting call.
In this week’s Torah portion, Jacob, on his deathbed, summoned his sons together. All 12 came close to hear their father’s words. The 12 sons (the 12 tribes) received separate blessings based on their separate experiences, strength and expectations for them in the future. Jacob, the father who once singled out Joseph for special treatment, now reviews his sons for their individual merits and demerits (Genesis 49:3-27).
Reuben: first-born who once exceeded in honor will excel no longer;
Simeon and Levi: cursed be their anger they will be scattered in
Zebulun: will dwell by the seashore;
Isaachar: is a strong-boned ass (his Hebrew name means “without honor”);
Dan: will govern his people;
Gad: will be raided by raider but he will raid at their heels;
Asher: his bread will be rich (his Hebrew name means “rich”);
Naphtali: is a hind let loose, which yields lovely fawns;
Joseph: his arms were made firm by the hands of God;
Benjamin: is a ravenous wolf.
We love all our children. As they grow we also discern what might become of them. We pray they will learn, get married, prosper and move out of the house. We hope they will always know blessings. At best they might be like Joseph, whose arms were made firm by God, even though others assailed him. For all his arrogance, Joseph redeemed himself at the end of his service in
At worst, they might be like Isaachar, a strong-boned ass. If you have teenagers, it’s possible that you’ve witnessed the legacy of this ancient ancestor peeking through. Thankfully, they outgrow these tendencies and emerge like our most cherished ancestors and reflect their parents’ finest traits. Have you ever known a Jewish child who isn’t gifted? In Jewish circles a “genius” is defined as an average child with Jewish grandparents!
Winter vacation is beginning as children of all ages leave their classrooms behind for r&r with their families. For some it’s only two weeks and for others a blessed month. Enjoy your blessings found in your children and grandchildren. They are, after all, our treasures and we wouldn’t trade them for anything.
From my family to yours, happy vacation and Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
December 10, 2010
Someone once asked me if there was such a thing as a good Jew or a bad Jew? He was trying to find a comparison between what is commonly called a good Catholic or a lapsed Catholic. There is no easy comparison. The easiest answer to his question is to say no, there is no such thing as a good Jew or a bad Jew, or even a lapsed Jew. A better answer comes from an understanding of why the question is being asked in the first place.
Sometimes we like to know where we stand in relationship to our faith and especially to God. In Catholicism, it’s relatively easy to know when you’re good with God, because the catechism will instruct you whether or not you’re missing the mark. In Judaism, it’s relatively complex and whether or not you’re good with God isn’t even our first test. There is no catechism, creed or dogma. The closest we come to a creed is to proclaim that God is one. In addition, Torah is sacred. We strive to repair the world. We’re commanded to love our neighbor. We learn that what is hateful to you do not do others. We have principles, commandments and Golden Rules. We are a religion of action with a lot to do and then to believe.
We come to Judaism not necessarily through faith, first. More often, we come to Judaism through deeds, first. Belief can come later. It’s like what our Sages taught, “Our understanding comes through our deeds.” There is so much to do and to know. We are a people of the Book (Torah), and we have learned not to amass goods but rather to acquire knowledge. Goods can be stolen. Goods weigh down a people who are always on the move. But, knowledge and wisdom can never be stolen once they are learned, and a people can take them anywhere they might go. So it was with Jews in history even to this day. As long as Jews studied Torah, their faith and their people survived. And, so do we.
So what is it that makes a Jew recognizable, substantial, and qualified to stand before God? What matters most is what a Jew remembers in his head and in his heart. Simply put there is no such thing as a good Jew or a bad Jew; but, there is such thing as a Jew who remembers and a Jew who forgot. A Jew who remembers is constantly mindful of Torah and mitzvot. He or she makes it a daily duty to perform ethical deeds that serve others who are touched by their lives. Scores of ethical deeds we take for granted, today, originate in Jewish teachings. We should be cognizant of the fact that our good deeds are mitzvot (commandments that we do to maintain our covenant with God). And, a Jew who remembers makes it a daily duty to perform ritual deeds that serve his or her relationship with God. Some weekly observance of Shabbat would go a long way to demonstrating one’s role in the community of Jews.
A Jew who forgot is one who gave up on his or her ability to relate to Torah. It isn’t Judaism’s or the Jewish community’s fault. It takes effort to enter Judaism. In truth, there are very few barriers to participation; usually the single largest barrier is a personal one.
As your rabbi, it isn’t up to me to tell you that you’re doing too much or too little. It’s my job to guide you to fulfill your duty to your Jewish soul, your Jewish family and your Jewish community. There are ethical and ritual deeds to do. There are reasons why we do them. Through the doing comes the understanding. And, if it happens for you then deeper faith follows suit. It isn’t a formula, but to me, there’s isn’t a more authentic way for one to come to faith than that.
So, are you a Jew who remembers or a Jew who forgot? If you don’t know the answer, it’s probably time to get started again. Here’s a freebie: Talmud teaches, “Go and learn.” The doors are open to you. The welcome couldn’t be warmer. Let’s do and understand, together.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
December 3, 2010
Just before Halloween this year, retail stores began to focus on winter holiday gift giving. Halloween was like the starting gun that began the race to December 25th. Thanksgiving was only a turn in the race. Barely noticed, we stuffed ourselves with turkey and headed to the shopping malls. Hundreds lined up outside store doors to be the first to buy the latest gizmo. And, now that Chanukah is here the only thing left to do is to brace ourselves for the last few hours before Christmas.
Each of these holidays has become a milestone along the way for retailers to raise or lower their window banners.
At our dinner table last week, my daughter looked at me with a concerned expression on her face. I knew she wanted me to take her seriously. She looked up at me and said, “Dad, this year I’d like to celebrate a traditional Chanukah, with a present on each night.” I almost fell out of my chair. “Really,” I said, “I’d be happy to give you a traditional Chanukah. But, a traditional Chanukah means you would get only gelt (a few coins) on the first night.” Surprised and disappointed, she said, “Let’s celebrate a less traditional Chanukah.” I thought so. She’s young but she’s already a retailer’s prodigy.
Indeed, Chanukah is a minor holiday. When the Maccabees prevailed over the Syrian Greeks in 164 BCE, they found a small cruse of oil enough to light the
Christians and Jews, alike, lament the loss of their respective holiday traditions. How many Christians can explain why the tree is an evergreen or the lights are predominantly red? How many Jews can explain why we increase the lights of the menorah from one to eight, rather than decrease them from eight to one? While you’re looking up the answers, I imagine that it would be easier to explain how to get to Best Buy during rush hour and by multiple routes; or how to attach the big red bow to the top of the new car without giving away the surprise.
I miss the days when the December Dilemma was about how Jews and Christians could share the season respectfully and especially within interfaith families. And, I miss the days when Thanksgiving came before Christmas on TV. This year, I’m going to light the menorah with bigger candles and I’m going to cook up latkes that would make a cardiologist shiver. It’s a race to the finish line. Let’s see who rings up a better season. Will it be families who celebrate their holidays with meaning and care, or black Friday and internet Monday? I’m putting my money into a few thoughtful gifts and on the hope found in the lights we kindle in gratitude to God for the victories of old.
Happy Chanukah and Shabbat Shalom from my family to yours.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
November 26, 2010
“I do recommend and assign Thursday the Twenty-Sixth Day of November next, to be devoted by the people of these States, to the Service of that great and glorious Being, who is the beneficent Author of all that good that was, that is, or that will be.”
--- George Washington,
first national Thanksgiving
Day Proclamation, November 26, 1789
Since that day, Jews who made
Many words of thanks will be shared around the table. Many more will be expressed in letters, cards and emails, texts and tweets this holiday season. Just as George Washington’s words help us recall that first Thanksgiving proclamation, so may we recall some original words of thanks from our sacred texts. These citations are from original sources and from an anthology of Jewish quotations (1956), which I saved from a heap of books. Take a look. You’ll recognize many of them. Share them if you wish.
“It is good to give thanks to God.” Psalm 92.2
“Be not like those who honor their gods in prosperity and curse them in adversity. In pleasure or pain, give thanks!” Akiba, Mekilta to Exodus 20.20
“Lord, I thank You for the goodness of growth, I thank you for the slice of bread and the prayerful mood.” Ben Amittai.
“Who directed the first prayer of thanksgiving to God? A woman, Leah, when she cried out in the fullness of joy, ‘Now again will I praise God!’”
“If a Jew breaks a leg, he thanks God he did not break both legs; if he breaks both, he thanks God he did not break his neck.” A Yiddish Proverb
“As long as the soul is within me, I will give thanks unto You, O Lord, my God and God of my fathers.” Talmud, Berachot 60b; Union Prayerbook Book
From my family to yours, Happy Thanksgiving and Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
November 19, 2010
I was in
In the morning, I took a taxi to 4th and Broadway, to HUC-JIR, our Reform seminary. I bumped into a colleague who had just finished teaching his morning class. We took the subway together uptown and caught up on Jewish news and updates on each other’s families. He departed at Union Station with instructions for me to ride on for two more stops to 59th. Those were his instructions to me so that I wouldn’t get lost on my way to my destination. I made it for lunch with a past president of Beth Israel, where we talked about the congregation and caught up on family news.
Before meetings later in the day, I found my way to
When I arrived at the airport at the end of the next day, I was delighted and surprised to find no line at security, at 4:00 p.m. at LaGuardia. I thought I won the lottery. But, it wasn’t to last. Only 30 minutes before the plane was due to board, the airport’s fire alarm sounded, lights flashed, and recorded announcements were made. And, wouldn’t you know it, the crowd full of New Yorkers and stubborn passengers didn’t budge. Nobody moved from their seats. What does it take to raise the alarm and move people to safety? Well, they knew more than I did. In a matter of moments, the alarm was silenced and everybody returned to their routines talking on cell phones, listening to iPods, and lining up early to be called to board.
I arrived home on time.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom and happy holidays next week.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
November 12, 2010
Heritage is an important part of our life as Americans. Yesterday, we observed Veterans Day. Beth Israel counts among its members, past and present, scores of men and women who served in the armed services during times of war and peace. In the Friedlander Levy Family Hallway there is a large plaque memorializing the names of service members who died in wars to defend our nation. Years ago, Art Simon, of blessed memory, took the responsibility to invite a Beth Israel rabbi every year to join him in the National Veterans Cemetery on Veterans Day for a special ceremony. And, currently, we have a member whose son is serving in Afghanistan. He stays in touch with me by Facebook from where he is stationed oversees. So, our heritage comes full circle. Those who served in the past inspire a new generation to participate fully and with honor.
Likewise, heritage is an important part of our life as Jews. In 1844, Jews in Houston organized the first cemetery which bears the names of these early settlers in our West Dallas cemetery. In 1854, they organized Beth Israel. Rapid growth in Houston, especially following the hurricane of 1900 that swept through Galveston, Beth Israel welcomed many new members. Ever since, families have planted deep roots in the congregation. Many Beth Israel families can count five or more generations among us. Though many are gone or moved from Houston, there remain families whose tight-knit clans still cherish Jewish life at Beth Israel.
Every year on Heritage Shabbat, we honor our past by recognizing the long way we have come in the presence of remarkable and long-standing families in Houston and Beth Israel. We begin by worshiping together, but not with the new prayerbook called Mishkan Tefilah; rather, we worship the way we used to do with the Union Prayer Book. It is the small book filled with “thee” and “thou” and mostly English. We will sing the classical Reform music we still hold dear, and we will honor a family whose presence among us has endured over many generations.
It will be an honor to welcome to the bemah at the beginning of the service, the family of Meyer and Ida Gordon. The Gordon family, now in its 5th generation at Beth Israel has been members since the 1800s. They were obviously founding members of the congregation; and, their family has served in every capacity as leaders and sustainers of our beloved congregation.
Meyer and Ida, founders of The Gordon Jewelry Corporation, had three children, Harry B. Gordon, Aron Gordon and Bertha Gordon Miller. Harry served as the president of Beth Israel, Aron served as board trustee and Bertha was active in Sisterhood. Current members of the Gordon and Miller spouses and children include: Aileen B. Gordon, Dede and Connie Weil, Susie and Arnie Miller, Jim and Nancy Gordon, Dan and Annette Gordon, and Frann Gordon Lichtenstein. There are nearly 30 grandchildren and great-grandchildren at Beth Israel, too. They have celebrated numerous life-cycle events on the bemah in the sanctuary, and the Gordon Chapel, named in honor of their family's legacy.
In times of war and peace, we cherish our legacy of commitment to our nation's freedoms and liberties and to our Jewish way of life in America that has provided so many generations the privilege to celebrate our love of God and Torah. Tonight, in the sanctuary at 6:30pm, we will begin by honoring the Gordon, Miller and Weil families for the heritage that has come down to all of us as a sacred inheritance. Please join us and may we all see our families as a heritage of commitment, faith and service.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
November 5, 2010
Our Sages taught, “The more Torah, the more life.” This week, I want to draw your attention to the
This week, Rabbi Aaron Panken, PhD, of
Click here to read the Commentary and Rabbi Lyon's Comment
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From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
October 29, 2010
Upon reflection of this week’s Torah portion, I re-read this message which I wrote to you a year ago. It speaks to me again, because I had visitors in my office recently who spoke lovingly about the place where their beloved mother is buried. It brought them comfort to know that her final resting place on earth would be eternal. So, take to heart what the Torah portion teaches us this week and reflect on the memories of those whom you cherish every day.
This week, we read the portion called “Chayei Sarah”. This means the Life of Sarah, but, in fact, the portion is about the death of Sarah that is remembered and honored by her husband, Abraham. In Genesis 23, Abraham “rose up from upon his dead [wife]” and immediately prepared for her burial. It began with a conversation with the Hittites, the people of the land. Ephron the Hittite spoke up and offered a free burial site to Abraham. But, Abraham refused the offer. He insisted on paying full market price. Abraham prevailed and Ephron sold the site to him for 400 shekels. It was not a clearance price. Trust me when I tell you it was a lot of shekels. For the price, Abraham received “Ephron’s land in Machpelah, looking out on Mamre — the fields, its cave, and all the trees in the field within its boundaries” (Genesis 23:17-18). The purchase was notarized “in the sight of the Hittites and of all the town leaders.”
Commentaries point out that Sarah’s grave is the first permanent, legal presence in the land promised to Abraham and to their descendants (p. 116). The significance has not been lost on those who look for Biblical sources that point to our people’s longstanding connection to the Land. Abraham’s interest in honoring Sarah with a burial place for all time said much about his undying attachment to her. It also reflected Abraham’s faith that our people would endure on the Land. The piece of property he purchased became a sacred burial space. From there our people labored to return and honor not only the
To this day, the honor paid Jewish women has reflected the great love Abraham and Sarah shared, and the respect he paid her when she died. Years ago, when I officiated at the funeral of a man’s wife, we stood at the graveside in Beth Israel’s
Perhaps this Shabbat is time to observe yahrtzeit in your family. I urge you to remember your loved ones with recitation of Kaddish in the synagogue (This week is Shabbat Shira. If you prefer to recite Kaddish on a “quieter” evening, please call and we’ll read your loved one’s name next week). At home, open a picture album, review cards and letters, and honor their memory with acts of loving-kindness. If you’re so inclined, you might visit the cemetery. At graveside, you might recite Psalm 23, 121, or 15. Perhaps you might recite Proverbs 31:10, and Kaddish, too. However you choose to remember, consider the example set by Abraham, to honor the life that was lived in a sacred place for all time.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
October 22, 2010
On November 4, 1995, Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated by the hands of a right-wing Israeli radical who was opposed to Rabin’s signing of the Oslo Accords. Now, fifteen years later, we remember Rabin as Time magazine’s Man of the Year, and as a Nobel Peace Prize winner. We also remember him for the steps he took for the sake of peace, a lasting peace.
We learned a lot from Rabin in his lifetime, and his lessons are not lost on us even now. Rabin understood that economic strength was a key to peace. He said, “Practically the only way to dry the swamp of radical Islam is through economic development and an improved standard of living.” It’s like what a leading businessman once told me, “A person who is desperate is dangerous; so give him something.” It can be a man who threatens you on the corner, but it can also be a people threatening you on your borders. Rabin wanted peace and he knew that people felt secure about their future only when they believed that the future they envisioned for themselves was attainable. Without economic opportunity there was no possibility for any vision to take hold. Today, in certain places in the
Rabin wasn’t the first or the last one to equate peace with economic development. But, he believed in the importance of the equation because he was willing and able to see things as they were and as they should be. He was prepared to provide the link to get from the past to the future through cooperative and reasonable means. Rabin said, “We must think differently, look at things in a different way. Peace requires a world of new concepts, new definitions.” Indeed, Rabin was willing to do what it took to offer economic, humane, and reasonable means for the sake of peace.
But, Rabin wasn’t naïve. He also said, “You don’t make peace with friends. You make it with very unsavory enemies.” His aim was peace. He knew who sat on the other side of the negotiating table and what they thought of him. That was the least of his concern. He came to make peace, not friends.
In fifteen years, the world has changed a lot. After September 11, 2001, in the U.S, and the Intifada in the
I’m not a pessimist. I exercise what Barbara Ehrenreich (whom I quoted on Rosh Hashanah from her book Bright Sided) calls “defensive pessimism.” It is realism plus pessimism, and she calls it a “prerequisite for survival.” Indeed, our Judaism demands that we see our lives as they are, and to participate in making them into what they should be. We do not have the privilege to wallow in our sorrow or to accept things as they are given to us.
Armed with a world-view and the privilege of hindsight, it is incumbent upon us to honor the memory of Yitzhak Rabin. He spoke wisely about the world as he found it in his lifetime, and he taught us about his vision for peace and what we can do about it. Just because he is gone does not deprive us of his gifts to us. Judaism teaches, “A jewel that is lost, remains a jewel forever.” In the absence of great statesmen, today, let’s dust off the wisdom of a not so distant past and reflect on the jewel that was Rabin’s life, a man of peace and a statement for all time. Let’s not let the act of extremists in the Middles East, Jew or Arab, deprive us of his vision. Peace is what we want. Peace is what we need.
As Shabbat enters our homes and our hearts, reflect on the memory of Yitzhak Rabin, a man who knew we could do better and who gave his life to the vision he saw for his enemies and his friends.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
October 15, 2010
We watched the most incredible event on television this week. On live TV, we witnessed 33 miners pulled up from the depths of 2000 feet underground where they stayed waiting for the last 60+ days for their rescuers to save them. How did they endure? How did they keep their wits about them in the depths of the earth? It’s almost beyond comprehension. Had they perished in the earth we would have come to the conclusion that saving them was beyond human ability. We would have called it a dreadful tragedy. That the complete opposite happened without incident makes it a heroic story for all time. Humanity was served in all the ways peoples of various nations provided support and technology to save the miners. When the miners were lifted up, so were the Chilean people. So were we.
The Chilean news spoke of the men’s faith. Faith is about hope, and hope is connected to the future. Had they given up it would have been only because any hint of the future had been extinguished. To their credit, leaders among them kept the light of the future burning for them. Hope fed their faith that they would not perish there.
In Judaism, there is a story of a pit, too. In Genesis, Joseph’s brothers left him for dead in a pit. How do we know that the pit would have meant death for him? The Torah reports, “The pit was empty; there was no water in it.” Here, the Torah appears to be redundant. After all, if the pit was empty, there was obviously no water in it. So, our Sages explained. Water sustains life. We can live without food much longer than we can live without water. Torah sustains life, too. In effect, they explained that the pit was empty; it didn’t have Torah in it. You’re going to say that the Torah hadn’t even been given yet (it wasn’t given until the Israelites reached Sinai), but our Sages granted themselves the privilege of reading Torah without chronological restrictions. The point is that the pit in which Joseph found himself would not sustain him. Unless he was saved, he would have perished there. In the end, we know that he was saved and that he sustained not only himself, but also Pharaoh’s household and his own when famine came to the land. The purpose of his survival held meaning.
In
Fame can be a distraction. It was for Joseph, too. He thought quite a lot of himself even before becoming Pharaoh’s chief of staff. For the miners, they will face the unlikely stage of world fame. From the lowest point in the earth to the highest platforms above it, they will forever represent the human will to persevere and to keep faith when all seems lost.
On this Shabbat, give thanks for miracles that still happen and pray for the complete recovery of the miners. Their ability to cope with the meaning of their survival will be lessons for life that can sustain us all.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
October 8, 2010
Did you read USA Today, yesterday? The front page reported on “How America sees God”. It is based on research conducted by Paul Froese and Christopher Bader, sociologists at Baylor University, in Waco, Texas, soon to be published in their book, “America’s Four Gods: What We Say about God, and What that Says About Us”. It examines all the way Americans see God and why it matters.
There isn’t any bad news in their report. They conclude that 9 out of 10 Americans believe in God, and that the way we picture God reveals our attitudes on “economics, justice, social morality, war, natural disasters, science, politics, love and more.” In effect, God is part of our life at home in private and among like-minded people, but God is also with us in the public square. For all the Americans who believe in God, the researchers concluded that we believe in one of four God types.
The Authoritative God is claimed by 28% of Americans. This is the God who judges us and metes out harsh punishment for sins and transgressions. To them the world is divided into good and evil, and, “they respond to a powerful God guiding our country.”
The Benevolent God is claimed by 22% of Americans. This is the God who loves us and supports us in our caring for others. To them, God is a force for good, “who cares for all people, weeps at all conflicts and will comfort all.”
The Critical God is claimed by 21% of Americans. This is the God who “keeps an eye on the world but delivers justice in the next.” The poor, the suffering and the exploited identify with this God. The researchers quote a working-class preacher who told his congregation, “Our cars that are breaking down here will be chariots in heaven. Our empty bank accounts will be storehouses with the Lord.”
The Distant God is claimed by 24% of Americans. This is the God who “booted up the universe and left humanity alone.” This, they claim, is the “dominant view of Jews and other followers of world religions and philosophies such as Buddhism and Hinduism.”
Over many years, in a lesson plan for 10th grades about how they perceive God’s role in the world, I discovered that for most Jewish teenagers and emerging young adults, they identified with the Distant God. They valued God’s distant presence, but counted on their own heads and hearts to make a difference in the world on all the subjects identified by the Baylor researchers, including grades, relationships, and happiness. Only on issues they believed to be too far from their present context, like war and peace, did they relinquish some control to God. Over many years, in conversations with adults, I would conclude that Reform Jews generally claim a Distant God, too.
In this short space, I can only take issue with one idea in their report. It is the part that draws conclusions about our Jewish view of God. They report that Americans speak about a “personal God engaged in our lives.” Jews can claim a “personal relationship” with God, but Jews can also claim a “personal covenant” with God. Within that covenantal relationship with God, we can identify with God in multiple ways. At different points in our life, at different ages and under different circumstances, Jews can “live” with God who can be, over time, authoritative, benevolent, critical and/or distant.
A study from Baylor would strive to reach a specific conclusion about how Americans see God, today, as if that view had remained fixed or at least dominant for the majority of our lifetime. In religions with strict dogmas and creeds, variations on beliefs are usually unwelcome; therefore, I’m not surprised that either no category was provided or none emerged for those who have or have had more than one God image. There is no dogma in Judaism, and the closest we come to a creed is found in Deuteronomy 6:4, where we find Shema, the “Watchword of our Faith,” God is One God. We can imagine the One God, without form or gender, in our own separate ways and with whom we live in a lifelong covenant. How have you imagined God? Would you identify with one or more of the study’s categories, or one of your own? Send me your answer. I’ll reply later with some unscientific but interesting conclusions.
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
From the Desk of Rabbi David Lyon
October 1, 2010