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“Someday we’ll find it, the rainbow connection, the lovers the dreamers and me.” Kermit, the frog, loves Miss Piggy. Think about it folks. Jim Henson and his Muppets shattered stereotypical bigotry. Now, I know that the Muppets each represent one of his friends from college (I learned that while on a college tour). I do not want to venture so far as to assess who was a pig, who was a flaming yellow bird, or who might have been any of the characters, but I stay fascinated that he felt no need to cast his friends in monochromatic or monoanimalic (I just made up that word) characters. They could have all been terrapins or bears, of differing shades, but he went out on a limb to demonstrate the diversity that existed in his sphere of “friendhood.” So popular is the notion that Bert and Ernie are gay, that they have symbolically married in several “Gay Pride” parades across the country. Big Bird is at best, “flamboyant” and Fozzie Bear is downright obnoxious. Each character epitomizes some character trait and uses it to teach children how to better evolve into caring, compassionate, and intelligent young people. Any child (and adult) could watch the Muppet show or Sesame Street and feel included in the storyline and lesson plan. No one was excluded (including Big Bird’s imaginary friend Snuffy).

And then there is a frog deeply invested in a steamy, entertaining, and often complicated love relationship with a pig. This all is the rainbow connection; the love and respect that beings of all shapes, species, colors, genders, and sizes hold sacredly for each other. Similarly, the late Harry Chapin taught us, “There are so many colors in the rainbow, so many colors I the morning sun, so many colors in the flower, and I see every one.” Even depicting the still life of a flower provides an opportunity to bring the diverse blessings of the world into concert. Of course, the LGBTQ community sees the rainbow as its statement of inclusion. Everyone matters.

So, God created a rainbow for Noah as a sign promising never to flood the earth again. Knowing that the rainbow consists of diverse colors and shades across the spectrum, I cannot help but think that God is somehow recanting having condemned humanity. We really are all in this together.

Muppeteer and close Henson friend, Richard Hunt spoke at Henson’s funeral. He said, “It’s important that we all stop giving ourselves such a hard time. We’ve got to remind ourselves, and push ourselves, to let go – there’s not much we can do except to be, and in being, become aware. And that’s why Jim’s last words are most important: ‘Please watch out for each other,’ he says. ‘Love everyone and forgive everyone, including yourself. Embrace and open up your love, your joy, your truth, and most especially your heart.'”

This week, we repopulate the earth, with God’s commitment that everyone and everything; every color on the spectrum matters. Apropos, I want to share the lyrics of one of my favorite Muppet songs, “Just One Person.”If just one person believes in you, deep enough, and strong enough believes in you … hard enough, and long enough, it stands to reason, that someone else will think “If he can do it, I can do it.” Making it: two whole people, who believe in you, deep enough, and strong enough, believe in you … hard enough and long enough. There’s bound to be some other person who believes in making it a threesome …Making it three people you can say: believe in me. And if three whole people, why not… four? And if four whole people, why not … more, and more, and more … And when all those people, Believe in you, deep enough, and strong enough, believe in you … Hard enough, and long enough It stands to reason that you yourself will start to see what everybody sees in You … And maybe even you, Can believe in you… too!”

Shabbat Shalom.

Most weeks, I write a commentary on the Torah portion assigned to the week or the holiday. This weekend, though, I need to change gears; if only for one week. This Shabbat, we also celebrate the holiday of Simchat Torah (Celebrating the Torah). We both complete the reading of the Torah cycle and commence the cycle over again – at the same time. This way, we never “finish” reading the Torah. We dance with the scrolls. We celebrate the blessing of not only completing a cycle but being able to start a new one. Our joy stems both from the blessing of all that we learned the previous year and also from the expectation that life’s twists and turns will cause a new light to emanate from the ancient texts. We cannot know what the future holds, but we do know that Torah is flexible and magical enough to prompt relevant conversation between us, no matter the circumstance. Our problem has often been that we just refuse to engage. In our failure to engage we dismiss the whole process as Tom Foolery.Most weeks, I write a commentary on the Torah portion assigned to the week or the holiday. This weekend, though, I need to change gears; if only for one week. This Shabbat, we also celebrate the holiday of Simchat Torah (Celebrating the Torah). We both complete the reading of the Torah cycle and commence the cycle over again – at the same time. This way, we never “finish” reading the Torah. We dance with the scrolls. We celebrate the blessing of not only completing a cycle but being able to start a new one. Our joy stems both from the blessing of all that we learned the previous year and also from the expectation that life’s twists and turns will cause a new light to emanate from the ancient texts. We cannot know what the future holds, but we do know that Torah is flexible and magical enough to prompt relevant conversation between us, no matter the circumstance. Our problem has often been that we just refuse to engage. In our failure to engage we dismiss the whole process as Tom Foolery.

That said, I stand in awe of the Biblical text because of its potential to engage readers in many generations in the power of growth. I learned, early on, that one cannot expect any return form an empty investment. When someone tells me that they get nothing from services, I always ask, “What did you bring with you?” I get a quizzical stare and then continue, “Will you make money in the market if you don’t invest? Do you get eggs in the store without bringing money for the exchange?” Expecting to get something of value from zero investment is fruitless. Thinking that one can expect to take, offering nothing in return is emotionally and spiritually dishonest. In fact, when we take something of value and offer nothing, it is tantamount to theft. Yet, we operate on this plane every day. We expect and accept things from each other without thought. One can argue that one pays taxes, so the teachers, police officers, garbage collectors, and officials have to show up and do their jobs, but in so many cases, these people show up not only to perform the tasks of their jobs but to also offer the gifts of their humanity. We are not paying for their humanity; they offer that from their hearts.

I was speaking with my township’s Chief of Police the other day. I told him that one big reason I oppose weapons is that I know if we have an active shooter situation, he will be the one responding (not me). I cherish him and cannot think of putting him at risk. I need him to do his job, but not at the cost of his life. My prayer is we invest in each other’s well being, he and I.

So, this Simchat Torah, I pray for us to open our hearts and our arms. As we return to the beginning of the Torah cycle, I want us to return to the beginning of our thought processes about how we care for and about each other. We will read of the spiritual origins of the world. Let’s bring the “new” back into our daily life choices. Shabbat Shalom and Chag Sameach.

The High Holy days are now behind us. It is time to start living all of the promises we made to be better, do better, and help others do and be better. Our tradition plunges us right into the first opportunity to live out our vows and start making a difference in the world around us. This week, we find ourselves in the midst of Sukkot. Sukkot is the Festival of Booths. According to Torah, as the earth prepares to go to sleep for the winter, we spend time not only gathering the Fall harvest but spending time with nature (in a sukkah-booth) to help us better appreciate the earth from which all life gains sustenance. Sukkot is a joyous time and a hopeful time.The High Holy days are now behind us. It is time to start living all of the promises we made to be better, do better, and help others do and be better. Our tradition plunges us right into the first opportunity to live out our vows and start making a difference in the world around us. This week, we find ourselves in the midst of Sukkot. Sukkot is the Festival of Booths. According to Torah, as the earth prepares to go to sleep for the winter, we spend time not only gathering the Fall harvest but spending time with nature (in a sukkah-booth) to help us better appreciate the earth from which all life gains sustenance. Sukkot is a joyous time and a hopeful time.

Judaism maintains that the advent of the Messianic Age is tied deeply into this holiday. The announcement of Messiah comes on Passover. The covenanting of the Age takes place as we mourn on Tisha B’av and truly commit to “Never Again.” During Sukkot, the Messianic Age is supposed to begin. It makes perfect sense to me. Just as the Earth is going fallow for the Winter, it takes a lot of hope to believe that what is barren will come back to life. I know this sounds familiar for non-Jews as well. Think about it folks, death and resurrection are part of every ancient tradition and religious scripture. Most often, resurrection ties into some spiritual world renewal. For us, we get a taste of it every year, with the hope that at some point, our renewed hope really will tip the scales and motivate people to fulfill the prophecy of world peace.

I need that hope now! With what has been happening in our world, as of late, I see more and more people afraid and angry. They have good cause. Our world governments are not responsive to people’s needs. There are crazy people with access to the most devastating of weaponry. What purports to be religion in so many places is nothing more than fear-mongering and opportunism designed to make pastors rich and powerful.

I need hope now! Yes, in the face of disasters, people all over open their hearts, their arms, and their wallets to make a difference in the lives of those impacted. Yes, more people who never spoke together are sharing time, conversation, and loving embraces. Yes, even while the political divide only grows, more and more people are involved in the conversation; fewer are simply bystanders. But, with all of this beauty that surfaces, I need to be able to hope that the events when we come together will stop being episodic. I need to know that when we open our hearts that we don’t use that moment or experience as the pat on the back soothing our consciences, allowing us to crawl back into the cave. I need to know that while more people are getting involved, that we do so responsibly and respectfully. I have no problem disagreeing with people over issues, but that never means that we have to dismiss each other. I can promise you that, in this climate, screaming rhetoric will not change the heart and mind of someone stuck in another point of view.

So, as Sukkot takes on full force, I am praying for a hint of the Messianic Age. For all the people espousing the different Messianic faiths in this world, we need to demonstrate faith by expanding our hearts. We need to understand more than we think that we know. We need to see that whatever our scriptural basis, we are not home yet, and more blood gets shed in the name of the peaceful concepts of God than any other cause. True, it is not God or religion mandating this, it is the people who co-opt and manipulate Jesus, Torah, Quran, and the many Holy Scriptures … and God, to make them serve our egos. It is time for renewal in faith. It is time to cast off the things we think religion says and go back to see what our real values are supposed to be. We really are all in this together … it is time we get to experience this blessing. Shabbat Shalom and Happy Sukkot.

standing this day before Adonai, your God … every man of Israel, your young children, your women, and your convert who is within your camp both your woodcutters and your water drawers, that you may enter into the covenant which Adonai, your God is making with you this day, in order to establish you this day as God’s people … But not only with you am I making this covenant and this oath, but with those standing here with us today before our God, and [also] with those who are not here with us, this day.” This covenant of faith is made with all people, not just some people. Too often in religious chauvinism, people forget that and try to “Out God” the other traditions. No, everyone, from all places of the earth, everyone matters. Everyone is included. Please note that nowhere in this text does God require our affirmation. Nowhere do we have to make a pledge of faith. All that we have to do is take care of each other.

This weekend (Saturday) is Yom Kippur, the holiest day on the Jewish Calendar. It is our Day of Atonement. It is the tenth day of the month of Tishri (of course being a lunar based month, the date floats around the solar based secular calendar). This is the day that Jews are supposed to stop everything to make sure that we have fixed the difficulties between us and each other, across the world. Quite literally, we spend the day regrouping and rethinking … and healing the obstacles between each other.

Saturday is also the 10th of Muharram. Muharram is the second holiest month in Islam. Saturday will be the Day of Ashura. It is the Moslem Day of Atonement. It celebrates the day that the Prophet Musa (Moses) freed the people of Israel from slavery to Pharaoh (yes, Moslems celebrate the Exodus and Moses is one of Islam’s chief prophets) and also commemorates the martyrdom day of Hussein ibn Ali, the grandson of Muhammad. Jews and Moslems will be in prayer all day seeking a new path before God and with each other.
What a great way to start the year! 

WHY CAN’T WE LEARN TO BETTER APPRECIATE ALL THE THINGS THAT WE SHARE? 

This is my prayer for the new year. Shabbat Shalom.

Country star Tim McGraw had a hit with a song, “Live Like You Were Dying.” Ostensibly, the song was a tribute to his dad, the late Mets and Phillies pitching ace, Tug McGraw. In short, the song reminds us not to put off living. We are not guaranteed a moment with folks we love, tasks that we enjoy, or in settings that help us thrive.
 
The song’s chorus reads, “I went skydiving. I went Rocky Mountain climbing.I went two point seven seconds on a bull named Fu Man Chu. And I loved deeper, and I spoke sweeter, And I gave forgiveness I’d been denying.'” We should not wait until we are dying to live. We should not wait until we are dying to share our innermost sacred thoughts with the folks we love. In truth, even, the whole concept of “dying” challenges me because until we die, we are still living. How much time do we waste waiting to die? How obsessed are we with leaving our own finality that we spend our last days teaching and not sharing, withdrawing instead of embracing, grieving all that we didn’t do instead of checking at least one more thing off of our bucket list?

This week’s Torah portion (Nitzavim) begins telling us that this is Moses’ last day alive. What follows is a lengthy list of all the things for which Israel needs to pay attention, chastisements for their failures (which Moses just presumes will happen), and a promise that no matter how bad Israel gets, God will take them back.

Really? Is that all Moses has to share on his last day on earth? Does he take time out to hold his children and grandchildren and love on them? What about his wife? Are there no parting words of affection for her? No–Moses praises his chief protégé, Joshua ben Noon. Even in his praise, though, he attacks the integrity of Israel. He tells Joshua to be strong and courageous. This warning does not stem from Moses’ concern for the people’s safety in the turbulent waters outside of the people. Instead, Moses is warning Joshua that the people are stiff-necked and obnoxious.

Even while he acknowledges this incredible covenant that God has with the people, he bashes Israel for constantly ignoring its part of the covenant. I need to know why, with all of the blessings Moses had experienced in life, this painful conversation is all that Moses has left to offer. I am guessing that Moses never heard Tim McGraw sing.
Tim’s Dad coined a phrase that lives in the heart of all Mets fans, “You Gotta Believe!” It rallied them from the cellar in the division all the way to the World Series. Another New York Favorite Yogi Berra said, “It’s not over till it’s over.” When someone tells me that they are dying with cancer, I tell them that they are living with cancer. They will die when they die.

One of the “sacred cows” we don’t talk often talk about is Moses’ humanity. Even having seen God face to face, bearing the aura of light that traveled with him for all of his days post-Sinai, Moses has human failings. He got very upset with the people’s lack of faith and rebellions. He lost control of his anger and blasphemed before God (the incident over hitting rather than speaking to the rock for water – see Num. 20:11). Yes, we get upset. Yes, the best of us sometimes falter. Yes, there are ramifications for our failures, but at the end of our days, is that where we need to dwell? And, if the anger or frustration is not the legacy we want to leave, then perhaps it is not the way we want to live. 

“Live like you are dying.” We should all have so much more that we need to accomplish while alive, that we don’t have time to waste causing pain, promoting alienation, or … waiting for death.

We are blessed to have each day and have each day with each other. We have to make better use of this blessing. We have to better share this blessing. We have to take better ownership of proliferating this blessing. Shabbat Shalom.

I wrote this piece last year for this week’s Torah portion. As I was trying to synthesize all that is happening now, I found myslef comforted and challenged by these thoughts. Please forgive me, but I found no reason to reinvent the wheel. I pray that we find joy in service and that in that joy we better commit to each other.I wrote this piece last year for this week’s Torah portion. As I was trying to synthesize all that is happening now, I found myslef comforted and challenged by these thoughts. Please forgive me, but I found no reason to reinvent the wheel. I pray that we find joy in service and that in that joy we better commit to each other.As we get ready for the High Holy Days, Jews around the world prepare to spend a lot of time in the synagogue; more time than any other time in the year. Jews who do not belong to a synagogue find the need to be in one on these days. They are called the “Days of Awe,” but for so many, they are the days of guilt and dread. There is something about these days that compel us to confess and to turn … turn from our callousness and complacency and return to the path of righteousness.

This week’s Torah portion sets the tone. This week, we read about the rebukes due us from God, if we fail to do what God expects us to do. From this text (and many like it) we learn the phrase, “the fear of God.”

WAIT! STOP! Why are we always beating ourselves up and feeling guilty? We are not perfect. We are not expected to be perfect. Our innate imperfection is why we have atonement prayers and rituals that help clean the slate allowing us new beginnings. In this week’s text, we find a truth that we too often ignore or dismiss. We earned the rebuke because “because you did not serve your God, with joy and with gladness of heart, when you had everything.” Certainly, one can read this to mean that in our “good times,” we gave no credit to God. Therefore, God is upset. The Talmud gives us a different take on the text. Suffer when we fail to realize how much we have for which to be joyful. We get so stuck in seeing the difficult and negative that we forget our many blessings. When we fail to celebrate blessings, we lose them (or at least lose touch with their power).

For the upcoming holy days, we need to focus on changing and turning from our transgressive behaviors. We also, and of equal importance, need to celebrate the many places in which we feel blessed and in which we return these blessings. Yes, part of our atonement must be for not celebrating enough.

Think about the lives you touch every day; their worlds would be diminished without you. Heaven and Earth touch when we enter each other’s lives, and yet, too often we take extraordinarily impactful exchanges for granted. So caught up in ourselves, we often judge people’s value not on the heart with which they give, but by the way their piece fits into our predisposed puzzle. We don’t serve with enough joy to appreciate the blessings that stand right before our eyes. In turn, we also temper our own joy of service, feeling diminished when someone doesn’t appreciate our best gifts. Where we bring only our diminished selves into the work of service, there is no joy and no service with celebration.

This holy day season is a time for change. If we appreciated each other more (and appreciated ourselves more), we would spend less energy transgressing each other. If we felt better about ourselves, we would feel freer to give of ourselves, not basing our own worth on someone else’s narrow vision. Five times this Shabbat: thank someone for something that you have not appropriately acknowledged. Five times this Shabbat: do something for someone because you feel it is right, even if they don’t express appreciation. Shabbat Shalom.

If you have ever had to help re-organize an organization, you know the adage, “If you always do what you always did, you are always going to get what you always got.” In other words, if you keep batting your head against the wall, it will keep hurting. If you want your head to stop hurting, you need to make a change. I have always found it maddening how people somehow get accustomed to beating their heads against the wall and balk when you try to get them to stop. If you have ever had to help re-organize an organization, you know the adage, “If you always do what you always did, you are always going to get what you always got.” In other words, if you keep batting your head against the wall, it will keep hurting. If you want your head to stop hurting, you need to make a change. I have always found it maddening how people somehow get accustomed to beating their heads against the wall and balk when you try to get them to stop. 

That said, one of the great book titles in the world of organizational management is, “First, Break All The Rules.” Marcus Buckingham and Curt Coffman elucidate the necessity of completely rethinking (deconstructing) the organization as it is before one can begin assessing what parts work or don’t and whether any existent process heads the organization in the right direction. So, if you do this work, you know that the more rules one hands you through which to sift, the messier the reorganization process because most often, there is no conversation about their application and relevance. For whatever reason they were promulgated, the time has changed, but no one thought to rethink.

I remember a story (I am sure you know it) of a young girl watching mom make a brisket. First, mom cut off the end of the meat and placed the larger piece in the pan. “Why did you do that mommy?” Mom responded, “You know, I just learned to do that from my mother. Let’s call grandma.” They called grandma and asked why she cut off the end of the brisket before cooking it. She thought and replied that her mother taught her that way. They all called great-grandma and asked. She laughed loudly and said, “It was because I never had a pan big enough for the piece of meat your grandpa brought home.”

This week’s Torah portion, Ki Teitzei, includes more mitzvoth (rules) than any other. Over just four chapters of text, we get a list of 74 disparate rules. The text makes it seem as though Moses knows his time is running out and he feels mandated to get as much in at the last minute as is possible. The shotgun approach to delivering this list makes us skeptical as to whether or not there was any unifying intention behind them.

Herein lays the beauty of this tradition. The lists make absolute sense to some, are simply disparate lists to others, and for still others, they depict a literary equivalent to other such lists of rules in antiquity. Simply put, Torah begins but never completes a conversation. In its purest sense, it fuels our spiritual evolution and grows our faith. That said, for so many, it has become an idol. It becomes concretized and stagnant and the way in which it was read by one group at one time becomes their forever exclusive truth. Groups design customs and rituals around these stagnated understandings and build fences around these customs. Anyone who “does it differently” has blasphemed. As our world becomes increasingly politically segregated, the overflow into all matters sacred becomes more narrow-minded, as well.

Reform Judaism roots in the purest sense of Torah tradition; the idea that we engage and evolve text as it evolves us. I know that normative practices in other religions understand this same mandate for the growth of faith in a changing world. I look at this portion and hear Moses telling an anxious people, “You want rules? Ok, here is a bunch of rules.” The rules are not going to save a community. The devotion to engaging people in meaningful conversation is what will save the community. Torah contains 613 of these mitzvot (rules). As Moses prepares to finish his farewell address and say good bye, his parting words are simple, “Grow together. Study together. Govern together. The rules on a page make no sense unless you give them life and (as a later sage would teach) turn them over and over again.” Our current conversation lack this dynamic of organic conversations. It is no surprise that the exile between us only continues to grow. It is time to remember the prophetic words of the late John Lennon. “Come together, right now.” Shabbat Shalom.

A Facebook “friend” challenged me over my affirmation that we needed to move and remove the Confederate monuments. He argued that these were a matter of heritage and that the rallies happened because people felt that they were being robbed of their heritage. I argued that many of the statues are not historical but were built in the 1960’s to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the Civil War (at the same time that South Carolina placed the Confederate flag atop South Carolina Statehouse). These “heroes” are traitors who fought to destroy the United States of America. Had the South won, they would not tolerate any statues of Lincoln. In the same sense, there are no statues of Hitler in Germany or (except in one small community) Mussolini in Italy. If this were truly about history and proud American heritage, when did defending a Robert E. Lee statue translate into “death to Jews?” He still did not understand.

Many in the march on Charlottesville said that they were not white supremacists or neo-Nazis. Ok. Then why did they stride arm in arm with those who were; side by side as the “real” white supremacists were screaming about destroying minorities and Jews? Why did they not distance themselves? Why were they also carrying torches next to people sporting swastikas? How are they not at least passively white supremacist? They defended statues to traitors who committed treason in order to rip apart our nation so that they could continue white supremacy (owning black people) No, people just don’t get it.

Racism is not a new problem in America. I co-led the march on Columbia, South Carolina in 2000 to take the flag down. It was, by law, only supposed to remain up there for one year. It is an oppressive symbol to minority communities, also American citizens, for it glorified a day when they were bought and sold … and abused as property. That is the message of “heritage” that defines their ancestry. Our march was 30 years later, and the law was changed to keep the flag up. The same people who yelled us that day, screaming “Heritage not hate” were screaming, “Off the dome and in your face,” when it appeared on a monument on the ground. The legislative history behind the law putting it up included horrific racist conversation in the open statehouse.

White America does not understand. It is not new; people have had enough. As hate crimes multiply threefold since the election, there is no suppressing a response. This heritage of being loathed and despised is not something one “gets over” simply because the law changes. The Confederate nation was an act of treason formed to protect the industry of slavery. Yes, that is an over simplification of the total story, but in its essence, the South fought to keep its slaves. Throwing that past reality in the present-day face of those whose grandparents were bought and sold is not something one “gets over.”With all of this madness swirling around us, once again, Torah speaks prophetically. This week, we read “Tzedek tzedek tirdoff.” Most people translate the phrase to mean “Justice, justice, you shall pursue it.” The “Scales of Justice” hang in every courtroom of this country. Justice gets dispensed every day. Often, the “justice” dispensed, while the best answer available to the jurist at the time, ends up being untenable, as we evolve. Our goal is the true definition of the word “Tzedek,” that is “Righteousness.” It is a far less tangible word, which is why it is so much more appropriate. Justice is a finite statement whereas righteousness is a continuing journey. Our system of justice once ruled that slavery was legal. Our pursuit of righteousness opens our eyes to worlds of understanding that we never knew existed.

Torah requires us to pursue growth and evolution of thought and faith (righteousness). Torah does not permit us to get stuck in yesterday’s best available answer, especially when lives and dignity are at stake. Our problem, on the right and left, is that people know what they know and are not even willing to think that maybe there is more to know. Truth is truth. We have to work hard to get past our own complacency and privilege to understand that there is more to know. We who have known oppression in history have a moral obligation to stand at the forefront of the change that this nation (world) needs to experience if we are ever to stop the violence that keeps us afraid. These prayers begin with our soul searching and our neighbor engagements.

Meet new people. Ask the tough questions. Listen to their answers. Do they bring peace or do they breed hate? This exercise is not about left or right because hate and extremism exist on both sides. This is about God. This is about us … all of us. Shabbat Shalom.

Saturday evening, my Red Bank community gathered in the nation’s first vigil responding to what happened in Charlottesville. It took an energetic young lady to pull together over 200 people for the purpose of facing hate in the face and demonstrating love. Somehow, the Red Bank Human Relations Advisory Committee received credit for sponsoring the event. I sit on that committee. Lori and I walked downtown to be there in support and upon arriving, I was told that not only was I a host, I was speaking. I stood in awe of the people – children and adults alike – who rallied, who interrupted plans, who knew that being together in this moment transcended everything else. I spoke alongside two other colleagues in ministry and the night atmosphere was blessed.Saturday evening, my Red Bank community gathered in the nation’s first vigil responding to what happened in Charlottesville. It took an energetic young lady to pull together over 200 people for the purpose of facing hate in the face and demonstrating love. Somehow, the Red Bank Human Relations Advisory Committee received credit for sponsoring the event. I sit on that committee. Lori and I walked downtown to be there in support and upon arriving, I was told that not only was I a host, I was speaking. I stood in awe of the people – children and adults alike – who rallied, who interrupted plans, who knew that being together in this moment transcended everything else. I spoke alongside two other colleagues in ministry and the night atmosphere was blessed.

All week, I have been stuck, struck with the anger, with a pit in the stomach that aches for Heather’s family and for the people who had to endure the gathering of hate in their community, and with sorrow over the realization that this incident is not new and not isolated. I deeply appreciate the response from the city’s mayor and the state’s governor. More than that, I appreciate the thousands of people who gathered in communities across the country, who came to Charlottesville to help heal the community, and who keep showing up to prepare communities to confront hate when it shows on their thresholds.

With all this going through my head, I sat down to prepare Torah for this Shabbat. Torah is a living and breathing document; we call it the “Tree of Life.” Sometimes, it shows incredible empathy in the most amazingly pointed ways. I opened a book to begin research and turned right to this teaching from Rav Avraham Mordechai of Gur, the 3rd Gerer Rebbe. Last week (Eikev), we read (Deut. 10:20) “You shall be in awe of Adonai, your God, worship and cleave to God and swear by God’s Name.” The Hebrew uses the second person singular in this verse; you as each individual. This week (Reeh), we read (Deut. 13:5), “You shall follow Adonai, your God, shall be in awe of God and keep God’s commandments, heed God’s voice, worship and cleave to God.” These verses would seem redundant, but here, the text uses the plural “you.” In the south, this is the difference between “y’all” and “all y’all.”

The Gerer Rebbe asks why the Torah would speak differently in the two verses. He posits that most often we can handle our relationship with God one on one, demonstrating our faith as we walk through the world. Sometimes, though, when heresy and anarchy seem to control the atmosphere, the power of the individual is seemingly insignificant. The faithful need to come together to form a mighty force for righteousness.  All I could do was put the book down and sit awestruck for the moment. Ok, as this epiphanic experience happens to so many of us, I have to believe that prophecy is real.

This week’s portion begins with a challenge. “Behold, I set before you today a blessing and a curse. The blessing, that you will heed the commandments of Adonai your God, which I command you today; and the curse, if you will not heed the commandments of Adonai your God, but turn away from the way I command you this day, to follow other gods, which you did not know.” We make choices all day; every day. We determine what comes out of our mouths, what enters our hearts, and with whom we share our hearts. We choose whether to welcome each other’s embrace or repel each other with hate. We choose the blessing or the curse. Choice is an intentional act. For too many, they let everyone else choose for them, sitting passively waiting for fate to take hold. Many hold God accountable, somehow feeling that God is the ultimate chess player in the cosmos and we are simply pawns in the game of life. Faith tells us that choice matters and that we have ultimate say over our destiny. Our divine partner provides us with strength, but not with choice. Choice is in the human providence. According to the Gerer Rebbe, when enough of us choose the blessing, the world heals. I needed this affirmation this week. Shabbat Shalom.

“Perhaps you will say in your heart, ‘These nations are more numerous than I: how will I be able to drive them out?’ Do not fear them. You shall remember what Adonai, your God, did to Pharaoh and to all of Egypt”—Deut. 7:17-18.”Perhaps you will say in your heart, ‘These nations are more numerous than I: how will I be able to drive them out?’ Do not fear them. You shall remember what Adonai, your God, did to Pharaoh and to all of Egypt”—Deut. 7:17-18.

Fear is devastating. Fear paralyzes us in our tracks and often keeps us from taking even the first steps toward blessings. Most failures in life happen because we never muster the courage or faith to take the first shot at attaining a goal. Many succumb to their fear after a failed attempt proclaiming that the task was too hard or too daunting to accomplish.  I reconnected with a high school friend a few years back. I asked her why she never went out with me. She looked at me with a little snarky sneer and said, “You never asked me.” I remember being too afraid of rejection back then. Another friend shared that he missed out on a career opportunity of a lifetime because he was afraid to speak up at a meeting, even while he held the greatest qualifications for the promotion. We all know of these stories.

Despite the blessings that Israel experienced in its wilderness journey, it stood on the banks of the River Jordan afraid to cross over. Despite the blessings we experience every day, we stand at the precipice of challenges, afraid to face them. We possess incredible power and we live in communities with the ability to be amazingly resourceful, yet, we disengage–standing too afraid to act. What keeps us from growing relationships with people whose cultures we do not understand? Fear of the unknown. What keeps us from fully enjoying the relationships that do fill our lives? Fear of commitment. When people tell me that they are dying of a terminal disease, I remind them that they are not dying. They are living with the disease and will die when they die. In the meantime, they must get over their fear of death and appreciate that they are alive and have the opportunities to continue celebrating with the people that they love. J. R. R. Tolkein wrote, “Faithless is he who says ‘farewell’ when the road darkens.”

The Torah text reminds us that we have the power to face any challenge. We must have faith enough to stand up, remember our blessings, and take the steps necessary to figure out what to do with what we have. Faith girds us through every step of living, if we engage. Thomas Edison taught us that we never fail in work, even when we do not get the result we hoped for or desired. He argued that each “non-successful” attempt at a goal serves only as part of the process of perfecting the task. 

I have a sign on my desk that says, “You will never score points from shots you never take.” The late great Muhammad Ali taught us the secret of his success, “Its lack of faith that makes people afraid of meeting challenges, and I believed in myself.” 

Ultimately, my faith teaches me that my circumstances do not dictate my well being; I make that choice, and I can always choose to run in fear, or I can choose to experience life’s blessing. Shabbat shalom.