4th candle: It's going to take some Rededication

The 8 blogs of Chanukah. Each night a new blog from the community of Congregation B'nai Israel.

Tonight, the fourth blog of Chanukah is brought to you by Jon Sonneborn.  Jon and his wife, Cleo, are long-time members of B'nai Israel.  They have three grown children, Samuel, Jonathan, and Jessica.  Jon has gifted B'nai Israel with his talent for creative writing on many occasions, such as lyrics for songs, contemplative poems for the High Holydays, and now, with a thought-provoking short story for Chanukah.

“I’m tired,” Benny thought as he turned away from the kids and stood there a moment, before starting down the hall.

“Where are you Lynn?”

She was in the kitchen, playing with the oil for the latkes, and didn’t hear him.

“And don’t touch those damn matches, Sam.”  His voice was angry and loud and he knew it carried back to the family room.  Benny had logged online at his desk when he heard Ray-Lee whimpering. 

“Oh G-d, it never ends.”  He got up abruptly to rush back.

Sam was patting his sister’s hair.  “It’s all right Tiger,” he whispered.  Ray-Lee shook her teary face.

“Are you bothering her?”

Sam shook his head, and Benny was surprised to hear his five year-old daughter speak up.  “It isn’t Sammy.  He isn’t cross on the first night of Chanukah.”

Benny closed his eyes. So that’s why Sam had the matches.  He turned and saw the menorah on the mantel, then took a deep breath.

Ray-Lee stopped crying. Sam looked up at his dad and waited, just as their mother walked into the room.

“You’re just in time,” she said.

“Maybe not, Lynn.”

She looked at him quizzically.

“Can you all wait right here, just for a moment?  I’ve got to go in and change.”

“You look fine.”  But Benny smiled and repeated, “I’ve got to go in and change.”

He closed the bathroom door, threw some water on his face and looked hard at his reflection.  “It doesn’t make any sense.”

Which is when he decided, at that very moment; the light coming from somewhere deep inside the mirror.

As they lit the candles that first night of Chanukah, Benny watched over Sammy and Ray-Lee and Lynn and hoped that the rededication had come in time. 

3rd candle: What if the world were a Hanukiyah or maybe a salad?

The 8 blogs of Chanukah. Each night a new blog from the community of Congregation B'nai Israel.

Tonight, the third blog of Chanukah is brought to you by Andrea Rudolph.  Andrea is a member of B'nai Israel.  She is a regular at Friday night services, playing clarinet in the B'nai Israel band, and often playing solo instrument at other services.  Andrea is also a composer, as you'll learn from her blog tonight.  Among her many projects and talents, Andrea is teaching a course at B'nai Israel, beginning January 4th, The Holiness of Wholeness: Exploring God and Ourselves, about the attributes of the soul.  She also co-leads Chantsformations: a Jewish mantra chanting and meditation hour each month at the Soma Center for Well-Being, with Rabbi Gurevitz.  Her husband, Mike, is the leader of the B'nai Israel band.  They have two children, Benjamin and Jacob.

When my boys were in elementary school, one of the highlights of December was their winter concert.  My younger son played trombone in the band and my older son played violin in the orchestra.  Even more than seeing my own children on stage, I loved hearing the fifth grade choir sing their hearts out.  I was taken by the vision of eighty - ten and eleven year olds inspiring peace and holiday cheer with their voices, choreography and spirit.  “Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me”, the children crooned while images of people from around the world flashed on a screen behind them.  Tears always fall from my eyes when I see and hear children singing about peace.  Seeing them united in song and celebration gives me hope for our world and opens my heart. 

A few years ago, motivated by the vision of young people united by music, I wrote a Chanukah song called Nine Candles.  It started with this image of a Hanukiyah (the Chanukah menorah): 

What if the world was a Hanukiyah,

Red and green,

Blue and white?

What if each candle

Spread warmth and light,

Joy and peace,

Banished anger and spite?

What would the world be like if we saw ourselves linked together – distinct yet united with a common purpose to shed more light in the world?  There’s a human flaw of ego that believes that peace will come by convincing others to believe as we believe.  But that belief is based on the assumption that differences prevent us from achieving a greater purpose.   But there are many experiences that teach us otherwise.

Years ago, I worked with a woman who challenged my understanding of unity and the “melting pot” myth we hold so dear in our country.  Mary was a brilliant, energetic executive director of an agency that worked with refugees and immigrants.  She had a passion for justice that took her from Haiti to Macedonia to the State Capitol in the 1990’s.  When I first met Mary, I couldn’t quite figure out her ethnicity.  (Why we so often have a need to “figure someone out” is another conversation but in this case I learned a lesson which changed my perspective forever.)  After working with Mary for a few weeks, I found myself attending a meeting with her.  As we walked back to the office after the meeting, we explored the subject of immigrant integration and assimilation to American culture.  My initial belief (at that time) was that the more cultures interacted and even intermarried, the more likely it would be for peace to prevail on earth.  “Wouldn’t peace be more likely if the boundaries of separation between countries, cultures, people and religions blurred?”, I wondered out loud. 

Mary presented me with an image:  “Imagine you were making a beautiful salad.  You put the lettuce in a large bowl.  Then you add cucumbers and carrots, celery and tomatoes.  You mix in some red onion and croutons for more flavor, spice and crunch.  Then you make a nice dressing, pour it on top and toss…..Now imagine if I told you take that same salad and put it in a blender, what would your salad look like now? How would it taste?”  I remember stopping mid-stride on a Boston sidewalk to let it sink in.  Then she looked at me and said, “My mother is a white Irish American woman, my father was Filipino.  They met during the war years ago.  Each of those pieces of who I am makes up my own salad.  By diluting, denying or blending any culture for the sake of assimilation, we lose the rich, crispy, color and taste of that “salad”.  That’s not the kind of world I want to live in.”

Many years later, I can look back on that conversation and see how it has impacted my perspective on diversity and creating bridges of understanding.  I have learned that it is indeed the uniqueness of each person that inspires and connects us to the whole of humanity.  Our power to influence peace and change in the world is most effective when we both shine our own light and admire someone else’s.  Standing proudly next to someone else linked by the common goal of humanity  (just as the candles in the Hanukiyah stand next to one another in remembrance of the miracle of Chanukah), we can learn to live fully with joy, purpose and compassion.   Who determines joy, purpose and compassion?  It rests with each of us to discern which vegetable we are in that salad, or which color candle in that Hanukiyah.  

In the words of Martha Graham,

There is a vitality, a life-force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and be lost.

May you always stand ready and proud to shine your unique light into the world, adding to the beauty and magnificence of all creation.  Many blessings for a season filled with light, peace and compassion. 


Listen to Andrea's song, 'Nine Candles' below:

2nd candle: Tuning in to the Spirit of the holiday

The 8 blogs of Chanukah. Each night a new blog from the community of Congregation B'nai Israel.

Tonight, the second blog of Chanukah is brought to you by Laura Lehrhaupt.  Laura is a member of B'nai Israel, married to Michael (who is a regular on acoustic guitar with the B'nai Israel Band), with 3 children, Madison (one of our teenage cantorial soloists), Reuben, and Zoe.  Laura is a recent, wonderful addition to our Board of Trustees.


I have a menorah collection. It was started for me when my grandmother went on one of her trips to Israel and brought them back. That was at least fifteen years ago. Now my collection has doubled in size. Out of this collection came a great family tradition. Every night of Hannukah each one of my family members lights their own menorah. We all have our favorites. 

My daughter Zoe loves the menorah with the ceramic children on it. 
Madison often choses the penguin menorah. 
Reuben loves the little rabbi menorah. 
My husband always uses the one he brought with him from his childhood before we were married. I, of course, chose one from Israel.



What is so extraordinary is the light that shines from these menorahs is always so beautiful. It illuminates the entire room. It got me thinking about what the flame represents in our jewish traditions. Several prayers and many rituals refer to the flame being representative of our spirit or the soul of a beloved deceased friend or family member. I always loved the prayer at the beginning of the song “Papa can you hear me” from Yentl.

May the light of this flickering candle
Illuminate the night
the way your spirit illuminates my soul.

Someoneʼs spirit is not tangible. We canʼt literally see a spirit. We experience someoneʼs spirit. Like the heat from the flame. It warms us and surrounds us. It lights up the dark spaces and gives us a sense of comfort. Someone elseʼs spirit makes us experience another dimension not easily put into words. It is quick, powerful and usually you know when you encounter it. How many times have you thought to yourself “ What an amazing spirit!”

So this Hannukah, as we light all the candles on each of our menorahs, I am going to remember the wonderful people my family has had the honor of knowing. Of the people
who have added light and warmth to our home and given us gifts beyond any that can be bought. We will sing our original rendition of Hannukah songs as we watch the candles melt down to the end. Then I will clean out the wax and make room for more candles, more phenomenal spirits who will enrich our lives

1st Candle - Chanukah here, there, and everywhere (but especially there!)

The 8 blogs of Chanukah.  Each night a new blog from the community of Congregation B'nai Israel.

Tonight, the first blog of Chanukah is brought to you by Keren Shemesh and Dvir Dor, our Israeli emissaries.  Keren and D'vir have brought amazing energy and innovation to our community this year.  Don't miss the Community Candlelighting and Chanukah Party that they are leading at the JCCS on Wednesday, 6th night of Chanukah, with a candle dedication to Gilad Shalit.

Kol echad hu or Katan, VeKulanu or Eitan.

כל אחד הוא אור קטן, וכולנו אור איתן

“Each of us is a small light; And together, we are strong and bright”.

This is a phrase form a Hebrew song about Hanukkah, and the best way that we have found to verbally describe the holiday spirit as it is celebrated in Israel.

In our home, Israel, most of the people that surround you are Jewish. Therefore, the holiday spirit is felt all over. Everywhere you go, you’ll experience the holiday. Students have celebrations in school, Youth Movements create beautiful decorations and community ceremonies, the TV shows change their themes into Hanukkah themes. Take a look at the Sesame Street video at the bottom of this post, and you’ll see what we are talking about!

It is very similar to the Christmas atmosphere that one can sometimes feel here. The trees that you see here all over turn themselves into Menorahs in Israel, jingle bells to dreidels, gingerbread to Sufganiyot (Our special version of Donuts), decorated gift shops into… decorated gift shops.

Since there are eight candle lightings, each night you get to see other people you haven’t seen in a long while. From family to friends, to your parent’s friends from the army, to a candle lightening with your youth movements friends…

So what will we miss the most?

We sure will get a great embrace from the Jewish community here. However, there’s no place like home- is there? We will be missing our families, our friends, the huge menorahs in front of our towns, the Festigal (every Israeli kid’s FAVORITE Hanukkah show that gets better every year), even our parents’ friends from the army…

Have a great Hanukkah,

We are thrilled to be here with you and celebrate it your way…

Dvir and Keren,

Israeli Young Emissaries ’09-‘10

Below is an entertaining compilation of Hanukkah on Israeli TV, beginning with the Israeli Sesame Street, Rechov Sumsum.

Who's writing Chanukah music, and what difference does it make?

This week there has been an interesting online conversation via blogs, tweets, and facebook, responding and reacting to Senator Orrin Hatch's Chanukah song.  He wrote the song, and doesn't feature much in the singing of it, and it was posted at Tablet Magazine, here.  It's an interesting situation - a US Senator, who is of the Mormon faith, writing a Chanukah song.  A story that makes it to the New York Times, and NPR's 'All Things Considered'.  So much more interesting than 'Jewish musician writes a new song for Chanukah'.

I'll be honest; I'm not a great fan.  The Jewish faith emphasizes deed over word.  As I listen to the words of Hatch's Chanukah song, I am struck that the primary message, other than 'let's celebrate', is about Religious Freedom.  But as a Reform Jew, I am troubled that it was this Senator who co-sponsored the recent amendment that failed to get the votes in the Senate health debate that would have restricted, through financial impediment, the freedoms of women to make choices about their bodies, based on their personal ethics and their individual faiths.  On another issue where the Union for Reform Judaism has taken a strong stand, Senator Hatch is on record as having a faith-based reasoning for holding back equal civil rights to gays and lesbians.  I believe in freedom of religion, fully understanding that some individuals and communities will hold views that I strongly disagree with.  I do, however, take issue with State or Federal laws that impose the belief system of one faith, or one element within one faith, on the rest of society.  Belief that life begins at conception is not a universally held scientific/secular belief, and it is not a universally held religious belief.  Belief that there is something lesser, or not God-given about the love and humanity of GLBT people is likewise something that only some people of some faith communities hold to be so.

I'm sorry if I'm taking all the fun out of the interesting headline but, as a person of faith, while knowing that we are all flawed and often fail to meet our own standards, it is important to me that words and deeds go together.  And, even more important, when I hear NPR reporting that there are no good Chanukah songs being written by Jewish musicians these days as part of their promotion of Senator Hatch's efforts, I have to offer a little something to set the record straight.  I'll be the first to admit that there's a lot of bad Jewish music out there; but there's also a lot of great stuff - too much to do justice to all the great songs and great artists you can find on the Jewish music scene today.  Below are links to just two of the more recent quality contributions to Chanukah: Michelle Citrin (a great song and fabulous youtube video that came out last year) and Beth Schafer, with a new Chanukah song, Night by Night, on a really great new album, Raise it Up, just released last month.  Below that are some links to some other sites, artists and albums and labels to get started.

Check them out.  And let me know what you think.
Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz
http://www.bethschafer.com



Julie Silver's Chanukah album, 'It's Chanukah Time'
Debbie Friedman's Chanukah album, Light These Lights
JDub records - innovative and contemporary Jewish artists
oysongs.com - itunes for Jewish music
The Leevees - with a fun Chanukah album and a couple of great youtubes.
The Macaroons, a new kids band, with a fun song, 'Hurry up and light the candles'

The 8 blogs of Chanukah... coming to this blog soon!

Chanukah is almost here!  Beginning this Friday evening, and lasting for 8 nights, there is a wide array of ways to celebrate the Festival of Lights in Fairfield County this year, and especially at Congregation B'nai Israel.  


Make sure you check back to the blog every night, beginning Friday afternoon, for the 8 blogs of Chanukah (or sign up to receive a daily delivery in your email inbox via the option on the right hand column to make sure you get each posting).  Each night the blog will be brought to you by someone in our congregation, or connected to our community.  Upcoming highlights include personal family connections, Chanukah in Israel, a thought-provoking short story, a composer's inspiration and her music, and the story behind a Chanukah classic.


And if you are local, and would like to celebrate Chanukah with a community of others, there is no shortage of choices this year.  Whether it be our family celebration on the first night, the community Chanukah celebration at the Sound Tigers ice hockey game on 5th night, the community candle-lighting at the JCC with our Israeli emissaries, Keren and D'vir, dedicated to Gilad Shalit on the 6th night, or our Israeli-style Chanukah dinner and guest speaker, mother of our emissary D'vir Dor, we hope we'll see you in the coming week.  For full information, check out our special Chanukah page on our website.


Just to get us started, enjoy the youtube below that has been doing the round this year - a flash mob Chanukah dance in downtown Jerusalem:

World Aids Day - Dec 1st.

About World AIDS Day

Each year, December 1 marks World AIDS Day, when activists around the world come together to raise awareness of the global HIV epidemic, to fight prejudice, and to improve HIV education and HIV prevention.

This year’s theme is “universal access and human rights” – an important reminder that much of the HIV positive population, including young people; GLBTQ people; those affected by poverty; and marginalized groups like sex workers and injecting drug users, still face unequal access to resources, services, and medication. And AIDS is the leading cause of death among women around the world. (from amplifyyourvoice.org)



The first time I met someone HIV-positive I was in Grad. School in London.  The year was 1994.  A colleague on my PhD program - a wonderful, kind, funny guy, had been diagnosed with HIV.  During the year that I knew him he began to get sick and, about nine months later, confided that his doctors had told him he now had full-blown AIDS.  He had to drop out of the program and focus on his health.  He moved, and I lost touch.  I'm not sure what happened next, and I'm deeply saddened that I didn't maintain the connection, but the prognosis back in '94 wasn't good.


There are few of us in North America who don't know someone - a friend, a relative, a friend-of-a-friend, who has been touched by AIDS.  And AIDS continues to be an epidemic on the African continent.  Here are some facts and figures from the UN:

The global AIDS epidemic

Since the beginning of the epidemic, almost 60 million people have been infected with HIV and 25 million people have died of HIV-related causes.

In 2008, some 33.4 million [31.1 million-35.8 million] people living with HIV, 2.7 million [2.4 million-3.0 million] new infections and 2 million [1.7 million-2.4 million] AIDS-related deaths.

In 2008, around 430 000 [240 000-610 000] children were born with HIV, bringing to 2.1 million [1.2 million-2.9 million] the total number of children under 15 living with HIV.

Young people account for around 40% of all new adult (15+) HIV infections worldwide. 

Sub-Saharan Africa is the region most affected and is home to 67% of all people living with HIV worldwide and 91% of all new infections among children. In sub-Saharan Africa the epidemic has orphaned more than 14 million children.

As people of faith, we must open ourselves to bear witness to the pain and suffering of others, be moved to act compassionately and support, with our financial contributions, with our time, and with our words, national and international efforts to end this suffering and find a cure for AIDS.  You can learn more, and find ways of helping at the World AIDS Day website.

Please check the Reform movement's Religious Action Center for a press release on December 1st regarding World AIDS Day.  And, if you are thinking of someone today who has been impacted by AIDS, you are invited to share the name and story of the one you are remembering on the comments here.

Taking a dip in the Pool of Blessing - A Thanksgiving meditation

This post was created as part of a global groundswell of gratitude calledTweetsGiving. The celebration, created by US nonprofit Epic Change, is an experiment in social innovation that seeks to change the world through the power of gratitude. I hope you’ll visit the TweetsGiving site to learn more, and to bring your grateful heart to the party by sharing your gratitude, and giving in honor of that for which you’re most thankful.


This Thanksgiving offering also appears in this week's Jewish Ledger newspaper, along with the Thanksgiving reflections of several other CT rabbis.


I’ve had the opportunity to share the following gratitude ritual at a number of retreats, conferences, and summer camp programs. It’s a way to tap into an attitude of gratitude that is part of our Jewish prayer rituals, but can sometimes get lost in all the words. So let’s focus on just one word – Barukh – Blessed. The Hebrew root of this word is also found in Berekh (knee) and Braykha (pool). Most people get the connection between the first and second of these – we bend the knee when we say the Barekhu and in the opening blessings of the Amidah. But what about the ‘pool’? We can envision a reality in which God’s Divine blessing is constantly flowing; we need only bring consciousness to aligning ourselves with this flow of blessing to experience it. As it flows from the spiritual realm to us, it is our job to send the flow back to its Source, and this is dipping into the pool of blessing, expressing our gratitude, and so the cycle continues. A colleague of mine, Rabbi Michelle Pearlman, recently likened the image, quite wonderfully, to a chocolate fountain (but one where the chocolate never runs out!)

When I illustrate this in a creative prayer service, we set up a table, decorated with watery images, into which are placed strips of blue paper, folded like ripples, each containing a gratitude teaching. Some contain traditional Jewish words, like Modah Ani lefanecha… - Thankful am I before You (the opening words of the first prayer that is traditionally uttered upon waking), but many contain teachings from other sources:

‘God gave you a gift of 86,400 seconds today. Have you used one to say "thank you?"’ (William A. Ward)

“Saying thank you is more than good manners. It is good spirituality.” (Alfred Painter)

‘Thanksgiving is good but thanks-living is better.’ (Matthew Henry;1662-1714)

If we remember that the fountain of blessing is always flowing, and we can always find it if we are open to receiving, each and every day becomes Thanksgiving.
Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz

Inspirational stories of Thanks-giving

 I am grateful to Rabbi James Stone Goodman for this re-posting from his blog.  Following these wonderful stories, please see below for direct links to some of Rabbi Goodman's thanks-giving poetry.

Two Thanks-giving Stories

There was a contest on the radio. Write or speak your gratitude on this Thanksgiving. What are you grateful for? the radio announcer asked. Send in your story.

I heard the winners. It was a tie. Two women, one from California, one from Massachusetts.

First, the woman from California spoke. She was a sheep rancher, she raised sheep on a ranch in California. Her father before her worked the ranch. The ranch had been in her family for several generations.

She was, I imagine, a woman in her late forties. Her husband now also worked the ranch, along with her eighty year old father. They all lived right there on the ranch.

She spoke of the difficulties in running such an enterprise these days. The cost of harvesting and processing the wool is for the first time greater than what it can be sold for, in addition to which there has been five years of drought in her area. “There’s dust in everything,” she said, “and the grazing land is parched and cracked,” her flocks thin and diminished, her father old and tired, herself and her husband frustrated.

I waited for the punch line. What was she grateful for on this Thanksgiving? I wondered.

The night before telling her story, it rained. It rained an inch and a half. The dust liquified back into the earth, the earth smoothed and healed off some of its cracks, but this was not the source of her gratitude. Certainly all the difficulties of running a sheep ranch in these days were not solved by an inch and a half of rain. This was a bonus, a sign, a clue, but not a solution, not even a temporary one, it may have been a joke: God writes straight with crooked lines. Rain, as if that would make a difference.

What was she grateful for had to do with her tired 80 year old father who has seen so many seasons come and go on the ranch, something to do with herself and her husband working the family ranch scouting the sky week after week, month after month, year after year for rain. It had to do with the shared judgment about their business which is fragile, outdated, bound up with the shared destiny of one family, one plot of land, one generation after another, being in that thing together, the tenderness as she described her father waddling into the farmhouse after a long day of work and the brave possibility that the ranch would yet turn a profit somehow. Another season. The possibility, the hope of a future, measured not only in rain but in the dignity of these human beings who hope, who imagine it working, again — for the sacred possibility of the future — hope, hope, hope. Hope sustains.

The second woman tied for first prize in the radio contest. She was from Massachusetts, a Jewish woman I imagined, from her name, from her brand of humor. She was very funny. About the same age as the other woman, late forties. This was her story: It has been almost a year since he died, she began, and still she hasn’t set up a tombstone for him. It was a marriage no one thought would work — he had been married 3 times previously, she several times herself. Neither looking to get married ever again, they met. Against all advice, against their own better judgment and plans for living, they married anyway. Out of the chaos of two lives and ex-wives and kids and step kids and recriminations they found deep love, love that outlasted the complexities of their lives, and tamed them both.

She spoke her story touching, funny, sad. A year after they married, he was diagnosed with an aggressive cancer, given not much hope for even another year. He lived six, living with cancer, with dignity and joy and living more deeply than ever before because everything was so precious. Every moment.

Now he was gone. She was broke. Public aid in Massachusetts had all but dried up. She had not been able to find full time work, she was substitute teaching in Boston. What was she grateful for? I was waiting to hear.

This: first, many friends. They called her regularly and invited her to meals, she usually declined but loved the invitations. Someone brought over a load of firewood to heat her wood burning stove as winter came on. She was grateful because she had felt her heart unlock to life so freely that it would never close again, the great gift of love that changed her permanently.

The last thing she said: I’m alone, broke, but not unhappy, not in the least afraid. As a matter of fact, I’m rather content, she said, because I believe something, my little way of thinking about things, that may sound wacky but I really believe this –

I think of him as if he has gone away somewhere ahead of me, as if to find the perfect apartment, you know something near a bookstore, where there is a cafe that serves fresh raspberries all year round. He has gone there ahead of me to find the perfect place for us, she said. I am as certain of this as I am of anything: we will meet again, and because I believe this, I am full of gratitude this Thanksgiving, content and not at all afraid of the future. Everything is possible when you believe in something.

These are the two American stories of gratitude that I heard on the radio just before Thanksgiving.

I listened and then I wrote my own tale of gratitude. It had to do, like the ones I had heard, with loving somebody, with what I believe that gets me through the long nights, with a vague sense of possibility that everything is going to be all right, of hope, I suppose, that accompanies all our lives like a sense of something fine arriving from the distance, something good, hope, that’s it.

In the distance, it’s God you are discerning, or love, or nature, or whatever it is you believe in that animates your life. This is what you are hearing bearing down on you:

be grateful, it’s going to work out, somehow
It’s going to be just fine.

james stone goodman
united states of america

For poetry from 'Thanksgiving Suite', by james stone goodman, please continue reading here.

Eating Jewish - Values we can all believe in?

Please take a look at this wonderful article in this week's 'The Jewish Forward' by Jay Michaelson,
'Magen Tzedek: Model of the Jewish Future or Show Without an Audience?  


'Magen Tzedek' is the name given by the Conservative movement to a seal on food that  '... would certify conformity not to the ritual particulars of kashrut, but to the deeper and more profound requirements of Jewish social justice law.'


It's an excellent article and I commend it not specifically for how the Magen Tzedek seal seeks to emphasize the ethical values of Judaism (although I think it is an important and meaningful contribution to Jewish food consciousness), but because Jay raises some incredibly thought-provoking questions about the commitment of non-Orthodox Jews to obligate themselves to live by a specific code that raises our consciousness about the food we eat, how it is delivered to us, the treatment of the workers who helped to produce it, and the environmental and health consequences of certain kinds of food choices. 


Rabbi Eric Yoffie introduced the question of how Reform Jews engage with a range of Jewish food ethics in his Biennial address just a couple of weeks ago, and you can read more about the URJ initiative, 'Just Table, Green Table' here.  That initiative is less specific than the Magen Tzedek seal - it does not lay out one specific path to conscious and ethical eating, but does call upon all Jews to actively engage and think about how they eat as an aspect of what it means to walk a Jewish path through life, guided by the wisdom and ethical values that are grounded in our own tradition.


Jay points out that, in the USA, many of those who choose to purchase kosher food are not Jewish.  They make this choice because of an assumption that a religious seal on food means that the food is healthier - perhaps it conforms to higher ethical standards too.  Unfortunately, that is not always the case, as was evident in the travesty of ethical and criminal breaches that took place at the Postville meat processing plant in Iowa, owned by the Rubashkin company, primarily with regard to the treatment of employees.


But Jay asks: 'Imagine if Jews were known in America to be the super-ethical people instead of the super-ritual ones. We’re the people who won’t eat a hamburger unless the workers at the restaurant are paid a fair wage. We’re the ones who consider environmentalism to be a matter of religious concern. Because doing the right thing matters to God.'  


As Jay points out, this is a Judaism that can thrive and survive not because of endogamy, but because Judaism offers meaningful ethics, values and practices that appeal to a wide range of people.  And that's a Judaism that I want to be contributing my part to.  How about you?
Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz

... And it is good for your health too!

While in the midst of my current blog series on meditation from within the Jewish tradition, the findings of a nine year long medical trial have just been released, suggesting that patients with heart disease are significantly less likely to have a heart attack or a stroke if they have a daily meditation practice.

The BBC reports on the findings here.

While the research used transcendental meditation as the specific form of practice in the study, the basic foundation of mindful breathing meditation is universal to all approaches and traditions.  The use of meditation practice as a tool in stress reduction and pain management has been developed and taught most effectively by Jon Kabat-Zinn and you can learn more about his Center for Mindfulness in Medicine, Health Care, and Society here.

It makes sense that a daily meditation practice would be good for your health.  It is a calming and relaxing practice, and it has been shown to lower blood pressure.  Kabat-Zinn's Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction Program includes a meditative activity called 'the Body Scan' (which is described in some detail in his book 'Full Catastrophe Living: Using the Wisdom of Your Body and Mind to Face Stress, Pain, and Illness'.  It involves moving the mind through the different regions of the body, bringing attention to the feelings, and letting the breath flow through each and every part.  You are both helping to relax areas of tension, but also breathing in energy that can revitalize the physical self.  Kabat-Zinn has found that this technique has helped people with chronic pain.

What was also interesting about the medical study that has just been published is that one of the factors possibly involved in the improved health of the cohort who practiced meditation is not only the positive impact of the meditation itself, but the fact that almost everyone in that cohort was still practicing 20 minutes of daily meditation after 9 years.  The cohort in the study whose treatment had involved bringing attention to diet were far less likely to have kept to a healthier regime - it was much more difficult to maintain discipline and change eating habits than to maintain a daily meditation practice.

So, while I will continue to share some of the spiritual insights of meditation practice from a Jewish perspective, its good to know that, whether it be for body or soul, meditation is good for you!

Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz 

A Charter for Compassion

Today, 'freelance monotheist', Karen Armstrong, launched the 'Charter for Compassion'.  Listen to her presentation at the TED Conference last year, sharing the centrality of compassion at the heart of every major faith tradition.  The Charter affirms this, and seeks to refocus the message of faith around the world to the principles of the 'Golden Rule'.  It is, of course, not just about words, but deeds.  Idealist?  Perhaps.  But if we do not see it as our mission to teach and emphasize this message of faith, then who can we turn to for hope and transformation in this world?



You can read more about the Charter for Compassion here.  Take a look, and affirm your desire to fulfill the ideal of living your faith through the lens of compassion.  And then, try to bring awareness to acts of compassion that you experience and you share in each and every day.  This is spiritual practice at its most transformative potential.

Playing in the Symphony. Jewish Meditation, part 4

Kol haneshama t’hallel Yah, Hallelu Yah (Psalm 150:6)

Let every neshama praise God.  Hallelu Yah.

This is the last line of the last psalm in the Book of Psalms – it is the culmination of so many words of poetry, prayer, contemplation and praise.  The psalm is part of every Jewish morning service, and it is equally a part of many Christian worship services.  And, to add to its universality, many synagogue communities today have become familiar with a melody that just chants this last line over and over again, and that melody was an adaptation of a Pakistani Sufi chant (the mystical, and most universal form of Islam) written by the late Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan.

Six words.  On face value, just a simple declaration of praise.  Six words that are a gateway to an awesome experience (awesome, as in ‘wow!’ and awesome as in ‘Oh boy, that’s overwhelming, I don’t know if I can handle that’).

It begins with that Hebrew word that I didn’t translate – neshama.  Biblically, it means something like ‘living thing’.  So sometimes you’ll see a translation that says ‘Let every living thing praise God’, or ‘Let everything that lives praise God’.  But the rabbis of ancient times took a look at the creation story in Genesis and found in the second description of how God created human beings the line, ‘And God blew into his nostrils the breath of life (nishmat chayyim), and the man became a living thing (nefesh chayyah) (Gen. 2:7).  They understood this to mean not only the ability to breathe, by which we are alive, but that the aspect of our selves that ‘enlivens’ us – the God-given part – is what we call our soul.  And so, for the rabbis, neshama also means soul.  In fact, in an ancient midrash (expounding on the Torah), they describe 5 different names that were given to the spirit by which we live (Midrash rabbah 14:9), enabling them to describe and explore different aspects or attributes of the soul, of which the neshama is just one.

The final element of this teaching that we need to put it together with a mantra meditation practice on this verse of Psalm 150 requires us to know that, in the Hebrew language, all words are formed around a ‘root’ of three consonant letters.  Changing the vowel sound, or the grammar, can change how we would translate the word into English, but the common root in Hebrew teaches us that the words are conceptually and experientially linked.  And so, if you look again at the verse from Genesis, you’ll see the word nishmat chayyim – the breath of life.  N’shimah means ‘breath’.  And so, in the ancient teaching of the midrash, we find that Rabbi Levi says in the name of Rabbi Hanina,: “at each and every breath (neshima) which you breathe, you must praise the Creator” What is the meaning of this? “Kol ha neshama tehallel Ya, Let everything that has breath praise God (Psalm 150, 6).

Jewish mystics turned the phrase one more time, and this becomes the foundation for our meditation practice - let each and every breath be a praise to God.

It is through the act of breathing that we can bring awareness to the Divine spirit that gives life to everything.  With this awareness comes gratitude, an opening of the heart, and from this comes praise.  When we meditate on the breath with this awareness, it takes us beyond ‘my breath’ and connects us to everything that breathes.  We become but one musician in an orchestra; we are responsible for how we play our instrument and the contribution we make with each and every note we play, but we are able to do and be so much more than is possible within our own limitations, when we recognize that we are part of the symphony.

This meditation, connecting us to life itself, and to the Source of all life, cannot be grasped with the mind, but it can be experienced, at least in brief moments.  And it not only transforms our awareness of the power of the breath, it also transforms the meaning of what it is to ‘Praise God.’  That will have to wait for another day’s blog.

Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz

The breath of all life: Jewish meditation part 3

Continuing contemplations on the spiritual wisdom emerging from the breath, today I share teachings that I have gleaned from some of my teachers, Rabbi Arthur Waskow, Rabbi Jeff Roth, Rabbi David Cooper and Shoshana Cooper.  Opportunities to study and practice with these teachers directly can be found at The Awakened Heart Project and at Rabbi Cooper's website.

We know from science that the air that we breathe in is air that the trees and plants have breathed out, and the air that we breath out is the air that the trees and plants breath in.  But to know these things intellectually is quite different from knowing experientially.  Contemplative meditation on the breath can open us to the experience of our interconnectedness with all life in a profound way.  Jewish wisdom guides us to understand this experience as a God experience.  Sometimes our inability to see it that way is more about our choice to claim that label for what we know, instinctively, to be a deeply spiritual awakening and realization.  But the Torah points us toward the truth of this realization when Moses asks God how he should explain to the enslaved Hebrews who it is that has sent him.  God responds:

Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh  (Exodus 3:14)

The hebrew letters in the first and third word revolve around the verb that means 'to be'.  Biblical hebrew has two basic grammatical forms - the 'perfect' (something that has happened/has been completed) and the 'imperfect' (something that is in process/ongoing).  And so, encapsulated in this label is the teaching that God is constantly in the process of being; some would understand this to point to God as Existence itself.  And, in our world of experience, our ability to exist in this moment, and the next moment, begins with the breath.  

Many Jewish translations of the Torah do not translate this phrase, because to do so using the English language would limit something that is pointing us to the Infinite.  It is not dissimilar from this teaching from another wisdom tradition:

The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao.

The name that can be named is not the eternal name.

The nameless is the beginning of heaven and earth.

The named is the mother of ten thousand things.

Ever desireless, one can see the mystery

Ever desiring, one can see the manifestations.

These two spring from the same source but differ in name;

This appears as darkness.

Darkness within darkness.

The gate to all mystery.

(Lao Tsu)

And, drawing from early Jewish philosophical teachings:

And God said, "At first say unto them, 'I am that I am, ' that, when they have learnt that there is a difference between Him that is and him that is not, they may be further taught that there is no name whatever that can properly be assigned to Me, who am the only being to whom existence belongs. --Philo, from Plaut, p 408 (both this and the preceding quote are found at bluethread.com).

There is much to contemplate here, and the next posting will offer some paths from the practice of Jewish chant - mantra meditation - that can deepen our understanding of these teachings.

Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz

Just Breathe: Jewish meditation, part 2.

Why do so many meditation practices, found in so many spiritual traditions, begin with the breath?  Something so simple as breathing in and breathing out?  Breathing is something we do every moment of our existence in this world.  So simple, and yet it teaches us so, so much.  In meditation practice we wish to bring our attention to this moment - to sense what it really is to exist in the present.  So simple?  Where else would we be?  Well, try it.  Close your eyes and just gently bring your attention to the sensation of breathing in and out.  Notice how the air comes in and, at a certain point, the air goes out again.  If you notice your mind wander, or you start to think of other things, as soon as you notice that that is what you are doing, gently bring your attention back to noticing your breathing - the air going in and going out.

Chances are, if you are like most of us, you'll notice certain things.  One of them might be, as you begin, 'am I doing this right?'  To that question, I answer with another question - 'what were you doing the moment before you closed your eyes and brought your attention to your breath?'  I'm guessing that you were probably breathing.  Were you worried then about whether you were doing it right?  So notice how quickly we move to judgment, even on something as basic as breathing.  Being present to this moment means just noticing what is arising right now.  As soon as we make a judgment about it - its nice, ugly, distracting, good, bad... that is something additional, and it removes us from just being fully present to what is.  Its completely natural and human, and so don't get annoyed with yourself when you notice judgment arising - that's another judgment!  Just notice, and let it pass by.

You'll also notice, if you are watching the breath, that there is a certain moment when the in-breath ceases and out-breath begins.  Don't try to control it - just notice as it comes in and out.  There is constant change in our universe - nothing stays the same, and most of it just happens, irrespective of our agency.  Fear of not being in control is something that many of us experience.  Extended meditation practice with this awareness can help us to find peace and acceptance with what is, and this is an ingredient of a profoundly spiritual, joyful life, even in the midst of great challenges and painful experiences.

Finally, for today's posting, when we meditate on our breath, most of us notice that it doesn't take more than a few breaths before our mind gets crowded with lots of other thoughts.  That doesn't mean we 'failed' meditation 101 (remember - no judgments!).  Each time we notice that our mind is busy and bring our attention back to this breath and this moment, we are doing precisely what we are meant to be doing in a moment of meditation. And when we begin to notice where our minds went right before we brought our attention back to the breath, we notice that we spend much of our time in either the past or the future, but very little of it being in the present.

So much spiritual wisdom in just one breath.  And this is just the beginning.  More blog postings will offer further reflection and teaching, particularly for those interested in learning about meditation, and some of the spiritual wisdom of Judaism on mindful meditation.  Please do feel free to offer your insights, experiences and questions via our 'comments' section (which you can do anonymously if you prefer).
Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz

J Street & Lech L'cha

Rabbi Jim Prosnit, Senior Rabbi at Congregation B'nai Israel, offered the following thoughts on J Street in the light of his experience at the conference at Shabbat services last week. We share his reflections here. This coming Shabbat the blog moves away from our J Street reflections and back to thoughts on Jewish mindfulness and meditation, introduced last week.

It may come as a surprise to some of you to hear that I had a big problem with President Obama’s speech at Cairo University last June. Now, I did not have a problem that he spoke there, or that he spoke there before he spoke and visited Israel. I think it was important, vital for him to engage the Islamic world the way that he did. The problem that I had was the way he categorized the founding of the state of Israel.

Listen to what he said: “America's strong bonds with Israel are well known. This bond is unbreakable. It is based upon cultural and historical ties, and the recognition that the aspiration for a Jewish homeland is rooted in a tragic history that cannot be denied.

Around the world, the Jewish people were persecuted for centuries, and anti-Semitism in Europe culminated in an unprecedented Holocaust… Denying that fact is baseless, ignorant, and hateful. Threatening Israel with destruction – or repeating vile stereotypes about Jews – is deeply wrong, and only serves to evoke in the minds of Israelis this most painful of memories while preventing the peace that the people of this region deserve.”

What’s wrong with that? On one hand nothing. It was good to see him use that forum to take on Holocaust deniers and those who invoke vile stereotypes of Jews. But my problem was that the president explained the existence of the State of Israel and the import and love that Jews have for the land of Israel in the context of a homeland emanating from a tragic history.

Now admittedly many Jews do that too. We even have programs that send our kids from the gas chambers of Europe to the streets of Tel Aviv – conveying to them that Israel’s existence is centered on the Shoah, the Holocaust.

And what’s the danger. First, we come to see Israel only in terms of being a haven for distressed Jews displaced after World War II and in so doing we justify the Palestinian view that they too are victims of the Shoah; In other words Europeans sought atonement for their treatment of the Jews by establishing a Jewish state in Palestine, thus displacing the Arab population and making them the ultimate victims of the Holocaust.

For the essence of a Jewish state, Zionism needs to go well beyond a homeland for suffering Jews and needs to take us back to the beginnings of Judaism – to this week’s Torah portion in fact. God’s call to Abraham is wrapped up and tied to the sacredness of land. Abraham is to leave home not because he and his people are persecuted, and not because enemies threaten to destroy him, but because God has another vision for him and his descendants. Their very identity and sense of peoplehood, their spirituality and faith is tied up in a sense of place. And it has been that way ever since. It did not begin with Herzl in the 1890’s nor with the end of the war in1945. The yearning has been a constant of not just 2 millennia, but closer to 4.

Of course the unfolding story in the Bible and throughout Jewish history are accounts of the glory, challenges and pitfalls of living in the land and what will happen to us if we squander God’s gift. And that leads me to one final point in these brief words this evening.

I believe that the concept of land and the reality of a Jewish sovereignty in the land of Israel is crucial to the Jewish experience and the Jewish people and to fulfilling the Divine promise. But I also believe that a precise definition of what that land is to look like, how its dimensions and borders are determined has and needs to be drawn by contemporary political realities. Settlement of all the land the Bible describes at varying points, to me has never been the spiritual mandate.

With that in mind, as some of you are aware Rabbi Gurevitz and seven or eight other members of the congregation participated in the first JStreet conference earlier this week.

An organization that has received a fair amount of criticism, much of it unwarranted I feel, because it seeks to promote a Jewish and democratic Israel and sees a two state solution as the best path to that end. It refuses to believe that credentials for loving Israel belong only to those on the right and to those who imply that the more right wing you are the more pro Israel you are.

With that said, I also feel that JStreet is at a crossroads very early on in its young existence. It was pretty impressive that 1500 people attended a conference run by an organization a year and a half old. It obviously touched a nerve among pro Israel pro peace folks that brought many from across the country together in Washington. But while I believe that most of those who attended share the perspective of the JStreet leaders there were definitely attendees who were peace activists first and only marginally lovers of Israel. If the tent of JStreet is stretched so wide as to allow non- Zionists in, then it will not be the voice that I and I believe many others are looking for in the debate within the American Jewish community and within in Israel.

As the land is varied and rich so is the debate. Loving the land, supporting the people is a constant; determining what that means in the real politick is a subject for pluralistic voices both in Israel and in the debate here at home. No doubt there will be opportunities to speak and to engage you in the conversation.