The Story about the Baby Sharks

I told a story about the ritual of counting the omer at Shabbat Services for Temple Emanu-El. It is based on a famous one about starfish that I learned as a kid in CRaFTY (the NYC region of NFTY, the Reform Jewish youth movement).

(Full transcript after the jump)

The Story of the Rabbi's Daughter

Here's me telling a story based on the classic tale about the Seer of Lublin, who as a child would go to the forest to pray. God is the same everywhere, but we are not. Enjoy! 

(Full Transcript after the jump)

The Story of Honi and the Carob Tree

Here's me telling the story of Honi and the Carob Tree at Temple Emanu-El last Friday night... a classic tale of miracles, transgenerational ethics, and chocolate substitutes. Enjoy! 

(Full Transcript after the jump)

n.b. Unfortunate drumming noise was apparently caused by a steam pipe; while it was broadcast loudly on the livestream we couldn't hear it during the service itself.

Why do we bless our bread? (Part III)

Before I share with you this third gleaning from my master's thesis, I want to mention that my brilliant (and pedantic) friend Ori correctly observes that the title of this series is poorly worded, as we do not actually bless our bread. Rather, when we say a blessing we are blessing God, or rather, we are blessing God's ineffable name.

This is, of course, a critical difference. If you arrive late to Shabbat dinner, you are still required to make the blessings over the challah before you start eating. This is because, when we say a blessing over food, the food itself is in no way changed. What was previously an ordinary piece of bread is not made sacred (as is, for example, believed by many Christians to be the case for the communion wafer). Rather, it is our relationship to our food that is altered and made sacred, as is described in more detail in this excerpt. My thesis in its entirety can be found online at the Lookstein Center for Jewish Education. The full text of this section is after the jump.

According to tradition, Birkat Ha-Mazon was instituted by Moses at the time when the manna miraculously descended to feed the Israelites during their travels in the Sinai desert (Talmud Berachot 48b). Elie Munk, quoting S. R. Hirsch, writes that by connecting Birkat Ha-Mazon to the manna, the rabbis teach us that “every piece of bread eaten now is as much a gift from God as the manna was.” (1954, p. 211). Goldberger, drawing from Talmud Pesachim 118a, asserts that the process by which God “causes a seed to transform earth into food [is] as spectacular as the miracle of the splitting of the sea” (1988, p. 5).

The point of each of these statements is that food is always gift from God, a gift which cannot be taken for granted. The provision of food is a daily miracle, whether it is effortlessly picked from the trees (as in the Garden of Eden) or reaped from the earth through great effort (after leaving the Garden). “The message appears rather clear: When we thank God for giving us food, we are recognizing that there is no intrinsic difference between the manna and the livelihood one wrests from the earth through sweat and hard toil; both are gifts from heaven” (1984, p. 182).

This connection is also made in the blessing said prior to eating bread, “Ha-Motzi.” This blessing thanks God “who brings forth bread from the land.” Bread – not wheat, which would be more technically accurate – to affirm God’s centrality to the entire process of making bread, from the sprouting of the grain to its baking in the oven. As Evelyn Garfiel puts it, “finding his daily bread never ceases to be a Nes [miracle] even to the farmer who toils so hard to produce the grain, for he recognizes its ultimate source to be God’s loving care for all His [sic] creatures. It is God ‘Who brings forth [the] bread from the earth’” (1958, p. 122).

My Full List of Torah Commentaries for Congregation Emanu-El

In my time at Emanu-El, I have contributed nearly thirty essays to our weekly commentary. These commentaries are written not only by the clergy and educational staff, but also our administrators. They vary widely in style, from academic scholarship to thoughtful homiletics to amusing retellings of the story from the point of view of one of the minor characters. In my own commentaries, I’ve often written about the educational programs at Emanu-El and how they attempt to make ancient wisdom relevant to our lives today.

I’m assembling here (after the jump) the full list of my commentaries, with a brief excerpt from each one.

This is my absolute favorite thing I’ve written, from my March 2012 Commentary on Parshat Tzav: “Jeremiah is not opposed to the pursuit of wisdom, strength or wealth, and neither should we be. Jeremiah tells us, if you must be driven by ego, then take pride in how you emulate God in your behavior. Don’t simply attain wisdom for its own sake, he says. Use your wisdom to bring about kindness. Use your strength in the pursuit of justice. And with your wealth, seek equity.”

You can subscribe to receive the weekly Torah commentary by email, and it is also available as an RSS Feed.

Emanu-El | Weekly Torah Commentary: Balak

I write the Weekly Torah Commentary for the Congregation Emanu-El website about three times a year.  This time, I thought it made sense to share it here.  Shabbat Shalom.

Balak (June 26, 2010)

Translation: Numbers 24:2-5 (2) As Balaam looked up and saw Israel encamped tribe by tribe, the spirit of God came upon him. (3) Taking up his theme, he said: Word of Balaam son of Beor, Word of the man whose eye is true, (4) Word of him who hears God’s speech, Who beholds visions from the Almighty, Prostrate, but with eyes unveiled: (5) How fair are your tents, O Jacob, Your dwellings, O Israel! Excerpted from The Torah: A Modern Commentary, Revised Edition, editor W. Gunther Plaut (NY: URJ Press, 2005). Used by permission of URJ Press, www.urjbooksandmusic.com.

Original Text:

Commentary

Saul Kaiserman, Director of Lifelong Learning

ach week, we in the Religious School begin our worship services with the students by singing the words from Numbers 24:5, “How good are your tents, Jacob, your dwellings, Israel!” These are the words that traditionally begin morning daily worship, said upon first entering a synagogue. The word “dwellings” might also be translated as “sanctuaries,” and it is fitting that we begin our prayers with words of appreciation for the space in which we will offer our prayers.

In their original context, in this week’s Torah portion, these words are spoken by the prophet Balaam, who has been hired to curse the Israelites by Balak, the king of Moab. Balak has seen the victories of the Israelites against other nations as they have traveled in the desert, and he fears that this soon will be the fate of his own kingdom. But Balaam finds himself only able to offer words of blessing, and it is these words of praise, first spoken by a non-Jew, that now are part of our daily liturgy.

When we teach our students about this prayer, we ask them to offer a compelling explanation for what we could possibly mean when we say the word “Israel” in this prayer. Some say that this prayer is a wish for the well-being of the people who live in Israel today, whether Jewish or not. Others note that the prayer also mentions Jacob and argue that this is a prayer for all of those descended from him — all Jews, everywhere. Still others observe that Jacob’s name was changed to Israel after wrestling with an angel, so this prayer is a reminder that we must grapple with the Divine when we pray.

This prayer has been a sort of “theme song” for our two congregational family trips to Israel, in July 2008 and this past December 2009 – January 2010. Shortly after arriving, we sang these words while standing on a hilltop in Jaffa, looking out on the city of Tel Aviv. I tried to imagine how all of the people living in every apartment complex and villa are trying to make a good and beautiful place for themselves and their families. A few days later, while visiting a mountaintop kibbutz overlooking the Lebanese border, I looked out towards the houses on the other side of the valley separating the two countries. I thought to myself, if only the people living on each side of the border could look to the other and offer words of blessing: How good, how beautiful, is the place where you live.

On our final night in Jerusalem, just before heading to the airport, we again sang these words while looking out at the Old City, divided into four quarters like the four chambers of the human heart. It is to this spot that we turn when we pray, reminding ourselves that the heartbeat of Jerusalem has kept the Jewish people alive throughout the centuries. Yet, here too is where Jesus walked and, some say, was resurrected; where Muhammad is reported to have ascended to heaven; for Christians and for Muslims, as for us, Jerusalem is the beating heart of a people.

We teach our students that there isn’t a single correct answer as to what we mean when we say “Israel” in these words. But I know that for me, I agree with all three of these answers. I am praying for the beautiful homes of the Jews, my people, my own ancestry. I am praying for the good homes of the people living in Israel, whatever their religion may be. And I am grappling with the Divine and wondering when will the time come that enemies will turn to one another and find themselves only able to offer words of blessing.

Get Paid to be Jewish? Part 2

Do you remember way back when, when I blogged about Moishe House, with a quote from the JTA:

"Say you’re a few years out of college, living with friends and working in a low-paying job for some do-good organization. You don’t go to synagogue but you miss the camaraderie of your college Hillel, and you like to invite people over for Shabbat meals.

"Imagine if someone was willing to pay you to keep doing it?"

Well, Ben Murane has thrown down on birthright NEXT's similar initiative on Hazon's Jews-n-food blog "The Jew and the Carrot," under the heading "Do We Need to Pay Birthright Alumni to Have Shabbat Dinner?"

"Once again, the organized Jewish community has decided to answer the droopy quality of Jewish life offerings with a marketing campaign and financial largess. I think NEXT’s money is mispent."

Now, what makes this such a tremendously worthy read is that the very first response to Ben's post is from none other than Birthright Israel NEXT Executive Director (and fellow blogger) Daniel Brenner:

" . . . we are proud that through small grants that we have been able to encourage over 600 people across the country to host meals in their homes. For a majority, it has been the first time in their life that they hosted a Shabbat meal. So far, 74.6% of those meals have been homecooked by many hands. Most people had 14 guests! We sponsored many vegan shabbats, raw food shabbats, organic shabbats, you name it. And good food is often not cheap — and not everyone has the luxury of being near a farmer’s market. And not everyone has the time or skill to cook!

"Could we do it for $15 per person? maybe so. But we felt that $25 per person would make for a special meal.

"By the way, we are also providing financial assistance for Birthright Israel alumni to attend the upcoming Hazon Food Conference. We do so because we have found that in these economic times, people in their twenties do not have alot of spare change to go to Jewish confereces."

But wait! Who is the next comment from?

"Don’t worry, Rabbi Brenner. I’m hosting plenty of birthright NEXT shabbat dinners at the apartment I share with Mr. Murane . . .

". . . The money isn’t an incentive for me to host a dinner. It’s an *enabler*. Big difference."

Read the whole fun debate, and then get yourself some excellent baby swag, at The Jew and the Carrot.