Rabbi Birdie Becker
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Kabbalat Shabbat 10.9.20 Shalom Park

10/12/2020

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Yom Kippur DVAR 2020

9/27/2020

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Shofar Service for weekday 2020

9/19/2020

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Let's Greet Shabbat

5/22/2020

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FB Live Kabbalat 4.24.20

4/24/2020

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PASSOVER OVERVIEW

4/7/2020

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The Seder Plate and its meaning

https://www.facebook.com/RabbiBirdieBecker/videos/2822597751129359/
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You Count

3/27/2020

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Shalom Chevra,

A quick public service message to say you are important, you matter, you count. In the Book of Numbers, Bamidbar, a census of the Jews traveling through the desert is taken, twice. At the beginning of the journey and again at its end. Funds were raised and property/assets disbursed according to the counting.

The National Faithful Census Weekend is coming up March 27-29. Please be counted. Fill out your Census as an act of community empowerment this weekend or anytime over the coming weeks. The Census can (and should!) be done from the safety and comfort of your home. It is simple, safe and secure and can be done by going to www.2020census.gov. A complete count determines Congressional representation as well as federal resources to Colorado for the next ten years, approximately $2,300 per person per year to support social safety net programs including Unemployment Insurance, Highway grants, Water Pollution Control State, Interstate, and Tribal Program Support, Supportive Housing for Persons with Disabilities, State and Drug Free Schools and Community Grants, Child Abuse and Neglect State Grants, National Fire Plan - Wildland Urban Interface Community Fire Assistance and hundreds more. You can see that these funds go towards a vast variety of issues important to our state and its inhabitants. 

When we answer the Census, we declare that we are part of “we the people” and commit to doing our part to bring critical funding and political representation to Colorado.

We each embody the Divine image, b'tzelem Eloheem. As we continue to watch out for one another by carefully following the CDC and WHO guidelines to get through COVID 19, we ask for blessings for those who are ill, those on the front lines taking care of them: physicians, nurses, aides, transportation workers, administrators; those providing resources for the general public at stores, pharmacies, transportation sources, police and fire personnel; the teachers learning to adapt to online curriculums and student interaction; and all those who are researching, creating, assisting in the worldwide fight against this virus. We extend Mi Sheberach blessings as well as for everyone, each and every person who needs support, hope and strength to weather these circumstances. Every person counts and we give thanks we are here to participate in this counting.

Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, shehecheyanu, v'kiy'manu, v'higiyanu laz'man hazeh.

Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Sovereign of all, who has kept us alive, sustained us, and brought us to this season.


Blessings and Shabbat Shalom
Rabbi Becker
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Kabbalat Shabbat

3/20/2020

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A Taste of Shabbat for when we are physically separated:
Shabbat Shalom

https://www.facebook.com/RabbiBirdieBecker/videos/208917203693428/

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THE GIFT OF LOVE

12/16/2016

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With Jeff returning to Colorado in time for Chanukah after our being a commuter couple for eight years, I am sharing a story written 2/2015 with the belief that my gift keeps growing.

THE GIFT OF LOVE
Leaving the doctor’s office, I climbed into the car and started down the winding parking ramp. Breathe, I reminded myself as I replayed my conversation with the physician moments before.
 
“See how the white here turns gray there and when we turn it this way, the opposite is true? That’s the bone marrow. This should be that color and it’s not.”  His voice faded for me as he described the things it could be but probably weren’t. I heard clearly, “…of course we won’t know for sure. That’s why we need the biopsy. It’s easiest to go into the shoulder so we’ll do that and grab a few cells. Then we’ll know for sure and when we do, we’ll go from there. Of course, there’s a chance it’s something else.”
 
A chance it’s something else. I’d been trying to track down for a year what was wrong. This was the one year anniversary of finding out my husband of 38 years had leukemia. I had jokingly remarked then that we’d been together so long we were sharing the disease, I had the symptoms but he had the diagnosis.
 
I looked up and spoke aloud, “If this is how it’s going to be, You have to watch over my children.” No denial for me. I went straight to bargaining – I was good at that. It’s in the DNA. Abraham Aveinu (our father) haggled with God over whole cities. Jacob wrestled for a  blessing. Moses argued about taking a job. Surely, it was ok for me to request a little attention for my family.
 
In a few short weeks, I had gone from pain to preparing a bucket list. Upon returning to my physical therapist for a recurrent shoulder pain, he requested an MRI. The MRI led to a complete body bone scan and now a bone biopsy for probable bone metastases.
 
With Thanksgiving coming up, the procedure could not be scheduled for a week. Somehow, I had to get through the holiday weekend. I was determined not to spoil the holiday for everyone. I wouldn’t say anything. That resolve lasted about thirty seconds after my getting off the plane. At the airport, my sister was too perceptive.
 
“What’s wrong?”
 
“I’m tired.”
 
“What’s wrong?”
 
“It’s been a long day.”
 
“Ok, but what’s really wrong?”
 
I caved. After insisting I could not leave the family gathering without telling everyone, she also agreed to let me reveal it at a time of my choosing. 
 
Thursday was a hustle and bustle of last minute shopping, cooking, cleaning up, and setting the table. Part of the family participated in the annual city race and my 70 year old brother-in-law came in first in his age category. Friends and more family arrived for a splendid Thanksgiving meal, followed by games and music, smiles, laughter and love.
 
Gathered around the kitchen table, I shared the news Friday morning with my family: siblings and siblings-in-law, nieces and nephews. My children and husband already knew and one dear friend. After the initial stunned reaction, the love and support that flowed was beyond sustaining. Then came offers to be donors, to come to take care of me if needed, to be available day or night for calls and support, the love was palpable. So much so that the third generation, just over one year old, 4 ½ and 7, picked up on the energy. They danced and gave out hugs to everyone.
 
That evening was filled with good food, laughter, cuddling and hugs. The 4 ½ year old drew heart pictures for all the adults and requested letters back, to which we all complied. Notes filed with blessings and love and hugs and thanks were written back, allowing everyone to find a place of gratitude.
 
I finally convinced my son, who had driven 400 miles to be with us and would need to drive back the next morning, to get some sleep. Towering a foot over me, he was at once my little boy and my right hand guardian. I drew power from the near commanding, “You’ll be fine,” from my eldest sister as we hugged farewell. It was an echo of mom’s, z’l’* , “I won’t hear of it. You’re going to be fine”, when at age ten and sick with rheumatic fever, I had asked if I was going to die.
 
Anticipating the 5:45 AM flight home, I spent the night on the couch with my second sister, talking in whispers the way we used to do as kids. Holding hands, we fell briefly to sleep before the alarm woke us to final hugs, tears and well wishes.
 
My brother drove me to the airport. There are big brother hugs and then there are big brother hugs. This big brother hug anchored me like the roots of a tree. 
 
The morning of the biopsy came and my daughter drove me to the hospital at 5:30 AM.  She escorted me through the halls of check-in and preparation, staying with me until the nurse came to take me for the procedure.
 
“Don’t worry about elevated vitals,” explained the nurse, “it’s normal to be anxious.”
 
“I’m not anxious,” I replied. “However, my daughter might need something.”
 
Facing one more, large, ominous machine, this time with my arms velcroed down so I would not move during the procedure, the last thing I heard before succumbing to the anesthetic was, “You really aren’t anxious. Your vitals are terrific.”
 
A few hours later, I was back home resting, thanks to my daughter. By evening, I was back to being mom, sending her home with chicken soup and knadlach to help her recover from a cold.  Now there was nothing to do but wait for results. And so we did. We ALL waited.
 
If love and laughter, prayers and wishes can bring about miracles, I had a miracle. The reports showed no traces of cancer, no tumor, nothing of consequence to worry about. During the following weeks, I learned that scans, lab reports, symptoms of various minor illnesses and a few anomalies had converged to appear as one life threatening disease. I could go back to physical therapy and try again to heal. This time though, I would have the added strength of my entire family helping me.
 
Emails, phone calls, Skype calls went out to everyone. We cried, we laughed, we offered long distance hugs. I had been given the greatest gift one could know in their life time. Surrounded by family and friends, blessed with their support and their caring, I was encased in love and carried on the wings of Shechinah.
 
Chanukah is a holiday that celebrates the miracle of a battle, the miracle of light and the miracle of continued faith through daunting times. With the blessings of the first Chanukah candle, I knew that my miracle had arrived early, wrapped in the gift of love. Now, every morning, I awake with a new appreciation for life as I recite modah ani, I give thanks.

* Zichrona livracha: may her memory be a blessing

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ROSH HASHANAH DIN

10/4/2016

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EREV ROSH HASHANAH 2016
 
The first blast of the shofar was on Labor, the 2nd of Elul. As I blew the set of notes for a bat mitzvah ceremony, I realized that for me, they were not the normal attention call. I was wide awake. I had been awake all summer, in fact all year. And the din that I was hearing was a mix of the English din of noise and the Hebrew din of judgment.
 
With the first blast of the shofar, Tekiah, I was reminded that the holiday season arrives whether we are ready or not, or as is the title of Rabbi Alan Lew’s book, This Is Real and You Are Completely Unprepared. You see, the holiday season is not as most people think 2 days or 3 days or even the entire ten days from Rosh Hashanah through Yom Kippur known as Yomim Nori’im. It is actually 40 days, from the beginning of Elul, the month prior to Rosh HaShanah through Yom Kippur. Even then, the season doesn’t end for we have Sukkot, Shimini Atzeret and Simchat Torah in quick succession. But the point is, we have an entire month to prepare ourselves for the month to follow, to redress wrongs, to ask for forgiveness. We have the month for introspection, to look back on the year and see where we have fallen short. What expectations did we have that we didn’t meet? Where did we fail and how? And why? Did we not put in the effort or was the opportunity overlooked? How do we change the visions that we laid out as the year progressed? Did we give up too easily when we encountered an obstacle?
 
It was 15 years ago when I first came to this community, one week after 9/11. There was no din amongst the American people then. Having driven across the country, I remember that there was only a sense of unity, of oneness. This was as close as I can remember this country approaching indivisible.

9/11, more than any day, has become an American day of observance. While Memorial Day, Labor Day, the 4th of July and Thanksgiving have turned into joyous celebrations, on 9/11 we have begun to have holy gatherings. But how long will that last? Already there are those who don’t recognize the role of top players: first responders, rescuers, fellow workers; those who deny what was done altogether, ‘the conspiracy theorists’, and those who fight against providing these true, real life heroes with even the dignity of medical care.
 
Then there are those who don’t seem to understand the significance of the date. I have a group of 6th and 7th graders who have a program once a month after class to do community service. They were asked to write thank you cards to New York fire fighters and police on the first day of their meeting this year as that Sunday happened to fall on 9/11.  When I asked the follow Sunday what it meant to them, they said, ‘nothing’. They did it because they were told to. They had no feeling for 9/11 and some did not even know what it referenced.  Are we living in a time where everything passes so quickly that we can’t take a moment to remember those who have died, those who are suffering because of a tragedy and those who are making a difference in our world because of events that changed theirs? Have we lost the story so soon?
 
I’m not looking for the country wide silent moments such as those observed in Israel for Yom HaZikaron, the Day of Remembrance, just a simple recognition of one humanity. I suppose it is not so simple.  I wonder is it possible?  Will it ever be? 
 
What will happen to this point in time that was seems so prominent in our lives? An event which turned the course of our country’s basic philosophy regarding civil liberty and altered our march toward human rights acceptance. When will it be rolled into all other days of remembrance, lost in significance like Pearl Harbor Day or VJ Day? 

Speaking of which – did you all see that Greta Friedman died in September? She was 92.  Who was Greta? The woman in the famous picture that represented the end of WWII, the kiss between sailor, George Mendonsa, and a nurse, Greta.
 
Even these iconic images are becoming relics. As our culture changes, we take offense at old ways of viewing things. Rather than appreciating them for what they were within their context, we denigrate and deplore what they seem to represent now. George, a half drunk sailor, according to his own recollection, at the end of a war, in pure elation desired to share it, with the first pretty stranger he encountered. Would that picture now be viewed as a sexual assault?
 
This tendency to outdate, to view as passé, even offensive, happens also with our prayers.  Therefore have we added new prayers, new melodies, new words to old prayers and new translations to old words. Often we recite words but do know what we are saying. For the most part, does it matter? No. But here’s what does matter. That our minds and hearts are directed toward the prayers. That we allow the words and melodies to move us, to move through us so that we connect to something beyond ourselves. That we are spending the time not thinking about our next text message or who’s winning the football game, but that we spend it thinking about who’s winning our soul.
 
 
Through the Window (slightly Edited)
By Yerachmiel Tilles[1]

On Erev Rosh Hashanah (the first night of Selichot) over one hundred years ago, instead of going to the large Shul to signal the beginning of the prayers, the rebbe, Rabbi Shalom of Belz, ordered his attendant to harness the horses. He said they would be going into the forest.

The astonished attendant wanted to remind the Rebbe that thousands of chassidim were waiting in the Shul, but he knew better than to ask questions and went out to prepare the wagon. After a half hour drive the Rebbe signaled him to stop. They alighted and walked down a narrow path till they saw a small hut in the distance. The Rebbe signaled the attendant to wait for him, and then tiptoed alone up to the window and peeked in.

An old Jewish man was sitting alone at a table. On the table was a bottle of vodka and two small cups, one in front of him and the other before the empty seat opposite him.

Through the window the Rebbe couldn’t hear what the old man was saying, but he saw him raise his cup in a toast, drink it, and then drink the second cup as well. This he repeated two more times, after which the Rebbe tiptoed back to the attendant. They walked quickly to the wagon and the Rebbe motioned him to drive back to Belz.

Meanwhile the chassidim had been waiting for over an hour and were becoming worried. But when the doors of the Synagogue opened and the Rebbe entered, the congregation fell silent. All eyes followed him to his place at the front of the Shul, and then the room burst into prayer.

When services ended the Rebbe turned to his attendant and said, "There is an old man that came in after everyone and I’m sure he will finish after everyone also. He’s the one I saw in the house in the woods. Please wait for him to finish, and then tell him I want him to come to my study where I will speak to him privately."

Half an hour later the simple Jew was standing in fear before the Holy Rebbe.

"Sit down, Isaac," said the Rebbe, indicating a chair. "I want you to tell me what you did in your house before you came here tonight. What were those two cups of vodka for and what was that strange l’chayim you made?"

"The Rebbe knows that?" he exclaimed, his eyes bulging in amazement. Then he started to shake. "How does the Rebbe know?"

"I sensed that something important was going to happen," the Rebbe answered, "so I drove to the woods and peeked in your window. But I want to understand the meaning behind what you were doing."

"The Rebbe peeked in my window? The Rebbe peeked in my window? How could it be? I am a nothing!"

Now the poor chassid was really confused. He was silent for a moment. Then, realizing that there was no alternative, he sank down onto the chair and began to explain.

"I’m a poor man, Rebbe, I have no children and my wife passed on years ago. I live alone with just a few farm animals. That is, until a few months ago when my cow became sick. I prayed to G‑d to heal the cow. ‘After all’, I said to G‑d, ‘You create the entire world and everything in it; certainly you can heal one cow!’

"But the cow got worse. So I said ‘Listen G‑d, if You don’t heal that cow I’m not going to shul any more!’ I figured that if G‑d doesn’t care about me—I mean, it’s nothing for Him to heal one old cow—so why should I care about His place?

"But the cow died anyway. I got mad and … and… I stopped going to synagogue.

"But then my goat got sick! I said to G‑d, ‘What! You haven’t had enough? Do you think I’m bluffing? Listen, if this goat dies I’m not putting on tefillin any more!’ But the goat died and so I stopped putting on tefillin.

"Next, my chickens got ill. I told G‑d that if they die I’m not going to recite Kiddush or keep Shabbos. Well, a week later I was without chickens and G‑d was without my Shabbos.

"I held out for weeks until suddenly I realized that the holidays were approaching. I thought to myself, ‘What, Isaac, you aren’t going to go say Gut Yuntif to the Rebbe? What, are you nuts?’ But on the other hand I was angry with G‑d and had vowed I wasn’t going to the shul. So I held out.

"But then I remembered that once I had an argument with Shmuel the butcher. For about a month we didn’t even say hello. Then one night he came to my house with a bottle of vodka and said, ‘Let’s forget the past and be friends, enough enemies outside the community; why be enemies.’ So we made three l’chayims, shook hands and even danced around a little together. Baruch Hashem, we were friends again.

"So I figured I would do the same thing with G‑d. After all, Rebbe, we are told that on these days, we are forgiven - if we atone for the sins against God - as these are the only ones for which God can forgive us. So, I invited God to sit opposite me, poured us two cups and said, ‘Listen, G‑d, you forget my faults and I’ll forget yours. All right? A deal?’ L'chayim!

"So I drank my cup and understood that since G‑d doesn’t drink, He probably wanted me to drink His. And after we did it twice more I stood up and we danced together! Then I felt better and came to shul."

The Rebbe looked deeply into Isaac’s innocent eyes. In a serious tone, he said, "Listen to me, Isaac. Before we began, I saw that in heaven there was a terrible decree on our holy congregation, because the chassidim were saying the words in the prayer book but they weren’t really praying seriously to G-d. Of course, there are a lot of distractions and other excuses; nevertheless this terrible decree was looming.

"But you, Isaac, in your sincerity have saved the entire congregation! For you, Isaac, you talked to G‑d like He is your friend.”


-----
In our SALMON HANDOUTS PG 10, #24 we read together
24. A READING by Sheila Peltz Weinberg
 
O God,
Let me be willing to be a true friend,
To walk along Without always knowing the destination
Let me have enough faith in Your presence
To know that letting go is not giving up
Surrender is not annihilation
O God,
Help me move through the arid dessert of
Loneliness and fear
Toward Your creatures, Your creation
Toward Your outstretched arm of freedom,
Your protecting wing of peace.
 ------

May we each find our way to draw near to our friends on earth and in Heaven and bring healing into our lives and the world. AMEN

[1]http://www.kabbalaonline.org/kabbalah/article_cdo/aid/2299022/jewish/Through-the-Window.htm


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BRINGING GRATITUDE INTO CHANUKAH

12/12/2014

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We are now in the season of dedication. Dedication is the translation of Chanukah. Beyond the story of oil lasting for eight days, or of a rebellion against the Syrian-Greeks, Chanukah is a story of faith giving people strength to overcome their fear. Fear rides highest in times of darkness. Chanukah falls in the darkest part of the year, at the winter solstice. Into that dark, Chanukah brings a little light, a little faith. There is no doubt that this year the darkness is thick. Thick enough to touch - like the darkness of the ninth plague upon Egypt. It is a darkness not only of a night sky, but also of belief: belief in a way of life that once held hope for a brighter tomorrow, belief in ourselves to make a difference in the world and leave it a better place, belief in one another. Are we looking in the wrong places? Are we asking the wrong questions?

As a people, we come together so strongly when we are in crisis. How can we gather that energy and concern and keep it going regardless of our favored immediate crisis? We can realize that whether or not it is our particular passion, there are always crises to address. That alone should pull us together. For as surely as if you ignore a function of your body it will affect your entire well-being, so too, it is with a society. This does not mean we need to live in a state of abject tension and general dismay. Rather, it means we need to acknowledge that everyone has difficulties and everywhere there are problems to overcome. If we can accept that, and treat each other with kindness and compassion at all times, as if there were a national crisis, then the world, then our worlds, our lives, would become more aligned with what we claim we stand for, tikkun olam, healing the world.

There is a gift in this for us. A lovely Chanukah gift that we don’t have to buy at the store and that no one will tell you about on the TV. In fact, it will hamper the efforts of those who sell us on need and greed. For the gift is that we become more grateful for what we have. Being grateful does not mean putting on rose-colored glasses, but it does give us an opportunity to see balance in the world. Being grateful allows us to open our hearts to what we have so that what we lack doesn’t leave us so fearful. Being grateful allows us to extend ourselves to others because we need not be envious that someone has something more, we can understand that it might just be different. Being grateful allows us to be followers of Yehudah, Judah, a name meaning “I am grateful”.

This Chanukah, may the world be filled with gratitude for an ever evolving creation of which we are a part. May our lives be dedicated to bringing light and enlightenment into the world. May your homes be filled with joy and with love.

Wishing you each a Happy Chanukah and Wonderful New Year.

Rabbi Becker

 

 

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IN MEMORY OF REB ZALMAN Z'L'

8/4/2014

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I witnessed the burial of a great soul this morning, Reb Zalman. Even in death, he brought together worlds of various traditions. A Chabad rabbi spoke about his life without eulogizing. He was buried without a coffin like our Muslim cousins. Song and stories, tears and laughter, hands held, hugs exchanged, and across the generations souls touching and reaching for one last moment with their father..., husband, teacher, guide, colleague, friend. Upon returning home I wrote:

There’ll be sparks of light in the sky tonight
Sparks of a soul flying free
Back to its Source, the Divine spark of life
Having departed the earthly body.
No more pain, no more tears
Except for all those left behind.
Let us know that you’ve found rest
Send us comfort. Let us bless tonight
As you would have us bless each day
And one another in the way
You’ve shown us.
Bless the blades of grass that grow,
Bless the hail and bless the snow,
Bless the sun and bless the rain
Each time it falls recite, “Amen”.
The brother to your left,
The mother to your right,
Politically, physically, hold them tight
And let them know it doesn’t matter -
Because we are all part of the shattered vessel
And the sparks, the sparks will return to the Source.
Yes, there will be sparks of light in the sky tonight.
Look upon them and bless them.
Freedom takes many forms.
Bless the sparks of light in the sky tonight.
Bless the sparks.
Rabbi Birdie Becker 7/4/14 in memory of Reb Zalman z'l'
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Miracles Happen Every Day

6/2/2013

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Have you ever felt that you witnessed a miracle? Can you remember saying it? Saying ‘that was a miracle’? Was there a time when disaster struck but you or someone or something amazing was saved and you thought, ‘wow – I can’t believe that! It’s a miracle!’  I can think of these on a regular basis.

During a Friday night service discussion, the following issue arose: wouldn’t God know of an entity and cause it to occur miraculously, even if we think we know that it did not exist in biblical times? What a great question!! In this particular case, the issue centered around tzara’at, which used to be translated as leprosy and is now often translated as scales. While in this case I think the text wanted us to look at a larger message, it doesn’t negate believing in miracles.

Some will contend, that once we can explain something, that it falls into the rational realm. However, just because science can explain how DNA functions, it does not reduce the miracle of its functionality. Every time an allele or gene shifts, we are reminded of how miraculous it is when they don’t.  Meteorologist help us understand weather patterns, but that certainly doesn’t help us control them or their effects. The whirlwind in Moore, Oklahoma was no less daunting than the whirlwind from which God spoke to Job. The volcanic eruption in 2011 that closed European airspace for six days, or the recent one in the Philippines that killed 5 climbers, shook the ground and vibrated in ears as did Mt. Sinai when we received revelation. The question that should be asked is, was anyone gleaning lessons?

I am not speaking here of the scientific lessons. There is no doubt that the scientist are crunching numbers and analyzing data. What about the rest of us? Are we looking around and seeing that we are connected through all these actions. The gene shifts don’t take place in a vacuum. The reverberations of earthquakes, the ash from fires and volcanic eruption, the tsunamis, the whirlwinds in hurricanes, tornadoes and dust storms have global effects. They reach into the physical reality of our planet’s life, the sustainability of our cultural patterns, the financial stability of our global economy, and the health of our humanity. Are we listening, seeing, absorbing the message or are we still sending someone else to receive the instructions while we worship at a golden calf?

Ultimately, with billions of planets, stars, and other celestial objects, we know how miraculous it is that life exists on earth. If we awaken everyday with that knowledge, we cannot help but want to connect to the Divinity within that miracle. This connection begins with knowing we are b’tzelem elohim, in the image of the Divine. There is no conflict with coming to understand the miracles and helping them to continue. It could be that that is what Rabbi Tarfon meant when he said, “It is not incumbent upon you to complete the work, but neither are you at liberty to desist from it.” (Avot 2:21).

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Entering Joy

2/5/2013

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As we head into the joyous month of Adar, many people look around and ask what they should be celebrating? Indeed, much of the world is at war, in poverty, dealing with unprecedented climate events, not to mention all the individual issues of inequality for women, the LGBT community, those with disabilities of all types, and as the King of Siam said in the King
and I
, “etc., etc., and so forth”. 

Now that I’ve depressed you, let’s turn our viewpoint on its head.

Did you awaken this morning? That’s a start! You have a new day to fill with memories of your choice.
Did you open your eyes and look around? How joyous to see all the colors of the world, the designs of nature and of
man.
Was there a roof over your head when you opened your eyes? Then you are not on the streets by choice or necessity.
Were you awakened by an alarm clock, ringing phone or other sounds? Then you can hear. Lucky you! Listen to the wind, the birds, the voices of animals and people that share your world.
Did a voice awaken you or greet you during the day? Then you have companionship in your life. Even though someone is not constantly by your side, you don’t walk through the world alone.
Were you able to wash your hands, face, body today? Then you have access to water, probably modern plumbing – for others these are miracles.
Did you have to choose which clothes to wear? Then, in addition to having clothes, you have the ability to make decisions. You have the freedom to be independent in thought and in deed. 

There are blessings we recite for all these and more; blessings for everyday activities. When we bless a mundane event, we elevate it to a higher level. In that way, our normal activities become reminders of how lucky we are, how grateful we can be.

The holiday of Purim celebrates the release of the Jews from physical destruction. When we are free from the threat of physical destruction, we can turn to emotional, intellectual and spiritual needs. 
 
The holiday of Pesach celebrates the release of the Jews from physical suppression and from spiritual destruction. They became a free people able to rejoice in each day, able to recognize the designs of God, nature and man, able to listen to the trembling mountain at Sinai, able to walk together toward a future, able to gather manna, able to choose to follow the path to freedom or return to slavery. 

Does this mean you don’t have the right to complain or be discontent? Of course, not. There are many who are truly in need. On the other hand, if we can learn to celebrate freedom of body, mind and/or spirit every day, life will become more joyous. 

As we enter the month of joy (Adar) followed by the month of redemption, the time of freedom (Nissan), I wish you beautiful, healthy holidays. Days of delight.

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    Author

    Community educator, choreographer, composer, performer, Becker, M.S.W., M.Ed., M.R.S., Ph.D., serves as rabbi for Temple Emanuel-Pueblo, cellist for Apples and Honey and is a Storahtelling Maven.

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