I begin with a story. The Master Key by Rabbi Shlomo Yosef Zevin. A Chasidic tale.

One year, Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov said to Rabbi Ze’ev Kitzes, one of his senior disciples: “You will blow the shofar for us this Rosh Hashanah. I want you to study all the kavanot (Kabbalistic meditations) that pertain to the shofar, so that you should meditate upon them when you do the blowing.”

Rabbi Ze’ev applied himself to the task with joy and trepidation: joy over the great privilege that had been accorded him, and trepidation over the immensity of the responsibility. He studied the Kabbalistic writings that discuss the multifaceted significance of the shofar and what its sounds achieve on the various levels of reality and in the various chambers of the soul. He also prepared a sheet of paper on which he noted the main points of each kavanah, so that he could refer to them when he blew the shofar.

Finally, the great moment arrived. It was the morning of Rosh Hashanah, and Rabbi Ze’ev stood on the reading platform in the center of the Baal Shem Tov’s synagogue amidst the Torah scrolls, surrounded by a sea of tallit-draped bodies. At his table in the southeast corner of the room stood his master, the Baal Shem Tov, his face aflame. An awed silence filled the room in anticipation of the climax of the day—the piercing blasts and sobs of the shofar.

Rabbi Ze’ev reached into his pocket, and his heart froze: the paper had disappeared! He distinctly remembered placing it there that morning, but now it was gone. Furiously, he searched his memory for what he had learned, but his distress over the lost notes seemed to have incapacitated his brain: his mind was a total blank. Tears of frustration filled his eyes. He had disappointed his master, who had entrusted him with this most sacred task. Now he must blow the shofar like a simple horn, without any kavanot. With a despairing heart, Rabbi Ze’ev blew the litany of sounds required by law and, avoiding his master’s eye, resumed his place.

At the conclusion of the day’s prayers, the Baal Shem Tov made his way to the corner where Rabbi Ze’ev sat sobbing under his tallit. “Gut Yom Tov, Reb Ze’ev!” he called. “That was a most extraordinary shofar-blowing we heard today!”
“But Rebbe . . . I . . .”

“In the king’s palace,” said the Baal Shem Tov, “there are many gates and doors, leading to many halls and chambers. The palace-keepers have great rings holding many keys, each of which opens a different door. But there is one key that fits all the locks, a master key that opens all the doors.

“The kavanot are keys, each unlocking another door in our souls, each accessing another chamber in the supernal worlds. But there is one key that unlocks all doors, that opens up for us the innermost chambers of the divine palace. That master key is a broken heart.”

I struggled this year to prepare for the holidays. I tried to write and nothing made sense. I tried to study and could not concentrate. As the days of Elul passed, I knew I had to do something. One morning I sat down and let the tears flow. Only after writing what I am going to share with you now, was I able to return the over the following day to write the more joyous sermons you heard on Rosh Hashanah and that you will hear tomorrow, but I want to share the process with you.

A Letter to God from a Healing Broken Heart by Rabbi Birdie Becker 8.2018
Dear God,
It’s been a year since last I stood before the open book.
Into your hands, I cast my lot, but found there no safe nook.
Instead it opened every door that ever I had closed
And made me open wide the gates to things I never chose.
What is a human being if not a working piece of art?
What is a soul if not the depth of heaven when it parts?
To look inside the melding body only leads astray
   the final outcome we each reach when it’s the close of day.
I thought I had it figured out, I thought if I believed
Then fate would deal a hand of kindness on all that I perceived.
I thought that prayers and pledges, pleading, promises and tears
   would safely guard the future from the ‘lions, tigers and bears’.
Love came, and I did not grasp it hard enough, to gather it forever.
It passed away and with it went the best of my endeavor.
How can you ask of me to stand again before your open book?
How can you dare to say to me that life still brightly looks
   ahead to beauty, to wonder, to fulfillment, to all the world can hold?
You surely should have warned me of the losses to unfold.
You did! You say.
Well, I reject the notion that you did.
My heart was breaking every day, and I believe you hid.
Who by fire? Who by water? Who by agony?
Who from age? Who alone? Who with family?
Why this day? Why this hour? Why that one and not this?
Who can justify the meaning of the latest kiss
of death that moves the soul beyond this land to its next hallowed   sphere?
I don’t care what I am told, I want my loved one here.
To have and hold and share another day another year…
Another hour?
Another moment?
This grief I cannot bear.
Yet.. I will.
I will continue for God, that is the way
That You tell us You are with us, each and every day.
In our thoughts and in our hearts and even in our tears.
You let me rail against the dark, against the black, against the coming years
Of memories that will grow deep and stories to be told
Of feelings bearable someday and even humor trolled.
Who am I to question You?
Not Job or Abraham.
Not Hillel, not Lincoln or even Sam I am.
Yet question You is what we do, each and every day.
Because it lets us know that You are never going away.
You’re here, right here, by my side.
And, I, as mad as I may be,
I know that You will never go too far away from me.
Like all good friends, You’re there to let me give a primal scream.
And when I’m at my lowest, it’s upon You I can lean.
I may not always understand, it’s not for me to agree.
The sun has once again revolved,
A year has passed by Your decree.
Who remembered? Who forgotten? By woman or by man?
Each held in love, caressed by grace in Adonai’s grand plan.
From off the earth each one has touched Shechinah’s wings and flown.
Belonging now to eternity,
Divine and Thine alone.
 
Life is a journey, my friends. What I want to impart to you most is that all relationships require work but you need never journey alone.

May your journeys this year be sweet and fulfilling.

For those who did not know him:
JEFFREY M. BECKER M.D.

Dr. Jeffrey M. Becker passed away Dec. 5, 2017. Funeral services occurred Dec. 8th at Mt. Nebo. Becker met his wife, Rabbi/Cantor 'Birdie' (Roberta Koslov), at a MOVFTY gathering in 1968. They reunited in 1972 in Columbia, MO where both were studying at the University of Missouri. They married in 1976 and Jacob and Rachel were born while they lived in Illinois.

A Board Certified dermatologist and Fellow of the American Academy of Dermatology as well as the Society for Investigative Dermatology, Becker practiced medicine in Champaign/Urbana, IL for four years where he also served as a clinical instructor for the University of Illinois Medical School. He arrived in Denver in 1984, where he served the community until 2007 when he was recruited to build a Dermatology department in Albuquerque at the largest multi-specialty group in the state.

No matter where he practiced, his colleagues described him as always having a sparkle in his eye and a kind word to say, and more often than not a quick joke that took everyone by surprise. He felt a deep responsibility to his patients and always strived to provide excellent care. He retired last December to return to Denver and the other driving force in his life, his family.

A devoted father, he earned a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, which he attended several times a week for years with Jacob and Rachel. For many years he enjoyed the outdoor life in Denver by biking the majority of the Highline Canal, switching to hiking the Sandias for his time in Albuquerque. An avid camera enthusiast, he videoed his children and his wife in numerous years of theater performances.

Jeff had a generous heart, a brilliant mind, a pervasive sense of humor, and a courageous soul. He will long be remembered by friends, family, and the many patients whose lives he has touched. He died Tuesday, December 5th, 2017. He is survived by his wife and children. May the angels carry him. Baruch Dayan Emet. He is already missed.

Dr. Becker was the husband of Rabbi "Birdie" Becker; father of Jacob Becker & Rachel Becker; brother of Linda (Tom) Langsdorf & Foster Becker; brother-in-law of Marilyn (Ron z"l) Humiston, Marcia (Stephen Smay) Koslov & Steve (Mary Fulton) Koslov. Contributions to the medical or Jewish charity of choice is suggested.

Published in Denver Post on Dec. 31, 2017

We will soon all gather to begin the holiday season. Due to the divisiveness within which we are living, it seems somewhat more difficult to make teshuvah, the turning required to wipe away the sins of our past year. It seems so much easier to be able to blame someone else this year for our difficulties, for our failings, for our discontent. Perhaps more than in other years that is why we really need to come together and pray as a community, be a community, know we are part of a community despite our differences.
 
While Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur focus us on the ‘me’, they are followed quickly by Sukkot, a definite ‘us’ holiday. In fact, Sukkot not only helps to focus on ‘us’, but brings the joy of the renewal, of freshness experienced at Yom Kippur into full measure.
 
We remember the blessings of annanim kavod, the clouds of glory that accompanied us through the desert; our clothing and foot garments never wore out and we were protected from the elements of nature. This was the blessing we received when Moshe Rabbeinu received the second set of Esert HaDibrot, the Tablets of Commandments. In return, we begin the year performing a mitzvah. We build and dwell in a Sukkah. So anxious was the Maharil[1] to perform this mitzvah, he had the custom of beginning the building of the Sukkah the night after Yom Kippur.  We open our temporary shelters to guests, both ancestral and contemporary.
 
Inside the Sukkah, we lift and shake the Lulav, the four species. The Bahir[2] compares these species to human anatomy and our senses. Hadas (myrtle) is the eye that we must keep open against hate, bigotry and bribery. Aravah (willow) are the lips with which we may speak out for justice. The Etrog (citron) is the heart so that we feel compassion, love and empathy. The Lulav (palm) is the spine, that we be straight and strong, to serve as God’s loyal and grateful people. In bringing the four species together and shaking them in all six directions, we are reaching out, pointing a way, to promote the recognition of divinity in relationships, in community and among communities.
 
With the rising hatred in the world, may this be the year the Sukkah brings people together for rejoicing. Ken yihi ratzon. So may it be God’s will.
 
From my family to yours, wishing you a joyous, healthy new year.
L’Shanah Tovah Umetukah
Rabbi Becker
 
 


[1] Yaakov ben Moshe Levi Moelin, Talmudist of German Jews whose minhagim was a source for the Shulchan Arukh.

[2] Bahir or Sefer HaBahir is an anonymous mystical work, attributed to a 1st-century rabbinic sage Nehunya ben HaKanah 

Like governors, mayors and corporations around the country, Jewish leaders have joined together to lift our voices in support of the world wide desire to tend to and attend to God's creation, our earth. I was delighted for the opportunity offered me by Hazon to sign the letter that supported the Paris Climate Accord which was published June 13th, 2017.
It reads, 

"Dear Friends,

We are Jews, organizational leaders and rabbis, teachers and students who work passionately towards a bright American Jewish future. 
We are also human beings who care deeply about all life. 
And from this integrated Jewish and universal perspective, we are shocked by the US government’s decision to withdraw from the Paris Climate Accord. 

This decision stands against common sense. Across the whole world, governments, corporations, non-profits, religious communities, and families and individuals are doing the hard work of slowly trying to wean ourselves from our own unhelpful behaviors and our fossil-fuel based economy, and toward a brighter future that better protects our planet and all its inhabitants.
The Climate Accord is a voluntary framework, signed by every country in the world except for Syria and Nicaragua. The signing was one of the largest gatherings of world leaders in human history. The withdrawal of the United States is tragic, and deeply problematic.  As Jews living in a free society, we know the power of a shared framework which, even without legislative sanction, has a huge influence on the world. That’s what the Torah is; that’s why the Jewish people for twenty centuries have been on the right side of critical issues; and that’s why it is so critical that the Jewish community now stand up not merely to advocate for the Paris Climate Accord, but also to help implement it.
As Jews, we are also proud of our long history of economic innovation and entrepreneurship, so we are baffled by the false premise that withdrawing from the Paris Accords somehow prioritizes American jobs; on the contrary, our 21st century economy is driven by new energy technologies and our solar sector already far surpasses coal. Even so, we empathize with workers in the fossil fuel industry fearful of the changing energy economy, and strongly support business innovation and public policy to assist these workers during the transition to clean energy. Our nation’s economic interests are far better served by investments in this new energy economy than by the denial of climate science. Many experts agree that withdrawing from the Accord will weaken our economy – and threaten vulnerable populations both here at home and across the world.
In the face of this unfortunate decision, we applaud the leadership of mayors, governors, and businesses across the country who are taking responsibility for working towards the goals of the Paris Climate Accord.  The US federal government is a vital actor when it comes to fighting climate change, but there is much that we can do ourselves, as institutions and individuals. Our children’s future demands that we do all we can. 
Today, therefore, we call upon all Jewish federations, JCCs, synagogues, camps, day-schools, Jewish organizations, leaders, businesses, and community members to identify ways in which we, the organized and powerful American Jewish community, can and must respond to this climate crisis.  There could not be more urgency at this moment, and our moral courage and bold leadership is needed on a national and global scale.  
Here are some of the things that you can do:

• Commit yourself and your organization to the Paris goals, as Hazon, Pearlstone and a growing number of Jewish organizations have done. Amongst other things, that means reducing your carbon emissions by about a quarter (26 to 28%) over the next seven years. 
  
  
• Make sure your institution has a Green Team, to develop a multi-year process to work on sustainability. More than three dozen organizations have so far joined the Hazon Seal of Sustainability, and we invite you and your institution to join the Seal.

• Encourage your people – members, participants, staff, kids – to take some steps to live more lightly – ride your bike, or eat less meat, or eat more local produce. And if you can switch to solar or wind power, do so.

We are committed to working with interested parties within and beyond the Jewish community on this critical issue that will define our generation’s legacy. 
In the Mishna, Hillel teaches us, “When no else is acting, act.” We stand together, united in our commitment to a sustainable future."

And, it is signed by individuals as well as organizations, both big and small.

Are you ready to observe the commandment of baal tashcit? To neither destroy nor waste but rather to be a caretaker of the environment.



:

   Are you planning to attend the January 21 Women’s March in Denver? Concerned citizens of the diverse communities of Colorado will come together to champion human rights and dignity, and to send a message to our elected leaders to act to protect the needs of women, their families and our society.         

In recognition that it is Shabbat, there will be a brief Shabbat service at 8:45 A.M. before the march begins. All are warmly welcome to come to share inspiration and hope. Meet at the First Baptist Church of Denver, 1373 Grant Street, downtown near the State Capitol. See more details at https://www.facebook.com/events/735818996567451/

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

By Rabbi Birdie Becker
 
There is an ancient debate between the houses of Shammai and Hillel regarding how to light the candelabra called a Chanukiah. The House of Shammai extracts from the biblical diminishing of bull sacrifices for the holiday of Sukkot, the concept of decreasing the lights to be symbolic of decreasing evil, corruption and negative forces in the world. When the dark is decreased the light will shine through. Therefore, he ruled we should begin with eight candles and light one less each night. Hillel, on the other hand, believes that the concept of Kedusha, sanctification, asks us to rise above our human nature; to gain a higher level of holiness by reaching to the image of God within to expand light. He ruled that we should begin with a single candle and add one each night until the eight lights are burning.
 
On the High Holidays, we read a section called the holiness code whereby each sentence calls upon us to act and then sanctifies the action by concluding, "ki kadosh ani Adonai Elohaychem", because I, Adonai your God, am holy. This Torah imperative to be kadosh, holy, is the impetus to reach in, to reach up, to rise above. Thus, Hillel instructs us that increasing light, Divine light, b’tzelem Elohim (in the image of God) in the world will overpower negative forces.
 
Focusing on the destructive force of burning flames and fire, Shammi’s reasoning is a hope that when the flame dwindles what remains will be strong enough to have the desired outcome. Hillel, on the other hand, sees victory as requiring actions which build upon one another to achieve enlightenment. One might say he is seeking a spiritual high.
 
We know that just as the burning flame can spread light, so too can it spread destruction. Jews have a long history of being thrown into political flames, all the way back to the midrash of Abraham avinu (our father) being thrown into the furnace by Nimrod. Our memories, to name a few, include the enslavement in Egypt despite the marriage between Joseph and Asenath, daughter of the Priest of Egypt, their two children and subsequent descendents. Then there is the first crusades which began 1095 CE at the bidding of Pope Urban II against the Muslim kingdom and of course the subsequent crusades (ending 1290s CE– some like to say the Spanish Armada of 1588 CE but this is not the traditional historian’s perspective), the Pograms (beginning in 1800s), and of course the Holocaust. These destructive flames include the holiday of Chanukah, 167-164 BCE, the Maccabean revolt against the Seleucid Empire who attempted to impose Helenism on the Jews.
 
There is a reason Julius Rosenwald, Lillian Wald, and Rabbi Emil G. Hirsch were founding members of the NAACP and Jacob Schiff, Jacob Billikopf, and Rabbi Stephen Wise sat on their Board. There is a reason the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was drafted in the conference room of the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism as was the 1965 Voting Rights Act. Expanding light is what we are called upon to do. Tikkun Olam (repair of the world) is a central piece of our tradition because we understand that all of humanity is interconnected and regardless of whether or not we seem to be directly effected, eventually, we are affected.

Like other holidays that are celebrated at this time of year, Chanukah is the light in the darkness. The word Chanukah means dedication. This year, Erev Chanukah falls on Christmas Eve. May our communities, as well as those observing other holidays, and those observing no holidays, be dedicated to bring a little light into the darkness that has played out in our country for many months. Which ever way you light your Chanukiah: may we never shy away from diminishing the darkness when we see it or hear it; may we garner the strength to increase light and enlightenment for the better of our world.
 
Blessings to you and yours for safe and joyous Holiday Season 

“You’ve got to be taught to hate and fear,
It’s got to be drummed in your dear little ear,
You’ve got to be carefully taught.”[1]
 
The days have turned cold and dark. They always do at this time of year but like many, this year feels colder and darker to me. I write this on the shortest day of the year but it isn’t just the loss of a few minutes of daytime that creates the aura. All the Christmas lights and all the Chanukah candles did not seem to break through the darkness this year. We’ve become despondent and cynical and the cold has a dampening effect on everything we do because it is not only external. We are being bombarded with messages that tell us to internalize the dark in the form of fear and to embrace the cold in the form of hate.  
 
As Jews, we know that appealing to humanity’s dark side by dehumanizing the “other” works all too well. Dehumanizing includes not only pointing out someone’s differences but also denigrating normal human needs and reactions as if only one group or one person is affected by that quality or condition. Nor are disabilities and bodily functions disgusting unless one is three years old, perverse, a bully or immature.
 
The rabbis told us to light a candle rather than stumble in the dark. It was not only literal, it was also figurative. Lighting a candle kept shalom bayit, peace in a household that would otherwise become chaotic. Enlightenment kept the Jewish people at the forefront of science, knowledge, understanding, compassion, a broader vision of the world. The MiSheberach (the One Who Blesses) prayer is a result of adapting ancient blessings to current needs.
 
One of the most enlightened prayers Judaism has, gives praise for the proper functioning of the openings and cavities of the body. “… for if one of these would rupture or be blocked it would not be possible to stand before (Adonai)…” We recite this prayer upon exiting the bathroom and it is included in our morning service. We recognize the body as a house for the spirit, akin to the Aron Kodesh, the Holy Ark, which houses the Sifre Torah. Just like the Aron Kodesh, we need to guard our bodies and what we put therein. We would not desecrate the Aron Kodesh by ladening it with idols, nor would we dishonor it by eating, drinking, smoking, or engaging in numerous other activities nearby. So too, we should not demoralize and debase ourselves by filling our bodies and minds with hate and fear. 
 
As the light grows each day, may the light in our lives take hold. May the stories of strength and goodness begin to proliferate and remind us that being a light unto the nations requires seeing light in the dark.
 
Ever since I was a little girl, I have been proud that the words on Lady Liberty were written by the Jewish poetess, Emma Lazarus:
 
“…From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
‘Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!’ cries she
With silent lips. ‘Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!’ ”[2]

For the mitzvah is a lamp and Torah is light. (Proverbs 6:23)

Wishing you and yours a joyous, healthy 2016.
 
[1] Rodgers and Hammerstein, You’ve Got To Be Carefully Taught, South Pacific ,1949

[2] The New Colossus, Emma Lazarus.

Our hearts go out to all who are in need, all who suffer, all who are persecuted. On World Prayer Day, I received the email posted below.

"In light of tragic events involving a swelling population of migrants, refugees and asylum seekers making their way from the war torn Middle East to the safe harbor of the European Union, JEWISHcolorado is responding by setting up the Syria Refugee Crisis Fund.

JEWISHcolorado and the Jewish Coalition for Disaster Relief (JCDR) as we take part in a national effort to support refugees and migrants in Europe and the Middle East. Dollars raised from the Syrian Refugee Crisis Fund will provide immediate assistance to refugees and their families. 

JEWISHcolorado will absorb all administrative costs of this emergency relief effort so that 100% of collected donations directly support needs in affected areas.
You can go to jewishcolorado.org/syrianrefugeefund"

As we prepare to enter our High Holidays, our hearts also go out to those effected by the falling crane in the Grand Mosque in Mecca causing the tragic death of 87 and injury of over 200 as they are getting ready for Hajj, the holy pilgrimage to Mecca.

As we settle into the month of Av, having risen from the saddest day of the Jewish year, I want to revisit the cities of refuge which was the topic of our Friday night Torah exploration July 17th. For those who were not there, six cities were established, three on each side of the Jordan River, so that someone who had unintentionally committed manslaughter would have a safe haven from revenge until their case could be adjudicated. We explored many facets of the laws presented in the few verses and we recognized the foundation of some of our laws of incarceration. With this we end the fourth book of Torah.

 

We all have tasted bitterness, witnessed hate and viewed destruction. The loss of the 2nd Temple in ancient times, occurring on Tisha b’Av, is attributed to a society that bears witness to such enmity and does nothing to rectify the situation. As a community, a nation, we are currently guilty of such enmity, as well. It is not only that we turn a deaf ear to the victims and families of mass murder; mass murder which has become commonplace enough that the nightly news doesn’t report them all. It is that we are reduced to feelings of frustration and hostility because we do not believe we can do anything to significantly change the situation.

 

Taking a life comes in many forms these days. It is no longer relegated to the physical aspect of manslaughter. If one is ostracized from community, if one is shamed on social media, if one is ripped of their identity through rape[1] or theft or personal damage, this loss of identity is taking life from that individual.

 

Where is our refuge? Adonai is our refuge. When each of us acts b’tzelem Elokim, in the image of the Divine. That is our refuge. Communal actions begin with individuals; one individual reaching out to another. Individually, we are a refuge for those in need and together the community becomes a haven for those who join together.[2]

 

If we each consider during this month how we have failed to take the opportunity to lighten a burden, to turn a hate to a dialogue, perhaps to an understanding, to bear witness for empowerment rather than detriment or destruction, we will each enter the month of Elul with a lighter heart and an easier turning toward the holidays of repentance and repair.

 

When I turn on the news each day, I know I will find plenty about which to be depressed or angry. Before I do that, I will have a goal of taking steps toward connecting, finding ways to compromise, looking for projects with which to cooperate and taking a turn toward tikkun - repair.

 

May the rest of your summer be happy and light.




 


[1] (Deut 22:26) "Just as if one man jumped up and murdered his fellow, this [rape] is the same way." Why is the verse comparing murder to the violation of a betrothed maiden ... deadly force can be used to stop either, and one is obligated to be killed rather than transgress either.    http://judaism.stackexchange.com/questions/60792/is-rape-considered-yehareig-val-yaavor 7.26.2015

[2] I heard on Friday, July 17, from more than one person in attendance, that their cares fell away when they joined us. The URJ would be happy – I think it would fall under their ‘audacious hospitality’ category.