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Every Wednesday the Kol Tzedek office is home to an afterschool program called KTTS+. With 15 kids and 3 teachers, it is a raucous time in a small space. So much so that the rest of the staff has learned to clear out and work from home. I, on the other hand, love sticking around so I can waft in their Torah learning.
This past Wednesday I had the joy of joining their closing prayer circle. Together they weave incredible harmonies as they make their way through the Ma’ariv service in their home-made prayerbook. But the highlight is undoubtedly the last song “Towards Justice”, which made it into the standard matbeah (service structure) at the students’ insistence. Written by Eliana Light, the lyrics are an adaptation of the famous words of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. who said, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” To hear these young people singing with all their hearts, “Lord give me the strength to bend the arc of the universe towards justice…with love” buoyed my spirit. Around the Jewish world, this shabbat is referred to as Shabbat Shira because it is the week in which the Israelites sing the Song of the Sea in Exodus 15 as the cross from slavery to freedom. This week’s parsha includes within it one of my favorite verses in all of Torah, describing how it is that the Israelites made it across the sea, it says (three times!) that they crossed b’toch hayam b’yabasha, in the midst of the sea on dry ground. The water swells up and a path emerges. We too are called again and again to find a way forward even when it feels impossible. It is fair to say that this week’s Torah portion is the foundation for all of liberation theology. After hundreds of years of enslavement, the Israelites actually crossed the sea. They found their way to dignity and divinity as free people. This is the story that creates a shared mythology across human time and religious traditions, in more than 70 languages. The message of this week’s Torah portion is echoed in the words of Dr. King and sung in the harmonies of Kol Tzedek Torah School students. Yesterday I had the incredible honor of meeting with the Secretary General of the United Nations, Antonio Guterres, former Prime Minister of Portugal. It was incredible to shake his hand (twice) and thank His Excellency for his time and courage to call for a humanitarian ceasefire. I was part of a delegation of 10 rabbis. We were on his official schedule as “American Rabbis” sandwiched between his meetings with Japan and Montenegro. We came to express our support for his remarks at the G77 supporting a humanitarian ceasefire, to ask him what we can do to make it a reality and to understand his vision for arriving at a lasting peace through diplomacy. In trying to describe his presence, my best adjectives lead me to Yoda. His presence was tender, clear, generous, gracious and honest. I never imagined that there could be life-long politicians who remained so soft and open-hearted. He opened by recounting and apologizing for the painful history of the Inquisition in Portugal and making clear that one his proudest accomplishments was revoking that edict as prime minister. He shared a clear and compelling understanding of antisemitism, including the pernicious role that Evangelical Christians play worldwide in supporting the state of Israel at the expense of Jewish safety. He was so grateful and gracious and told us that “our meeting would help him reconcile his day.” He was flanked by a team of aides who wept as we offered him the priestly blessing: May the Holy One bless you and protect you. May the Holy One shine upon you and be gracious to you. May you feel empowered to work for peace, Shalom. I have been to the United Nations twice this month and have been consistently inspired by its vision and potential.. I am very much still learning about its history, purpose and power which is intertwined with World War II and the Nazi Holocaust. I was relieved this morning when the International Court of Justice, which is part of the United Nations, voted nearly unanimously to demand that Israel do everything in its power to prevent the plausible genocide of the Palestinian people in Gaza. The provisions all but call for an immediate ceasefire. To understand their implications and enforcement I recommend this segment on Democracy Now, including KT member Raz Segal. The ruling of the ICJ has significant symbolic impact. I must say it is spiritually devastating to have the highest court of justice rule that the State of Israel, which imagines itself as light among nations, is on the path to committing genocide in the name of Jewish safety and security. If you are in need of space to process this decision, I invite you to join a virtual gathering hosted by Rabbis for Ceasefire Sunday night at 8 pm EST. This will be an opportunity to reflect on the ICJ decision to order provisional measures to prevent genocide in Gaza hosted by beloved and trusted colleagues, Rabbis Dev Noily and Margaret Holub. You can register at bit.ly/ICJGathering. Even after 400 years of slavery, even after 75 years of brutal occupation, the arc of the universe does bend towards justice. May we have the courage, clarity and stamina to partner with the holy one and do our part. Nothing quiets a city like a snow day. The blanket of white flakes concealing layers of grit and litter, and dampening the noise pollution of modern urban life. The blare of sirens is replaced by the crunch of boots. The imprint of shoes, snow angels and sled tracks abound. To quote my 8 year-old neighbor, “Snow is my favorite color!”
I have just returned from my neighborhood sledding hill. I never feel more like a kid than I do when I am sledding. My inner child is elated. The sledding hill was a sea of colorful children in marshmallow like snow suits, joyful and inevitably tearful, and falling all over the place. There was free hot chocolate, snow forts and snow ball fights galore. Being at the park felt like I was inside the pages of a great kids book or a dynamic snow globe. As winter storms and freezing temperatures sweep over much of Turtle Island, Philadelphia has been blessed with an actual legitimate snowfall. Given that in recent years I have been found having a “snowball fight” with the dusting on my deck, this is a complete delight and triumph of the natural world in the time of global warming. But what is the blessing for a snow day? This question appeared in the Kol Tzedek slack this morning. There are so many amazing Jewish blessings to be said over the natural world. A blessing for rainbows? A blessing for a shooting star? A blessing for seeing the ocean after a long period of time? A blessing for an earthquake, a comet, mighty winds or lightning? That said, if you look in a prayer book, you will not find a clear answer about snow. This is clearly a mistake. Maybe we can attribute it to the fact that many of the blessings were written to address the natural wonders of the Land of Israel, and it had a rather temperate climate. But Jews have been living in freezing places like Babylon (modern day Iraq) and Ukraine for thousands of years. You would think it might have been edited in. Some rabbis suggest saying the seasonal blessing that is inserted into the weekday Amidah, Mashiv ha-ru'ah u-morid ha-geshem, thanking God for making the winds blow and the rain fall. Snow is afterall a kind of frozen rain. I suggest saying Oseh ma’aseh v’reishit - thanking God for making all of creation. It is the same blessing you might recite over an awesome storm or a shooting star. It says, the natural world is amazing and wonderful. As I was taking in the snow day today, I thought to myself, this is a kind of nature-imposed Shabbat. A day in which we slow down and find joy right where we are. And then we come home spent and cozy up with a hot drink. Just think of the words of the shabbat zemer Menucha v’Simcha, “Light of gladness, O light of gladness, Peace unto Israel, Sabbath day of bliss, weave thy magic spell, Weave thy magic spell… Blue skies and green fields, blue skies and green fields, Ocean's unceasing tide. Glorious hosts of heaven, beaming far and wide, Beaming far and wide. Mighty whales and dragons fierce, mighty whales and dragons fierce,… God's hand formed them all, sure God’s works abides, Surely God’s works abide.” May this snow day weave thy magic spell, glorious hosts of heaven, mighty whales and dragons fierce, God’s hand formed them all. And may we allow it to inspire our experience of rest and joy on shabbat all year long. We learn in Pirkei Avot (1:18) that the world is sustained by three things: on law (justice), on truth and on peace. Earlier this week, I was teaching this text to a group of Kol Tzedek teens and they noticed the difference between what the world is founded on (Torah, Avodah and Hesed), and what allows it to endure. The teaching ends with a quote from the prophet Zecharia (8:16), "When there is truth and justice, there will be peace in your gates.”
"אֱמֶת וּמִשְׁפַּט שָׁלוֹם שִׁפְטוּ בְּשַׁעֲרֵיכֶם…" They noticed that the order of these three things is significant. Suggesting that a just legal system and truth are necessary for shalom, for peace. Or in the words of the protest chant, “No justice, no peace!” This teaching calls to me as the International Court of Justice begins adjudicating whether Israel is committing genocide against Palestinians. This teaching leads me to even greater resolve that no military solution will provide peace and safety for Israelis and Palestinans. That we must do everything in our power to hasten a ceasefire, to save the lives of Palestinian civilians, Israeli hostages and soldiers and prevent the possibility of world war. Which is why I traveled to the United Nations with Rabbis for Ceasefire. On Monday, I was part of a delegation of five rabbis from the U.S. and Israel who met with the Deputy Representative of the United States Mission to the United Nations to implore the U.S. Ambassador to support a permanent and lasting ceasefire. Then on Tuesday, I joined a group of 36 rabbis on a tour of the United Nations. I was so surprised by the beauty of the building and the incredible art exhibits, including a very moving exhibit about the Palestinian Nakba which lined the walls of the lobby. Our tour group was escorted inside the U.N. Security council, the very room where questions of war and peace are discussed, the very room where the U.S. has consistently used its veto to block a ceasefire resolution. Once inside, we unfurled banners, blew a shofar and began reading from The Universal Declaration of Human Rights which was adopted by the United Nations in 1948. Not surprisingly, this passionate group of rabbis had planned a yizkor ritual that would easily span more than an hour. Less than 10 minutes in, we were forced to stop because “Demonstrating is forbidden in the United Nations.” We were undoubtedly a prayerful disruption. I do not share this to communicate conformity or alignment about political strategy or policy. There are many important and needed theories of change and strategies for bringing about change. Please know, I welcome your dissent and disagreement. I value your insights and honor your truths. That said, since October 7, I have participated in a swell of direct action in D.C., Philly and NYC, all designed to disrupt business as usual. And it has got me thinking about the role of disruption in liberation struggles. Which is also the theme of this week’s Torah portion. Parashat Vaera includes the narrative of the first seven of ten plagues that Moses and the Holy One inflicted on Pharaoh and the Egyptians to free the Israelite slaves. Moses and Aaron repeatedly come before Pharaoh to demand in the name of G‑d, “Let My people go, so that they may serve Me in the wilderness.” Pharaoh repeatedly refuses. G‑d then sends a series of plagues upon the Egyptians. The waters of the Nile turn to blood; swarms of frogs overrun the land; lice infest all people and beasts. Hordes of wild animals invade the cities; a pestilence kills the domestic animals; painful boils afflict the Egyptians. For the seventh plague, fire and ice combine to descend from the skies as a devastating hail. Still, “the heart of Pharaoh was hardened and he would not let the children of Israel go, as G‑d had said to Moses.” Each of these plagues was a divine disruption, causing profound human suffering. I have personally heard from some angry people who have found themselves in the path of these disruptions. Late to work, late to pick up their children, cab drivers, a person in labor and trying to get to the hospital. The war is not their fault. Just as the Israelite enslavement was not the fault of the ancient Egyptians. On April 16, 1963, in his Letter from a Birmingham Jail, the Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King Jr, wrote, "First, I must confess that over the last few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in the stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Council-er or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I can't agree with your methods of direct action..." With the death toll in Gaza exceeding 20,000 people including more than 8,000 children, I need to know that I did absolutely everything I could to bring about a lasting peace and stop this war. And that includes talking openly with any and all of you who disagree with me, who are curious, confused and questioning. Please know, I want to sit with you and talk about this. I feel great pride in seeing how many Kol Tzedek members are organizing. Your devotion is itself a spiritual practice. The truth is that it has never been popular to be anti-war. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel is most famous for having marched in with Dr. King in Selma. It was King who brought Heschel into the Civil Rights movement. But what’s less talked about is that it was Heschel who brought King into the movement to stop the Vietnam War. On April 4, 1967 Martin Luther King, Jr., delivered his seminal speech at Riverside Church condemning the Vietnam War. Declaring “my conscience leaves me no other choice,” King described the war’s deleterious effects on both America’s poor and Vietnamese peasants and insisted that it was morally imperative for the United States to take radical steps to halt the war through nonviolent means (King, “Beyond Vietnam,” 139). And so too must we. Disruption is a holy tactic of bringing about justice. Disruption is at the core of our liberation story. I pray our disruptions bring us closer to “a positive peace which includes the presence of justice.” May we have the courage to hear the words of the prophets and the rabbis” “There can be no peace in our gates without justice.” I began my week at the Met, where I had the incredible opportunity to witness the inauguration of Philadelphia’s new mayor and city council, including our own badass member Rue Landau, who boldly raised her right hand and swore on the sacred text of her choosing, “The Color of Law: A Forgotten History of How Our Government Segregated America.” Of the many pastors and preachers who spoke (and there were many!), it was the words of Mayor Parker’s pastor, Reverend Dr. Alyn E. Waller, Senior Pastor of Enon Tabernacle Baptist Church, that resonated most.
With his eyes closed and his heart focused, his prayerful invocation echoed the beginning of the Amidah. He began, “Eternal God our Father, God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob,” and then he continued, “God of Harriet, God of Simone, the God of Cherelle, God of Martin, Malcolm and Medgar…” (You can see his prayerful presence here at 1 hour and 57 minutes.) He located the political moment both in time and place. Philadelphia was a landmark city for freed slaves in the time of abolition. And Cherelle Parker as the 100th Mayor, the first woman, a black woman. The entire ceremony felt like church (and also like Yom Kippur because it ran more than 4 hours) and I was quick to offer an Amen to this pastor’s words. It felt especially poignant to invoke Harriet, Martin, Malcolm and Medgar this week, as we begin reading the book of Exodus. It returned me to one of my most beloved Harriet Tubman quotes, “I freed a thousand slaves. I could have freed a thousand more if only they knew they were slaves.” Many rabbis have called attention to the moment in our Torah portion when they imagine that the Israelites become aware of their own enslavement, and therefore the possibility of getting free. Exodus 1 begins with the ominous recounting that a new King rises over Egypt and treats the Israelites ruthlessly. Yet they survived, they endured and they even multiplied. It is not until the very end of Exodus 2 that we learn that the Israelites had been enslaved for generations. Again a King dies and this time it leads to a collective awakening. The Israelites moaned and groaned, they cried out and finally the Holy One heard them. Exodus 2:24 reads, “God heard their moaning, and God remembered the covenant with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.” Which is to say, the God of Harriet, Simone and Martin. Here I understand the language of the Divine as an externalized articulation of human spiritual awareness itself. This is the moment of Israelite awakening, of remembering their human potential and dignity. It is a moment of insight into their own experience of suffering, which is the beginning of liberation. One of the enduring gifts of my sabbatical was the opportunity to sit a longer meditation retreat. Last January, as I entered my second week of retreat, I noticed the presence of both calm and concentration. This felt new in my practice. At which point one of my teachers shared with me the seven factors of awakening. They are: Mindfulness (sati), Investigation (dhamma-vicaya), Effort (vīriya), Joy (pīti), Relaxation (passaddhi), Concentration (samādhi) and Equanimity (upekkhā). She noted I was experiencing some of these qualities, which felt shocking, since I always imagined awakening to be over the mountain and beyond my reach. But she insisted, no, awakening is within your grasp, in fact it is already within you. Apparently it is understood in the Dharma that when any factor of awakening is present, all of the factors are in fact present. Which is to say, if I felt calm, it was also possible to feel equanimity (which most often eludes me). Returning to our parsha, I see this pivotal moment at the end of Chapter 2, as the beginning of our collective awakening through Moses. In the coming verses Moses will experience mindfulness as he encounters the Holy One at the Burning Bush. He will investigate, asking God over and over why him? He will effort to free his people. There will be joy as they sing and dance across the sea. And there will be moments of equanimity at Mt. Sinai, as the thunder and lightening makes way for profound silence and the people respond “Naaseh v’nishmah,” we can do this. One teacher once reminded me, equanimity doesn’t happen on the cushion. It happens when you get a flat tire on the highway. Or in the case of our community, I am hoping it happens as we prepare to move into a new building, while responding to an evolving pandemic and organizing to hasten a ceasefire. This is a stressful time, for so many of us personally and for us collectively. My prayer for us as people and as a community is that we take this parsha and this moment as an invitation to recommit to our own capacity to cultivate awareness and to awaken. To see this as our spiritual path and obligation. To know that the path to liberation begins with curiosity which energizes our commitments, which allows us to settle and focus, which is unexpectedly delightful and sustainable. Cultivating any of these qualities makes all of them possible. Liberation is not in the heavens. It begins right here, in our hearts, and radiates out until every city is a city of shalom. May it be so. |
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General Questions: (267) 702-6187 or [email protected]
Shabbat Services: 5300 Whitby Ave, Commercial #1, Philadelphia, PA 19143