Reb Barry's Blog ... neshamah.net

Ripple and Adon Olam

One of the things I love about living in Jerusalem is being pleasantly surprised by all sorts of things.  The most recent was this past Friday night.  Friday nights I usually daven at "Mizmor l'David," aka "the Carlebach minyan."  I suppose in Jerusalem it's more accurate to say "a" Carlebach minyan, since there are many of them.  Anyway, we normally finish the Friday night service by singing Adon Olam – to a Beach Boys melody, the Sloop John B.  This week we had a change: instead of the Beach Boys, we had the Grateful Dead.

Now I'm what you might call a "non-hard-core" Grateful Dead fan.  I have a Dead album, I went to a Dead concert "back in the day," which is to say something like 1972.  But I certainly don't qualify as a "Dead head."  So I immediately recognized that it was a Grateful Dead melody, but I couldn't place the name of the song or the lyrics.  Thanks to the wonders of the internet and how people post stuff, I was quickly able to figure out it was "Ripple."  So I got curious about Ripple, and discovered it really doesn't have anything to do with the horrible wine of the name we drank back in the early 70s.  It's rather a very beautiful poem, and the sentiments of the song are actually somewhat apropos to Adon Olam.

Thanks to David Dodd for his posting of the lyrics and his commentary.

My commentary follows:

"Ripple"

Words by Robert Hunter; music by Jerry Garcia.
("Ripple" composed and written by Jerry Garcia and Robert Hunter. Reproduced by arrangement with Ice Nine Publishing Co., Inc. (ASCAP))

>>comments come after the brackets

Shvi'i shel Pesach

Tonight begins the 7th day of Pesach . . . for those of us living in Israel, the end of the holiday.  Those of you still living in "galut," in the Diaspora, still have an extra day beyond that.

Chol hamoed Passover is certainly a very different experience in Israel than anywhere else. 

This Year in Jerusalem

Note: This week's post first appeared at www.israelatsixty.org.il

Every year we close our seder with the words “L’shana haba’ah birushalayim,” “next year in Jerusalem.”  Unlike the requirement to mention the Passover offering, maror, and matzah this phrase is not found in the Mishnah or even in the Talmud. But the roots of the saying are found in the Mishnah, which is to say from about 1,800 years ago. In Mishnah Pesachim we are told that Rabbi Akiva would conclude his seder with the following: “SO MAY THE LORD OUR GOD AND THE GOD OF OUR FATHER SUFFER US TO REACH OTHER SEASONS AND FESTIVALS WHICH COME TOWARDS US FOR PEACE, REJOICING IN THE REBUILDING OF THY CITY AND GLAD IN THY SERVICE, AND THERE WE WILL PARTAKE OF THE SACRIFICES AND THE PASSOVER-OFFERINGS.” These sentiments are brought into the final bracha of the seder…”and rebuild Jerusalem, the holy city, speedily in our days, and bring us up into it. Let us rejoice in it, and bless you in holiness and purity…” It’s pretty easy to see how we naturally go from that blessing to a call for “next year in Jerusalem!” And I did find a reference to saying “l’shana haba’ah birushalayim” in Minhagim Yisrael, from the early 1600s, so the custom is at least that old.

“Next year in Jerusalem” was clearly a cry from a people living in exile.

Another only in Israel moment...

Friday morning I opened the newspaper (the Jerusalem Post in this case; we subscribe to both the Post and Haaretz) and was greeted by the following headline:

"Matza relief! A 'kezayit' may be smaller than we thought"

Unless you've studied a little bit of Talmud or halacha, you probably have no clue what this headline is talking about.  "Zayit" is an olive; "kezayit" means "like an olive." Many measurements in halacha are tied to this measure.  How much bread do you have to eat to be obligated to say the blessings? A "kezayit."  How much matzah do you have to eat on Passover to fulfill the mitzvah of eating matzah? A kezayit.

So only in Israel is it front page news on the newspaper that someone claims he now has proof that a kezayit is less than 5 grams, substantially less than what has generally been considered the proper amount.  Researchers looked at the olives from some 3000 year old olive trees and concluded in the days of the Talmud, olives were pretty small.

Who cares?  Most of us eat lots of matzah at the seder.  This is really for the benefit of those who have a digestive condition, such as celiacs, that make it difficult for them to eat wheat.

Not a headline you are likely to see on the front page of the Toledo Blade...

Shavua tov,

Rav Barry

Competing Narratives

One of the things that is fascinating about living in Israel is the way that myth informs reality, and how sometimes it's hard to separate myth FROM reality -- with consequences that are profound. Last year, when I was still living the life of a congregational rabbi in the US, I gave a sermon on the topic of these "conflicting narratives," and how the stories that the Israelis tell and the stories that the Palestinians tell about the founding of Israel are widly different, and how those different narratives are a real barrier to peace and understanding; you can read the sermon by clicking here . 

In recent weeks we've seen the depth of competing narratives WITHIN the Israeli population. The terrorist who killed 8 students at the Mercaz Harav yeshiva was not picking a random target.

To continue reading, click here...  (will bring you to the Persistence of Vision: Israel at Sixty blog)

Ta’anit Esther? Or Nicanor’s Day?

Today, the 13^th of Adar on the Hebrew calendar, is Ta’anit Esther, the Fast of Esther, one of the so-called “minor fast days” in which Jews traditionally fast from sunup to sundown.

I have to admit that I have long felt a certain ambivalence about the minor fast days. Most of them commemorate events from a very long time ago – events that don’t have the same urgency and immediacy as they once had. Take Tzom Gedaliah, for example. As one colleague put it, “why should I fast for Gedaliah? Would he have fasted for me?” When I was living in the US, serving congregations away from heavily Jewish areas, hardly anyone observed the minor fast days. Which made it hard to generate a lot of enthusiasm for fasting.

Why fast?

Redeeming Captives

Today I had the rare opportunity to perform a mitzvah I have not done before:  redeeming captives.

This is an incredibly important mitzvah.  In the Mishneh Torah (Hilchot Matnot Aniyim) Rambam says:

"The redeeming of captives takes precedence over the feeding and clothing of the poor. Indeed there is no religious duty more meritorious than the redeeming of captives, for not only is the captive included in the generality of the hungry, the thirsty, and the naked, but his very life is in jeopardy. He who turns his eyes away from redeeming him, transgresses the commandments: You shalt not harden your heart, nor shut your hand (Deut. 15:7), Neither shall you stand idly by the blood of your neighbor (Lev. 19:16), and He shall not rule with rigor over him in your sight (Lev. 25:53). Moreover, he nullifies the commandments: You shall surely open your hand unto him (Deut. 15:8), That your brother may live with you (Lev. 25:36), You shall love your neighbor as yourself (Lev. 19:18), Deliver them that are drawn unto death (Prov. 24:11), and many similar admonitions. To sum up, there is no religious duty greater (Mitzvah Rabba) than the redeeming of captives."

However, when contemplating performing this great mitzvah, it never occurred to me that I would fulfill it by redeeming a rabbi from the hands of my government.  Yet that is how it worked out.

Jerusalem in mourning

The relative sense of security that Jerusalemites have felt for the past couple of years was shattered on Thursday night with the murder of 8 teenage yeshiva students who were studying at the Mercaz Harav yeshiva.  You can read basic coverage of the attack here .

Unlike many other past terrorist attacks, this one was no random choice.  Mercaz Harav is an Orthodox yeshiva (men's school for Torah study) which is the "flagship" institution of the religious Zionist movement -- the movement that produces the vast majority of ideologically motivated settlers, and the vast majority of people building illegal settlements.  The terrorist was striking a blow to what might be perceived as a central institution in the whole Zionist settler movement.

This attack brought home to me once again what a small place and what a small community we are in Jerusalem.  In keeping with Jewish religious law, funerals in Jerusalem are always conducted within 24 hours; if a death takes place early enough in the day, the funeral is often the same day.  I can't imagine how difficult that most be for family members -- you barely have time to adjust to the idea of the loss and you're at the cemetery.  Even though I normally travel is relatively "liberal" circles, I have two friends who were at funerals on Friday -- funerals for the 16 year old son of a former colleague for one friend, a 15 year old son of a neighbor for the other.

The terrorist came from Jerusalem -- from the Arab neighborhood of Jebl Mukaber.  The JPost has an interesting article about the neighborhood which you can read here .   In the article, and in other things you might read, you will see Jebl Mukaber described as an "East Jerusalem" neighborhood.  Calling Jebl Mukaber an East Jerusalem neighborhood is describing a political reality, not a geographical reality.  Jebl Mukaber is the next neighborhood over from where I live -- it is due south of me, not at all east of me.  It is surrounded by Jewish neighborhoods on two sides.  It's not much more than half a mile from where I live.  It's a neighborhood I used to fairly regularly run or bike ride through, to make a nice loop.  However, now that I know this murderer came from there, I find myself feeling that I may choose to run somewhere else.  Which I realize is irrational.  I wasn't afraid to run through Toledo neighborhoods where murders had occurred.  But that's what terrorism does -- it strikes us emotionally, not logically.

The mood in Jerusalem remains somber, both as we mourn for the loss of life of innocent young men, and as we mourn over the reminder that peace remains an elusive goal.

On Friday morning when one of my daughters saw the headline on the paper, she asked "Abba, is the moshiach (Messiah) going to come soon?"

I wish I knew.  But I certainly believe we will need someone with Messianic leadership skills to bring us peace, and that leader is nowhere to be seen in the political scene -- not on our side, and not on the Palestinian side.

But, as Rambam said, "though he may tarry..."  we still wait expectantly.

A Visit to Sderot

Last Tuesday I visited the West Negev development town of Sderot.  In case you don't recognize the name of the town from the news, it is located about half a mile from the Gaza Strip -- it's the town that has been bearing the brunt of Palestinian rocket attacks, having been hit by over 2500 Kassam rockets. 

Sderot has been in the news so much recently, I wanted to see it for myself first hand.  i wasn't too worried about my safety; the Kassams are notoriously inaccurate, and very few people get killed; still, a few weeks before my visit a couple of kids were very seriously injured by a Kassam.  Lauri was pretty nervous about my going -- she said she was checking the news every 15 minutes while I was there to make sure nothing was happening -- but everything was OK.

Of course the very next day -- Wednesday -- a barrage of 50 Kassams fell on Sderot and killed a 47-year-old father of four, Ronnie Yihye.  I saw one of the other people who joined us on the trip to Sderot at shul earlier today, and she said "I hate to say it, but I'm sure glad we didn't go a day later!"

The Benefits of Jet Lag

It's not often I would feel inspired to write singing the praises of jet lag.  But a little jet lag the other day helped me have a really great morning.

I recently returned from a business trip to India and the Philippines; the Philippines are six hours ahead of Israel, so that's enough of a time difference to give you some pretty serious jet lag.

The other morning I found myself wide awake at 5:30am.  Rather than lay in bed tossing and turning, I decided to get a head start on my day.  I got up, studied some Talmud, and then sat out on my patio -- wearing a jacket -- and recited my morning prayers just as the sun was coming up -- the time the Kabbahlists (Jewish mystics) say is the preferred moment.

It was a very prayerful moment -- the world was quiet, the sunrise was beautiful, the scenery great.  As the sun came up, I was ready to say the Amidah, and turned away from the view of the sunset to instead face the Temple Mount -- which conveniently is well in the view from my balcony.  I was struck with the significance how we turn our backs, so to speak, on the rising sun -- the symbol that people practicing ancient religions worshipped -- and instead faced a spot where once stoof a man-made edifice.  A man-made edifice which was sort of a joint venture between the Jewish people and God.  God agreed that if we built it, She would meet us there.  The place itself is now gone, has been for nearly 2,000 years -- yet we still turn in that direction when we pray, not in the direction of the more pagan symbols of the sun or moon.

This was Monday morning; Sunday morning I had done my morning run on the Tayellet, and around UN HQ at the Hill of Evil Counsel.  Therefore I had it in mind to do my other "usual" course, a loop from my house up to the old city (descending through Gehinnom, "Hell" first), in the Zion Gate, cut through the Armenian Quarter and come out the Jaffa Gate and loop back home. 

When I was saying my prayers and came to the line in the Psalm for the day which read "Walk all about Zion, encircle her.  Count her towers, review her ramparts, scan her citadels," I knew I needed to do more morning run through the Old City -- it was "a sign," as my sister would say.

Lauri was amused that the prayerbook provides me with guidance on where to go for my morning run.
  Another "only in Jerusalem" moment!

Archaeology and Modern Scholars

There is an interesting article in the latest edition of Biblical Archaeology Review in which Richard Friedman, famed as the author of "Who Wrote the Bible", provides a challenging book review of James Kugel's "How to Read the Bible" .  Kugel's book claims to reconcile the "documentary hypothesis," which claims that the Torah was written by people over a period of about 1000 years, with Orthodox Judaism.

Friedman is sharply critical of Kugel's book, largely because he feels Kugel has not made much of a case for Orthodox Judaism in the face of his acceptance of the documentary hypothesis.  Friedman suggests on the one hand "The Orthodox Jewish community is going to have to confront a difficult phenomenon: that anyone who really learns all of the present state of the evidence will be persuaded by it."  And on the other hand he says "Kugel should not defend a system of incorrect beliefs on the grounds that it is tied to things that people still think."

I think both Friedman and Kugel miss a very important point.

Is Kugel, in fact, an Orthodox Jew?  What does it mean to be Orthodox?  Does it mean you go to an Orthodox shul?  Observe halacha in an Orthodox fashion?  Or does it mean what you believe?

Yitro 5768

Last night I had the opportunity to study Psalms together with monks and nuns from the Community of the Beatitudes in Emmaus .  Emmaus is the place where Christians believe Jesus was first seen after being resurrected.  The monastery I visited is on a site that Christians have considered the leading contender for the site since the 5th century; it is, however, pretty far from Jerusalem, about 20 miles, but I suppose distance doesn't really matter when we are talking about miracles.

I really appreciated this opportunity; since I've been working in the business world to make a living, I have not spent nearly as much time teaching and learning Torah as I would like.  I have no idea how Rashi and Rambam managed to combine work and serious Torah.  I hope I figure it out soon!

We were an eclectic group of about a dozen people.  A few nuns, a few monks, Rabbi David Lazar who is the leader of the group, a few laypeople -- Catholic pilgrims, and a few Jews from Tel Aviv, including a lawyer whose attire -- he was wearing a suit -- is somewhat unusual most anywhere in Israel, but particularly unusual in the setting.

The session was set to start at 8pm. My wife Lauri is out of the country on a business trip, so I had to scramble to get the kids ready before heading down the hill to the monastery.  Traffic was terrible, and I arrived a little late.  When I got there I saw what appeared to be the entrance, but it was completely dark, there was a sign that said "entrance on foot only" -- I didn't even see anything that looked like a road that would accept a car -- so I assumed I must be at the wrong entrance. 

Bo 5768 -- Don't be Pharoah...

First of all, you can check out my latest posting on the "Persistence of Vision: Israel at Sixty" blog here .   I comment about my thoughts relating to President George Bush's visit to Jerusalem.

I really truly love Israel and love living here.  So I find it somewhat frustrating that when I look at a parsha, what comes up for me are issues that are critical of Israel, not necessarily supportive.  But I'm not going to duck it, when what comes up for me isn't pretty, I'm still going to share it.

Narrishkeit to the left of me, narrishkeit to the right of me

It is very cool to be living in Jerusalem this time of year.  Not only is there no annoying Christmas music on the radio, when I say the "al hanissim" prayer that we add during Hanukkah, and I come to the line about how the Maccabees purified the Temple, etc. -- as I look out my window at the place where the Temple used to stand -- it's just a very cool feeling.

Somewhat less cool are some of the silly ideas people here have.  I don't know if it's something they put in the water, but there are dumb ideas on the left, and there are dumb ideas on the right.

Dumb idea on the left: let's stop global warming by asking all Jews to light one less Chanukah candle this year.

The Persistence of Vision

One reason I haven't posted much lately--other than too much stuff going on in general--is that I'm "blogmeister" for a new blog from the World Zionist Organization:

"The Persistence of Vision: Israel at Sixty," which you can see at www.israelatsixty.org.il

The WZO's announcement of the new blog follows.  Scroll down to my post to read about my views on "The Persistence of Vision."

As we approach Kaf-tet b’November*, the Department for Zionist Activities is pleased to announce the launch of its “6 Months to 60” campaign with its new blog:

The Persistence of Vision: Israel at 60.   www.IsraelAtSixty.org.il

This forum brings together five experts in their respective fields who share their own perspectives on the meaning of Jewish statehood. What unites them is their common belief that vision has always constituted the heart of the Zionist enterprise, and that it continues to beat vigorously today. Here they will reflect on the significance of 60 years of Israel’s existence, how the reality that has emerged compares to the 2000-year-old dream, how to handle the disappointments, and how to work towards fulfillment of the promise. Readers are invited to turn the blog into a dialog by posting their own opinions and comments. They are also encouraged to take advantage of numerous links to additional resources for further learning and for ideas for celebrating 60 years of Israel’s independence.

Our hope is that this blog will stimulate six months of heightened reflection on the contemporary significance of Israel and Zionism, as well as on the relationship of Jews everywhere to the Jewish state. Together with the rest of Am Yisrael we are looking forward to a joyous celebration of Israel’s 60th birthday, but we want to make sure as well that it will be an occasion infused with substance. Much will remain to be done “the morning after,” and the more the task is discussed, and the more it is understood, the better will be the outcome. 

_________________________

*Kaf Tet b’November (November 29, 1947) is the day on which the U.N. voted to partition Palestine and establish a Jewish state.

Our Bloggers / Their Views

David Breakstone, veteran Israel educator and member of the Zionist Executive, will be delving into The Jerusalem Program, probing the essence of Zionism today.

Gil Troy, Professor of History at McGill University and author of Why I Am a Zionist, will be reflecting on the contemporary significance of Israel and Zionism.

Neal Lazarus, internationally acclaimed expert of Israel advocacy and Director of AwesomeSeminars.com, will be sharing his insights on delivering the message.

David Brinn, Editorial Director of Israel21c, will be highlighting opportunities to convey the wonders of “the other Israel,” the one that exists beyond the conflict.

Barry Leff, business entrepreneur, rabbi, and recent arrival in Israel will be reflecting on the Jewish state he is discovering as a new immigrant, 60 years after independence. 

Toldot 5768 -- Segragation in Israel

I went for a bike ride this morning, out to Ramat Rachel  and through the Arab village of Tsur Baher and back through East Talpiot.  When I ride my bike through an Arab village, I feel like quite the adventurer -- most of the Jews I know NEVER travel through Arab villages, not in their car, and certainly not on foot or on a bicycle.  Except of course for a trip to Abu Ghosh, for a taste of their excellent hummus, but everyone knows that Abu Ghosh is safe and "good Arabs" live there.

There are no Army checkpoints blocking the road to Tsur Baher; it's just another southern Jerusalem neighborhood, except one whose residents are Arab.  Kind of like Harlem in New York--no checkpoints to get in there either. 

Chayei Sarah 5768 -- Intermarriage and Israel

At bar/bat mitzvah ceremonies, one not infrequently hears someone charge the young person with a statement like "you are now taking your place in a chain that extends back through the generations to Abraham..." 

That picture of the chain going back over 3,000 years is so well used as to be a cliche; but even cliches often spring forth from something that is true, perhaps even profound.  It IS a chain that extends back through the generations for thousands of years, and that's pretty cool. It did not happen by accident.  As I pointed in my d'var Torah on this week's parsha, Chayei Sarah, two years ago, the first Jew to be concerned about transmitting his Jewish heritage to the next generation was the first Jew (you can read it here ).

Attitudes toward transmitting our Jewish heritage in general, and toward intermarriage in particular are very different here in Israel.  I didn't realize how different until a few weeks ago I got into a conversation with some people, and launched into one of "set pieces" on how there is a lack of freedom of religion here in Israel because I, a Conservative rabbi, can't officiate at weddings, etc.  I allowed as to how the government should allow for civil marriage, etc.  (Here in Israel, all weddings take place under the rubric of one religion or another, and Jewish weddings are all under the very tight control of the Orthodox Chief Rabbinate).  The person I was talking to said "so you're not opposed to intermarriage?"

I was caught short.  I had said no such thing; but the person I was chatting with pointed out that under the current situation, intermarriage is, in essence, illegal in Israel.  It is impossible to do an intermarriage in this country.  Yes, an interfaith couple can go to Cyprus, get married, and when they come home the government of Israel will recognize their marriage as legal -- but they cannot legally perform the ceremony here.

This is a perfect example of the challenges Israel faces in being both a democratic and a Jewish country.  It's totally logical that in a Jewish country, the rabbis would decide who can get married; but it's not very democratic, and it's certainly not democratic if people don't even get to choose their own rabbi.

So yes, I am in favor of "legalizing intermarriage."  If you read my d'var from 5766, you'll see I certainly do not encourage intermarriage -- yet at the same time, I think it's ridiculous that it should be against civil law.  There should be no compulsion in matters of faith.  It's not only interfaith families who are effected by the laws here -- a kohen cannot marry a divorced woman for example.  Is it really the business of the government to make that decision for people?

There are those who believe the answer to assimilation is to make it illegal; and in countries other than Israel where you can't make it illegal, it should be treated so severely that intermarried families are shunned by synagogues and families.

That's not the answer.  The answer is the opposite -- instead of trying to force young people to bend to our will (a lot of good that will do -- intermarriage may be illegal, but Cyprus is only a $100 airplane ticket away), we need to take a positive approach.  Another one of those cliches that spring forth from the truth -- you attract more flies with honey than with vinegar.

In this week's Torah portion, Abraham's servant Eliezer succeeds in his mission, and brings home a wife for Isaac -- a wife chosen for her kindness.  Kindness, not compulsion; kindness, not threats, that's the way to insure transmitting our heritage to future generations.  And in the process, it keeps the heritage one worth transmitting!

Shabbat Shalom,

Rab Baruch

Herodion before breakfast

Last night I was feeling a little bummed out about not having enough time for studying Torah anymore.  I'm working, which is good -- and the consulting work I'm doing is interesting and well paying (at least by Israeli standards), and it is worthwhile work that makes a contribution, etc.  At the same time, my daily work is no longer writing Divrei Torah, teaching classes on Judaism, etc.  When I was working as a congregational rabbi, I had lots of time spent in Torah study -- even officiating at life cycle events involved doing a little learning to find something interesting to say.  Now I barely have time to keep up with my page a day of the Yerushalmi Talmud.

But this morning I got up at 6, got on my bike, and with a few friends rode out to Herodion before breakfast.  Herodion is a 2000 year old palace - fortress built by Herod the Great, on top of a hill on the ancient route from Jerusalem to Masada -- a place he passed when he was fleeing for his life in 40 BCE during a civil war for the throne.  Herod came back king, and about 15 years later built Herodion.

From my home in Jerusalem, we drove to the turn off to Har Homa (which only took about fifteen minutes off the ride, but it's fifteen minutes of riding through heavy traffic which is not so much fun). We rode past the sign in Hebrew which says "Traffic to  Israelis is permitted between the hours of 6am and 6pm."  The road goes through Palestinian territory in the West Bank, but it is completely safe.  My friend said they were supposed to be taking that sign down.  Anyway, 35 minutes of some exciting down hill rides and some slower uphill rides through the Judean desert and we were at Herodion. Riding back took about ten minutes longer because it was more uphill.

We had a 16-year-old American Israeli with us; I was giving a history lesson about Herod, and explaining what we were looking at.  He asked if I was a tour guide.  No, but the period from the 1st century BCE to the 1st century CE is so fascinating I've done a lot of research.  How can you live here and not be wrapped up in history? 

At the archeological park we met the manager just as he was showing up for work.  I mentioned that my wife, Lauri, wrote a screenplay about Herod the Great, and he said, "send it to me, maybe we could put it on like a play during Pesach."

What an antidote to my feeling bummed out last night.  Is this a cool country, or what?  Once again, I'm amazed by how much history can be packed in before breakfast!  My connection to God, Torah, and Israel this morning came through the wheels of my bicycle instead of the pages of the Talmud. 

Rav Baruch

"...a land of olive oil, and honey"

"Fifteen years ago," Saeed told me, "this month--the month of the olive harvest -- was the most fun time of the year."  The whole extended family would come out to the fields, they would bring elaborate meals, it used to be a big party.  Now -- because of the security situation -- it's not so much fun.

Nowadays -- because of settlers who harass, threaten, and in some cases harm Palestinian farmers tending their fields -- there is a need for Jewish volunteers to protect Palestinians from Jewish settlers.  Click here to read a story about the situation from NPR.

Yesterday I was one of those volunteers.  I was part of a group organized by Rabbis for Human Rights (RHR) that made a trip to the heart of the West Bank, to Shomron (Samaria) to participate in the olive harvest. 

The situation today is better than it used to be.  Thanks in part to law suits brought by RHR, the police and the army are regularly deploying to 'hot spots' to protect the farmers.  But there are still problems.  That's where the volunteers come in.

Ohio Meets Rome in Israel

Here's a picture you don't often get to see: a car with Ohio license plates sitting in front of a 2000 year old Roman aqueduct!  Don't have any of those in Ohio!

Getting an Israeli drivers' license, and getting my car through Israeli customs were truly "adventures in bureaucracy."  Getting an Israeli driver's license involves going to the mall for an eye exam and to get a picture taken, then to your doctor for a physical, then to the license bureau to get the form stamped, then to a driving instructor who gives you the mandatory one hour lesson, then to the post office to pay the exam fee, then to the actual driving exam.  Getting the car out of customs is just as bad if not worse.  A million forms, all must be filled out just right, and then I paid $13000 in taxes to import my 3 year old car.  Welcome to Israel, new immigrant!  Of course, the $13,000 represents a substantial discount compared to what an ordinary citizen would pay.

But, it's worth it to have our own car here!  And I enjoy the funny looks from people.

The picture at right is Ceasaria, where the picture of the car was taken.

Rav Baruch

Rosh Hashana 5768 -- Torah from Toledo

D'var Torah delivered at Kehilat Moreshet Avraham, Jerusalem, on the 2nd day of Rosh Hashana 5768.
To see the original D'var Torah (in Hebrew) click on the following link:

Download rh_5768.pdf

I learned a new word in ulpan last week: l’hidamot, to become similar.  The teacher gave us an example: Yisrael midameh l’Artzot Habrit, Israel is becoming similar to the United States.  I have to admit, when I heard that my immediate reaction was “chas v’shalom!” “God Forbid! I didn’t move to Israel to live in the 51st state of America!”

However, after a few minutes I regained my composure, and I realized that there are in fact several ways in which it would be good for Israel to imitate the US.  Despite what we sing when we take the Torah out of the ark on Shabbat and holidays – ki mitzion tetze Torah – for Torah shall go forth from Zion (Jerusalem) – I realized that there is also “Torah from Toledo.”

Morning in Jerusalem

The very first law listed in the Shulchan Aruch is to “arise like a lion in the morning, eager to serve one’s Creator.”

Jews aren’t the only ones eager to serve God early in the morning in Jerusalem.  The most eager appear to be the Muslims; sometime very early in the morning (I’m not sure how early, but early…), while I’m still laying in bed, I can hear the muezzin call out the adhan, the Muslim call to pray, in the pre-sunrise dawn.  We can hear the call, electronically amplified, coming from several mosques in the nearby Arab villages.  Next up are the Christians; about 0630 (I’m usually still in bed) I can hear the sound of the church bells which I believe are coming from the nearby Convent of the Poor Clares, although there are a few other churches that could be the source.   Ten minutes later it's time for the shofar of the Jews. 

This is now the month of Elul, a month of preparation for the High Holy days coming in Tishrei.  As part of our preparation for the awesome days, we engage in cheshbon  hanefesh, “an accounting of the soul,” and consider how to improve ourselves.  During the month of Elul we blow the shofar, the ram’s horn, every morning at the conclusion of our morning prayers.  So the other day, after the muezzin in the dark, and the church bells of 6:30, I heard my neighbor blowing his shofar at 6:40.  It was definitely one of those “you’re not in Toledo anymore” moments. 

Re’eh 5767 – Lo Titgodedu

"You are the children of the Lord your God; you shall not cut yourselves, nor make any baldness between your eyes for the dead." …Deuteronomy 14:1

 

This week's Torah reading, Re'eh, cautions us against following the pagan mourning practices of the original peoples of the land of Canaan. We are not to physically cut our flesh in the way the Canaanities did as a sign of mourning for their dead.

The Talmud (Yevamot 14a) brings a different interpretation of the phrase לא תתגודדו, "do not cut yourselves." The Talmud tells us that what it means is "do not cut yourself up into separate factions."

One look at the Jewish world today tells you we seem to have seriously violated this precept. I had two experiences this week that reminded me of this teaching of "lo titgodedu." On Wednesday as I was coming home to our apartment in the absorption center, a guy with a kippah (skullcap, indicating, generally, a religious Jew) stopped and asked me if I knew someplace in the neighborhood where they had a mincha/maariv service (communal afternoon/evening prayer service). I allowed as to how I didn't know, and we got onto the subject of synagogues in the area with morning prayer services. I mentioned there is a Conservative synagogue up the hill, but I didn't know if they had a morning minyan, and he made a face and a sound, "eww" as if I had suggested he go to the mosque across the way.

Was that really necessary? Wouldn't it have been enough for him to say, politiely, no, that wouldn't be for me?

The other experience was yesterday, and in this situation maybe I was the guilty party. I was sitting at the office and a man dressed in the distinctive black garb of the more right wing flavor of Orthodox stuck his head in the door and started explaining in Hebrew that he was raising money for a synagogue they were trying to build by the Jewish New Year, wouldn't it be great to help them be able to hear the sound of the shofar by Rosh Hashana.

Now I need to put this in context by saying, in general, I give some money to every "schnorrer" (Yiddish term for people looking for handouts). The Torah tells us not to turn a blind eye to the poor. In fact, in this week's Torah portion, we are commanded "If there is among you a poor man of one of your brothers inside any of your gates in your land which the Lord your God gives you, you shall not harden your heart, nor shut your hand from your poor brother;" (Deut. 15:7). It was interesting earlier this week walking down the street with some people I had been studying with, and they seemed amused that I stopped and gave every beggar a shekel, or at least half a shekel (the shekel is worth about $.25 US). Most of them have the all too common attitude "I can't take care of all of them, there are too many," so they don't give to beggars. Of course mostly they don't give anything to beggars, so it's not like they set a daily limit of how much they are willing to give away. Besides, it's not really true that there are too many. Even if you go for a long walk in Jerusalem, which has a lot more beggars on the street than Toledo where I lived until a month ago, you probably don't need to give away more than ten shekels, or $2.50. And you won't do that much walking around downtown every day. It's really not that hard, and this is, I believe, an incredibly important mitzvah, as the Torah specifically tells us "do not shut your hand from your brother." What else is there to do? OK, if you're poor and can't afford even a shekel, give half a shekel, if that's too hard, give ten agurot, but there's really not much excuse to not give. I even organize my pockets when I go out the door in the morning and put the smaller change appropriate for giving away as tzedaka in one pocket, and the larger denomination stuff in another pocket.

But I digress. The whole point of the digression was to make the point that normally I would have given the guy a few shekels, and that would have been that.

In this particular case though, he wasn't asking for money to feed the hungry, or to clothe the poor. He was asking me for money to support his synagogue. A synagogue where in all likelihood I would not be recognized as a rabbi, a synagogue where the people I brought into Judaism as converts would not be recognized as Jewish. If I were to ask him for a donation to support my synagogue, he would most likely make a noise like the first guy I mentioned and shut his hand to me. Now to be fair, this is not true of all Orthodox synagogues; I have been called to the Torah as "harav," the rabbi in a number of modern Orthodox shuls, and I have Orthodox colleagues who treat me with respect.

Which is why I feel bad about what I did. So what did I do? I told him "sorry, I've given a lot of money to support my own congregation." Which is true. One of the last checks I wrote out in Toledo was a contribution to the synagogue's capital campaign fund for the new building. But that was really a brush off. The fact that I may have written out what for me is pretty large check to the congregation I used to be a part of would not normally have gotten me "off the hook" from giving this guy a few shekels.

So I've decided that I did the wrong thing. But it doesn't mean I have to give in this case—this wasn't to support poor people with food—without examining his attitude. I could have used the occasion as an educational opportunity. What I think I should have done, and what I'll do if this comes up in the future, is explain that I'm a "rav Conservativi," a Conservative rabbi, and before I give him a contribution, I'd just like to know that if the situation were reversed, and I was coming around looking for funds for my shul, would he give me something? If he says, sure I'd help you, I'll give him something. If he turns up his nose and goes "eww" I won't give him an agurah.

And I believe the right answer is we should both give to each other. The passage in the Talmud that discusses "lo titgodedu" goes on to discuss the differences between Hillel and Shammai, the two leading rabbis in the late 2^nd Temple Period 2000 years ago. Generally speaking, the law follows the rulings of Hillel. So rabbis a few generations later asked "did Shammai follow their own rulings? If they did, wouldn't this be a violation of 'do not cut yourself into factions?'" The conclusion is that Shammai did in fact follow their own rulings; but what prevented it from becoming different factions is that they respected each other. There were certain situations where Shammai felt that people of a certain lineage were permitted to marry each other, and Hillel felt it would be a Biblical violation for such people to marry. The people of the house of Shammai would let the people of the house of Hillel know who was who. They co-existed. They respected each other's right to have a different opinion.

We could certainly use a lot more of that respect for different opinions in the Jewish world today. Not just between Conservative, Reform, and Orthodox; there are problems between different groups within the Orthodox as well, for some people "kosher" isn't kosher enough, they have to eat glatt. Some people insist their meat has to have been slaughtered by a butcher from a particular sect. Ashkenazi and Sefardi have very different customs at Passover, and all too often someone who follows one custom looks disdainfully at people who follow the other.

We need to respect each other. We need to say about our different customs and different ways of approaching God and halacha (Jewish law) that it's all for the good, it gives a very diverse range of people their own ways of expressing their Yiddishkeit.

Three thousand years ago King David said to God mi k'amcha Yisrael, goy echad ba'aretz, "who is like your people Israel, one nation in the land?" We will never become "one nation in the land" by all following the same customs and all following the same approach to deciding issues of Jewish law. The best we can hope for is that we will learn to respect each other, and to acknowledge that other people, especially other rabbis, are entitled to their approach, and if that different approach works for them, we should say "gezunte heg," for your good health, may it go well for you, and respect the differences.

It's a very sad commentary that all too often the only thing that unifies Jews is anti-Semitism. We can do better.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rav Baruch

 

Life in Israel

The French say that if you're over 50 and you wake up in the morning and nothing aches, it's a sign that you're dead.

On the other hand, whatever age you are, if you wake up in the morning and something aches, it might just be a sign that you have been sleeping on a bed in an Israeli absorption center. Hard is something of an understatement. The beds are softer than the floor would be, but that's just because the floor is made of tile. If the floor were carpeted, it would be a close call.

But the truth is I'm not complaining about the absorption center. It's practically free, and I really feel it's part of the "new immigrant" experience. Our very small taste of roughing it in a spartan two bedroom apartment is nothing compared with what many of our predecessors went through on arrival in Israel. We're together with new olim from all over the world, mostly Americans, French, and Russians. The kids are making friends and having a good time, which is one of the reasons we wanted to stay in an absorption center. I knew the strategy had worked yesterday when I got home from ulpan and asked the kids if they wanted to go out and do something, and they said no, they would rather stay at the center and participate in the kid's activities. At first I had to push them to make them go to the kids activities.

Speaking of ulpan, the kids started theirs yesterday. Unfortunately, the level is way to basic for any of them, even Devorah. It's aimed at real beginners. Some of the kids there don't know the alef-bet. Katherine is acting as the translator for the kids who don't know anything at all. Still, it gives them something to do, and hopefully it will help just being around some Israelis. I've been going to the ulpan at the Conservative Yeshiva, which is also perhaps a little easy for me, but it's worth it just to spend a few hours a day sitting around chatting in Hebrew.

Jerusalem really is the crossroads of the Jewish world. There are so many small coincidences, all the time. Someone in my ulpan is a close friend of the daughter in law of a former congregant from Toledo. Standing in line at a health clinic, the guy behind me has parents in Vancouver who belong to the shul I used to be at, and he heard me give a sermon on aliyah four years ago. There's a contingent of people from the shul I used to belong to in Northern California studying at the Conservative Yeshiva. The other day we got together with some other people we know from Toledo, daughter and son-in-law of congregants from there. It's kind of fun getting to live somewhere that I get to reconnect with all sorts of people from my past, just staying here.

The political situation here is always amazing. Lots of controversies going on. The Supreme Court and the Ministry of Justice are having a big public disagreement about a deal that was cut with former president Moshe Katzav, charged with sexual harassment. Ehud Barak is very concerned about the high rate of draft evasion – he said people who go off to fight to defend the country shouldn't feel like "friarim," which is Hebrew for "suckers." The governments popularity is so low it really has a feel of being temporary. There are no elections scheduled yet, but Netanyahu is already campaigning with campaign slogans plastered on the side of buses. I'm really looking forward to the first time I get to vote in an Israeli election!

This week's Torah portion, Ekev, contains a famous line: "Man does not live by bread alone." I had a long philosophical (in Hebrew) last weekend with an Israeli couple, hosts of a B&B we stayed at in the Galil on that very topic. They definitely agreed that living in Israel is spiritually far more important than the physical comfort that one can have living in America or elsewhere. Which is true. It is amazing to be here, and there really is a sense of family. I've had so many people, strangers really, tell me as new oleh, "if there's anything I can do to help, call me." And what's really really cool, is that they mean it!

The place we were staying last weekend, Amirim, is very interesting. It's a moshav in the Galillee entirely composed of vegetarians. The place is kind of like "Santa Cruz in the mountains." Beautiful views, in the forest, everyone is vegetarian, all the restaurants and guesthouses are vegetarian, all sorts of "natural therapy," massage, Jacuzzis, etc., etc. The population is mostly secular, but there are enough religious folks to support a couple of minyans. Was a great weekend.

Devarim 5767 – go up and possess the land; but what about the inhabitants?

"Behold, the Lord your God has set the land before you; go up and possess it, as the Lord God of your fathers has said to you; fear not, nor be discouraged."  …Deuteronomy 1:21

 

God commands the Jewish people to "alah," to make aliyah, to "go up" to the land of Israel – and to possess it.   Last year I gave a d'var Torah on parshat Behar where I weighed in with my opinion that it is indeed one of the 613 commandments to make aliyah – to move to Israel (click here to read it).

This week's Torah portion, Devarim, contains one of many references to the subject in the Torah.  In the introductory section of Moses' final discourse to the people we are told "Behold, the Lord your God has set the land before you; go up and possess it, as the Lord God of your fathers has said to you; fear not, nor be discouraged."  Don't be afraid, don't worry about those strong people living there, just go up to Israel, have faith in God, and everything will be OK.  God's on your side.

Why I Love Jerusalem…

OK, this is just one example of many of why I love Jerusalem, and why am so delighted to call this amazing city home.

We went out to dinner with friends this evening at Eucalyptus, a very interesting restaurant in Jerusalem where the chef, Moshe Basson (scroll down on the link) practices "food archeology," and presents Biblical style foods using Biblical ingredients – and all of it fresh and kosher, and most of it local. The food was excellent – especially the figs stuffed with chicken (click here for the recipe) the "na'ha'foch," upside-down chicken, and the braised lamb. The lentil soup was also very interesting, very fresh tasting, not a mushy mash of lentils as usual. The wine, a Castel, was excellent, although when we got the bill we realized we should have inquired about the price after the waiter's elaborate description – it added 1/3 to the bill! Those of you who plan to visit us, if you're buying we'll take you there…if we're buying, we'll think about it! J

The restaurant was practically empty – tonight was Rosh Chodesh Av, the beginning of the month of Av, and it marks the beginning of the "9 days" a period when many observant Jews take on signs of mourning in advance of Tisha b'Av, the 9^th of Av, the day we commemorate the destruction of the Temple (twice) and various other disasters to have befallen the Jewish people over the years. Many people abstain from meat and wine during the nine days. Which means if you don't follow that custom, it's a great time to go out to your favorite meat restaurants as you probably won't have to wait for a table! Anyway, we don't follow that custom of semi-mourning during this period; as my friend observed, the liturgy has not kept up with the fact of the existence of the State of Israel. If the state of Israel truly is "reishit tzimichat ge'u'latnu," the beginning of the flowering of our redemption, as we say in the grace after meals, we need to act like it, and stop mourning so much. Similar to the sentiments I expressed in my earlier posting about NOT reciting tachanun (supplications) on my aliyah flight.

Anyway, my friend had heard about the chef Moshe, and wanted to meet him. Moshe came over to our table, and we had a long chat. He's a very interesting guy—with perhaps a few contradictions. He lives in Maale Adumim, which technically is a "West Bank Settlement." He sports a pigtail, engages in food archeology, and is active in "Chefs for Peace," an organization which brings together Israeli and Palestinian chefs to cook for peace. His partner in the restaurant is a Palestinian who lives in East Jerusalem. Fascinating story, and I definitely want to learn more about Chefs for Peace. I'm already envisioning ways to get them to cater some Rabbis for Human Rights events!

As we were leaving the nearly empty restaurant, Moshe mentioned that Yitzchak Navon, the 5^th President of the State of Israel, was at the table near the entrance, and Moshe bet he'd love to meet some new immigrants to Israel. "Sure, why not?" Lauri and I said, and the chef introduced us, and we had a lovely conversation with the former President, who presumably had just come for a late dinner following the inauguration ceremony of the latest, the 9^th President of Israel, Shimon Peres. He seemed genuinely happy to meet some new olim—not the least put out by having his dinner interrupted by a couple of strangers. His companion (wife, I assume) mentioned she used to teach in the neighborhood we're living in, we talked about how it used to be on the front lines, he complimented me on my Hebrew, etc., etc. Very sociable. I now wish I had read his bio before I met him – I would love to have talked to him about his involvement with The Abraham Fund.

As much as I like Toledo, I have to say I never had an evening quite like that!

And even though the wine ran up the tab for dinner making it a rather pricey night out, as my friend said, "we'll remember the meal and the company long after we've forgotten the bill…."

Balak 5767 -- 3 Sermons

There are religions that claim they have the only true access to God. Let’s face it, pretty much any revealed religion will of necessity claim that their prophet is the greatest and bestest prophet. Many, if not most, will claim that their prophet is either the last prophet, or the ONLY prophet who really got God’s message right.

This week’s Torah reading, Balak, forces us Jews to have a little humility on this subject. For the Moabite king Balak tries to hire a prophet, Bilam. And this prophet Bilam is not only not Jewish, but Balak hires him to try and harm the Jewish people.

How do we know that Bilam is a real prophet, and not some kind of scam artist? The Torah tells us that God spoke to Bilam; in fact the Torah records several conversations between Bilam and God. Not only that, if you want to talk about a need for humility, God not only talks to this non-Jew Bilam, he makes an appearance to a talking donkey. Here I am a rabbi, still waiting for a dramatic personal appearance from God, and She appears to a talking donkey!

If I Were Running for Prime Minister

The following opinion piece was first published in the April Toledo Jewish News.

If I were running for Prime Minister…

By Rabbi Dr. Barry Leff

Many of you may have seen Yuval Zaliouk's piece with the same title as this one: "If I were running for Prime Minister." If you have haven't, you can read it here. It's a great format for laying out one's views and priorities. Since Yuval is already an Israeli citizen, and God willing I'll be an Israeli citizen in about three months, maybe we could run against each other. After all, in any democracy there is always a plethora of candidates. My platform would be a lot different than his. Here is the vision I bring with me to Israel:

• Israel is a Jewish, democratic state. To be both Jewish and democratic is a challenge: how do we retain the Jewish character of the state while protecting the freedoms of all citizens, including those who are not Jewish?
  • There should be no compulsion in matters of religion. I would break the Israeli Chief Rabbinate's monopoly on marriages, conversions, etc. At present there is no such thing as a "civil marriage" in Israel – consequently intermarriage is basically against the law, a Kohen is not allowed to marry a divorcee, etc., etc. I would introduce civil marriage, and allow Reform and Conservative rabbis to perform ceremonies recognized by the state.
  • Municipalities should be allowed to determine the religious nature of their communities. It is OK that buses run on Shabbat in secular Tel Aviv and do not run in religious B'nai Brak.
  • A democracy means all citizens are treated equally. Israel has done a poor job in providing for the needs—schools, roads, and other infrastructure—for her Druze, Beduoin, and Arab citizens. I would work to fix that.
  • The founders of Israel made both Hebrew and Arabic official languages, which is appropriate and which will remain. Despite this gesture acknowledging the 20% Muslim and Arab Christian minority, iniquities still abound.
• Israel was founded on Jewish values such as a sense of communal responsibility. I would work to restore those values
  • Israel's high-tech economy is booming. But society is becoming more and more imbalanced, with the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer. Israel is creating high-tech billionaires, and at the same the education system is in a shambles and teachers are paid so little it is scandalous. Israel is becoming more like America – and it is not always copying America's best traits.
  • Jewish values call for being harsh in prosecuting official corruption: the Torah tells us "the bribe blinds the wise, and perverts the words of the righteous."
  • Judaism calls on us to be stewards of the environment, to take care of God's creation. It is a shande that many of the waters of the Mediterranean are so polluted they are unsafe to swim in and the Holy Land is strewn with trash from littering.
• To obsess over any particular borders for the Jewish state is idol worship
  • The 40-year long military occupation of the West Bank (and until recently, Gaza) has been a disaster for Israel, costing lives, draining resources, and creating barriers to peace. The UN Security Council Resolution 242 calls for Israel to withdraw from territories (note it does NOT say "ALL territories") conquered in 1967. Israel and the PLO agreed to support UN Resolution 242 in the 1993 Oslo agreement.
  • If Israel wanted to keep all of Gaza and the West Bank, the only ethical way to do that would be to make all of the Palestinians full citizens of Israel. As that would destroy the Jewish character of Israel, and Egypt does not want Gaza back and Jordan does not want the West Bank back, the only rational solution is a two-state solution, a Jewish state and a Palestinian state, living side by side, in peace.
  • Israel negotiated peace with Egypt and Jordan; since the treaty-based withdrawal from Sinai, the peace with Egypt has held. When Israel has acted unilaterally, as in the withdrawal from Lebanon and Gaza, chaos has ensued. Therefore a withdrawal from the West Bank should only be undertaken as a part of a negotiated peace agreement with the Palestinians, not as a unilateral action.
    • This means that the military occupation of the West Bank will continue until such time that an agreement with the Palestinians can be reached. It is Israel's responsibility to conduct the occupation in as humane a way as possible, being sensitive to the human rights of Palestinians.
  • The security barrier is an unfortunate necessity when there are many Palestinian terrorists who wish to come to Israel to kill our citizens. I would continue to complete the construction of the barrier, while being sensitive to Palestinian concerns like access to fields and not dividing villages. I would have the security barrier much more closely follow the "Green Line," with exceptions made for major settlement blocs such as the Gilo and Maale Adumim neighborhoods of Jerusalem. Even though it costs $1 million per kilometer, I would not treat the route of the fence as the unalterable borders for a future Palestinian state.

  My children, and God-willing grandchildren and future descendants, will grow up in Israel. I commit myself to working hard to bequeath to them an Israel that respects the human rights of all, that is truly a shining beacon to the nations of the world, that applies the finest values of Judaism to the running of a country.

 

Vaytetze 5767 -- Roots of Intolerance

Would the world be better off without religion?

I have secular friends who look at what’s going on in the world around us – Shiite Muslims and Sunni Muslims killing each other in Iraq, Jews and Muslims killing each other in Israel and the Palestinian Territories, riots breaking out and people losing their lives over some cartoons, demonstrations against the Pope – and they ask me whether we wouldn’t be better off without religion.

They cite historical battles where religion played a role – from the Islamic conquest of the 7th century to the Crusades to Israel’s War of Independence and they see religion as the cause for centuries of strife and bloodshed.

The Biblical roots of religious strife are found in this week’s Torah portion, Vayetze.  This week we read the story of how Jacob left home to seek a wife.  After working for his father-in-law, Laban, for 20 years Jacob decided it was time to head home.  Laban had treated him unscrupulously in the past, so Jacob didn’t trust him – and he decided to leave in the middle of night without telling Laban.  Jacob’s wife Rachel, fired up with righteous indignation after her conversion to the religion of the one God, steals her father’s idols on the way out.  Rashi says she was motivated by her religious beliefs – he tells us she was trying to get her father to give up idol worship.

When Laban discovers his daughter, grandkids, and idols missing, he chases after them.  When he catches up, after chastising Jacob for sneaking off, he asks “And now, that you are surely gone, because you so long after your father’s house, why have you stolen my gods?”

Not knowing that his beloved Rachel was the culprit, Jacob tells Laban “With whom you will find your gods, let him not live.”

In this particular case, disaster is narrowly averted through Rachel’s ingenuity.  But the episode marks the first time in the Torah’s narrative that a lack of religious tolerance has potentially fatal consequences.  It wasn’t the last.

The Katav Sofer cautions against using Rachel as a role model.  He brings a teaching from Midrash Rabbah that says God did not create women from Adam’s hand so that she should not be “light-fingered” – yet Rachel stole her father’s idols.  He points out despite Rachel’s seemingly good intentions, she did not foresee the possible desecration of God’s name that could result from her actions.  People who are religiously intolerant pretty much NEVER see the potential negative consequences of their actions.

Despite the struggles in the world that seem to be rooted in religion, people of faith know that the world is vastly better off because of religion.  People don’t need religion to make war.  The vast majority of the world’s empires had no particular religious motivation—the Babylonian, Greek, Persian, Roman, and British (and some would add “American”) empires were all motivated by economics, not by theology.  The Communists were as anti-religious as they come, yet they were brutal in forcing their ideology on others.

The Torah, the Bible, tells us יֵצֶר לֵב הָאָדָם רַע מִנְּעֻרָיו the inclinations of man’s heart is evil from his youth.  Unfortunately men don’t need to be trained to be violent, they don’t need religion to go to war.  Religion is sometimes used as a fig leaf or an excuse for people who want to go to war for social, economic, or political reasons.  In Mein Kampf Adolf Hitler wrote: "…I am convinced that I am acting as the agent of our Creator. By fighting off the Jews, I am doing the Lord's Work.”  Yet no one seriously believes that Hitler was motivated by religion.

The same is true for Muslims yelling “kill the Jews” or for Shiite and Sunni Muslims killing each other in Iraq.  Religion is an excuse – “kill the infidels and heretics” – but what’s happening is tribal warfare that has very little to do with religion.

To the contrary, religion is a force that works to help man conquer and channel his wicked inclination in positive directions.  Ten people killed by a religious terrorist makes for a juicier headline than a hundred people saved by a religious soup kitchen.  Hence the bad press.

And nowhere does religion try to stem our wicked inclination more than in the realm of war and fighting.  All religions teach that God does not want us to kill one another – God wants us to love one another.  The 15th c. Spanish rabbi Abarbanel explains the verse in Deuteronomy which tells us to "walk in God's ways" (Deuteronomy 28:9), as meaning God does not desire death or the destruction of the world but repentance. God extends Her right hand to welcome the penitent, and that includes mortal kings and other people.

Peace is one of the central values of Judaism.  We greet each other with the Hebrew word “Shalom,” which means peace.  We pray for peace three times a day, every day.  Shalom is another version of the word shalem, which means complete or whole; we are incomplete if we do not have peace.  Our holiest place, Jerusalem, Yerushalayim in Hebrew, means “city of peace.”  God’s wish, God’s blessing, is peace.  The Talmud (Megilah 18a) says the blessing of the Holy One, blessed be He, is peace, as it says, “The Lord shall bless his people with peace.”

In Leviticus 26:6 God promises וְנָתַתִּי שָׁלוֹם בָּאָרֶץ וּשְׁכַבְתֶּם וְאֵין מַחֲרִיד
And I will give peace in the land, and you shall lie down, and none shall make you afraid;

Too many people all over the world are afraid to lie down for fear bombs will fall on their heads.

Peace means not just peace within our own homes or within the Jewish community, but peace amongst ALL peoples.  In Deuteronomy God commands us “Love you therefore the stranger; for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”

That phrase, or a variation on it, appears in the Torah again and again.  Having been strangers, outsiders, oppressed, we are charged with being kind and compassionate, to not allow that kind of treatment to happen to other people.

Treating others poorly happens when we forget that we are all brothers.  The Talmud teaches that Man was created alone – from Adam – so that no one can say to his fellow “my father was greater than yours.”  We all share the same father.  Recent scientific studies have shown that you only have to go back a few thousand years to find a common ancestor for all mankind – we truly are all related to each other, we truly are all cousins.

Peace is more than something God wants – it is the essence of God Himself.  The Zohar, the central text of Kabbalah, Jewish mysticism, teaches “God is also called “peace”; He is peace, His name is peace, and all is bound together in peace. “

Psalm 50:2 says “Out of Zion the perfection of beauty, God shines forth.”  The Zohar explains God’s shining forth as the light which, when once it shines, will shine for all the worlds. When that light will awaken, the whole will be one common fellowship, under the reign of universal love and universal peace. There will be peace in heaven and peace on earth. So Scripture says: “Peace be within your walls, and prosperity within your palaces (Psalm, 122:7).”

We cannot sit and passively wait for peace to happen; in Psalm 34 we are charged, “bikash shalom v’rodfahu,” Seek peace and pursue it.

And how do we pursue that peace?  Abarbanel tell us that it is preferable to seek peace diplomatically than militarily—he tells us “Have we not seen the many fall to the few or the strong to the weak?...Therefore it is appropriate to choose true peace rather than to trust in a doubtful victory.”

In the last few days we have seen signs of great promise in Israel – the Israelis and Palestinians seem to be agreeing with Abarbanel, that it is better to seek peace diplomatically than militarily.

On Sunday a cease-fire went into effect between Israel and all of the major Palestinian terror organizations; the cease-fire even has the support of exiled Hamas leader Khaled Meshal, which is crucial in making it stick.  Meshal first said he would give the ceasefire six months to make progress toward a Palestinian state within the 1967 borders, and he later said six months was not a firm deadline, he might even give it eight or ten months.  But it is quite significant that he was willing to say he'd accept a state within the '67 borders.  As reported in one of the Israeli papers, Yediot Achronot, the Israeli military has real reservations about the ceasefire -- they are concerned it will simply advance the interests of the Palestinians.

But more than just a ceasefire, on Monday, November 27 Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Olmert gave a major policy speech in which he said he was willing to meet with Palestinian Prime Minister Mahmoud Abbas to discuss a real and lasting peace.  Olmert said "If a new Palestinian government is established -- a government which will be committed to the principles of the Quartet, implement the (U.S.-drafted) roadmap and bring about the release of Gilad Shalit, I will invite Abu-Mazen (Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas) to meet with me immediately, in order to conduct a real, open, genuine and serious dialogue between us."  Olmert offered releasing Palestinian prisoners in exchange for the release of Israeli Corporal Gilad Shalit.  He said Israel