Rabbi Fisher's Weekly Message

Shabbat Shalom from Rabbi Fisher
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Dear Friends,

It is with two weeks of political conventions over, and now the race to Election Day begun, that we happen to have Parashat Shoftim as our Torah reading this Shabbat -- a parashah with a strong focus on and theme of leadership. The text begins with a command to set up judges and officials. To appoint leaders who shall govern with justice. So, as we listen to the debates over the next weeks and fulfill our American right and responsibility by voting on November 4, we are also fulfilling a Jewish mitzvah.

Our Torah reading describes nine different types of leaders: judges, officials, priests, kings, prophets, elders, high priests, army commanders, and city elders. It deals with very practical courts and law and governing systems. It would make any DA or judge proud.

Yet, with Elul upon us, and less than a month until the High Holy Days, we can also see within our parashah a more spiritual message. "Appoint judges and officials for yourself within all your gates," the Torah demands (Dt. 16:18). This is not simply an external command; we can interpret it as telling us to engage as well in inwardly-focused self-improvement. Set up guards, policemen, judges for yourself at all your gates - that is, place sentries and lookouts at all the gates to your soul. Shoftim asks us to do internal work to help ourselves prevent wrong thought, actions, or deeds.

Let us all guard ourselves in the coming weeks from previous harmful behaviors and from stifling thoughts and patterns, to be able to approach with holiness the new life and meaning we are looking to attain at Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

P.S. For further thoughts on the parashah, check out my J article this week at http://www.jewishsf.com/content/2-0-/module/displaystory/story_id/36010/format/html/displaystory.html

September 5, 2008

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Dear Friends,

Parashat Re'eh begins with yet another repeat of Israel's choices: choose blessings or choose curses; your actions and decisions are important. A vital message that is often quoted by rabbis and teachers.

In the middle of our Torah reading, however, is found a different, relatively innocuous verse. In talking about presenting God with ritual offerings, Deuteronomy looks, in the future, to centralize sacrificial practices in Jerusalem alone. Moshe tells the people that in the Land, "You shall not act at all as we now act here, kol hayashar bei'einav, every one as s/he pleases" (Dt. 12:8). The phrase "kol hayashar bei'einav, every one as s/he pleases" is later used throughout the Book of Judges to describe anarchy and chaos.

What Moshe and the Bible are stressing is that when we seek to approach God, we need order and community. Life should not be everyone for him or herself, but rather we should be joining together, meeting, facing each other in holiness. Our responsibility as Jews is to form a society with an open, warm place for everyone to feel a part. Such a dream is possible to create, when we each see ourselves as welcoming ambassadors to others, living goodly lives that are to be emulated, and all on a shared path towards God.

As we move into a new High Holy Day season this weekend (Sunday and Monday are Rosh Hodesh Elul, one month before Rosh Hashana), and a new CBS year on Monday with our annual Labor Day Barbeque, let us all consciously hone and practice inclusive, welcoming actions - saying hello, smiling, introducing ourselves to new faces -- that will bring ever greater warmth and strength to our congregation. I look forward to seeing you, as you also bring your friends and prospective members, to eat, celebrate, and schmooze together, 4 pm on Monday at CBS. (Please bring toiletries, breakfast cereals, socks, or first aid supplies to donate to Fresh Start, too!)

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

August 29, 2008

Dear Friends,

As soon as the fast day of Tisha B'Av passes in the summertime, our tradition begins to look forward to the Yamim Noraim, the Days of Awe. Full involvement with the High Holy Days takes preparation; seven weeks of it, our Rabbis teach.

Parashat Eikev includes a statement couched in the language of a small request from God. Moshe tells the tribes, "And now, Israel, what does Adonai your God ask of you? Only this: to revere Adonai your God, to walk in all God's ways, to love God, and to serve Adonai your God with all your heart and with all your being, keeping Adonai's commandments and laws which I charge you today, for your own good." (Dt. 10:12-13)

Sure a humble request. "Only this..." Only reverence, love, observance of the 613 mitzvot. Nothing much, really, and so God doesn't demand, only asks.

Rabbi Reuven Hammer learns from the Torah's language that Moshe, and God, realize that you cannot force love and reverence, you can only ask for it. Fear will not keep someone loyal; observance must be based on love, or it will not continue. The implication of "only this" in Moshe's request is that everything else in the Torah, all the lists of ritual and ethical practices, of dos and don'ts, are simply demonstrations of loving God with all your being. When we love another deeply, we long to do anything asked of us, and fulfilling those requests feels easy and painless and wonderful to do.

When we approach religious practice in this manner - as a spiritual expression of love for God - how much deeper do our every day acts become! As we move inexorably closer to a new Jewish year and High Holy Day season, let us begin to consider how we will convey our love for God in new ways.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

August 22, 2008

Dear Friends,

Like many of us, I have spent quite a few hours this week watching the Olympic Games. Been awed by the athletic prowess of our world's athletes. Watched as Michael Phelps has swum to victory and created new world records time and time again (including that magnificent relay touching out France - a race swum by Phelps, an African-American, and two Jews, I would like to proudly note!). Seen the amazing skill of incredible gymnasts, born and trained from here to China. And I look forward to the coming week's events - especially the sailing programs in which Israel will be defending Gal Fridman's gold from four years ago.

What is always the highlight of the Olympics for me, however, is being able to witness the, albeit competitive, but also usually peaceful, coming together of athletes from so many backgrounds, so many cultures, representing over 200 nations. For a few short weeks, the world is united in attention, united in purpose, united in passion. One.

Which makes it appropriate that our parashah this week is VaEtchanan, a Torah reading which includes the Shema, our people's central declaration of unity. "Hear O Israel Adonai is our God, Adonai is One." We take this statement that God is singular, solo, one to be so fundamental that we have placed it in our daily liturgy, reciting it twice each day.

In Kabbalistic belief, the Shema is also about future ideals. We not only have a responsibility to acknowledge God and God alone, we must also ensure that the Shema's statement becomes a reality. In Jewish mystical thought, God's potential is found within the world, and it is for us human beings to complete our world by making it a place where God indeed becomes One.

If the Olympics can be a secular model, I pray that all the world find ways of seeing our strengths combined together, that we will work and celebrate together, that we can indeed become a diverse and yet unified and singular human community. What a unique statement and vision that would be! Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Michelle Fisher

P.S. Ready or not, we're inexorably moving towards the High Holy Day season, and blowing the shofar on Rosh Hashana also reflects oneness and wholeness. Our shofar notes go from a single blast, to three blasts, to nine blasts, getting more and more "broken" until the long, whole, singular note of the tekiah gedolah brings us back together. CBS needs new and returning shofar blowers for this season. If this is a skill you have, would like to hone, or would like to learn, please contact me!

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

August 15, 2008

Dear Friends,

This week our Torah reading concludes the book of Bamidbar/Numbers. In Parashat Masei, the Israelites are full of anticipation as they are on the very cusp of entering the land of Israel. While encamped before Jericho on the plains of Moav, Moshe reminds them of where they have come from in their journeys thus far. For fifty verses, we hear of each stop the Israelites made along their journey: "They set out from X and encamped at Y" The Torah recalls every wilderness sojourn.

This list teaches us that part of emerging from slavery and entering freedom - our own communal and individual lands of milk and honey -- requires revisiting the past, acknowledging its formative impact on us, and learning what we wish to pass on and what we wish to leave behind. With each step and stop, Israel got farther from Egypt. In growing, changing, expanding ourselves, our skills, our creative abilities, we, too, leave some aspects behind. Old interests and habits cede their places to new adventures. Yet, we never ignore the past, Masei informs us, even when the past is as painful as slavery in Egypt. Instead, we learn to take stock of the past - every place we have been and each experience we have had. Only then, after re-exploring and evaluating those personal and collective pasts, can we turn our sight with courage and clarity to the future.

May this week give us the time and daring to assess our pasts, and give us the strength to move forward with our many hopes and dreams that will bless our futures.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

August 1, 2008

Dear Friends,

It must have been pretty poignant and painful for Moshe in this week's Torah reading of Parashat Mattot. God speaks to this incredible leader and teacher, and tells him "Avenge the Israelite people on the Midianites; then you shall be gathered to your kin" (Numbers 31:2). In other words, "I have one more task for you, and then your time on this earth is done." Moshe had already known he was not going to enter the Land - God had promised that to him earlier in the wilderness; but Moshe now knew exactly when his death would be.

Imagine what went through Moshe's mind at that moment. The years he had spent in seeking the freedom of his people from the shackles of slavery. The myriads of aggravations and the irritations he suffered as he led them for forty years through the desert: their petty grievances, their backsliding, their constant clammering for a return to Egypt, their complete lack of appreciation for what he had done for them. The years that he had spent in molding their character and shaping their destiny.

And now he knew his end was imminent. I am sure he had sorrows and doubts, and I am equally sure he felt some security in knowing he had accomplished so much, had taught a people ethical and religious truths to guide their future paths.

Unlike Moshe, none of us know the timing of our passing from this world - and I think that is all for the good. For it helps us, as our Sages taught, to consider each day as it is our last, and to then and therefore fill those days with meaning. With feelings of deep appreciation. With the modeling of positive values for others - be it our friends, families, children, or strangers. With the teaching values and the fulfillment of mitzvot.

May all of us live each day caring, growing, connecting, and sharing - for that is the lifelong and final task all of us are always charged with.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

P.S. For additional comments on this week's parasha, my Torah column in today's J-weekly can be found at http://www.jewishsf.com/content/2-0-/module/displaystory/story_id/35695/format/html/displaystory.html

July 25, 2008

Dear Friends,

I find it ironic that this week's parasha is named for Pinchas, a grandson of Aaron the priest. The Torah describes Pinchas as a zealot; at the opening of this week's reading, God blesses him - with a "brit shalom," a covenant of peace -- for his passion and his ability to look at a situation, size it up, and immediately act. To go forward from a place of supreme clarity, with no doubts or hesitation, unmistakably knowing right and wrong.

I find the juxtaposition ironic because of the events in Israel this past week. On Wednesday, Israel made an exchange with Hezbollah. Ehud Goldwasser and Eldad Regev, captured in the Hezbollah cross-border raid that sparked the 2nd Lebanon war in the summer of 2006, are now home. Israel received two coffins containing their remains (may their memories be for a blessing) in exchange for five living terrorists who had been serving multiple life-sentences in Israeli prisons. One of the five was Samir Kuntar, a cold-blooded murderer who entered an Israeli settlement in 1979, took a father and young daughter from their home, shot the father in the back at point-blank range and then smashed the child's skull against a rock with the butt of his rifle, murdering her, too. To this day, Kuntar has never expressed remorse; he, in fact, is still proud of his "accomplishments." And now he is free, to kill or train to kill again.

I find Pinchas' single-minded zeal ironic because I am, like many in Israel and around the world, confused as to what to think and feel of this exchange. I am dismayed and relieved, angry and scared, frustrated and grieving, disgusted and sad. Some columnists have written that one should never release a dangerous murderer for two dead bodies; they are "deeply ashamed to be an Israeli [and] not very proud of being a Jew either." Others have pointed out that the swap was the appropriate course of action: there was still hope the two men were alive; Israelis/Jews place a high value on bringing every soldier home, no matter what; now there are two families who are finally free to mourn. How do you balance these? How do you ever know what is "right"?

Perhaps there are individuals like Pinchas - and there are definitely times when immediate, even impulsive, action is required - but life is rarely so black and white and so clear cut. I hold contradictory passions. I pray for peace, and fear this is one more sign it will never come, even more convinced that Israel will exist in a perpetual state of war for generations to come. I wish my doubts and questions could be answered. But, perhaps that is the messiness of life, and that is what living is most fully about.

My comfort to all those who mourn. May we see better days.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

July 18, 2008

Dear Friends,

The story of Bilaam in Parashat Balak is probably most well-known for the appearance of a talking donkey. Trying to explain this mystery and miracle, our Sages taught that God specifically created Bilaam's mount (and its mouth) before Shabbat on the sixth day of Creation (Pirke Avot 5:8). Even Hollywood was impressed by this animal: the inspiration for "Donkey" in the Shrek movies is taken from this week's Torah reading.

A donkey that can serve as an oral guide to Biblical heroes is pretty impressive. And the amazing speaking ability of the donkey comes to teach a deep lesson to Bilaam. When the donkey speaks, his words are ones of compassion and care for his rider. While he criticizes Bilaam for not trusting him, the donkey's actions were entirely to help save Bilaam's life, to protect him from the angel of death that Bilaam could not see. If one is going to convey words, they should be words that help those being addressed or those hearing them to grow.

Words are, in fact, the key to this week's Torah reading. Before he begins his discourse, the donkey is taking Bilaam on a mission for Balak, the King of Moav. Bilaam is to curse Israel. God, however, had other plans for Bilaam's prophecy; the words of "curse" Bilaam recites upon looking out over the encamped Israelite tribes was deemed such a blessing that it became the opening words of prayer we now say when entering a synagogue: Ma tovu ohalecha Ya'akov, mishkenotecha Yisrael. How goodly are your tents O Jacob, your dwelling places O Israel.

We learn as Bilaam opens his mouth to speak that one who cares enough to curse can also be transformed into one who feels enough to praise.
There may easily be no greater curse than not caring. We need passion -- and for that passion to produce passionate words. And our speech
is most powerful, not when it is composed of hurtful or deflating words, but rather when we use strong words of love, of beauty, and of growth. Words can and should be used to improve and raise up our communities, our friends, and our families. May we all strive through our speech and actions to build homes, spaces, and relationships as beautiful as those Bilaam came to see within our ancestors' tents.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

July 11, 2008

Dear Friends,

Perhaps it is because I just spent a week in the Northeast that was themed by rain and thunderstorms. Or, perhaps it is because I'm still trying to figure out how I'm going to decrease my home water usage here by 17% once August comes. But, water is on my mind, and water is what I noticed – in its abundance and lack – in this week's Torah portion of Hukkat.

In non-parasha order: The Israelites want passage through the land of Edom and later through the land of the Amorites as they continue their travels. They send messages requesting permission for said journeying. "Let us cross your country… we will not drink water from wells…" The Israelites understand water is precious; they won't endanger the nations' needed commodity. Yet, neither kingdom responds positively to the request; in both cases, bellicosity results.

A second snapshot: The people want water. They crave water. They become angry and complain. God instructs Moses to speak to a rock and it will yield the desired water. Moses responds by smashing a rock with his rod. Water flows, and Moses gets punished; he will not enter the land promised to our ancestors. The place is then called Mei Merivah, the Waters of Quarrelling.

A third water depiction comes from a midrash, a reading between the lines of the next. Why did the Israelites crave water in this last story? Miriam had just died, and our Rabbis teach that she was a sustainer, a nurturer, and she traveled with a well of sweet water to succor the Israelites along their wilderness journey. With her death, her well dried up and disappeared.

Water is a necessary ingredient for life. (What is the Phoenix Mars Lander's purpose afterall?) Battles are fought over it; lives and deaths are measured by it. This is what the stories seem to reflect.

Truly, we need water, and wells are to be guarded, for we cannot exist without them. But the Rabbis -- and the midrash that flips our Torah reading from a text of belligerent scenes to one of beauty -- tell a different message. Water supplies only really exist as springs of life if they are freely shared, lovingly offered, caringly and patiently given over to another. On the level of metaphor that the Rabbis bring to these stories, we each have resources that fill us to the brim, that we can share to raise up and help others. It is our responsibility to act like Miriam, sharing attention, sensitivity, and affection to nurture others. That is a bottomless source of water and love that we all possess, and which can never dry up.

Shabbat shalom and happy 4th of July,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

July 4, 2008

Dear Friends,

"When you have lemons, make lemonade…" The practical rabbinic interpretation of this week's Torah portion, Sh'lach l'cha, does just that.

In the parasha, Moshe selects tribal leaders to search out and explore the Promised Land. Twelve spies go forth. Two, Joshua and Caleb, come back with a positive report of the land – it and its produce are amazing, and we can overcome and gain possession of this land! The other ten spies announce that while the land is bountiful and beautiful, the inhabitants are too powerful, attempting to conquer the land will be impossible. And the ten sway the people. The Israelites give up hope. They weep and rally against Moses and Aaron.

Ten spies. Ten nay-sayers. Ten of detrimental influence. What does our tradition learn from this? One must have a quorum of ten adult Jews to make a minyan. The Talmud could have derived a minyan from Abraham's stopping at his request to save Sodom and Gemorrah at ten righteous people. Or compared the necessary number to the Aseret HaDibrot, the 10 Commandments/Utterances at Sinai. Instead our Rabbis chose to make a minyan based on an "evil community" of pessimistic spies. An evil ten becomes a positive mitzvah.

Why? What are we to learn from this? Even a small group can change perspectives, change fate, or change history. Think of the effect that having a minyan around has on a mourner. The sharing of care, compassion, and presence to bring comfort. And then think even more broadly. Who we hang out with, how we act, what we say, what we share and think and do at all times – all of these effect the world beyond ourselves. When we gather together, even when few in number, we can be a powerful force. For bad – as in the Israelite spies – or for good – hopefully when we gather as a community today.

We are to learn the strength of even small groups to change the course of history. May we never doubt our potentials and continue to explore the ways that we, our deeds, the causes we support, and the mitzvot we do, all impact those around us.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

June 20, 2008

Dear Friends,

At the beginning of Parashat B'ha'alotcha, God commands Aaron regarding the lighting of the menorah. Day in and day out Aaron would mount the lamps, adding additional oil each morning so that the light in the Sanctuary would never go out. The Vilna Gaon teaches that Aaron did this task again and again, never boring in the work and never taking it for granted; he always appreciated the importance of his duty.

Additionally, the Torah explicitly mentions that God's instructions included "let the seven lamps give light opposite (or towards) the front of the lampstand." Fire and flames emit light in every direction – why would the text specify that they should give light in only the forward direction?

If we recall that the book of Proverbs teaches, "The soul of a human being is a lamp for God," we can understand our parasha more deeply. Every human being is like the menorah, is a lamp and can be a light for others, for bringing Godliness into the world. In fact, we have the responsibility to always shed our light into dark places and cause light to shine forward. When faced with difficulties, can we look to the future to move forward with hope and even some sense of peace? Can we bring such optimism and potential goodness to those in our inner circles, and those even across the globe?

I offer two ways of lighting metaphoric lamps this weekend. Being Father's Day weekend, tell your father how much he has meant to you and let him smile a radiant smile knowing he has touched your life deeply. If your father is no longer in this world, let his soul's light continue to shine by donating to a cause or doing a deed that carries on one of the values he taught you. Second, it is just one month after the Chinese earthquake, and about five weeks since the cyclone in Burma. People often respond immediately to crises around the world, but as time moves on, we forget the need to constantly continue to re-light the lamps that show the suffering that still remains. Today's news reported that aid to victims in Burma, especially, is failing to reach even the half-way mark of necessary funds.

I have donated personally and also have made generous donations from my Rabbi's Discretionary Fund to organizations providing need in both these areas. I urge you, too, to "light a menorah" for others, so that they can see and believe in a today and a future. To highlight some Jewish organizations: The American Jewish World Service, www.ajws.org, and Mazon: A Jewish Response to Hunger, www.mazon.org, have been getting aid into Burma. The American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee (JDC) has been able to provide relief in both Burma and China, http://www.jdc.org/how_donate.html. Let us not forget the needs of those who suffer in darkness when we can still do our part to bring them light.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

June 13, 2008

Dear Friends,

William Blake once said, "Great things are done when men and mountains meet." For a non-Jewish poet, who was thinking more of Nature than Revelation, Blake understood quite a bit about Shavuot. After Shabbat, on this coming Sunday night, Monday and Tuesday, we will celebrate the giving and receiving of Torah at Mount Sinai. That moment when God's presence rested on the mountaintop, connecting the heavens and earth; when thunder and lightning were seen above the heads of our ancestors; when each individual heard God's voice speaking directly to him or her, transformed our people's consciousness. We connected ourselves forever to a partnership with God, and God bound God's self to a partnership with us, to bring holiness to this world; we were no longer slaves forced to work for Pharoah, we were a free people choosing to accept the one God; we were no longer individual family units, we were a combined people under one Law. Our destiny as a people had been transformed. Indeed, great things were done when men and women and children and mountains met.

Sinai was never intended to be a one-time event. We continue to meet God at the mountain every time that we fulfill mitzvot. We re-enact the moment of Sinai when we meet God by walking in God's ways, when we fulfill our responsibilities as Jews to God, people, and the world. Every Jewish act we do has the ability to transform the world as much as God's voice did in the wilderness.

Meeting mountains, and getting to see the awesome sights from mountaintops, takes effort, training, and perseverance. So, too, does embracing a Torah- and mitzvah-filled life. It is a matter of taking one step at a time, ever challenging oneself to go forward, to do more, and ever yearning to get closer to physical and spiritual heights. For great things to be done, let us all embrace Torah again, and gladly shout as our ancestors did, "Na'aseh v'nishma" – We will do and we will hear. Let us re-commit to God and Torah on this Shabbat and this Shavuot, and throughout our lives, to bring God's holiness into every aspect and corner of the world.

I especially look forward to seeing you at our "Moving Forward" Shabbat service this evening honoring our students -- preschool, 7th and 12th grade - who are moving forward with their education and embrace of Jewish life, and at the Tikkun Leil Shavuot study evening Sunday night at 7:30.

Shabbat shalom v'hag sameach,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

June 6, 2008

Dear Friends,

Despite the fact that Parashat Bamidbar that we read this week is my bat mitzvah portion, I have to admit that the text is relatively boring. It primarily consists of the census of the Israelites that occurred in the wilderness: long lists of tribes and numbers. Even the trope is repetitious: change the name, change the total count of families and people, but repeat the other words and tune again and again.

Why all this tedious repetition, and why count the people at all? The Biblical commentator Rashi explains that the counting was a demonstration of God's love for the Jewish people. When you cherish something, you repeatedly examine and count it.

It is a principle we are familiar with from our own lives. A collector of baseball cards, or stamps, or coins, or Coca Cola bottles repeatedly looks over those treasures, assessing their value, or recalling the circumstances of having acquired each piece. We care about how much money we have saved, or have to spend, and balance our checkbooks. Parents "count" their children, gazing upon them as they sleep, cherishing them at every age. We all count those things that we care about, prize, and value.

In each of these, it is not just counting that is important, but the attention and love it takes to account for each individual. This is what Rashi means when he teaches that God counted us out of love.

May we, acting in God's ways, use this Shabbat to take an accounting of those we love. Let us take pleasure in our families, friends, and colleagues. Tell them they are treasured. Remind them they are appreciated. In counting us, God reached out to establish a closer and more intimate relationship with each Israelite; let us strive to do the same with those who count in our lives.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

May 30, 2008

Dear Friends,

What does one do when nature gets out of control? The question seems to be a weekly one of late. Yesterday's blazing and wind-fed Santa Cruz fires may be a warning that we are in for a particularly scary summer; California's first fires of the summer, while it's still May, just as the Bay Area announced water rationing guidelines due to our low rainfall and drought. Yet, even that natural disaster seems pale in comparison to the news over the past weeks. We have watched images of the tens of thousands killed and missing from the cyclone in Burma and from the earthquake China; hundreds of thousands homeless. The images of China standing still for three minutes this week in memory of those killed was heart-wrenchingly powerful; the pictures I saw this morning of entire towns being razed to have to begin completely anew from nothing, no family, no friends, no property, almost no hope, are beyond devastating and almost impossible to understand. The reports that the Myanmar junta continues to refuse aid from reaching survivors (today's reports are that certain international aid workers will now be allowed in) disturbs, disgusts, and terrifies me.

In the light of all of this death and destruction, we could easily stop from paralysis. We could easily give up faith and say, "Where is God?" We could easily say there's nothing I can do.

Elijah the prophet, when facing crisis in his life, fled to a cave to try to avoid it all. God met him there, but as the Bible relates, God wasn't in the wind, earthquake, or fire that shook his hiding place. (I Kings 19:11-12) God was in a still, small voice that followed all of these natural forces.

God does not cause natural devastation. But God is in the response we human beings bring in the aftermath of them.

Here are three Jewish organizations I particularly want to highlight for donations for oversea relief:

The American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee: www.jdc.org or 212-687-6200
Mazon: www.mazon.org or 310-442-0020
American Jewish World Service (Burma only): www.ajws.org or 212-792-2900

Wherever you choose to give, I encourage you to be God's still, small voice and do your part in bringing hope and aid to those who have lost almost everything.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

P.S. The American Jewish World Service emailed an update on Burma yesterday, which included this news: "AJWS has been in constant contact with grantee organizations in communities neighboring the affected regions since the disaster struck and is working with them to make sure that aid reaches those who need it most. AJWS emergency funding is supporting the Emergency Assistance Team, a coordinated relief effort that includes the Mae Tao Clinic and several AJWS grantees. Inside Burma, the Emergency Assistance Team is visiting affected communities, assessing needs, distributing food and clean water, providing shelter and health services, and disposing of dead bodies. The team is also documenting the scenes and abuses they are witnessing. Grassroots relief efforts like those supported by AJWS are vital to the people of Burma at this time. While some Southeast Asian aid workers are now being granted visas to enter the country, aid efforts are still being hampered by the Burmese junta and aid workers are still not being allowed into the most badly affected areas. It is estimated that aid has only reached 30% of those who need it, and there are reports that international aid is being sold on the open market instead of being distributed." (More info can be found at http://www.ajws.org/assets/uploaded_documents/5-08_burma_one-pager_final.pdf)

May 23, 2008

Dear Friends,

This week's parasha, Emor, begins with a command and reminder to the Cohanim, the priestly class that performed offerings in the Tabernacle, that they have a special role before God. As such, they are not to become ritually impure – and thereby prevent themselves from entering the holiness of the Tabernacle and God's presence – by coming into contact with the dead. One exception is made to this prohibition. A Cohen must become impure for an immediate family member who has died. In making this requirement, the priest is forced to remove himself from his duties in the Tabernacle, and must instead focus on the burial needs of his loved ones and his own mourning needs.

There is an important lesson in this ancient law for the Cohanim. We seek God, and even serve God, in many times and ways. We are being reminded by the parasha that being there for our family and ourselves is a vital path to finding holiness and serving God. How many of us have fallen into the routine (or trap) of working super-long hours "for our families," only to find we then do not make the time to be with those families? Or, are too physically and emotionally exhausted to be with them when we do take off? God tells the Cohanim – perhaps even too late in the game – that they must make time for those they love and they must make time for themselves and their emotional needs. We cannot work non-stop; there are things in this world that are even more important than working in God's Tabernacle.

I hope that each of us takes some time this Shabbat and Mother's Day weekend to appreciate those we love. Spend time seriously talking and listening – disengaging from our work or other distractions to do so. Let us give a gift of time and presence to appreciate and renew our family bonds, to refresh our souls, and to give thanks to and for those who deserve our gratitude.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

May 9, 2008

Dear Friends,

One of the primary principles of the Torah is found in this week's Torah reading, Parashat Kedoshim: "Kedoshim t'hiyu" – "You shall be holy." Our Rabbis and Sages have given varied interpretations to this mitzvah. One of my favorite readings is that of the Kotzker Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendl of Kotzk, who writes: "You shall be holy: Can God demand that a human attain the level of holiness? This does not mean that one must attain the level of angels, something which is impossible. All that God demands is that humans attain the level of holiness of which they are capable. Be holy: in whatever circumstances you find yourself, advance a little at a time in your holiness."

Each of us is capable of fulfilling this teaching on a daily basis. We can take small step after small step to change ourselves, our actions, our reactions, our behaviors and thoughts so that we are ever seeking and building holy time, spaces, relationships. We can seek out ways to elevate everyday actions and to make the people that surround us feel special. We can consciously bring God into our midst, or note the beauty around us, or stop to really pay attention to another person. One act after another allows us to grow and soon see the world in a different, distinct – holy -- way.

Nations, too, can be holy and can seek holiness. This week on Thursday we will mark Yom HaAtzmaut, Israel's Independence Day; we will celebrate 60 years since the founding of the State of Israel. The dream of Israel's founders was that this Jewish state would become an experiment in holiness, that in Jews living Jewish lives in a sovereign Jewish state, we would be able to live up to the precept of being and becoming holy. No one and no state can be successful 100% of the time, yet in these 60 years, it's amazing what Israel has done to attain holiness in a complex, often violent, world. May she, and we, continue to celebrate all the many holy steps that have and will continue to be taken to fulfill this on-going dream. Happy 60th, Israel!

Each week we sanctify Shabbat and call it holy. May this Shabbat be another step in the paths of holiness we make and walk in our and our people's lives. Kedoshim t'hiyu.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

May 2, 2008

Dear Friends,

The re-telling and re-experiencing of the story of the Exodus that we celebrate at the beginning of Pesach is an event that continues liturgically throughout the eight days of the holiday. When the end of Pesach comes, we read about the continuing miracles our ancestors experienced exactly one week after leaving Egypt. Our Torah reading for the seventh day of Pesach, which this year is also Shabbat, is the splitting of the Sea of Reeds and the Song of the Sea – the song Moshe, Miriam and the Israelites sang as they saw their enemies drowning and realized that their redemption was for real.

A midrash describes the role that the tribes, and, in particular, one tribal leader played in the miracle of the splitting of the sea. According to Rabbi Meir, when the Israelites stood by the Sea of Reeds, the tribes strove with each other, each wishing to descend into the sea first. According to Rabbi Yehuda, each tribe held back and was unwilling to be the first to enter the sea. Both rabbis taught that finally Nachshon ben Amminadav, a prince of the tribe of Judah, sprang forward and descended first into the waters, at which point God caused them to part. (Sotah 36b) These two rabbis seem to be describing different understandings of human nature. When facing a crisis, people can freeze up, can argue, can debate – can desire right action but not act or can completely retreat from acting. Alternatively, people can jump into heroism.

A major teaching of Pesach is the need to live the Exodus experience anew in every generation, b'chol dor va'dor. In our lives, can we train ourselves to be ones who see the solution and jump into being an active partner in that resolution? Can we stand up to the plate and do our part, not to overly debate or retreat from the needs of the day, but to be a player in bringing freedom and redemption to all? If we can become more like Nachshon, in how many more miracles might God partner with us? As we enter Shabbat and begin to wind down our Pesach holiday, let us all do more to be do-ers and actors in our personal lives, in our communal lives, and in human history

Shabbat Shalom and Hag Sameach,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

April 25, 2008

Dear Friends,

I am typing this message as my family has just begun arriving from the East Coast. I am excited that they are out here to celebrate my first Pesach in California, in Walnut Creek, and at B'nai Shalom with me. Pesach, after all, was originally conceived of as a family holiday. Leading up to the Exodus, the Israelites were told to gather by families and to bring a kid (a lamb) into their households (Exodus 12:3). Many of the commentators teach that we are to understand this command quite literally, that is, our Hebrew ancestors actually brought a kid physically into their homes. The kid, trapped in the home, was a symbol of the enslavement of the Israelites trapped in Mitzrayim (Egypt). Further, the lamb was a deity in the eyes of the Egyptians; bringing the kid into the home – and designating it as a sacrifice -- was both a "treasonous" and courageous act – an act of supreme defiance. The Torah is teaching us that there is no freedom without action on our parts.

The Biblical commentator Rashi teaches that not only was the kid in the house, but also once killed, its blood was brushed on the inside of the doorposts. The angel of God bringing the final plague certainly didn't need to see the blood to know the homes of the Israelites -- they had been protected from the previous nine plagues without any outward physical sign. "It shall be a sign for you," reads the Torah concerning the blood on the doorposts (Exodus 12:13); the blood was an internal symbol for the Hebrews reminding them of their uniqueness, of their covenant with God. Only when they had internalized God's promise and acted courageously were they ready for freedom. There is no freedom without an internal, personal yearning.

During the hectic, demanding preparations leading up to Pesach, it is easy to feel, like that lamb, enslaved by the ritual. Let us remember instead that we have freely chosen to observe this festival; our choices are a proud declaration of our freedom as Jews. When we come to sit down at our sedarim, we will see all around us the signs of our redemption. Let us make a commitment to always fill our homes with Jewish symbols so that the joy and pride of Pesach will be with our families for all time.

From me and on behalf of the B'nai Shalom staff and our families, our best wishes to each of you for a joyous, meaningful, and "impact-full" Pesach experience.

Shabbat shalom and hag kasher v'sameach!

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

April 18, 2008

Dear Friends,

Ma nishtanah ha-laila ha-ze…? Every Pesach – just one week away – the youngest begins the Magid section of the seder with questions. At a certain point, I noticed that the "youngest" at our family seders was no longer so young: my brother or one of his friends, a the age of fifteen, twenty, twenty-eight, was the "youngest," and was starting to resent this tradition. We would continue to tease this "child," and in doing so, we also missed some of the point of the four questions. According to the Rabbis, everyone is required to ask questions on Pesach – even a person celebrating the seder alone is to ask him/herself questions.

When we take this teaching seriously, Pesach takes on a whole new depth. For what are the types of questions appropriate to the holiday? Perhaps it is questions like "the four questions." Perhaps it is questions like those asked by the four children: questions about the past, questions about ritual, about history, tradition. Perhaps there is also a different series of questions to ask, too.

Towards the end of the seder, we all stand and open the door to welcome in Eliyahu the prophet. Eliyahu's presence is to herald in the coming of the Messianic Age. According to tradition, the night of Pesach is when God will allow the Messiah to bring justice and freedom to earth. Each year, according to the midrash, the Messiah begs God for the chance to descend from heaven and bring the gift of redemption to the world. And each year, so far, this plea has been rejected: "Humanity is not yet ready."

The very adult question each and every one of us should ask this year is: What can I do to change God's response? How can I ready this world for redemption? Have I been aware enough in this past year of the plight of others who suffer? Have I carried through on that awareness – of hunger, of genocide, of homelessness, of torture, of abuse, of slavery, of other broken or destroyed lives – and acted to improve the lives of those not free? What tangible steps will I now take to assist them? Here are four websites I present for you to explore and consider, and perhaps bring in as leading questions to your seder to lead to actionable deeds at this time of year:

www.savedarfur.org – What are you doing to stop the genocide in Darfur?

www.jwi.org – What is your awareness of Domestic Violence in the Jewish community? What can we do to bring this horror to light and free those being abused from fear?

http://s89670134.onlinehome.us/orhadashusa/sederinsert.pdf and www.orhadashusa.org – What democratic liberties and freedoms have we American citizens been giving up or losing over time? Will we take steps to remain a truly free nation?

http://www.mfa.gov.il/MFA/MFAArchive/2000_2009/2004/1/Israeli%20MIAs – Israeli MIAs Ron Arad, Zachary Baumel, Zvi Feldman, Yehuda Katz, Guy Hever, Gilad Shalit, Eldad Regev and Ehud Goldwasser remain captive, their fates unknown; how do we remind ourselves, and the world, of their lack of freedom?

I wish you all good luck cleaning and preparing for sedarim over this week. Then, a hag kasher v'sameach, a celebratory holiday of many questions and much growth.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

April 11, 2008

Dear Friends,

This Shabbat – the Shabbat when we announce the new month of Nisan, the month of Pesach – is called Shabbat HaHodesh. In the special additional Torah reading we will chant tomorrow, God says, "This month shall mark for you the beginning of the months; it shall be the first of the months of the year for you." Why should the month of Pesach be chosen as the first month, as the beginning of the year for us?

Pesach is all about freedom. About moving out of slavery to have self-determination of our own destiny. Further, through the process of leaving Egypt, we became a people, not just a family group of brothers, but a nation with a shared history and a future purpose. One of the hallmark signs of freedom is the ability to make choices of one's time. To celebrate one's holidays on one's own schedule and calendar. To mark the year according to one people's own cyclical and temporal traditions. In coming out of Egypt, we were given the ability to mark time by our values and our people's important moments; Pesach, the archetypical celebration of such liberty, is rightfully within the first month of our Jewish calendar year.

There are many other, albeit smaller, "freedom" holidays we celebrate on the Jewish calendar, among them Hanukkah and Yom Ha'Atzmaut/Israel's Independence Day. Let me remind you that we have the unique opportunity to celebrate Israel's 60th year together as a CBS community in Israel this Hanukkah. Hazzan Dinkin and I are still looking to fill this December trip – an important calendar deadline is next Friday, April 11. Yes, the deadline is only one week away. We must have all registration forms and deposits by that date. Do not miss out on this incredible opportunity. Choose to be "This year in Jerusalem!" at the very time of year when the Jewish calendar is clearly the minority calendar in American society. May we all embrace our Jewish times and our Jewish freedoms and celebrate together.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

April 4, 2008

Dear Friends,

While not the most "exciting" part of Parashat Shemini -- which also includes a Divine pyrotechnic killing of two of Aaron's sons -- a good portion of this week's Torah reading is about the laws of kashrut, of kosher and non-kosher animals. When I first arrived at CBS, I never expected that my first halakhic conversations were going to be about kashrut. Perhaps I should not have been surprised, after all Conservative Judaism began over kosher food. In 1885, when Rabbi Isaac Meir Wise of Hebrew Union College (the ordaining school of the Reform movement) arranged for the celebratory dinner to mark the first class of American-ordained rabbis, the meal was openly and unabashedly treif. Virtually very single course featured a non-kosher item: clams, crabs, shrimp, frog's legs, meat and cream. Many traditionalists walked out of this "Treifah Banquet" and later would found the Jewish Theological Seminary, the first of the now four schools that ordain Conservative rabbis.

Why was kashrut so important to those who left this infamous dinner? And, more importantly, why should we care about kashrut today?

On one level, it is because as Conservative Jews we seek to "conserve" and preserve Jewish traditions. Conservative Jews are committed to Jewish tradition, Jewish community, and Jewish beliefs – as they play out both in ethical and ritual ways.

The Torah tells us simply to "be holy" when summarizing the kosher laws this week. I also know that I – and many others -- keep kosher for a myriad of additional reasons. It is a spiritual discipline that can enrich one's life deeply. Every living thing needs to eat to survive; it's a simple biological necessity. Keeping kosher -- making kosher choices when we select our food and our meals – reminds us of God's presence when we eat, and allows us to raise up our biological needs to a spiritual level. Further, three (or, including snacks, more) times a day, kosher food choices remind us of our Jewish identities – our connections to our ancestors who made similar choices, and hopefully ties us to a future which will share similar practices. We are reminded each time we eat that we our guests in God's world – and as guests we enjoy the food selected for us by our Host. We can foster a sense of community, connecting over shared food habits.

Additionally, it has been pointed out that all kosher animals are herbivores – and "you are what you eat." Others note that kosher slaughter is more humane that certain other ways of killing for meat. One can even say kashrut is the Jewish community's age-old answer to the "Omnivore's Dilemma." Even if the Torah's explanation of "why" is short, it is an accepted part of Jewish tradition to search for ever-deeper levels of meaning.

As I have encouraged before, Jewish practice is never an "all or nothing" system. Wherever you are on the ladder of Jewish practice, I encourage you to take one more kosher step this week; see what it is like – what spiritual, communal, or personal effect it has upon you, and continue to explore in the weeks to come. I am always here to answer questions or help with the journey.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

March 28, 2008

Dear Friends,

Happy Purim!! I am on an excited high! According to the Sages of the First Temple Period, no one has seen a party unless they had been in Jerusalem for the Water Drawing festival at the end of Sukkot. I think I can, with only the slightest bit of exaggeration, beg to differ with the Rabbis of old. No one has seen a party, carnival, and celebratory atmosphere unless they have been at CBS for Purim evening!

Last night was a beautiful display of fun, games, community, and joy. We had over 200 kids and adults, who were jumping, playing, and gathering – having fun – at our Purim Carnival, after which we all paraded up to the Sanctuary for a rowdy, loud, energy-filled and child-centered (with children of all ages in costumes singing and enjoying themselves!) Family Megillah reading, with songs led by young-er (our Gan Shalom preschoolers) and old-er (those preschoolers-at-heart who got up to make fools of themselves leading "La Kova Sheli" – "My Hat has Three Corners") members. The Traditional "Ganze Megillah" Reading that followed brought in additional grogger-noise, book tossing, and animal noises (come next year if you are at all confused by those descriptions!).

I am also proud that our collection of tzedakah to fulfill the Purim mitzvah of "matanot l'evyonim" – gifts to those in need – brought in over $425 which we will be sending to the Masorti Movement, our Conservative Movement arm in Israel, to help residents of S'derot and Ashkelon. In part, this money will help take residents on excursions to Jerusalem, Tel-Aviv and other locations outside of the daily rocket-barrage attacks (including busing children to amusement parks) to help them escape and/or temporarily forget the conditions they are living under. If you want to help in this project, you can also send checks directly to the Masorti Foundation, Suite 832, 475 Riverside Drive, New York, NY 10015.

Thanks to all who participated yesterday – from those who were organizers to hot dog bbq-ers to our seventh grade game mavens to everyone who celebrated, ran around, and stomped out Haman's name. This would never have been such a success without you.

And if you still haven't had enough fun, come Saturday night at 8 pm for our 70s-themed adult Purim party. Find those retro clothes and come ready to disco and Hustle.

As we celebrate Purim today and move on into Shabbat, may we truly see the day, soon in our lifetimes, when evil is indeed rooted out and evil do-ers will be no more!

Hag Purim sameach and Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

March 21, 2008

Dear Friends,

"Don't tell her I said it, but…" "Have you heard…?" "It's not really my news to share, but…" It's virtually human nature to love to gossip. Even as it is wrong, and potentially damaging, to oneself and others to do so.

Our Torah reading is mostly about offerings to God – the korbanot – literally the "things that draw one close" to God. Introducing the lists of sacrificial rituals, the very first verse of Parashat Vayikra says, "The Holy One called to Moses and spoke to him from the Tent of Meeting, saying…" Our Rabbis ask why there is a superfluous word in this opening line. God isn't generally seen as "verbose," so what is meant by the extra word "saying"? One Sage suggests that it comes to teach us that if one said something to one's neighbor, the latter must not spread the news without the informant's consent (Yoma 4b). Even though it was obvious that God – speaking publicly from within the Tent of Meeting about communal rituals -- intended Moses to pass along God's laws and information and words to the Israelites, still Moses needed specific permission to do so.

From one extra word, we learn the importance of confidentiality. If Moses needed God's okay to pass along Torah teachings, how much more should we honor the confidences of those who share personal news with us? It is very easy to let something told to you, and you alone, to "slip out" in broader conversation. To generally disclose something that was meant only for your ears. As difficult as it is, we all can do better to foster trust and to train ourselves with proper use of words. Perhaps only then, our Torah reading implies, will we truly be able to come close to God, and other human beings.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

March 14, 2008

Dear Friends,

I have not yet bought a GPS; I admit that I still rely upon Mapquest to get around. Yet, I love the concept of having a GPS tell me where to go, being able to announce to me in advance: "In 200 yards, turn right on Main Street." I have also, at times, wondered what life would have been like for the Israelites had Moses been able to invest in such a device. "In 4 days, turn left at Mt. Sinai." And then when Moses failed to do so, hearing it say, over and over again, "Re-calculating..." At the very least, it would make a good Purim comedy skit for fourteen days from now.

Parashat Pekudei hints that the Israelites had the 2nd-or-3rd-millennium-before-the-common-era equivalent to a GPS. The work of the Tabernacle is finally completed, and God's Presence has descended to fill the Tabernacle. "When the cloud lifted from the Tabernacle, the Israelites would set out on their various journeys… for over the Tabernacle a cloud of Adonai rested by day, and fire would appear in it by night, in view of all the house of Israel throughout their journeys." (Ex. 40:36,38) They seem to have traveled by GPS – a God Positioning System.

Joking aside, I am sure that this cloud/fire was amazing. Here were a people just out of slavery, on their own in an unfamiliar and unknown territory. They had already been pursued by their former oppressors, and been attacked once by another tribe. The future was equally uncertain. They knew they were heading to Canaan; I can imagine, though, they questioned what that meant and would mean for their lives. And yet, all they had to do was look up to see God was with them and in their midst.

We do not have such obvious signs of God's Presence with us today. God's Presence is more hidden, and has to be looked for more carefully in other places and ways. In the love of a community. The smile of a child. The support of a colleague. The friendly gesture of a passerby. The coming together in compassion and comfort during a crisis. God does still attend to us, is still magnificently in our midst, if we only adjust and attune our consciousness. May we all have our eyes opened to seeing this, and our hands and hearts opened to being such conduits for God's holiness.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

I dedicate my message this week to the families of the victims of Thursday's murderous killing spree at Jerusalem's Mercaz HaRav Yeshiva and to the citizens of S'derot and Ashkelon, who have been living under the constant barrage of Palestinian rocket fire. May they find comfort through the caring hands and loving faces of their families, friends, and communities, and may Israel one day achieve security, and ultimately peace.

March 7, 2008

Dear Friends,

This week, while attending a conference for Jewish communal leaders, I attended a session on marketing. (Yes, this is the language of 21st century Judaism!) We discussed that marketing involved promoting both the tangibles and the intangibles of our institutions. Further, while people look for both, they are especially drawn by and "purchase" based on the latter. One buys a Volvo for "safety," Ivory soap for "purity," an iPod for "hip-ness". So, too, congregants want a synagogue to have the tangibles: a preschool, a religious school, clergy, a sanctuary and building facility. Even more so, we seek out in a synagogue a sense of community, spirituality, connectedness, belonging: the intangibles. In reading the parasha, I found that God understood the same marketing principle -- 4000 years ago, long before there were marketing consultants to give advice or guidance.

Parashat Vayakel begins with Moses' injunction that the Children of Israel are to observe/guard the Shabbat; that no physical labor is to be done on the seventh day. Almost immediately the text switches directions, to describe all the details concerning the building of the Mishkan, the portable Tabernacle where the Israelites worshiped and approached God as they traveled through the wilderness and into the Land of Israel. The text seamlessly juxtaposes two concepts of sacred time and sacred space, the intangible and the tangible. While the parashah dedicates most of its "time/space" on the tangible, physical world, it begins with the other world, the intangible world. The intangibles are what we "buy" or "buy in" for. God astutely understands human character.

Many of us spend the vast majority of our time in the tangible world. With books, documents, instruments, computers; working and laboring to bring home the very tangible paycheck. Our parasha tells us those are all important and have their time and place. Yet, today, the tangible, physical tabernacle, the Mishkan, no longer exists, while the intangible one, Shabbat, has endured for ages. It is the intangibles that are the most compelling, permanent and lasting. The time we spend with family, with friends. Sharing, time and presence and attention. Giving love, showing support, and demonstrating our care. These can never be replaced, and endure and are remembered longest.

May we all use this Shabbat – and the next 52, 104, and 520+ Shabbatot -- in an intangible world, "buying in" to all that is holy, lasting, meaning-enhancing, and relationship building in our worlds.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

February 29, 2008

Dear Friends,

Parashat Ki Tissa – in which the central scene is the sin of the Golden Calf -- is not one of our high points as a people. Not long after all of the people have directly heard and experienced Revelation, Moses is up on Mt. Sinai with God, receiving God's words of Torah. The Israelites, meanwhile, are at the base of the mountain, pressuring Moses' brother Aaron to make a molten calf of gold for them to worship. The idol is made, and they lewdly dance, pray, and celebrate around it.

"This is your God, O Israel, who brought you out of the land of Egypt" (Ex. 32:8) the people exclaim as they sacrifice to the calf. Whoa and hang on one minute! Who brought on the Plagues? Who led them forth out of Egypt? How many miracles have they experienced at God's hand? Only forty days have passed since God spoke to them! How could they have so quickly forgotten? So quickly stooped so low?

I am made to wonder: is there something in the nature of human beings that leads us to so quickly forget the wonderful things in our lives and allows us to so easily fall into despair? The 2nd century Sage Rabbi Meir taught that we are supposed to say 100 blessings every day. It is not just a sense of gratitude that Rabbi Meir is asking us to foster. It is also a sense of memory. We need to remember the many things that we are blessed with in our lives, review them, savor and appreciate them – so that we hold on to those moments of good. It is something I try to do each week as I light my Shabbat candles. I stand there just a moment longer than the blessing, with my hands over my eyes, and I review the week, recalling the highpoints and the blessings I experienced in the past seven days. I let go of my disappointments, and I enter Shabbat with a positive sense, with good memories. May we all know and regularly recall our blessings, and thereby experience a depth of true Godliness and holiness in our lives.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

February 22, 2008

Dear Friends,

Our ancestors had it easy! As Parashat Titzaveh describes, anytime they wanted to know God's will, they just asked. "Inside the breastplate of decision you shall place the Urim and Tummim, so that they are over Aaron's heart when he comes before Adonai. Thus Aaron shall carry the instrument of decision for the Israelites over his heart before Adonai at all times" (Ex. 28:21). The text and our tradition teach that the Urim and Tummim were a device for determining the will of God in specific matters. Want to know what to do, how to act, what God desires of you? Just consult Aaron or the High Priest! Spiritual and religious life doesn't get much clearer than that.

In my Wednesday morning Adult Education class this week, we ended with a brief discussion about the structure of Rabbinic literature, that in both the Mishnah and the Talmud, our Sages did not always come to one final decision of "do it this way." Rather, multiple opinions, even those at odds with one another, were recorded and often left unresolved. My belief is that the Rabbis understood that they were not writing a law textbook, but rather a religious guide, and no one person, opinion, or argument can embrace the multifaceted greatness of God. Every argument made for the Sake of Heaven has holiness – even if those opinions appear contradictory.

The Rabbinic system is a lot messier than the Biblical one, but much more profound as well.

The question and challenge becomes how do you form a community (be it a religious community, a political community, or even a family structure) in such a system? What do you do with multiple ideas of "right"? What do you do with not one Truth, but multiple pieces of Truth? One engages in a practice that we living today have gotten sorely out of practice with. You talk and you listen, engaging in both with humility. You seek to understand and appreciate the different piece of Truth another is holding and presenting. Only when one acknowledges that another's view has Godliness and holiness, can true dialogue begin – and ultimate paths and directions in life be shared. May we all find the willingness, the patience, the strength, and the fortitude to seek out God's wisdom in all its arguments and forms, and be willing to live a life less based on certitude and more on the Revelation that comes through openness, sharing, and holy deliberation.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

February 15, 2008

Shalom Friends,

"Let them build Me a Sanctuary that I may dwell among them." So God commands the Israelites in Parashat Terumah. It is a beautiful, but slightly surprising request. God has introduced God's self as more "verb" than "noun" ("I am what I am" is the name God gave to Moses at the Burning Bush – implying more action than physicality), and then at Mt. Sinai, God encourages the Israelites to avoid physical representations for worship, and now suddenly God wants a house? Throughout the centuries, our Sages have all responded to this question in different ways.

Perhaps my favorite explanation comes from the Kotzker Rebbe, "It says b'tochem, 'among them.' It does not say b'tocho, "among /within it.' This is to teach you that each person must build the Sanctuary in his/her own heart; only then will God dwell among them."

According to the Kotzker Rebbe, God asks each and every one of us to build ourselves into dwelling places for God; we are to live lives filled with a sense of holiness, kedusha, so God may then dwell among us. We are to act in ways that bring God closer to us – being the verb and action and spiritual support that God also is. In performing mitzvot or deeds of loving-kindness - when we ritualize, set aside, and make holy special times and places; when we elevate the food we eat through our food choices and giving thanks; when we give tzedakah or clean up the environment or pause to truly listen and see another person -- we bring God into into ourselves, into our lives, and effectively into this physical world. May we all consciously work at building our own personal Mishkan, a Sanctuary in our souls for God, this Shabbat, this week, and every day of our lives.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

February 8, 2008

Dear Friends,

Parashat Mishpatim covers exactly what its Hebrew name suggests. Mishpatim means "laws," and the Torah reading lays out a litany of rules for the Israelites, seemingly randomly intermixing ritual and interpersonal practices in a long list of responsibilities for the Jewish people. We are to pay restitution for stolen or harmed property; to not eat blood; to not wrong strangers; to not carry false rumors; to not mix milk and meat; and to shun bribery -- to list just a few of Mishpatim's mitzvot. I think the wide span and disparate nature of topics covered in these regulations serves as a reminder of how complex society is – a timely reminder with our primary elections this week. May we all do our civic duty on Tuesday, carefully weighing the many and various factors that are important to each of us, as we vote for our parties' presidential candidates.

Further into the parasha, we find one of my favorite verses. God says to Moshe, "Come up to the mountain and be there" (Ex 24:12). The Kotzker Rebbe points out that, on a surface read, God is being verbose. Once you're on the mountain, you're there. But, no, the Kotzker Rebbe says, too often, we are physically in a place, but emotionally and spiritually we are removed and elsewhere. Moshe is being told by God, don't just be on the mountain, but be fully in My Presence. It's a message for us as much as it was for our teacher Moshe.

Can we better train ourselves to see not just the beauty of nature, but God beyond and in an amazing view or a natural miracle? Can we be better at not just sitting by or near those we know or love, but interacting with them fully – caring, listening, and touching the human and Divine within them? God is calling out to us – in every place, time, and with every deed we do – can we consciously raise our awareness, can we do more than simply approach God through those moments, times, places, and acts, and "be there" with God, too?

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

February 1, 2008

Dear Friends,

Parashat Yitro is a darshan's dream. Pyrotechnics, thunder and lightning, shaking mountains, and within and above it all: God's voice speaking to the people, gathered beneath the mountain in awe and amazement. Revelation – the idea that God revealed God's self at Sinai and gave us the mitzvot, our Jewish way of life – is a core concept in Judaism. Ever since, we have debated as a people exactly what was said and heard at Sinai, struggled with the concept of "Torah min haShamayim," "Torah from Heaven," and challenged ourselves to interpret that moment and the meaning and details of God-given laws.

I think it is no coincidence that a parasha with such deep themes is one of the handful of Torah readings named for a person: Yitro, Moshe's father-in-law, who comes having heard of the wonders God performed for Israel. Yitro arrives bearing his own "law," advice to his already overburdened son-in-law, "Moshe, you've taken too much upon your own shoulders; subdivide your adjudicating responsibilities. Others should help with this job. Others can deal with the smaller issues."

Moshe and the Israelites in effect receive two revelations this week: one from God and one in human form. These two are set side-by-side to remind us that both are equally important; God's voice can be heard in many places and ways. We, too, are to hear the Divine voice when we read from and study Torah, and we are to hear the application of God's teaching when we experience God in the people around us and in living that Torah. Only when we take both aspects of this duality seriously does Revelation truly continue, on-going through today. May we all open ourselves to hearing both of these voices. May we continue as human beings to partner with God, bringing continuing relevance and reality to the mitzvot and our tradition.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

January 25, 2008

Dear Friends,

I am always excited when our Torah reading, Jewish tradition, the Jewish calendar and the American holidays all seem to coincide. This Shabbat we read Parashat B'shallach, the Torah reading that describes our ancestors' exodus from Egypt and the crossing of the Sea of Reeds.

Because of the song that the Torah records Moses, Miriam, and the Israelites singing as they crossed through the Sea on dry land, this Shabbat is also called Shabbat Shira – the Shabbat of Song. There is even an Eastern European Jewish custom which was encouraged by the Maharal (Rabbi Judah Loew, 16th c.) to go out and feed birds on this Shabbat -- because birds perched in the trees and sang along with the Israelites to celebrate the freedom of the former slaves. This minhag teaches that all of creation celebrates when freedom is at hand, and all who participate in supporting freedom are to be thanked and praised. Appropriately, this weekend also happens to be Martin Luther King, Jr weekend, when we as Americans mark the important role that Dr. King played in bringing greater civil rights, freedoms, and equality to the African-American community, a community whose history and story is also one of moving out of slavery – and whose journey milestones were often marked with and recorded through song.

Movement from slavery to freedom is one that is worthy of celebration. The true test of freedom, however, is not only being able to sing and rejoice in it, but to be able to increase the numbers of those who can sing tunes and compose words of praise. There are many in our world who cannot yet rejoice, who do not yet know freedom, who suffer from tyranny, genocide, human slave traffic, disease, hunger, domestic violence, poverty. My challenge to each of us this Shabbat and this Martin Luther King weekend is to use our overflowing blessings of freedom to make a difference for those who are not yet free. Write a Congressperson or State Legislator about making change. Donate to an organization that enhances liberties and life. Give of your time over this long weekend to volunteer for a cause that seeks out better conditions for another. Let us truly put slavery behind us as a human race and be able to bring Dr. King's words of the Negro Spiritual, "Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, I'm free at last," closer to reality for all peoples.

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michelle Fisher

P.S. Personally, I have been "singing" all this week, still hearing and feeling the incredible sounds of joy, love, commitment, and celebration at last Saturday night's Installation. Another thank you to everyone who worked on preparing for the evening, those involved in the program that night, and everyone who came to join together as a community for this congregational milestone. It was beautiful. May we all go from strength to strength.

January 18, 2008

Dear Friends,

In this week's Torah portion, Bo, the Israelites finally leave Egypt and Egyptian slavery. The tenth plague comes, and Pharaoh and the Egyptians send the Hebrews forth, demanding and begging them to depart. In anticipation of the final plague and the subsequent exodus, God commands our ancestors to observe their very first Pesach, even while they are still in Egypt. They are told, "Remember this day, on which you went free from Egypt, the house of bondage" (Ex 13:3). Our Sages later teach that this charge was not just for the generation of the Exodus, but for every single one of us, every Jew, in every single time and every age. Each of us must see ourselves as if we personally left Egypt. Internalizing this understanding becomes one of the goals and foundational supports of almost every act – both ritual acts and interpersonal acts of hesed and tikkun olam -- we do as Jews.

What does it mean to experience slavery and freedom? We may not always think of it as such, but we all have moments in our lives when we face personal Egypts. When we feel like we are enslaved. Or alone. In need of healing. In need of support. Our Egypts can be large: like leaving an abusive relationship, staying afloat in an overwhelming job or in an office that over-works and under-appreciates us, or overcoming