by Ner Tamid | Oct 20, 2024 | Sermons
The cover of last year’s Yeshiva University’s Torah publication says it all. It has a picture of a man walking from a Maserati to a private jet with a kippah on his head and his tzitzis hanging out. The title of the publication is, A Material Matter: Jewish Influence in Contemporary Times.
Tradition Magazine, the intellectual mouthpiece of the Rabbinical Council of America hosted a one-day symposium on the topic of materialism and the excesses of wealth in the Orthodox community and dedicated a full journal to the topic. Most discussed was an article by Rabbi Jeremy Wieder, a rebbi in YU, who highlighted, among other things, a short-lived Orthodox publication known as the Mocher magazine which “surveyed fine wines, shpitz suits, cigars, man caves, and fine watches.” In a subsequent podcast he lambasted those who go on exotic vacations and share their pictures with others. If you want to go to the slopes of Vail, go for it, he said. But to share pictures of yourself doing so is the ultimate violation of tzniut, the Jewish value on modesty.
And there’s a certain irony here. While the Orthodox community’s taste in fine things continues to grow, so much of our literature promotes perishut, a sense of holding back and refraining from enjoying the indulgences of this world. Avital Chizhik-Goldschmidt and Chaim Saiman share an example of this tension: When Rav Chaim Kaniefsky, the leading Torah scholar in Israel passed away a few years ago, there were two things that people spoke about – his diligence in studying Torah and his simplicity. He lived in a tiny apartment in Bnei Brak despite being the most influential person in the Orthodox world. And yet, after he passed, his shtender, the piece of wood he learned from every day was sold by auction for millions of dollars.
Today we read the book of Kohelet. Rav Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin suggests that the book was originally a lecture given by King Solomon to the visiting gentiles who would flock to Israel during the holidays. This would explain why there is barely any mention of G-d in the entire book and even when there is, the more universal name ‘Elokim’ is used. Be that as it may, Kohelet, a book which is a sustained critique against hedonism is not directed to the Jewish People, seemingly because they did not need it.
Our Sages were wise enough to recognize that in the modern era, Solomon’s message is as relevant as can be. For those who missed it this morning, King Shlomo engages in an experiment. To quote: “I withheld from my eyes nothing… and denied myself no enjoyment… I multiplied my possessions. I built myself houses and I planted vineyards.” In modern terms, whatever ads showed up in Mishpacha magazine was immediately purchased by King Solomon; he went on all the vacations, bought all the watches, the wigs, and the jewelry.
But when it was all said done, he was left with nothing. Writes Shlomo: “A lover of money never has his fill of money, nor a lover of wealth his fill of income. That too is futile. As his substance increases, so do those who consume it; what, then, does the success of its owner amount to but feasting his eyes?”
Why am I sharing all this with you? Our parking lot is not filled with fancy cars, people are not wearing high-end watches, and I rarely see anyone here sharing vacation pictures on social media. If you look around this room, you will not have a clue who is wealthy and who is behind in their mortgage payments. The leadership of our shul has never been dominated by the rich and famous.
And that’s exactly why I am sharing this message with you, the Ner Tamid community. Keep. It. Up.
My comments are not meant as a critique of any other group; there is nothing to gain by criticizing others, there is only value in introspection. But today, I simply want to highlight something that we are good at – the attribute of modesty. Modesty is the Jewish way of life – hatzneia lechet – and it promotes humility, simplicity, and not standing out. Yes, it includes detailed rules about the clothing men and women should and should not wear, but that is just a single expression of this beautiful way of life.
People may complain about our mechitza being too low and it being a breach of tzniut, of modesty. We could and should talk about the size of the mechitza another time; to discuss how to raise it in an appropriate fashion. But don’t you dare accuse Ner Tamid of not being tzanuah! This is the most modest shul in town.
In Ner Tamid, Bar and Bat Mitzvahs are simple. People dress simply. People are private about their financial success. Keep. It. Up.
Ner Tamid is a breath of fresh air.
Where to draw the line between appropriate indulgence and excess is extremely difficult and extremely subjective. Please don’t judge other shuls and other people. Let’s just appreciate this morning how we have something good going for us and we should embrace it with our heads up high (well, not too high, because that would not be modest).
I’ll conclude by sharing a beautiful observation made by Rabbi Wieder. Yaakov, today’s Ushpizin, has two dreams that are recorded in the Torah. One when he leaves Israel and one on his return. The first dream is a dream about angels, the second is a dream about sheep. The first dream took place after spending years studying Torah and the second dream took place after twenty years as a shepherd. This is a subtle critique. What we engage in is what we dream of. Yaakov’s aspirations had shifted over the years from the spiritual to the material.
There is nothing wrong with working. On the contrary, making a living is a value and has to be balanced with a life of spiritual pursuits. But the litmus test for how we and our children are doing is what we are dreaming of –
Are we dreaming of beautiful homes or are we dreaming of beautiful families?
Are we dreaming of high-end watches or are we dreaming of using our time wisely?
Are we dreaming of diverse stock portfolios or are we dreaming of diverse Torah knowledge?
May we continue to be a beacon of light, of modesty, and endless spiritual aspirations.
by Ner Tamid | Oct 13, 2024 | Sermons
Earlier this year, I was at a small conference with a group of rabbis. We were gathered to discuss the state of Jewish unity – or the lack thereof. One rabbi wondered out loud if the time for Jewish Peoplehood was over. In the past, this rabbi said, he used to connect with rabbis of other denominations over their shared love and concern about Israel. But now, the one thing that used to keep them together is too often the source of what’s pulling them apart. “Even if I was to go to out for coffee with the rabbi of the Reform shul down the block,” he said, “what would we talk about that would not be divisive?”
To be clear, this rabbi is one of the most loving, most inclusive, most pro-interdenominational dialogue rabbis I know. But he is also a real lover of Israel. He could not fathom having a genuine dialogue with the rabbi from next door, who was marching in solidarity with the Arabs living in Gaza, who was speaking out against Israel with leading politicians, and was likely putting Jewish lives at risk.
About ten years ago, Rabbi Chaim Landau, Zt’l, met with me. He never once asked me to do anything ever, but in that one meeting, he invited me to deepen my relationship with rabbis of the other denominations in Baltimore. I did not listen to him at the time; I was busy acclimating to my new role. And that was a mistake. Rabbi Landau was right. All of the Jewish people are family and there is always time for family. It was now time to do teshuva and so I pushed back.
“If this pro-Palestinian Reform rabbi was your brother,” I asked, “and he was getting married to a Jewish woman, would you go to the wedding?”
This was not a theoretical question I was posing to the group. It’s a variation of a question I received this past year, and I am sure many others did as well.
“This rabbi is your brother. He’s part of the Jewish People. Is he not? If I may- I think you should go get some coffee and to the question of what will you talk about? Talk about anything. Talk about the local sports team. Who cares? Even if you have nothing in common, even if you disagree about everything, you are family, and family sticks together.”
Not all the rabbis in the room agreed with me. Some pushed back, saying that there is a line, and if someone is endangering the life of the Jewish People, we do not go to their wedding and we do not go out for coffee. It’s fair and it’s complicated.
But it made me realize that maybe there is something else amiss. It’s not Jewish togetherness that is becoming unfashionable, it’s the concept of family togetherness that is at stake.
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks once wrote, “Unconditional love is not uncritical, but it is unbreakable. That is how we should love our family.” Does that resonate in 2024? When Psychology Today reports that 1 in 4 Americans are estranged from a family member? When #No ContactFamily is one of the hottest trends on TikTok? Family relationships are about as fragile as can be.
So when people lament the rift that exists within the Jewish People, between Jew and Jew, whether it is over Israel’s right to defend itself or whether it’s over the Charedi draft or whether it’s over the hostage deal, you have to wonder if our disharmony is part of a broader trend of family estrangement.
And it’s so complicated. There are people who undoubtedly should have zero contact with their family to preserve their wellbeing. But there are others who perhaps should have more limited contact with their family. And then there are others who need to accept that they have difficult family members and need to work on themselves. It is sometimes very unclear as to which category you fall in. But what is clear is that when 25% of Americans from their family, there are definitely many who are going too far.
A moment ago, Meshulam, our chazzan, beautifully led us in Kol Nidrei. One of the key lines of this ancient and haunting prayer is permission to pray with sinners. Anu matirin l’hitpalel im ha’avaryanim. Rav Aharon Lichtenstein Zt’l explains that the real purpose of Kol Nidrei is to undo any excommunications that were instituted by the community. In the ancient world when someone in the community misbehaved egregiously the community would excommunicate them. But on Yom Kippur, they would annul that excommunication and invite the individual back in, letting him or her know that it was just a break, a pause, but the bond between them and the Jewish People, the bond of family cannot be broken.
There was a video clip making the rounds this past week from an anti-Israel protest on October 7th. On the day that we just wanted to mourn our dead, some sadistic and twisted people thought it would be appropriate to chant in support of Hamas and the Intifada. I cannot think of anything more despicable. At one of these evil protests, three teenagers from Chabad are seen with one of the protestors, a young man wearing a keffiyeh, and they are helping him put on tefillin. Let’s be clear – there is no middle ground between those chanting that Israel should be destroyed and those of us who know that Israel has the right to defend herself. But family is family. And despite these Chabad boys getting roasted by many on Twitter, I think they did the right thing.
I don’t have any brilliant solutions to the issues ripping our people apart. I often struggle mightily when trying to help someone navigate when a family member is truly harmful, and it is appropriate to fully disengage and when it is not. What I do know is that I, Yisrael Motzen, have made some pretty big mistakes this year, some were truly mistakes and others were not. And I will be turning to G-d over the next 24 hours asking Him to be compassionate, asking Him to recognize my frailty, asking Him to believe that I can change, and asking Him to hold on to me even though there are things He knows I will not change.
Can I be more compassionate to my family members? Can I recognize that the person before me is human with all the implied frailties and limitations? Can I believe the family member who tells me they will finally change? And can I still hold them close even though I know they will not?
There is undoubtedly a Jewish togetherness problem. But even more fundamentally, there is a family togetherness problem. Rav Chaim Vital writes that when G-d judges us for how we did with our interpersonal relationships, the only place He looks is how treated those in our home.
So perhaps for those of us who can, on this day of unity, on this day of reconciliation, can we ask ourselves those questions:
Can I be more compassionate to my family members? Can I recognize that the person before me is human? Can I believe the family member who tells me they will finally change? And can I still hold them close even though I know they will not?
In the merit of our attempt to bring our own families together, may G-d bridge the seemingly unbridgeable and bring our Jewish family together once and for all.
by Ner Tamid | Oct 6, 2024 | Sermons
Who is the most important person in this room today? This is not a trick question. …
The most important person in this room this morning is not the chazzan and not the rabbi, it’s a volunteer, and his name is… Watch this, I am about to give someone an all-out panic attack. The most important person in shul this morning is Aaron Polun.
Aaron is the Baal Tokeiah; he will be blowing the Shofar at our shul. That is the only Biblical obligation we have today. We could skip the sermon, the chazzan can get hoarse, and we will be just fine. But if Aaron does not blow that Shofar, we are in trouble.
Ironically, the Shofar is the hardest part of the services to connect to. We may feel nostalgic hearing the Shofar; it may be exciting to see how long the Tekiah Gedola will last, but in terms of the meaning and symbolism of the Shofar blasts? It’s quite hard to connect to.
Last week, Aaron brought this up to me, and asked me what he should be thinking about when he blows the shofar. It was such a refreshing question. It’s not just the technical elements that need to be met; he wanted to properly represent the congregation with his intentions, with kavannah. I shared with him a classic thought from the Baal Shem Tov, the father of the Chassidic movement. The Baal Shem Tov explains that the Shofar is a primal scream. We do not always have the words, we sometimes don’t even have the thoughts, but there is pain, there is yearning, and it wants to be expressed. The Shofar is the tool to convey that call from deep deep within.
I suggested to him that when he blows the shofar he should think about all the silent screams that fill this room and fill the world and bring them to Hashem. I suggested that he look at our new Bima cover with the names of all those murdered since October 7th and think about the cries of their families, to think about the cries of the tens of men, women, and children, still in captivity, the cries of the mothers and fathers and spouses and children whose loved one is on the front line. The cries of the people, many of whom stifled their own cry, because they felt it would be small-minded to cry while so much was going on in Israel, but instead of going away, their silent cry grew louder and louder. That’s what I told Aaron to think about when he blows the shofar for our congregation.
But two days ago, I realized made a mistake. Yes, a primal cry is one of the symbolisms of the shofar blast, but I do not think that’s what you or any of us should be thinking about as the shofar is blown today.
There is another symbolism, suggested by the Vilna Gaon. It’s a symbolism that I struggle to connect to, but I’m hoping that maybe if I share this with you, we could help each other experience what I believe to be the true meaning of the shofar this year.
Hayom haras Olam. Today we celebrate G-d creating the world. The Hebrew term for world is olam. Kabbalists explain that this word olam is related to the word he’elem, which means hiddenness. And that’s because when G-d created the world, He hid. Why He hid is a discussion for another time but hide He did.
What G-d hiding means is that we do not see G-d’s hand or presence in this world; instead, we see chaos and injustice. Good people suffer. The undeserving prosper. It’s a world which screams at every corner, leis din v’leis dayan! There is no justice, there is no judge! Not only is the G-dliness of the world hidden away, but the G-dliness that exists within each and every one of us is also hidden; the precious soul that is a refraction of G-d Himself is concealed in a physical, lustful, material body. It’s as if G-d took a huge thick blanket and covered Himself.
When people are going through difficult times; when they have prayed and prayed and G-d did not answer their prayers, when people who are so sweet and good go through such hardships, and they ask me, how could G-d do this to me? It breaks my heart emotionally. But philosophically, it’s hard to say this out loud, but it makes sense. We live in a world of he’elem, of hiddenness. When G-d created the world, He went into hiding. And when we were exiled from the land of Israel 2000 years ago, G-d, so to speak, placed another even thicker blanket over Himself. Ha’hastara sheb’soch ha’hasatara. Basic Jewish philosophy will tell you that we do not get to see justice in this world.
As Jews we believe, as one of our principles of faith, that there will be a time when that blanket will be removed. When the light of G-d will illuminate the world. Evil will be punished; the righteous will be given their due reward; we will not be seduced by the artificial flashing lights of our modern world. We call that time Mashiach, or the Messianic Era. But until that time, we wait. Achakeh lo b’chol yom she’yavo.
This past Friday, a hole was ripped in those blankets of concealment.
The façade of a world without G-d, a world without justice, was pierced.
Hassan Nasrallah, the head of Hezbollah, was the mastermind and spiritual force behind countless murders of both Israeli and American citizens since the 1980’s. He was an anti-Zionist, an antisemite, an anti-anyone who was not a devout Shiite Muslim; he wreaked havoc on the world. And now he is gone. His cronies are gone. His beeper-wearing minions are gone.
That is not a he’elem reality; that is a Messianic reality. As Jews, we do not expect to see justice in this world until the time of Mashiach. But the light of Mashiach shined through.
Now I know this makes me sound like a fanatic. We don’t discuss Mashiach in polite society. It’s a belief we keep in the back of our mind and in the back of the siddur. But wait until I’m done; then you’ll really call me a fanatic. Because I realized that it was not just one hole in that 2000-year blanket of hiddenness. No. There is an explosion of Messianic light bursting through; there are other holes in the blanket that I have been ignoring.
Returning to the land of Israel, is that not Messianic? And for us to not only live in our homeland, but to have developed one of the most impressive economies and militaries, and straight-out-of-a-movie military spy agencies, is that not a gaping hole in the façade of G-d’s hiddenness?!
October 7th was horrendous and heartbreaking. But it was also the given, that is what we are supposed to expect in a pre-Messianic era where injustice reigns supreme. It fit very neatly in 2000 years of history of enemies attacking Jews. But for the Jewish People to stand up and dust themselves off? For the Jewish People to say, We will dance again?! For Iran to attack Israel not once but twice with a barrage of hundreds of missiles and the only casualties to be an Arab and a Druze girl?!
We are not living in the Messianic Era, but the Messianic light at the end of the exile-tunnel is bright as can be. The blanket G-d used to conceal Himself is shredding into pieces.
And once you start looking for it, you can see this Messianic light in the craziest of places. Even some of the cultural shifts that are on the one hand so disturbing are also bringing in G-d’s light. For example, there is nothing that annoys me more than the ‘trophy for trying’ mentality our society has adopted. It infantilizes our youth and does not prepare them for the real world. But there is also something Divine, a taste of a Messianic world, that is shining through this cultural shift –
You see, though we cannot see her or feel her, each one of us possesses a soul. That soul is purer than pure, it is described as a piece of G-d. And no matter what we do, no matter how far we fall, no matter what sins we’ve committed, that soul remains, at its core, pure as can be. That soul represents that unbreakable bond with G-d. G-d loves us, accepts us, and cares for us, no matter what.
It’s very hard for many of us to swallow that. Does G-d really love me? Does G-d really see the good in me despite all the times I’ve ignored Him? Come on.
For most of history those questions prevented us from feeling that acceptance. But in the Messianic world, there is a trophy waiting for us all; v’ameich kulam tzadikim. And to be clear, some will get very big trophies, some will get very small trophies. If we waste our life away, if we ignore our soul, there are consequences. But the bond, the love, the acceptance from Hashem, whether we keep every Mitzvah or keep none at all, that bond is everlasting. So yes, we have some bizarre cultural shifts going on around us, but can you see the Messianic light mixed in? Can you see it shining through?
Now if I am correct in my fanaticism, that G-d is giving us a sneak-peek of the times of Mashiach, He probably wants us to do something in return. Don’t you think?
If G-d is shining a Messianic light onto us, we should probably shine a Messianic light back to Him.
What that means is very simple – the only really big difference between now and the Messianic era is one emotion – simcha, joy. In Shir Hamaalos we say, Az yimalei s’chok pinu, “Then” – in the Messianic Era – “our mouths will be filled with laughter.” In a world in which we see justice, in a world in which we feel G-d’s loving embrace, that’s a world in which we could experience true joy.
But if G-d is acting Messianic now, then perhaps we could do the same.
We have spent so much time this past year crying. We have spent so many hours wringing our hands at the state of antisemitism. We have anxiously paced our homes wondering what will be in Israel and what is the future of America. But I don’t think that’s what G-d wants from us.
There is a story told of the Baal Shem Tov. He lived in the 18th century, during a time when the lights of Mashiach were also shining through, but in a very different way. The societal changes he experienced in his life inspired him to start a movement, and one of the salient features of this movement was not so coincidently, the emotion and expression of simcha.
It was a controversial movement and the Baal Shem Tov was constantly defending himself and his followers. One day he was asked why it was that his followers were always dancing and singing, how they could always be happy in such a dark world. The Baal Shem Tov replied with a parable:
There was once a musician who came to a village and started playing on a street corner. This musician was something else; his music was uplifting and lively, beautiful music like they never heard before. People walking by stopped in their tracks. Within a few moments, there was a dance flash mob in the middle of the street.
And then a deaf man walked by. He looked at the town people jumping up and down and shook his head. “The whole city has lost their mind.” And he walked away.
Said the Baal Shem Tov, “Just because most people are deaf to the beautiful music of the world, does not mean my chassidim should stop dancing. Just because they could see what others fail to see does not mean they should not be in a perpetual state of joy.”
Kierkegaard wrote: “It takes moral courage to grieve; it takes religious courage to rejoice.” But today, in October of 2024, I don’t think we need that much courage. We need to just open our eyes and ears.
If you are alive today, then you have witnessed G-d busting through that dark blanket with a flourishing State of Israel; you have seen the light of a Jewish spy agency that is playing out stories straight out of the Bible; you have seen bright justice in a world of darkness.
Just yesterday I saw a very prominent man post the following on Twitter: “[I am a] fiercely Jewish atheist willing to wrap [tefillin]. What’s the bare minimum of prayer involved… in case [the] religious aspect of my belief system is wrong?”
He, like so many, is seeing G-d like we’ve never seen before. He, like so many, is bursting with pride to be a Jew, to be part of a remarkable, uplifting, persevering, and tough-as-nails nation that has truly woken up from a 2000-year slumber. When the Nazis attacked my great-grandparents they put their heads down. But now? We Will Dance Again! Ashreinu mah tov chelkeinu! Look around! There is light everywhere!
And to be abundantly clear, I do not know if we will experience the Messianic era tomorrow or even in my lifetime. But the walls between this world and the next are crumbling, there is light shining through, music bursting forth, and we’d be crazy ignore it.
Over the next hour and a half, we could choose to scream a primal scream. We could focus on all the prayers that speak to the scary judgment of Rosh Hashana, or we could be b’simcha, in a state of Messianic joy, by focusing on the many prayers that thank G-d for choosing us, me and you, as His people, for no reason at all.
Over the next three days, we could find all the ways our family members are failing us, or we could be b’simcha, in a state of Messianic joy, by focusing on how they support us.
Over the next ten days, we could focus on all the reasons we are not doing well enough and be crushed by our shame, or we could be b’simcha, in a state of Messianic joy, by reminding ourselves that G-d loves us no matter what, and to allow ourselves to feel that embrace.
Over the next year, we could choose to march along like we have for 2000 years. Or we could say, no! This is different. G-d is acting differently. And I too will do the same.
So, Aaron, you want to know what to think about as you blow the Shofar? It is not a primal scream. We are well past that. The shofar, in the Hebrew year 5785, is the sound of a trumpet. Nagein b’teruah. It is music, it is song, it is joy. It is light. It is an echo of the most famous shofar, the tekiah gedolah, that will burst through the remaining darkness and banish whatever hiddenness is left.
Ladies and gentlemen, let’s dedicate this year to simcha. Enough tears! Enough kvetching! Enough crying! Let us embrace the light-filed chutzpah of the Messianic era that is shining through our people. Let’s not dance again sometime in the future. Let’s dance again right now. Let’s dance again today.
I do not mean that figuratively. I mean that literally.
I cannot think of a more appropriate way to set the stage for the blowing of the shofar this year. Please join me…
by Ner Tamid | Sep 29, 2024 | Sermons
How do you enter a Rosh Hashana like this one?
Hamas, Hezbollah, Harvard.
So much loss, so much hate, so much pulling us down.
It’s like we’re waking into this holiday season through a pile of sticky mud.
And if we weren’t beaten down enough, tonight we begin the Selichos season – two weeks of saying, I’m sorry. Ashamnu, we have been guilty. Bagadnu, we have betrayed.
To add insult to injury, a year like this could have inspired us to do so much more, but it didn’t. Which makes the chest-beating all that much heavier.
So do we walk into Rosh Hashana hunched over? Beaten down? Broken?
No. Not at all.
Rav Kook makes an amazing observation. The very first viduy-confession found in the Torah is actually not a chest-beating, shoulder-sagging, viduy. It’s positive. It’s uplifting. It is even self-congratulatory.
Writes Rav Kook, “Just as there is great value to the repair of the soul through the confession of sins … there is also great value through the confession of our positive deeds, in order to gladden the heart and strengthen the paths of life in the way of God.”
One of his followers went ahead and rewrote the classic Viduy in this positive spirit.
Instead of Ashamanu, Ahavnu – We have loved,
Instead of Bagadnu, Bachinu- we have cried,
Insteda of Gazalnu, Gamalnu- we have given back,
Dibarnu yofi- we have spoken great things!
He’’emanu- We have believed,
v’Hish’tadalnu- and we tried to give our best effort,
Zacharnu- we have remembered,
Chibaknu- we have embraced…
Ladies and gentlemen, that is the Viduy we need this year. I am not suggesting we switch the traditional text, but I am suggesting that our mindset, as we go into the year ahead, a year filled with so much uncertainty, is a mindset of pride. We have so much to celebrate. We have accomplished so much this past year.
I just want to take a few moments to list a few public accomplishments that took place in these four walls, with our shul:
On October 13th, we hosted a community-wide rocking Friday night minyan, to support soldiers like Arky Staiman who begged us to do so.
On October 14th, we hosted a community-wide program with B’nai Jacob Sharei Zion, Shomrei, and Ohel Moshe that was attended by 400 people, giving the community much-needed chizuk and unity.
On October 15th, we produced and distributed hundreds of We Stand with Israel signs that you can still see all over Baltimore.
On October 21st, we plastered our back wall with pictures of hostages – if not the first, one of the first shuls to do so.
On October 29th, we co-sponsored a rally in downtown Baltimore, letting the world know we are proud of our support for Israel.
On November 2nd, hundreds of shul members chipped in to pay for the Bar Mitzvah of a young boy from Sderot, who was homeless, placing a smile on his face for the first time in a month.
On November 4th, 170 people started learning Bava Kama in memory of Eliyahu Harush, giving much-needed comfort to his young widow, Hodaya.
On November 27th, we sent a video to the Bar Mitzvah boy, wishing him Mazel Tov from Baltimore, letting him know there were people who cared about him.
We’re going to skip December. I had a Bar Mitzvah in December so we were a little busy…
But in January, we hosted a comedy night that was a fundraiser for Israel. In February, we hosted a soldier, Yoshi Rosenbluth, to share with us his experience on the battlefront. We also hosted a presentation from Zaka, the organization that helps care for the dead in Israel. We brought in Hodaya Harush, to see with her own tear-filled eyes, what was done in her husband’s memory. And then we sent her and her precious children to Disney World for much needed respite.
We hosted Dance Parties for the women of the community, to inject some joy and energy into a year of sadness.
We had not one but two Moshav concerts, each packed to the brim, bringing a taste of Israel and an uplift to Baltimore.
An endless stream of members visited Israel, to volunteer, to learn, to give comfort. They came back to our community, shared their stories and lifted us higher.
We hosted Jen Airley who stole our breath.
We chipped in to buy three mobile shuls for soldiers in Gaza.
We dedicated all of Tisha B’av to the situation in Israel, most specifically an event for women that filled our entire social hall.
Okay, then I went away for two months… (It’s in my contract, I promise)
And this past week, we hosted an incredible lecture by Shabbos Kestenbaum to learn more about the antisemitism plaguing our campuses.
And all of the above is just the public accomplishments. I can’t begin to imagine what went on behind closed doors.
But here’s just a little glimpse – There must have been over $150,000 that went through my pulpit fund this year, supporting Israel, and also supporting many people in this community.
The kindness – the amount of Shabbos invitations, of people extending themselves, informally, through meal trains, and through our Ner Tamid chats is breathtaking.
The volunteerism in this shul was off the charts! So much of what you see here every time you walk through the doors is only made possible by a growing team of incredible volunteers. From the CSS team welcoming you at the shuls entrance, to the food you eat at the kiddush. The chesed that we collectively engaged in is remarkable.
You know how many extra prayers were said in these walls? Thousands of extra chapters of Tehilim every day after davening. Even though everyone is always in a rush, no one left, no one speak. We begged G-d to watch out for acheinu kol beis Yisroel. And that is aside from the extra tefilos that all of you said over the past ten months.
And then there is my pride and joy – something I have been accused of talking about ad nauseum – the amount of Torah learning in our shul this year. Wow.
137 men, women, and teens completed Bava Kamma – a difficult and long tractate of the Talmud.
And then the vast majority continued learning daily. How many people here are doing Daf Yomi? How many people are doing Mishna Yomi? How many are doing Nach Yomi? Amud Yomi?
In Rav Kook’s positive Viduy, instead of Tainu, we have gone astray, the text reads, Ta’amnu Sefer- we have learned your books. Yes, we have.
***
A new member of our shul shared an observation with me.
And once we’re talking about new members and this past year’s accomplishments, it’s worth noting that 49 membership units joined Ner Tamid this year.
This new member, Ari Weiss, complained. He said, “Rabbi, all the Torah learning initiatives are nice, but they’re not for everyone. Some people may be intimidated by all the Hebrew text. Some people may not be into learning Navi, Mishna, or Talmud. You need to find a daily learning opportunity that is for everyone. That is your tagline after all, isn’t it? Something for Everyone.”
And Ari didn’t just complain; he did research and eventually we settled on a form of Torah learning that is indeed ‘for everyone.’ We settled on this book – Master Your Words, Master Your Life (https://a.co/d/4DKYPGL). It discusses the laws and ideas behind Lashon Hara and how to speak more positively about one another. In a world filled with so much toxicity, I cannot think of something more important to be learning each day. It is split up into daily learning, each day’s learning is a short page, which should take you between 30 seconds to two minutes to read.
It gets better – Ari and his wife, Michal, in their generosity bought a whole bunch of these books for you, for free.
There is a new cycle beginning this Thursday. This is your last chance to take part in the incredible spiritual revolution of Ner Tamid. And I promise you this is the last time I will pitch any learning program this year…
Who wants a copy? They are available for anyone who is not currently learning on a daily basis. Hands up. If we run out, a generous sponsor has offered to buy more.
***
Rav Kook’s Viduy concludes with the words:
Nisinu- We have tried,
Tzadaknu, lifamim- We have been righteous, sometimes,
Karanu b’shimcha- we have called out in Your Name!
Ratzinu- We have wanted to do more
Samachnu- we have rejoiced,
Tamachnu- we have supported one another.
Friends, we have so much to be proud of. Let’s walk into this new year with our heads held high. And may G-d bless us all with a year of profound growth, true peace, and blessings.
by Ner Tamid | Sep 22, 2024 | Sermons
Before every Bar and Bat Mitzvah I meet with the family to discuss their big day. At the end of our conversation, I often turn to the boy or girl and ask them if they have any questions for me. They usually meekly shake their head no and say a silent prayer that the meeting should quickly come to an end. But Simcha Schwartz surprised me and said, “Yes, I do.” And he went on to ask me an amazing question from this week’s Parsha:
We read something called the Tochacha today – it is a long list of curses that will befall the Jewish People if they do not obey the Torah. And Simcha, who studied his Torah portion, said, “That’s not fair! Our great-great-great-great-great-grandparents accepted the Torah at Sinai. They are responsible to keep it. But what does that have to do with me? I never accepted the Torah? How can I compelled to keep something that I never agreed to? Why would I get punished for breaking an agreement that I never made?”
It’s a good question, no? Why are we obligated to keep the Torah? Because my great-grandparents did? Because a mohel gave me a bris when I was 8 days-old and had no say in the matter?
Simcha, I want to share with you an answer, which at first may seem like a stretch, but bear with me until I am done. Deal?
Rav Yaakov Weinberg of blessed memory, one of the Roshei Yeshiva of Ner Yisroel asked this same question – you are in good company. And he shared the following answer:
You have been Simcha Schwartz since you were born. Was there ever any point when you were someone else? No, of course not. You started off as baby Simcha, and then you grew and grew. And now you’re 13-year-old Simcha.
But that’s not entirely accurate. The molecules, the particles of your skin and bone, almost none of them are the same ones you were born with. Those molecules are dying off and regenerating every moment. The heart that you were born with is not really the same heart. And the brain and the blood from your brain is not the same either. And yet, you still consider yourself the same person. When you look at a baby picture, you say, “Look, that’s me!”
The same is true for the Jewish People. Were we at Sinai? Did we accept the Torah? Yes, we did. The Jewish People did. And although the particular molecules that stood there are no longer, we are a continuation of them, we are the same, we are one. I am bound by my ancestor’s agreement the same way I am bound by decisions I made twenty years ago even though the physical matter of Sruli Motzen from twenty years ago is no longer.
Now you may be thinking to yourself, I don’t want to be part of this mega-Jewish Person thing. I want to be on my own; I want to be my own person. Well first of all, too bad. Molecules do not get a say in the matter and neither do you. But before you jump to any conclusions, I’d like to point out that this ‘being part of a Jewish nation’ goes in two directions. We are connected vertically to the very first Jews who committed to this incredible enterprise called Judaism, but we are also connected horizontally, to every Jew across the world, who will give the shirt off their back to help you.
Let me share with you two stories that will help you understand how significant this is:
If you travel through Tel Aviv right now, you will see signs from the municipality of Sderot. One of the most amazing stories that is not being told is what is happening with the significant amount of displaced people in Israel. The northern cities are empty and many in the south are still unable to return home. Where are these displaced people? They have been welcomed with open arms by their fellow Jews. For almost a year! So much so that the government of Sderot felt the need to take out huge billboards thanking the people of Tel Aviv for welcoming them with open arms.
This could only happen on such a large scale because the Jewish People see themselves as one, as a family, as one unit. Ingrained in every Jew is the notion that we are connected; acheinu kol beis Yisroel. And you, Simcha, have received this education from your parents. Your father’s career is focused on feeding Jews; what greater form of togetherness than that! And your mother has been an exemplary volunteer at our shul since the day she joined. Your family Is not living life in a vacuum; they see themselves as part of a community.
Story # 2- On Thursday, I had the honor of spending some time with Motty and Shiri Twito. Their son, Eyal, who spent some time volunteering at Ohr Chadash Academy in 2019, was tragically killed in January when he and some fellow soldiers were hit by an RPG. Motty and Shiri were in town to help fundraise for an organization that helped them with their grief. They described to me how they refused to speak to anyone after the death of their beloved son. They could not bring themselves to experiencing any joy, it was an exceptionally dark time. But then this organization, with their Shabbatons full of inspiration and meeting others in a similar situation, really changed everything.
Beautiful, right?
It gets better. Motty and Shiri are Daati-leumi, religious Zionists. The man who runs the organization they were here to promote is a Chassid. Together, they looked like an odd couple; two strapping, tanned, Jews – tiny kippah on Motti’s head, a little scarf covering a small part of Shiri’s hair. They’re sitting with a Chossid with his long coat and scraggly beard, who is looking out for them, providing them with relief and support.
And it gets even better. You know who got this Chossid started? You know who paid for the very first Shabbaton that he hosted for bereaved families after October 7th? A Satmar Chossid. Satmar is an anti-Zionist group. They object to the existence of a State of Israel. But there’s a Jew in pain – yes, this Jew’s daughter was dancing at a rave festival on Simchas Torah, yes, this Jew’s husband fought for the IDF, yes, this Jew’s father lived on a Kibbutz that was avowedly atheistic, none of that matters. They are Jews and we are connected.
***
Who here wants a good and favorable judgment this High Holiday season? We all do. So let’s take this idea one important step forward. I want to share with you something personal, but I think it is important to share in this context:
When I was in tenth grade, I decided to not speak on Yom Kippur. There is a tradition of not only abstaining from food on Yom Kippur but also abstaining from talking. It is called a Taanis Dibbur – a speech fast. It’s an incredible experience; it feels like a cleansing. We say so many silly words every day; inane conversations, filling the silence, sometimes we gossip or worse. And for 24 hours the only thing that came out of my mouth was prayer.
Then about 15 years ago, I started working for a group that did outreach – meaning, we taught classes and ran services for unaffiliated Jews. Part of my job was to attend Yom Kippur services with this group. There was no way I could maintain this Taanis Dibbur. I had to do Hataras Nedarim, which I did; I annulled the implicit vow to not speak on Yom Kippur. But I was quite disappointed. I really got a lot out of those 25 hours of silence.
I was speaking to a rabbi I was close with, and I shared this with him. I probably thought he’d be like, “Wow, I cannot believe you used to not speak for 25 hours…” But that’s not what he said. You know what he said?
“FOOL! You are a fool!”
“Not speaking for 25 hours is very nice. But when you stand before G-d on Yom Kippur as an individual who does not speak with others, you are standing as an individual who does not speak with others. G-d will judge you alone and that’s a pretty scary thought for G-d to assess your worth in a vacuum.
But this year, you are going to be connecting to your fellow Jew. You might end up talking about sports or politics, but you are connecting to a fellow Jew. And you will stand before G-d in a group of people. He will see you as part of a whole. When He sees you in a group, He judges the group together. And when you dedicate yourself to that group, G-d sees how valuable you are to His children, and that generates a radically different and far more compassionate judgment. You are lucky to be going into the High Holidays with a group of people that you will support and you will connect to.”
The best way to get a favorable judgment this year is to not go inward but to go outward. If you are hosting meals this Yom Tov season, there are so many people who would appreciate an invitation. More effective than the most heartfelt prayers is G-d seeing us share our blessings with others. 3-day-Yom Tov is a scary thing, especially for people living on their own. If you are not hosting meals, pray for others. If you are able to, give more tzedakah to help the many people in our community who are in need. Share their burden. Show G-d that you are part of the whole, that you are not an individual, you are part of the Jewish People. There is no such thing as a lone Jew; the quicker we embrace that, the more we live that, the better off we will be.
Yes, we are held accountable by the commitments of the Jews who came before us. But we are also held tight but the Jews who live around us. The sooner we embrace the reality that we are all connected, the better off we will all be.
