Stay-at-Home Rosh Hashana: Reader, Seder, Songs, and Poetry

by Motzen | Sep 11, 2020 | Sermons

Click here for a PDF of a Rosh Hashana stay-at-home reader, compliments of the Orthodox Union. 

Chag-at-Home-Shul-Packet

An-easy-to-follow guide by the Shusterman Foundation to run your own Rosh Hashana Seder: Haggadah English

Some classic tunes that we sing at Ner Tamid to listen to before the holiday and get you in the High Holiday mood can be found below by clicking on the links: 

La’adei Ad Yimloch, 

Ein Kitzvah

Unsenaeh Tokef

Haven Yakir Li

The latest rendition of Avinu Malkeinu by this cute boy: Avinu Malkeinu

A collection of poetic meditations for praying on Rosh Hashana: Poetic Kavvanot

Defining Spirituality: a Journey Part 2

by Motzen | Sep 8, 2020 | Sermons

(Part 1 can be found here: http://nertamid.net/sermons/defining-spirituality-a-journey-part-1/) 

I remember the precise spot I was sitting. It was in Dutch Wonderland, I was watching a sleeping child while my wife took the kids on rides, and it just clicked. For many years I tried studying the thought of Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak Kook, for some reason, I could never really penetrate the meaning of his words. I would use translations and commentaries, nothing worked. Until one day it did. I wish I could explain why and how, but all of sudden, Rav Kook was speaking to me. And I can’t stop listening. The poetry, the depth, the novelty; there are passages I read that genuinely leave me breathless.

I wrote in the previous post how Rav Tzadok HaKohein confused me with his discussion of emotions; highs and lows, and how he saw them as a meaningful part of the religious experience. Rav Kook made things even more confusing. He not only described feelings as spiritual, he described all of the arts, literature, music, poetry, artwork as expressions of spirituality.

Where’s G-d? Where’s Mitzvos? Torah? How can a deeply devout Jewish thinker describe these things as spiritual?

So bear with me as we get a little Kabbalistic and describe what spirituality looks like according to Rav Kook:

The Kabbalists believe that there are three levels to the soul. Nefesh, Ruach, Neshama. If you want to think about it visually, you can imagine a great ladder that goes from you, or your soul, all the way up to G-d. Each of us are connected, through our soul, to Hashem. Now imagine that there are actually three ladders attached to one another. The first ladder, the one attached to your soul is called the Nefesh, it is the most physical of the ladders. Attached to that ladder, going higher, is one called Ruach. And attached to that ladder, going all the way to G-d, is a ladder called Neshama.

Says Rav Kook – or at least my understanding of him – when a person is moved by a sunset, by music, by an interaction, by anything at all, their soul climbs up the ladder and stands in the realm of Nefesh, the lowest part of that spiritual ladder. Another way to put it, is that the lowest part of their soul is awakened. That hard-to-define-feeling of being moved by something IS spiritual, but it is the lowest level of our soul that is being activated.  

When a person does a Mitzvah, their soul climbs up to that middle part of the ladder – to that of Ruach, and that too is spiritual. However, one can skip rungs of that ladder. In other words, one can access the spirituality of Ruach without accessing the spirituality of Nefesh. And so, you can have people who do Mitzvos that are rote, lacking in any emotion or feeling. 

The highest level, the ultimate goal is when we climb the ladder properly. When our soul is emotionally moved in the act of a Mitzvah then we reach the top and we experience the spirituality of the highest order, Neshama.

You still with me?

In other words, there is spirituality in those indescribable uplifting feelings we’ve all experienced. And there is spirituality in doing Mitzvot. One is a lower form of spirituality – that of the Nefesh and one is of a higher form – that of the Ruach.

Taking in the beauty of nature, being moved by a Rembrandt, or swept up in a powerful symphony, all of that is spiritual. And we are encouraged to deepen our appreciation for such things as they are the gateway to our soul. It’s a pity that the arts and literature do not get the attention they deserve in many of our Jewish communities. 

At the turn of the 20^th century, Rav Kook sent a letter to the founders of the Bezalel School of Art, encouraging them, as he saw in its establishment the flowering of the Jewish soul. Similarly, shaking a Lulav, laying Tefillin, or listening to the Shofar are also spiritual acts. They are after all, what G-d describes as the mediums through which we connect to Him. However, as we all know, sometimes they are lacking in emotion and feeling.

The goal then is to bridge the gap between them. In doing so we actualize every part of our soul and connect to G-d not only through the intellectual and holy act but through the entirety of our existence. “Kol hanehsama t’hallel Kah. My entire soul sings your praise.”

We’ll pull this all together in the next and final post.    

Defining Spirituality: A Journey Part 1

by Motzen | Sep 4, 2020 | Sermons

This is a part of the Music that Inspires Series. You can read the introduction here: http://nertamid.net/sermons/music-that-inspires/

Defining Spirituality: A Journey

Part 1

Though the story certainly starts earlier, let’s begin about 18 years ago in a yeshiva in Southern Israel, named Kerem B’Yavneh. I spent a year and a half studying in this Yeshiva, and like many teenagers, my years in Israel was a time of transformation and growth. Endless hours of Talmud study, in-depth immersion into Jewish philosophy, searing introspection, in the holiest of lands, something was bound to give.

One of, if not the most important factor in making those years so special was one particular teacher. A brilliant Talmudic scholar, a deep thinker, and a real character. As a young idealistic teenager, I drank in his words thirstily and uncritically.

While we spent most of our day immersed in the study of the Talmud, this teacher would from time to time give us moral instructions, what we call, mussar. One of the themes that he would come back to time and time again was his disparagement of those who spent their days or evenings sitting around and singing. “It feels good,” he would say, “but that’s all it is, just a warm and fuzzy feeling!”

I remember once letting him know that I spent a Shabbos in Tzfat. Tzfat is a city in Northern Israel known for its spiritual seekers. And he lovingly said to me, “Motzen, I don’t want to hear about it. Let me know when you spend a Shabbos in the Chevron Yeshiva,” – one of the most prestigious Yeshivas in Israel, “then I’ll be happy.”  

It was the same point – singing, the arts, it is just fluff! It may make you feel good, but it has nothing to do with living a good Jewish life in line with the Torah.

In retrospect, I most certainly misinterpreted the message this teacher was trying to convey, but at the time, under his influence, I developed a first draft definition of spirituality. It’s a little dry but it’s also rooted deeply in Jewish sources and that is this: Spirituality comes from the word spirit. It is the opposite of anything physical. The most spiritual thing of all is G-d. How do you come close to G-d? Mitzvos. And so, the performance of any Mitzvah brings one closer to G-d and is therefore spiritual.

This idea is found in countless Jewish mystical sources. How do we come close to G-d, the ultimate spirit? And they all answer that Mitzvos, on some deep indiscernible level, brings us close to G-d. I may not know why or how, I may not feel any different, but it works. By way of analogy, I compose an email, I put in a certain recipients’ email address, press send, and I know that it gets to its destination whether or not I understand how it gets there. Similarly, G-d gave us Mitzvos through which we connect to Him, whether we see it, or feel it. And so, performing Mitzvos is synonymous with being spiritual.   

What this idea does not address is, what is that feeling we experience when we watch a beautiful sunset, take in a beautiful painting, get swept up in a powerful symphony, or read some stimulating poetry? Just a feeling?! It’s hard to imagine but I forged on.

This is more than an academic exercise in defining a term, the ramifications of this definition are far-reaching. Our feelings and emotions are the greatest window into our soul. If we ignore them or dismiss them, we do not really know ourselves. Worse, if we have strong emotions and we push them away, we’re left feeling disoriented.

And for years this is exactly what I did. Instead of asking why I felt so interested in praying, studying, and doing Mitzvos one day and struggled mightily to find that feeling on the next, I just ignored it and pushed through.

In light of this definition of spirituality, for years, I didn’t really listen to music. You may find that hard to believe, but it’s true. I had a good friend who would spend some time each evening listening to music, and frankly, I saw it as childish. All it does is give you some hard-to-define fuzzy feeling and that is fluff.

If you know me, you know that I am an emotional person, and so you could only imagine what this mindset did to me. I still don’t even know what it did to me, but it definitely closed off a certain part of my personality.

Fast-forward a few years and I became exposed to the writings of what to me is one of the most unique Jewish thinkers, one which, ironically, that same teacher would talk about often – Rav Tzadok HaKohein. Rav Tzadok was a somewhat obscure Polish Chassidic rabbi whose writings, in the past few years, have experienced a little bit of a renaissance. One thing I noticed in his writings is how seriously he would take emotions. Rav Nachman of Breslov, a far more well-known 19^th century Chassidic rabbi also spoke in emotional terms, but he would seem to be describing something more akin to depression. Rav Tzadok, on the other hand, would be describing highs and lows; feelings of closeness and distance. Far more subtle than Bresov writing, and to me, much more relatable.

And I was confused. It’s just emotions. What does it even mean to say that you feel close or distant from G-d? Or that you feel more spiritual or less so? Spiritually isn’t a feeling.

Or is it?

And so, I was faced with a conundrum of sorts, trying to understand how those feelings can be taken seriously and at the same time, not giving up on my old definition of spirituality which has nothing to do with emotions. I was confused.

I am going to pause my little story and continue next week. In the meantime, I’d like to share some questions that I’ve been thinking about: Have you ever tried to define spirituality? Is spirituality an emotion/ state of being/ a way of life? In line with your definition, what are things that feel most spiritual to you? Have you felt more spiritual or less spiritual these past few months? Take a few moments and try to figure out why that is the case?

I’d love to hear your thoughts. 

Rabbis and Politics Revisited

by Motzen | Aug 28, 2020 | Sermons

“Who am I to place my head between these two mountains?” – Talmud

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks was recently interviewed by the Jewish Telegraph Agency about his new book, Morality, however, the conversation, like all conversations these days, quickly shifted to politics. Rabbi Sacks shared that no matter how close he became to politicians during his time as chief rabbi of the UK, he was careful not only to not endorse any candidates but also stayed away from any form of political advocacy. When asked about American rabbis who seem to take a different approach, he responded: “I’m afraid American Jewry is making a big, big, big mistake. This is not a small thing. It’s a very, very big thing.”

According to the JTA, he was specifically referring to Rabbi Shmuel Kamenetzky, one of the most widely known and respected Chareidi rabbis in America. In a recent interview with Mishpacha magazine, Rabbi Kamenetzky gave a full-throated endorsement of President Donald Trump, stating, “I think people should vote for him. He’s done a good job. It’s hakaras hatov.” Rabbi Kamenetzky is not alone in endorsing politicians or mixing Judaism with politics. “On the left,” the article continued, “rabbis frequently wade into partisan political issues and even argue for specific political candidates in their personal capacity.”

Before I continue, I feel the need to make clear that I have the utmost respect for both Rabbi Kamenetzky and Rabbi Sacks. Rabbi Sacks is one of the most compelling and compassionate writers on values in our day and Rabbi Kamenetzky is both a Torah scholar of the highest order and from watching him up close, possibly one of the gentlest souls I have ever met.

I hesitate questioning either of them, but I have a problem. Rabbi Sacks went on to say, “If you mix religion and politics, you get terrible politics and even worse religion.” It’s a good quote, but I struggle to understand it. Is he suggesting that our moral code, i.e., the Torah, should not impact public policy? This week’s parsha alone weighs in on inheritance laws, issues of gender identification, capital punishment and more. While there is an argument to be made that we are under no obligation to ensure that the laws of our land reflect the laws of the Torah, shouldn’t the Torah at least have a voice at the table? Did the prophets not challenge the kings of Israel to live by the values of our tradition? Did Moshe not lead a rebellion against the political status quo? Do we not believe our Torah to be a Toras Chaim, an ever-relevant set of ethics that guide our every action?

And yet, to endorse a candidate, to stand behind a single party, not only is it alienating to those who don’t identify with that party or politician, but it sends a very difficult message to swallow. Although, an endorsement of a politician should be interpreted to be an endorsement of their platform alone, in our culture, especially in America, where the president – Obama or Biden for Democrats, Trump for Republicans – is painted as a savior, it is hard to distinguish between politics and the politician.

Rabbi Moshe Feinstein dedicates a responsa to the question of a shul honoring a donor who openly flouts Jewish law. Rabbi Feinstein threads a thin line between praising the individual for their good qualities and ensuring that it is not perceived as praising them for the bad. Recently, a video surfaced from an Orthodox sleepaway camp where a Jewish music star led the campers in a rousing song praising the President. It is a very difficult needle to thread.

Rabbis across the country face this dilemma constantly. Ignore politics and current events and provide no direction in a realm in which people feel especially lost? Embrace politics and politicians despite having positions or personalities antithetical to the Torah? Where do we go from here?

Perhaps we can answer our questions by reframing them as guiding principles that can help us navigate this challenge:

• Judaism IS political. Judaism has what to say about every part of life, from our most personal emotions to the most public mechanisms of governance. We cannot afford to shy away from sharing the Torah view on contemporary issues. More than ever, the Torah’s viewpoint is needed. 
• The Torah’s value system is void of hero-worship. Our greatest leaders were fallible, and the Torah makes sure we know about it. We respect our governments, we pray for our political leaders, but we never worship them. Comments in support of a politician or party cannot, in good faith, be unqualified. 

There is a Republican case for Joe Biden like there is a Democratic case for Donald Trump, but neither of them are self-evident. Similarly, one can make a Torah argument for both parties. But to understand these views, one needs to slow down, absorb, and reorient oneself to a line of thinking that doesn’t come naturally. Though I quite recently spoke in favor of distilling every message into a Tweet, it doesn’t work for everything. According to Jewish law one may not judge a case of a capital crime in one day; the judges need to sleep on it in order to ensure that they have examined every side of the case. As the first Mishna in Pirkei Avos states, be deliberate in judgment. This advice is widely understood to be relevant not only to judges, but to us all. 

Ultimately, we have to choose a candidate. Ultimately, one candidate and one party is better than the next. There may not be a party of God, but Godly people must choose a party. And so, the challenge is not for rabbis alone; it is a challenge for us all: Do we have the patience to think critically, appreciate the good and call out the bad? Do we have the bravery to speak openly even when our opinions are unpopular? And do we have the knowledge to allow our faith to guide our politics and the humility to acknowledge when our politics guides our faith?

May God bless America and may He grant us the patience, bravery, knowledge, and humility to do our part in allowing that blessing to materialize.  

Music that Inspires

by Motzen | Aug 21, 2020 | Sermons

“If you’re mind wanders before finishing this sentence, you’re not alone.” So began an article for Time magazine describing the challenge that many of us are facing with concentrating and focusing during these turbulent times. 

I am writing this as I take a break from writing a D’var Torah for Shabbos morning because I cannot seem to concentrate on a single message! Like many others, my ability to think for an extended amount of time has been severely impacted. But there’s another phenomenon which has received less attention – as our minds seem to be constricting, our hearts seem to be expanding. Politicians crying on national television, otherwise stoic people discussing their emotions – there is a tsunami of emotions that cannot be held back, and I think that’s great. 

This morning, the first day of the month of Elul, the shofar was blown in shul. (Well, to be precise, the ba’al tokeiah stood right outside the shul to prevent the spread of saliva particles.) The shofar, the tool used to “wake us from our slumber” is a musical instrument. It creates a rather crude sound, but it is music nonetheless. To prepare for the High Holidays, there is no message from the rabbi, no passage to study in groups, the wake-up call of Elul is song. And that’s because, no matter how distracted we are, no matter how hard it is to think about what we need to do in the year to come, music can cut through it all. It does’t speak to our brain, it speaks to our heart. Keith Richards, of Rolling Stones fame, said it best, “Music is a language that doesn’t speak in particular words, it speaks in emotion.” 

Instead of focusing on our faulty thinking patterns, perhaps we can use this month of Elul to develop and strengthen our emotions; deepening our love for our family and for God, experiencing more awe when we unravel layers of the people around us, acknowledge our lows and gently ride them through difficult times, infuse more joy into the otherwise mundane callings of life.  

Our minds may be struggling but our hearts are healthier than ever. The greatest tool to fan the flames of our emotions is music; the shofar in particular, but all the music of the world has the capacity to move us.   

I am dedicating this month of Elul to discussing music and emotions in our tradition. From the songs of the Leviim to the latest rap out of Lakewood, music penetrates the impenetrable. I will be sending out weekly thoughts on music and emotions before Shabbos and will be hosting a new Zoom series on the topic. Stay tuned for details. 

In the meantime, I’d love to hear from you; what’s your favorite song and why? Music touches us in such a deep place, it’s worth taking a moment to better understand our musical taste. Please reply in the comments section. I look forward to hearing from you.

Good Shabbos! 

Yisrael Motzen 

Statement on Israel-UAE Peace Deal

by Motzen | Aug 14, 2020 | Sermons