Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz

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#BlogElul 5775: Let’s get real

Speaking with a colleague the other night, I was hearing how it is not uncommon to hear from those training for the rabbinate that they struggle with liturgical prayer. While this does not surprise me, it may be something that surprises, and perhaps troubles our congregants.

I can only speak personally, but I’ve traveled my own path to making prayer work for me. It has taken time – years, in fact. I suspect that most people don’t have the patience, but it seemed rather important to me, given my desire to serve as a rabbi to the Jewish community.  I’ve learned to love the ‘back stories’ (known and theorized) behind why our liturgical prayers came into being. Context and history provide one way in. But getting beyond the literal, and even getting beyond what might have been the original intended meaning, theology, and message, to recast liturgy to speak to us today, has helped me find moments of deep, thoughtful, prayerful experience in the midst of Jewish worship.  Music helps a lot too.

Perhaps more than at any other time of the year, the High Holy Day liturgy can be particularly challenging. In the Reform movement this year, several hundred congregations will be praying out of a brand new machzor, Mishkan HaNefesh (Sanctuary of the Soul).  I am so excited by the potential that lies within the pages of this new prayer book. Perhaps, more than any other single thing I can highlight about what makes it so special, is the opportunity to get real.

What do I mean, by ‘let’s get real’? I think the best way to illustrate what has been missing for me in some of the liturgy (especially the english language readings) of our previous high Holy Day machzor and what is now available to us in our new book is to share one of the new texts with you. Here is a new text that introduces the Vidui (Confession) on Yom Kippur morning.

Because I was angry
Because I didn’t think
Because I was exhausted and on edge
Because I’d been drinking
Because I can be mean
Because I was reckless and selfish
Because I was worried about money
Because my marriage was dead
Because other people were doing it
Because I thought I could get away with it
Because…

I did something wrong.

Because I’m in pain
Because I wish I could undo it
Because I hurt him
Because I lost her trust
Because I let them down
Because I was self-destructive
Because I was foolish
Because I’m ashamed
Because that’s not who I am
Because that’s not who I want to be
Because…

I want to be forgiven.

God,
bring down my walls of defensiveness and self-righteousness.
Help me to stay in humility.
Please – 
give me the strength to do what’s right.
copyright CCAR, 2015 (p. 293, Yom Kippur morning service)

I can’t read this and remain on automatic pilot. I can’t read this and coast through the ritual of reading words out loud in a room full of others, disconnected with the purpose of this holy day. I can’t read this without being pulled out of my lethargy and denial and acknowledging that I have been so many of the things listed above. They ring true for me, and speak in a contemporary language that resonates with my experience in a way that some of the traditional words do not. There are other words that are part of the traditional vidui that are much easier for me to read as being about somebody else.  But Yom Kippur is not about somebody else. It is about me, what I have done, who I am and who I want to be. And for the ritual of spending designated time in extended communal gatherings and prayer at the High Holy Days to be useful and meaningful, I need tools and texts that will take me to the places that I need to go if I am to emerge at the end feeling like anything has changed (even knowing that I’ll need another ‘re-set’ next year).

This year my #BlogElul posts will all feature new texts or new translations from Mishkan HaNefesh. It is an opportunity to reflect on the meaning of moments within the prayer journey we take over these Holy Days, to familiarize ourselves with the gifts provided by new texts, and to begin to do the work of Soul refinement that can help us enter the New Year with greater intention.  I invite you to join me, and share your own reflections to add to the conversation in the comments section. Together, let’s make it real this month of Elul.


After death… Holiness – Reflections on the Parsha at the end of our CBS Israel Tour

Acharei mot – kedoshim – D’var Torah by Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz shared at Kehilat HaLev, Tel Aviv
Note: the parshiot in Israel are not currently aligned with those in the Diaspora because Diaspora Jews who observed 8 days of Pesach had a Passover Torah reading on the last day of Pesach when Israel had already returned to the Shabbat parsha. Israel and the Diaspora will realign again in a few weeks. This D’var Torah was based on the parsha being read last Shabbat in Israel.

This week has been an incredible week for our group in so many ways. We have experienced so much together and have been given glimpses of so many sides of Israel. To end here, this Shabbat, with you, experiencing new life in Reform Judaism here in Israel is very special.

This week is a double-Parsha: acharei mot-kedoshim.  after death, holiness.

This week we have been challenged to grapple with this juxtaposition in so many ways. After the Holocaust, the birth of the modern state of Israel. After Yom HaZikaron, Yom Ha’atzmaut. For one of our group, after the death of her mother in recent months, an act of great beauty to memorialize her here while we were traveling together. Yesterday, when we visited Derech Ben, we saw the beautiful community garden built by the parents and community of Ben in a moshav in Misgav, in memory of their son who died at age 24 in the second Lebanon war. Again, after the tragedy of death, holiness – an act of great beauty, remembrance and a place of connection for a whole community (and now also for us, with whom Ben’s mother shared his story).

Our guide, Noam, asked us to think about and talk about the challenge of moving straight from Yom HaZikaron to Yom ha’atzmaut. It is clearly a very powerful transition but how is it for those who sit with the sorrow of a loved one who has died protecting Israel? Is it not jarring to move straight into celebration? Does it not feel forced? I suspect the answer to that question is as varied as the number of Israelis that you ask. Ben’s mother felt that it was important for the country to have the two days together, even though she personally cannot shift into celebration on erev Yom Ha’atzmaut.

In our Parsha, Aaron remains silent. He is not given the time to mourn as the loss of two of his sons comes in the midst of the inaugural ritual performance of the priests and must continue.

I think of the tradition we have in Judaism that sorrow and joy are not to be mixed, leading to situations when a burial is delayed or shiva is not sat. I struggle with this too for the same reasons as Noam raised for those mourning on Yom HaZikaron. There is no logic to me in asking a family to abstain from mourning rituals because we are in designated ‘happy times’. And yet I also understand why the community as a whole needs to embrace the joy to make those festivals meaningful.

Perhaps what we have here is the tension between the individual and communal need. Aaron needs to mourn but is not given time because he is in the midst of a communal moment. Yom HaZikaron shifts to Yom Ha’atzmaut because as a nation Israel must hold up the joy and blessing of its existence and successes, even while recognizing the losses and work that still needs to be done. Perhaps to live in Israel is to all the time feel that tension between the needs of the individual and the needs of the nation as a whole.

This does not negate the pain of the individual and their loss but, at a national level, the two days side by side ask us to accept a narrative where hope, rebirth and new possibilities follow from pain and loss. This is a very ancient Jewish narrative. And it is a very Israeli narrative.

Take, for example, the fast day of Tisha B’Av. Remembering the destruction of the temples and all the tragedies that followed for the Jewish people, there is a tradition that says that the Messiah will be born on the afternoon of Tisha B’v. As the day draws to a close, hope and faith in the future transform a history of loss into something constructive and forward-looking.

So, after death, hope and maybe joy. But what about kedoshim? Where does holiness fit in this narrative? The root meaning of this word is not really captured by the translation ‘holiness’. Kadosh is about setting something apart for a special purpose. Shabbat is Kadosh because it is a day set apart. Kiddushin means set apart because it is the ceremony of marriage where we declare ‘at mkudeshet li‘ meaning that this relationship is set apart as distinct and unique from all others in my life.

Acharei mot – kedoshim teaches us that all of the complexity that we struggle with – the sadness and loss, and the celebration of the State of Israel is because of the special relationship that we all have with it. Israel holds a place in the hearts of all Jews everywhere because we have set it apart as unique and special. Our guides have ensured that during this week we have experienced connection and relationship with many people through many experiences. Tonight we are grateful to have this opportunity to form a new and special relationship with a sister Reform congregation here in Israel.
Kedoshim holds for us the primary statement of this value – Love your neighbor as yourself – we move from loss and sadness as individuals, to connection with others in community through relationship. It is those relationships with the larger community and that sense of greater purpose that enables us to look to the future with hope. And this is why, I believe, that kedoshim follows acharei mot and Yom Ha’atzmaut follows Yom HaZikaron.

Israel Experience 6: Back to Tel Aviv

I got a little behind on describing our Israel experience, so this final travel review covers the last couple of days of the trip. We begin up in the Galilee with a couple of stops on our way to Tel Aviv. Our first stop of the day brought us to a very moving presentation and a beautiful place that encapsulated so much of the juxtaposition of pain and hope that we had borne witness to during our travels. We were brought to ‘Ben’s Way’ in a local Moshav – a garden, nature trail and community resource built by the parents of Ben Kornit, who died at the age of 24 in the 2nd Lebanon War.

Ben’s mother told the story of her son; how he had completed his army service and then traveled, including a ride across Mongolia on a horse. Upon returning to Israel, he found himself called up again to serve when the 2nd Lebanon War began. She explained how he came to be one of several soldiers killed when a house they were taking cover in was blown up.  Ben’s parents decided to memorialize him by building a community nature path and garden that would keep his story and his values alive. Nature and ecology were important to him. So was community connection. So the path took us to places for community cook-outs, a place for gatherings and concerts, and a trail into woods where they discovered a heart-shaped boulder hidden in its midst.

We learned about members of the community who had helped with the project, including the children from the school on the Moshav, and a local Israeli Arab who had felt a sense of connection with Ben’s story and values and had built part of the cook-out area to contribute to the project.

While we had shifted in time to Yom Ha’atzmaut, this experience was very much tied to the experience of Yom HaZikaron, and we asked Ben’s mother how she coped with the transition from one day to the next. She felt that it was important for the nation to have the two days side by side even though she, personally, could not shift into parties and celebrations immediately at the end of Yom HaZikaron.

From this powerful start to the day we shifted to something quite different as we arrived at Kibbutz Harduf.  This is a remarkable community, bringing together many projects in one, integrated location.  They house a school for at-risk children who need to be taken out of their homes, and they work with adults with mental illness (bi-polar, schizophrenia etc.), helping them live healthy lives with work on their organic form or in their workshops making pottery or jewelry for sale while living as part of an integrated community.  After a short presentation about the community we were whisked off to the farm. There, we picked lettuce and herbs straight from the fields and gathered eggs that could not be any fresher – we literally pulled them out from under the chickens who had laid them!

The next step was making lunch. After having been treated to freshly made, healthy food, produced on site by Nir and his crew as we had traveled throughout Israel, now it was our turn to become the chefs. It was all hands on deck as we chopped, sliced, cooked and mixed, and in no time at all we had an incredible feast ready to share. There is no more immediate experience of ‘farm to table’ than the one we had at Kibbutz Harduf!

From the Kibbutz we continued on our way to Tel Aviv. We had to bypass one item on our itinerary – a visit to an IDF base – because traffic in and out of the base had come to an almost standstill and we decided that it was better to use the time experiencing as much as we could fit in to the limited time we had remaining on our trip. One of the wonderful things that we experienced about Puzzle Israel was their ability to be nimble in this way and to adapt and change to meet the realities on the ground. The result of this change led to an incredible experience that we added to our trip – a visit to the Joseph Bau museum in Tel Aviv.

Some of you may recognize Joseph Bau’s art work. His posters and the modern Israeli fonts that he developed are instantly recognizable and very famous.

Today, his daughters tell his story and present his work. If you’ve seen the movie, Schindler’s List, Joseph Bau is the groom in the scene where a marriage takes place (although it didn’t happen exactly as depicted in the movie, we were told!). He and his wife were saved by Schindler. In addition to his public work that became well-known in Israel and beyond, Bau also had a secret life, producing all the forged documentation that was needed for the Mossad. In fact, he produced the necessary identity documents for Eli Cohen, the spy that our guide, Noam, had told us about who had brought such valuable intelligence to Israel from Syria.  Today, the museum is at risk as the owner of the building wants to turn the rooms into new apartments. You can learn more about the museum here, and there is currently an exhibit in New York where you can see his work a little closer to home.

We had a free first evening in Tel Aviv – a chance to walk through the streets and see the bustling cafe life. At the end of Yom Ha’atzmaut everything was packed and we saw the city so full of life.  The following day we started at the Rabin Museum. This wonderful exhibition which only opened a few years ago combines a telling of the life of Yitzhak Rabin with a social history of Israel during his lifetime, and the evolution of the peace process leading to the Oslo Accords. From there we made a short stop at Rabin Square and saw the memorial for him there.

We then had time to wander the Tel Aviv markets. Carmel market is for food and cheap clothing. Nachalat Binyamin market is a local crafts market that is open just two days a week that has the most wonderful array of crafts for the home, jewelry, and the like. This was the most shopping we got to do in a day!

Before returning to the hotel, we had one of those moments that seem to happen all the time in Israel – bumping into someone you know! I knew that the Alper family from CBS were in Israel the same time as our trip (for a family bar mitzvah of a relative). In the midst of the crowded streets of Tel Aviv on a Friday afternoon, we saw each other! And, it turned out that they had bumped into the other family whose picture we posted earlier in the week – the Feldmans. They had not previously met each other in Westborough and yet managed to figure out the connection in moments.

In the evening we had a wonderful Shabbat with Kehilat haLev. This is a young, Reform congregation, in the heart of Tel Aviv that has only been in existence for 5 years. Led by a 4th year rabbinic student, Efrat Rotem, their services are characterized by wonderful music and a growing community of all ages.  I was invited to share a d’var torah, which I will post separately after this final travel review.  After the service they hosted us for a lovely vegetarian dinner as we got to meet some of their community. We finished the night with a few songs together. The photo below is with Efrat and her partner, Ofira, along with two friends of my family, Ralph and Miryam, who have known me since I was two years old. They made aliyah to Israel (he from Scotland, she from Morocco), met and married on a Kibbutz, and moved to Tel Aviv over 30 years ago.  They epitomize yet another of the many stories that can be found in Israel.

Our last day in Israel began with a tour of Jaffa. Noam entertained us once again by taking on the costume of an Ottoman Turk to tell us the history and evolution of Jaffa and Tel Aviv.

While there, we witnessed two Christian wedding parties – one from Eritrea (and we’re not sure where the second was from) -a reminder of yet another side of Israel that we barely had a chance to learn about on this trip – the immigration of many others from around the world, looking for economic opportunities or escaping from war and genocide. Israel has found this immigration challenging due to its small size and the balance between needing to help those in need while placing limits on what it can manage and its need to maintain a Jewish majority in this democratic state.

We had a fabulous lunch at ‘The Old Man and the Sea’ at the new port development, where plate after plate of small tasters of salads of all kinds filled the table. And there was one more dinner to come – a final meal with Nir and Guy, owners of Puzzle Israel, before our return to the airport and the long flight home.

This trip far exceeded my expectations as an organized tour of Israel. Puzzle Israel brings so much that is unique and unlike any other tour I’ve experienced. I was thrilled to learn and experience so much that I’ve never seen before, and felt that they provided the broad and multi-faceted narratives of Israel that I wanted any group that I was bringing to Israel to experience.  It is hard to sum up a trip that was so packed full of amazing opportunities. In the coming  days I hope to be posting reflections from members of our group as they have the opportunity to reflect on what this trip to Israel meant to them.

Israel Experience 5: Life in a Moshav

The paced eased a little yesterday as we stayed up north in the Galilee and took in another rich and diverse set of experiences. We began up on the Golan Heights at one of the northernmost points of Israel, looking down directly on Syria. Damascus was a mere 30 miles from where we stood. UN peace keeping observers are stationed up there to keep an international eye on the border. From this viewpoint, our guide Noam shared the amazing story of Israeli spy, Eli Cohen, who went deep undercover in Syria from 1963-5 and provided Israel with invaluable intelligence until he was caught, tried and hanged in Syria.  While up there the 11am morning siren rang out for Yom HaZikaron. From this position the experience was quite different to the night before. We could hear the sirens from other areas behind us but nothing in front of us as, looking at Syria, we had a viceral and stark reminder of what Israeli soldiers have fought and died for.

From there, we spent the afternoon visiting two moshavim. A Moshav is a small community that shares some characteristics with a kibbutz but from the outside was based on individual ownership of homes and separate incomes and livelihoods. This is what differentiates it from a kibbutz. At the first moshav, we visited a leather-making factory, where leather is shaped into bracelets, belts, bags and more. We all had a go at creating a plaited leather bracelet that we got to keep. Another delicious lunch was served, courtesy of Nir and his catering crew. From there we went on to a religious moshav that runs a dairy farm. We learned about their history, got to bring water for the newly born calves to drink (much cuteness ensued), and watched an incredible robotic machine milk cows. This machine feeds, bathes, and monitors the cows while milking them in a way that is comfortablel and precise. The extremely bright cows line up to enter the milking machine when they want to be milked – approx. 4 or 5 times a day. They have learned that they will be fed and cooled in the hot months. The young cows soon learn to follow once they see all the other cows going in and coming out.

On our way back to the wonderful accommodations at Vered HaGalil, we stopped for one more special act – we planted an olive tree in memory of Sandra Haley’s mother who died earlier this year. It was a touching act that moved us all, and was indicative of the love and compassion that our tour guides have shown to us as they learn about us during this trip.

We had some rest time before dinner that some used to walk on the wonderful site we were staying at, with views over the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee) and some used to get a massage! The night ended with a delicious celebratory meal for Yom Ha’atzmaut at the steak house on site at our hotel.

Israel Experience 4: A Change of Landscape

Today began in the wilderness landscape of the Judean Desert and ended in the lush, green landscape of the Galilee. An incredible view of the Jezreel Valley, mentioned in the Tenach as the place where Elijah challenged the Priests of Baal to a sacrifice competition, provided our first sense of just how different this new landscape was.

We were treated to another lunch in situ, courtesy of Nir. Today was make-your-own wraps, with lafaa bread, goats chees, parsley, and zatar, which is Hyssop. Dessert was also wrapped up, but this time we were spreading Nutella and Halva onto the lafaa – yum!

From here we continued to experience the valley via another mode of transportation – ATV! Along the route we stopped at a naturally occuring watering hole – a popular kind of place found all over the northern hills around the Galilee where Israelis (Jews and Arabs) come to swim, eat, drink and hang out. In our short stop we saw a microcosm of the local society. Israeli arabs smoking a water pipe, an Israeli boy- and girlfriend picnicking togeter, and then a youth group of cyclists who came to take a break in their bike ride. Their leaders demonstrated how to leap into the pool and then gently encouraged all the children to have a go. So much fun!

We ended the afternoon, prior to an early dinner (where I had a brief reunion with my sister-in-law and brother-in-law, Shharone and Shlomo, who visited CBS and presented to our congregation lst year at Erev Sukkot), with some team games. I think we’ve discovered that our group likes games (and some of us are quite competitve!)

The day ended with a change of tone as we entered Yom HaZikaron with a very moving ceremony inthe region of Misagv, where our tour company owners, Nir and Guy, are from. They connected with friends and family and we bore witness to a very moving ceremony that brought out a very large % of the whole town. We stood together in silence while the sirens could be heard al around. This was followed by poetry, family  reflections, and music and the names of all those from Misgav who had died serving their country. As each name was read, along the date that they died, they were listed as ‘father of so-and-so’, ‘brother of so-and-so’ and more. This is how it is in Israel. Every soldier is someone’s brother, sister, father, friend. And almost every single Israeli personally knows someone who died while serving. Memorial day is an emotional and heart-felt observance for all. We felt priveleged to stand witness to get some sense of what this day is all about from within.

Israel Experience 3: A day in the desert

3 a.m. That was the wake up call for most our group this morning. Those of us planning to hike up Masada in time for sunrise had to leave Jerusalem bright and early. A 20 min uphill hike up a flight of stairs paralleling the ramparts built by the Romans when they laid siege and eventually broke through the wall around Masada and we arrived at the top as the sun had just made its appearance and was slowly beginning to rise in the sky.

Baruch ata Adonai Eloheinu Melech HaOlam, ma’asey bereshit – Blessed are You, Eternal our God Ruler of the Universe, Source of Creation. This is the traditional blessing to recite upon seeing the sun rise. This was how we began on top of Masada, followed by some morning blessings of gratitude for bodies that work, strength to rise and climb, and then added our own morning blessings of gratitude to the list.

 With photos snapped (views, sunrise, and a family of Ibex – a kind of deer – who had made their way to top of Masada too), our guide, Noam, then transformed himself into the Roman King Herod. He explained how Masada came to be built, what life was like there, how water was brought up, food was stored and more. And then, after the death of Herod and the later destruction of the 2nd temple in Jerusalem, we learned of the band of Jewish zealots who escaped to Masada and then survived an eight month siege before the Romans finally captured Masada, and found the Jews had martyred themselves rather than be taken.

 After much needed coffee, we made our way to Nahalat David – a short hike along a naturally occurring spring with small waterfalls along the way. We splashed and refreshed ourselves and then headed to the Ein Gedi Spa by the Dead Sea where we were treated to a truly delicious freshly grilled lunch by Nir, one of the co-owners of Puzzle Israel (our tour company) and owner of Margolis Catering.

 Due to changes in the ecosystem, the Dead Sea has been shrinking at an incredible rate in recent decades. Now a vehicle takes us down what must easily be a half mile journey from the Spa facility to the Dead Sea. The water itself is not particularly clean looking but we gamely waded in to float and get the photo op! Several added to that with the Dead Sea mud treatment too. Back at the top some tried the Sulphur pools which are warm and wonderful but smell of pungent bad eggs! I know, I’m making it sound so appealing! It is quite a unique experience, but a challenging one.

 A winding drive brought us to the Bedouin-style accommodations for tonight – charming, rustic cabins, more delicious food, and a camp fire with grilled pineapple and marshmallows.

 Oh… and ‘the surprise’ that was not on our itinerary – the camel caravan. A good proportion of our group braved the camel ride and it was quite a thrill. One of the big themes of today, but also somewhat of a continuation from the water tunnels yesterday, was shifting from our zone of conflict or panic to our zone of comfort. This was Noam’s way of asking us to try things outside of our comfort zone and seeing if we could shift our perspective through our experience. For some, wading through narrow water tunnels was that experience. For some it was climbing Masada. For some (this Rabbi being one of them) it was getting up on a camel (and back down again!) Over our campfire we shared a few more examples of shifting through these zones by being willing to take on an uncomfortable experience. No doubt, there will be more to come. It is yet one more rewarding aspect of this trip experience we are having together.

Finally, a lovely photo shared by another Conbgregation B’nai Shalom family – the Feldmans are on a separate tour this week and  they were the host family for our emmisary, Ziv Zamir back in Worcester. They managed to fit in a great reunion in Israel!

Jerusalem past and present

For our second report from Jerusalem we begin outside the walls of today’s Old City at the archeological site believed to be the original city of David. While the possibilities of what is being discovered in the layers beneath the surface are exciting, arriving at this site we see that the archeological park abuts and cuts into the East Jerusalem neighborhood of Silwan where people living today are in communities upon that surface. Here again we are exposed to the multi-faceted and complex nature of every site in Jerusalem.

Up here is also the entrance to the ancient water tunnels that were dug to bring water into the walled city. For this part of todays report we turn to Andrew, Ben and Lily Rosenfeld who wrote up this report on our morning adventure:
Our first adventure of the day was exploring Hezekiah’s tunnels. These tunnels were constructed almost 3000 years ago to transport spring water to the City of David. This was used as a military tactic to provide water even when the city was under siege. We walked down several flights of stairs as we headed towards the beginning of the tunnel, and as soon as we entered the tunnel the cold (but refreshing) water quickly got to almost 2 1/2 feet deep. This may not seem like much for most, but it was quite adventurous for our youngest, 7 year old explorer! We proceeded though the dark 1750 foot tunnel only able to see with the help of our headlamps and flashlights, wading through the narrow and twisting tunnel which at times was less than 5 feet high. We really enjoyed this adventure and found it amazing to think that this underground tunnel was built so long ago without the conveniences of modern day technology.

Some of our group opted for a drier route, but below are the brave souls who waded through, celebrating their victorious exit at the other end!

From here we made our way via the Dung Gate (so called because this was the means by which the Romans removed their sewage from the city) back to the Kotel plaza and into the tunnels that take us the length of the Western Wall underground, revealing the amazing scale of the supporting wall that Herod built to create the temple mount, along with remnants of that time such as a pavement, columns and additional water systems. 

We had two incredible guides today. Both were Orthodox women. The first shared that she had close to 40 grandchildren! She brought Jerusalem of 2000 years ago to life as we walked through the Kotel tunnels. Her passion was evident and this was yet another important voice for us to hear, even if we might dispute some of what we heard presented as history. This trip is all about taking in ALL of the narratives and encountering all of the people of Israel and this was an importnat voice for us to hear too. And there was no question that she left us with a feeing of pride and wonderment and deep sense of connection to our ancient past.



A short lunch break was enjoyed at Machaneh Yehudah – the Jerusalem outdoor food market. Blocks of Halva were aquired, borekas and rogelach enjoyed, spices smelt, and more. 

We ended the afternoon with a very powerful and emotional visit to Yad Vashem. One of our group, Jeff Govendo, saw the same of someone who shared the same last name in the very first exhibit we saw — someone who occupied a place somewhere on his extended family tree. Our excellent guide emphasizd personal connectioons and individual stories throughout our tour. The museum was packed full – we saw members of St. Stephen’s there too, as well as a large group of female IDF soldiers. We learned that it is a requirement for all IDF soldiers to visit Yad Vashem sometime during their service. What makes this Holocaust museum experience unique is the deep sense that is strongly communicated that Israel is the response to the Holocaust. It is the way that, as a Jewish people, we have the ability to make 
Never again mean that we will never again rely on others to provide safae haven to the Jews of the world when trouble strikes.  We ended our visit with a brief reflection circle, El Malei, Kaddish, and our gude, Noam, gave each of us a card with the name of someone who perished in the Holocaust whose name bore some resemblance to our own.

After a break back at the hotel, we had the enormous pleasure of spending a delicious meal wth Joe Federman. Joe grew up at CBS, the son of Toby and Mike who are founding members of the congregation. He is now Bureau Chief for the Associated Press covering Gaza, Israel and the Palestinian authority. We had a wonderful conversation, learning about the nature of the news business in this complex part of the world, post election analysis, the US-Israel relationshiip, the Red Sox, NE Patriots, and more!

Today’s blog post has been written on the bus at 4 am as we make our way to Masada in time for sunrise. Forgive any blurry eyed typos!

A Post Shabbat Update from Jerusalem

Shalom!
Our Congregation B’nai Shalom Israel trip is off to a great start. It is hard to believe that we have only been here since Friday evening – we have already seen and experienced so much!
We had very smooth and straightforward flights. Once we’d met our tour guides we were taken straight to Jerusalem. The first thing that we notice is that one truly ascends to Jerusalem – the bus began to climb the winding road about 2/3rds into our 1 hour ride to the capital city. Entering from the west of the city, we were taken to the Tayelet for our first amazing view. There we had our own brief Kabbalat Shabbat service as the afternoon began to transition to dusk.

After checking in to our hotel in the heart of downtown Jerusalem we had a short walk to a delicious, muti-course meal – an opportunity to taste some of the best that Jerusalem has to offer and a wonderful time for our group to really start to connect with each other.

Today – Shabbat – we started off the day after an incredible breakfast spread with another amazing view – this time from the Mount of Olives. This gave us an opportunity to drive through some of the Arab neighborhoods of East Jerusalem. From our viewing point we could see the gravestones of all those buried on the sides of the Mount, and we learned about the location of the original City of David and how the current walled Old City came into being and slowly took shape.  Our wonderful lead guide, Noam, engages us all every step of the way with the help of Ben and Lily – the two youngest members of our tour – renacting a biblical scene between the Jebusite King and King David when David acquired the land to begin to build his city.

From there we entered the Old City via the Damascus Gate into the Muslim quarter and we immediately had all our senses bombarded with the sounds, smells and colors of the market. The city was bustling with energy – while the Jewish quarter remains quiet on Shabbat the rest of the city is open for business.  Traveling by foot from the Muslim quarter to the Jewish quarter our group began to get a true sense of the geography and what it truly means when people speak of dividing the city – a task that seems quite impossible as one narrow, winding street in one quarter leads directly in the narrow streets of the next.

We arrived at the Kotel – the Western Wall. We took a little time in the area of the wall divided for men and women and prayer notes were placed in the cracks. Then we walked over to the continuation of the wall in the excavated Robinson’s arch area – an area now designated for egalitarian prayer services. We were there alone and took the opportunity to have a short morning service together. Both on Friday night and Shabbat morning, our melodies, poems and readings highlighted the Jerusalem we were experiencing right before us through our liturgy.

Lunch brought us back to the Muslim quarter for some of the best falafel and hummous that Jerusalem has to offer.  Then a tour of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre – by far the most crowded site we visited all day, reminding us Christian pilgrimage to the Holy Land is an enormous source of tourism to Israel, far outscaling Jewish travel by dint of being such a large world population.

In the afternoon, some of us stayed with Noam to explore more of the old city and some of us headed over for some time at the Israel museum. Both groups had an amazing experience – some wonderful exhibits at the museum, including the Dead Sea Scrolls and findings from the Cairo Geniza.  In the old city we took in more views, and had a chance meeting and conversation with a Jewish Israeli of Yemenite descent and a Palestinian Arab from Haifa who were making a documentary about their friendship and the challenges of identity and who were gracious in sharing some of this with us. With this exchange, as with so much of what we saw today, the complexity and many faces of Israel were brought to us in very real and concrete ways. We also stopped in at a 200 year old functioning tehina factory – the smell of sesame for several hundred feet around was incredible!

Perhaps no clearer example of this was our closing program, which we shared with member of St Stephen’s Church who are also traveling from Westborough. Two members of Seeds for Peace – a Jewish Israeli and an Arab Muslim from East Jerusalem – took us through a very intense experience of the challenges of truly listening to each others’ narratives. They left us with a sense of great sadness at how few Israelis and Palestinians have these opportunities and how remarkable their friendship is. There is still much to debrief from this experience, not only for our group but also, I hope, with the church group back in Westborough. Pictured below is Father Jesse Abell of St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church and Micali Morin, who is in Israel for a High School Semester program with NFTY -it was wonderful to have her join us for the evening (and I had an opportunity for a catch-up over an early dinner before the program).

All this… just one day!  And as I finish typing this update, the downtown streets below my window are still buzzing with people who come out to eat, drink and socialize once Shabbat ends – and it is now 1 am!  Time to get some shut-eye before we launch into the next full day that lies ahead.
Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz

On the eve of our Congregational trip to Israel

Well… I’m (nearly) all packed and ready for my first congregational trip to Israel with Congregation B’nai Shalom. We are a group of 17 heading out tomorrow evening and expecting to land in Tel Aviv on Friday afternoon, in time to celebrate Shabbat in Jerusalem.

Our group ranges from age 7 to mid-70s. Many have never been to Israel and, of those who have, most haven’t been for over 20 years. It has been about 8 years since I was last year – the longest gap of travel to Israel that I’ve had for a while.  For our group this is a great adventure as we prepare to see, experience, and taste the great variety that exists in Israel. Our tour company owners are chefs, so we know we are going to eat well, and we have some quite special fresh food experiences lined up.

– We’ll be traveling as far South as Arad and traveling North all the way up to the Golan Heights.

– We’ll be meeting up with Israelis, Bedouins, and Arabs, and learning about Israel from many different perspectives.

– We’ll be grappling with the political, historical and ecological complexities that we find as we journey together.

And we’ll be recording our experiences here on my blog as often as we can.

I hope that you’ll join us on our journey. Feel free to leave messages here on the blog or email me with private messages (such as those you would like us to offer a prayer for healing for, or a brief prayer message that you would like me to place at the Kotel (Western Wall).

How Do We Talk About Israel

Last Shabbat, following the elections in Israel, Rabbi Michael Swarttz and I gave the following sermon at our joint annual Congregation B’nai Shalom/Beth Tikvah service. The presentation was followed by discussion and comment from the congregation. We are sharing our text to stimulate further conversation – perhaps around Seder tables at the upcoming festival of Pesach.


Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz:
Rabbi Melissa Weintraub writes, ‘In rabbinic circles, one increasingly hears sentiments like, “I’m not going to get fired for my politics on gun control or health care, but I could get fired for just about anything I say about Israel.” Rabbi Scott Perlo has coined this, the “Death by Israel Sermon.”

And yet, 4 days after the Israeli elections, bringing together our two congregations, how could we not speak about Israel together? And more than anything, when we speak about Israel together, whether in a formal community gathering or on each other’s Facebook walls, we want to bring care, love, and genuine deep listening to how we speak about Israel with each other.

In his book, ‘Relational Judaism’, Rabbi Ron Wolfson discusses our relationship with Israel as one of the vital aspects of relationship building that needs to be deepened in Jewish communal life. He reports on the impact of ten years of programming in one congregation in St. Louis that sent their 15 year olds on a Summer-long program to live with Israeli youth in a Moshav in the 1970s. At the 30threunion of those who had participated in the program, they surveyed the more than 300 people who had participated over the years.  This revealed that the experience had created a ‘reference relationship’ with Israel that many respondents claimed was one of the most important influences in their lives, evidenced by many of the now-adult participants maintaining regular contact with their Israeli ‘families’.

For those of us who have been to Israel, for those of us who have Israelis in our families, for those of us that have hosted an Israeli in our homes (such as our wonderful Israeli emissary program)… these are personal ways of engaging with Israel and forming a multi-faceted sense of relationship with the land and her people.

For others, we rely on what we can learn from the media. We rely on various Jewish and Israeli organizations, each with their own set of perspectives, principles, and policies to inform us. They frame the stories of Israel, the peace process, and all we try to grasp from the outside for us. But from where do we learn how to interpret this information and how to critically examine the presentation of a particular set of perspectives? How do we contribute to the conversations about Israel, whether within the Jewish community, in broader communal settings, on college campuses, and on the political stage?

How do we talk about Israel? The answer to that question might depend on what our goal is, and with whom we are speaking.

·         For some, the goal is to make the case for a very specific kind of policy or position with regard to Israel.
Photo: Davos Dorf, Davos, Canton of Graubunden
When Netanyahu spoke to Congress 2.5 weeks ago, there was very little of ‘on the one hand’ and ‘on the other hand’. He had a very specific hand to deal. If you a politician, you stake out your ground. Whatever you may be feeling about the outcome of these elections, there is no doubt that Netanyahu clearly articulated where he stood.

·         For some, speaking about Israel has become a not-so-subtle hiding ground for anti-semitism. 
I was speaking with a Christian minister who recently returned from a trip to Israel that was designed to educate ministers about both sides of the conflict. She remarked that she now saw and understood how so much of the focus on Israel’s ills in the media and the international stage is so clearly a manifestation of anti-semitism.  Recently on a British TV show, Question Time, a politician was taken to task by some members of the audience and other panelists for his virulent anti-Zionism. He denied that he was responsible in any way for increases in anti-semitic attacks in the UK, parsing the difference between his anti-Zionism and anti-semitism in ways that simply don’t stand up to scrutiny. We have to speak up and hold those who misuse Israel in this way accountable.

·         For some, speaking about Israel is about working to ensure that the US has Israel’s back.
This is an important role for all involved in political action in DC. But sometimes this role is conflated with never publicly criticizing or questioning Israel’s decisions. This is a delicate subject. Some believe that we risk weakening that support if we introduce nuance and complexity into this political forum. Others believe that if we truly wish the US political system to support Israel and help it achieve a lasting peace with the Palestinians that we are obligated to speak when we perceive Israel to be doing something that is not in its long-term best interests.

For most of us, Rabbis included, we speak about Israel because we care about Israel. We speak about Israel because we want to better understand Israel. We speak about Israel because we want to learn more about the people and the land. And we want, we desperately want to find a path forward for peace. And we struggle with how complicated that is.

I have always made it my mission, when visiting in Israel, to find opportunities to speak with Arab Israelis and Palestinians. I spent a year in Israel, arriving there shortly after the 2nd intifada began. The old city was quiet, and the shopkeepers had plenty of time to chat. I spent extended visits over mint tea with some of them, listening to their stories of what was happening in the West Bank, and the conversations taking place in East Jerusalem. I even traveled into the West Bank and two refugee camps, led by one of those who I had befriended over time, to see things for myself. It opened my eyes to another perspective that, when we only do ‘Jewish Israel’ we can never find. And, whatever you may think of that perspective, my understanding of what the conflict is about and what both sides want was enormously deepened by having taken the time to sit down and have those conversations.

Back in the US, it also gave me access to the Arab Muslim population that was involved in interfaith work with my congregation and others in my last community in Bridgeport. They invited me to speak about the Jewish and Israeli perspective on the peace process, because they knew that I had listened to theirperspective, and we had a mutual respect and, eventually, love for each other, even though we disagreed when new events in the conflict arose. The bridge building we were able to do locally was built on friendship and trust first.

One cannot help but emerge from these kinds of discursive and relationship-based conversations with a very different kind of personal connection to Israel and the people of Israel.  One gains entry into the diversity of perspective and experience of Israel’s citizens. There can be no two-dimensional analysis or understanding of what is happening or what will happen – it is complex and multi-dimensional, and ever-changing.  And perhaps most of all, when one is tempted to make statements about Israel, the perspectives gained from relationship-based conversations with different people brings about a little more humility – an awareness of what we know and what we don’t.

Rabbi Michael Swarttz
In her remarks Rabbi Gurevitz used the descriptors “nuanced,” “complex,” “multi-dimensional,” and “ever-changing.”  These very appropriately describe virtually everything about the Israeli situation—its people, its politics, its culture, its security.  These aspects of the situation often get lost in the highly charged arena of Jewish communal discussion and debate about the Jewish State.  In their place there is an attitude of “If I am right, then you must be wrong” that characterizes the discussion.  It is a shame that Israel, which at one time united us, and which should continue to do so, is that which so often divides us.  It polarizes us. Why?  So much at stake, we care so deeply.

My reflections this evening come from two contemporary thinkers.  Yossi Klein Halevi is a journalist and author who was American-born and who made Aliyah as a young man.  Rabbi Brad Hirschfield is the President of CLAL, a national Jewish organization committed to building bridges across communities to encourage pluralism and openness and to promoting inclusive Jewish communities in which all voices are heard.  Rabbi Gurevitz is a CLAL Associate, by the way.

Tonight we find ourselves mid-way between the holidays of Purim and Pesach.  A few years ago Yossi Klein Halevi wrote a piece that has stayed with me in which he describes the Jewish community as divided between Purim Jews and Pesach Jews.  Each of these groups identifies with a different biblical commandment of Zachor, telling us to remember. 

The first voice commands us to remember that we were strangers in the land of Egypt, and the message of that command is: “Don’t be brutal.” The second voice commands us to remember how the tribe of Amalek attacked us without provocation while we were wandering in the desert, and the message of that command is: “Don’t be naive.” You may recall that the Shabbat before Purim is Shabbat Zachor, and we read the Torah passage commanding us to remember what Amalek did to our ancestors.

The first Zachor is the voice of Passover, of liberation; the second is the voice of Purim, commemorating our victory over the genocidal threat of Haman, a descendant of Amalek. “Passover Jews” are motivated by empathy with the oppressed; “Purim Jews” are motivated by alertness to threat. Both are essential; one without the other creates an unbalanced Jewish personality, a distortion of Jewish history and values.

Klein Halevi suggests that one reason the Palestinian issue is so wrenching for Jews is that it is the point on which the two commands of our history converge: the stranger in our midst is represented by a national movement that wants to usurp us.

And so a starting point of a healthy North American Jewish conversation on Israel would be acknowledging the agony of our dilemma.

Imagine an Orthodox rabbi, a supporter of the settlers in Hebron (a Purim Jew), delivering this sermon to his congregation: “My friends, our community has sinned against Israel. For all our devotion to the Jewish state and our concern for its survival, we have failed to acknowledge the consequences to Israel’s soul of occupying another people against its will.”

Now imagine a liberal rabbi, a supporter of J Street (a Pesach Jew), telling his or her congregation: “My friends, our community has sinned against Israel. For all our devotion to the Jewish state and our concern for its democratic values, we have failed to acknowledge the urgency of existential threat once again facing our people.”

As Klein Halevi asserts, when North American Jews internalize or at least acknowledge each other’s anxieties, and the legitimacy of the other’s Zachor, the shrillness of much of the North American Jewish debate over Israel will give way to a more nuanced conversation.

I thought of Klein Halevi’s analysis in light of my day yesterday.  In the afternoon I attended via my computer a webinar sponsored by the rabbinic organization T’ruah. T’ruah is the North American wing of Rabbis for Human Rights, an organization focused on the civil rights of minorities in Israel, including, but not limited to, Israeli Arabs and Palestinians.  Both groups consist of what most of us would refer to as “left of center” rabbis.

In the evening my wife and I attended a lecture at our local Chabad in Newton by Boston Globe columnist Jeff Jacoby.  Jacoby spoke about U.S.-Israel relations in the aftermath of the Israeli election.  Needless to say, this was a different crowd than I had been with during the webinar, with different views and different assumptions.

Yesterday afternoon I was with Pesach Jews.  In the evening I was with Purim Jews.  My problem is I have commonalities with both groups.  Points of agreement and disagreement with each. Even though I consider myself slightly left of center, I do understand and share many of the concerns of the Purim Jews.

I now turn to Rabbi Brad Hirschfield, the President of CLAL. In his book You Don’t Have to Be Wrong for Me to Be Right (this is what this is all about), Hirschfield describes an experience he had in 2006 when he created a television series called Building Bridges: Abrahamic Perspectives on the World Today.  He created the series for Bridges TV, the American Muslim network based in Buffalo, New York.  The show is a weekly roundtable with different imams, priests, ministers, and Hirschfield trying to use the wisdom of their faiths to find spiritual solutions to contemporary problems and demonstrate that disagreement doesn’t always have to be about demonizing the people with whom they disagree.

Hirschfield was asked by the people at Bridges TV to invite an Iranian Imam in Detroit, Mohammed Ali Elahi, to appear on his show.  Elahi had taken numerous positions publicly with which Hirschfield vehemently disagreed, but he met him and spent a good deal of time talking with him.  Neither changed the other’s opinion, but they came to like and respect each other nonetheless.  Hirschfield writes that the fact that they had deep disagreements was “precisely why I was open to having him on the show. It is most important to talk with those people with whom we most disagree.”
He not only agreed to have Elahi on his show, but Elahi invited Hirschfield to come to his mosque, speak from the pulpit, and then view the premiere of the show at the mosque with his congregation.  This generated outrage from both Jewish organizations and general political groups. He was told “You can’t talk to him,” that he would be punished and that his career would be in jeopardy.  People would see to it that he “would be finished in Jewish life.” He was called a traitor.  His love of Israel was questioned, along with his commitment to the Jewish community. He writes, “I was shocked. I began to realize that my ‘sin’ lay in the claim that disagreement was no excuse for not talking. I had touched that raw nerve that says you do have to be wrong for me to be right.”

There are lessons to be learned from Rabbi Hirschfield’s story about how we, internally in the Jewish community, speak to and listen to those with whom we disagree about what Israel does, who it elects, and how it goes about its business. Some of us are Purim Jews; others Pesach Jews. Some, like myself, are a combination of the two. I believe we are a stronger and healthier Jewish community when we can have respectful relationships and civil dialogue with those who differ with us. “Azeh hu chacham? Who is wise?” He who learns from every person, including, and perhaps especially, those with different viewpoints. Given how much is at stake, and how invested most of us are in the Israeli enterprise, it is often easier said than done. But it is a goal well-worth striving for.

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