Sacrifice, Service, and Sanctification—Thoughts on Leviticus 10

All of the events in Leviticus 10 - the unauthorized incense, supernatural sudden deaths, seemingly callous and disconnected commands, and the various silences - take place during the same detailed, ritualistic inauguration of Aaron and his sons begun in chapter 9 that included blood on earlobes, thumbs and big toes, etc. This particular ritual was, as I understand it, a combination of public installation, the 'activation' of a set means for communal cleansing/relationship with God and a hands-on 'boot camp' for actually performing the various activities correctly.

In the midst of this critical learn-as-you-do process, with Moses providing the ritualistic instruction in much the same way he had assembled all the parts of the Tabernacle as he was shown 'on the mountain' (Exodus 25:40, 40:17-35), Nadav and Avihu decide to add an incense ritual of their own—one not authorized by God nor instructed by Moses. Up until this point, as the sons of Aaron, their role had been to assist their father, the High Priest. Their authorized duties had included preparing sacrifices and bringing the blood to their father to use in the various ritual offerings and ceremonies. Not glamorous work by any means, but much more than the average Israelite, observing from a distance, was allowed to do in the service connecting God and man.

Whatever Nadav and Avihu's desired outcome: drawing closer to God, highlighting their willingness to serve 'above and beyond' the mundane, or a desire to be the focus of attention like their father, the result is the end of their lives and service to God altogether. As the prophets would later state, God desires obedience even more than ritual sacrifice (1 Sam 15:22) As priests, their job was to draw the Israelites towards God—not themselves. Disobedience, in this instance, could be seen as a form of idolatry—placing personal desires or ambitions (no matter how pure or worthy) before God's instructions and sovereignty—results in 'alien fire.' Motives matter, especially in a place of public leadership in the service of God.

This act of disobedience—stepping outside the bounds of Divine orchestration through Moses—demands a response from God who desires that those near to Him be humble enough to accept the instructions He gave Moses. God's intervention in speaking to Aaron with the command not to drink while performing this ritual service may be both part of the shakedown training and a way on asserting that God rather than Moses is the source of these rituals. The rituals serve a Divine purpose and not human need for the Divine alone.

Aaron is silent in shock/grief, but like Job, also in his refusal to blame God. Moses' silence, and later anger, rather than comfort, reflect his understanding of God's power and judgment and the importance to not only Moses, Aaron and the immediate family, but to the whole community that this process for providing individual and communal atonement be completely and correctly activated. However, Aaron understands that this is - and needs to be - about more than rote ritual for atonement and connection with God to be successful.

Ironically, Moses' and Aaron's very different approaches to relationship with God (Moses stressing of ritual perfection and Aaron's focus on the emotional components) does seem to have created a breach in their own relationship.

I don't believe I've presented a radical approach by any means, just a slightly different nuance to this text. However, I do believe this nuanced reading can teach us valuable lessons regarding our own contemporary struggles with religion and spirituality:

• We need not choose between 'ritual' and 'emotional' fulfillment in our spiritual journeys or communities. Both have a role to play in our growth and connection to the Divine.

• A community that seeks to be holy, to serve the Divine beyond just self-interest, requires those who are passionate advocates of ritual and tradition serving alongside those equally as passionate about sensitivity to human emotion and imperfection.

• We can only be fully sanctified, reaching our full potential for service to both the Holy and the human, when we can accept others' perspectives and roles alongside our own and not see them as opposition to our own.

With gratitude to Rabbi Gary Creditor, whose Torah Study inspired this post, and to Rabbi David Mark for his input as I developed my ideas. I'm fortunate to count both among my teachers.

Life, Holiness and Community

LIFE isn't about 'what you have' 'where you've been' or 'the title you're called by'...
HOLINESS isn't following religious rules to perfection—the rules are the means, never the end...
SUCCESS isn't determined by what you've accomplished for yourself...

LIFE is drawing each breath, using each moment, in a way that makes the Divine evident to others (and yourself)
HOLINESS is being in a way that makes the Divine want to come near you, and those around you want to come near the Divine
SUCCESS is what you've worked with others to accomplish together

The GOAL is to repair the damage and fill the voids in the lives (individual and collective) around us by bringing the Divine close and shining Divine light on the broken and damaged pieces. The Divine light is not for us to draw attention to ourselves, but to keep focused on the need(s). Resisting the urge to stand in the spotlight is STRENGTH

COMMUNITY is holy, it's being like the Holy One
The Holy One loves individuals, but needs communities—large and small —to be fully present with us and sanctified in our midst
We were created, and are filled, with Divine life-breath, so we too need more than just the Holy One, we need one another—in all our diversity—as much as we need the Holy One

As we LIVE HOLINESS, COMMUNITIES that unite synergistically, are able focus enough of the light of the Divine Who is drawing near to usus, giving us wisdom, strength and hope to HEAL this world we have damaged. Achieving this GOAL sanctifies the Holy One in our midst.

The struggle isn't getting the Divine to defeat the Evil
The struggle is getting US to accept what LIFE, HOLINESS and SUCCESS realty are rather chase the counterfeit goals of possession, position, and power.

COMMUNITY is powerful. It doesn't take a large community to move a large obstacle or make long-term changes to society IF we keep the GOAL in sight.
HOLINESS is contagious. We are designed to respond to holiness and inspire one another to increase it.

If you've read all this and felt uplifted and inspired, don't leave without asking yourself THREE QUESTIONS (today and every day):

WHAT am I really living for each day?
WHO am I focusing the light with and on?
HOW can I increase true holiness in myself and my community?

It's TIME to make each day count and repair this world TOGETHER—Starting NOW!

[Inspired by learning with and from Rabbi Aaron Alexander, Reb Mimi Feigelson, Rabbi Shai Held and Rabbi Michael Knopf]

"Opening Beth-El's Doors - Jewish Disability Awareness Month"

Karla Worrell
Temple Beth-El Bulletin February 2014

When I asked if the SATO Committee had anything planned for Jewish Disability Awareness month in February, I didn't imagine the answer would include me writing a bulletin article. However, after ten years of participating in services, classes and events at Temple Beth-El with disabilities, I'm glad to share a few thoughts from that perspective.

At first glance, you'd see my canes and probably think that mobility issues from my Cerebral Palsy were my most significant challenge at Temple Beth-El. Even though accessibility is a consideration, it's been the disability that's not visible, and most recent, significant loss of sight from glaucoma, that's presented the greatest challenge to my participation in activities that I enjoy at Temple Beth-El.

The first time I leyned Torah was as part of Rabbi Creditor's Adult Bnei Mitzvah class of 2007, and I was hooked, increasing my skill and participation steadily. Then, just two years later, sudden and severe glaucoma left me with much less vision. I had to find new ways of doing many things in my daily life and in my davening and leyning as well. I was able to memorize many prayers, which made davening easier and more spiritual rather than a struggle. However, this wouldn't work with leyning, since the Torah scroll must be read. I wondered if I'd ever again be able to participate in something that was both very meaningful and enjoyable. I explored many visual aids, but they just got in the way. I realized that I could do readings from the bottom of the scroll's columns, but not the top. Then, Rabbi Creditor asked me to leyn the third aliya of Yom Kippur Minchah, which spanned the bottom and top of two columns. Though the scroll used is shorter than our regular Shabbat scroll, it was still a challenge! At one point, while practicing with Rabbi Creditor, he asked, "What do you usually do when you're having trouble reading?" From that question, the adaptations that have made me comfortable returning to leyning began.

On February 15th, I'll leyn the third aliya of Parashat Ki Tissa in recognition of Jewish Disability Awareness month. I no longer use the yad, but lean in close to the scroll. I also learn my aliya with more digital aids, including photos of the scroll itself, which allow me much more practice seeing the actual reading than I would be able to schedule with either Hazzan Marian or Rabbi Creditor.

It's taken many people's resources, ideas and support to allow me to return to doing what I love. When it comes to making a place for those challenged by disabilities, whether lifelong or relatively new, building accessibility is important, but it's only the first step. It's even more important that we be a disability-friendly community. Every person is different and deals with their disability differently. The best way to include someone, is to get to know them for who they are, and not just their disability. My passion for Judaism, along with many other interests, aren't a product of my disabilities, they're just who I am. It's not unusual for people with disabilities to keep their concerns and frustrations private. The best way to know what ways you, or others, can help is to genuinely get to know them. As you build relationships, you'll learn more about their challenges and needs as well. I hope, beginning with this Jewish Disability Awareness month and continuing into the future, all of us will work together to make Temple Beth-El not only accessible, but disability-friendly as well!

Davening As A Woman

Davening As A Woman

Karla J. Worrell

Sermon: August 23, 2013

Temple Beth-El (Richmond VA)

I want to talk tonight about prayer, and what it means to me to daven as a Jewish woman. Prayer has been a significant part of my life since childhood. Of course, on my journey to Judaism, the form, structure and theology of my prayers has changed. However, Judaism has only deepened my commitment to prayer. Davening plays a central role in both my personal and communal life, so it was natural that the first group I joined at Beth-El was the Morning Minyanaires. I was fortunate to begin my daily davening journey with such a welcoming and supportive group.

For all of us, Jewish prayer has obstacles we must work to overcome: Hebrew fluency, davening speed and the pursuit of kavanah  meaningful focus - are a few examples.  Davening as a woman, I also had the challenges of seeing myself as part of the minyan as well as finding myself spiritually in the words of the prayers.

In Conservative Judaism, we often speak with pride about being egalitarian, but do we stop to think of what that really means? What does being egalitarian require of us? One morning, a few years after joining the Morning Minyan, one of our members had a yartzeit. Since we often fell short of ten, he invited a couple of friends to join him so he'd be able to say Kaddish. One of his friends sat in the row in front of me. Shortly before time to pray, he turned and said, with a mischievous grin, to his friend past me in the rear, "Oh, that's right, you count women in your minyan here" I responded with a smile and said, "Yes, and that's why I converted here and not at your shul"

When I've told that story, most women - and many men too - want to stop and cheer at this point, BUT this isn't the end of the story. All I'd done at this point was give a quick comeback. It's what I did next that really mattered: I davened together with him and the rest of the minyan knowlegably and with kavanah. By the end of the davening, I'd earned his respect, regardless of his beliefs on counting women. Being part of an egalitarian community isn't what gets us counted; it's participation that gets us counted. And participation isn't limited to the times we are able to make it to a minyan or services either. I've found that davening at home allows me to explore both the prayers and melodies we use here, as well as different prayers and melodies, praying at my own pace. Having learned from Rabbi Creditor, and others, the structure and meaning of the prayers and services has allowed me the flexibility to explore the prayers and find my place spiritually in them. Davening at home - whether once a week or every day - not only builds my knowledge and skills, but also my spiritual and emotional connections to the prayers. This is what makes prayer real and meaningful and allows me to pray with kavanah.

As women, it's all too easy to sell ourselves short in settling for the superficial of "inclusion" as a substitute for "participation." But if we do, we'll miss out on the deep richness of our faith - settling for shallow political correctness instead of real connection.

Imagine if we had done this in US politics: won the right to vote and hold office but focused more on inclusion than our participation. Would we have women able to be elected and serve with skill and distinction in local, state, and federal offices? I dont think so.

When it comes to Jewish liturgy, we often settle for the superficial in other ways as well. We use the inclusion of the Matriarchs as a way to feel included without looking beyond this to find our personal place in the prayers - both those that mention the Patriarchs, and those that don't.

If the prayer doesn't include feminine references, we can tend to - consciously or subconsciously - exclude ourselves from the text rather than finding, or making, our own connections to it.

We don't do this with other areas of Jewish worship. The tzitzit on both of my tallitot are the traditional white. The tefillin I wear every weekday as I daven shacharit are the same halachic black as a man's. As proud as I am to be a woman, I wouldn't want it any other way.

That's not to say there's no room for us to express our femininity. We can attach our white tzitzit to beautiful tallitot and carry our tefillin in bags that express our pride in keeping the mitzvah as women. However, most of us would probably be offended if we were told we must wear pink tzitzit or purple tefillin because we are women. Or, as in the case of Women of the Wall until just recently, that we must wear our tallit like a scarf rather than fulfill the commandment to wrap ourselves in the tzitzit the way men traditionally do. We would be offended to be told we must feminize these aspects of Jewish worship rather than be included in doing them in the traditional halachic way with the community. But when it comes to the words of prayer, we've told ourselves that they must be feminized for us to be included.

Don't misunderstand me, I think it's great that we all now thank God for "creating me in the Divine image" rather than men thanking God they "weren't created a woman," and women that they are created "according to God's will", and that we include the Matriarchs in many of the prayers where we do. However, it isn't just the fact their names are there that makes it meaningful, but the dimension that they add to the meaning and purpose of the prayer. For example, prayers like those after an aliya, for the ill, or at a baby naming, open with "mi-sheberakh avoteinu" literally, "(May) He who blessed our ancestors" Since God blessed both the Patriarchs and the Matriarchs, it adds to the blessing to have both women and men named. We want those being prayed for to be blessed just as they all were.

As much as I find meaning in the inclusion of the Matriarchs in much of our liturgy, it might surprise you to learn that, as a woman, I'm offended by the inclusion of the Matriarchs in the Amidah.

To understand the reasons why, it's important to understand the reason the Amidah begins the way it does in the first place.

Most people, men and women, think of the opening phrase, "Elohei Avraham, vElohei Yitzchak, v'Elohei Yaakov" "God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob" as simply a way our rabbis chose to describe God. If this were all it was, it would be wrong to exclude the Matriarchs from such a description, since He was certainly their God as well.

But, if all the rabbis who created the Amidah wanted to do was identify God, then, "Eloheinu v'Elohei Avoteinu" and "Our God and the God of our Ancestors" would have been more than sufficient.

Rather, in forming the core prayer of Judaism, the rabbis sought to connect us to God through the core concept of Judaism: Covenant with God, as revealed in the Torah.

The story of Moses and our deliverance from Egypt begins our shared narrative as a distinct people and not just a family-clan. When God speaks to Moses for the first time from the burning bush in Exodus 3:6, God identifies Himself as, "the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob."

By opening the Amidah with this phrase from Torah, our rabbis link us - each of us, men and women - to Torah and our covenant with God. They want us to understand that, as Jews, we approach God by way of our unique covenant. The petitions we make on weekdays and the praises we offer on Shabbat and Holidays in the Amidah are rooted in that covenant. When we use the phrase, "God of Abraham, God of Isaac, and God of Jacob" we are invoking the covenant, and our covenantal right to petition the Creator of the Universe!

Every time we daven the Amidah, we are also personally affirming the covenant and connecting to our sacred history. Although the Matriarchs are part our history, they were not the ones God made our covenant with. I don't believe God was being misogynistic; just that He worked within the social structures of the day, in which it was men who made the covenantal contracts - not men and women.

To return to my earlier political analogy; we don't deal with our civil Patriarchal history by feminizing it. Most of us would be shocked if our child, grandchild, niece or nephew told us they had learned in school that George and Martha Washington were our country's first President, or that the U.S. Constitution was created by our "Founding Fathers and Mothers." We accept our country's Patriarchal past while taking our rightful place in its egalitarian present. We understand that to revise our history would diminish women's struggles to achieve all that we have today.

If someone told me that I had to distort our county's historical narrative for me to have the right to vote or hold a political office today, I'd be offended. To tell me I can't take my place in accepting Torah or our foundational covenant without distorting our spiritual narrative is equally offensive to me. I don't want to begin my petition to God with a lie.

For me to add the Matriarchs to the Amidah, would be saying that I, as a woman, don't have the power to affirm the covenant unless I can feminize it in some way. To engage in spiritual revisionist history like this, would take much of the power from this prayer because, for me, every time I daven the Amidah with kavanah -stepping into the covenant and making it my own - I make it egalitarian. I not only connect with God and covenant, but with the generations of Jews past, present and future who davened this prayer in its traditional form. I connect to klal Yisrael as a Jew and as a woman.

As a Jewish woman, I want to step up and take my place in our living stream of history rather than disconnect from Torah and covenant. I don't want to revise history - I want to write the next chapter. We, not the Matriarchs, are the women that need to become part of the Amidah.

Yet, for all I've said about not adding the Matriarchs to the Amidah, there is a prayer we will daven in the upcoming holiday season where I believe women should and could be inserted, yet even our egalitarian siddur gives them no voice.

If you'll turn to page 218 in Siddur Sim Shalom, you'll see "Geshem", a piyyut or liturgical poem , which is inserted in the Musaf Amidah of Shemini Atzeret, when we begin adding "mashiv ha-ruach" to our prayers until Passover.

This prayer is specifically a request to God, as we enter the autumn rainy season, that He would grant us life giving rain because of the *merits of our ancestors* Each verse links an ancestor to water then asks that, in their merit, we be granted water. As you can see, the verses recall Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, Aaron and Israel's Tribes. But where are the women? I'd at least expect to see Miriam on the list. After all, don't our Sages teach us that it was in *her* merit that the rock that gave water followed the Israelites on their desert journey? Where is Miriam?

This piyyut is not a covenantal piece, nor a core piece of liturgy connecting klal Yisrael like the Amidah itself. There aren't halachic restrictions on amending it like there are with the Amidah. I hope our next Conservative siddur will include the verses for Geshem featuring Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, Leah and Miriam written by Mark Frydenberg and translated by my teacher, Rabbi Simcha Roth (z"l). Even the addition of just the Miriam verse would add richness to the prayer. It would make saying Geshem more meaningful for me if she were included.

I hope all of you here tonight have learned a little and that you'll daven with more awareness of the depth and power of our liturgy - for both women and men - in the year ahead. I look forward to davening with you all.


Shabbat Shalom


* May be found here: http://neohasid.org/resources/geshem/

Creating Holiness

D'var Torah Mattot-Masei 5772 '

"Creating Holiness"

July 21, 2012/ 2 Av 5772 

Summer Lay-Sermon Series 

Temple Beth-El Richmond, VA

Karla J. Worrell

This morning we read from the double portion of Mattot-Masei. These two sedras are most often read together and - though each has its own themes - can be looked at as a single unit.

Mattot's focus is on words, openìng with laws relating to vows and oaths for men and women. Vows and oaths were ways of making things holy or prohibited above and beyond the Torah's commandments. By vowing to donate a possession to the service of God or taking an oath that prohibited a normally permitted action, any Israelite could cause an ordinary object to become a holy thing serving a holy purpose.

Next are the instructions to attack Midian to redress the sin of Midian sending women to entice the Israelite men and convince them to follow false gods. The details of Balaam's death are included here as well since Torah tells us this enticing was done "by the word of Balaam." According to tradition, after Balaam was unable to curse the Israelites, he convinced the Midianites to seduce them so they would no longer be worthy of Divine protection.

Mattot concludes with the tribes of Reuben and Gad making petition to Moses to be given their inheritance in the land conquered by Israel east of Jordan rather than in the land of Cana'an. Moses is, at first  infuriated by their words; but, after they take an oath to send troops to the battles for the other tribes' inheritance west of Jordan until all the tribes have their inheritance, Moses agrees provided "[you] do as you have promised"

Throughout Mattot words set the boundaries of holiness and define communal expectation - uniting individuals into a community that brings us to Masei.

Where Mattot's focus is words Masei focuses on actions, beginning with a recap of their journeys from Egypt through the wilderness to this point just before they enter the land.

They are told how to set the boundaries and divide the land by tribe and to set aside cities for the Levites, who receive no lands, to live in. God gives them instructions for dealing with those who commit murder and manslaughter. The land is not to be defiled with blood because "I the Lord abide among the Israelite people" and both God and Israel are to dwell in holiness.

In reading Mattot and Masei, we learn that words and actions are important. Words have power - power to make the ordinary holy and that promised a reality. Words have tangibility and inspire action - what our words define, our actions create. When our actions and words are marked by integrity and humility, others notice and we gain their trust and respect. When our words and actions are inconsistent or dishonest, others notice as well.

When we value this power to create holiness in the world, we can create treasured relationships, productive partnerships, and strong communities. Holiness is not reserved for Shabbat or shul alone.

Certainty, our words of tefillot, brachot and Torah are holy words that define and shape us as ìndividuals and as a kehillat kadosh - a holy community - but, just as importantly, our words and actions have the power to create holiness far beyond these walls.

One way to look at being holy is: Being holy is being as conscious of the way you make people feel as you are of how people make you feel. This isn't always easy to do. However, when we act and speak to others in ways that are honest, respectful, and kind, we are choosing to bring holiness to others and the world around us. The slow cashier in the busy checkout line, the waitress who doesn't get your order quite right, co-workers, friends and family all give us opportunities to create holiness. I can think of many times in my own life where small, unexpected words or acts of kindness and integrity have made a big difference. Usually, the other person had no idea how much that little act of "everyday holiness" meant to me.

As Jews, Torah calls us to be holy and pursue righteousness in our own lives and community. Mattot-Masei reminds us that we have the power to go beyond the Torah's command that our lives be holy and aspire to create and strengthen the holiness and goodness in the people around us.

Next week, we observe Tisha B'Av, mourning the destruction of the Temple and Jerusalem. The rabbis concluded that the First Temple was destroyed because of sin, but the Second Temple was destroyed due to sinat chinam - baseless hatred. A Talmud Midrash tells the story of Bar Kamtza, who, due to an error and a personal grudge, was publicly humiliated. When those responsible were unwilling to correct the situation, Bar Kamtza went to the Romans for revenge. The rabbis say these words and actions were what eventually led to the Temple's destruction.

This week as well, we have seen more than once how one person's choice to create death and destruction rather than holiness has caused much grief and suffering in Bulgaria and Aurora, CO. May we each be inspired to choose to speak and act in ways that create holiness in our day-to-day lives, enriching our community and ourselves in the process.

Shabbat Shalom

Spiritual Journeys: An Enduring Inheritance

D'var Torah 5771 Parshat Masei
Spiritual Journeys: An Enduring Inheritance
(Bamidbar 33.1-36.13)

Our parsha, Masei, is literally named "journeys." Yet, other than the opening section of verses, it deals more with inheritances than journeys. After Moses summarizes the journey from Egypt to where they now stand, on the east bank of the Jordan River, poised to enter the land promised to them by God; the rest of the parsha deals with specifics of how they are to inherit the land.
•They are given the land's borders and general instructions on dividing it among the tribes, both large and small.
•Cities are given to the Levites along with pasture land around the cities since they won't inherit territory along with the other tribes.
•Cities of refuge are to be designated from among the Levitical cities so that the person who caused another's death unintentionally could flee from his inheritance to the nearest city of refuge and live there until the death of the Kohen HaGadol to keep the family from avenging their loss by killing him.
•Finally, to insure continuity of inheritance, there are stipulations for daughters who inherit property to marry within their tribe so the land stays a part of their tribal portion rather than passing to their husband's tribe. So with all this emphasis on inheritance, why open Masei with a travel itinerary?

I believe this recounting of their travels is no accident, but rather a part of what Torah wanted those about to enter the land, and us here today as well, to learn: Their shared journeys and experiences weren't just a way to get them to their inheritance, they were a part of their inheritance.

Except for Caleb and Joshua, the Israelites about to enter the land weren't the same ones who had left Egypt forty years earlier. They were the children and grandchildren of those who had gone from slavery to freedom following the first Passover. Their ancestors struggled to trust God even after seeing all the signs and wonders God performed through Moses and Aaron to bring about their release from Egyptian bondage. However, despite their failures along the way, this first generation left Egypt with some faith which they passed to the next generation who held onto it and developed it into a deeper trust in God. The 16th century Italian Torah commentator Ovadia Sforno, wrote in his commentary on the beginning of our parsha, that the journeys are included because, "The blessed God wanted the journeys of Israel to be recorded as to make known their merit in following Him 'In the desert, in a land that was not sown,' such that they were worthy of entering the Land" Though they may not have had as much faith in God as Moses and Aaron, not even enough to keep them from murmuring and complaining about various inconveniences of the journey, still, they had enough faith to keep following God through the wilderness. As a result, their children, the next generation, were now preparing to follow God's directions to enter the land.

Traveling together can bring out both the best and the worst in people. How wonderful to share an inspiring scenic view or thrilling "adventure" together. How miserable to experience delays, disappointments or seemingly endless, "Are we there yet?"s together. When we travel together, away from familiar surroundings and conveniences, we have the opportunity to see each other's "real" selves through the lens of the unexpected - whether it be awesome or frustrating.

As the Israelites traveled together with God and each other, they learned and grew from the experience. Though they often frustrated God - along with Moses and Aaron - He never abandoned them. Even in their apparent failures, they and their children experienced God's persistent love and concern for His people and His commitment to bring them to their inheritance. God was able to see that, though some might murmur, complain and even rebel, there were still always those who were ready to trust Him and follow His instructions and commandments.

The Israelites learned from each other's successes and mistakes as well. They saw Moses intercede to God for them and devote his time and energy to teaching them, they watched as Aaron continued his obligations as Kohen HaGadol after the death of two of his sons and they mourned Miriam's death together as a community - moving ever closer not just to inheriting a land, but becoming a nation united by their shared experiences.

Shared journeys transform. Shared experiences, responsibilities and possessions make us aware that there is much more to life than just *us* and our immediate surroundings or condition. We learn to look to others for strength, support and wisdom along the way.

The Israelite's shared journey transformed a generation whose parents were slaves who struggled to trust God, into a people in covenant with God, ready to possess the land He promised them as their inheritance. Our shared journeys with God and each other, through tefillot and Torah - shared holy times and holy words transform us as well. It's our shared Jewish journey that makes us a kehillah - a holy community.

As you journey through life with your children, grandchildren (or great-grandchildren) family and friends, whether or not you think you have much faith or spirituality to offer, you can give them the faith you have. Beautiful, inspiring Shabbat and holiday prayers and meals shared side-by-side, a look at the weekly Torah portion together (even if it's by Skype), being there for bar and bat mitzvahs, weddings or the harder parts of the journey like sickness or a shivah call. When you share the journey through Jewish life and faith with them, not only do you and they grow, but we grow as a sacred community, as the inheritance of shared Jewish journey is passed dor l'dor.

May our "inheritance of journey" become stronger from generation to generation just as our ancestors' did.

Shabbat Shalom

(c) Karla J. Worrell July 30, 2011

Summer Lay-Sermon Program Temple Beth-El, Richmond VA

Ki Tetze "Defining And Strengthening Our Communities"

Davar Torah 5769 Ki Tetze
“Defining and Strengthening Our Communities”

Torah: Deuteronomy 21.10-25.19 Haftarah: Isaiah 54.1-10

This week’s parasha, Ki Tetze, contains over seventy laws covering a wide variety of topics including the following: 

 •Respect for parents
 •Caring for others property and returning lost items
 •Appropriate dress
 •Concern for animals
 •Care of crops and fields
 •Sexual purity and marital integrity
 •Protection for unloved wives and children
 •Individual responsibility to care for those in need
 •Just laws and punishments 
 •Honest business practices 
 •Loans, interest and vows
 •Proper treatment and payment of workers

This is quite an assortment and it's not even a complete list. Despite their diversity, most of the laws covered in Ki Tetze do have something in common: They are laws governing personal life rather than communal worship and functions. However, as John Donne wrote, "No man is an island, entire of itself." Communities are made up of individuals and even those actions we view as personal or private affect the community as a whole, even if the link isn't immediately apparent. Or, as the rabbis of the Talmud put it in Shavuot 39a, "all Jews are responsible for one another." Even those laws that apply to our personal lives are important to the strength of the community as a whole.

 This is no less true today, whatever the community: whether families, nations, professions, or the Jewish people.

Laws define a community, giving it structure and unity. And the laws people choose to follow and respect help define which communities they consider themselves a part of as well. Whether it's following "house rules" as part of a family, keeping civil laws as responsible citizens, or adhering to high standards in our professions; the laws we keep show others what we are proud to be part of. As Jews we have laws that define us as well - like those in our parasha. As we look at the laws in Ki Tetze, we see some that clearly set the Israelites apart from the nations around them; such as not wearing wool and linen together, separating crops from one another, and not charging a fellow Jew interest. But many of the laws seem quite common and universal: respecting parents, being honest in business, and returning lost objects. Both the distinctive and the general laws were important to Israelite society as a whole.

It is the same with us as a Jewish community today. Whether we think of them as laws, mitzvot, or halakhah; the laws of our community give it structure and strength. Some make us distinct and different such as lighting candles and taking a break from our everyday activities on Shabbat, keeping kosher, and observing Jewish holidays, festivals and lifecycle events.

 Others are not so distinctive. They reflect the values and actions that are expected from all in our society. However, when we keep even these laws as Jews, because they are mitzvot and not just as general principles, we identify ourselves as part of the Jewish people. Societal issues such as care for the disadvantaged, fair labor practices and concern for the environment offer us opportunities to look at distinctly Jewish sources for guidance and inspiration as we address them. One of the strengths of Judaism is that it has a lot of wisdom to offer in dealing with concerns such as these. For the ancient rabbis, as well as us today, Judaism is about much more than just ritual and connection to God. Though covenant with God through Torah is the foundation, Judaism is also about how we connect to one another and the world around us. As Jews, we are not an island either. This is one of the things I appreciate most about Judaism in general, and Conservative Judaism in particular. Conservative Judaism, with its particular approach to Jewish law, allows our faith to both strengthen us as a distinct Jewish community as well as inspire us to touch the world around us rather than just staying isolated on our own.

 When we choose to respect and embrace mitzvot as Conservative Jews -- both those that make us distinct as Jews and those that allow us to have an impact on the world around us in a distinctly Jewish way -- we define and strengthen both our ties to God and our own Jewish identity along with strengthening our synagogue and the greater Jewish community. As we read the mitzvot in today’s parasha, I invite you to join me in considering how many – both public and private, distinct and common - are part of your own life.

 As we are now in the month of Elul, when we reflect on the year past in preparation for the fast approaching holidays, now is a good time to both recognize all we have accomplished as well as set goals for more growth in the year ahead. Even the smallest change will make us stronger both as individuals and as a community.

 Shabbat Shalom 

Karla Worrell
kjworrell@gmail.com

 Delivered at Temple Beth-El Richmond VA 29 August 2009