Notes from our Rabbis

Briana Romancier 2/3/22 Briana Romancier 2/3/22

A Double Dose of Joy, Creativity, and Strengthening

Gosh, there's so much heaviness we could talk about this week. I've been distraught about the series of bomb threats at historically black colleges, and my brain is swirling with so many questions that have been stirred up around antisemitism this week (Maus, Whoopi Goldberg, graffiti, Tucker Carlson, etc.). If any of these topics don't ring a bell, I encourage you to search them online and read up -- there are many great articles and takes out there already!

Gosh, there's so much heaviness we could talk about this week. I've been distraught about the series of bomb threats at historically black colleges, and my brain is swirling with so many questions that have been stirred up around antisemitism this week (Maus, Whoopi Goldberg, graffiti, Tucker Carlson, etc.). If any of these topics don't ring a bell, I encourage you to search them online and read up -- there are many great articles and takes out there already! -- and you're always welcome to reach out to me directly if you want support in processing any of these topics that intersect with our Jewish values and identities.

Meanwhile, though, yesterday was Rosh Chodesh Adar, the beginning of a particularly lucky and happy month on the Jewish calendar, and that's where I'd like to focus today, highlighting a few particular aspects of this time:

1. This year, we will be fortunate enough to experience a double dose of Adar joy, since this is a Hebrew calendar leap year. Unlike the Gregorian calendar, which follows the sun -- with 365 days in most years and a 366th once every four years -- the Hebrew calendar is a lunar one. However, 12 lunar months does not provide enough days to keep Jewish time running in sync with the solar year and its cycles. In ancient times, the rabbis calculated that by adding an extra lunar month 7 times in every 19 years, they could keep these two calendar systems synced. Historically, the month of Nissan (when Pesach falls) was considered the first month, and the extra month got tacked on at the end of the year with a doubling of the twelfth month... thus, we get to celebrate the month of Adar twice this year, with Adar Rishon, first Adar, and Adar Sheni, second Adar. In leap years like this one, Purim falls in the second of the two months; however, the associated "simcha v'sasson" ("joy and gladness") extends throughout both of the two months of Adar!

2. The Torah readings for this week (Parashat Terumah) and the coming few weeks all focus on the creativity and craftsmanship that was required to construct the Mishkan, the holy space where the Israelites and God could meet up with one another, and all of its component parts and accoutrements. The Torah's materials list is incredible -- gold, silver, and copper; blue, purple and crimson yarns; fine linen and goats' hair; tanned ram skins, dolphin skins and acacia wood; oil and spices; precious stones and more(!) -- and the artistry must have ranged from weaving and intricate metal-work to woodwork and architectural building. Jumping off from Parashat Terumah, artist and song-writer Julie Geller writes: "Your art, your creation, your ideas - each is Divine. The skill we can learn to cultivate is allowing the natural Divinity of our creative work to flow through us." Of course, there's no one right way to engage in creative work. Last weekend, creation happened in 6 different kitchens, as the chefs and bakers of Kavana's Caring Committee whipped up nourishing soups and stews and tasty treats that will be used to support members of the Kavana community (see photos below). This weekend, there will be opportunities to weave song and prayer with Traci Marx during our Kabbalat Shabbat service tomorrow night, to bring creativity to bear around climate change and social justice issues with the Dayenu Circle and Tzedek & Tikkun groups, and to actually create art of your own through our Rosh Chodesh Art Makerspace. Whatever your materials and craft of choice, Adar is a great time of year to let the creative juices flow!

3. The Mishnah (in Shekalim) describes that in ancient times, the month of Adar was a time for public works and infrastructure building: the repairing of roads and highways and mikvaot, the construction of new cisterns, the upkeep of graves in cemeteries. Infrastructure may not feel like the most exciting topic, but the collapse of a bridge in Pittsburgh last week cautions us that we cannot afford to ignore it. On a more metaphoric and spiritual level, this aspect of Adar also points to the ongoing task of strengthening ourselves from the inside out, ensuring that we have the technical structures we need to support our values and visions. During the coming two months of Adar and beyond, with the support of Project Accelerate, Kavana is turning attention to capacity building and infrastructure development in order to support the continued healthy growth of Kavana's work (stay tuned, as I'll have more to share on this topic over the coming months).

The bottom line: this year, we have the gift of two full lunar months of time to devote to cultivating joy, honing creative skills, and strengthening infrastructure. How will you make the most of this opportunity?

Wishing you a wonderful double month of Adar - Chodesh Tov (x2)!!

Rabbi Rachel Nussbaum

Briana Romancier 1/27/22 Briana Romancier 1/27/22

Noticing and Loving "the Stranger, the Widow and the Orphan" Among Us

Parashat Mishpatim is filled with rules and laws of all kinds... so many that it can be easy to lose sight of the forest for the trees. But, right smack in the middle of the Torah portion, two verses that appear back-to-back carve out a category that is central to who we are as Jews.

וְגֵ֥ר לֹא־תוֹנֶ֖ה וְלֹ֣א תִלְחָצֶ֑נּוּ כִּֽי־גֵרִ֥ים הֱיִיתֶ֖ם בְּאֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרָֽיִם׃
You shall not wrong a stranger or oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.

כָּל־אַלְמָנָ֥ה וְיָת֖וֹם לֹ֥א תְעַנּֽוּן׃
You shall not ill-treat any widow or orphan.

The stranger, the widow, and the orphan function together as a set, both here and in subsequent biblical texts. Taken together, they represent the vulnerable edge of society. Rashi (the medieval French commentator) explains this as follows: "That (i.e. not wronging someone) is also the law regarding any person, but Scripture is speaking of what usually happens and therefore mentions these in particular, for they are feeble in defensive power (i. e. they have no one to protect them) and it is a frequent occurrence for people to afflict them." In other words, precisely because the stranger, widow and orphan were commonly wronged in ancient times, the Torah commands us specifically regarding them.

In a Dvar Torah on this parasha, Rabbi Shai Held writes that our obligation towards those who are most vulnerable does not end in Parashat Mishpatim. Rather, "Exodus teaches us the baseline requirement: not to oppress the stranger. Leviticus magnifies the demand: not only must we not oppress the stranger, we must actively love her. And Deuteronomy raises the stakes even higher: loving the stranger is a crucial form of 'walking in God’s ways.'"

Today, the language of "stranger, widow and orphan" may not resonate exactly; we might use very different language to describe the specific categories of those who reside on the margins of our society, at greatest risk of abuse or in need of most protection. But, the principle first expressed in Parashat Mishpatim -- that we have a special obligation to look out for the needs and well-being of the vulnerable -- remains core to who we are as Jews. Here are three examples of how this idea has resonated and applied for me over the past week:

1) Yesterday, Kavana participated in a Multifaith Criminal Justice Reform Lobbying Day. Altogether, this multiracial, multifaith group represented 14 Christian, Jewish and Muslim congregations, and held 17 meetings with state legislators. The six bills we focused on touched on a wide range of issues -- from clemency to solitary confinement to legal financial obligations. While speaking in terms of "human dignity" and "restorative justice," what we were really doing was standing up for a group of people who we might consider a modern-day "stranger, orphan or widow": those who are incarcerated. Parashat Mishpatim calls on us to remember that people who are living behind bars are still human, and their lives matter. (As an aside, I was proud that Kavana was well represented in this coalition. Special thanks to Stacy Lawson, Julie Burg, Chava Monastersky, Arlene Cohen, Ann Levine, Tamara Erickson, Josh and Judy Elkin, Diane Hostetler, Chessy Singer, RachelDoyle, Sonia Jaffe and others for showing up on behalf of our community in this important and holy work!) This work will certainly continue over the coming months and there will be many opportunities to engage.

2) Last weekend, a Trans & Non-Binary Torah Study Group met at Kavana for the first time. While Kavana aspires to be a safe place for EVERYONE, there is no question that in our broader society, it is particularly hard to be trans or non-binary. We can see this vulnerability through the high prevalence of suicide thoughts and attempts among transgender youth and adults, and also in the many harmful anti-trans legislation proposals (in states around the country, including our own!). If we purport to care about "the stranger, the orphan, and the widow," as Parashat Mishpatim calls upon us to do, it is incumbent on all of us, whatever our identity, to support the many trans and non-binary members of our own community (in ways as simple as using correct pronouns!), and to stand up against hateful legislation, in support our fellow human beings everywhere. (Special thanks to Roberta Klarreich for bringing some of the anti-trans legislation to my attention -- see below in Partner News for more information about the work she's been up to lately!)

3) On Saturday, January 16th, the attack on a synagogue in Texas left many of us -- and Jews everywhere -- feeling particularly vulnerable. In addition to the fear stirred up by the horrible hostage situation, many of you reported to me that your sense of Jewish marginalization was compounded by the silence of non-Jewish friends/colleagues and the downplaying of antisemitism (even by the FBI, initially!). Perhaps in this case, it felt like we were the stranger, widow and orphan. A few of us had the chance to process this event together in conversation following last Saturday's Kavana Shabbat Minyan, and as I shared there, my experience was a little different. Even as the situation was still unfolding at Congregation Beth Israel, I was already receiving messages of support, solidarity, and prayer from my African American colleagues, who have been part of a Black-Jewish Clergy group (creating "Beloved Community") with me for the past several years. One colleague sent prayers to the hostages in Colleyville; another wrote "We see again why you hire armed security, and use small or no signage identifying your congregations...;" still another said "We are all affected by this demonic attack on your community." Reading these notes -- sent from members of one vulnerable group to another, with intention and love -- made me feel significantly less alone and significantly less vulnerable.

During this week of Parashat Mishpatim, I urge us all to let these texts and themes continue to percolate at the forefronts of our minds. You might ask: Who else stands in as our modern-day "stranger, widow and orphan"? What obligations do we have towards them? How can we work together to see, support, and advocate for those who are most marginalized, in their moments of greatest need and in an ongoing way? There are no singular answers, of course, but these lines of Torah feel perpetually relevant; it's always the right time to hone our awareness, empathy and compassion.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Rachel Nussbaum

Briana Romancier 1/13/22 Briana Romancier 1/13/22

We Have Just Enough: Gathering Manna in the Wilderness

As I sit down to draft this week's message, I pray that you and yours are okay, and weathering this current wave of the pandemic with as much ease and comfort as possible. We know that so many of you have been isolating with Covid or quarantining because of exposure, and others dealing with school closures, work disruptions, and mental health challenges. Please know that the Kavana community is here and intact (even if our activities are online for the next few weeks!); we're all moving through this turbulent time together. If you need support, please don't hesitate to reach out through the Kavana office or to me directly.

Wow, this is such a wild ride of a time -- it just feels like too much!!

As I sit down to draft this week's message, I pray that you and yours are okay, and weathering this current wave of the pandemic with as much ease and comfort as possible. We know that so many of you have been isolating with Covid or quarantining because of exposure, and others dealing with school closures, work disruptions, and mental health challenges. Please know that the Kavana community is here and intact (even if our activities are online for the next few weeks!); we're all moving through this turbulent time together. If you need support, please don't hesitate to reach out through the Kavana office or to me directly.

On the calendar too, this week feels like it offers an abundance of themes to highlight... so many that it almost feels like drinking from a fire-hose!

This is the week of Shabbat Shira and Parashat Beshallach, where we read of the crossing of the sea and celebrate liberation through the Song of the Sea.
We are also moving towards Tu BiShevat (Sunday night/Monday), which has me thinking about trees and potential growth, sowing seeds for future generations and the urgency of addressing climate change.
In the coming week, we will also pause to remember the legacy of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr... even as we continue engaging in the struggle for civil rights in our day, through voting rights and criminal justice reform.

Even with all of these important themes -- and below you'll see many opportunities to engage programmatically with all of them! -- I want to direct our focus to a different section in our parasha.

After the Israelites cross the sea and find themselves in the wilderness, God sends manna to feed the hungry people. The Torah introduces the manna like this: "In the morning, there was a fall of dew about the camp. When the fall of dew lifted, there, over the surface of the wilderness, lay a fine and flaky substance, as fine as frost on the ground. When the Israelites saw it, they said to one another, 'What is it?' ('man hu?') - for they did not know what it was" (Ex. 16:13-15).

The Torah goes on to explain -- and midrashim and commentaries abound on these themes -- that manna is a magical food. It will sustain each person according to their individual needs and tastes; it will last longer on Shabbat than on other days of the week; it can be gathered but not hoarded.

The Israelites' arrival in the wilderness must have been jarring and disorienting on so many levels at once. All of a sudden, they find that the ground beneath them has shifted, both literally and figuratively. As cruel as Pharaoh's oppression must have been, slavery also brought with it a kind of dependence and stability. Now, with manna, their impulse is to gather as much as they can for self-preservation. And yet, manna just doesn't work that way! As Rabbi Shai Held writes in his essay on this parasha in The Heart of Torah, through manna, "the people are being taught a new way of being, and a new way of receiving." Through manna, they are "learning to trust."

This message resonates deeply for me as we find ourselves in our own wilderness right now. Again, in the words of Rabbi Held, "Religion is about many things -- one of them is the aspiration to surrender the illusion of self-sufficiency. We need God, and we need other people. Because we are human, and therefore embodied and fragile, the question, ultimately, is not whether we will be dependent, but on whom."

This points to everything we do at Kavana, actually... showing up to be in community with one another; to sing and to learn and to pray together; to care deeply and tangibly for one another; to march together, prune trees together, lobby together, and demand justice together. Because we are human, and therefore embodied and fragile, we need one another, and we have the power to uplift one another in holy ways and to create a better world together.

In this week of too much, may we all find ways to be comfortably dependent, on God and on one another. May we all come to realize that, in fact, we have just enough, and exactly what we need to traverse this wilderness.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Rachel Nussbaum

Briana Romancier 1/3/22 Briana Romancier 1/3/22

Cultivating Flexibility and Adaptability, Like a Reed

Like many of you, I'm feeling the stress of this particular moment. Only a few short weeks ago, the mood felt very different: my household was finally fully vaccinated(!), Kavana was busy planning for a January return to many more in-person events, and there was a generally positive energy in the air... an optimistic zeitgeist. And then (as I'm sure I don't have to explain), this latest Omicron wave hit, like a dark cloud, complicating everything.

Perhaps this week's Torah portion can help us move through this challenging moment.

Parashat Bo picks up in the middle of the ten plagues, beginning with an opening verse that reads: "Then the Lord said to Moses: 'Go to Pharaoh. For I have hardened his heart and the hearts of his courtiers (hichbad'ti et libo v'et lev avadav), in order that I may display these My signs among them... in order that you may know that I am the Lord'" (Exodus 10:1-2). This notion of the hardening of Pharaoh's heart is repeated like a refrain... for example, "But the Lord stiffened Pharaoh's heart ("vayichazek adonai et lev par'oh"), and he would not let the Israelites go" (Exodus 10:20). In fact, the Torah mentions the hardening of Pharaoh's heart a total of 20 times in the narrative of yetziat mitzrayim, the Exodus from Egypt!

The image of a hardened heart is easy to understand. In a physical sense, we humans rely on so many of our body parts -- our heart, our lungs, and more -- to be strong, but also flexible and pliable. Stiffness, literally, would mean an inability for our organs to function. In a more metaphorical sense, too, a hardened heart for Pharaoh and his courtiers also implies rigidity, and an inability to compromise or to cope with changing circumstances. Each instance of Pharaoh's hardened heart brings on a new plague, which means that it results in the swift and severe consequences of suffering and ultimately even deaths.

As for us in this moment, we too find ourselves up against rapidly changing circumstances. We would do well to use Pharaoh and his courtiers as negative examples... that is, to look to them for what not to do. Instead, we can aim to be as un-Pharaoh-like as possible, to cultivate precisely the opposite qualities in ourselves!

One Jewish teaching that may help here is a precept offered by Rabbi Elazar ben Shimon. He says: “One should always be as flexible as a reed and not as unyielding as a cedar. This is why a reed merited to have made from it a quill to write a Sefer Torah, tefillin and mezuzot” (Babylonian Talmud, Taanit 20b).

The core of Rabbi Elazar's teaching is that flexibility is prized. Inherent in flexibility is a kind of humility, a willingness to be wrong sometimes and to do teshuva and make changes or correct course; it's for this reason, he teaches, that a reed merited being the instrument for the scribal writing of our most sacred texts. Aesop offers a similar fable about an oak and a reed, and many other cultures teach, as well, the same essential lesson: that when the wind blows, it's better to bend than to be uprooted. True strength can be found in the capacity to bend and adapt.

In any case, here we are in January 2022 / Shevat 5782, facing down plague-like conditions and vacillations of both policy and mood. As we experience this newest Covid-19 wave, even if this Omicron variant turns out to be milder in its direct health impacts, its social impacts are already far-reaching. The degree of suffering and distress people are experiencing is real, as all of us wrestle with cancellations and changes of plans, disruptions of business and supply chains, and impacts on our schools and community organizations.

We can't control these conditions, but we can seek to cultivate within ourselves a capacity to respond with sensitivity and flexibility. If we set a kavana (intention) to be as un-like Pharaoh as possible, we can imagine ourselves as pliable and adaptable. We can be the reed, the instrument of holiness.

As you'll see below, this is precisely the approach that Kavana as a whole is trying to embrace right now. As a small, nimble organization with a supportive and flexible community base, we have the ability to adapt with relative ease to changing circumstances, and we will continue to do so. Due to the new surge in the pandemic and high transmission rates in our area, over the next few weeks, we'll be offering Kavana programming and community touch points mostly online. Yes, it's somewhat demoralizing to be back at this point, but we know that this is only temporary... and we hold out hope that within a matter of weeks, new circumstances will allow us to adapt yet again and resume facilitating in-person connections.

Meanwhile, though, as we weather this difficult time, let's do it together in all the ways that we can. We hope you will join us online... for Kabbalat Shabbat tomorrow night or for any of the dozens of other upcoming programs, services and events. And, if you need support of any kind, please say the word.

Wishing you all a Shabbat Shalom... and the flexibility and adaptability of spirit that it will undoubtedly take to weather this moment,

Rabbi Rachel Nussbaum