I would like to begin with a sincere “thank you” to all of you who have helped to ease my transition to North Shore Synagogue. It has been a pleasure meeting you, whether it be at Shabbat services, Torah Study, at the Brotherhood Barbeque or around the synagogue. I have felt and continue to feel embraced and welcome in my new spiritual home. To those of you I have not yet met, I look forward to seeing and meeting you soon.
High Holy Day preparations are underway and every year this reminds me that not only do we need to prepare the details surrounding the High Holy Days, but we need to ready ourselves. Our tradition gives us a period of time to do this, the Hebrew month of Elul which precedes the High Holy Days. This year, Elul begins on the first of September. The word Elul means “to search” and throughout the course of this month, we search our hearts; reflecting and preparing ourselves for the upcoming Days of Awe.
The letters of Elul form an acronym for the phrase, Ani l’dodi v’ dodi li, “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine” from Song of Songs 6:3. While this verse is often interpreted as love poetry between a couple, the phrase also represents the love between God and the Jewish people, especially at this time of year when God draws closer to God’s people. During the month of Elul, the shofar is blown daily during morning services, acting as a wake-up call to stir us from our complacency and towards the call of both repentance and forgiveness.
Each day it is also traditional to recite Psalm 27, Achat Sha’alti during the month of Elul through the end of Sukkot. For the twenty-nine days in Elul up to the High Holy Days, the Psalm guides us to do the spiritual work of t’shuvah. In the days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, we keep up the practice, hoping that our work enables us to be sealed in the Book of Life. Continuing the practice through the seven days of Sukkot allows us to begin the New Year with our focused intention to do better this year.
In English, the text of Achat Sha’alti begins, “One thing I ask of Adonai, is only that I seek to live in the house of Adonai all the days of my life; to gaze upon the beauty of Adonai, and to frequent God’s temple,“ expressing our desire to draw closer to God during this period.
The Jewish notion of t’shuvah literally translates as “return” but we understand it to mean repentance. The literal meaning of t’shuvah enhances our understanding of our annual opportunity to repent. We return to God, to our Source, and start again anew. After the spiritual work of turning, our slates are wiped clean. We forgive both ourselves and others for every time that we missed the mark during the previous year and we try again to be our best selves in the coming year.
At Shabbat services during the month of Elul, we will be incorporating this liturgy into our service and singing Israel Katz’ melody, a popular and meditative setting of the Psalm. It is my hope that this will give us a meaningful opportunity to open our hearts, turn inwards and prepare ourselves for the days of Awe.
Summer is upon us and much is changing. No longer is there the familiar morning ritual of getting the kids ready for school. (Now it’s camp.) No longer do we complain about the cold frigid air and turn on the heat. (Now we complain about the heat and turn on the air.) No longer do we search for the warmest long-sleeve shirt (Now it’s the most breathable fabric.)
My point with all these parenthetical statements (in case you hadn’t noticed them) is that change is constant and, while different, is not bad at all. Actually, change can also be a moment of clarity and of incredible potential to propel us forward into a glorious future.
We at North Shore Synagogue are in a moment of change as well. Cantor Cotler and Rabbi Maimin have moved on to different areas of their careers and we wish them well. And while we will miss them, we now have the opportunity to welcome two new and amazing people to our North Shore Synagogue family.
Our new Cantor comes to us from Roslyn where she grew up at Temple Judea in Manhasset. Cantor Mariel Ashkenazy has both a voice that sounds like a ministering angel and the closeness of sitting on the floor when singing with and teaching our Nursery School children. She even brought along her pet dinosaur to help them celebrate shabbat! Cantor Ashkenazy brings with her a pastoral maturity far beyond her years and an ability to lead services with both formality and a laid back candor of a close friend. Cantor Ashkenazy is thrilled to be remaining home on Long Island and joining our North Shore Synagogue family.
Our youth group (K-12) and our youth programming will now be run by Joanna (Joey) Falk, an experienced youth leader who has worked for the Sid Jacobson JCC in Roslyn as well as being part of NFTY in her youth and a madricha (teaching assistant) at her home synagogue during her high school years. Joey joins us as full time staff and is very excited to be a part of many, many aspects of our synagogue.
I know that you will all join me in welcoming our two new family members as we rocket to a beautiful future of camaraderie, teamwork, and the spirit of North Shore we have all come to know and love.
M y favorite biblical book, the Song of Songs, states, “Arise my love, my fair one, and come away. For now the winter is past, and the rains are over and gone. The blossoms have appeared in the land, the time of pruning has come.”
At first glance, this love poem speaks of a beautiful time of flowers and fragrances, of sunshine, warmth, and love. But, as Rabbi Ben Bag Bag taught, “turn it, turn it, and turn it again, for the whole world is in it.” Our Jewish texts must be read time and time again, with a deeper more exhausting reading, each time. Just below the surface of this exquisite verse is a message about change. Most of us yearn for the time when “winter is past and the rains are over and gone.” No longer do we hide away in our houses covered in woolen blankets. No longer do we curse the morning chill as we scrape ice and snow off of our cars. Now, when winter is past, we take our bicycles out of our garages instead of our cars. We may open our windows a little more often. We welcome this change. But Song of Songs goes on to say, the blossoms have appeared in our land, the time of pruning has come.
To prune is to clip, cut, snip, trim, shorten, to condense. It is to change our shape in some way. When we come out of the winter hibernation, and we look through our closets in search of bathing suits, shorts, and beach towels, we sometimes find ourselves waxing nostalgic at the remnants we find that we had forgotten. Sometimes, we take them out of storage to find that they no longer fit, or have simply worn too thin. It is time to prune these items from our lives. Sometimes the rummaging through old things is not physical. It is emotional. Perhaps we have changed over the course of the winter months. Perhaps our circumstances have been altered. We too, like the blossoming trees spoken of in Song of Songs, need some pruning. It is time to change something about ourselves.
Change is hard. There is simply no getting around that. And yet, change happens everyday. As the Greek Philosopher Heraclites said, “The only constant is change.” Well, at least that’s one thing we can depend on. The important thing to understand is that all our lives stand on not what changes take place in our lives, but rather how we handle those changes. Every change has the potential to bring us blessing or curse. The choice is ours. We can fight the change with all our might or we can move with it, allowing ourselves to bend and sway with the changing winds. An African proverb states, “The wind does not break a tree that bends.”
Sometimes we find it hard to bend and move with all the changes around us. But once again, it is all in how we look at it. Perhaps it is a responsibility to be flexible. Perhaps it is an obligation. Or perhaps it is a blessing.
A little known folk song teaches, “A loving God and things in their own time: In nothing more do I trust. We own nothing, nothing is ours…But this poverty is our greatest gift. The weightlessness of us as things around begin to shift.”
When the world is changing too fast for us to comprehend, we have a choice. We can fight against the winds of change, or we can open up our sails and see where the breeze takes us. This second approach requires trust. Trust that if we sway and bend, at some point the vines will blossom and the pruning will make for a healthier tree. The constant change will continue, but with faith and trust in God and in our fellow human beings, we can survive with minimal struggle and arrive to the next line in Song of Songs, “The green figs form on the tree; the vines in blossom give forth their fragrance. Arise my love. My fair one, come away.” When we let go and allow ourselves to revel in the changes and evolutions around us, those trees we pruned will give forth beautiful flowers we can enjoy.
We here at North Shore Synagogue are undergoing our own change as we bid a fond farewell to Rabbi Rachel Maimin and Cantor Kyle Cotler. While we have learned so much from them and truly treasured the time they have spent with us, it is time for them to move on with the next steps of their lives and careers. We know that their vines will blossom and we wish them both the very best that life has to offer. They will always be family.
Another tragic shooting at yet another house of worship. It was ours again. 6 months ago it was Jews in Pittsburgh. 1 and a half months ago, it was Muslims in Christchurch, New Zealand. 6 days ago, it was Christians in Colombo, Sri Lanka. And now it’s us again. Who will it be next time?
I absolutely despise that I can ask that question with a horrific certainty that there WILL be a next time. Passover celebrates religious freedom and the first time the Jewish People truly become a People. Easter is one of the three most holiest days for Christians, commemorating the holy ascension of Jesus; and falling just the day before Easter this year, was Lailat ul Bara’h, the night of Forgiveness, a holy day leading up the holiest of days for Muslims, Ramadan. These three peaceful, blessed, and sacred holidays were desecrated by the shedding of human blood by another human being. How despicable. How gut-wrenching. How un-holy. And yet, how prevalent now in our world.
And so we find ourselves here again, straining in our anguish to understand just what is going on in our world. I am struggling too. And I don’t have a quick fix. But I know this. Tears will not solve this problem. Anger will not solve this problem. And hate will not solve this problem. I will mourn for those souls lost. I will pray for those injured bodies. And I will love my fellow human beings with all my soul can muster. Please join me. Join me in mourning. Join me in praying. And Join me in loving.
A trip, a vacation, or a pilgrimage? That is often the question posed when traveling to Israel. And when North Shore Synagogue and Temple Beth Emeth of Mount Sinai took a co-synagogue Israel trip this past February, we answered that question. A pilgrimage can certainly be seen in a spiritual sense, but it can also be in an educational sense. We had both. My favorite participant quote this trip was, “I’ve visited Israel before, but this time I visited Israelis.” This journey to our Holy Land was unlike any other.
We began by visiting Old Jaffa and Tel Aviv: Old Jaffa to experience the oldest Port city in Israel and to learn about the many different cultures which have inhabited that very same city, and Tel Aviv to experience a Reform Synagogue Erev Shabbat service with a welcoming community, to celebrate the Bar Mitzvah of Seth Margolin, one of our own NSS students, and to take a tour of the amazingly meaningful graffiti in this modern city. The rest of our trip was just as varied and amalgamated – from visiting Kibbutz Aza on the Gaza border to learn about how children play in playgrounds equipped with bomb shelters, to traveling to Kibbutz Lotan which lives in an ecological recycled world working to make the desert bloom. We toured the Jewish settlement of Efrat in the West Bank to listen to the voice of a frustrated resident on one side of the argument. We then went directly to another area of the West Bank where an organization called Shorashim meets. Led by a settler rabbi and a Palestinian resident, they engage in conversation and programs to bring Palestinians and Jews together. And while half of our trip visited the Jordanian city of Petra, the other half climbed a mountain in the desert and snorkeled in the Red Sea.
We prayed at the Western Wall where, in recent days, the news has reported tension between different denominations of Jews and men and women were separated, and then we prayed at the egalitarian section of the Western Wall where we prayed together as one beautiful community. We learned ancient history at the Israel museum and we rode the Jerusalem light rail, a train going through the entire city of Jerusalem, only built a few years ago.
The Israel of past, present, and future – the land, the air, and the people.
So, was this a trip, a vacation, or a pilgrimage?
Unequivocally, “yes.”
The same can be said for this upcoming holiday of Passover. It can be a holiday all about food, all about symbolism, or all about history. Or it can be a holiday of all three – and more. Passover commemorates the end of generations of slavery and the beginning of a covenant with God and a complicated journey and relationship with the Promised Land – the very one we visited in February. Is Passover a cultural holiday? Yes, absolutely. The food is cultural – brisket, matzah ball soup, matzah brei and so much more. Is it historical? Also, yes. The entire Hagaddah is a history book – not only of the exodus from Egypt, but also of the many generations later of rabbis who comment on the seder and teach us what freedom looks like or can look like in each and every age. Is Passover spiritual? Most definitely, yes. Passover is not just about the past slavery and subsequent freedom of the Israelite people, but also a hope for all people to be free today and for an individual freedom from ourselves and our own misguided ideas about ourselves.
Just like we did saw Israel through varied lenses on this past trip, so may we all see ourselves through the lens of freedom and light this Passover season.
I saw an advertisement in the newspaper for a bank. It began with a quote from a credit specialist at the bank saying, “We want our customers to feel like we care about them, and we’re going to do whatever it takes to help them feel that way.” Wait, what? THIS was an ad that was supposed to make me want to join them? Let me write it again the way I read it. “We want our customers to FEEL LIKE we care about them…” So, do they not actually care about me? They will just go to any lengths to deceive me into thinking they do? Wouldn’t it just be better if they actually cared about me?
So, I thought about it and decided, what does North Shore Synagogue do? What would our ad look like? What would it say?
I often walk through the halls of our Hebrew school, weaving in and out of classes on Sunday mornings or Monday afternoons and listen to the excited Hebrew chatter of our children. I see them in our Youth Lounge relay racing to find the Hebrew letter blocks first. I find them dancing with hand motions to Mi Chamocha. I witness them standing proud as they lead their class in a song, or a prayer, or show off a diorama of the 7 days of creation. I see their teachers with genuine smiles, truly enjoying passing on our traditions to our children. Our teachers care about our kids and our kids care about their Judaism.
I peek into our Nursery School classrooms almost daily (careful not to be seen by my daughter!) I see our adorable little ones engrossed in storytime or playtime or cooking time. I hear their insatiable laughter as they “scurry like mice” down the colored hallway to the big gym. I see toddlers reach out their tiny, chubby, hands for Miss Laura or Miss Jill in our Together for Tots program. And I see our teachers reaching back, providing our littlest ones with safe places to feel comfortable and explore play and learning.
When I lead my Wednesday morning classes, either our Torah class, our Safe Spaces discussion group or our Understanding Hebrew class, I see more than people coming to learn. They come to share. They come for community. Believe it or not, in our Safe Spaces discussion group, a Republican and a Democrat hugged each other. That’s right, hugged. Our Saturday morning Torah Study and Service in the Round groups share with each other their life stories and each of us grows because of it.
Our congregants show up for shiva, funerals, Baby Namings, Bar and Bat Mitzvahs. We bring food to those who need. In fact, we cooked many meals this Thanksgiving, with over 100 volunteers from our synagogue community. We then delivered them to people so that we could share Thanksgiving with them.
Here at North Shore Synagogue, we actually care about people. Our 7th graders volunteer at soup kitchens, food pantries, and schools for kids with special needs. We as a community hold a special service called “B’yachad” for kids and adults on the autism spectrum as well as those with a wide variety of learning and social differences. Our confirmation class of 10th graders will be taking a trip with me in March to the Religious Action Center in Washington D.C. to lobby our congress people and senators on issues they believe in. Over 250 people showed up to our Solidarity Shabbat to show care for our Jewish brothers and sisters in Pittsburgh and over 30 people came to our Interfaith Thanksgiving Shabbat in a HUGE SNOWSTORM to join with our local Christian and Muslim sisters and brothers to promote peace between peoples.
Yes, that would be my ad. At North Shore Synagogue it feels like we care because we actually do. Now go, spread the word.
Judaism stresses the importance of giving. We are taught to tithe, to give a percentage of our earnings whether monetary or material, to those less fortunate than ourselves. We are taught to give of our time and volunteer for worthy causes. Every one of these instances of giving involves sacrifice. We are required to give away something that we have. When we give money, we sacrifice whatever we were going to buy ourselves with that money. When we give time, we sacrifice whatever we were going to do with our family, friends, or ourselves. It seems that giving to someone else, by definition, involves taking away from ourselves.
However, there is something we can give that does not diminish our own supply. And that is Thanks. Giving thanks is like giving love – the more you give, the more you get. Judaism compares giving thanks to giving flame from a candle. When one candle ignites another, the flame from the first does not diminish in size – it is not affected at all. Now both candles are lit, and the light itself has doubled in size. Now if each of those candles lights another, we have four times more light than we had when we began. No flames burn down and gutter from lighting another flame. On the contrary, the light and warmth of that one candle grows exponentially with each passing moment. And, at the very moment of giving, when the second candle ignites and for a brief moment, the two are together, that flame is enormous.
When we give thanks – thanks to God or thanks to other people, we brighten their day just a little bit. When we share a smile, we offer others a tiny glimpse into the warm spark of God implanted within each of us. This spark is just like that candle. The spark of God found in each one of us can light the fire inside someone else. They, in turn, can light the sparks of others until we have warmed up the entire world from the inside out.
November is the month of Thanksgiving. I urge us all to use this month as a jumping off point. Don’t let this holiday go by with only a cursory thought to thanks – instead learn from our daily prayers. Our prayerbook has a section called “Nissim B’chol Yom” – “The miracles of every day.” Every single day contains a moment worthy of thanks. Not just that special Thursday in November – every day. So every day has at least one moment when we can share that gratefulness with someone else. Every day has a time when our inner spark of God can shine and light a fire inside someone else. And we can do this simply by giving – giving thanks.
So thank someone for something small and insignificant. Perhaps the act worthy of thanks was small, but the act of thanking may be bigger than you think. Let no good deed done to you go unnoticed. Share your flame. Together, as the days grow colder, we can spread some warmth and some light.
Hamakom yenakhem etekhem betokh shaar avelay tziyon v’Yirushalayim. May God comfort you among the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem.
This traditional line we recite as mourners come into our midst is a line today permeating the entire Jewish world. Together we join with people all over the world to send our strength and support to the Tree of Life Synagogue in Squirrel Hill, PA. And we share it with each other as well. Today our Shabbat, usually filled with hope and joy, rest and peace, has been suddenly transformed into one of sadness and anger.
May none of today’s horrific events deter any of us from joining together in our synagogue. Instead, let it spur us on to remember that we are a resilient people, let it allow us to find comfort within our walls and within our community. Let me assure you that we are working with the Nassau County Police Department to ensure that our synagogue remains a safe place to the very best of our ability. But we will not cower in fear. For if we run the other way, we give victory to those with hate in their hearts.
Because it’s not only about what the shooter posted on social media, it’s not only about gun control laws or whether an armed guard would have affected the situation. It’s about the hate running rampant in our country right now. And our obligation to do something about it.
At our Junior Congregation service this morning, occurring simultaneously to the horrific events in Pittsburgh, the children and I spoke about being partners with God in the creation of the world and being partners with Shabbat in bringing peace. And so I offer this prayer of partnership with God, brought to me by my colleague, Rabbi Shira Koch Epstein.
“Spread over us a shelter of Your peace. Be with the helpers: the police and first responders and doctors and nurses and counselors. Bring healing and comfort to the people who are hurt and scared and sad. Give us strength and bravery to deal with our bad and angry and scared and sad feelings. In turn, we promise that we will work to fix how broken America is, and to make our country one where we all can feel safe and proud.”
We read in our prayerbook, “pray as if everything depends on God; act as if everything depends on you.” As we pray for peace, it is up to us to not allow hate to win. We need to come together as a community to spread hope, love, and support.
A television series titled, Picket Fences ran on CBS from 1992 -1996. I am dating myself for
sure, but it’s worth it. David E. Kelly, producer and writer of Chicago Hope, Ally McBeal, Boston Legal, The Practice and others also created this one.
Mr. Kelly writes wonderful dialogue with intelligent banter and entertaining plots. Picket Fences was his first show. In my opinion, the name itself coupled with the point of the various plots of the shows, learns it the title of his most brilliant look into the human psyche.
Picket Fences takes place in the small town of Rome, Wisconsin. Jimmy Brock, the main character is the sheriff of the town. His wife, Jill, is the town doctor. They have three children, a perfect house with a spotless lawn and, you guessed it, a white picket fence. As a matter of fact, most houses in the town have white picket fences and on the outside, their lives look perfect.
However, a lot happens in this town. As the plot centers around the sheriff and the doctor, most stories revolve around puzzling illnesses or crimes. Some more memorable episodes involve cows mysteriously giving birth to humans, a mass of murdered bodies found in freezers, and spontaneous human combustion. Mr. Kelly went to great lengths to prove that picket fences do not make a perfect community.
The white picket fence has become the symbol of the American dream. And yet our new vinyl siding, beautifully
maintained flower beds and white picket fences only give us a false sense of purity. Those expensive opaque blinds simply conceal our true emotions, our real-life blemishes – anger, disappointment, greed, gluttony.
A quick google search on picket fences comes up with “outdoor shower hiding behind a white picket fence.” People today believe that we can hide anything behind a white picket fence. And in the same way, we hide behind our outer appearances. Manicures, pedicures, make-up, expensive yet uncomfortable shoes, stiff yet
“flattering” clothing – we hide our flaws behind this structural equipment. And we spend way too much time working on them instead of working on the issues inside.
No matter how thick the siding, how white the fence, or how beautiful the flower beds; if the inside of the house has turmoil, it will seep outside. The family cannot maintain health on the outside, if, on the inside, there is pain. It is the same with our bodies. No matter how perfect the hair or make-up; no matter how muscular or
athletic, if the mind and the soul are in chaos, the body will cease to function appropriately.
I am not advocating ignoring your siding, lawn, fence, or bodily needs. On the contrary, I believe that sometimes cleaning up the outside can prompt a deeper cleanse. However, only tending to our outward needs is only doing half the job. In the book of Samuel, chapter 16 verse 7, God speaks to the prophet Samuel saying,
“For God sees not as humans see: humans look at the outward appearance, but God looks at the heart.” We are not God, but we are commanded to be Holy. Parents teach their children to “not judge a book by its cover.” Judaism teaches the same in its own way – “Al tistakeil b’kankan, eileh b’mah she-yesh bo – Don’t look at the
bottle, rather, look at what is inside.” Teachers instruct students to treat everyone fairly, not by what they wear or how tall they are. Clergy preach about equal rights for all regardless of race, ethnicity, or other outward signs. And yet, we all fall victim in some way or another to disbelieving what we ourselves teach. The more we fall apart inside, the more we attempt to gain control over the outside. The vicious cycle is soul-deadening.
We must strive to see ourselves as God sees us – from the inside out. Once we shine that light inside of us to an illustrious gleam, it will radiate such light and warmth, it will overshadow any broken boards of our picket fences, any dull pieces of old siding, any physical blemish we fear. God knows, our souls are pure, our faults are real and true, for we are only human. But to become divine, we must look inside, not out – for that is where the holiness lies.
We find ourselves living in a time rife with scientific conflict. It seems that there are camps that believe in global warming or do not. There are those who believe in vaccinations, and those who find them to be ineffective, or even dangerous. As we approach our most austere, contemplative time of the year, I would like to examine two great thinkers who challenged conventions and innovated how we view the natural spiritual world.
My first serious foray into philosophy was sophomore year in college. I remember reading Rene Descartes’ Meditations on First Philosophy. In his third meditation, Descartes proved the existence of God. His ontological argument essentially stated that he knew himself to be imperfect, finite, and ephemeral. And yet, he could conceive of a perfect, eternal, immortal being which could create something else, like humans, and implant in them an awareness and consciousness. This seemed like a particularly dissonant idea when compared to The Description of the Human Body. In it, Descartes describes the body as a machine. Food was absorbed into the blood and fed the heart, which was the furnace of our body. Most of his writing was grounded in Rationalism and Foundationalism. I remember learning that his ontological argument for the existence of God was written to appease the church because so much of his writing was considered heretical. Surely, if Descartes had written his Meditations in 20th century America, he would not have had to appease the church. But because of the time and location in which he lived, his writing reflected something about himself and his environment. Descartes used his own belief system, his own style of arguing to justify the existence of God. And whether he really believed it or not, only he will know, but it certainly evolved into a popular argument for the existence of God.
Rambam, like Descartes, wrote the Mishneh Torah as a reflection of his beliefs, which were a result of equal parts nature and nurture. Rambam was raised as a traditional Jew. Proving God’s existence was never an issue. To Rambam God did exist. We know this because the first line of Chapter One of Fundamentals of the Torah states, “the fundamental principle and pillar of all science is to know that there is a First Being who has
brought everything that exists into being.” This is clearly a bold claim because if one were to refute it or disagree with it, the rest of the subsequent writing is null and void. To continue reading, to follow along with perfect faith is to accept that, “This Being is the God of the universe, the Lord of the entire world.” There is no room for questioning; Rambam makes his stance very clear, whereas Descartes started from scratch using geometry and the ideas of perfection as a way to prove that God must exist. This implies that there is room to doubt the existence of God. Rambam does not give us that room.
Rambam continues with the following claim: “It is he who controls the celestial sphere with a power to which there is neither end nor limit, with a power that is never interrupted. For, the celestial sphere is always revolving, and it is impossible for it to revolve without someone causing it to revolve; it is God, blessed be he, who causes it to revolve without using a hand or physical force.” Rambam wrote this between 1170-1180 CE. It would be another 500 years before Galileo innovated the fields of Physics and Astronomy. What the reader witnesses is Rambam’s personal theology which cannot be reconciled with the actual science of the effects of gravity because the discovery has not been made yet. However Rambam does make claims which were forward-thinking. The notion of the celestial bodies moving “without using a hand or physical force” is obviously gravity,
but Rambam likely does not know that. So the reader must make a huge leap of faith or completely buy into the first few lines of Rambam if they are going to follow his philosophical treatise. Rambam provides no deductive reasoning or arguments. It is his fervent belief in the existence of God which he knows to be true that the reader must also acknowledge to be true.
Another unique aspect to the philosophy of Rambam is how he does actually cite sources. Descartes would make his own observations and arguments, or he would cite the work of other humans. Rambam did not cite other Rabbis in this work, rather he cited God. And if we buy into his opening claim, then there is no need to cite humans when the divine, inalienable word of God is being used as a source. In chapter 1:8, Rambam uses
Deuteronomy, Joshua and Isaiah to describe God. Rambam uses quotes from the Torah and The Book of Prophets to justify his scientific claims. Simply put, Rambam’s logic is God is everywhere, and if matter cannot occupy the same space, God cannot be matter. He goes on to conclude, nothing is equal to God, thus, if God were physical, there would be no other substance like God. Again, Rambam does not go through the steps as
someone like Descartes would do. In Rational philosophy one cannot prove claims so quickly and easily. But Rambam’s case is different. We know that Rambam was writing to a specific audience. It was an audience with a similar background and upbringing as himself. So it is here we see the divergence of thought and prose that Descartes and Rambam possess. Descartes was trying to innovate and challenge, Rambam was trying to disseminate and teach.
Descartes’ work focused on the body and nature. Rambam also focused on the world around him. The difference lies in their philosophy of law. Descartes was originally going to be a lawyer but changed courses. Rambam was a lawyer and judge by trade. His epistemology was grounded in Torah which, again, comes from God. Thus, the interplay between laws, science, life, ethics and the philosophy which Rambam lived and wrote were completely interconnected.
The fundamental principle and pillar of all science is to know that there is some greater power than us which governs the universe. We cannot know what this power is. Whether it is a deity, conscious and sentient, or some other metaphysical force which we have yet to discover. But, I believe that there is something which operates the universe and all of its complexities.
It is plainly stated in the Torah that this force is God. And God is bodiless. Maybe God is the dark matter which occupies the spaces in between matter. Maybe not. If God were a physical substance He would be like other physical beings. Maybe we, all living creatures, are vessels in which fragments of this God dwell. Maybe not.
The Torah speaks the language of human beings. By this, I believe the Torah speaks truth and kindness and goodness. These stories, whether true or not, are rich with moral values and anecdotes through which we are reminded how to be decent human beings. As we approach the High Holidays, my sincere hope is that every one of us has the patience and focus to pursue truth and justice socially and scientifically.
Summer is upon us and much is changing. No longer is there the familiar morning ritual of getting the kids ready for school. (Now it’s camp.) No longer do we complain about the cold frigid air and turn on the heat. (Now we complain about the heat and turn on the air.) No longer do we search for the warmest long-sleeve shirt (Now it’s the most breathable fabric.)
My friends, here we are again.
Dear North Shore Synagogue Family,
We find ourselves living in a time rife with scientific conflict. It seems that there are camps that believe in global warming or do not. There are those who believe in vaccinations, and those who find them to be ineffective, or even dangerous. As we approach our most austere, contemplative time of the year, I would like to examine two great thinkers who challenged conventions and innovated how we view the natural spiritual world.
Preparing for the New Year (Cantor Ashkenazy)
September 1, 2019 by nssadmin • Blog
High Holy Day preparations are underway and every year this reminds me that not only do we need to prepare the details surrounding the High Holy Days, but we need to ready ourselves. Our tradition gives us a period of time to do this, the Hebrew month of Elul which precedes the High Holy Days. This year, Elul begins on the first of September. The word Elul means “to search” and throughout the course of this month, we search our hearts; reflecting and preparing ourselves for the upcoming Days of Awe.
The letters of Elul form an acronym for the phrase, Ani l’dodi v’ dodi li, “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine” from Song of Songs 6:3. While this verse is often interpreted as love poetry between a couple, the phrase also represents the love between God and the Jewish people, especially at this time of year when God draws closer to God’s people. During the month of Elul, the shofar is blown daily during morning services, acting as a wake-up call to stir us from our complacency and towards the call of both repentance and forgiveness.
Each day it is also traditional to recite Psalm 27, Achat Sha’alti during the month of Elul through the end of Sukkot. For the twenty-nine days in Elul up to the High Holy Days, the Psalm guides us to do the spiritual work of t’shuvah. In the days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, we keep up the practice, hoping that our work enables us to be sealed in the Book of Life. Continuing the practice through the seven days of Sukkot allows us to begin the New Year with our focused intention to do better this year.
In English, the text of Achat Sha’alti begins, “One thing I ask of Adonai, is only that I seek to live in the house of Adonai all the days of my life; to gaze upon the beauty of Adonai, and to frequent God’s temple,“ expressing our desire to draw closer to God during this period.
The Jewish notion of t’shuvah literally translates as “return” but we understand it to mean repentance. The literal meaning of t’shuvah enhances our understanding of our annual opportunity to repent. We return to God, to our Source, and start again anew. After the spiritual work of turning, our slates are wiped clean. We forgive both ourselves and others for every time that we missed the mark during the previous year and we try again to be our best selves in the coming year.
At Shabbat services during the month of Elul, we will be incorporating this liturgy into our service and singing Israel Katz’ melody, a popular and meditative setting of the Psalm. It is my hope that this will give us a meaningful opportunity to open our hearts, turn inwards and prepare ourselves for the days of Awe.
Cantor Mariel Ashkenazy