Weekly Messages

Mr. Rogers famously said – whenever something bad happens in the world, look for the people running to help.

He was so right.

Our world is riddled with strife and challenge. There are bad things all over – some made by humans and others made by God. But in each of these tragic moments whether COVID, war in the Ukraine, terrorism in Israel, Tornadoes in Kentucky, or cancer in Cresskill, indeed there are always people running to do good and be supportive.

I have witnessed that in a kaleidoscope of examples this week alone. Through a long and winding story that is too detailed to retell right now, a beautiful and large family of 9 Ukrainians that are part of the refugee crisis created by the invasion of Russia, landed in Bergen County. In 3 short days, our entire community has been running towards the challenge ready to help in every conceivable way. Doctors, nurses, hairdressers, translators, clerks, real estate agents, teachers, philanthropists, and travel agents have all stepped forward to help however they could. We all live in a holy and blessed community.

It is not lost on me that this week we read Metzorah, the Torah portion about the challenge of one who is afflicted with leprosy. While they are sick from the disease, we too often gloss over all of the essential and valuable workers that help those with leprosy heal and regain access to the community. From priests who serve as doctors to nurses to caregivers, even in the ancient Bible, many ran towards the problem and not away from it, just like Mr. Rogers taught.

Life will continue to give us challenges, hurdles, and disasters that are natural and created by humans. Let us be the ones that always run toward and offer help. That is a legacy worth living for and leaving to our children.

Rabbi David-Seth Kirshner

What do we do when we’re sick? How do we want others to view us and how do we view ourselves?

Our parsha, Tazria, contains one answer to that age-old question. When describing rules regarding the metzora, a person experiencing a particular type of temporary skin disease, the Torah states: “As for the person with a leprous affection, his clothes shall be rent, his head shall be left bare,and he shall cover over his upper lip; and he shall call out, ‘Unclean! Unclean!’” (Leviticus 13:45).

The ancient rabbis ask an important question: In addition to everything else the metzora has to go through, why does the metzora have to also shout that he is “unclean” in public, and why does he have to say it twice?

They explain that there are 3 different explanations for this important if embarrassing proclamation:

1. It’s a mitzvah for the metzora to let other people know s/he is contagious. When we’re sick we should let others know so we don’t get them sick. (Moed Katan 5a)

2. Another group of rabbis read this phrase as saying “The impure shall call out, ‘Impure!’” Those who are corrupt or evil see corruption and evil all around. People project their failings onto others. Sadly, when we are sick or down, we often look at the world and can only see everything sick and broken in it. (Kiddushin 70a)

3. By telling other people that s/he is suffering from illness, the metzora encourages other people to be compassionate and to act and pray for their speedy healing. By letting other people know how we’re feeling or what we’re suffering from, we help them help us. Our disclosure encourages them to perform mitzvot like bikkur cholim (visiting the sick) and to help take care of us. Others can only help when they know we need help. (Moed Katan 5a)

These explanations help us to see the different ways we respond when we’re ill or feeling down. We should take care of ourselves and others around us by sharing when we’re contagious to prevent the spread of disease. We should take care not to just see the sick or broken in the world when we’re feeling sick or broken. We should always seek out opportunities to take care of the sick and support them just like we’d like to be supported. When we do all of those things, we’ll create a world where nobody has to feel unclean for long.

Rabbi Jeremy Fineberg

When the Torah is chanted this shabbat, the person chanting from the Torah might notice something special and a little odd. In the middle of the word גחון- which means “belly”, the Hebrew letter vav ו will be written extra-large, almost as if the scribe accidentally made the letter uppercase, bElly instead of belly.

Why has the font been increased for just this one letter? Because according to an ancient tradition recorded in the Talmud (Kiddushin 30a), this vav is exactly the middle letter of the Torah! While I personally cannot imagine counting all of the letters in the Torah without some type of software* to do it for me, an ancient group of scribes counted by hand and determined that since this vav is precisely in the middle of the Torah there must be something important about it.

The context of the word גחון/belly is part of the laws of Kashrut: “You shall not eat, among all things that swarm upon the earth, anything that crawls on its bElly….” (Leviticus 11:42). The large vav draws our eye to the idea of something which crawls on its belly, something that feels creepy and crawly, especially when compared to ourselves. Rabbi Harold Kushner explains that “the large vav symbolizes the unique upright posture of a human being. There is something repugnant about a person who crawls instead of standing up for what he or she believes, foregoing the unique upright posture of a human being which is symbolized by the enlarged letter vav.”

The vav is highlighted so we always remember that in the middle, at our core, we’re supposed to be people who stand upright for what we believe in, and never crawl or stay low. This ability to stand tall for what we hold most dear is the unique blessing and challenge of our humanity. The big question for each of us is, what will we stand for?

Whether it’s the rights of individual or national sovereignty, our sacred texts and traditions, a cause you hold dear, a person you’ve sworn to take care of, or your own inalienable human dignity, the Torah commands and empowers us to all stand upright for something that counts.

Rabbi Jeremy Fineberg

Dearest Eve and Elias,

Our house has become frenetic again and you can see that I am occupied with activity collecting supplies and preparing for my trip to the Ukrainian border.

You are not toddlers anymore. You have blossomed into aware, smart, kind, and good young-adults whom mommy and I could not be prouder of. Being your parent, I can detect in your facial expressions and general cadence around the house worry and concern you have about me flying across the world into a war zone. I want to tell you why this trip is important and sacred to me.

First, though, I am sorry to cause you and mommy any form of worry. I love you more than any letter could ever describe, and I do not mean to add anxiety to your lives.

My life and identity were shaped by Judaism. Bubbie and Zayde were role models who worked hard to provide me with a Jewish education, and they modeled Jewish values in most things they did. Some of my oldest and most vivid memories were of your grandparents leaving the house together and my older brothers, charged with looking after me, would kiss them goodbye. A few hours later, after I was long asleep, they would return. Only in my adult life did I learn that they were volunteering at the Chevra Kadisha – the sacred Jewish burial society that cares for the rituals of the dead.

As a young adult, about your age now, I asked my parents why that mitzvah was so important to them. Their response was twofold:

1. The most important thing to do is help people who cannot help themselves.
2. One day, when we can no longer care for ourselves, we do this so there will be others to do it for us.

Those words beat in my heart and through my veins.

Throughout history, the Jewish people have been exiled. Whether wandering in the desert, leaving Spain with knapsacks in hand, pogroms in Russia, or the Holocaust, we have been driven out of lands that we called home. In each of those historical disruptions, I envision in my mind’s eye, Jewish people leaving ….alone. No one escorted them on their journey or handed out cookies and water along the way. Stories are depicted in writing and cinema of onlookers celebrating our exodus. Somehow, we started again in new places but that beginning was difficult, hard and lonely too!

I was never present at those historical events, but my heart hurts at the loneliness my (and your) great-great-great ancestors had to endure. How they were made to feel like the ‘other’ must have been painful.

Now, in the year 2022, an exile is happening again but to a different people. For no reason of their doing, the Ukrainians had their homeland invaded, their lives turned upside down. The women and children have been forced to leave their homes and workplaces, schools, and playgrounds and leave behind cribs, dolls, toys, and husbands. Some vowed to stay and fight against a mad man with unknown capabilities. Others have been separated from their relatives including aging parents, with little access to communication. This has been an unmitigated nightmare for Ukrainians and a sight that rings familiar for the Jewish people.

Seeing these horrible images and witnessing this helplessness triggered the words of your grandparents into my mind and feet. We must help people who cannot help themselves. We do this because it is just and moral, and to right the wrong of never having anyone endure these tragedies while feeling alone. Our presence matters.

This week, when we hand out baby formula, diapers, hygiene products, socks, and chocolates to refugees, I hope the Ukrainian people know that they are not alone. We love them, without even knowing their names.

What they will also know is that your hand, your love, and your smile is the energy in the outstretched arm we will offer. So is our entire community. I might be physically present, but we are all part of this mitzvah.

I promise to be brave and safe, careful, and selfless, passionate and peaceful.

I cannot wait to have you back in my embrace. Be good. Do your homework. Walk the dogs. Help mom. Give love. And, most importantly, fashion your day and your lives helping those who cannot help themselves.

I love you.

Daddy

Rabbi David-Seth Kirshner