Weekly Messages

I cannot help but wonder how lonely Noah must have felt both on the ark, and after the flood. All humanity was gone… He was left with only his family and the animals. He must have been craving more human interaction and the role of repopulating the earth was upon him. There could be no instant gratification, there was no Netflix to enjoy and no Grubhub or Uber Eats to bring pizza or pasta.

One of the many challenges from this pandemic and the time in quarantine has been an increase in loneliness. Especially during the early stages and for those who are keeping extra precautions about engaging with others or going indoors, this has created a sense of isolationism and distance between humans and other humans. This disconnect spirals people towards depression and sadness.

During this strange time of what is hopefully the tail end of the pandemic, lets us reach out to those who are homebound and elderly. Perhaps a phone call, a visit for those comfortable, and ways to offer a human touch that fortifies humanity and relationships.

Rabbi David-Seth Kirshner

Why does the Torah start with the creation of the world? After all, the Torah is the central core of Judaism, containing the foundations of our religion and our people’s story. Why does a book so focused on the narratives of the people of Israel bother to tell us about the birth of the universe?

One answer, offered by the great sage Rashi, is that without the backstory, the other nations of the world might question the Jewish People’s claim to the land of Israel. By grounding our story and relationship with God, we make the case that if God created the world, God can surely offer us a small piece of land as our holy land. Owners can parcel off their land as they see fit.

Rashi’s answer scratches the surface of another- the Torah, and God, are not just concerned with the Jewish People, but with all peoples. Creation is part of the Jewish story because it is part of the human story. Though each people and nation has its own narrative, we all share the same prologue. We all trace our ancestors back to those first humans in the Garden of Eden. Every human being was created in the divine image, not just us. Every people has a connection with God, not just us.

Jewish thought highlights a constant balancing act between the particularism of our traditions, rituals, homeland, and relationship to God, and our universalistic beliefs in human dignity, worth, and means of developing a connection to God.  We are blessed to have something special, but that doesn’t negate anyone else’s claim.

So, to put the message of the universal creation of the world in a particular holy book to good use, we must think global, act local. To follow our traditions, connect to our rituals and people, but never to forget that we are part of a much bigger project of creation and human flourishing that also requires our individual and communal efforts.

So, in the words of the Torah, let’s get to ‘beginning’ that work.

Rabbi Jeremy Fineberg

If there’s one constant with the holiday of Sukkot, it’s not the twinkling sukkah lights or the fresh citrus smell of the etrog, it’s the fact that it always seems to rain during the holiday.

In some ways, that’s fitting, since the holiday kicks off the rainy season in Israel and our rituals and prayers are designed to remind us about the importance of rain and water. The shaken branches of the lulav sound like rain, in ancient Temple times we celebrated the water libation and water drawing, and we pray for rain on Shemini Atzeret. Sukkot is ritually dripping with rain.

But why would it always rain during a holiday when we’re supposed to eat outside in our sukkot? Without fail every year, no matter where you live, it seems like your dinner plans inevitably get rained on.

Perhaps the reason it always seems to rain during Sukkot is that at no other time of the year are we as aware of the elements. Sure, I check the weather everyday and dress accordingly, but how often is my personal enjoyment or comfort in the long-term affected by the rain or snow or sun? Thank God, I have a sturdy home with a sealed roof, a car with air conditioning, plenty of umbrellas, and the ability to shield myself from the elements whenever I need.

But the Sukkot rains that ruin my dinner plans remind me that for so many people, the elements aren’t something that can be easily escaped. For too many, rain or snow or wind or fire bring danger, not just momentary inconvenience.

On Sukkot, we give thanks for the blessing of shelter, divine and physical. As we celebrate that gift, let’s make sure to remember those who lack it, and do what we can to help them experience the blessing. Support those experiencing homelessness, give money to shelters, volunteer with Habitat for Humanity. Find a way to spread the wealth of the shelter of home and sukkah. Doing so will help ensure that all will be able to rest and enjoy under sukkat shlomecha/the shelter of divine peace.

Rabbi Jeremy Fineberg

During this year’s Olympics, we received a masterclass in both competition and collaboration from a man named Mutaz Essa Barshim, a high jumper from Qatar. He went round after round against Gianmarco Tamberi of Italy, with neither one capable of topping each other’s highest jump to earn the gold.

Eventually, the officials told them that the next step would be a “jump off” a competition of endurance, not height. Since neither could out-jump one another, they would do a series of jumps at peak height to see who could outlast the other. Someone had to win gold, someone else silver.

But then, Mutaz turned to the referee and asked a simple yet paradigm-shattering question, “can we have two golds?”

The referee thought for a moment, and then said “it’s possible, yes”- at which point, these two athletes, who had trained for years for this precise moment, who had been rivals trying to overtake each other just a minute ago, turned to each other, smiled and jumped into one another’s arms as they realized they could both be Olympic gold-medalists. If you watched the video, you couldn’t help but smile at their joy.

Sometimes even in the most sacrosanct of competitions, the Olympics, things don’t have to be zero-sum. In the words of our tradition, kal v’chomer, how much more so, in life.

Our sages in Pirkei Avot similarly teach us that not everything is a competition. Who is Wise, Ben Zoma said- one who learns from all people, who is powerful, one who conquers their own impulses. One is wealthy when they are happy with their possessions, and One is honored when they show honor to others. It doesn’t always have to be a competition.

Sometimes there are winners and losers, but when it comes to the things that matter most, things aren’t really zero-sum, everyone can be a winner because everyone can learn, act, and honor others or find happiness with what they have.

Over these 10 Days of Repentance, let’s leave the competition with others behind, instead focus on the only contest that matters, becoming the gold-medal versions of ourselves.

L’Shana Tova Tikateivu v’Taichateimu- Wishing you a Happy New Year, and may we all be inscribed and sealed in the Book of Life.

Rabbi Jeremy Fineberg