Vayera 5775

Vayera 5775

First---my favorite joke.
A Rabbi and his wife were waiting out the terrible flood in their town.  The Rabbi prayed for the rain to stop.  As the water rose higher and higher, he and his wife were forced to go up to the highest level of the house.  They looked out the window and a lifeboat came to the house----“Rabbi, you and your wife have to get in.  The levy has broken and you’ll drown.” His wife got in the boat but the Rabbi insisted that his prayers would stop the rain.  The lifeboat left.  The rain continued, the Rabbi prayed, the water rose and the Rabbi fled to the roof.  Another lifeboat came by.  “Rabbi, this is the last lifeboat.  Get in.  You’ll drown.” “No,” said the Rabbi, “My prayers will stop the rain.”  The lifeboat left; the Rabbi prayed, the rain continued and the Rabbi drowned!  When he got to heaven, he demanded an audience with God.  He went before the Almighty and asked why God hadn’t heard his prayers and stopped the rain.  “What’s the matter?” asked God.  “Didn’t you get the 2 lifeboats I sent?”
(With thanks to Rabbi Siegel who told me that joke about 15 years ago.)

Now, let’s talk about the prophet Elisha, the central figure in this week’s Haftarah for Parasha Vayera.  We learn of two women he helps.  In the first story, Elisha’s miracle allows a poor widow to retain her dignity by having her pour oil from her small jug into borrowed vessels---the small jug miraculously holds enough oil to fill many many vessels of oil and the woman can then sell the oil to support her family.  Elisha has helped her to help herself.

In the second story, a wealthy Shunemite woman who has offered Elisha hospitality on numerous occasions becomes pregnant after Elisha tells her she will bear a son. (Like Sarah in this week’s Torah portion, she has an elderly husband and doesn’t believe she will have a child.) She indeed bears a son who, after growing up, takes ill one day and dies.  The woman rushes to find Elisha and will not leave him until he agrees to come home with her since she believes he can heal her son.   Elisha follows her home and does heal the boy.

What are we to learn from all these stories?

These are all stories of faith and hope and that we can have miracles in our everyday life simply by asking for help or accepting help when it is offered.  Elisha won’t be waiting for us around the next corner, but our friends, our family and our community are there---sometimes with vessels to donate that we can fill or sometimes helping us fill those vessels.  We probably won’t see a flaming chariot descend from the heavens but we may get a meal from a caring friend when chemo has left us too drained to move.   Perhaps we will have a chance encounter with a bicyclist who warns us of a treacherous turn in the upcoming path which keeps us from having a terrible accident.  Or we may get an offer of a part time job that will put food on the table, allowing us to maintain our dignity. 

Miracles surround us every day.  We must be open to the possibility that miracles can happen to us and be ready to act. And we have a choice---we can be skeptical and dismiss those who want to help (we can send the lifeboat away) or we can accept their help, their advice, their guidance and get in the boat!! 
The choice is ours.

Shabbat Shalom,
Debby Lewis

Shoftim 5774

Solomon the Wise or Solomon the Expedient?

Most of you are probably familiar with the story about the two prostitutes who come before King Solomon, each claiming that the baby is theirs.  He immediately calls for a sword to be brought to him and offers to cut the baby in half.  The first woman gives up the right to the baby rather than see it cut in half and the other woman says, “Cut the child in half.”  Solomon awards the baby to the first mother, deciding that only the real mother would not want to see her child killed.

Tsedek, tsedek tirdof….Justice, justice shall you pursue we are told in this week’s Torah portion, Shoftim.  But, did Solomon really dispense justice?

In a fascinating study of this story, called The Judgment of Women, University of Connecticut Law Professor, Anne Dailey, gives us another perspective.  In her essay, included in the book Out of the Garden: Women Writers on the Bible, she proposes that perhaps the second woman “displays a courageous act of self-determination” by confronting Solomon who, without hearing the women out, without delving in the why and without patiently listening to their story, calls for his sword to be brought and, at the point of the sword, threatens to dispense justice.  Imagine the scene---the women were probably frantic to say something in the very few moments they had to plead their case before Solomon followed through on his threat to cut the child in two.  Solomon chose to render a decision swiftly and expediently, preferring to judge the women on those few frantic words.  Was justice really served?

When a person appears before a ruler, a judge, a teacher, a parent, a clergy person---a person of authority---they usually come with some expectation that the person they have approached has some measure of wisdom simply by having attained their position. (Imagine how the two women must have felt coming before King Solomon!) They have a reason to expect that they will be given a just hearing.  But if the authority figure wants to get home, is late for another appointment, isn’t feeling well, or believes they possess an exceptionally discerning mind, they might well want to dispose of the matter as swiftly as possible.  But is the decision necessarily a just one?

And what about the people who come before the authority figure seeking justice?  If one of them is outspoken, has a reputation as a trouble maker, is cocky, a marginalized member of society (the women were prostitutes) or verbally combative (“Cut the child in two!”) might the ruling person not be inclined to dismiss their side of the story?

God gave us ears so we could listen.  Everyone deserves to be heard.  None of us, including King Solomon, has the right to dispense justice at the point of a sword. 

Shabbat Shalom,

Debby Lewis

Lekh L'kha 5774

Walking Away

When my son, Robert, was about 9 or 10, he told me he wanted to be allowed to go to the little store across Belmont by himself.  That meant he would be crossing a major intersection with a traffic light all by himself. I wasn’t ready to let him go, but I did. He returned safe and sound and I got several more grey hairs!

When I read this week’s parasha, Lekh L'kha, I wondered what Avram and Sarai’s parents felt when they were told their children were “getting up and going,” leaving their ancestral home and all they knew. It must have come as a shock and I have to believe those parents were terribly sad, probably knowing, in all likelihood, they would never see their children again.

Many if not all of us have had our own “lekh l'kha” moments in our lives---times when a voice (sometimes an inner voice, perhaps even God’s voice) tells us  it’s time to leave our home and venture out---whether it’s across a busy street, whether it’s off to college, or whether it’s a move to another state or country.  And our parents---or we as parents--- know that it’s time to let go---that a parent’s job is to help their children be independent enough to leave the nest and make their own way in this world.

I hope that Avram and Sarai’s families found comfort in the fact that these two trusted in a power greater than themselves to bring them safely to... somewhere, just as we too hope and pray that our children will be safe and find fulfillment in their journeys.

This parasha brings to mind a beautiful poem by Cecil Day-Lewis, the former poet laureate of the U.K.  Here is the last stanza of the poem, Walking Away.  I offer this to all of you who have ever watched your loved one, no matter what age, walk away from you into their new future.

I have had worse partings, but none that so
Gnaws at my mind still. Perhaps it is roughly
Saying what God alone could perfectly show –
How selfhood begins with a walking away,
And love is proved in the letting go.

Shabbat Shalom,
Debby Lewis

Yitro 5773

Yitro

In this week’s portion, Yitro, the children of Israel receive the Aseret HaDibrot—the Ten Commandments.  But how did they HEAR the 10 Utterances?  Can you imagine the scene at Mt. Sinai?  There were upwards of 600,000 people.  There were countless animals braying and bleating and baa-ing.  Babies were crying, Mothers were trying to shush their infants, children were probably doing what children always have done---running around shouting and laughing.  And then, let’s not forget the heaven-made sounds---the crashing of the thunder, the blaring of the horns.  How on earth could anyone have heard ANYTHING?

And, the second question…If, as our Rabbis tell us, we were ALL standing at Sinai and if the Torah is continually being given to all of us at any given time, why is the experience at Sinai so important?

Eliyahu KiTov, an Orthodox Israeli commentator, says that the everyday noise of our lives (think the sound of traffic, people talking and laughing, dogs barking, machines whirring, etc.etc.etc) keeps us from being able to hear God’s voice.  At Sinai, God was able to quiet all the noise so every single person could hear the Words. 

If God could do that for the Children of Israel in the wilderness, then surely God can do that for us today. But we have to work in partnership with God by learning to quiet all the inner and outer noise that keeps us from hearing God.  Some people retreat to the mountains or to the ocean trying to hear God’s voice.  But we can do it in our daily lives (even in Chicago) by consciously focusing on what was said at Sinai.  Because every time we study Torah we are standing at Sinai.  And by living the values that were set before us, we can hear God’s voice every day.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…can you hear it?

Shabbat Shalom,

Debby Lewis

Ritual Director