An Anchor in Troubled Times

When I lived in Toronto, I often took my out-of-town guests to Niagara Falls for the day. It was a beautiful drive. We’d wind our way through the wine district, eat a leisurely lunch at one of the lovely restaurants at a winery, spend time in Niagara-on-the-Lake and of course, visit the magnificent Niagara Falls.

Niagara Falls - The Horseshoe Falls (Canadian Falls)
Niagara Falls – The Horseshoe Falls (Canadian Falls)

No matter how many times I’ve been to Niagara Falls, their grandeur and majesty still leaves me in awe. One of the most spectacular things to do, is to walk under the caves on the Canadian side of the Falls. You can actually walk right under the Falls themselves and touch them. It is breath-taking!

Then we would usually drive along the Niagara River, to see the Floral Clock. And we would observe the violent rapids just upstream of the Falls, where the Niagara River suddenly becomes turbulent.

Niagara River Rapids
Niagara River Rapids

As you travel farther north along the river, the river’s current flows more gently and boats are able to navigate more easily.

On one of my trips, as we crossed over a pedestrian walk-way that spans the river. I noticed a sign posted on this bridge that I had never noticed before – a warning sign for all boaters. “DO YOU HAVE AN ANCHOR?” the sign reads in big block letters, followed by: “DO YOU KNOW HOW TO USE IT?”

The gentle calm of the river at this point gives no indication of what lies up ahead. But if boaters are prepared, they can safely navigate the turbulent waters.

When I reflect on the events that took place in Overland Park, Kansas, or in the Ukraine, or in other parts of the world right now, it seems to me that the Jewish people have been thrust into turbulent waters. How do we respond to these difficult events? How do we show these communities that their safety and well-being are our concerns as well, while at the same time, taking care of our own Jewish communities here at home?

Where do we find our anchor that will keep us rooted safely and securely no matter what type of turbulence life sends our way?

We can find some of our answers in our Passover story. Our Passover story is all about finding our “anchor” in the midst of oppression and exile. It’s about finding a way to wholeness and freedom. However, it takes the work of many to accomplish this. It takes perseverance and steadfastness. It takes the community joining together to rally against the yoke of evil.

One metaphor which I like to use is the Elijah cup which we place on our Seder table. Elijah represents hope for the future, the Messianic age when the world shall live in peace and harmony. No more hatred, no more violence. Traditionally, we start with a full cup of wine, open the door for Elijah, and Elijah is supposed to visit every home on the first two nights of Pesach (Passover.)

Elijah's Cup for the Seder
Elijah’s Cup for the Seder

At my Seder, I begin with an empty Elijah cup. Prior to opening the door for Elijah, we pass the cup to every person. Everyone pours some of his or her wine into the cup, as they say one thing they hope to do over the coming year to make the world a better place. By the time the cup goes around the table, Elijah’s cup is full. We, then, are the ones who will actually be responsible for bringing about redemption to our world.

Symbolically, this shows that if we each do our part, we ARE ABLE to bring our world to a state of perfection and wholeness.

So who is our anchor in troubled times? WE are our anchors.

Or, to paraphrase Rebbe Nachman of Bratslav (1772-1810. He was the great-grandson of the Baal Shem Tov – and was one of the most creative, influential and profound of the Chassidic masters and the founder of the Bratslover Chasidic sect.) – to be an anchor, to make this world a better place, you need to reach in three directions: inward, outward and up. You need to reach inward to find the best of yourself; you need to reach outward toward your community; and finally you need to reach up to God. If we reach in all three directions, we will be able to find wholeness and peace, and then truly, we will have found our anchor.

Shabbat Shalom.

“Let All Who Are Hungry, Come and Eat…”

When I was growing up, you could buy two kinds of matzah in the store: plain or egg.

Today, the grocery store shelves are overflowing with a plethora of varieties of matzah :

Plain, egg, onion, spelt, oat, gluten-free, tea matzah, whole wheat, whole wheat and bran, matzah “sticks”, English matzah, Israeli matzah, chocolate covered matzah, small size matzah crackers (and all of the varieties exist in the crackers as well).

Some of the different varieties of matzah available today
Some of the different varieties of matzah available today

It can seem overwhelming looking at all the different types of matzah lining the shelves at the grocery store.

And don’t forget about buying matzah meal, cake meal and matzah farfel. They also come in “original”, whole grain and now gluten free. Want some matzah Panko crumbs? Plain or flavoured? Regular or gluten-free? They are all readily available.

Matzah has come a long way from its biblical and historical origins.

Matzah was originally the “bread of affliction”. In Exodus 12:8, the ancient Israelites ate unleavened bread as they hastily departed Egypt on their way to freedom. They had no time to bake bread and let it rise, so they quickly mixed some flour and water and made flat bread. A type of bread which would bake quickly and not spoil as they travelled.

Ha lachma anya

Di achalu avatanya b’arah

d’Mitzrayim… (Passover Haggada)

“This is the bread of affliction, which our ancestors ate in the land of Egypt. Let all who are hungry, come and eat. Let all who are in want, share the hope of Passover.”

With these ancient Aramaic words, we break one of the symbolic pieces of matzah on the Seder table and our Pesach (Passover) seder becomes an evening of community, story-telling and hospitality.

By breaking a piece of matzah in half and opening our front door, we invite all those who have no where to celebrate and join us at our Seder tables. We invite all those who are hungry, to celebrate Passover along side our own families.

Thus matzah comes to symbolize two things:

  • the affliction and suffering our ancestors suffered as slaves in Egypt;
  • freedom, hospitality and welcoming. Matzah was eaten by people on the cusp of becoming free. We now use it to welcome others to our homes during this special time.

The dual nature of matzah is not lost on us. Matzah is hard and crumbly. It can get stuck in our throats. Yet, we have the ability to transform it into something edible and delicious. (Ever had caramel matzah crunch, aka, matzah “crack?”, or a delicious blueberry matzah brei for breakfast, or just plain matzah with fresh butter and strawberry preserves?)

We find that when we gather together with friends, family and community and share food and celebration, the bonds we form can help lighten any burden we bear. When we gather together as community, we can find a way to alleviate the suffering of others. There is power, strength and healing in community. Matzah thus reminds us of the dual nature of life: slavery and freedom, hunger and hospitality.

Matzah is made from only two ingredients: flour and water. It mixes together and bakes up quickly. And it lasts a long time without going bad. It is a simple food. Not complicated.

It should be a simple thing for us to reach out to others in friendship and love, to open our doors, our homes and our hearts. It should be easy and not complicated – like matzah.

So as you do your Pesach shopping this year, and contemplate which type of matzah you will bring home, think about how to make the ancient words of “Ha lach ma anya” come alive by opening your home and your heart to others this Pesach.

Chag Pesach Sameach! A happy and healthy Passover to you and your family!

Click on the links below for some of my favourite Passover recipes:

Sharon’s Sweet and Spicy Mixed Nuts

Susie Fishbein’s Tri-Color Matzah Balls

Betsy Stone’s Carrot Kugel/Carrot Muffins

Sue Devor’s Decadent Flourless Chocolate Torte

Grain-Free/Gluten-Free Blondies

 

Accompanying Others on Their Sacred Journeys-The Life of a Rabbi

Birth is a beginning, 

And death a destination;

But life is a journey,

A going – a growing

From stage to stage. (by Alvin Fine)

“Death is a destination….” My text message ‘pinged’ at 2:30 am: “I just received a call from hospice that mother has passed.” I quickly woke up. If my friend and congregant was sending me a text at 2:30 am, it was ok to phone her back right away.

J’s mother was 97 years old. She had lived a long life. J was an only child and now it was up to her and her husband to make all the arrangements. We talked about what she wanted and needed to do. And we made plans to get together the next day.

Hands from a well-lived life.
Hands from a well-lived life.

The funeral was a graveside service with only family and close friends present. But the shiva was filled with family, friends and so many loved ones who came to support J, to share memories, stories and offer condolences. The house was filled to overflowing until almost 1:00 am.

It was truly a cathartic process for J, who felt embraced, strengthened and loved by her community and family.

“Birth is a beginning…” While I was planning the funeral for J’s mother, my good friends were anxiously awaiting the arrival of their baby who was one week overdue. He finally made his appearance as his friends and family rejoiced from around the world!

New mom, new dad and new baby feet. (Photo credit: G. Carimi).
New mom, new dad and new baby feet. (Photo credit: G. Carimi).

I was invited to officiate at his “Naming Ceremony” to be held at his grandparent’s home in Madison, Wisconsin (I am also friends with the baby’s grandparents). The family’s cantor, who officiated at the new dad’s Bar Mitzvah and Confirmation and I – who am the new dad’s first rabbi as an adult – were to co-officiate together. The baby’s aunt participated in the ceremony from Israel via Skype.

One day after the Shiva for J’s mother, I drove to Madison and we welcomed baby A into the Covenant of the Jewish people. His parents, grandparents, great-grandparents and aunt promised to love and nurture him and raise him in the traditions of our people. They wished him a life of Torah (learning), Chuppah (loving relationships) and Ma’asim Tovim (deeds of lovingkindness) as we bestowed upon him his Hebrew name, surrounded by friends, family and community from near and far.

From childhood to maturity

And youth to age.

From innocence to

awareness

And ignorance to knowing;

From foolishness to discretion

And then perhaps to wisdom.

From weakness to

strength

Or strength to

weakness –

And, often, back again.

From health to sickness

And back, we pray, to health again. (Alvin Fine)

“From health to sickness…” My text message ‘pinged’ again in the middle of the night at 1:41 am in between the death of J’s mother and the birth of G’s baby boy. “I have sad news to tell you. My mother-in-law had a stroke and then was quickly diagnosed with leukaemia. That’s not the worst part. She has bleeding in the brain and they don’t know if they can save her.”

 ….”and back, we pray, to health again.” The family didn’t want me to visit, because as she became lucid, they thought it would scare her if she saw me – her rabbi – at the hospital. She didn’t know how bad it was. She has now – thankfully – turned a corner and the worst is over. They are thinking that she will get through the immediate crisis. I am staying in touch several times a day by text and phone. As soon as the family is ready, I will visit. (I also have bronchitis, so a hospital visit at this time is not advisable).

..Life is a journey

A sacred pilgrimage 

Made stage by stage

From birth to death

to life everlasting. (Alvin Fine)

Such is the life of a rabbi. As each of us makes our own journey along the path of life, our Jewish tradition teaches us that it is our obligation to be present for each other on this journey: supporting each other, guiding each other and caring for each other.

My many years of rabbinical experience have taught me that the greatest privilege and weightiest challenges of the rabbinate are multifold: to help every individual find meaning and comfort at times of joy and sadness, to enable people to find a sense of k’dusha ­– the sacred – in the everyday, ordinary acts in which we participate, and finally to work to make our synagogues places of meaning, connection and purpose. It has always been my hope that I can point to the sacred potential in each moment that we experience along our life’s journey.

Whenever I visit a patient in a hospital, help parents welcome a new child into our Jewish tradition, connect with our Jewish youth and engage them in words of Torah, share in the joy of a wedding and hold the hand of someone who has suffered a loss – I am affirming why I chose to become a rabbi.

Life is a journey

A sacred pilgrimage

Character Counts!

If you drive down the road in Highland Park, Illinois, on many street corners you are likely to see a half-folded “Stop” sign with with the words: 

CHARACTER COUNTS!

In Highland Park

The sign then highlights one of six “Pillars of Character” which the Highland Park local government and educational community feel are an integral part of our communal philosophy: Trustworthiness, Respect, Responsibility, Fairness, Caring and Citizenship. The Highland Park “Character Counts Campaign” aims to integrate classroom learning, “on the streets” learning and communal learning to instill the values implicit in these six pillars.

"Character Counts" Stop Sign in Highland Park, Illinois
“Character Counts” Stop Sign in Highland Park, Illinois

Each stop sign lists a different “pillar”. As you are driving around town, you can’t help but to notice and read these wonderful messages.

When I first moved to Highland Park, I was impressed with these signs all around town. “Wow!” I thought, “The messages on these signs are very Jewish in nature.”

The rabbis of old taught:

“Rabbi Elliezer said: Let the honor of your fellow be as dear to you as your own. How so? This teaches that even as on looks out for his fellow’s honor, so should he look out for his own honor. And even as no man wishes that his own honor be held in ill repute, so should he wish that the honor of his fellow shall not be held in ill repute.” (Rabbi Elieler ben Hyrcanus, in Ethics of the Fathers, chapter 2, paragraph 15; commentary from Fathers According to Rabbi Nathan, chapter 15.

Our Highland Park “Character Counts” Campaign is about preserving honor and dignity. It is about teaching us to respect ourselves and those in our midst. It teaches the value of community and what it means to be an active and participating member of community.

I’ve been watching my 7th grade Religious School students live out these “Six Pillars of Character” all year.

I teach them on Wednesday late afternoons. They come to me after a long day of regular school. They are tired, hungry and now have another 1.5 hours of Judaic studies. Sometimes, it’s hard for them to sit still, they love the social time with each other. Many of them have been together as a group since kindergarten or first or second grade.

They are a terrific group of young teenagers. Each one of them has committed to remaining in Religious School after his or her celebration of Bar or Bat Mitzvah.

Each of these students, like many B’nai Mitzvah across North America, participates in Tikkun Olam or Mitzvah projects during this year of Bar/Bat Mitzvah. These are special social justice projects chosen by each student. The goal is for them to personally engage in the work of caring for others and repairing our world. Becoming Bar and Bat Mitzvah implies accepting the privileges and responsibilities of Jewish adulthood. Those responsibilities include continuing one’s Jewish learning, participating in the life of the Jewish community, celebrating Holy Days and taking care of our world. It also means that “Character Counts.”

One of my students, Chloe S., is the true exemplar of our “Character Counts” campaign. She is as much my teacher as she is my student. She conducts herself with graceful dignity. She volunteers as a “machonik” (student teacher) in the religious school. She has a wonderful way of being present with others. She and her family participate fully in the life of our congregational community. She takes it upon herself to learn new things, if she feels that her education was lacking.

Her Torah portion for her Bat Mitzvah talked about the building of the Mishkan, the portable sanctuary (or Tabernacle) that the Israelites built and carried with them in the wilderness as they traveled from Egypt to the Promised Land. Chloe said to herself, “I never learned about this Mishkan before!” So she and her father decided to build one, to help themselves learn more about it, to understand more deeply what it symbolized and what it meant.

On the morning of her Bat Mitzvah celebration, they surprised me and presented the completed model to me as a gift. So that I could use it to teach others about the Mishkan, its purpose and meaning.

Side view of the model of the Mishkan.
Side view of the model of the Mishkan.
Model of the Mishkan - the Portable Sanctuary (or Tabernacle) that the Israelites carried in the wilderness
Model of the Mishkan – the Portable Sanctuary (or Tabernacle) that the Israelites carried in the wilderness

If the future of our world is in the hands of these young people, we are in very good hands indeed!

Zachor – Remember

Purim begins this Saturday evening, March 15th. Purim is our Jewish holiday of merry-making, silliness and fun. It commemorates the victory of the Jews in the city of Shushan in Persia, thousands of years ago, over the evil Haman who wanted to annihilate all of the Jews. We read Megillat Esther, the Scroll of Esther, retell the story, celebrate with carnivals and games and have lots of fun.

This particular Shabbat immediately preceding Purim has a special name: Shabbat Zachor – The Sabbath of Remembrance. This Shabbat, we read a section of the Torah from Deuteronomy (25: 17-19) in which the Israelites are commanded to destroy the Amalakites from their midst. The Amalakites were enemies of the Israelites who attacked the Israelites as they wandered through the wilderness on their way from Egypt to the Promised Land.

The evil Haman from our Purim story, is said to be a descendant of the Amalakites. Thus, we remind ourselves this Shabbat that if we do not fully eradicate evil from our midst, evil could once again arise to plague us, just as Haman arose to threaten the Jews of Shushan. So, we hear the Torah being read and we remember. (For an excellent essay on the difficulties encountered with this text, click here: Is It Ever Okay to Hate? A Lesson for Purim, by Rabbi Evan Moffic)

We then go on to celebrate Purim with light hearts and full spirits.

(For my take on the Purim story, click here to read my brief essay: “Esther: Going Beyond the Biblical Text: A Purim D’var Torah)

For me, this year, this Shabbat is also about another kind of remembering. This year, Purim happens to fall on the fourth anniversary of my mother’s death. She died on the evening of March 15, 2010, five days before her 70th birthday, just 10 weeks after my father died. (They had been separated/divorced for almost 37 years).

Her Hebrew yahrzeit (anniversary of death) will fall on April 1st this year – just prior to Pesach (Passover).

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that my mother died between Purim and Pesach. She LOVED all of our Jewish holidays and everything about them: preparing all the special foods, getting the house ready, the home celebrations, the rituals in the synagogue, helping all six children to organize ourselves.

My mother and father at ages 20 and 22. (Circa 1960)
My mother and father at ages 20 and 22. (Circa 1960)

I remember my parents every day, not just as their yahrzeits, or their secular anniversary of their deaths and birthdays approach. They are with me each and every day. But on those special moments, I tend to be more self-reflective. My siblings and I check-in with each other and share our thoughts and feelings. My parents would be so proud of what everyone has accomplished. They would kvell (Yiddish for “rejoice” and “beam with pride”) at everything their eight grandchildren are achieving.

Our Jewish tradition teaches us: “As a drop of water in the sea, as a grain of sand on the shore are our few days in eternity. The good things in life last for limited days, but a good name endures forever.”

My parents live on in the good names they created for themselves over the course of their lives, in the deeds they have done and most importantly through us, their children and grandchildren.

Mom with her grandmother's brass candlesticks brought over from "the old country" and a challah cover that my mother embroidered
Mom with her grandmother’s brass candlesticks brought over from “the old country” and a challah cover that my mother embroidered

My parents were the biggest influence in my life Jewishly. I grew up with the synagogue as my second home. My earliest memories revolve around Shabbat and holiday celebrations. I would not be a rabbi today, had it not been for both my mother and my father guiding me, nurturing me and instilling within me a deep and abiding love for our Jewish culture and heritage.

Judaism also teaches us about the sacred duty of memory. It is through our memories that our loved ones will always live on. Through our actions and aspirations, we carry forward the heritage entrusted to us by those who came before us.

My mother bequeathed many things to me. But what I value most, she gave to me from the time I was born: a deep sense of connection with God.

From the time I was born, my mother began to sing the “Sh’ma” to me and my siblings at bedtime:

“Sh’ma Yisrael, Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai echad. Hear, O Israel, the Eternal is our God, the Eternal alone.”

It was my mother (and father) who showed us by example what it meant to have a personal relationship with God. My relationship with God sustains me and nurtures me to this day, just as it sustained her and nurtured her.

12 years ago, my mother was diagnosed with Stage 4 breast cancer. She had three kinds of cancer in one breast and was told that it was 95% certain that it was metastasize to the other breast. She opted to have a bi-lateral radical mastectomy. She also needed intensive chemotherapy and radiation.

The night before her surgery, she held a “bye-bye boobie party” for herself. My non-Jewish sister-in-law, Marilyn, who is a palliative care nurse by profession and a textile artist by avocation, presented my mother with a surgical cap that she made. On the outside she printed photos of all my mother’s children and grandchildren. Inside – in Hebrew – she printed the words of the Sh’ma.

Top of surgical cap made by my sister-in-law for my mother for her mastectomy surgery
Top of surgical cap made by my sister-in-law for my mother for her mastectomy surgery
Inside of surgical cap - with the Sh'ma inside - for my mother to wear into surgery
Inside of surgical cap – with the Sh’ma inside – for my mother to wear into surgery

The tears streamed down my mother’s face. Marilyn knew that my mother was a deeply spiritual and religious person, whose connection to God was an integral part of her very being. She understood that if my mother could have something that represented both her family and God’s presence with her simultaneously while she was undergoing surgery, my mother would find the strength to overcome any obstacle in her way. My mother wore that cap into surgery, and kept it with her any time she went into the hospital. She felt embraced by her connection to God, her family, her congregation and the greater community. It gave her the conviction and the hope to recover with flying colors.

Following her cancer treatment, my mother lived to celebrate Purim and Passover and many other holidays, Shabbatot and life-cycle events for eight more years.

If she were here this weekend, I know that she would be sitting in the second row of her sanctuary, she might even be chanting Torah. She would have baked hamantaschen (triangular cookies filled with different fillings to symbolize Haman’s hat/pockets) for the holiday, and she would be celebrating with joy and gladness.

So on this Shabbat Zachor, this Shabbat of Remembrance, I remember the traditional things I am supposed to think about, but more importantly, I am remembering my mother: Judith Rosenthal Sobel. Zichrona livracha – may her memory always be for a blessing.

Happy 17th Birthday, Sarah! An Open Letter to My Niece

March 3, 2014

Dear Sarah,

Happy 17th birthday! It seems like just yesterday – and also like forever – that you came into our lives. But really, you have been with us now for six-and-and-a half years: from the time you were 10-and-a-half.

Your mom and dad, my brother David and sister-in-law Marilyn, were so excited when they told us about you. “Sarah loves people.” They told us. “She’s so warm and friendly and she’s looking to be loved. She wants a family and a place to call ‘home.’ We can’t wait for you to meet her.”

Sarah with David and Marilyn on one of their early visits with each other, prior to their becoming a family.
Sarah with David and Marilyn on one of their early visits with each other, prior to becoming a family.

You moved in with them on December 21st, 2007. Everyone was so excited! You are their only child. They had been “Big brother/Big sister” to others, but never had a child of their own. You chose them to be your parents and they chose you to be their daughter. All of us could not have been more thrilled when you became part of our large family!

Most of us don’t have to make this choice in life. We are born into our families of origin, our families of birth. We grow up with our birth siblings, parents and grandparents. But your life circumstances did not turn out that way. Your story is yours alone to tell. But your life led you to us, and for that we all feel so eternally blessed.

In many ways, your kind of story is one that has been part of our Jewish tradition for thousands of years. We have many tales in our Jewish history where people longed for children of their own, but were not able to have them. Our bible shows how people prayed to God asking for children to come into their lives. Some were blessed to eventually give birth to children of their own. Some found a way to use surrogate mothers to bear children for them. And of course, adoption has always been part of our Jewish culture. When a parent adopted a child, they would bounce the baby on their knees and name that child. Those two acts together would embody the ritual of adoption. Bouncing a baby on one’s knee symbolically represented the physical care and nurturing that parents would now bestow upon the child entrusted to them. The act of naming symbolized the idea of “ownership” or acquisition. When I bestow a name upon someone, that person is now a part of me, it belongs with me, that person is now “my family.”

Children represent continuity for the future. You will carry on our hopes, our dreams, our aspirations after we are no longer alive. You will inherit a legacy of family keepsakes and traditions and imbue them with your own meaning and your own values. And you will keep our memories alive, long after we our gone. Our children, our tradition teaches us, are our guarantors.

Sarah, I’m writing to you on your birthday, because I want you to remember all those things. And above all, I want to remind you that you ARE a special person and have many gifts to offer. You are so very loving, gentle, kind and caring. You have an uncanny ability to relate to young children. Your love of animals knows no bounds – whether it’s caring for your beloved Greyhound, Sweet, or your pet chickens, or a wounded bird. Your heart has the capacity for tremendous empathy and love.

And in turn, you are loved by so many others. Your mom and dad love you to the moon and back. And we, your extended family – your aunts, uncles and cousins, also love you and care about you and want to see you happy, healthy and successful.

My mother, aka, "Bubbie," David, Sarah and Marilyn, the day Sarah's adoption became official.
My mother, aka, “Bubbie,” David, Sarah and Marilyn, the day Sarah’s adoption became official.

Bubbie (my mother), was there to celebrate with you when your adoption became official on April 2, 2008. She was SO thrilled to have you join our family and to sign the “Zeved Ha-Bat” (“Gift of a Daughter”) adoption covenant that your mom created to commemorate that moment:

"Zeved Bat - Gift of a Daughter" Certificate, Creating a Covenant between Sarah and David and Marilyn.
“Zeved Bat – Gift of a Daughter” Certificate, Creating a Covenant between Sarah and David and Marilyn.

In this covenant, your parents promise to take you as their daughter, to love you every day and to keep you forever.

You promise to take David and Marilyn as your parents, to love them every day and to keep them forever.

The three of you promise to celebrate the flow of the seasons and the passages of life with your family, your friends and one another, as well as to care for one another always.

I remind you of these words, Sarah, because sometimes, we take family for granted. Sometimes, it is easy to forget to show love to the ones who love us the most.

Loving a child unconditionally means accepting who they are as a person, helping them to overcome any obstacles in their life and guiding them toward a life of love, success and fulfillment. Sometimes, loving a child means setting boundaries and saying “no.” Loving a child means helping them to achieve appropriate educational goals so that they can take care of themselves later on in life. Loving a child means understanding their pain, their frustration as well as their joys and hopes and aspirations. Loving a child means laughing with them, celebrating with them, crying with them and putting band-aids on their boo-boos (or sitting with them in hospital ER’s at all times of day and night).

Loving your parents means accepting that your parents want what is best for you, even if you don’t always recognize what that is. Loving your parents means recognizing that they are people too, with feelings and emotions. And sometimes, it means remembering that “it isn’t always about you.” Loving your parents means that the covenant you signed at the time of your adoption is a three-way partnership: the three of you need to work at your relationship each and every day to show each other how much you love each other – even when you are upset. Loving your parents means learning how to be patient and learning how to breathe. Just like they are trying to be patient and learning how to breathe too.

Sarah, you might be your parents’ only child, but your dad has three brothers, two sisters and you have seven Sobel cousins. Your mom has one brother and one sister – and you have more cousins on that side as well. Your extended family is even larger. You have also reconnected with some of your birth family. The circle of people who love you and care about you is large.

When you are happy, we are all happy. When you are sad, we’re all sad. When you’re in pain, we’re in pain.

The journey of your life Sarah, will be filled with many twists and turns, as you know only so well. There will be smooth sailing at times, as well as rocky patches. Sometimes you’ll encounter bumps and curves that you don’t expect. But through it all, you have each other – your mom and dad, and your loving extended family. We are your guideposts along the way. We will help you steer your course. And through it all, we will always be here for you, loving you with open arms and full hearts.

Sarah, as you celebrate your 17th birthday, we wish for you wisdom and strength and the maturity to make healthy decisions. We wish you laughter and joy, success and fulfillment. Most of all, we wish you a lifetime of love, health and contentment. May you and your parents continue to be blessed by the richness and beauty of your loving relationship with each other!

I am so glad that you are part of our family!

Happy birthday, gorgeous! I love you lots!

Auntie Sharon

Sarah today - my beautiful 17-year old niece! Happy Birthday!
Sarah today – my beautiful 17-year old niece! Happy Birthday!

A Warm Shabbat (Sabbath) Dinner for a Cold Winter Night

In Judaism, our Sabbath (Shabbat) begins at sundown on Friday evening and ends when three stars appear in the sky on Saturday evening. For us, the Sabbath is celebrated both at home and in the synagogue.

As a rabbi, my Fridays are usually spent preparing for services and the teaching I will do on the weekend. But it’s important to me that I, too, experience the home aspects of our Shabbat rituals and celebration. I love hosting people in my home so we can welcome Shabbat together: good food, good company and wonderful conversation.

As you can probably imagine, cooking for these Friday night dinners might make my life a little frenetic. I try to alleviate the stress by preparing for services as much in advance as possible and by preparing for these dinners as much in advance as possible as well.

And since I need to leave home by 7:00 pm in order to get to the synagogue on time, I invite people for dinner for 5:00 pm. It might seem early, but it allows us time to eat a leisurely and enjoyable meal without being rushed.

I also have a “secret weapon” that allows me to do all this as graciously as possible: my housekeeper Rebecca. She arrives at 4:30 pm and helps with last-minute preparation and does the clean up and dishes. This permits me to truly be present for my guests, and also lets me leave on time without worrying about putting food away or returning home late at night to a dirty house. Rebecca makes it possible for me to truly experience Shabbat.

My great-grandmother's brass candlesticks from "the Old Country"
My great-grandmother’s brass candlesticks from “the Old Country”

As my guests gather around my table for the Shabbat blessings, I light the brass candlesticks that belonged to my mother’s grandmother which she brought with her to the United States from “the Old Country”. My mother used to light these same candlesticks every Friday night. So I have a part of my mother with me every Shabbat.

I use the Kiddush cup – the cup for wine that we use to usher in Shabbat with a special blessing that sanctifies the day – that I received as a gift for my Bat Mitzvah. I think of my father who officiated at my service and blessed me on that day, so he too is with me each and every Shabbat as well.

My Kiddush cup I received as a gift when I became Bat Mitzvah in 1973.
My Kiddush cup I received as a gift when I became Bat Mitzvah in 1973.

My house is filled with art and Jewish ritual objects that resonate with memories from so many different times and places. I love to share these with those who come to visit.

And so it is with my cooking. I pour myself into the dishes I make, trying to think what will most please my guests and make them feel honoured and special.

This past week I wanted to make something warm, fragrant and satisfying. Something that would warm our hearts as well as our souls – that would lift us up and help take our minds off the dreariness of these cold winter days.

Here is my menu for a “warm Shabbat dinner for a cold winter night.” Enjoy! (Click on the green links for the recipes)

Bat Mitzvah Presents Special Gift (March, 2014)

A bat mitzvah student brings her Torah portion to life and constructs a miniature Tabernacle, as a surprise gift for her rabbi, Sharon Sobel, which she presents to her toward the end of her bat mitzvah service. (Watch “Bat Mitzvah Presents Special Gift” below, or on YouTube.)

Bat Mitzvah Presents Special Gift

About bar/bat mitzvah (from Wikipedia):
Bar (בַּר) is a Jewish Babylonian Aramaic word literally meaning “son” (בֵּן), while bat (בַּת) means “daughter” in Hebrew, and mitzvah (מִצְוָה) means “commandment” or “law” (plural: mitzvot). Thus bar mitzvah and bat mitzvah literally translate to “son of commandment” and “daughter of commandment”. However, in rabbinical usage, the word bar means “under the category of” or “subject to”. Bar mitzvah therefore translates to “an [agent] who is subject to the law”. Although the term is commonly used to refer to the ritual itself, in fact the phrase originally refers to the person.

“My House Shall be Called a House of Prayer for All Peoples.”

I grew up in Succasunna, New Jersey. It is a small town in the middle of northern New Jersey. My father served as the Reform rabbi in the local synagogue. Back then, the Jewish community in Succasunna was small. Our congregants lived not just in our own town, but from a radius of 20 miles or more around us.

I was one of just a few Jewish students in my grammar school, middle school and high school. But since my involvement in my synagogue was such an important part of my life, my non-Jewish friends would often spend time at our synagogue with me and I would attend their church functions with them. It was my first introduction to “interfaith dialogue”.

Interfaith Dialogue
Interfaith Dialogue

We celebrated each other’s holy days, life-cycle events and milestones. We learned what was important to the other. Most importantly, we learned to respect our differences and to rejoice in what we shared in common.

When my parents both died four years ago, one of my dear friends sent me a letter, telling me that when we were in 8th grade, she went to visit my father in his office. She explained to him that even though she was raised Lutheran, she felt more closely connected to Judaism and really wanted to convert. He treated her as an adult. He listened. He encouraged her to read, to speak to her parents and to wait. He never shared with me anything about her visit. Only after his death did I learn of their discussions. She told me that he had a tremendous impact on her and that he taught her so much: about religion, about life, about patience. In the end, she did not convert. But her respect for Judaism continues to this day, because of that dialogue.

Today, I am engaged in another kind of interfaith dialogue, one that sustains and nurtures the work I do on a daily basis. Congregation B’nai Torah consists of four buildings on the shore of Lake Michigan. One of the buildings is an old mansion, which is now used for our office space and some meeting rooms.

Congregation B'nai Torah - White Building. Highland Park, Illinois
Congregation B’nai Torah – White Building. Highland Park, Illinois

On the top floor, is a large apartment. Many years ago, the space had been used to house Cambodian boat-refugees seeking asylum. But in recent years, the space has been used to house graduate students from Trinity Evangelical Divinity School on the campus of Trinity International University. The students live on our premises rent-free while they are in school, in exchange for doing 10-15 hours of maintenance work on our large property.

The mission of Trinity International University is to offer rigorous academic programs in many disciplines (both undergraduate and graduate) that are grounded in Scripture. Their faculty are committed to teaching and research that integrate faith and life.

The students who live and work at B’nai Torah are a wonderful, diverse, talented and extremely interesting group of young men. They are all deeply committed to their faith traditions and are passionate about their “mission” and I am learning a great deal from all of them. They are very respectful of the Jewish tradition and are interested in what we do here as well. (As an aside, those who are studying for a Master’s in Divinity, also learn Hebrew and Greek. It was great when they were helping me unpack my Talmud set and other books and they could put them away in the right order because they could read the Hebrew!)

Josh T., who is now studying for his PhD in Egyptology, is a gifted and talented musician. He writes, directs and produces musicals for fun in his spare time. But he also researched all of our Jewish museum artifacts: ritual objects and ancient scrolls. He prepared a proposal documenting the best way for us to display and preserve these.

Dan is working on his Master of Divinity. He’s also a computer whiz. His brother has his PhD from our very own Reform Movement’s Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion in Cincinnati in Ancient Near East studies and his sister-in-law works at HUC’s library!

Josh W. grew up in a missionary family who travelled all over the world. He and his parents spent a number of years in the FSU and he speaks fluent Russian. He is unwavering in his commitment to social justice and serving others. Josh’s goal upon graduation is really “grass roots community organizing mission work”. He would like to build his own church community in Dorchester, Massachusetts, the most diverse urban neighborhood in the country – and he’ll start from scratch. He runs 1/2 marathons, 10Ks and does many other things for fun – but his church work is paramount in his life.

Matt is originally from Anchorage, Alaska. He has his undergraduate degree in Communications and competed in collegiate athletics in Track and Field as a 110m hurdler. He will be graduating this May with a Master of Arts in Intercultural Studies and will also be starting up his own church from “scratch” and is working on getting his 501c3 now. He’ll be staying locally to do so. Matt is also a runner. Like most of the other guys who live here, Matt grew up as an Evangelical his entire life, but eventually as he grew older, his faith developed in deeper and more personal ways. He helped lead youth ministries through grade school. Today, he travels as an associate evangelist for “On the Go Ministries”, speaking with people around the world about faith in God. He works with many other ministries as well. One of the reasons he’s excited about living at B’nai Torah, for him, is that Christianity has its roots in Judaism. Matt feels that the more he learns about Judaism, the more he learns about Christianity.

Jim is from Canada (YAY – a fellow Canadian, eh?!) He recently got engaged and will be getting married in August. Together, he and Dana will move forward to a life of faith and love.

Ethan is not studying at Trinity, but his father is a pastor in an Evengelical Church. His father has experienced some difficult times due to some church “politics”. My staff and I try to be here to be supportive for Ethan and be that listening ear, as he and his family endure this trying time.

Chris is the one with whom I have spent the most time, engaged in ongoing dialogue. I listened to a sermon that he recently preached in his Church. He and I discussed our very different views about abortion and “pro-choice”. Chris was interested to learn about the Jewish approach to “sin” (since it plays a large part in his faith). So we are continuing our discussion. He reads my blog, he listens to what happens in our services, and we talk, and will continue to do so. What do our faiths share in common? What do we perceive are the most significant differences between us? (I am learning a lot about Evangelicalism). Chris is interested in learning more about how each of us believes that God calls us to relate to those outside our faith and society at large. Chris has a degree in engineering, worked for a few technology companies after graduating undergraduate school, and also did several internships at some churches. He too, is passionate about social justice and serving others. He will earn his Master’s of Divinity and would like to serve as a pastor of a church long-term.

I include these young men in my weekly staff meetings. At the beginning of each staff meeting, we do a “checking-in” to see how everyone is doing, what’s happening in their lives: joyful, sad, difficult, and so on. If we are going to work together as a successful team at our congregation, it’s important to know and understand what’s happening in everyone’s lives.

It was during these “checking in” periods that I learned about Chris’ sermon that he was going to be delivering. I learned about Ethan’s father. We learned that Matt is in the process of finishing his Master’s thesis. Josh T. shared that his grandmother was getting increasingly more frail and he was getting more worried. (We added her name to our Mi Sheberach – our healing – list). As a congregational community – as a faith community – I want my staff to know that I am interested in learning more about them, what is happening in their lives, and what is important to them.

I know that if we take the time to understand each other, and learn about each other, when they leave B’nai Torah and go out to their own ministries, it will be with a greater understanding and sense of open spirit.

As we learn from the prophet Isaiah: “My House Shall be Called a House of Prayer for All Peoples.” (Isaiah 56: 7) I look forward to continuing my dialogue!

You and I Can Change the World

When I was in high school, I was part of a Jewish folk-singing trio with two of my friends. We called ourselves “Hashoshanim” – The Roses. We performed for synagogues and other Jewish organizations across New Jersey and New York in the late 1970’s.

One of our favorite songs was a popular Israeli song by Arik Einstein and Miki Gavrielov, “Ani V’atah”: You and I will change the world, you and I, then all will join us.

Together, we can change the world.
Together, we can change the world.

The message of this song was a lesson that my parents instilled within me from the time I was young: each one of us has the ability to make a difference in this world. Not only that, but our Jewish tradition teaches us that we are obligated to do our part to make this world a better place for others, a concept known as “tikkun olam” – repairing the world.

We learn from the Torah, “tzedek, tzedek tirdof – justice, justice shall you pursue…” (Deuteronomy 16:20). My parents taught us from a young age how to make these words a reality in our lives by:

  • Encouraging us to give tzedakah (charity) from our own money on a regular basis;
  • Taking us to march in rallies in Manhattan and Washington, DC to support Israel, to free Soviet Jews, to fight against the war in Viet Nam;
  • Speaking out for those who are unable to speak for themselves.
  • Keeping social justice issues on the forefront of our congregational agendas and on our agenda for conversation at home.

I continue to be passionate about social justice issues throughout my life. I hear my father’s voice telling me: “Sharon, the Talmud teaches us, ‘once the eye has seen and the ear has heard, you can no longer pretend to be uninvolved or unaffected. You must ACT.'”

During rabbinical school, I had the opportunity to travel to the USSR with two classmates to visit Refuseniks and bring in much needed supplies. I spent 4.5 months in South Africa at the height of Apartheid, working with Reform congregations there and learning about the situation and what we could do back at home to help ameliorate the pain and suffering caused by Apartheid.

My tikkun olam work since ordination has been broad and varied. It has included:

  • starting the first Jewish AIDS Committee in Canada;
  • continuing to visit the FSU and working with the Jewish communities in Belarus to bring in much needed medical supplies; teaching about Pesach and leading Pesach seders;
  • organizing and starting the first Mitzvah Day at my former congregation in Connecticut – a program that has been going on for almost two decades now and has the highest congregational participation outside of High Holy Days;
  • Working with the Canadian Reform Movement on a National program to stop Human Trafficking;
  • Partnering with the Canadian Reform Movement and ARZA Canada on many Israeli social justice programs.
  • And so much more!

I therefore feel so honoured and thrilled to be selected to participate in the American Jewish World Service (AJWS.) Global Justice Fellowship for Rabbis for the 2014-2015 year.

American Jewish World Service
American Jewish World Service

The fellowship is done in conjunction with our work in our own congregations. AJWS feels that congregational rabbis play key roles in our own communities when it comes to coalition building, community organizing and raising awareness about critical issues.

The program includes an 8-10 day educational trip to Kenya in August. We’ll learn from extraordinary local human rights activists who are using grassroots organizing tactics to fight discrimination and sexual and gender-based violence against women, girls and the LGBT community. Back at home, we will engage in innovative training sessions to develop skills in community organizing and advocacy. The goal is to mobilize and organize our communities in support of the wonderful work that AJWS does across the globe and other efforts to promote global justice, as we advocate for human rights and try to end poverty across the world.

As I begin this fellowship this March, I will be blogging about the work I am doing. I hope you will follow my blog and join in our efforts.

“Ani v’atah n’shaneh et ha-olam – together, you and I CAN change the world!”

To learn more about American Jewish World Service and the wonderful work that they do across the world, click here.