Monthly Archives: September 2018

Sukkot Prayer

Every year around this time, the lulav and etrog arrive, just in time for Sukkot, which begins this Sunday evening. Opening the boxes is like taking a trip in time. Look at them! A palm frond stuck into a woven straw holder and two plastic bags, one containing two sprigs from a willow tree and the other, three sprigs from a myrtle. And then, the piece de resistance, the etrog, which appears to be a big lemon, but is not. On Sukkot, we will hold them all together in a prescribed fashion, and shake them as a means of saying thank you to God: for long life, for sustenance, and for the harvest which feeds us all.
As you shake the lulav, perhaps you can imagine how our ancestors held on tight, praying that the capricious ways of Nature would be mild in this new year. This year, as I shake the lulav, I will be channeling those who came before me, who shook their lulav for dear life. I will think about where this tradition began, before even our earliest Jewish past.
I am convinced that this practice of lulav shaking begins in our earliest prehistoric past. I imagine men and women preparing for a harvest 23,000 years ago on the shores of the Sea of Galilee in Israel. They have so much fear and hope. Will these seeds grow? Will the godssmile on them? The lulav and etrog were shamanic tools to conjure the benevolence of the gods. Because if the harvest failed, it would not mean higher prices at a store. Rather, it meant the difference between life and death, full bellies or starvation.
I guess that even the most observant farmers of todaywhen they shake their lulav, will be thanking God. But they will know about the acidity of the soil, the meteorological trends on their land, the proper use of irrigation and fertilizer and so forth. They will know that, while God’s blessing for a good harvest is always welcome, and yes, the capriciousness of Nature can still be devastating, that it is not a matter of life and death.
Given that we have so much more science behind us as we plant and harvest, it is mystifying how people can ignore the reality of climate change. I would be willing to bet that most farmers believe in climate change, are seeing it in their crop yields and water use.
Our children’s children will face a world of rising seas and rising temperatures. They will experience bigger storms that are more devastating and fires that are more destructive. A hundred years from now there will be water wars in Africa and the Middle East. There will be unprecedented destruction unless and until we begin to act with urgency.
So when I shake the lulav this year, I will be thinking not just about the earliest humans who realized that they could plant seeds and harvest the results. I will be asking for God’s blessing on the generations to come. I will be praying that they will live in an enlightened world that comes to grips with the folly of past generations who used the earth’s resources as if they were inextinguishable.
I pray for God’s blessing. I pray for our leaders to finally unite to save the world. I pray that we become wiser with how we all use our limited resources. That’s my Sukkot prayer.

The Other Side of the Shelf

One day my father gave me an assignment. I was 13 or so and like many budding adolescents, not excited to snap to it when directed by a parent to do anything. But my father was dangerous and unpredictably cruel to me. Therefore, I never, ever even hinted at not obeying his requests immediately, lest punishment were to ensue. He had just cut some wood at his workbench to build a few shelves for the closet, and he wanted me to paint them. My father handed me a can of paint and a paintbrush and told me to get to work.
It didn’t sound difficult nor did I worry too much about it. Just paint a few shelves… About an hour later he walked into the garage to check up on me. I was already done and probably in front of the tv. He called my name in a register that I recognized immediately as communicating his displeasure. Oh oh.
My father had a look on his face as if he’d just stepped in dog excrement. “Look at these shelves,” he said. “What’s wrong with them?” I had already begun to panic at the sound of his voice, so I was pretty shaky. I didn’t know what to say. I had not consciously planned to do a poor job. The only answer I had was a trigger for him. It was an answer guaranteed to get him angry – or in this case, angrier. “Ahh, umm, I don’t know.”
This answer set a whole scenario in motion, in this case, scenario #124.5. That’s the one that goes like this: “You don’t know? What the hell do you mean, ‘You don’t know’? Are you the one who [fill in the blank]?” Me: “Ahh, umm, yes [do not say, ‘I guess so’, because that wasn’t a trigger – it was a lit match next to a stick of dynamite].” My father: “What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you do anything right?” To which my only real answer was: you guessed it – ‘I don’t know.’ But at this juncture, I knew that saying so would almost guarantee getting punched, so I remained silent.
The thing is, I didn’t know what was wrong with my work, and I didn’t know why I couldn’t do anything right, and I didn’t know what was wrong with me that caused me to be such a disappointment to my father. It was surely a primary assumption in our relationship. I was never enough for him: not smart enough, athletic enough, clever enough, good enough. And as a youngster, how could I fix it, how could I change? I DIDN’T KNOW.
He picked up one of the painted boards and held it in his hands more like a baseball bat and less like a shelf for shoes. I wasn’t sure what would happen next; was he going to hit me with it? I held my breath as he flipped the board over. “Look at this! You didn’t paint the bottom of the board! Why not?” I knew that this was not a rhetorical question. “Um, I figured since it would be in the closet and no one would see the bottom of the shelf, I didn’t need to paint it.”
My father made a face, a look of aggravation and disbelief that I could have been so stupid, so derelict in my duty. “The job is not done. Now finish it!”, and he tossed the board at me. It missed my head and clattered to the ground.
That scenario has never disappeared from my memory. It is, of course, hurtful and shaming. Interestingly, it leads me to a question, the same one over and over for fifty years or more. Did I mess up? Should I have painted the underside of the shelf, too? Was the job not done?
Who knows? Who writes the rules for such things? And, besides my father, who cares? The fact is that the job was secondary to the relationship. What my father asked me to do was less important than how he asked me and how he conveyed disapproval with his words as well as his body language.
Every human soul is a delicate vessel, filled with joy and sorrow, hurt and pain, joy, and ecstasy. We all have sore spots and traumas. We all know weaknesses and strengths. We are imperfect; so imperfect. There are so many things we get wrong with striking consistency. What’s a human to do?
Forgive the imperfect people around you. Forgive the dead with whom you are still angry. Forgive the young who are still learning how to be a mensch.
And, for your sake, for God’s sake: forgive yourself. Embrace your unfinished, imperfect self. Do it all with kindness and compassion. Believe you deserve this love, because you truly do. We are, all of us, the unpainted bottom of a shelf. I can tell you only this: the job isn’t done.
Shanah Tova and on this first Shabbat of 5779,
Shabbat Shalom,

Beginning — Again

The white trousers are packed away, the pools are closed, and school has started – which means that the new year is around the corner. I am happy to be back, ensconced in pre-HHD planning and rehearsals and sermons. I’m happy to be back with my peeps… And I am happy to back to my Before Shabbat blog.


As we enter 5779, I am deeply troubled and worried. There is enormous turbulence in the atmosphere. I get nervous as I watch the flight crew buckle up, which always confirms my worst anxieties about what’s going to happen next. I wonder if I should fret more or rather reach for the good stuff that is also present, if, at times, obscured by all of the clouds in our lives.

It’s rarely bump-free on the eve of a new year. Because life is not bump-free. This is a significant lesson older folk get to share with younger ones: that is, worrying about the future is a pointless waste of energy. Worse than pointless. Actually, it can lead to feeling paralyzed and helpless.

There’s a small saying about this: “Push it this way, it’s muck. Push it that way, it’s muck. And while you’re bemoaning your fate, you could be stringing pearls for the Holy One.” There’s so much garbage to complain about, so much regret and envy over not having what we deserve. What if we spent the same energy on gratitude?

Experiencing true gratitude is like unclogging spiritual arteries. It forces aside petty arguments and childish grudges. Gratitude reminds us that appreciating what is puts us in a mindset to appreciate what can be. I’m not suggesting that we ignore turbulence. Anyone who’s flown at all can attest to this truth. I’m suggesting that there’s so much more to life than the bumps and bruises. To stay mired in resentment is unhealthy and spiritually deadening. Resentment can become a part of your identity, a part of who you are as a person. You move from showing resentful behavior to being a resentful person.

Gratitude can lead us to consider changing how we do things and who we are. Even though I know that Charles Dickens was an antisemite and that A Christmas Carol was not written for a Jewish audience, I believe that Scrooge’s transformation was all about leaving behind resentment and embracing change, which makes it a perfect High Holy Day story!

A zebra can’t change its stripes, and a leopard can’t change its spots. But we are not doomed. We are constantly changing – physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. Medical research reveals that the cells in your body change about every seven years. Brain studies reveal extraordinary neuroplasticity enabling you to change neuropathways and, thus, habits and behaviors. Mindfulness research poses exciting possibilities for developing empathy, making better decisions and enhancing emotional regulation. Motivation science points to how fulfilling psychological needs affects almost everything we do and feel.

Gather your thoughts over the next couple of days. What are some changes you choose to commit to for the new year? Who is someone you need to apologize to? With whom do you have some unfinished business? What path do you choose to take – the path of resentment or the path of gratitude? The choice is stark. There is no middle road. And it’s not easy, not by a long shot. This is what the High Holy Days are for: to remind us that we can change AND that we must choose to change – no one can reach into our souls and make that happen.

I don’t take any of this for granted. It’s hard to move after being stuck in one place, identifying with the hurt we endure. That’s why we pray together. Our voices joined in unison remind us that we are not alone, that every one of us, in our way, is confronting scary issues and changes that may rock the status quo. We will get through this. Together. We will rise.

I am so honored, truly blessed! To be joining you for our 21st celebration of the New Year together. Our year-long 20th-anniversary celebration was something I will treasure forever. Liza and I and the Stern Gang wish you love and peace in the coming year.

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