Temple David

Do you remember Lily Tomlin’s telephone operator skit? One ringy-dingy, two ringy-dingy…?

We dial phone numbers all the time, using area codes even if someone is around the corner, adding numbers if our intended recipient is in a different country. There are 10 billion combinations of 10 digits. But let’s just talk about 3 digits.

The most common 3-digit phone number in America is 9-1-1. But there are others:

211      Health and human services

311      Non-emergency government services

411      Directory assistance

511      Traffic and weather hotline

611      Mobile (and pay) phone help

711      Hearing or speech impaired service to translate text to phone and phone to text

811      Call before you dig

911      Emergency services

We can dial 3 digits before an emergency, after an emergency, to get information, to get access to information. And now Americans can call to save a life from the scourge of suicide. Per the Centers for Disease Control:

From 2000 through 2020, the national age-adjusted suicide rate increased by 30% from 10.4 per 100,000 in 2000 to 13.5 in 2020.

How tragic. Each number is a person and so many of us know someone who has taken their own life. But now there is another resource: a national number to call when in crisis: 988.

988 – National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. The United States Department of Health and Human Services’ Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, in partnership with the Department of Veterans Affairs, administers the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, which is a national network of approximately 170 local and state funded crisis centers.

It can be a lifeline in every sense of the word. 988 is an example of working together so that someone in the throes of distress is neither put on hold nor asked to call back. It will be truly lifesaving and all we need to do is make sure that knowing this number is as common as knowing 911. As our tradition teaches: one who saves a life, it is as though they have saved the world (Talmud).

I’m not worried about the overturn of Roe v. Wade.

After all, I am no longer of child-bearing age and so if I were raped I could not get pregnant.

I’m not worried about the overturn of Roe v. Wade.

Because if I was a victim of incest, I could not get pregnant.

 I’m not worried about the overturn of Roe v. Wade.

Because even if I were young enough to get pregnant, I live in Pennsylvania where choosing to terminate a pregnancy is still legal. At least for the moment.

I’m not worried about the overturn of Roe v. Wade.

Because even if I didn’t live in Pennsylvania, but lived in Kentucky or one of the many other states that have trigger laws banning abortion outright or with very few exceptions, I have enough means to get to another state – or even another country like Canada – to safely end a pregnancy.

And one of my colleagues in Canada offered her congregation as a refuge sanctuary while noting with disdain how once again America will have an underground railroad.

I’m not worried about the overturn of Roe v. Wade.

Because I could, at least for now, have access to a medicinal abortion.

I’m not worried about the overturn of Roe v. Wade.

Because I could, at least for now, purchase birth control.

I’m not worried about the overturn of Roe v. Wade  for me.

But the word “worried” does not even hint at my fear for my children and for you and your children and grandchildren and for American women and girls and for America.

This means that an ectopic pregnancy or a stillborn must be carried.

This means that pregnancies, no matter the health of the fetus, will continue. Let’s hope our healthcare system will take care of them.

This means that women living in poverty have less access to the health care they need which disproportionately affect women of color and their unborn children.

This means that the cycle of poverty will not only continue but increase.

This means that more children will be in the foster care system.

This means that women will be pushed into the corner to make dangerous decisions about ending a pregnancy in unconventional ways.

This means that rape and incest carry a life sentence – not just for the perpetrator but for both the victim and the child.

This means that Judaism which requires abortion access in case there is threat to the mother’s life is at odds with American law.

This means that the First Amendment separating “church” and state has been weakened.

This means that American Jews’ place in America is more tenuous than it was when we woke up this morning.

Ladies and girls: I don’t know what to say other than: I am here –  for support, for counseling, for access to resources, for empathy, for a hug.

Men and boys: I am here – for support, for counseling, for access to resources, for empathy, for a hug.

We are reeling. We are having trouble finding words. But let us at least begin…

If you are a parent, talk to your children – female and male – about the holiness of their bodies; about boundaries and limits; about choices; about commitment. About what the word “no” means.

If you are a grandparent, help your children find the words to speak to their children.

If you are a husband, be a partner, not a controller.

If you are a man, take birth control seriously and personally. Preventing pregnancy when it is not wanted is not only a female’s responsibility.

Let us speak out against sexually abusing women, against sexual trafficking. Let us take action to ensure that there are strict laws with substantial penalties and energetic follow-up by the police. No longer can rape kits remain on the shelf, unprocessed.

And let us vote and help others gain access to the polls. After all, it is June 2022 and we are still a democracy.

It is time to get to work.

Based on
A Litany of Remembrance – We Remember Them
by Rabbi Sylvan Kamens and Rabbi Jack Riemer, from Gates of Prayer: A New Union Prayerbook, copyright © 1975 by the Central Conference of American Rabbis. Used by permission of the CCAR. All rights reserved.

 In the rising of the sun and in its going down,
we remember them.
Temple David is 1,592 miles from the Robb Elementary School
in Uvalde, Texas.
It is a 23 hour and 56 minute drive;
4 minutes shy of a full day.
They live in Central Daylight time.
Approximately 73% of the residents of the county are Hispanic.
It’s population as of 2020 was 16,122.
Whatever the population on Monday morning,
we would have to subtract 21, now 22.

They are so far away and in ways so different
yet they are us.

On Tuesday morning, parents made breakfast
and teachers got into school early,
all with backpacks and briefcases
thinking it was just another Tuesday.
In Uvalde, parents love their children like we do
and sometimes yell at them to clean up their rooms
and try to hug them even when they don’t want to be hugged.
I wonder if their parents still put the nightlights on
in their empty bedrooms.
When their siblings ask where they are,
I wonder what possible answer could make sense
for even the truth – especially the truth – does not.

 And they are us because we know what it is like
when someone enters a space
with the intent to take as many lives as possible.

In the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter,
we remember them.
The chill of winter might not be felt often in southern Texas,
but from California to the New York island
from the redwood forest to the Gulf Stream waters
we are all mourners.
Al kol Yisrael, v’al kol yoshvei tevel…

In the opening of buds and in the rebirth of spring,
we remember them.
In a year’s time, having been through the “firsts”
which right now is so far away,
may it be that the tear, like that of the keriah ribbon,
begins to be stitched together,
one stitch of healing at a time,
never to be whole again
but able to hold together.

In the blueness of the sky and in the warmth of summer,
we remember them.
The children’s biggest hurts should have been scratches from the playground
under a hot Texas sun,
not bullets.
Their families’ plans should have been about the long weekend
and summer vacation,
not about funerals.
The teachers should have been looking toward summer break
with their own families.

In the rustling of leaves and in the beauty of autumn,
we remember them.
As school begins again in the fall,
may these 19 children
take our hands and guide us
as we attend school board meetings,
get involved in our educational system
and make our voices heard during elections.

May these two teachers remind us
how to live in the world
by giving of ourselves
and investing our time, skills and passion
into the next generation.

 In the beginning of the year and when it ends,
we remember them.
For if we don’t, history will repeat itself.
For if we don’t, we will demonstrate
that we do not know what it means to be an American or a Jew.
For it we don’t, we cannot say we were created in God’s image.

 When we are weary and in need of strength,
we remember them.
Because they were young and full of energy and potential
and we are the ones left behind,
alive but broken,
older and maybe more pessimistic
but able to summon the strength we have to put our values into action.

When we are lost and sick at heart,
we remember them.
For that is where we are.  We are lost.
Our country has lost its way when children are attacked again and nothing has changed.
We are sick at heart as we learn that a teacher’s husband’s heart literally broke
and now their children are orphans.

 When we have joys we yearn to share,
we remember them.
Let us bring forward their memories by living life to the fullest
and by helping others do the same.

 So long as we live, they too shall live, for they are now a part of us, as we remember them:
Eva Mireles, 44
Irma Garcia, 48
Xavier Lopez, 10
Jose Flores, 10
Nevaeh Bravo, 10
Ellie Garcia, 9
Tess Mata, 10
Alexandria “Lexi” Rubio, 10
Jacklyn Cazares, 9
Jailah Nicole Silguero, 10
Jayce Luevanos, 10
Miranda Mathis, 11
Amerie Jo Garza, 10
Makenna Lee Elrod, 10
Layla Salazar, 10
Maite Rodriguez, 10
Annabell Rodriguez, 10
Eliahana Cruz Torres, 10
Rojelio Torres, 10
Alithia Ramirez, 10
Uziyah Garcia, 10
May their memories be blessings.

How many conversations have you heard or have you participated in regarding rising numbers–gas prices, food prices, inflation, housing prices? How much does this worry you? We are in a difficult moment of time with supply chain issues, recalls and inflation all exacerbating one another. It feels like a perfect storm of economic woes and so each of us considers how to respond in real time. Perhaps you have changed your purchasing and saving pattern or think differently about your retirement plans.

Let us think about other numbers. We are approaching the loss of 1,000,000 Americans to Covid. And the number keeps rising. Another number to consider: given we find ourselves just after the tragedies in Buffalo and California, how many people have been killed through gun violence just this month or this year? Why are the numbers rising? Or this number: how many Americans have died of suicide? Why are the numbers increasing? How many have died of overdose? Why are the numbers rising? It is overwhelming and pervasive and yet somehow we are surprised and often do not know how to respond.

When we think of these numbers, we must work on this mental exercise: each number is a human being. People are not numbers and sadly, as a people who has been tattooed with a number, we know that better than others. If we can see each victim–whether of violence or illness – as a person, then we can get to work. Look at their photos in the news, hear their stories told by people who love them. Reach out to them or say their names during Mi Shebeirach or Kaddish. Make them human.

For if we humanize humans, we are more likely to act.

How do you teach Israel? You could stay “safe” and stay biblical. You could focus only on current events but that doesn’t give context. Or you could do it all. That’s what we tried to do for our year-long focus on Israel for students in Pre-K through Confirmation (10^th grade).

How do you teach Israel? While I am not an expert, through guidance from such resources as the icenter, Limmud, the Lookstein Center, the Union for Reform Judaism, and ARZA, I realized that teaching about Israel must be a balance between academic learning, emotional, spiritual, and hands-on learning for every grade. We had good textbooks but more importantly, as Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel taught, we had good “text people.” Our faculty dove into every aspect of Israel on an age-appropriate level. We had weekly morning gatherings during which we sang HaTikvah. We analyzed the words of HaTikvah and looked at Israeli currency – did you know there are poetic quotes on the paper shekels? – and met Theodore Herzl and made Hanoch Piven art projects, discussed media bias – even with 4-year-olds! – by using Dinosaur Goes to Israel and heard from an Imam, Pastor, Catholic teacher, and leader of the Baha’i community of their religions’ connection to Israel. We had wonderful, informative, and creative visits from our Israeli Shinshin (19-year-old emissary) and online discussions with teens from our sister city Karmiel Misgav. We unpacked terms like apartheid and colonialism and how they are factually untrue in relationship to Israel. We donated to 9 Israeli organizations as our tzedakah collection this year. And yes, we ate a good amount of Bamba (an Israeli snack) and Pesek Z’man (an Israeli chocolate bar).

We also had many Israel-focused opportunities for adults: book discussions by Israeli authors and with Israelis, cooking online with an Israeli chef and plans for a trip to Israel.

How do you teach Israel? By engaging with her from every angle and by making it personal. Do our students now call her our homeland? Some do. Do they call her their second home? Some do. Are they more likely to visit, to perk up when Israel is in the news, to donate to Israeli organizations, to question when something sounds biased? I hope so.

When I was learning Hebrew as a child, we went for four hours per week of just Hebrew (beyond religious school) which was unusual for a Reform congregation.  We learned to read short stories, to read without vowels, to translate, and a lot of grammar.  In fact, learning Hebrew grammar helped me in English class (translation to modernity: Language Arts).  One of those grammatical foci was prepositions.  Prepositions are, per a quick Google search:

a word governing, and usually preceding, a noun or pronoun and expressing a relation to another word or element in the clause, as in “the man on the platform,” “she arrived after dinner,” “what did you do it for ?”

As we prepare for Passover, the celebration of our freedom, let us pay attention to our prepositions.  Let us consider when it is freedom from that is more important and when it is freedom to that is more important.

By the time of God’s intervention through the plagues, the Israelites are leaving from.  They are leaving slavery behind.  We use terms like “push factors” to describe unpaid hard labor in the hot sun with no rest and poor living conditions. They are free from bondage.

By the time they arrive at Mount Sinai, these recent former slaves are seeking freedom to.  We use terms like “pull factors” to describe the renewed covenant with God, the freedom to live as a full human being with free choice.

Each year, we too count from freedom (Passover) toward the Sinai covenant (Shavuot).  It is our people’s ancient story and annual reenactment.  This year: from what do you need to be free?  Invite yourself into the work of really considering that question.  And then ask yourself this: Toward what will your freedom lead you?

You had to be there. On Shabbat morning, March 19 Temple David gathered for our Shabbat morning service focused on A Celebration of Jewish Women: RIGHTS of Passage. We celebrated the 100^th anniversary since the first Bat Mitzvah and the 50^th anniversary since the first female ordination. As it happened, thirty-six (double chai!) women led the service, read Torah, sang in our all-women’s choir, shared the poetry of Jewish women, celebrated the participation of a recent Bat Mitzvah  and looked forward to our next to B’not Mitzvah as they ascended the bimah to participate as well. The ages ranged from 5-90. The music was largely composed by women; the kiddush was baked and set out by men. The service handout told the stories of women of all ages including some of those who were raised at Temple David and have chosen the rabbinate.

As I said in my sermon, we were experiencing what we had just read in the Book of Esther: light and joy, gladness and honor.

Why was it so meaningful? Because so many people participated. Because they made the effort to learn Torah, haftarah, new music. And because so many showed up in person even if they did not ascend the bimah while others showed up online. Together their presence said Hineinu (Here we are).

In the recent issue of eJewishPhilanthropy, this is what was written: “A survey of a representative sample of 4,400 adults in Jewish households, with some data provided exclusively to eJewishPhilanthropy, shows that the more New York City-area Jews attended prayers and Jewish activities, the lower their rates of anxiety, depression, social isolation, and substance abuse were.

We have long held an assumption that ‘doing Jewish’ was good for the Jewish people, was good for our community, and now we feel like we have this evidence that says it,” Emily Sigalow, executive director of UJA’s ​​Impact and Performance Assessment Department, told eJP. She noted that the study didn’t prove causation, or that going to synagogue makes one less anxious or depressed. But, she said, “even if we can’t prove the direction of an arrow, we know that doing Jewish is associated positively with these different measures of well-being.

It is wonderful that we have online options in order to attend worship, learning, and other gatherings for those who cannot come in person. However, when we come in person, we bring our whole selves. We have the joy of small talk and the taste of homemade challah. We can sing with others and sit in a sacred space. And it just feels good. If you are able, please come!

In a two-part book discussion with Temple David members and residents of Pittsburgh’s sister city, Karmiel, Misgav, we talked about Israeli author David Grossman’s book More Than I Love My Life or, the English translation of the Hebrew title: Life Plays with Me. We noted how the English title puts the decision-making power squarely in our hands and the Hebrew title focuses on the situations that shape us.

In the book, which is based on a true story, the protagonist, Eva, sends her daughter off to live with her sister and is sent to a work camp rather than decry her deceased husband’s politics. She chose the dead over her living, breathing young child which scarred not only her child but her child’s child.

In an email exchange between sessions, the question arose as to how could one do that, sacrifice a child? I responded that if I felt the child was safe and that I believed my actions would potentially save thousands of children’s lives, I would hope that I would at least wrestle with the decision. Unfortunately, our protagonist seemed more self-focused than that and in fact, her child was not in a safe, nurturing environment.

So how do we make the big decisions? When do we stand up for what is right and just? Here is guidance from the Talmud:

Anyone who had the capability to effectively protest the sinful conduct of the members of his household and did not protest, he himself is liable for the sins of the members of his household and punished.

If he is in a position to protest the sinful conduct of the people of his town, and he fails to do so, he is liable for the sins of the people of his town.

If he is in a position to protest the sinful conduct of the whole world, and he fails to do so, he is liable for the sins of the whole world. (Shabbat 54b)

I fear that with the layers upon layers of stress from an unprovoked attack on democratic Ukraine, Covid, inflation, anti-Semitism, racism, our individual stressors, and more, we are not protesting. Let us feel liable: for own actions, those of our family, neighbors, and the world. For if we feel liable, we are more likely to act. We will choose life, rather than life choosing us.

In this week’s Torah portion, we read the single worst example of idolatry: the golden calf. The irony is that the Israelites did this just after hearing the 10 Commandments and while Moses was on his way down the mountain with the tablets in hand. They were probably scared that Moses wasn’t coming back especially as he was their conduit to God. They might have been thinking that they could create a god based on the gods they saw people worshiping in Egypt, so they gave up their jewelry and were ready to bow down to the calf that came out of the flames.

Nowadays, we think that idolatry is so “back then.” But is it? It depends on how you define idolatry. If idolatry is a focus of energy and attention, prioritizing over other things even including one’s own values and over God, then yes, it is alive and well.

Let us take one example: sports. We could start as simply as how much we “idolize” a particular sports figure, or we could picture the statues and life-sized cutouts and bobble heads of favorite players. From there, we could go to how it could be that one could win an Olympic gold medal in figure skating even though doping was proven – and being allowed to continue to compete to the detriment of those skaters who got to the top by playing by the rules. Seven million dollars for a 30 second ad during the Superbowl could be spent not on enticing us to buy that brand of beer or luxurious item but on lifting up those who suffer from lacking their most basic needs. Recognizing that we are equally created in God’s image, how could it be that ours is the only coach of color in all of major league football and there are no owners of color? And what of the physicians and coaches who were known pedophiles allowed to run rampant for decades? When we allow something to take hold which doesn’t let go and skews our values in a way that we would not otherwise tolerate, that is idolatry.

Rabbi Ted Falcon writes: idolatry is “the moments when we forget who we really are and instead of remembering that we are sparks of the Divine, we start giving up our power to a guru, an ideology, a romantic obsession, a stressful job that begins to define us, or an unhealthy habit we think we can’t live without. Even if we no longer build or worship physical idols like in ancient times, we have modern-day addictions and pressures that cause us to forget that our purpose here is to be a vehicle for Divine energies.”

Let us spend our time, energy, resources, creativity to be vehicles for Divine energies.

I was visiting Philadelphia and kept to my routine. In the morning, I walked to Dunkin to get my regular–an iced tea–despite the fact that it was freezing outside. I added in a double-sausage, egg, and cheese croissant. Perhaps needless to say, that is not a part of my regular order. While waiting on line, I was actually debating: do I just order an egg and cheese, kosher-style food? (It isn’t considered fully kosher by those who require a rabbinic certification.) Or: should I go with sausage but no cheese so as not to transverse the “do not mix milk with meat” commandment? Or: because it was for the homeless man I had passed who looked like the cold had penetrated his bones, and perhaps hunger had as well though that was harder to see, I purchased the double-sausage and egg croissant and gave it to him hot off the griddle, well, microwave.

As I was walking, I began to think about how nowhere in the Torah are we commanded not to own non-kosher food…unlike regarding Passover’s rules. We cannot own chametz during the seven days of Passover per Exodus 12:19: “No leaven shall be found in your houses for seven days.” It makes me think that there is an underlying message as to why owning non-kosher is not prohibited (though the rabbis later largely prohibit it per halachah). Perhaps it is because then we can purchase double-sausage, egg and cheese croissants for people experiencing homelessness.

That brings me to the soup aisle of the grocery store. Our Purim collection is based on Esther 9:12 “the same days on which the Jews enjoyed relief from their foes and the same month which had been transformed for them from one of grief and mourning to one of festive joy. They were to observe them as days of feasting and merrymaking, and as an occasion for sending gifts to one another and presents to the poor.” Specifically, the gifts are to include prepared foods so as to make it easier for those in need. That is why Temple is collecting soup this year.

Given my recent Dunkin’ experience, in the soup aisle I sought the meatiest, most filling, and warming soup I could find. Steak bits? Bring them on! Chicken soup? Bring it on! My donation is in the lobby waiting to be joined by others as we seek to collect at least 150 soup cans and openers to parallel the 150 day-long feast that Ahasuerus hosted in the beginning of the Book of Esther.

Let us live our values and share them with others, remembering that the literal translation of kosher is “fit/proper.” Let us do the proper thing and be generous as we give nutritious, warming, filling cans of soup to our neighbors in need.