Rabbi Fisher's Weekly Message

Shabbat Shalom from Rabbi Fisher
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Dear Friends,

"When you have lemons, make lemonade…" The practical rabbinic interpretation of this week's Torah portion, Sh'lach l'cha, does just that.

In the parasha, Moshe selects tribal leaders to search out and explore the Promised Land. Twelve spies go forth. Two, Joshua and Caleb, come back with a positive report of the land – it and its produce are amazing, and we can overcome and gain possession of this land! The other ten spies announce that while the land is bountiful and beautiful, the inhabitants are too powerful, attempting to conquer the land will be impossible. And the ten sway the people. The Israelites give up hope. They weep and rally against Moses and Aaron.

Ten spies. Ten nay-sayers. Ten of detrimental influence. What does our tradition learn from this? One must have a quorum of ten adult Jews to make a minyan. The Talmud could have derived a minyan from Abraham's stopping at his request to save Sodom and Gemorrah at ten righteous people. Or compared the necessary number to the Aseret HaDibrot, the 10 Commandments/Utterances at Sinai. Instead our Rabbis chose to make a minyan based on an "evil community" of pessimistic spies. An evil ten becomes a positive mitzvah.

Why? What are we to learn from this? Even a small group can change perspectives, change fate, or change history. Think of the effect that having a minyan around has on a mourner. The sharing of care, compassion, and presence to bring comfort. And then think even more broadly. Who we hang out with, how we act, what we say, what we share and think and do at all times – all of these effect the world beyond ourselves. When we gather together, even when few in number, we can be a powerful force. For bad – as in the Israelite spies – or for good – hopefully when we gather as a community today.

We are to learn the strength of even small groups to change the course of history. May we never doubt our potentials and continue to explore the ways that we, our deeds, the causes we support, and the mitzvot we do, all impact those around us.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

June 20, 2008

**Archive**
August 10, 2007	January 18, 2008
August 17, 2007	January 25, 2008
August 24, 2007	February 1, 2008
August 31, 2007	February 8, 2008
September 6, 2007	February 15, 2008
September 11, 2007	February 22, 2008
September 20, 2007	February 29, 2008
September 26, 2007	March 7, 2008
October 3, 2007	March 14, 2008
October 11, 2007	March 21, 2008
October 19, 2007	March 28, 2008
October 26, 2007	April 4, 2008
November 2, 2007	April 11, 2008
November 9, 2007	April 18, 2008
November 16, 2007	April 25, 2008
November 24, 2007	May 2, 2008
December 1, 2007	May 9, 2008
December 7, 2007	May 23, 2008
December 14, 2007	May 30, 2008
December 20, 2007	June 6, 2008
January 4, 2008	June 13, 2008
January 10, 2008

Also available for download: Rabbi Fisher's High Holy Day Sermons

Dear Friends,

At the beginning of Parashat B'ha'alotcha, God commands Aaron regarding the lighting of the menorah. Day in and day out Aaron would mount the lamps, adding additional oil each morning so that the light in the Sanctuary would never go out. The Vilna Gaon teaches that Aaron did this task again and again, never boring in the work and never taking it for granted; he always appreciated the importance of his duty.

Additionally, the Torah explicitly mentions that God's instructions included "let the seven lamps give light opposite (or towards) the front of the lampstand." Fire and flames emit light in every direction – why would the text specify that they should give light in only the forward direction?

If we recall that the book of Proverbs teaches, "The soul of a human being is a lamp for God," we can understand our parasha more deeply. Every human being is like the menorah, is a lamp and can be a light for others, for bringing Godliness into the world. In fact, we have the responsibility to always shed our light into dark places and cause light to shine forward. When faced with difficulties, can we look to the future to move forward with hope and even some sense of peace? Can we bring such optimism and potential goodness to those in our inner circles, and those even across the globe?

I offer two ways of lighting metaphoric lamps this weekend. Being Father's Day weekend, tell your father how much he has meant to you and let him smile a radiant smile knowing he has touched your life deeply. If your father is no longer in this world, let his soul's light continue to shine by donating to a cause or doing a deed that carries on one of the values he taught you. Second, it is just one month after the Chinese earthquake, and about five weeks since the cyclone in Burma. People often respond immediately to crises around the world, but as time moves on, we forget the need to constantly continue to re-light the lamps that show the suffering that still remains. Today's news reported that aid to victims in Burma, especially, is failing to reach even the half-way mark of necessary funds.

I have donated personally and also have made generous donations from my Rabbi's Discretionary Fund to organizations providing need in both these areas. I urge you, too, to "light a menorah" for others, so that they can see and believe in a today and a future. To highlight some Jewish organizations: The American Jewish World Service, www.ajws.org, and Mazon: A Jewish Response to Hunger, www.mazon.org, have been getting aid into Burma. The American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee (JDC) has been able to provide relief in both Burma and China, http://www.jdc.org/how_donate.html. Let us not forget the needs of those who suffer in darkness when we can still do our part to bring them light.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

June 13, 2008

Dear Friends,

William Blake once said, "Great things are done when men and mountains meet." For a non-Jewish poet, who was thinking more of Nature than Revelation, Blake understood quite a bit about Shavuot. After Shabbat, on this coming Sunday night, Monday and Tuesday, we will celebrate the giving and receiving of Torah at Mount Sinai. That moment when God's presence rested on the mountaintop, connecting the heavens and earth; when thunder and lightning were seen above the heads of our ancestors; when each individual heard God's voice speaking directly to him or her, transformed our people's consciousness. We connected ourselves forever to a partnership with God, and God bound God's self to a partnership with us, to bring holiness to this world; we were no longer slaves forced to work for Pharoah, we were a free people choosing to accept the one God; we were no longer individual family units, we were a combined people under one Law. Our destiny as a people had been transformed. Indeed, great things were done when men and women and children and mountains met.

Sinai was never intended to be a one-time event. We continue to meet God at the mountain every time that we fulfill mitzvot. We re-enact the moment of Sinai when we meet God by walking in God's ways, when we fulfill our responsibilities as Jews to God, people, and the world. Every Jewish act we do has the ability to transform the world as much as God's voice did in the wilderness.

Meeting mountains, and getting to see the awesome sights from mountaintops, takes effort, training, and perseverance. So, too, does embracing a Torah- and mitzvah-filled life. It is a matter of taking one step at a time, ever challenging oneself to go forward, to do more, and ever yearning to get closer to physical and spiritual heights. For great things to be done, let us all embrace Torah again, and gladly shout as our ancestors did, "Na'aseh v'nishma" – We will do and we will hear. Let us re-commit to God and Torah on this Shabbat and this Shavuot, and throughout our lives, to bring God's holiness into every aspect and corner of the world.

I especially look forward to seeing you at our "Moving Forward" Shabbat service this evening honoring our students -- preschool, 7th and 12th grade - who are moving forward with their education and embrace of Jewish life, and at the Tikkun Leil Shavuot study evening Sunday night at 7:30.

Shabbat shalom v'hag sameach,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

June 6, 2008

Dear Friends,

Despite the fact that Parashat Bamidbar that we read this week is my bat mitzvah portion, I have to admit that the text is relatively boring. It primarily consists of the census of the Israelites that occurred in the wilderness: long lists of tribes and numbers. Even the trope is repetitious: change the name, change the total count of families and people, but repeat the other words and tune again and again.

Why all this tedious repetition, and why count the people at all? The Biblical commentator Rashi explains that the counting was a demonstration of God's love for the Jewish people. When you cherish something, you repeatedly examine and count it.

It is a principle we are familiar with from our own lives. A collector of baseball cards, or stamps, or coins, or Coca Cola bottles repeatedly looks over those treasures, assessing their value, or recalling the circumstances of having acquired each piece. We care about how much money we have saved, or have to spend, and balance our checkbooks. Parents "count" their children, gazing upon them as they sleep, cherishing them at every age. We all count those things that we care about, prize, and value.

In each of these, it is not just counting that is important, but the attention and love it takes to account for each individual. This is what Rashi means when he teaches that God counted us out of love.

May we, acting in God's ways, use this Shabbat to take an accounting of those we love. Let us take pleasure in our families, friends, and colleagues. Tell them they are treasured. Remind them they are appreciated. In counting us, God reached out to establish a closer and more intimate relationship with each Israelite; let us strive to do the same with those who count in our lives.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

May 30, 2008

Dear Friends,

What does one do when nature gets out of control? The question seems to be a weekly one of late. Yesterday's blazing and wind-fed Santa Cruz fires may be a warning that we are in for a particularly scary summer; California's first fires of the summer, while it's still May, just as the Bay Area announced water rationing guidelines due to our low rainfall and drought. Yet, even that natural disaster seems pale in comparison to the news over the past weeks. We have watched images of the tens of thousands killed and missing from the cyclone in Burma and from the earthquake China; hundreds of thousands homeless. The images of China standing still for three minutes this week in memory of those killed was heart-wrenchingly powerful; the pictures I saw this morning of entire towns being razed to have to begin completely anew from nothing, no family, no friends, no property, almost no hope, are beyond devastating and almost impossible to understand. The reports that the Myanmar junta continues to refuse aid from reaching survivors (today's reports are that certain international aid workers will now be allowed in) disturbs, disgusts, and terrifies me.

In the light of all of this death and destruction, we could easily stop from paralysis. We could easily give up faith and say, "Where is God?" We could easily say there's nothing I can do.

Elijah the prophet, when facing crisis in his life, fled to a cave to try to avoid it all. God met him there, but as the Bible relates, God wasn't in the wind, earthquake, or fire that shook his hiding place. (I Kings 19:11-12) God was in a still, small voice that followed all of these natural forces.

God does not cause natural devastation. But God is in the response we human beings bring in the aftermath of them.

Here are three Jewish organizations I particularly want to highlight for donations for oversea relief:

The American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee: www.jdc.org or 212-687-6200
Mazon: www.mazon.org or 310-442-0020
American Jewish World Service (Burma only): www.ajws.org or 212-792-2900

Wherever you choose to give, I encourage you to be God's still, small voice and do your part in bringing hope and aid to those who have lost almost everything.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

P.S. The American Jewish World Service emailed an update on Burma yesterday, which included this news: "AJWS has been in constant contact with grantee organizations in communities neighboring the affected regions since the disaster struck and is working with them to make sure that aid reaches those who need it most. AJWS emergency funding is supporting the Emergency Assistance Team, a coordinated relief effort that includes the Mae Tao Clinic and several AJWS grantees. Inside Burma, the Emergency Assistance Team is visiting affected communities, assessing needs, distributing food and clean water, providing shelter and health services, and disposing of dead bodies. The team is also documenting the scenes and abuses they are witnessing. Grassroots relief efforts like those supported by AJWS are vital to the people of Burma at this time. While some Southeast Asian aid workers are now being granted visas to enter the country, aid efforts are still being hampered by the Burmese junta and aid workers are still not being allowed into the most badly affected areas. It is estimated that aid has only reached 30% of those who need it, and there are reports that international aid is being sold on the open market instead of being distributed." (More info can be found at http://www.ajws.org/assets/uploaded_documents/5-08_burma_one-pager_final.pdf)

May 23, 2008

Dear Friends,

This week's parasha, Emor, begins with a command and reminder to the Cohanim, the priestly class that performed offerings in the Tabernacle, that they have a special role before God. As such, they are not to become ritually impure – and thereby prevent themselves from entering the holiness of the Tabernacle and God's presence – by coming into contact with the dead. One exception is made to this prohibition. A Cohen must become impure for an immediate family member who has died. In making this requirement, the priest is forced to remove himself from his duties in the Tabernacle, and must instead focus on the burial needs of his loved ones and his own mourning needs.

There is an important lesson in this ancient law for the Cohanim. We seek God, and even serve God, in many times and ways. We are being reminded by the parasha that being there for our family and ourselves is a vital path to finding holiness and serving God. How many of us have fallen into the routine (or trap) of working super-long hours "for our families," only to find we then do not make the time to be with those families? Or, are too physically and emotionally exhausted to be with them when we do take off? God tells the Cohanim – perhaps even too late in the game – that they must make time for those they love and they must make time for themselves and their emotional needs. We cannot work non-stop; there are things in this world that are even more important than working in God's Tabernacle.

I hope that each of us takes some time this Shabbat and Mother's Day weekend to appreciate those we love. Spend time seriously talking and listening – disengaging from our work or other distractions to do so. Let us give a gift of time and presence to appreciate and renew our family bonds, to refresh our souls, and to give thanks to and for those who deserve our gratitude.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

May 9, 2008

Dear Friends,

One of the primary principles of the Torah is found in this week's Torah reading, Parashat Kedoshim: "Kedoshim t'hiyu" – "You shall be holy." Our Rabbis and Sages have given varied interpretations to this mitzvah. One of my favorite readings is that of the Kotzker Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendl of Kotzk, who writes: "You shall be holy: Can God demand that a human attain the level of holiness? This does not mean that one must attain the level of angels, something which is impossible. All that God demands is that humans attain the level of holiness of which they are capable. Be holy: in whatever circumstances you find yourself, advance a little at a time in your holiness."

Each of us is capable of fulfilling this teaching on a daily basis. We can take small step after small step to change ourselves, our actions, our reactions, our behaviors and thoughts so that we are ever seeking and building holy time, spaces, relationships. We can seek out ways to elevate everyday actions and to make the people that surround us feel special. We can consciously bring God into our midst, or note the beauty around us, or stop to really pay attention to another person. One act after another allows us to grow and soon see the world in a different, distinct – holy -- way.

Nations, too, can be holy and can seek holiness. This week on Thursday we will mark Yom HaAtzmaut, Israel's Independence Day; we will celebrate 60 years since the founding of the State of Israel. The dream of Israel's founders was that this Jewish state would become an experiment in holiness, that in Jews living Jewish lives in a sovereign Jewish state, we would be able to live up to the precept of being and becoming holy. No one and no state can be successful 100% of the time, yet in these 60 years, it's amazing what Israel has done to attain holiness in a complex, often violent, world. May she, and we, continue to celebrate all the many holy steps that have and will continue to be taken to fulfill this on-going dream. Happy 60th, Israel!

Each week we sanctify Shabbat and call it holy. May this Shabbat be another step in the paths of holiness we make and walk in our and our people's lives. Kedoshim t'hiyu.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

May 2, 2008

Dear Friends,

The re-telling and re-experiencing of the story of the Exodus that we celebrate at the beginning of Pesach is an event that continues liturgically throughout the eight days of the holiday. When the end of Pesach comes, we read about the continuing miracles our ancestors experienced exactly one week after leaving Egypt. Our Torah reading for the seventh day of Pesach, which this year is also Shabbat, is the splitting of the Sea of Reeds and the Song of the Sea – the song Moshe, Miriam and the Israelites sang as they saw their enemies drowning and realized that their redemption was for real.

A midrash describes the role that the tribes, and, in particular, one tribal leader played in the miracle of the splitting of the sea. According to Rabbi Meir, when the Israelites stood by the Sea of Reeds, the tribes strove with each other, each wishing to descend into the sea first. According to Rabbi Yehuda, each tribe held back and was unwilling to be the first to enter the sea. Both rabbis taught that finally Nachshon ben Amminadav, a prince of the tribe of Judah, sprang forward and descended first into the waters, at which point God caused them to part. (Sotah 36b) These two rabbis seem to be describing different understandings of human nature. When facing a crisis, people can freeze up, can argue, can debate – can desire right action but not act or can completely retreat from acting. Alternatively, people can jump into heroism.

A major teaching of Pesach is the need to live the Exodus experience anew in every generation, b'chol dor va'dor. In our lives, can we train ourselves to be ones who see the solution and jump into being an active partner in that resolution? Can we stand up to the plate and do our part, not to overly debate or retreat from the needs of the day, but to be a player in bringing freedom and redemption to all? If we can become more like Nachshon, in how many more miracles might God partner with us? As we enter Shabbat and begin to wind down our Pesach holiday, let us all do more to be do-ers and actors in our personal lives, in our communal lives, and in human history

Shabbat Shalom and Hag Sameach,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

April 25, 2008

Dear Friends,

I am typing this message as my family has just begun arriving from the East Coast. I am excited that they are out here to celebrate my first Pesach in California, in Walnut Creek, and at B'nai Shalom with me. Pesach, after all, was originally conceived of as a family holiday. Leading up to the Exodus, the Israelites were told to gather by families and to bring a kid (a lamb) into their households (Exodus 12:3). Many of the commentators teach that we are to understand this command quite literally, that is, our Hebrew ancestors actually brought a kid physically into their homes. The kid, trapped in the home, was a symbol of the enslavement of the Israelites trapped in Mitzrayim (Egypt). Further, the lamb was a deity in the eyes of the Egyptians; bringing the kid into the home – and designating it as a sacrifice -- was both a "treasonous" and courageous act – an act of supreme defiance. The Torah is teaching us that there is no freedom without action on our parts.

The Biblical commentator Rashi teaches that not only was the kid in the house, but also once killed, its blood was brushed on the inside of the doorposts. The angel of God bringing the final plague certainly didn't need to see the blood to know the homes of the Israelites -- they had been protected from the previous nine plagues without any outward physical sign. "It shall be a sign for you," reads the Torah concerning the blood on the doorposts (Exodus 12:13); the blood was an internal symbol for the Hebrews reminding them of their uniqueness, of their covenant with God. Only when they had internalized God's promise and acted courageously were they ready for freedom. There is no freedom without an internal, personal yearning.

During the hectic, demanding preparations leading up to Pesach, it is easy to feel, like that lamb, enslaved by the ritual. Let us remember instead that we have freely chosen to observe this festival; our choices are a proud declaration of our freedom as Jews. When we come to sit down at our sedarim, we will see all around us the signs of our redemption. Let us make a commitment to always fill our homes with Jewish symbols so that the joy and pride of Pesach will be with our families for all time.

From me and on behalf of the B'nai Shalom staff and our families, our best wishes to each of you for a joyous, meaningful, and "impact-full" Pesach experience.

Shabbat shalom and hag kasher v'sameach!

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

April 18, 2008

Dear Friends,

Ma nishtanah ha-laila ha-ze…? Every Pesach – just one week away – the youngest begins the Magid section of the seder with questions. At a certain point, I noticed that the "youngest" at our family seders was no longer so young: my brother or one of his friends, a the age of fifteen, twenty, twenty-eight, was the "youngest," and was starting to resent this tradition. We would continue to tease this "child," and in doing so, we also missed some of the point of the four questions. According to the Rabbis, everyone is required to ask questions on Pesach – even a person celebrating the seder alone is to ask him/herself questions.

When we take this teaching seriously, Pesach takes on a whole new depth. For what are the types of questions appropriate to the holiday? Perhaps it is questions like "the four questions." Perhaps it is questions like those asked by the four children: questions about the past, questions about ritual, about history, tradition. Perhaps there is also a different series of questions to ask, too.

Towards the end of the seder, we all stand and open the door to welcome in Eliyahu the prophet. Eliyahu's presence is to herald in the coming of the Messianic Age. According to tradition, the night of Pesach is when God will allow the Messiah to bring justice and freedom to earth. Each year, according to the midrash, the Messiah begs God for the chance to descend from heaven and bring the gift of redemption to the world. And each year, so far, this plea has been rejected: "Humanity is not yet ready."

The very adult question each and every one of us should ask this year is: What can I do to change God's response? How can I ready this world for redemption? Have I been aware enough in this past year of the plight of others who suffer? Have I carried through on that awareness – of hunger, of genocide, of homelessness, of torture, of abuse, of slavery, of other broken or destroyed lives – and acted to improve the lives of those not free? What tangible steps will I now take to assist them? Here are four websites I present for you to explore and consider, and perhaps bring in as leading questions to your seder to lead to actionable deeds at this time of year:

www.savedarfur.org – What are you doing to stop the genocide in Darfur?

www.jwi.org – What is your awareness of Domestic Violence in the Jewish community? What can we do to bring this horror to light and free those being abused from fear?

http://s89670134.onlinehome.us/orhadashusa/sederinsert.pdf and www.orhadashusa.org – What democratic liberties and freedoms have we American citizens been giving up or losing over time? Will we take steps to remain a truly free nation?

http://www.mfa.gov.il/MFA/MFAArchive/2000_2009/2004/1/Israeli%20MIAs – Israeli MIAs Ron Arad, Zachary Baumel, Zvi Feldman, Yehuda Katz, Guy Hever, Gilad Shalit, Eldad Regev and Ehud Goldwasser remain captive, their fates unknown; how do we remind ourselves, and the world, of their lack of freedom?

I wish you all good luck cleaning and preparing for sedarim over this week. Then, a hag kasher v'sameach, a celebratory holiday of many questions and much growth.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

April 11, 2008

Dear Friends,

This Shabbat – the Shabbat when we announce the new month of Nisan, the month of Pesach – is called Shabbat HaHodesh. In the special additional Torah reading we will chant tomorrow, God says, "This month shall mark for you the beginning of the months; it shall be the first of the months of the year for you." Why should the month of Pesach be chosen as the first month, as the beginning of the year for us?

Pesach is all about freedom. About moving out of slavery to have self-determination of our own destiny. Further, through the process of leaving Egypt, we became a people, not just a family group of brothers, but a nation with a shared history and a future purpose. One of the hallmark signs of freedom is the ability to make choices of one's time. To celebrate one's holidays on one's own schedule and calendar. To mark the year according to one people's own cyclical and temporal traditions. In coming out of Egypt, we were given the ability to mark time by our values and our people's important moments; Pesach, the archetypical celebration of such liberty, is rightfully within the first month of our Jewish calendar year.

There are many other, albeit smaller, "freedom" holidays we celebrate on the Jewish calendar, among them Hanukkah and Yom Ha'Atzmaut/Israel's Independence Day. Let me remind you that we have the unique opportunity to celebrate Israel's 60th year together as a CBS community in Israel this Hanukkah. Hazzan Dinkin and I are still looking to fill this December trip – an important calendar deadline is next Friday, April 11. Yes, the deadline is only one week away. We must have all registration forms and deposits by that date. Do not miss out on this incredible opportunity. Choose to be "This year in Jerusalem!" at the very time of year when the Jewish calendar is clearly the minority calendar in American society. May we all embrace our Jewish times and our Jewish freedoms and celebrate together.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

April 4, 2008

Dear Friends,

While not the most "exciting" part of Parashat Shemini -- which also includes a Divine pyrotechnic killing of two of Aaron's sons -- a good portion of this week's Torah reading is about the laws of kashrut, of kosher and non-kosher animals. When I first arrived at CBS, I never expected that my first halakhic conversations were going to be about kashrut. Perhaps I should not have been surprised, after all Conservative Judaism began over kosher food. In 1885, when Rabbi Isaac Meir Wise of Hebrew Union College (the ordaining school of the Reform movement) arranged for the celebratory dinner to mark the first class of American-ordained rabbis, the meal was openly and unabashedly treif. Virtually very single course featured a non-kosher item: clams, crabs, shrimp, frog's legs, meat and cream. Many traditionalists walked out of this "Treifah Banquet" and later would found the Jewish Theological Seminary, the first of the now four schools that ordain Conservative rabbis.

Why was kashrut so important to those who left this infamous dinner? And, more importantly, why should we care about kashrut today?

On one level, it is because as Conservative Jews we seek to "conserve" and preserve Jewish traditions. Conservative Jews are committed to Jewish tradition, Jewish community, and Jewish beliefs – as they play out both in ethical and ritual ways.

The Torah tells us simply to "be holy" when summarizing the kosher laws this week. I also know that I – and many others -- keep kosher for a myriad of additional reasons. It is a spiritual discipline that can enrich one's life deeply. Every living thing needs to eat to survive; it's a simple biological necessity. Keeping kosher -- making kosher choices when we select our food and our meals – reminds us of God's presence when we eat, and allows us to raise up our biological needs to a spiritual level. Further, three (or, including snacks, more) times a day, kosher food choices remind us of our Jewish identities – our connections to our ancestors who made similar choices, and hopefully ties us to a future which will share similar practices. We are reminded each time we eat that we our guests in God's world – and as guests we enjoy the food selected for us by our Host. We can foster a sense of community, connecting over shared food habits.

Additionally, it has been pointed out that all kosher animals are herbivores – and "you are what you eat." Others note that kosher slaughter is more humane that certain other ways of killing for meat. One can even say kashrut is the Jewish community's age-old answer to the "Omnivore's Dilemma." Even if the Torah's explanation of "why" is short, it is an accepted part of Jewish tradition to search for ever-deeper levels of meaning.

As I have encouraged before, Jewish practice is never an "all or nothing" system. Wherever you are on the ladder of Jewish practice, I encourage you to take one more kosher step this week; see what it is like – what spiritual, communal, or personal effect it has upon you, and continue to explore in the weeks to come. I am always here to answer questions or help with the journey.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

March 28, 2008

Dear Friends,

Happy Purim!! I am on an excited high! According to the Sages of the First Temple Period, no one has seen a party unless they had been in Jerusalem for the Water Drawing festival at the end of Sukkot. I think I can, with only the slightest bit of exaggeration, beg to differ with the Rabbis of old. No one has seen a party, carnival, and celebratory atmosphere unless they have been at CBS for Purim evening!

Last night was a beautiful display of fun, games, community, and joy. We had over 200 kids and adults, who were jumping, playing, and gathering – having fun – at our Purim Carnival, after which we all paraded up to the Sanctuary for a rowdy, loud, energy-filled and child-centered (with children of all ages in costumes singing and enjoying themselves!) Family Megillah reading, with songs led by young-er (our Gan Shalom preschoolers) and old-er (those preschoolers-at-heart who got up to make fools of themselves leading "La Kova Sheli" – "My Hat has Three Corners") members. The Traditional "Ganze Megillah" Reading that followed brought in additional grogger-noise, book tossing, and animal noises (come next year if you are at all confused by those descriptions!).

I am also proud that our collection of tzedakah to fulfill the Purim mitzvah of "matanot l'evyonim" – gifts to those in need – brought in over $425 which we will be sending to the Masorti Movement, our Conservative Movement arm in Israel, to help residents of S'derot and Ashkelon. In part, this money will help take residents on excursions to Jerusalem, Tel-Aviv and other locations outside of the daily rocket-barrage attacks (including busing children to amusement parks) to help them escape and/or temporarily forget the conditions they are living under. If you want to help in this project, you can also send checks directly to the Masorti Foundation, Suite 832, 475 Riverside Drive, New York, NY 10015.

Thanks to all who participated yesterday – from those who were organizers to hot dog bbq-ers to our seventh grade game mavens to everyone who celebrated, ran around, and stomped out Haman's name. This would never have been such a success without you.

And if you still haven't had enough fun, come Saturday night at 8 pm for our 70s-themed adult Purim party. Find those retro clothes and come ready to disco and Hustle.

As we celebrate Purim today and move on into Shabbat, may we truly see the day, soon in our lifetimes, when evil is indeed rooted out and evil do-ers will be no more!

Hag Purim sameach and Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

March 21, 2008

Dear Friends,

"Don't tell her I said it, but…" "Have you heard…?" "It's not really my news to share, but…" It's virtually human nature to love to gossip. Even as it is wrong, and potentially damaging, to oneself and others to do so.

Our Torah reading is mostly about offerings to God – the korbanot – literally the "things that draw one close" to God. Introducing the lists of sacrificial rituals, the very first verse of Parashat Vayikra says, "The Holy One called to Moses and spoke to him from the Tent of Meeting, saying…" Our Rabbis ask why there is a superfluous word in this opening line. God isn't generally seen as "verbose," so what is meant by the extra word "saying"? One Sage suggests that it comes to teach us that if one said something to one's neighbor, the latter must not spread the news without the informant's consent (Yoma 4b). Even though it was obvious that God – speaking publicly from within the Tent of Meeting about communal rituals -- intended Moses to pass along God's laws and information and words to the Israelites, still Moses needed specific permission to do so.

From one extra word, we learn the importance of confidentiality. If Moses needed God's okay to pass along Torah teachings, how much more should we honor the confidences of those who share personal news with us? It is very easy to let something told to you, and you alone, to "slip out" in broader conversation. To generally disclose something that was meant only for your ears. As difficult as it is, we all can do better to foster trust and to train ourselves with proper use of words. Perhaps only then, our Torah reading implies, will we truly be able to come close to God, and other human beings.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

March 14, 2008

Dear Friends,

I have not yet bought a GPS; I admit that I still rely upon Mapquest to get around. Yet, I love the concept of having a GPS tell me where to go, being able to announce to me in advance: "In 200 yards, turn right on Main Street." I have also, at times, wondered what life would have been like for the Israelites had Moses been able to invest in such a device. "In 4 days, turn left at Mt. Sinai." And then when Moses failed to do so, hearing it say, over and over again, "Re-calculating..." At the very least, it would make a good Purim comedy skit for fourteen days from now.

Parashat Pekudei hints that the Israelites had the 2nd-or-3rd-millennium-before-the-common-era equivalent to a GPS. The work of the Tabernacle is finally completed, and God's Presence has descended to fill the Tabernacle. "When the cloud lifted from the Tabernacle, the Israelites would set out on their various journeys… for over the Tabernacle a cloud of Adonai rested by day, and fire would appear in it by night, in view of all the house of Israel throughout their journeys." (Ex. 40:36,38) They seem to have traveled by GPS – a God Positioning System.

Joking aside, I am sure that this cloud/fire was amazing. Here were a people just out of slavery, on their own in an unfamiliar and unknown territory. They had already been pursued by their former oppressors, and been attacked once by another tribe. The future was equally uncertain. They knew they were heading to Canaan; I can imagine, though, they questioned what that meant and would mean for their lives. And yet, all they had to do was look up to see God was with them and in their midst.

We do not have such obvious signs of God's Presence with us today. God's Presence is more hidden, and has to be looked for more carefully in other places and ways. In the love of a community. The smile of a child. The support of a colleague. The friendly gesture of a passerby. The coming together in compassion and comfort during a crisis. God does still attend to us, is still magnificently in our midst, if we only adjust and attune our consciousness. May we all have our eyes opened to seeing this, and our hands and hearts opened to being such conduits for God's holiness.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

I dedicate my message this week to the families of the victims of Thursday's murderous killing spree at Jerusalem's Mercaz HaRav Yeshiva and to the citizens of S'derot and Ashkelon, who have been living under the constant barrage of Palestinian rocket fire. May they find comfort through the caring hands and loving faces of their families, friends, and communities, and may Israel one day achieve security, and ultimately peace.

March 7, 2008

Dear Friends,

This week, while attending a conference for Jewish communal leaders, I attended a session on marketing. (Yes, this is the language of 21st century Judaism!) We discussed that marketing involved promoting both the tangibles and the intangibles of our institutions. Further, while people look for both, they are especially drawn by and "purchase" based on the latter. One buys a Volvo for "safety," Ivory soap for "purity," an iPod for "hip-ness". So, too, congregants want a synagogue to have the tangibles: a preschool, a religious school, clergy, a sanctuary and building facility. Even more so, we seek out in a synagogue a sense of community, spirituality, connectedness, belonging: the intangibles. In reading the parasha, I found that God understood the same marketing principle -- 4000 years ago, long before there were marketing consultants to give advice or guidance.

Parashat Vayakel begins with Moses' injunction that the Children of Israel are to observe/guard the Shabbat; that no physical labor is to be done on the seventh day. Almost immediately the text switches directions, to describe all the details concerning the building of the Mishkan, the portable Tabernacle where the Israelites worshiped and approached God as they traveled through the wilderness and into the Land of Israel. The text seamlessly juxtaposes two concepts of sacred time and sacred space, the intangible and the tangible. While the parashah dedicates most of its "time/space" on the tangible, physical world, it begins with the other world, the intangible world. The intangibles are what we "buy" or "buy in" for. God astutely understands human character.

Many of us spend the vast majority of our time in the tangible world. With books, documents, instruments, computers; working and laboring to bring home the very tangible paycheck. Our parasha tells us those are all important and have their time and place. Yet, today, the tangible, physical tabernacle, the Mishkan, no longer exists, while the intangible one, Shabbat, has endured for ages. It is the intangibles that are the most compelling, permanent and lasting. The time we spend with family, with friends. Sharing, time and presence and attention. Giving love, showing support, and demonstrating our care. These can never be replaced, and endure and are remembered longest.

May we all use this Shabbat – and the next 52, 104, and 520+ Shabbatot -- in an intangible world, "buying in" to all that is holy, lasting, meaning-enhancing, and relationship building in our worlds.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

February 29, 2008

Dear Friends,

Parashat Ki Tissa – in which the central scene is the sin of the Golden Calf -- is not one of our high points as a people. Not long after all of the people have directly heard and experienced Revelation, Moses is up on Mt. Sinai with God, receiving God's words of Torah. The Israelites, meanwhile, are at the base of the mountain, pressuring Moses' brother Aaron to make a molten calf of gold for them to worship. The idol is made, and they lewdly dance, pray, and celebrate around it.

"This is your God, O Israel, who brought you out of the land of Egypt" (Ex. 32:8) the people exclaim as they sacrifice to the calf. Whoa and hang on one minute! Who brought on the Plagues? Who led them forth out of Egypt? How many miracles have they experienced at God's hand? Only forty days have passed since God spoke to them! How could they have so quickly forgotten? So quickly stooped so low?

I am made to wonder: is there something in the nature of human beings that leads us to so quickly forget the wonderful things in our lives and allows us to so easily fall into despair? The 2nd century Sage Rabbi Meir taught that we are supposed to say 100 blessings every day. It is not just a sense of gratitude that Rabbi Meir is asking us to foster. It is also a sense of memory. We need to remember the many things that we are blessed with in our lives, review them, savor and appreciate them – so that we hold on to those moments of good. It is something I try to do each week as I light my Shabbat candles. I stand there just a moment longer than the blessing, with my hands over my eyes, and I review the week, recalling the highpoints and the blessings I experienced in the past seven days. I let go of my disappointments, and I enter Shabbat with a positive sense, with good memories. May we all know and regularly recall our blessings, and thereby experience a depth of true Godliness and holiness in our lives.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

February 22, 2008

Dear Friends,

Our ancestors had it easy! As Parashat Titzaveh describes, anytime they wanted to know God's will, they just asked. "Inside the breastplate of decision you shall place the Urim and Tummim, so that they are over Aaron's heart when he comes before Adonai. Thus Aaron shall carry the instrument of decision for the Israelites over his heart before Adonai at all times" (Ex. 28:21). The text and our tradition teach that the Urim and Tummim were a device for determining the will of God in specific matters. Want to know what to do, how to act, what God desires of you? Just consult Aaron or the High Priest! Spiritual and religious life doesn't get much clearer than that.

In my Wednesday morning Adult Education class this week, we ended with a brief discussion about the structure of Rabbinic literature, that in both the Mishnah and the Talmud, our Sages did not always come to one final decision of "do it this way." Rather, multiple opinions, even those at odds with one another, were recorded and often left unresolved. My belief is that the Rabbis understood that they were not writing a law textbook, but rather a religious guide, and no one person, opinion, or argument can embrace the multifaceted greatness of God. Every argument made for the Sake of Heaven has holiness – even if those opinions appear contradictory.

The Rabbinic system is a lot messier than the Biblical one, but much more profound as well.

The question and challenge becomes how do you form a community (be it a religious community, a political community, or even a family structure) in such a system? What do you do with multiple ideas of "right"? What do you do with not one Truth, but multiple pieces of Truth? One engages in a practice that we living today have gotten sorely out of practice with. You talk and you listen, engaging in both with humility. You seek to understand and appreciate the different piece of Truth another is holding and presenting. Only when one acknowledges that another's view has Godliness and holiness, can true dialogue begin – and ultimate paths and directions in life be shared. May we all find the willingness, the patience, the strength, and the fortitude to seek out God's wisdom in all its arguments and forms, and be willing to live a life less based on certitude and more on the Revelation that comes through openness, sharing, and holy deliberation.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

February 15, 2008

Shalom Friends,

"Let them build Me a Sanctuary that I may dwell among them." So God commands the Israelites in Parashat Terumah. It is a beautiful, but slightly surprising request. God has introduced God's self as more "verb" than "noun" ("I am what I am" is the name God gave to Moses at the Burning Bush – implying more action than physicality), and then at Mt. Sinai, God encourages the Israelites to avoid physical representations for worship, and now suddenly God wants a house? Throughout the centuries, our Sages have all responded to this question in different ways.

Perhaps my favorite explanation comes from the Kotzker Rebbe, "It says b'tochem, 'among them.' It does not say b'tocho, "among /within it.' This is to teach you that each person must build the Sanctuary in his/her own heart; only then will God dwell among them."

According to the Kotzker Rebbe, God asks each and every one of us to build ourselves into dwelling places for God; we are to live lives filled with a sense of holiness, kedusha, so God may then dwell among us. We are to act in ways that bring God closer to us – being the verb and action and spiritual support that God also is. In performing mitzvot or deeds of loving-kindness - when we ritualize, set aside, and make holy special times and places; when we elevate the food we eat through our food choices and giving thanks; when we give tzedakah or clean up the environment or pause to truly listen and see another person -- we bring God into into ourselves, into our lives, and effectively into this physical world. May we all consciously work at building our own personal Mishkan, a Sanctuary in our souls for God, this Shabbat, this week, and every day of our lives.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

February 8, 2008

Dear Friends,

Parashat Mishpatim covers exactly what its Hebrew name suggests. Mishpatim means "laws," and the Torah reading lays out a litany of rules for the Israelites, seemingly randomly intermixing ritual and interpersonal practices in a long list of responsibilities for the Jewish people. We are to pay restitution for stolen or harmed property; to not eat blood; to not wrong strangers; to not carry false rumors; to not mix milk and meat; and to shun bribery -- to list just a few of Mishpatim's mitzvot. I think the wide span and disparate nature of topics covered in these regulations serves as a reminder of how complex society is – a timely reminder with our primary elections this week. May we all do our civic duty on Tuesday, carefully weighing the many and various factors that are important to each of us, as we vote for our parties' presidential candidates.

Further into the parasha, we find one of my favorite verses. God says to Moshe, "Come up to the mountain and be there" (Ex 24:12). The Kotzker Rebbe points out that, on a surface read, God is being verbose. Once you're on the mountain, you're there. But, no, the Kotzker Rebbe says, too often, we are physically in a place, but emotionally and spiritually we are removed and elsewhere. Moshe is being told by God, don't just be on the mountain, but be fully in My Presence. It's a message for us as much as it was for our teacher Moshe.

Can we better train ourselves to see not just the beauty of nature, but God beyond and in an amazing view or a natural miracle? Can we be better at not just sitting by or near those we know or love, but interacting with them fully – caring, listening, and touching the human and Divine within them? God is calling out to us – in every place, time, and with every deed we do – can we consciously raise our awareness, can we do more than simply approach God through those moments, times, places, and acts, and "be there" with God, too?

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

February 1, 2008

Dear Friends,

Parashat Yitro is a darshan's dream. Pyrotechnics, thunder and lightning, shaking mountains, and within and above it all: God's voice speaking to the people, gathered beneath the mountain in awe and amazement. Revelation – the idea that God revealed God's self at Sinai and gave us the mitzvot, our Jewish way of life – is a core concept in Judaism. Ever since, we have debated as a people exactly what was said and heard at Sinai, struggled with the concept of "Torah min haShamayim," "Torah from Heaven," and challenged ourselves to interpret that moment and the meaning and details of God-given laws.

I think it is no coincidence that a parasha with such deep themes is one of the handful of Torah readings named for a person: Yitro, Moshe's father-in-law, who comes having heard of the wonders God performed for Israel. Yitro arrives bearing his own "law," advice to his already overburdened son-in-law, "Moshe, you've taken too much upon your own shoulders; subdivide your adjudicating responsibilities. Others should help with this job. Others can deal with the smaller issues."

Moshe and the Israelites in effect receive two revelations this week: one from God and one in human form. These two are set side-by-side to remind us that both are equally important; God's voice can be heard in many places and ways. We, too, are to hear the Divine voice when we read from and study Torah, and we are to hear the application of God's teaching when we experience God in the people around us and in living that Torah. Only when we take both aspects of this duality seriously does Revelation truly continue, on-going through today. May we all open ourselves to hearing both of these voices. May we continue as human beings to partner with God, bringing continuing relevance and reality to the mitzvot and our tradition.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

January 25, 2008

Dear Friends,

I am always excited when our Torah reading, Jewish tradition, the Jewish calendar and the American holidays all seem to coincide. This Shabbat we read Parashat B'shallach, the Torah reading that describes our ancestors' exodus from Egypt and the crossing of the Sea of Reeds.

Because of the song that the Torah records Moses, Miriam, and the Israelites singing as they crossed through the Sea on dry land, this Shabbat is also called Shabbat Shira – the Shabbat of Song. There is even an Eastern European Jewish custom which was encouraged by the Maharal (Rabbi Judah Loew, 16th c.) to go out and feed birds on this Shabbat -- because birds perched in the trees and sang along with the Israelites to celebrate the freedom of the former slaves. This minhag teaches that all of creation celebrates when freedom is at hand, and all who participate in supporting freedom are to be thanked and praised. Appropriately, this weekend also happens to be Martin Luther King, Jr weekend, when we as Americans mark the important role that Dr. King played in bringing greater civil rights, freedoms, and equality to the African-American community, a community whose history and story is also one of moving out of slavery – and whose journey milestones were often marked with and recorded through song.

Movement from slavery to freedom is one that is worthy of celebration. The true test of freedom, however, is not only being able to sing and rejoice in it, but to be able to increase the numbers of those who can sing tunes and compose words of praise. There are many in our world who cannot yet rejoice, who do not yet know freedom, who suffer from tyranny, genocide, human slave traffic, disease, hunger, domestic violence, poverty. My challenge to each of us this Shabbat and this Martin Luther King weekend is to use our overflowing blessings of freedom to make a difference for those who are not yet free. Write a Congressperson or State Legislator about making change. Donate to an organization that enhances liberties and life. Give of your time over this long weekend to volunteer for a cause that seeks out better conditions for another. Let us truly put slavery behind us as a human race and be able to bring Dr. King's words of the Negro Spiritual, "Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, I'm free at last," closer to reality for all peoples.

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michelle Fisher

P.S. Personally, I have been "singing" all this week, still hearing and feeling the incredible sounds of joy, love, commitment, and celebration at last Saturday night's Installation. Another thank you to everyone who worked on preparing for the evening, those involved in the program that night, and everyone who came to join together as a community for this congregational milestone. It was beautiful. May we all go from strength to strength.

January 18, 2008

Dear Friends,

In this week's Torah portion, Bo, the Israelites finally leave Egypt and Egyptian slavery. The tenth plague comes, and Pharaoh and the Egyptians send the Hebrews forth, demanding and begging them to depart. In anticipation of the final plague and the subsequent exodus, God commands our ancestors to observe their very first Pesach, even while they are still in Egypt. They are told, "Remember this day, on which you went free from Egypt, the house of bondage" (Ex 13:3). Our Sages later teach that this charge was not just for the generation of the Exodus, but for every single one of us, every Jew, in every single time and every age. Each of us must see ourselves as if we personally left Egypt. Internalizing this understanding becomes one of the goals and foundational supports of almost every act – both ritual acts and interpersonal acts of hesed and tikkun olam -- we do as Jews.

What does it mean to experience slavery and freedom? We may not always think of it as such, but we all have moments in our lives when we face personal Egypts. When we feel like we are enslaved. Or alone. In need of healing. In need of support. Our Egypts can be large: like leaving an abusive relationship, staying afloat in an overwhelming job or in an office that over-works and under-appreciates us, or overcoming and fighting disease or illness, our own or a family member's. But most of the time, leaving Egypt is simply finding brief escapes from our routines, gathering with friends or community, and sharing blessings together.

Once a month, B'nai Shalom offers a Healing Service on a Sunday night. These services have no one "target audience" or agenda. They are really meant for all of us – to put aside and leave our Egypts for a short period of time. Those who are facing hardships in their lives, dealing with illness, serving as a caregiver, and also everyone who could use a brief respite from the demands of the world. Come pray, sing, gather, share together this Sunday at 6:30 pm in the Sanctuary.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

P.S. There is also a "small" celebratory event happening on Saturday evening that I am really excited for. I look forward to seeing you all at my Installation, and an advance thank you to all of the many, many volunteers who have been working extremely hard to make the evening an incredible celebration of us all.

For more about the Parasha, check out Rabbi Fisher's Torah column in this week's J, as well:
Click here: j. - What was the real deal with Egypt’s darkness?

January 10, 2008

Dear Friends,

Happy 2008! Parashat Va'era begins "I [God] appeared to Avraham, to Yitzhak, and to Ya'akov…" Rashi provides a strange commentary to this verse: "God appeared el ha-avot, to the patriarchs." To sound a bit like a teenager, "Well, duh!" The verse clearly mentions our three patriarchs; why state the obvious? The Hatam Sofer in the early 19th century gives a creative solution. He translates the word "avot" by connecting it to the Hebrew root "ava," meaning "desire," concluding that God only appears to those who are "avot" – those who desire a relationship with God. This longing to connect with God is the source of the special relationship between Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob and God.

In 2007, many, many books hit the bookshelves denying God, or asserting that God is an irrelevant idea. And more personally, we probably all know people for whom God plays no part in their thinking, behavior, or lives. My life has never been like that. I am aware of God's presence, or at least try to be as often as possible, as I seek out religious practices to make me ever-more-conscious and connected to the Divine (and the human) in the world.

I do not believe that my attitude and outlook is one that is unique or special. I think most of us, if not all of us, desire connection to something which is greater than ourselves. On the other hand, I do think accepting such a worldview does require training. Many midrashim talk of the steps it took for Avraham to know God. Ya'akov seems to doubt God and even seems to barter with God before agreeing to have belief and give his acknowledgement of God. The plagues themselves can be understood as God's way of opening our Israelite ancestors to knowing God's power, care, and presence. So how do we, too, come to be aware of God?

We can appreciate nature (even, or perhaps, especially, the heavy rains and winds of this weekend), talk about deep questions, notice the less obvious things in the world, listen and care deeply for another, strive to better this planet. Further, we can go beyond just doing these acts, we can make those acts holy by thinking of the Power beyond ourselves that makes them happen, that demands that we do our part to perfect our world. And, through the development of this
consciousness that God is with us in the world and in our deeds, we find ourselves reaching out to God, just as our patriarchs and matriarchs did, with desire and hope, and we often find that God, in
return, does appear to us in myriads of ways. May 2008 bring us many opportunities for such blessing.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

January 4, 2008

Dear Friends,

Parashat Vayehi focuses on our forefather Jacob's final blessings to his family – to his grandsons, Joseph's sons, and then in much longer depth, to each of his twelve sons and the future tribes they will become. As Jacob then reaches his last moments of life, he instructs his sons to bury him back in the land of Canaan, the land which will one day be named after him, the land of Israel. Joseph, too, dies as the parasha reaches its conclusion. Joseph has death-bed request similar to his father's: "carry my bones from here" to the land of Israel when you are returned by God to our promised land.

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch comments on these requests that the implication of not wanting to be buried outside of Israel is that one should not want to live outside of Israel. While our Sages have differed in interpretation as to whether or not moving to and permanently living in Israel is a mitzvah, a Jewish obligation, I would agree with Rabbi Hirsch that we all should strive to live at least a few weeks or more of our life in our people's land, that we should feel a calling to be a pilgrim (as often as possible) to Israel.

I want to keep everyone apprised of the steps we are taking towards next December's CBS Israel journey. All throughout Chanukah – although it is one of the few holidays when we don't liturgically say BaShana HaBa'a Birushalim, "Next year in Jerusalem" – I was cognizant of the fact that next year the Hazzan and I and many of you will be together lighting Chanukiot in Israel. I am already extremely excited and preparing for twelve months from now. A little over a month ago, we had an incredibly successful informational meeting with our tour guide Danny Ehrlich of Keshet Tours. Sixty-five congregants, representing a total of 94 individuals, came that evening; twenty-three more expressed interest, although were unable to attend that night. Since then, Danny has put in the request for flight reservations for the Bnai Shalom trip and should have confirmation from the airlines by mid February, at which time we'll be able to finalize the itinerary, price and payment schedule. I am hopeful that we will be able to take two full buses of CBS travelers on this incredible experience.

As we begin to enter 2008, Israel's 60th year, I am also looking to have an on-going celebration of Israel within our synagogue community. If you are interested in being involved in some events, whether or not you can participate in the culmination journey to Israel next December, please let me know.

I look forward to making Israel a dream, yearning, and reality for all of us, just as it was for our ancestors.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

December 20, 2007

Dear Friends,

In Parashat Vayigash, Joseph openly identifies himself and reunites with his brothers. Jacob also comes down to Egypt, and father and son weep, now knowing for certain that each is alive and well. Jacob does not move to Egypt alone; he brings his entire clan with him. Every son and grandson journeying from Canaan is mentioned by name. Easily overlooked in this list of the family is one granddaughter, Serach bat Asher (Gen 46:17) – the only woman besides Jacob's wives and daughter Dina mentioned among dozens of male names.

Serach bat Asher is one of my favorite Biblical characters. She is listed here in this parasha, and we hear nothing again of her until 400 years have passed and the Israelites, having gone out of Egyptian slavery, are being counted by Moses in the wilderness. There, within the census of the book of Numbers, Serach bat Asher is again named and counted (Numbers 26:46).

Our Sages wonder how it is that one woman could live throughout so many generations – the Biblical time period when someone like Methusaleh could live for over 900 years had long since passed. A midrash suggests that Serach earned an extra-long life because she was the one who carefully and painlessly informed Jacob that Joseph was still alive. One can imagine what the potential shock such a report could be to a 130 year old man who for years has been mourning the loss of his most beloved son. Serach played the harp and sang before her grandfather, "Joseph is alive, Joseph is alive" and slowly eased him into the news. As Jacob realized her words, he asked, "Is it true?" and blessed her with long-life.

One message we learn from this midrash is the power of communicating – and communicating information in a way that the receiver can hear it and accept it. Each of us, at times, have been put in the position of having to tell someone either difficult news – or even good news that had the potential of putting another off-balance or seriously changing the way they approach or think about themselves and the world. Care, love, and softness are often important skills for us to learn and embrace. For when we do share in these ways, truly beautiful moments and opportunities can result.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

December 14, 2007

Dear Friends,

I was again struck this week by the confluence of current events and the Jewish calendar. Thursday morning, Republican presidential contender Mitt Romney gave a speech on his religious beliefs. Some may cynically assert that he did it all for the cameras or the votes, but I was impressed – church and state issues aside -- with his readiness and ability to publicly express his religious convictions and to stand up in an open environment and say this is who I am and this is what I believe. As a Mormon non-Jew, he probably did not realize how well-timed his speech was for our Jewish holiday cycle. Chanukah – beyond the Maccabean military victory and the miracle of the oil – is a holiday about (or more correctly, against) assimilation. It is about a small group of Jews, who in the midst of an attractive surrounding Greek culture and society, stood by their values and practices, and maintained that those identities and traditions were worth fighting to preserve. They demonstrated to fellow Jews and to the ancient (and modern) world that Judaism is meaningful, worthwhile, and essential. They did so publicly and openly. In fact, as a reminder of the Maccabees' commitment, Jewish law says that the Chanukiah is supposed to be lit in a window, advertising to the outside world the miracle of Chanukah and our pride in our identity as Jews.

In this 21st century, we, too, like our ancient ancestors, have many pulls at our time, challenges to our convictions, and struggles with our place in the world. Chanukah comes as a chance to rededicate ourselves to our uniquely Jewish way of approaching and living in the world. I encourage us each to give one additional gift to ourselves and our families this Chanukah – consider one additional Jewish act that you can do this year to further integrate Judaism into your life.

Can you in word and deed do what Romney or the Maccabees did? Can you clearly state and live daily your Jewish beliefs?

I hope to see you at Shabbat or minyan services (even in cleats on the way to/from a child's game). Or, hear about the new Jewish books you are reading. Or, help you plan a Shabbat dinner for friends and family. Or, put up a mezuzah at your home. This Chanukah and beyond, let us take renewed pride in our Judaism and our Jewish identities and practices.

Shabbat shalom and Chanukah sameach,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

December 7, 2007

Dear Friends,

Parashat Vayeshev is all about the tearing down of family relationships. Over the course of the next few weeks of Torah readings, we will learn how much pain and anguish and, perhaps especially, time it takes to heal when brother comes to lord it over, hate, oppress, and otherwise denigrate brother. Family relationships are fragile things in the best of times, and perhaps all the more so in the case of Joseph and his brothers.

I thought about this portion all week in light of current events. I have spent much time following the news about the Annapolis summit, a pretty unbelievable gathering of Israelis, Palestinians, Arabs, and other nations. As President Bush announced the agreements that Israeli Prime Minister Olmert and Palestinian President Abbas had made, I was hopeful, but also scared. Like all of us, I am not sure where these talks will lead.

I do know that any healing, reconciliation, and, in the end, peace, will require much change, growth, education, and mutual trust. Joseph and his brothers needed to mature, needed to see the world through another's eyes, and needed to believe that the other had changed before they could cry on each other's shoulders and reunite as a family. My prayer is that we will come to see such steps between modern Jewish and Arab and Palestinians "siblings" in the coming months and years, as well.

So what is our responsibility as Diaspora Jews in this process? It is a question already being debated. At the very least, our obligation is to stay abreast of what is happening, and understand the many dimensions involved in these talks – read not just our papers, to which this is not always front-page news, but also the Israeli press.

I regularly check www.haaretz.com and www.jpost.com. These sites are two of many places where we can read up on the news of Israel. I suggest them because they span the political spectrum.

I hope and pray that this newest process will be one of lasting peace and trust.

Shabbat shalom and an early Chanukah sameach,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

December 1, 2007

Because of the Thanksgiving Holiday, Rabbi's travel, and early arrival of Shabbat, transmission of this email was delayed... Also, please see a different Parasha discussion by Rabbi Fisher in the J (www.jewishsf.com).

Dear Friends,

I hope you all had a meaningful Thanksgiving! As a rabbi, I work every Jewish holiday (funny how that works out!), and as such, Thanksgiving has taken on deeper meaning for me over the years, as it is the one time each year that I get to "go home," to my childhood house and hometown. In some years, "going home" means getting to participate in my old high school friends' annual ritual of having brunch together. Sometimes it is visiting family friends who still remember me from when I was little – and whose children were playmates or study partners or my first babysitting job. Sometimes it includes passing by former schools or hangouts, and realizing how much has changed, but what still, incredibly, has remained the same. Almost always, as this year, "going home" is full of very positive memories and experiences.

In this week's Parasha, Vayishlach, our forefather Ya'akov is also going home. After twenty-two years of working for his uncle, with four wives and thirteen children, with much cattle and wealth, Jacob is heading back to the land of Canaan. His journey is not as simple as a Southwest flight; his homecoming is not as easy as for many of us. Jacob still has much baggage – a brother whose last words were murderous ones, a father he's also deceived, and a mother who is complicated at best. It's no wonder that Ya'akov struggles in the night.

What amazes me is the reaction of Esau at the homecoming. Esau and Jacob approach, and the Torah says that Esau runs to his brother, falls on his neck, and cries. (Gen 33:4) Esau, the brother whom Ya'akov had been avoiding these many years, apparently had changed. Apparently, he had learned to forgive. Jacob, of course, has also grown and is a different man, now with a different name, Yisrael. Leading up to this reunion, I can only imagine the waves of complicated and complex emotion going through these two grown men after all this time. I think they both learned that "going home" is not always what you expect, but that in returning home, we are able to see ourselves through the lens and mirror of the people we knew, and we can measure ourselves better and further appreciate the people we have become.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

November 24, 2007

Dear Friends,

This week's Torah reading has Jacob running away from home, fleeing a brother who wants to kill him. On Jacob's journey, as he reaches the border of the land of Canaan, he dreams a dream of angels heading up and down a ladder whose top is in the heavens. Jacob's vision includes a powerful blessing from God. Jacob's response is a strange vow: "If God remains with me, if God protects me on this journey that I am making, and gives me bread to eat and clothing to wear, and if I
return in peace to my father's house, then Adonai will be my God." (Gen 28:20-21) What complete chuptzpah our forefather has! After a grand vision of greatness, offspring, and blessing, Jacob seems to have no loyalty to God, seems to be doubting the magnificent promise just given to him.

Throughout the centuries, our Sages have asked with aghast how Jacob could act like one who would only serve on condition of receiving a reward. But, let's consider what it is Jacob does ask for in his seemingly impudent vow. Jacob wants bread, clothing, a return home (that is, physical security). He is asking for basic needs. The Me'am Loez, a Sephardic commentary from the 18th century, suggests that religious and spiritual growth comes only when one has the ability to feel gratitude for the "basics". Further, Jacob's request to return "to his father's house in peace" reminds us of the need for relationships with loved ones, the need for emotional as well as physical well-being in order to be fully human.

This week many of us will begin preparations -- cooking or travel or both -- for Thanksgiving. As we begin to celebrate and to eat, to gather our friends and family around us, may we be aware of all of our blessings. May we take the material gifts we have and the awareness of the relationships we share to bring us closer to God, the Source of all Blessing. May we feel moved to share our blessings with those who are not regularly fed or adequately sheltered, that they, too, may see the Holy. Finally, may our feelings of gratitude make us more spiritually aware, and more willing to see God in us, in the world, and in the people around us.

Shabbat shalom and an early happy Thanksgiving,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

November 16, 2007

Shalom, Haverim; Shalom, Friends,

Everyone likes Bible stories. Our children love hearing and learning them, too. On Fridays, the Hazzan and I try to drop by our Gan to "do Shabbat" with the preschoolers, singing, teaching. I usually try to share a bit of the Torah portion with them on their level, giving them a beginning connection to our sacred texts. Last night I began to consider what lesson of Parashat Toldot I wanted to focus on and teach these 2-5 year olds. I soon became depressed.

What are the stories and themes of this week? Parental favoritism: twins are born, and we learn explicitly that Isaac loved Esau and Rebecca favored Jacob. Then there's sibling rivalry: by the parasha's end, Jacob has bought, tricked or stolen a birthright and blessing from Esau, and the older brother, harboring an extremely deep grudge, now wants to kill the younger. Oh, and lack of parental communication or any positive role modeling: Rebecca colludes with Jacob to trick Isaac and steal from Esau. And let's not forget lack of care: Jacob callously treats Esau as an object as Jacob buys his brother's birthright, not listening to the deep physical or spiritual hunger and need of his exhausted, famished brother. And finally, lack of creativity or compassion: Esau's plaintive wail of a suffering child, "Bless me, too, Father! Don't you also have a blessing for me?" is ultimately responded to by Isaac, but only after an initial shrug of the shoulders, "What can I do?", leaving the reader with a sense of doubt that Isaac truly had empathy or concern for his firstborn son.

How (or even why!) do we teach these tales to young children? What are the moral lessons they will gain? Do I want them to believe the outcomes of the text are favorable ones? That the end justifies the means? With a feeling of apprehension and doubt, I went to circle/Shabbat time to talk about our forefathers.

And these little teachers were amazing. What did I learn? That Jacob should have gotten time-out for not sharing. That we need to learn to ask nicely. That we should not fight with our brothers, sisters, or friends. That being nice and friendly is important. That we shouldn't make others sad or angry. I underestimated the moral compasses our children have. They can sometimes be better than we adults are at identifying right and wrong, even from negative examples. The Torah they taught me, and I hope all of us, is perhaps the deepest message of our Torah reading: in order to reach our potential as human beings we have to be willing to think about how others feel and care. When we stand in their shoes and truly think about the impact of our actions, we can become much better people. May we all internalize and live out those lessons.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Michelle Fisher

November 9, 2007

Dear Friends:

In Parasha Hayyei Sarah, Abraham sends his servant to find a wife for Isaac, and we are introduced to Rebecca -- my favorite of the matriarchs. Rebecca is intelligent, crafty, beautiful, physically strong and mentally strong-willed, kind, hospitable, one who takes matters and destiny into her own hands.

Rebecca chooses her own path - in fact, her family will not send her away until she is explicitly asked if the marriage is her desire. Yet, it always seems that on some level it is God who is deciding and fulfilling her destiny. One could conclude that miracles alone were bringing her forward into an historic role.

When Abraham's servant sees Rebecca at the well, the Torah de