1st Shabbat Sermon

Shabbat Sermon for Ki Tetze

I had an interesting interaction last week in the locker room of the Jewish Community Center. An older woman, probably in her late 70s, was changing clothes after swimming, and she and I struck up a conversation. She asked what I do for work, and I explained that I am a rabbinical student. We talked about what school is like for me, and my new monthly pulpit in North Dakota. Even though I was in a hurry to leave, I wanted to continue conversing with this woman, who was so interested in my life. I found out that her name was Shirley, and I told her my name. She did a double take when she heard my name, since Stephanie Clark is not at all a Jewish name, which sometimes makes for a confusing situation when you’re talking to someone who wants to be a rabbi. I get the same reaction a lot, so I quickly said, “I know, Clark isn’t a very Jewish-sounding last name, but it’s a long story. My father isn’t Jewish”. She asked me if I was raised Jewish, and I said yes. She said, “Well, you should talk about your experience in a sermon someday. People like to hear that kind of thing. When you hear about someone who had an experience in which they were really challenged by being Jewish, it makes all of us realize what being Jewish means to us.” And with that, I thanked her, realizing that she gave me the topic for my next sermon.
I want to briefly explain my upbringing, because it had a major impact on why and how I got on the path to eventually becoming a rabbi. My mother is Jewish, my father is not. He was raised as a Catholic, but now considers himself to be agnostic. My mom wanted to raise my sister and I as Jews, and my Dad was fine with that, as long as when we were old enough to understand, we were aware that our religion was up to us and that we could believe whatever we wanted to believe. So, as a child, I was encouraged to ask questions and I became very curious about Judaism as well as my friend’s religions. Through this curiosity, I was able to confirm the beliefs I was being taught in religious school, because I had put serious thought into it, and they honestly made sense to me. I didn’t merely believe what I was being told.
Now, as a rabbinical student, I am learning everything that I possibly can about Judaism and its rich culture and history. The amount of information that I still need to learn is often overwhelming, but also exciting. The Jewish religion is incredibly detailed, with the laws and customs that have been collected by our people over time. Sometimes while studying the Mishnah, I wonder what the rules of the Temple sacrifice have to do with me. Sure, they were applicable at one time, but why hold on to these seemingly useless and outdated laws if we don’t need them anymore?
In this week’s Torah portion, Ki Tetze, there are 72 mitzvot, according to Moses Maimonides. 72 actions that we are commanded to perform by God. It is a diverse collection of ethical, social, legal and ritual rules that are meant to dictate our lives. As liberal Jews, we may not identify with all of these laws, in fact we may find very few of them to be pertinent in our modern daily lives. The recently published Women’s Torah commentary discusses the portion, saying that in contrast to parashat Shoftim from last week, the laws in Ki Teitze are directed at ordinary people instead of public officials. Things that we may look at as family matters, like the rights of a lesser loved wife, the punishment of disobedient children, and the finsing of lost objects are matters of concern for the whole community. They are issues that are dealt with by the group as a whole and are legislated publicly. The goal of the Israelites who crafted and followed these laws was to create a balanced society in which the poor and weak are legally protected from the rich and strong, in which both property and human lives are respected, and, most importantly in which individuals are subject to the community and its laws.

In today’s society, we are left to decide most of these issues for ourselves, in the privacy of our homes. The community and government at large has its role in the protecting and organizing of our lives, but as long as we are not breaking the law, it is up to us how we want to treat issues like those discussed in Ki Tetze, in our everyday lives. However, just because these issues are no longer acted out on a public stage does not mean that the community becomes any less significant in our lives. Ki Tetze even begins with words “when you go out to battle against your enemies” as if to acknowledge the struggles that we face in life and to say that they must be faced with a collective group effort. For me, my community is of the utmost importance. Without my friends and family and classmates as a support system, life would be very difficult. I hope that you too are able to feel a part of the community that you have here. The relationships that we form with each other have the ability to act as back up nets, to catch us when we fall off the tightrope of life. And even when things aren’t that bad, it is nice to know that we belong somewhere, that we fit in.

Looking back on my experience as a child, I wonder what the first that that drew me to the synagogue was. I could’ve gone somewhere else, or even stayed home, but something drew me in. I believe that it was the need to feel like I was and am a part of something, part of a community that values and fosters relationships with each of its members. The public legislation found in Ki Teitze may no longer apply in quite the same way these days, but the backbone of the society is still the community. I am honored to be here and to be welcomed in to your community here. My hope is that over the next 10 months that I will be visiting, the backbone that is this community continues to strengthen and to support each of its members. Ken Y’hi Ratzon, may this be God’s will. Shabbat Shalom.

Some Old Writing

August Bulletin Article

As we approach the renewal of the Jewish year, our minds may wonder about how we can make next year better than the current one. How would we like to improve ourselves? What transgressions did we make in the past year that we learned to (hopefully) never make again? Did we forgive those who may have done wrong by us, and maybe most importantly, did we forgive ourselves?
Forgiveness is such a central concept within Judaism, but what does it really mean? I’m sure that many of us have had experiences in our lives where we have said “I’m sorry” and maybe not have meant it as whole-heartedly as we should have. So then, if one does not truly feel like he or she needs to be forgiven, why ask at all? What do we do when the person we are asking forgiveness from, chooses not to grant us that forgiveness? What is it about forgiveness, and the absence of truth, that we find so compelling?
Forgiveness is a complicated thing. At this time of the year, we ask for forgiveness from those around us. We also ask forgiveness from God. What is the difference between asking for forgiveness from a friend or family member, and asking forgiveness from God? The relationships between God and us may be far more complicated than a simple “I’m sorry” followed by “I forgive you”. We petition God to “consider our words” and to “look into our most inner thoughts”. An individual’s relationship with God is unique from any other relationship that we have. Only you can “discuss” your transgressions with God and only you can ask forgiveness. In many cases, by asking for forgiveness from God, we are in turn allowing ourselves to be forgiven. This is the best way I know that we can truly be given a fresh start. By being forgiven and forgiving others, a burden is lifted. We are given another chance, another fresh start. I encourage you to consider what forgiveness really means to you and what you can do or say to forgive and be forgiven. My hope for each of us is that we are all able to go in to the New Year with a “clean slate” and a heart free of burden.

My New Life

Finally a new post! Yay!

Things are going very well. Life is busy. The pulpit in North Dakota is hard work, but rewarding and the Holidays went very well. My congregants are so sweet and I'm lucky to have a bunch of kids at my congregation, which always proves to be entertaining.

The sire for Tashlich, where we symbolically throw bread crumbs in to the water to show that we are letting go of our sins.

Leaving North Dakota, compare the landscape to the next shot...

Landing in DC. BIG difference!

Ana's son Justin who was born a little over a month ago. When I was home between the Holidays I spent some time at work and got to see him!

My kindergarteners in Cinci. They are adorable!

Bnai Israel in Grand Forks North Dakota, my new home away from home.

The sanctuary.

My viewpoint.

Another picture of the group at Tashlich.

Lots of love.

S

Exciting Challenges

My lovely and wonderful ex-roomate (it's sad to say "ex") mentioned recently the "exciting challenges" that she'll be facing in the upcoming months. I've been thinking about MY challenges that will be coming up too. My massage therapist, who has become a friend and a therapist also in the more conventional sense, asked me yesterday if I was nervous.

My response was, "Nervous about what? The move? School starting again? Teaching? My pulpit?"

I have so many things in the mix right now. I am excited about every single one of them. Everyone whom I speak to about all of my upcoming adventures seems to think that it's impossible for me to get all of these things done. But, it isn't. It will just happen. I guess?

I'll be going to school full time in my second year at HUC. We don't have classes on Fridays so I guess that will make life a bit easier. I'll be teaching kindergarten on Sunday (HUC requires us to teach at least one day). I also took a job on Wednesdays so that I have a bit of extra income. That will be 5th grade Hebrew, which I've already taught. But every group of kids comes with their own challenges.

I ALSO will have a pulpit in North Dakota. I am probably most excited about this piece of the puzzle. A pulpit in our second year is optional, but like myself, that majority of my classmates have chosen to take one on. I think it's the best way to get "real world" experience, and that's what it's all about anyway, right?

My congregation is tiny, about 80 people. That's bigger than some of my classmates pulpits and mine is growing. It's located where the University of North Dakota is, so there will be students as well as academics. And some kids to teach too! I've spoken with the president who is so sweet. I've also had email correspondence with the treasurer and the webmaster. Everyone seems so amazingly welcoming and kind so far. I'm honestly really looking forward to working with them and learning from them, even though I'm kinda scared out of my mind!

This makes me feel like I'm actually legit! Scary, but it's reality.

The most urgent thing on my very full plate is my move out to Cinci. I'm living in an adorable 2 bedroom condo with my friend Ari, who is also in my program. The place is owned by a newly-ordained HUC Rabbi who has his new pulpit in Columbus, so he won't be too far away if we need him for anything. The place is great, and I'm really excited about moving in. Ari is going out this weekend with our couch, her stuff, and some of my stuff which makes my life way easier. It's like moving in 2 shifts. I'll go out with my mom and a car full of stuff on the 8th. Once we get there, we'll shop and paint (!) and decorate and do lots of fun moving-in related activities. Thank goodness for my mom!

In the meanwhile, I'm finishing up at Waterford. The new girl is here, and she seems great. I think she'll do a really good job. I'm training her, but it also means that I'm pretty much useless here at the moment. I don't like feeling useless, so I'm anxious to get to Cinci and get life started there already! I'm excited that 2 people from college who aren't HUC affiliated will be in Cinci, so I'll have an escape outside of the bubble. Yay!

So that's the update for now. Hopefully another post soon...

S

This pretty much sums it up...

A recent blog post written by the Dean of my program in Jerusalem. I found it to be very poignant. He is an excellent writter and an even better speaker...

From The Jerusalem Post
Thursday Jul 24, 2008
Reform Reflections: Life and death on King David street
Posted by Rabbi Michael Marmur
For much of my adult life I have studied, taught and worked on King David Street in Jerusalem. It is certainly no ordinary work address. World leaders stay there - in recent months we have played host to Bush, Blair, then Bush again, Blair, Rice, Blair Carter, Sarkozy, Blair (I'm beginning to think that man has nothing better to do), Brown, Mc Cain, Obama - and that doesn't do justice to the tens of less famous officials - Fishing Ministers from Ruritania and Tax Inspectors from Uzbekhistan.Then there are the Life Cycle Events. Families compete with each other to hold the most opulent and often gaudy events: barmy Bar Mitzvahs, wild weddings, and far from circumspect circumcisions. And let's not forget the welcome crush of tourists, staying in comfort and often returning home with some expensive artifacts purchased at one of our street's many upscale emporia. More hotels are on the way, along with a plethora of swanky apartment buildings aimed at visionaries and speculators.It is perhaps a surprise that one of the street's most famous and significant landmarks is the YMCA, an oasis of dialogue and culture and encounter and health. If you've never been, you owe it to yourself to drink in the architectural attractions, climb to the top of the tower, and stop off for a Pilates class at the same time. Jews and Arabs (both Muslim and Christian) feel at home at the YMCA.Over the last years King David Street has also played host to the Annual Gay Pride parade. Visitors to similar events might mistake the throng of men dressed in police uniform walking by the YMCA as some kind of hommage to the Village People, but in our city's parade they are actually policemen, on hand in order to protect the crowd from the taunts of those who combine theological certainty with personal insecurity. A variety of Jewish institutions grace the street: on avenues nearby some of the most important foundations and philanthropic agencies are to be found. AIPAC is across the street. The Gesher Institute is opposite my own institution, the Hebrew Union College, and our campus plays host to Merkaz Shimshon and Bet Shmuel - the world headquarters of the Reform Movement. In recent years an Ultra-Orthodox Yeshiva has opened up in close proximity. With the international center of Conservative Judaism a couple of blocks away, we are arguably situated in the most denominationally diverse address in the Jewish world. It is truly the High Street of the Jewish People. The street is no stranger to acts of violence. The most spectacular and deadly event took place back in 1946, with the notorious attack on the street's most famous eponymous hotel. 45 years later, a planned suicide bombing succeeded in killing the man with the explosive jacket, but no innocent victims. And now, earlier this week, King David Street saw the second example in as many weeks of Tractor Terror. A man driving a construction vehicle started ramming and squashing vehicles, although he was killed before he managed to kill anyone else. Five of my students were in close proximity to the attack this week. Four of the College's Israeli students were enjoying a break at a local café, and were afforded a grandstand view of the grim and swift proceedings. More directly still, one woman recently arrived from the US on our Year in Israel Program found herself directly behind the tractor. As soon as the gunshots began to ring out she took cover behind a tree. Once the emergency was over, she dusted herself off and went to her apartment. When I saw her soon after she was shaken but not stirred, and we spent some time talking about her road to the Rabbinate. For her and hundreds of others, the first Road to the Rabbinate is King David Street. When I passed the scene of the attack a couple of hours later, an assortment of characters had shown up - a Government Minister in search of a photo opportunity, and some Kahanist crazies in search of a hatred opportunity. Chabad were also there for some reason, with a large banner promising Messianic days. Somehow the bizarre nature of the scene seemed natural in a road in which the incongruous is inevitable. Those who try to bring death to this place of life will not succeed, even if (Heaven forbid) a future attack yields casualties. Somehow the untidy yet intense drama being played out in the street - Jews and Arabs, locals and tourists, Liberals and Traditionalists, wealthy and modest - must not be curtailed. It may have its tractors and its detractors, but the spirit of King David Street cannot be bulldozed.