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Healing member support mental health Torah

Confronting Our Fears through Tazria and M’tzora

This week’s Torah portion, Tazria and M’tzora is difficult. It also has a reputation for inspiring fear and dread of any bar or bat mitzvah student who receives it for their Shabbat service. Tazria and M’tzora speak of bodily functions, illness, and quarantine. It talks about:

  • Childbirth
  • Disease
  • Contact with bodily fluids
  • Afflictions of the skin

It also speaks of how, when a person contracts a condition like this, they need to go through a series of ritual cleansings, inspections, and separation before they are allowed back into the community.

The disease, Tzaraat (which I’ll talk more about below) is not only a human disease—it can affect the walls of people’s homes as well—thereby giving it another dimension that expands its reach from that of a human disease to a more global condition.

It’s tempting to try and draw parallels from the fact that these two Torah portions speak of disease and quarantine while our community, state, nation and, indeed, the entire world is coping with the coronavirus—but, rather than succumbing to this temptation, I want to talk instead about why these chapters are included in our sacred text in the first place. What lessons can we learn—not only from the content of our parashah, but the context in which the discussion takes place? You see, I don’t think that all of these laws about tzaraat—which we translate as leprosy, but clearly is something else—are included in the narrative to teach us about cleanliness, diagnosis or medical care. Rather, I think, they are about our fears.

Tzaraat, in our text, is a disease that clearly has a powerful impact on the Ancient Israelite community. It is not only experienced physically, but spiritually. The fact that houses can be infected, as well as humans, should give us a clue that more is going on beneath the surface than is readily apparent.

This time of quarantine, illness, and loss has taken its toll on all of us. The facts that we cannot be physically close to one another; that our economy is suffering; that our national political discourse has become so toxic, are taking a toll on us physically, emotionally and spiritually. We do not know how long this will continue. We worry about our health and those of our loved ones—some of whom are dealing with the virus, others who are vulnerable, and others who are on the front lines providing medical care, research, support, and other crucial services that allow us to function. We worry about how we will emerge from our isolation and what our world will look like once we do.

In Tazaria and M’tzora, our ancestors had to deal with the unknown. They were afraid of something over which they had no control. The rituals of isolation, immersion, and re-entry were designed to provide a safe framework for the people to feel that they were not endangered by this unseen enemy.

I’ve been reading a lot lately about how psychologists and other mental health professionals are keenly aware of the fact that everyone is affected (infected?) by COVID-19, regardless of whether or not they contract the virus. The radical overturning of our daily lives that we are experiencing is enough to shift our emotional equilibrium. This can manifest itself in many different forms—from depression to compulsive behaviors, to denial, revolt, and even other physical ailments.

Perhaps one of our key tasks at this time is to try to understand and anticipate our fear of the unknown and our reactions to it. As such, I want to propose the following seven questions for us to explore as we continue on our journey:

  1. Research has shown that staying physically active during quarantine is an essential part of staying healthy. Am I engaging in enough physical activity?
  2. For those who are in quarantine with others: Am I aware of the needs of others in my home? Am I doing all that I can to understand what they are going through as well me? Am I tolerant of my own missteps as well as those with whom I am living?
  3. Am I doing all that I can to be productive during this time? Are there tasks that need to be completed? Do I have outlets for creativity and meaningful outlets other than television, the internet, and other passive activities?
  4. Am I looking for ways to help others? Are there ways that I can volunteer my time or expertise as well as my financial resources?
  5. Am I willing to receive help from others?
  6. Psychologists teach us that it is important that we not dwell too long on the length of time that we have been—or will be—socially distant. We need to remind ourselves that this is a temporary situation that will be resolved someday. We also need to be “in the moment” as much as we can.
  7. There will be times when our fears will get the best of us. No one can be strong all the time. Have I been able to forgive myself for those moments when I don’t feel productive or give into the despair of the moment?

Again, these are only a few questions designed to help us process our fears of the unknown. Like our ancestors wandering in the wilderness, there is much that we do not know. At the same time, however, we also have the blessing of being part of a sacred community that cares for one another.

Rabbi Joe Black is Senior Rabbi at Temple Emanuel in Denver, Colorado. 


Categories
Torah

What Tazria and M’tzora Can Teach Us about Disease and Leadership

What is the real purpose of leadership? In ancient Israel, as in many of the ancient cultures, there were two leadership segments, the actual government rulers, and the leaders of that culture’s religion. In ancient Jewish history, religious leadership was the kohanim, priests. What was the true purpose of the priests? According to Rabbi Jacob Milgrom, who wrote the Anchor Bible commentary books on Leviticus, the priests’ roles were to do as much as possible to ensure God’s presence in the community. Moses, by the end of the book of Exodus, had literally brought God’s presence into the center of the Israelite community. Numerous midrashim from the rabbinic era state how human actions either increase or decrease the Divine presence. Milgrom’s commentary teaches how in the best-case scenario the High Priests’ focus was to lead the community in maintaining God’s presence.

Leviticus shows how the different aspects of the High Priests’ duties combine with the general population’s situations. This starts with the sacrificial system, whose purpose was to communicate to God that the people had either made a correction for something wrong, or did something right. A sacrifice was an invitation for God’s presence to return, or to increase. Sacrifices could not be holy on their own, but only if they properly represented the Jewish people’s actions in moving towards holiness. There were moral commandments spelled out in detail, outlining a large part of the population’s obligations. The Holiness Code in chapter 19 is a primary example. Morality was presented as a requirement to increase the Divine presence in our world.

An additional approach appears in this week’s dual Torah portion of Tazria and M’tzora: how to deal with a certain kind of disease. Tazria gives great details in how priests should examine and diagnose the disease called צָרָ֑עַת, tzaraat, which is often mistranslated as leprosy. The symptoms describing what the priests would examine are not what we typically know as leprosy, but versions of different skin afflictions, anything from eczema or psoriasis to deep infections. The priest’s diagnosis would determine if the person had to be quarantined, or was actually clean enough to stay in the community. The priest who examined a specific case had to re-examine after a week. If the affliction continued, he determined if it was on the level of an infection like leprosy, or something much milder.

The priesthood’s tending to the disease was part of their duty to ensure God’s presence. There is no question that some priestly leaders were more efficient, more diligent, or more productive than others, but none of that undermined the level of their honesty or morality. That was determined by the way a High Priest took his position and/or how he used his authority. Stories of numerous corrupt priesthoods, most notably those egotistically desiring authoritarian power instead of focusing on God’s presence, are told in the first segment of the Talmud’s tractate Yoma. This was common during the era of the second Temple.

When we try to put this into today’s perspective, we can gain a lesson about how a leader should combine necessary medical science with duty to God. While we can notice mistakes made in ancient times, because less was known about disease, the central point is to use medical knowledge to increase the holiness of a community. That is not dependent, for example, on congregating in mass to praise God, but knowing when to isolate those suffering from certain diseases. Saving lives is a key part of creating divinity in society. A true religious leader is not concerned about who shows up for an event, but who is healthy and who needs treatment—be it physical or spiritual. The connections, between physical and spiritual illness, leap forward in this week’s second portion, M’tzora.

Beginning in Leviticus 14:33, a potential plague on the stones of houses, and how to address them, is described. The same word is used to describe the stone plague as the skin disease in Tazria: tzaraat. A priest determines if the treatment needs only to be of the stones containing the affliction by removing or scraping them, or if the entire house needs to be torn down.  The context given in the Torah is when the Israelites took Canaan that this plague might exist in certain houses. Rashi saw this as a way for the Israelites to find gold hidden in the walls by the Amorites, perhaps a lesson on the wrong way to focus on materialism.

A deeper interpretation of the reason for a house’s stone infections is a midrash from Vayikra Rabbah, chapter 17. It says that tzaraat occurs to a house when the residents who have plenty of food refuse to give help to people who are starving, especially by lying. For example, if asked for wheat and they lie by saying they have none, the house gets the disease. This illustrates how immorality causes a sick environment. The very next midrash in the same chapter of Vayikra Rabbah lists ten sins that will bring on tzaraat. Besides sins against God, the list includes, stealing from the public, usurping a position for which one has no right, displaying excessive pride, using evil speech, and wrongly seeing others as evil.

If we put together an overview approach of this week’s double Torah portion, a leader truly dedicated to improving their community must correctly diagnose a disease. They must be consistent in treating and reanalyzing the situation. They must be aware of the immoral aspects, and cannot allow an over focus on existence simply for materialistic reasons. God’s presence can increase only if human life is respected and served on the highest level. Leviticus verses 14:46 and 47 show that a leader himself must be careful not to get over exposed to the affliction. In the context of the midrashim, we can add that a leader must not get corrupted by the disease of “sin.”

These Torah portions give us a context to add key questions about the pandemic situation we are experiencing today: How are our leaders protecting exposure? Are our leaders making proper use of the available medical knowledge? Are they too focused on materialism over preserving life? Are leaders dedicated to God’s presence or to practicing their authoritarian wishes? Is their focus on their personal situation or what is best for the whole community? Are they providing what is needed for the poorest and most distraught? Finally, what are we as individuals doing to increase the Divine presence? Are we only concerned about ourselves or also caring about others? Are we appreciating those who must do the most work in dealing with the problems caused by the pandemic, e.g., all health workers, teachers, deliverers, and leaders making hard decisions? All of us can be part of the influence that when this is over, will God’s presence be more, or less?

Rabbi W. Jack Romberg worked in business for eighteen years, then, at age 42 entered HUC-JIR. After ordination, he served for eighteen years as the rabbi for Temple Israel in Tallahassee, Florida, and upon retirement in June of 2019 received a key to the city from the mayor. As Rabbi Emeritus, he writes weekly Torah commentaries for the congregation.

Categories
Healing member support

Know That You Are Loved

I can’t remember the last time I sat in my backyard in mid-April, on a towel on the ground eating lunch in the sunshine. It’s possible that I never have. It would take a pandemic and social distancing to create the opening for lunch al fresco at the Lyon house. The neighborhood around me was oddly quiet, too. As I looked into the sky, I saw a blue jay way up high on a telephone line. It sat there for a long time without any fear of a rumbling truck down below or any disturbance around it. It had a long twig in its beak. I thought it would fly off to finish its nest building, but it didn’t. Silly bird, I thought, there’s so much to do and you’re taking a break on the telephone line. 

Then I felt oddly embarrassed. I began to learn something about myself as I continued to stare at the bird. The quiet of the day, without back-to-back meetings and urgent matters, enabled me to perch on my lawn for an extended time, too. I truly wanted the bird to fly away so I could get back to thoughts about my work, but it didn’t leave. The longer it stayed, the longer I had to think about eating more slowly than before, soaking up more sun than I would have, and digesting more than my lunch, but also some new expectations. 

We’re all creatures in nature, but surely there’s a difference. What is it? In Mishnah Pirkei Avot (3:14) we learn that Rabbi Akiva used to say, “Beloved of God is man (sic) for he was created in the image of God; but greater still was the love [shown him] in that it was made known to him that he was created in the image of God, as it is said, For in the image of God made He man (Genesis 9:6).” Rabbi Samuel Karff taught about this verse, “It is one thing to be loved; it is another thing to know that you are loved.” The difference is our awareness of our Creator, and, in that awareness, our discovery of irrefutable and unconditional love. 

During these days of COVID-19, and all that it has come to mean, we can all find comfort in what God’s love can mean to us, what love between us can help us know, and what self-love can enable us to be. 

Eventually, the bird on the telephone line flew off to build its nest and to be, well, a bird. I picked up my plates and towel from the ground and finished my day with deeper appreciation of my Creator’s love, greater thanks for those who are sharing this pandemic period with me at home, and increasing awareness of self-care as a necessary part of moving on from here, one day. I wish for you the same and much more. 

Rabbi David Lyon is Senior Rabbi at Congregation Beth Israel in Houston, Texas.

Categories
Healing Holiday Passover Pesach spirituality

When Is Enough, Enough Already?

With Pesach just concluded, I am still contemplating part of the seder. In my family, like many others, we add to the singing of Dayeinu, the wonderful custom of smiting one another with scallion. “Dai, dai yeinu, dai, dai yeinu…,” we sing joyfully. “It would have been enough. Enough, enough, enough. To bring us out of Egypt, to give us Shabbat, to give us Torah—enough, enough.

But when examining the stages of Dayeinu, I wonder, would each of these moments really have been enough? To have been brought out of Egypt, but left at the Red Sea? To have been brought into the desert, but with no manna? To have been brought to Sinai, but with no Torah? Would that really have been enough?

And so, too, now we wonder. In each of our lives, we have moments when it is simply not “enough.” To have been given chemo for our cancer, but given —lo dai.  To have cutting-edge treatment for my depression, without feeling better—lo dai. To work towards a vaccine, without lowering the rate of transmission of COVID-19—lo dai.  

And, when, at the time of Elijah’s cup, we remember and recite the tradition of “pour out Your wrath,” when we note that “in every generation, tyrants have risen up to oppress us,” we might think—yes, God, enough. Perhaps more than enough. In this time of coronavirus, we may think, “Yes, oh God, enough already.” Surely we could learn to feel God’s presence, God’s redemption in our lives without yet another plague or persecution.  

I led two Zoom seders this year. Ordinarily I lead one, and my family is invited out to the other. Not only was I exhausted afterwards, but it was hard to tell how they went. As opposed to “in-person” sedarim, online ones are murky. Were other people singing along? Was there joy in being together? Did we lift up our voices together in Hallel, and were we silly as a group in the songs at the end? Or were people just tired, bored, waiting for the end?

If I felt worn out after two nights of leading family and friends, I can only imagine both the over-functioning of my pulpit and other working colleagues, and their need for positive feedback, to know that their efforts are hitting the mark often enough. That they are dai.  

And so it occurs to me that perhaps this is what Dayeinu means to us this year. Not that we say to God, “What You have done for us is enough,” but rather, “Dayei-nu” “we are dai, we are enough.” If our seder leadership brought our families to Sinai (without a major Torah revelation), well, then, we are dai! We are good enough, and we did enough. If our remote visits to the sick and with mourners comforts them, but not as good as a hug would have, אנחנו די, we are enough! And if we are leading remote services on Shabbat, then, remember—we, too, need a Shabbat, a rest—because we have needs, because we are enough, not God.

In this extraordinary time of uncertainty and fear, of rabbis rising to do remarkable work, let our Pesach hymn carry us forth. God, give us enough to work with, when we affirm that we, ourselves, are enough. And that is the blessing of gratitude and limits, of thanksgiving and self-acceptance, wrapped into a song of joy and scallions.

Rabbi Sandra Cohen teaches rabbinic texts, provides pastoral care, and works in mental health outreach, offering national scholar-in-residence programs. She and her husband live in Denver, Colorado. She may be reached at ravsjcohen@gmail.com.

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Books Ethics General CCAR Holiday lifelong learning omer Rituals Social Justice

The Custom to Learn Pirkei Avot during the Omer

Rabbi Yanklowitz is the author of Pirkei Avot: A Social Justice Commentary. In this post, he reflects on the custom of studying Pirkei Avot during the Omer.

There is a traditional Jewish custom during the Omer—the seven-week period between the holiday of Passover and the holiday of Shavuot—to study Pirkei Avot on Shabbat afternoons. Some have the custom of studying Pirkei Avot past Shavuot, all the way until Rosh HaShanah.[1] This custom first appears in the period of the Geonim, dating roughly between the sixth and eleventh centuries CE. The practice is opportune because there are enough chapters of Pirkei Avot (six) to study just one chapter each Shabbat of the Omer (also six) and complete the teachings. This custom is also quite fitting since the Omer is traditionally a time when we focus on the refinement of our character traits (middot), which is the primary ethical purpose of Pirkei Avot. 

The Sages of the Talmud knew that Shabbat days were longer in the summer months and therefore wanted to utilize that time for further Torah study.[2] While some Sages of the time suggested that we should avoid studying Torah on Shabbat afternoon in mourning for the death of Moses, who died on a Shabbat afternoon,[3] the Geonim, due to the length of summer Shabbat afternoons, overrode that prohibition.[4] A different suggestion[5] on the timing posits that we should study Torah on steamy Shabbat afternoons to wake ourselves up, both physically and spiritually. 

Another possibility for why we study Pirkei Avot on Shabbat might be that Pirkei Avot reminds us of the power of the oral tradition, which is how we learned to celebrate Shabbat. The Karaites, on the other hand, rejected the oral tradition and thus rejected Shabbat as developed in Rabbinic Judaism. Reinforcing the living, evolving Rabbinic tradition could best be achieved on Shabbat itself, a living manifestation of the nonliteral Rabbinic interpretive enterprise. 

Yet the idea of studying Pirkei Avot on Shabbat seems more practical. At Passover, we look out at the external world with messages of freedom and liberation, but then we transition back to the inner world with Shavuot and Rosh HaShanah focusing on introspection and reflection. Pirkei Avot does the opposite, focusing on society and fostering justice in the world but starting with our character and personal behavior. Shabbat afternoon, historically, presented the easiest opportunity to bring ethics to the masses, as it is a time to gather, pause, reflect on the past week, and recharge for the upcoming week. Just as we re-enter the toil of a week of hard work, we come together to reflect on our ethical lives. 

Many of the mishnayot, the early Rabbinic literature in the Talmud, deal with rituals, sacrifices, and points of nuanced theology. Pirkei Avot, however, is unique in that it draws upon the Jewish ethical tradition and expands these teachings in simple and clear ways. The Sages credited with the teachings emphasized how important it is to study continuously and to work to fulfill the lessons found within Pirkei Avot.[6]

It is remarkable that Pirkei Avot is free of discussions of religious procedures, as most Jewish texts from the era are primarily concerned with ritual and legal practices. The text’s objective is not to focus on studying religious rules. Instead, this is a work consisting purely of timeless life wisdom. Each of the Talmudic Sages had multiple points of wisdom to share, but only one or a handful of their teachings were recorded in Pirkei Avot. It is humbling to think that after a life of teaching profound wisdom, one’s existence may be remembered through only one sentence. 

Pirkei Avot Cover

Studying and writing my commentary on Pirkei Avot, which was published by CCAR Press in 2018, helped me realign my thoughts toward the relationship between humanity and the Divine as well as interpersonal relationships between individuals. I realized that internal character development is significantly more important to me than acquiring new things and skills, freeing me from the futile rat race of success in contemporary society. I wanted to be more reflective about my moral and spiritual choices and to strive to live wisely. I wanted to feel the burning challenge every day to strive for intellectual, spiritual, relational, religious, and moral growth. 

Pirkei Avot is the work that continues to keep me focused on this journey. I hope that my commentary inspires you to find that place within yourself to propel the world toward reconciliation and spiritual enlightenment. The ability to study the words of our sages during the Omer is a reminder that wisdom is ageless, applicable, and available to anyone who seeks it. It’s a beautiful flower that continues to bloom for the Jewish people and, indeed, all those in need of inspiration. 

Interested in counting the Omer? Omer: A Counting by Rabbi Karyn D. Kedar, published by CCAR Press, is available in print, ebook, as an app and in daily Omer cards.

Rabbi Dr. Shmuly Yanklowitz is the President and Dean of Valley Beit Midrash in Phoenix, Arizona. He is the author of Pirkei Avot: A Social Justice Commentary and the forthcoming The Book of Jonah: A Social Justice Commentary, both published by CCAR Press.

[1] There are other customs as well. Rabbi David Golinkin records sixteen different customs on when to study Pirkei Avot throughout the year: https://schechter.edu/when-should-we-study-pirkei-avot-and-when-should-we-recite-barekhi-nafshi-and-shirei-hamaalot-on-shabbat-afternoon/

[2] BT Bava Kama 82a

[3] See the Zohar (Parashat T’rumah 548): “Moses passed from this world at the hour of Sabbath minchah prayers, which is a time of grace.” The Zohar says there that it was not only Moses but also Joseph and King David who died on Shabbat. It should be noted, however, that there is a dissenting view that Moshe did not die on Shabbat but on Friday afternoon. See, for example, the Tosafot on Tractate M’nachot 30a. Rabbenu Mordechai bar Hillel Ashkenazi also wrote in Sefer Mordekhai on Tractate P’sachim 37: “Moreover, as it is said in Sifre, on the day that Moses died he wrote thirteen scrolls of the Law, one for each of the tribes and one that was placed in the Ark; if it had been the Sabbath, how could he have written them?”

[4] T’shuvot Rav Sar Shalom Gaon #14; T’shuvot Rav Natronai Gaon OH #15; 46

[5] The Midrash Shmuel

[6] BT Bava Kama 30a

Categories
Prayer

A Prayer for the Frustrated and Disappointed

As a result of the the COVID-19 pandemic, many of us have faced or are facing the reality of long-awaited celebrations and gatherings suddenly canceled or postponed—b’nei mitzvah, weddings, holidays, even Shabbat services. Rabbi Daniel A. Weiner shares a poem he wrote to offer some perspective and hope to help us manage the sense of disappointment, frustration, and loss that we face when our much-anticipated in-person gatherings turn virtual.

Light of Hope, Lens of Vision
You made us eager and excited,
Setting our hearts on celebrations and pride
In milestones reached and challenges overcome.

Yet you forged us for loss,
For grief, for anger and for the pain
Of what could have-been.

Does One depend on the Other,
To make meaning, to focus view,
To feel blessed rather than cursed,
Contented over wanting?

Are we to nurture a seedling
Of character, or humility,
To better sense our place,
Or privilege, or fortune
In merely being?

Or is this just the way things are,
As we fix our needs and desires,
Our dreams and our faith,
Upon a world and life
That rises to meet us,
Or simply drifts away.

And so, we find You,
Not in the futile plaint,
But in the length of road;
Not in the absence or void,
But in the space, newly found;
Sparks from the silence,
Stoked into resilience.

Blessed Are You, The Holy One of Hope,
Who holds out the horizon,
And turns us into
Another day.

Rabbi Daniel A. Weiner is the senior rabbi of Temple De Hirsch Sinai in Seattle and Bellevue, Washington. He enjoys spending time with his family, enjoying the majestic climes of the Pacific Northwest.

Categories
spirituality Technology

Klei Kodesh: New and Old Tools to Create Holiness

The extraordinary disruption and stress of facing the coronavirus has impacted my rabbinate in ways unlike almost anything I have experienced in over twenty years in the pulpit.  

However, in a sense, the work and the primary goal is still the same: to create meaningful and sacred moments for the members of my congregation and for the broader community.  

I have found myself reflecting on the tools I am using over the last several weeks. Each day, I learn more and refine my skills. Each day, I encounter both satisfaction and frustration in these efforts. 

I have been using computers ever since my ordination in 1999, however the depth and breadth of that activity has grown exponentially over the years.  It has become routine, for example, to communicate with people through email, and to post information on our temple website.  

In these last weeks, email has become even more critical, with the absence of in-person activities. I find myself asking a question, though, each time I start to write an email: Does this need to be a phone call or video chat?  Whereas before emails were a valuable tool that gave me flexibility and efficiency, I find that now there is a hunger to connect in the most direct way possible. I am making many more phone calls than I have in a number of years.  

Part of my Shabbat practice for many years has been setting aside my cell phone and computer. This wasn’t so much about my understanding of the halachah of using electricity as it was about my need to create a certain restful and inward focused space on Shabbat. Simply put, I needed to unplug.

Now, my cell phone has become a critical part of offering robust and meaningful Shabbat study and worship. My colleagues and I are leading from three different locations. On Pesach morning, we offered a service jointly with our sister congregation, and we led from six different locations!  

My cell is now a tool that helps me create holiness. When we text one another, it is a powerful way of coordinating and ensuring that the prayer experience happens the way we want.  

I never thought of tech support as a sacred task, but when I use my cell to text with a congregant to help them log on to a service or study session, it is a powerful tool in the sacred work of engagement. 

Using Zoom and other platforms for meetings, worship, and pastoral counseling is a new and challenging activity. Here too, rather than set aside technology, it enables me to forge connections that are so critically important right now. The computer becomes a tool that can alleviate the isolation felt by everyone, especially those who are living alone.  

But, of course, what happens when the internet connection fails in the middle of a service? Or when screen sharing doesn’t work the way it’s supposed to?  

In the thousands of services I’ve led, I’ve never had an experience with a conventional service where my fellow service leader disappeared right in the middle of the service! Or where all of a sudden the prayerbooks vanished from everyone’s hands at once!

When these things happen, I try and remind myself that these are just unique parts of using these tools to create holy experiences. The holy experience comes when we open ourselves up to those who are in need, when we extend ourselves to those who are facing challenging circumstances. Each time we use these tools, we get better and better, and things run much more according to plan.

It is a reminder to me that “smooth” is not the ultimate goal. In a conventional setting, we may finish the service or class and be pleased that everything went smoothly. We started on time, hit all our cues, and everything unfolded the way we hoped.  

Now, in this new reality, I try and focus on something bigger. There may be pauses or glitches or even the need to change something on the fly. But, the bottom line is that these new technologies, these new klei Kodesh, enable us to honor Shabbat, to retain Torah study as a nourishing part of the community, and to bring people together, even when we are physically apart.

For most of my rabbinate, I have done the Torah reading by taking the scroll from the ark with the traditional ritual, opening to the weekly portion, and reading and translating the prescribed chapter. I have done so out of my fervent belief that my role was to transmit the Torah in a meaningful and engaging way. While musical and comfortable with the cantillation, I rarely chose to chant through the portion.

With the shift to Zoom services, I quickly realized that one of the elements of the service that would be hardest to replicate would be the Torah reading ritual. With everyone in their own homes, we didn’t have an ark or a scroll.  There would be no hakafah and no hagbahah.  

I wanted to provide a sense of continuity and connection to tradition. And so, what I’ve done each week is put up on the screen a picture of the inside of the scroll for everyone to see, and I’ve chanted the portion for the congregation for everyone to hear.  

I believe this enables everyone to receive the Torah in a meaningful and engaging way. While they can’t touch and kiss the scroll, every single person is able to see the sacred calligraphy of the Torah. Even while sitting in their homes, we are all able to hear the powerful sound of the Torah, just as it has been heard for so many years.  

So, even in this brand-new world, and with the use of all these technologies, I am finding anchors in the continuing ancient traditions. The blend of old and new is what has always sustained us and is still the case now.  

Many years ago, when I was living in Jerusalem, I was attending Friday night services at a synagogue that was just in the process of building their building. One week, right in the middle of our singing and praying, the electricity went out. We found ourselves sitting in the dark!  

After a momentary pause, we simply continued singing and praying and honoring Shabbat, relishing the tangible sense of connection. We didn’t need anything other than our voices…and one another. It was a transcendent and sacred experience I will always remember.  

We have many tools at our disposal. I celebrate that we are using our phones and computers and so much more to sustain and even deepen our communities during this most challenging time. Let us continue to have the flexibility and openness to learn how to use all of the tools that we can.  

When we see these technologies as tools that help us create sacred experiences and sustain holy connections, we strengthen our communities.  If this moment is indeed part of the beginning of the next era in how the Jewish community functions, we can be part of a bright future. We have all that we need to come through this time stronger and closer than ever before: we are in this together.

Rabbi Stein is the senior rabbi of Temple B’rith Kodesh in Rochester, New York and an adjunct faculty member at the Colgate Rochester Crozer Divinity School. He is the outgoing Dues Chair for the CCAR and the Vice Chair of the CCAR Convention Committee.

Categories
News Social Justice

Why the CCAR Fights to Keep Contraception Free

During CCAR Connect in March 2020, many of us learned from Nancy Northup, President and CEO of the Center for Reproductive Rights, about “The Pursuit of Reproductive Rights as Human Rights.” In her keynote presentation, she discussed two important cases going before the Supreme Court this term. One of these could determine the availability of contraception to large numbers of Americans. The CCAR has just joined in a brief amicus curiae to the Court insisting that women continue to have a right to free contraception.

The Affordable Care Act (ACA) mandates that group insurance plans make contraception available at no cost. If a house of worship or a religiously affiliated employer does not want to offer contraception coverage, it can notify the government, and the government will provide that coverage directly to the employees. In the Hobby Lobby case of 2014, the Court extended this opt-out to certain for-profit businesses.

Since then, the federal government has issued regulations that would allow any employer of any type that claims “moral objections” not only to opt out of having its insurance provide free contraceptive coverage but to ensure that the government could no longer provide that free coverage either. In other words, any employer that so desired could keep its employees from getting free contraceptive coverage, despite the ACA’s mandate. The federal Third Circuit Court of Appeals issued a nationwide injunction preventing these regulations from taking effect, and that injunction is before the Supreme Court now in two cases that have been effectively joined as one, Little Sisters of the Poor v. Pennsylvania and Trump v. Pennsylvania.  

Working with the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism, the CCAR joined a brief filed by several religious organizations, including some Muslim, Catholic, Unitarian Universalist, and a number of Jewish ones. It highlights how there is support for contraception in several religions. Allowing employers to use their own religious beliefs to deprive employees of contraceptive coverage would favor one person’s religious persuasion over others. In the words of the brief, “In a religiously pluralistic society, a woman’s contraception coverage should not depend on the religious or moral beliefs of her employer or university.”

It is appropriate that this brief is being filed during chol hamoeid Pesach, this season of our freedom. Contraceptives serve various health benefits, not all directly related to pregnancy. But perhaps their most important contribution is expressed in this sentence from the brief: “Improved access to contraception enables women to achieve their educational and professional goals, earn more income, and enjoy more stable marriages.”  In other words, limiting the ability of Americans to access medically reliable contraception will interfere with the freedom of women. During Passover of all times, that cannot stand. We in the CCAR have long realized that such limitations are inconsistent with our Jewish values. Today, we said as much to the highest court in the land.

Rabbi Thomas M. Alpert serves Temple Etz Chaim in Franklin, MA.

Categories
Rabbis Responsa Rituals

New Responsum: B’rit Milah During the COVID-19 Pandemic (5780.3)

The CCAR is pleased to present this responsum on b’rit milah during the COVID-19 pandemic, the newest addition to our historic collection of questions and answers about Jewish living. Find the CCAR’s collection of Reform responsa here.

Please note: This responsa deals with the ritual aspects of b’rit milah. A doctor should always be consulted in regard to the medical aspects of b’rit milah.

Question
What should be the proper procedure regarding b’rit milah during the COVID-19 pandemic?
(Submitted by Rabbi Julie Pelc Adler, Director, B’rit Milah Program of Reform Judaism)

Response
In the midst of the current pandemic, it is understandable that parents and mohalim/ot are confused and frightened. We will examine the issues here carefully, one by one.

1. The importance of b’rit milah

In emphasizing the importance of b’rit milah the Talmud equates it to all the other mitzvot and, indeed, credits it with preserving the very existence of the world.[1]  In Christian lands it was an unmistakable, permanent marker of Jewishness; in Muslim lands, it marked Jewish male children.  Its complex psychological significance in a classically male-centered Jewish spirituality cannot be overstated.[2] It is true that the first generations of Reformers were deeply ambivalent about it; Kaufmann Kohler, for example, called it “a barbarous cruelty,” and recommended its abolition.[3]  It is quite likely that most Reform Jews would have ceased to practice circumcision had it not been for the view that gained currency in the early 20th century, that circumcision conveyed hygienic and health benefits.[4]  Before World War II, lengthy post-partum hospital stays for middle- and upper-class women and their infants made it easy to arrange a hospital circumcision, with or without ritual.  In the postwar era, however, shortened hospital stays led to numerous inquiries about the acceptability of circumcision before the eighth day, or the reality of Jews simply ignoring b’rit milah in favor of medical circumcision.  While Responsa Committee chair Israel Bettan authored a strenuous objection to that widespread practice in 1954,[5] Solomon Freehof was far more accommodating in 1960.[6]  All Reform responsa since then, however, have followed R. Bettan in insisting on the importance of milah on the eighth day as a religious rite.[7]  As a movement we have encouraged Reform Jews to choose b’rit milah  on the eighth day, and have facilitated this by training Reform mohalim/ot.

2. Circumstances for delaying b’rit milah

We are forbidden to endanger ourselves. As Maimonides writes:  “The Sages prohibited many things because they are life-threatening.  And anyone who ignores their words, and says, ‘I can go ahead and endanger myself; what business is it of anyone else what I do to myself?’ or ‘I pay no attention to that’ – they are to flog him for rebelliousness.”[8] We are obligated to preserve ourselves from danger (and, as parents, we are responsible for preserving our children from danger). There is, therefore, unanimous agreement among all halakhic authorities that we delay b’rit milah if the infant is not healthy enough to undergo it.[9] By contrast, there is far less consideration of whether b’rit milah might risk the well-being of an otherwise healthy infant.[10]  However, there is a faint thread running through the halakha that is worth examining in detail. It begins with this Talmudic passage:

Rav Pappa said:  Therefore, on a cloudy day or on a day when a south wind is blowing, we do not circumcise [an infant], nor do we draw blood.  But nowadays, when people are accustomed to ignore [these strictures, we rely on the assurance that] Adonai preserves the simple (Ps. 116:6) [and we proceed on the assumption that no harm will follow].[11]

This statement was never codified in the later halakha, but the Nimukei Yosef cites it approvingly:

The Ritba wrote in the name of his teacher [with reference to this passage]:  From here we learn that whoever does not wish to circumcise on a cloudy day has permission to do so, and is acting with clear justification in not relying on Adonai preserves the simple. And similarly it is appropriate not to circumcise on Shabbat if it is cloudy.[12]

The discussion of this issue by the Arukh Ha-Shulḥan makes abundantly clear that the underlying concern is whether conditions are such that performing the rite could endanger the infant:

…But Rabbenu Yeruham wrote that neither a cloudy day nor a south wind delays the b’rit milah, because Adonai preserves the simple.  However, the strain of a journey – meaning that the infant is ill from the strain of having made a journey, does postpone the b’rit, until he is well.  Another authority wrote that anything other than some illness in the infant himself – such as having to go on a journey – does not delay the b’rit, just as we do not delay it for the sake of blowing winds.

Obviously, we do not delay the b’rit for the purpose of going on a journey, but rather we carry it out. But it seems to me that it is obviously forbidden to take the infant on a long journey until he has recovered from the circumcision, lest he be endangered. However, it may be permissible to take him in a wagon, since in that case he is placed in one spot and appropriately covered with blankets and pillows. Also, one can see, when they have brought him on a journey by wagon, whether any weakness appears in him. This requires examination by experts in the body and face of the infant. Indeed, we have never heard what the Nimukei Yosef wrote, that on cloudy days it is permitted to delay the b’rit.  In fact, it is because Adonai preserves the simple that we are lenient on optional matters such as drawing blood on the eve of Shabbat…and thus all the more so with regard to an important commandment such as circumcision.  And the proof of this is that not a single one of the authorities saw fit to mention this.  So we learn that we do not use its guidance in fulfilling our obligation. Thus has the custom spread, and there is no changing it.[13]

It is quite obvious that the original authority, Rav Pappa, was expressing a genuine medical concern, based on his best knowledge. As subsequent generations’ medical knowledge changed, however, they dismissed these concerns as nonsense – but did not replace them with their own medical concerns.  This may reflect the tacit trend toward stringency evident in the halakha over time, as seen in other practices such as the discontinuation of hafka’at kiddushinas a way of preventing agunot, or the Ashkenazic invention of “glatt kosher.”


Fortunately, we are under no obligation to adhere to the codified halakha when a minority viewpoint has clear merit.  And as we have stated before, we rely on medical expertise:  “As rabbis, we are not competent to render judgments in scientific controversies.  Still, we do not hesitate to adopt ‘the overwhelming view’ as our standard of guidance in this and all other issues where science is the determining factor.”[14]

It is clear to us that b’rit milah may be delayed when performing the rite would endanger an otherwise healthy infant.

3. Does performing b’rit milah at this time endanger the infant?

The reality in North America is that parents can take many steps to minimize the chances of infection, but under current circumstances it is virtually impossible to eliminate all possibility of infection. Asymptomatic individuals are not being tested; the incubation period can be lengthy; and the virus is extremely contagious.  In many areas, by the time the infant reaches his eighth day, it is already highly probable that he has already been exposed to someone who is carrying the virus, unless he was born at home under conditions of strict isolation, and the medical practitioner(s) who delivered the baby were known to have tested negative for the virus.  In other areas, it appears that this will be the case before too long.

As of this writing, there is not enough science available to stand as definitive research on COVID-19 in infants. Anecdotal evidence continues to mount, however, indicating that infants do not appear to be seriously affected. Infant deaths from the virus are so rare that individual cases are being reported as news. It appears that in each case there were underlying health complications.[15]  It seems counterintuitive, and understandably goes against parents’ instinctive reactions, but so far the evidence is that babies, including newborns, are far less susceptible to COVID-19 than are older adults, unless the infants have some other health problem. It appears that the adults who would be present at a b’rit milah could be at greater risk than the infant himself.

Furthermore, there is no guarantee that this virus will disappear soon.  Experts are saying that it will continue to circulate until there is a vaccine to treat it, with some saying that we will, therefore, require social distancing for 12-18 months.[16] After that much time has elapsed, circumcision will be much more difficult and will carry its own set of risks.

Medical literature regards “newborn” circumcision as routine, requiring only local anesthesia, up to about age six weeks.[17] Beyond six weeks, or when the baby grows larger than twelve pounds, it may be advisable to wait until he is six months old and perform the procedure under general anesthesia. There is a small indication that bleeding is a more likely complication for an older baby. Furthermore, as the baby ages, the foreskin is thicker and less pliable, so it is more difficult from a technical point of view to perform the circumcision using the more traditional Mogen clamp.

It would appear, then, that there is no absolute guarantee of safety for the infant; but he is no more at risk in a b’rit milah performed on the eighth day, even during the pandemic, than he will be at any time in his first year of life. That assumes, of course, that the b’rit milah is carried out in a way that does not add needless risk. It should be in the home, and there should be no one present other than the parents and the mohel/et.  All standard procedures to minimize transmission should be followed, including wearing masks and gloves. It would be advisable to reduce danger to the parents by not having the rite performed by a mohel/et who has been working in a hospital or clinic where COVID-19 patients are being treated.

Some parents will, doubtless, consider a medical circumcision immediately after birth, followed by hatafat dam b’rit at home. We would point out that the most significant risk factor for the virus is the number of people to whom one is exposed at close range. A hospital procedure will bring the infant into contact with at least as many adults as will a b’rit milah performed at home.

Conclusions

  1. B’rit milah on the eighth day is a mitzvah that we as Reform Jews take extremely seriously.
  2. We take seriously the obligation of sh’mirat ha-guf, preserving our well-being, and we therefore recognize danger to an otherwise healthy infant as a valid reason for postponing a b’rit milah.
  3. In keeping with our commitment to taking into account the best scientific and medical advice, given what we know about COVID-19, its transmission, and the danger it poses to infants, we do not find that performing the b’rit milahon the eighth day, with appropriate precautions, poses a more significant risk to the infant than delaying it until the pandemic has passed.

As we wrote recently, the COVID-19 pandemic constitutes a genuine emergency situation (sha’at had’ḥak). “In an emergency situation a bet din is responsible for taking action for the welfare of the community, and may issue a temporary ruling (hora’at sha’ah) to prevent the kahal from going astray.”[18] People can “go astray” in all sorts of ways, including by allowing  self-preservation and concern for our families to turn into irrational fear and panic. We pray that this pandemic will pass, and that as many lives as possible will be spared, and that people’s livelihoods will not be destroyed; but in the meantime we will – we must – continue to live our lives.

Joan S. Friedman, chair
Howard L. Apothaker
Daniel Bogard
Carey Brown
Lawrence A. Englander
Lisa Grushcow
Audrey R. Korotkin
Rachel S. Mikva
Amy Scheinerman
Brian Stoller
David Z. Vaisberg
Jeremy Weisblatt
Dvora E. Weisberg

[1] Nedarim 32a.

[2] See Lawrence A. Hoffman, Covenant of Blood: Circumcision and Gender in Judaism (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996), and Shaye J.D. Cohen, Why Aren’t Jewish Women Circumcised? Gender and Covenant in Judaism (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005).

[3] “Authentic Report of the Proceedings of the Rabbinical Conference Held at Pittsburg, Nov. 16, 17, 18, 1885,” in Walter Jacob, ed., The Changing World of Reform Judaism:  The Pittsburgh Platform in Retrospect (Pittsburgh:  Rodef Shalom Congregation, 1985), 101.

[4] See David Gollaher, “From Ritual to Science: The Medical Transformation of Circumcision in America,” Journal of Social History vol. 28, no. 1 (Autumn 1994): 5-36.

[5] ARR #55, “Circumcision on a Day Other Than the Eighth Day of Birth.”

[6] RR #21, “Circumcision Before Eighth Day.”

[7] ARR #56, “Circumcision Prior to the Eighth Day” (1977); CARR #28, “Berit Milah” (1978); CARR #100, “The Pressured Mohel” (1988).

[8] Yad, H. Rotze’aḥ 11:5.  See also Isserles’ gloss to ShA YD 116:5.

[9] Yad, H. Milah 1:16-17; ShA YD 262:2, 263:1.

[10] This question did arise in connection with metzitzah b’feh.  The majority opinion is that metzitzah is a hygienic matter, not an integral element of the mitzvah, and therefore any technique that makes it safer is permitted.  Isaac Klein, A Guide to Jewish Religious Practice (NY: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1979), 424.

[11] Yev. 72a.

[12] Nimukei Yosef, Yevamot 24a, s.v. ve-ha-id’na.

[13] Arukh Ha-Shulḥan YD 263:4-5.

[14] RR21, vol. 2, 5759.10, “Compulsory Immunization.”

[15] For example, see this news story: https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/mar/29/coronavirus-illinois-governor-announces-rare-death-of-baby, accessed 10 April 2020.

[16] See, e.g., https://abcnews.go.com/Politics/federal-government-18-month-plan-life-return-normal/story?id=70046439, accessed 10 April 2020.

[17] For the research that provided the information in this paragraph I thank Dr. Bryan Hecht, M.D., Division Director of Reproductive Endocrinology, Obstetrics and Gynecology, MetroHealth, Cleveland, board certified in Obstetrics and Gynecology and Reproductive Endocrinology and Infertility, and a certified Reform mohel.

[18] Yad H. Mamrim 2:4, cited in 5780.2, “Virtual Minyan in Time of COVID-19 Emergency.”

Categories
Healing Holiday member support mental health News Passover Pesach Prayer Rabbis spirituality

The World as It Is: Passover 5780

The World as It Is: [1]: Coronavirus has forced me, like many people, to change my exercise routines. Instead of a half hour on the elliptical, I’m taking hour-long walks in the neighborhood. Sad as I was to give up the gym, I’m finding great pleasure in the walks. I have always loved springtime, and there’s the most magnificent quartet of large hydrangea trees, all fully in bloom, along my route. Often, I find myself struggling to reconcile the visible natural world, so pointedly alive this time of year, with the invisible natural world, so toxic to our lives now.

The very best moment of any of these daily walks came last week. My walk takes me past several congregants’ homes, but I hadn’t run into any until the day that my path crossed with a congregant, around my age, and his aging father, who has rather advanced dementia. He’s moving slowly, using a walker. Nevertheless, father and son were walking to the end of the street to have a look at the magnificent tulips in bloom at the corner.

In this most difficult moment in America, and in the personal life of their family, father and son together created a beautiful moment. 

Judaism offers blessings for everything. One that may be unfamiliar is the blessing for seeing something particularly stunning in nature, be that a uniquely handsome person or a magnificent landscape. The words of that blessing, though, don’t express that purpose as obviously as they might: Baruch Atah, Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, shekacha lo b’olamo, “Blessed are You, Adonai our God, for this is how it is in the world.”

While the blessing is intended to recognize beauty, its words suggest acceptance. We praise God for making the world as it is—with the bitter and the sweet, the devastating pandemic and the unwelcome opportunity for personal growth, the debilitating illness and the drive to continue appreciating life, the loss of life-sustaining employment and the personal reinvention that may emerge. The horrors of dementia and the beauty of the tulips.

Passover asks us to do exactly that.

Matzah is known to most of us as “the bread of freedom.” Yes, it’s true: Torah tells us that our ancestors had no time to let the bread rise as they were escaping Egyptian bondage [2]. Paradoxically, though, matzah is also “the bread of affliction, the poor bread, which our ancestors ate in the land of Egypt [3]. After all, slaves aren’t given time for the luxury of giving their bread the time to rise.

When I ask people, “What does the matzah represent,” the answer is almost always the same: I hear the story about leaving Egypt in haste. I almost never hear the quotation we read each year at Seder, “the poor bread.” Perhaps that’s because we wish to accentuate the positive. I wonder, though, if it’s a reluctance to accept the world as it is, warts and all.

The Seder ritual is full of such symbols. We eat the bitter herb together with the sweet charoset, reminding us that one must taste the bitterness of bondage before finding sweetness in liberation. We behold a roasted egg, symbol of the Jerusalem Temple, burned to the ground with a fire so hot that even its stones walls exploded. The Temple in ruins is Judaism’s symbol for the reality that we live in an imperfect, unredeemed world. The world as it is, as God created it, is filled with poverty and injustice—even slavery, with human beings trafficked like commodities for free labor or worse, for unwilling prostitution. And God knows, this unredeemed world today includes a devastating pandemic and the hardships of mass unemployment that accompany it.

Our Seder also invites us to open the door to Elijah—that is, to the prospect of redemption, of a better world to come. A custom that many of us have adopted is not to fill Elijah’s cup in advance, but to ask every participant at the Seder to fill that cup, symbolizing our collective responsibility to bring redemption. This year, we’ll have to do that in much smaller groups or even virtually, but the symbolism remains powerful. We can make the world better, even in this difficult time.

We are livestreaming worship services from the homes of clergy and volunteers. Yes, we miss being together—and even the inspiration of bringing our Sanctuary into our homes, which we have enjoyed in the last few weeks. More importantly, though, we will better protect ourselves from the virus and model the most important step that everybody can take to stay well: Stay home.

Some of us can volunteer in ways that lighten the burden for others. I’m grateful to be part of an effort by the congregation I serve, our city, and the Clinton Foundation, to feed families in need during this crisis.

I do not know why this world is as it is, with all its beauty and splendor, with all its cruelty and devastation. I do know that we must all do our part to enhance the service and caring, to soften the meanness and suffering. And even during these most difficult days and weeks that will stretch into months and perhaps even years, let us praise God for creating the world as it is.

Amen.

[1] I am grateful to Alan Goodis, whose song, Shekacha lo ba-olamo, inspired this reflection.
[2] Exodus 12:39
[3] The Passover Haggadah

Rabbi Barry H. Block serves Congregation B’nai Israel in Little Rock, Arkansas. A member of the CCAR Board, he is the editor of  The Mussar Torah Commentary, CCAR Press, 2020.