SYNABLOG: Temple Emanuel of Beverly Hills

Blurring the Lines on the Family Retreat

Traditionally, on Saturday nights it is customary to say goodbye to Shabbat with the ceremony called havdallah, the short ritual that engages all five of our senses. As we feel the warmth of the havdallah candle and smell the rich spices, the leader tastes the wine and we hear the sizzle of the flame as it is slowly extinguished.  As Shabbat ends, the havdallah blessing reminds us about the purpose of this moment: to separate kodesh from chol, the holy from the regular. 

Usually it is easy for us to determine which is which – Shabbat is holy time, the rest of the week is regular time.  The sanctuary is holy space, the street outside is regular space.  The Torah is a holy book, The Hunger Games is a regular book.  But there are also moments in our lives when the lines between the sacred and the mundane blur. It is these blurry lines between kodesh and chol that can, at times, create an even more concentrated experience of holiness.

Each year when members of our congregation head out of town on the Temple Emanuel Family Retreat, we encounter one of these experiences when the lines between the holy and the regular are blurred.  Whether it’s the intoxicating fresh air, the delight of community, or the novelty of being up at camp and away from home, every moment seems to be elevated from our regular lives.  The camp food tastes better than it should, playing outside at camp with friends is even more fun than playing in the backyard at home, and chatting with a fellow parent around a campfire is sweeter than it is in the carpool line or via text message.  These so-called regular moments become holy in this new, sacred context of family, community, nature and Shabbat.

It is intensely satisfying to take a moment out of ‘regular’ life to experience something new, different, and potentially sacred.  But of course, not every moment can be this way.  The holy, or kodesh would lose its appeal if it wasn’t balanced by the moments of regular life.  Much like we can’t experience joy without knowing pain, and we can’t have light without dark, kodesh and chol are reliant on one another.

Whether we will be attending the Family Retreat this year or not, I hope that each of us will work towards noticing the sacred moments of Shabbat this week and every week. Perhaps, we can even work to bring a little bit of the sacred into our every day: to blur the lines between kodesh and chol and let Shabbat linger a bit longer, even after the havdallah candle goes out.  

Rabbi Sara Mason-Barkin

Find The Angel Inside You And Sing It

This week marks the first yartzeit of the death of Debbie Friedman.  For those of you who may not be aware, Debbie Friedman was a prolific singer/songwriter/composer/performer/liturgist/teacher/mentor/friend.

 

A pioneer and trailblazer, Debbie Friedman’s songs guided the evolution of Jewish popular music, and liturgical music.  She brought us sounds that we could relate to in a new and for many, even deeper way.  She gave us melodies that were at once accessible, yet beautiful, singable, yet moving, “American,” yet deeply Jewish.

 

Here at Temple Emanuel, we sing at least one of her prayer melodies at every service.  The Mi Sheberach which she co-wrote with Derorah Setel.  Before this composition, the prayer for people who are ill was not really even done in services through the Reform movement.  If anything, they were “mumbled/murmered” in traditional davening style by the cantor or rabbi.  The congregation didin’t really get a voice.  But Debbie’s new musical approach, as revolutionary as it was at the time, gave the congregation the voice and the permission to sing, to pray, and to be a part of it like never before..  Joining our voices together allows our hearts to soar, our prayers to rise, and our spirits to leap in emotion…together.

 

The impact of her Mi Sheberach is so prolific that it was actually canonized in the our Movement’s most recent prayer book, Mishkan Tefilah.

 

Debbie will not be remembered just for her Mi Sheberach however.  Her catalogue of songs and prayers numbers the hundreds.  She viewed herself as a teacher, with valuable lessons packed in each melody and lyric.

 

It is the sad truth that at the young age of 59, Debbie Friedman left this world way too soon.  But her legacy remains vibrant.  Not just through the music that she wrote.  But also through the next generation of Jewish composer/songwriter/songleaders who are paving the way for the next generation.  Debbie inspired so many.  In particular is L.A based performer/songwriter Julie Silver.  In a recent conversation with the Jewish Journal, Silver said, “I learned how to song-lead just by watching her on stage, by watching her interacting with people.”

 

Song leading is a very specific art, and Friedman took it very seriously. “Every breath she took was about making that connection.”

 

Just weeks before she died, Friedman composed a new setting of Shalom Aleichem.  The piece, which thankfully was recorded on an iphone by someone who heard her sing it at HUC was really only introduced to the world after her death.  In fact, we sang it here at Emanuel right after she passed.  We will sing it again at Shabbat Unplugged on February 3.  It is hauntingly beautiful.

 

Julie Silver added,  “in Debbie’s words, ‘find the angel inside you and sing it.’ ” And that, above all else, may be why we love her so much. Her songs must be shared, and when we sing them today, they continue to ask the same of us, too — to experience what she wrote.

“This isn’t pop music,” Silver said. “It’s about faith. And it’s about keeping people alive and healthy.

On January 22, Friedman’s friends Craig Taubman and Silver will join with members of her family as well as rabbis, cantors and the Temple Isaiah choir in a program at Isaiah sponsored by Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion’s Kalsman Institute.

 

Cantor Yonah Kliger

Cantoryonah/twitter.com

Textual Advice

Recently I have been challenged to defend the texts of Judaism as relevant texts for our contemporary world. That challenge has come from bar mitzvah students, adult students, friends at parties, and my kids. For me, there is no question of relevancy, because I believe the power of our ancient texts are revealed in the conversation about the texts, a conversation that has taken place over thousands of years. The commentaries and more modern interpretations that try to uncover the meaning of a word or a phrase or a whole section of our Torah, allow my mind to make connections to life today. Last week in my 8^th grade class at the religious school, one text hit home for the kids.

 

In Pirke Avot (a section of the Mishnah), Ethics of our Fathers, chapter 5, number 10, it states that all human beings fall into four categories: “There are four kinds of human being. One says, “What is mine is mine and what is yours is yours.” That is the usual kind, although some say that is the Sodom kind (a person unwilling to help another). [The one who says] “What is mine is yours and what is yours is mine” is an ignoramus. [The one who says] “What is mine is yours and what is yours is yours” is a saint. [And the one who says] “What is mine is mine and what is yours is mine]" is a sinner."

 

The teenagers in the class began a discussion that moved from how we relate to family members, to friends and strangers, and they found themselves somewhere on this spectrum of these four kinds of people. They related stories of people they knew who acted certain ways. Some lamented that they were one of them and wished they were the other. All acknowledged that when it came to siblings – the mine/yours scenario shouldn’t count. But what was inspirational was that they really began to look at the way they acted towards their friends and family in a different way. They had never thought about life this way, and yet, when they reflected on their lives they found these categories to be true, and that they slipped in and out of each of these human tendencies throughout their lives.

 

At the end of the class I realized that there is no question the texts of Judaism can be relevant to us, but we just never know where we will find it. What is relevant to you may be different than what’s relevant to me. That’s why Judaism encourages us to study a little bit every day, so that the text that touches us and inspires us can be found. It’s a little bit like the lottery – you can’t win unless you enter – and the odds are better than winning the lottery that you will find something that touches you. Dive in, be open, it can be there for you, too.

 

Rabbi Jonathan Aaron

 

Parashat Vayehi: How Are You Living?

As our patriarch, Jacob, lies on his deathbed he looks out at his family.  He gives each of his sons a final blessing.  He takes care to choose words that describe each of his sons, and the successes and accomplishments of their lives.  For some of his sons the results are quite flattering: like Naphtali who is blessed with the speed of a deer.  For others, the results are less so: like Shimon and Levi who are chastised for their angry impulses.

The name of the Torah Portion, Vayehi literally means “and he lived.”  In this moment we see Jacob taking stock not only on how he himself lived his life, but also how his sons have been living theirs.  While Jacob knows that he does not have any more time to make different choices or new plans, his sons still have time left.  Perhaps these cryptic blessings are meant as a reminder to Jacob’s sons to assess the lives they have been living.

As American Jews, we celebrate two New Years – one religious, one secular.  This gives us multiple opportunities to check in on our on Vayehi moments – to consider how it is that we have been living, and to assess whether or not we want to continue on this path or make some adjustments. 

Whether we made ‘typical’ New Year’s Resolutions like a pledge to lose five pounds or continued in the vein of cheshbon hanefesh (an accounting of the soul) as we do on the High Holy Days, Parashat Vayehi reminds us that just one week into the new year it isn’t too early to check and see how we’re doing.  Have we already begun to slip, or are we still keeping the promises that we made to ourselves first on Rosh Hashanah, and again on New Year's Eve?

Assessing our lives, checking in on who we are and if we are living up to our best selves is not a once or twice per year responsibility.  It is upon us each day to reach our true selves, living lives that are worthy of blessing.

In the back and forth of our daily responsibilities it is important that we have these set moments to look back and review, then reflect on the changes that we make.  Let us take ownership of our Vayehi moments, sculpting lives that we can sum up in a sentence with pride.  By checking in with ourselves not once each year, or even twice each year, but regularly:  this is how we give ourselves chances to change, to grow, and to thrive.  So now that 2012 is under way and there are no more New Year’s in sight, how are you living?

Rabbi Sara Mason-Barkin