Concerning the Hatred in Israel and America

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Concerning the Hatred in Israel and America

By Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal

After emerging from the sanctity of Shabbat last week, we were struck with the horrible news of seven people slaughtered in Jerusalem coming out of worship services. Their lives were cut short, their dreams extinguished and their sacred place, desecrated. There are no words that can bring adequate healing to the families of these victims. May our prayers help lift the souls of Eli and Natali Mizrahi, Raphael Ben Eliyahu, Asher Natan, Shaul Hai, Ilya Sosansky, and Irina Korolova.

In the days and weeks to come, these individuals and the many others who have suffered at the hands of terror will be shuffled into the dialogue about the bitter conflict between the Palestinian government and the Israeli government. We continue to seek God's guidance and hope of divine intervention to bring peace to all people in the land. All loss of innocent life is a tragedy, and we must continue to insist that Israel's right to defend itself be carefully measured to ensure that death and injury to civilians among the Palestinian people be minimized. However, the brutal violence against Shabbat morning worshippers cannot and must not be mixed into the desensitized rhetoric we have become accustomed to regarding this conflict.

Unfortunately, we are seeing a similar sort of hatred gain traction in our own country. Not long after we received word of the horrific murders in Jerusalem, we learned about a masked assailant who threw a Molotov explosive at the doors of a synagogue in New Jersey. We are grateful that the explosive was ineffective and that no damage was reported. However, Jews all over our country are reporting incidents of antisemitism and fearing for their safety and security. Although I am a great believer in the power of prayer, my theology and spiritual practice see prayer's greatest gift as a motivator, sending its practitioners into action. Hand-wringing and shoulder-shrugging are not the order of the day. We must send our prayer upward towards God and then downward towards our feet so we can get up and get moving.

Here are a few things we can do to make a difference:

In Israel:

  • Buy Israeli products: Seek out Israeli products at your local grocery, and buy one more than you need.
  • Travel to Israel: Plan a trip, or join a community mission.
  • Educate yourself about Israel, its history, and the conflict.
  • Celebrate Israel's 75th birthday with the community at the Yom Ha'Atzmaut Celebration on April 27 at Brook Run Park.

In America:

  • Join our antisemitism task force as part of ADL's (Anti-Defamation League) Kulanu Initiaitve. Email Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal to learn more ([email protected]).
  • Be an ally: Other groups are also being marginalized and terrorized in our country. Show up when they are threatened, and they will show up for us.
  • Live Jewishly. Loud and proud.
  • Click on news articles in your local press about antisemitism. The news agencies are watching our reading habits. If more people are reading about antisemitism, they will send their reporters out to cover it.
  • Know our history: Read books, watch films, and visit the Breman Museum and Kennesaw University's Museum of History and Holocaust Education. Attend Hemshech's 58th Annual Community Yom Hashoah Service of Remembrance on April 16 at Greenwood Cemetery.

A Moment of Torah with Rabbi Neil Sandler – Parshat Chaye Sarah 5783

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A Moment of Torah with Rabbi Neil Sandler

Chaye Sarah 5783

By Rabbi Neil Sandler

I participate in a men's group at Emory that focuses on meditation and reflection. The other day we were talking about aging (that was fun…). One of the participants mentioned something we all have heard and may have said, "The 'Golden Years' years aren't so golden." I have discovered some blessings of senior citizen life, but I still must agree with my fellow group member's sentiments. Sixty-six is not the new forty-six. "Mature" age brings its challenges, including loss.

Thankfully, our parsha this week offers us a different perspective. It reminds us of another truth about growing older that beats back the depression which might otherwise envelope us. At the beginning of the Torah Portion, our Matriarch Sarah dies. Sarah was one hundred twenty-seven years old at the time of her death. The Torah's unique way of saying "127 years old" gives rise to a comment by Rashi. He reflects on the Torah's expression of Sarah's age ("one hundred years and twenty years and seven years") and offers the following comment:

At 100, Sarah was free of sin as a 20-year-old, and at 20 she was as beautiful as a 7-year-old.

Lay aside a literal understanding of Rashi's words. Such an understanding will only result in troubling questions and, ultimately, the dismissal of any truth in Rashi's sentiments. I think there is truth here if we approach Rashi's thoughts differently. I think Rashi is suggesting something about stages in life and their potential beauty. Yes, there are certain qualities that tend to characterize specific ages in people's lives. However, the presence of one quality, for example beauty, does not preclude its presence in an individual much later in life. "Mature age" can be a time for any number of characteristics we might ordinarily associate with younger ages.

Yes, the challenges of our senior years are very real. But let's not lose sight of the fact they may also be filled with "golden" aspects to which we choose to give expression.

Shabbat Shalom, and enjoy a blessed Thanksgiving!

A Moment of Torah with Rabbi Neil Sandler – Parshat Vayera 5783

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A Moment of Torah with Rabbi Neil Sandler

Vayera 5783

By Rabbi Neil Sandler

Have you ever been in a position where a person you greatly respect defers to you? How about this–You are sitting on a bus when an elderly individual you recognize walks by. You stand up so that he may sit down. But the elderly individual looks in your face, recognizes you and says, "I can't take your seat. That would be disrespectful of me." Even if you have never had such an experience, you can imagine how odd it would seem. According to Rashi, the medieval commentator, Abraham had this kind of awkward experience with the Holy One at the beginning of our parsha.

In the opening verse of the Torah Portion, we read:

The Lord appeared to (Abraham) by the terebinths of Mamre; he was sitting at the entrance of the tent as the day grew hot (Genesis 18:1).

Rashi notes that the Hebrew word for "sitting" can also be vocalized as "sat," a seemingly insignificant difference in tense, but one that he interprets in a very interesting and challenging way:

Abraham tried to get up, but the Holy One reassured him, "Sit and I will stand."

Consider this practically unimaginable image which Rashi presents. From last week's parsha, we know that Abraham is in great pain following his circumcision. We can only imagine that as the day grows hotter, Abraham's discomfort grows. In an attempt to gain some relief, he sits. Up to this point, everything is understandable and just fine. What happened next? God, the Sovereign of sovereigns, stops by to pay Abraham and Sarah a visit. Can you imagine this scene? God is right there in front of Abraham! Abraham does what anyone would do if one saw the Holy One standing in front of her while she was seated. Abraham stood up! Immediately, God said to Abraham, "Sit and I will stand."

It's not difficult to understand why Abraham, despite his physical discomfort, stood up when the Holy One entered. But what motivated God to tell Abraham to sit while God stood? One possible answer rests upon the Holy One's compassion and caring for all of the divine creations. God could see that Abraham was in physical pain for reasons related to God's instructions (i.e., circumcision). Therefore, the Holy One decided that deference to the divine should be set aside in favor of Abraham's comfort.

I think there is at least one other way to understand Rashi's comment, and it is both interesting and challenging. The Holy One knew Abraham. The Holy One knew about Abraham's faithfulness and readiness to fulfill the divine demands. As the Sodom and Gomorrah episode would soon prove, the Holy One knew that Abraham's concern for people and their just treatment was of paramount importance to Abraham. Abraham was a unique individual. Consequently, when God came to visit, the Holy One showed Abraham divine respect by shockingly standing while Abraham sat.

What makes Rashi's understanding of Abraham's sitting while God stands both interesting and challenging is its application to our own lives. Please lay aside a literal understanding of the opening of our Torah Portion and Rashi's interpretation of it. These are images that convey messages; in this case, I think, an image of the ideal. Abraham is far from perfect. He clearly has some shortcomings. Yet, my understanding of Rashi's words suggests that Abraham is someone we ought to seek to emulate, as I described in the preceding paragraph. Imagine the Holy One entering your house and telling you to remain seated while God remained standing before you. Can each of us seek to live a life worthy of such an image?

Shabbat Shalom.

A Moment of Torah with Rabbi Neil Sandler – Parshat Lech Lecha 5783

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A Moment of Torah with Rabbi Neil Sandler

Lech Lecha 5783

By Rabbi Neil Sandler

Recently I was on the phone with someone who had to ask me several questions. One of the questions was, "Are you employed or retired?" When I responded with "retired," the individual laughed and said, "Livin the dream…" To that comment I also had a response, "It's not as easy or even desirable as you think. I'm still working on it." As I began to read Parshat Lech Lecha, the opening of which is familiar to many of us, I thought back to that phone conversation last week.

The opening of our parsha is particularly familiar. The great flood is now in the rear-view mirror. God is rebuilding a world that will be meaningfully different from the world Noah and others of his time had inhabited. The Holy One begins with Abraham and Sarah.

The Lord said to Abram, "Go forth from your native land and from your father's house to the land that I will show you" (Genesis 12:1).

The phrase "Lech Lecha," rendered here as "Go forth…," implies an understanding different from that of the translation–"Go to yourself…" Our interpretive tradition, going back to medieval times, has struggled with the meaning of the phrase. Rabbis have delivered countless sermons plumbing the depths of what it might mean to "go to yourself." I'd like to share a thought about the meaning of this verse as it pertains to the challenges and possibilities of retirement and how to deal with them. I hope my thoughts will resonate with some of you.

"Go to yourself"–Go inside yourself now, Neil, as you recreate your life. Decide what really matters to you, activities that you enjoy and bring you a sense of purpose. As you go inside yourself, be honest with yourself. While you don't have to, and probably shouldn't, cut yourself off from all your previous professional activities, appreciate what you did for many years… and don't try to hold onto all those activities that filled you with meaning. It's time for others to assume responsibility.

"Go to yourself"–Take some time for reflection. You are now free to do some things you might enjoy. What are those activities? In my case, I have gotten into tai chi and diamond art painting. Retirement is encouraging me to go within myself, consider possibilities and try some things that were entirely outside my previous experience and skillset.

What about you? As you transition into retirement or, perhaps, are already there, can you "go to yourself," can you honestly reflect on what is important to you and get involved in something you enjoy and find purposeful?

No matter where we are in life, all of us may still make a difference to family members, friends, and others as Parshat Lech Lecha informs us,

And you shall be a blessing (Genesis 12:2)

Shabbat Shalom.

MaNishma with Rabbi Arnold Goodman – Parshat Noach 5783

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MaNishma with Rabbi Arnold Goodman

Parshat Noach 5783
Power's Intoxication

By Rabbi Arnold Goodman Senior Rabbinic Scholar

"Noah the tiller of the soil was the first to plant a vineyard. He drank of the wine and became drunk and uncovered himself within his tent." (Genesis 9: 20, 21)

The story of Noah's overindulgence in wine is well known. In a few words, the Bible describes the sorry spectacle of the "old man" in a drunken stupor, and his son, Ham, excitedly summoning his brothers to join him in viewing Noah in this weakened and shameful state.

Shem and Japeth, in an act of filial respect, cover their father. When Noah awakens and learns of Ham's disrespect, he curses him and his seed. Noah was embarrassed by his behavior, and Ham became the target of his father's anger and intoxication.

Our tradition, however, does not interpret this story as a mandate to abstain from wine; it does underscore, however, the danger and the folly of "overdoing it." Wine in moderation is acceptable. Wine to sanctify Shabbat and marriage is necessary. The golden mean, however, is the prism through which we are to view the consumption of alcoholic beverages. Drunkenness, however, is not merely frowned upon; it is perceived as compromising the potential of being created Btzelem Elo-him—in the Divine Image.

Sadly, there are other addictive substances that impact upon our potential of being in the Divine Image. For some, it is tobacco; For others, it is various kinds of narcotics which, once they become addictive, possess the potential of literally destroying one's life.

Individuals can be drunk with power and come to believe that they can be a law unto themselves. Elie Weisel once noted that the ultimate power is the power to control oneself, thereby not falling prey to Lord Acton's famous observation, "Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely."

The challenge facing those in a position of power is to view it as a potential source to better, not only oneself, but others in one's sphere of influence or life.

The President of the United States has awesome power. While in office, he is expected to use this power to advance the public good, and many occupants of the Oval Office have made extremely positive contributions to our society. Yet the temptation to use that power for personal gain is always there.

Robert Cato in Passages to Power, a remarkable study of Lyndon Johnson's first weeks in office following John Kennedy's assassination, describes a man who never hesitated to use whatever levers of power that were at hand. Having grown up poor, he had great empathy for the many who were mired down in poverty. Although now personally wealthy, he nonetheless used his first State of the Union address to declare war on poverty. Although a Texan where Jim Crow was the norm, he used his power to push through a major civil rights bill that outlawed discrimination in public facilities and guaranteed  all Americans, regardless of color, religion or ethnic background, free and equal access to the ballot box.

Yet at the same time he could not overcome the American hubris that kept us fighting in Vietnam far too long. It was ultimately this refusal to compromise on his support of the war that led to his decision not to seek reelection in 1968.

Cato also paints a picture of Johnson who sought to silence critics in the media by putting tremendous and effective pressure on the owners of newspapers and TV stations. As President, his assets were to be placed in a blind trust with a trustee given the power to make all decisions regarding his holdings. Cato, however, describes how Johnson remained in constant contact with his trustee; his trust was thus far from blind.

What is true of Johnson is true of many in public office. The addiction to power is so intense that they believe they can take bribes, engage in illicit sexual behavior and act as if they are above the law. Like Noah, in the privacy of their tents (offices), they revel in their drunkenness, oblivious to the reality that their behavior can ultimately become public knowledge with the attendant embarrassment and often legal action.

The caveat before so many of us is that we are often in positions of power and can impact upon the lives of others. Parents have this power; Employers have this power; Media personnel have this power. The challenge is simple: Embrace Elie Wiesel's teaching that the real test is the power to restrain oneself. Nothing less is expected of us as human beings  who are blessed to be created in the Divine Image.

—

From the holy city of Jerusalem Rae joins me in wishing you a Shabbat Shalom u'Mevorach, a Shabbat of peace and blessing.

MaNishma with Rabbi Arnold Goodman – Parshat Bereshit 5783

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MaNishma with Rabbi Arnold Goodman

Parshat Bereshit 5783
To End–To Begin

By Rabbi Arnold Goodman Senior Rabbinic Scholar

On Simchat Torah we conclude the weekly cycle of Torah readings. The title of this last parsha, V'Zot HaBracha (this is the blessing) is counterintuitive. While it begins with Moses' blessing of the tribes of Israel, it concludes with his ascent to Mount Nebo from where, prior to his death he would but get a glimpse of the Promised Land. The Torah is clear that Moses was frustrated that God denied his wish to be the one to lead the Children of Israel into the Land.

There are two important lessons from the account of his death. Moses was denied his wish to cross over the Jordan, but his life was filled with many accomplishments. He is eulogized as the prophet who could never be replicated, yet he died with an unrealized dream. This, alas, is the fate of all mortals, whose lives whether short or long, depart leaving behind undone tasks. The following generation is then challenged to carry on the work of its predecessor.

Moses departs from the scene, but his mission is continued by his successor, Joshua. While not a Moses, he was nonetheless charged to lead the people into the Land. Thus even as we read the ending of Moses leadership, we are immediately reminded that it was followed by the beginning of Joshua's. There is a blessing that the ending of one phase or stage of life is followed by the beginning of another.

Many changes are subtle, and we become aware of transformations only after they have been completed. It's hard to mark the moment when the child becomes a teenager and then an adult. The aging process is likewise subtle, but given longevity there will be changes in our appearance and activities

There are, however, changes that are marked with clear endings and easily noted new beginnings. Two individuals who come under the chuppa (marital canopy) are simply two separate people. The rituals and prayers that follow do transform them into a couple, and from that moment on they are identified as husband and wife, spouses to one another.

Bar/t Mitzvah is often hailed as becoming a Jewish adult. The ceremony hardly transforms a 13-year-old into an adult, physically or emotionally. Yet by reaching this age, there has been a sharp change in this 13-year-old who is now invested with a lifetime responsibility to fulfill the mitzvot and commandments Even as one aspect of his/her life ends, there is the blessing of a new beginning that deserves not only recognition but also celebration.

For each of us the past year can obviously neither be re-experienced nor re-lived. The past is just that – the past. There is before us, however, the blessing of the inherent possibilities and potentials of new beginnings. While acutely aware of the past year's failures and unfulfilled expectations, there is the anticipation that in the days ahead we will be blessed with the opportunity to build on our past and create a significant and fulfilling present with its potential for a glorious future..

As human beings we are blessed that we can celebrate the conclusion of one phase in our lives with the prospect of going forward to a new one with its dreams of achievements.

—

From the holy city of Jerusalem my best wishes for a Shabbat Shalom u'Mevorach, a Shabbatt of peace and blessing.

A Moment of Torah with Rabbi Neil Sandler – Sukkot 5783

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A Moment of Torah with Rabbi Neil Sandler

Sukkot 5783

By Rabbi Neil Sandler

Where have all the years gone? This Sunday, our eldest child, Ariel, will celebrate his 37th birthday! I can still remember exactly what I said to Susan's Ob/Gyn doctor in the delivery room as he was bringing Ariel into this world. "Murray," I said, "you are looking at Ariel David Sandler." That was the first time I uttered our firstborn's name aloud to anyone other than Susan. It's as if I was saying, "This child thing is real. This little pitzele will, God-willing, represent a Hart/Sandler future long after his grandparents and parents are gone." Eventually, Ariel would have two siblings, Aliza and Josh. Collectively, these three children symbolized our approach to the world and its future; the world, despite its challenges, is a good and worthy place. Hopefully, our children will contribute to its goodness. I think about that statement each time one of our children (and now I can add their spouses) celebrates a birthday.

This year Ariel's birthday coincides with the beginning of Sukkot. The seriousness and heaviness of Yom Kippur are behind us. As long as the weather cooperates for the next week plus, we will have the opportunity to relax in the sukkah, enjoy a meal there and welcome our friends inside this quaint, temporary dwelling. We will also be making a statement about our feelings regarding the future. Sukkot often do not have four sides (they only need to have two and a half sides to be deemed "Kosher.") As we look straight ahead from inside the sukkah and peer out at the world, we remind ourselves of the responsibilities we have to it. We must protect the world's resources so that others will be able to enjoy its bounties. We must share ourselves and our resources with people who are in need to best assure their futures. As we look up through the roof ("schach") of the sukkah and see the heavens, we are reminded of the words we offer each evening, ("[God,] Spread over us Your sukkah of peace…") Yes, the Holy One plays a part in assuring our peace, but we play an even larger role in guaranteeing that peace for ourselves and succeeding generations.

A child's birthday. A family's sukkah. While we may understand the significance of them in a variety of ways, each represents a glorious statement about the future and our role in assuring it.

Chag Sameach! Enjoy Sukkot and some relaxed time in a sukkah!

MaNishma with Rabbi Arnold Goodman – Parshat Nitzavim 5782

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MaNishma with Rabbi Arnold Goodman

Parshat Nitzavim
The Fragile Flower of Trust

By Rabbi Arnold Goodman Senior Rabbinic Scholar

The four Hebrew words comprising Elul are interpreted as an acronym for the beautiful verse in Song of songs, "I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine." These words spoken by beloveds reflect the deep love of life's partners for one another.

Traditionally the groom, when placing the ring on his beloved's finger, recites, "With this ring you are sanctified to me," and this is no trivial promise. The bride, by extending her finger upon which the ring is placed or by placing a ring on the finger of her groom, signifies that she accepts being in a sanctified relationship with her beloved. They are embraced by their mutual acts and have entered into a relationship founded on trust. This dynamic is also obviously implicit in the double ring ceremonies that are the norm in most contemporary ceremonies.

The real challenge of the relationship, however, is to establish and deepen emunah–mutual trust in one another. The relationship formed by promises under the chuppah cannot endure without trust. There is a great difference between a wedding and a marriage. The former is an emotion-filled celebration; shared by all in attendance. Then, when the last guests have departed, the couple is faced with the formidable challenge of building a marriage on this infrastructure of faith and trust.

A strange story in the Talmud (Ketubot 62b) sensitizes us to the consequences of a loss of trust. Rabbi Rechumi, a fourth century Babylonian scholar, studied in the renowned Babylonian academy at Mehuza. The accepted custom was for these scholars to be separated from their wives for prolonged periods, at times–even for years. This, obviously, is not our way today, but it was a common practice in the past. The relationship was built on mutual trust; he would immerse himself in Torah with the understanding that he would return at a mutually agreed upon time.

Rabbi Rechumi's practice was to rejoin his wife once a year–on the day before Yom Kippur. She would eagerly await his arrival and the time they would be with one another–albeit for but a day. The Talmud records that one year on the day he was to return, Rabbi Rechumi  was sitting on the roof so totally engrossed in his studies that he became oblivious to the passage of time, and he failed to return home.

His wife, of course, had prepared herself for this annual reunion and, as the day wore on, she kept saying to herself, "Soon he will be at the door, soon he will be here."The sounds of every footstep outside raised her hopes that he was about to appear.

Sunset came, Yom Kippur had begun and with the intensity of her disappointment and sorrow, her eyes filled with tears, and it was at that very moment that the roof on which Rabbi Rechumi was seated collapsed and he plunged to his death.

To my mind this strange story of the tears in her eyes and the collapsed roof that buried him, is a metaphor for the disintegration of their relationship–it's very death. Rabbi Rechumi had violated the trust that was essential to their marriage, and just as tears cannot be returned to the eye or the collapsed roof be put together, so could the marriage no longer endure.

R. Rechumi's failure may seem trivial in our eyes, but this is a story of how a loss of trust can cause a marriage to dissolve. Trust is much like a delicate flower to be handled with care and tenderness.

What is true of marriage is true of all relationships. Elul and the forthcoming Days of Awe challenge us to assess our actions to determine if, when, and how we may have violated a trust–often an unwritten agreement between us and the other. The task demanded of us is to make an honest effort to effect a reconciliation and hopefully the other's heart will be open to our sincere expressions of regret.

Fortunately, our Tradition encourages us to have faith that our Heavenly Partner will always keep the door open for us to enter into a reconciliation with Him. We can commit or re-commit ourselves to embrace a life of Mitzvah. He, however, cannot–and will not–fully embrace us and accept our return or teshuvah until we have made an honest effort to reach out to the others in our lives: spouses, children, parents, family, friends, co-workers, etc.

The challenge of this season is to remind ourselves of promises made, of agreements entered into, and above all, of the essential faith and trust that must undergird the infrastructure of our many relationships. 

—

From the holy city of Jerusalem, my best wishes for Shabbat shalom umevorach, a Shabbat of peace and of blessing and for a shana tovah u'metukah–a sweet new year.

MaNishma with Rabbi Goodman – Parshat Ki Teitzei 5782

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MaNishma with Rabbi Arnold Goodman

Parshat Ki Teitzei
Hindsight is 20/20

By Rabbi Arnold Goodman Senior Rabbinic Scholar

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
– Robert Frost

Life is a challenge of an endless series of crossroads, and the decisions made impact upon the quality and harmony of our lives. The high school senior has acceptances to two wonderful universities; the professional who has two amazing offers; the young man or woman choosing between two promising dates; and the list is seemingly endless. As often as not after we have made our choice, we tend to refocus on our decision, frequently bemoaning the road not taken.

The High Holidays are the time of the year our tradition poses the challenge to review our lives, to celebrate accomplishments, to confront failures, but also to reflect upon our many decisions and their consequences.

Hopefully as we celebrate our successes, we will take stock of the consequences of the roads not taken. We have had a strained relationship with a friend, a colleague or a loved one, and resisted making that phone call that could have cleared the air; we have made a promise that we have failed to honor; we are engaged in idle gossip that inadvertently had negative consequences upon another, and the list is seemingly endless. The refusal to take the initiative is choosing the path upon which we will trod.

During the coming year may we blessed with the peace of mind and with few regrets about roads not taken.

—

From the holy city of Jerusalem, my best wishes for a Shanah Tovah U'metukah, a good and sweet year.

A Moment of Torah with Rabbi Neil Sandler – Parshat Re'eh 5782

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A Moment of Torah with Rabbi Neil Sandler

Parshat Re'eh 5782

By Rabbi Neil Sandler
Rabbi Emeritus

A longtime friend and wonderful Jewish professional recently sent me an e-mail that likely represents the final chapter in an ongoing saga she has shared with me in recent months. She moved back to her hometown and wanted to confirm that when the time eventually comes, she will be able to be buried near other family members in a cemetery owned by an Orthodox congregation. My friend informed the rabbi of the congregation that she had converted to Judaism under the supervision of a Conservative rabbi. He could not accept this conversion as halachically valid and informed my friend that she could not be buried in the congregation's cemetery. My friend was not surprised by the rabbi's decision. Still, she was quite upset. Eventually my friend and the rabbi met to discuss the issue. Surprisingly, her e-mail to me this week reflected the presence of two understanding and generous spirits in that meeting. Though the rabbi and my friend continued to disagree, it was clear to me that both individuals had listened to each other. Their disagreement was expressed in respectful ways. In fact, my friend was so impressed with the Orthodox rabbi that she said she could see herself taking a class with him!

Wow! In response to my friend's e-mail, I commended both her and the rabbi for the manner in which they spoke with each other amidst their disagreement. Referring to their conversation I wrote, "Sounds like a paradigm or prayer we might offer for our country these days." I'm sure you understand why.

It's overly simplistic to say that we have never disagreed with other people in the way we do now. Americans have always had differing perspectives on issues, and most of us have expressed our differences in responsible ways. But it feels very different now. Today we choose news channels that align with our personal views. We often hear the commentators on those networks speak harshly about those with whom they disagree. And, of course, there is the aphorism, "If it bleeds, it leads." News programs often share the most heinous and violent outcomes of disagreement. Social media sites provide immediate access for people who want to express their views in harsh and cruel ways. Sometimes these outlets help to incite troubled individuals to commit heinous crimes. We shake our heads. Pick the realm – political, social, religious – no matter what reality may be, it feels like we are hopelessly polarized and, as a result, under threat.

And then there is the uplifting example of my friend and the Orthodox rabbi. They strongly disagreed with each other, but they expressed themselves in polite ways. My friend walked out of the rabbi's office, not with burning anger, but with newfound respect. Here were two individuals who could view the burial issue from the vantage point of the other person. This ability did not change either person's position. However, each of them could listen to the other person. Each of them could feel what the other might be feeling at that time. The result was mutual respect despite strong disagreement. How amazing that seems in our world today!

Can we emulate the example of these two people? It's certainly not easy to do so. While there are a number of personal qualities and abilities that enable people to interact respectfully despite disagreement, I think our Torah Portion offers an insight that can be helpful.

As Moses continues to speak with the Israelites he instructs, "Sh'mor v'shamata" – "Preserve and listen to all these commandments that I enjoin upon you…" (Dt. 12:28). Logically, one should first hear about one's responsibility and then act. Here I think Moses says, in effect, "Don't start with trying to make sense of something. Start with doing the right thing. Then you can reflect on it."

My friend and the rabbi started what could have been a rancorous meeting by doing the "right" things, namely treating each other with respect. Then they could really "hear;" they could reflect on their interaction and end their meeting with positive thoughts about each other despite their continuing disagreement.

What a tremendous challenge it is to act and think in these ways. It's easier to see "us" and "them" and to dismiss "them" along with their views that are different from our own. We cannot countenance the views of those who demean others or threaten violence. But there are other people, who do not do such things, with whom we may vehemently disagree. Can we "preserve and listen" to them? Can we try to feel their concerns? Can we hear the religious views that undergird their positions despite our continuing disagreement with them? Can we interact in respectful ways? Can we then depart having understood that person's views just a little bit better?

My friend and the Orthodox rabbi… what a wonderful example of how to talk and simply be when disagreement between us and others cannot be set aside.

Shabbat Shalom