Rabbi's Column - Summer 2024

Dear Friends,

In these days of division and strife, I’d like to share with you something that gives me tremendous hope: our young people.

Many of you joined us recently for a conversation with Yale Hillel’s executive director Uri Cohen. Uri is professional, insightful, and strategic. He reflected on this spring’s tumult on college campuses, explaining his journey to being a trusted partner and voice for Yale’s Jewish students in the highest levels of the university’s administration.

But most impressive of all were our college students (who attend schools around the country). They spoke with honesty and passion about experiencing a challenging year on campus. Each of these six young people eloquently conveyed their Jewish pride and their standing up to antisemitism. Like many Jews in their generational cohort, they do not believe that they have to choose between safety for Israelis and justice for Palestinians. This is all the more impressive given that campus culture so often screams the opposite message in their faces. Their ability to hold many difficult emotions and truths while still being confident in who they are is a total inspiration. Kol HaKavod — well done. Thank you to Kulanu for organizing this deeply meaningful evening.

Just a few days later came Shavuot, and we celebrated the confirmation of three special 10th-graders. They were called to the Torah to read the ten commandments, and each of them shared reflections on the year of learning. Unsurprisingly, they all spoke about the Israel-Hamas war, since Israel’s history has been the main focus of our year of study. They, too, conveyed their Jewish pride and their commitment to proceed into the next chapter of their lives with critical thought, conscience, and confidence and who they are. They spoke about BBYO, the international youth movement of which SALTY is part. They spoke about their special experience in our religious school. They are positioned to be leaders and builders of the Jewish future. As a rabbi, there’s nothing that makes me prouder.

By now it should be abundantly clear that we have some special young people here at TBT, and of course that is because we have special families. Families who choose to opt-in to Judaism in spite of the societal forces that challenge that decision. Families who choose learning and dialogue over the need to ‘be right.’ I love about our congregation that we can listen to one another and engage in difficult decisions with civility and curiosity. Throughout the last several years of my serving TBT, I have seen our teens model this time and time again.

My year serving as teacher to our teens is also a reminder that what’s going on in the news is not necessarily all that’s going on in the world. Headlines, whether about events in the middle east or on domestic college campuses, tend to be driven by all that is ugly. This is the most basic way that bias can creep into news coverage. But behind the headlines, there is a lot of unreported goodness and basic decency. There are the actions of rodfei shalom (Psalms 43.15) — pursuers of peace. Our young people are pursuers of peace. We should listen to them. They are leading us.

Shalom,
Rabbi Moss

Rabbi's Column - June 2024

Dear Friends,

I invite all my B'nai Mitzvah students to ask me a "big question" that would be hard for ChatGPT to answer. Recently, Levi A. asked, "What do you think would happen if the Jews were to lose Israel?" This is a sad, difficult, and very important question. I told Levi as much, and so I'm sharing a few reflections here, too.

Over its 76-year history, Israel has faced numerous threats. Every war triggers existential fears. Israel's existence has never been assured, which is why it has built one of the strongest armies in the world.

Israel is still a young country. If we look back 3000 years to King Solomon and the first Temple in Jerusalem, 1948 to 2024 constitutes only about 2% of Jewish history. We lost control of Israel when the Romans destroyed the Temple 2000 years ago, leading to centuries of exile.

Exile wasn't just a geographical reality; it was a profound sorrow we carried for centuries. The book of Psalms reflects this in a poem from the first exile to Babylonia: "By the Waters of Babylon/There we sat down/And we wept/As we remembered Zion….If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my hand wither…” (Psalms 137).

Later Jewish texts also reflect this yearning. One Midrash explains that when the Temple was destroyed, God went into exile too, departing Jerusalem and the presence of our people.

For almost 2000 years, Jews dreamed of returning to our homeland. This longing was embedded in daily life: in prayers for the rebuilding of Jerusalem, in facing East during prayer, in breaking a glass at weddings to recall the Temple's destruction. The land of Israel is central to Jewish history and identity.

Can you imagine if your home, livelihood, and every routine disappeared in an instant? It's hard to relate to this feeling today, which is a good thing: it shows how comfortable we have been in the United States.

At my summer camp, we had an activity on Tisha Ba’av, the saddest Jewish holiday when we mourn the destruction of the Temples and other catastrophes. Campers spent an hour building intricate gingerbread houses, which the counselor suddenly trampled to the ground. It was an attempt to invite us to consider the feelings that accompany the loss of home, identity, and way of life. (However misguided from a 2024 perspective…)

In exile, Jews lived at the whim of mercurial leaders. The Purim story dramatizes this: an evil minister plots to destroy the Jews by manipulating the king. While likely a work of fiction, the story reflects the reality of how quickly fortunes could change for Jews.

Our  ancestors  were  exiled  from  many  lands:  Italy,  Egypt,  Spain,  Portugal,  England,  Russia, Switzerland, North Africa...the list goes on and on.  By the 1800s, Jews became citizens of modern nation-states like France and Germany, finally gaining equal rights. Many believed our tragic history was over.

Then came Hitler. Germany, the paradigm of a modern, civilized society, proved that modernity did not guarantee safety. To the contrary: it guaranteed that the dangers we faced were greater than ever before.

This context is the backdrop of Levi's question. Throughout history, Jews have faced discrimination, draconian restrictions, expulsions, forced conversions, and murder. Facing blood libels, pogroms, and unending antisemitic conspiracies, Jewish dreamers across Europe came to believe that returning to our homeland was the only solution. The State of Israel was conceived as a safe haven for Jews worldwide, a modern political solution to an ancient problem. That, simply stated, is Zionism. Israel has done remarkable things to follow through on this promise, including daring rescues in Entebbe, Uganda, and absorbing Jews from Ethiopia and the Former Soviet Union.

So, what if Israel ceased to exist? With nine million people living there, where would they go? Some propose a multinational state for Jews and Arabs, but it’s unclear how Jews would fare absent the ability to protect themselves. (On the other hand, life for Palestinian Arabs in Israel is complex, but generally safe and even prosperous). It seems naive in the extreme to imagine that such a state is a pragmatic possibility.

The other option is that seven million or so Jews would have to leave. Where would they go? Here? Canada? Argentina? Either outcome would involve terrible violence to Jewish safety and identity. The elimination of the Jewish state would be a catastrophe akin to the destruction of the ancient Temples or the Holocaust. We would eventually survive and adapt, as we always have, but our people would never be the same. Over the last 2000 years, we accepted exile temporarily, thrived and persevered, but never gave up the dream of return. So, we would go back to dreaming.

Israel's national anthem expresses the longing for our homeland with the phrase - nefesh Yehudi Homiyah - the Jewish soul murmurs a yearning… In the scenario Levi asks about, we would resume hoping and praying, as our ancestors did, to once again realize our dream of self-determination - l’hiot am chofshi b’artzeinu - to be a free people in our homeland. As students of history, we know that this is required to bring true safety to Jews everywhere. Israel has already fulfilled this dream in so many respects. The next step is to fulfill our people's mandate as makers of peace. (The recent Abraham Accords indicate that progress is always possible, distant though it may feel.)

Every conflict is only a conflict until it isn’t.

Please God, let us build a world where Israel is secure and at peace with its neighbors.

I appreciate Levi’s question, and hope ardently that one day, no student will ever feel the need to ask it again.

Rabbi Danny Moss

Rabbi's Column - April 2024

Dear Friends,

Do you know where the largest Pesach seder in the world takes place? I’ll give you a minute to guess for yourself — the answer will surprise you!

Pesach (Passover) ranks as one of the most widely observed Jewish Holidays. Even those who do not attend synagogue or otherwise practice Judaism often find themselves around the seder table, asking the four questions and speaking of our ancestors’ journey to redemption.

The story of the Exodus is so compelling because it touches on universal human themes: the triumph of good over evil, and the quest for freedom. For that reason, the Jewish freedom story has inspired freedom-seekers throughout history, including the 17th-century Pilgrims and enslaved Africans. When my grandfather was alive, he would love to hear Al Jolson sing Go Down Moses — an abolitionist protest song influenced by the plight of the Biblical Israelites. This year, many Jews will place an olive on their seder plates as an aspiration for the liberation of both Israelis and Palestinians.

In short, Pesach’s universal themes bring an ancient story to contemporary relevance, every year. Perhaps that is why it is so widely celebrated. And I am so glad that this year, TBT will be holding our community Seder for the first time since 2019! Because many folks travel or spend the first two nights with family, our seder will take place on the fifth night of Pesach: Friday, April 26th. Our Seder will be joyous, uplifting and fun for TBT folks from ages 0-120. I hope to see you and your family there. Because our wonderful planning committee needs to order the right amount of food and set up our space properly, we ask for all RSVPs no later than April 11th. (RSVP here) Further information about the seder can be found later in the Shofar.

It is so important for us to be together to share these stories, especially in a year like this. If you are in town for that Friday night, please join us. You will be glad you did.

Oh, and in case you still wanted to know: the largest Passover seder in the world takes place in Kathmandu, Nepal.

I wish you and your family a Chag Kasher V’Sameach (a happy Matzah-filled holiday),
Rabbi Danny Moss

Rabbi's Column - January 2024

Dear Friends,

A richly developed ethical system is one of Judaism’s gifts to the world. If you understand just two concepts, you will begin to see why.

The first concept is from the very beginning of the Torah. After creating a world full of substance and life deemed tov (deeply good, harmonious), God created human beings. But unlike every other creature, the Torah (Gen. 1.26) describes human creation with the phrase (b’tzelem Elohim) — in the image of God. This means that, among other things, all human beings are equally deserving of dignity, safety, and love. No exceptions.

The second concept comes from the Exodus story. Just a few chapters after escaping Egypt, The Israelites are already told, “You shall not wrong or oppress a stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” (Ex. 22.20). This statement and others like it appear dozens of times throughout the Torah — The Talmud counts 36 of them — more than any other ethical requirement. Therefore, we must remember the suffering of our past, Torah commands. But if our suffering is only about us, we have missed the point. Our history of homelessness implies a special responsibility toward others in their homelessness.

Tzelem Elohim — uncompromising dignity.
Yetziat Mitzraim — uncompromising empathy.

These ideas are simple enough to understand, but difficult to apply. And that is because moral decision-making seldom demands a clear choice between right and wrong. More commonly, we must choose between right and right; or wrong and wrong.

Such is the case in this terrible ongoing war between Israel and Hamas. We all want the fighting to be over, but what of the hostages? What of Hamas’ unambiguous promise to massacre Jews again and again? On the other hand, what does it mean for Hamas to be eradicated altogether? Is that even possible? And if so, what will rise in its place? Who will lead the Palestinians out of their suffering? One can kill people, after all but not ideas. And in the wake of the untold devastation, the radicalization of another generation begins and the cycle of conflict continues. This is, after all, just what Hamas hoped would come to pass.

As I said, the choices here are between right and right; between wrong and wrong.

As students of history, and as moral agents with a stake in this conflict, it is incumbent on us to consider our responsibility. The conflict between Israel and the Palestinians has everything to do with dignity and empathy — two of our most deeply held values.

I find it excruciating to hold the full moral weight of this conflict, when our people are still held as hostages, our soldiers are dying, and the hatred toward Jews around the world skyrockets. Israel has worked in good faith for peace with the Palestinians over decades, without success. (I highly, highly encourage you to listen to Ezra Klein’s excellent recent interview with veteran US Peace Negotiator Aaron David Miller to learn more about this.)

And yet…
And yet.

There are other truths that we must acknowledge:
● An extremist, nativist Israeli government has brought Israel to this moment through its expansion of settlements, dismantling of its democratic institutions, and dehumanization of its perceived adversaries;
● Gaza is little more than an open-air prison. But even before the war, life for Palestinians was often unbearable. In the West Bank, civilians are constantly subject to checkpoints, arbitrary detentions without due process of law, violence from Jewish settlers, home demolitions, and all manner of indignities that accompany military occupation. On the Israeli side, there’s the psychological toll that such occupation takes on the (mostly 18-20-year-old) soldiers who enforce it.
● Palestinian refugees, numbering now in the millions, continue to live in camps throughout the middle east, largely abandoned by their host countries. (Except for times such as this, when international media attention makes their suffering politically exigent.)

The moral responsibility for the plight of the Palestinians is blindingly complex. But we don’t have to unravel all of that to know that, as an occupying power, Israel bears a tremendous moral responsibility. This seems unfair given the asymmetry of this conflict — one tiny Jewish state in a sea of Arab hostility — and given our history of persecution. Yet, today, the onus is on Israel to be the most ethical, the most responsible; the most sensitive of the values of Tzelem Elohim and Yetziat Mitzraim.

Anyone who thinks this conflict is one-sided is living in an alternate reality. Still, even knowing that there is pain and blame to share, I will not make excuses for supporting my people. I will fight with all of my soul for my people. That is an important part of justice in this conflict.

In Letters to My Palestinian Neighbor, Yossi Klein HaLevi writes that “a terrifying conditionality haunts our return [to Israel].” I think one of the things he means by this is that Israel’s miraculous existence demands a new responsibility on the world stage to global Jewry. And we have the reciprocal obligation.

With fervent prayers for Shalom,
Rabbi Moss

Rabbi's Column - November 2023

Dear Friends,

I was on the Guilford Green yesterday evening when I heard a man speaking English in what sounded to me like an Israeli accent. I approached his bench, and said s’licha (‘excuse me’ — this excessively polite gesture instantly outed me as an American). We began to converse.

Ech atah mistader, I asked — how are you holding up?
Ko’ev, ha lev koev, he replied — hurting. My heart hurts. Machzik ma’amad — But I’m holding on.

I nodded. I put a hand on his shoulder. As I looked at his face I noticed a cap was obscuring his kippah Hashem Itanu, he said. God is with us.
God is with us.

The response was classic Israeli. We’ve been through tough times. We’ll make it through this, too. I didn’t have to ask this man whether he had lost anyone to the violence; whether he had any family members or friends serving in the IDF, facing imminent danger. I didn’t have to ask.

As Israel fights for its very right to exist (what other country has to do this?) battles are being waged both in Israel and abroad. Here in the USA, we’re seeing the rise of hateful protests and violent antisemitism on college campuses. A recent Harvard poll found that 51% of 18-24-year-olds found Hamas’s terrorist carnage “justifiable” given the Palestinians’ grievances. A Cornell professor called Hamas’ brutality “exhilarating.” Angry protests at the Universities of Michigan and Wisconsin targeted Jews with hateful rhetoric. Neo-Nazis joined in the fray. At Cooper Union, Jewish Students were locked in to the library to protect themselves from protestors banging on the doors, screaming, “Long Live the Intifada.” There are too many others to mention here.

It used to be that college was where our young people learned to think broadly, critically. Now our elite institutions are harboring one-sided, hate-fuelled propaganda. One thing we can do is reach out to all of the college students in our lives, and see how they are doing. This week, I hosted an open Zoom space to process, grieve, and respond. I’ll schedule further sessions as is helpful.

As I write this, we are reading parashat lech lecha, the Torah Portion when Abraham and Sarah leave their home in search of our promised land. God tells them along the way, “I shall make your name great. And you shall be a blessing.” (Gen 12.2) My childhood rabbi, Rabbi Mark Shapiro z”l, loved to point out that this phrase is grammatically imperative. “Be a blessing,” says God. There’s no other option.

A Midrash on this portion has Abraham questioning God:
“Master of the Universe, You made a covenant with Noah that you would never destroy his children. Then I came along and pleased you better, so my relationship with You overrode his. Perhaps someone else will come along and please you better than me, so that his relationship with you overrides mine? God replied, “Among Noah’s children there are no righteous people who intercede for others, but among yours there will be.”

We Jews are a nation of helpers— a people who hate the suffering of all innocents, regardless of borders or life circumstances. You’re continuing to ask how to intercede, how to help. Here are three additional worthy causes you may wish to support:
• Assuta, a hospital in Israel near the Gaza border
• Educare IL, a non-profit organization founded in order to promote resilience and prevent violence in Israeli society, through the research and implementation of empirically-based training programs for therapists, educators and parents
• New Israel Fund Emergency Safety Net Fund is working in several key areas: 1. Basic care for vulnerable groups; 2. Combating violent speech and incitement online; 3. Preventing inter-communal violence in mixed Arab and Jewish cities; and 4. Mental health and trauma counseling.

I thank you to everyone who has reached out to help, pray, and care for our siblings in Israel and here at home. Together, we will make it through this. We will be a blessing.

Shalom, Shalom, fervently and soon,
Rabbi Moss

Rabbi's Column - September 2023

Dear Friends,

In Judaism, community matters. The ideal way to enjoy a meal is with at least three people. We need ten adults to form a minyan. It’s certainly permissible to study alone, but learning with a chevruta (‘study partner’ — from the same Hebrew root as ‘friend’) is among one of the most fulfilling paths in the spiritual life of a Jew.

To be Jewish is to share meaningful Jewish experiences with others. That’s why I’m thrilled to introduce a new initiative called Kesher - רשק, which means ‘connection’ in Hebrew. Kesher offers a way to connect with fellow TBT folks in small affinity groups. Each group will meet at least once each month throughout the year, and will be facilitated by a member of TBT! Some groups will form around general interests; and others are Judaically focused. You can learn to cook delicious modern Israeli recipes, hit the slopes in a Jewish ski group, find support and guidance if you are caring for a loved one, sing new and classic Jewish music, and much more!

Why are we doing this? Well, you may have participated in one of our small-group parlor conversations last year. A common theme emerged: people who described their involvement at TBT as particularly rewarding often felt connected first through a small circle of friends. Often, these friendships blossomed while their kids were little or growing up through Bar/Bat Mitzvah. Some of these groups continue to meet after many years! Kesher is our effort to create fun, relational opportunities more proactively, across age and stage. And it just starts with having fun getting to know other TBT folks, once a month. Won’t you join one of our pilot groups? More information can be found here: http://www.tbtshoreline.org/kesher-groups.

Hineh mah tov u’mah naim
Shevet achim v’achayot gam yachad

How pleasant, how perfect, when friends gather together as one (Psalms 133)

Bivracha (Blessings),
Rabbi Moss

Rabbi's Column - August 2023 High Holiday Shofar

Dear Friends,

As we enter the Hebrew month of Elul, we find ourselves once again within Judaism’s central season of renewal. This period of Jewish time revolves around two primary spiritual technologies: Cheshbon Ha-Nefesh (an accounting of our deeds and goals); and Teshuvah (repair, reconciliation, return).

That feeling of renewal courses throughout our entire community this year, too. Together our hearts turn to our beautifully renovated synagogue home as we prepare to return for the High Holy Days at TBT for the first time in several years. We will consecrate our gorgeous sanctuary and welcome back our Torah Scrolls to the ark at Selichot (September 9th). If you do not often join for this beautiful, contemplative evening service, I especially encourage you to experience it this year. Our wonderful choir will be presenting special musical pieces for the occasion, and our very own Noah Stein has composed a new piece of congregational music just for the occasion.

And there’s more homecoming to look forward to this fall! Please save the date for a festive weekend of gratitude: November 3rd and 4th. That Friday night we will say todah — thank you — to all who have helped us to arrive in our beautiful renovated space. Then on Saturday night, we will party!

Hashiveinu Adonai Eilecha V’Nashuva - Help us to turn back to you, God, and we will turn: to one another, to our beautiful synagogue home, and to a new year filled with joy and endless possibilities.

Bivracha (Blessings),
Rabbi Moss

Rabbi's Column - May 2023

Dear Temple Beth Tikvah,

By now you may have heard the news: Susan and I are expecting our first child in late May or early June. We are overjoyed, excited, and a little bit anxious to embark on this journey together. We are especially glad that we get to do that here on the Shoreline, as a part of the TBT community. I am writing this letter to you in order to share our gratitude, and also to communicate about my plans during this sacred time.

First and foremost, Susan and I feel so fortunate that the leadership of Temple Beth Tikvah helps staff and clergy prioritize family needs. Providing family leave and day-to-day support when needs arise is a true act of chesed (caring love) that recognizes that all of us are, first and foremost, human beings with obligations to those who love us. This recognition should be universal, but in this country it is not. So, modeh ani — I am all the more grateful.

Now for the plans. When the auspicious hour arrives, I will be with Susan for the arrival of the newest Moss and the transition to home. Over the summer, I will be on leave for a total of approximately eight to ten weeks. The precise timing will depend on the baby’s arrival and needs. I will be “back to work” for the remainder of the summer weeks and through the High Holy Days, in order to plan and support our team as the fall begins. While on leave, my focus will be on the needs of Susan and our new child. Therefore, I plan to be truly away from day-to-day duties, including email, phone calls, meetings, and ritual leadership. I am incredibly grateful to Dr. C, our office team, the Religious Activities Committee, volunteers, and our Rabbi Emerita and Emeritus - Rabbi Offner and Rabbi Sommer, all of whom you may encounter during this time.

In that vein, please know that TBT Clergy will be available to our members should an emergency arise. In that case, please call TBT’s main number at any time, and follow the prompts to our emergency line.

Finally, Susan and I are very excited for you to meet this new addition to our family. A formal welcome and blessing will take place at a Shabbat evening service this summer, date TBD.

The traditional Jewish greeting for an expectant parent is b’sha’ah tovah, loosely translated as ‘may it be a good and auspicious hour.’ Susan and I are so grateful for all of your love and support during this momentous time for us and our family.

Shalom,
Rabbi Danny Moss

Rabbi's Column - March 2023

Dear Friends,

We’ve all heard the phrase “I’m going to hang up my hat…” Well, this month I hung up my tallit! But that doesn’t mean what you might think — in fact, quite the opposite. Please allow me to explain.

In the summer of 2021, Rabbi Offner left me some very useful tools, including the tallit racks inside my study. I hadn’t really used them much, though, since we’ve been gathering for services all over the Shoreline. Ever since we’ve been meeting regularly at TBT, however, I have finally started using those tallit racks for the first time! It feels incredible to hang up my prayer shawl each week, knowing that Temple Beth Tikvah is once again ‘home base’.

In the days of the ancient Jerusalem Temple, our ancestors referred to it as Beit HaMikdash (‘The Sacred House’), or more colloquially, HaBayit, (simply, ‘The House’). After the Temple was destroyed, the family table became the new altar. The synagogue came to house the new sanctuaries of our people. Private residence and synagogue alike came to convey an abiding Jewish sense of ‘home.’

Now, every Erev Shabbat (Sabbath eve) I can come home to TBT, prepare to enter Shabbat with a moment of silence, and wrap myself in my tallit following the custom of my ancestors. These small moments help me realize that we are truly entering a new stage of readiness to re-enter our congregational home.

Has it been a while since your last building tour? We’d love to invite you back to see all of the progress! Simply refer to the details enclosed or be in touch with the office. It’s going to be a very exciting spring at Temple Beth Tikvah. I look forward to sharing many meaningful milestones with you.

Shalom,
Rabbi Danny Moss

Rabbi's Column - February 2023

Dear Friends,

As I write this, we are nearing the dramatic climax of the Exodus story in our weekly Torah cycle. It’s one of the great human narratives; one which we revisit every day in our prayer services and every year around the seder table. But we tend not to dwell on the plagues (apart from the hokey children’s seder toys, anyway), which would have been quite terrifying to experience! Consider the penultimate plague of darkness:

 “And Adonai said to Moses: ‘Stretch out your hand toward heaven, that there may be darkness over the land of Egypt, even darkness which may be felt.” (Ex. 10.21)

The medieval Italian commentator Ovadia Seforno attempts to understand the unique character of this darkness. He explains that darkness is not a substance, as such, but rather the absence of light. But the darkness of Egypt, he explains, is a separate entity, entirely: not an absence, but a tangible presence. Thus, no light could banish it.

Sometimes it feels that there is darkness in our world that no light can banish. We are living through difficult and dark times, for certain. And all of us go through seasons of trial and challenge — darkness out of which it may feel that we will never emerge.

The Torah goes on to specify that the Israelites could not see one another, so they did not rise from their dwellings for three days (10.23).  How does the Midrash respond? It says that the greatest darkness we experience is when we do not truly see one another —  when we do not participate in the distress of others. 

The only antidote to this darkness, of course, is reaching out to those around us who are in need. Or, when we are in need, we may reach out to others for a helping hand. This is one of the reasons our community exists. The relationships we can build at TBT are like a candle in the dark. Just ask our families who have been here for decades.  It doesn’t take decades to feel the warmth and profundity of these relationships, though — and like any profound journey, it starts with a first step. If you are interested in your first (or next) step, I’d love to talk with you about it.

L’Shalom,
Rabbi Moss