Welcome to the Jewish community. While all of the denominations of Judaism welcome  people curious about Judaism, you will most probably be more comfortable in a Reform, Conservative or Reconstructionist congregation.  All classes, including a course organized by the Union for Reform Judaism and taught at Reform synagogues all over the country called Introduction to Judaism, are taught in English,  with all the readings in English.  These classes are designed for people interested in learning about Judaism or potentially interested in conversion. To find a class near you go to www. URJ.org.
 
You will also be welcome with no cost at all services in every synagogue except  Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur  which requires tickets in most synagogues.  My recommendation is that you begin to go to Friday night or Saturday morning prayer services at a Reform, Conservative or Reconstructionist congregation near you.  The services will be primarily in Hebrew ; don’t worry that you won’t understand. It is not about the words, but about the music, the experience, and the opportunity to unplug from the concerns of the week.  Few of the Jews in the congregation actually understand the words.  Most synagogues use a prayer book that includes an English translation so you can see the translations, but you might find the  poetry and meditations that are included in most prayer books will  enhance the experience of the prayer more than a literal translation.   For many people prayer is not an intellectual experience that requires understanding of each word but rather a spiritual experience of transcendence that unfolds from a combination of music,  community and your own open heart.
 
All of this will help you draw closer to God.  
 
 

In a Reform synagogue there is no problem using a siddur application on an electronic devise like an IPhone or IPad on Shabbat since Reform Jews use electricity on Shabbat.  It is simply another development in technology. First there were manuscripts, then printed prayer books, then mimeographed creative services, and now siddurim created by individual congregations on computers.  Now there are electronic versions or many prayer books, including  our Reform siddur  Mishkan Tefillah .

Some  congregants might experience using an electronic device as strange, particularly if they think you are doing your email.  In that case you might simply explain what you are doing.  I have found that the discomfort with using this technology  tends to be generational ---older congregants are less comfortable than younger ones. On the other hand, an advantage of a siddur application on an electronic devise is that a congregant can adjust the font size, making it easier for some people than using a siddur where the font is too small for their eyesight.

Our cantor often leads the service with the siddur application in his IPad.  As far as I know no one has complained.  And if the availability of these Jewish resources on our electronic devises make it easier for us to access Jewish spiritual practice like berachot before meals or the birchat ha mazon, all the better!
 
Rabbi Laura Geller
 

 

But there are two times when saying the blessing before doing the action presents a problem. One is the blessing for immersion in a mikvah in the case of a conversion. You don’t say a Jewish blessing unless you are Jewish. And you are not Jewish until after the immersion. So you immerse first, through that immersion become Jewish, and then, as a fully Jewish person, say the blessing. The other is the blessing over the Shabbat candles. One lights candles to inaugurate Shabbat. As soon as you say the blessing it is already Shabbat. If you were to light the candles after the blessing, after Shabbat has officially begun, then you would be violating the prohibition against kindling fire. So you light the candles, close your eyes, say the blessing and then open your eyes and behold: the lights of Shabbat. The custom of moving your hands in a circular motion three times is a tradition that suggests bringing the warmth and the light of Shabbat towards you. For so many women it evokes images of mothers and grandmothers, and it is almost possible to feel their loving hands on our own eyes.

 

 

For Reform Jews who use electricity on Shabbat, the prohibition against lighting fire is not observed, but this powerful custom continues even though it is no longer connected to the prohibition of lighting fire on Shabbat.

 

 

 

Rabbi Laura Geller, Senior Rabbi, Temple Emanuel of Beverly Hills

 

www.tebh.org

 

 

 

The OU statement continued: "Just as we, in a democratic, pluralistic society do not seek to impose our religious beliefs on others, same-sex marriage, now the law in New York, must not infringe on anyone’s religious liberties…Sadly, in too many states, those acting on their religious beliefs have seen government benefits withheld, government funds, contracts and services denied and privileges such as tax exemptions revoked. New York’s law ensures that will not happen here and employers, social service providers and houses of worship are free to uphold their faith.

 

ADL' s statement explained: "We are particularly thankful to the well-meaning and passionate advocates on both sides of this issue who recognized the need for such far reaching exemptions…. "All citizens should be entitled to the same rights, protections and benefits, regardless of their sexual orientation … That includes the right for same-sex couples to marry. At the same time, we are pleased that this decision leaves intact the right of religious communities to decide for themselves what relationships they will recognize."

 

Reform Judaism’s commitment to marriage equality steps from several core Jewish values: first, that all human beings are created in the image of God (b’tzelem Elohim) and therefore deserve to be treated with dignity, respect and have equal opportunity. Second, it is not good for people to be alone; intimate responsible companionship should be available to everyone. And third, Judaism is a living tradition which evolves over time. The Biblical prohibition against male homosexuality has little in common with contemporary long term monogamous gay and lesbian partnerships.

 

Last year a group of Orthodox rabbis and educators released a statement of principles on the place of Jews with a homosexual orientation in the Orthodox community. Among the principles were that “ halakhah (Jewish law) sees heterosexual marriage as the ideal model and sole legitimate outlet for human sexual expression. The sensitivity and understanding we properly express for human beings with other sexual orientations does not diminish our commitment to that principle.” Another principle was that “halakhic Judaism views all male and female same-sex sexual interactions as prohibited. The question of whether sexual orientation is primarily genetic, or rather environmentally generated, is irrelevant to this prohibition. While halakha categorizes various homosexual acts with different degrees of severity and opprobrium… this does not in any way imply that lesser acts are permitted. But it is critical to emphasize that halakha only prohibits homosexual acts; it does not prohibit orientation or feelings of same-sex attraction, and nothing in the Torah devalues the human beings who struggle with them.” Their statement as well points to the Jewish value that all human beings are created in the image of God and deserve to be treated with dignity and respect . The statement is an important reflection of how serious traditional Jews wrestle with complicated issues. The difference between the Reform and Orthodox positions on this issue reflect a profound difference in the view of Jewish law, the way Judaism does or doesn’t evolve over time,and how to translate shared core values like " tzelem elohim" into the practical and political decisions in our larger world.

 

Rabbi Laura Geller

 

www.tebh.org

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Please explain the prohibition that a Jew should not charge a Jew interest on a loan, and explain the practicality of this prohibition in a modern world.

 

 

Exodus 22:24 tells us: "If you lend money to My people, to the poor who is in your power, do not act toward him as a creditor: exact no interest from him."

 

It doesn’t explain why.  If a person can rent a house, why shouldn’t he or she be able to rent “money”? 

 

The Jewish Worker website explains (http://jewishworker.blogspot.com/2008/05/why-does-torah-prohibit-lending-money.html) the difference in a helpful way.  While interest is basically rent for using someone else’s money, "renting" money is different from renting other things in that using money doesn’t diminish its value.  When I use a car, the value of the car will depreciate over time.  But money, at least according to Torah, doesn’t lose its value, and so there is no risk of loss.

 

The famous biblical scholar Nachum Sarna sharpens the point.  In Biblical times, a loan was less a commercial transaction than a matter of tzedakah. Those who needed to borrow money were poor, and therefore charging interest would be viewed as exploiting someone in need of help. That is most probably the reason for the prohibition against charging interest to fellow Jews, which we see again in Lev. 25:35ff and Deut. 23:20.

 

The Torah does permit charging interest to non-Israelites (Deut.23:21), but this practice was never really encouraged.  It was supported primarily during those times in Jewish history when money-lending was one of the few professions available to Jews. 

 

As the economy changed, making money-lending more common, a tool called Heter Iska developed as a way to make it possible to lend money to others with interest.  As Rabbi Yosef Kanefsky explains, (http://www.docstoc.com/docs/42881181/Money-Lending-and-Interest-in-The-Torah-and Jewish Tradition)  the Heter Iska redefines the loan as an investment, and the relationship between the lender and the borrower as a partnership. This reframing made it possible to guarantee some degree of return and to help insure that the lender/investor would not face unreasonable risks.

 

While the Heter Iska is a part of modern business practice in the traditional Jewish community, it isn’t part of Reform Jewish tradition.  Still, the issues that emerge from the Biblical prohibition against charging interests raise provocative questions about how we ought to think about money, specifically the gap between rich and poor, not only in the Jewish community, but in the larger society as well.

 

Rabbi Laura Geller

Temple Emanuel of Beverly Hills

www.tebh.org

Since the election, there has been a lot of talk about compromise in Washington. What does Judaism teach us about the need to compromise vs. standing by your principles?

 

Judaism teaches that you need to both stand by your principles and compromise at the same time. But before you even get there, you need to listen to the other point of view. The Talmud tells us that while the First Temple was destroyed because of idolatry, sexual immorality, and violence, the Second Temple was destroyed because of incivility, baseless hatred, and the inability to listen to each other. Compromise is a high value; the reason we affix a mezuzah at an angle is because of compromise. Rashi taught that the mezuzah should be placed vertically; his grandson Rabbeinu Tam thought it should be horizontal. That’s why our mezuzzot are tilted at an angle. A subliminal message from this compromise is that shalom bayit, peace in the home, requires that everyone in a home be willing to compromise.

 

What is true in our homes is also true with political discourse. And yet here is the tension. Should one really compromise principles for the sake of peace? Shouldn’t justice take precedence over peace making? Maybe things are never quite that clear. "Where there is strict justice there is no peace, and where there is peace there is no strict justice." (Talmud Sanhedrin 6b.) One might argue, as the tradition seems to do, that a good compromise is actually justice moderated by peace.

 

Perhaps the most honest answer to the question requires a case-by-case analysis. Sometimes compromise might not be possible, but one can only arrive at that conclusion after serious dialogue and real listening. Remember that shalom is not only the absence of conflict, but also the combining of opposites to create wholeness.

 

Oseh shalom b’mromav, hu yaaseh shalom: May the One who makes shalom in high places help us listen to each other deeply enough to find creative compromise that represents the blending of justice and peace.

 

 

 

 

The essence of a good life is found in this week’s haftara, from the Book of Micah: “Human beings have told you what is good, but what does God require of you? Only to do justly, love mercy and walk humbly with your God.”  Micah, who lived during the time of the First Temple, was challenging the behavior of the religious leaders who were outwardly observant but morally corrupt. They told the people that was most important was offering sacrifices, but Micah taught a different message: what God really requires is to live your life in a way that reflects justice, to be compassionate toward other people and not to be so arrogant to believe that your spiritual path is the only one.

In our day too we get mixed messages about what is good. So how can we be clear about what God requires of us?  Our tradition offers us many spiritual practices,  from prayer to musar work, which can help us see more clearly what really is important. One of my favorite practices is to reflect on the wonderful image attributed to the 4^th century Babylonia sage Rava. He imagines that when we die we will need to answer the following questions:

Rava said: At the hour when they bring a person in for judgment, they ask him/her:

(1) Did you conduct your business affairs faithfully? 

(2) Did you set aside time to study Torah? 

(3) Were you involves with procreation?

(4) Did you look forward to salvation?

(5) Did you debate wisely?

 

And even so, if “the awe of heaven was your treasure, yes; if not, no.”

 (BT Shabbat 31a)

 

I understand these questions to be challenges for us as we think about what it means to create a life of meaning. First, are you ethical in your interactions with other people? Second, are you connected to a spiritual tradition that not only challenges you to think and to ask questions but also links you to something much bigger than yourself? Third, whether or not you have children, what are you doing to make the world a better place for everyone’s children? Fourth, what are you doing to bring healing and repair to our broken world?  Fifth, do you listen and learn from people who have different ideas from yours and are you respectful and civil when you disagree with other people’s point of view? Finally, do you have a sense of awe and gratitude for the blessing of being alive?   

 

The essence of a good life is to be able to truthfully answer "yes" to those questions.

 

Our tradition has a great deal to say about tzedakah, including how to set priorities for  giving. In general one is obligated to support his or her own family first, then the poor in one’s own city and then the larger community. On the other hand, some sources suggest that one ought to support the most needy first, with food taking priority over clothing, or the more vulnerable taking precedence over those who might be more able to protect themselves. And while many commentaries assume that support for Jews takes priority over support for non Jews, we are explicitly instructed in the  Talmud (Gittin 61a) to support the non-Jewish poor as you do the Jewish poor for the sake of peace.

 

What does “for the sake of peace” mean? Perhaps it suggests that we will get along better with our non-Jewish neighbors if they know we want to help them as well as Jews. Or perhaps it means to teach us that  the way to live in peace is to recognize that every human being is, like us, created in the image of God and therefore worthy of our support.

 

So the answer seems to be: we must do both…support Jewish causes as well as more universal ones. It does seem clear that Jews must support Jewish causes, because if we don’t, who will?  Who cares about Jewish education except Jews? Who cares about maintaining synagogues other than Jews? But we can’t stop there…. we must also care about other people and universal problems.

 

One model that works comes from the innovative teen philanthropy program at my synagogue,

TempleEmanuel of Beverly Hills.  MATCH, Money and Teens Creating Hope, is an endowment fund run by the teenagers of the temple. Each year they study traditional texts about tzedakah and determine what they think the priorities of a Jewish philanthropy ought to be.  They choose an issue, research organizations that respond to the issue, often through site visits and meetings with the leaders and those who benefit from the work. And then they allocate three fourths of the interest to those organizations. The remaining one quarter of the funds stays within TempleEmanuel, with the students determining what program or need within the temple is deserving of their support.

 

The original donor was very wise. By setting up the foundation with the clear instructions that one fourth of the funds must be allocated to our  own synagogue, the students learn that they must give tzedakah both to support our own community at the same time that they use their resources to make a difference in the larger world.

 

It happened again this week—this time at the gym. Just as I was finishing my workout, someone called to me: “You’re Rabbi Geller, right?” “Right.” “You know what, rabbi? I don’t believe in God.”

 

It is hard to know how to respond when that happens. Usually I mumble about giving me a call to discuss it. Other times, when I have more time, I ask the person to describe the “god” he or she doesn’t believe in. 

 

Nine times out of ten it is the god that the person first met as a child, the one who looks like an old man with a beard who lives somewhere in the sky and knows if you’ve been bad or good. The person is usually surprised when I say: “You know, I don’t believe in that ‘god’ either.” 

 

The more we talk, the more the person shares how for him, coming to synagogue only reinforces that image of a god. Even our prayer book, gender neutral as it is, seems to support the image of a powerful ruler, delivering us from oppressors and saving us from tyrants. While the words don’t actually say it, this god looks like a king or a powerful father. 

I don’t believe in that god either. 

 

The God I believe in is closer to the God revealed in the burning bush. When Moses noticed a bush that was burning without being burned up.,he stopped, turned around and paid attention (Exodus 3:3). How many others had passed that bush but hadn’t turned to look? We don’t know. We only know that Moses paid attention. And when Moses asked God’s name, the response was: “Ehyeh-Asher-Ehyeh; I will be what I will be” (3:13–14). Ehyeh is the future tense of the verb, to be. 

So what is the name YHVH, the name we use for God? It seems to be a version of the present tense. It seems to mean: “IS.” 

 

To say God is “IS-ness” is a little different from saying that god is that old man in the sky with the beard. 

 

Imagine how YHVH might be pronounced if we actually pronounced it? It is all sounds of breathing, breathing in, and breathing out. Imagine that one of God’s names is the sound of breathing, and then ask yourself: “How many times today have I said God’s name?” 

 

How many times have you stopped and noticed? The psalmist says: “With every breath, we praise God” (Psalm 150:6). 

The challenge is to pay attention, to notice that God is as much a part of us as breathing and as necessary as our own breath. And just as our breath links us to the breath of every living thing, we are connected to every thing that lives. And then the challenge is to ask ourselves what difference it ought to make in our lives if we really feel that we are connected, that we are a part of a much larger whole, to a One-ness. 

 

Rabbi Ed Feinstein reports in his book Tough Questions Jews Ask that when he asks teenagers if they believe in God they often say no. But when he asks them if they have ever had an experience that makes them feel close to a power that transcends them, they say yes, and then go on to describe the experience. The problem seems to be in the naming the experience “Godly.” 

 

So for me, it is not helpful to talk about believing in God. I don’t discover God through intellectual cognition but rather through experience. For me, God is the truth of the present moment. God simply IS. 

 

Think about the “god” you don’t believe in. Is it that you don’t believe in God or is it that you are stuck on one particular metaphor that doesn’t name your experience of God? Might there be a different metaphor  that opens up the possibility of encounter with a power grander than yourself, with a web that can connect every person to every other person? For me, that power is the Divine presence. 

 

Here are some other metaphors: God is the engine that powers the universe and God is the gas in the engine; God is the Internet server that links us all together and the universe is the hardware; God is the ocean and we are the waves. God is the one breathing us and God is the breath. 

 

The first step is paying attention, noticing those moments when you are overwhelmed by beauty, grandeur, awe, gratitude…when you realize how small you are within an infinite universe. The second step is asking yourself what difference it makes. If you can glimpse a sense of the divine presence, then how can you create a life worthy to be lived in the presence of God? 

 

(A version of this response first appeared in my commentary on Va-eira in Reform Voices of Torah on the Union for Reform Judaism website.)