From the Rabbi

It’s been a hustling and bustling time — from intense High Holidays observances to a season of elections, from a time of seeking forgiveness for wrong past choices, to a time of making important new choices.

Shortly after the High Holidays, I flew to Israel to see family and friends, and to prepare our next interfaith peace event in February. I found myself here also in the midst of a heated election campaign, this time for municipal and mayoral positions. Similar to the U.S. midterm elections, these local decisions will have national impact, and possibly beyond.

What lesson can we learn from the High Holidays that may help us through the time of elections? One of the similarities is the camaraderie people have for each other. It seems that everyone is either going to an open house or coming back from one. Perhaps when we go to our group’s open house, we should remember that just recently we sat together in the same room and prayed to one God. Perhaps we can apply this lesson from the High Holidays and continue to experience the sense of camaraderie  — not necessarily agreeing, but accepting that others have their passions, too.

In this time of election, the choice we make is important. The worst choice is to despair and be filled with dejection, to refuse to get involved. One of my favorite expressions is this: Wherever you are, there you are. Similar to God’s ultimate message to Moses in the Burning Bush, when Moses wants to know God’s name, and in turn God replies “Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh” — I will be where I will be (or, I am where I am).  It is important to elect a new mayor or congressman/congresswoman, but it’s even more important to fully be where you are.

Last Shabbat in Jerusalem, I spent the day at Kehilat Zion, which has a beautiful blend of Ashkenazi and Sephardi tunes, children, adults, men and women from all walks of life — a true “Israeli congregation,” led by Raba Tamar Apelbaum, of blended background herself, creating a peaceful human field —“…a meadow in Jerusalem.” (I Kings 15:4) It reminded me that we are getting ready to take part in the “Shabbat Project,” opening our house to other Jews and friends, just to be together — to elect each other first.  Looking forward to being with all of you soon.

Shabbat Project Shalom,

—Rabbi Gadi Capela

“And Isaac’s servants digged in the valley, and found there a well of living water. And the herdsmen of Gerar strove with Isaac’s herdsmen, saying: ‘The water is ours.’ And he called the name of the well Esek, because they contended with him. And they digged another well, and they strove for that also. And he called the name of it Sitnah. And he moved from there, and digged another well; and for that they strove not. And he called the name of it Rehoboth, and he said: ‘For now the Lord has made room for us, and we shall be fruitful in the land.’” (Gen. 26:19-22)

After cleansing ourselves during the 10 days of repentance, we are moving on to Sukkot — the holiday of happiness and peace. From the 613 mitzvot, only two command us to be happy when we fulfill them. Both have to do with the physical bounty of harvest and bikkurim (first fruits). If sitting in the Sukkah would cause unhappiness, a person is exempt from doing so. The happiest occasion in Judaism, according to the Talmud, was when Jews drew water from the well in Jerusalem and poured it over the altar, which happened on Sukkot. God wants us to have quality of life and happiness, not just material wealth. Hence, a Sukkah is aligned with peace.

Ironically, one of the most contentious places in the world is where the water libation originally took place — the old city of Jerusalem. One of the reasons I moved from Israel was because of that contentiousness. Each year that I return, I contemplate this issue. What prevents it from being peaceful? In recent years, I’ve led interfaith pilgrimages and seen Israel from different prisms. I see it now not just as Israel, but as the Holy Land many sought to “conquer.”

Using Isaac’s story above, Nachmonides interprets it this way: “And he called the third well Rehoboth (wide-open spaces), and this one alludes to the Holy Temple which will one day be built . . . and that one will be built without fighting or conflict.” The Jewish journey begins in Egypt, which means “narrow,” while Isaac’s third well, Rehoboth, means “wide.” Moving from narrowness to wideness and diversity, “all the nations will worship Him shoulder-to-shoulder.” (Zephaniah 3:9) Hence, it is not to be a Jewish journey alone. Israel has three major religions: Judaism, Islam and Christianity. We are not alone in the spiritual desert, for the desert belongs to nobody and to everybody.

Last year I asked our Christian Palestinian Egyptian Coptic Deacon a question about building the temple: Do Muslims have a problem with Jews building a temple, or is it the matter of the location on Temple Mount? Our guide, Dawud (David), immediately replied that the problem was the location, which “drew” my follow-up question: What if the Jews give up their aspirations to build the third Temple on the Temple Mount, and would continue to worship in the Kotel Plaza? Dawud jumped up and said with light in his eyes: “World Peace!” For me, that lit a small light at the end of a dark tunnel — the light I was waiting for years to see.

Isaac moved from the first and second wells to the third. Let us move 100 meters. And then no one would need to move anymore. At this point, we all have Hazakah on the land — stronghold. And this is the basis for the three holy sites. If the three religions, worked together, Jerusalem would be stronger.

May we all stand shoulder to shoulder in peace this holiday of Sukkot.

—Rabbi Gadi Capela

Many explanations make clear why the Torah starts with the second letter of the Hebrew alphabet. The letter Bet has many meanings that can justify it being chosen to inaugurate the Holy Scriptures. One of the most recognized explanations of the Kli Yakar — 16th century Rabbi Shlomo Ephraim Luntschitz — is a short paragraph in his long commentary on the first verse of the Torah. He quotes Proverbs 9:1: “Wisdom has built her house; she has hewn out its seven pillars.” The idea that the Torah begins with the letter that spells the same as a house, and looks like a house, means that the Torah starts at home. It also needs a home.

As in the first sanctuary — the Tent of Meeting — being a tent, the Torah makes it clear it’s not about the building. And Meeting means with God, a place to house God in our hearts. As God says, “Veshachanty betocham.” (I will dwell inside them.) It’s also about meeting other people and praying together. As the second letter of the alphabet, Bet also represents the number two. Number one is reserved for God, but humans need company — community. As much as it’s about the house, and housing the glory of God in a sanctuary, the Shechina, it’s also about the community.

Notably, the Torah doesn’t specify a place for the ultimate House of God. Even Jerusalem is not mentioned in the Torah, for different reasons, but also to tell us that the House of God is not a specified place, but a place of inspiration. Wherever we pray, if we set our hearts toward Jerusalem, Jerusalem will come to us. Thus, any place of worship becomes holy — whether in a synagogue or at home. The place becomes Hamakom — The Place — another name for God Himself. What matters is not the location, but the holy space we ourselves create.    A few weeks ago, in Parashat Re’eh (Deuteronomy 11:26 – 16:17), the Torah repeats (16 times) the statement by Moses “…the place which the Lord your God shall choose…”  God intentionally does not yet reveal the location of His intended sanctuary. As God’s instruction to Abraham of Lech Lecha, “…go one step at a time to the place I’ll show you.” The Zohar, the main text of the Kaballah, compares God’s directive to Abraham to God’s directive to one’s soul in heaven before it comes down to earth, before it is going to an unknown land.

The lesson is this: revelation is slow. In order to receive it, we need to pay attention in life — to stop and listen, to allow room for faith, to take these breaks and contemplate, to pray. Our whole life in this world is bein Hashemashot — in twilight — with some light and some darkness. In order to find our way, we have to walk slowly. When you are not sure, take it slow. It is designed this way so that our relationship with God and the world will not be in haste. Lo al halechem levado — not just bread, but spiritual journey. In the blessing after meals, the Torah commands us to eat, to be satiated (savaata) and then to bless God. Don’t rush. We are to make room for more than just bread in our lives. Taking a break to pray is the Jewish dessert.

With two weeks remaining until the start of the High Holidays and to do Teshuvah, these changes may be hard to make, but are worthy. Let’s pray attention.

Shana Tova — a happy and sweet 5779 to all.

—Rabbi Gadi Capela