From the Rabbi

Dear members and friends,

During the last three weeks, I have been enjoying an incredible trip around the beautiful United States. Visiting the breathtakingly massive rock formations within many of our national parks always reminds me of our fleeting existence. One of the most beautiful — and one hard to remain indifferent to — is the rock formation in Sedona, Arizona. The sandstone and limestone deposits of millions of years, which were once a bottom of an ocean, are now revealed as a magnificent sculpture made by nature. The “natural artist” used the force of wind and water to shape its material. The red rocks are even analogous to blood and perhaps ourselves.

This sight immediately brought to mind the verse from Job (14:19): “The waters wear the stones; the overflowings thereof wash away the dust of the earth…” This verse also became the inspiration for Akiva to become Rabbi Akiva — the greatest sage of the Talmud (c 50-135 CE).  A Midrash (Avot de Rabbi Natan Ch. 6) lays out the story:

What were the beginnings of Rabbi Akiva? It is said: When he was 40 years of age, he had not yet studied anything. One day he stood at the mouth of the well. “Who hollowed out this stone?” he wondered. They said to him: “The water that falls on it every day.” They said to him: “Akiva, have you not read, Stones, worn away by water? Immediately, Rabbi Akiva drew an inference [kal v’chomer] with regard to himself: if what is soft carves out the hard, all the more shall the words of Torah, which are as hard as iron, hollow out my heart, which is flesh and blood. Immediately, he went to study Torah… The teacher wrote down aleph-bet for him and he learned it; aleph-tav, and he learned it; the Book of Leviticus, and he learned it. He went on studying until he learned the whole of Torah.

This story is about late blooming and the power of persistence — how Rabbi Akiva at one point as an adult decides to change his life and begins learning Torah as though he were a child. He compares the water to Torah that can shape him over time in the same way that water shapes stones. This became Rabbi Akiva’s motto: If water can wear down a stone, Akiva can become a scholar… If water can wear down a stone, then every Jew can and will study Torah… If water can wear down a stone, the Jewish people can overcome Rome… If water can wear down stone, then the Temple can be rebuilt…

However, we recently read about Lot’s wife, who turned back into a rock, into a pillar of salt. (Genesis 19:26) “But his wife looked back from behind him, and she became a pillar of salt.” Perhaps this occurred because she turned back instead of letting herself go forward. Perhaps she was afraid of the long and slow road ahead. In the short run, perhaps rocks shape the path of water. But in the long run, water shapes rocks. We, too, should not resist the wind and the water of life, but let them shape and form us like red rocks, to become a refined version of ourselves. Let the waters wear the stones in us, and wash away the dust of the earth.

Chodesh Tov,

—Rabbi Gadi

Last Shabbat, the Orient Congregational Church hosted an interfaith panel discussion in which I participated with Dr. Don Russo and Sheikh Ghassan Manasra. It was a unique opportunity to share a stage with Christian and Muslim colleagues for an interfaith dialogue. The main purpose of the discussion was to present our respective views of sharing holy sites and spaces, in the Holy Land and elsewhere. In a world that too often opts for division, we wanted to offer an alternative of sharing, not dividing. Of course, the event itself proved that we don’t need to let dogmas separate us.

Rather than fantasize about a better future, we can simply build it. Being spiritual is to have the courage to deal with our wounds — pushing away all that distracts us from doing so. Too often, people use the word “traditional” to cover for stagnation and laziness. The way to come together and share is to collaborate for the greater good.
While Dr. Russo spoke about the idea that often we are addicted to certainty, and thus are not open to a real conversation and real growth, Sheikh Ghassan spoke about the need for each faith to learn the “code” of the other — the red buttons we should respect. I spoke about the pizza model I learned at an interfaith evening in Jerusalem last year, when I met Sheikh Ghassan at the Abrahamic Reunion.

The pizza model simply says that whether you belong to the Jewish “slice,” the Christian slice, or Muslim slice, as you move toward the front tip, you become closer with people of the other faiths. I added that since Judaism works in concentric circles, we can then make an additional circle around the middle and create a separate category of those who want to come more toward the center of the pie.

The category of interfaith dialogue can achieve the ultimate will of God as articulated by Isaiah: “Also the aliens, that join themselves to the Lord, to minister to Him, and to love the name of the Lord, to be His servants, every one that keeps the Sabbath from profaning it, and holds fast by My covenant. Even them will I bring to My holy mountain, and make them joyful in My house of prayer; their burnt-offerings and their sacrifices shall be acceptable upon My altar; for My house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples. (Isaiah 56:6-7)

For many years taking the subway in New York City, I was fascinated by the ability of so many people of infinite diversity to sit quietly together, totally accepting each other, even if only for a brief time, perhaps just one stop. There must be some sort of “subway wisdom” there. What is it that allows us, the Muslim and the Christian, the black and the white, the gay and the straight, to get along in the subway that we haven’t yet learned above ground? Can sharing holy lands be similar to that? Can we simply sit together for a little while, pretending not to look at each other, but seeing that we may not be that different, that we may all just want to arrive peacefully at our destination.

Perhaps we can look at our lives here on earth as a short subway ride, and not waste our time on conflict. When the subway doors close, make it a holy place. A few minutes later, the doors will open and another group will be tested. Will they pass the subway wisdom test?

I hope and pray that the year 5778 will bring us closer to our destination —the destination of peace, friendship, and jubilance, a year we learn to treat every land as a holy land, and learn to share it.
Shanah Tova u’Mtuka (Happy and sweet year)
—Rabbi Gadi Capela