Congregation Kneseth Israel in Annapolis, Maryland
  • What's Happening
    • Location & Contact
  • About us
    • Our Proud History
    • Life Cycle Events >
      • Brit Milah and Baby Naming
      • Bar and Bat Mitzvah
      • Weddings
      • Funerals, Cemetery and Jewish Burials
    • Sisterhood
  • Worship
  • Membership
    • New Members
    • Existing Members
  • Donate Today
    • Online Donations
    • Support for Ukraine
    • Other Ways to Support
  • Weekly Drash
  • In The Community
  • New Page
  • Product
  • Product

Parshat Acharei Mot

4/30/2022

0 Comments

 
Picture
Other than the dramatic reenactment of the original Temple service of atonement we recall during the Avoda service on Yom Kippur, few of us can derive any deep meaning from its details as presented in this week’s parsha. Frankly, as many commentators have noted, the original rituals of sacrifices, ritual sprinkling of blood, the symbolic transfer of sins to the scapegoat, and confession as practiced in antiquity have given way to a focus on fasting and prayer as a modern means of atonement. The disconnect between ritual atonement and the true renouncement of misdeeds was noted by even the earliest commentators; it’s human nature to seek the easiest or most institutionalized way out of a tough ethical or spiritual conundrum.

But as with any piece of Torah, it pays to read between the lines. Two verses, buried among the details of the Yom Kippur ritual, give us a unique perspective on the nature of sin, and our relationship with the Divine in the act of reconciliation. Case  #1:

Thus [the High Priest] shall atone on the Sanctuary for the abominations of the Children of Israel, from their sins among all their misdeeds; and so shall they do for the Tent of Meeting which dwells within them among their impurity. (Lev. 16:16)

Does that last phrase jump out at you? The Tent of Meeting which dwells among their impurity. The Ohel Moed, Tent of Meeting, is the epitome of holiness. The Torah says that its holiness is omnipresent even among sinners. Rashi goes a step further, saying that the Schina, G-d’s presence, dwells within even one who suffers from spiritual contamination.

Then, case #2 in 17:7:

They shall no longer offer sacrifices to the demons they follow; it is an eternal decree for all their generations.

The context here is ostensibly to discourage Israel from following the Egyptian practice of offering ad hoc sacrifices to ward off the demons who could imperil a harvest.

In two otherwise unremarkable verses, the Torah teaches us both that G-d resides within us regardless of our standing, and that we always have the natural capacity to make a misstep. I find it even more remarkable that such a timelessly accurate depiction of the yin and yang of human nature is buried within the details of an atonement ritual which for today’s audience, only has literary and ritual resonance. I find it comforting, if not frighteningly predictive, that G-d and the Torah know that humans are, well, human. The spark of the Divine which inhabits us, even at our worst, is always there to be tapped. Our tendency to stray is not an inevitability; it’s rather a constant opportunity to aim higher in an effort to overcome our nature.

It's poignant that we read this just a week into counting the Omer; as we count the days between our deliverance from the impurity of slavery to the holy revelation of the Torah on Shavuot. Let’s resolve to accept the best and the worst which are inevitable parts of our being, and strive to embrace the good, so we will always merit G-d’s blessing.

Shabbat Shalom, and a good month of Iyyar!

Rabbi/Hazzan David B. Sislen
0 Comments

April 23rd, 2022

4/23/2022

0 Comments

 
Picture
Passover is a very confusing time from a scriptural standpoint; the Torah and Haftarah readings for the week jump around from place to place and theme to theme, largely because the weeklong observance lacks the sacrificial structure of that of its sister holiday, Sukkot, which makes the latter’s choice of Torah readings obvious and straightforward. By all accounts, the Haftarah for the last day of Passover (in the Diaspora, anyway) is remarkable. The vision from Isaiah 10-12 presages the ultimate redemption; the eradication of all adversity and evil and the dawn of a new era, guided and inspired by one descended from the house of David. 

While never being named in this text, the concept of Mashiach, or Messiah (from the Hebrew word for “anointed”), has been adopted, adapted, appropriated, re-appropriated, and sometimes misappropriated in some way by almost every faith and belief system. Perhaps it is our desperate clinging to the hope that humanity will transcend its current troubled existence and progress to the next level that inspires us to represent, as absolute truth, that which is actually presented as poetry, allusion, and allegory. Will Mashiach be a person, an attitude, a paradigm shift, a transcendental movement, or a complete do-over of physical existence? No one knows for sure. The one universal, however, is that the association with the end of Pesach reunites those all too familiar friends: reality and hope. 

Think of it this way. On a number of occasions, we have discussed how the Exodus saga is a poetic reenactment of Creation. A universe is formed where there was nothing, to an undefined and uncertain fate. Leaving Egypt, an unruly group of slaves coalesces into a nation with far more control over their destiny, but with no fewer challenges to their being able to reach their full potential. Every Passover, we relive the story through ritual and symbolism, equating our past with our present and finding, often to our dismay, that the more things change, the more they remain the same. Most of all, we hear the echoes and see the parallels which renew our imperative to remain empathetic to, and motivated to change, the modern iterations of slavery. 

It therefore makes sense that just as the last taste of the Seder was the Afikoman, the dessert which leaves you wanting more, that the final shot fired at Passover should be a look forward to the future and what will, G-d willing, be our final redemption. The Isaiah imagery is powerful; the oppressor subdued through strength and violence followed by the Redeemer emerging as first a shoot, then a twig, from the stump of history. The famous litany of contradictory metaphors which will all ultimately find coexistent hegemony follows—wolf/lamb, leopard/kid, babe/viper, holy/evil—“…for the land will be filled with knowledge of G-d as the water covers the sea (Isaiah 11:9).” Lest we get caught in a loop of despair over the repeating cycles of historical chaos and trauma, we are given the antidote: hope. After all, didn’t Elijah, the prophet who will herald the beginning of the next era, come to visit all of us last weekend at our Sederim to remind us that it was possible? 

Every week, we conclude Shabbos with Havdalah, the ceremony which brings the Sabbath to a close, setting us on our way to a new week, empowered and emboldened by our 25 hours of Divinely inspired rest.  The words which open the Havdalah are among the ones which close this final Haftarah of Pesach. When the final redemption occurs, the words which we say now as we look forward to our week will be the ones we will declare in retrospect: “Behold, G-d of my salvation, I am confident and unafraid, for G-d is my strength and might, and has been my deliverance.”
Chag Sameach and Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi/Hazzan David B. Sislen
0 Comments

Passover Message

4/18/2022

0 Comments

 
Picture
One of the most charming moments of our Passover Seder is when the youngest child asks the Ma Nishtana, the Four Questions. For some, it’s the joy of seeing and hearing a child, grandchild, or great-grandchild ask them for the first time. For others, it’s the inherent humor of having the honor pass to a child who is well into adulthood, since they happen to be the youngest at the table. Either way, it’s an iconic ritual which centers on an ancient Jewish ritual: the asking of rhetorical questions. 

If you think about it, the Four Questions seem to appear in the wrong place. If a child’s curiosity is going be aroused, it should be an immediate response to a sensory stimulation. Most of the rituals about which the child asks haven’t happened yet in the Seder, other than maybe the introductory one (Why is this night different…). Our learned rabbis (Chazal) give us many possible explanations. The Mishna teaches that if the youngster does not have the intellect to formulate their own questions, that it is the responsibility of the child’s parents to teach them the Ma Nishtana so that four basic questions (plus the introductory one) will fulfill the commandment. Rambam interprets the text as meaning that a child should be encouraged to ask random questions according to their capacity, but that the parents should ensure that the requirements of the Mishna are met. Another source, however, suggests that a child who can formulate his own questions exempts all from the Mishnaic requirement. Then there is the practice cited in Talmud P’sachim: the table with all the food is removed, then gradually returned dish by dish, in order to spark the child’s curiosity. 

Seems like an awfully complicated set of formalities just to get some ritual questions asked, especially since the answers don’t change much from year to year. Or do they? We can tick off the questions and their answers as they relate to the Seder from memory, but this somewhat arcane practice serves to teach us something even more important: asking a rhetorical question is a means to an end. There’s always something more to learn, and even more importantly, a way we can and should be inspired to action. 

Look around our world. There’s so much surrounding us about which we ask “why?” even though we know the answer. In Ukraine, Yemen, Sudan, and so many other places around the world, for those suffering from COVID or its derivative effects social, political, and economic, this Pesach our challenge should be to change and expand the narrative. The real question is, “What have I done?” When we eat the Bread of Affliction, let’s remember to do something for those who are hungry. Then do it. When we eat bitter herbs, lets vow to help those whose life has recently turned bitter, through no fault of their own. As we dip our food twice as in the days of the Haggadah, let’s promise to turn our fundamentally wasteful eating style into one which can benefit all.  Finally, when we recline as we observe the Seder, we can resolve to do our part to offer a place of rest and respite to those migrants worldwide who are fleeing oppression and war. 

If we can allow the familiar words of a misplaced set of rhetorical questions to not just entertain us at the Seder but to truly motivate us to global action, then we will truly have made Passover be a night which is different than all others. May we so be inspired.

Chag Kasher V’sameach!
Rabbi/Hazzan David B. Sislen
0 Comments

Parshat of the Week -- Tazria- Parshat Hachesh

4/1/2022

0 Comments

 
Picture
Let’s face it. For someone who is facing any type of adversity, being able to parse their future in terms of time is a gift. Being someone who lives in fear of when or if the next bomb will land on their home, if they will be subjugated or oppressed, or if they will become the next target of their government’s discrimination is a fact of life for untold millions around the world. The Ukranians, Rohingya, Uighurs, Tigrays, and so many more souls worldwide cannot look to tomorrow as a solace. They have a day-to-day existence which sensitizes them to trying to survive today rather than planning for the future.

We read the Maftir for Shabbat Hachodesh this week. Near the beginning of the month of Nisan, we prepare to celebrate our deliverance from slavery during Pesach, and the establishment of our Jewish calendar. In light of the traumas which being currently experienced by our fellow b’nai enosh, children of humanity, today, let’s not be haughty and selfish about the blessings we have achieved bayamim hahem bazman hazeh, in those days at this time. Sure, we can and should celebrate the establishment of our calendar, recognize and appreciate the groundwork of our Passover observance. The biblical story, however, is not meant to be a historical anachronism. It should be a present and future imperative. If a nation of slaves, used to constantly doing their masters’ bidding, can tell time and give thanks on their own, should it not follow that they should seek out any others who are imperiled and pay it forward?
Freedom comes with a price. The cost is the necessity to pay it forward to any one and everyone who is not free. Our shul website has a list of multidenominational organizations to which you can easily donate to help Ukranian refugees. Look below for the link to donate. In addition, my beloved colleague Rabbi Ari Goldstein is going soon on a mission to Poland to provide supplies for refugees. A box to collect pain medication for children and adults, as well as vitamin C and D for children is already being filled in our shul lobby.
The blessing of Shabbat Hachodesh is that we can tell time on our terms, guided by Hashem. Let’s make the most of the gift.
Support for Ukraine - Congregation Kneseth Israel in Annapolis, Maryland
Shabbat Shalom!
Rabbi/Hazzan David B. Sislen
0 Comments

    Archives

    November 2022
    October 2022
    September 2022
    August 2022
    July 2022
    June 2022
    May 2022
    April 2022
    March 2022
    February 2022
    January 2022
    December 2021
    November 2021
    October 2021

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.