Post by Rabbi Neil on Jul 22, 2021 16:15:38 GMT
The book of Deuteronomy that we start tomorrow morning is often seen as a book of review. Indeed, the opening reading of D’varim has Moses reviewing the journey from Sinai. The Israelites have reached the border of Canaan and, before they start on the next epic chapter of their journey, they look at where they’ve come from. Moses reminds them of the high points and of the low points, and throughout the entire book, through the repetition and also the small additions, there is a clear focus on the centralisation of worship, because centralised worship is key in that society. Indeed, I would go so far as to say that society cannot be without centralized places of worship and that I believe that is a really good thing.
Of course, there is a role for individualised worship and Judaism strongly recognizes that, particularly with the recitation of b’rachot before and sometimes after regular daily events in our own lives, from eating to witnessing wonders in nature, and more. And of course, the existence of centralized places of worship does not mean that other places of worship cannot exist – a Temple building doesn’t mean that Jews cannot go and pray in the mountains as well. That’s because according to Jewish tradition, religious buildings provide three major functions – beit tefillah, beit hamidrash and beit haknesset – a house of prayer, a house of study and house of assembly.
There is no doubt that centralised places of worship today face innumerable challenges, especially from those who no longer agree with the message being spread at such places or by those who no longer think it is relevant. Perhaps the core reason that I am a Rabbi is that I truly believe that Reform Judaism is good for the world and that I have a responsibility, along with my community, to ensure that the world hears our message. The message is not dogmatic but one of process, Reform Judaism is an aspirational process, not a set decree of tenets of belief or behavior. If nothing else, the memory that Moses shares this week of the people’s time at Sinai reflects well that Reform ethos, when he says “You have stayed too long at this mountain.” (Deut. 1:6) In other words, this one place where you first met God cannot be the only place where you meet God, you have to venture forth and create new opportunities for experiencing the Divine. That’s essentially Reform Judaism.
The centralization of worship, particularly in Deuteronomy, has its historical roots. Most scholars feel that the book itself was added onto the previous books since it is so different in linguistic style, theology and even in terms of narrative content. In II Kings 22, King Josiah’s scribe brings him a scroll which has apparently been found hidden, Josiah reads it and immediately laments that it has been forgotten by the people. He then engages on an extraordinary campaign of removing idolatry from the land and centralizing worship in one place. Most scholars hold that these reforms by Josiah were deliberate and that the scroll that was “found” was planted in order that he might achieve his theological and social reforms. If that is true, then of course it would be terribly authoritarian, dogmatic and, indeed, violent, but that doesn’t mean that centralized places of worship nowadays are the same. Indeed, where Josiah’s reform was on one single centralized place of worship, what I’m speaking in defence of is locally centralized places of worship, which is similar but different. Here, local variations in custom are embraced, not eradicated – the uniqueness of Temple Beth Shalom is preserved along with the uniqueness of Temple Emmanuel in New York. But what holds all places of worship together is that, according to Jewish tradition, they should serve the three key roles that I mentioned before - beit tefillah, beit hamidrash and beit haknesset – a house of prayer, a house of study and house of assembly.
The original Tabernacle helped centralize the people’s worship and, indeed, their mode of assembly. It was the center of the life of the people, literally at the physical center of the community. God was at the center… everything revolved around God. That’s not the same today, of course… we don’t buy houses according to our tribal allocation all equidistant from Temple Beth Shalom! Nonetheless, for many people, the synagogue is an essential part of their lives. Many people yearned to return after over a year of physical distance from the site. I think that it’s very healthy for communal life to be central to a person’s wellbeing, especially if a community fosters a sense of spirituality, of learning and of friendship.
As we navigate through the COVID-19 pandemic, we find ourselves repeatedly reminded of the importance of a house of prayer, study and assembly. This pandemic has certainly taught me once again of the essential nature of centralized places of worship, of places that gather people together to help them grow. That, after all, is exactly what prayer, study and social gathering is meant to achieve, after all – to help us grow. Growth within community is, for many people, much easier than growth by oneself. For example, prayer within community helps us not to make it a selfish endeavour, something that is self-serving, like a shopping list of wants and needs. Similarly, study by oneself is liable to lead to error or to only seeing a limited number of readings shaped by our pre-existing perspectives. We can’t grow socially, we can’t disagree, negotiate, discuss, be exposed to new ways of thinking, if we don’t interact with other people. So… all three – prayer, study and interaction – are necessary for human growth, which is why religious communities are so important.
Once we follow the traditional community model, we can internalize it, much as I believe that Moses did. Without question, Moses is seen as a teacher and a lawmaker. He is the one who receives Torah and then who passes it down to other generations. As we sing in our morning service, “Vezot HaTorah asher sam Moshe lifnei b’nei Yisra’el, al pi Adonai b’yad Moshe” – “This is the Torah which Moses placed before the children of Israel, from the mouth of God to the hand of Moses,” a compilation of a text from next week’s Torah portion (Deut. 4:44) and from the Book of Numbers (9:23). Moses also prays, for example when his sister Miriam is stricken with leprosy, leading him to recite the unique and extraordinarily heartfelt words “El na r’fa na la” – “God please, heal her please.” (Num. 12:13) His constant conversations with God, his wrangling with God, his pleas and his acknowledgement of God’s rulership are essentially all prayers that all informed Jewish liturgy throughout the ages. What we often miss, though, is the third aspect of Moses – that he held the people together. He set social standards (admittedly often through violent means that we would abhor today) he guided the people, inspired them when they doubted and corrected them when they went wrong. Moses not only oversaw the building of the Tabernacle, the centralized place of worship of God in the wilderness, but he also modelled it himself. In the Book of Exodus, when God first instructs Moses to build the Tabernacle, God says that it should be done by the Israelites so that God may dwell b’tocham, amongst them (Ex. 25:8). Some commentaries understand b’tocham not as “amongst them’ but “within them.” Build a Tabernacle to me so that I may dwell within them. The Tabernacle becomes a metaphor for every person, then. God dwells in it, God dwells in us. Just as the Temple is a place of prayer, study and assembly, so must we pray, study and socialize with others. We can even rather abuse the famous phrase of “my body is a Temple” and move it away from the idea of the perfect physical form to being a metaphor for community and our place within it, or a metaphor for the core things that help a person grow – spirituality, study and social interaction.
So, this Shabbat, as we pray, let us consider what it means for us to gather together – either physically or online, what it means for our community and for ourselves to embody prayer, study and interaction… what it means for every moment of gathering to be a moment of spirituality, education and interaction. Let us work towards creating more of those moments in ourselves and in our community, and let us say, Amen.
Of course, there is a role for individualised worship and Judaism strongly recognizes that, particularly with the recitation of b’rachot before and sometimes after regular daily events in our own lives, from eating to witnessing wonders in nature, and more. And of course, the existence of centralized places of worship does not mean that other places of worship cannot exist – a Temple building doesn’t mean that Jews cannot go and pray in the mountains as well. That’s because according to Jewish tradition, religious buildings provide three major functions – beit tefillah, beit hamidrash and beit haknesset – a house of prayer, a house of study and house of assembly.
There is no doubt that centralised places of worship today face innumerable challenges, especially from those who no longer agree with the message being spread at such places or by those who no longer think it is relevant. Perhaps the core reason that I am a Rabbi is that I truly believe that Reform Judaism is good for the world and that I have a responsibility, along with my community, to ensure that the world hears our message. The message is not dogmatic but one of process, Reform Judaism is an aspirational process, not a set decree of tenets of belief or behavior. If nothing else, the memory that Moses shares this week of the people’s time at Sinai reflects well that Reform ethos, when he says “You have stayed too long at this mountain.” (Deut. 1:6) In other words, this one place where you first met God cannot be the only place where you meet God, you have to venture forth and create new opportunities for experiencing the Divine. That’s essentially Reform Judaism.
The centralization of worship, particularly in Deuteronomy, has its historical roots. Most scholars feel that the book itself was added onto the previous books since it is so different in linguistic style, theology and even in terms of narrative content. In II Kings 22, King Josiah’s scribe brings him a scroll which has apparently been found hidden, Josiah reads it and immediately laments that it has been forgotten by the people. He then engages on an extraordinary campaign of removing idolatry from the land and centralizing worship in one place. Most scholars hold that these reforms by Josiah were deliberate and that the scroll that was “found” was planted in order that he might achieve his theological and social reforms. If that is true, then of course it would be terribly authoritarian, dogmatic and, indeed, violent, but that doesn’t mean that centralized places of worship nowadays are the same. Indeed, where Josiah’s reform was on one single centralized place of worship, what I’m speaking in defence of is locally centralized places of worship, which is similar but different. Here, local variations in custom are embraced, not eradicated – the uniqueness of Temple Beth Shalom is preserved along with the uniqueness of Temple Emmanuel in New York. But what holds all places of worship together is that, according to Jewish tradition, they should serve the three key roles that I mentioned before - beit tefillah, beit hamidrash and beit haknesset – a house of prayer, a house of study and house of assembly.
The original Tabernacle helped centralize the people’s worship and, indeed, their mode of assembly. It was the center of the life of the people, literally at the physical center of the community. God was at the center… everything revolved around God. That’s not the same today, of course… we don’t buy houses according to our tribal allocation all equidistant from Temple Beth Shalom! Nonetheless, for many people, the synagogue is an essential part of their lives. Many people yearned to return after over a year of physical distance from the site. I think that it’s very healthy for communal life to be central to a person’s wellbeing, especially if a community fosters a sense of spirituality, of learning and of friendship.
As we navigate through the COVID-19 pandemic, we find ourselves repeatedly reminded of the importance of a house of prayer, study and assembly. This pandemic has certainly taught me once again of the essential nature of centralized places of worship, of places that gather people together to help them grow. That, after all, is exactly what prayer, study and social gathering is meant to achieve, after all – to help us grow. Growth within community is, for many people, much easier than growth by oneself. For example, prayer within community helps us not to make it a selfish endeavour, something that is self-serving, like a shopping list of wants and needs. Similarly, study by oneself is liable to lead to error or to only seeing a limited number of readings shaped by our pre-existing perspectives. We can’t grow socially, we can’t disagree, negotiate, discuss, be exposed to new ways of thinking, if we don’t interact with other people. So… all three – prayer, study and interaction – are necessary for human growth, which is why religious communities are so important.
Once we follow the traditional community model, we can internalize it, much as I believe that Moses did. Without question, Moses is seen as a teacher and a lawmaker. He is the one who receives Torah and then who passes it down to other generations. As we sing in our morning service, “Vezot HaTorah asher sam Moshe lifnei b’nei Yisra’el, al pi Adonai b’yad Moshe” – “This is the Torah which Moses placed before the children of Israel, from the mouth of God to the hand of Moses,” a compilation of a text from next week’s Torah portion (Deut. 4:44) and from the Book of Numbers (9:23). Moses also prays, for example when his sister Miriam is stricken with leprosy, leading him to recite the unique and extraordinarily heartfelt words “El na r’fa na la” – “God please, heal her please.” (Num. 12:13) His constant conversations with God, his wrangling with God, his pleas and his acknowledgement of God’s rulership are essentially all prayers that all informed Jewish liturgy throughout the ages. What we often miss, though, is the third aspect of Moses – that he held the people together. He set social standards (admittedly often through violent means that we would abhor today) he guided the people, inspired them when they doubted and corrected them when they went wrong. Moses not only oversaw the building of the Tabernacle, the centralized place of worship of God in the wilderness, but he also modelled it himself. In the Book of Exodus, when God first instructs Moses to build the Tabernacle, God says that it should be done by the Israelites so that God may dwell b’tocham, amongst them (Ex. 25:8). Some commentaries understand b’tocham not as “amongst them’ but “within them.” Build a Tabernacle to me so that I may dwell within them. The Tabernacle becomes a metaphor for every person, then. God dwells in it, God dwells in us. Just as the Temple is a place of prayer, study and assembly, so must we pray, study and socialize with others. We can even rather abuse the famous phrase of “my body is a Temple” and move it away from the idea of the perfect physical form to being a metaphor for community and our place within it, or a metaphor for the core things that help a person grow – spirituality, study and social interaction.
So, this Shabbat, as we pray, let us consider what it means for us to gather together – either physically or online, what it means for our community and for ourselves to embody prayer, study and interaction… what it means for every moment of gathering to be a moment of spirituality, education and interaction. Let us work towards creating more of those moments in ourselves and in our community, and let us say, Amen.