Rosita Rosenberg z"l

Rosita Rosenberg has died. Tributes are beginning to appear as the news gets out, e.g., the Jewish News, where she is described as "Liberal Judaism's pioneering first female head." Only last week they featured her in their "120 over 80" section highlighting the "Golden Generation" of the UK Jewish community. And Liberal Judaism has posted here, noting that "Rosita was greatly loved, her legacy has touched many."

What can I say? She was a wonderful woman, loved and respected by so many of us. She dedicated so much of her energy to the building and development of Liberal Judaism. And she was funny, forthright and passionate about her interests. I will miss her.

My love and condolences to her daughter Sallie, someone I have rarely met, but about whom Rosita would always tell me! May Rosita's memory be a blessing.

Here's a link to the Hakol newsletter of TLSE celebrating a special birthday of Rosita's.

Parshat Vayeira and When to Speak Up

 

It's time again for my contribution to Liberal Judaism's Thought for the Week - something inspired by the upcoming Torah portion. This one is for Parshat Vayeira:

In this week’s parasha, as the covenantal relationship between Abraham and Adonai begins to develop, we can hardly believe Abraham’s chutzpah. Not only does he question Adonai, but then Abraham argues with Adonai and, as if that wasn’t enough, he somehow convinces Adonai to back down from a decision that has already been made. Abraham makes a cogent and humble case that it is unjust for the innocent to suffer with the guilty, and the plan is immediately recalibrated, several times. Chutzpahdik! Yet Adonai accepts all the corrections that Abraham offers in his quest for justice. Unfortunately, not one innocent person can be found, and Sodom and Gomorrah are destroyed.  

 

If we wonder why Adonai appears to be so lenient when directly challenged, a clue may be found a few verses earlier:

 

“Now Adonai had said, “Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do … for I have singled him out, that he may instruct his children and his posterity to keep the way of Adonai by doing what is just and right”[1]

 

However omnipotent Adonai may be, in this relationship model Abraham is offered a behind-the-scenes view of how justice works. Adonai says that this is a kind of professional development session to help Abraham instruct subsequent generations how to follow a just and right path. And Abraham shows that he has a natural instinct for the task. He speaks up where he sees injustice, his words are heard, and the system is changed. The two of them have a positive experience together, which bodes well for the future.

 

Or does it? If this example teaches that the human partner in the covenantal relationship plays an active role in determining what is right and wrong, isn’t there a slippery slope towards making decisions based on what you want, rather than what you should do? The parasha responds to this question with the story of the binding of Isaac.

 

Isaac represents everything that God has promised Abraham in exchange for his loyalty. God now says:

 

“Take your son, your favourite, the one that you love, Isaac; and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I will point out to you.”[2]

 

God uses the same words of command, “lech lecha”, as God did in the original invitation to the Covenant, but this time God requires something terrible from Abraham, a sacrifice that seems unbearable to us. And what does Abraham say? Not one word! He gets up early the next morning, and follows God’s commands to the letter. In the end, Abraham’s hand is stayed at the last minute, and an unlucky ram is sacrificed instead of Isaac. However, at no point in the text do we see any sign of Abraham questioning God’s decision. In this example of the covenantal relationship, the human partner submits entirely to the will of God, proving their faith by their deeds and their acceptance of the consequences of their actions. But is this not also a slippery slope?

 

If the human role in the brit is always to submit, never thinking about what we are doing, we risk becoming mindlessly obedient slaves to the system. Suffering becomes a product of God’s will. How then could we become aware of injustice, and speak up against it? 

 

This portion presents us with two powerful principles, each at the opposite end of the spectrum from the other. They are both valid responses to our relationship with God and available for us to choose. And that is what we need to learn:  how to make the appropriate choice for the situation. Abraham teaches us that different situations require different responses. There is a time to speak up, and a time to submit. The challenge for us is to figure out which is which. 

 

As Abraham is in the early stages of his relationship with Adonai, so are we. Before we must decide how to respond, shouldn’t we learn more about our own relationships?  We might begin with some instruction from Abraham. The Torah portion tells of his hospitality, his sense of justice and his faith. He was someone who reached out to strangers, offering physical sustenance and moral support. We have a long history of knowing what it is like to be strangers, exiles, refugees. We cannot let this empathy be corrupted by the isolation of social distancing and lockdown. 

 

So let us focus on a positive perspective – despite the current restrictions, what is possible? Look for local projects that are offering a community response to tackling food poverty[3]. Perhaps you can take part in the Age UK campaign to alleviate loneliness amongst older people[4]. Are there letters you can write or phonecalls you can make on behalf of programmes[5] that support refugees, or that fight hate crimes, or that raise awareness about mental health in your borough or city?

 

As we lift up our eyes, may we become aware of what is just and right. As we learn what it means to be a partner with Adonai, may we find the strength and the flexibility to know when to be a chutzpadik and when to yield.

 

 

 

---

[1] Genesis 18: 17 & 19

 

[2] Genesis 22:2

[3] for example in London there is https://www.jw3.org.uk/help-us-now

[4] for example https://www.vccp.com/work/cadbury/donate-your-words/

[5] for example https://www.citizensuk.org/national_campaigns

Parshat Acharei Mot Kedoshim

Here are a few words I wrote for the Liberal Judaism website for their Thought for the Week page

Greetings from Modena!

Parshat Acharei Mot-Kedoshim

Thoughts of the world outside our current Lockdown bubbles turn first to those stricken by Covid-19 – may they be healed in body and spirit.  We also think of those who do their best in myriad ways throughout the system to care for the sick. There are no words to describe the magnitude of their service. We thank them with all our hearts. 

To protect ourselves, and each other, we have remained physically within our homes. Hopefully they are places of safety, even if we feel constrained. We reach out into the ether via unstable internet connections to continue work, if we still have a job; to contact loved ones far and near, and to occupy our minds and hearts. Much time has been spent in alien worlds, ranging from a Borg cube to the imagined centre of ultra-orthodox communities in Brooklyn & Bnei Brak. And people have come to synagogue! Zoom[1] has brought us together to pray, to celebrate our festivals, and to study Torah.

Acharei Mot-Kedoshim is one of the double Torah portions that can be split when there is a leap year in the Hebrew calendar and extra portions are needed for the extra leap month. 5780 may not be a leap year, but 2020 is. And in 2020, I see a split between the portions.

Acharei Mot is set in the period after the death of Nadav and Avihu, the sudden, inexplicable and devastating death of Aaron’s sons. In the wake of this shocking event, Moses is given instructions for Yom Kippur, followed by a list of sexual prohibitions that define the Biblical boundaries of family relationships. God says that following these mitzvot will protect the Israelites from spiritual corruption, and keep them safe in their land. While now we have a different interpretation of some of these ancient laws, we can certainly empathise with tough measures as an initial response to a severe threat to the entire community.

Kedoshim takes us into Phase 2. Having turned our faces from the yetser ra, our evil inclinations, God teaches us what we should be doing, pointing us towards the yetser tov. The topic sentence of the portion is:  “Be holy, because I, Adonai your God, am holy.”[2] But what does it mean to be holy? This is a question that we don’t often discuss. We might talk about being separate, but what does that mean? Different? Special? Each word leads to a further examination of its own meaning, and even further from the original question. What does it mean to be holy? Rabbi Joe Black reminds us that we are created b’tselem elohim, in the image of God, which means that we have holiness naturally within us.[3] We don’t have to define it. We just need to learn how to find it.

Could this be the purpose of the mitzvot? When we are in lockdown, there’s not much we can do but think about things, turning them this way and that. As the windows and doors open, and we are able to interact with each other again, what are we going to do? How shall we behave? Will we do anything differently? Kedoshim commands us to leave the corners of our fields and the gleanings for the poor and the stranger.[4] We must not deal deceitfully or falsely with one another.[5] We must not stand idly by while the blood of our neighbour is shed.[6] There are a lot of marvellous mitzvot in Kedoshim, but if I could choose one with which to start it is, “Love your neighbour as yourself.”[7] It all begins with compassion.

This week, I see my neighbours in the UK in Acharei Mot, in the valley of the shadow of death. Your phase of the journey still has some way to go. But it will end, hopefully very soon. Here in Italy, we are a couple of weeks ahead of you, and about to enter Phase 2, Kedoshim. Our nerves are terribly frayed, and it is so easy to take offence at words said or typed by others. As we move towards more social interaction, we should recognize how sensitive we are. We should begin with compassion, being kind to others, and gentle with ourselves. And, as we regain our strength, we can return to the holy work of reconnecting with our loved ones, and rebuilding our communities. We will be holy, because it is an essential part of our nature. Learn from what we do well, and from where we falter. Meanwhile, we look forward to the time when we can continue that work together with all of you.

Shabbat shalom.

---

[1] and, of course, other platforms, e.g., Google Hangouts, Skype & FaceBook. But mostly Zoom.

[2] Leviticus 19:2

[3] CCAR RavBlog 28.04.20

[4] Lev. 19:9

[5] Lev. 19:11

[6] Lev. 19:16

[7] Lev. 19:18

What Does it Mean to Leave Your Parents' House?

ravaj's Thought for the Week for Lech Lecha on the LJ website

In this week’s Torah portion Adonai commands Avram to leave all that he has known for an unidentified destination. The reward is fantastic – a Mesopotamian meanderer without children or purpose will become the beloved ancestor of myriad people throughout the world. Avram chooses to go forth according to Adonai’s command, and our current existence is a validation of his choice.

A literal reading of this passage seems clear, and we acknowledge the origin of the Jewish people each time we recite the Amidah prayer. But the text also raises several questions. What does it mean to leave eretz (land), moledet (birthplace) and bet av (parental house)? What do we leave behind, and towards what are we going? What choices do we have?

The Lubavitcher Rebbe had a metaphorical response to these questions. He taught that the land represents our psyche, or natural inclinations. Birthplace suggests environmental influences, e.g., the attitudes and behaviour of our parents, teachers and peers. Thus, to leave the house of our parents signifies the moment when, fully formed, we are able to use our intellect to move beyond our genetic and conditioned selves. From a traditional point of view, this may be expressed as following God’s commandments, even when they conflict with our own will and desires, thus ensuring a flourishing and abiding future for ourselves and our community.

While we may never be really free of our ego and its prejudices, we do hope to find a higher self, the essence of the Divine within that recalls the image in which we were created. If pursuing a traditionally halachic path does not suit us, how then may we find a way to follow?

Let’s begin with Adonai’s command of Lech Lecha. ‘lech’ is an imperative, in the second person singular form. ‘lecha’ may be translated as ‘by you’, ‘for you’ and ‘to you’. As the second person is already indicated in the imperative, why then is it repeated? Since not one word in the Torah is considered superfluous, what is the text trying to tell us? For ‘by you’, we might understand ‘by yourself’, i.e. that Avram and his family should go towards a fresh start.  They can leave their background behind to build a new and different life. With ‘for you’, we can see that Adonai’s offer would be a great career move for Avram. Not only would Avram’s present circumstances improve materially, but a permanent legacy would also be established. However, the majority of commentators lean towards the translation ‘to you’. 

How may we understand ‘to you’? To go ‘to yourself’ is to identify, to recognize who YOU are. You may be the son of your mother or the daughter of your father. You went to this school and that college or uni, and now you fill your days with work and laundry and family and cooking and friends and getting things done. And maybe some exercise. Or a diet. And good intentions for developing a better way of life in the future. It’s very tiring. Is it possible that the pressures of our contemporary lifestyles have pushed us out of focus? Do we know who we are, and what our purpose is? 

In order to make the most of our lives, to be fulfilling and fulfilled, we need to find that spark of Godliness within.  Yom Kippur may be recently behind us, but a thorough examination of our motivation and actions must continue. What should we mute, and to what and to whom should we listen? From what should we avert our eyes, and what should we see? What of all we hold so tightly is fluff, and what is vital?

The immediacy of Adonai’s command to us cannot be ignored. “Go! Recognise your potential. Become YOU!” If we can let go of our baggage, and make space for the voice of our own hearts, surely we shall find the energy and the incentive to go forth and take our part in tikkun olam, the healing of our inner world, and thence the repair and healing of the world we share with each other.

PS here's a translation into Italian, for those who may find it more accessible.

Succot

[Here's a short piece I wrote for this week's Liberal Judaism e-bulletin]

Growing up at Westminster Synagogue, I have wonderful memories of Succot.  The Succah was decorated with exotic and rare fruit such as mango & pomegranate. There was the time that the organist started beating the rabbi with his fists, only for us to realize that the rabbi’s robe had caught fire from the festival lights. I will never forget our favourite guest – the pumpkin-headed Golem of Prague, who stood in the corner facing the entrance to the Succah. It was my special task to write on the Golem’s forehead the Hebrew letters that would bring him to life:  aleph, mem, tav – emet/truth. Every evening of Succot, his wide-open corn-shuck arms welcomed us under the canopy of laurel leaves. His felt-tip eyes watched as we waved the lulav and etrog. His permanent smile reflected our joy as we sang the Hallel, and ate Mrs Harari’s delicious date biscuits. As a rabbi’s child living in the synagogue, I wanted to spend the night in the Succah, but it was usually too wet. Instead, after the congregants had gone, my mother would make a fondue with the leftover challah for my sister and me to dine together, sitting at a small card table with a cloth and proper napkins. And there was strawberry mousse for pudding!

We had learned in Sunday School that our ancestors lived in temporary structures as they travelled through the desert. Of course we knew that there were poor and homeless people all around us, and we took part in tsedakah projects throughout the year. However, our refugee parents had worked long and hard to make a better life for themselves and their children and so, during these harvest celebrations, they offered us the fruits of their labour. Together we observed the Succot commandment, “v’samachta b’chagecha, you shall rejoice in your feast” (Deut. 16:14).

Our golem guest was part of the ancient tradition of hachnasat orchim/hospitality from which medieval kabbalists created the Succot ritual of ushpizin/visitors. Each night we may invite one of seven exalted guests to join us in the Succah: Abraham, Isaac & Jacob; Joseph; Moses & Aaron, and David. These days we might include Sarah, Rebekah, Leah & Rachel; Miriam, Ruth & Esther. Each guest represents a divine attribute of God, and our hope is that their presence will inspire us to make such qualities part of our daily lives.

As we appreciate our rich heritage, we must find ways to help those who have not been so lucky. Rabbi Moses ben Maimon emphasized this call to action in his interpretation of the laws of the festivals. He wrote:

 “While eating and drinking, one must feed the stranger, the orphan, the widow, and other poor unfortunates. Anyone, however, who locks the doors of his courtyard and eats and drinks along with his wife and children, without giving anything to eat and drink to the poor and the desperate, does not observe a religious celebration but indulges in the celebration of his stomach.” (Mishneh Torah)

This year, as I eat pizza in the Succah with my students, I will remember the friendly golem of my childhood, and those nights of food and fun. But I’m no longer a child, and I know that monsters are real and monstrous people are active in our world. Sitting within the fragile shelter that protected the Children of Israel during their journey from slavery to freedom, I remember my grandparents, z”l. They fled from the Nazi monsters, and found refuge & shelter in the UK. I know that I would never have been born if borders had not been opened and my relatives given permission to enter. So who am I to deny a safe haven to anyone fleeing persecution and injustice? In this country, the debate continues with regard to the current refugee situation. I understand that there are questions about logistics and resources. There are holes in the roof and the structure is small and shaky. We can discuss possible solutions until the lulav wilts and the etrog shrivels. Meanwhile, strangers, widows and orphans continue to suffer and die.

I am proud that Liberal Judaism is at the forefront of current efforts to welcome and support refugees in our country. Through individual and congregational initiatives, as well as partnerships with organisations such as Citizens UK, this sacred work is saving lives. Rather than hanging fruit on the walls of our Succah, now we give it to a food bank. The family meal cooked for Erev Succot is shared at the synagogue night shelter. Part of the community building is converted into a flat for a refugee family. With gratitude to all who are already imbued with the spirit of our ushpizin, and the hope that this Succot inspires us to feed our souls as well as our stomachs, may we continue to welcome those in need.

Chag Succot sameach!

Parshat Vaeira

Here are a few thoughts from last week's Liberal Judaism Thought for the Week about the Torah portion:

Parshat Vaeira

But Moses spoke before the Lord, saying, “Behold, the Children of Israel did not hearken to me. How then will Pharaoh hearken to me, seeing that I am of uncircumcised lips?” (Exodus 6:12)

The time has come for Moses to take his place as leader of his people. God tells him to go to Pharaoh and ask for the freedom of the Children of Israel.  They should be released from bondage and allowed to leave the land of Egypt. Initially, Moses chooses not to accept his mission. The excuse he gives is that since he was unable to persuade the Children of Israel to listen to him, what chance would he have of convincing Pharaoh? He claims he has a physical disability, he cannot speak.

The Midrash tells us that as a baby, Moses was tested by Pharaoh to see if he would be a threat to the kingdom. A golden cup and a blazing coal were placed in front of the child. He naturally reached towards the gold, but the angel Gabriel came down and moved his hand towards the coal. Baby Moses picked up the coal, put it in his mouth, and burned his lips. This was the explanation for his problem in later life.

Moses, however, uses an odd phrase to describe his speech impediment:  aral s’fatayim. Orlah is Hebrew for foreskin, an obstruction over the head of the penis. Thus we might understand the phrase as meaning his lips are somehow impeded by a metaphorical flap of skin. Rashi gives several examples in the Tanach of the root ayin, resh, lamed used to mean clogged or closed. This is to make clear to us that the ‘closing of his lips’ meant that Moses definitely had some kind of speech defect.

Other commentators consider this issue from a less literal perspective. Perhaps not wishing to speak is an example of the humility of Moses. Or this one flaw in Moses would prove that any person he persuaded would have been converted by the purity of the message rather than the sophistry of the speaker. Or that since he had not grown up within the slave community, he did not feel that he could speak for them. One thing is certain, though – Moses doubted his ability to say what should be said.

It is clear from myriad explanations through the ages, that understanding this moment in the history of our people always has contemporary relevance. In the Torah, God solved the problem by enlisting Moses’ brother Aaron to be the speaker (Ex. 7:1). Today we do not expect such Divine intervention. Yet one does not have to be a Moses to be faced with a situation when speaking up may make a difference. It could be something as fleeting as a homophobic slur, a racist remark, or a sexist comment made at work, on the Tube, or amongst our circle of friends. However, so often we also hesitate – is it appropriate? Will it make things difficult? Will it make a difference?

What is it that stops us speaking, and how may we overcome those fears and limitations in order to take our part in developing the world in which we live? While God may not provide us with an Aaron, we do have the resources of family and good friends. Their support can help to overcome the demons of self-doubt and uncertainty that stand in our way. Ultimately, though, the key is to find within ourselves the strength to take the chance. Our words may not be elegant or articulate, but they must be spoken. For while we are not obliged to finish the task, neither are we free to neglect it!

The Jewish Free School

Since early last week, there has been a lot of attention paid to a particular Jewish Studies lesson taught at the Jewish Free School (JFS) with regard to a reference allegedly made to an American organisation called JONAH aka Jews Offering New Alternatives to Homosexuality (possibly now changed to 'Healing' rather than 'Homosexuality').

The furore began with a front page article in the Jewish Chronicle, that suggested the school might be teaching that homosexuality can be 'cured'.
Read it here

Keshet UK - the LGBT Jewish Forum put out a press release
Read it here

Pink News, an online lgbt website followed the JC, including a response from the headmaster of the school.
Read it here

The London Evening Standard picked up on these stories and printed their version.
Read it here

Meanwhile, the Progressive Jewish movement spokespeople began to express their positions:

Rabbi Laura Janner-Klausner spoke on behalf of the Movement for Reform Judaism.
Read it here

Rabbi Aaron Goldstein spoke on behalf of the Rabbinic Conference of Liberal Judaism.
Read it here

Other initial responses included:
Adam Wagner on Cartoon Kippah (here)
Dalia Fleming, a former JFS student, responded here. She also writes about her experience here.
The LJY-Netzer weekly Chinuch article
A letter from former head girl Alma Smith

Not having been in the lesson myself, I cannot comment on the details of what happened. However, if just one student came out of that lesson feeling confused and unsafe, then I must do all I can to support him/her in working with the school to change that atmosphere.

JFS does not deny making a reference to JONAH. If only they had been prepared to say ooooops we should have researched this organisation properly before including it in the curriculum, then there probably would not have been a story at all. In any case, rather than focussing on one particular occurrence,the question now is how to go forward, to make sure that the entire culture of the school may be developed to create a safe space for our LGBT students.

UPDATE Here is a link to a current Orthodox Jewish perspective from North America on homosexuality.

Notes on Nitzavim

Another religious post from the ravaj. No, not Queens Park Rangers again (o let her enjoy these brief moments of glory). Rather, a short piece on the weekly Torah portion as written for the Liberal Judaism website. Be gentle - her head is still sore from the bus accident the other day!

Parashat Nitzavim

It is all so simple in the Torah:

“Behold, I have set before you today life and good, and death and evil ... I command you this day to love Adonai your God ... so that you will live and increase, and Adonai ... will bless you. But if your heart deviates and you do not listen ... you will surely perish ... choose life, that you may live.” (Deuteronomy 30:15-19)

Obeisance to God is rewarded, and defiance will receive the ultimate penalty. The way to go seems obvious. Yet Maimonides teaches:

“Freedom of choice has been granted to every person ... This concept is a fundamental principle and a pillar of the Torah and its commandments.” (Mishneh Torah, Laws of Repentance 5:1)

Why would one choose death? What, then, may we understand the freedom of choice to mean? As Liberal Jews, we will not accept the Biblical statements that present such a polar perspective. We have seen evil prosper in our world, and we cannot accept the death of six million as punishment. The equation does not work, and thus the choice is not clear. The rabbis of the Talmud also questioned the logic of such teaching. They spent much time and space differentiating between suffering that they did see as a direct consequence of sin, and what they called “sufferings of love”. The Tanakh told them:

“Do not despise God’s chastening, nor spurn God’s rebuke; for whom God loves, God rebukes.” (Proverbs 3:11-12)

Should we believe that suffering is a sign of God’s care and attention? The ideal that hovers in our minds and our hearts suggests that love is the triumph of joy over pain. We try so terribly hard not to hurt the people we love – if God truly loves us, why would God cause us to suffer?

Perhaps the problem is that we are looking at what the choices are, rather than what ‘freedom’ means. Is freedom the licence to do as we wish? Or is our will affected beyond our control by the limitations of nature and/or nurture? Each of us may have our own understanding of these questions. All of us, however, will encounter options. We shall have to consider the consequences each one may engender, and we will make a decision.

Our portion this week raises much existential angst. At the same time, it consoles us with these words:

“This commandment which I command you this day, it is not too hard for you, nor is it far away. It is not in heaven, that you shall say: ‘who will go up for us to heaven and bring it to us and make us hear it so we may do it?’ Nor is it across the sea, that you shall say: ‘who will go over the sea for us, and bring it to us and make us hear it so we may do it?’ No, it is very close to you, in your mouth, and in your heart, that you may do it.” (Deuteronomy 30:11-14)

In other words, don’t worry so much, it is really not that difficult! All you have to do is take a good look at yourself, and you will figure out what you have to do. In these days of contemplation that precede the Days of Awe, may we find the clarity of vision that will lead us to choose life and freedom for ourselves, and all the nations of the world.

A Thought for Last Week

Here's a little bit I wrote for last week's online thought for Liberal Judaism:

"The Shabbat before the fast of Tisha B'Av is sometimes referred to as the Black Sabbath. It marks the third Shabbat between the 17th of Tammuz, when the Babylonians breached the walls of Jerusalem; and the 9th of Av, when they destroyed the Temple (in the year 586 BCE). These three weeks are historically a period of misfortune for the Jewish community, and traditional observances follow various aspects of mourning, for instance, no weddings are celebrated, listening to music is prohibited and haircuts are eschewed.

It is also Shabbat Chazon, the Sabbath of Vision, named for the Haftarah portion read at this time. The prophet Isaiah tells his vision of God's frustration and anger with the Children of Israel, who have strayed far from the path of righteousness. "The whole head is sick," says God, "the whole heart is ill. From head to foot, nothing is sound." (Isa. 1:5-6) The Israelites continue to pray and make sacrifices, but God considers it to be lip service, "Bring me no more futile offerings ... I cannot endure festivities along with evil!" (ibid. v 13) God's people have turned their backs on the teachings handed down through the generations, "O how the faithful city played the whore! Once [she was] so full of justice; righteousness dwelt there; and now - murderers!" (ibid. v. 21)

It is easy to distance ourselves from the behaviour of ancient people following ancient practices. Yet we too are Children of Israel. We also live in times of misery and destruction. We make mistakes, and we behave badly - are we really so different from the people portrayed in the Tanach? Why then is it so hard to learn from their examples?

Perhaps we are embarrassed by the wrongdoing of our ancestors. We glance at the stories now and then with the same disdain with which we would consider a prurient article in a tabloid newspaper. Jews don't do things like that. Or is it that our Progressive perspective distances us from the simple descriptions of reward and punishment related by the prophets in their books? Jews are more civilised than that. The fact is: for every human being in every era the pull of the yetser ra - the evil inclination - is equally strong. Ashamnu, bagadnu, gazalnu; we have all been tempted, we have all betrayed our potential, we have all wasted time and energy inappropriately. It is disingenuous to think that any one of us is exempt from reciting the litany of misdeeds included in our High Holyday prayers.

What then is the example that the prophet Isaiah is presenting to us in this portion? First, we might note that rather than lamenting the destruction of Jerusalem itself, he focuses on the reasons for its downfall. While it is important to mourn what has been lost, it is essential to consider what caused such a calamity. With such information we may begin to repair the world. Isaiah highlights the hypocrisy and the corruption of his generation. In turn, we need to look at the relationships that trouble us, and try to find the source of the discord. Then we must approach the problem and start to solve it. If our vision is not clear, Isaiah's is: "Wash you, make you clean, put away the evil of your doings from before My eyes, cease to do evil. Learn to do well; seek justice, relieve the oppressed, judge the fatherless, plead for the widow." (Isa. 1:16-17)

From the famine in Somalia, to an argument at work; the sister with whom you do not speak, to the civil war in the Democratic Republic of Congo; from children in need, to a lie you told to save face; the advent of Tisha B'Av reminds us that it is never too soon to turn away from temptation, nor to be proactive in the healing of ourselves and the world around us. The vision of Isaiah gives us hope that it is not yet too late to avert a disastrous fate. We can make a difference. If we choose to."