Are We Too Busy to Remember Our Loved Ones on Their Yahrzeits?

Parashat Vayetzei Email d’var Torah
Rabbi Aaron Starr

Sometimes I choose my words very—shall we say—diplomatically. This is not one of those times: I am often disappointed on Shabbat or at a daily minyan that, upon hearing the names of the deceased on our shiva, sheloshim, or Yahrzeit lists, so few people attend services to pause in memory, praise and thanksgiving for family who have left the physical world. Thankfully, there is a group of regular minyan-attendees who ensure that these names may be read every day and, as such, we as a community are able to remember. But have we really become so busy as a society that to come to shul three times (evening, morning, evening) in a row one day out of the year (for each loved one) is too onerous?

In our Torah portion this week, Vayetzei, Jacob—in fear for his life after co-opting the birthright from Esau—leaves Beersheva for his mother’s hometown of Charan. There he meets his Uncle Laban, with whom he would spend twenty years, and ultimately marry Laban’s daughters Leah and Rachel. Upon leaving Beersheva we read, “[Jacob] came upon a certain place and stopped there for the night” (Gen. 28:11). Seizing upon the Hebrew word makom (“place”), a rabbinic euphemism for God, our rabbis read this verse as “[Jacob] encountered God that evening.” Midrash Rabbah comes to tell us, then, that our patriarchs instituted the concept of three daily prayers: Abraham shacharit (morning); Isaac mincha (afternoon); and here in our Torah portion, Jacob instituted maariv, the evening prayer service, when he encountered God at night. At each of the transitional periods of the day we give thanks to God for the blessings in our life—those that that occur regularly and naturally, and those that are special and unique to us.

Just last week, on Thanksgiving Day, many of us gave thanks for the incredible blessings in our lives. And if or when asked, most of us probably listed “family” among those blessings for which we are most thankful. It is imperative to give thanks on Thanksgiving, but let us remember to give thanks much more frequently while our loved ones are alive (in their presence!), and let us remember to pause in memory, offering the kaddish’s words of thanksgiving and praise once our family members have left the physical world as well. If you are unsure of your spouse’s/parent’s/child’s Yahrzeit, please give us a call; we’ll be happy to give you the English date for this year. Then, just as Jacob did thousands of years ago, please plan to “encounter God” and say kaddish at our evening services—and morning and afternoon as well.

Rebecca, Caleb and Ayal join me with prayers for a Shabbat shalom umivorach.

Kosher in Detroit

Kosher in Detroit
Kosher Options in Metro Detroit (with thanks to koshermichigan.com)

Bagel Factory Cafe & Eskimo Jack Cookies (KM, Dairy)
24551 W. 12 Mile Road
Southfield, MI 48034
Tel:248-352-5695

Bake Station Bakery (Vaad Detroit, Pareve)
30760 Southfield Rd.
Southfield, MI 48076
Tel:248-723-9000

Dunkin Donuts / Baskin Robbins (Vaad Detroit, Dairy)
25170 Greenfield Rd
Oak Park, MI
Tel:248-967-6288

Inn Season Cafe (KM, Dairy)
500 East 4th Street
Royal Oak, MI
Tel: 248-547-7916

Jerusalem Pizza (Vaad Detroit, Dairy)
26025 Greenfield Rd / Southfield, MI 48076
6600 W. Maple Rd / W. Bloomfield, MI 48332
Tel: 248-552-0088

Jerusalem Sub (Vaad Detroit, Meat)
26055 Greenfield Rd
Southfield, MI 48076

One Stop Kosher Market (Vaad Detroit, Grocery)
25155 Greenfield Rd
Southfield, MI 48075
Tel: 248-569-5000

Mike's Gourmet Burgers (Vaad Detroit, Meat)
15280 Lincoln St,
Oak Park, MI 48237
Tel: 248-967-5445

Sara's Deli (Vaad Detroit, Meat)
15110 W Ten Mile Road
Oak Park, Michigan
Tel: 248-432-5615

Udipi Indian Restaurant (KM, Vegetarian; Dairy)
29210 Orchard Lake Road
Farmington Hills, MI 48334
Tel: 248-626-6021

Unique Kosher Catering & Carryout (Vaad, Meat)
25270 Greenfield Road
Oak Park, MI 48237
Tel: 248-967-1161

Zeman's New York Bakery (Vaad, Pareve)
25258 Greenfield Rd.
Oak Park, Michigan
Tel: 248-967-3905

10th Anniversary of 9/11 Parashat Ki Tetzei

This is our generation’s “Kenney Assassination,” I heard one friend say in reference to the tragedy that was 9/11. Of course what he meant was, like our parents who so vividly recall exactly what they were doing on November 22, 1963, we will remember the unfolding of events on September 11, 2001. For me, a student then in rabbinical school, we finished with minyan and walked into our classroom. There sat one of our fellow students who had run a bit late that morning and, as a result, had heard about the first plane that struck the World Trade Center. He filled us all in; at the time, we assumed it was just a freak accident. Our professor, looking to begin class, gathered us all together and lamented, “We will do now what Jews do whenever tragedy strikes—we will study Torah.” Not a few minutes passed when the dean of our school came into our classroom. “A second plane has struck the Trade Center,” he informed us. “The FBI has called and warned that we too might be a potential target for terrorism. This campus must be evacuated immediately.” Little did we know at the time, but a true tragedy was unfolding—a tragedy that we will commemorate this Sunday on the 10th anniversary of 9/11.

Unfortunately, my friend was only partially correct. I do remember vividly the unfolding of events on 9/11—where I was; where Rebecca was; how we, our community, and our nation responded the rest of the day. But, in a similar way, I also remember where I was when the space shuttles Challenger, holding school teacher Christa McAuliffe and Columbia, with the first Israeli astronaut Ilan Ramon, came to their fiery end. L’havdil elef havdallot (On quite the opposite extreme other end), I also remember the exact sequence of events on May 13, 2007 and June 3, 2010—the days my two boys were born. Whatever the dates—whether they be tragic: Kristalnacht; Pearl Harbor; Kennedy (John); Kennedy (Bobby); MLK; September 11; or joyful—weddings, the births of our children, a loved one’s return from war or the birth of Israel—we human beings are cursed and blessed with the gift of memory.

Our Torah portion this week, Parashat Ki Tetzei, ends with an interesting and seemingly contradictory set of commandments. “Zachor—Remember what Amalek did to you on your journey, after you left Egypt—how undeterred by the fear of God, he surprised you on the march, when you were famished and weary, and cut down all the stragglers in your rear…you shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget” (Deut. 25:17-18). On one hand we are supposed to blot out the memory, but on the other hand we are supposed to never forget!
There are a variety of ways to fulfill this seemingly contradictory set of commandments. For example, the Talmud references these verses as the source for the custom on Purim of drowning out Haman’s name—Haman being a descendant of Amalek. Additionally, before a sofer (scribe) writes a sefer Torah, he writes Amalek’s name on a separate sheet of parchment and then literally scratches the name out. For us, perhaps, we are required to memorialize with prayer and lamentations the tragedies that have occurred in our lifetime and in the life of our people while, additionally, reminding ourselves and teaching our children to work tirelessly to eradicate evil from this world. God has granted us the blessing and the curse of memory, but He has also given us the strength and wisdom to work toward peace and justice.

Please join us this weekend in commemorating the 10th anniversary of 9/11. Religious School students and their parents will have a brief ceremony at 10am on Sunday, followed by a community-building lunch open to all Hillel and Religious School families. At 7pm on Sunday, our great synagogue will host a Southfield-community commemoration led by Rabbi Krakoff. I will look forward to seeing you at one or all of these opportunities to remember, and to derive inspiration to continue to work to “blot out” evil from our midst.

Rebecca, Caleb and Ayal join me in wishing you not only Shabbat shalom (a Sabbath of peace), but in offering prayers for Olam Shalom (a world of peace).

Parashat Acharei Mot

Growing up in Troy as a Jew, I always knew I was “different” from everyone else. But it was not really until Pesach, I think, that everyone else realized it too. Perhaps that was because for an entire week of school—while everyone else enjoyed their white bread sandwiches and Twinkies (it was Troy, after all)—I crunched away on my matzoh and enjoyed a homemade, thick-as-a-brick brownie. My mother always made sure to pack extra matzoh too because my friends all wanted to have some of that “funny looking cracker!” As grade school gave way to college, I still had to keep extra matzoh around. My neighbor in the dormitory thought matzoh pizza was the best food in the world. Every evening during Passover at dinnertime, like clockwork, she would drop by and ask for matzoh pizza. I always obliged but, to this day, I find it entirely fascinating: for an entire week Jews complain about eating matzoh and for an entire week our non-Jewish friends can’t wait to eat it! With obligation, comes a difference.
This week before Passover, on Shabbat HaGadol (the Great Sabbath), we read from our Torah Parashat Acharei Mot. God instructs our ancestors through Moses, “I am the LORD your God. After the doings of the land of Egypt where you dwelt shall you not do; and after the doings of the land of Canaan, where I bring you, shall you not do; nor shall you walk in their ordinances. You shall do my judgments, and keep my ordinances, to walk with them; I am the Lord your God. You shall therefore keep my statutes and my judgments which, if a person does, he shall live in them; I am The LORD” (Leviticus 18:1-5). The Jewish legal midrashic collection Sifra explains “my judgments” refers to laws that should have been written if the Torah had not done so: those about robbery, incest, idolatry, cursing God, or bloodshed.” The statement “My ordinances” refers to “the laws contested by man’s evil inclination and by idolaters—such as the ban on eating pork, the mixing of wool and linen in clothing, the release of a childless widow from needing to marry her brother-in-law, the purification of the leper, the red heifer, the he-goat sent into the wilderness on Yom Kippur. Hence the Torah states, ‘I am Adonai’—and I have decreed them, do not question them.” In other words, God has given us laws that “make sense” and those that make “less” sense. Many of these laws, our rabbis teach us, are there simply to make us feel different—separate—from our non-Jewish neighbors.
For many of us, Passover is that time we feel most different: whether it is bringing matzoh for lunch to work, cleaning our homes top to bottom, being even more stringent in the food we purchase, or creating elaborate, engaging Jewish experiences for our families during the seder. “Different” is sometimes difficult, complicated, bewildering and, for children, frustrating. But “different” can also be a blessing: “With a mighty hand and an outstretched arm” God did redeem us from slavery that we might serve Him, “for God’s love endures forever” (Psalm 136:12).

Rebecca, Caleb, and Ayal join me in wishing you Shabbat shalom and chag Pesach kasher v’sameach.

Rabbi Aaron L. Starr
Director of Education & Youth
rabbistarr@shaareyzedek.org

Follow Rabbi Starr on Twitter! @rabbistarr

The Power of Symbols: Parashat Tetzaveh

I am not a jewelry guy. So, when Rebecca and I married, I remember constantly being aware that I had a ring on my finger. I played with it. I took it on and off. I twisted it around and around. In fact, despite it being well-fitted, when we went snorkeling on our honeymoon, I actually swam with the fingers of my left hand holding onto the ring so it would not fall off!! Have no fear: the same ring adorns my finger today and is not, luckily, at the bottom of the Caribbean. And, while at first it “bothered” me to wear a piece of metal on my finger at all times, I quickly grew to like this new, constant reminder of the sanctification of Rebecca’s and my relationship. Physical reminders are powerful tools.
In this week’s Torah portion, Tetzaveh, the High Priest is commanded to wear a tzitz, a plate of pure gold upon his forehead with the words kodesh l’Adonai on it: Holy to the LORD. “It shall be on Aaron’s forehead, that Aaron may take away any sin arising from the holy things that the Israelites consecrate … it shall be on his forehead at all times, to win acceptance for them before the LORD” (Ex. 28:38). This plate affixed to Aaron’s headdress assured that his thoughts were at all times focused on his role and function in the community. He was reminded to be holy to the LORD. This plate functioned in a very similar way to the tefillin of both ancient and modern times. By wearing the tefillin boxes we are reminded every weekday morning of God’s oneness (the shema is written inside) and by wrapping the tefillin straps we are reminded that we are bound to God’s commandments. Physical reminders are powerful tools.
But sometimes physical reminders need to be recharged—or readjusted—to better serve their purpose. Over time, I grew accustomed to wearing a wedding ring. It no longer was—at least not with the intensity of those first days—a daily reminder of our marriage. Then I stumbled upon an interesting idea from Rabbi Arthur Waskow. As part of the traditional Friday night dinner rituals, one removes his/her ring before making the blessing over washing one’s hands. Rabbi Waskow wrote of a beautiful ritual that, each week, instead of placing their rings back on their own fingers, Rabbi Waskow and his wife would help each other place the ring on the other’s finger—in this way re-enacting the ceremony from their wedding. For several years now Rebecca and I have been engaging in this practice every Friday night and it has come to serve as a renewal of the power of the wedding ring as a symbol and reminder of our marriage. In the same way that my tefillin and tallit are a daily reminder of my relationship with God, the wedding ring remains after so many years a beautiful reminder of my relationship with my wife. Physical reminders are powerful tools and must be renewed periodically to continue to serve their purpose.

This Shabbat of Parashat Tetzaveh, what is one physical reminder you might employ to remind you of your relationship and obligations:
* To God?
* To the Jewish people?
* To your wife and family?
* To making this world a better place?

Rebecca, Caleb, and Ayal join me in wishing you Shabbat shalom um’vorach: a peaceful and blessed Sabbath.

Is it good for Jews to interact with the non-Jewish community? For thousands of years the answer has been, frankly, no—it was NOT good for Jews to interact with the non-Jewish community. Our rabbis explain that some laws in the Torah—kashrut and shatnez to name just two—exist as a tool to keep us from developing relationships with our non-Jewish neighbors. If you can’t eat with a gentile and you can’t drink wine with a gentile you won’t marry a gentile, so the logic goes. The Talmud, moreover, declares that Jews should refrain from doing any sort of business with gentiles on their holidays, lest the passion of the holiday overtake the non-Jews and cause them to turn violent against the Jews. In fact, historically, ghettos originated as a walled-city to protect Jews from their non-Jewish neighbors. Only later did they become a tool of negative isolation. With few exceptions, the last 2000 years have shown that the Jewish-gentile relationship is strained at best.

In this week’s Torah portion, Vayishlach, Jacob returns, at God’s behest, to the Land of Israel. Jacob, however, is nervous because returning to the land means encountering his brother Esau, from whom he had “negotiated” nearly two decades earlier the birthright. Like Jacob, Esau has become the patriarch of a great clan. According to the Bible, Esau becomes the ancestor of the Edomites who sided with the Babylonians in destroying the First Temple in Jerusalem. For the rabbis, though, Edom is a code word for the Romans, who as pagans destroyed the Second Temple and who later became the Holy Roman Empire and a long-time persecutor of the Jewish people. Jacob goes to great lengths to protect himself and his family from Esau but ultimately the Torah tells us, “Esau ran to greet [Jacob]. He embraced him and, falling on his neck, he kissed him; and they wept” (Gen. 33:4). While the rabbis read Esau’s embrace not as a hug of loving affection but a football tackle followed by an attempt at Jacob’s throat, the plain meaning of the Torah text is that, simply, Esau and Jacob reconnected as distant family should-- first with a hug, and then with an acknowledgment that each should continue to go his own way. And, ultimately that is what Jacob and Esau do: they reconnect, meet each other’s family, and then agree to go their separate ways, each still somewhat tenuous of the other.

Is this then the paradigm for Jewish-gentile relations? A brotherly hug followed by each going his separate way? The Conservative movement puts it this way: “In the second half of the twentieth century (and now into the twenty-first), no relationship between Jews and Christians can be dignified or honest without facing up frankly to the centuries of prejudice, theological anathema, and persecution that have been thrust upon Jewish communities, culminating in the Shoah (Holocaust). No relationship can be nurtured between Jews and Muslims unless it acknowledges explicitly and seeks to combat the terrible social and political effects of Muslim hostility, as well as the disturbing but growing reaction of Jewish anti-Arabism in the Land of Israel … It is part of our mission (as Jews) to understand, respect, and live with the other nations of the world, to discern those truths in their cultures from which we can learn, and to share with them the truths that we have come to know” (Emet ve-Emunah, pg. 43-44).

Is it good for Jews to interact with the non-Jewish community? Absolutely, so long as it is done with understanding, respect, and awareness of the complexities of interreligious dialogue. Sometimes we are best going in our separate directions but, other times, a hug of reconciliation is long-overdue.

Dear Mr. President

An open letter to President Barack Obama from Rabbi Aaron L. Starr:
Dear Mr. President,

In Parashat B’ha-a lot’kha, the section of the Book of Numbers read this week by Jews throughout North America, Moses realizes the enormous pressures his position demands of him and, so, God instructs Moses to create a council of seventy elders upon whom God gave His divine spirit of prophecy. In this way, God tells Moses, “they shall share the burden of the people with you, and you shall not bear it alone” (Num. 11:17). Cognizant of the incredible burden upon you that comes with leading our great United States and that even Moses could not handle his load alone, I humbly come before you with concerns about your recent address from Cairo to the Muslim community.

Certainly, there was a lot you said correctly with regard to the US’s relationship to the Muslim community and the media was appropriately quick to praise you for those successes. However, there are key elements within your speech that I believe, simply, are oversimplifications and it concerns me that you would express such sentiments publicly. What do I mean? The speech juxtaposes the Holocaust, whose denial you called “baseless, ignorant, and hateful” with the plight of the Palestinian refugee, who you say “wait in refugee camps in the West Bank, Gaza, and neighboring lands for a life of peace and security that they have never been able to lead. They endure the daily humiliations – large and small – that come with occupation.” As you are well aware, the slaughter of six million Jews resulted from the actions of an oppressive regime and the permission it gave and passion it fomented toward the destruction of a minority people—as well as the inaction of scores of countries and countless millions of individuals. While I am not so naïve to call Israel entirely blame-free, she certainly is responsible neither for the bulk of Palestinians living in refugee camps nor the dire conditions in which they live. That responsibility rests squarely at the foot of, historically, Arab leaders and in modern times the corruption of Palestinian leadership. Germany facilitated the mass execution of Jews, while Israel—even in the midst of a justified war—allowed humanitarian aid to enter the land of its opposition. What other country takes a break from warfare to allow aid to enter and funds the bulk of health care in the lands of people who seek their destruction? There is no comparison between the horrors of the Holocaust and the “experience” of Palestinians who are provided work and healthcare by Israel despite their calls for Israel’s destruction and support of those who actively seek to murder her civilians.

Moreover, you said, “Israel must also live up to its obligations to ensure that Palestinians can live, and work, and develop their society.” In 2008, Israel engaged in nearly $4 billion (US) worth of trade with the Palestinian territories in addition to countless millions of dollars given in support of Palestinian humanitarian causes. Israel, more often than not, opens its gates to allow Palestinians to work inside Israel and to make a living. Israel opens its hospitals to Palestinians in need of care? What other country opens its doors in this way to a known enemy that shares a border? What more should Israel do?

In so many ways, President Obama, you engaged in a noble pursuit of healing wounds with our Muslim brothers and sisters and challenging Arab nations to respond, in appropriate ways, to modernity. Yet I beg you, in your desire to forge relationships with other nations: do not sell Israel short; do not overlook the incredible sacrifices she makes on a daily basis; do not equate Zionism and the birth of Israel after the Holocaust with Palestinian nationalism; do not sacrifice our commitment to Israel—the only true democracy in the Middle East for the tentative handshake of the Arab world; do not give up on the 2000-year-old hope of the Jewish people to live freely and safely in their own land—the land of Zion and Jerusalem. Like you, I pray that God bless the United States, Israel, and all the world with peace.

Respectfully,

Rabbi Aaron Starr