From our Rabbi

Returning to My Roots - Planting Together for Our Future

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[The ORacle, February 2019 Issue]

The motto of my rabbinic school was “Do what you love.” When people ask, “How did you decide to become a rabbi?” I instantly think of the loving Jewish community that helped raise me. Growing up, I saw my community caring for one another, learning and praying together, enjoying one another\’s company, and most of all, collectively caring for the children in our community.

One of my favorite stories from the Talmud is one you may know. It’s a Jewish Rip Van Winkle tale. Honi the Circle Maker went for a walk and saw an old man planting a tree. “Why would such an old man plant a tree?” Honi wondered, “It takes a very long time to grow. He might not even be around when the tree is big enough to produce fruit.” As Honi walked on past the man planting, he began to feel very tired, so he decided to stop and take a nap. When Honi awoke, he noticed a beautiful mature carob tree and someone was picking the fruit. “Excuse me sir, did you plant this tree?” Honi asked. “Not me, my grandfather planted it seventy years ago.”

Sometimes returning back to the Pacific Northwest after 20 years away feels like I have only just awoken from a really long nap. Working in the Jewish world and having my daughter attend preschool at the synagogue where I grew up, I run into someone I haven’t seen since I was a child about once a week. They rub their eyes, standing in amazement. The shy young girl they knew seems to have grown up into a rabbi just overnight. They share their pride that a child that they helped raise in their community is now a Jewish leader in the Pacific Northwest.

On Friday, February 22, our community will come together for a special Shabbat. I will have an opportunity to offer our Board leadership and Beth Or’s new president, Vicky Romero, a Blessing of Installation, and the community will offer me your Installation Blessing as well. As rabbi of Temple Beth Or, I truly get to “do what I love” as my profession. While there are many blessings I get to enjoy in the moment, I am excited to have this opportunity to move back home and join with you as a community in continuing to strengthen Jewish life here in Western Washington. While I am enjoying this special time being your new(ish) rabbi, I look forward to being together for many years to come. I imagine being together with you in the distant future, rubbing our eyes, and standing in awe and pride of the Jewish community and leaders we have worked to grow together.

L’shalom,

Rabbi Rachel Kort

afriedma / From our Rabbi, Rabbi Kort /

Engaging with Israel

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[The ORacle, January 2019 Issue]

It was easy for me to fall in love with Israel, coming of age in the 1990s. I was inspired by the egalitarian army service and the rescue of Ethiopian Jews. I mourned when Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated and joined with the majority of Jews in the US and Israel in keeping hope that Israeli and Palestinian leaders could achieve peace in the near future.

I’m not exactly sure how it happened, but despite identifying as a Zionist my entire life and even having worked for the Israeli government as an emissary, it has been a decade since I’ve been to Israel! While I have used beginning a career and a family as an excuse, I recently read an essay that made me reevaluate my relationship with Israel. Dr. Joshua Holo, Dean of Hebrew Union College in LA, suggests in “Peering into the Nationalist Mirror” that American Jews are increasingly conflicted between their Zionism and liberalism and are increasingly choosing to identify with the later. If you were to ask me if my Zionist identity has dwindled, my knee jerk reaction would be “absolutely not,” but my actions show my favoritism. My engagement with Israel has decreased while my involvement in social justice causes here in the US has increased. I wonder how many of you have experienced something similar?

As a rabbinic leader committed to ahavat Tzion — love of Israel — as a core Reform Jewish value, I have to be honest with myself and think deeply about why I have not prioritized Israel more in my life. In addition to ahavat Tzion, our Reform Movement embraces informed choice. If you are like me and may have lost some connection with Israel and Zionism, I want to invite you to engage with Israel along with me this month.

I’m proud to travel to Israel and represent Temple Beth Or and all of Washington State on an intimate delegation through the Jewish National Fund with Consul General of Israel Shlomi Koffman who serves Northern California and the Pacific Northwest. I’ll post regularly while traveling and share articles and resources to help us better understand the beauty and complexities of Israel at age 70. Friend me on Facebook if you would like to “join” me on this journey to Israel.

L’shalom,

Rabbi Rachel Kort

afriedma / From our Rabbi, Rabbi Kort /

Yom Kippur: Life, Death, and Teshuvah

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Our tradition teaches that on Rosh Hashanah we relive our birth and on Yom Kippur we rehearse our death. We highlight the dichotomy between life and death in the special liturgy and ritual of this season. Rabbi Alan Lew describes how focusing on our mortality is meant to lead us towards atonement:

[On Yom Yippur] for twenty-four hours you rehearse your own death. You wear a shroud [we’re supposed to wear white, to conjure the burial garment] and, like a dead person, you neither eat nor drink nor fornicate. You summon the desperate strength of life’s last moments…. A fist beats against the wall of your heart relentlessly, until you are brokenhearted and confess to your great crime. You are a human being, guilty of every crime imaginable…. Then a chill grips you. The gate between heaven and earth has suddenly begun to close…. This is your last chance”[i]

In addition to the physical discomfort we may be experiencing from the fasting aspect of our ‘death rehearsal’ there is a discomfort in our Reform Jewish tradition on this Jewish ‘day of the dead.’ For when we contemplate mortality, our minds naturally turn to the afterlife: ‘What is next for us when we die?’

Since the early 19^th century, our Reform movement has downplayed discussion of afterlife and a world-to-come. Rabbi Paul Golomb, in his essay on after-life in contemporary Reform belief points out that before the emergence of Progressive Judaism, Moses Maimonides, the 12^th century Jewish philosopher, medical doctor, and Jewish community leader asserts similar distaste to discussing an afterlife:

Visions of a world-to-come are considerably less important than the way one acts in this world. Both medieval sage and the late 19th-century Reformers quoted [our Rabbinic Sages wisdom] in a passage in Pirkei Avot: Do not be like those who would serve a master on the condition that they would receive a reward (Pirkei Avot 1:3). What is truly important…is one’s conduct in this life.[ii]

A theology that focuses on this life as opposed to what is after life is in sync with the Days of Awe. We focus on our mortality to urge us towards our best behavior because we only have this one life to live. But perhaps a discussion of the afterlife can lead us to repentance too. Just as Yom Kippur suggests, you can learn a lot about life when looking to death. This Yom Kippur morning, my first with our Beth Or community, I want to share a bit about myself. I’ll share two learnings about life and death taught to me by my parents. And I will share a third learning that was taught to me by you, my Beth Or community.

When I was in the 6th grade, my best friend’s younger sister died of leukemia. My friend’s family was Filipino Catholic and it was their custom to have an open casket viewing for several days leading up to the funeral. My mom brought me to the viewing. I don’t remember having a choice about going. My mom explained, ‘it is good to support your friend and her family.’ I was incredibly nervous before entering the funeral home. The viewing room felt a lot like a family room. There were comfy couches and a big table where my friend was doing her homework. My friend was happy to put her books down when I arrived. People mingled and talked, all with May’s body present in the room. Yes, it seemed sad. But, at the same time, it felt fairly normal.

What impacted me most about visiting the funeral home was how disinterested the family seemed in the body of their lost daughter. They were not focused on May’s body or her death, but rather on her life. The family had filled the space with May’s balloons and May’s drawings. As new visitors made their way into the space, new stories were shared. Aunts and uncles shared stories. May’s favorite teacher from school shared stories.

What I experienced at the viewing that afternoon as a 6th grader is similar to what I am now asked to facilitate as a rabbi at funerals and Shiva. Rabbi Shoshana Boyd Gelfand teaches that these rituals just after a loss are meant to “create a precious imprint…of the person who has died as a treasure to hang onto. We listen to eulogies at a funeral; then, during the Shiva, we share stories and share pictures to help create a composite of the person who has recently disappeared from our midst.”[iii]

While my mom exposed me to the importance of actively remembering a loved one’s life in the context of family and community just after a death, my dad taught me the importance of ongoing personal remembrance. Later this afternoon, during the Yizkor Service, our Beth Or community will create a space for each of us as individuals to remember loved ones lost.

I grew up as that kid who was in shul all day on Yom Kippur. By the time we reached the Yizkor service in the late afternoon, I had long lost interest in books I had brought to read. I have memories of resting my head on my dad’s shoulder, sitting and taking in the service. My dad would ‘ugly cry’ through most of Yizkor. When we reached the end, my dad would compose himself, take out his handkerchief, wipe his eyes and nose and say loud enough for the entire sanctuary to hear: “I love a good Yizkor service.” As I prepared to lead Yizkor for the first time as a rabbi, I asked my dad to describe ‘what makes a good Yizkor service?’ He shared: I appreciate when the rabbi creates a space for me to remember the people I need to remember.

As Rabbi Shoshana Boyd explains: “Yizkor provides us our own private ongoing relationship with a loved one. It encourages an evolution of that relationship as opposed to allowing it to be frozen in time. Remembering someone over and over again enhances the parts of that relationship that prove sustaining but allows us [the individual space] to forget those characteristics that are not.”

Now to what I have learned from you. Beth Or as a community takes on the traditional practice doing cemetery clean-up and holding a service to honor our deceased community members between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. While my father died over four years ago, I had never taken the time to visit his grave for myself until a few weeks ago. Inspired by my Beth Or family, just before Rosh Hashanah, I went to visit my father’s grave to do my own, ‘cemetery cleanup.’ I don’t know that I felt a greater sense of connectedness to my dad at his grave, but the headstone did need some cleaning and he was a little bit vain, so it felt nice to ‘spruce up’ his memorial marker.

My dad had a giant sense of humor and I felt a closeness to this aspect of his personality while placing a stone on his grave. The tradition is a word play, a pun. The word for ‘eternal’ in Hebrew, tzrur, sounds nearly identical to word in Hebrew for ‘stone,’ tzur. The stones are meant to say to our loved one that we will remember them forever and always. While our bodies may be impermanent, memories are ‘as strong as stone.’

After I left my dad’s grave, I wanted to find the graves and leave stones for others I had known. At first, I wandered around looking for these graves, but I soon got wise and realized that the cemetery was small enough for me to walk all the rows. As I walked I also learned about people I hadn’t known through the inscriptions and pictures on the headstones. I spent a long time at the grave of a child, moved by the quote left by his surviving family: “It is now upon us to live the good in this world you could not.”

We visit the cemetery before Yom Kippur to bring us closer to our own mortality. I wholeheartedly agree with the early Reform Movement and Moses Maimonides that a focus on reward in the world-to-come downplays the importance of our actions in this world. But during the season of repentance, as I spent time focused on death, I came to understand that focusing on the eternality of our loved one’s memories or the eternality of our own legacy can also move us towards teshuvah.

Frank Rosenzweig, an influential early 20th century Jewish thinker taught that we human beings are quite aware of our own mortality. “Even if we are privileged to live past one hundred, it is only a small sliver in a span of human existence that reaches both backward and forward for millennia. What gives such inconsequential span of years any meaningfulness? It is, Rosenzweig reminds us, the possibility that our lives have transcendence. [That our lives] make a difference, not only during the span of life itself, but for eternity.”[iv]

It is not enough for us to remember our loved one’s fondly. When we attend a Shiva and help create a composite memory of a loved one lost, we help ensure their eternal transcendence. When we remember loved one’s lost in private moments during our Yizkor Service, we help ensure our ongoing relationship with those whose bodies are gone from this world. When we visit the graves, not only of our own friends and relatives, but of those gone in our communities too, we help ensure the enduring impact of their legacies. And when we embrace the responsibility of the epithet “it is now upon us to live the good in this world you could not” we are moved towards personal teshuvah.

I want to thank our community for being my teacher this season. I also want to recognize all those in our temple family who helped with our cemetery clean-up and service this year. Amy Paquette and Sheryl Shapiro, thank you for your leadership. If you haven’t done so before, I want to nudge you to explore this practice. I also hope that you will join our community for our Yizkor Service that will take place during our Afternoon Yom Kippur Service beginning at 4:15 pm.

I want to end with a poem often read during Yizkor by Selvan Kamens:

In the rising of the sun, and in it’s going down,

We remember them.

In the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter,

We remember them.

In the opening of buds and in the rebirth of spring,

We remember them.

In the blueness of the sky and in the warmth of the sun,

We remember them.

In the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of autumn,

We remember them.

In the beginning of the year and when it ends,

We remember them.

When we are weary and in need of strength,

We remember them.

When we are lost and sick at heart,

We remember them.

When we have joys we yearn to share,

We remember them.

So long as we live, they too shall live,

For they are now a part of us,

As we remember them.

Rabbi Rachel Kort
Temple Beth Or, Everett
Yom Kippur 5779

[i] Rabbi Alan Lew, This is Real and You Are Completely Unprepared: The Days of Awe as a Journey of Transformation, 2003.

[ii] Rabbi Paul Golomb, “The Persistence of Life After Death,” A Life of Meaning: Embracing Reform Judaism’s Sacred Path, pg. 54, 2018.

[iii]Rabbi Shoshana Boyd Gelfand, “Remembering through Forgetting,” May God Remember: Memory and Memorializing in Judaism, pgs. 149-150, 2013.

[iv] Rabbi Paul Golomb, “The Persistence of Life After Death,” A Life of Meaning: Embracing Reform Judaism’s Sacred Path, pg. 54, 2018.

afriedma / From our Rabbi, Rabbi Kort /

Forgiveness after #MeToo

Sometimes the world of our Torah doesn’t seem so different than our own modern world. As the Torah and our sacred scriptures recount the lives of our ancestors, we read and recognize stories of sexual violence and sexual objectification. In our ancient tradition, few were given a voice to share their own stories. Often, victims were left voiceless. This Yom Kippur, we recognize the stories of biblical victims of sexual violence and I invite us, as a community, to say #MeToo on their behalf.

For our matriarch Sarah who was forcefully taken into the harems of Pharaoh and then Avimelech, each time without protest from her husband, our patriarch Abraham. For Sarah we say: MeToo
For Dina who was taken without consent by Shechem, we say: MeToo
For Bathsheba who was sent for by King David, we say: MeToo
For Vashti, the first objectified woman in our bible who said no, we say: MeToo
And for our sister Esther, we say :MeToo

Just like in our society today, our Torah knows that both men and women are the victims of sexual violence and harassment:

For Joseph who was verbally harassed by Potiphar’s wife who abused her position of power, we say: MeToo
And for Lot whose daughters drugged him and assaulted him, we say: MeToo[i]

In America today, victims of sexual harassment and sexual violence have been given a voice through the social media campaign #MeToo. Over the past eleven months, we have started to recognize and support the heavy burden carried by countless victims. Many of us have been brave and have shared our own stories. We have listened to the stories, not only of celebrities, but of friends and colleagues. Even when the circumstances of the truths we hear may be different than our own, #MeToo accounts resonate with our individual experiences of being prejudged for who we are and having others attempt to assert control over us on account of these differences. For at the root of Sexism, Anti-Semitism, Classism, Ageism, Racism, and Heterosexism, is abuse of power.

Well before the first brave victims of Harvey Weinstein broke their silence, we read of one brave biblical sister, Tamar, who held her harasser, Judah, the eldest of Jacob’s 12 sons, publicly accountable for his abusive actions. You probably did not hear Tamar’s story in Sunday School; it does not fit neatly into an illustrated children’s book. The details of her story are difficult. They are messy. But what is clear about Tamar’s story, just like our own #MeToo experiences, was that Tamar “suffered isolation, deprivation, humiliation and threat at the hands of a powerful man, while a compromised Judah suffered no retribution.”[ii]

Tamar was married to Judah’s son Er, grandson of our Patriarch Jacob. Er died before he and Tamar had children. Judah had promised his younger son as husband for the widowed Tamar, which was the law at the time, so Tamar could have children. But Judah broke his promise and Tamar waited as a widow at her family home, life passing her by. Wronged by Judah but powerless socially and economically to do anything about it, in the ancient world, without a husband, Tamar was considered as nothing.

Tamar refused be a silent victim. She used the only commodity she had to her name, her body, to seek restitution. When Tamar learned that Judah would travel past her hometown, Tamar dressed as a prostitute, face veiled, and waited by the town gate. Judah saw her, and took her. But Judah acted so rashly, he did not have money to pay for the transaction so left Tamar with his staff, signet seal, and cord instead.

Tamar conceived by her father-in-law Judah and gave birth to twins. As the ancient currency for women was having children, necessity compelled Tamar to trick her father-in-law to get what was rightfully hers. When Judah learned that Tamar was pregnant out of wedlock, he demanded that Tamar be killed! He was determined to take Tamar down. But Tamar, in her own way declared #MeToo as she revealed undisputable evidence indicating that Judah himself was the father.

When the Harvey Weinstein story broke in the New York Times in October, actress Alyssa Milano, inspired by feminist friend Tarana Burke, sent a simple tweet before going to bed: “If you’ve been sexually harassed or assaulted write ‘me too’ as a reply to this tweet.” The next day Milano awoke to find that more than 30,000 people had used #MeToo. It seemed as though overnight our eyes were open to the pervasiveness of sexual assault and harassment in our society.

While our eyes may be more open than before, we struggle to navigate towards a path of justice. Dr. Jennifer Thompson, who is a scholar of Jewish Ethics and Civic Engagement believes that our Jewish practice of teshuvah should be applied to the #MeToo movement. Thompson wrote in an op-ed entitled: “MeToo Needs A Forgiveness Option, And Judaism Can Provide It”:

Many famous men have lied about sexually harassing women and have subsequently lost their jobs and social standing. They deserve to pay for their actions, and should repent. But because this problem is systemic, we need systemic repentance as well. The Jewish practice of teshuvah, or repentance, is about “return” to the right behavior, and it is the tool our society needs right now, regardless of our individual religious beliefs or lack thereof.[iii]

In order to look at teshuvah as a framework of justice in our modern society, we must look back to the story of Judah and Tamar. Our Rabbis who lived after the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem in the 2nd Century and who shaped the Judaism we practice today, uphold Judah as the prototype of teshuvah. Our Sages taught that “Judah’s public admission of his relations with Tamar made a great impact in Heaven. Following God’s forgiveness of him, the angels pronounced the blessing, (which now form part of the Amidah’s daily prayer for forgiveness), ‘Blessed are you, Adonai, who is gracious and forgives repeatedly.’[iv]

Judah requires repeated forgiveness for repeated mistakes in his life. Before Judah denies Tamar her right to marry and have children, Judah leads his brothers in selling their father’s favored son, Joseph, into slavery. The Torah connects the abuse of Tamar and the abuse of Joseph by Judah through language: “Haker-na—Do you recognize [this]”[v] Judah and his brothers ask their father Jacob as they present Joseph’s bloodied striped coat? Tamar asks Judah the very same question, “Haker-na—do you recognize [this]” [vi]as she presents him with his own garment and other items that he traded her for sex. While Judah has a track record of deception and familial destruction, his interaction with Tamar is a turning point. Judah even meets with the disguised Tamar at place called Petach Enayim, literally meaning “the opening of the eyes.”[vii]

“Haker-na.” We recognize Judah’s pattern of abuse all too well. But something different, something “eye opening” happens when Tamar names Judah as her abuser. Rather than offer denials or attack Tamar, Judah responds by publicly acknowledging his guilt saying: “She [Tamar] is more in the right than I.”[viii]

As Tamar holds Judah accountable for his abuse towards her, he actually owns his behavior towards her and begins to recognize the patterns of abuse within his behavior towards his father, Jacob, and brothers. Later in Judah’s life, when a disguised Joseph tests his family, Judah selflessly offers himself into slavery in lieu of his baby brother Benjamin. Once unable or unwilling to recognize the pain of loss for others, now Judah makes all of the power he wields vulnerable in an act of empathy. Naming our wrongs, seeking reconciliation with those we have harmed and applying lessons learned when placed in similar situations in the future was how Judah demonstrates teshuvah in our Torah and is how our tradition invites each of us to practice teshuvah in our lives.

It may feel strange to recognize that our tradition asks us to model our behavior of teshuvah after Judah. Is it possible to call out his abhorrent behavior while honoring his positive contribution to our tradition? We find ourselves asking these same questions of people we admired and people who are close to us. Responding to the #MeToo Movement, Neshama Carlebach, the contemporary Jewish singer and daughter of the late popular Jewish composer Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach, made the following statement about her father who was accused of multiple accounts of sexual misconduct:

Our tradition teaches that silence is consent, and I cannot remain silent in the face of so much pain. I am in this conversation. I am also broken. I see, I hear, I witness…I’ve watched the music of my father heal someone’s life…and I’ve read of how that very same music has triggered deep pain for others…I accept the fullness of who my father was, flaws and all. I am angry with him. And I refuse to see his faults as the totality of who he was.[ix]

During this season of teshuvah, this season of repentance, we affirm that each of us is capable of sin and each of us is capable of rehabilitation. When we take these themes out of the context of our prayer book and our Torah, they seem to become more complex and complicated. Now that our eyes are open, how will each of us choose to proceed forward?

I know not everyone will agree with Judaism’s positive embrace of Judah’s teshuvah or my presentation of the topic. My hope is that we can continue conversations with one another after this evening. I hope that in our Beth Or community, we can practice respectfully listening and holding onto other each other’s powerful truths and being in dialogue about difficult matters that are too complex and multifaceted for just one answer.

Our tradition teaches that Yom Kippur atones only for sins between a person and God, not for our transgressions against one another. This space of Yom Kippur is meant to inspire us and propel us forward towards a path of righteousness, healing, and wholeness. How do we heal now that so much brokenness had been revealed? Not only for ourselves as individuals, but for our communities, our institutions and our society? Do we forgive those who have assaulted others? Do we forgive those who have harassed?

As we continue to struggle with these essential questions, we call upon God to comfort us as we struggle to take care of one another.

Rabbi Rachel Kort
Temple Beth Or, Everett
Kol Nidrei 5779

[i] Nechama Gilman Barash, “’Me Too,’ Says the Bible: Some Thoughts in the Wake of Harvey Weinstein.” Pardes 360, 19 Oct. 2017.

[ii] Rabbi Evan Krame & Rabbi David Evan Markus, “Torah’s #MeToo.” The Jewish Studio, 2 Dec. 2017.

[iii] Jewish Daily Forward, 15 Dec. 2017.

[iv] Midrash Tanchuma, Vayyigash.

[v] Genesis 37:32.

[vi] Genesis 38:25.

[vii] Genesis 38:14.

[viii] Genesis 38:26.

[ix] “Neshama Carlebach Responds to Allegations of Sexual Misconduct Against Her Father” New York Jewish Week, 3 Jan. 2017.

afriedma / From our Rabbi, Rabbi Kort /

The Creation of Adam: How the Entire Universe Can Change in a Day

One of the neat things about being a mom of an almost 5 year old is that my daughter Galit is changing and growing right before my very eyes! I think all the sunshine in the Pacific Northwest helped her grow two inches this summer! Sometimes the many changes in my daughter are difficult for me to notice as her mom, because I am blessed to be around her every day.

Over the summer, my mom stopped by the house with an easy project to do with Galit. I enjoyed taking a step back from parenting for a few moments to appreciate some of the many changes in Galit for myself. My mom gently demanded that I sit down with a glass of wine and a magazine so she could enjoy some special “Bubbie” time with her granddaughter. My mom had brought supplies to make chocolate lollipops and I watched Galit and my mom make this simple recipe together.

Galit stood on a chair to reach the counter. They took chocolate chips and poured them into a glass bowl. Galit loved the sound of the hard chocolate chips hitting the bowl so much, that she wanted to pour them into the bowl again and again. Last year Galit was talking, now the talking has changed to bartering and negotiating. Finally, the bowl made its way into the microwave and after about a minute, the chocolate had changed completely. Galit thought the thick liquid was amazing! She was in awe of how the chocolate had changed. She tasted it on her finger. Then on pretzels. Then strawberries. They eventually poured what was left of the melted chocolate into the plastic molds for the lollipops. After no time at all, the chocolate had changed again, back to a hard state. But this time the chocolate had taken on the fun shapes in the lollipop mold.

I remember a friend telling me that when he had his first child, someone asked him before they had left the hospital with the baby, “What does it feel like to be a parent?” He was dumbfounded by the question. “I have no idea! I’m trying to figure that out!” Since hearing my friend’s response to the question, “What does it feel like to be a parent?” I can’t bring myself to ask this question, but I do catch myself sharing cliché phrases with new parents with the utmost sincerity ‘Your whole world changes when you become a parent.’ ‘Savor every moment, children change so fast.’

Our tradition teaches that today, Rosh Hashanah, is the birthday of the world. Our Sages are more specific: today is Adam’s birthday. And on the day that Adam was born, the entire universe changed.

A Midrash captures every hour of the day that God created Adam. In the first hour, the idea of creating a person entered God’s mind. In the second hour, God took counsel with the ministering angels. In the third, God assembled the dust to create a person. In the fourth, God kneaded the dust and water into clay. In the fifth hour, God shaped it. In the sixth God formed a person with a lifeless body. In the seventh God breathed a soul into the body [Adam!] In the eighth hour, God brought Adam into the Garden of Eden. In the ninth hour, God commanded Adam [against eating the fruit of the tree of knowledge], but in the tenth hour, Adam transgressed and ate from the tree. In the eleventh hour, Adam was judged. In the twelfth hour, Adam was pardoned.[i]

The entire Universe changed the day that Adam was born. Some changes that occurred on the first day of Adam’s life were intentional. God had the idea of creating a person and put this plan into action. When Adam chose to eat from the tree of knowledge, everything changed again. Certainly Adam’s self-perception and role in the world changed and perhaps God’s perception changed too. We have wrestled with these changes that came from Adam eating from the tree of knowledge for centuries. Was banishment from the Garden of Eden always a part of God’s plan or, was this an unexpected change?

Change is an essential part of our Universe. And like Adam, change is an essential part of our lives. Think about the changes that have taken place in your life between this New Year and last. Like God choosing to create Adam, some changes in our lives were intentional, they were changes we chose to take on for ourselves. Other changes in our lives were beyond our control. Some changes that have occurred in our lives whether planned or unplanned, we have embraced. Other changes, planned or unplanned, we struggle to integrate into our lives

On Rosh Hashanah, on this day that Adam was born, we as a Jewish community celebrate change and renewal. We often take for granted that before change can lead to renewal, we must first take time to transition.

William Bridges is an expert in organizational change, but his philosophy of managing transition can be applied to the changes that occur in our individual lives. William Bridges teaches that change and transition are not the same thing. Change is situational: a new job, a new family member, a new rabbi, a divorce or a death. Change is what happens. Transition, on the other hand, is psychological; transition is the process that we go through as we internalize and come to terms with the details of a new situation that change brings about.[ii]

Let’s turn to Adam’s story again to help us better understand change and transition in our own lives. After a day of many changes for Adam, the sun descended in the Garden of Eden. Shabbat. A day of rest and appreciation for the Universe and all that had changed in the past six days. But as the sun began to descend, another Midrash from our tradition, imagines Adam’s emotions. As the sun set, Adam was scared. It was dark and Adam did not have the wisdom that it would become light again. I imagine that in the darkness, Adam began to think about all the change that had occurred over the past day. Adam started to think about leaving the Garden of Eden and what that transition would mean.

Adam fell to the ground. Reaching to find something for support, Adam’s hands touched two stones. Upon one stone was written the Hebrew word “afeilah” which means “darkness” and on the other stone was inscribed the Hebrew word “mavet” which means “death.” Adam rubbed the two stones together, and out of its friction a spark was emitted, with which Adam lit a torch that lit up the night sky. Out of darkness and loss, Adam somehow managed to light a fire and view the world in a new light. Adam learned to use that fire, not just to light up the sky, but Adam learned to use fire as a tool to cook, to keep warm, and as a torch that would light a path out of the Garden of Eden.[iii]

William Bridges describes that the first phase of a transition is an ending. In that first dark night in the world, holding onto those two stones, Adam came to understand that darkness and loss were a part of the world and a part of the transition away from Eden. So is true in our lives. Even when we deem a change as positive, there is always loss that comes with change. When taking on change, we must create a new identity and in order to transition, we must learn to let go of the old and become anew.

Year after year, Rosh Hashanah celebrates change and renewal but these themes should never feel redundant, for, we human beings, are in a perpetual state of transition with all the change that occurs in our world and in our lives. The philosopher Ernst Bloch famously taught: we are not actually human beings; we are human ‘becomings.’ Rabbi Brad Artson, a prominent leader in Judaism’s Conservative denomination, explains that God too is in the process of becoming. When Moses asks God what name he should use when introducing God to the Israelites, the answer was not a name that captures one static image of God like Adonai meaning Master, or Avinu Malkeinu, which conjures a complimentary image of God as Almighty and Merciful. No, God chose a more dynamic name: “Tell them my name is Ehiyeh asher ehiyeh. I will be what I will be.”[iv] In Hebrew, this name is in the imperfect tense, further emphasizing that God is incomplete and changing.[v]

William Bridges describes a second phase of transition: learning to manage the new, developing new tools, and learning new skills to navigate a new landscape. For Adam, out of darkness and loss came fire, and Adam learned to use this fire to literally navigate his new path forward in life. Developing new skills, replacing old behavior with new typically does not occur overnight as it did for Adam.

Some of our Sages teach that as Adam experienced the sun setting for the second time, as Shabbat went out, Adam made use of the fire for a new purpose. Before leaving the Garden of Eden, Adam made Havdalah. Adam prayed, “Barukh Atah Adonai borei m’orei ha’aish, thank you God for the creation of fire.” Adam, taking to heart all the changes that had taken place during the brief time spend in the world thanked God for all the distinctions in the world and prayed: “Barukh Atah Adonai, Hamavdil Bein Kodesh l’chol.”

During this time of year in our Jewish calendar when we celebrate change and renewal, we cannot forget that transition, our learning how to manage change, is ultimately what leads to renewal. While we typically make Havdalah at the end of Shabbat, in ten days, we will come together to make Havdalah on a Wednesday evening to end Yom Kippur. What a perfect conclusion to the High Holy Days.

Change is a part of our Universe and our lives. During these Days of Awe, we have an opportunity to note the changes that have occurred in our lives and spend time working on our transition. We pray for strength and courage as we know transition requires our emotions, our energy, our learning, and our growth. On this day that Adam was born, we take time to recognize how everything has changed in each of our worlds, and on this day, let us commit ourselves to learning how to integrate this change into our lives.

Rabbi Rachel Kort
Temple Beth Or, Everett
Erev Rosh Hashanah 5779

[i] Leviticus Rabbah 29:1

[ii] Managing Transition: Making the Most of Change, 2009

[iii] Talmud Bavli, Pesachim 54a; Bereshit Rabbah 11:2

[iv] Rabbi Brad Artsen, God of Becoming and Relationships, 2016

[v] Yoram Hazony, “An Imperfect God,” NYTimes, Nov.25, 2012

afriedma / From our Rabbi, Rabbi Kort /

Watch a video conversation with Rabbi Kort about how your family can prepare for the High Holy Days.

afriedma / From our Rabbi, Rabbi Kort /

Our High Holy Day season offers us an opportunity for t’shuvah. T’shuvah is often interpreted as repentance, but literally translates as a “return.” This process of return does not follow a straight path; t’shuvah requires us to turn both backwards and forwards. Many different and sometimes seemingly conflicting moods and modes comprise our journey of t’shuvah. It requires atonement but also celebration, commemoration, reflection, and recommitment.

We would be hard pressed to make headway on this intense journey simply on Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur and the days in between. Our tradition asks to begin the journey of t’shuvah an entire month before Rosh HaShanah at the start of the Hebrew month Elul (beginning sundown on Friday, August 10). While there are lots of ways that individuals begin their journey of t’shuvah during the month (some recite Psalm 27 and others sound the Shofar daily), I would like to offer you some questions to help you look backwards and forwards with the goal of returning to your most authentic self.

Looking Back:

During the past year, what has made you really happy?
What do you really regret not doing last year? What opportunities did you miss?
Whom do you wish you had not hurt? How might you make up for what you did?
What was a Jewish highlight for you this past year?
What was a Jewish low for you this past year?

Looking Forward:

What new goals do you have for the coming year?
How would you like to do things differently in the coming year?
How would you like to enhance your Jewish life during the coming year?

Looking forward to taking this journey together.

L’shana tova,

Rabbi Rachel Kort

afriedma / From our Rabbi, Rabbi Kort /

(Daughters of Zelophehad by Janet Shaffer, 3 panels Oil on Canvas 2006)

Shabbat Shalom! In our Torah this Shabbat we meet the five Daughters of Zelophehad who challenge the legal status quo to help honor their father’s name and legacy. God wasn’t angry at these 5 women. Rather, God agrees that their perspective is more just and fair and changes the law.More

afriedma / From our Rabbi, Rabbi Kort /

Make for yourself a rav (a teacher); acquire for yourself a friend; and judge every person on the positive side. (Pirkei Avot 1:6)

Make for yourself a rav: I’m looking forward to being each others teachers. I’ll share my knowledge with you and I’m open to receiving your gifts, wisdom, and insight. I hope you will share with me what makes you proud to be a member of Temple Beth Or and areas you feel could be stronger.

Acquire for yourself a friend: I am eager to begin to know everyone! I hope you will take time this summer to come to Shabbat services. I get to lead my first Family Shabbat with Bernie Busch on Friday, July 6th at 7pm.

Judge every person on the positive side: One of the hard things about being new is that your experience with me at this point is limited. I know I will mess a few things up. Please tip the balance in my favor and I promise to do the same for you. Relationships take time and work and I’m excited to build ours together.

afriedma / From our Rabbi, Rabbi Kort /

Empowering Individuals to Take the Lead in their Jewish Lives

My parents never told me why I should be Jewish. Instead, they raised me with rich Jewish experiences that invited me to discover why I should be Jewish for myself. I grew up eating Happy Meals in the temple sukkah, writing post-cards to my Ethiopian-Israeli pen pal, being counted in the shiva minyan after my bat mitzvah, and baby-sitting my way through high school to subsidize a summer trip to Israel. My family was comfortable living our Jewish life through osmosis in the densely Jewish suburbs of Detroit. Then we moved to Seattle to be closer to my mom’s Polish Catholic family, where, for the first time, my parents felt the need to affiliate in order to feel Jewish. We leapt into synagogue life and the leadership of our shul became my extended Jewish family. I grew up around Shabbat tables filled with conversation about the issues facing our congregation and the global Jewish community and was asked to share my opinion. ‘Was our temple ready to hire a woman rabbi? Should our rabbi officiate at same-sex weddings, even though Washington State would not recognize them? How can the Peace Process in Israel-Palestine go on without Rabin?’

“Na’aseh v’nishma—Do first, understand later.”* Although I did not study this text until I was an adult, I learned the concept early on. Engagement in Jewish life was integral in shaping my individual identity. Through my experiences of Jewish life, I learned the importance of community, compassion, and inclusion. Through my experiences of Jewish life, I learned to be a feminist, a Zionist, an advocate for peace, and a global citizen. L’dor v’dor, from generation to generation you might say. As a congregational rabbi, I have opportunities to translate the same message of Jewish empowerment that my parents and childhood community instilled in me.

Pastoral meetings are one such opportunity for empowerment. A congregant named Larry approached me with a dilemma: his parents were celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary and he wanted to give a blessing at the celebration, but did not know how. Larry and I spent time learning together, examining the nature of blessings in Judaism. In our tradition, blessings must accompany action; they are more than just expressions of gratitude. Larry’s studies led him to create a blessing that recalled his parents’ generosity of time and spirit, on behalf of their children, grandchildren, and Jewish community in 50 years of marriage.

Empowering others to take the lead in their Jewish lives is work that nourishes my soul. Recently, I helped a mother craft the words she would use to tell her twelve-year-old daughter that her estranged father had passed away. I supported a couple, one partner raised in an observant Conservative family, the other raised in China, who are working to establish their authentic Jewish home, while showing reverence to their parents and the traditions of their families. A decade long attendee at our congregation’s lay-led Torah study took advantage of a milestone birthday to share his take on Torah with his community; together, we studied the parasha in the weeks leading up to his turn to lead. My partnerships with congregants better allow for God’s presence to be palpable when I offer blessings at the graveside, under a chuppah, or at the beit midrash.

In the current American landscape, new types of institutions and communities are emerging to help meet the needs of American Jews. Like many Millennials, I have participated in independent minyanim and Jewish communities formed around issues of global justice and environmentalism. But I choose to make my home and serve in a congregational setting because I believe in the power of multigenerational community and have experienced creative innovation within the synagogue setting.

Throughout my life, I have found personal growth and comfort in a synagogue community. As an adult and as a rabbi, my synagogue is where my husband and I celebrated the birth of our daughter, Galit, and it is where I turned for support after the death of my father. Being rabbi for the Temple Beth Or community is an exciting opportunity for me to offer my established congregational leadership to a dynamic and hamish community while working in a part-time capacity. I am thrilled to join Temple Beth Or as your rabbi because Beth Or is a community that wants to partner with me to create rich opportunities for participation. “Na’aseh v’nishma—Do first, understand later.” Together we can create experiences that will build Jewish identities and strengthen synagogue community.

– Rabbi Rachel Kort

* “Na’aseh v’nishma”–“We will do and we will hear/understand” (Exodus 24:7)

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