Rabbi Sherman - Honorable Mensch-ion

A UCLA sociology student interviewed me recently about the sustainability of synagogue life. She asked how our community lives out the Jewish values of sustainability. My answer came from this week’s parsha, Terumah: “Let them make Me a sanctuary, so that I may dwell among them.” The Torah does not tell us that God will dwell within the actual sanctuary. Rather, God will dwell among us. God does not need a sanctuary; we need one. Jewish sustainability begins when we create a sanctuary for our community to dwell within. I explained to this college student that we are obligated to pray within a community, and only then do we create a sanctuary of souls.

On my three trips to Poland in the early 2000s, I walked through the gates of Auschwitz for a historical tour. It was difficult to fathom the amount of hate that was in the world to consciously build a place like that.

Pauline Boss, in her book “Ambiguous Loss” explains healing requires some measure of clarity. “Only when things are made right again can people put their losses to rest.” How could it be that last Shabbat, I attended a beautiful Bat...

The Song of The Sea tells us “This is my God and I will enshrine God.” Onkelos, who translates the Torah into Aramaic, elaborates on the idea of enshrining God in our lives. We must build places for God to dwell in, but we also must bring God’s splendor to the inhabitants of the world. What an appropriate lesson as we also celebrate Tu Bishvat this coming week, the New Year of the trees. So many of our most formidable moments of Jewish prayer and spirituality take place in nature, under God’s canopy of trees. Ask a child to name a favorite place they have celebrated Shabbat, and most will say, “I love being at camp.” It is in the natural beauty of the world where God is enshrined, and we our tasked to grasp hold of that splendor to bring inside our homes, our communities, and our hearts.

My grandfather was known as Pa. He was born in Poland, came to the United States in the 1920s, and was a tire salesman in the Philadelphia area. Pa loved his Judaism and he loved people: A cashier, a store clerk, his doctor, his rabbi, his family, and strangers. He could never meet someone and not ask them a question or tell them a story. Our family named this extroverted characteristic "Pa-itis," and we like to say this trait does not skip a generation.

I would always challenge myself as a child to stay up until midnight and watch the ball drop in Times Square each New Year’s Eve. With the advent of DVR and a 9pm ball drop on the west coast, the challenge does not feel as urgent these days.

The Book of Exodus is primarily spent on the Israelites' journey into slavery and the transformation of this tribe into a Jewish people with God’s revelation at Mount Sinai.

What circle are you a part of? I ask this question each year to graduating high school seniors. By this time in their lives, they are a part of many circles: The family, the synagogue, the community, the city, the United States, the people of Israel, and the world.

The Jewish story is one of exile and redemption. At times we live inside our land, and at times we live outside our land. While these two concepts appear to be polar opposites, the same root is found in both words; galut, exile, and geulah, redemption, both meaning “to reveal.”

The Greeks forbid the Jews to perform three mitzvot in their quest for Jewish assimilation: Brit Milah, Shabbat, and Rosh Chodesh.