Trust in God and Row for Shore

Rabbi David E. Ostrich, Congregation Brit Shalom
Clergy Column for The Centre Daily Times
Published February 9th 

The story of the Splitting of the Red Sea—which we Jews read this time of year—gives us a good opportunity to learn about Midrash, a Jewish form of Bible study. The term midrash comes from the Hebrew root D-R-SH which involves searching. Midrash is a kind of Rabbinic Literature which searches Biblical texts for meaning. Collected in the Talmud or in other ancient works (like Midrash Rabba or the Mechilta), Midrashic stories are fictional enhancements to Biblical stories that add moral lessons to the ancient text. They are not intended to be taken as literal or historical but rather as parables or fables that help us learn more of God’s wisdom. 

The classic Midrash story has three parts. First is a koshi, a difficulty in the text. It could a contradiction with another Bible verse, something that does not seem logical, or something that begs for an explanation. Second is a story that resolves the contradiction or provides the detail. Third is the moral of the story. A Midrash always has a moral or spiritual lesson. 

Here is an example written around 1500 years ago. When the Israelites are stranded between the Egyptian army and the Red Sea, God instructs Moses to lift up his rod over the waters. God then splits the sea so that the Israelites can escape through it on dry land. As Exodus (14.22) puts it, “They went into the sea on dry land.” The meaning seems pretty clear: what was the sea becomes dry land when God performs a miracle. The Israelites walk through a path where there had formerly been water. However, one ancient Rabbi read the verse very literally and saw a koshi, a problem. Since the sea is made of water, it would be impossible to be both “in the sea” and “on dry ground” at the same time. One might think that the Torah does not make sense, but, since it cannot (since God makes no mistakes!), there must be an explanation to straighten out the logic of the Torah’s text.  

The “answer” comes in a Midrash which creates some new details of the story. As Numbers Rabba (13.7) explains: When Moses lifts up his rod, the miracle does not happen immediately. The waters do not split. Moses is confounded, but Nachshon son of Aminadab (a leader in the Tribe of Levi and brother-in-law of Aaron the High Priest) realizes that the people need to put themselves into the miracle. He starts walking into the sea and shouts out, “By our faith shall the waters be divided!” The people understand and follow him in. Only when the Israelites are in the sea, with the water up to their noses, does the sea split. God’s miracle requires both human faith and human action! 

Thus does the Midrash remind us that solving our problems involves both faith and action. Sometimes God intervenes with miracles, but sometimes we must rely upon our own strength, courage, and wisdom. Or, as the old Indian proverb reminds us, “When caught out in a lake during a storm, pray to God and row to shore.” 

The Nachshon story is one of my favorites, but it is more than just a story. It resolves the koshi. It takes the Biblical phrase, “They went into the sea on dry ground,” a logical impossibility and recasts it as a sequence. First, they go into the sea, AND THEN it becomes dry land. It is a totally made-up story—a fanciful creation of an ancient thinker who uses an obscure figure from the Torah and crafts a moral lesson that is valuable to us all. Midrash is one of the ways that God’s wisdom continues to blossom.

God's Goals for Us

Rabbi David E. Ostrich, Congregation Brit Shalom
Clergy Column for The Centre Daily Times
Published November 17, 2024 

The recent election did not resolve our society’s polarization. One side is celebrating, while the other side is mourning. One side is thinking, “Finally, somebody will do things right,” while the other side is full of anxiety about what is to come.  

It may be premature to try to counsel either side. Celebrations can be good for the soul. And anxiety is often the universe’s way of telling us that we need to be careful. But more important than who won and who lost is the fact that we still have a lot of work to do. Regardless of who is in office, God is depending on us to make things better (Tikkun Olam). What makes us great is how well we serve as God’s agents in the world.  

One of the interesting things about politics is that God’s work can be done in a variety of different ways. The poor can be helped through government programs or with private charity and free market opportunity. We can argue all day about the techniques and policies, but the Divine imperative is that the poor be helped. The same can be said for justice. There are all sorts of theories about the best way to police or punish/rehabilitate. There are all sorts of opinions about the causes and prevention of crime—and about the ways the laws are interpreted. But however we accomplish it, the Divine command is that we pursue justice.  

We are, of course, focusing on own our times and challenges, but God’s perspective is far greater. I can imagine God up in Heaven, sitting on the Throne of Divine Justice and Mercy and thinking of all the generations who have come before us and who have had their turns to be God’s agents in the world—to be blessings. Fortunately, much of the wisdom they learned from the challenges of self-government is inscribed in the Bible, and I would imagine that God is hoping for us to pay attention. Regardless of our political party, let us consider some of God’s goals for every government and every citizen. 

DEUTERONOMY 17.14-20:
“If, after you have entered the land that the Lord your God has assigned to you, you decide, ‘I will set a king over me, as do all the nations about me,’ you shall be free to set a king over yourself…When he is seated on his royal throne, he shall have a copy of this Torah… and let him read in it all his life, so that he may learn to revere the Lord his God, to observe faithfully …these laws. Thus, he will not act haughtily toward his fellows or deviate from the Instruction… to the right or to the left…”  

DEUTERONOMY 16.18-20:
“You shall appoint magistrates and officials for your tribes… and they shall govern the people with due justice. You shall not judge unfairly: you shall show no partiality; you shall not take bribes, for bribes blind the eyes of the discerning and upset the plea of the just. Justice, justice shall you pursue…”  

LEVITICUS 19.15-18:
“You shall not pervert justice; you shall favor neither the poor nor the rich, but with justice shall you judge My people…you shall not hate your fellow in your heart…you shall love your neighbor as yourself.”  

If we have a hard time figuring out exactly what it means to “love your neighbor as yourself,” the ancient sage Hillel gives this practical advice: “What is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbor.”  (Talmud Shabbat 31a) 

One final ancient bit of advice—also from Hille—is about how we allocate our personal and national resources. “If I am not for myself, then who will be for me? But, if I am only for myself, what am I? And, if not now, when?” (Mishna Avot 1.14) We need to take care of ourselves, but we also need to help others. Let us not forget both sides of this holy balance. 

Like I said, God must be up there, sitting on the Heavenly Throne and wondering how this new crop of leaders will do. Regardless of what they call themselves or what approaches they use, will they pursue justice and mercy? Will they follow My holy advice?

God as an Author: Writing Strategies and Techniques

Rabbi David E. Ostrich, Congregation Brit Shalom
Clergy Column for The Centre Daily Times
Published October 20, 2024

When many of us think about Genesis, our minds immediately go to the miracles. Everything is created in six days. There are incredibly long lifespans: 930 years for Adam, 950 years for Noah, and 969 years for Methuselah. There are some miraculous pregnancies. There is an incident of fire and brimstone—and an overly curious lady being turned into a pillar of salt.  

Many of us find it hard to get past the miracles, and we are not the first ones to get stuck on their sheer unbelievability. Some Sages, like the pious French Rabbi known as Rashi, focused on the mitzvot, the commandments that help us to lead moral and holy lives. As he put it, if you find the miracles of Genesis unbelievable, do not believe them. Skip the whole book of Genesis and go straight to Exodus 12 where we have the first mitzvah: “This month shall be the beginning of months for you.” Pay attention to the mitzvot, not the miracles. 

There are those who expect Genesis to be a scientific textbook—and one figures that God could have written such a book. As the inventor/creator of physics, chemistry, fluid dynamics, and electro-biology, God could have included them in the Bible but instead chose a different approach. Perhaps it was because our ancient shepherding ancestors did not understand such things as billions of years, molten plasma, and atomic structure. In any event, God decided to write a book more relevant to their lives—with simple explanations of the creative process and examples of human strength, weakness, morality, and the lack thereof. For whatever reason, God decided not to write the Bible as a physics textbook or chemical treatise. Trying to find science in the Bible is missing God’s point.  

Another thing about God: I believe that God is at least as a good a writer as William Shakespeare. As the inventor of language, God knows how to use it in all sorts of illustrative and inspiring ways—many of which are not literal. Take, for example, Genesis 4 where Cain gets jealous of Abel and, projecting his disappointment, kills his brother. In writing of the cosmic outrage of such a terrible thing, God chooses some literary techniques. First, God asks a rhetorical question: “What have you done?” God knows the answer, but such a question is asked to focus the reader’s attention. Then God selects two metaphors: “Hark, your brother’s blood cries out to Me from the ground...which opened its mouth to receive it...” Science teaches us that the ground does not have a mouth, nor can liquid like blood speak, but that is not the point. The metaphor and anthropomorphism are intended to communicate that an outrage has occurred—one so egregious that even the inanimate world is overwhelmed with shock and grief. Reading this passage literally and as though it were a scientific explanation misses the author’s point and denies both God’s message and method.  

The same can be said for Psalms that proclaim, “The heavens declare the Glory of God.” These are not literal statements but rather poetry and metaphor. The marvels of creation are so profound that, could the sky speak, it would burst out in song. The message is clear: if inanimate objects would be amazed by God’s wonders, should we not pay attention and respond to God’s creations with praise? 

Trying to read every word of the Bible literally denies the method and the message that God intended—intends. God’s point is to give us guidance and help us to be good and holy. Through stories of human strength and weakness, we are given examples of the kinds of challenges we humans face and of the various ways that we can respond. As God puts it in Deuteronomy, “I set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. Choose life that you may live.”  

There is certainly a time for science, but science and natural history can be covered in other books. The Bible is a book about morality and holiness and the possibilities of godliness on earth. 

Thoughts on Genesis

Sermon Delivered to University Mennonite Church
September 1, 2024 

When many of us think about Genesis, our minds immediately go to the miracles of Creation. Everything is created in six days!

Everything! In six days! Then there are the incredibly long life-spans: 930 years for Adam,  365 years for Enoch, 950 years for Noah, and 969 years for Methuselah. (By the way, if you add up all those years, it turns out that Noah’s son, Shem, and great-great-grandson, Eber, lived long enough to know—and according to Jewish legend—teach their great-great-great, etc. grandsons, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob!) 

There were some unexpected and miraculous pregnancies— perhaps the most famous being Sarah giving birth to Isaac at age 90. There was an incident of fire and brimstone falling on some cities—and a overly curious lady being turned into a pillar of salt. Perhaps the greatest miracle of all, however, was the fact that the Eternal God of the Universe found some human beings interesting enough to chat with them and offer them guidance. 

There is a lot more to the book, but many of us find it hard to get past the miracles, and we are not the first ones to get stuck on their sheer unbelievability. Back about a thousand years ago, the French Rabbi known as Rashi, Solomon son of Isaac, a very devoted and pious scholar, a man who took the Bible very, very seriously, gave the following advice. If you find the miracles of Genesis unbelievable, don’t believe them. Don’t worry about them. If necessary, just skip the whole book of Genesis and go straight to Exodus 12 where we have the first mitzvah, the first commandment: “This month shall be the beginning of months for you.” The point of Genesis is simply to set the stage for God’s presentation of the mitzvot, the commandments which define holiness and morality in life. Pay attention to the mitzvot, not the miracles. 

I think that Rashi’s message is that, in looking at a document like the Bible, we need to consider its purpose and its context. Why would God give it to us, and what did God hope to accomplish with this mix of stories and genealogies and explanations? 

Though the subject is serious, perhaps an old joke can help set the stage. It’s the one about a little boy who asks his parents a question they did not yet expect. “Mommy, Daddy, where did I come from?” Resolving to do right by their son, they take a deep breath and present all the relevant biological details. He listens attentively for a long time and then says, “Interesting, but Tommy says he comes from Pittsburgh.” 

Is Genesis the scientific text book that some seem to think it should be, or is it a much simpler document—one much more attuned to instructing our ancient ancestors in some basic facts: their Source, their purpose, and some helpful guidance for navigating the human condition. God could have written a scientific explanation of physics and chemistry and fluid dynamics and electro-biology; God did invent them all. But, God chose to write a different kind of book. Realizing that concepts like billions of years and molten plasma and atomic structure were technical details far beyond the understanding of our ancient shepherding ancestors, God choose to write a book more relevant to their lives—one with a simple explanation of the creative process and examples of human strength and weakness, morality and the lack thereof. This book was never intended to be a physics textbook or chemical treatise. It was a simpler book that was relevant for their understanding of life, and I trust God. I trust that God knew the audience and knew what we needed. 

Another thing about God: I believe that God is at least as a good a writer as William Shakespeare. God invented language and is able to use it in all sorts of illustrative and inspiring ways—many of which are not literal. Take, for example, Genesis 4 where Cain gets jealous of Abel and, projecting his own disappointment, kills his brother. In writing of the cosmic outrage of such a terrible thing, God choose two literary techniques. First, God asks a rhetorical question: “What have you done? God knows the answer, but such a question is asked for the sake of the reader and focuses our attention. Then God selects two metaphors: “Hark, your brother’s blood cries out to Me from the ground...which opened its mouth to receive it...”. Scientifically, the ground does not have a mouth nor can liquid like blood speak, but that is not the point. The metaphor and anthropomorphism are intended to communicate that an outrage has occurred—one so poignantly sad and tragic that even the inanimate world is overwhelmed with shock and grief. 

Reading this literally and as though it were a scientific explanation misses the author’s point completely, denying God’s message and method. We need to pay attention to God’s wisdom—and not just words disconnected from their context. 

A similar usage of metaphor can be found frequently in the Psalms. When Scripture says, “The heavens declare the Glory of God,” it is not speaking literally. What it means is that the marvels of creation are so profound that the sky—if it could—would burst out in song. The message is also instructive. If inanimate objects can see and respond to God’s wonders, then shouldn’t we pay attention too and respond with praise? 

A large part of Genesis deals with the difficulty of being human. Many of the stories present the human predicament and give us examples of the kinds of challenges life presents. Whether it is conflict between family members, desires that are greater than our possibilities, situations where we are derailed by self-sabotage, or moments when noble aspirations compete with other noble aspirations, this human life is fraught with choices that are not always easy. Think about Adam and Eve. Usually curiosity is good. It is, in fact, our birthright as incredibly intelligent creatures. But, there are times when we need to back off and respect boundaries, when forbidden fruit tasted cannot be untasted. Protect us, O Lord, from overstepping. 

Think about Cain. He does not understand why God rejects his sacrifice—or he refuses to consider that perhaps his own lack of enthusiasm or generosity has self-sabotaged his efforts. In any event, God warns him: “If you do right, there is uplift. But if you do not do right, sin couches at the door. It’s urge is toward you, but you can be its master.” Can we push away the sin and temptation that are always lurking? Can we focus on the real cause of our problems and not project them onto others? Cain’s is a counter example we should endeavor to avoid. 

Think about Abraham and Sarah, faithful servants of God who must wait and wait and wait. As one of my teachers, Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalomi, used to quip: “God is not like Domino’s Pizza, guaranteed delivery in thirty minutes.” We follow God because it is right—realizing always that the rewards may be a long time in coming. Or, as Geoff Duncan, former lieutenant governor of Georgia said at the Democratic National Convention the other night—perhaps quoting Mark Twain or Ted Lasso, “Doing the right thing is never the wrong thing.” Countless servants of the Lord have followed Abraham’s and Sarah’s example, doing the Lord’s work because it is important and it is right—even if the rewards are not immediate. 

We can look at the story of Isaac, a man of great spiritual power but one who is retiring and quiet, a man whose wife “wears the pants in the family,” and whose family is blessed by her strength and determination. Not all patterns are meant to be replicated. And not all institutions are to be unquestioned. When Rebekah pushes her insights and her son Jacob above and beyond the decision of her husband and the hopes of her other beloved son Esau, she knows that this hard choice is the right one—that Jacob is the better leader for the religion, that Esau’s gifts lead in a different direction, and that her beloved husband’s thinking needs some reorientation. This is a not a soap opera. This is life, and Genesis teaches us about the difficulty and neccesity of strength. 

We can also look at the conflict between Jacob’s tribe and the neighboring tribe led by Hamor and Shechem. Was the joining of Dinah and Shechem voluntary, or was it a first step of oppression, exploitation, and violation to come? And, given a rapacious neighbor who does not respect boundaries, what are the most effective ways to work things out? Is peace possible, and, if so, how? And, if peace is not possible, what is one to do? 

These situations described in Genesis are noteworthy because they show great people—people touched by God and fate—nonetheless struggling to come to grips with the challenges that God and life put before us. We are given principles, and we are given aspirations—goals of holiness and morality. But these are not easily reached, and we find ourselves hampered and distracted by the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune... We, like our Biblical forebears, must wrestle. 

The Book of Genesis informs us of the challenges and opportunities of life in this world, and it bids us to be strong and resolute and holy. We look to it for wisdom and insights and for possibilities to ponder. 

Let me conclude with piece about the guidance Genesis gives us—and wrestling.
"We who are called “The Children of Israel” should always remember how we got the name. It was the name given to our grandfather Jacob—Jacob who wrestled the angel, Jacob who
would not let go. “Israel” they called him for he was a wrestler. “Israel” they call us for we are wrestlers, too. We wrestle with God as we search for wisdom. We wrestle with people as we
struggle for justice. And, we wrestle with ourselves as we make ourselves better and more holy. Yes, we are the Children of Israel, the children and grandchildren of a man who wrestled an angel. “ (Siddur B’rit Shalom)

Religious Symbols and The Ten Commandments
Rabbi David E. Ostrich, Congregation Brit Shalom
Clergy Column for The Centre Daily Times
Published August 11th

 As an outsider looking in—a non-Christian looking at Christianity, I am often struck by the curious adaptability of Jesus: how the man whom Christians consider the Messiah is portrayed in a stunning variety of different ways.  

Some describe Jesus as a “turn the other cheek” believer in peace, while others describe him as a violent and aggressive war lord. Some see the Gospel Jesus as an ascetic—someone who denies the pleasures of the body, while others insist that he encourages voracious sensualism. Some say that Jesus preferred the poor and lowly, while the Prosperity Gospel preaches that wealth is God’s reward to the faithful. Some Christians see Jesus as a feminist, but others see him as a dominator of women. And though PETA has proclaimed that Jesus was a vegan, Matthew 14 suggests that he was at least a Pescatarian. It goes on and on and leaves me wondering what the actual Jesus would think about all these interpretations. How can they all be from the same Bible? Do these different “Jesuses” come from attempts to understand the New Testament, or has the word “Jesus” become just a symbol for strong human opinions?  

I wonder if this remarkable adaptability comes from a reverse-reading of John 1.14. When the text says, “And the Word became flesh,” it expresses John’s belief that Jesus was an earthly manifestation of God’s Word—that he was the Biblical ideal. However, reversing the text—taking human ideals and putting them onto Jesus—results in a very malleable deity. “If I believe it, then Jesus must have believed it, too” is a painful reversal of Genesis 1. Instead of God creating the human in the Divine Image, people are trying to create God in whatever image they find appealing.  

Unfortunately, this same flexibility can afflict other religious symbols. Take, for example, the Ten Commandments—which my home state of Louisiana is now displaying in every school classroom. Most would agree that the Ten Commandments (Exodus 20 and Deuteronomy 5) are vitally important, but one wonders if the government of Louisiana is actually going to observe them or enforce them—or just put them up as a symbol. Will the state legislators stop taking the Lord’s Name in vain? Will they observe the Seventh Day Sabbath? Or, if they believe that the Biblical Sabbath has been replaced by Sunday, the Lord’s Day, will they make sure that stores and restaurants are closed so that everyone can rest? Will they refrain from committing adultery? Will they stop bearing false witness—that is, lying about political opponents? And what about coveting? Will they stop coveting the safety and freedom of those at the margins of society? In other words, does the posting of the Ten Commandments represent genuine religious aspirations—or is it merely a symbolic gesture, a case of style over substance? 

We humans have this tendency—trying to superimpose our human prejudices onto God, and it is an equal-opportunity evil, a temptation that lures and threatens every religion. There are all too many tragic examples—around the world and in history—of God being “used” to justify human opinion. 

Some may look at the panoply of conflicting religious opinions and reject the whole affair. If religions cannot agree, what good are they? I, however, look at it differently. I think of religion as a tool, and, like any tool, it can be used for good or evil. Religion is the tool with which humans approach the Divine and try to relate to it. We have, as William James puts it, an undefinable, non-empirical feeling of a Presence—an “undifferentiated sense of reality,” and religion is the human response to this Presence. We are all trying to fathom the unfathomable—to figure out Infinity. Sometimes we do better than others. 

When we can empty ourselves of ego and prejudice, we allow God to enter. When we do not—when we foist ourselves onto God, we are less than our holy potential.

Mikveh Yisrael: Our Hope in This New Land

Rabbi David E. Ostrich, Congregation Brit Shalom
Clergy Column for The Centre Daily Times
To be published Sunday June 2nd 

When Mayor Ezra Nanes recently declared Jewish American Heritage Month, I was asked to accept the proclamation and make a statement. I chose to quote one of the most famous statements in American Jewish History, the letter from President George Washington to the Hebrew Congregation in Newport, Rhode Island. Upon his election in 1790, the congregation had congratulated him, and he responded:
“The Citizens of the United States of America have a right to applaud themselves for having given to mankind examples of an enlarged and liberal policy: a policy worthy of imitation. All possess alike liberty of conscience and immunities of citizenship. It is now no more that toleration is spoken of, as if it was by the indulgence of one class of people, that another enjoyed the exercise of their inherent natural rights. For happily the Government of the United States, which gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance, requires only that they who live under its protection should demean themselves as good citizens, in giving it on all occasions their effectual support.” 
It is a wonderful and embracing statement, but the fact that he had to say it reminds us that the acceptance of Jews in this land has not always been a foregone conclusion. 

All six Jewish communities in the new United States (New York, Newport, Savannah, Charleston, Philadelphia, and Richmond) wrote letters to Washington—perhaps to curry favor with the new ruler, and each received a similar reply. There have been for us times of great acceptance, opportunity, and good fortune, and there have been times when our people’s safety and status have been under threat. Though we live in the land of freedom, we and many others have not always enjoyed the “domestic Tranquility” and “Blessings of Liberty” that our Constitution seeks. 

When Jews first arrived in the “New” World, their feelings were probably a combination of anxiety and hope—a mixture reflected in the names they gave their congregations. Three of the earliest congregations are named Mikveh Yisrael / O Hope of Israel, words that come from Jeremiah (17.12-13). Exhorting our ancestors to trust in the Lord, the Prophet declares: “O Throne of Glory, exalted from of old, Our Sacred Shrine! O Hope of Israel! O Lord!” 

These three Mikveh Israel’s were formed in Curacao, Venezuela (1674), Savannah, Georgia (1733), and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania (1740). I do not know about the state of mind of these early Jews in Curacao and Philadelphia, but I served at Mickve Israel in Savannah and had the chance to learn about their less-than-enthusiastic reception. In 1733, General James Edward Oglethorpe received a charter from King George II to establish a colony that would be a frontier barrier to Spanish encroachment from La Florida. Backed by officers and by men from debtors’ prisons, Oglethorpe set out to establish a utopia. His plan was to ban what he considered “problems:” slavery, lawyers, and Jews. However, six months after he landed, a boatload of Jews from England arrived and sought residency. Oglethorpe was adamantly opposed to their presence, but he was occupied with a crisis. A swamp fever was decimating his colony, and the only doctor had died from the illness. When he found out that one of the Jews was a physician, a Dr. Samuel Nunes, Oglethorpe said that he could disembark. Nunes countered that he would only help if all the Jews on board would be allowed admission. The General relented, and the Jewish settlers named their congregation for the tenuous hope they felt in the new land. 

In large measure, our hope has been rewarded. Our faith and institutions are strong. Our people have been free to work hard and aspire to the American Dream. And we have been constructive parts of the American process, contributing in every possible way to America’s building and improvement. We are part of the American fabric, and yet still we wonder and worry. There is much to treasure, and there is much to protect. 

Hopefully, we too can find inspiration in God’s Presence—Mikveh Yisrael—and keep alive the religious spirit that filled our ancestors. God can be with us—if we only open our hearts and minds and allow the proximity of God. As Jeremiah also says (17.8), “Blessed is one who trusts in the Lord, whose trust and faith are in God. It is like a tree planted by waters, sending forth its roots by a stream. It does not sense the coming of heat, its leaves are ever fresh; it has no care in a year of drought, it does not cease to yield fruit.” 

Angels Among Us?

Rabbi David E. Ostrich, Congregation Brit Shalom
Clergy Column for The Centre Daily Times
To be published Sunday May 19, 2024, 553 words 

Though the belief in angels is quite ancient—and though angels appear many times in the Hebrew Scriptures, the New Testament, and the Koran, it does not make a lot of sense today. The ancients thought of God as a King located in one place, One Who sends out agents to do the various things that need to be done. Just as a monarch has servants or an executive has employees and assigns them various jobs, so does God send out m’lachim/angels. Though angels appear in many contexts—guarding the Garden of Eden, stopping Abraham from sacrificing Isaac, using Jacob’s Ladder to travel from Heaven to Earth, wrestling with Jacob and giving him a new name (Israel), slaying the firstborn of Egypt and passing over the houses of the Israelites, splitting the Red Sea, announcing the mysterious and holy cause of Mary’s pregnancy, and dictating the Surah portions of the Koran to Muhammed, the most illuminating example is from Chapter 6 of Isaiah where God is referred to as Adonai Tz’va’ot/The Lord of Hosts. The word hosts here does not refer to hospitality—though that might make an excellent sermon. Here the word refers to God’s army of angels: hosts and hosts of angels who are available for God’s every bidding. God gives orders, and the angels obey—while God sits on His heavenly throne and waits for their reports. 

This is the ancient understanding. However, whereas the ancients thought of God as sitting in one place, we are taught that God is omnipresent, present everywhere at the same time. As Jonah learns, there is no fleeing from the Presence of the Lord. God is in the Land of Israel, in Tarshish, in Nineveh, and in the midst of the sea. The theological insight that God is omnipresent is not a matter of God changing. Rather it is a matter of our knowledge of God developing and becoming more accurate. We now understand that God is not limited to one spot, that God is everywhere at the same time and has no need to send out agents/m’lachim/angels. God can do it personally.  

How then can we understand the notion and tradition of angels? Perhaps it is a matter of identifying part of a whole as an individual thing. We speak of wind or a storm as something separate from the atmosphere, but it is really just a manifestation of all the air around it. The same can be said about waves in the ocean. They seem individual but are really just an aspect of the water. 

So, when ancient texts speak of an angel of the Lord, perhaps a better way to understand it is that our ancient ancestors experienced the omnipresence of God in a particular way—instructing righteousness, revealing wisdom, instilling faith or courage or perception. It was still miraculous and profoundly blessed, but it was God Whom they encountered: the Infinite God focused on us in a specific matter. 

One more thing. Given that we who are created by God are also instructed and inspired to be godly, one could say that we have the ability to be manifestations or vessels of the Divine Will—to do God’s work in the world and be angels. Let us notice the angels around us, and let us strive to join God’s hosts.

On Jewish American Heritage Month

At the May 6th State College Borough Council Meeting, Mayor Ezra Nanes declared this month as Jewish American Heritage Month and presented a proclamation to local Jewish leaders. These are Rabbi Ostrich’s remarks in accepting the proclamation.

Thank you, Mayor Nanes, for this kind appreciation. 

From 1654, when the first Jews arrived in what later became the United States, our goals have been threefold. First, we came in search of a place where we could practice our ancient faith in peace. Second, we came in search of a place where we could work in our professions and trades, make a living, and raise our families in peace. Third, we came in search of a place where we could be part of society and “part of the solution” for all of humanity’s challenges. 

In large measure, we have been very successful. Our faith and institutions are strong. Our people have been free to work hard and aspire to the American Dream. And, we have been a constructive part of the American process, contributing in every possible way to America’s building and improvement. Jews have fought in every war, served in the Congress and Judiciary and diplomatic corps, and been active in movements for social justice. Jews have participated in education, science, commerce, athletics, and culture. We are part of the American fabric. 

We have been, as George Washington envisioned, good citizens. As he wrote in 1790 to the Hebrew Congregation of Newport, Rhode Island:
“The Citizens of the United States of America have a right to applaud themselves for having given to mankind examples of an enlarged and liberal policy: a policy worthy of imitation. All possess alike liberty of conscience and immunities of citizenship. It is now no more that toleration is spoken of, as if it was by the indulgence of one class of people, that another enjoyed the exercise of their inherent natural rights. For happily the Government of the United States, which gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance requires only that they who live under its protection should demean themselves as good citizens, in giving it on all occasions their effectual support.” 

This declaration from our first President established a standard for American society. Though we have fallen short too many times—with Jews among those for whom “liberty and justice for all” has not always been the case, this noble aspiration calls on us all to build the “more perfect union” our Constitution envisions. Jewish Americans are proud to be patriots and appreciate both the blessings and opportunities of this nation and this land. We remain committed to, in President Washington’s words, giving our country and our community on all occasions our effectual support.

When We Religious Get It Wrong

Rabbi David E. Ostrich, Congregation Brit Shalom
Clergy Column for The Centre Daily Times
Published Sunday April 7, 2024 

A holy man was addressing a group of religious teenagers, but one of the young people was troubled. The teachings seemed ungodly, so he raised his hand. Where in the Scriptures is this found? It is there; it is the will of God. But where? It is there; it is the will of God. But where is it in the Scripture? There was no answer because the teaching was not in Scripture. The young man, the future Imam Abdullah Antepli, had studied the Koran and knew that this teaching was not in the Koran—neither Surah nor Hadith.  

Though set in a Muslim context, this story could have easily taken place in a Christian, or Hindu, or Buddhist, or Jewish setting—and unfortunately, it often does. Sometimes religious people think something so strongly that they think it is Scriptural when it is not. 

This is nothing new. In fact, religions around the world know about this tendency, and they all have stories reminding the pious to be humble—and not to put their thoughts into God’s mouth. Here is the way the story goes. A faithful disciple says or does something and thinks that it will please his/her master. To the disciple’s surprise, the master is disappointed and redirects the thinking to a different and more important principle. The story is ubiquitous—in Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Zen Buddhism, Confucianism, Shintoism, Christianity, Islam, Taoism, Baha’ism, and the many native religious cultures. The disciple thinks he/she knows the truth and comes to the Master—Hassidic Rebbe, Sufi Master, Mother Superior, Zen Master, etc., thinking that this truth stated or performed will bring approval. The problem is that, in the zeal of religious fervor, the disciple gets it wrong.  

In Judaism’s stories of the Baal Shem Tov, there is the case of Reb Yechiel Michel of Zlotchev who reports on a harsh punishment he has given a student for violating one of the Sabbath laws. The principle is ritual correctness, and the harsh punishment was intended to help the student remember the error of his ways. The Baal Shem Tov listens without comment and then sends Reb Yechiel Michel on a distant errand. The problem is that the errand necessitates traveling after the Sabbath begins—a sin. When he returns, Yechiel Michel is remorseful and perplexed. He has pleased his master, but he has broken the Sabbath. When he reports to the Baal Shem Tov, he expects a punishment as harsh as the one he gave his student, but the Baal Shem Tov is more interested in how he feels. This remorse, the Baal Shem Tov teaches, is punishment enough. That is how one remembers not to violate the Sabbath. The pious Reb Yechiel Michel thought he knew how to be a rebbe, but he needed correction. 

Another example is the Christian Parable of the Prodigal Son—where the good son takes the place of the disciple who gets it wrong. The older and good brother sees the evil of his younger, greedy, and wasteful brother and knows that he does not deserve blessing. The master’s role is played by the father who, while acknowledging the younger son’s misbehavior, still loves him. While righteousness and respect are clearly important, the love of the father for his errant son is more important. Though the good son (and the reader!) thinks he knows the religious answer, the human father (and Jesus!) provides correction. 

Why are such stories universal? I suspect it is because we religious types have a tendency to get carried away with our righteousness and piety—and to take them too far. We are certain we understand God’s will, but we may not be right. We “hear” the Voice of God ringing in our ears, but we may not be listening to all that the Lord has to say. Whether in ignorance or tunnel vision or active manipulation, there are those who claim to speak for God but who really speak from the evil in their hearts. As we love God and submit to the Divine, let us beware. Let us be humble. Let us listen harder.

A Non-Christian Looks at Christmas

Rabbi David E. Ostrich, Congregation Brit Shalom
Clergy Column for The Centre Daily Times
Published December 17, 2023 

Though we Jews do not celebrate Christmas, we are, one could say, “Christmas adjacent,” aware of and drawn into the massive cultural tsunami of Christmastime. So much energy is poured into this holiday that we cannot help but be informed, entertained, and perhaps even inspired by what surrounds us.  

One lesson that strikes me is the malleability of religious holidays and symbols. Many of Christmas’ symbols have been borrowed and then transformed—embracing the many peoples and cultures that came into Christianity. Rather than a uniform and one-dimensional holiday, Christmas offers many themes to celebrate and many ways to celebrate them. 

Some Christians worry that expansiveness—and all the hoopla--weakens the spiritual message. I understand what it means when a pious Christian pleads, “Put Christ back in Christmas.” However, materialism aside, there is something beautiful about Jesus’ messages being spread far and wide. “Love your Neighbor,” “Have Compassion on the Poor,” and “Peace on Earth and Good Will to All” are just as wonderful whether presented as general principles or as quotations from a particular sage. As Episcopal Priest, Dean Edward Harrison, Jr. once explained, “Jesus would be more interested in his values being taught than in getting the credit.” (It is like this with us Jews, too. Though Jesus the Jew learned these ideas from the Torah, we are more interested in people hearing the message than in getting the credit.)  

Another friend of mine, Baptist scholar Dr. Clayton Sullivan, used to say that Christianity is the “universalization of Judaism”—that is has spread the Bible’s messages to a greater audience. One could say the same about Judaism’s other daughter/sister religion, Islam, where so many of our common values have been distributed everywhere. Could not this be a way to look at the Christmastime dynamic? Could not Christmas provide a universalization of Jesus’ professed values—spreading love and peace to those both within and without the Church? 

A second lesson comes, I am afraid to say, from recently watching a Hallmark-type Christmas movie. The drama circles around characters trying with great intensity to have a “perfect Christmas”—and then being stymied by various obstacles: family conflicts, bad weather, decoration malfunctions, and intestinal flu. Though in the inimitable Hallmark style everything turns out okay, the intense pressure that the people feel really garnered my sympathy. I began to think about all the times we try to make things perfect—parties, weddings, dinners, vacations, outfits—and how the drive for absolute perfection can sabotage a wonderful experience. Everyone wants things to go well, but, if they do not, how do we cope? And then I remembered the original Christmas story—a story burdened with many problems. Poor pregnant Mary must endure a long and bumpy donkey ride in the rainy season. Joseph does not make reservations. And there is no room at the inn. The poetically termed “manger” where they seek refuge is actually a stable with livestock—and the traditional stable odors and floor “decorations.” Something significant happens that night, but the arrangements are not great. 

The expression “there is no room at the inn” is often used to criticize a lack of compassion or charity, but what was the innkeeper to do? Should he have kicked out another paying guest? Even if he knew who Mary and Joseph were—and who was about to be born, should he have expelled another child of God? What would Jesus himself have preferred—Jesus who saw the Divine Presence in every other person? 

Perhaps the lesson of this less-than-ideal birthing experience is that holiness, love, and compassion can be found in all kinds of situations—even the ones that are not Hallmark perfect. 

I wish my Christian friends and neighbors a Merry Christmas, and I pray that the holy and good messages of the season bless you and bring light to the world.

And Also Much Cattle!

Rabbi David E. Ostrich, Congregation Brit Shalom
Clergy Column for The Centre Daily Times
Published October 17, 2023 

On a day when we Jews are supposed to be repenting for our own sins, we are also urged to think about the sins of others. In fact, one of the most important Yom Kippur readings is the Biblical Book of Jonah, the hope being that we can learn the lesson God tries in vain to teach the prophet. Though we are tempted to focus on the big fish that swallows Jonah and then vomits him out (my favorite verse when I was a child), the real story involves the repentance of sinful people.  

The Lord instructs Jonah to go to Nineveh, “that great city,” and tell everyone to repent. If they do not, the city will be destroyed. After the unexpected trip to the fish’s belly and after traveling to Nineveh and speaking the Lord’s message, Jonah sits on a hill, eagerly awaiting the punishment he has just prophesied. Why? Perhaps he wants to maintain his prophetic reputation. When Jonah predicts something, it happens. Or perhaps his sense of right and wrong depends on evil being punished. If he is not supposed to sin, then it is unfair when others sin and “get away with it.” In any event, as Jonah gleefully anticipates Nineveh’s destruction, something unexpected happens. The Ninevites listen to the prophecy and repent for their sins. They all (even the animals!) put on sackcloth and ashes and pray for God’s forgiveness. God sees their contrition, accepts their prayers, and forgives them all. The destruction is cancelled. 

Rather than being happy that his prophecy has been successful, Jonah is furious and throws a theological temper tantrum. Quoting Exodus 34, he rants about God being “compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in kindness, and renouncing punishment,” as though it is a Divine flaw. God is disgusted with Jonah’s immaturity and callousness and sends the brutal east wind and the gourd to get him to open his moral eyes. Sadly, Jonah’s heart is closed, and finally the Lord must state aloud what Jonah and we all need to understand. God cares about sinners. As Ezekiel(18.23) explains, “Is it my desire that the wicked die?—says the Lord God. No! It is rather that they turn from their evil ways and live.” 

This Divine desire for sinners to repent is one we should keep in mind as we approach the conflict and anger that often consume our political lives. Is the goal to destroy our opponents, or is the goal to convince them that our path is the better way? Is the goal to identify our opponents as enemies and vanquish them, or is the goal to recognize them as human beings who are either incorrect or have different opinions? In the ongoing Civil Rights Movement, the goal has not been to destroy the racists; it has been to show them that people of color are human beings who deserve respect and rights. In the ongoing fight against anti-Semitism, the goal has not been to destroy those with prejudice and hatred but to guide them to wiser and more respectful thinking. Perhaps we can think about this Divine compassion when a public figure is caught saying or doing something inappropriate—often in the distant past. Should we smear and vilify the individual and expel them from the body politic, or should the goal be to ascertain their current understanding and guide them to a more perfect appreciation of humanity in all its diversity? Paraphrasing Ezekiel, should our goal be the political or professional death of sinners, or should it be that they repent, turn from their ignorant or prejudiced path, and strive for godliness?  

As the Talmudic Sage Beruriah counsels, we should not pray “for an end to sinners. We should pray for an end to their sins,”—for them to be “wicked no more.” This is what God wants. It should be what we want, too.

Va'ani Tefilati: May I Be My Prayer

Rabbi David E. Ostrich, Congregation Brit Shalom
Clergy Column for The Centre Daily Times
Published April 17, 2003  

With what do we come before the Lord? What does God want from us? 

From ancient days until the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE, the Hebrew/Israelite/Jewish answer was “with sacrificial offerings.” Our people would prepare meat, grain, and oil into sacred meals and then eat them in honor of God and share them with the Priests. Whether in tribal gatherings or in the Temple of the Lord in Jerusalem, sacrificial worship brought us close to the Lord. 

After the Temple was destroyed by the Romans, the new situation necessitated a new form of worship. Following the basic pattern of the sacrificial worship service, the Rabbis developed a prayer service in which a main prayer takes the place of the sacrifice. This main prayer is now known as the Amidah, the standing prayer, with nineteen blessings on weekdays and seven blessings on Shabbat. As scholars of the Torah, the Rabbis also included a section of Torah study. And so, for almost 2000 years, we have come before the Lord with prayer and with study. 

Through the years, however, many thinkers have expanded the discussion beyond the form of the worship service. The Hebrew Prophets of the Bible insisted that ritual alone is not enough for God—that the Lord also demands righteousness and morality. As the Prophet Amos proclaims, ritual propriety mixed with societal dishonesty disgusts our Lord: “Spare me the sound of your hymns, and let Me not hear the music of your lutes, but let justice well up like water, righteousness like a mighty stream.” (Amos 5.23-24) When the Prophet Micah summarizes what is most important to God, ritual is merely an implication of a relationship with God: “It has been told you, O Human, what is good, and what the Lord requires of you: Only to do justice, to love goodness, and to walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6.8) Rituals are only acceptable if the worshippers behave righteously in their daily lives. 

There is also what we could call a pietistic theme in many spiritual texts: ritual forms need to be filled with sincerity and respect. As David prays in Psalm 19.15, “May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable to You, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer.” If we want our prayers to be l’ratzon, acceptable, how do we make them so? The basic answer is that we must pray with kavannah, with spiritual focus. In Psalm 51.17, we even pray to be able to pray: “Eternal God, open my lips that my mouth may declare Your glory.” 

There is also the necessity of humility. “You do not want me to bring sacrifices; You do not desire burnt offerings. True sacrifice to God is a contrite spirit; O God, You will not despise a contrite and crushed heart.” (Psalm 51.18-19)  

Or, as the author of the 12th Century Hymn of Unity elaborates: “What have I asked, and what have I sought, but that you revere Me? To serve with joy and a good heart; behold, to hearken is better than sacrifice, and a broken heart than a whole offering. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit. I will build an altar of the broken fragments of my heart, and will bow my spirit within me. My broken spirit—that is Your sacrifice; let it be acceptable upon Your altar. I will proclaim aloud Your praise; I will declare all Your wonders. 

Or, as the Baal Shem Tov explains, “There is no room for God in those who are full of themselves.”  

I believe that religious ritual is important, but, above and beyond the ritual details is the human aspiration to lift ourselves into God’s Presence and be accepted and loved. Our long tradition of prayers and rituals represents our intense and deep desire to live in a positive and loving relationship with Divine. With what do we come before the Lord? With ourselves—our deepest and most sincere selves. As the Psalmist says, “Va’ani tefilati…/May I be my prayer…” (Psalm 69.14)