Tears of Gratitude & Nitzavim

Something happened this week that brought tears of gratitude to my eyes.

During our weekly Zoom meeting with my fellow ordination cohort, the new dean, Rabbi Darren Kleinberg, was talking about inclusiveness in Judaism (and yes, my ordination from ALEPH is coming in January!) 

Rabbi Darren told us that he’d been “publicly disowned” by the Orthodox institution that ordained him. The problem was that he participated in a beit din with rabbis that didn’t fit into the “correct” (my word) category of both Orthodox and male. This was for the conversion of an adopted child.

He talked about how many people have been hurt by Judaism’s rules around who can be considered a Jew and who cannot.

And I can tell you of just two very close examples in my life:

One is my husband, who has passionately embraced Judaism since before we were married thirty-four years ago.

Though he feels Jewish, certain barriers he cannot overcome would make many state that he is not a “real Jew.” 

Though I have argued and protested and defended his right, even wrote about it, I have sadly participated in passing on some of the hurtful ideas I had inherited about who could “pass the Jewish test” (and for this I have told him, I am very, very sorry).

Another example is my nephew, who was born to a Jewish father and a non-Jewish mother.

He recently was on a Birthright trip to Israel with his Jewish girlfriend.

According to them, my nephew was the only participant in his cohort endlessly asking questions, full of curiosity around Judaism, which he knows so little about but wants so much to learn.

And the leaders of his group told him that he’s not Jewish because his mother isn’t. He was so upset, so hurt, and can’t stop talking about it.

My brother’s reaction was, “What would the Nazis say?”

My reaction was, “Not according to the Bible; patrilineal descent is all there is in Torah!

So, here’s what made me cry: 

While acknowledging the significance of rituals of transition, which might be a matter of personal choice, Dean Darren said that he was not interested in making people jump through hoops to become Jewish; if they feel Jewish, and want to participate in Jewish ritual and community, that’s good enough for him. 

There has been so much pain for both me and my husband over the years regarding this issue, and to hear Darren say this—the tears of gratitude say it all.

He went on to tell us of a recent scandal of a German cantor who spoke about the “problem” of too many converts to Judaism.

Then I heard a podcast episode on Identity/Crisis called Yeshiva vs. Pride. Yeshiva University sued the Supreme Court in order to refuse to recognize an LGBTQ club for students—and won.

Yet, after years of Reparative Therapy to “cure” queer people of their “mental disorder,” some Orthodox institutions have been forced to recognize its utter failure, and the fact that queer people are not going away—as much as they wish they would. Being queer is just part of the human condition.

I want to tell you about the name of my website, lnegditamid.us.

I took the phrase, “L’negdi Tamid,” from Psalm 16, and the famous line, “שִׁוִּ֬יתִי יְהֹוָ֣ה לְנֶגְדִּ֣י תָמִ֑יד–Shiviti YHVH l’negdi tamid: I set God (which for me represents the sacred) before me continually, or over and over again.

I chose this name because it is the intention with which I want to live. I want to commit over and over to living a holy life.

What does it mean to commit over and over? And what is a holy life?

Let’s start with inclusivity.

When I was looking for a website domain, I found that “.com” was already taken, but “.us” was available.

“Perfect!” my daughter said as she helped me; “‘Us’ includes everyone, and isn’t that what you’re all about?”

This week’s parsha begins with Moses telling the people that, as they stand (nitzavim) before God today, they are about to “cross over,” or into, God’s Covenant—with all who dwell among them, stranger/foreigner/outsider included!

It is stated throughout the Torah, again and again, that the Israelites are in covenant with God.

Yet, time and again, God expresses immense disappointment with God’s people, flaring with anger, threatening to destroy them or cut them off.

Many instances in Torah, God does, in fact, kill thousands of God’s “own people.” 

And time and again, God is convinced (by Moses) to calm down and give the people another chance—to try again.

Still, God’s Covenant is conditional on the stipulations enumerated throughout the Torah. 

And if we should think it too baffling to fulfill them, it says in this week’s parsha–too much of a wonder/niflayt for us, too out of reach…no, it says in Nitzavim, it is not in the heavens, nor across the sea; it is right here in front of us, in our mouth and in our heart. 

The continuing frustration is clear; why do we make this so difficult?

Still, if we can manage to fulfill them, then God will restore, or return, our fortunes to us (literally, that which we have captured–ugh), and return the compassion and love God has for us. 

And God will gather us together again (from the other peoples among whom we have been scattered—ugh again).

In Hebrew:

וְשָׁ֨ב יְהֹוָ֧ה אֱלֹהֶ֛יךָ אֶת־שְׁבוּתְךָ֖ וְרִחֲמֶ֑ךָ וְשָׁ֗ב וְקִבֶּצְךָ֙ מִכׇּל־הָ֣עַמִּ֔ים אֲשֶׁ֧ר הֱפִֽיצְךָ֛ יְהֹוָ֥ה אֱלֹהֶ֖יךָ שָֽׁמָּה׃–V’shav YHVH elohecha et sh’vut’cha v’richamecha v’shav v’kibetz’cha mi kol ha’amim asher hefitz’cha adonai eloheicha shama (Deut. 30:3)

In this phrase, the Hebrew word return, also meaning again, שָׁ֨ב/shav, is used in each instance, over and over. 

There are many reasons people give for leaving “organized religion,” and for leaving Judaism, or for not joining a Jewish community.

Among these are; feeling unwelcome; the idea of chosenness, or being special, singled out from the rest of the world; a violent, punishing God; and the idea that God can take God’s love away from us. Plus all the horrible ways our forefathers and mothers act, those whom we are to emulate.

I agree with all of these reasons, and didn’t participate in Judaism for many years as a result. 

The Torah is an ancient book for which I make no excuses. 

Yet, it reflects the human condition, and our present-day society in ways many of us would like to deny, like when we hear politicians say, “That’s not us.”

Well, it is us, because we just did that thing!

Judaism is my heritage, and I choose to play an active role in it, and argue and fight to defend those excluded. 

Because there are still so many messages that need to be heard from it, like that we are the ones to do the deep spiritual work of being able to see all other human beings as equally sacred. It’s not up to some deity we can’t see.

No one can do it for us.

And we are to do it with our hearts and with our mouths, which means seeing others through our hearts, with love, and speaking in ways that bring peace. 

That’s not easy work. We don’t make it hard. It just is. Because we’re human. We suffer from the condition of being human!

So we need to keep coming back to it, over and over again.

The word “return/T’shuva” is an important part of the High Holy Days. This is the big time of year to examine ourselves and “return to God,” to recommit to living a holy and sacred life.

As we approach Rosh Hashanah in just a few days, at a time when so many people are being told they are not welcome in our country and in our communities, let us enter with the commitment to commit–over and over–to live a holy life, setting the sacred before us every day, seeing each human being as sacred, opening our hearts to love and take action that shows that all are welcome—as is commanded in the Torah—and maybe bring tears of gratitude to some one else’s eyes.

L’Shana Tova to all, and to all a good Shabbos!