The 5 Most Important Books to Be an Educated Jew

Moment Magazine recently asked me to choose what I thought to be the five most important books to be an educated Jew. This was not an easy request and I took it seriously, going through my Jewish library several times and narrowing down the list. Obviously, the primary texts of our tradition, the Torah, the Talmud, Midrash, and the legal codes, are all necessary to be an educated member of the Jewish people, but I understood that Moment Magazine wanted me to extend beyond those texts.

I considered important books of Jewish history, books about the Holocaust, Jewish cooking books, and even books about Jewish athletes (an educated Jew must know about Sandy Koufax and Hank Greenberg). Ultimately, these are the five books I chose to recommend. Of course, I could have chosen hundreds more since we are the "People of the Book," but I think this is a good starting point.

The Sabbath, by Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel

Heschel, one of the great theologians of the 20th century, published The Sabbath as both about theology and spirituality as well about modern Jewish life and Jewish law. I first read this short yet eloquent book when participating in a discussion with other Jewish high school students.  At summer camp I recall that the study session brought much meaning and spirituality into my Shabbat experience. Heschel brilliantly explains how our faith is about balancing space and time, creation and rest. Originally published in 1951, Heschel’s words are just as powerful and meaningful today as they were almost seventy years ago.

As a Driven Leaf, by Rabbi Milton Steinberg

To understand the Talmud, one first must understand Jewish life in 2nd century CE. Certainly, this could be accomplished with history books, but it’s much more enjoyable to get this knowledge from Steinberg’s beautiful novel. The protagonist is Elisha ben Abuyah, a Talmudic rabbi who was excommunicated for heresy. Steinberg takes this little-known character and allows us to enter his confused head and heart. We become immersed in the community of scholars who gave voice to Rabbinic Judaism and we see the clash between religious faith and the modern, secular society of Rome. Steinberg’s novel is not only captivating but also a wonderful theological and philosophical work.

When Bad Things Happen to Good People, by Rabbi Harold Kushner

One cannot understand Jewish theology without reading Kushner’s well-known work. Published in 1981, less than five years after Kushner’s son died from an incurable genetic disease, the book addresses the problems of theodicy. If we believe that God creates and controls the world and is good, how are we to explain evil? Why is there pain and suffering if God loves us? Kushner offers his own theology.

Back to the Sources: Reading the Classic Jewish Texts, Edited by Dr. Barry Holtz

Back to the Sources is more than a primer. The authors explain the text and then dissect examples to teach the reader how to learn that core text. Holtz, one of my teachers at the Jewish Theological Seminary, believes that each text requires a different learning approach. In editing Back to the Sources, he found foremost scholars to explain the importance of the text and how it informs Judaism. I first used this book in college, referred to it again many times in rabbinical school and have recommended it to countless others.

Jewish Humor: What the Best Jewish Jokes Say About the Jews, by Rabbi Joseph Telushkin

I was tempted to simply list five of Telushkin’s works here because one can learn just about everything there is to know about Judaism from his books: Jewish Literacy, Biblical Literacy, Jewish Ethics, Jewish Wisdom and Jewish Values. I chose Telushkin’s book about Jewish humor because these jokes teach us more about the Jews and Judaism than most history books. Telushkin chose the best Jewish jokes and then analyzed them to explain their source, why they are funny and why they’re accurate. The book is funny but is also an informative read on important topics like anti-Semitism and other faith’s view of the Jewish people.

This article originally appeared in Moment Magazine

Learning to Teach Torah in the Digital Age

I hear it all the time. Hebrew School has changed so drastically over the past several decades. This is true. It seems most Jewish kids don't go to Hebrew School to learn anything... they go so they can simply have their bar or bat mitzvah. It's a means to an end.

From the educator's point of view, this means that teaching Jewish youth isn’t as straightforward as it used to be. With social norms changing at light speed, it can be difficult to make any heritage relevant to young people today, and Judaism is no different. The Torah -- the Hebrew Bible -- has been the cornerstone of Jewish thought for thousands of years, yet even this most essential of Jewish texts poses challenges for the Hebrew school teacher. Educators must offer articulate and convincing answers as to the questions raised by the Torah.

Jewish studies, even in informal education, all revolve around Jewish values, which have their roots in philosophy and ethical codes that are ancient in origin. Jewish thought stretches back thousands of years, connecting past and present. Educators helping young people develop their Jewish identity are effectively asked to bridge the gap between antiquity and modern society and to instill in them an appreciation of that heritage not only in some abstract, historical sense but as an important part of their lives.

Do You Know this Wealthy Jew?

A quick Web search of the Detroit Jewish News Archives from the past two decades will yield a handful of covers featuring head shots of some of our Jewish community’s most successful businessmen who are remembered for their generous charitable contributions. These individuals were mega-wealthy, but they were glorified for their mega-philanthropy. What many may not realize is that the founder of our faith was a wealthy businessman too and the Torah’s first Hebrew might serve as a paragon of virtue for today’s mega-wealthy.

In this week’s Torah portion, Parashat Lech Lecha, Abraham is commanded by God to "lech lecha," that he should leave his ancestral land and travel to a new place that God will show him. Right after this divine order, we are informed about Abraham’s financial status. V’Avram Kaved Meod (Abram was very rich.” Our patriarch was rich in cattle, silver and gold. There is much to be learned from this word kaved, or rich. The word most often used for rich or wealthy in the Torah is ashir. So we must be curious about the choice to use kaved here.

In modern Hebrew, we use the word kaved to mean heavy, as in a physical weight, but it can also mean a burden. Rashi mentions this meaning in his commentary on the verse, and adds another meaning of kaved that we are familiar with from the fifth commandment of the Ten Commandments -- kabed et avicha v’et imecha (you must honor your parents). Similarly, from the same root is the word for an honor that is given out in synagogue, a kibood. Finally, the word kaved also means liver, which is the heaviest part of our body. So, in the Torah portion, we learn that Abraham is very wealthy and that the term used to demonstrate his wealth is an unusual choice.

"Kaved" is used to tell us that Abraham was weighted down with many possessions because of his wealth showing that it can be a challenge to have a financial fortune. In the very next verse, we learn that Abraham traveled from the Negev desert to Beit El “in stages,” which Rashi explains as meaning that Abraham took the same route on his return staying in the same places he had lodged on his way down to Egypt before he had wealth. This means that while Abraham is wealthier now, he has retained his humility and doesn’t choose to stay in nicer places. Abraham, our patriarch, was not altered by his accumulation of wealth. Recognizing the tendency to be burdened by money and possessions, Abraham maintain his kavod (honor) when he became kaved (wealthy). This is not always the case.

We tend to only see the positive side of enormous financial wealth. But, having power and wealth can be burdensome, it can be a challenge. In our society, such a vast possession of wealth requires much responsibility and integrity. It catapults people into the public eye, living life in a fishbowl, having every business decision scrutinized, every investment maneuver questioned. There are many advantages to a life of wealth, but it must be done while maintaining kavod.

There is much to learn from our patriarch Abraham. He was wealthy, but he was also well respected and humble. A model for us in modern times, Abraham possessed the dignity to keep him from a life of over-indulgence in material wealth. Many of the mega-rich tycoons in the corporate world of the 20th and 21st centuries were not paragons of virtue. Their wealth became burdensome, they became greedy and many ultimately got into legal trouble before their ultimate downfall. Such has not been the case with the Detroit Jewish community’s leaders over the past century. By and large, our community has been blessed with a disproportionate number of mega-philanthropists who have used their fortunes for the common good, bolstering noble causes in our community. Like our patriarch Abraham, the pillars of our dynamic community have maintained their kavod while being kaved.

For further discussion:

1. Have you noticed behavioral differences in friends or relatives who have become wealthy suddenly?

2. What are ways we can teach our children to make philanthropy a priority in their lives?

Originally published in The Detroit Jewish News

Yeshiva University Student Wins $18,000 on Jeopardy!

You just can't make this up. An Orthodox Jewish student from Yeshiva University finished with exactly $18,000 on tonight's "College Championship" episode of "Jeopardy!" That's one thousand times chai for those of you familiar with the "Jewish math." What's more is that Netanel Paley, who obviously knows his Torah, was fortunate when the Final Jeopardy clue was a quote from the beginning of the Book of Numbers. Netanel answered correctly after another contestant wrote "The Book of Exodus." When I saw the clue I actually thought Netanel would write "Bamidbar" as his response.

Netanel Paley of Yeshiva University during Final Jeopardy

Unfortunately, the 21-year-old Yeshiva junior came in 2nd place despite recognizing the text from the Torah. According to an interview with the Algemeiner last month, Netanel says he was a state finalist for the National Geographic Geography Bee and a regional finalist for the Scripps National Spelling Bee in high school. He said that he prepared for the “Jeopardy!” match by poring over reference books and crash-course manuals on an array of topics. He told the Algemeiner he was "very humbled" to represent the Jewish community in the competition and that if he had been given a chance, he "would have liked to say something on air about how proud I am to be an Orthodox Jew and how proud I am to attend YU and learn Judaic and general studies at the same place. But I guess just appearing on TV with my kippah (skullcap) and payot (sidelocks) was nice. I hope I made a good impression."

Netanel Paley of Yeshiva University with Alex Trebek on "Jeopardy!"

Many contestants on "Jeopardy!" are Jewish and I've written about some of the more notable ones in the past like Matt Jackson, who currently holds the 4th-longest winning streak in the show's history. (Matt called me after I wrote about him to thank me and to elaborate on his Jewish beliefs.) I also wrote about the first female rabbi to have competed on Jeopardy!", Conservative Rabbi Joyce Newmark. Rabbi Geoff Mitelman, a Reform Rabbi and a fellow Rabbis Without Border alum, wrote about his "Jewish Approach" to being a contestant on "Jeopardy" in a recent Huffington Post column.

Female Orthodox Rabbinical Student Marianne Novak with Alex Trebek on Jeopardy

Marianne Novak, an Orthodox woman from Skokie, Illinois who teaches at the Florence Melton School of Adult Jewish Learning and is studying to be a rabbi at Yeshivat Maharat competed in an episode of "Jeopardy" this past October. Unfortunately for Marianne, not only did she come in last place, but she wasn't able to have a viewing party the night her taped competition aired because it was yuntif. So, if you're ever on "Jeopardy!" and the clue is "This female Orthodox rabbinical student appeared on an episode of Jeopardy! that aired on the Jewish festival of Sukkot" the correct answer is: "Who is Rabbi Marianne Novak."

Raising the Bar for a Bar Mitzvah: Leadership, Questioning and Continuity

At the conclusion of the seven day mourning period in Judaism known as shivah, it is customary for the mourners to take a cathartic walk around the neighborhood as a symbolic return to the community. Many mourners have commented to me that this walk is a therapeutic way to clear their head and move from a state of mourning into the next phase of beginning to adjust to life without their loved one.

A week ago my family celebrated the milestone of my oldest child becoming a bar mitzvah. For our family, this was truly an event we anticipated for many years, if not from the moment he was born. Our son spent a year preparing himself to be able to chant beautifully from the Torah and Haftorah, lead the Shabbat morning services, and deliver a thoughtful and inspiring d'var Torah about the importance of being persistent as a leader. He was amazing and made us extremely proud of his accomplishments. For the entire week following his bar mitzvah, we were still reveling in the celebration.

Yesterday, as Shabbat was in its final hours I asked if anyone in my home wanted to join me for a walk outdoors. The next thing I knew, my wife and I were joined by our three children for a brisk walk around the neighborhood for about an hour. It was the perfect way to reflect as a family on the past Shabbat, what joy we all felt as we celebrated this milestone with family and close friends, and a symbolic way to now come down from the clouds and return to reality. I pray that we should all experience such moments of extreme pride in our children's accomplishments and joyous celebrations for the future vitality of the Jewish people.

What follows is the sermon I delivered last Shabbat at my son's bar mitzvah:

Leadership, Questioning and Continuity
Parashat Bo

Together with my beautiful bride who stood with me under a chuppah on this very bimah almost eighteen years ago, I say zeh hayom asah Adonai, nagilah v'nishmecha bo. We are so grateful to God who has created this day and we will surely celebrate it with joy.

I must tell you that my intent was to just be a Dad this morning. After all, "Dad" is my favorite job! But when Rabbi Bergman asked if I'd like to deliver the sermon this morning, I was honored and decided that I would attempt to share some insights from our Torah portion that might convey just a fraction of the message I want to impart to my son. But make no mistake -- this is not me talking directly to my son. Rather, I hope you too will take to heart the three themes I share this morning. Three themes I believe convey a few lessons to us as parents.

But first a joke: A Jewish mother is with her son at the beach, a son of whom she is of course very proud as he recently passed his medical exams. Within minutes of entering the water for a swim he gets pulled under by a big wave and it's obvious he doesn't know how to swim.

Urgently, trying to get someone to come to her son's assistance, she screams, "HELP! HELP! My son the doctor is drowning!"

Planting Trees for Future Generations

A few weeks ago one of the directors of Michigan BBYO (B'nai Brith Youth Organization) contacted me. She explained that as part of an upcoming retreat, the Jewish teens in BBYO were interested in planting trees near their BBYO Bittker Retreat Center and then dedicating each tree in a ceremony. She had heard that I used to lead such activities for Camp Tamarack in Ortonville, Michigan and asked if I would share my resources. Of course, I sent her my files from several years of these tree planting ceremonies and told her how meaningful they were. 

A week later I was asked to contribute a piece for "The People & The Book" section of the Jerusalem Report magazine that drew inspiration from the Torah portion Kedoshim. Knowing that mitzvot (commandments) for planting trees are given in this parashah, I began writing about my own tree planting experiences, discussing those ceremonies at Camp Tamarack. What follows is my contribution to the Jerusalem Report:

Trees for Grandchildren

The joy of planting for future generations

If I had to guess the first time I ever planted a tree, it was likely as a young preschool child on the playground behind Adat Shalom synagogue in Farmington Hills, Michigan. I don’t really recall planting that tree, but I know that it was an annual tradition for the little five-year-olds at the shul’s nursery school in the early 1980s.

The next time I was supposed to plant a tree was at a tree planting ceremony outside of Jerusalem during a teen tour following my graduation from high school. However, rather than actually planting trees, we instead donated money for trees to be planted on our behalf the following year since that year was a shmita year, meaning the soil of Israel was being left fallow in a seven-year cycle.

Rabbis Must Double Down on Pop Culture

Growing up I had fond respect for the senior rabbi of my congregation. I learned much from him, but I never truly connected with him on a personal level. Other rabbis around town were the ones with whom I had more meaningful discussions and the rabbis I would later point to as influences for my own path toward the rabbinate.

I was thinking about this recently when I was asked what a successful rabbi looks like in the 21st century. Certainly, rabbis today must be intelligent, engaging, personable and funny. That hasn’t changed since the time of the Mishnah. The questioner found my response intriguing when I included that a successful rabbi today watches popular television shows and goes to the multiplex to see the latest movies everyone’s talking about. What did I mean by that?

Pop culture unites us. An office environment in which both the rank and file employees as well as the boss not only watch the same television shows but also gather around the water cooler (or Keurig) to discuss them the following day will enjoy a camaraderie that leads to more collaboration and productivity. A school teacher who can engage her students by discussing the latest trends in Hollywood will earn their respect and show she is able to talk to them about their interests. A politician who doesn’t only talk to his constituents about politics, but also connects by talking about the latest sports story will remove the barriers that often exist.

So too it is with rabbis, or any religious leader for that matter. I’m not suggesting rabbis should ease up on their scholarship or reference jokes from How I Met Your Mother in all their sermons. Rather, in the 21st century I think people are looking to connect with their spiritual leaders through different access points. A generation ago if people felt their rabbi was there for them in their time of need or was a kind presence during a family celebration, then that was enough. Today, rabbis score points if they can connect to the teenage youth group by discussing the latest Twilight movie or recount the best highlight from that morning’s Top Ten on SportsCenter. If they open a sermon with a reference to last week’s episode of Homeland, they will grab everyone’s attention.

Twins Are Very Different (Lessons from Jacob and Esau)

When we hear the term "twins," we often think of two things that are alike -- twin beds, twin turbo engines, etc. However, as the father of twins (who happen to turn ten-years-old today), I can attest to the fact that twins are most certainly quite different from one another.

I'm not talking about the identical twin brothers who have been in the news recently. It's obvious to everyone that these German twins who were separated at birth with one being raised Jewish and the other as a member of Hitler Youth were diametrically different. I'm referencing two humans emerging from the same womb who we might think are very similar, but in actuality are very different from one another. What lessons can we learn from this.

This past Shabbat morning in synagogues around the world, we read about the birth of twin boys to parents Isaac and Rebecca. For the first time the Torah goes into great detail about childbirth, even describing the babies in utero. These two boys, the first twins of the biblical narrative, emerge as polar opposites. The older, Esau, was born hairy, while his younger womb-mate, Jacob, was smooth.

The rabbis, in their commentaries (midrash) about these two interesting characters, go to great lengths to show their differences. They characterize Jacob as a kind, gentle and studious individual who spent most of his time in the tents of study. While Esau, by contrast, is described as an idler and hunter, a man of violence who lived by his strength and conquest. In essence, Esau was a bully of a kid who was rough and tough, while the younger Jacob was a mild-mannered nerd.  The rabbis of old even went so far as to create stories about Esau's murdering, idolatrous and womanizing ways.

Jacob and Esau (Huffington Post)

The Iran Nuclear Deal Divided Our Jewish Community: A Tochecha for our Discourse

The following is the sermon I delivered on the first day of Rosh Hashanah 2015/5776 at Congregation B'nai Israel in Toledo, Ohio.

A new rabbi comes to a well-established congregation. Each week on Shabbat, a fight erupts during the service. When it comes time to recite the Shema, half the congregation stands and the other half sits. The half that stands say, "Of course we stand for the Shema. It’s the credo of Judaism.

Throughout history, thousands of Jews have died with the words of the Shema on their lips." The half that remains seated say, "No. According to the Shulchan Aruch, the code of Jewish law, if you are seated when you get to the Shema you remain seated."

The people who are standing yell at the people who are sitting, "Stand up!" while the people who are sitting yell at the people who are standing, "Sit down!" It’s destroying the whole decorum of the service and it’s driving the new rabbi crazy. Finally, it’s brought to the rabbi’s attention that at a nearby home for the aged is a 98-year-old man who was a founding member of the congregation. So, in accordance with Talmudic tradition, the rabbi appoints a delegation of three, one who stands for the Shema, one who sits, and the rabbi himself, to go interview the man. They enter his room, and the man who stands for the Shema rushes over to the old man and says, "Wasn’t it the tradition in our synagogue to stand for the Shema?"

"No," the old man answers in a weak voice. "That wasn’t the tradition."

The other man jumps in excitedly. "Wasn’t it the tradition in our synagogue to sit for the Shema?"
"No," the old man says. "That wasn’t the tradition."

At this point, the rabbi cannot control himself. He cuts in angrily. "I don’t care what the tradition was! Just tell them one or the other. Do you know what goes on in services every week — the people who are standing yell at the people who are sitting, the people who are sitting yell at the people who are standing."

"That was the tradition," the old man says.

This is a joke, of course, but, these days, I can commiserate with the rabbi. In 2015, it's sadly become the tradition that half of the Jewish community is arguing with the other half; they’re talking past each other, and this heated debate has got me as frustrated as the rabbi in the story.

This past summer, the discourse in the American Jewish community over the Iran Nuclear deal has been horribly gut-wrenching. I have found myself cringing at the battles that have been waged -- Jew vs. Jew. The rhetoric has been cruel, venomous and downright dangerous to the future vitality of our Jewish community.

The NY Times reported that the attacks on Representative Jerrold Nadler, a Democrat of New York, since he announced his support for the nuclear accord with Iran have been so vicious that the National Jewish Democratic Council and the Anti-Defamation League both felt compelled this week to publicly condemn Jewish voices of hate.

On the other side, three Jewish Democrats in the House who oppose the deal released a joint statement denouncing “ad hominem attacks and threats” against not only supporters like Mr. Nadler but also Jewish opponents, who have been accused of “dual loyalties” and treason.

Greg Rosenbaum, the chairman of the National Jewish Democratic Council, said, “We are on the verge of fratricide in the Jewish community, and it has to stop. He noted that there are Jews avoiding organizational meetings, and even religious services, simply to avoid discussing Iran.

Why We Must Take Voting for Judges Seriously

The Torah portion called Shoftim, the Hebrew word for judges, is always read at the beginning of the new month of Elul. The Torah portion begins with a mitzvah -- the commandment instructing us to "appoint judges." Although we still have some time before Elul, the month which commences the period of introspection before the autumn High Holidays, I've been reflecting a lot on the role judges play in our society and our responsibility to appoint them to uphold the law and to render sensible decisions.

Over the past week I've come to realize that electing judges can be even more important than voting for our state representatives and school board officials. In Oakland County, Michigan, where I live and work, Judge Lisa Gorcyca was first elected to the 6th Circuit Court back in 2008. Last November she ran unopposed and won another six-year term that began on January 1, 2015. I didn't know much about Judge Gorcyca, and like most citizens of Oakland County, I filled in the bubble with my pen in the voting booth and didn't think much of it. After all, I had no alternative but to vote for her.

As a judge in the Family Division, Judge Gorcyca has been dealing with a messy custody case for several years. The divorced couple -- both native Israeli Jews who immigrated to Michigan -- have been battling it out in court over the custody of their three young children. The ex-wife alleges domestic abuse and the children have refused to have any relationship with their father, who has been back in Israel lately for business matters together with his new wife and infant child. Last month, Judge Gorcyca sent the couple's three children to a juvenile detention facility (and ordered they must be kept separate from each other while there) after they refused her court order to have a loving relationship with their estranged father. In essence, the judge held three minors in contempt of court for choosing to not speak to their father, whom they claim was physically abusive to their mother.

Sheryl Sandberg's Wise Words in the Face of Tragedy

One of the most challenging aspects of being a rabbi, in my opinion, is finding the right words to bring comfort to those mourning following the tragic death of a loved one. Aside from the traditional Hebrew phrase we offer mourners, I often find myself left with only four words to offer to those grieving: "There are no words."

After my infant nephew died and people were at a loss for words, I simply uttered, "There are no words." Truthfully though, there are words. And the words aren't necessary from those who are offering comfort. Sometimes the most meaningful words are from the mourners themselves. Those who are in pain from grief can actually find tremendous comfort in their own words.

This was not the case in the Torah following one of the biggest tragedies. After the sudden death of two of Aaron's sons, the Torah explains how the father handled his grief. Using only two words, we are told "Vayidom Aharon," Aaron was silent. So often, silence is the most natural way for mourners to deal with the shock of a sudden death of a loved one. However, after time ones own words may bring comfort.

Credit: Scott Eells/Bloomberg via Getty Images

Such was the case today with Sheryl Sandberg, the Facebook executive whose husband, Dave Goldberg, died suddenly last month. In a Facebook post today on the occasion of the completion of the sheloshim (30-day) period, Sheryl posted a beautiful and inspirational message on her public Facebook account. Her aim was to give back some of the words that were most helpful to her during her period of immense grief. She writes that she received wisdom and advice from close friends and strangers alike. She specifically singles out her close friend and Detroit native Adam Grant, who taught her three things essential to resilience. Sometimes rather than try to come up with the right words to offer to a mourner, we should just listen.

Sheryl's Facebook post has already been shared close to 40,000 times and major media outlets have helped circulate it. Mark Zuckerberg, Robert Scoble, Randi Zuckerberg and many other leading technology executives have commented on her post as well. Sheryl's words are too important and impactful not to share:

Sheryl Sandberg:

Today is the end of sheloshim for my beloved husband—the first thirty days. Judaism calls for a period of intense mourning known as shiva that lasts seven days after a loved one is buried. After shiva, most normal activities can be resumed, but it is the end of sheloshim that marks the completion of religious mourning for a spouse.

A Very Jewish Jeopardy!

I'm a big fan of Jeopardy! and try to watch every episode of the long running TV game show. I rarely watch an episode of Jeopardy! live, but make it a point to tune in to the episodes I recorded on my TiVo Roamio Pro.

Since Monday was the second day of the Shavuot holiday, I didn't watch that evening's episode until today. I started off doing very well getting the first dozen questions correct, but that's not what led me to blog about this episode of Jeopardy!

One question made me curoius as to whether they intentionally used this question on the episode that aired on Shavuot. The answer was the famous quote from The Book of Ruth in which Ruth says to Naomi, "Wherever you go I will go..." to which one of the contestants correctly provided the question, "Who was Ruth?" I thought to myself, I can't believe Jeopardy! used a question from The Book of Ruth on Shavuot.

What Color IS That Dress?

After last week's big debate over the color of a dress, a lot of my colleagues were trying to use the story of #TheDress in sermons. It wasn't so difficult this past Shabbat as many rabbis looked at Parshat Tetzaveh and the intricate details of the garb of the Kohen Gadol (High Priest), including the specific colors.

Other rabbis opted to use the color debate of #TheDress to teach that we don't all see things the same way -- certainly a good lesson. I saw it as white and gold; not blue and black. However, after a couple glasses of wine the blue became visible to me. Interesting!

The discussions at my family's Shabbat dinner on Friday evening included interpretations of how humans see color (my father-in-law's a retired ophthalmologist) and the metaphysical questions of what color an object actually is if humans see it differently. These arguments, er, I mean discussions, continued at Sunday brunch. I don't remember the last time I found myself talking about rods, cones, neural connections to the visual cortex, and the philosophy of color perception with my cousins. Dare I say, that was both the first time and likely the last.

#TheDress

With Purim beginning tomorrow night, I'm sure that lace body-con dress made by the UK store Roman Originals will be the Purim costume of choice for many women (and likely a few men too). I especially like the way my friend and teacher, Rabbi Danny Nevins of the Jewish Theological Seminary, uses #TheDress as a hook to teach about the color of Queen Esther's royal dress in the Purim Story:

Purim is our festival of contradictions and hidden meanings. This year I suddenly noticed one detail that has been hiding in plain sight—the color of Esther’s royal dress? Was it blue, or gold? The Megillah itself is maddeningly ambiguous. We read in Chapter 5, “On the third day, Esther was garbed in royalty.” The ancient rabbis noticed something strange about the verse. It should have said that she was dressed in “royal garments” (בגדי מלכות מיבעי ליה), but instead says that she wore “royalty” (וַתִּלְבַּשׁ אֶסְתֵּר מַלְכוּת). What does that mean? What does that look like? In Esther Rabba 9:1 we are told that she was accompanied by two maidens, resting her arm on one of them, while the other walked behind and held up her golden train. This would imply that her dress was gold.

But read ahead in the Megillah to chapter 8, verse 15. There we are told that Mordecai wore “royal garments of blue” (בִּלְבוּשׁ מַלְכוּת תְּכֵלֶת), with white trim and a great golden crown. This implies that to wear royal garments in the Megillah is to wear blue. So what color was Esther’s dress—blue, or gold?

There is something strange going on here, something hard to pin down. In fact, the Talmud acknowledges this at B. Megillah 15a, where Rabbi Elazar, citing Rabbi Hanina, concludes that Esther “wore,” not a simple garment, but the holy spirit. Later midrash adds that King Ahaseurus couldn’t figure out what he was looking at—he tried to look away, but angels compelled him to look at Esther, and seeing her cloaked in the holy spirit itself, he could not resist her plea. Who has ever seen a garment like that?

Only this week a clue to the mystery emerged at a wedding on the Scottish island of Colonsay, where the mother of the bride wore a dress that has confounded millions. Some see it as gold and white, others as blue and black, and some, like me, have seen it both ways. Has this dress replicated the mystery of Esther’s royal garment? It was blue, it was gold, and ultimately, it transcended normal senses. Nonsense? Or, the holy spirit?

Happy Purim!

Rabbi Dovid Winiarz Exploited Facebook for Good

Just last week I blogged about the importance of Jewish leaders and teachers using social media to reach out to their following in the 21st century. One of the premier examples of a rabbi who exploited social media, and Facebook specifically, for good was Rabbi Dovid Winiarz.

Rabbi Winiarz was a popular outreach rabbi on Staten Island who had over 12,000 followers on his public Facebook page, which was called "The Facebuker Rebbe." Like Rabbi David Wolpe, who similarly has built up a massive following on Facebook to teach and inspire, Rabbi Winiarz posted his religious teachings to inspire more Jews to embrace an observant life.

Tragically, The Facebuker Rebbe Facebook page yesterday turned into a tribute page after Rabbi Winiarz was killed in an early Sunday morning car accident in Maryland while traveling to Baltimore for a kiruv (outreach) retreat. He was the father of ten children.

A Mobile App to Scapegoat Your Sins

As Temple Beth El’s Rabbi Mark Miller has settled into his new job at the Bloomfield Township, Michigan Reform congregation, he has been looking for innovative ways to cause both excitement and a renaissance in Jewish learning for his congregants. Back at Beth Israel, Miller’s previous congregation in Houston, Texas, the rabbi became a fan of G-dcast.com.

Temple Beth El member, Cindy Bolokofsky using eScapegoat

G-dcast is an online nonprofit new media studio and Internet organization based in San Francisco that provides Jewish children and adults with the chance to learn the basics of Jewish education with no barriers to entry. Over the years, G-dcast has produced more than a hundred animated shorts and mobile apps that make Jewish stories come to life. In its effort to build Jewish literacy, G-dcast works with educators and rabbis to create innovative curriculum, interactive workshops and inspiring leadership in new media

Last year, G-dcast launched a mobile app called eScapegoat, which encouraged users to engage in deeper Jewish learning and to prepare for Yom Kippur by offloading their sins to a virtual goat. The idea was to create a very modern (mobile app) way to copy the ancient repentance ritual (scapegoat). In anticipation of this year’s Yom Kippur holiday, G-dcast brought the app back along with Mini Goats. These are local mini-apps that let smaller communities virtually re-enact this ritual for a new, high-tech learning and community connection.

Robin Williams, Jacob in the Torah and Depression

I’ve never cried when a celebrity suddenly dies. It has always seemed like something that just happens. Certainly, it’s a sad day when an actor or musician, athlete or politician has “cashed in their chips” early. I mean don’t get me wrong, I’ve been shocked and saddened when I’ve learned of the lethal overdose of a promising young athlete or when the news breaks that a famous actor has lost his battle with cancer. But Robin Williams wasn’t just any comedian. He wasn’t your typical actor or entertainer. Robin Williams was the textbook definition of “comedic genius.”

Robin Williams grew up in Bloomfield Hills, Michigan only a few miles from my childhood home and, while not Jewish by birth, he was widely known as an honorary Jew – both for his brand of humor (always peppered with a Yiddish expression and Jewish inflection) and for his unwavering commitment to Jewish causes. I’ve cried several times in the past couple of days since hearing of his untimely death. He was a brilliant at entertaining us.

Like most of my generation, I was first introduced to the silliness of Robin Williams as a young child tuning in to every episode of “Mork and Mindy.” It was my mimicking of Robin’s goofy antics in kindergarten that led the teacher to tell my parents I was a “class clown.” And then I found my father’s audio cassettes of his standup routines, “Robin Williams: A Night at the Met” and “Reality… What a Concept.” I listened to those tapes dozens of times and brought them with me to summer camp to entertain my friends. The counselors told my parents I should be a standup comedian. Not long after that my dad took me to see “Good Morning Vietnam” in the theater and then I bought the video tape as soon as it came out, memorizing long segments of the movie and then performing them in front of my class at my Jewish day school. The teacher told my parents that I should tone down my R-rated humor.

Donald Sterling Banned for Life from NBA by Commissioner Adam Silver

Donald Sterling, the owner of the Los Angeles Clippers has been banned for life by new NBA commissioner Adam Silver. The severe punishment was in response to the racist comments Sterling made to his mistress in a recorded conversation obtained by TMZ.com. Of course Commissioner Silver will do whatever he needs to in order to get Sterling to sell the Clippers franchise. In addition to the lifetime ban, Sterling was also fined $2.5 million by the league. (The fine will be donated to organizations dedicated to anti-discrimination and tolerance efforts that will be jointly selected by the NBA and the Players Association.) Sterling was born with the last name Tokowitz, which he changed in the early 1960s. His parents were Jewish immigrants in Chicago who had fled Eastern Europe.

I've been following this story since the release of the audiotape -- both as a fan of NBA basketball and as a Jewish leader. What I've been hearing from Jewish people are two different reactions. One is that we shouldn't focus on the fact that Donald Sterling is Jewish. The second reaction is that the Jewish community should issue a statement against racism of any kind and denouncing Sterling's comments.

I happen to disagree with the first reaction. It most certainly does matter that Sterling is Jewish. You see, we Jewish people believe that we are commanded to be a "Light unto the nations." And just this past Shabbat we read in the Torah portion called Kedoshim that we are a holy nation. That doesn't mean we see ourselves as somehow superior that other people, but rather that we have a responsibility to always strive to be ethical and set a good example. Sterling clearly failed in that regard. To make matters even worse, news came out yesterday that Sterling used Israel as justification for his racist comments. He told his mistress that in Israel "the blacks are just treated like dogs." So, Sterling isn't just giving American Jews a bad name, but also unfairly tarnishing Israel's reputation on race relations.

What Do We Think About When We Study Torah

When my eldest child turned 10-years-old earlier this year we began a weekly ritual of Torah study on Shabbat afternoons. These 30-minute learning sessions have quickly become my highlight of the week as they are an opportunity for me to teach my son Torah and also gain from the new insights that he shares from his own perspective.

This past Shabbat we delved into Parashat Metzora, the Torah portion that continues the ancient ritual of dealing with one who was afflicted with the skin disease known as tzara'at in the Israelite camp during our ancestors' sojourn in the desert. As we took turns reading the Hebrew verses and their English translations, I began thinking about my late grandfather, Dr. David Gudes. A well-respected dermatologist in Detroit, Michigan, my Papa was an expert on various skin ailments and I often think about him each year during the time we read the Torah portions of Tazria and Metzora.

Our little Torah study session provided me with a wonderful opportunity to reflect on my Papa's life for my son who never had the chance to meet him. He died almost twenty years ago on October 6, 1994 (Rosh Chodesh Cheshvan). Today, April 7, would have been his 94th birthday.

Leading the Passover Seder with my grandfather (early 1980s)

What do we think about when we study Torah? Yes, our thoughts very often transcend to a time long ago when our biblical ancestors lived. But oftentimes the text of the Torah takes us to other places. Reading of a biblical character may cause us to think of an individual who possessed similar character traits. The interaction between two characters in the Torah may set our minds adrift as we think about a similar interaction in our own time. And a theme of the Torah, like the leprosy-like skin ailment of tzara'at, may force us to reflect on a loved one who is no longer with us in the Land of the Living.

Talking with my grandfather, Dr. David Gudes, the day before my bar mitzvah (1989)

It is a tradition to begin the Torah education of children with the third book of the Torah, Leviticus. Many have theorized that we initiate children with Torah study using this book rather than with Genesis, the first of the Five Books of Moses, because Leviticus is so complex with its minutiae of priestly laws. Whatever the rationale, I'm grateful to have studied from Leviticus this past Shabbat with my son because it allowed my Papa to join our weekly Shabbat Torah study. You never know what you're going to think about when you study Torah. For me, the details of a biblical skin disease brought my beloved grandfather back to life for the generation he never met.

Why Betzalel was Important

I was recently interviewed by Shmuel Rosner of the Jewish Journal about this week's Torah portion Teruma for his "Torah Talk" video series. The video interview, which is below, prompted me to think more about architectural design and the credit due to the architect for constructing the structure.

God says, V’asu Li Mikdash, V’shakhanti B’tokham -- "Make for me a sanctuary that I may dwell among you." The function of such a spiritual home for God is difficult to comprehend, and to envision how such a structure will look is confusing as well. Further, who will be the chief architect for such a holy task?  Who is skillful and pious enough to design a home for God? The master artisan chosen is Betzalel, who beautifully implements God’s instructions concerning the building of the Tabernacle.  He, like Moses, is a faithful servant of God. He is described as one who has been filled by God with ruach hakodesh, the divine spirit of God in practical wisdom, discernment, and knowledge in all kinds of workmanship.

True, the Torah recounts that Betzalel, the master builder of the Mishkan (Tabernacle) in the wilderness, received the blueprints for the project from God, but as I explained, the Torah wouldn't have paid so much attention to the character of Betzalel were he not an important figure in the building of the Tabernacle.

Several years ago I was at Israel’s Diaspora Museum (Beit Hatefutzot) in Tel Aviv and toured an exhibit displaying synagogues from around the world. Located in a huge room were about twenty architectural models, encased in glass, of the most famous synagogue buildings designed to scale. While I don’t consider myself a student of architecture and design (I leave that up to my wife's uncle Stephen Sussman), I nevertheless was mesmerized by the different layouts and structural designs, the detail inside the sanctuaries, and the unique shapes of the exterior. They were all different edifices from different places around the world – synagogues from India, China, Russia, Eastern Europe, the Colonial U.S., and from South America.  Each of these synagogues echoes its cultural and regional diversity. They are all so different, and yet, they all share something in common – they are all holy spaces. They were all built for the same purpose, to be a spiritual house of assembly – a beit kenesset.

Too often today, we take the focus off the actual buildings, the physical structures. We say that what is important is what happens inside of the structure. We believe we must put all our effort on the intangibles, on the actions that take place inside of the building, but we should not overlook the buildings themselves. To do so is to miss beautiful architecture and skillful craftsmanship.

Here in the Metro Detroit area we have two unique synagogue buildings that can be seen from the roadway. Temple Beth El in Bloomfield Township, Michigan was designed by the world renowned architect Minoru Yamasaki in 1973. Yamasaki, the Japanese and American architect, was of course best known for his design of the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in New York City.

Temple Beth El, Bloomfield Township, Michigan

Speechless: Mourning For My Nephew

“When Bad Things Happen to Good People” – Those words, the title of a book by my teacher Rabbi Harold Kushner, keep echoing in my head. Tragedy has struck my family. We planned to go to Chicago last week where I would have the honor of being both the uncle and the rabbi at my newborn nephew’s bris. Instead we're headed to Chicago today – a week later than planned – where I will have the unfortunate responsibility to be both the uncle and the rabbi at my nephew’s funeral. We're grieving.

A little more than a week ago I searched the Web for an appropriate blessing to say on becoming an uncle. Not finding anything, I wrote my own blessing. Last night I searched the Web desperately seeking what one says at the funeral of an 11-day-old baby. The answer is nothing. We're speechless.

When my nephew was born I wrote about Abraham of the Torah and his role as uncle to Lot. He took his nephew under his wing, cared for him and protected him. Today I unfortunately look to another uncle in the Torah. Moses mourned the death of his two nephews Nadav and Avihu. The Torah relates that the boys’ father -- Moses’ brother Aaron -- was speechless. So too must Uncle Moses have been in his mourning of this sudden death. We're in shock.

On the Shabbat when the Torah portion was Parashat Vayechi (And he lived), my nephew died. On the Shabbat in which we learn of the blessings Jacob bestowed upon his sons, my sister-in-law and brother-in-law began to come to terms with the harsh reality that they will never bless their son as Jacob did. On the Shabbat when the Congregation of Israel stands upon finishing the first book of the Torah and, preparing to open the next chapter, proclaims “Chazak chazak v'nitchazek” (Be strong, be strong and let us be strengthened), my family feels weak. From creation there will be no next chapter for my nephew. We're weakened.

Baruch Dayan Ha-Emet. May the soul of my innocent nephew Rylan Foster Gelb (Yitzchak Chaim) be bound up in the bond of eternal life and may he rest in peace. There is no more to say.