This week we begin reading the last book of the Torah, Devarim. The book presents the discourses that Moses addressed to the children of Israel just outside the land of Cana'an. Like the other books, it takes its Hebrew name from one of its first words - d'varim, which means "words." It also means "things." And the connection between words and things is nowhere more clearly shown than in Bereishit, where God speaks the world into existence. Words spoken by humans are also important. I'm reading a book these days called Words that Hurt, Words that Heal, by Rabbi Joseph Telushkin. Words are powerful things; let's be careful how we use them.
The portion D'varim outlines the journey of the Israelites through the wilderness, mentioning various battles that took place during those forty years. It makes the point that a battle will go well for the children of Israel if God has commanded it and will fight with them, and that the people will be defeated if they choose to fight a battle that God has not commanded. Rebelling against God's command not to fight a battle is as sinful as disobeying a command to fight a battle. Neither response is a good idea.
The Haftarah for this week is the first chapter of Isaiah. It talks about the sorry state of Israelites who have forsaken God. All manner of misfortune comes to them, including the fact that there is no one to provide treatment for their illnesses: "Every head is ailing, and every heart is sick. From head to foot no spot is sound: all bruises, and welts, and festering sores--not pressed out, not bound up, not softened with oil."
Tonight I want to speak with you about the work of the San Francisco Organizing Project. SFOP is a faith-based group of congregations, schools, and community centers representing 40,000 families throughout San Francisco. The staff of SFOP works with these congregations to teach them how to organize to improve their communities. With their help, a year and a half ago, we at Sha’ar Zahav interviewed members of our community and discovered that the lack of affordable healthcare was a major concern. Congregants formed a local organizing committee with a mentor from SFOP. Last June we had a community meeting at Sha’ar Zahav that included members of the San Francisco Board of Supervisors. They heard our concerns and the next month, the supervisors unanimously approved groundbreaking legislation for universal, accessible healthcare in San Francisco, a program now called Healthy San Francisco. The program will provide actual health care, not insurance, through city clinics and other providers, and will be paid for through a combination of sliding scale fees, employer payments, and governmental funding. Three weeks ago, Healthy SF began at two clinics in Chinatown, and it is scheduled to be in full operation by the end of next year. We at Sha'ar Zahav helped make that happen; we made our voices heard, and the legislators listened.
But that was just the beginning. One of the goals of the congregation was to work for expanded health care access at the state and national levels. And now there is momentum in the country to work for better health care. The movie Sicko is eloquently making the points that the US healthcare system works primarily to create profits for the insurance companies, and that people in countries with free universal healthcare are healthier and live longer than Americans. Californians are starting to take action. The governor and several Democratic legislators have proposed bills for statewide healthcare programs. Now we have another opportunity to make our voices heard.
Sha'ar Zahav will be hosting a Town Hall Meeting for all the SFOP congregations on Wednesday, August First, at 6:30 P.M. In attendance will be State Assemblyman Mark Leno, State Assemblywoman Fiona Ma, State Senators Carol Migden and Leland Yee, State Senator Pro Tem Don Perata, and a representative from the office of Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger. We will let them know our concerns and priorities, and they will let us know what they are doing to fulfill them. Imagine their thoughts if only 40 people are in the audience. There is power in numbers. We need you to be there.
The Haftarah continues with a call for the people to engage in tikkun olam, to work towards healing this broken world. "Devote yourselves to justice; aid the wronged. Uphold the rights of the orphan; defend the cause of the widow." Since Isaiah has noted that untreated illness is not a good thing, I think he would agree that working for universal, accessible healthcare would be one way to uphold the rights and defend the cause of those who need help. Fighting for justice and health, we can be sure that God is fighting with us.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Friday, July 6, 2007
My Bat Mitzvah Drash
It seems that I never posted my bat mitzvah drash. Here it is:
My Catholic mother had me baptized as an infant. Nevertheless, I belonged to a Reform synagogue when I was in elementary school, because I was living with the Jewish parents of my atheist father. I studied Hebrew and ethics, and led children's services. But I went to live with my father at the end of the sixth grade, and my Jewish education ended.
Years later I became involved with a group of gay and lesbian Lutherans. Through them, in 1980 or so, I met Daniel Chesir, who invited me to Sha'ar Zahav. Here, I appreciated the familiar old prayers and the new liturgy that acknowledged and upheld me as gay and as a woman, not to mention all the nice Jewish lesbians. I joined the synagogue and the Ritual Committee, and started leading adult services.
Several months ago, I started to take these interesting classes that could lead to an adult B'nai Mitzvah ceremony. After some soul-searching, I decided to go for it; what with my Catholic mother and all, it seemed like a good idea to formalize my connection with Judaism. So far, my Bat Mitzvah experience is turning out as I recently read it described, "one step on the path to increasing community involvement." I've joined the Bikkur Cholim committee and my increased commitment to tikkun olam, as part of the B'nai Mitzvah requirements, has taken me as far as Sacramento to talk with my legislators about health care access.
From this week's Torah portion, I chose to chant the priestly benediction, because of my summers at Cazadero Music Camp. There I enjoyed the redwood trees and the music, and getting crushes on my counselors. I always choked up, though, when the counselors bade us farewell by singing a choral setting of the benediction, the one we played on recorders. Probably because it meant that our week in the woods was officially over, but also because the much-admired counselors were singing to us campers, praying for us.
The priestly benediction is as follows: Y'varechecha Adonai v'yishm'recha; Ya'eir Adonai panav eilecha vichuneka; yisa Adonai panav eilecha v'yaseim lecha shalom: May God bless you and keep you. May God deal kindly and graciously with you. May God bestow divine favor upon you and grant you peace.
The first verse is usually interpreted as a plea for material blessings, and for protection from any harm that might flow from that prosperity. The second verse asks that we experience the spiritual blessing of insight into the Torah; and the third verse asks for some combination of material and spiritual blessings. These 15 words have been hallowed by millenia of use, and they incorporate the hopes and prayers of millions of Jews. On top of which, they come with a money-back guarantee. Well, actually, a promise of response. At the end of my portion, God says, "My priests will use these words to link my name with the children of Israel, and I will bless them, va'ani avarecheim."
The priests traditionally pronounced the blessings at the High Holy Days and the three Pilgrimage Festivals. Nowadays, congregations use them on many happy occasions, including, as it happens, b'nai mitzvah. So, you'll be singing them for us soon.
Incidentally, the gesture for the Vulcan greeting "Live long and prosper" derives from the priestly benediction. I don't have time to explain it here; ask me about it after the service.
I expect to choke up when you folks sing the blessing for us, as I did at the end of summer camp. Not only because it will mark the end of my Bat Mitzvah classes, but also because all of you will be using the ancient words to ask blessings on us, on our path to increasing community involvement - with Congregation Sha'ar Zahav and with the Jewish people.
My Catholic mother had me baptized as an infant. Nevertheless, I belonged to a Reform synagogue when I was in elementary school, because I was living with the Jewish parents of my atheist father. I studied Hebrew and ethics, and led children's services. But I went to live with my father at the end of the sixth grade, and my Jewish education ended.
Years later I became involved with a group of gay and lesbian Lutherans. Through them, in 1980 or so, I met Daniel Chesir, who invited me to Sha'ar Zahav. Here, I appreciated the familiar old prayers and the new liturgy that acknowledged and upheld me as gay and as a woman, not to mention all the nice Jewish lesbians. I joined the synagogue and the Ritual Committee, and started leading adult services.
Several months ago, I started to take these interesting classes that could lead to an adult B'nai Mitzvah ceremony. After some soul-searching, I decided to go for it; what with my Catholic mother and all, it seemed like a good idea to formalize my connection with Judaism. So far, my Bat Mitzvah experience is turning out as I recently read it described, "one step on the path to increasing community involvement." I've joined the Bikkur Cholim committee and my increased commitment to tikkun olam, as part of the B'nai Mitzvah requirements, has taken me as far as Sacramento to talk with my legislators about health care access.
From this week's Torah portion, I chose to chant the priestly benediction, because of my summers at Cazadero Music Camp. There I enjoyed the redwood trees and the music, and getting crushes on my counselors. I always choked up, though, when the counselors bade us farewell by singing a choral setting of the benediction, the one we played on recorders. Probably because it meant that our week in the woods was officially over, but also because the much-admired counselors were singing to us campers, praying for us.
The priestly benediction is as follows: Y'varechecha Adonai v'yishm'recha; Ya'eir Adonai panav eilecha vichuneka; yisa Adonai panav eilecha v'yaseim lecha shalom: May God bless you and keep you. May God deal kindly and graciously with you. May God bestow divine favor upon you and grant you peace.
The first verse is usually interpreted as a plea for material blessings, and for protection from any harm that might flow from that prosperity. The second verse asks that we experience the spiritual blessing of insight into the Torah; and the third verse asks for some combination of material and spiritual blessings. These 15 words have been hallowed by millenia of use, and they incorporate the hopes and prayers of millions of Jews. On top of which, they come with a money-back guarantee. Well, actually, a promise of response. At the end of my portion, God says, "My priests will use these words to link my name with the children of Israel, and I will bless them, va'ani avarecheim."
The priests traditionally pronounced the blessings at the High Holy Days and the three Pilgrimage Festivals. Nowadays, congregations use them on many happy occasions, including, as it happens, b'nai mitzvah. So, you'll be singing them for us soon.
Incidentally, the gesture for the Vulcan greeting "Live long and prosper" derives from the priestly benediction. I don't have time to explain it here; ask me about it after the service.
I expect to choke up when you folks sing the blessing for us, as I did at the end of summer camp. Not only because it will mark the end of my Bat Mitzvah classes, but also because all of you will be using the ancient words to ask blessings on us, on our path to increasing community involvement - with Congregation Sha'ar Zahav and with the Jewish people.
Sunday, July 1, 2007
City Sightings
I've been meaning to pass on a few recently spotted vignettes:
I saw a woman knitting with four or five double-pointed needles as she walked across the street (while I was crossing in the opposite direction) near my office one afternoon. It takes a serious command of one's needles to have the confidence to maneuver them while standing, let alone walking, because the stitches will drop off the needles at the slightest provocation. Or the needle will simply fall out of the stitches. And if a needle drops into the storm drain, it's all over for that set of needles.
On the same walk to the Metro, I saw two (presumably Sikh) gentlemen in turbans. The first turban was a virulent shade of chartreusy green, and had no connection whatsoever to the other colors of his clothes. It just about hurt my eyes. I concluded that the man was color-blind or had no taste whatsoever. The next gentleman, however, was wearing a purple (my favorite color) turban, which eased my eyes. Moreover, it coordinated beautifully with his lavender shirt and the other clothes he was wearing. I said to myself - that guy has to be gay. However, suspecting that the Sikh religion is no more gay-friendly than other religions of a similar vintage, I revised my diagnosis, and now think that he was a metrosexual.
Finally, just the other day, I walked by a motor scooter that was Pepto Bismol pink. It was soooo girly looking. But the seat was covered with a black vinyl with a white pattern on it. A pattern that, on closer examination, turned out to be skulls and crossbones! Perhaps the owner is Anne Bonney?
I saw a woman knitting with four or five double-pointed needles as she walked across the street (while I was crossing in the opposite direction) near my office one afternoon. It takes a serious command of one's needles to have the confidence to maneuver them while standing, let alone walking, because the stitches will drop off the needles at the slightest provocation. Or the needle will simply fall out of the stitches. And if a needle drops into the storm drain, it's all over for that set of needles.
On the same walk to the Metro, I saw two (presumably Sikh) gentlemen in turbans. The first turban was a virulent shade of chartreusy green, and had no connection whatsoever to the other colors of his clothes. It just about hurt my eyes. I concluded that the man was color-blind or had no taste whatsoever. The next gentleman, however, was wearing a purple (my favorite color) turban, which eased my eyes. Moreover, it coordinated beautifully with his lavender shirt and the other clothes he was wearing. I said to myself - that guy has to be gay. However, suspecting that the Sikh religion is no more gay-friendly than other religions of a similar vintage, I revised my diagnosis, and now think that he was a metrosexual.
Finally, just the other day, I walked by a motor scooter that was Pepto Bismol pink. It was soooo girly looking. But the seat was covered with a black vinyl with a white pattern on it. A pattern that, on closer examination, turned out to be skulls and crossbones! Perhaps the owner is Anne Bonney?
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