Rogers Epstein's Sinai Statement

There’s a TV show called Touch, which is about human connections. At first the show can seem a little out there. For example, In the beginning of an episode the main character picks up a radio part for someone who dropped it. Later, the person uses the radio part to rescue an Italian astronaut's life. But the moral of the story is sound. We are all tied into each other’s lives whether we know it or not. So, it is important that we leave a positive impact. This is where the Torah comes in. Not coincidentally, the show is about a Jewish legend - the 36 righteous people, or Lamed Vavniks. These people contribute to the world by performing wholesome acts that impact others: essentially, they are protecting the Ten Commandments and all the good that the Torah stands for. By not letting the person lose their radio part, thou art not murdering the astronaut. Now, as far as I know, my murdering record is pretty clean. But how many times have we let something so simple in our world which is broken go unfixed? In Jewish tradition, everyone should act as a Lamed Vavnik since - as the legend has it - those who are cannot know they are. We should perform acts like planting a tree, that may not benefit us but could heavily impact others in the future. Perhaps a main purpose of the Torah is to establish a righteous world through many acts of kindness.

For me, the core tenet of Judaism is that it is important to utilize your energy to help others. By respecting thy mother and father, my family’s life is easier. By not pirating music, I can rest with a clear conscience. Though the small lies I no longer tell are as subtle as the pun in this Sinai Statement, I’m happy knowing the world is probably a better place. In  Judaism, 18 means life. So, the 36 means two lives: our own and the others whose lives we have the potential to impact.

Katrina Coffman's Sinai Statement

[The tenth grade students who became Confirmed on May 14, 2013 have spent a year immersed in the study of Torah,
and in particular, the Ten Commandments. Shavuot is a time when the Jewish people is asked to bring bikkurim, offerings of great meaning and value, to share with God and community. Our students have responded to this call. Each of our Confirmands has prepared a “Sinai Statement,” a reflection on the learning and experiences that have been part of their year together as a class. They were asked to consider one of a number of topics including: their relationship with God, Torah’s impact on their behavior towards other people, the role of Jewish community in their lives, or our tradition’s prophetic call for social justice in our world. We hope that you will take the time to read them, perhaps to learn from them, and to be inspired by the thoughtfulness and commitment of this class. We are very proud of them!]

If a practicing Jew were to be asked if they knew what the Ten Commandments are, I’m almost positive that person would laugh and say, “Of course”. The Ten Commandments seem to be one of the best known elements of the Jewish tradition: I mean, I’m pretty sure they were the first thing we learned in 2nd grade religious school. But, if the Ten Commandments are so basic and so significant, why - when twenty 10th graders gathered in a room at the beginning of the year - did we actually struggle with naming all ten? I think we didn’t completely remember them because we thought of them as almost outdated and irrelevant. Do we really need to be told to not murder or to not commit adultery? The commandments can feel kind of condescending, with “I Am Adonai Your God” telling us exactly what to believe from the very beginning to “Thou Shall Not Murder,” and “Thou Shall Not Steal,” things that surely, for the most part, we can be trusted to do without direct orders. But as the year went on, and we talked about how people can be killed with words and gossip or how pirating music is just as much theft as walking out of a store with an unpaid CD, I realized that the Ten Commandments do have a relevant place in our lives today. That’s not to say that one necessarily thinks of them all the time. To be honest, I probably didn’t actively think about them this year except in Confirmation class. But when I studied them in greater depth I realized that the commandments, even the ones that seem obvious, are actually good advice - and may not be as condescending or obvious as I originally thought. One should try not to lie or steal or gossip, but that’s easier said than done, and the fact that qualities that are thought of as a necessity in any good citizen are outlined in the basis of Judaism really show what kind of values our religion stands for. Even practices that I may never completely keep, like the rules of kosher and all the rules of Shabbat, are based on basic Jewish values like kindness to animals and the value of taking time to rest. And these values are what really makes the Ten Commandments and more importantly, Judaism as a whole, everlasting and relevant to whatever time period we’re in.

Rabbi Sonsino - The Evil Eye

Rabbi Sonsino

In my home I have a Turkish blue eye charm/bead (called Nazar Boncugu in Turkish) that sits on one of my shelves casting a protective gaze upon the entire house. Does it help? I doubt it, but it does not hurt either.

This is obviously an old superstition found all over the world: an envious glance can bring harm to the person or object. How do you protect yourself against it? You get a blue eye amulet that mirrors back, and stops the harmful look, the so-called, “evil eye.”

In Hebrew, the evil eye is called ayin hara or en raah (in Yiddish it is “kayn aynhora”). According to the Rabbis, whereas a benevolent eye (“ayin tovah”) is praiseworthy, "an ayin hara, (an evil eye), the evil urge and hatred of another human being take one out of the world.” (Av. 2: 11). According to another, ninety nine people die of an evil eye, and only one through natural causes (BM 107b). You can protect yourself against this malicious curse, by repeating ever so often, beli ayin raah (“without the evil eye” [having power over you]). In a popular Jewish joke, a Jewish patriarch who was on the witness stand was asked by a District Attorney: “How old are you? He answered, “I am, kayn aynhora, eighty one.” Similarly, when counting people, you are expected to say, “Not one,” “Not two, “Not three” etc. in order to avoid the disastrous effects of the evil eye.

This meaning of “evil eye” represents an extension of what the original word for “eye” meant in biblical literature. Ayin, (pl. enayim), simply refers to the physical organ of sight. Whereas, a person with tov ayin (lit. good eye) is considered a “generous person” (Prov. 22: 9), one with ra ayin (lit. evil eye), is “miserly” (Prov. 28: 22). One can have eyne gavhut, a haughty look (Isa. 2: 11), or shah enayim (lit. “lowly eye”) “humility”(Job. 22: 29). Being consumed by an attitude described as raah enekha (lit. an eye set on ill will), simply meant being “mean” to another person (Deut. 15: 9). God’s eyes (eyne YHVH) are placed upon the land of Israel as a promise of protection (Deut. 11: 12). It is not at all clear what the Bible implies when it states that Leah, Jacob’s wife, had “weak eyes” (rakot). (Gen. 29: 17). Did she lack luster (Sarna), or did she have lovely, delicate eyes (Speiser)?

The Hebrew word, ayin, (pl. ayanot), also means, “spring” (of water). Example: “An angel of the Lord found her [Hagar] by a spring of water (eyn ha-mayim)” (Gen. 16: 7). This may be an extension, maybe a figurative way of speaking of an “eye.” It is interesting to note that in Akkadian, inu(m) means both “eye” and “spring” or “source.”

The human eye is our window to the universe. What we see is a reflection of our personality and provides a frame of reference for our approach to life. Some see things in color; others consider the world a dark place. Those who find shadows everywhere use amulets and other defense paraphernalia against the corrosive impact of the evil eye. It is, however, better to have a positive attitude in life and face the world with optimism, courage and determination. In the long run, the talismans do not work.

Rifat Sonsino

Words from Rabbi Todd - Friday, April 19, 2013

Rabbi Todd Markley

Acharei Mot – Kedoshim

Our 6-year-old, Mia, walked into the den this afternoon where I was working. “Daddy, since none of us have school today, can you come play with us?” “I can’t right now, sweetie. I need to prepare for services tonight. A lot has happened this week, and I want to speak with the people at temple about it all tonight.” Mia glanced at the TV on the other side of the room that was running the same looped video feed of police cruisers and beleaguered reporters stalling by re-sharing the same information over and over again. She turned back to me with a look of pity on her face. “Well, it looks like you only have bad things to talk about, so…” – then she shrugged her shoulders and walked out of the room. Thank you, Sweetie.

It has, indeed, been an awful week, made all the more numbing by the juxtaposition of such seemingly opposite emotions. A day of great pride and celebration was, without warning, turned into one of shock and terror. An event meant to celebrate strength and endurance forced us to confront our own mortality and vulnerability. Lives filled with promise and future cut tragically short with only memories left behind. A Patriot’s Day meant to celebrate our freedom now haunted by a stark reminder of the price we sometimes pay for committing to the laudable goal of  extending freedom to all…those with good will and those with malevolent intentions.

In some respects, these contrasting experiences echo those lived by our brothers and sisters in Israel this week. For them, Monday was Yom Hazikaron – the day of remembrance for all who have given their lives defending the Jewish State. Tuesday, the very next day, was Yom Ha’atzma’ut - Israel’s Independence Day celebration filled with rejoicing. Memory and freedom. Mourning and celebration. Grief and joy. Life often asks us to hold onto both at once. The past several days have been a profound and unsettling reminder of that reality.

Fitting, perhaps, that our two Torah portions this week reflect this very theme. The first is entitled Acharei Mot – meaning “after the death,” referring to the untimely demise of Aaron’s two sons as they assumed their roles as priests in last week’s Torah reading. The second of this week’s portions is Kedoshim – The Holiness Code – Torah’s “Cliff Notes” on what it means to live a holy life imbued with goodness, sanctity, and respect for fellow humans and God. Acharei Mot…Kedoshim…after death can follow holiness. Sanctity can be found – even in the wake of loss and pain.

Can we really hold onto both realities simultaneously? Our Jewish tradition teaches that we can. Let me be clear…I do not understand Judaism to seek meaning in anguish. Pain is awful and is not one of life’s goals. Grief is not a desired path to redemption nor is suffering a preferred gateway to the Divine. The vicious attacks that occurred at Monday’s Boston Marathon should never have taken place, and their victims were undeserving of this torment. Our task is not to find God’s hand in the bombs and their makers – two men who gave way to an inclination to make evil manifest in our world. Rather, our task, having born witness to this wickedness, is to keep faith that the human drive towards good can and will overcome that evil, that light can and will cast out darkness, that justice can and will outweigh sin and transgression, and that love can and will conquer hate. Two men committed a horrible crime. In response, hundreds of thousands have reached out helping hands to others in need.

Acharei Mot – Kedoshim – even in the wake of death and loss there is holiness. There was holiness in the first responders – police, medics, and compassionate citizen-heroes - who ran towards the explosions rather than away from them to lend support to the injured. There was holiness in the resilience of the surgeons, and physicians, and nurses and medical staff who worked around the clock to tend to the wounds which often required two and three surgeries in as many days. There was holiness in the runners who completed their 26.2 mile race, and – rather than collapsing in understandable exhaustion – ran two more miles to the hospital to give blood for the injured. There was holiness in calls from our political leaders to refrain from vigilante justice before we knew the identity of the criminals – to temper our desire to lash back in violence and instead to heed the words of this week’s Torah portion that we should not “hate our kinsfolk in our hearts…nor shall we take vengeance or bear a grudge against them, rather, [we should] love our neighbors as ourselves.” There was holiness in our Needham interfaith community coming together at the Congregational Church last night – Jews, Christians, Ba’hai, Quakers, and Muslims – united in our commitment to stand side by side in comfort, support, and hope.

Acharei Mot – Kedoshim – After there is loss there can be holiness. We see that tonight as we come together to recite kaddish – a word rooted in “holiness” just like kedoshim – for those whose lives were lost. Even in our grief and our pain, we seek out the holy – reflections of God’s light and God’s goodness found in the faces, the tears, and the actions of our neighbors and loved ones.

My colleague, Rabbi Karyn Kedar, penned these words in the wake of Monday’s attack:

Suddenly,
in the light of day
darkness was revealed.
We are in shock. Stupefied. Angry. Sad.

God, If the heart of every living being is good,
and if the soul you have given us is pure,
how does evil appear?

Hear our prayer!

Help us to have faith when there is doubt.
Bring healing to those in pain.
Comfort us in our grief.
Give us courage in our confusion.
Grant us strength
to look straight into the darkness,
defiant and determined
to pursue peace and establish safety
in our fractured world.

Oseh shalom bimromav
You who makes peace in the high heavens
Help us find the ways to make peace here on earth.

And so we pray…

(Zechor) Remember by Nancy A. Golden

Nancy A. Golden is a member of Temple Aliyah and a Needham resident. She read the following poem at Yom HaShoah services on Sunday evening, April 7, 2013. The service was a community memorial, co-led by Cantor Gaston Bogomolni (Temple Aliyah), Cantor Marcie Jonas and Rabbi Jay Perlman.


Zechor - Remember
     The days and deeds of all times past,
The hopes and dreams of what will be,
     So what has been can last.

The essence of what we were
     can thrive in what we do
To keep our memories alive
     Each generation through.

In pogroms and ghettos to concentration camps
     We prayed "G-d grant us another day or year"
We fought with faith, and blood, and tears
     To keep traditions we hold dear.

What happens when Holocaust witnesses
     Have had their final day?
Who will keep in perpetuity
     The essence of dear lives snuffed away?

As we tell of our joys and sorrows,
     Of accomplishments and strife,
"Zecher" remains the only link
     That wills our people to survive.

With unbroken spirit, heavy hearts,
     The shedding of our tears,
We, who live, are the messengers
     Insuring future years.

"Zechor" - Remember
     The days and deeds of all times past,
Is our responsibilitty
     So six million memories will last!

Life After Retirement

Rabbi Sonsino

The year 2013 marks the 10th anniversary of my retirement from the congregational rabbinate. The transition has been a smooth one but not without its pitfalls.

When I was a congregational Rabbi at Temple Beth Shalom, Needham, MA where I spent 23 years at the head of a mid-size synagogue (c. 550 families), I was at the center of my temple’s cultural, spiritual and social life; I had a large office with a window, a “sacred spot” in the parking lot reserved for me alone, and secretaries and office personnel who carried out my directives. Things changed after my retirement. I teach at Boston College (BC) on a part-time basis.  I write a blog once in a while. A few months ago I published a new book, an introduction to Judaism in Spanish (Vivir Como Judio), and am now in the process of finishing another one on the Ten Commandments. For the last eight years, my wife and I have been going to Barcelona, Spain for a short period of time in order to help out a small liberal congregation that cannot afford to pay a Rabbi. With all that, I still have some time to spend with my children and grandchildren.

Being a part-time faculty is, on the one hand, exhilarating but also a humbling experience. I have been teaching at BC for the last 12 years. In the past, I taught electives on Bible and various Judaica subjects. Now, because of budget cuts, I am teaching only two parallel courses on Comparative Religion (Judaism and Christianity). For the academic year 2013-14, I was promised just one. Most of my students are sharp, inquisitive, and do well. The administration is supportive of what I do and I have a few good friends on the faculty. Having retired from the congregational rabbinate in 2003, being a “professor” now is one of the main paths I have carved for myself as I seek purpose and meaning at this stage of my life. (For the record, I am 74).

However, as a part-time teacher, I am required to teach only what the full-time faculty does not want to teach. I am poorly paid, receive no benefits, have an inside office that I share with a colleague, and I, like any other employee of the College, have to pay for a parking spot wherever I can find one. But I have adjusted to this change, simply because I am able to do what I love best, namely, to teach, and seem to be good at it. Recently I had an unpleasant experience at BC that reminded me of my new status.

Boston College

I teach on Mondays and Wednesdays in the afternoon.  This past February, on a Monday morning, I arrived around 11.30 am and drove to the covered garage, looking for a parking spot.  Could not find one. I went around and around to no avail. In desperation, I drove up to the roof where a number of cars were already parked, left my Nissan and walked to my office. After teaching my classes, I returned to the garage but noticed that a ticket was placed on the dashboard. Not a warning, mind you, but a whopping $75 traffic ticket! I could not believe it. I thought if BC wants the faculty to teach, the least it can do is to provide easy parking opportunities. Upset, I went to the police station and was told that according to a new rule, one needs to buy a special permit for that part of the garage. I did not know that. They suggested I appeal. The next day, I sent an email, claiming my ignorance of the new rule and promising not to do it again. I really felt devalued.

Good news: my appeal was granted today. Phew!

Rifat Sonsino, Ph.D. Rabbi Emeritus
March 2013

Rabbi Sonsino: My Ethical Will

Rabbi Sonsino

Ever since our patriarch Jacob allegedly gathered his children to tell them about their future (see Gen. 49), many people have written ethical wills in which they identified not their assets but their most cherished values for their progeny. A number of these ethical wills written by Jews have been published as part of the literary genre called “Hebrew Ethical Wills.” Now that I still have my faculties intact, I wish to follow this example by putting down on paper those moral teachings that have guided me so far. So, in no particular order, here are my ten recommendations (a more personalized version was already written for my children):

1.  Identity:
I was born in Turkey and grew up in Istanbul. I am grateful for my Turkish heritage but I am also a proud Jew, and lived as such since 1938 when I was born. I came to the USA in 1961.

I believe it is important to have a strong identity. For those of us who live in the States, that means having a strong American as well as a Jewish identity. Support the State of Israel and Jews everywhere else. Try to visit the land of our ancestors at least once every ten years. Be a knowledgeable Jew.

2.  Kindness and integrity:
The Bible tells us that human beings are created “in the image of the divine” (Gen.1: 27) representing the best and the highest we know. Be a caring individual. Learn how to empathize in life, and try to feel other people’s joys and pains. Treat other human beings with dignity. Do not raise false expectations for them, and do not resort to violence. Yet, learn how to protect yourselves. Forgive your enemies but do not forget their name.    

3.  Good Name:
The author of the book of Ecclesiastes says, “A good name is better than fragrant oil”(7: 11). In dealing with others, your reputation must be impeccable. If you lose it once, you lose it forever. Be on time, look clean and neat, and try to make a good impression when you meet someone, for its impact remains a long time.  

4.  Family:
Cherish your spouses. Do not take them for granted. As  years go by, learn how to grow old together, accepting with grace all the changes that will occur with you and your mate. Be prepared to sacrifice for your children. After all, your family is your greatest responsibility and your proudest legacy.

5.  Education:
Pursue general education and not job training. Read regularly, keep abreast of what is going on in the world, enjoy a good concert, an inspiring opera, a good theater. To the extent that you can afford it, try to travel around the country and the world. Have a wider perspective in life, and forgo judging things in black and white. Real life occurs within the grays.

6.  Your job:
Enjoy what you are doing. Work hard at your profession. Try to be the best, but don’t allow your job to define you. Get a hobby. Take calculated risks. Otherwise you get stuck in life.

7.  Truth vs. Peace:
Pursue truth, but give peace a priority. For the sake of sh’lom bayit (“peace at home”), be prepared to bend the truth a bit. It will save your marriage, your job and your relationship with the rest of your family and friends.

8.  Exercise:
Do not abuse your bodies or mind. You need them both in good shape. Make time to exercise regularly. Do not use drugs; do not smoke or get drunk. Pursue a path of moderation, and avoid all excesses.

9.  Way of Life:
Do not make the pursuit of happiness your life’s goal. Happiness is only a by-product. Live within your own means. Learn to be content, and be satisfied with what you have. There is no end to wanting more.

10.  One Life:
It is the realization that our days on earth are limited that infuses our life with meaning and purpose. We need to learn how to give up longevity for the sake of intensity. Learn how to enjoy the goodness of life, and try to live it fully and creatively, giving gratitude to God for who you are and what you have.


Rifat Sonsino

Jan. 2013

My Religious Philosophy; An Addition

Rabbi Sonsino

After I completed the various statements regarding my religious philosophy, I was asked to state where I stood vis-à-vis three more topics: the value of religious practices, my position on Israel and my personal approach to our sacred texts. Here below are my answers:

RELIGIOUS PRACTICES (mitzvot)

For us Jews, Judaism must be lived through various religious rituals and not only studied as an academic exercise. After all, non-Jews can do that as well, and often do. Jews, on the other hand, need to observe mitzvot, at least, for the following reasons:

        a) Religious practices/ rituals have an educational value: By carrying out Mitzvot we can teach Jewish values: e.g., saying a blessing over wine as a symbol of joy; reciting the motzi as an acknowledgment of our dependence on God for nature’s bounties; the wedding ring as a symbol of marital fidelity.

    b) Religious practices/rituals have an emotional value: By carrying out a mitzvah we can remember important people in our lives who do them now or have done them in the past.

    c)   Religious practices/rituals bind us to the Jewish community at large by establishing a connection to other Jews around the world.

    d)  Religious practices/ rituals point us to the source of power or energy of the universe, namely God.

However, mitzvot, to be authentic, have to be observed in consonance with our modern thinking, and devoid of superstition and false information. Furthermore, they have to be carried out to the extent that they are meaningful to the individual.

THE STATE OF ISRAEL

The Land of Israel is the spiritual home of all Jews. Even after the destruction of the 2nd Temple of Jerusalem by the Romans in 70 CE, when Jews spread out throughout the Mediterranean basin and lived under the domination of gentiles for about 2000 years, they never forgot the land of their ancestors, and looked forward to the day when they would be gathered once again in the Land of Israel and live there freely and in peace. That event took place in 1948 when the modern State of Israel was established.

Presently, the Jews of Israel live surrounded by a Muslim community in the Middle East that is inimical to its physical existence. Even though some of them are willing to recognize the reality of Israel, others are vociferously proclaiming its upcoming destruction.  This negative attitude has compelled Israeli Jews to turn to the right in the political spectrum, which has been, in my opinion, unhealthy for the long prospect of Israel. Palestinian Arabs and Israelis have no other choice but to accept the reality of each other, and make painful compromises in order to live in peace. This goal, however, appears to be unattainable today. Jews who live outside of Israel are also conflicted, some supporting the government of Israel, which is committed to build more settlements in Judea and Samaria, and others, like me, standing behind the opposition, which is against enlarging the settlements and in favor of a policy of compromise and accommodation. So, there is no Jewish unanimity on this subject. But, except for the Satmar Hasidim who are theologically opposed to Israel as a State, what unites all Jews today is the unequivocal commitment to the independence and sovereignty of Israel in its own land.


SACRED WRITINGS

Jews have been the historical authors of many Holy Scriptures, such as the Bible and many rabbinic texts; they represent the foundation of our western civilization. Some consider the Bible as God’s word and therefore inerrant, and others, me among them, follow biblical criticism and view it as the product of many inspired individuals and schools of thought throughout the centuries. Is the Bible authoritative? Some Jews say, yes, because God wrote it. I consider it a major source of inspiration and as the basis for my own Judaism, but , being a fallible human document, the Bible is in no way binding. I spent all my life studying the Bible because it is part of our own tradition, warts and all, and still has something to teach us about human behavior and religious beliefs.

Rifat Sonsino

The Nature of Our Relationship with Temple Beth Shalom

Julie and I recently had the opportunity to hear Harvard professor of political philosophy Michael Sandel speak about the change that has occurred in the political culture of the U.S. He argued that our culture has changed from one of “citizens” to one of “consumers.” I personally understood this to mean that rather than feeling that we define our nation by our participation in it, we see ourselves as consumers who stand outside and seek value for our investments (our taxes). Afterwards I reflected on whether there was a parallel notion that could be applied to how people approach congregational life. I think that Professor Sandel’s concept does have some relevance for us. We can view our relationship to Temple Beth Shalom as one of participation in community. From this perspective, our relationship is one that may directly benefit us from time to time, such as by providing us support in moments of loss and sorrow, but it is a relationship that we value because we care about the Temple Beth Shalom community for what it is today and will be in the future. In this type of a relationship we care for Temple Beth Shalom because it literally and figuratively cares for all of us. In juxtaposition, we can also view our relationship to the temple as one of consumer and supplier. I recently spoke with someone who defined his relationship with Temple Beth Shalom by mathematically dividing his membership dues by the number of services he and his wife attended each year. By considering himself as a consumer of Temple Beth Shalom services – rather than as a member of the community - he was evaluating what he was getting for his money. In essence - "here is what I pay Temple Beth Shalom, and here is what it gives me back in return". I understood these words because I think many have come to view our relationship to our country – and in some cases our religious communities – as customers looking for a good deal. Yet, while I understood them, I was also pained by them. I know that my personal aspiration is for us to be a community in which we participate and to which we are devoted because of our commitment to and love of what the temple does for all of us – and will do for the generations of Needham-area Jews after we are gone. I believe that being a part of Temple Beth Shalom means being a part of a whole and looking after and caring for that whole, not because of what it is doing for us, but because of the rare and precious goodness it creates for all. As we prepare to light the Shabbat candles this week, I want to encourage us to appreciate how not only how they shine in our own faces, but also in those of the others who surround the table.

My Religious Philosophy - Part Four

Rabbi Sonsino

THE ESSENCE OF JUDAISM

A few years ago, at a rabbinic meeting in Boston, we were asked to write a statement, which could be read in thirty seconds or less, about Judaism and the role we play as clergy. Obviously, the exercise was to force us to identify the essence of our religion in a clear and concise manner. This is what I wrote:

“For me, the essence of Judaism as a religion is found in its teaching of empathy for other human beings who are facing existential issues. As a Rabbi, my role is to be a more derekh, a spiritual guide, pointing to viable alternatives that lead to wholeness and personal integrity.”

WHAT UNITES ALL JEWS
I have often been asked: If you maintain that there are various definitions of God in Judaism, just as there are different paths of Jewish spirituality, what then binds us, Jews, together? My answer is this: we share the same history; we have the same tradition that is optimistic and “this-world” oriented; we cherish the same sacred books; we celebrate the same holidays and life-cycle events; we have a strong “tribal” connection; and we welcome anyone who wants to share our life and fate. To be a Jew is a privilege, and we should be proud of it.

PERSONAL INTEGRITY
Religious beliefs are stronger when they are authentic. They cannot be imposed; they have to be accepted freely. During my entire professional career, I sought a path that reflects my personality. I made it my cause to elucidate the religious alternatives promoted by our sages, and have encouraged my readers and listeners to find their own way within this diversity. This is one of the strengths of Judaism. For centuries, Jews have created a way of life and a system of community discipline that bound one Jew to another. However, in matters of belief, Jewish teachers were much more open to alternatives. After having proclaimed a few principles of faith, such as the belief in one God, the foundational myths about the giving of the Torah at Sinai/Horeb and our hopes for the future, they still allowed  individual Jews to choose from the traditional sources those that are in consonance with their own thinking, even allowing them to add newer ones in line with the traditional Jewish spirit. We can ignore this tradition or we can embrace it. I opt for the latter, and urge other fellow Jews to do the same.

LIFE AFTER DEATH
Judaism has espoused various views, all of them projected from our own existence here on earth, about the afterlife. No one believes today that after death, he/she will go to Sheol, an undisclosed place perhaps located under the earth, where they shall live a shadowy kind of existence.. This idea went away by the end of the Biblical period. During the rabbinic period, resurrection of the body became a dogma disseminated by the Pharisaic teachers. Later on, some Jews subscribed to the idea of immortality of the soul or reincarnation, just as others maintained that after death there is a total disintegration (For more details, see our book, What Happens After I Die? R. Sonsino and D. Syme, URJ, 1990).

After viewing all the Jewish alternatives, I believe that one lives on biologically through children, through an association with the Jewish people, and, ultimately, through his/her good deeds. Personally, I assume that after I am gone, the energy I represent will blend with the energy of the universe. I hope, however, that whatever influence I have had on others through my books and other types of teaching will remain in the minds of my students and congregants.

In the meantime, I hope to live as long as it is possible fully, creatively, with personal integrity, with good health and surrounded by family and friends. And to all this I say, dayenu! (“It is just enough for me”).

Rifat Sonsino
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