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Published: January 16th 2017
An unanticipated event in the Shabbat morning service took place here in the Omni Hotel ballroom where about two hundred of us gathered to pray, sing, dance, and celebrate the Sabbath together. After we completed the Torah reading - the stirring closing passages from the book of Genesis describing the death of Joseph and his final requests to his children - we waited for the haftarah, the section from the Prophets, to be chanted. Under normal circumstances, it would be passages from the Book of Kings, detailing the transition of royal power from King David to his son Solomon. Yet we are not in "normal circumstances" right now in our society. Instead, the reader shifted the focus from royalty to justice. All of the biblical prophets struggle with speaking truth to power, with exhorting the Jewish people and their leaders to do right and seek good in the world, to overcome the temptation to oppress, to harm, and to hurt. All too often they did not succeed, but their words have continued to remind us of the best in human aspiration to lead moral lives. And which prophet did we hear her chant instead of Kings in that stirring ancient melodious
lilt whose origins echo with the thousands of years of its repetition? She chose the speech that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. delivered in Memphis the night before his assassination - "I've Been to the Mountaintop." We sat and heard a prophet of our generation speaking to us and to the demands of our time:
Now, what does all of this mean in this great period of history? It means that we've got to stay together. We've got to stay together and maintain unity. You know, whenever Pharaoh wanted to prolong the period of slavery in Egypt, he had a favorite, favorite formula for doing it. What was that? He kept the slaves fighting among themselves. But whenever the slaves get together, something happens in Pharaoh's court, and he cannot hold the slaves in slavery. When the slaves get together, that's the beginning of getting out of slavery. Now let us maintain unity.
Secondly, let us keep the issues where they are. The issue is injustice...Let us rise up tonight with a greater readiness. Let us stand with a greater determination. And let us move on in these powerful days, these days of challenge to make America what it ought to be. We have an opportunity to make America a better nation.
It seemed utterly necessary and utterly bold at the same time to bring our American prophet's message to us. The choice reminded me of the many reasons why I have come to Boulder for the second year now over the MLK weekend to live for a few days with a group of clergy, spiritual pastors, clergy students, family and friends to be part of a community where living Judaism resonates simultaneously with deeply nourishing parts of Jewish tradition and also embraces the innovative experimentation that is one of the strengths of the American people. The chanter of the haftarah, who is already a cantor and now is preparing to become a rabbi, asked us a provocative question before she chanted MLK's stirring words: Why is it that on Shabbat after Shabbat - the day we are bidden to rest ourselves and all creatures from toil and effort - we read together the often difficult and disruptive messages that confront us emotionally, psychologically, and morally with fundamental struggles about humanity? Is this not counter to the idea of rest? Rest, she proposed means also to allow ourselves the space and time for freedom to reflect on our condition, our humanity, our spirits, about the meaning of our life and our lives together.
The day of rest wove its way with prayer, with meals shared together, with conversation. I am enthralled by the stories that each of the individuals who choose to come here brings with them - from my Brazilian study partner, Elca, who after decades as an economist decided at 70 to study to become a rabbi, to another study partner, Irwin, from northern California by way of Chicago, who now leads a small congregation, but in a previous life was part of the worlds' only "drag acapella"group, or Yehuda, who grew up ultra-Orthodox in Far Rockaway, the grandson of Auschwitz survivors, and left that world, only to return now to Jewish learning on his own terms. In the presence of so many stories to hear, of different pathways that bring us to this out of the way settlement for a few days together, a special kind of benevolent energy circulates that cannot be quantified but that has inestimable value.
This morning, Sunday, at services, the two leaders led part of the prayers to the melody of "We Shall Overcome." Most of us here are aware that the country is at a precipice in more ways than we can imagine, and along with the joy of gathering together, a gravitas of the moment also exists. At the close of Shabbat, at Havdalah, (see short video), we sang the introductory words that are said each week, that come originally from the book of Esther, affirming that the Jewish people, in being saved from tragedy at the last minute, embraced light, joy, gladness, and honor. It was sung with gusto, an affirmation of human resilience, of looking for hope even amidst very hard times now and to come for so many people.
Over the course of the past few days I have wondered what the generation of my grandparents and great grandparents, would think and feel if they were transported here. Would they be amused, perplexed, charmed, mystified? I continue to turn over this thought as the days will unfold, and the theme of the conference - the changing role of clergy in today's world - develops.
Sarah Siegel
non-member comment
Rest provides time for reflection
Sarah, thanks for posting your reflections. I like your colleague's point that feeling provoked by the stories of the Torah is part of resting. Only when I'm resting do I have enough time to reflect on my life and on where humanity and I are going. Shavuah tov!