This sermon was delivered at Edgware and District Reform Synagogue and at Beth Shalom Cambridge on 15th/16th October 2010.
It’s a grey place – even when the sun is shining. There are no more butterflies [1] – in this place where so many were taken on their journey away from their country, from their birth-place and their parents’ house. [2] Too few who were buried at a ripe old age. [3] Experiencing the curse rather than the blessing [4] of being God’s chosen people.
It was in this grey place – Theresienstadt – where Rabbi Leo Baeck’s light shone out into the darkness. His teachings and his care for others bringing colour to the lives of all who he encountered.
Studying at a college named after the “Teacher of Theresienstadt” as Rabbi Albert Friedlander titled Leo Baeck I often wonder if my grandparents had the privilege to study with this great rabbi during this God-forsaken time when they too where prisoners in Theresienstadt. Unfortunately, this question occurred to me only now and so it is too late for me to ask, zichronam livracha - may their memory be for a blessing. But I believe that in addition to the luck, which my grandparents always quoted as the reason for their own survival, it was the presence of people like Leo Baeck who enabled the prisoners to remember their own humanity and strengthened their will to survive. And I am certain that it was the encounter with people like Leo Baeck that allowed my grandparents’ faith in Judaism and in God to survive the years of enslavement and oppression [5] and gave them the courage to raise Jewish children who spoke the language of their former oppressors.
So, I feel connected to Leo Baeck on several levels – through the inspiration that he or others like him gave to my grandparents and through my studies at the rabbinical college that carries his name.
It is a college custom that on Shabbat Lech Lecha, in honour of Leo Baeck’s Yahrzeit, which falls in the month of Cheshvan, students are called upon to go forth [6] – and to visit congregations and share some of their rabbinic journey.
There are many different reasons why people choose to become rabbis and it is often not a smooth path. My personal journey originally took me in quite a different direction and rather than studying philosophy, theology or any other subject that might be useful as a basis for rabbinic training I studied Natural Sciences at the University of Cambridge and tried to understand a little more how the world works. Well, it probably won’t be a surprise to you but, ultimately, chemistry and even physics, Prof. Hawking please forgive me, cannot give a real answer to that question. Science can give us a glimpse of momentary truth but it cannot provide a response that goes beyond an exploration of the mechanics of creation and our world. It cannot give meaning to our lives.
And so my search for an answer continues without rejection of what I learned before, in fact, embracing my passion for science, but looking beyond that which we can observe with our minds to explore the meditations of our hearts. [7]
I believe that the most precious gift given to rabbis and student rabbis is the opportunity to bring colour to the lives of our congregants. Luckily most rabbis, do not have to encounter the deep darkness that Rabbi Leo Baeck and his fellow prisoners were facing in Theresienstadt.
Nonetheless, rabbis are given the privilege to accompany their congregants through light and darkness. And I truly mean it, when I speak about a privilege. I believe that in the moments, when the pieces [8] of our life suddenly fall into place or when, on the other hand, all seems to be in pieces, in those moments, we yearn for the colour that Judaism can add to our lives.
So, I don’t believe that it is coincidental that the first covenant that God makes with the Jewish people is known as the covenant of pieces, ברית בין הבתרים. After the great opening of this week’s parashah, with Abram willingly following God’s command to go forth to an unknown land, we picked up the story in today’s reading at the point when Abram’ faith in God is faltering. God’s initial response to Abram’s distress is to offer words of comfort and reassurance. But words are not enough to convince Abram that God’ promise will be upheld and so God instructs Abram to perform a bizarre ritual where rather than burning sacrifices he is asked to cut the animals into two pieces facing one another. Falling asleep after the performance of the ritual, Abram is told about the years of enslavement and oppression that the Israelites will endure but at the same time he is assured that he himself will die peacefully at a ripe old age and that the Israelites will eventually be delivered from their oppressors. His dream concludes with him seeing a flaming torch passing between the pieces, בין הבתרים.
The rabbis of the midrash identify this torch to be the revelation at Sinai – the Torah, which acts as a guiding light for the Jewish people throughout time.
The history of our people is filled with suffering and destruction – repeated attempts to break us into pieces. But Jews throughout the ages have time and time again, tried to put the pieces back together. Time and time again, Jews have embraced the original covenant that God made with Abram – a covenant of pieces, ברית בין הבתרים, for an imperfect people in an imperfect world who are nonetheless chosen for a special path.
Each generation had its great rabbis, like Rabbi Leo Baeck, who were able to bring the guiding light of the Torah to the people and add colour to our broken lives and our broken world. This is what all rabbis should strive for.
Amen
[1] An allusion to the poem written in Theresienstadt “The butterfly” by Pavel Friedman (died 1944 in Auschwitz aged 23)
[2] Genesis 12:1
[3] Genesis 15:15
[4] Genesis 12:2
[5] Genesis 15:13
[6] Genesis 12:1
[7] Psalm 19:15
[8] Genesis 15:10
It’s a grey place – even when the sun is shining. There are no more butterflies [1] – in this place where so many were taken on their journey away from their country, from their birth-place and their parents’ house. [2] Too few who were buried at a ripe old age. [3] Experiencing the curse rather than the blessing [4] of being God’s chosen people.
It was in this grey place – Theresienstadt – where Rabbi Leo Baeck’s light shone out into the darkness. His teachings and his care for others bringing colour to the lives of all who he encountered.
Studying at a college named after the “Teacher of Theresienstadt” as Rabbi Albert Friedlander titled Leo Baeck I often wonder if my grandparents had the privilege to study with this great rabbi during this God-forsaken time when they too where prisoners in Theresienstadt. Unfortunately, this question occurred to me only now and so it is too late for me to ask, zichronam livracha - may their memory be for a blessing. But I believe that in addition to the luck, which my grandparents always quoted as the reason for their own survival, it was the presence of people like Leo Baeck who enabled the prisoners to remember their own humanity and strengthened their will to survive. And I am certain that it was the encounter with people like Leo Baeck that allowed my grandparents’ faith in Judaism and in God to survive the years of enslavement and oppression [5] and gave them the courage to raise Jewish children who spoke the language of their former oppressors.
So, I feel connected to Leo Baeck on several levels – through the inspiration that he or others like him gave to my grandparents and through my studies at the rabbinical college that carries his name.
It is a college custom that on Shabbat Lech Lecha, in honour of Leo Baeck’s Yahrzeit, which falls in the month of Cheshvan, students are called upon to go forth [6] – and to visit congregations and share some of their rabbinic journey.
There are many different reasons why people choose to become rabbis and it is often not a smooth path. My personal journey originally took me in quite a different direction and rather than studying philosophy, theology or any other subject that might be useful as a basis for rabbinic training I studied Natural Sciences at the University of Cambridge and tried to understand a little more how the world works. Well, it probably won’t be a surprise to you but, ultimately, chemistry and even physics, Prof. Hawking please forgive me, cannot give a real answer to that question. Science can give us a glimpse of momentary truth but it cannot provide a response that goes beyond an exploration of the mechanics of creation and our world. It cannot give meaning to our lives.
And so my search for an answer continues without rejection of what I learned before, in fact, embracing my passion for science, but looking beyond that which we can observe with our minds to explore the meditations of our hearts. [7]
I believe that the most precious gift given to rabbis and student rabbis is the opportunity to bring colour to the lives of our congregants. Luckily most rabbis, do not have to encounter the deep darkness that Rabbi Leo Baeck and his fellow prisoners were facing in Theresienstadt.
Nonetheless, rabbis are given the privilege to accompany their congregants through light and darkness. And I truly mean it, when I speak about a privilege. I believe that in the moments, when the pieces [8] of our life suddenly fall into place or when, on the other hand, all seems to be in pieces, in those moments, we yearn for the colour that Judaism can add to our lives.
So, I don’t believe that it is coincidental that the first covenant that God makes with the Jewish people is known as the covenant of pieces, ברית בין הבתרים. After the great opening of this week’s parashah, with Abram willingly following God’s command to go forth to an unknown land, we picked up the story in today’s reading at the point when Abram’ faith in God is faltering. God’s initial response to Abram’s distress is to offer words of comfort and reassurance. But words are not enough to convince Abram that God’ promise will be upheld and so God instructs Abram to perform a bizarre ritual where rather than burning sacrifices he is asked to cut the animals into two pieces facing one another. Falling asleep after the performance of the ritual, Abram is told about the years of enslavement and oppression that the Israelites will endure but at the same time he is assured that he himself will die peacefully at a ripe old age and that the Israelites will eventually be delivered from their oppressors. His dream concludes with him seeing a flaming torch passing between the pieces, בין הבתרים.
The rabbis of the midrash identify this torch to be the revelation at Sinai – the Torah, which acts as a guiding light for the Jewish people throughout time.
The history of our people is filled with suffering and destruction – repeated attempts to break us into pieces. But Jews throughout the ages have time and time again, tried to put the pieces back together. Time and time again, Jews have embraced the original covenant that God made with Abram – a covenant of pieces, ברית בין הבתרים, for an imperfect people in an imperfect world who are nonetheless chosen for a special path.
Each generation had its great rabbis, like Rabbi Leo Baeck, who were able to bring the guiding light of the Torah to the people and add colour to our broken lives and our broken world. This is what all rabbis should strive for.
Amen
[1] An allusion to the poem written in Theresienstadt “The butterfly” by Pavel Friedman (died 1944 in Auschwitz aged 23)
[2] Genesis 12:1
[3] Genesis 15:15
[4] Genesis 12:2
[5] Genesis 15:13
[6] Genesis 12:1
[7] Psalm 19:15
[8] Genesis 15:10
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