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The DuPage Unitarian Universalist Church exists as a beacon of liberal religious thought and practice. Amid the challenges and changes of a chaotic world, we aspire to proclaim and embody the possibilities of meaning in human life, of freedom in human thought, and of peace and justice in human community.
Showing posts with label Judaism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Judaism. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

Sunday Service: Modern Judaism - June 14th, 2015

Modern Judaism
By Reverend Tom Capo
06/14/2015


From the Babylonian Talmud, comes these words:  
 “In the hour when an individual is brought before the heavenly court for judgment, the person is asked:  Did you conduct your [business] affairs honestly?  Did you set aside regular time for Torah study?  Did you work at having children?  Did you look forward to the world’s redemption?”  
Please note that “Did you believe in God?” and “Did you observe all the rituals?” are not considered as the first questions to be asked of a Jewish person when they are reunited with God, according to this Rabbinic text.
I titled this sermon Modern Judaism, but that is not an entirely accurate title.  I am actually going to talk about Rabbinic Judaism, the Judaism that all sects of the Jewish people recognize as their faith.  What is Rabbinic Judaism?  We will need to consider a little Jewish history to answer that question.
In the fourth year of his reign, around 833 BCE, the Jewish King Solomon found himself at peace with his neighbors and began the construction of the Temple, a place where the Jewish peoples could come to ground themselves in the practices and rituals of their faith. The site chosen by King David was the top of Mount Moriah, where Abraham had once proved his readiness to offer up his dearly beloved son in obedience to G d's command.  The practices and rituals of the temple were led by Jewish priests.  Now many of the Jewish people made regular pilgrimages to the Temple--the temple and the priests were in Jerusalem--but for most of the Jewish people that was a very long way to go.  They needed people to teach the children Hebrew and to hold a recognition ceremony when a child became an adult, a Bar Mitzvah, and to help the Jewish people in the towns and villages remember, practice, and interpret the basic tenets of their faith, and those were the Rabbis.  Rabbis were and are Jewish scholars, people trained in Jewish law, ritual, and tradition, discerning what is lawful in Judaism and performing Jewish ceremonies.   It was during the first destruction of the Temple, when Israel was defeated and the Jewish people were exiled to Babylonia, that the role of the Rabbi increased in significance.  
By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, we also wept, when we remembered Zion. We hung our lyres on the willows in its midst. For there those who carried us away captive required of us a song; and those who tormented us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion. How shall we sing the Lord's song in a foreign land? If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do not remember you, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy. (Psalms 137:1-6)
While the people of Israel grieved the loss of their country and their Temple, they still practiced their faith.  The Rabbis, rather than the Temple or the priests, were called upon to ground the people in their faith.  It is also believed by many scholars that during this exile the Talmud, the central text of Rabbinic Judaism, was written.  This text contains commentaries and stories written by Rabbis to help the Jewish people interpret the Jewish Bible, its laws and traditions.
The story that Jo Linsley shared with us today is an allegoric Rabbinic story of the final sacking and destruction of the temple in Jerusalem in 70 CE by the Romans.  The jewels are the tenets of the Jewish faith, G-d’s teachings.  The Jewish people are the pigeons.  The castle was the State of Israel or the Temple in Jerusalem.  Rabbi Tzvi Freeman writes of this story: “In our history, the pattern of destruction and exile has repeated itself many times. We began in exile, in the land of Egypt. Then there was the destruction of the first Holy Temple and exile to Babylonia, and then the second destruction and a very lengthy exile, which we still endure. There is no other nation that has been spread so far apart, yet retained identity as a single whole, always with hope to return. And all of it was part of G-d’s divine plan, to retrieve all the sparks of holiness. Which is what we did, because wherever we go, we use the materials, the foods, the music, the customs of that place in a Torah way.”  
“But now has come the time for us to all return home” is how the story ends.  This can mean the country of Israel; the spiritual home of the Jewish people has returned.  Or it could mean that the Jewish people have created new homes for their faith wherever they live in community with one another.  The latter meaning is closer to a Rabbinical vision of the Jewish faith.  This tradition, with all its destructions and exiles, had to find a new home, a home wherever they were.  The Jewish people carry their faith in their hearts and through their lives, not in a Temple or even in a country.  Those externals are fragile and can be taken away.  Only when a faith lives within the person and through the way they live their lives can it never be taken away. 

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Sunday Service: ISIS and the Middle East - November 16th, 2014

   ISIS and the Middle East
By Reverend Tom Capo  
11/16/14

    “They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up swords against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore; but they shall all sit under their own vines and fig trees, and no one shall make them afraid.”  This quote from the Jewish Bible prophet Micah is a statement of hope for our world.  I wish I could say that this is happening right now, but I’d have to be blind to the many wars and atrocities that are occurring in so many places.  This image of the Tao with peace and justice represents the complexity that we face.  I believe all of us would prefer that the human race would sit together peacefully under vines and trees with no-one prodding us, through words or actions, to be afraid, but that, most emphatically, is not the world we live in.  How do we balance justice with peace? 
     What has been on my heart for some time has been the group ISIS, also known as ISL or the Islamic State or Isil or Daesh.  This splinter group from the Al-Queda network has taken over vast swaths of Iraq and Syria.  They are well armed, extremely well-funded, and have lots of people from around the world volunteering to fight for them.  They have used mass killings, beheadings, intimidation, and fear to control their own soldiers as well as the people in the cities that they have taken over.  As far as I know, they seem to have no interest in peaceful dialogue as a means to their ends.   Unitarian minister, Transcendentalist, orator, and poet, Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote: “Peace cannot be achieved through violence, it can only be attained through understanding.”  So how do we reach an understanding with people who have no interest in any understanding beyond, “join us or die?” How do we reconcile Emerson’s lofty philosophy with the fact of a violent fundamentalist group whose rampage must be halted?
    I am increasingly disturbed and, let’s be honest, afraid of what they are doing and what they might do.  I am having some flashbacks to feelings that I had during 9-11 when the twin towers were destroyed and the country was afraid—having experienced a  catastrophic foreign terrorist attack on United States soil for the first time in modern history.  I remember my irrational fear while interacting with a Middle-eastern stranger in a grocery store a few days after the attack.  Yet, after a time, I was able to find an inner peace. I chose not to live in fear; I chose not to give power over my behavior to a group that wanted me to be afraid; and I chose not to treat my Middle-eastern and Islamic brothers and sisters differently because of what some extremists chose to do.
     What’s helping me cope this time is an experience I had about 6 years ago, while serving in Cedar Rapids.  Tensions were high between the Jewish and the Islamic communities due to what was going on in the Middle East.  People here in the United States had family and friends who had been wounded or were in imminent danger due to the fighting in Israel.   The Rabbi at the time defended the right of the people of Israel to protect themselves against the bombings of innocents, and one of the Imams compared the Israelis’ persecution of the Palestinians along the West Bank to the Holocaust.  They took this dialogue to Facebook, and predictably, the tension between the two groups escalated.  A number of faith leaders in Cedar Rapids, of which I was one, decided to hold a Peace service on neutral ground, the Unitarian Universalist church that I was serving.  Both the Imam and the Rabbi were invited and attended.  They consciously put aside their reactive and inflammatory words.  The Rabbi said a beautiful, elegant, and loving prayer for the Palestinian children along the West Bank.  Then the Iman stood up, thanking the Rabbi for his words while he shook his hand, and then prayed for peace for all the people who live in Israel.  Some of you may be sitting there thinking, “so what? That didn’t solve the conflict in the Middle East.”  And you’re right, it didn’t.   But it did bring peace to our own multi-national community.  In a sense, we thought globally and acted locally, and the result was peace between the Jewish and Islamic communities in Cedar Rapids.
    The Rabbi prayed for the children, just as we did today in our prayer.  But again I wonder what is the balance between protection and love—how do we know when we go too far in one direction, thinking of protection, and believing that we are at war primarily because we are safeguarding the world for our children or our children’s children?  Mother Teresa wrote:  “If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.”  The Rabbi and the Imam remembered that we belong to one another, but there are so many in our world who forget.