Rabbi Howard Morrison

I am always touched by the origins of names. My Hebrew name is Avraham. The name goes back to our people's founding patriarch. It means the father of many nations. In my case, I am named for Avraham, my maternal great grandfather.

If you asked a random Jew on the street about the origin of the name Yisrael, Israel, I would guess that most would associate it with the name of our people, Am Yisrael, or with the name of our land, Eretz Yisrael, or with the name of our statehood, Medinat Yisrael. They would all be wrong.

The origin appears in today's Parsha. After having been surrounded by family, Jacob finds himself alone. Suddenly he wrestles with a mysterious being. We are not sure who this is - an angel of God, an arch-angel of Esau, an internal subconscious struggle with his inner demons - not clear! At the end of the struggle, whether named by an external being or a force from within, Jacob is surnamed Yisrael, one who wrestled with and prevailed with God and Man. The heel sneak nature of Jacob who took advantage of Esau is gone. Jacob can now be reunited with his brother after twenty years. Jacob is now primed to be the father not only of a large family, seventy in total, but of a peoplehood that will span four thousand years of history. However, for all this to happen, Jacob has to authentically wrestle with his identity and purpose.

What about us? Do any of us really take the existential moment to truly struggle with our ultimate purpose? What does our Judaism mean to us? Which aspects give us meaning? Which do not? Which are causes of personal struggle? What is our ultimate purpose within our family? Our occupation? within society at large? Active wrestling can be risky, making us vulnerable, but which can make a lasting positive impact.

I am reminded of Rabbi Steven Greenberg, the first Orthodox ordained rabbi to come out of the closet and admit his homosexuality in the late 1990's. For years, he was ridiculed. Young observant Jews who followed his leadership were equally scorned. Yet over twenty years later, he is admired for his daring authenticity. His famous book, similar to the theme of this week's Parsha is entitled, "Wrestling with God and Men: Homosexuality in the Jewish Tradition." Years later, rabbis, scholars, and everyday people have praised his writings and expanded upon them, ranging from the ranks of liberal Orthodoxy, Conservative, Reform, and Reconstructionist Judaism. Excerpts in his book inspired halakhic positions taken by the Conservative Movement in 2007 and 2012, many years after Greenberg's book first came out, and which informed my decision making for our shul which I explained over a year ago. 

My sermon today, however, is not to focus solely on issues concerning sexuality. I refer to Rabbi Greenberg as one who has authentically wrestled with God and his own inner being. That aspect is comparable to Jacob becoming Yisrael in today's Parsha.

So, what is your struggle? What is your personal unscripted wrestling match? And what are you going to do about it?

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Howard Morrison

Maaseh Avot Siman L'Vanim - the experiences of our ancestors become a sign to the children. This rabbinic statement harkens back to the fact that Isaac shares many of the same experiences as his father Abraham. Both in their lifetimes dug wells for physical sustenance. In our first scene in today's Parsha, after Isaac had become wealthy and blessed by God, the Philistines stopped up all the wells which Isaac's father Abraham had dug, filling them with earth. Avimelech, King of the Philistines, says to Isaac, "Go away from us, for you have become far too big for us." Is this remark one of propaganda and a Biblical form of Jew-hatred?

The Torah text continues, "So, Isaac departed from there and encamped in the wadi of Gerar, where he settled. Isaac dug anew the wells which had been dug in the days of his father Abraham and which the Philistines had stopped up after Abraham's death, and he gave them the same names that his father had given them. But when Isaac's servants, digging in the wadi, found there a well of spring water, the herdsmen of Gerar quarreled with Isaac's herdsmen, saying, 'the water is ours.' Isaac named that well Esek, because they contended with him. And when Isaac's servants dug another well, the herdsmen of Gerar disputed over that one also; so, Isaac named it Sitnah-hostility. Isaac moved from there and dug yet another well, and they did not quarrel over it. So, Isaac called it Rehovot, saying, 'Now at last the Lord has granted us ample space to increase in the land.'" 

The Midrash teaches us that the three wells dug anew by Isaac refer to three Temples in Jewish history. The first was destroyed because of Esek, contention with the nations of the time. The second was destroyed because of Sitnah, hostility from the nations of the time. The third, yet to be rebuilt, will be based on Rehovot, when contention and hostility will be things of the past.

No matter what one thinks or believes about a third Temple, clearly, the Jewish people in Israel and all over the world are not yet living in a time of Rehovot, where there is no quarrel, and where Jews are allowed to settle and increase in the land. Sadly, and tragically, over the last thirteen and a half months and even well before that, Jews are living in a time of Esek and Sitnah, contention and hostility.

The latest sad and tragic example comes regarding a young rabbinic colleague whom I and we never knew - A Chabad rabbi who settled in a different part of the globe in order to touch Jews with the message of Torah. His mission, like that of most Chabad rabbis, was to do Keruv work, make connections with all Jews regardless of their backgrounds, beliefs, and practices. Rabbi Zvi Kogen was missing and then subsequently murdered by terrorists. He was based in Abu Dhabi, UAE (United Arab Emirates) and had been abducted a week ago Thursday in Dubai. Rabbi Kogan was found murdered last Sunday. He was 28 years old and leaves behind his wife, Rivky.. The rabbi's mission was to serve the Jewish people. Esek and Sitnah, forces of contention and hostility, brought his life to a young and terrible end.

While the Patriarch, Isaac, went on to build a third and permanent well called Rehovot, we can only wait for a safe, peaceful, and secure third commonwealth in Jewish history.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Howard Morrison

As a proud dual citizen of the U.S. and Canada, I rejoice in both countries. Never forgetting my roots, today is U.S. Thanksgiving. As a child, my family in Boston always celebrated with the same relatives and close friends. When my children were young, whether living in New York or Toronto, we would rotate celebrating the holiday either with my family in Boston or with my children's mother's family in New Jersey. In recent years, I have celebrated locally with American born colleagues and their families.

As a stand-alone holiday at the end of November, many American Jews celebrate Thanksgiving with all the trimmings. Of course, the turkey and side dishes are kosher. Canadian Thanksgiving in early October does not seem to have the same appeal among local Jews perhaps because its gets lost with the High Holy Days and Sukkot which surround it in the early Fall.

Being thankful is a daily obligation in Judaism. We start our day individually saying, "Modeh Ani Lefanecha - I give thanks before You, God." In the daily Amidah, we recite in the plural, "Modim Anachnu Lach - We give thanks to You, God." The blessings after meals, Hallel,  and other rituals are filled with verses of gratitude.

While I am grateful every day, on this U.S. Thanksgiving day, I am particularly thankful to God for my health, my family, and my community. I am grateful to arise each morning with purpose and fulfillment.

May we all be grateful for gifts which ought never be taken for granted, not only once a year but each and every day of our lives.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Howard Morrison

Ten years ago, my younger son Yonah spent the second half of grade 10 studying in Israel under the auspices of Ramah Israel Institute in a high school program called Tichon Ramah Yerushalayim (T.R.Y.). While he was there, we at Beth Emeth were beginning discussions on a synagogue trip to Poland and Israel. Yonah mentioned to me that his class had recently returned from Poland under the leadership of their teacher, Betsalel Steinhart. Thus, the Beth Emeth relationship was born between our shul and Ramah Israel Institute. In the Fall of 2015, Betsalel guided us around Poland and Israel over a two-week period. In the Fall of 2019, Betsalel guided us around Spain, Gibraltar, and Portugal over a two-week period. In the Spring of 2024, Betsalel oversaw the planning of our nine-day solidarity mission to Israel.

Betsalel has endeared himself to many people within our Beth Emeth community. On this coming Shabbat, Betsalel will visit our shul and be our scholar in residence on Shabbat morning. In particular, Betsalel has a unique perspective on events which have transpired in Israel and around the Jewish world in the last thirteen months. I invite us all to hear him this coming Shabbat. In addition, to those who studied with Betsalel in their high school years or who participated in our tours with him, you are invited to a reunion evening after Shabbat at 7pm in the Shul.

Please join me in welcoming Betsalel Steinhart.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Howard Morrison

I was introduced to the formal study of Chumash (the Five Books of the Torah) in grade 2. Not the narratives of Bereishit and Noach, my class was first introduced to Torah study with Parshat Lech Lecha and the journey of Abram-Abraham. I still remember the large print Hebrew only text which was given to us. At age 7, we were learning to discern the Hebrew text as it was. There was no English and no commentary.

Lech Lecha begins with the journey made by the first patriarch and his family. Abram must leave his native land, his birth place, and his parental home to a new land that God will show him. For Jews, the historical promise made by God to our people about the homeland of Israel originated 4000 years ago with the pact made to Abram. Only Jews are the rightful indigenous people of Israel. It is our language, culture, holy sites, and more which have stood the test of time in Israel even when conquering nations tried to rid our people from its God-given homeland thousands of years ago.

Another kind of Lech Lecha comes to mind this weekend. On November 9-10, we commemorate the 86^th anniversary of Kristallnacht, the night of broken glass, which took place in 1938. Soon enough, many Jewish families and individuals undertook their own journeys. Those who were fortunate to escape Eastern Europe before it was too late ended up in many places around the world, including pre-State Israel, North America, and many other locations.

I marvel at the survivors I have gotten to know in my nearly twenty-five years at Beth Emeth. They came with almost nothing. Many established thriving businesses and raised multi-generational families. Sadly, I have laid to rest many survivors of the Shoah. However, they left this world comforted in that they did not survive in vain. Like Abraham, who became the patriarch for all generations to come, many survivors will be regarded as the patriarchs and matriarchs of the families they nurtured here in Canada.

As we recall the very first journey in Jewish history, we pay tribute this weekend to the memories of six million Jews and remember those who made their Lech Lecha to Jewish communities around the world and who raised Jewish families to ensure our people's continuity.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Howard Morrison

The story of Noah is one that is familiar to us. Humanity regresses to the point that God regrets having created humanity and brings about a flood to wipe out the entire world, with the exception of Noah, his family, and the animals he brings into the Ark. When Noah leaves the Ark after the flood and is ready to go about rebuilding the world, God makes a covenant with him that God will never destroy the world again. The sign of the covenant is a rainbow.

The commentators struggle to understand the sin or level of corruption that prompted God to bring the flood. In a verse with eerie resonance in light of Israel's war with Hamas (Hezbollah and Iran), the Torah records: "The earth became corrupt before God, and the earth was filled with lawlessness-Hamas (Genesis 6:11)." The Biblical scholar Nahum Sarna, the author of 'Understanding Genesis,' explains, "It may be deduced that Hamas here refers predominantly to arrogant disregard for the sanctity and inviolability of human life." This definition and understanding of the word "Hamas" certainly ring true over the past year.

In light of this, we have an obligation and moral responsibility to respond when the world is overcome by Hamas. We must express shock and outrage upon learning of such wanton displays of violence, hatred, and moral depravity. The IDF, in harmony with Torah values, has an absolute responsibility to wage battle and destroy Hamas and its evil counterparts including Hezbollah, and other publicly identified terror groups. 

The Talmud already asks and answers what should one do when Hamas-violence is coming your way? "If someone rises up to attack you, rise up and attack them first (Sanhedrin 72a)." 

After reading the story of the flood and the violence that humans perpetrate on one another, one could ask the question, "Why did God save Noah and his family? Why not destroy humanity altogether? " Perhaps God's hope was that humanity would change its ways after Noah. God explicitly gave Noah a law forbidding pre-meditated bloodshed, "Whoever sheds human blood, by human hands shall that one's blood be shed, for in the image of God was humankind created (Genesis 9:6)."

Can humanity change? Can humanity overcome its natural tendency towards cruelty and violence? That is the Torah's lesson in today's portion of Noah. A new humanity can be born without cruelty and violence in their hearts. Unfortunately, it has not come true in our lifetimes. We can only pray and work for the day when hatred and brutality will disappear from the face of the earth.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Howard Morrison

Being involved in dialogue with others is imperative. Israel has sadly learned that it has no choice but to fight when there is no one with whom to have constructive dialogue. Even in sectors around the world, including our own, we have had to stand on our own in the face of Jew-hatred when there is no one with whom to have constructive dialogue.

Ever since my oldest son left his first work community in Alpena Michigan, I have continued to be in touch as a friend and rabbinic consultant to a small synagogue there which has no ordained clergy. With a relationship that I cultivated with a local pastor of a Lutheran church, we have had interfaith programs on Zoom. 

This past Sunday, we shared a two-part program on what constitutes peace, and what does not constitute peace, in our respective religious traditions. There were matters on which we agreed, agreed to disagree, and to disagree agreeably. Some topics that were addressed were the Christian concept of "turn the other cheek," the difference between "Thou shalt not kill" versus "Thou shalt not murder," and the implications on abortion and Israel's right to defend itself in the Middle East.

The most important part of the experience was the willingness by clergy and community members to engage in difficult conversation on challenging topics, something that would benefit communities here and elsewhere.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Howard Morrison

Each year at Yizkor, we recite the names of members who died in the past year.

Each year, our annual Yizkor book publicizes the names of family members who are lovingly remembered by their families.

Each year during Yizkor, we recite many of the death and concentration camps, in which millions of Jews were murdered during the Shoah.

Today is October 24. The date of October 7 passed over two weeks ago. However, it was on this date on the Hebrew calendar that horror struck. In the Diaspora, Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah are observed over a two-day period. In Israel, they are observed in a single day, in the same manner that in Israel the first day of Sukkot was a Yom Tov, whereas in the Diaspora, the first two days of Sukkot are called Yom Tov.

While Israeli congregations were transitioning from Yizkor to Hakafot at the same service, Diaspora synagogues were concentrating on the Yizkor of Shemini Atzeret. Tragically, whether we were dancing with Torah scrolls in Israel or focusing on prayers for rain and remembrance outside of Israel, little did we know what was happening and unfolding before our very eyes. On today's Hebrew date, 1200 people were slaughtered: Jews and non-Jews, young and old, peace-loving Jews who lived and visited near the Gaza border in Southern Israel. Hundreds of others were dragged into captivity and taken hostage at the same time.

Now, exactly a year later on the Hebrew Yahrzeit, how can we properly remember and pay respect and dignity to the lives lost on this day?

I wish we could read all the 1200 hundred names as well as the soldiers, civilians, and  hostages who have died on and since Yom Tov last year. But this cannot happen.

Instead, Beth Emeth has joined with some 1600 synagogues around the world in an initiative called the Simchat Torah Project. Here is the description from the project website:

"This October will mark the first Simchat Torah since the horrific events of October 7th.

King Solomon offers us guidance in Kohelet, which is read on Sukkot: 'There is a time for everything under the Heavens . . . a time to mourn and a time to dance.' this Simchat Torah with tears in our eyes, we will dance.

Synagogues around the world will open their holy Ark on Simchat Torah night and take out several Torah scrolls. One will be adorned with a new 'Me'il (Torah cover), designed to mark the first Yahrzeit of October 7th. This Me'il will be identical to the ones which will be created for 1600 synagogues across the world. This beautifully designed Me'il will proclaim that this Torah is dedicated in memory of the 1200 souls and the many soldiers and hostages who have since died, Al Kiddush Hashem. Each Torah Me'il will feature the name of one of the Kedoshim (holy ones) embroidered onto it. Communities around the world will dance with these Torah scrolls - thousands of communities, with hundreds of thousands if not millions of Jews being connected through this project. 

The Jewish world will be unified, knowing that across the globe, Jews are dancing with Torah scrolls that collectively link us all with the events of October 7th, and to inspire us to realize that 'Am Yisrael Chai.' Synagogues will encourage their members to come and dance with the newly robed scroll, to remember the fallen, by holding their Torah high, so that they can say, 'we will not forget what happened on Simchat Torah last year, but we are determined to dispel the darkness with light.'

This project will symbolize the Jewish people's resilience, our ability to find hope in the face of tragedy. Our 1600 communities across the globe will unite for Israel and the Jewish people."

This morning, we are incorporating the new Me'il (Torah cover) as our way of linking all the fallen since October 7^th last year into our Yizkor remembrance. Tonight, and tomorrow, we will dance with this same Me'il as our commitment to the celebration of Torah and the continuity of the Jewish people and the Jewish way of life.

Chag Sameach,

Rabbi Howard Morrison

Many of our religious observances are conducted indoors - in our homes and in our synagogues. We generally do not like to create a public spectacle of our religious experiences. We behave modestly and try not to call attention to ourselves when we perform Mitzvot.

There are some exceptions to this ideal. On Chanukah, it is a particular Mitzvah to publicize the miracle by placing our Chanukiyot where they can be seen by passerby.  Sukkot also has some aspects of taking our religious observances into the public square. Most of us are familiar with the practice of eating our meals and perhaps even sleeping in the Sukkah. However, this is not what I refer to in terms of a Sukkot public practice. After all, for many of us, the Sukkah is still private, as it is constructed in the privacy of a backyard or patio.

The Talmud records the custom in ancient Jerusalem where people carried their Lulavim into the street when they went to synagogue, when they visited the sick, and when they went to comfort mourners. Even today, many Jews carry their Lulavim in public. But the origin of why is quite amazing!

On Sukkot, we want to convey a message to the general public. In ancient Jewish life, the Lulav and Etrog were symbolic of weapons. The Lulav is likened to a spear, and the Etrog is likened to a pellet. They indicate that we are proud of our heritage, and that we are prepared to fight for the honor of our Torah, of our people, of our land, and our very existence. 

Sukkot is an important reminder that being proud Jews entails a public stance. If we do not stand up for ourselves, who will stand up for us? For most of us, we prefer to think of the four species as symbolic of agricultural gifts, as symbols of Jewish unity, as representations of the human body. While these metaphors are all true, perhaps this year in particular we need to associate the four species as defensive weapons; that we will defend ourselves when we are attacked; that we will never go down like a lamb at the altar. Sadly, but true, Israel has recently had to show us and the world through example the willingness to stand up assertively when certain nations and terror groups want to eradicate not only Israel but the existence of the Jewish people. 

We are in the midst of remembering the English anniversary of October 7^th 2023, which has come and gone, and its Hebrew anniversary of Shemini Atzeret-Simchat Torah, just over a week away. The Lulav and Etrog serve as great reminders for lessons learned.

Chag Sameach,

Rabbi Howard Morrison

Judaism is not an ostentatious religion. We are not meant to show off our wealth. In the Middle Ages, sumptuary laws prohibited the bride's parents from spending more on the wedding than the poorest family in town.

Whenever possible, we try to beautify the Mitzvot since they symbolize our love for God and our heritage. Without going broke or being boastful, we try to get a nice Mezuza, nice Tefillin, a nice Etrog, etc. 

This concept is called Hidur Mitzvah, beautifying the objects used for observing Mitzvot. The Biblical basis comes from the phrase, "Zeh Aili V'Anvehu - This is my God whom I shall glorify." This statement originates in the Song of the Sea.

When it comes to Sukkot, many people go out of their way to find the choicest Etrog. In the Torah, it is called, "Pri Etz Hadar - fruit of beautiful trees." Notice that the word, "Hadar" appears as a description of the Etrog. Years ago, a film called "Ushpizin" showed a religious Jew who almost broke his bank on purchasing the finest Etrog he could find. He went way beyond the norm of "Hidur Mitzvah."

In my own experience, I beautified my celebration of Sukkot when I purchased my own four species in Israel during the rabbinical school year of 1983-4. I went to an olive wood factory in Mea Shearim and purchased a nice wooden Etrog box with symbols of Israel painted on it. It replaced the cardboard box which came with the Etrog purchase. 

While basic Mitzvah observance is fine enough, the ability to beautify our Mitzvot is encouraged, as long as we bring no economic harm to ourselves or those who are dear to us.

Chag Sameach,

Rabbi Howard Morrison

There are many themes associated with Sukkot. Commonly known are the Mitzvot regarding the Sukkah, the four species, and a season of rejoicing.

One of the lesser-known themes is the fact that each day during Sukkot we read a small section from the book of B'Midbar-Parshat Pinchas. In ancient Temple based times, the Israelites brought 70 sacrifices over the seven days of Sukkot, bringing one less on each successive day. Thus, 13 were brought on day 1; 12 were brought on day 2, etc.

In the ancient world, there was a notion that there were 70 nations in the world other than Israel. Whereas Yom Kippur emphasized personal prayers of repentance, and whereas Shemini Atzeret will focus on the special bond between God and the Jewish people, Sukkot is the holiday of the Jewish people expressing concern for the nations of the world. It is no accident that when countries have coped with natural and health disasters that Israel is among the first nations to send in first responders and experts.

It is ironic and even tragic that when Israel is subjected to awful forms of hatred that almost none of the vast nations comes to Israel's side, especially over the last twelve months. While we Jews may be disappointed at the lack of moral clarity from others, we Jews must never lose our own sense of moral clarity. We must continue to express a universal concern even when others do not.

I wish you all Chag Sameach,

Rabbi Howard Morrison

Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the Jewish calendar, is different this year after the tragic and horrific events of last October 7^th and its aftermath to this very day. For many of us, how will we sit through the vastness of these prayers, passages about acts wrongdoing and consequences for misbehaviors? There are so many empty chairs this year - Families who lost loved ones -  innocent civilians on October 7th; families who lost loved ones -  first responders and IDF personnel on October 7th; families who lost civilians, security officers and military personnel after October 7th; families who have lost loved ones around the globe, here in Canada, from surging acts of anti-Jewish and pro-Hamas hatred; and the list goes on and on.

Anger and grief are filling empty chairs this year. People, young and old, who could be asking for forgiveness are not present to ask for forgiveness. Many of us who are sitting in shul are questioning the whole thesis of asking for forgiveness from God this year.

One of the most difficult prayers of the High Holy Days, one which is recited on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, is the U'Netaneh Tokef - "Let us recount the power of the holiness of this day." The poem is said to be from the 11^th century. It may even go back to the Byzantine era, between the 4^th and 7^th century. Its words are terrifying: "All that lives on earth will pass before You like a flock of sheep . . . You will review and number and count, judging each being, determining the fate of everything in creation, inscribing their destiny." 

The poem then lists a series of gruesome ways to die:  "Who will live a long life and who will come to an untimely end; who will perish by fire and who by water; who by sword and who by beast; who by hunger and who by thirst, who by earthquake and who by plague."

Should we sit in shul and listen to this frightful recital knowing that beautiful, kind, and loving people - sons and daughters, fathers and mothers, siblings and other relatives, dear friends- did nothing to deserve their untimely end?

Perhaps we could opt out. Stay home reading a novel, or going for a walk. How can we use the "U'Netaneh Tokef" prayer to reflect on significant matters this year?

When the prayer was written, the death of a child or anyone from disease was commonplace. Likewise, death from natural disaster was commonplace. The pandemic of a few years ago brought us back to a place of the plague of a disease. The tsunamis, hurricanes, earthquakes, tornados and the like have brought us back to a place of the plague of natural disaster. 

Now, such references as "who by sword; who by wild beast" have brought us to a place of renewed violence and terror, unprecedented since the days of the Shoah, two generations ago.

Yom Kippur is a proper day to reflect, even without having answers. The prayer "U'Netaneh Tokef" - "Who shall live and who shall die, and by what form?" fits many of the themes of this day.  

Consider the Torah reading which begins with the inexplicable deaths of two children, Nadav and Avihu, the sons of Aaron.

Consider the martyrology section of Musaf today which begins with the words, "Eleh Ezkerah  - These I remember." I/We remember ten famous Sages who died horrific deaths and the hands of the Romans. Many congregations, like ours, supplement whom we remember with other chapters of Jewish history, including those who perished in the Shoah. This year, we remember 1200 precious souls who died on one single day, October 7, 2023 - Shemini Atzeret in the Diaspora and Simchat Torah in Israel, and we remember hundreds if not thousands more who have perished in the last year.

Consider the most famous part of the Yom Kippur day service which fills every seat of this sanctuary, the recitation of Yizkor, when each of us remembers precious loved ones in the context of our personal historical experience. Our Yizkor today is uniquely different given the past twelve months:

The infant in its mother's arms - We remember

The one sacrificed on the bed - We remember

The families wrapped in each other's arms in a final embrace at home, who were killed and set afire - We remember

The life partners who sat and cried a final tear in the safety shelters - We remember

The parents killed hiding their children beneath their own bodies - We remember

Those who were out for day trips and were murdered on the road - We remember

The children and young innocents who were slaughtered before their time - We remember

The parents murdered in front of their loved ones - We remember

The innocents dancing their final dance - We remember

The peace-loving youngsters who were viciously captured, raped, and killed - We remember

The cyclists on a never-ending trip - We remember

The vacationers in their tents, in the desert, or on the beach - We remember

The foreign workers who remained alongside their elders - We remember

The agricultural workers from around the world - We remember

The elders and founders - We remember

The musicians whose music went silent - We remember

The artists whose works remain forever incomplete - We remember

The passers-by who encountered evil - We remember

The philosophers whose last page will never be written - We remember

The security forces, and the Police, and the town security teams, and the military observers, and the IDF:

who fought a few against many

Who stood and delivered

Who saved lives

 And who fought till the bitter end, ensuring more innocents survived -

WE REMEMBER!

I conclude by returning to the U'Netaneh Tokef prayer. While little or nothing we do can actually change that which is not in our control, the prayer ends with the words:

"U'Teshuva U'Tefila U'Tzedaka Maavirin Et Roa Ha'Gezerah - But repentance, prayer, and acts of righteousness enable us to endure the sting of the decree."

Gmar Chatima Tova,

Rabbi Howard Morrison

Today, October 7th, marks the one-year anniversary of the worst tragedy in contemporary Jewish history since the Shoah. While we ordinarily commemorate Jewish occasions on their Hebrew date, it is noteworthy that we remember on both, October 7, and the Hebrew date of the horrors, Shemini Atzeret-Simchat Torah. I share with you the English translation of a special El Maleh Rachamim - Memorial prayer composed by the Shalom Hartman Institute in Israel for this day. We will have recited it in Hebrew and in English at morning services:

"God of compassion, 

In a universe that lacked compassion

Grant tender rest

Beneath the wings of the Shekhinah.

In the broken spheres of human radiance

To the souls of each and every of the injured 

And the violated in the horrors

of the pogrom of October 7.

For the fear

That fell upon each man and woman,

elders, youth, and children;

our mouths do not know how to scream

Or put into words.

For we lament and mourn 

For them, for us,

Because of this our hearts are faint

because of these our eyes grown dim

Woe to us, for we are broken

Woe, for our homes were shattered

Our souls and bodies tormented

And our faces darkened. 

Therefore, Compassionate One

Reveal our torment to the world and for all time

And from one end of the earth to the other

May the silenced voices utter:

Guard our souls in the Land of Life

For life is our heritage

May we come in peace to healing

Please God, heal all the injured.

Please God, heal the families and caretakers.

Please God, hear and heal us all.

And let us say, Amen."

Rabbi Howard Morrison

With the new year of 5785, I am beginning my twenty-fifth year with you at Beth Emeth. One of the best decisions in my life was accepting your invitation to move here with my family in the Summer of 2000. My boys, Elie and Yonah, were six and two respectively when I stood here on Rosh Hashanah a quarter of a century ago. Now, my young men, here in shul today, are 30 and 26. Elie is a meteorologist living in New York city, and Yonah intends to soon start a career as an air traffic controller in the United States.

For many years, my younger sister, Andrea, has joined us on Rosh Hashanah. I am thrilled that she is here today. On this Rosh Hashanah, my siblings and I are observing the twenty-fifth Yahrzeit of our dear mother, Helen Morrison. We remember her every day. May her memory always be for a blessing.

At a young age, my mother explained to me the derivation of my name. I am named Avraham Tzvi in Hebrew and Howard Bradley in English, in memory of my maternal great grandfather, Harry Abraham, who was Avraham Tzvi. Years ago, Andrea showed me his burial plot in Massachusetts. How did this Avraham Tzvi become Howard Bradley and not Harry Abraham? My mother preferred Howard over Harry. In the 1960's, Howard was a popular name. Now the dilemma for my mother - The initials of Howard Abraham Morrison would spell HAM, not very appropriate for a religious Jewish boy who would later become a rabbi. If you remove the "A" from Abraham, the next three letters are "B.R.A." thus BRADLEY. Nevertheless, my Hebrew name begins with Avraham for the middle name of my great grandfather, Abraham.

As we know, the very first Abraham-Avraham was our first patriarch and the founder of our faith, heritage, and history. It is interesting to note that while Rosh Hashanah commemorates the creation of the world, the Torah readings for both days take us back to the creation of the first Jewish family, Abraham and Sarah, four thousand years ago. The Talmud teaches us that God remembered Sarah's infertility on Rosh Hashanah. Our ancient tradition also teaches us that Abraham underwent ten divine tests upon being selected to parent a new faith and peoplehood. the tenth test is the most famous and which is the Torah reading for the second day of Rosh Hashanah, the binding of Isaac.

Today, I want to focus on one of the other tests experienced by Abraham, the founding patriarch of our people. It is a test that established his virtue at the outset of our history and which is relevant today as well. 

One of the more unusual stories is that of the battle of the kings. There were four kings from the West who fought five kings from the East. As a child reading this particular story, I always thought of it as being comparable to a professional wrestling battle royale, the likes of which one watches on WWE. However, in the serious truthfulness of this Biblical narrative, the kings from the East captured Lot, Abraham's nephew, and Lot's family, taking them as hostages.

News of Lot's capture reached Abraham, who was deeply concerned for his nephew's safety. Despite the risks, Abraham gathered a small army, three hundred and eighteen of his own men, and set out to rescue Lot. 

We should remember that some time earlier, Lot's shepherds had quarreled with Abraham's shepherds, resulting in the permanent separation of these two segments of a single family. Regardless of internal differences, there was no doubt that a Hebrew, to be called a Jew in later history, was going to do everything possible to save and protect a member of his family and peoplehood.

With determination and courage, Abraham and his men pursued the enemy kings. In a surprise attack, they defeated the enemy forces and rescued Lot and the other hostages. 

The Midrash, ancient rabbinic commentary, elaborates on Abraham's bravery in rescuing Lot and his cunning strategy. The Midrash portrays Abraham as a skilled warrior. It suggests that Abraham was an expert in military tactics and devised a clever plan to defeat the powerful kings who captured Lot. Abraham must have been an expert tactician since his 318 men were probably not a match for the various kings and their greater armies. Other Midrashim emphasize that Abraham's success in the battle was due to Divine intervention.

The story of Abraham and the war of the kings and the modern war between Israel and Hamas are distinct historical events separated by millennia. While both involved conflict and force, drawing distinct parallels between these two situations can be challenging. But there is some merit in lessons that can be learned. After all, we have the expression, "Maaseh Avot Siman Labanim - The deeds of the fathers are a sign for the children." This ancient rabbinic notion reflects the idea that the actions and behaviors of one's ancestors or predecessors can serve as a guide or lesson for future generations.

By studying the actions and consequences of past generations, individuals can learn from their successes and mistakes, and apply those lessons to their own lives. What moral and ethical lessons can we learn from Abraham rescuing his nephew/hostage Lot to today's conflict with Hamas holding over 100 hostages almost one year later?

1. Pikuach Nefesh - The saving of life. This is a fundamental concept of Jewish tradition and ethics. It implies that saving a life takes precedence over almost all other religious commandments. 
2. Justice and Righteousness - The Torah emphasizes the pursuit of justice and righteousness. "Tzedek Tzedek Tirdof - Justice, justice, shall you pursue," says the Torah. Rescuing hostages can be seen as a manifestation of these values, as it involves freeing the unjustly oppressed, and upholding justice.
3. Pidyon Shevuyim - Redeeming of captives. Jewish law underscores the importance of rescuing captives/hostages whenever possible. The story of Abraham rescuing Lot is the first such story in the Torah which emphasized how important it was to rescue one's kin and restore them to safety.
4. Moral courage - Through the story of Abraham, the Torah encourages us to exhibit moral courage and take action when we witness injustice or the suffering of others. We cannot stand idly by and do nothing, another Mitzvah stated explicitly in the Torah. 

This past May, twenty-one of us from Beth Emeth journeyed to Israel on a solidarity mission to offer support in the wake of October 7^th and its aftermath. On this Rosh Hashanah of 5785, each of us and every Jew around the world enters the new year with grief,anger and sadness over what has transpired in Israel, here in Canada, and in many Jewish communities around the world. Many of us sit today in shock over the way Israel and the Jewish people have been targeted and attacked by people who we thought were friends, by evil enemies of the Jewish people, by hired outsiders to spread their venom, and even by echelons of government. 

Except for we the Jewish people and very few others, the world has turned a blind eye to what transpired on October 7, to the plight of hostages who were kidnapped on that day, and for the unknown whereabouts of over a hundred precious people right now. Every day, we pray for the hostages and sing Am Yisrael Chai with fervor and passion. Last May, our Beth Emeth delegation visited among other places the Nova Festival site and hostage square. We also met and heard Rachel Goldberg-Polin when she and her son, Hersh, were the beacons of our hope. Today, I dedicate my remarks to the hostages who have been rescued, to the hostages who have perished, and to the hostages for whom we still pray. Thus, I have shared a Torah lesson about the very first hostage situation in Jewish history, when Abraham's nephew, Lot and family were taken hostage, and how Abraham responded.

Our tradition provides us with a moral ethical framework for approaching our overwhelming challenges today. When we read about Abraham rescuing his nephew Lot and his extended family who were taken hostage, let us take note of the lessons to be learned. Yes, we need to have expert tacticians who know how to fight and win. At the same time, we also need to have Divine intervention and guidance. May the same God who helped Abraham fight and win during his ancient battle of the kings help Am Yisrael win the battle against terrorism, and safely bring back our hostages. 

Am Yisrael Chai!!!!!!

I wish us all Ketiva v'Chatima Tova,

Rabbi Howard Morrison

This past week, a number of us helped to change all the Torah mantles to white in preparation for the High Holy Days. Already, we have begun to roll some of the Torahs to their proper places for reading on Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot, and the like. It seems like almost every day for the upcoming month, we will be reading from the Torah.

This was not always the case. In fact, if we observed the Torah literally without any interpretation or historical development, our services would be much shorter. In our double portion today, we learn that every seventh year during Sukkot did Moses read the Torah before all of Israel. This public reading was called "Hakhel," an all-out gathering for men, women, and children. It is not clear what was actually read in those Biblical times. Suffice to say, if the Torah were read only once every seven years, would it have any staying power upon us?

When the Jews returned to Israel from Babylonia after the first exile and prepared for the second Temple period, Ezra the scribe, the forerunner of the ancient rabbis, legislated that the Torah would be read on Shabbat,  Monday and Thursday. Thus, the Torah would be read three times a week. Why Monday and Thursday? Those were public market days in the period of Ezra. In later Talmudic history, the Sages compared the Torah to water, both being sources of life. Just as the Israelites never went more than three days in the desert without water, so too, we should never go more than three days without a formal reading of Torah. Do the math Monday/Thursday/Shabbat; we never go more than three days without Torah, and that is without intervening holidays.

During the early Talmudic period, Babylonian practice was to read the entire Parsha every Shabbat. In ancient Israel, the Torah was read over a three-year period. It would take three weeks to read a single Parsha. Contemporary liberal synagogues which read on a triennial basis do not adhere to the ancient practice in Israel. A modern system was devised for such congregations. When the Parsha was read in antiquity before the era of books in the pews, a Gabbai on the side of the Torah reader was called a "Meturgeman." He translated and interpreted the Biblical Hebrew into Aramaic, the language that Babylonian Jews knew as their vernacular. Thus, the Torah was not meant to be read robotically, but to be studied, understood, and analyzed. These days, we are blessed with various books containing all sorts of commentaries from the past to the present. We should perpetually be challenged and inspired to find new insights in our age-old words and passages.

Years ago, I attended a discussion on how to abbreviate a service if necessary. I remember one colleague quoting a teacher who said - If the words of the prayers are our words to God, and the words of the Torah are God's words to us, where would you abbreviate if necessary? I have always been a proponent of reading the whole parsha each and every Shabbat.

Over the next few weeks, we will conclude the final portions in the Five books of the Torah. We will also insert thematic selections for the Yom Tov season. Soon enough, on Simchat Torah, which will mark the anniversary of October 7th, we will begin to read the Torah anew. It has been quite a year since we concluded and began anew the Torah last Fall. Our hope and prayer, as we enter the new year and a new cycle of holy days, is that the next Torah reading cycle will be filled with peace and well-being for all of Israel and Jews around the world. May we follow the weekly portions more devoutly in the coming year and glean new insights to refine the purpose of our lives.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Howard Morrison