Tag Archives: 36 Rabbis Shave for the Brave

Passover Faith

Bravery is not fearlessness; it is courage in the face of fear. When I joined 36 Rabbis Shave for the Brave, I thought the “brave” were the children fighting pediatric cancer and their families.  I did not realize that the shave would be for those who are brave. In other words, going into my shave Sunday evening, I was scared. How would my head feel? How would I look? Did I really do as good an act of righteousness or of chesed (loving kindness) as I thought? Rationally, I knew everything would be okay and worth it. Emotionally, I had a harder time. I was not dauntless; I tried to be brave.

via peacefulacres.wordpress.com

via peacefulacres.wordpress.com

Given the timing of my shave on the day before Erev Pesach, I was struck by the bravery of our ancestors every year as they prepared their homes for Passover. When we rid our homes of chametz (leavened foods), we know that, as soon as the holiday ends, we can go to a store and buy more. Not so for our ancestors. Getting rid of their chametz meant getting rid of their starter dough for making bread. They could not walk to the store to buy yeast after Passover; they had to wait for grain to grow, be harvested, and then to ferment. For them, cleaning for Passover was the kind of bravery we call a leap of faith. They would clean out their home, celebrate the holiday, and eat matzah until one day, weeks later, when they hoped they might make bread again. That kind of faith is a journey, a Passover faith.

When the ancient Israelites left Egypt, they did not know where they were going or how long it would take to find out. In our age of instant gratification, GPS, and strategic planning, their ancient faith is remarkable. I hope by tapping into it, it is inspirational.

courtesy of Mriaim Sandler Photography

courtesy of Mriaim Sandler Photography

My hair will grow back, slowly. I don’t need great faith to know that. I need the omer, the period of counting from the second seder to the holiday of Shavuot, to number the days that will lead me along my journey. Perhaps, I might find myself getting past bravery to Passover faith, a leap from rational calculation to the idea that life will be restored.

Just before having my head shaved, I read this prayer: “.ותעמד לנו זכות מצות גמילות חסד ואמת למלאות ימינו בטובה. וחסד ה׳ עלינו לעולם Help us attain the privilege of performing the mitzvah of gemilut hesed ve’emet—the granting of true kindness—that we may live out our days with goodness. And may God’s lovingkindness grace us forever.”

This Passover, I wish everyone the chance to perform a mitzvah of lovingkindness and to be graced with God’s lovingkindness in turn. May all of that lovingkindness redeem our world from the many forms of slavery, physical and spiritual, that plague our world today. In particular, may it remove hatred of the kind seen Sunday in Overland Park, KS and may it help us find better treatments, if not a cure, for cancer.

Chag Sameach.

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I Told My Students I am Shaving My Head

As a Head of School, I pay attention to the cultural climate in my school. Last week, the culture was full of silly fun: dress up, crazy hair, pajamas, and, of course, Purim (the Jewish holiday commemorating the story of the Book of Esther). This week, I found our students . . . well, out of sorts. I wrote in my weekly newsletter, Chailites:

With the onset of spring this week, our students are a little hot under the collar. Provocations are deemed injustices. Reactions look more like overreactions. Reconciliation comes grudgingly. That obsession with fairness, though, is what makes this time in their lives so powerful.

1471351_715159761829279_453605823_aThis week, I also reached my personal fundraising goal for St. Baldrick’s as a participant in 36 Rabbis Shave for the Brave. Together, this group of rabbis has already surpassed two goals, raising over $450,000 collectively for pediatric cancer research, a woefully underfunded area of medical science. I thank those who made a donation to support my participation. Their generosity means that I need to act on my promise to shave my head; that need meant that I had to let my students know the shave was coming and why.

I found a way to bring school culture, the curriculum, and my shave together in a way that I believe speaks to the values of our school. Those squabbles became the point of comparison to real challenges and losses.  The curriculum includes study of the weekly Torah portion; Shemini (Leviticus 9:1-11:47) outlines some laws of kashrut (Jewish dietary law) and poignantly recounts the strange death of two of the High Priest Aaron’s sons, Nadav and Avihu.

I started my explanation to them by wearing my bright blue, curly-hair wig from crazy hair day last week. I mentioned that I noticed this week’s “spring fever.” Then, I donned my Albert Einstein wig to talk ask about their learning.

It is a striking lesson then that, in the face of true injustice, we find a key Jewish figure responding very differently. In this week’s Torah portion, Shemini, two of the High Priest Aaron’s sons—Nadav and Avihu—get killed instantly by a fire that breaks forth from the altar. While many commentaries seek to explain how the victims were at fault, Aaron’s reaction is unapologetic. Aaron does not fly off the handle; he does not lash out at others; he places no blame; he files no complaint; he is silent.

Aaron’s silence is not just the absence of making noise. The Hebrew word for Aaron’s silence Dohm is different from Sheket. Sheket is quiet, calm silence; dohm is still, inanimate silence. Aaron’s silence is the kind you can hear; it is the total absence of what should be there. In the face of the random death of own children, Aaron temporarily absents himself.

Each time we encounter something wrong in our world, we have a choice. We can complain, we can be silent, or we can try to do something.

Purim 314 028_2I took off the Einstein wig and

. . . then I told them the big news . . .

I told them that in three weeks, I will be shaving my head. . . . I have my own reasons for having felt absented, like Aaron, by cancer; I have also “yelled” publically at God. To teach our students a different way to respond to injustices, I will actively show how we can become change agents; I certainly will not be able to hide my bald head.

The educational moment was there, so I seized it. I encouraged them to think about all the times they might whine or complain and all the times they shut down. I told them I that I don’t want them to shave their heads; I hope they never have cause to do so. Instead, I asked them to try to be present in our imperfect world and to try to fix it.

. . . [36 Rabbis Shave for the Brave] . . . refers to the Jewish idea that, at all times, 36 righteous individuals sustain our world. We cannot know who those people are, yet we can try to live up to their image. I believe that, as rabbis, this effort is about more than funding the fight against cancer, though; this effort is about taking productive action in a broken world.

If our mission is, in part, to “foster . . . dynamic leaders,” we must model it.  As I contextualized it for them:

As we move from Purim’s story of Esther saving the Jews in Persia to Passover’s story of God’s redemption of the Israelites from slavery, we need to find our way to a better world.

I ended the conversation with the uplifting message of the Passover Exodus and the Passover seder’s concluding hope that we celebrate freedom “next year in Jerusalem” with a video showing today’s Jerusalem in the eyes of American high school students studying there. Indeed, our troubled world can be happy.Happy Jerusalem

I know I am not done explaining.  While most of the rabbis will shave on April 1st at the Central Conference of American Rabbis convention, I will be waiting for a local event, “Pasta & Pediatrics” at the Siegel JCC on April 13th. When I shave, it will be very close to Passover. Closer to that time, I will teach about the mourning customs of the Omer, the period of counting from the second night of Passover to Shavuot. For now, though, I am finding my way away from complaining, out of silence, to action.

I hope my students and you, too, will do the same in your own ways.

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Filed under Chailites, Education, Jewish Community, Jewish Wisdom, Rabbinate

Why I Joined 36 Rabbis Shave for the Brave

I am not . . . I am not . . . I am . . .

via timesofisrael.com

Samuel Sommer z”l via timesofisrael.com

I am not going to try to convince you to support funding for pediatric cancer research; if you need convincing, read here.

I am not going to pretend to have known well our honoree, Superman Sam Sommer zichrono livrakha [may his memory be for a blessing, z”l for short].

I am going to share why I think rabbis–specifically, rabbis–shaving their heads for pediatric cancer research matters, and why it matters enough for me to have joined them.

When I first heard about 36 Rabbis Shave for the Brave, I thought:

I might; but, no, I am too removed from the Sommers. Phyllis Sommer was supposed to be a fellow in my Rabbis Without Borders cohort, and even that feels like a reach.

I might; but, no, I happen to be a Conservative rabbi, and the group is Reform rabbis.

I won’t; my community would see my actions as chutzpadik [impudent], a personal act with seemingly unconsidered public consequences. Perhaps, they’ll think I am acting out my own grief. Perhaps, they’ll think I am jumping on a distant bandwagon on the off-chance it plays locally. Perhaps, they’ll think I am filled with enough bravado not to care whether others understand. I won’t . . . be that rabbi who acts without bringing along his/her constituency.

That last thought, that thought brought me back to what it means to me to be a rabbi, and that is when I knew: I am going to shave my head.

The summer before I started rabbinical school, I came across this quotation by Rabbi Israel Salanter, the founder of a psycho-ethical approach to Judaism known as the Musar Movement: “A RABBI WHOSE CONGREGATION DOES NOT DISAGREE WITH HIM IS NOT A RABBI; AND A RABBI WHO IS AFRAID OF HIS CONGREGATION IS NOT A MAN.” Sam Sommer’s death was not a time for me as a rabbi to be afraid. The question was how to close the gap from alienating my congregation to giving space for disagreement.

I believe that what it means to be a rabbi is to teach the wisdom of the Jewish tradition deeply and to aid souls in access, nourishing, and sustaining a spiritual connection to the Divine.

1471351_715159761829279_453605823_aPutting Salanter together with my vision of the rabbinate, joining 36 Rabbis Shave for the Brave must live out a lesson in Jewish wisdom that I can teach my community and/or that will connect my community spiritually. I admit that I was skeptical that I could meet these criteria. I hedged.

I met with another local rabbi who has a close, personal relationship to the Sommers. He was also thinking through what it means to join this effort as a rabbi. Together, we inspired each other. I am proud to call Rabbi Yair Robinson a partner in my efforts.

Emboldened by our partnership, I began to realize that my rabbinic role will not be as difficult to carry out. On the contrary, I began to realize that rabbinic audacity speaks to this moment.

As a rabbi, I will be affirming the sanctity of life, helping raise money for research to give children years that cancer would take away. As a rabbi, I will be giving expression to the fragility of life and the miracle of its regeneration. As a rabbi, I will be bringing to life ancient traditions where shaving one’s head indicated a transition to a new life. As a rabbi, I will be demonstrating the power of community, a community that transcends any one locale.  As a rabbi, I will share how social media, in Sam’s case, was used for good to build community and humanity, as noted by Ken Gordon. As a Conservative rabbi, I will join across denominational divide to show how all Jews are one. As a rabbi, I will teach the details in these wisdoms, the very real cycle of life, and the importance of responding to God’s search for human partners in this shattered creation we inhabit.

via bupipedream.com

via bupipedream.com

I am going to shave my head to raise money for pediatric cancer research because, as a rabbi, I will also be doing all those things listed in the paragraph above. I know the other rabbis who shave for the brave will be doing the same.

If you would like to support my efforts, click here.


Filed under Education, Jewish Community, Jewish Wisdom, Rabbinate