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Earth Etude for Elul 21: Tikkun Olam and Climate Change

August 28, 2021 No Comments

by Michael Garry Tikkun olam, which in Hebrew means “repair of the world,” has always been a guiding principle of the Jewish people, one that we teach our children and try to practice in our everyday lives.  In the modern era, tikkun olam means that Jews bear responsibility not only for their own moral, spiritual, and material welfare, but also for the welfare of society at large. It is well known that the welfare of the planet is now threatened by an environmental crisis called climate change, caused by unchecked emissions of carbon dioxide from fossil fuel combustion and other heat-trapping greenhouse gases. While climate change can sound very grim, our Jewish faith can help sustain us and inspire us to action; indeed, caring for the Earth is one of the cornerstones of Judaism, and it’s found throughout the Torah. During this season of teshuvah, it is especially important for Jews to reflect on our obligation to help correct our transgressions against the environment. The very act of creation in Genesis marks the sacred quality of the Earth, and humankind’s duty to respect, protect and preserve God’s creation. We are God’s caretakers; as it is written in Genesis 2:15, God created Adam and placed him in the Garden of Eden “to work it and conserve it.” There is also a body of Jewish law called the Law of Neighbors (Hilkhot Shekeinim), which states that there is no presumptive right to cause pollution that damages another’s health, no matter how long we have been doing it. In Psalms, farmers are asked to be conscious of what they plant, not sowing their fields with mingled seeds. Proverbs stresses the importance of trees – which are a great remedy for climate change since they absorb much carbon dioxide and release oxygen. Indeed, planting trees has been a bedrock of our tradition, and a principal part of the Tu BiShvat holiday. The Torah itself is called “a tree of life.” For Jews, Shabbat is an opportunity to step back from everyday activities, which helps preserve the environment. The Torah also stipulates a practice called Shmitta (Sabbatical Year) such that every 7th year shall be a Shabbat for the land; farmers shall not plant that year so as to not overuse the fields. People eat whatever grows on its own in the fields. In Israel, Shmitta is practiced in a lesser form to this day. What else can we do to reverse climate change? I’ve discovered that the climate issue becomes less overwhelming when you work in a group, not just by yourself. That can foster camaraderie and make it a joyful experience, not a grim one. So join with other like-minded people. When you consider the lessons of the Torah, fighting climate change becomes a religious and moral issue, not a matter of politics. As Jews, we can all agree on the moral underpinning of protecting and preserving the environment for ourselves and our children. And we can spread that message to all people of good will. As Jews, who have historically had to survive threats to our existence, we are especially suited to helping the world adapt to and overcome the climate crisis. Which takes us back to the bedrock principle: tikkun olam. Michael Garry is Editor in Chief for shecco, which promotes climate-friendly cooling and heating systems that use natural refrigerants. He is also the author of Game of My Life: New York Mets, published in 2015 and 2018 by Skyhorse Publishing.

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Earth Etude for Elul 20: Rolling

August 27, 2021 No Comments

by Carol Reiman Scroll turners, wooden handles, trees of life, our thumbs evolved, rolled down from years to screens;Leading us through dry sands, streams, times of manna, now of drought;Fires of the burning bush, now woods flaming by dream homes;Wanderers yearning for place,kinship of community, ability to thrive;Where do we take our strength?When do we listen to the land, to those who warn us of what comes?Are we as sturdy as our hopes,As fragile as our whims,Intemperate in our senses,Inconsistent in our care?Lest our drives consume us,Let us rest in the shadows,Break of day or rim of stars,Calm the breath,Listen for the sourceOf streaming bounty,Filling the cupOf thought, body, soul,Nestling us in gentleness,Fluidity, adaptation,Creation again,Rolling usInto life… Carol Reiman’s spiritual resources include Rabbi Katy’s reminders of calm, Jewish and Unitarian Universalist sources, the arts, cats, and human connections.

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Earth Etude for Elul 19: It’s All About the Soil

August 26, 2021 No Comments

by Rabbi Robin Damsky “It’s All About the Soil.” So reads the headline for a website discussing regenerative agriculture. I’m torn between fear and possibility. Evidence of climate change worsens every place we breathe. I read several summaries of the most recent UN report on the climate crisis in which Antonio Guterres declares a “code red for humanity.” Yikes. I’ve always believed we have the power to heal our planet. I still do. But the window of opportunity is getting smaller and the actions we must take are more substantive. There are a bunch of terrifying data in the news. Most of what we need to heal seems out of my/our reach unless governments take a radical look forward and make change accordingly. And then I read about methane gas. We’ve known about carbon neutrality, and it is critical. Yet emissions of methane gas are skyrocketing as well. With large-scale plant [read: traditional one crop farming using pesticides and herbicides] and animal production, methane gas is released into the atmosphere at a far higher rate than it can be captured. Methane creates more than 80 times the planet-warming power of carbon dioxide in the short term. Operative words here: short term. Why? Because addressing methane release feels more immediately within my – and our – reach. It’s all about the soil. Regenerating the soil reduces both carbon and methane emissions. And let’s us breathe. I’ve been growing food for years, and I invest in teaching others to do the same. In May I saw Kiss the Ground, a remarkable movie about regenerative agriculture. While it has far-reaching effects for farming around the globe, not all of us have animal farms. But most of us can have a garden. In their short video, Ron Finley and Rosario Dawson teach us about food gardens, known during WWII as Victory Gardens. Today these home gardens have a place in helping us achieve victory over the warming of our planet. They share these five simple steps to heal the soil and thus, slow – and on a large enough scale, even cease – global warming: Ditch the chemicals Keep the soil covered – with plants! Encourage biodiversity Grow food Compost What if each of us took a small space in our yard – or if we’re in the city – on our terrace or rooftop, and grew vegetables, fruits, herbs? A small bed produces lots of food. And potted plants produce well, too. I’ve been growing food in containers the last few years and the results are awesome. We can start small and still bring powerful results. We are earth beings. Genesis teaches us that “Adam” is the human being that Havayah – the Divine – brought forth from the “adamah” – the earth; the soil. We are literally earth beings. We are the soil. Let’s make the commitment to engage in regenerating our soil, ourselves and our future. Rabbi Robin Damsky has recently launched Limitless Judaism, a project of learning, movement, meditation, melody and practice that draws the lines of connection between our physical bodies, our spiritual expression and Gaia, our earth-cosmos. Embracing this connection, we heal and grow ourselves as we heal and grow our planet. She is also the founder of In the Gardens, a nonprofit that works to enhance health and well-being through organic edible garden design and mindfulness practice. Reach her at: .

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Earth Etude for Elul 18: Perfection

August 25, 2021 No Comments

by Rabbi Katy Allen Perfection. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Intellectually, I know I can’t be perfect. Inside me, in hidden spaces, I feel like I’m not supposed to make mistakes. Which would, of course, mean seeking perfection. Perfection is supposed to belong only to G!d, though I’m not sure I know what that means. Sometimes, when I’m able embrace my humanness, it’s incredibly freeing to acknowledge that I don’t have to be perfect. But I also realize there’s a balance between not trying to be perfect all the time and not trying to never make mistakes. I experience different kinds of feelings when I think about striving toward being a better person all the time versus when I consider in a particular moment what I need to do to be as whole as possible in a particular instant and situation. Those ways of thinking are very different. Considering the moment, just this particular moment, feels doable. Thinking that I must constantly seek to improve and always strive to do the right thing becomes overwhelming. As a climate activist, when I consider climate change, environmental injustice, and the destruction of our environments, I can feel that sense of  being overwhelmed. Listening to people confidently profess that we can absolutely turn around the course of climate change also feels like a tremendous burden that I cannot bear. But when I stop trying to seek perfection regarding the planet and justice, I can also let go and feel a release. When I acknowledge that climate change is already happening and communities are already being devastated, and that this is simply our present reality, not my personal responsibility to fix and to create perfection in the world, I can touch my truer better self. I can let go of the weight upon my shoulders. Neither of these mean that I stop believing we must act, but they take off the pressure. Letting go of a need to achieve perfection in the global sphere makes it easier to breathe and to think just as it does in my personal life. Beginning during Elul and climaxing on Yom Kippur, Jewish tradition, articulated in our liturgy, makes it abundantly clear that we humans are very far from perfect. This Elul, may I fully embrace that reality. May I enter into this season of reflection and atonement humbly putting aside the need to always be right. Rabbi Katy Allen is the founder and rabbi of Ma’yan Tikvah – A Wellspring of Hope, which holds services outdoors all year long, and the founder and President pro-tem of the Jewish Climate Action Network-MA. She is a board certified chaplain and a former hospital and hospice chaplain. She received her ordination from the Academy for Jewish Religion in  Yonkers, NY in 2005 and lives in Wayland, MA with her spouse, Gabi Mezger, who leads the singing at Ma’yan Tikvah.

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Earth Etude for Elul 17: The Birds

August 24, 2021 No Comments

by Rabbi Margaret Frisch Klein “Return again. Return again. Return to the land of our soul.”[1] The liturgy sings. I hear it in my head. This is the season of returning. ~ It’s quiet here. ~ A steaming cup of coffee, Billowing clouds of whipped cream. We thought it would be different by now. Stay at home. Wear a mask. Wash your hands.No guests for Shabbat dinner. ~ Inside, ~ It’s quiet. So very quiet. Too quiet. And lonely. ~ Ready to begin my morning, ~ I choose a book Ready to read, I open the back door, Coffee cup and book in hand. Ready to sit on the deck. ~ The music greets me. It is anything but quiet While the world was healing, The birds returned: Gold finches, cardinals, robins, blue jays, Canada geese, blue heron, sandhill crane. ~ A cacophony of color and sound. They are the guests for New Year. Bringing hope. We can return too. [1] Neshama Carlebach, http://hebrewsongs.com/?song=returnagain Rabbi Margaret Frisch Klein is the rabbi of Congregation Kneseth Israel in Elgin, IL. She blogs as the Energizer Rabbi, www.theenergizerrabbi.org, She enjoys watching the birds on her deck overlooking a retaining pond (that is dangerously low with the severe drought in Northern Illinois this year) or at her dentist’s office where she gratefully watches the birds he feeds. She has noticed that the birds are more prevalent providing a noisy din during the pandemic. She hopes that the pandemic has helped the earth itself to heal, and for us to reset our priorities, living a more authentic life. She is a recipient of a Scientists in the Synagogue grant for bringing science and Torah to our families in a program called “Parsha and Planets on the Prairie.”

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Earth Etude for Elul 16: Lessons Learned from my Garden

August 23, 2021 No Comments

by Maxine Lyons Reflecting on my connection to t’shuvah means returning more mindfully to positive words and actions and performing mitzvot – commandments. T’shuvah also includes recognizing our connection to the earth, and for me, learning what my garden has to teach me. In a short book, Don’t Throw in the Trowel, the author quips, “a garden is a sublime lesson in the unity of humans and nature.” A good garden to me is one that is well planned and cared for, and I am grateful to the Earth’s wisdom and resilience to provide the basis for plants, shrubs and trees to grow and flourish if given the correct nutrients. As I tend my gardens, I am also practicing ways to cultivate and grow into those more healthy body, mind and spiritual aspects of well-being. Through concentrated time of t’shuvah, I am focusing on refining the skills to expand my capacity to be forgiving of the broken and vulnerable places within myself and also forgiving those fragile and difficult places in dear family members and friends. Jewish law clearly outlines biblical concerns to protect the earth. I follow closely many of the more contemporary texts, writings and social justice activities that are so vitally important; they  assist us in learning how to sustain the earth today that benefits all of us globally. I am ending with words from Thich Nhat Hahn, a Buddhist monk who teaches about connection that is one of the five mindfulness trainings. “I will contemplate interbeing and consume in ways that preserve peace, joy and well being and consciousness and in the collective body and consciousness of my family, my society and the Earth.” And let us say, Amen. Maxine Lyons enjoys sharing her understanding of the benefits of Jewish and Buddhist meditation practices, engages in racial justice activities, and is a perennial learner as she gardens in any available space around her home in Newton!

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Earth Etude for Elul 15: Counting to the Next Shmita Year

August 22, 2021 No Comments

by David Krantz Among our more under-appreciated traits, we Jews are counters. We count for a prayer quorum, we count the omer, we count the days of the months to know when our holidays are. We might know the days of the week by their names – Sunday, Monday — but in Hebrew they are Yom Rishon, the First Day, and Yom Sheni, the second day. And before borrowing their current names from the Babylonian calendar, the Jewish months were numbered. What we now know as Elul was once the Sixth Month, leading to the Seventh Month that we now call Tishrei. Counting can (ideally) foster planning and patience. It is by counting that we know when to do what needs to be done. It is because we count that we know not to start Rosh Hashanah until the first day of the Seventh Month — or as it is described on first reference in the Talmud (Mishnah Rosh Hashanah 1:3), 30 days after the start of Elul. So every day of Elul is a count toward Rosh Hashanah, a count we punctuate with a daily blowing of the shofar. To everything there is a season (Ecclesiastes 3:1), we learn, and Elul reminds us that we do not skip ahead. A year ago, in Elul 5780 (there we go counting again), a climate denier was in the White House and his biggest climate-denying enablers were in charge of the Senate. We knew it was the season for organizing, for getting out the vote, for pushing for action so that new leadership could step in and take bold, substantial action on climate change. Now, in Elul 5781, we find ourselves still lacking that desperately needed action on climate change. Perhaps we thought that we could let up our efforts after Election Day, but to everything there is a season, and now remains our season for civic engagement with our elected leadership. Contact them and remind them of the shofar’s call to action. Our sacred Earth is burning from excessive carbon emissions and we must take action. A year ago was our first Elul of this coronavirus pandemic. This Elul we may feel we are done with the pandemic, yet the pandemic is not quite done with us. Viral infections, hospitalizations and deaths remain too high and vaccinations too low. To everything there is a season, and now remains our season of masking, social distancing and vaccination. (And if you have not yet gotten vaccinated and you have access to the vaccine, then now is your season for inoculation!) A year ago we found ourselves in the middle of a crisis of structural racism against ethnic minorities along with nationwide violent acts of hatred. This Elul we unfortunately find that we are still in the season of the fight against these persistent banes. But this Elul we also finish the count of six years of work before beginning a seventh year of rest, the shmita year. In the shmita year, we will have the opportunity to count a year of rest for the land, rest for our fellow animals, and rest for us humans. Yet we need more than that to truly retire. We need our fossil-fuel burning machines and our addiction to them to rest. We need the virus to rest by not giving it the opportunity to spread further. We need the irrational hatred of racism to rest. Clearly we still have much work to do this Elul if we are to be in a better place in Elul 5782. Of course, these tasks are more than any one of us can do alone, however it may not be more than we can do together. On Rosh Hashanah we may fill our thoughts with personal reflection, but we must remember we are all counting on each other. David Krantz is the president of Aytzim: Ecological Judaism

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Earth Etude for Elul 14: Turkey Tails and Teshuvah

August 21, 2021 No Comments

by Rabbi Marisa Elana James In the park near my house is a large tree that fell last winter, the trunk slowly falling into decay thanks to four seasons of sun and rain and snow and wind slowly transitioning it back to the soil. When I pass it on walks, I always stop to see what’s new on the slowly-rotting trunk, because I’ve learned that it’s just as beautiful as the living, flowering trees that surround it. Mushrooms can grow incredibly fast, seemingly appearing from one day to the next, helping break down dead wood while taking nourishment from it. And they don’t need to be exotic to be fascinating. My current favorite mushroom is the turkey tail: a wildly-common mushroom that can be found almost anywhere, in every season, growing in layered rows on dead wood. The big trunk in the park often has rows of turkey tails popping up, usually dark brown with lighter rings, sometimes tinged lavender to almost purple. And the landscape of the trunk changes regularly, especially after rain. Every year, as we enter Elul and approach the new Jewish year, I notice what I’ve lost over the previous year, but it’s often harder to see where I’ve grown. Like mushrooms after a night of rain, our growth often starts invisibly, and the evidence of our growth may seem to appear out of nowhere, unexpectedly. Renewal often depends on decay. The fall of the tree was dramatic, but the growth of the networks of turkey tails has been a slow blossoming, and for me, an unexpected blessing. We may think of teshuvah as only a returning to who and what we have been before, but we are more like trees than typewriters. We don’t reset to an original place; we grow into being fully ourselves in this season, in this year. We become who we are more deeply as we grow in new directions. This Elul, I’m taking my cue from the turkey tails, looking inside to see what small, beautiful things are growing and being nourished by the things I’m leaving behind. This Elul, I’m going to try to visit the tree daily, to remind myself that the dead wood in my soul can nourish the new growth. And this Elul, I bless us all with the ability to appreciate small miracles that emerge to delight us after a storm. Rabbi Marisa Elana James is Director of Social Justice Programming at Congregation Beit Simchat Torah. A graduate of the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College, she was previously a college English teacher, competitive ballroom dancer, insurance broker, student pilot, bookstore manager, and professional Torah reader. Marisa and her wife, contrabassoonist and translator Barbara Ann Schmutzler, live in New York City.

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Earth Etude for Elul 13: Crater Lake

August 20, 2021 No Comments

by Rabbi Shira Shazeer Many months after the world changed After worry, adjustment, connections lost and found Relearning how to live How to work How to family How to community ~ After holding on Holding together Holding, holding, ~ I took to the open road Family in tow To see the land and the wonder it holds ~ To reach out and in and rediscover Who am I Wherever I am In this world ~ I am no Thoreau Not Diana of the Dunes Alone with the world In quiet contemplation Rugged self sufficiency Blissful isolation ~ I sought the beauty and peace of the world With a soundtrack of the sounds of children Filled with wonder, with hunger, with blisters With games, with worries, with joy With singing, with arguing, with whistling ~ And nature teemed with humanity With so many people All searching for peace and awe All in need of relief Of renewal Of wonder All seeking something Beyond home, mask, screen ~ One cool afternoon From a parking lot, slowly emptying We crossed the road and descended Sometimes it is necessary to descend Before we can rise. ~ From the rim of an ancient volcano Into the crater Trees hanging on To the steep incline of rock and soil Down Down To the lake The water clear Blue Pure Guarded ~ Humanity had come here Carefully Respectfully To love, and nurture To feel the power Of this pristine place ~ We arrived late The throngs gone for the day Or leaving as we came ~ At the top of a mountain In the crater of a volcano In the deepest, clearest, bluest lake ~ I immersed body and soul ~ The cold and wet Startling Spreading through my tired limbs and spiritual hiding places Numbing Soothing the pain and tension that build up there when I am too busy to notice ~ Invigorating restorative fresh Living Water ~ The world spins on Changing And unchanging I am ready to return Refreshed ~ Rabbi Shira Shazeer spent this summer traveling and blogging on Shlepn Nakhes, the Great American Pandemic Road Trip with her husband and three children. She studied in the Scholars Circle at Drisha Institute for Jewish Education, received rabbinic ordination from Hebrew College in 2010, and looks forward to completing an additional masters in Jewish Education, with a focus on special education, in the coming year.  After many years serving as school rabbi of a small Jewish day school, Rabbi Shazeer is looking forward to new professional adventures teaching in the learning center at Gann Academy starting this fall.

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Earth Etude for Elul 12~Shmita: The Seven Year Switch

August 19, 2021 No Comments

by Mirele B. Goldsmith This Rosh HaShanah is also the start of the Shmita, the Sabbatical Year.  The Torah’s Shmita focuses on land as the nexus of our relationship to Earth and demands that we let it rest from the damage caused by agriculture. To ensure that everyone can participate, all debts are released.  During the Shmita year the produce of the land is shared so that everyone has what they need to survive.  Today, Earth is threatened by the exploitation of fossil fuels that is causing damage that was unimaginable to our ancestors.  But Shmita gives me hope.  The underlying assumption of the commandment to observe Shmita is that transformation is possible.  Not only can we change ourselves individually through teshuva, but we can change as a society.   We can change the most fundamental rules by which we live to put our world on a sustainable path. Listen to The Seven Year Switch For six long years we’ve muddled along, this year we can right the wrong Why not try a change of pace, take a break from the rat race Listen to my Shmita pitch, get ready for the seven year switch Fertile fields are getting worn, we can’t keep planting so much corn Leave the chemicals at the store, fertilize just with manure Time to climb out of that ditch, get ready for the seven year switch Drilling for coal and oil and gas, ruining the land for short term cash Heating up the atmosphere, let’s stop it for the Shmita year We can’t afford even one more glitch, get ready for the seven year switch Mortgage, student, medical debt, the Torah says forgive and forget Release it so we’ll all be free, reduce the inequality The one percent are way too rich, get ready for the seven year switch The rules of the Sabbatical may sound very radical But if we are adaptable, we can make it practical Now’s the time to scratch that itch, let’s go ahead and make the switch! Mirele B. Goldsmith is co-chairperson of Jewish Earth Alliance, a national, grassroots network empowering Jewish communities to raise a moral voice for climate action to the US Congress. Words and music to The Seven Year Switch, copyright Mirele B. Goldsmith 2014

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Earth Etude for Elul 11: Morning Prayer

August 18, 2021 No Comments

by Judith Felsen I awaken to a world uncertain of its future …Your will…??? ~ I perceive an earth in conflict and divided …Divine design…??? ~ I envision a tomorrow wondering and doubtful Heavenly plan…??? ~ I imagine next year’s future knowing it may not arrive Exalted humbling…??? ~ I experience uncertainty life’s newness in unknowns Celestial opening…??? ~ I dissolve myself in guidance fused in trust Divine order… ??? ~ I enroll as one in service building earth anew Majesty’s request…??? ~ I become a vehicle of reconstruction grateful in employment by mankind My truth… … … ~ Judith Felsen, Ph.D. is a NYS licensed Clinical Psychologist, lover of Torah and Torah study, enthusiast of poetry and literature of the mystics, the natural world, teaching, exploring consciousness, learning, meditation, walking, hiking and most of life’s adventures. She is on the board of BHC, the Mt. Washington Valley Chavurah and Neskaya Movement Arts Center. A resident of Bartlett, N.H. Judith has lived on the edge of the White Mt. National Forest with her husband and two large rescue dogs where she is an active community member. Since covid she has resided in Long Beach, N.Y..  A 2nd generation Holocaust survivor and long Covid survivor. She and her husband love  family, friends, the ocean, boardwalk, the garden, canine connections and deep relationships with the world of nature. Judith writes, offers consulting and gives dvar’s on Torah portions upon request.

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Earth Etude for Elul 10: Too Much of a Good Thing, or When All You’ve Ever Wanted is Really Too Much

August 17, 2021 No Comments

by Rabbi Judy Kummer When this summer started, we in the Northeast were facing a drought. The levels of water in area lakes seemed to be down by as much as 4 feet, and rivers that should have been tumbling with early spring melt weren’t rushing and gurgling so much as dribbling, the vegetation on their nearby banks a droopy stunted mess. I was skeptical that the seedlings I had nurtured indoors all winter would survive if planted in my garden. And then, as we moved into summer, the rains began to fall. Where we gardeners may have expected an occasional rainfall to water our gardens, rainfall which would need to be supplemented with regular watering by hose, instead it has seemed that almost every day we have received rain — and these were no gentle summer showers; instead, torrents of rain have fallen, soaking and re-soaking already sodden ground. Tomato plants accustomed to warm baking weather have yellowed and wilted, and the mosquitoes have been having a field day in the jungle that has appeared almost overnight in my back yard. And all of this is in the face of a hellish contrasting image of terrible drought and wildfires in the western part of the US.  My kishke / internal response has gone in several directions.  First, we have a right to wish for things to be good in life! I think of the Talmudic sage Honi the Circle Maker who earned his sobriquet during a drought, when he drew a circle around himself in the dust and told God he would not leave the circle until it would rain. A light drizzle began to fall, at which point Honi shook his fist at the heavens and demanded that God send down more substantial rains. When torrential rains began to fall, he again took issue with God and demanded rains of goodwill and blessing — at which point proper rains began to fall. It really is OK to be asking for just what it is that we need in life, and not be satisfied until we get it. And then, once our needs have been satisfied, the challenge is to shift our response away from a sense of scarcity and toward a sense of abundance and gratitude. While it’s always a good thing to conserve our blessings, setting up a water barrel — physical or metaphoric — to save blessings like water against a future drought, it’s also important to express our gratitude and to savor the blessings we have received in life. The overgrown plants in my back yard may be feeling to me like just too much — but when I give myself a chance to focus on them, I can be aware of the miracles present in my yard on an everyday basis. Expressing gratitude and really savoring our blessings are two gifts we can give ourselves, as if to underline the good fortune we are enjoying, deepening the experience of having received these gifts in life and as if watering our own souls. We live in a society plagued by a scarcity mentality, where more is always considered a good thing. What would it be like to try on a mentality of abundance, of “enough-ness,” and savor what we actually do have, rather than always wishing for more? And while we are thinking of “enough-ness,” perhaps we can harness the inclination in our hearts for “more, more, more” to feel energized in joining others and taking action to fight the environmental degradation that has tipped our natural world so out of balance. “Im lo achshav, aymatai?” we read in Pirke Avot, “if not now, when?”
 So how can we deal with having too much of a good thing? By setting up a rain barrel, conserving blessing to last beyond today. By savoring that blessing, and finding a way to enjoy the jungle that ensues. By letting it spur us to take action around environmental degradation. May our efforts truly be blessed! Rabbi Judy Kummer is a board-certified chaplain working in person and remotely in her spiritual care private practice, Spiritual Support for Life’s Journey. Among the organizational work she has done, Rabbi Kummer has served as Executive Director of the Jewish Chaplaincy Council of Massachusetts for 18 years and and the Massachusetts Board of Rabbis for two years. She has worked as a chaplain at Hebrew SeniorLife and has served congregations in Washington DC, Long Island and New Jersey. She is a composer, contemporary liturgist, hiker, artist and organic gardener.  She lives and gardens outside of Boston, MA.

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Can the Climate Crisis Bring Israeli and Diaspora Jews Together?

August 17, 2021 1 Comment

by Dr. Dov Maimon and Ambassador Gideon Behar ~The challenge of climate change may constitute a unique opportunity for joint action, especially among young Jews in Israel and the Diaspora, that would not only benefit the entire world, but also help create a renewed sense of mission for the Jewish people. Jews from across the globe could be mobilized for a task that transcends narrow Jewish interests: that of building an ecologically and socially responsible world, or in traditional Jewish terms: Tikkun Olam. Unlike the issue of human rights that galvanized young people a generation ago but also led to many disagreements, the climate crisis sparks no inherent tension between Diaspora and Israeli Jews. It is a global phenomenon, everyone is “in the same boat” facing dangers that are already making themselves felt. Beyond that, Israel has a major competitive advantage in conceiving, designing, and advancing eco-friendly technologies, as well as unique technological capabilities for mitigating the dire effects of climate change and other environmental threats. For example, Israel is a world leader in the development of cutting-edge methods to combat desertification – one of the greatest threats facing mankind. About 75 percent of the land area in more than 100 countries suffers from desertification processes, and it is estimated that about 50 million people may be displaced from their homes by 2030 due to this environmental challenge. For Israel, the growing global mobilization around environmental issues is, therefore, a unique opportunity to strengthen ties with Diaspora communities. Jewish youth around the world and in Israel share an increasing concern about the severe perils of climate change and seek significant ways to mitigate them. The time has come to launch a global Jewish call for action in response to this pressing challenge. Repairing and improving the complicated relationship between Israel and the Diaspora requires a new approach. Collaboration to achieve unifying goals, such as addressing climate change, makes good sense. This new call to action should meet two criteria that are not tactical/utilitarian but rather ideological and spiritual in nature: the new mission proposed for the Jewish people will have to be consistent with moral messages embedded in Jewish tradition, and it will have to resonate with an existential urgency for a large share of young people in the West. From our experience in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs over the past year, which included organizing joint events for Israeli and Diaspora activists through Israeli missions abroad, we see that this direction is bearing real fruits. The enthusiasm evident in these meetings attests to a new positive energy that should be harnessed to strengthen ties within the Jewish people for the benefit of all mankind. We saw in the participants a great passion for the cause and a desire to continue to developing dialogue toward joint action. It is without a doubt a bridge, a means to bring Jewish hearts together with a sense of shared purpose and a desire to unite to make a better world and ensure a viable future for the next generations. Dr. Dov Maimon, Senior Fellow at the Jewish People Policy Institute (JPPI), coordinates JPPI’s activity in the sphere of climate change. An expert on Jewish thought and an agricultural engineer by training, he teaches in the Social Leadership MBA program at Ben-Gurion University. Ambassador Gideon Behar is the Special Envoy for Climate Change and Sustainability at Israel’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

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Earth Etude for Elul 9~ Environmental Justice and the Legacy of Redlining: A Call for Teshuvah

August 16, 2021 No Comments

by Courtney Cooperman Jewish teachings about environmental stewardship emphasize our responsibility to protect Creation for future generations. In the Garden of Eden, God instructs Adam and Eve: “Take care not to spoil or destroy My world, for if you do, there will be no one to repair it after you” (Midrash Ecclesiastes Rabbah 7:13). Although Judaism frames our responsibility to care for the planet in forward-looking terms, our commitment to environmental protection demands that we look backwards, too. The concept of teshuvah requires that we consider the connection between historic injustices and who bears the burdens of environmental harm. In North America, People of Color are disproportionately exposed to environmental hazards and lack equal access to environmental benefits. This concept, known as environmental injustice, was first articulated by grassroots leaders of Color in the 1980s. As the white-led, mainstream environmental movement focused on the degradation of nature, People of Color organized around the environmental harms affecting their own communities: the contaminated water they drank, the polluted air they breathed, and the toxic waste sites in their neighborhoods. The concentration of environmental harms in Communities of Color is the product of centuries of systemic racism, including a New Deal-era policy called “redlining.” During the Great Depression, the federal government established the Home Owners’ Loan Corporation (HOLC) to provide emergency relief and support homeownership. HOLC created “residential security maps” to determine the supposed “riskiness” of lending in any given neighborhood, explicitly basing its designations on race rather than proof of creditworthiness. HOLC mapped white neighborhoods in green, labeling them safe investments, and Black neighborhoods in red, deeming them unsuitable borrowers. Federal disinvestment from Black communities drove down property values, making these neighborhoods more attractive to projects that required a lot of cheap land—like highways and industrial sites, which are made with heat-absorbing asphalt and concrete. Decades later, in a warming world, communities of Color are suffering the consequences. Formerly redlined neighborhoods are an average of five degrees Fahrenheit warmer than non-redlined neighborhoods within the same metropolitan areas. Meanwhile, green-rated neighborhoods enjoy the benefits of denser tree canopy, which provides shade and cools down streets. Redlining bears significant responsibility for the racially inequitable impact of climate change. To address the intersecting crises of climate change and systemic racism, our country must collectively repent and make amends for the sin of redlining. For those of us who benefit from policies that subsidized white wealth-building and left Black families behind, we must do our own personal teshuvah, acknowledge our complicity in an unjust system, and work to repair its ongoing harms.   Courtney Cooperman is a 2020-2021 Eisendrath Legislative Assistant at the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism. Her policy portfolio includes environmental and climate justice, economic justice and labor issues, reproductive rights, hate crimes, and international religious freedom. She studied Political Science at Stanford University, where she wrote an honors thesis on homelessness as an obstacle to political participation. Originally from New Jersey, she currently resides in Washington, D.C.

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Earth Etude for Elul 8: Not What I Want

August 15, 2021 No Comments

by Rabbi Benjamin Weiner On the road to the farmstore in my electric car, the baby starting to doze in her safety seat, and the man in his cold British tones, explaining to the listeners an inexorable future of unmanageable heat, and the hostess says: I’m sorry, but that’s all the time we have, and she moves on to the new war in Afghanistan. ~ In the mornings, when I wake too early, and hear the sound of cars on the highway by my door, I lie as still as possible, willing the fixity I can no longer uncover in the outer world to sink into my bones. ~ When the baby comes in, I hold her with vague arms, and stroke the softness of her skin, and run my fingers through her red-black hair like a comb, and say a little prayer in my head to ward away the pleasure that will only hurt me in the end. ~ I go downstairs and, for a brief moment, cower in the beauty of my bursting son, then outside to a grey rainless sky, the garden in bloom, no longer by divine right, but accident, the maple, tall and proud like a grandfather who doesn’t know he’s dying, and— ~ when it isn’t the panic, it’s just the dull relentless ache of nothing certain but mortal change, and things not being what I want. Benjamin Weiner is the spiritual leader of the Jewish Community of Amherst.  He lives with his wife and two children on their three-acre homestead farm in Western Massachusetts.

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Earth Etude for Elul 7: Trees from my travels spell hope for civilization

August 14, 2021 No Comments

by Susie Davidson Desert trees in Los Cerillos, New Mexico Trees by the Mississippi River in Burlington Iowa Trees with a red bush accent in Yorba Linda, California Trees on a red rock in the American Southwest When people admire my frequent traveling, I always say yes, but it’s budget travel. “But that’s the best way to really see places,” they usually respond. It’s true. Not only do I get to mingle with locals and walk all over, but on buses and trains, you see the outer landscapes. You see the fields, the hills, the bodies of water, the crops and the grazing animals. When lucky, you see the coast. And when super lucky, you see the trees. “I think that I shall never see/A poem lovely as a tree,” wrote Joyce Kilmer in 1914. “A tree whose hungry mouth is prest/Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;/A tree that looks at God all day,/And lifts her leafy arms to pray,” he beautifully and aptly continued. And he humbly finished: “Poems are made by fools like me,/But only God can make a tree.” This is spiritually true. The Torah contains many passages that praise trees, and warn against cutting them down. And in Deuteronomy 15:27, Rabeynu Bachya said the 12 springs before them in Elim represented the 12 tribes, and the 70 palm trees, the 70 then nations of the world. In a July 14 Boston Globe op-ed about the current climate crisis, Marie E. Antoine and Stephen C. Sillett of Humboldt State University of California referred to trees as “one part of the solution growing all around us.” They explained how trees alone can’t save the world, but can help. “Few organisms are as incredible as giant trees,” they wrote. “Contemplate the sheer magnitude of what they do. A tiny seed finds a nook for germination. The seedling roots connect to symbiotic soil fungi. The sapling forages for resources — light, water, nutrients. The treetop grows hopefully ever upward… Its lifespan may be long enough for human civilizations to rise and fall.” Human awareness and behavior certainly seem to fall far more than rise. But Antoine and Sillett, calling trees “biodiversity refuges and massive carbon sinks,” find some salvation. “They occupy only a small portion of the planet’s surface, but they store huge amounts of carbon and provide critical arboreal habitat,” they write. During the pandemic, people headed outdoors and rediscovered the joys of walking in nature. They felt its healing, calming influence. They breathed in the negative ions, and a connection that had been lost in all of the hustle and bustle of life as we knew it. The trees were waiting for us, giving, not taking, as always. Our sages well understood this. In “A Garden of Choice Fruits (Shomrei Adamah, 1991), Rabbi David E. Stein cited Rabbi Abraham ben Maimonides: “In order to serve God, one needs access to the enjoyment of the beauties of nature – meadows full of flowers, majestic mountains, flowing rivers. For all these are essential to the spiritual development of even the holiest of people.” On April 25, five days before Arbor Day, Globe columnist Thomas Farragher featured Boston arborist Max Ford-Diamond, who cares for the health and wellbeing of some 40,000 area trees. “This is a guy who helps put the emerald in the Emerald Necklace,” Farragher wrote. The outlook for Boston is encouraging. “Each year, we plant between 1,000 and 1,600 trees,” Ford-Diamond explained. “This year, we’re hoping to plant 2,000 trees. We got a very large increase in our budget, thanks to the City Council. We went from $750,000 to $1.7 million.” “That’s a lot of trees,” Farragher marvels. We need every single one. Tu BiShvat, the 15th day of the Hebrew month of Shevat, is called “Rosh HaShanah La’Ilanot,” or “New Year of the Trees.” It is a grand, green festival in Israel. Trees work double duty for us, and deserve a couple of new years. This Rosh Hashanah, let’s rededicate ourselves to the beautiful green life forces around us that might possibly save our civilization. ~ Susie Davidson, a Boston-based journalist, is a columnist for Wicked Local | Gannett | USA Today Network. She has contributed to HuffPost, the Houston Chronicle, the Forward, the Jewish Advocate, JewishBoston.com, Haaretz, JPost and other national and international media. She is currently writing a book on the history of protest music for Charlesbridge Publishing.

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Earth Etude for Elul 6: I Am a Terrible Gardener

August 13, 2021 No Comments

by Rabbi Megan Doherty I am a terrible gardener. But I garden anyway. I hate weeding. I water my plants too much, or too little. I don’t know from fertilizer, or mulch, or those fancy cages which keep out the deer and the birds. I live in rural Ohio, and when I look at the thriving mini-farms my neighbors create and tend, I want to throw my hands up in despair. But I plant. One year, my dad showed up at our house with a bunch of lumber and built raised beds in our backyard. The process was a beacon for awestruck kindergartners, who showed up with wide eyes and endless questions and were eventually allowed to ‘help’. Our next-door neighbor brought us a truck bed full of soil. So every spring, I select seed packets in a fit of blind optimism. I carefully follow the directions for depth and distance, giving each seed no more than its place and no less than its space. I even start out mindfully watering. I go out in the cool magic of early morning, or the rose-gold of twilight, to offer what care I can to the thirsty potential hiding under the dirt. But then it rains, and it throws me off my schedule. Weeds creep in, and I don’t catch them before they put down roots and decide to stay awhile. (It’s hard to argue with them – I also think this piece of land is a beautiful spot to raise a family.) I travel, for work and for fun, and no one else remembers to check on the plants. I come home to beds that look like jungles, parched earth, and a feeling that I can’t possibly ever get back any control, or make this space more beautiful. But then one day, in late July or early August, I wander past the vibrant overgrowth of the beds (which I have been looking away from in shame for days or weeks) and I find tomatoes. Giant cucumbers. Purple beans and sweet peas. Just waiting to be noticed and plucked from their vines. The bounty stuns me. I am in awe of the way the peas and beans are using the weeds for scaffolding. The cucumbers looping and whirling their way over the tops of the beds and almost on to the lawn. Bright orange tomatoes smugly growing over and around the lamb’s ear and crabgrass trying to horn in on their turf. Every year in Elul I reflect on the distance between who I am and who I aspire to be. And, in a good year, I pull back and reflect even on my aspirations. Is my heart’s focus on the shiny promotion, the dream fellowship, the glorious rows of corn my neighbor grows? Or is my soul craving a chance to shape my community, to deepen my learning and my friendships, to celebrate the miracle of food grown from sunshine, water and dirt. I am a terrible gardener. But my garden still grows. Rabbi Megan Doherty (she/her) is the Director of Hillel and Campus Jewish Life at Oberlin College.  She is a graduate of the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College. She is a certified Jewish Mindfulness Meditation Instructor through the Institute for Jewish Spirituality, and is a graduate of the Hartman Institute’s Fellowship for Campus Professionals. She has an extensive background in facilitation and mediation, and is a state-certified mediator in the state of Ohio. She serves on the board of the Reconstructionist Rabbinical Association, and was a founding co-chair of the Reconstructionist Movement’s Israel Commission. She lives (and attempts to garden) in Oberlin, Ohio, with her partner, their daughter, and their dog.

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Earth Etude for Elul 5: Choosing Life as Nerds for the Earth

August 12, 2021 No Comments

by Harvey Michaels ~Moses’ final message from G-d: This day…I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live.  For millennia we have reflected on what it means to choose life; realizing that it is not always our life we’re choosing – our choices are more about our children and theirs; our communities, and our world. What does it mean to Choose Life for the Earth?  In recent years, I’m privileged to ask this question to classrooms of talented young people, and learned that when given the space to creatively engage this question, informed by science and their hearts, good choices come to light.  These students are Nerds for the Earth – not only learning but seeing what others haven’t yet seen; many then choose life with career paths towards making our world a better place.  Love for Earth is Universal. A remarkable cross-section of America gathered for the first Earth Day in 1970, in retrospect a holy day of teshuva when we first asked: will we fix the messes we’ve made of this world?  We then chose life with profound actions to remove poisons from our air and water. Today, addressing climate, our mission is again clear: to repair the Earth by transitioning from fossil fuel use quickly, with Environmental Justice by helping those most impacted by the worsening plagues of fire, sea level rise, and extreme weather. To choose life for our Earth, we must learn. We need courage to act, but also collective wisdom for our choices to result in a true solution. Our wisdom is improving: most of us have learned that climate change is a real problem, and was caused by our choices to burn fossil fuels. What many of us haven’t learned is that there still is hope – it is possible to stop climate change in time to prevent the worst effects; it’s not too expensive, and makes our lives better.  But let’s learn the specifics; how our home heat, travel, food must change. To choose life for our Earth, we must act together. The true question about hope is not can we, but will we? Like the first Earth Day, we can come together – but not by linking climate action to a political or age group. A good Earth is for all of us: let’s share the joy of healing it from climate change. As age 16 Greta Thunberg taught us: climate education builds conviction to unite behind the science. When millions joined her Friday strikes, world leaders listened to them, and many young people she inspired began to find their own paths as Nerds for the Earth. She and they in turn inspire me to keep doing, keep teaching, keep learning – frequently from them. A lovely day, in a beautiful place, especially with people we love, is a holy place that will live on in our hearts.  But so many are now being driven from their holy places by plagues brought by climate change; and the profound moments we experience today in our holy places might not be there in years to come – unless we choose to learn, act, and help others.  Choosing Life to repair the Earth is a choice we have; in service for all who want to learn, all who need our help, and all that will follow us.  Harvey Michaels enjoys being an MIT faculty member, teaching and learning about Energy and Climate Innovation, while investigating climate plan initiatives for cities, the state and federal government. He also engages in environmental justice advocacy, participating in JCAN, GBIO, and synagogue initiatives, among others. Before returning to MIT in 2008, Harvey led an energy efficiency company for many years.

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Earth Etude for Elul 4: A Letter to Mother Earth

August 11, 2021 No Comments

by Rabbi Judy Schindler Dear Mother Earth, As we spiritually make our way through the month of Elul and approach the anniversary of your and our creation, you are in our prayers for healing. An illness extends across the globe – COVID-19.  We know that you can feel it.  You wonder why people wear masks when the air should be so perfect to inhale. You cringe that we have come to fear rains and their floods, winds and their consequent hurricanes, when instead we should stand in awe of the miraculous cycles of your natural world. We have learned  many lessons during the pandemic. Mother Earth, we have learned how beautiful you are. As we have stopped during the year gone by, we have learned that our busyness – so much of our driving, our flying, our racing from place to place — was at your expense.  We are called human beings but we have forgotten how to be – in relationship with ourselves, with our neighbors, and with you. In Genesis, we were given simple instructions. Adam, the first human being, was created from adamah, the earth. He was placed in the garden, and he, and consequently we, were given a two-fold obligation, “to till it and to tend it.” Boundaries were set so that as we labored over the land we would protect it. One day a week, the earth gets Shabbat. One year in seven, the earth gets shmita, a sabbatical year of lying fallow for rejuvenation. Mother Earth,  we have learned that we are all interconnected. What happens in China, what happens in India, what happens in Washington, impacts us all – whether COVID-19 or climate change. In harming you, we have harmed our neighbors. Cities across our globe have been segregated by socioeconomic status where almost all outcomes are determined by the lot of land on which our children are born – educational outcomes, health outcomes, exposure to environmental harm. Not only is humanity facing a pandemic, but you are sick, too. Your temperature is increasing. Your symptoms are getting worse. The longer we wait to act, the more you and consequently we are struggling with extreme weather.  We are so sorry for our neglect. Mother Earth, Your treatment requires a change of behavior – our turning from our dependence on fossil fuels to green energy. The time is now – to love God and love our neighbor through our love of you. ~ Hafiz, a 14th century Muslim writer, wrote a poem called A Love Like That. Even after all this time the sun never says to the earth, “You owe Me.” Look what happens with a love like that. It lights the whole sky. The earth would die if the sun stopped kissing her. ~ Mother Earth, may we, like the sun, kiss you and love you daily through our actions, tending to you and healing you. Mi shebeirach, may the one who blessed our ancestors, bless and heal you, O earth, and enable us to do the same. Amen. Rabbi Judy Schindler is the Sklut Professor of Jewish Studies and the Director of the Center for Peace and Social Justice at Queens University of Charlotte, and Rabbi Emerita of Temple Beth El in Charlotte.

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Earth Etude for Elul 3: Joining Fifty Years of Mystic River Watershed Environmental Advocacy

August 11, 2021 No Comments

by Karen L. Grossman In 2009 I was invited to get involved with the Mystic River Watershed Association, established in 1972 with a long, hard mission of environmental advocacy. As a board member for 10 years, I was able to admire how we partnered with other groups to champion environmental changes for MA, pursuing concerns with land use and transportation, involving the location of the Alewife Red Line Station, a highway building moratorium, the Amelia Earhart Dam completion, While tabling at events, I spread the word that MyRWA counteracted pollution and development, had targeted Grace Chemical’s responsibility for the childhood leukemia cluster in Woburn, MA and other local Federal Superfund and toxic waste sites. Our advocacy, beginning in 2012, helped rebuild the Mystic Lakes Dam and beyond with fish ladders. Watching the fish on the fishcam, I rejoiced when the counts in the Mystic River herring migration tripled to 750,000! My biggest challenge was obtaining a hundred prize donations for the Annual Herring Run and Paddle Races. I also participated in cleanups, sponsored “Reverse Tashlich” and “Plastover” with my temple, advocated for legislation, and attended MyRWA conferences and talks. Travelling to cities and towns in the watershed was a great opportunity for me to discuss climate change resilience.  The main Mystic River/Lakes now have an EPA Water Quality Grade of A-! I continue to support a vision focused on a better future. Since I joined nearly 50 years of persistence, my part in environmental action continues to evolve along with MyRWA’s! As a result of my involvement over the years, I have embraced the conscientious attitude I need to alter my own bad habits by minimizing single use plastic and composting natural kitchen waste, doing my best to improve the environment. I hope you’ll think about how you can contribute to this movement, too! Karen L. Grossman is a retired speech and language pathologist, a member of Temple Shir Tikvah, Winchester, MA’s Adult Social Committee, past Board member of the Mystic River Watershed Association, presently on the Outreach and Development Committees, and President of the Friends of Spy Pond Park, Arlington, MA.  She welcomes your comments to regarding the above ideas and refers you to: www.mysticriver.org for more details of MyRWA’s history leading up to the 50th anniversary of the organization.

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