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I’d like to start off with a rhetorical question. Usually not the best way to start a sermon, but since I’m here, why not?! No, that’s not the question. The question is: have you ever had a potential conversation you were dreading? It is a conversation you played over and over in your mind, piecing out all of the different possible scenarios and all the ways the discussion could go crooked, that it became a source of great anxiety. And the more you thought about it, the more you put it off. Until finally, you had no choice, and it needed to take place … Then, when it did, it went as smoothly as one could ever possibly imagine. There was no argument. There was no disagreement. It went so well, you were left wondering why you put it off in the first place, and instead let it take up so much space in your head. Then you vowed never to do such a thing again, well, at least until the next difficult conversation?

I ask this very long rhetorical question for two reasons. The first is, this week, we are reading from Parashat Pinchas. Tomorrow, at Torah study, we’ll be doing a deep dive, I hope, into Pinchas and the power and limitations of religious zealotry. But tonight, I wanted to take a few moments to look at the story of Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah, and Tirzah, collectively referred to as the daughters of Zelophechad. See the daughters had a problem. Their father, Zelophechad, died in the Sinai wilderness. Not only that, he died without having any sons. This meant, that once the Israelites reached the land of Canaan, and the land was divided up among the tribes and clans, they would be left without any inheritance. 

The Torah notes how the daughters, who in a rare twist, are not only mentioned by name, but are mentioned by name again, when we hear further about the story in parashat Masei at the end of the book of Numbers.

As the Torah states, Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah, and Tirzah … stood before Moses, Eleazar the priest, the chieftains and the whole assembly, at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting and they said, “Our father died in the wilderness. He was not one of the faction, Korah’s faction, which banded together against Adonai, but died for his own sin; and he has left no sons. Let not our father’s name be lost to his clan just because he had no son! Give us a holding among our father’s kinsmen!”  Moses then brought their case to God, who agreed with them.

As the WRJ Women’s Torah Commentary notes, “one notes two striking features of the story. First, disenfranchised women successfully confront an unjust system and propose a more equitable law. Second, God approves of their proposal and formulates it as a new law, one that enables other women as well to inherit land in certain circumstances.” 

As is further noted, “the women first challenge an unfair system but then immediately propose a solution. Their choice of words is astute. They use the language of loyalty to family, making a claim on behalf of their dead father. By emphasizing the desire to perpetuate their father’s name, they speak to a timely communal and familial concern in an era of transition.”  Or to borrow from the teaching of Rabbi Mary Zamore, they were really strategic in their approach to maximize their chances of ‘yes.’

But I can’t help wonder about what the conversation between the sisters may have looked like before they approached Moses, Eleazar the priest, the chieftains, and the whole assembly at the most public place in the entire encampment. How intimidating it must have been. How scary it must have been. And how much courage it must have taken to go and speak truth to power. These are the details the Torah leaves out, and yet, in many ways, these are the details we can most relate to. 
The second reason why I asked the rhetorical question is because Temple Israel is beginning a new journey in its illustrious 152-year history. I am honored to follow in the footsteps of such luminaries as Rabbi Brooks and Rabbi Azriel. And I am so grateful to Rabbi Appel for all of the hard work she and others have done to guide and support this transition.

And of course, we’ve also been through a pandemic which has changed so many ways we approach life and Jewish life, to which we are just only beginning to truly emerge. Though we should not that through the pandemic, you have been blessed with the steady, warm, engaging, and thoughtful leadership, not just of lay leaders and wonderful staff, but also with the incredibly talented and dedicated clergy of Rabbi Berezin and Cantor Alexander. 

As we begin this next step in the life of Temple Israel, we are going to have the chance to get to know one another and hopefully have many meaningful conversations and shared experiences together. And Joy, the kids and I are committed to becoming a part of the Temple Israel community, the Omaha Jewish community and the greater Omaha community. Already, we are so happy we are here, and you have been so warm and kind in welcoming us. And a special shout out to the transition committee that has been so dedicated in helping not just set up meet-and-greets, but also in keeping an eye out for our house since we closed on it in April. And a special thanks to Jess and Louri for all of their hard work in helping this transition be so smooth.

Much of this first year, of my first year, is really going to be focused on getting to know you and getting to know the community. 

Which brings us back to Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah, and Tirzah. Especially being in a community with so much transition, it can feel like your experiences might have been minimalized or overlooked. Let’s face it, this is part of the reality of transition. For the daughters of Zelophechad, it was one of the greatest transitions of all. They witnessed and experienced the redemption, the transition from slavery to freedom. They were there when a revolt, led by Korach presented an existential crises for Moses and for God. But rather than be overwhelmed of fearful, they chose to speak up. They trusted that Moses would ultimately look out for them. But this trust had to be earned and experienced.

One of the more popular unscripted series of Netflix currently is Jewish Matchmaking. Joy introduced me to them, and though I have not watched the series in their entirety, I am in awe of the work done by Aleeza Ben Shalom. In Jewish Matchmaking Aleeza’s work is not easy, as she has to try to find matches for some very particular individuals. But she believes in her heart that there is a match for everyone. And goodness knows, because of the nature of some of her clients she certainly has her work cut out for her.

Finding a good match means in part, finding someone who loves you for who you are. Who will support your journey, and wants to grow with you. Not to stretch the metaphor too far, so too, it is for congregations and rabbis. The placement process is strange because we essentially have one blind date, get married and then start to get to know each other. Now, I will readily state that I am oversimplifying it a bit, but because of the sacred work done by the search committee led by Susie and Geoff, I am here today. But now, to borrow from the metaphor, the dating begins, or really, the getting to know one another.

And this is where you come in. To borrow from the tradition of Zelophechad’s daughters, we encourage you not just to introduce yourselves, but to also speak up. To raise issues of concern and of conscience. To speak about experiences both positive and challenging, so that we can begin to build a sacred relationship together built on the foundations of trust, mutuality and respect.

In his book, Start with Why, Simon Sinek writes,  “Trust does not emerge simply because a seller makes a rational case why the consumer should buy a product or service, or because an executive promises change, Trust is not a checklist. Fulfilling all your responsibilities does not create trust. Trust is a feeling, not a rational experience. We trust some people and companies even when things go wrong, and we don’t trust others even though everything might have gone exactly as it should have. A completed checklist does not guarantee trust. Trust begins to emerge when we have a sense that another person or organization is driven by … a sense of value.” Or in this case, as sense of shared Jewish values and experiences.

We are now all on a shared journey together. We welcome your words, your thoughts, your concerns, your hopes, your frustrations, and your dreams. The Israelites did not reach the promised land in one day. Equality and egalitarianism in our tradition is still a dream that we are working towards every day. And our sacred relationship as a historic and modern congregation is one that will be based on mutuality, understanding and respect. But it will take time. 

But I can assure you, now that we have unpacked almost every box, we are in no rush to do that again for many, many years. My hope is to remain here as long as you will have me. For I am so excited to be in partnership with all of you. A sacred partnership. A holy partnership. And it is my hope and prayer that even Aleeza Ben Shalom would look at us and say, “you know what, this is a pretty good match. Perhaps even a besheret.” 

Cayn Yehi Ratzon, May This Be God’s Will
Shabbat Shalom

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Watch the entirety of Friday’s service here. 

Temple Talk is a recap of sermons given from the Bimah for those who missed a Sermon or who wanted to revisit the words spoken at a previous sermon.