IKAR Sermons & Talks

Sifting through a dense catalog of state regulations in search of some inspiration for the High Holy Days - with some help from the Ba'al Shem Tov and Abraham Maslow.

As we prepare to bring our oldest to college, I feel for Moses, struggling to say goodbye to his own children as they stand poised to enter the Promised Land, knowing this is a journey they must take without his guiding presence by their side. Somehow, amidst the confused, rambling contradictions, Moses helps b’nai Yisraelremember what matters most, and reminds us just what we need to hear as well.

Tisha b’Av is a day of communal grief-- we fast, lament and hold the memory of the greatest catastrophes the Jewish people have endured. The danger in revisiting the tragedies of generations past is that our rituals foster a distorted self-perception, a feeling of eternal victimization. Instead, we must remember because grief is an expression of love, because there is an urgent moral message in the stories of our suffering that we must hear today, and because we are drawn again and again, through our collective grief, into

The Legend of Serah bat Asher. And a commandment we too often overlook.

The Israelites have begun complaining. They say they miss the meat and melons they had back in Egypt. Really?! After God freed them from slavery and is raining down manna from heaven?! These ungrateful wretches! Disgraceful. But, then again…are really they so different from us?

In such a turbulent time we need to remember what love looks like. The unique mutual devotion of the biblical heroines Naomi and Ruth teaches us that our interpersonal relationships can have transformative and healing power — for us, our descendants, and the human community.

A Jewish response to the recently leaked Supreme Court draft opinion intending to overturn Roe v. Wade. Find the transcript on our website: https://ikar.org/sermons/im-a-private-person/

Our Passover story was made possible by a quiet revolutionary spirit manifested through four female archetypes.

One of the silver linings of the pandemic is that we have all become better readers of Leviticus. Source sheet: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1nKrbAHi8Kx9U8WJSm8nJC2vSPRn_XLRTIwxs5qdJI0g/edit

You know the cycle. Front page headlines retreat to the back pages and eventually disappear from both the paper and our attention. Even the most horrifying headlines, those emerging from the brutal war in Ukraine, risk being ignored in the frenetic pace of our news cycle. We must not turn away. Even in the absence of a clear political path forward, we need to keep our hearts open to the stories, pleas, and suffering of the Ukrainian people, responding with empathy, advocacy, and resources.

To maintain that only certain expressions of humanity are sacred, that some lives are inherently more valuable than others, is fundamentally incompatible with the truths of our tradition and the core principles of a moral society. As we face the unfolding tragedy in Ukraine alongside a growing refugee crisis worldwide, we must heed the call of our tradition to love the stranger, opening our hearts and borders to all those in need of safe refuge. We are all made in the image of God, interconnected and morally accountable to one another.

What if the redemption our tradition intended was not that of some cataclysmic historical shift, but was about brief and fleeting moments of goodness and light that shine within the chaos and darkness that invariably surrounds us. Real moments with real meaning, and that neither could nor should last forever.