For many of us, the image of an oasis has long been embedded in our cultural and personal memories. Certainly films such as Peter O’Toole’s portrayal in Lawrence of Arabia contributed to that, yet the concept of a sanctuary in a harsh world has a special resonance, and oases sometimes figured in childhood cartoons. The juxtaposition of a verdant, palm-filled watering hole set amid seemingly unending sands creates a sense of relief.
Mel Sirner was my senior rabbi during my first tenure after rabbinical school. It's likely you haven't heard of him because he showed no interest in fame, enhancing his reputation, or earning a spot on lists of America's most influential rabbis. Instead, he consistently dedicated himself to his work, guiding his community with unparalleled steadiness. His aversion to the spotlight, a hallmark of American success, was a natural extension of his character—kind, genuine, and devoid of ego—qualities as rare as they are essential for anyone in the rabbinate.
We are well past words, though the wicked chants that have brought us here continue. On Monday night, February 26, 2024, a 200-person-strong mob of pro-Palestinian protesters, The Bears of Palestine, gathered outside the Zellerbach Playhouse on the University of California’s Berkeley campus. Yes, a mob, not a protest, as will shortly become clear to those who missed this story.
Times are challenging; the vision of a shared society seems harder for many to maintain in our era, whether we are discussing life within Israel’s “Green Line,” the recent decision about frozen embryos issued by Alabama’s Supreme Court, refugee policy in Europe, or China’s surveillance state and restricted human rights. It is difficult to ascertain whether things are worse today than in previous eras; it seems clear, however, that a great many people feel things are worse, and this impacts their capacity to work toward the better world we all wish would arrive sooner than it ever does. Many people are throwing their hands up.
When is a material gift spiritual, and when is a spiritual gift material? I have a vivid recollection of a November sun casting its cold rays onto the front porch of my childhood home as I unwrapped the large cardboard carton that contained an unassembled Big Wheel. The Big Wheel came to market in the 1970s; it was basically what happened when a tricycle died, went to heaven, and came back reincarnated as the coolest set of wheels any five-year-old could dream of owning.
In 1996, a novel was published that touched the country’s nerve. It was brought to the big screen three years later, and despite initially tepid box office earnings, was destined to become a peculiar cult classic. That movie was Fight Club, starring Ed Norton and Brad Pitt. It is a dark, morbid study of the hollowness of consumer culture and white-collar corporate jobs while highlighting the loss of meaningful human connection.
The Shabbat on which we read Parshat Yitro always feels particularly momentous since we recite the Aseret HaDibrot, or the Ten Commandments on this day. Indeed, tomorrow I will be speaking about the important role that the Ten Commandments and Torah as a whole have had on the Jewish people. Given that focus, it seemed appropriate to take a somewhat different direction for this Oasis Song. While Jewish law has an enormous scope, it rarely is about dry statutes; instead, it has long been a repository of Jewish history, moral dilemmas, and ethical sensitivities.
