Installation Remarks

Installation Remarks

Congregation B’nai Torah, Westminster, Colorado

Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

Nov. 9, 2019

Honored guests, public officials and fellow clergy, friends, members of Congregation B’nai Torah: It is a special and unique honor for me to be present at this auspicious gathering. I thank you for your warmth, for your trust and faith in welcoming me to lead, teach and learn from this sacred congregation.

The theme chosen for this celebration is Mah Tovu Ohalecha Ya’akov, “how goodly are your tents O Jacob.” This phrase is first found in the Torah’s fourth book, Numbers, chapter 24. As the story tells it, the renowned seer Balaam has been called upon by the Moabite King Balak to curse the tribes of Israel that have gathered at his border. Balaam asks to be led to the highest mountain, from where he can view the entire Israelite encampment. Three times does he attempt to speak words of scorn and ridicule; three times does God force him instead to say words of praise and admiration.  “How goodly are your tents, O Jacob, your dwellings O Israel,” he finally exclaims, much to the consternation of the Moabite king.

These words have come a long way since those early days of our people’s history. The ancient Rabbis, sages who lived in the first few centuries of our common era, interpreted the word “tents” as a symbol for Jewish houses of prayer, our synagogues, and incorporated this verse into the opening prayer of our morning service, intended to welcome all who come to the House of God to pray, to worship and to study.

At the same time, however, the Rabbis offered yet another explanation for Balaam’s observation: Standing high up on the mountains, viewing the tents—literally, the dwelling places that our early ancestors had set up on the plains below—Balaam noticed the way in which these tents had been pitched. They were placed—explain the Rabbis—in such a way that no tent’s doorway faced another’s. We may have lived in close quarters, but we all respected each other’s privacy; we upheld the dignity, uniqueness and individuality of each of our neighbors, without looking in on them, without spying on them, so as not to cause envy, resentment or jealousy. “How wonderful are your dwellings, O Israel,” Balaam calls out in wonder. What wonderful ideals to live by, to uphold and to observe!

Some of the world’s most exalted words and sermons have come from mountaintops. And indeed, the view from up there can be truly magnificent. I have always loved roaming and hiking in the mountains, be they the Carmel Mountains in Haifa, in my homeland of Israel; the White Mountains of New Hampshire; and now, the Front Range—and perhaps, later, even some of the taller peaks—of the Rocky Mountains. The sounds of traffic, the city, the everyday noises we people constantly make, all disappear up there, replaced by the rush of the wind or the song of the birds. Looking down at the winding road far below, or at city streets extending in beautiful geometric designs, it’s easy to feel inspired, to see only the beauty, peace and harmony of life.

But this exalted view can also be misleading. The reality is that down on ground level we do look with envy at other people’s houses, at their bigger and faster cars, at their richer and more famous lifestyles. We do often feel jealous, resentful, even fearful, of one another. And though we pledge allegiance to our one country, one nation, to our one flag, we all-too-often find ourselves divided and at odds with one another, incited to mistrust, and even to hate, not love, our neighbor.  

The news of the past week, of the attempted bombing of a synagogue in Pueblo and of anti-Semitic flyers distributed by neo-Nazis in Boulder, is part of a growing world-wide trend of desecration of synagogues, cemeteries and Holocaust memorials, of swastikas drawn on school buildings, of violence, intimidation and terrorism directed at Jews.

The rasp of hate is growing louder, turning into calls for the destruction of the State of Israel, the only country in the world—recognized by the United Nations and the majority of countries worldwide, a valuable and contributing member of humanity’s league of nations—that has been under attack since well before its establishment, that has been the target of countless wars and terror attacks since its inception.

The threat of a nuclear holocaust is no longer a silent danger, with rogue nations such as North Korea and Iran enriching uranium and developing missiles capable of reaching almost any part of the globe.

Pollution of air, water and earth is causing climate change with disastrous consequences. Entire species of wildlife are in danger of disappearing, while so many of us continue in our reckless pursuit of pleasure and material riches. 

Seen in the glaring light of reality, Balaam’s lofty vision of harmony and peace seems more of a fantasy than reality.

And yet, reality is more complex than that. In Boulder, residents—Jews and non-Jews alike—gathered to remove the hate-filled, anti-Semitic flyers. Temple Emanuel of Pueblo, the second oldest synagogue in Colorado, received countless calls, letters and emails bearing messages of care and support. Following the shooting at the Pittsburgh Tree of Life Synagogue exactly one year ago, a huge outpouring of condolences and sympathy from all corners of this great nation heartened the bereaved people whose anguished memories of the Holocaust were so painfully awakened by this senseless act  of violence.

Your presence here today speaks volumes about our sense of unity and common responsibility. We are here because we know that we truly are one people, despite our differences of color, gender, religion and even political affiliation.  We are here because we share the visions and goals espoused by our prophets and teachers, by the Fathers of our Nation and the Authors of our Constitution. Just over eight score years ago, in accepting the Republican nomination for US Senate from Illinois, Abraham Lincoln made his famous declaration that “A house divided against itself cannot stand.” We are here today to affirm this statement and the sentiments behind it.

We are here, in this common House of Worship—common to people of different faiths, beliefs and denominations—to uphold our ideals, to announce to all those who would see us divided against one another, that we are indeed one people, diverse yet unique, multi-colored as the rainbow yet united in hope, faith and trust. We are here—for one another, with one another—to create and make real a vision expressed so many centuries ago, a prophecy of a world run in harmony and cooperation, guided by rules of dignity, equality and mutual respect. It’s our task, our mission, a responsibility we accepted millennia ago, and to which we dedicate ourselves anew today and every day.  

May we, through the work of our hearts and hands, earn the praise of future generations who will look at us and proclaim, “How goodly are your tents, your dwellings Oh sons and daughters of a great nation and a great God.”

 I thank you all, and I pray, may God’s blessings of health, strength and peace always be found in all our dwellings.  Amen.

© 2019 by Boaz D. Heilman