About Rabbi Spike
Rabbi Spike Anderson was born and raised in Boston, MA. and was ordained at Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion (HUC-JIR) in New York City. Before his decision to enter the rabbinate, Rabbi Anderson worked as an Executive Recruiter in New York and San Francisco. While at Seminary, Rabbi Anderson augmented his studies by serving two summers as an interfaith Chaplain at Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Center.
In addition to his rabbinic and pulpit responsibilities, Rabbi Anderson is dedicated to the Israel & Peoplehood pillar of Stephen S. Wise Temple. He works tirelessly to connect congregants with Israel through political action, social action, personal connection, cultural exchange, and study.
As the Rabbi for the Early Childhood Center (ECC) as well as the Kindergarten and Grade 1 students of the Elementary School, Rabbi Anderson has the pleasure of conducting weekly Shabbat services for our youngest members, as well as lively ‘Tot’ and ‘Family’ Shabbats throughout the year. Through song, movement, talking puppet shows and ridiculous costumes, he strives to create a dynamic yet comfortable environment for the children to learn and love their Judaism. With his open door policy and passion for pastoral care, he is honored to provide spiritual guidance to the children as well as their families.
Rabbi Anderson also has taken a leadership role in creating and implementing the ‘Kehillat Wise’ program within our congregational community. Launched in response to the economy crisis, the program is designed to empower congregants to help other congregants; and it has earned nation-wide recognition due to the invaluable variety of resources, programs, and one-on-one guidance.
Wise Hearts is a program that Rabbi Anderson is in the process of revitalizing and taking to the next level. Working with a dedicated committee, Rabbi Anderson oversees as temple members reach out to other temple members in times of joy and sadness, offering gifts, comfort, even help with carpool.
Rabbi Anderson takes the most joy out of being a teacher, and is proud to have students ranging from age 1 to 101 years old. His classroom ranges from congregant’s living rooms to his office at the Temple. This year, Rabbi Anderson will offer such classes as: “Your Personal Theology and Spiritual Journey”, “Finding God”, “Introduction to Judaism”, and “The Hunger Games: what Judaism might have to say about it”.
Finding Your Life’s Purpose
And everyone who excelled in ability and everyone whose spirit moved him came, bringing to the Eternal his offering for the work of the Tent of Meeting.…
(Exodus 35:21)
Who am I? What is my place in the universe? What does God expect of me?
We might say that the purpose of Judaism is to help us ask these questions and to begin to answer them in a way that gives each Jewish life both meaning and purpose.
Now, right away, let’s point out that when it comes to these big questions, Judaism holds certain assumptions: you matter, even on a cosmic level; your place in the universe is important, and God does expect certain things from you that will help you realize your potential as a human being. This is a major statement! And Judaism makes these truths clear to us through our sacred stories.
Vayakhel takes place when our ancestors
were not feeling good about themselves, because they had made some pretty major mistakes. Mainly, they had really offended God by worshipping the Golden Calf, despite all that God had done for them to free them from Egyptian slavery.
Even more than this: our ancestors were feeling really lost. They were having a crisis of identity and purpose because they did not know who they really were or what they were supposed to do with their collective lives. Until recently, all they had known was slavery and how to be a slave. With every crack of a whip and harsh word, they relearned that they were worthless and that their life’s purpose was to benefit their slave masters.
Once they were free, all of those delusions fell away, but what should take their place?
And so, God gave our ancestors a task.
Its purpose was to redeem their sense of self-worth and confidence. It would help them understand who they really were and what God wanted from each and every one of them.
The task was to construct a portable sanctuary (the mishkan), where our people could come together to worship God. If and when the Israelites completed the mishkan exactly as God instructed, then God promised to “dwell among them” (Exodus 25:8). God gave them exact instructions of how to build the mishkan, right down to the blueprints and materials.
God made it clear that to be successful, everyone needed to work together, and each person would have to think hard about what he or she could do to help make this project a success.
People used the skills that they already had, and they brought the best of those skills to their work. For example: if you were a carpenter, then you could bring the best of your skills to carving the doorways; if you were a weaver, you could donate your best works for the curtains; and if you were a laborer, then you could commit to carrying the sanctuary from place to place.
By working together, each one bringing the best of who he or she was to the effort, they were able to build the mishkan, and God came to dwell among them. So here are the questions you need to ponder:
What might be our modern equivalent of our ancestors’ mishkan—the place where people could come together and where God would dwell? Hint: it could be your community, your synagogue, or your family home.
If God asks that we each bring the very best of who we are to this modern mishkan, then what will you bring? What is really special about you? How can you use that for a higher purpose?
Those are the big questions.
Now, go find the big answers.
Excerpt from Text Messages: A Torah
Commentary for Teens © 2012 Jeffrey Salkin.
$24.99. Permission granted by Jewish Lights
Publishing, P.O. Box 237, Woodstock, VT
05091; www.jewishlights.com
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Celebrations That Defy Human Comprehension
…The Stories of Passover to Yom Ha’atzma-ut
Our people sang this Song of the Sea, not just to celebrate that they were alive as individuals (dayeinu), and not just that they had survived as a people (dayeinu). For the first time in centuries, our people could hope for more than survival – we finally would have a chance to flourish! What could we accomplish now free from chains and degradation? This was the promise that became a hope; the dream that was eventually willed into a reality. But it took a while…
For the past 2,000 years, since the fall of Bar Kochba (136 CE), we Jews had existed in forced exile from our land, Israel (although there always was a Jewish presence living there). Across the globe we have been scattered. Although there have been ”golden ages” throughout the millennia, for the most part, our history has been one similar to our ”slave days” in Egypt, where we were at the mercy of the gentile rulers, masses, and mob.
Daily, we faced Jerusalem and prayed for a time when we would again return to Israel, where our people would be reunited from the four corners of the earth, when we Jews would rule ourselves rather than be at the mercy of ”the world.” In the late 19th century, on the heels of renewed anti-Semitism and European pogroms, this religious Zionism morphed into a political Zionism. No longer would we wait for God to bring us out of bondage by parting the sea, but rather, we would have to take the steps ourselves. Only when we Jews took our destiny into our own hands would we have a safe haven, and a place where we could express ourselves authentically and without fear.
Our recent history is truly miraculous, with wave after wave of Jewish youth paving the way towards a modern State of Israel, each one taking a step, which led to another, and another. Along the way, these Jews reinvented themselves despite the negative stereotypes that we had lived with for thousands of years. These pioneers were the “new Jews”, and they were brave and strong, physical and expressive in a way that our people had not seen in a very long time.
When Israel declared independence on May
14, 1948 (5 Iyar 5708), once again, our people experienced the extreme celebration that almost defies human comprehension. Once again, we could hope for more than just survival. Once again we had a chance to truly flourish!
Let us all join together in celebration of Israel’s Independence Day (Yom Ha’atzmaut) and how far we have come on Sunday, April 29 with a day-long festival at Stephen S. Wise Temple – From Israel to L.A. The day will feature activities centered around Israeli culture, Jewish athleticism, and, most of all, our thriving Jewish community. Whether it’s our 3-on-3 basketball tournament, Israeli art show, or interactive preschool activities, there will be something for everyone who wants to partake in this joyous day celebrating one of the most pivotal moments in our Jewish history (see below and page 8 for additional details). I hope to share in it with you.
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In The Shelter of the Sukkah
Rabbi Spike during Sukkah
The day was brutally hot. Hot! The thick air seemed to beg for a breeze, the sidewalk shimmered with the heat, and the sun pounded relentlessly. But, we had friends over and the children (toddlers, really) wanted to play outside. So, I unrolled the garden-hose and filled the plastic kiddy-pool with cool water up to their knees. And then, the kids jumped in and began to splash and laugh as if the kiddy-pool was their dream-come-true; and at that moment in time, in the context of the day’s insistent heat, it was.
Good simple fun; not the kind that costs a lot of money or that comes with a dozen batteries, but the kind that reflects the purity of innocence and the joy of being alive. All three kids stepped into the pool wearing both diapers and shirts, but within seconds, all three somehow had managed to shuck their clothing and were delighting in “swimming” in their birthday suits. With some effort, similar to herding cats, we barely managed to get them covered with sunscreen before they lost themselves in the whimsical world of play. Then, somehow, it was decided that I was going to stay outside and be “in charge”, while the other adults retreated indoors to escape the heat and to talk quietly.
I figured that after a few minutes the kids would get too hot and want to go indoors, but I was wrong. Even as I melted, they continued to jump and splash in the kiddy-pool without a hint of slowing down. I began to get a bit worried. After all, even with sunscreen, that much sun must be doing something to their skin. My thoughts kept running, “What if we missed a spot? I’m sure that we must have missed a spot. Maybe I should take them out. Or, maybe I should make them put on their wet clothes for protection. But, they are having so much fun and I would hate to ruin it.”
I wanted them to have this chance to play like only children can, but I was getting really concerned about sunburn. As I debated what to do, I walked to the edge of the pool and put my body between the kids and the sun, so that my shadow, elongated by the waning hour, sheltered them while they played. I knew that this solution was temporary, but for the moment, it was good enough. They were safe. And, as I stood there, feeling that harsh heat on my back, I thought to myself, “If only it would be this easy for everything when it comes to my children. If only I could shelter them with my protective shadow, my haven of love, from everything that might harm them.”
This idea of a loving parent sheltering his or her children from the harmful elements, those forces beyond our control, is a central theological theme within Judaism. In our daily Hashkiveinu prayer, we ask God to “cover us with the shelter of Your peace” (Sukkat sh’lomeha) and to “shield us beneath the shadow of Your wings against enemies, illness, war, famine, and sorrow.” Both of these images reflect metaphors of relationship and impermanence. By nature, shadows ebb and flow with time; thus, what would certainly provide shade in the early morning will likely not at high noon.
Likewise, the image of seeking a haven under a living wing can not last forever, for eventually that wing will have to fly or we, ourselves, will have to move.
So, with Hashkiveinu, we ask that God protect us from the worst of the storm’s rage and the day’s heat, with the understanding that it cannot (and should not) be a constant and permanent protection that would last forever. We only ask that God be with us, and help us, when we are most vulnerable and when threats are the most dangerous.
No place is this idea more central than in our holiday of Sukkot, which literally means temporary shelters”. For a week, we are required to eat our meals in a sukkah (singular of Sukkot), and our sages of the Talmud (b. Succah 4b) were very specific that each sukkah was supposed to be complete enough to provide shelter, yet open enough to experience the elements. This is why the sukkah can only have three walls, and the branches that make up the roof must offer more shade than sun in the daytime, yet allow the stars to be seen at night.
Like our itinerant biblical ancestors whose nomadic lifestyle demanded collapsible shelters, and in the spirit of our agricultural past when temporary structures were erected during the harvest to escape the day’s heat and the night’s rain, we experience the sukkah as a dichotomy and a symbol for life. We are sheltered, but not fully. We are exposed, but not really. We are protected from the worst of the elements, while at the same time, we are still very much aware, and affected, by them. Yet some shelter, especially when we most need it, is sometimes the most that we can hope for; for without it, we are as vulnerable as a naked toddler under the hot Los Angeles sun. And so, we invoke the traditional Sukkot greeting for guests under the sukkah, “Be seated, be seated, exalted guests, sit in the shade of the Holy One, blessed be God.”
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Circling
Jewish Wedding, The Ceremony – Circling
Before the Bride and groom enter the Chuppah, traditionally the bride circles the groom seven times. Representing our egalitarian views of marriage, often modern couples choose to adapt this ritual by both bride and groom circling the other three times with the final circle done together hand in hand. Each circle represents one of the moral obligations with which we bind ourselves in marriage: “I will betroth you to me forever. I will betroth you to me with fairness, justice, love and compassion. I will betroth you to me with faith and you shall know God” (Hosea 2:21-22)
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My Personal Journey from Snow Banks to Sunshine
As I sit here in my study, preparing to write, I find myself very far from the home in which I was raised. Most days, indeed most weeks, I do not think about this fact except in passing. In the three years since my little family moved from Manhattan to Los Angeles, we have tried our best to plant roots. My wife, Marita, in addition to holding our family together, is working hard as a hospital chaplain and studying at AJR (Academy of Jewish Religion); our two sons seem to be flourishing in our schools; and after a long search, we recently bought our first house. Yes, there are challenges and ‘bumps in the road’, but in general things are going well.
And yet, we are far from our families and, as you can imagine (or perhaps you know), that can be very difficult on so many levels. So I have to wonder, how did a Boston boy like myself wind up 3,000 miles away in Laker country? The answer is simple: Stephen S. Wise Temple…and Israel; however, the story is a bit more complex, and I’d like to share it with you.
When I was 13 years old, to celebrate my bar mitzvah, we toured through Israel on a Family trip with our synagogue. This trip, in addition to giving me an understanding of, and pride in, Judaism that has stayed with me through present day, began a relationship with the State of Israel that has, in some ways, defined who I am as a person. Growing up, and through my 20’s, sometimes I was more mindful of this relationship, and at other times, less so; but my connection to our historic homeland, and the other half of the world’s Jewry, was always there.
Throughout college and the years that followed, I was certainly supportive of Israel, but not particularly involved in public leadership or even participation. My personal relationship with Israel continued to grow in a manner personal, with extended visits allowing a deeper connection to The Land and her people…our people. In the late 90’s I found myself running a business in Silicon Valley. I got involved with pro-Israel activities, organization and demonstrations. Before long, I had made a decision that I needed to listen to this ‘calling’ to work hard for Judaism, and the Jewish people. And so I went to rabbinical school.
Even there, however, to my surprise, many students and even professors claimed a ‘tough love’ for Israel, although truth be told, the ‘tough’ often eclipsed the ‘love’. Five years later, when it came time to interview for jobs, I sat down with
Rabbi Herscher. There were many, many students applying for the position, and more than a dozen had preceded me that very day. After exchanging pleasantries, Rabbi Herscher picked up my resume and I saw that he had circled the word ‘AIPAC’, which I had listed under my ‘extracurricular activities’. What is interesting is that I had debated with myself whether or not to even include ‘AIPAC’ on my resume, for I feared that professing a passion for pro-Israel political activism might be held against me by certain congregations in the interview process (and to this day I have no doubt that it was). But in the end I had decided to include it because, despite the tight job market, I did not want to have to hide who I was or what I stood for. It was a good decision. Rabbi Herscher and I spoke about Israel, and he let me know the importance of Israel to this congregation. In fact, he told me a large part of the job would be to spearhead the temple’s ‘Israel pillar’ by connecting as many congregants with The Land and her people as possible. I could not believe it! It was more than my ‘dream job’ because I did not think that it could exist…and perhaps, outside of Stephen S. Wise, it does not.
Ours is a Temple, along with its Schools, that, when it comes to Israel, does not just ‘talk the talk’, but ‘walks the walk’. Whether it is from the pulpit or our Social Justice work, from the congregational trips to Israel or our Tiferet semester abroad, from our celebration of Israel’s accomplishments or our many classes and courses designed to bring us closer to Israel, one thing that we can proudly say: Israel is a vital part of who we are as a religious community. For this reason, and the fact that Stephen S. Wise is truly a beacon of good emanating out into the world, Marita and I decided to move our family to Los Angeles. We are happy and eager to engage our community in the holy work that is still to be done.
And, we have a lot more work that we can do! Currently, a group of congregants and I are engaged in a revisioning process to figure out how to better engage and connect with Israel over the next decade. This spring, we have our AIPAC at Wise afternoon and Policy Conference, and a number of inter-campus celebrations, opportunities for Social Justice in Israel, and Temple trips. Our goal is to help you connect and get involved with Israel. If you are looking for ways to do this, or if you would like to help us come up with other avenues for connection, please let us know by getting in touch with me directly. I look forward to hearing from you about your personal journey.
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