Friday, May 3, 2019

The Last Channel

The Last Channel
At Jewish Newport
April 26-27, 2019
also on facebook
I stayed close to home for the last two days of Pesach. Rabbi Charles Savenor, who was visiting from New York, gave a sermon at Temple Israel, Sharon, MA on Friday, the seventh day of Pesach. Rabbi Savenor is the Director of Congregational Education at the Park Avenue Synagogue in Manhattan. “Rabbi,” I said, “your talk would be nice for Jewish Newport.” He handed me his notes, which I have edited.

Rabbi Savenor described “The Last Channel,”  a short story by an Italian
Italo Calvino
writer, Italo Calvino, 1923-1985. Calvino was born in Cuba. His parents returned to Italy in 1925. Calvino was brought up without religion in Mussolini’s Italy. Encouraged by his parents, especially his mother, he joined the resistance in 1943, after Germany invaded Italy. His parents were held hostage as a result. He became a communist, but broke with the Communist Party in 1957, after the Russians invaded Hungary and Stalin’s crimes were revealed. He never joined another political party.


“Calvino tells the story of a patient in a mental hospital.” Rabbi Savenor began. “This patient walks around all day long with a TV remote control, pointing it and pressing the change button over and over.
“...He keeps changing the channels because  he doesn't like what he sees. He points it at family and friends and hopes they will act differently. He points it out the window and hopes that the next channel will be a better version of the world as we know it.”
The protagonist goes into the street, and tries to click his way to a better reality. Detained by the police, he explains that he, “only wanted to see what they were showing on the other channel, for curiosity's sake, just for a few seconds.”
Rabbi Savenor continued,
“...How many of us yearn for something better? Wouldn't it be easier if we could just press a button and change the reality around us?”
“...During the seder this past Saturday night, halfway across the world over 290 Christians were slaughtered during their Easter celebrations. As we remembered the plague of blood, blood was spilled on the holiest of days in the holiest of days in the holiest of places.
“Like the Jews in Pittsburgh, like the Muslims in New Zealand, the Christians in Sri Lanka were killed in their sanctuaries. The word sanctuary actually where they sought and expected to find peace. In essence, these innocent souls were all killed in the place where they sought and expected to find peace.
“...How can something like this happen? What motivates such heinous actions? One word: hate.”
“We can look no further than this morning's Torah portion [Shirat Hayam - the Jews are headed towards freedom] to better understand this sickness that seems to be contagious around the globe, namely sinat hinam...
“As much as this biblical poem details the miracle of salvation, it also sheds light on the nature of irrational hatred... Pharaoh's chariot goes in when the water has already started to go back into place.
“But love does the same thing. [We are] willing to do strange things for love. Even pick someone up from the airport.
“But I am not sure that love and hope are enough anymore.
“Three times we stand up when we read Torah: Shirat Hayam [a Song of Freedom], Matan Torah [Acceptance of responsibility], and closing of a sefer [An acknowledgement that pursuing this path will be hard. We are going to need to fight for our values, every step of the way.].


“...This fight is hard. It's a game of inches. Just when we think we have succeeded another Haman will appear.
“We need to be willing to stand up for what we believe in. After 4000 years we have an obligation to stay the course because what Judaism stands for can transform the world. Only by working together with clarity and unity of purpose can we create a better picture, a better channel for ourselves, for our children and for all generations to come.”
On Shabbat, Rabbi Marc Mandel spoke at Touro Synagogue in Newport, RI about Yizkor,
“On the last day of Pesach we say Yizkor. This last day of Pesach is a day for remembering.  But, really, all of Pesach is a time to remember, and in fact, we are supposed to remember the Exodus from Egypt every day of our lives.
לֹא־תֹאכַ֤ל עָלָיו֙ חָמֵ֔ץ שִׁבְעַ֥ת יָמִ֛ים תֹּֽאכַל־עָלָ֥יו מַצּ֖וֹת לֶ֣חֶם עֹ֑נִי כִּ֣י בְחִפָּז֗וֹן יָצָ֙אתָ֙ מֵאֶ֣רֶץ מִצְרַ֔יִם לְמַ֣עַן תִּזְכֹּר֔ אֶת־י֤וֹם צֵֽאתְךָ֙ מֵאֶ֣רֶץ מִצְרַ֔יִם כֹּ֖ל יְמֵ֥י חַיֶּֽיךָ׃
“You shall not eat anything leavened with it; for seven days thereafter you shall eat unleavened bread, bread of distress, for you departed from the land of Egypt hurriedly, so that you may remember the day of your departure from the land of Egypt as long as you live.
“What exactly are we supposed to remember about the Exodus from Egypt? We are supposed to remember all the miracles that we read about in the Haggadah. We are supposed to be grateful to God for all the Passover miracles. But, it is more than that. Five times the Torah tells us to remember that we were slaves in Egypt. Why would we want to remember that? That is depressing.  The answer is, we need to be sensitive to those who are in need because we were once in need, and we know how it feels. As Jews, we have to help those in need.
“And so, today we will say Yizkor for those who are no longer with us. Take a moment and think about your Passover seders when you were younger. What do you remember? We must remember those who gave so much to us. We must remember those who did so much for us. We must remember our Touro members who are no longer with us.”
Shabbat Shalom from Jewish Newport!
Thank you to both rabbis for sharing their words and to Beth Ginsburg Levine for editing.






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