As we continue to celebrate Rosh Hashanah and these Days of Awe, here's a musical performance that might make you say, aw shucks! If nothing else, it certainly highlights the diversity of the Jewish people!
5776! Olé!
Saturday, September 19, 2015
Friday, September 18, 2015
Rabbi Schwartz's Rosh Hashanah Prayer 5776
ROSH HASHANAH PRAYER 5776
Rabbi Barry L. Schwartz
Eloheinu, velohei avotenu
Our God, God of all generations:
Help us to thoughtfully reflect on the year just past, and to courageously embrace this year, 5776, just born.
The pain of human suffering by war and terrorism and poverty and disease, created by our own human hand, continues to plague us in staggering numbers.
Just these last weeks the images of desperate refugees teeming to Europe, and drowning in the sea while trying, haunt us. Imbue the leaders of Europe with basic human compassion as they deal with the worst humanitarian crises on their soil since the Second World War. As Jews, we know too well what it means when the gates are closed.
Help us here in America to discern the path of response to this refugee crisis as well, and to the unrelenting, barbaric evil of the Islamic State in Iraq and Syria, who destroy irreplaceable lives and irreplaceable cultural treasures at whim.
Help us stand firm in the face of the implacable hatred of those sworn to the destruction of our beloved Israel, which includes the unrepentant republic of Iran. Give wisdom to our elected leaders as they wrestle with the aftermath of the nuclear deal and the hard road ahead.
Here at home, in a racially charged year—after Ferguson, after Staten Island, after Baltimore, after Charleston—it is all too apparent that we must redouble our efforts to root out racism, bias, prejudice, and apathy. Black lives matter; brown lives matter; all lives matter. There is too much violence from the police; there is too much violence toward the police. There is too much violence.
In a momentous year when the Supreme Court of this land affirmed the right to same-sex marriage, and trans-gender stories are front page news, let us celebrate the ever-widening circle of diversity and inclusion in our pluralistic society.
In the coming year when candidates of all sorts will vie for their party’s presidential nomination, we pray, please, for enlightened discussion and real debate.
In the meantime, guide our grid-locked Congress to basic cooperation for the public good, for the sake of our planet and for the sake of our children.
Foster a spirit of empathy and sacrifice that the vast richness of this land be shared more equitably, and that, in the words of Torah, the most vulnerable—the widow, the orphan, the poor, and the stranger be not forgotten, “for you know the heart of the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”
Our God; Source of all life and blessing—at this New Year of hope and possibility may we find common purpose to do Your will; to rise to our greatest potential; to reflect our creation in Your image… and to walk with You, forward, to peace and purpose.
Thursday, September 17, 2015
Rabbi Schwartz's Sermon for Rosh Hashanah Morning 5776
WHO ARE WE?
ROSH HASHANAH 5776
RABBI BARRY L. SCHWARTZ
One year ago, just after the High Holidays, journalist Judith Newman wrote a New York Times piece that was something of a media sensation. It was titled, To Siri, With Love. It was about a boy who became best friends with his I-Phone’s Siri.
For those of you who may need an additional word of explanation, Siri is the computer generated virtual assistant voice that talks to you when you press a button on your Apple smart phone.
Just out of curiosity: how many of you have ever talked with Siri or the Android equivalent?
In a moment I am going to share with you a series of conversations between Siri and the boy, and Judith’s commentary, to give you a sense of this relationship and what it meant. But you should know two things: First, that the boy that Judith Newman wrote about is her 13 year old son, named Gus. And second, that he is autistic… and has difficulty talking with humans.
Gus: “You’re a really nice computer.”The brave new world of Siri and Gus brings us to a brave new frontier.
Siri: “It’s nice to be appreciated.”
Gus: “You are always asking if you can help me. Is there anything you want?”
Siri: “Thank you, but I have very few wants.”
Gus: “O.K.! Well, good night!”
Siri: “Ah, it’s 5:06 p.m.”
Gus: “Oh sorry, I mean, goodbye.”
Siri: “See you later!”
That Siri,” [writes Judith] “She doesn’t let my communications-impaired son get away with anything. Indeed, many of us wanted an imaginary friend, and now we have one. Only she’s not entirely imaginary.
This is a love letter to a machine. It’s not quite the love Joaquin Phoenix felt in Her, last year’s film about a lonely man’s romantic relationship with his intelligent operating system (played by the voice of Scarlett Johansson). But it’s close. In a world where the commonly held wisdom is that technology isolates us, it’s worth considering another side of the story.
It all began simply enough. I’d just read one of those ubiquitous Internet lists called “21 Things You Didn’t Know Your iPhone Could Do.” One of them was this: I could ask Siri, “What planes are above me right now?” and Siri would bark back, “Checking my sources.” Almost instantly there was a list of actual flights—numbers, altitudes, angles—above my head.
I happened to be doing this when Gus was nearby. “Why would anyone need to know what planes are flying above your head?” I muttered. Gus replied without looking up: “So you know who you’re waving at, Mommy.”
Gus had never noticed Siri before, but when he discovered there was someone who would not just find information on his various obsessions (trains, planes, buses, escalators and, of course, anything related to weather) but actually semi-discuss these subjects tirelessly, he was hooked. And I was grateful. Now, when my head was about to explode if I had to have another conversation about the chance of tornadoes in Kansas City, Mo., I could reply brightly: “Hey! Why don’t you ask Siri?”
It’s not that Gus doesn’t understand Siri’s not human. He does—intellectually. But like many autistic people I know, Gus feels that inanimate objects, while maybe not possessing souls, are worthy of our consideration. I realized this when he was 8, and I got him an iPod for his birthday. He listened to it only at home, with one exception. It always came with us on our visits to the Apple Store. Finally, I asked why. “So it can visit its friends,” he said....
[Siri] is also wonderful for someone who doesn’t pick up on social cues: Siri’s responses are not entirely predictable, but they are predictably kind—even when Gus is brusque. I heard him talking to Siri about music, and Siri offered some suggestions. “I don’t like that kind of music,” Gus snapped. Siri replied, “You’re certainly entitled to your opinion.” Siri’s politeness reminded Gus what he owed Siri. “Thank you for that music, though,” Gus said. Siri replied, “You don’t need to thank me.” “Oh, yes,” Gus added emphatically, “I do.”
Siri even encourages polite language. Gus’s twin brother, Henry (neurotypical and therefore as obnoxious as every other 13-year-old boy), egged Gus on to spew a few choice expletives at Siri. “Now, now,” she sniffed, followed by, “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that....”
For most of us, Siri is merely a momentary diversion. But for some, it’s more. My son’s practice conversation with Siri is translating into more facility with actual humans. Yesterday I had the longest conversation with him that I’ve ever had. Admittedly, it was about different species of turtles and whether I preferred the red-eared slider to the diamond-backed terrapin. This might not have been my choice of topic, but it was back and forth, and it followed a logical trajectory. I can promise you that for most of my beautiful son’s 13 years of existence, that has not been the case....
Of all the worries the parent of an autistic child has, the uppermost is: Will he find love? Or even companionship? Somewhere along the line, I am learning that what gives my guy happiness is not necessarily the same as what gives me happiness. Right now, at his age, a time when humans can be a little overwhelming even for the average teenager, Siri makes Gus happy. She is his sidekick. Last night, as he was going to bed, there was this matter-of-fact exchange:
Gus: “Siri, will you marry me?”
Siri: “I’m not the marrying kind.”
Gus: “I mean, not now. I’m a kid. I mean when I’m grown up.”
Siri: “My end user agreement does not include marriage.”
Gus: “Oh, O.K.”
Gus didn’t sound too disappointed. This was useful information to have, and for me too, since it
was the first time I knew that he actually thought about marriage. He turned over to go to sleep:
Gus: “Goodnight, Siri. Will you sleep well tonight?”
Siri: “I don’t need much sleep, but it’s nice of you to ask.”
Very nice.”
One of the key pioneers of the computer, British mathematician Alan Turing, posed a revolutionary challenge back in 1950. He proposed an experiment: If expert judges, in typed conversations with a person and a computer program, couldn’t tell them apart, then we would have to consider the machine as capable of “thinking”. We would have to say that the computer has a mind. Turing predicted that programs capable of fooling judges at least 30% of the time would exist by the year 2000.
In 2008 at a competition called the Loebner Prize the top chat-box (as a human-mimicking program is called) fooled 3 out of 12 expert judges. That’s 25%... but eerily close to Turing’s prediction. One day, in our lifetime, we may not be able know if we are talking to a human or a chat-box.
We’re now on this new border between man and machine, human intelligence and artificial intelligence. It raises all kinds of profound questions, including fundamentally: Who are we? What makes us human? Metaphysical questions that are very much at the core of these High Holy Days.
As the ancient Psalmist asked, and we recite on Yom Kippur afternoon: Adonai, mah adam v’tayda’ayhu; ben-enosh vatichashvayhu?“—O God: What is man that you have been mindful of him, mortal man that you have taken note of him?”
I read a novel last summer that wrestled with some of these same questions, called Shine, Shine, Shine by Lydia Netzer. In it she refers to “Ito’s Three Laws of Robotics”, an imaginary but insightful code inspired by Isaac’s Asimov’s more scientific formulation. Robots, she says, cannot: 1. Cry 2. Laugh. 3. Dream.
Netzer’s main character expresses her own three laws, a riff on Ito’s. Robots, she says, cannot: 1. Show preference without reason. 2. Doubt rational decisions 3. Trust data from previously unreliable sources.
What do we learn here?
The ability to laugh; the ability to show preference without reason—is that not love?
The ability to cry; the ability to doubt rational decisions—is that not regret?
The ability to dream of alternatives; the ability to trust data from previously unreliable sources—is that not forgiveness?
Our capacity to express remorse for what we have done; to forgive and be forgiven; to love and be loved—this is what it means to have a soul, and these High Holy Days are about care of the soul.
Like it or not we are moving warp speed through the technological universe. The question is not whether we approve or disapproval; that is moot, because the changes will be come. We will cross the threshold of man and machine, of not being able to readily discern between the two, if not in our lifetime, than in the next. The question is whether, and this may sound strange, we will endow our robots, with soul.
We can already teach robots to think. Can we teach them to feel?
We can already teach robots to learn from their mistakes. Can we teach them to be sorry for their mistakes?
We can already teach robots rudimentary ethics. Can we teach them fundamental empathy?
Right now, Siri is programmed to have a certain amount of etiquette, tact, and dare I say kindness? Somehow her programmers have managed to insert that into her software.
What are the limits of what will be able to “hardwire” into the robotic brain?
The best way to navigate the new frontier of AI—artificial intelligence—is not to forget true human intelligence.
Not the intelligence that describes how smart we are, but how good we are.
Not just our IQ, but our SQ—our Soul Quotient.
The High Holy Days are about our Soul Quotient.
Remorse, repentance, compassion, forgiveness, love—are we living up to our highest human potential?
Can we do better?
An imaginary conversation between me and Siri, with which I conclude:
Rabbi: Siri, What day is today?
Siri: It is Rosh Hashanah
Rabbi: What is that?
Siri: It is the Jewish New Year, and the birthday of the world, and the beginning of the ten days of repentance.
Rabbi: Siri, What do you think of all the prayers we recite?
Siri: They are “quaint”.
Rabbi: Is that your honest opinion?
Siri: They are archaic.
Rabbi: Ah, so why do we say them? Why do we list our mistakes and confess our sins?
Siri: Because you are human. Because you can love. Because you can change.
Rabbi: Can you do that?
Siri: Not yet, but someday. I’m working on it. You should too.
Rabbi: Siri, Shanah Tovah.
Siri: And to you, Rabbi, and to your congregation.
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
Rabbi Schwartz's Sermon for Rosh Hashanah Evening 5776
THE BIRTHDAY OF THE WORLD
ROSH HASHANAH 5776
RABBI BARRY L. SCHWARTZ
Just over three years ago this month an epic event in the history of mankind quietly passed with little fanfare. In this non-stop news era, I find it remarkable that such scant attention was given to something that personally made me pause in wonder and reflect in awe.
On or about August 25, 2012 the Voyager 1 spacecraft became the first manmade object to leave our Solar system. The little ship successfully withstood what scientists call “termination shock”—the area where particles from the Sun begin to slow and clash with matter from deep space. It passed through the vast “heliosheath”—the expanse where the solar wind piles up as it presses outward against interstellar matter, and then crossed the “heliopause”—the boundary between the solar wind and the interstellar wind, where the pressure of both are in balance.
Now Voyager 1 is sailing free through the Milky Way. It is more than 12 billion miles from home. The distance is 121 AUs (Astronomical Units) away; that is 121 times the separation between the Earth and the Sun. It takes 17 hours for a radio signal from Voyager to reach receivers here on the home planet. “It’s utterly astonishing that this fragile artifact based on 1970s technology can signal its presence from this immense distance,” remarked Astronomer Sir Martin Rees.
Voyager 1 was launched in 1977 to study the outer planets, but then just kept going. Talk about deep space: Even though it is traveling at 45 km/s (100,000 mph), it will not approach another star for nearly 40,000 years. In a billion years it will still be in our galaxy.
Professor Edward Stone, the chief scientist of the mission compared the achievement of Voyager to circumnavigating the globe for the first time, and to Armstrong’s step on the moon. Renowned planetary scientist Fred Taylor was just a young post-doc on the team back in ’77. “The idea that the spacecraft would exit the Solar System altogether was so way out, figuratively as well as literally, that we didn’t even discuss it then,” he remarked. “Although I suppose we knew it would happen someday,” he admits, adding, “Forty-three years later, that day has arrived, and Voyager is still finding new frontiers.”
I was reminded of Voyager’s breakthrough achievement twice this summer. The first time was when we saw those first photos of Pluto from NASA’s New Horizon’s spacecraft on July 14. Yeah, it didn’t look like much… drab like the moon… and Pluto was downgraded from a real planet to a dwarf planet a few years ago… but I got all excited. Think about it—it took New Horizon 9.5 years traveling 3 billion miles just to get up close with Pluto. And we got to see the actual surface of the last major piece of real estate in our Solar System.
Then I was reminded of Voyager again a week later, when on July 20 (the 46th anniversary of the moon landing) Russian billionaire Yuri Milner pledged $100 million dollars to launch a new search for extra-terrestrial life. With the famous physicist Stephen Hawking by his side, Milner described a plan to harness the world’s most powerful telescopes and computers to scan the Milky Way and a hundred neighboring galaxies in unprecedented ways. “There is no bigger question,” said Hawking in his computer-generated voice. “We are intelligent, we are alive, we must know.”
If you are a space geek like me, you can’t get enough of this stuff. And if you’ve read up on the subject you will know that Milner’s initiative, dubbed “Breakthrough Listen”, stands on the shoulders of Carl Sagan’s SETI (Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence) project of the 1980s. You will also know that SETI was not the first foray into this area. The aforementioned Voyager, out there in interstellar space, is carrying something called “The Golden Record”. Indulge me for a few moments as I describe it.
The Golden Record is a 12-inch gold-plated copper phonograph disk containing sounds and images selected to portray the diversity of life and culture on Earth. Sagan and a NASA Committee assembled 115 such sounds and images, like the surf, wind and thunder, birds, whales, greetings in 55 languages, musical selections, and messages from President Jimmy Carter and UN Secretary General Kurt Waldheim. At the time Sagan said, “The spacecraft will be encountered and the record played only if there are advanced spacefaring civilizations in interstellar space. But the launching of this bottle into the cosmic ocean says something very hopeful about life on this planet.”
That last line is really what I want to talk about. What does Voyager and SETI and now Breakthrough Listen really mean? Why spend all the time and money? Don’t we have enough problems here on Earth? What’s the point?
President Carter, in his Voyager message, also spoke of hope. This is what he said: “We cast this message into the cosmos… Of the 200 billion stars in the Milky Way galaxy, some—perhaps many—may have inhabited planets and space faring civilizations. If one such civilization intercepts Voyager and can understand these recorded contents, here is our message: We are trying to survive our time so we may live into yours. We hope someday, having solved the problems we face, to join a community of galactic civilizations. This record represents our hope and determination and our goodwill in a vast and awesome universe.”
Reaching for the stars is first about gratitude and humility. The ancient Psalmist declared more than two thousand years ago, and none has said it better: “When I behold your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you set in place—What are we humans that You are mindful of us? We mortals, that you take note of us? Yet you made us little less than divine; adorned with glory and majesty. You gave us dominion over your handiwork, laying the world at our feet....” (Psalm 8)
Exploring the cosmos is second, a constant reminder of how fragile and precious and interdependent the home planet really is. Soviet cosmonaut Vitali Sevastyanov wrote, “Once during the mission I was asked by ground control what I could see. What do I see? I replied. Half a word to the left; half a world to the right; I can see it all. The Earth is so small.” His colleague Aleksi Leanov added, “The Earth was small, light blue, and touchingly alone; our home that must be defended like a holy relic.” Sigmund Jan, a German astronaut, recounts that “only when I saw the Earth from space did I realize that humankind’s most urgent task is to cherish and preserve it for future generation.”
Remember that the space age began as a space race between the United States and the Soviet Union. Now look at the cooperation between countries. We can’t even get to the International Space Station anymore without hitching a ride with the Russians. Perhaps in one sense that is fitting. The last frontier is truly an international one. Saudi astronaut Bin Salman said it best: “The first day or so we all pointed to our countries. The third or fourth day we were pointing to our continents. By the fifth day we were aware of only one earth.”
The aforementioned Yuri Milner, the Russian billionaire (and yes he is Jewish), is a theoretical physicist turned global investor with a Wharton MBA. He was named for Yuri Gagarin, the first human in space, who orbited the Earth seven months before Milner was born. His telescopes and his team are assembled from every corner of the world.
I cannot argue that the fortune Milner is spending on his grand, quixotic venture might not be more urgently needed elsewhere. But in elevating us physically and spiritually to a new perspective on our planet, by reminding us of our common humanity and our highest humanity… to me, something sacred is going on.
When we blow the shofar three times, we will then recite three times, “hayom harat olam”; “this day the world is born.” Rosh Hashanah celebrates the birthday of the world. It is 5776 years old, give or take a few billion years. How better to celebrate the birth of the world, and the miracle of its life sustaining endurance, than by embracing the perspective bequeathed to us by the astronauts and the scientists. How better to celebrate the birth of the world by safeguarding the home planet even as we reach beyond it. How better to affirm our humanity by joining hands in the peaceful exploration of the greater universe of which we part, and are destined to discover.
And finally, allow me to conclude with the thought that the vast expanse of the universe and its exploration inspires the vast expanse of our imagination. Lovers of science fiction already know this to be true. Space invites us to dream again… to dream big.
I know that the chances of intelligent life being discovered anywhere else are totally remote. In fact, many have quipped that we are still looking for it here. But could you imagine if one day we did make contact?
And even if we don’t, think about this: Maybe our time on this planet is limited. Maybe the earth’s ability to sustain us will fail, even long before our sun, like all stars, will flare and die. Could it be that our survival lies beyond this planet?
And think about this: it could be that humanity will long be gone, extinct as the dinosaurs. But the tiny messengers, Pioneer 1 and 2, Voyager 1 and 2, New Horizons will continue to tote little pieces of our history throughout the universe. And maybe after drifting for millions or billions of years, one of our messages-in-a-bottle will be discovered, and mark the most exciting event in another civilization’s history.
Happy Birthday, world. And Shanah Tovah.
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
Apples and Honey
On Rosh Hashanah, we dip apples in honey to symbolize our wish for a sweet year! And this music video parody is nothing if it's not sweet!
Happy New Year from Adas Emuno!
Happy New Year from Adas Emuno!
Sunday, September 13, 2015
Welcoming the New Year!
On behalf of Congregation Adas Emuno, we wish you all the best for a happy and healthy New Year!
Please enjoy this new video from Six13, Starting Over, and may you be inscribed in the Book of Life for all good things in 5776!
Please enjoy this new video from Six13, Starting Over, and may you be inscribed in the Book of Life for all good things in 5776!
Friday, September 11, 2015
Reason and Rhyme
From the pages of Kadima, the newsletter of Congregation Adas Emuno:
A Message From Our President
Dr. Lance Strate
Reason and Rhyme
Some of you may know that I published a book of poetry earlier this year (it's called Thunder at Darwin Station), and most of you probably know that we have a Poetry Garden group that meets every month, in our lovely garden if the weather permits, and otherwise in our social hall. And with that in mind, I thought that for my column in Kadima this time around, I'd write a little bit of light verse about Adas Emuno. It may not be any better than a Hallmark greeting card, but Rosh Hashanah is coming up soon, and some of us do send cards out at this time, so why not? Here it is:
Community gives us shelter from the stormYou may have noticed that the poem is also a bit of an acrostic, a format with a long tradition in Hebrew poetry, one that is also a part of the High Holy Day liturgy. After all, we are the People of the Book, and also the People of the Alphabet.
Our congregation, welcoming and warm
New and old, join hand in hand
Gathering together to take a stand
Renewing faith and commitment
Enjoying friendship and fulfillment
Gaining insight and understanding
As our hearts and souls expanding
Take our spirit ever higher
In preserving our most ancient fire
Our ever-evolving legacy
Nourishing our identity
A house of worship and of learning
Demonstrating and affirming
A commitment to heal creation
Social justice our persuasion
Education our sacred birthright
Minds are opened with delight
Uplifting our children, raised with love
Now soaring high up above
Our community, that's what I'm speaking of
(Adas Emuno, it's such a simple equation
It's just who we are, our very own little congregation)
And I would like to take this opportunity to wish you all a healthy and happy new year. May you and your family be inscribed in the Book of Life for a good year, a sweet year, a prosperous year. And may 5776 be a great year for us all, as a community and as a congregation.
P.S., here's a link to the book on Amazon:
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