Ikar Los Angeles

Some lessons we learn just once, but the deeper wisdom we learn over and over and over. This summer was my coping with prostate cancer and surgery. And the old lessons were there to greet me on the other side: the world is prepared for us, it takes (and we are) a village), we are marinating in love.

Culture change always starts with stories.    And we aren’t the only living beings with stories to tell.  The Earth’s chorus of voices demands moral engagement, a new approach to our planet in peril.

Our world is crying out for a subversive sequel, a redemption narrative. It’s time to write a new and better, more just and more inclusive version of our story. We must plant seeds for the future now, before it’s too late.

During this time of cheshbon hanefesh or accounting of the soul, are we keeping our corner of the body of the Jewish people healthy with communally, unified practice? I believe, it's time to create a liberally minded halacha (practice of Jewish law) to meet our sensibilities of the day yet remain true to the commandments of our tradition.

Living in exile with God (as if such a thing could be.)

The warnings famously issued in this parashah are not Biblical fantasy—they are living reality. When we allow powerful people to deceive, mock and instrumentalize those most vulnerable, when we cede to a norm of heartlessness, indifference and the perversion of justice, there is no end to the cruelties that will permeate our society. It’s time to wake up—to recognize this moment and movement for exactly what it is.

This is a recording of Rabbi David Kasher's Parsha class from September 15, 2022

Where does our national story begin? With a wandering Aramean, according to the story told in this week's parsha. But exactly who that Aramean was is a matter of great debate.

Sifting through a dense catalog of state regulations in search of some inspiration for the High Holy Days - with some help from the Ba'al Shem Tov and Abraham Maslow. 

This is a recording of Rabbi David Kasher's Parsha class from September 8, 2022

Buried in the laws of inheritance is a subtle reference to one of the most tragic stories in the Torah - one that we usually miss.

We live in a vast, complex world. It’s beautiful, but wracked with devastation and suffering. Infinitesimal in the face of it all, one wonders how they could possibly make a difference. The first four words of Parshat Re’eh teach us that each individual’s presence does in fact have an impact on the wider community, and a single action can even tip the whole world toward good. Let’s choose to live like every single one of us matters, like the way we live can bring us closer to a healed, redeemed world.

As we prepare to bring our oldest to college, I feel for Moses, struggling to say goodbye to his own children, poised to enter the Promised Land on a part of the journey they must take without him. Somehow, amidst the confused, rambling contradictions of his farewell speech, Moses helps b’nai Yisrael remember what matters most, and reminds us just what we need to hear as well.

The Torah warns us against someone - maybe even someone very close to us - who might come try to entice us to worship other gods! But when we look a little closer at the commentators, we begin to wonder if the real enticement might be coming from… a higher source.

This is a recording of Rabbi David Kasher's Parsha class from August 18, 2022

The legends of the magical Clouds of Glory.

Stories from Rabbi Kasher’s early prayer days. A rabbinic list of ten types of prayer. And a prayer reframe from the Sfas Emes.

How knowing God is a revelation of ourselves.

Tisha b’Av is a day of communal grief-- we fast, lament and hold the memory of the greatest catastrophes the Jewish people have endured. The danger in revisiting the tragedies of generations past is that our rituals foster a distorted self-perception, a feeling of eternal victimization. Instead, we must remember because grief is an expression of love, because there is an urgent moral message in the stories of our suffering that we must hear today, and because we are drawn again and again, through our collective grief, into community.    

Who does Moses remember as his greatest enemies?