If you want to go to the page with links to all five sermons, click here.

To read "How to Write Your Own Eulogy," click here.

To read "How To Be a Success in Life," click here.

Please click here to read about Advocating for Israel. It's very important.

To read "Honor Your Father & Your Mother," click here.

Finally, to read "You Have No Memories, & You Have No Soul," click here. This one might be my personal favorite of the five.

I hope you will leave comments, sharing your own thoughts on these topics. As always:

Let's get back to my phone call with President Obama. It will not just be the President and me on the line. This is the first time I have participated in a pre-Rosh Hashanah conference call with the President and American rabbis. I will be one of approximately 1,000 rabbis on the call.

The conference call required advance registration. On the reservation form, there was an opportunity to submit a question to the President. Mathematically, there is an X in 1,000 chance that my question will be chosen (with X being the total number of questions chosen). In real life, I would give my question no chance of being asked, but I believe it may be one of the most important questions in the world at this time. I sat down to write this post only to share the question with my readers. If there is any followup to report, have no doubt that I will do so before Shabbat tomorrow night.

Here is what I submitted to President Obama (there was a limited number of characters allowed):

Mr. President, President Kennedy said that a missile strike from Cuba anywhere in the Western Hemisphere would be regarded as an attack on the USA by the USSR, requiring a full retaliatory response. Are you willing to say the same about an Iranian attack on Israel?

That is my question. I do not think it will be answered. If it is answered, I pray it will only be answered verbally, not by the action or inaction of the United States after the window of opportunity has closed, and Iran has, God forbid, made good on its threats against the State of Israel.

I am proud to be a Conservative rabbi. Unlike Charles "I'm Not A Role Model" Barkley, I do try to comport myself in public in a manner befitting a rabbi. Right now, however, I cannot help but be somewhat unrabbinic when I say that I think Linda Hirshman should shut the h-e-double-hockey-sticks up.

Who is Linda Hirshman? Excellent question! I never heard of her before today. She wrote a book I never heard of, called Victory: The Triumphant Gay Revolution. I only know of her now because for reasons I cannot fathom, in its August 6 edition, Newsweek Magazine chose to publish a piece she wrote criticizing Sally Ride, may she rest in peace, for having the temerity to keep her private life, including her sexuality, private.

Writes Hirshman: As the Ride flap reveals, lesbians and gay men have the option of living in the closet. What's wrong with that? Some acts are not morally required; in normal times, coming out, like like acknowledging cancer, which Ride also kept private, seems like a personal decision. Ride, however, did not live in normal times. The twenty-seven years she lived with her "partner" (quotation marks hers) were critical to the triumphant gay revolution. As activists around her made the world better, her world got better, too. But instead of pulling her weight, she was free riding. Worse, as a celebrity and role model, she denied the movement a valuable asset.

I have given a great deal of thought as to how I want to respond to the above. I can do no better than paraphrase comedian Artie Lange: "Waaaaaaah! Some of us came out but Sally Ride didn't. Waaaaaaah!"

Hirshman's critique is vile on more than one level. Could Ride's fellow cancer victims have drawn strength from the knowledge that she suffered from it, too? That seems reasonably possible, but Hirshman is magnanimous enough to grant Ride her right to privacy regarding her cancer. She only had no right to privacy regarding her sexuality.

As for the right to privacy itself, I'm going to go out on a limb. This is not a piece on abortion, but Roe v. Wade is based on the premise that there is an inherent right to privacy in the Bill of Rights. My guess is that Hirshman supports that reading of the Bill of Rights, even as she denies Sally Ride's right to privacy.

And why is it that Sally Ride had no right to privacy? Because she was gay. In one belch of words, Hirshman criticizes not only Sally Ride, but every gay person who chose not to come out of the closet when Hirshman decided they should have. Yes, Ride's culpability is higher because of her fame, but Hirshman writes "Revolutions will always have their opponents; they should not have to carry their own as free riders." Translation: when some brave activists first started to come out of the closet, every other gay man or woman lost the right to their own privacy. They became free riders. That's as discriminatory a statement as I have ever heard about gay people.

Linda Hirshman's piece is articulate drivel. Guess who seems to know that? None other than Linda Hirshman. At the end of her article, she writes, "Maybe "free rider" is too harsh. But even if Sally Ride didn't do something wrong, she missed the chance to do something right."

What? After readers slog our way through your rant, our reward is watching you attempt the infamous but impossible feat of reverse micturation? Well, you're right. Free rider is too harsh. And Sally Ride did not do anything wrong. She didn't even fail to do what is right. She only made a choice that was different from your own. I truly admire the courage it took for you to come out when you did. At the same time, I loathe your eagerness to malign the memory of a dead woman for opting to keep her sexuality to herself.

Maybe shut up was too harsh of me, Ms. Hirshman. But lighten up, OK?

I have never felt comfortable saying that I think Hillel was wrong, but I think Hillel was wrong. If you ask me, the entire Torah is "You must be holy ones, for I, Adonai your God, am a Holy One (my translation). This is Leviticus 19:2, which would be my answer to the question of what is the most important verse in the Bible.

Dennis Prager does not think the most important verse in the Bible is Lev. 19:2. He makes a compelling case for his choice, and I am happy to invite him back as a virtual Scholar-In-Residence to share his thoughts with you. I am sure you will enjoy this five minute Prager University course called "The Most Important Verse in the Bible."

So what do you think? It's fine if you just want to read and watch, but I hope you'll leave a comment! Do you agree with Dennis, Hillel, me, or do you have your own choice for most important verse in the Bible?

A few introductory notes might be of use. Lena Dunham is a young filmmaker and screenwriter. I saw her film, Tiny Furniture, and became interested in her work. Something I read about her mentioned that she described herself as feeling "very culturally Jewish," which also interested me. I started watching her new hit show on HBO, Girls. I became one of her followers on Twitter, which brings me to my next explanation for the uninitiated: Tweeting is now something that humans can do between one another. It is the exchange of some sort of content that can be expressed in 140 characters or less. Finally, the word favorite is now a verb as well as an adjective. It it possible to favorite something—a Tweet, for example, having nothing to do with the sound made by birds, but with the 140 character message I mentioned before.

Lena Dunham sent a Tweet to her 200,000 + followers that began precisely as follows: "Oh my G-d!" I was intrigued by her use of G-d, so I sent her a message asking if that was her usual practice, and if it had a religious basis. I did not expect a reply, but I got one! I responded by thanking her for replying, and she favorited my thank you Tweet (formerly known as a thank you note). I also sent her a funny Tweet which she retweeted with the editorial comment, "The Best!" In the past, I have favorited some of her Tweets.

To summarize, Ms. Dunham and I have now Tweeted each other, and we have favorited each other, neither of which is prohibited by the Torah even though I am married.

At this point in the discussion, Facebookers are likely to point out that I have only written about Twitter, and no discussion of online relationships can avoid the gold standard of online friendship: being "friended" by someone on Facebook. That's another new verb: to friend. We already had the perfectly good term befriend, but it didn't make it in the Facebook lexicon. I don't think Lena Dunham has her own Facebook page, and if she does, we are not Facebook friends. So in our twenty-first century social networking society, what's the bottom line? Am I friends with Lena Dunham? 

If we use traditional definitions, Ms. Dunham and I are not even acquaintances. We've never met, never spoken to each other. Still, an exchange took place between us that is important to me.

I do not want to use this blog, or my Twitter account, or my Facebook page, as vehicles to share my personal problems like no matter how many socks are in my drawer, no two match. I don't even want to use them only to share matters of substance and interest. I want to use them to get my followers and friends exchanging ideas, having virtual online conversations, not passively reading some sort of high tech bulletin board.

That's why I'm writing about the exchange with Lena Dunham. She wrote something that made me curious, I asked a question, she responded—there was, briefly, a relationship that existed only in cyberspace, but that nevertheless made the exchange of thoughts possible. 

The Rabbi's Study has a way to leave comments, and many readers have done so on various pieces. Thank you! Please keep sharing your thoughts with other readers and me. Facebook has an easy way to leave comments. Twitter allows for direct responses to the Tweets of others. I have even linked Twitter and Facebook so that every Tweet shows up on my Facebook page. I then sought out interesting nuggets of grist for the discussion mill, posted them, and waited for the discussions to begin.

Do you know what I got back? Bupkes I got back. I put out some very interesting things:

A C.S. Lewis quote followed by this question: Do we need more God and less rabbi in our services? No response.

Another great C.S. Lewis quote: "You do not have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body." That got some "Likes," but no discussion.

I got a few responses for "What was the best compliment you ever received?" (Mine was "You remind me of your mother.") But by far the most discussion was triggered by my observation that perhaps social media like Facebook are not the best forums for discussion. 

Most of the comments were against using social media for discussion. Several pointed out the opportunity for misunderstanding because of the lack of cues like tone of voice and facial expression. The point is true enough, but it is not new. Even when elegant, handwritten notes were written with pens filled from inkwells on fine linen papers, there were no nonverbal cues and people seemed to communicate pretty well.

Another point was that once you put something out on the Internet with your name on it, you are linked to that post forever. Perhaps, but even Facebook allows you to delete posts, although I don't think you can take back a Tweet. (Update: Wrong again. You can. How? Do what the rest of us do. Ask a kid.)

Still, I have a vision of my flesh and blood congregants exchanging ideas and opinions with one another and with my virtual communities of Twitter followers and Facebook friends. No, I don't see or want it to replace sitting at a table with a study partner and a stack of books with real words printed on real pages, but I do know this: our young people are developing new ways to network and communicate. Rabbis who want to reach this demographic will have to learn to play by their new rules. At the same time, there is no reason why these digital forms of expression cannot enhance—not replace, but enhance—the way the rest of us share ideas. 

I am happy to say that it is actually starting to happen. I'm throwing things out via Twitter and Facebook and getting responses. Sometimes just a Like, but many times actual, thoughtful responses. These are interactions that would not have happened without today's social networking tools. And maybe the best part (OK, not at all the best part but still kind of nice) of this new way to communicate is that someday, when Lena Dunham wins the Emmy Awards for which she has been nominated, I'll be able to say to the people watching on TV with me, "See that woman? Lena Dunham? Yeah, well, we've Tweeted." And I can even say so in front of my wife.

P.S. Since this was originally posted, Ms. Dunham was gracious enough to do something very kind for me through the mail. I cannot say we are friends in the traditional sense, but I can now say that I am her "favorite (and only) rabbi pal." I was thrilled. We have some sort of a relationship. Without Twitter, it would never have happened. And my wife wants to start watching Girls with me!

So once again:

As of June 27 at 9:30 EDT, a temporary server problem is interfering with the links in the post below this one. We are aware of the problem and are working to have it resolved. In the meantime, I thank you for your patience.

I am sorry that so much time has passed since my last entry. Thank God, it has only been for good reasons. My small but vibrant congregation keeps me rather busy, which is good. I can also share the following good news with my readers: I will be serving as the rabbi of Congregation Shaarey Tefilla for another five years. I am deeply honored to be able to do so.

My next blog entry will be on the afterlife, or what we tend to call in Judaism "the world to come." It will also address the question of when, if ever, belief becomes synonymous with knowledge. This is not writing I want to rush, but I will make every effort to post it as soon as I can.

In the meantime, I have been catching up with putting my sermons online. I'm trying to get one month's worth up each week. I think I had some good ones in November of last year, and I want to share them with you as I work on my next post.

In this sermon, I spoke about my belief that wearing a kippah full time makes me be a better person.

Here is my sermon for Veteran's Day, and I have to admit I think it is one of my better efforts.

Finally, what I think was a very moving sermon about compassion, which you can read here.

I hope you find them meaningful. 

For example, Jewish rabbis. Certainly in Philadelphia, all the rabbis I knew were Jewish. What could be more obvious than a rabbi being Jewish? But the Jewishness of Philadelphia area rabbis went unstated. Not in southwest Florida. There, non-Jews always introduced me to other non-Jews as "a Jewish rabbi." I am not complaining, mocking them, or taking offense in any way. I am simply pointing out a difference between the two cultures. Perhaps the term was not so redundant. There were several "messianic Jews" who called themselves rabbis in southwest Florida. Maybe it was a good thing I was acknowledged as an authentic, Jewish rabbi.

Many friends of mine were not familiar with the word synagogue, so they would ask me how things were going at the church. Truth be told, that did not bother me any more than synagogues being called temples, which is a pet peeve of mine.

I do have to admit that one thing I found very surprising was when I was wished a Merry Christmas by people who knew that I am a Jewish rabbi. There is probably not a Jew in America who has not been wished a Merry Christmas, but I think very few have heard the words, "Merry Christmas, Rabbi!"

How does one respond to that? My response of choice was, "Thanks! Merry Christmas to you, too!" I know that some Jewish people will not like how I responded. Some would say I should have politely indicated that I do not celebrate Christmas. Others would be more confrontational and claim that they would have said "Happy Chanukah" in response. I have some strong feelings about Jews inadvertently being wished a Merry Christmas. I am going to share them below, and I invite your comments and opinions.

Eighty-three percent of Americans identify themselves as Christians. If you play the odds and wish random Americans a Merry Christmas, chances are 83% that you'll be talking to someone who does celebrate Christmas. I have no desire for my non-Christianity to dampen the holiday spirit for that eighty-three percent.  I have no problem playing a Christmas concert with the Zionsville Concert Band, even if there is no Chanukah music on the program (which, in fact, there was). I don't want Wal-Mart to instruct their greeters to say Happy Holidays instead of Merry Christmas so as not to offend my fellow non-Christians and me. Governor Chaffee in Rhode Island does not need to pretend the state Christmas tree is merely a holiday tree for my sake. In fact, as a religious Jew with more in common with religious Christians than with secular Jews, I am all for putting more Christ back in Christmas, despite the fact that it has absolutely nothing to do with my own Jewish theological beliefs.

I know many Jews could not disagree more with me. I have a theory as to why that is so. I urge you to respond with your evaluation of the Sendrow Doctrine.

The Sendrow Doctrine states that one's displeasure at being wished Merry Christmas is in inverse proportion to the richness of one's Jewish life. In other words, the richer your Jewish life, the less it bothers you if someone—gasp—wishes you a Merry Christmas. You understand it is well intentioned act of friendliness that applies to the vast majority of Americans. But if your life has little or no Jewish content, your primary identification with Judaism is that you are not a Christian. Therefore, when wished a Merry Christmas, a blow has been struck at the very core of your Jewishness: your non-Christianess. No wonder that someone feels the need to assert that he does not celebrate Christmas, thank you very much.

I do not want the Jewish community specifically nor the non-Christian community in general to trump the 83% of Americans who celebrate Christmas. I want more of America's Judeo-Christian heritage to be part of the fabric of our society, not less. Yes, that means that Jews, Muslims, and other non-Christians will sometimes be subjected to a Merry Christmas wish. With regard to that, I have one question: so what?

Until next time, Shalom!