A Story of Personal Uplift

My Dad & The Town That Never Saw A Jew 
(Only 350 Miles from where a School Board banned a book about the Holocaust this year)

The little town of Whitewell, Tennessee never saw a Jew.
A Grade 8 class there, stunned to learn of the Holocaust, set up a world-wide campaign to collect
6,000,000 paperclips to understand.
( Dutch people wore paperclips on their lapels as a sign of resistance).
The class and the school grew in tolerance, love and connection.

My Dad was part of a Jewish Motorcycle Group - 'Yids On Wheels', or YOWIE's, as they called them-
selves - that created a motorcycle ride to Whitwell.

As the motorcycles drove towards the town, more and more older Jewish motorcyclists joined the ride.
My Dad and his group raised $60,000 to donate to that school in Whitwell for future programming to
teach love, to teach kindness, to teach tolerance.

My father described the scene:
A long line of Jewish men in their sixties and seventies on motorcycles.
The road into town lined with all the non-Jewish residents clapping, cheering them on.
The strong Jewish men in their 60's and 70's, with tears streaming down their faces, riding into the wind, and into town.
The main school auditorium set up for the reception.
Down one side of the reception room were long tables filled with Kosher Corned Beef imported from somewhere, for the
Jewish riders.
Down the other side of the auditorium were tables lined with Pork 'n Beans, for the townsfolk.
The entire town showed up.
A town where there had never been a Jewish person, came together to receive a long line of Jewish men, on motorcycles,
from across North America -
- coming to present them with a cheque for $60,000, to be used for more teaching and discovery and connections to all
Proud to be the son of the Dad who was part of that lineup.
Proud that Whitwell grew in its development, standing to receive such a group.
Rabbi Mark Biller

Resolutions can be Dangerous!

Resolutions can be dangerous. And New Year's resolutions are the most dangerous of all.

"But Rabbi", you think, "aren't you a proponent of making change? Don't you encourage people's reviewing and committing to things?"

I absolutely do but perhaps as part of a more deeply-rooted ongoing process, and not in that impulsive black-and-white-statement kind of way that says "Starting January 1st, I will... ".

We are all in a process of life and it's usually not the grand moments that precipitate change. Oh, those grand moments may bring on epiphanies and realizations, but they don't often translate into behavioral change or internal stance change. Those shifts are more incremental and more based on putting new habits into place.

One of the most misunderstood of the Ten Commandments may be the last, "Thou Shall Not Covet". Don't covet your neighbor, don't covet your friend. Don't covet - how is that to be made part of life?

A most innovative Rabbinic interpretation is to include the thought "Don't covet yourself".

We all have images of ourselves from our early young dreamer years; thoughts of who we thought we might become. Perhaps we romantically reminisce about a time in life we felt good about, or about a time we thought we were more grounded, or more creative, or kinder, or more attractive ..

Well, to stay in those thoughts is to .. . covet ourself!

To think back and wish we were our former self is to be absent from who we are now. It's a way of not being fully in our life. In fact, according to this interpretation, it may be breaking one of the Ten Commandments.

In this light, the Torah is encouraging our acceptance of who (and how) we are now, and perhaps encouraging us, to welcome gentle tweaking from our kinder inner self - or from a friend, or even from our rabbi - to move, with love, to a newer more desired state or direction.

I am grateful to be moving into the secular New Year with you all.


Rabbi Mark Biller