Pirkei Avot (5:22) says of the Torah, "Turn it over and turn it over, for all is in it." As an American living in Canada, who is regularly asked [or mocked, or harangued] about Donald Trump, I have been wondering: Is Pirkei Avot serious? Is Donald Trump to be found in the Torah?
And I think the answer is Yes; Donald Trump's ancestor was named Avimelech. This is not the Avimelech of Bereishit; rather, it is Avimelech of the book of Shoftim (Chapter 9).
In the period when the Jews were led by Judges, between the death of Joshua and the start of Jewish monarchy, Avimelech rose to power in the region of Mount Ephraim as an anti-government outsider. He rabble-roused against the leaders in power. (9:1-3) He spent a fortune to attract supporters who are biblically described as "empty and senseless", who helped him overthrow those in power. (9:4-5) And, yes, he appeared misogynist - he died after a woman dropped a millstone on his head, and his dying request was for a youth to kill him, "lest they say of me that a woman killed him." (9:53-54)
Of course, the analogy to Avimelech is imperfect - for starters, Avimelech actually succeeded in gaining public office - but I mention it because of an important lesson within Avimelech's story. After Avimelech's rise, his half-brother Yotam ascended Mount Gerizim and proclaimed a scathing rebuke against those who had selected Avimelech.
Yotam described the trees trying to anoint a leader from among themselves.
First they approached the olive, but the olive refused, lest the job diminish its important oil.
Then they approached the fig, but the fig refused, lest the job diminish its sweet fruit.
Then they approached the grape, but the grape refused, lest the job diminish its joy-inducing wine.
Finally, they approached the thorn, which produces nothing useful. The thorn agreed to take on the role. (9:7-15)
Society runs a grave risk when those who are qualified shy away from leadership, for then only thorns are left to lead. May we not be stuck with the thorns; may those who are qualified - our olives, figs, and grapes - always step up, to guide our community and world forward.
Monday, December 28, 2015
Monday, November 30, 2015
Preparing for Shabbos
A simple question, but it matters to me; I've been thinking about it for the past few weeks. I'd be happy to hear responses from the few people who are kind enough to visit my largely defunct blog:
What is your favourite part of preparing for Shabbos?
I ask because there is so much that is challenging and stressful about getting ready for Shabbos, and it can make the experience miserable. Perhaps looking for favourite parts might help?
What is your favourite part of preparing for Shabbos?
I ask because there is so much that is challenging and stressful about getting ready for Shabbos, and it can make the experience miserable. Perhaps looking for favourite parts might help?
Thursday, November 5, 2015
We Are Bnei Rivkah (Derashah, Chayei Sarah 5776)
(This isn't actually a derashah; it's more of a nugget, which could be developed into a derashah.)
Next week's Torah portion, Toldot, will begin with Rivkah pregnant with twins. Her children will "race about" in her womb, and she will react with a question: אם כן, למה זה אנכי? (Bereishit 25:22)
Rivkah's language is odd. Commentators generally explain that Rivkah asked, "This is so painful, why did I want it?" (Rashi) Or, "This is so painful, why should I continue to live?" (Ramban) But Dr. Yael Tzohar, of Bar Ilan University (Hebrew here), notes that this doesn't fit Rivkah's words, which translate literally to, "If so, why me?" Further, would a woman who prayed for children for twenty years respond to pain with this level of rejection? [Yes, I am not qualified to answer that question, but perhaps Dr. Tzohar has more familiarity with pregnancy than I do...] And how does G-d's response, predicting the rivalry between her two fetuses, answer either version of Rivkah's question?
Dr. Tzohar suggests that we consider Rivkah's background, from our Torah portion of Chayei Sarah. Rivkah lived with her pagan family until her monotheistic cousin's servant came to visit. That servant declared that Rivkah was special, by dint of her generous conduct at the well. (ibid. 24:14-20) The servant announced that a Divine miracle had identified her as special. (ibid. 24:40-48) When the family hesitated, the servant reiterated that G-d had selected her. (ibid. 24:56) Her family then blessed her - "You shall produce myriads." (ibid. 24:60) This is the woman who will mother the next generation of the family promised to Avraham and Sarah.
Against this backdrop, Dr. Tzohar says that Rivkah interpreted the pains of pregnancy as a message that something was wrong, and she was ineligible. And she turned to G-d and asked, "If so, then why ME?" If there is something wrong with my pagan lineage, if I am not worthy, then why did You bring me here and set me up for this?
To this ancient question - which echoes our own question today as we face knife attacks, demonization in the media, and diplomatic ostracism - G-d answers, "There are two nations in your uterus. Two nations will separate from your womb." (ibid. 25:23) Yes, Rivkah - you are the one I have selected, you are the one who is suited for this task. There is pain now, and there will be pain in the future, and I need you to fill this role.
Rivkah remembered G-d's answer. Many years later, when the birthright and the family's future was at stake, and Yaakov suggested that his mother's shockingly brazen plan might cause him to be cursed, Rivkah told him with the superlative confidence of G-d's official delegate, "Any curse of yours is on me." I was destined for this position because G-d wanted me to make this decision. (ibid. 27:13)
There are many answers to the "Why us?" question, but this answer inspires me. The Divine plan requires that a nation accept G-d's Torah, live in Israel and stand apart from the world, and it may well be fundamental to human nature and Free Will that this will bring with it great animosity from others. It hurts terribly, and we must do what we can to minimize the pain, whether diplomatically or militarily - but at the end of the day, we are here because G-d knows that Rivkah's descendants are uniquely suited to stand up to the task.
We have stood up to the challenge for thousands of years, with remarkable success, producing a rich culture and a sustained tradition of intellectual depth and moral heights. The light at the end of the tunnel is in view, with our return to national life in Zion. G-d's bet on Rivkah was a good one, and I believe the same is true for G-d's bet on her descendants.
Next week's Torah portion, Toldot, will begin with Rivkah pregnant with twins. Her children will "race about" in her womb, and she will react with a question: אם כן, למה זה אנכי? (Bereishit 25:22)
Rivkah's language is odd. Commentators generally explain that Rivkah asked, "This is so painful, why did I want it?" (Rashi) Or, "This is so painful, why should I continue to live?" (Ramban) But Dr. Yael Tzohar, of Bar Ilan University (Hebrew here), notes that this doesn't fit Rivkah's words, which translate literally to, "If so, why me?" Further, would a woman who prayed for children for twenty years respond to pain with this level of rejection? [Yes, I am not qualified to answer that question, but perhaps Dr. Tzohar has more familiarity with pregnancy than I do...] And how does G-d's response, predicting the rivalry between her two fetuses, answer either version of Rivkah's question?
Dr. Tzohar suggests that we consider Rivkah's background, from our Torah portion of Chayei Sarah. Rivkah lived with her pagan family until her monotheistic cousin's servant came to visit. That servant declared that Rivkah was special, by dint of her generous conduct at the well. (ibid. 24:14-20) The servant announced that a Divine miracle had identified her as special. (ibid. 24:40-48) When the family hesitated, the servant reiterated that G-d had selected her. (ibid. 24:56) Her family then blessed her - "You shall produce myriads." (ibid. 24:60) This is the woman who will mother the next generation of the family promised to Avraham and Sarah.
Against this backdrop, Dr. Tzohar says that Rivkah interpreted the pains of pregnancy as a message that something was wrong, and she was ineligible. And she turned to G-d and asked, "If so, then why ME?" If there is something wrong with my pagan lineage, if I am not worthy, then why did You bring me here and set me up for this?
To this ancient question - which echoes our own question today as we face knife attacks, demonization in the media, and diplomatic ostracism - G-d answers, "There are two nations in your uterus. Two nations will separate from your womb." (ibid. 25:23) Yes, Rivkah - you are the one I have selected, you are the one who is suited for this task. There is pain now, and there will be pain in the future, and I need you to fill this role.
Rivkah remembered G-d's answer. Many years later, when the birthright and the family's future was at stake, and Yaakov suggested that his mother's shockingly brazen plan might cause him to be cursed, Rivkah told him with the superlative confidence of G-d's official delegate, "Any curse of yours is on me." I was destined for this position because G-d wanted me to make this decision. (ibid. 27:13)
There are many answers to the "Why us?" question, but this answer inspires me. The Divine plan requires that a nation accept G-d's Torah, live in Israel and stand apart from the world, and it may well be fundamental to human nature and Free Will that this will bring with it great animosity from others. It hurts terribly, and we must do what we can to minimize the pain, whether diplomatically or militarily - but at the end of the day, we are here because G-d knows that Rivkah's descendants are uniquely suited to stand up to the task.
We have stood up to the challenge for thousands of years, with remarkable success, producing a rich culture and a sustained tradition of intellectual depth and moral heights. The light at the end of the tunnel is in view, with our return to national life in Zion. G-d's bet on Rivkah was a good one, and I believe the same is true for G-d's bet on her descendants.
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
Rebbetzin Naama Henkin, in her own words
The element I appreciated most in Dr. Yagil Henkin's eulogy for his brother, Rabbi Eitam Henkin, was the insight he gave into Rabbi Henkin's personality. To provide something similar regarding Rebbetzin Naama Henkin, I am including here my translation of a blog post she wrote. (The original Hebrew is available here.)
It's not a dvar torah, in the usual sense. It's a description of her feelings about a business meeting with secular Israelis. The feelings she describes will likely be familiar to those who travel in multiple religious worlds.
This is part of what was viciously taken from us - a thoughtful, sensitive human being who lived in multiple Jewish communities, and who could have brought them together through her actions and words. חבל על דאבדין ולא משתכחין, woe to us for those we have lost, who are no longer found.
It's not a dvar torah, in the usual sense. It's a description of her feelings about a business meeting with secular Israelis. The feelings she describes will likely be familiar to those who travel in multiple religious worlds.
And again I prepare to travel to a business meeting in Tel
Aviv, again I open the closet to vacillate for the hundredth time as to what to
wear to be tzanua (private, modest) but sufficiently modern, elegant but
not too pretentious, and again I know in the shelter of my heart that when I
leave the car in the parking lot in the heart of Allenby that I will feel, as
always – foreign, unusual, other, of “them”. My designer kerchief, which at a
women’s evening in the yishuv (community) would draw compliments and
inquiries of “Where did you buy it,” is exactly as relevant on Allenby Street
as a Muslim hijab, meaning that it is not at all relevant.
After I succeed in overcoming a wave of feelings of
inferiority, I enter a building tiled in parquet, they are already waiting for
me for a meeting that was set ten minutes ago (somehow, the density of the traffic
jams at the entrance to Tel Aviv and in its streets always succeeds in
surprising me). One last trip into the restroom to arrange the kerchief, to
check that the makeup is still present, and a last, final and decisive sigh:
Who am I kidding? A dossit (quasi-derogatory term for ‘religious’) remains a dossit.
A moment before I enter the meeting, the usual consideration
passes through my mind – will they be surprised that I am religious? Did
the one who invited me add this
description as an inseparable part of my description – “We will work with
Naama, she designs interfaces. Oh, yes, she is also religious – nu, dossit
with a kerchief, but she’s sababa (A-OK)”… I was never present in the
room when this sentence was uttered, if
it was uttered, but I can always sense it when I enter the room, even though I
am received entirely naturally, and with a smile, the hands of the men are not
extended to me for shaking, and the smiling receptionist hastens to inform me
that the coffee is kosher.
Then the moment comes when, as part of the small talk,
someone is interested in asking, “Where do you come from? Did you say Jerusalem?”
(They always remember Jerusalem, because of the area code.) And I blush, “No,
no, a small yishuv, in the vicinity of Modiin.” Oh, they all nod,
Modiin, yes, we have heard of that city, we really must get there some time with
the kids, they say there is an excellent park there.
There will come a day – I promise the small, agitated pursuer
of honesty inside me – when I will gather the courage, and in response to this
question I will answer with the truth: I live in Neriah, a community yishuv
in Binyamin. Yes, it is across the Green Line, what they call in the media a “settlement”,
but we prefer to call it a development. You should come to visit some time; it’s
very nice here.
This is part of what was viciously taken from us - a thoughtful, sensitive human being who lived in multiple Jewish communities, and who could have brought them together through her actions and words. חבל על דאבדין ולא משתכחין, woe to us for those we have lost, who are no longer found.
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
The Yom Kippur Grapevine (Derashah, Yom Kippur 5776)
I ended up re-writing my derashah this morning... I do think this will be better than the previous version.
Live in
Israel, even among idolaters
לעולם
ידור אדם בא"י אפי' בעיר שרובה עובדי כוכבים, ואל ידור בחו"ל ואפילו
בעיר שרובה ישראל, שכל הדר בארץ ישראל דומה כמי שיש לו אלוק, וכל הדר בחוצה לארץ
דומה כמי שאין לו אלוק...
Always, one should live in Israel, even in a city
which is mostly idolatrous, rather than live outside of Israel even in a city
which is mostly Jewish, for one who lives in Israel is as though he has a relationship
with Gd, and one who lives outside of Israel is as though he has no
relationship with Gd…[1]
I didn’t make it up – this is a gemara!
One thousand years ago, Rabbi Yehudah haLevi explored this assertion
that one can only have a relationship with Gd in Israel.[2] He
explained that we, the Jewish people, are like a prolific grapevine
which is tailored to flourish in a particular soil, and with particular
cultivation. The acts of cultivation are taught in the Torah, and the soil is
the Land of Israel.
I want to come back to the question of whether one can only connect to
Gd in Israel. First, though, I want to focus on another startling part of this
passage – that I must move to Israel even if that means living in an עיר שרובה עובדי כוכבים, an
idolatrous city!
When I taught this passage in a shiur several weeks ago, one of the
participants challenged me. Is an idolatrous city where our grapevine should be
cultivated? What about all the ways in which Judaism places such a powerful emphasis
on living among good influences, and avoiding bad ones!
·
The Torah demonstrates the
dangers of living in idolatrous societies. Think of Egypt with Avraham and Sarah, the
Philistines with Yitzchak and Rivkah, and Shechem with Dinah. Yosef tells his
brothers to live in Goshen, not among the Egyptians.
·
The gemara records rabbinic
decrees meant to encourage Jews to live away from bad influences,[3] to
avoid joint meals and social drinking,[4] and
so on.
On Rosh
HaShanah we spelled out the importance of איחוד
הנפשות, of bonding
with others in empathy, but did Rav Yerucham Levovitz really envision unity and
empathy with idolaters rather than Jews? How can the gemara tell me to go live among
idolaters in Israel?!
The
risks of community
I believe that
Rav Levovitz’s vision of building a community in which people bear each other’s
burdens is incomplete; more is necessary, because community based solely on a shared
set of actions can become a negative:
·
A community in which people join together to do
good things can become a community of peer pressure, in which people
do right only because deviating would carry a social price.
·
A community which develops norms of practice
can become a community focussed on rules and rote – what Yeshayah[6]
called מצות אנשים מלומדה -
without spiritual depth.
If
community becomes all about doing as the herd does, then we fail the promise of unity.
The
goal of Kesuvos: Communities of beautiful grapevines
I believe that
talmudic passage about living in Israel means to teach us to cultivate a
community of souls who personally connect with Gd as Step One, and who
then communally carry forth that Image of Gd into this world,bearing
each other’s burdens, as Step Two.
To use the
Kuzari’s grapevine metaphor:
·
When our roots are a search for Gd, then we will be
nourished not by peer pressure but by personal spiritual desire.
·
When we are nourished by personal spiritual desire, then
our rules and rituals will not be the essence, but the means of
bringing forth spreading shoots, lush leaves, fragrant flowers and sweet fruit,
the mitzvot and chesed and empathy.
·
And once we unite these grapevines in spiritual communities
which develop the empathy and chesed we discussed on Rosh HaShanah, then we
will benefit, individually and collectively, from the joint influence of so many
human beings growing together and reaching heavenward.
So first
we should seek Gd, as Step One – and then we are able to take Step Two, and
build spiritual communities.
Outside
Israel, we have Yom Kippur
And now I
return to that gemara’s specification of living in Israel to be near HaShem.
We are not in Israel; how can we seek Gd? Does the gemara believe that
all is lost? Would the Kuzari say we are wasting our time?[7] I
think not – because even though HaShem is most available in Israel, we
can seek HaShem, in a life-changing way, in the experience of Yom Kippur,
anywhere.
Through
the rest of the year - whether in Israel or elsewhere - the drive of the
day-to-day and the reality of our religious doubts make it hard for us to
commit to a search for Gd without nagging voices distracting us. “I need to go
to work.” “I have a meeting to get to.” “My phone is ringing.” “My emails are
piling up.” “If Gd is good, how do you explain tsunamis and earthquakes?” “If
Torah cultivates spiritual Jews, what about that rabbi who was arrested?” “I
don’t see Gd anywhere!”
But Yom
Kippur is our Israel, the place where Gd is found. Yom Kippur is a day when
we put aside the busyness and the questions; Yom Kippur is a day of experiential
Judaism. We don’t eat. We don’t wash. Husbands and wives are apart.
It’s all about focusing on Gd. We recite viduy, privately specifying our
mistakes from the past year. It is a personal conversation with Gd. And
the Talmud[8] says
that this is the time when HaShem is near – קראוהו
בהיותו קרוב.
It’s not only that Gd is near to hear our repentance; Gd is here for our
connection, and our cultivation. This is the fertile soil in
which we can cultivate the grapevines of the Jewish people - and even if we currently
live in exile.
What
that connection looks like
What does
that connection look like? What are we looking to cultivate in our hearts?
Shir
haShirim, the ultimate love song between Gd and the Jewish people, describes it
in beautiful and moving terms:[9]
(ט)
מַה־דּוֹדֵךְ מִדּוֹד הַיָּפָה בַּנָּשִׁים מַה־דּוֹדֵךְ מִדּוֹד שֶׁכָּכָה
הִשְׁבַּעְתָּנוּ: (י)
דּוֹדִי צַח וְאָדוֹם דָּגוּל מֵרְבָבָה:
(יא)
רֹאשׁוֹ כֶּתֶם פָּז קְוֻצּוֹתָיו תַּלְתַּלִּים שְׁחֹרוֹת כָּעוֹרֵב: (יב)
עֵינָיו כְּיוֹנִים עַל־אֲפִיקֵי מָיִם רֹחֲצוֹת בֶּחָלָב יֹשְׁבוֹת עַל־מִלֵּאת: (יג)
לְחָיָו כַּעֲרוּגַת הַבֹּשֶׂם מִגְדְּלוֹת מֶרְקָחִים שִׂפְתוֹתָיו שׁוֹשַׁנִּים
נֹטְפוֹת מוֹר עֹבֵר: (יד) יָדָיו
גְּלִילֵי זָהָב מְמֻלָּאִים בַּתַּרְשִׁישׁ מֵעָיו עֶשֶׁת שֵׁן מְעֻלֶּפֶת
סַפִּירִים: (טו)
שׁוֹקָיו עַמּוּדֵי שֵׁשׁ מְיֻסָּדִים עַל־אַדְנֵי־פָז מַרְאֵהוּ כַּלְּבָנוֹן
בָּחוּר כָּאֲרָזִים: (טז) חִכּוֹ
מַמְתַקִּים וְכֻלּוֹ מַחֲמַדִּים זֶה דוֹדִי וְזֶה רֵעִי בְּנוֹת
יְרוּשָׁלִָם:
The
daughters of Jerusalem ask the heroine of Shir haShirim, the Jewish people: Why
is your Beloved different from any other? Why do you seek your Beloved like
this?
And the
heroine responds,“My beloved is pure white and red, standing out even among ten
thousand others. His head is like gold, his coiled hair is black like a raven!
His eyes are like doves by streams of water, bathing in milk, set in a gorgeous
foundation. His cheeks are like a bed of fragrant flowers, mounds of spices;
his lips are like lilies, dripping flowing myrrh. His arms are cylinders of
gold, set with gems; his torso is ivory, inlaid with sapphire. His legs are
marble pillars, founded upon sockets of gold; his appearance is like the choice
cedars of Lebanon. His palate is sweet, he is entirely desirable. This is
my Beloved, This is my friend, daughters of Jerusalem!”
And we
find a similarly beautiful description of that connection each time we repeat
the amidah on Yom Kippur, right before the viduy, in כי
אנו עמך, when we
declare to Gd:
For we are
Your nation, and
You are our Gd.
For we are
Your servants, and You
are our Master…
For we are
Your lot, and
You are our Destiny.
For we are
Your sheep, and
You are our Shepherd.
For we are
Your vineyard, and You
are our Guardian…
For we are
Your beloved, and You
are our Lover.
For we are
Your splendour, and You
are our Friend.
For we
have spoken for You, and You
have spoken for us.
This is
what that gemara wants for us
– not to live among idolaters, but to find Gd - in Israel and on Yom
Kippur! And once we have found Gd, then we can engage in איחוד
הנפשות, bringing
ourselves together to form spiritual communities.
Yizkor,
and beyond
Yizkor is
an especially appropriate time to think along these lines:
·
At Yizkor, each Jew recites the Kel Malei and asks Gd
to remember as we do. Bereavement could be all about personal loss, and not
a religious experience – but Yizkor makes it about Gd. Yizkor is a moment of locating
Gd personally, even within grief.
·
But it is also about community We invoke the memory of
those who created our Jewish world. Victims of the Shoah. Valiant founders and
defenders of the State of Israel. Parents and other relatives. Yizkor is a time
of profound community.
And when
we put back the Torah after Yizkor, and begin Musaf, let us retain that
blend of the two steps. Let us stand as a community of human beings, daven as a
community, sing as a community. But let us also retain that Shir haShirim and Yom
Kippur focus on the private union with Gd, even outside the Land of Israel,
cultivating grapevines that are nourished spiritually, and that flourish
communally.
Derrick
Coleman
One last
note, which might take the level of dialogue somewhat out of the rarefied
spiritual atmosphere we associate with Yom Kippur, but which I hope you will
find as meaningful as I do:
It can be
hard to detach ourselves from the world around us, and experience a union with
Gd. We are surrounded by neighbours and friends and relatives here. We get
distracted, and pausing to re-focus is challenging. And perhaps we have a
history of Yom Kippur davenings which did not reach those heights, telling us cynically
that this day won’t be any different.
The other
day, I saw a video[10] that
really resonated with me on this point. It featured an American football
player, Derrick Coleman. Coleman is deaf, and in the commercial, he talked
about what it took for him to reach his goal of football success. Speaking over
a montage of football scenes, Coleman said this:
They
told me it couldn’t be done. That I was a lost cause. Kids were afraid to play
with me. I was picked on… and picked last. Coaches didn’t know how to talk to
me. They gave up on me, told me I should just quit. But I’ve been deaf since I
was three – so I didn’t listen.
For the
record, Coleman was not drafted by any NFL team out of college. But then he signed
as a free agent after the 2011 season. He became the first deaf NFL offensive
player in 2012, and won Super Bowl 48 at the end of the 2013 season. As of the
start of the current season, he has two more NFL touchdowns than I do.
Sometimes,
all of us need to refuse to listen. Achieving community with Gd is hard – but
even if we have yet to achieve it today, or ever, this Yom Kippur isn’t
over. Coleman concludes by saying, “Now I’m here, with a lot of fans in the
NFL cheering me on. And I can hear them all.” May we merit Coleman’s level
of success in our Yom Kippur, and may HaShem hear us all.
[1] Kesuvos 110b
[2] Kuzari 2:21 specifically cites
this passage, but look more broadly at 2:8-24
[3] Eruvin 62a re: גזירה שמא ילמוד ממעשיו
[4] Avodah Zarah 59b, for example
[5] Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Deios 6:1
[6] Yeshayah 29:13
[7] Of course, Ramban to
Vayyikra 18:25 cites Sifri that mitzvos outside of Israel are really training
for mitzvos in Israel
[8]
Rosh HaShanah 18a
[9]
Shir haShirim 5:9-16
[10] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JzQFA2hxyRQ
Sunday, September 20, 2015
Don't Forget Step One (Derashah for Yom Kippur, 5776)
I'm not entirely sure I like this derashah enough to use it. Not for any reason I can pinpoint, except perhaps that it feels educational rather than inspirational. Thoughts?
-
-
Orthoprax
Disillusionment
The
following comes from a blog written by a shul rabbi a few years ago:[1]
My first rabbinic position
was as an assistant rabbi…. The rabbi [asked me] to daven Mussaf for the shul
on the second day of Rosh ha-Shana. I was flattered… I went home, almost
running the whole way, to tell my wife the good news… I immediately began
practicing. I got tapes of various chazzanim and spent hours each day
memorizing the tunes. I recorded myself so that I could hear how I sounded… My
wife was enlisted to listen to Mussaf, over and over again. I had a friend in
Yeshiva who was something of a Chazzan, and we spent time on the phone going
over each tune I intended on using. In the end, I knew the entire Mussaf by
heart, no small feat.
Finally, the day came and I
would like to think that I acquitted myself well… I was, however, surprised at
the comments by the congregation. Everyone I met complimented the davening, but
I was startled to discover that although each congregant focused on something
different—a particular tune or tefilah—they, almost uniformly, included
a variation on, “and we got out so early” or “it was so quick.”
At the time I didn’t know if
they were being polite – perhaps they didn’t really enjoy it and that was all
they could come up with. Over time, however, I learned that my congregants
weren’t sugarcoating their praise or trying to come up with at least one
redeeming quality from my Mussaf. Rather, the most important factor for most
everyone during the Yomim Noraim, almost uniformly, was to make sure they were
home by noon.
The Community
we don’t seek
I think
there was a flaw in the derashah I gave on Rosh HaShanah, and I don’t mean the
fact that it lasted more than 10 minutes, and we didn’t make it home by noon. I
believe the vision I presented from Rav Yerucham Levovitz, Rav Chaim of
Volozhin and Rav Moshe Cordovero[2] was incomplete,
because I left the impression that so long as we create community and bear
the burdens of others with them, we have succeeded as Jews.
That sort
of community is important – but it is only a partial job description,
because that sort of community can easily become corrupted into what that
assistant rabbi experienced:
·
A culture of observance can become a culture
of rote, of what Yeshayah[3]
called מצות אנשים מלומדה, trained practice rather than inspired
action, just because these behaviours have been the norm forever.
·
A community in which people join together for
mitzvot can become a community of peer pressure, in which people do
right only because deviating would carry a social price.
·
A community which refines and hones religious
practice can become a community of rules and ritual, without
spiritual depth.
Certainly,
Jewish communities should not exile people who currently observe by rote, who
are influenced by peer pressure, and who follow rules without seeing meaning in
them. But when community becomes all about doing as the herd does, then
we fail the promise of unity. To my mind, Torah is a set of blueprints vouchsafed
to us for the sake of shaping souls who personally connect with Gd as Step
One, and who communally carry forth that Image of Gd into this world
as Step Two.
Kesuvos
says: Gd Before Community
I base
this on a controversial passage of gemara.[4]
לעולם ידור אדם בא"י אפי' בעיר שרובה עובדי כוכבים, ואל ידור
בחו"ל ואפילו בעיר שרובה ישראל, שכל הדר בארץ ישראל דומה כמי שיש לו אלוק,
וכל הדר בחוצה לארץ דומה כמי שאין לו אלוק...
Always, one should live in Israel, even in a
city which is mostly idolatrous, rather than live outside of Israel even in
a city which is mostly Jewish, for anyone who lives in Israel is as though he
has a relationship with Gd, and anyone who lives outside of Israel is as though
he has no relationship with Gd…
Let’s leave aside the most controversial part, the assertion that one
can have a relationship with Gd only in Israel; that’s a good topic for another
time. But look at the second-most-controversial part – that I must move to a
place where I can connect with Gd, even if that means living in an עיר שרובה עובדי כוכבים, an
idolatrous city!
When I taught this passage in a shiur several weeks ago, one of the
participants challenged me. What about all the ways in which Judaism places
such a powerful emphasis on living among good influences, and avoiding bad ones!
·
The Torah presents the
dangers of living in Egypt with Avraham and Sarah, among the Philistines with
Yitzchak and Rivkah, and near Shechem with Dinah. Yosef tells his brothers to
live in Goshen, not among the Egyptians.
·
The gemara records rabbinic
decrees meant to encourage Jews to live away from bad influences,[5] to
avoid joint meals and drinking,[6] and
so on.
How,
then, can the gemara tell me to go live among idolaters, in order to
reside in a place where Gd is found?
And
so I contend that before the Step Two that is Jewish Community, we need Step
One: Personal relationships with Gd. This is how we avoid what that rabbi
described, a world of Jews whose worship is rote.
Where do we find Gd?
As Rabbi
Korobkin noted on Shabbos Shuvah, different people achieve Step One in
different ways. To flesh that out:
·
Some people connect with Gd when hiking in the woods
and appreciating our world;
·
Some people connect with Gd when learning Gd’s Torah;
·
Some people connect with Gd when walking where our
ancestors walked, in Israel;
·
Some people connect with Gd when listening to music,
or meditating and stripping away the noise buzzing around us;
·
Some people connect with Gd by channelling their own
Image of Gd and putting it to work in helping other people;
·
Some people connect with Gd when engaged in activism
and community leadership;
·
Some people connect with Gd when speaking directly to
Gd of their experiences and dreams in davening.
Hopefully,
all of us evolve and mature over the course of our lives, and find that even
activities which were anti-spiritual in our youth can become meaningful and
fulfilling later on. But each of us must be capable of finding something for
Step One - and then using it to inform the community we construct in Step Two.
·
Then we can construct a community that remembers its
connection with Gd and agrees to become responsible for each member,
great and small, under the banner of ערבות, as part of the collective commitment we
made to Gd when we crossed the Yarden.[8]
·
Then we can construct a community that testifies
eternally to the contours of its covenant with Gd;[9] that
will wear tefillin in 2015 matching tefillin unearthed from 2000 years earlier;
that will live in far-flung, long-severed communities and yet read a sefer
torah that remains eerily isometric; that will value their shared national
connection with Gd beyond ties of geography, ethnicity and even ideology.
·
Then we can construct a community that is loyal to its
relationship with Gd, and shapes its Torah observance in a way that is
true to that relationship.[10]
Yom
Kippur
Yom Kippur
is a day of both Step One and Step Two.
Yom
Kippur is a grand day for Step Two: Community with Others. The Jew dare not be a pious
hermit on Yom Kippur. At Kol Nidrei, we rescind communal vows, welcoming even
the ex-communicated back among us. We stand before Gd together.
But first,
Yom Kippur establishes Step One: Community with Gd. We do not eat, we do not bathe,
we do not wear makeup, husbands and wives are apart, it’s all about focusing on
Gd. We recite viduy, privately specifying our mistakes from the past year. It
is a personal conversation with Gd.
On Yom
Kippur we recognize the importance of community – but we assert that there is
no Jewish community without Gd at the centre of each individual life, and we
create the external circumstances which will make a focus on Gd simpler.
Yizkor,
and beyond
Yizkor,
especially, blends these two steps:
·
We invoke the memory of those who created our Jewish
world. Victims of the Shoah. Valiant founders and defenders of the State of
Israel. Parents and other relatives. Yizkor is a time of profound
community.
·
But at the same time, people recite their Kel Malei
and ask Gd to remember as we do. Bereavement could be all about personal
loss, and not a religious experience – but Yizkor makes it about Gd. Yizkor is
a moment of locating Gd within grief.
When
we put back the Torah after Yizkor, and begin Musaf, let us retain that
blend of the two steps. Let us stand as a community of human beings, daven as a
community, sing as a community. But let us also retain that Yom Kippur focus on
the private union with Gd, even outside the Land of Israel, to ensure that our
prayers and songs are not מצות
אנשים מלומדה, but are centred on the Inspiration for it all.
Derrick
Coleman
One last
note, which might take the level of dialogue somewhat out of the rarefied
spiritual atmosphere we associate with Yom Kippur, but which I hope you will
find as meaningful as I do:
It can be
hard to detach ourselves from the world around us, and experience a union with
Gd. We are surrounded by neighbours and friends and relatives here. We get
distracted, and pausing to re-focus is challenging. And perhaps we have a
history of Yom Kippur davenings which did not reach those heights, telling us cynically
that this day won’t be any different.
The other
day, I saw a video[11] that
really resonated with me on this point. It featured an American football
player, Derrick Coleman. Coleman is deaf, and in the commercial, he talked
about what it took for him to reach his goal of football success. Speaking over
a montage of football scenes, Coleman said this:
They
told me it couldn’t be done. That I was a lost cause. Kids were afraid to play
with me. I was picked on… and picked last. Coaches didn’t know how to talk to
me. They gave up on me, told me I should just quit. But I’ve been deaf since I
was three – so I didn’t listen.
For the
record, Coleman was not drafted by any NFL team out of college. But then he signed
as a free agent after the 2011 season. He became the first deaf NFL offensive
player in 2012, and won Super Bowl 48 at the end of the 2013 season. As of the
start of the current season, he has two more NFL touchdowns than I do.
Sometimes,
all of us need to refuse to listen. Achieving community with Gd is hard – but
even if we have yet to achieve it today, or ever, this Yom Kippur isn’t
over. Coleman concludes by saying, “Now I’m here, with a lot of fans in the
NFL cheering me on. And I can hear them all.” May we merit Coleman’s level
of success in our Yom Kippur, and may HaShem hear us all.
[1]
https://theorthopraxrabbi.wordpress.com/2010/07/29/speed-reading/
[2]
Saw this great additional material afterward: Ohel Moshe to Sefer Shemos, pp.
119-130 in the pdf - http://www.hebrewbooks.org/pagefeed/hebrewbooks_org_46192_119.pdf
[3]
Yeshayah 29:13
[4]
Kesuvos 110b
[6]
Avodah Zarah 59b, for example
[7]
Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Deios 6:1
[8]
Sanhedrin 43b
[9]
Rav Hai Gaon, cited in Raavad’s Tmim Deim 119
[10]
See Rama Choshen Mishpat 25:1, and see Rav Kook’s Beer Eliyahu to Choshen
Mishpat 25:7
[11]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JzQFA2hxyRQ
Saturday, September 12, 2015
The Voice in the Shofar (Derashah for Rosh HaShanah 5776)
Birthdays:
Why am I here?
If today
is the birthday of humanity, then we have two obligations: 1) To thank Gd for
our existence, as we do in the davening, and 2) To ask ourselves: Why are we
here? What is the purpose of the brilliant, inventive, moody, creative, ambitious,
bizarre creature that is the human being?
Fortunately,
we don’t need to start on this question from scratch – this is a 14-minute
derashah, not a shiur. I want to show you three sources, which carry a message
of such power that it has changed my life, and which I believe can change our
Rosh HaShanah birthday for all of us.
Rabbi
Chaim of Volozhin
First, Rabbi
Chaim of Volozhin, with words that are among the most inspirational I have ever
heard.
Rav Chaim
Volozhiner was the greatest student of the Vilna Gaon, toward the end of the 18th
century. He founded the Volozhin yeshiva, the top yeshiva in Europe,
famed for training intellectual geniuses; it is reported that the entrance exam
included putting a pin through a gemara and telling the examiner, without
looking, what word the pin had pierced on every page. Rav Chaim started the
great Brisker dynasty, which produced the brilliant Soloveitchik family.
And Rav
Chaim’s son, Rav Yitzchak, wrote the following about his father:[1]
וכה היה דברו אלי תמיד, שזה כל האדם:
לא לעצמו נברא, רק להועיל לאחריני ככל אשר ימצא בכחו לעשות.
This is what my father always
told me: "This is a person's entire purpose. A person is not created
for himself. A person is created only to benefit others, with whatever power is
in his possession."[2]
The uber-intellectual
declared to his son: You are not here on earth to be a genius. You are not here
on earth to ace the pin test. Not to minimize the importance of learning Torah, but to maximize the importance of chesed: You are here on this earth to look at the person
beside you and ask yourself, “What can I do to make his life better?”
Rav
Yerucham Levovitz
Second,
Rav Yerucham Levovitz, expanding on an idea stated by Rav Simcha Zissel Broide,
also known as the Sabba miKelm.[3]
Rav Simcha
Zissel Broide was a brilliant talmid chacham. My Beit Midrash is learning
Eruvin this year, and we have the newest edition of the Meiri on Eruvin, a
fairly technical and esoteric text – and it comes with scholarly footnotes from Rav Simcha
Zissel Broide.
As far as Rav
Levovitz, he was the Mashgiach Ruchani (spiritual leader) of the Mir Yeshiva in
the first decades of the 20th century. The Mir Yeshiva is another
institution famed for its Torah scholarship, and Rav Levovitz is honoured as
one of its greatest leaders.
And this
is what Rav Levovitz wrote:
גדול כ"כ ענין של נושא בעול עם
חבירו מפני שזה כל התורה כולה, היינו איחוד הנפשות להרגיש זא"ז. וכל לימוד
התורה, הלימוד והמעשה, הנה סוף המטרה שיתאחדו הנפשות להיות מרגישים זא"ז
שיהיו אחד ממש.
Bearing
a burden with others is of such importance because this is the entire Torah:
the joining of souls, to feel what each other feels. All of Torah study, all of
the learning and all of the deeds - the final goal is that all souls should be
joined, to feel each others’ feelings, to truly be one.
Faced with identifying the purpose of the
entire Torah, with all of its laws and rituals, Rav Levovitz, leader of one
of the major European yeshivot, identified not our personal connection
with Gd, and not Torah study, but bearing each other’s burdens with
them! Not that he was diminishing the importance of Torah study, or saying that it is sufficieent to just “be a good person”. Just the opposite – it is critical that we practice all of our mitzvot, and that we examine them to gain an understanding of how they will help us to benefit others, and to bring people to greater empathy. Hashem gave us the Torah in order to instill empathy in our hearts
and lives.
Rabbi
Moshe Cordovero
And third,
Rabbi Moshe Cordovero, one of the greatest kabbalists of the past 500 years. He
was a leader of the community of kabbalists in Tzfat, and a Rebbe of the Ari
z”l. One of his great works is Tomer Devorah, “The Palm Tree of Devorah”, which
speaks of the ability of a human being to emulate Gd.
In Tomer
Devorah, Rabbi Cordovero wrote that when the Torah says a human being is
created in the image of Gd, this means that we hold within our hearts, our
minds, our limbs, the capacity to emulate the actions of G-d in our
relationships with others.
He wrote, “האדם ראוי שיתדמה לקונו, A person is suited to resemble his
Creator.” Not that
this is something we need to leap for, to struggle to achieve – we are suited
for this. And specifically, to resemble our Creator in the way we relate to the
human beings around us, the way that Gd reached out to save Yishmael in
this morning’s Torah reading – with mercy, with generosity, with empathy,
with love.
And he
added powerfully, אילו ידומה בגופו
ולא בפעולות,
if a person were to have the physical capacity to reach out to others, if a
person were to have the emotional capacity to love, and a person would not employ
it in action, הרי הוא מכזיב
הצורה, ויאמרו עליו 'צורה נאה ומעשים כעורים', that person would be making a lie of our
form! They would say of such a person, “What a pleasant form, but what ugly
deeds!”[4]
Summary
Three
voices, three of the greatest minds Judaism has ever known. Not cherry-picked –
there are others I could bring. But three voices which unite to answer our
birthday question: The brilliant, inventive, moody, creative, ambitious,
bizarre creature that is the human being was put here on this planet on this
day, in order to help other people. In order to unite with others in empathy
and carry their burdens. In order to emulate Gd’s aid for Yishmael with
generosity, empathy and love for other human beings.
Of course,
a good derashah requires nuance; there must be another side of the coin, and
there is. We face two limits to our empathy: Biology, and Knowledge.
Limit
1: Biology
First,
biology – The saying goes, “One death is a tragedy, one million deaths is a
statistic.” We have trouble relating to too large a circle of human beings.
British
anthropologist Robin Dunbar studied the brains of primates and the size of
their societies, and came up with a formula that predicted that human beings
would only form social networks of up to 150 or so people.[5]
Malcom Gladwell made the theory famous in his The Tipping Point, where
he marshalled evidence for it.
And it’s
not only Dunbar and Gladwell - halachah[6]
limits its demands upon our empathy. We have a principle of עניי עירך קודמים, that our tzedakah should go to our families first.[7]
Granted, that same talmudic passage includes the warning that those who only
help their own will soon find themselves in need of aid from others – still,
the rule is that our own do come first.
Another
example from halachah: The Torah describes our obligation to help others load
and unload their animals, and to restore their lost property. But the Torah
says כי תפגע, this is only when you encounter a need. The sages explained
that only upon encountering a need up close are we obligated to help;
they defined a distance limit of about 150 meters. Halachah is aware that we
respond best to what it calls ראייה
שהיא פגיעה,
to a personal encounter, and it does not obligate us to go
looking to help those we don’t know and we don’t see.[8]
So how can
Rav Chaim of Volozhin expect me to walk around all day thinking of helping
people? How can Rav Yerucham Levovitz expect me to carry the burdens of so many
people? How can Rav Moshe Cordovero demand that I emulate the Divine embrace for
everyone around me?
To this, I
respond with an article published in the New York Times this past summer, by
three research psychologists. Darryl Cameron, Michael Inzlicht and William
Cunningham wrote a piece called Empathy is Actually a Choice.[9] They
said, “While we concede that the exercise of empathy is,
in practice, often far too limited in scope, we dispute the idea that this
shortcoming is inherent…We believe that empathy is a choice that we make
whether to extend ourselves to others. The ‘limits’ to our empathy are
merely apparent, and can change, sometimes drastically, depending on what
we want to feel.” And they demonstrated, with research studies, that humans
are actually designed with the ability to expand the empathetic capacity
of our hearts. Dunbar’s Number does not prevent us from expanding our hearts to
care about, and extending our arms to carry the burdens of, a world of human
beings.
Limit 2: Knowledge
The other
hypothetical limit is knowledge.
Here is a
powerful blog post I saw back in 2007. The writer is anonymous:
I write to you today as one of the Unseen. It hurts to not be seen. It
hurts even more to suffer alone and in silence. I have a mental illness… I hide
it well most of the time.
Today I did not hide it. I cried openly in shul… surrounded by some two hundred people during the kiddush luncheon that followed, and still you did not see me. I stumbled out of the social hall, blinded by tears I could not control and sobs that left me unable to breathe, and still no one saw me.
I took refuge in the chapel and sobbed aloud… People came into the chapel for various reasons: to look for a lost tallis, read the newspaper, find a book in the library. Even still, I remained Unseen.
When my sobs exhausted themselves and I found my peace in emotional numbness, I rose to leave the chapel, falling onto a chair in my weakened state. One man remained in the chapel, facing me. He did not even bother to look up. I left the chapel, Unseen.[10]
Today I did not hide it. I cried openly in shul… surrounded by some two hundred people during the kiddush luncheon that followed, and still you did not see me. I stumbled out of the social hall, blinded by tears I could not control and sobs that left me unable to breathe, and still no one saw me.
I took refuge in the chapel and sobbed aloud… People came into the chapel for various reasons: to look for a lost tallis, read the newspaper, find a book in the library. Even still, I remained Unseen.
When my sobs exhausted themselves and I found my peace in emotional numbness, I rose to leave the chapel, falling onto a chair in my weakened state. One man remained in the chapel, facing me. He did not even bother to look up. I left the chapel, Unseen.[10]
I don’t believe that people ignored a crying person
in shul because they didn’t care, and weren’t moved. Rather, I think it’s
because they didn’t know what to do. Perhaps they were afraid to make
her uncomfortable by approaching her. So they left the room.
But our ignorance is easy to eliminate – and looking
around our minyan, I see so many people who have taken the steps to do that,
who have become involved in chesed causes and who have pioneered chesed causes.
So we know how to eliminate ignorance: Good parents do research to learn how to
take care of their children. Good teachers study how to teach well. Good first
responders train in the latest CPR techniques. And good human beings, like us,
find out how to help other people.
Summary
This is
what we celebrate today: נעשה אדם!
·
The Divine decision to populate His universe with the
brilliant, inventive, moody, creative, ambitious, bizarre creature that is the
human being.
·
The Divine decision to create a human being who would
look to help others beyond Dunbar’s 150, beyond the halachic minimum of ראייה שיש בה פגיעה, as Rav Chaim Volozhin wrote.
·
The Divine decision to create a human being who would
overcome ignorance and train herself to bear the burdens of others, as Rav
Yerucham Levovitz wrote.
·
The Divine decision to create a human being who would emulate
Divine mercy and love and empathy, as Rav Moshe Cordovero wrote.
Shofar
The Talmud[11] teaches that the shofar’s sound replicates different types of crying. These might be our own cries of repentance before our King, but these may also be the cries of other people – even the wicked mother of Sisera, as the gemara teaches.[12] As we fulfill this mitzvah momentarily and hear the moaning tekiah, the groans of the shevarim, the shuddering teruah, let us expand our empathy, our image of Gd, and ask ourselves whose cries we are hearing.
The Talmud[11] teaches that the shofar’s sound replicates different types of crying. These might be our own cries of repentance before our King, but these may also be the cries of other people – even the wicked mother of Sisera, as the gemara teaches.[12] As we fulfill this mitzvah momentarily and hear the moaning tekiah, the groans of the shevarim, the shuddering teruah, let us expand our empathy, our image of Gd, and ask ourselves whose cries we are hearing.
Who do we hear in the shofar?
Is it the panhandler at the corner of Bathurst and Steeles? Is it a socially
awkward person who is more easily ignored than greeted? Is it someone who lacks
a family and is rarely invited for a meal? Who do we hear crying with the
shofar? And what will we be moved to do about it?
·
Let us hear the shofar and reach out because Rav Moshe
Cordovero says that is a fulfillment of our Image of Gd.
·
Let us hear the shofar and reach out because Rav
Yerucham Levovitz says that’s what Judaism is for.
·
Let us hear the shofar and reach out because Rav Chaim
of Volozhin says that’s why we were created on that first Rosh HaShanah.
Let us
hear the shofar and reach out as Gd did for Yishmael – and האדם ראוי שיתדמה לקונו, we can do it as well.
[1] Introduction to Nefesh
haChaim
[2] Another relevant passage –
Horeb 120 on seeing in others the condition of our own existence.
[3] Daat Chachmah Umussar III
#295 (pg. רעא)
[4] See, too, Mishneh Torah,
Hilchot Avadim 9:8
[6] Bava Metzia 33a, codified
in Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Rotzeiach 13:6 and Shulchan Aruch Choshen Mishpat
272:5
[7] Talmud, Bava Metzia 33a
[8] Indeed, Shulchan Aruch
haRav Choshen Mishpat הלכות
עוברי דרכים וצער בעלי חיים 6
says explicitly that there is no obligation to help beyond this perimeter, even
if one knows of the other party’s need.
[9] Daryl Cameron, Michael Inzlicht, William A.
Cunningham, Empathy is Actually a
Choice, July 10, 2015
[10] http://wingslikeadove.blogspot.com/2007/02/what-would-i-want-my-congregation-to_10.html
[11] Rosh HaShanah 33b, for
example
[12] Ibid.
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