How a mikvah scandal could happen: a thought

I hope you enjoyed your Yom Tov. For me - right before Simchat Torah, I found out about the mikvah scandal in Washington DC. That pretty much killed it for me.

In brief, for those who don't know: a veteran "Modern Orthodox" synagogue rabbi is accused of placing a hidden camera in his synagogue's mikvah, and committing related obscene abuses of his position. I spent Simchat Torah reeling at the multifarious horrific ramifications. [I omit his name not to protect him, but because seeing it makes me ill. If you need to know more, feel free to use Google.]

I can't understand this; I find this base betrayal of a community by its 25-year leader as incomprehensible as it is revolting. But I will venture the following thought, without claiming to mind-read the villain in this particular scandal: this sort of crime is enabled when people allow themselves to see others not as human beings, with feelings and emotions, but as objects which happen to populate their world. Ignoring people's feelings allows someone to say, "They won't find out, so where's the harm?"

Our weekly Torah portion, telling the story of the biblical Flood, speaks strongly against this objectification:

• First, Bereishit 6:2 says G-d decided to destroy the world when powerful men "saw that the daughters were good, and took women from any they chose." The women were merely objects.
• Second, this may be why G-d chooses to place all of the animals in the direct care of Noach's family for a year, rather than take care of them miraculously. Caring for others, immersing themselves in anticipating and meeting their needs, trains Noach's family to see others as feeling creatures.
• And third, after the Flood, when Noach's son Cham displays no empathy in humiliating his intoxicated father (Bereishit 9), he is cursed for his insensitivity.

At the other end of the spectrum, one of the Torah's chief paragons of empathy is Moshe Rabbeinu. As a teenager, Moshe endangers his own life to save a Jew who is being beaten – and when he flees the country and arrives, friendless and impoverished in a new place, his very first act is to endanger himself to save Midianite women from harassment at a well. Moshe is worthy to give us the Torah, to be the first Rabbi – the empath who sees kinsmen and strangers, Jewish and non-Jewish, as human beings deserving of selfless friendship and protection.

May we eradicate the objectification of human beings that enables abuse. May we emulate Moshe's activist empathy. And may we teach our children this empathy, making ourselves worthy of the Torah that Moshe brought us, with which we danced last week, on Simchat Torah.

After scandal, a simple mikvah proposal

[Update 8:09 AM - Within a few minutes of posting this, I received a notice from a rabbinic friend, who informed me that the "Mikvah Emunah Society of Greater Washington" has already sent out a notice listing steps that they are taking. One of them is, "Male volunteers who assist MES with maintenance issues at the Wallerstein Mikvah will no longer be permitted to enter the mikvah without a woman accompanying them." Baruch shekivanti, although I believe that having a committee of women control access is a more practical method than accompanying, as outlined below.]

I am still processing the rabbinic scandal from Kesher Israel in Washington DC. (I am not hiding his name to protect him; I am refusing to type it because looking at it makes me ill.) I have many thoughts going through my head, but I'm not ready to post on it today. I'm not sure which ones are logical yet.

However, I do want to make the following proposal: No male should have unfettered access to a mikvah, even a supervising rabbi. 

Like any male, the rabbi should have neither the keys not the combination, whatever system of access is used. There should be a small committee of women who are licensed to let him in (and who will have the ability to inspect it after he leaves, should there be any concerns).

I say this as a rabbi who supervised a community mikvah for eight years, during which time we actually had two mikvaos – an old one, which needed halachic maintenance, and a new one, which needed the halachic attention that comes with a new mikvah. I had the keys and I used them, but in truth, I could have done everything I needed to do by working through a small committee of contact people.

Of course, men also use the mikvah, and the rabbi could have access like any other male during those times. But women should be in charge of making sure the mikvah is open during those times, and should be the ones to lock up, and check the facility as needed, afterward. [And where possible, the men and women should have dedicated changing areas, with the women's changing areas locked when the mikvah is in use by men. Where this is not practical, women should inspect the changing areas from time to time.]

This is not about accusing all rabbis, or all men, of impropriety and evil intent. Rather, it's like in hashgachah in the kosher food industry. Just as we recognize that a religiously observant business owner has a yetzer hara for profit, and therefore we don't allow him unfettered access to his food service establishment, so we must recognize that most males have a yetzer hara in sexual matters, and therefore we should not allow them unfettered access to a place where women are unclothed.

Does this make sense to you?

Shabbos App, lay off my Shabbos!

If you haven't heard about The Shabbos App yet, it's meant to modify the function of your smartphone to avert halachic problems involved in texting on Shabbat.

Here is the opening line of their "Who we are" paragraph:
We are a team of people including programmers, marketing professionals and Rabbis who want to make it easier to be Jewish and fully observant. Today, there are too many people leaving the fold because they find observant Judaism too cumbersome and outdated and it doesn't need to be.

It would be fun to discuss the ins-and-outs of their mechanisms, which are briefly described (sans important halachic details) on their website. Indeed, Rabbi Yisrael Rozen of Machon Tzomet has pointed out a gaping hole in their understanding of grama, here. But I am more interested in their premise: that people are leaving Judaism because halachah is cumbersome and outdated, as demonstrated by the inability to use a cell phone on Shabbos.

I can see ways in which the halachic system is lagging in dealing with new realities, but to me, turning off a cell phone for Shabbos does not demonstrate an outdated halachic system. Just the opposite, it demonstrates the need for the classic halachic system of Shabbos!

I think the Shabbos App is a terrible idea. Am I really the only Jew who was relieved to not answer a phone call or an email for three consecutive days on Rosh HaShanah and Shabbos? For me, if such a break did not exist, I would have to invent it - just as psychologists routinely recommend to their patients that they take time out from the demands of the world on a regular basis.

It's also important to walk away from the phone for a whole host of other reasons, beyond the scope of this post; take Louis CK's advice and turn off the phone!

So I find the "Shabbos App" idea most un-app-ealing. It's not what I want for myself, for my children, or for my environment. I shudder to think of spending Yom Kippur in shul, Succos lunch with friends, Simchas Torah dancing with the Torah or Shabbos afternoon at the park surrounded by texters. Please, please: lay off my Shabbos!

Roger Bannister and Team Naive (Derashah before Neilah 5775)

The Internet can be inspiring, even when the tales it tells aren't exactly true.

Listen to the following story, reported on the website Personal-Development.com by Dr. Jill Ammon-Wexler; a key part of it is false, but I still find it inspirational. Quoting Dr. Ammon-Wexler:[1]

For many years it was universally believed to be impossible for mankind to run a mile in four minutes. The athletes of the time held this belief, and the scientific world totally agreed.

But then on May 6, 1954 -- something remarkable happened. It seems there was one man who did NOT believe it impossible to run a “four minute mile.” In fact this man firmly believed this barrier could be broken ... and that he would be the one to do so. The name of this remarkable rebel was Roger Bannister -- and on that fateful day he did indeed run the first historically-recorded “four minute mile.”
Bannister’s amazing victory illustrates the power of one man’s belief in his own capabilities. But it is even more interesting that just six weeks later, Australian runner John Landy cut one second off Bannister’s record. And in the following ten years almost two hundred people also broke this so-called “impossible” barrier. Why did this happen? Because Bannister shattered the belief that the four minute mile was impossible. And when that belief fell … the 4-minute mile suddenly became possible.

Most of the story Dr. Ammon-Wexler tells is true:

• Many authorities did believe that the four minute mile was physiologically impossible. For example: In 1943, an American newspaper's sports editor, Elliott Metcalf, used record quarter-mile times to demonstrate that a four-minute mile could not be achieved.[2]
• Roger Bannister did firmly believe that this barrier could be broken – and on May 6, 1954, he became the first human being in recorded history to run a mile in four minutes.
• And just weeks later, on June 21, John Landy did cut a second off of Bannister's record. And since the time Bannister showed the world it could be done, thousands more "four-minute miles" have been run; New Zealand's John Walker has done it 135 times, and American Steve Scott has run even more. High schoolers have done it, and Eamonn Coghlan did it after turning 40.

I find this story inspirational because of Roger Bannister's remarkable ability to envision success, shut out the cynics, and drive himself to achieve his goal. He knew that many others thought him naïve, and he overrode their doubts with his resolve.

In a world which finds our Torah's expectations alien and unreasonable, we need to take pride in our purported naivete as we pursue those expectations:

• We need to take pride in our goal of Shmiras haLashon, of speaking only positively about each other.
• Of giving 10% of our after-tax income to tzedakah.
• Of rising early in the morning for shacharit, and spending serious time in Torah study during our day.
• Of dressing in a way which honours our privacy.
• Of observing Shabbos  - We now have the absurd authors of the Shabbos-App telling us that we must alter Shabbos and accept phone use, because it's just not possible to expect our kids to observe Shabbos without it.
• And of completing our teshuvah, setting out this year to conquer the obstacles that conquered us last year.

We need Roger Bannister's ability to imagine a goal, and pursue it, even when the world thinks it impossible.

But an important part of that Bannister story was not true: Bannister was not alone; many athletes of the 1930's, 1940's and 1950's absolutely believed that the four-minute mile was achievable. A French runner set the mile record at 4:09 in 1931. Jack Lovelock of New Zealand moved it down to 4:07.6 in 1933. American Glenn Cunningham took it to 4:06.8 in 1934, and three years later British Sydney Wooderson dropped the record to 4:06. Then two Swedes took turns breaking the record multiple times, dropping it to 4:01.4 in 1945.  And there was John Landy, who headed for Finland in May 1954 for an attempt at the four-minute mark, only to arrive and hear that Bannister had already done it in England.[3]

Roger Bannister had confidence in his vision, but he also had something else: the company of other athletes. Bannister was not on his own; he was part of a team of people who were naïve rebels, insisting that it could be done, that they could do it.

That team is crucial; left to ourselves, it's all too easy to pull up short and say, "What, am I out of my mind?" Being the brooding hero who bucks the entire world is attractive when you're a teenager or when you spin webs and have Spidersense, but as we go through our adult, real-world existences, we get hit hard by life, and coping and hitting back requires the confidence of a team on our side. When we are surrounded by others who share our dreams and our goals and our confidence, then even our most questionable visions appear closer to reality.

Look at Avraham and Sarah, who were told to leave their land, their birthplace, the home of their fathers. They didn't go alone – they brought הנפש אשר עשו בחרן, which a midrash explains refers to like-minded people they had attracted. They brought Lot, even though he was part of that family they were supposedly leaving behind.[4] They brought Eliezer. They brought a network.

Or move forward millenia, to the end of the second Beis haMikdash. When the Romans were crushing the backbone of the Jewish nation by banning the study of Torah on penalty of brutal death, a sage named Rabbi Yosi ben Kisma was invited to come live in a town where they would pay him handsomely. As Pirkei Avos[5] tells the story, Rabbi Yosi ben Kisma declined the invitation, saying, "No matter what you pay me, I will never live anywhere other than a place of Torah." Rabbi Yosi ben Kisma's reply is hard to understand, though, since passages of gemara elsewhere[6] show that he lived in Rome! Was Rome, heart of the barbaric empire, a place of Torah?!

Interesting approaches to the problem are offered,[7] but one answer is simple: The same gemara that places Rabbi Yosi ben Kisma in Rome also places Rabbi Chanina ben Tradyon, and his students, in Rome of that time. What Rabbi Yosi ben Kisma needed was not a city full of kollelim and batei medrash, but a team, a few like-minded people who shared his vision, who shared his naivete, who would inspire him and who would be inspired by him.[8]

Roger Bannister's dual message – ignoring the world's doubts and drawing on the strength of similarly confident people – is particularly important for us at Neilah.

In just a few minutes, we are going to say the most audacious words in the entire siddur. We've said them already today, but here they come one more time:

 “אלקי, עד שלא נוצרתי איני כדאי.” “My Gd, before I was created, I was not worthy.”

“ועכשיו שנוצרתי כאילו לא נוצרתי.” “And now that I have been created, I am as though I had never been created.”

“עפר אני בחיי, קל וחומר במיתתי.” “I am dust in my lifetime, how much moreso in my death.”

“הרי אני לפניך ככלי מלא בושה וכלימה.” “I am before You as a vessel filled with shame and humiliation.”

And yet, “יהי רצון מלפניך ד' אלקי ואלקי אבותי שלא אחטא עוד!”

“But nevertheless, HaShem,

despite my degradation,

despite the fact that I know I have not lived up to my potential,

despite the fact that I know you want me to be so much greater than I am,

despite the fact that I violated pretty much every law this year that I apologized for last year, and the year before that,

despite all of those facts - May it be Your will, HaShem, MY Gd, Gd of MY ancestors, that I never sin again!”

It's remarkably, audaciously naïve – and that's just fine, because all of us will say it, all of us will commit to it, a team of runners who believe, running in parallel to break the four-minute mark that is teshuvah.

Bannister's story has one more part: As I said before, six weeks after Bannister broke the 4-minute mark, John Landy knocked a second off of the new record. And then, just a few weeks after that, the two ran head-to-head in a race in Vancouver. In what would become known as "The Miracle Mile", both men broke the four-minute mark; Bannister won with a time of 3:58.8 and Landy came in at 3:59.6.[9]

That Miracle Mile is the power of a team with a vision, and that is our power here, when we commit ourselves to the unreasonable goal of שלא אחטא עוד, that we never sin again. Let us, as a minyan, be that team with a bold vision, sharing our strength with each other and driving each other forward, to break that four-minute mile of teshuvah together, and earn a גמר חתימה טובה.

---

[1] http://www.personal-development.com/articles/change-belief.htm

[2] http://news.google.com/newspapers?nid=1338&dat=19430804&id=d-JXAAAAIBAJ&sjid=X_UDAAAAIBAJ&pg=2995,583870

[3] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mile_run_world_record_progression, http://www.racingpast.ca/john_contents.php?id=141

[4] See Chezi Cohen, אברהם ולוט – מפרדה לפירוד, Megadim 54 (Nisan 5773)

[5] Perek 6

[6] Sanhedrin 98a, Avodah Zarah 18a

[7] See, for example, http://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/281336/jewish/Small-Town-Jewry.htm

[8] Note the conversation between R' Chanina ben Tradyon and R' Yosi ben Kisma on Avodah Zarah 18a.

[9] http://www.racingpast.ca/john_contents.php?id=136

Unpacking naivete

In my previous post, I said:

I believe that naivete has an important place in our lives, in moving us from an ugly world to a more attractive one. Naivete regarding other people, naivete regarding Gd, naivete regarding ourselves. Let me be a cynic all year long, but not now, not in these weeks.

Let me add a few explanatory sentences here:

Normally, I believe in confronting questions, even going looking for them. I would rather read Richard Dawkins or biblical criticism, encountering their challenges and dealing with them, rather than pretend they don't exist; it fits my temperament. I tend to click on links that tout the latest scientific discovery that seems to contradict Bereishit, or that provide evidence tying traits of the soul with hormones and neural circuitry.

As Rosh HaShanah approaches, though, I prefer to turn off all of that noise. Not because its questions are any less valid, but because this isn't the time for it. Elul, Rosh HaShanah, Yom Kippur - these are like a marriage with Gd, a time when we are supposed to feel and express love. It's very hard to express love, to have a real bonding experience, while you're looking over your shoulder.

Hence my Rosh HaShanah derashah this year - naive in the extreme as it touted a relationship with Gd, while eliding the very real questions about just how much (or little) Gd wants that relationship. On Rosh HaShanah, I'm good with that.

As I explained it to a friend on Rosh HaShanah, I see the run-up through Elul like a second marriage. When a young couple, fresh out of school, go to the chuppah, they might have eyes only for each other, thinking the other is the best and the most attractive and the most ideal. But then imagine a couple entering a second marriage; they've seen the world, and they know that perfection is a myth and that their partner has warts and wrinkles in both body and personality. As they walk to the chuppah, though, they had better put the doubts and concerns out of their minds; to start off their marriage in a healthy way, they need that moment when they look at each other as though this is heaven, and there really is no one else in the world. Let the problems wait for another day.

That's my Elul. For these weeks, let me think that the people around me are wonderful. Let me believe that I can be wonderful. Let me trust, untrammeled, in a bond with my Creator, who watches and cares. Next week, I'll go back to wrestling with skepticism, but right now, I'm headed to the chuppah.

A healthy dose of naivete

What's on my mind after Rosh Hashanah and Shabbos Shuvah?

Three music videos that I like not because their music is outstandingly good, but because צמאה נפשי for a world in which the vision of unity presented in these videos was the norm:



Of course, I know that there are real reasons for the schisms among our nation, and there are substantive issues of both philosophy and practice that divide us. All the same, I believe that naivete has an important place in our lives, in moving us from an ugly world to a more attractive one. Naivete regarding other people, naivete regarding Gd, naivete regarding ourselves.

Let me be a cynic all year long, but not now, not in these weeks.

More on this theme of naivete in the days leading up to Yom Kippur, I expect.

Are You my mother? (Derashah for Rosh HaShanah)

Several years ago, researchers at Baylor University in the US published a study entitled, "American Piety in the 21^st century".[1] They asked Americans to identify what kind of Gd they believed in. The five choices were:

• Authoritarian (meaning that Gd is highly involved in day-to-day life, in punishing ways),
• Benevolent (meaning that Gd is highly involved in day-to-day life, in helpful ways);
• Critical (meaning that Gd is not involved in the world, but Gd watches and judges and will reward and punish eventually);
• Distant (meaning that Gd started the world, but doesn't care about it or run it);
• And atheist.

When the results were broken down by religion,[2] Evangelical Protestants largely believed that Gd is authoritarian. Mainline Protestants and Catholics were split. And among Jews, the dominant choice was D – 41.7% of respondents who identified themselves as Jewish believed that Gd is distant – not watching, not caring, what happens in our universe.

Tanach presents the story of a man who came to agree with that 41.7%, a man who lived in a place called Utz; his name was Iyov.

You might have heard of Iyov; here's a quick outline of his story:

• Iyov enjoys a large family and magnificent wealth, and is extraordinarily devoted to Gd.
• Off in heaven, a malicious malach charges that Iyov only serves Gd because Gd protects him. Gd permits the malach to test Iyov; the malach takes almost everything away from him.
• Iyov is visited by various people who try to justify his suffering. He rejects their claims; he curses the day he was born, arguing that there is no justice, that Gd has outsourced the running of the universe and isn't paying attention. He demands to sue Gd for negligence.
• Gd then addresses Iyov personally, challenging him: What do you know about running a universe? Where were you when I created the world? What are your powers?
• At which point Iyov apologizes for his words, accepting Gd's response. Gd then gives Iyov a new start in life, with great rewards.

The book invites many questions – I intend to discuss more about it in a class during the break on Yom Kippur – but for now I want to ask just two:

• First: How does Gd's "answer" to Iyov address his questions, and why does Iyov accept it?
• And Second: Iyov seems to reject Gd throughout the book, proving that the malach was right. So why does Gd reward him at the end?

I would like to re-write the book of Iyov, and answer Baylor's 41.7%, with an idea that goes to the heart of Rosh haShanah and the mitzvah of shofar.

People usually believe that the sole problem of the book of Iyov is Iyov's question to Gd: "Why do good people suffer?" But as we have seen, that question is barely answered in the book! Instead, Professor Yaakov Klein of Bar Ilan University[3] suggests that a second central problem of the book of Iyov is the malach's question to Gd: "Why do people follow Gd?" Do human beings revere and serve their Creator to win fabulous prizes, or for something else? And this is answered in the book, by Iyov himself.

The book makes clear that Iyov is loyal because he believes he has a relationship with Gd. When he suffers without apparent reason, he assumes there is no relationship; like the 41.7%, he decides that the Creator is allowing proxies to run the world. Angry and hurt, he rejects this distant Gd. Then Gd responds that He is indeed watching and running the universe, that He is aware of a man named Iyov and his fortunes and misfortunes. Gd declares, "I halt the oceans where they are, I harness the mightiest beings in existence, and I still have time to pay attention to you. I won’t tell you how justice works, but I will tell you that I am watching, and I care." That's Gd's response to Iyov.

Iyov accepts Gd's declaration because that's all he ever wanted – it confirms what he believed at the start of the book, that Gd is watching. Iyov didn't need great rewards, and he didn't need to know the mechanics of Divine justice. What Iyov needed was to know that Gd was watching, listening, caring, at all. Whether Gd is Authoritarian, Benevolent or Critical is irrelevant; once Iyov knew that Gd was not Distant, he was satifisfied.

And because Iyov was satisfied with that response, because Iyov showed that what mattered to him was not fabulous prizes but the existence of a relationship, Gd rewarded Iyov – because with his actions Iyov answered the malach's question in the most positive of ways. The malach had claimed that human beings revere Gd for selfish reasons, and Iyov answered him: We do it because we believe in a relationship. We do it because we believe that Gd cares about the events of our lives. Because even if Gd is מונה מספר לכוכבים, able to number the stars, He is first הרופא לשבורי לב, the healer of broken hearts.[4]

Iyov is not the only human being in the Torah to want Gd to see us, to be near us; the biblical narrative is replete with such people:

• Avraham serves Gd not for reward, but as אוהבי, the one who loves Gd.[5]
• After the Golden Calf, when Gd indicates He is going to separate from the Jews, Moshe dictates to Gd, "אם אין פניך הולכים אל תעלנו מזה," "If You won't be our intimate, leave us here in the wilderness!"
• In our haftorah this morning, Chanah warns us, אל תרבו לדבר גבוהה גבוהה. As Abarbanel explains, she insists, "Don’t say that Gd is elevated and far away from us; Gd is near at hand!"

Our need for proximity to Gd is fundamental to Judaism. To borrow a phrase from the philosopher Alfred North Whitehead,[6] this is one of the "irreducible and stubborn facts" of Judaism, a first principle which must be accepted in order for us to discuss anything Jewish: being one of the 41.7% is to be out-of-step with Jewish theology. The Jew demands Divine immediacy, that Gd pay attention.

And in parallel, it is an irreducible and stubborn fact of the Torah's conception of Gd, that Gd longs to be near us; Gd does not want to be of Baylor's 41.7%.

• Thus HaShem commands the Jews to build a משכן, a sanctuary in their midst, in which He will dwell. And so the Kinos of Tishah b'Av describe the effect of the loss of the Beis haMikdash not only in terms of our human suffering, but in terms of Gd suffering, כביכול, as a newly homeless, rootless being, ונהיית כצפור בודד על גג, like a lone and lonely bird perched upon a roof.
• Thus HaShem commands us not only to perform mitzvah actions, but ואהבת, to love Gd, to contemplate Gd, to draw near to Gd.
• Thus the Talmud tells us that when a single person is studying Torah, Gd is present.[7] When just one individual grieves for the death of a good person, Gd counts and stores the tears.[8] When a single person prays in silence, Gd listens.[9] הקב"ה מתאוה לתפלתן של צדיקים, Gd longs for our prayers.[10]

If this relationship is not the reason we were created, it is, at the least, fundamentally necessary to, and inextricable from, the Divine plan.

This is the way Gd planned our existence, from the beginning – to live with Gd, in Gan Eden. When HaShem created the plants and animals and people of this world, He used the same terms to describe all of them. But He did not address the plants and animals. He only addresses humanity. As Rav Soloveitchik explained,[11] "Gd takes [this] man-animal into His confidence, addresses him and reveals to him His moral will."

Indeed, this need for human-Gd proximity is a major reason why large numbers of people, Jewish and non-Jewish, wander the earth searching for Gd, migrating from philosophy to philosophy trying to find Gd. It's like the classic children's story, "Are you my mother?" The baby bird knows he has a mother, wants his mother, and travels the world trying to find her.

It's also one of the causes for angry atheism. Like Iyov, people have sought Gd, and they have been disappointed and frustrated. They are turned off by perpetual Divine absence and perceived Divine abuse - and they are also frustrated by the gross improprieties of human beings who claim to represent Gd, and this drives them the other way, to insist that there is no Gd at all. They have been hurt and let down.

And as a tangent – this one is not only on Gd, it's also on us. Us, the rabbis, and us, the visibly observant Jews. If our behaviour isn't beyond reproach, or if we conflate the laws and lessons of Torah with superstition, or if we are self-satisfied and arrogant, if we fail to inspire the confidence and faith of those around us, then we are the reason why people are unable to find their mother, we are the reason why people become hostile, we are the reason why people choose Option D. They believe Gd is distant in part because people who visibly select Options A, B and C portray a relationship with Gd that is repugnant. But I digress.

Torah is meant to be a way for us to find that relationship with Gd. As the Talmud Yerushalmi says, the goal of Torah is to bring us into that relationship with Gd.[12] It's what Gd wants. It's what we want. And it's what Iyov wanted, all along – not to have his material needs met, but to enjoy a relationship.

To return to Rosh haShanah: This relationship with Gd is a central theme of the day; Rosh haShanah is the day that tells us that there is a relationship.

• It's not a human-centred day of self-analysis, for us to review our pasts and make resolutions for our future. We spend our day in הכתרת מלך, crowning Gd, in human consideration of the Divine.
• It's not a Gd-centred day of distant decrees, taking place in some throneroom up in the heavens. It is a יום הדין, a day of Divine consideration of human beings in judgment.

In the very structure of our musaf of Rosh haShanah, our liturgy sends this message:

• We remember our King – מלכויות.
• And our King remembers us – זכרונות.
• And as the Talmud[13] says, ובמה? בשופר. Nowhere is this more clear than in the shofar, forever the symbol of the encounter between human being and Gd. From the ram substituted for Yitzchak on the altar, to the shofar blast when the Torah was given at Har Sinai, to the shofar blasts of Yovel every fifty years, to the shofar of mashiach, the ram's horn represents human and Gd meeting together.

When we hear the shofar blown in a few minutes, let us remember that this is the central point of Rosh haShanah: rejecting Option D. During shofar, we occupy these moments alongside Gd, because Gd is here, and listening, and thinking of us.

Last year at this time, I proposed that shofar is not about verbal exposition; rather, shofar is an experience; existimare aude, "dare to experience." For some of us, the mood of that experience will be apologetic. For some it will be grateful. For some it will be mournful. For some it will be a moment of petition. That's up to each of us to formulate; the key is that we recognize within ourselves that which our ancestors saw when they canonized the book of Iyov in Tanach: That the irreducible and stubborn fact of our Jewish existence is against the 41.7%. Our Creator connects with us, and we connect with our Creator.

May we merit to connect with our Creator, to build that relationship, today and for the rest of the year, to live lives which convince others that there is such a relationship, and so merit a כתיבה וחתימה טובה, to be inscribed and sealed for a great year, and then to live a great year.

---

[1] http://www.baylor.edu/content/services/document.php/33304.pdf

[2] Pg. 32 of the pdf

[3] Olam haTanach, Iyov, pp. 9-10

[4] Tehillim 147:3-4

[5] Yeshayah 41:8

[6] The Influence of Western Medieval Culture Upon the Development of Modern Science, http://www.inters.org/Whitehead-Western-Development-Science. And see R' Eliezer Berkovits in Tradition 3:2 (1961) "What is a Jewish Philosophy?", who attributed the phrase to Galileo. I know no basis for attributing it to Galileo, but I am channeling R' Berkovits's use of the concept to define a " Jewish" philosophy here.

[7] Avos 3:2, 3:6

[8] Shabbos 105b

[9] Yerushalmi Berachos 9:1

[10] Chullin 60b

[11] The Emergence of Ethical Man, pg. 5

[12] Yerushalmi Chagigah 1:7, Eichah Rabbah Pesichta 2, based on Yirmiyah 16:11

[13] Rosh haShanah 16a

Adrian Peterson's Rosh HaShanah Moment

Adrian Peterson is a top-level, record-setting, award-winning star athlete. He is also a father of six children, and this past week he was indicted by a grand jury for "reckless or negligent injury" for beating one of his children, age 4, with a switch - a leaf-stripped tree branch, apparently on bare skin, causing deep wounds.

Mr. Peterson's defense is simple: he never intended to cause harm, he was trying to help his child. "I disciplined my son the way I was disciplined as a child." Indeed, other athletes and public figures chimed in that this is a standard way to discipline children in contemporary society. The implication: I was disciplined with a switch and I grew up to be a healthy, well-adjusted, normal human being, and so in my mind, this is a good way to raise a child.

This is not the place for a discussion of Jewish tradition's complex approach to disciplining a child (but click here for a source sheet on the topic from a class of mine). Rather, I want to focus on Mr. Peterson's implication that he is healthy, well-adjusted, etc. It would be wrong for me to assume anything about him, especially when I have so many flaws and abnormalities of my own, but I would ask this about football players in general: are we sure that someone who makes his living playing a sport in which absurdly bulked-up humans crash into each other in front of millions of viewers on a weekly basis for several years (if they are lucky and good), before retiring with severely damaged backs and knees, and frequently with serious concussion damage suspected of leading to unusually high rates of depression and suicide, is... healthy?

Similarly, a while back I heard a radio pundit talk about how her parents were worried about the impact of high doses of television on the childrens of the '70s and '80s, and how "we turned out fine". Perhaps that generation - my generation - is fine, but when we read about out-of-control obesity, high rates of emotional and anxiety disorders, poor levels of social and civic engagement and so on, shouldn't we at least question whether we "turned out fine"?

Perhaps many of us naturally think of ourselves as having turned out fine, like Adrian Peterson and like the woman on the radio. But this is part of the Rosh HaShanah challenge: to look at ourselves and ask, "Are we healthy? Or do we need to change something?"

As long as we go about our lives believing that we are okay, we lack the impetus to re-evaluate and determine a more positive direction; we will go right on doing what we've always done. But consider the words of Cris Carter, a former football star: "My mom did the best job she could do, raising seven kids by herself. But there are thousands of things that I have learned since then that my mom was wrong...  She did the best she could, but she was wrong about some of that stuff she taught me." The same is quite possibly true for ourselves; we've done our best, but that doesn't mean we've been right.

As we approach Rosh HaShanah, let us ask ourselves whether we are where we ought to be, whether the way we were raised and the way we have raised ourselves has brought us where we should be, and whether we want to try something different as we move forward.

May we thoughtfully re-examine ourselves in the coming days, and enter the year 5775 wiser, more realistic, and with a path toward the people we wish to become.

Good Privacy and Bad Privacy

(From this week's Toronto Torah, hot off the presses)

Several years ago, late night comedian and band leader Paul Shaffer and the OU produced a video offering five reasons to speak lashon hara (harmful speech), including the observation that “speaking lashon hara lets the world know you care… about yourself.” The line was clever, but inaccurate; lashon hara is generally spoken in private, and the world doesn’t know anything about it. This privacy is not a mere detail; according to Rashi, our parshah suggests that privacy is a uniquely malignant characteristic of lashon hara.

In our parshah; Devarim 27:24 curses one who “strikes his friend in secret,” and Rashi states, “This refers to lashon hara.” [This comment appears to be based on Tehillim 101:5 and Pirkei d’Rabbi Eliezer 52.] Along the same lines, the talmudic sage Rabbah claimed that harmful speech uttered where its subject could hear it is not lashon hara. He declared, “Anything stated in front of its subject is not lashon hara.” (Arachin 15b) In practice, Rambam (Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Deiot 7:5) prohibited even private harmful speech, but the intent of our parshah, Rabbah and Rabbi Yosi requires clarification: Why should privacy involve a special wrong? Might public slander be worse?

Perhaps the Torah sees private slander as a unique wrong if it involves a certain type of privacy.

Positive privacy excludes the world by default and only invites in intimates, with whom we wish to share ourselves. The Torah encourages this, terming it tzniut, as expressed in the instruction of Michah 6:8, “walk privately with your G-d.” Or as Ben Sira warned, “May many people ask after your welfare, but tell your secret to one in one thousand.” (Sanhedrin 100b) From this perspective, the world is outside of ourselves, and we invite in rare others based on a shared ideology and vision. As Rambam (Avot 1:6) cited from Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics, “A friend is a second self.” Privacy is an expression of alliance. [For those interested in talmudic methodology, this is an approach of klal and prat; the klal is excluded by default, and only the prat is invited in.]

Negative privacy, on the other hand, includes the world in our lives by default; our ideas, speech and bodies are open to all, like posts on a public blog. The privacy limitation is for those whom we exclude because we view them as antagonists; privacy is an expression of hostility. [Returning to talmudic methodology, this is an approach of ribui and miut; the universe is included under the ribui, and specific cases are excluded by the miut.]

Seen in this light, Rabbah’s point and the lesson of our parshah is that while all slander is wrong, the grave sin of lashon hara is worsened by hostile privacy, a weapon. Privacy which aids its circle of participants, without harming those who are excluded, is no crime. Privacy which exists solely as a means of harming others is as dark and destructive as the lashon hara it protects. [We may also use this distinction to justify Section 184.1 of the Criminal Code of Canada, which affords protection to most private communications, but that is beyond the scope of this article.]

The distinction between negative, weaponized privacy and positive, allied privacy may also be seen in the way Moshe introduced our parshah’s litany of curses. Moshe declared, “Today you have become a nation for Hashem your G-d.” (Devarim 27:9) Today we have become a nation – and so we would find it repugnant to even contemplate speaking against each other. And we are a nation for Hashem our G-d, a holy nation, a nation capable of much good through our alliances, and a nation for whom gossip is, literally, unspeakable.

In Shemot 2, Moshe Rabbeinu witnessed an Egyptian beating a Jew; he saw that no one would halt the beating, and so he killed the assailant. On the morrow, Moshe saw a Jew attacking another Jew, and he again intervened. The aggressor said to Moshe, “Are you going to kill me, as you killed the Egyptian?” After which, “Moshe became frightened and he said, ‘The word is out!’“

A midrash (Tanchuma Shemot 10) suggests that Moshe was not concerned regarding being caught; rather, Moshe accused, “The word is out, there must be lashon hara among you! If so, how will you ever earn redemption?” Hostility expressed in negative privacy which shields the spread of slander is inimical to our status as a nation of G-d. If we wish to earn the redemption which Moshe mentioned, then we must recognize, “Today we are a nation for Hashem our G-d,” private only in the most positive of ways, a true nation of Hashem.

Is "take it easy" a Jewish idea?

The past week has been humbling for me. Eight days ago, my family completed our move to a new home, and I spent a great deal of time hauling boxes and doing amateur landscaping. The result was not only a cluttered new house and an attractive oakleaf hydrangea, but also waking up Monday morning with severe back spasms. I was largely bedridden for the next few days, and I am still using a walker and having difficulty sitting. Acknowledging my need for rest and rehabilitation during the past week did not come easily.

I grew up in a hockey-mad family that adored players who fought through pain and ignored injury, who lost teeth on the ice but did not miss a shift. My New York Rangers role models were Tom Laidlaw, Ron Greschner and Dave Maloney - not the scorers and finesse players but the scrappers and checkers.

The same message was broadcast in the holier context of yeshiva; the highest value was self-denying hatmadah (constant, continuous commitment to study), as the Talmud made clear with its choice of role models. Hillel froze on the roof listening to Torah being taught. Rabbi Eliezer scowled when students left the beit midrash (study hall) for a Yom Tov meal. Rachel endured abject poverty when her wealthy father disowned her for marrying Rabbi Akiva. And so on. I'm having a hard time thinking of a talmudic role model who takes a break when he is tired or hungry or ill. [Yes, the Talmud does discuss the importance of looking after our health, and see midrashim like Vayikra Rabbah Behar 34, but there is a difference between that broad approach, and a specific imperative of surrendering to physical challenges rather than trying to tough it out.]

So cancelling chavrutot and classes was more than disappointing; it felt like failure. Of course, I know it's not failure - and that incorrect response raises the question of how we ought to educate our young students. Training them to ignore the messages sent by their bodies is unhealthy and unsafe, but then why does the Talmud present scores of models for "toughing it out", but none come to mind who took it slow and easy when suffering? [The biblical Yitro does tell Moshe to set up associate judges rather than handle the nation's entire caseload himself, but it is pitched more as a concession to the nation's needs than to Moshe's.]

Did none of our heroes have moments of physical weakness? Unlikely; no one makes it from 40 to 80 without their body failing them at some point. So either all of them overrode their personal suffering, or the Talmud felt that discussing the times they surrendered was not worthwhile. If it's the latter, then is the Talmud's logic that life will teach us to take it slow, but playing through pain requires indoctrination via talmudic role models? Or is there some other reason why "take it slow" was omitted from the canon? What do you think?

What is an Assistant Rabbi's job description?

Note: I've been holding this post for a long time, because at least three of Toronto's synagogues went through a search for an Assistant Rabbi this past year, and I did not want to be misunderstood as commenting on any of those processes. This post has nothing to do with any of them.

I never served as an Assistant Rabbi, something which I think is a very good thing; I would likely have been awful. I would have been careful to avoid invading the Senior Rabbi's domain, of course, and I would have done what I was asked, but tzimtzum (reduction of one's presence) does not come naturally for me. But at one point I was asked by one of my avreichim for my thoughts regarding the Assistant Rabbi model, and here is what I told him.

To my mind, there isn't a single job description for an Assistant, any more than there is a single job description for a Rabbi (as we have discussed elsewhere on this blog). Each community has different needs, each Rabbi has different needs, and each Assistant has different skills.

Here, though, are three possible models, based on examples from the Torah:

1. Eliezer, servant of Avraham - Eliezer has no real voice of his own; he is meant to speak Avraham's words. Indeed, when he tries to improvise ("perhaps the woman I seek for Yitzchak won't want to come to Canaan") he is shot down. We don't see any special talents in him. Eliezer is assigned to take care of specific jobs, and he does them. [Gechazi, Elisha's servant, may also be of this model, but Gechazi proved untrustworthy.]

2. Yehoshua, student of Moshe - Yehoshua has positive traits as well as weaknesses, which are displayed in moments of crisis like the incident with the Spies and Eldad and Medad's prophecy. Yehoshua is given areas that are under his control, like war with Amalek, but he clearly answers to Moshe. It seems clear that any autonomy he owns could be withdrawn by Moshe at any moment.

3. Aharon, second to Moshe but also his peer - Aharon aids Moshe in conveying his message to the Jewish people; he is Moshe's navi, speaking on Moshe's behalf. In this sense, he is like Yehoshua. However, Aharon also has his own particular job as kohen gadol running the rituals of the Mishkan, and his own particular relationship with the community, largely independent of Moshe.

To my mind, the Eliezer model is unhealthy; if you apply for an Assistant Rabbi job and it sounds like that one, run the other way. It is unlikely that someone will go through rabbinical school just to become an Eliezer.

I could see the Yehoshua and Aharon models being healthy, in various circumstances. Perhaps a young rabbi could be a Yehoshua, and like Yehoshua he could evolve into someone who is ready to be a leading Rabbi. And the Aharon model sounds great - but it would require complete bi-lateral trust. Good luck...

There are probably more biblical models out there; what would you add?

Pesach Night at the Windsor Arms

At Purim time, many months ago, attendees of a weekly shiur [class] of mine got together and purchased a gift certificate for two, for my Rebbetzin and me to enjoy dinner at the Windsor Arms Hotel, here in Toronto. It's a fancy establishment, and they provide kosher dinners by reservation on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday evenings. You order an appetizer, a main and a dessert, and that's $75 (before taxes), and there is a wine list as well.

The generous idea of the shiur was to offer a night's break before Pesach, but that wasn’t entirely realistic. As a result of the less-than-sane schedules we kept this past year, we couldn't take advantage of the generous and gracious gift. It was not until last week that we were able to use it.

I must say, I enjoyed the experience immensely; as some of you know, I admire and enjoy well-prepared food. [The menu is available here; the picture isn't great, and you'll need to magnify it in order to see anything above the wine list.] But more, it gave me an insight into what a Pesach Seder should be.

The room was luxuriously appointed. The server was congenial. The pace was leisurely; we could talk and take our time. And so, days after Tishah b'Av, I felt like I was enjoying what a Seder was meant to be: A slow-paced discussion, in beautiful surroundings adding to one's feeling of well-being if not royalty. We don't get to Shulchan Aruch for hours not because the Haggadah has placed page after page of text in our way, but because we aren't in any rush, we've broken from the hurly-burly haste of our lives and we are free to discuss and debate and reflect, and the food will be there when we are ready for it.

Of course, that doesn't happen at our sedarim, in general.
First, because the stress of preparing for Pesach leaves people frazzled.
Second, because the more luxury you create with fine dishes and cutlery, the more you need to clean up afterward and have piled up in your kitchen until the end of Yom Tov, ruining the atmosphere considerably.
Third, because the people who are supposed to be enjoying the seder are the same people who need to prepare the food in the kitchen.
And fourth, because the leisurely discussion is enforced by the pages of text, and isn't necessarily good for small children and elderly relatives and people who aren't familiar with the nature of Torah study and debate and don't understand what's going on.

Still, I feel that this is the answer to the age-old question of why we hold the meal at the Seder until after page after page of discussion. It's not meant to be torture; it's meant to show that we are taking our time, we are not rushed, we are enjoying a beautiful table, wonderful company, and the luxury of being able to proceed at our own pace.

[And yes, this is a direct contrast with the chipazon haste of Egypt, but that's a topic for another time.]

On Rabbinic Autonomy

A while back, I was speaking to a young rabbi who was entering his first pulpit, and he mentioned that in a shul he would have the freedom and flexibility to do that which he thought was most important for the community, and to do at the time that he felt would work best for thim and for the community. That reminded me of an important lesson regarding the synagogue rabbinate, as well as life in general: Don't confuse limited autonomy for total freedom.

It is true that shuls tend to trust their rabbis to make their own schedules; the rabbi decides when to visit people in the hospital and when to prepare shiurim, how much time to spend on counseling and administration and teaching and tzedakah distribution, and whether the shul needs another shiur or another chesed program. However, the rabbi who mistakes this brand of autonomy for total freedom is, in my opinion, making a significant error.

The shul rabbi's autonomy is like that of any contractor – the board wants a healthy community, and trusts the rabbi to decide how best to do that. However, the shul has a vision of what a healthy community looks like, and the rabbi who ignores their vision in favour of his own does so at his own peril. [Note: the wise rabbi will openly and honestly share his vision of "healthy community" when interviewed, and the search committee should vote for a rabbi whose vision matches that of the shul.]

If the shul wants a community in which members regularly consult with the rabbi about their personal troubles or schmooze with the rabbi at the kiddush, then the rabbi had better make sure to provide that.

If the shul wants a community in which the rabbi teaches a shiur for every group of three Jews who want it, then the rabbi had better make sure to provide that.

If the shul wants a community in which the rabbi is a regular contributor to the Op-Ed columns of the local newspaper and a bridge-builder to other sectors of society, then the rabbi had better make sure to provide that.

Of course, there is ample opportunity for the rabbi to sell his vision, and if the community responds well, then that may come to be the community's vision. And the sensitive rabbi is open to learning and evolving, and adapting his vision to the lessons he picks up in the community. The "healthy community" vison may well be a moving target, and both parties can/should shift and grow.

My point is only what I said at the outset: The rabbi dare not confuse limited autonomy for total freedom. Keep an eye on your job description, my friend.

A new blog

For the near future, at least, I've decided to start a new blog. I'm not sure how long I will keep at it, but it's at least an outlet for frustration and at best a constructive way to disseminate useful material. You can find it at http://heyjonstewart.blogspot.com. Feel free to email me your thoughts.

Easier not to write

I thank those who have been emailing me to check in. Thank Gd, all is well. I am actually making progress on a sefer, finally!

Yes, I still think about blogging, pretty much daily. I have had many topics on my mind.

Israel, of course.

The rabbinate: The economics that drive the low salaries of shul rabbis. The problem of the well-meaning shul rabbi. Different models for an assistant rabbi position.

General: The fear of mediocrity. The difference between being a non-conformist and being original. Lebron James.

Personal: I've bought a house in Toronto instead of Israel, and that has upset my internal equilibrium; I'm having a hard time accepting the mazal tovs.

And so on.

But I have broken the habit of blogging, and now the fear of writing something that doesn't really capture my thoughts, or that doesn't impress me as good writing, is greater than my fear of leaving the page blank. These days, I find it easier not to write than to write, and I reach for the keyboard and then fall back, to work on something else.

I don't know what this means for the future of this blog, but that's where things are right now.

Helping a parent with dementia

Two weeks ago, I presented a shiur on halachic issues involved in caring for a patient who is experiencing a level of dementia. Along the way, I cited responsa addressed to people who felt they could manage their parents' physical needs, but who were concerned that they would violate the mitzvot of honouring and revering their parents by losing their temper with them.

One of the attendees asked me: What if one's mother has advanced dementia, and she asks for her deceased husband? Clearly, one should not upset her by telling her the truth - but even if the falsehood is appropriate, isn't it still a violation of the mitzvot of honouring and/or revering one's parents?

I wasn't sure how to respond to this. I suspect that there would be no violation of kavod (honour), but one could contend that this violated mora, reverence, a category of behaviours which includes not sitting in a parent's place or contradicting him/her. So I put the question to a group of rabbis, and received an interesting response from a veteran chaplain.

The chaplain stated that in his work, they tell facility staff to practice "validation therapy". When a resident asks after a particular relative, or says something like, "I need to be here, my children are coming home from school soon," she is clearly interested in turning the conversation in a particular direction. This direction may be good for her, especially since her long-term memory will be far more reliable than her short-term memory. So others who are present should not shut down the conversation; rather, they should embrace it, expressing interest in the subject and so validating her interest in it, and helping her to continue the thread to the extent she can. Asking appropriate questions - questions which won't frustrate her in her dementia, presumably - is a positive way to go.

I hadn't thought of this at all, but once I heard it, it made so much sense! And, it solved the halachic problem.

Tehillim Fatigue

I've been thinking a lot about Tehillim Fatigue - the way that our prayers for our kidnapped boys, Gilad, Eyal and Naftali, lose their strength and intensity over time. It's not out of a lack of feeling for them and their families, Gd forbid; it's just a product of emotional overload, of a creeping feeling of hopelessness due to the lack of positive news, and perhaps of the general doubt as to whether Gd listens to our prayers.

Last week, in a different forum, I wrote about visualizing the joy of their return, but after a week of numbing updates about arrests and searches that have not yielded visible fruit, that joy is becoming harder to imagine. As we approach this coming Shabbat, though, I am reminded of two important points regarding light and hope.

This Shabbat is Rosh Chodesh, the New Moon. The Moon has a special resonance for Jews; our tradition compares our nation to the Moon, with its waxing and waning, and it compares Gd to the Sun, the provider of our light. Here are two relevant lessons of the New Moon, in particular:

1. As illustrated well in the series of pictures above (courtesy of Wikipedia), at the New Moon's time of apparent darkness, the Moon actually is experiencing its most direct, fullest sunlight! The Moon is positioned between the Earth and the Sun, so that the side of the Moon facing away from Earth is maximally lit up - we just can't see it, because of where we are. Often, when things look darkest, the light is full and strong. It's just behind the scenes.

2. The source of the Moon's light is still there at the New Moon; the side of the Moon that faces us is dark only because the Moon has moved, leaving us looking at its shaded side. Once the alignment of Moon and Earth shifts a little bit, the Moon's visible illumination will be restored. The same is true for us: Sometimes we can't see light, but it's because we have let ourselves get out of the proper alignment. Some people might say, then, that all they need to do is wait, and the universe will shift and the alignment will change. But perhaps at a New Moon we ought to ask ourselves: what do I need to do to shift the alignment myself, in order to enter the light?

Let us shift the alignment, and enter the light. Let us continue to give a few minutes of our time, each day, for Tehillim with concentration. Let us continue to add an extra act of kindness for another, or an extra dollar for tzedakah. Let us dedicate a few minutes of extra Torah study. Let us send the families of Gilad, Eyal and Naftali letters of support. And may we celebrate the light of their return very soon!

'Tis More Honourable to Give (Parshat Korach)

A thought I've written up for Toronto Torah, on Parshat Korach:

After the collapse of Korach's rebellion, G-d presents Moshe with three instructions that counter elements of that misguided mutiny:

• First, the tribe of Levi is charged with protecting the Beit haMikdash from future incursions by those who are ineligible to enter. (Bamidar 18:1-7)
• Second, the nation is instructed to give special gifts to the Kohanim, explicitly recognizing that Korach was wrong for challenging their right to their positions. (ibid. 18:8-20, as understood by Rashi 18:8)
• Third, the nation is instructed to give a tenth of their produce – maaser rishon - to the Levites, enabling their service. (ibid. 18:21-32)

Within that last segment, though, an eight-verse passage describes the mitzvah of terumat maaser. When a Levite receives maaser rishon, he must separate one-tenth of that donation and give it to a Kohen; until he does so, he is prohibited from eating the maaser rishon he has received. How does terumat maaser respond to Korach's rebellion?

Three approaches are put forth by classic commentators; each stems from a different view of Korach's moment on the biblical stage. More broadly, each stems from a different perspective on the nature of human generosity:

1: Display Respect

One may read Korach's rebellion as a protest against the elevated position of the Kohanim; Korach, a Levite, wants the power of the Kohen for himself. Opposite this arrogance, the Divine command to give a gift mandates a display of respect. The requirement to give terumat maaser – a tithe paid by the Levite to the Kohen – reinforces the Kohen's dominance.

Taking this approach, Rabbeinu Bachya, in his 13^th century Kad haKemach (Rashut 8), explained that just as the Jew's one-tenth gift to the Levite marks the Levite's leadership position, so "the Levite is obligated to give the Kohen a tenth from their tenth. Just as Israel is bound to the Levite, so the Levite is bound to the Kohen."

2: Recognize G-d

On a deeper level, Korach's rebellion may be read as a rejection of Divine control. The selection of Kohen and Levite comes at the Divine word, and so Korach is actually challenging G-d's architectural design for the Jewish people. Giving a gift on Divine command, on the other hand, demonstrates a recognition that G-d is the true owner of my property. The requirement to separate terumat maaser provides a constant reminder that there is an Authority above all, who establishes the rights and roles of every citizen.

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (Horeb 304) put forth this position, writing of the terumah given by every Jew to the Kohen, as well as the terumat maaser contributed by the Levite, "You should not use that portion for personal purposes but dedicate it to G-d, declaring thereby that G-d is Lord of the earth  and that only through Him have you any right to the earth and to the fruit it yields."

Similarly, Sefer haChinuch wrote (mitzvah 396), paraphrasing Kohelet 5:7, "Thus they will put into their hearts that there are higher-ups above them, and that higher than all of them is the exalted Guardian of all."

3: Take Honour from Giving

A third approach reads Korach's rebellion as a misunderstanding of Honour; Korach believes that holding an elevated position and receiving a gift is the height of human dignity. Thus Korach does not seek the right to serve as Kohanim do, but only to hold their position of authority. (Bamidbar 16:3) Giving a gift inverts Korach's initiative, displaying an understanding that there is great honour in giving. The requirement to give terumat maaser teaches the Levite the stature to be found in generosity.

Sefer haChinuch (ibid.) saw this as a clear benefit of terumat maaser; he wrote, "There is also merit and honour and stature for the Levites, lest their name be eliminated from the mitzvah of tithing when they receive their portion of produce. Lest the children [of the Jews] say to the children [of the Levites], 'You receive the produce, we receive the mitzvah,' there will now be a response: We have Torah, and we have flour [to give]." Of course, the Levites already give, with their service in the Beit haMikdash and in their role as teachers of Torah, but sharing material resources with others is a unique and honoured form of generosity. [For more on this from a secular perspective, see Tamara Brown, Raising Brooklyn: Nannies, Childcare and Caribbeans Creating Community, Chapter Four.]

Taken together, these approaches provide three lessons in generosity: Giving gift shows respect, giving a gift mandated by G-d demonstrates recognition of Divine authority, and giving a gift earns true honour. As explained by these commentators, Korach did not grasp these three points, but the mitzvah of terumat maaser ensured that his descendants, and all readers of the Torah, would absorb these lessons for themselves.