Don't be Angry

When a person says, “I’m only human,” is usually the precursor to a fault.  It comes as a half excuse/half apology.  “I’m only human,” supposedly explains away why he did something regrettable.  As you might suspect, Judaism disavows any such thinking.  Psalms declares that God made us “little lower than the Angels.”  That reference is a lot different than being only human!  Our heritage holds fast to the idea that we should always strive to be better.  Excuses are self-serving: They do not ennoble us or make us better people.  In fact, the opposite is true; making excuses for ourselves insures that we repeat our old ways.

In the classic story of Cain and Abel, God warns the quickly reddening Cain of what his unchecked anger can lead him to do. “Sin crouches by the door,” God warns Cain, “but you can conquer it.”  We have the power to rule our actions and Torah demands of us to choose the path of goodness.  We are not “only human;” we are much more.

Being human is as easy as breathing; being humane is the work of a lifetime 

Rabbi Charles Klein tells the story of nurse, Elizabeth Kenny, who developed a treatment for polio.  Kenny was asked how she always managed to maintain her cheery disposition.  Was she just born that way?

“Oh no, as a girl I often lost my temper.  But one day when I became angry at a friend for some trivial matter, my mother said to me:

“Elizabeth, anyone who angers you, conquers you.”

She never forgot those words.

Elizabeth Kenny made a mindful decision to not roil with anger.  She indicates it is always a choice.  Nobody “loses” their temper.  It does not fall out our pocket like spare change.  Nobody says lashon ha-ra, gossip, by mistake, without their permission.  It does not just happen.  We make it happen.

I often speak about recovery programs because they are at once inspiring and a paradigm for conscious living.  Whether it is OA, NA, AA, Al Anon, or a host of other programs they push the participant to explore and use their full resources to change, which is not easy.  If change were a simple matter there would be no need for Yom Kippur.  Since change is challenging, at best, arduous at its worst, we need spurs to become better people.

Elizabeth Kenny’s story is also revealing in another distinct way.  Once change is effected it is no longer burdensome.  It may have been hard for Kenny to get rid of her anger at first but soon calmness became part of her character.  King Solomon’s Proverbs says it best when he writes, “Respond gently.  It allays anger.” 

Whose anger is Solomon speaking of?  Ours.  We may change people’s attitudes, postures, anger, and opinions but it is generally unlikely.  Most people have their set ideas and are not easily talked out of them.  The only real power we have is over ourselves.  We do not have to give in to specific, predictable patterns.  We can choose to act differently and by consciously resisting the urge to “strike back,” have a nasty retort, or engage in rumor-mongering, we graduate to a higher level of meaningful humane life.  And the best part is the next time we are faced with a similar conundrum, the forces that pulled at us before will still be there but they will be less strong.  The time after that, they will be even weaker, enabling us to resist the urge.

Solomon teaches us wisdom from four thousand years ago that when we think before we speak, deliberate before we act, we will longer be as bitter, as reactionary, or demeaning.

Make a Choice

“An old man sat at a crossroads.  A passerby approached and asked him how to get to the city.  The old man replied, “Both ways lead to the same destination.  That way,” he pointed, “begins in briars but ends in a smooth path.  The other way begins in smooth path but ends in briars.  Now choose.”

“So it is with us: there are some who only know peace but will come to pain in the end.  Others suffer now but their end is comfort.”  -Sifre

This passage is from an ancient source, Midrash.  Written thousands of years ago it acknowledges what we all come to learn.  There are always choices to be made.  Some we decide because they are convenient and others are chosen because they are the right ones, even if uncomfortable.

All those remarkable stories from Torah that we read are about making choices.  From the Garden, to Noah’s floating craft, to Moses each tale carries the same message.  It is about coming to a crossroads and making a decision. Some deride Noah for saving only himself.  That was a choice.  The descent to slavery was all about bad choices made by well-intentioned people.  That was a choice.  So was Abraham’s argument to save the city of Sodom as was the decision to eat the Forbidden Fruit.

Admittedly there are times when we feel compelled, like we have no choice.  When the herd runs in one direction it takes a great deal of inner strength to go opposite them.  In a concentration camp it was far easier to be a kapo, one who went along with the Nazi evils, than a person like Schindler, who valued life.  Schindler was the oddity doing what no one else dared do.  The kapo simply followed.

With this in mind Viktor Frankl, a survivor, wrote, “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of human freedoms—to choose one’s own way.”  Frankl insists that we always have a choice.  The Torah heartily agrees.  Nobody makes us do, say, or feel anything without our consent.  We decide to give tzedaka or hoard.  We make the decision to make peace or go to war with our foes.

Judaism insists on personal choice and responsibility.  That is why there is no devil or demon that is responsible for our actions.  There is only us.

The message of Haunukka is one that we usually gloss over.  You see, the real and most dangerous enemies of the Jews were…the Jews.  Those who had left the tent of Judaism and opted for the Greek modern way of life posed the greatest threat to the Maccabees because this nation was marching in lock-step in the wrong direction!  Most of the Jews had abdicated their freedom of choice and blindly followed after the masses.  A few said no.  They were the Herzls, the Schindlers, and the Kings of their time.  We celebrate their choice.  We are only alive because of their chutzpah.

God asks us to choose as well.  Every day.

Fish Tail

      A Fish Tail

Say mazel tov! And many images come to mind.  We think of Bar Mitzvahs, Brises, weddings and many more memorable occasions.  Yet, the phrase “mazel tov!” comes from the heavens.  Each month brings with it a new constellation of stars in the night sky which we call mazalot.  Yes, mazel originally meant stellar constellation.

So, long ago when Jews wished another “mazel tov!” what they were really saying was, “May the fortune of the stars be with you.”

The Hebrew month of Adar (which comes in late winter) has the sign of the fish, or Pisces we call it.  Those born in the month of Adar came into the world under the mazel of the fish.

For Jews, the fish* is a great symbol of fertility, mystery, and hope.

In the opening passages of Beresheit, Genesis, God blesses the animals of the deep with “be fruitful and multiply.”  These same words shared with His crowning creation, humanity.  That is why there are traditions of having ketubot (marriage contracts) decorated with images of fish, as the couple is blessed with having many children.  It is also why many celebrations of marriage feature fish as a dish as they are wished many offspring.

Another tradition.  Jewish folks often place the head of a fish on their table for Rosh Hashanna.  This is a prayer that we will be blessed “as a head and not a tail” for the coming year.  At the same time, the placement of a fish on the table is a reminder of the bounty of the God-created world.

Another tradition. Fish are also associated with the Messianic time.  That is why gefilte fish often decorate the Shabbat table, whether on Friday night or for the “third meal” of Shabbat. 

As the denizens of the deep fish have no eyelids.  They are ever watchful and aware.  They wait for the appearance of the Messiah in a relentless vigil.  And they are the one creature spared from the Deluge during the time of Noah.  That is why they are considered specially blessed, ever free from sin. 

Another tradition.  On Rosh Hashanna we throw bread crumbs into the water, casting our sins away.  We call this Tashlikh (and yes it is a part of our tradition here are Beth Shalom.  Check your schedule.).  As fish are without blame they can absorb the crimes we have carried.

Perhaps it makes sense that some Jews are even given the name Fischel, an optimistic title.

Finally, according to legend, the End of Days will see us feasting on the flesh of the giant of the deep, Leviathan.

* Only fish with fins and scales are considered kosher, according to the Torah.