Insight

Vision is not about what we see but what we allow ourselves to see.

A remarkable new book, Blind Spot, demonstrates many times over how we refuse to see what is in front of our eyes. Instead, what we see is what our mind wants us to see. 

One famous example of this comes from Wilbur Wright who wrote, “I confess that in 1901, I said to my brother Orville that man would not fly for fifty years…  Ever since, I have distrusted myself and avoided all predictions.”  What is beyond our vision generally lies beyond our imagination.

We all have biases that distort vision.  From remembering certain groups of words while forgetting others, to actually not seeing something in front of our face, we program ourselves to not notice certain things.  Did you ever try to point something out to a person who could not see it?

That is why the ancient sages teach us to continually question what we think we know.  Prejudice blinds us to truth.

In fact, the word “invent” comes from the Latin, invenre, meaning “to find.”  When people look to the ordinary and perceive that which they have refused to see before they find, discover, and invent.  Eyes open and newfound vision comes.

Torah strives to continually give us new perspective on the world and ourselves.  Think of it: Every time we read Torah (and we have been reading the same thing for the better part of four thousand years) we see novel thoughts, nuances and approaches to life for the first time.  “Examine it thoroughly for everything is in it,” declares the Mishna. 

It is almost as if new sentences are scripted into the ancient text each night.  How else could these new ideas suddenly appear?  Of course this is not true.  What is fact is that with fresh eyes we find new insight.

On vacation with his family, Dr. Edwin Land’s small daughter, Jennifer, complained that she could not see the picture her father just snapped.  Within one hour, Land had the solution in his head, which eventually became the Polaroid Land Camera.

Don’t like what you see?  Time for change?

All we need is vision to make a new reality.

Keep it Lit

Candles are small, almost insignificant in the incandescent lights shining from above.  Yet, when the lights are turned off they become defiant flames railing against the darkness.  That is the meaning of these tiny wicks aflame with fire.  They illume the darkness nights of the year with hope.

Two thousand two hundred years ago pagans overran the Temple in Jerusalem.  Filth and unholy totems filled what once was the place of the Divine.  The Maccabees fearlessly waged a war against the empire.  With few weapons and warriors but an abundance faith and hope the Maccabees defeated the idolaters, cleansed the Temple and relit the long extinguished lights of the Menorah.  With only enough precious oil to kindle the lights for one day they miraculously burned for eight nights.

To this day we light eight candles as reminders of the faith of the just.  The first light represents the tireless fight against injustice.  It calls us to waken and combat against the looming darkness of ignorance, apathy and godlessness.  It is a stubborn but resilient light that paves the way to illumination that grows with each passing day.  Such a small flicker gives us a sense of hope when we feel hopeless.

On each successive night to Hanukkah the flames grow bolder.  That is why we light two candles on the second night, three on the third and so on.  Once we have taken the first steps towards being true to our faith and G-d our inner resolve becomes stronger as we advance into more and more light. 

It is said that when the Holy Temple was recovered from the Hellenist forces the flames grew ever brighter with each passing day.  So it is on this Hanukkah.  So it is in our souls that reflect the light of the Menorah.

The holiday calls to our sacred soul to find G-dly nourishment in the light of the Almighty.  When we call upon the light, the Holy One fans the inner flames and helps them to grow exponentially.

Young At Heart

 Our lives are dependent.  Some would say “interdependent” but I do not think that is entirely accurate.

Take trust for example.  In the prayers just after the Shma we declare “emet!” which means “truth.”  Saying this holiest of prayers, we verbalize faith, trust, belief and reliance of something other than ourselves.  In fact we repeat the word “emet!” to fully underscore our trust (dependence) in God.

Trust makes us vulnerable (and saying “emet!” is a confirmation of that) but it is also the basis of honesty to one another and to ourselves.  Here’s one example:

A woman purchased some fruit from a vendor and returned them saying, “How can I trust you, Getzel?  The apples you sent me are rotten and I have brought them back to you!”

Getzel: “Why did you bother bringing them back?  I would have believed you.  To me your word is as good as the apples.”

What is the moral of this tale?  That Getzel’s response soothed her spirit and she would be a good future customer? No. The moral is so pure and deep that it requires no explanation other than to say trust is a great binding force for good.

Whether God or humanity, placing our trust in another is the basis for living a kind life.

We are wary of trusting.  We do not want to be “sold a bill of goods” like the Brooklyn Bridge.  We want to be savvy and worldly, suspicious of connivers and frauds.

Alan Dershowitz wrote about a couple of Americans who went on a mission to Israel.  They were taken to a Tel Aviv nightclub where a standup comedian started to tell jokes in Hebrew. 

The Israeli guide was concerned because the Americans did not know Hebrew yet he saw them laughing with the rest of the audience.

“I do not get it.  I thought you did not know Hebrew. How did you know the comedian was so funny?”
“We don’t understand,” said the woman.  “But we trust him.”

Of course no one wants to be the victim of a scam but perhaps we are wary to the extent that we have sacrificed something that is pure inside us.

You remember what trust is like.  Recall sitting at the table with a bunch of adults after a tragedy and one of them said something that made everyone sigh.  You mourned along with them because you had faith.  You knew and accepted the idea that you were dependent. 

Is it really such an admirable trait to think everyone is “out to get you?”  Perhaps the unblemished part of our neshama yearns for those halcyon days.

Upon Reflection

“Upon reflection.”

I have always liked those words because they mean something.  Instead of blurting out the first thing that comes to to mind, “upon reflection” indicates depth.  That is precisely what is supposed to be happening now.

“Repent one day before your death,” advises Pirkay Avot.  But the Talmud wisely asks, “Who knows when they are going to die?” 

Precisely.  Therefore, they counsel, repent every day.  Easier written than done.

Expressing sorrow, regret, is complex.  It means defying the voice of the ego, which loudly proclaims, “You were right!  They were wrong!  How can you apologize to someone who is so callous?  A brute?  An idiot?”  If you say you are sorry you will become diminished.  

Of course this is a lie told by our ego but if it said loud enough who has the strength to go against it?

The Holy Days are the time for repair work.  Fixing stuff.  Hurt feelings. Broken relationships.  Hearing and responding to the soft but insistent voice of our conscience demanding that wrongs be made rights.  

Human nature does not change.  We have been at war with our self for eons.  Two thousand years ago scholars wondered, “What if they reject my apology?  Must I go back and humble ourselves again? (Yes, up to three times, they counsel).  What if the person is dead? (We visit the grave and speak to their spirit).

Judaism does not let us off the hook easily.  It insists that we find mechanisms to quell the voice of pride and the seemingly all-powerful defense mechanisms and become simple and whole once again.

It is easy, too easy, to see the flaws in others.  It far more daunting to see them in us and then ask, as Rabbi Jonah of Gerona taught, “One must ask oneself: ‘What have I done? What have I become?’”

The answer begins with these words, “upon reflection….”

Stories that Define

We are the carriers and tellers of stories.  Torah and Talmud are filled with tales.  Some are simple and others are complex but they are all invaluable.  We tell our stories because they communicate who we are.  They say something profound about our deepest beliefs.  We also tell stories to express profound truths, ones that surpass simple words.  Stories also have many layers.  They can mean different things.  The way we understand them defines us.

Abba Tahnah the Pious was swiftly walking to his home erev Shabbat, as dusk began to fall.  He was hurrying with a sack on his shoulders to greet his family before the sun set.  At a crossroads he met a beggar who was covered in sores, longing for assistance.  "Will you help me get home?" he begged Abba Tahnah.  

What is important that respecting Shabbat?  If he helped the stranger he would arrive home after the candles were lit.  That would be wrong.

Quickly deciding to help the beggar he picked up that ailing man and carried both him and his bundle.  Neighbors were horrified to see Abba Tahnah doing this work so close to Shabbat.  Undeterred, he continued.

A Heavenly Voice then declared that the sun would be delayed in going down.

Now that you have read this tale, consider what does it mean?  Choose the one that defines you:

Lesson 1.  Shabbat is critical to our existence.  It is our locus, our home in time.  Yet, life takes precedence,

Lesson 2.  God assists those who act with resolute altruism even to the point to reworking nature.

Lesson 3. Every moment is a test of who we are and whether we have mastered our personal interests.

Lesson 4. This story is meant for me to share with others so they will learn the importance Judaism places on human dignity.

Lesson 4. The afflicted, i.e. those with illness or disability, need special care.

Lesson 5. Human concerns always trumps religious concerns. 

Lesson 5.  The real definition of a tzaddik (pious one) is one whose heart overrules his head.

Now the most important questions, do you like your answer?  If not, what should it be?