Charity

Charity, I do not like. Not that I want to discourage people, mind you. It's just that I do not like the implications of the word. Charity to me, implies kind of hierarchy. We can give charity to the unfortunate needy. The word charity actually comes from the Latin root, Caritas. Caritas means affection or fondness.  Therefore, when we give “charity” we are doing so out of love. Nice idea.  I do not think so.

I would argue that if we give only out of a feeling for the poor will not give when our song remains on moved by their plight. It is easy to have a heart swayed by a waif with a wide out eyes who is resembles Oliver Twist and remain implacable in the face of a malformed body. Dennis Prager has challenged many high school teenagers with the following scenario: two men of equal worse see a beggar. One is moved to tears by the poor person’s situation. He commiserates and gives him one dollar. The next man sees the man takes $10 from his pocket and grudgingly gives it to the beggar. Prager then asks who has done the better thing. The overwhelming response is that the one who is overtly sympathetic, and give only a dollar, is better.  That is wrong.

Judaism does not demand pathos, although it is a nice addition to make us more human. Our faith states that we need to do acts of tzedaka, not charity. Tzedaka means righteousness. In the case of the two man who saw the beggar and reacted, Judaism would say that the one who aided the beggar so that he has enough to eat has performed the mitzvah. Beggars may benefit from charity but they live from tzedakah.

Tzedakah comes from the word tzedek.  Tzedek means righteousness or justice.  Tzedakah is the Jewish moral code by which we are commanded to live.

A Heroes' Journey

War movies always have the same scene: the soldiers are pinned down.  Enemy fire rains down on them mercilessly.  They are stuck with no channel of relief.

Suddenly one of the men overcomes the mental paralysis and charges forward against good judgment.  He braves the terror and saves the platoon.

Like all good stories there is a hero who challenges his opponent and succeeds where other fail.  Think of Odysseus, Achilles or Daedalus.  In children’s mythology we have Little Red Riding Hood and King Arthur.  Even in our sacred Torah we have David and Goliath.

The reason such tales are woven and we eagerly consume them time and again is because they encourage us. We need them.  We know that these stories are aimed at our lives.  While dragons may not confront us, we have co-workers who defame us.  We have habits that hold us back from excellence.  We know we can succeed if the obstacles that block us would go away.

Life is not static. Our choice is to try our best to hold our position or move forward, just like the solider in the trench.

Their path: “When you try to climb in mountain to prove how big you are, you almost never make it. And even if you do it’s a hollow victory.  In order to sustain the victory you have to prove yourself again and again and again in some other way, and again and again and again driven forever to fill a false image, haunted by the fear that the image is not true and someone will find out.” –Robert Pirsig

The first question every intrepid soul – and we are all heroes in making on a great journey -- needs to ask is whether we are coursing our journey, or someone else’s.  At times we may find that we have not been challenging our dragon.  If we are in pursuit of someone else’s dream we will not be fulfilled.  Our path is unique.

Our path: Once we find our direction we become the storyteller, the journeyman and hero, as long as we continue forward.  This last part is key: “as long as we continue forward.”

In process of becoming a hero, it does not matter whether we are an accountant, teller, stamp collector or mechanic.  We all have massive borders to climb, impenetrable obstacles to overcome and a hero’s welcome awaits us at the end of this trek.  Nobody can tell us where to go or how to proceed.  People may be guides along the route, suggesting other pathways but ultimately their journey belongs to them.  Their story is not our story.

This is the meaning of Rebbe Nachman’s adage, “The world is a narrow bridge and the only concern is to be unafraid.”  It is also the basis of Ben Heh-Heh’s axiom (in the Mishna), “According to the effort is the reward.”

One major component of our life’s journey is to pack well.  Without proper provision how can you hope to conquer your foes?

This is why we study Torah. As any student of the Writ knows, Torah demands immersion.  It insists that we sink our soul into it and unravel its mysteries to provide provender for our adventure.  We are it (as the Talmud states, “Torah and Israel are one”).  When we submerse ourselves in Torah and understand it on one of the infinite number of levels it proffers, we obtain the greatest clues to unlock the mystery our heroic journey.

Reputation

Fregt nit rofe, nor dem khoyle, goes a popular Yiddishism.  It means, “Don’t ask the doctor ask his parents.” So what if the sign says, “”professional"? What matters is who stands behind the sign.

A person’s reputation stands as the paramount description of them. “A good name is better than most precious of oils,” remarked king Solomon. A well-deserved name outlasts a person’s life. Why else are there some who more life in death than some who work in our midst? The good name they created by the mitzvot they have done transcends life.

There is a great illustration of this in the Torah. Eve’s sin was not in listening to the serpent in the garden, it was convincing her mate to eat the forbidden fruit. In doing so Eve destroying the great trust man and woman held for each other. Once violated, a good name is difficult to restore. “What does he think of me now Eve might have wondered.

There are others who hunger for accolades: they run after the press. “Vaulting ambition which o’erleaps itself,” wrote Shakespeare of the damage caused by self-aggrandizement. Hillel put it well, “a name made great is a name destroyed."  People who seek a good reputation for its own sake find it about as easy as grabbing onto a fistful of jello. Reputations are achieved through deeds, not desire.

Move Forward

Tafasta m’ruba lo tafasta, “Attempt to much and you will gain nothing. This is Sage advice from the pages of our past, the Talmud. In another inside elsewhere the Talmud, “The person who does not increase, decreases.” Both ideas suggest a middle ground.

Most of us know that Jerusalem was not built in one day. Rather, a whole body of literature and philosophy and dreams were soundly in place before the thought of building the holy city ever entered King David’s mind. Most of us also realize that the greatest accomplishments in life take time. If we attempt too much in a single moment we may lose it all. If we attempt nothing. we have nothing, I have nothing. Worse, we forfeit what we might have had. We are all familiar with people who have long since taking on personal challenges, risks; they atrophy mentally and then physically. There is no such thing as standing still: we either advance or retreat.

This approach has been one of my emphases in my tenure as Rabbi. I have sought to instill a sense of continual personal and communal growth and a steady but slow pattern of forward movement.  

Find where you are on the latter of Jewish observance and try edging up a notch. You may even choose to go just 1/2 step. That is fine too. What is important is that your eyes are focused in front of you.

By the way, there was another statement in the Talmud that I think is instructive, tafasta m’utea tafasta, "Attempt a little and you have it."

Passover and Chaos

Man lives in fear of chaos. So much do we direct the consequences of unsystematic and erratic behavior that we have structured our world in the hope that chaos can be obliterated and our lives trouble-free. In mathematics, we have a base ten, an artificial ordering the space: calendrically, monthly and yearly systems replete with checks and balances; money and possessions to create rewards for behavior and talent; perceived steady rhythms of the heart and blood pressure as indicators of health; balanced books; consistent sleeping patterns; cars that look and function alike; basic world governments, etc.. When one of these artifices breaks down, our world begins to crumble. The car emitting colored smoke, the heart developing an irregular beat, an eclipse --all these invoke great fear and agitation in humanity. It breaks down our sense of order.

The Exodus from Egypt and accompanying plagues is an event rife with chaotic occurrences.  Natural forces go berserk as the Nile turns bloody and flies infest every available space.  For Egypt, the world turns upside down.   The order and steady predictable patterns are turned on their head.  One plague makes it impossible to tell when the sun rises – it is eternal blackness.  The most frightening of them all is when the Destroyer stalks through the night, ruthlessly slaying the first born of each household.  Terror is rampant and at its apogee.

The mind cannot fathom the depth of anguish at the universe losing its balance.  Imagine.  One slight dislocation in a day, say, a beehive in the attic, is enough to instill fear and anxiety.  Here is a world, magnified to encompass an entire civilization that is haywire.

Sages throughout the millennia have been perplexed by the events of the Biblical narrative.  “Why is it,” they wonder, “that God was no merciful in freeing the slaves?”  More lives could have been spared while God thwarted the plans of the evil ones. Further, why do we consistently retell the story?  Would it not be better, more wholesome, to forget the terrible past?

The portrayal of God’s actions in the Passover story, however, is one that acts within the boundaries of nature.  God does not exceed the self-ordained limits of the universe.  He acts within them.

The vermin, cattle disease, frogs, all lie within the realm of the natural, if bizarre.  The Master of Universe does not snap His celestial fingers and changes the order of the cosmos.  He does nt inexplicably lift the enslaved from the land of enslavement. Instead, He brings “signs.” Topsy-turvy signs.  Boils on the entire populace.  Hail. Locusts.

It’s obvious that the Bible wishes to teach some lessons to Humanity about God, nature and us. The function of “signs” is for direction. The Holy One supplies directives, not a fait accompli.

Order, and the creation of order, is part of the fabric of man.  He cannot dispense with the need to self-impose strict rules and methods in dealing with his inner world and environment.  But order is, and this is crucial, God’s gift.

It is His to give: it is His to take away.  The regular tides of the ocean happen only with the consent of the Eternal. So we retell the story of when God dispossessed us of his bequest to us on Passover. It is a long epic but the stirring one. On the eve of the long tale of how God caused nature to go awry in order to give humanity a sense of who was really in charge. It is an emphatic story wherein we are commanded “that everyone feel as if God redeemed him personally from slavery.”

Passover is the experience of an imminent God, one who dwells with His people.  The festival of unleavened bread is a ceremony of reenactment. The pain and confusion of the people traumatized by God’s wrath is relived through the written word and traditional observances.  The evening follows a carefully ordered service, the impact of which is to make the participant feel like an eyewitness to this age-old event. Passover is the time of understanding and empathy with those who suffer for the price of freedom (and no revolution can happen without losers) connection with the Divine, who elected to let humanity choose between good and evil and the importance of natural order --  our lives would be terror without it. In fact, they were.

On Anti-Semitism

What is anti-Semitism? Is it the same as any prejudice, bias or bigotry against a minority? Is there anything that differentiates it from other forms of hatred? Why has it persisted throughout the ages? Was it inevitable that it would lead to the Holocaust? What follows is an attempt at answering these questions. 

Item: Less than one out of every five hundred people in the world is Jewish. That is .02% of the world’s population. 

This means that chance meeting with a Jew is slim. Further, since the vast majority of Jews are not immediately identifiable as Jews, the chances of consciously meeting a Jew are even slimmer. 

How can such a minute, and often unidentifiable, portion of the world attract such awful hatred? 

Item: For roughly four hundred years in England there were no known Jews living there. In 1290 King Edward I expelled all the Jews. Until 1656 Jews were not allowed to return. During all those years of England being Judenrein significant amounts of anti-Semitic literature has been documented in sermons and writings all during this period when there were no Jews! The most famous example of this is the Bard himself. Shakespeare fashioned Shylock, a vile character in the “Merchant of Venice” as defining what his contemporaries thought of the ruthless Jew. And yet, Shakespeare never met a Jew! 

It takes no great leap of imagination to think that even if there were no Jews there would still be anti-Semitism. 

Maybe if there were no Jews they would have to be invented. 

Can you imagine this with any other group? Would white supremacists step down their nasty rhetoric on African Americans if there were none? Would the Catholic and Protestants of Northern Ireland have had difficulty with the other during their decades of fighting if one of them had not been present? Could hatred exist between one group and another that was not present? It seems absurd. I suspect the answer must be an obvious, no. 

We have been accused of being communists while charging that we are avowed capitalists. Some have said we have a plan to control the world while others have called us rootless wanderers and vagabonds. Some say God has damned us and some say that we are the chosen elect. Jews who choose to live in a Jewish state are told they are racist. Jews who live in diaspora are indicted for having dual loyalty. Jews have been accused of Deicide, killing God, and need to be eradicated like a plague. Others have viewed us as the key to ultimate redemption. 

Some accuse us for being too wealthy and controlling. Others accuse us of being filthy leeches; taking away valuable resources or bringing dreaded diseases. We are at once inherently inferior and superior being too conspicuous in the upper echelons of learning. 

Throughout the long ages and including present day the Jewish people have been the object of derision, expulsion and ultimately death citing all these reasons. 

Two questions emerge. The first is how can such vastly different and contradictory stereotypes exist? Don’t the anti-Semites of the world realize that accusing Jews of being Communists and capitalists is non-sensible? And second, why this obsession with the Jews? 

There is no definitive answer but there are some responses. The first response is to the Jewish people.  Some have suggested that we are moral messengers to the world. And no one wants to have it pointed out to them that they are wrong. 

Or. Perhaps it is the worst part of human nature that abhors what is different and succeeds despite (because of?) those differences. After all, the Jewish people are still here while the nations that coexisted with us throughout the millennia have been swept away. 

Prager and Telushkin have documented many instances where the dicta of Judaism have demanded different attitudes and observances from the rest of the world.  Such observances as Sabbath, adherence to laws of what can be eaten, and devotion to learning has been the source of enmity.  We are evidently doing something right.  By being faithful to God we are meting out our destiny and covenant and becoming the object of hatred. 

My second, and final, response is to the world. I humbly suggest that when anti-Semitism is no more the final redemption will be at hand for all people. It is the plague that has dogged humanity throughout the past four thousand years. When the nations of the world no longer find reason to hate and destroy the Jewish people they will have learned to live peaceably with all. In one ancient text it is written, “Great is peace since all other blessings are included in it.” 

Make My Feet Firm Through You

You are not alone. At times, it may feel as if you are making choices and confronted by pain with no one there to ease the burden, or share the load. Certainly, the road is the long one. No one can tell where it may end. Yet, you are not alone. God is with you, at your side.

In the journey of life you will get lost. Disoriented.  It is all right. It is not a failure. This is how we learn, when confronted by challenges. To stop along the road and ask for directions is not a sign of weakness, it is a sign of maturity. When we ask, we learn.

Others have been this way before. They too, had a companion. God knows the route. His Presence comforted them in their time of sorrow and pain.  The same Force will uphold you.  Allow God to help. Trust Him and His power. And do not forget to thank him.

A Story

Rabbi Yochanan said, “A man was walking along the road late at night. Suddenly, his lamp was blown out by a great gust of cold wind. He lit it again but it went out again. Finally he said to himself, “Why should I kill myself over this lantern? It is obvious that I will never be able to make the lamp stay lit. I will sit down right here by the road and wait for sunlight. When it comes I will try again.”

So it is with the Lord God. When it was His will to have B’nai Israel released from the evil grip of Pharaoh, he sent Moses, our teacher. And when we were exiled to the distant reaches of Babylon, He sent his servant Zurubabel. Mordecai saved us from Haman (may his name be blotted out for all time, Amen.)

So it was with the Maccabees and with every evil pall that has been cast over the Jewish people. The Holy One, blessed be He, heard the moans of His people. Enduring terrible pain the people turned to the rabbis who combed the ancient and holy texts. They found this prayer:

Lord, free us no longer through the intervention of man; we are weary of the endless cycle of enslavement, freedom and enslavement again.  Be our Redeemer, Lord, not a mortal man. Let no person lighten us but lighten us Yourself. As it is written, “For with You is the fountain of life; in Your light we see light.

The Demise of Home

We are efficient. The synagogue holds our Mahzorim for the High Holy Days. They contain the siddurim for worship, the talitot and kippot; all of which makes the shul a user-friendly place. People can come to the synagogue with nothing and have all their needs fulfilled.

We provide a lulav and etrog for their perusal during the festival of Sukkot. Passover Seders move into social halls and out of homes for the Rabbi and Cantor to lead singing and impart Judaism indigestible dribbles. Nothing is privately owned anymore. All the individual observances have become public property.

We surrender our children to Hebrew school for their Jewish quota, much in the same way we do in the public arena.  We have taken Kiddush and ha-motzi from homes and introduced them into the liturgy. (Ever wonder why we bless wine in shul on Friday night when we do not eat there?)

This is a conspiracy which the institution has helped foster. The Synagogue has willingly taking on all aspects of the home observance and responsibilities.

Harold Shulweis wrote, “My zeyde to the synagogue because he was a Jew. His grandchildren, if they come at all, come to Synagogue to become Jews.” The raison d’etre of the synagogue is changed dramatically. We have become the source of vicarious Judaism.

It is ironic that as we develop better programs, more efficient means operating, new and expanded facilities, we wrested power away from the home. Even the name “Temple” connotes a kind of obeisance to a physical entity.  If you want to pray, you must attend the “Temple,” as the name intimate. If you want to be Jewish have to belong to “Temple.”

If Friday night services or sparsely attended may not a bad sign, it may be a sign of success. If instead, people are sitting around the table tables making Kiddush, talking, discussing Jewish ideas and concepts, that is from mark achievement. It is to be celebrated. And if it appears that our attendance at weekday and Shabbat services climbs while other activities wane, that might be an indication of real growth.

If we have a singular goal, it must be hizuk ha-mishpacha, a strengthening of family home life, familial empowerment.  Synagogue will not bless children for their membership, nor will it instill a strong sense of Jewish identity. That begins elsewhere. We can teach all of our kids how to “bensch licht” but until they see it happen at home, that will be uselessness knowledge that will eventually evaporate.  Judaism does not commence when we enter the portals of the synagogue. It begins inside our hearts and homes.

a prayer

Avinu, grow our love for You daily.

Avinu, help us to love each other unconditionally.

Avinu, allow was to respect one another in an empowering way.

Avinu, teach as to how to complete each other, building us into one unit you design.

Avinu, rid our hearts of grudges or bitterness towards one another; teach us to forgive readily and extend grace continually.

 Av HaRachamim, encourage each other to achieve the dreams You give us individually and jointly.

 Avinu Sh’ba’shamayim, keep us humble, placing each others needs ahead of her own.

 Avinu Sh’ba’shamayim, Guard our hearts from selfishness and self-centered desires.

 Av HaRachamim, protect our marriages from outside distractions and from outside influences.

 Avinu, make our commitment deeper than our emotions, stronger then the seasons of change and the trials which will come our way.

Opportunities Abound

Try to make today better than yesterday.  Search for opportunities to grow and deepen your roots.

Make a list of Shabbat opportunities. What can you tackle as a family or individual to enhance the meaning of Shabbat in your life?

Action (mitzvot aseh)

It is a mitzvah for the family to prepare for Shabbat and celebrate it together. Individuals should consider inviting friends were joining with others to celebrate.

It is a mitzvah to light Shabbat candles with the appropriate berakha, blessing.

It is a mitzvah to sing the Kiddush and welcome Shabbat with wine, in the home as well as in the synagogue.

It is a mitzvah to say the berakha over two hallot when starting a meal.

It is a mitzvah to have a special meal and say birkat ha-mazon (grace after meals) afterward.

It is a mitzvah to join the Congregation in prayer during Shabbat.

It is a mitzvah to maintain and enjoy the special quality of Shabbat throughout the day.

It is a mitzvah to recite Havdalah, concluding the Shabbat, over a candle, wine and spices.

What not to do (mitzvot lo-taaseh)

  It is a mitzvah to not engage in gainful work on Shabbat.

 It is a mitzvah not to perform household chores and Shabbat.

 It is a Mitzvah to refrain from shopping on Shabbat.

 It is a mitzvah to not participate in social, organizational events on Shabbat.

These are 12 different mitzvot.*  There are many more we can consider and choose. However these suggestions are a good place to start.

*Mitzvah means, that which we do in response to God’s ordinance.

One in Israel

Part of Israel's charter states that every Jew has the right to be at home there. Fleeing from the horrors of hatred, passport control Ben Gurion airport has never turned a Jew back. Hundreds of thousands have arrived to the holy land with a little less than the clothes on their back.

The Law of Return, LOR, provides a home to any Jewish person. But the law recognizes that an oleh is not merely someone who is made the decision to settle in Israel, it is someone who is returning home.

The connection between the diaspora an the land is akin to that of a parent and an estranged child. The offspring has moved away. Once in a while he sends a card. One day, hopes the parent, I will make a decision to return home. And when he does come with the family will be whole again.

There have been attempts made by Orthodox groups to amend the LOR to include a caveat that the person coming to Israel be born to a Jewish mother or converted according to Jewish law, halacha. The argument of amending the LOR is generated much heat over the past decades especially since the word halacha is not trade-marked yet often seems to be possessed by the right wing.   Those who try to amend it want to invalidate Reform and Conservative conversions.

That Israel is a Jewish state is not debatable and non-negotiable. But imagine that Israel becomes a de jure Orthodox state. That would disenfranchise anyone non-orthodox.  That would be a catastrophe.

I am buoyed by the fact that Israel has been in existence now for 70 years and a careful balance has been maintained to ensure that every Jewish person has a place in the Jewish homeland.   Proof that we are one people..

Own It

I have a question to ask.

In some form, the question has been forming in my mind for a very long time. Just now it seems to be taking enough shape so that I am finally able to give it a voice. Let me begin by sharing with you to brief vignettes.

Long ago, I was engaged in interviewing at different Synagogues around the country. For the purposes of becoming their rabbi, the congregation and I needed to first agree that there was a mutual interest. I would be invited to a visit with them and answer assorted questions. A standard question that each “Rabbi Search Committee” would ask, “Will you eat in a congregant’s home if they do not keep kosher?”  Hmmm.  The question was posed, and my mind would swing into gear; for underlying each question is a subtle dilemma for the congregation. Surely, they would not ask about kashrut if it were a meaningless issue. Therefore, it was reasonable to assume that there was some recent event in the committee or Congregation’s mind or experience that compelled them to pose the question.  Furthermore (talk about crossing a rabbi’s eyes!) it can be then inferred that there was some infidel around the table who does not actually keep it kosher home and will either cringe or easily jump on any suggestion that he or she is any less valid citizen of the community when the rabbi admits that he will not eat at this fellow’s table.

Second vignette: Time ago, shortly after I was ordained, I was invited to a Christian colleague’s home for dinner in my first pulpit. Together with my wife and our children and we went over to their home on a Sunday afternoon to join them for a lively evening. Now, you must be anticipating the problem: where was the food coming from? After all, can hardly be expected of a Christian ministry to keep the laws of kashrut. “Don’t tell me the rabbi has double standards!”

As it happens, this minister and his wife purchased glass plates, new utensils, shopped for supervised foods at the local market, called me with some questions about the permissibility of fish purchased at that market and excitedly inquired about whether it was correct to cook the food in their non-kosher oven. After weeks of preparation, fact-finding, and research at the library we were invited to sit at the table with a tacit validation of our Jewish customs.

Why is it that Jews seem to be undeterred in their own lack of observance, demanding of the rabbi that he recognize the lowest standard of practice as legitimate?  Call Christians will weather brimstone to preserve the integrity of our traditions and mitzvot?

Now to my opening question, why? Why are we so hard on Jews who observe their faith, Judaism? I know many observant members of lots of Conservative communities or often intimidated and made to feel backward and somehow in validated by the friends whose own practices are lax.

There are 613 mitzvot in the Torah-many more and ancillary writings. No human being can ever compass all of these. They are too many and too diverse to hope to fully bridge the chasm between observance and mitzvah. Yet we must attempt. He as Theodore Herzl put it, “Even though it may lie beyond us we have no right to stop trying.”

It is my guess that many of us have ceased trying.

Just as maturation is lifelong processes that cannot be condensed or minimized, Jewish growth must also be on a continuum. The moment we attempt to force environment to fit into our preconceived mold is when we stop growing. When Judaism is made to conform to our existing mold of practice, we atrophy. Imagine doing that in our business: when we are satisfied with sales, we keep everything maintained exactly the same for the rest of our career.  Such a business model is ridiculous. “Where there is no development,” says the Talmud, “there is regression.” No one stands still. No human being stops studying, analyzing, learning and retaining his mental acumen. In life, we either gain or lose.

If Jewish observance is too daunting, we must make no attempt to negate Jewish practice or reduce it to a lower level.  We would do such a thing with our children: we demand continual advancement for them. Why should we expect anything less of ourselves?

Let me put it another way, if we are in the same place that we were five years ago in our Jewish commitment and observance, is that not a betrayal of the best we have to offer and be?  Is that not shortchanging our ability to grow and learn?

Our religion is a gift to the world that keeps on giving, but only if first we take it and own it.