All Things Considered

“A person is obligated to say a blessing for the bad things just as he is responsible to say it for the good.”  ~ Berachot 33b

Having an understanding of where we are in the world is important. When we know where we stand chaos is minimized; confusion is reduced.  In such a mind-set everything has a place and makes sense.  There is a purpose to all things.  Nothing is extraneous.  Nothing is lost.

The famous Rabbi Akiva is a prime example of someone who possessed a worldview that enabled him to lead a rich life.  Akiva’s life was far from ideal.  He was an impoverished and illiterate shepherd.  He had virtually no possessions, certainly nothing of real value.   Akiva fell in love with the daughter of a rich landowner.   Embarrassed by his ignorance Akiva spent years separated from her trying to make up his lack of learning.  His father-in-law had such a low opinion of him that he severed his relations with his daughter when she informed him of her love for the poor and ignorant shepherd. 

Akiva’s guiding principle in life was, “Everything God does is for our good.”  Now, that did not mean that Akiva joyfully embraced the painful and terrible things that happened to him, but he understood that even bitter medicine was still medicine.  Every event in his life had kernels of growth hidden inside.  It was his task to find it and grow from it.

We have heard people say, “It is God’s will,” when bad things happen.  Such a way of thinking is akin to making the best of every situation and accepting that we can grow and learn from any experience.  Railing against reality does us no good while asking what we can learn from a situation affords great opportunity.

“Blessed is God day by day.  He bears our burdens.  The Lord is our salvation.  Selah.”   ~ Psalm 68:17

The Question of Hanukkah

The Ancient Ones of the Talmud ask: Why do we say the beracha (blessing) “…Who has commanded us to light the lamp of Hanukka?”  After all, where does G-d command us to light the Hanukkiah?  Search all you like, it is not possible to find such an ordinance in the pages of the Torah or any other primary Holy Book containing God’s word.  That is because the events of Hanukkah happened after the Tanakh (Bible) was a closed book.

Our tradition teaches the value of a question.  We are told to strive for truth.  We arrive at that place of truth only by turning over very stone in our path.  The incisive and never-ending questions, which the rabbis apply to the universe, are beyond rigorous.  We are told to take nothing for granted.  We will, for example, never accept any person above the borders of accountability.  We will tolerate no Law unless it has been thoroughly tested.  Our instruments of testing?  Questions.

We are known as the people of the question (The Jewish reply to this is, “How do you know?”).  We do not argue for arguments sake but to arrive at the truth.

In Deuteronomy, we read “Ask your father and he will show you; your elders and they will tell you.”  The rabbis instituted the mitzvah of lighting Hanukkah candles some two thousand years after this statement was made.  The rabbis used the verse from the Torah to indicate that they were empowered with the ability to create a tradition and endow it with such sanctity that they could add the blessing “Who has commanded us…” to the act of candle lighting.

Yet, the answer to the original question is inferior to query itself.  The real answer is in the questioning.  We are never permitted to rest from the act of searching for the real answers to life’s challenges.  At times once pat answers will become weakened with age.  Other times it will withstand gale forces.  In fact, one twentieth century Jewish author, L. Stein penned, “The wise man questions the wisdom of others because he questions his own…”

In the Talmud, Shmuel bar Nachman remarked, “One who is not ashamed to ask will in the end be exalted.”  Why?  Because he is one step closer to the truth.

Where does truth reside?  The truth inheres in the question.

Looking for Gold

On the flight back from Chicago (American Airlines!) some time ago the flight attendant announced, “Please collect your garbage and someone will be coming around to collect it.  Do not discard your empty soda cans.  We will recycle them.  Also, any unopened food packages please return to the stewardess.  We give them to a food shelter.” 

Wow.

Best flight I ever took.  With all the pain America has endured these past two months and the economic kick that all the airlines have received, this was unexpected and welcome.

At the airport and on the aboard airplane I had my photo checked three times; tickets checked four times, endured tedious lines to get clearance for the plane.  And everybody was happy.  Passengers happily chatted with one another.  The flight attendants were eager to assist and bright. 

People have told me that it is adversity.  The reason why people are so helpful and kind is because we are all suffering from the trauma of the World Trade Center and then the anthrax scare.  That may be true.  It would not be the first time that fear has brought out the best in people.  Our common enemy has caused countless Americans to bravely wave their patriotism from their cars, houses, in the streets.  Acts of goodness abound because we feel vulnerable.

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The ancient ones used the two tales to illustrate relationships; Amnon and Tamar and Jonathan and David.  Amnon desired Tamar.  Desperately he wanted her: Amnon dreamed of being with Tamar day and night.  He could not get her out of his mind.  After relentlessly pursuing her in his heart, he forcibly took her.  After the act, Amnon hated himself for what he did and, subsequently, hated the woman he had defiled.

David and Jonathan, on the other hand, had a love that developed from the soul.  They had no agenda, just love.  Love, the Sages tell us, can be based on getting a desired outcome, i.e. the status that comes with keeping company of influentials; or it can be based on the feelings of the heart.  If we ‘love’ someone to a desired outcome (read: Amnon) the relationship will eventually fail.  Only genuine love will be strong enough to survive tumultuous times.

Perhaps Americans are banding together because we need one another.  That is a conditional love.  Mutual fear of the terrorists has caused Americans to join hands in song.  We have marched miles with candles forging a blazing trail of light snaking through the blank nights on the streets of America.  Children have stood proudly with their parents once again, bearing placards that read “Honk for America!”  For those who grew up in the Vietnam era, this is the United States’ proudest moment.  For older generations this time is a vivid reminder of the gathering of the American psyche during the Second World War.

So what happens next?  Back to angry fingers and curses directed at cars moving too slow along route 9?  A return to the disconnected, unconcerned society?  Amnon and Tamar?  Or Jonathan and David?  In fact, what is really the underlying difference between them?  Is it just that one wants something from the other?  Are all such relationships doomed from the outset?  If that is so, why do anyone a favor unless we are absolutely altruistic?

There is an old argument in the Talmud about motivation.  It goes something like this: Mitzvot should be done for the sake of love of God.  What then if a person does the mitzvah out fear instead of love?  Does that cheapen the deed?  Is this kind of mitzvah inferior in God’s eyes?  Better, concludes the Talmud, that the mitzvah be done for the wrong reason.  If it is done often enough, perhaps it will eventually be done for the right reason.

Did you know there is a brakha (blessing) to be said when you see someone with a different appearance?  In the past such people were placed in circuses and had pages reserved for them in Guinness books.  The Jewish response is totally different.  We are supposed to say “Barukh Ata…Mishaneh haBriot,”  Blessed is the Lord God, Master of the Universe, who has made such diversity among His creations.”

In other words, the weak and strong, tall and short, well-built and handicapped are all made in the image of God.  They are all as holy as one another.  Every one is utterly precious and irreplaceable.  Perhaps if we were to say this brakha each time we would see someone different it would drive home the necessary point treating others with disrespect gives us the ultimate disfigurement.  Saying such a blessing is a learning tool to make us more refined, better human beings.

Perhaps we can say the same for the full love which embraces America.  Practiced long enough it could become part of our fiber.  The same goes for us as individuals: give love for the wrong reason long enough and it will eventually turn out to be for the right reason.