The Who

These past months have given us ample opportunity to consider and re-think our lives.  Hopefully, we have reflected on the meaning of our relationships, our work, our spiritual selves and perhaps we have set new objectives and priorities in our lives as a result of this thoughtful deliberation.  If this has happened, or if we are still in mid-process of reassessing our priorities, we have used this time of confinement wisely.  After all, what is pain, if not an opportunity to change and grow?

Shlomo Carlebach reminded us that there are two essential questions that we can ask of one another.  The first is “what” and the second is “who.”  What is the difference between the two questions?

When we ask, “What are you?” the answer is usually something like “I am a nurse.”  Or “I am a businessperson.”  “I work for the labor department.”  Or “I am Jewish.”  “I am Methodist.”  These responses elicit a positive or negative reaction.  If we approve of how they define themselves we let them know in spoken or nonverbal ways – either with a look of disapproval or word of positive engagement.  

The “what” question does not get to the heart of the identity of the other.  It only wants to categorize the person; put a label on them.  Once we have successfully labeled them we know where to put them on the hierarchy of importance.  This person is good because they have such-and-such skills.  This person has little value as anyone could do what they do.

When we want to know the “who” of our brother or sister, it means we want to understand them; what do they value, what are their needs, soul to soul.  Once we connect to the “who” of a person we can build strong, deep and healthy relationships.  

“What” does not build.  It does not heal the wounded.  It does not give tzedaka.  Only the “who” does these things.  The “who” repairs” hurt feelings; it feeds the hungry, it visits the sick, it nourishes relationships.

An observation from a hitchhiker: When you have a short distance to travel and need a ride people generally do not want to give you a ride.  But a driver who passed by a hitchhiker long before and did not bother to stop has a nagging conscience that they could have helped someone but did not.  So, they are the only likely person to pick up the lone traveler.  Their guilt is assuaged.

Each day we have the opportunity to see others as a “what” (a means to fulfill our needs) or a “who” which enables us to see the deepest levels of another human being and thus do mitzvahs as we see others for who they really are.  This is Torah.  When you read and learn Torah you understand the profound way in which we are called to see other people.  Do not miss the opportunity every person represents.

I pray that this time of the pandemic has not only made it possible for us to reassess our values but readjust the way in which we see everyone else as a “who.”  If so, this period of solitude has been well worth it.

Boo-Boos

We are prone to making boo-boos.  Not the kind where you scrape your knee or hit your head getting out the car too fast but the other kind.  Boo-boos are good.  They mean we are experimenting, taking a chance, stepping beyond our usual habits.  

Take jokes, for example.  Some people seem to naturally funny and others, well, not so much.  Yet we all like to laugh and make other experience the joy of a good chuckle. When they fall flat, do not give up, try telling the joke again until you get it right.

There are many wondrous and difficult aspects to being a child.  One the other former is that we are game for about anything, jumping off a high limb, rolling in the mud, tasting dog biscuits and eating asparagus (that does no usually end up so good).

It is a sad day when we grow up and admit, “We can’t do it.”  And worse, we do not even try.

Y. Peretz, crafter of Hebrew stories wrote, “Nobody trips over a mountain; you trip over a pebble.”  When we fail it is hardly ever disastrous.  Failure is a signal that we need to modify what we did, not stop trying.

On June 2, 2010, Armando Galarraga, 28 pitched what seemed to be a perfect game, a feat only achieved twenty times in Major League Baseball's 130 year history. However, on the very last play of the game, umpire Jim Joyce, 65, mistakenly called the runner safe at first base, ruining the perfect game. After the game, understanding the mistake he had made and the implications to Galarraga, with tears in his eyes, Joyce went over to Galarraga and apologized, admitting his mistake. Galarraga graciously accepted his apology saying, "nobody's perfect. Everybody's human. " They then wrote a book together titled "Nobody's Perfect."

The thing is the pitcher did not retire or give up.  He continued on, having learned an unintended lesson of life.

Mistakes should always be purposeful, never meaningless.  Yogi Berra once commented, “I don’t want to make the wrong mistake.”  He was right, in his inimitable way.  There are some mistakes that are bad choices but even then we learn and grow.

Talmud, which is the judicial and philosophical backbone of our people, is full of trial, error and then more trial.  “Arguments for the sake of truth,” Rabbi Jonathan Sacks labeled it.

The Mei Shiloach, Rabbi Mordechai Yosef of Ishbitz, wrote, “A person can only uphold the teachings of the Torah when he has stumbled in them.”  The sage is telling us, “Go ahead, take a chance, a risk, make mistakes, learn from them, change, and grow.

It’s a New Year.  We are  year older and G-d willing, a year wiser.  Even Torah has Moss and David doing some real bloopers.  Yet their greatness is that they become great through their errors.

Give it your best shot.  Then give it your better shot.

Change

Changes are difficult. Transition means adjustment. Adjustment brings pain.

All changes are difficult. Nobody really likes change because of the upheaval that often accompanies it. Sometimes we recalibrate the change and face it with excitement and anticipation. Some people shy away from anything that smacks of change while others run headlong into it. 

Moshe Dayan once famously said, “If I had to choose between peace without Sharm-al-Sheihk (a beautiful port city that now belongs to Egypt) and Sharm-al-Sheikh without peace; I would choose Sharm-al-Sheikh.”   Yet, he was one of the Israeli leaders who willingly traded the city for the promise of peace.

The moral of the story could be that peace is worth any price. Maybe so, maybe not. The moral of the story is that change begets change. Knee-jerk reactions are not befitting of mature human beings. Yet they are at the hallmark of most people.

The human spirit is tested by its ability to work for and with change, not against it.

Conservatism

Conservative Judaism is reactive.

Originally, our movement began as a reaction against Reform Jews, who were awash with all possibilities that the freedom allowed in the late 1800s. Germanic Jews arriving in New York brought with them the Reform movement. Reform grew at an alarming rate, for those of a more traditional bent.

Wanting to conserve the core of Jewish values, a few committed Jews banded together to form Conservative Judaism. Their goal was simple; preserve traditional Judaism while allowing for integration into the fabric of American society. One of the early cogitators of conservatism, Solomon Schechter, called our brand of Judaism, Catholic Israel. Schechter used this term to indicate that we are at once a community with our own practices, which must be preserved while allowing for modern and thoughts and additions to be considered. It was, in short, a reaction against Reform Judaism and a worn and complacent Orthodoxy.

The truth is, Conservative Judaism has created many changes in our century and the one before.  Did you just have occurred over four generations. Yet, and our generation, there is a greater Porsche than ever for more rapid change. I am amazed for example that while a new prayer book is “hot off the press” new versions are already being circulated.

The major changes in this new edition are the move toward alternative rights and practices. The prayer book that we use now contains only the Shabbat and festival liturgy. There are no weekday prayers found.

In the past few decades or movement has seen many changes.  Questions for you to consider: do you feel we are too slow to embrace change? Or to quick?

On Learning from Children

Rabbi Zushya hungered to achieve a level of holiness that would enrich his life.  So Zushya travelled from master to master asking the same question.  One day his journey intersected withe famous Maggid.

The Maggid responded to Zushya, “You can receive your answer by observing a small child.  A child can teach you how to be happy for no particular reason. He can teach how to never be still even for a moment when you need something.  He will cry and fret until he is calmed.”

What did the Maggid mean by this?

He was talking about God and life.  Rabbi Zushya needed to understand that happiness can be found when we live in the moment and let go of what has passed.  Have you ever seen a little girl cry and then laugh two seconds later?  She does not hold on to her anger but lets it go; releasing it once the moment is gone.

Little ones are always on the move.  The smaller the child, the more active they are. 

I heard once of a football player who decided to do an experiment.  He imitated everything his four-year old did.  The child climbed the stairs on their knees, so did the father.  The child danced, the parent danced.  At the end of the day the adult was thoroughly exhausted.  Imagine, indicates the Maggid, if good people put that kind of effort into a relationship with God, doing mitzvot.  The world would not even need the Mashiach!

Finally, tots have temper tantrums.  If they do not get what they want they stamp their feet and cry.  Says the Maggid; we need to follow their example.  When we see an injustice we should shout, even scream.  When we witness evil we should be as upset and vocal as a toddler.  Can you imagine how wonderful this world would be if every time some evil act was done others began to wail and carry on like a police siren?  Bad people would soon be shut down.

Good advice, wasn’t it?

On Motherhood

Today’s Jewish mother is in an unenviable role.  There are so many stereotypes that take aim at the Yiddishe moma that it is hard to define oneself without being labeled.

In yesterdays’ world, a Jewish mother’s lifestyle was clearly demarcated.  First, there were daughters to be married off.  To that end they were educated and taught proper etiquette.  Included in that education were how to set a seder table, attend and keep a kosher home, what kind of cheese was most tasty in a blintze for Shavuot, how many apples with honey to prepare for Rosh Hashanah and on.  Throughout the epochs of our past many a rabbi deferred to the rebbetsin for answer to questions that involved the spiritual and practical home life.

All the while the mother would have to keep an eye on the Levy boy.  After all, he was an eligible and potential son-in-law.  There was, of course, nothing wrong with the Cohen boy either, God forbid.  But young Levy had a better family.  And then after years of preparation there was a wedding to think about and then craft.

And sons.  Marrying them off was not the top priority, although they too had to find girls that had a suitable pedigree.  In addition, there was a lot of effort to make sure they ended up with a good profession – a lawyer, doctor or successful businessman.  The problem of wild oats was the father’s domain to rein in.

 Feeding the family was simpler.  Strudel, challah and butter.  On Shabbes there was chopped liver, gedempte meatballs, cakes, eggs, milk (not at the table with meat) and the gefilte fish was real gefilte fish.  Mamash.

Those were the days when the worst was the besht.  Granted, all work was involved and a chore. Laundry was hand washed.  Dish washing machines?  Not even close.  Maybe in Buck Rogers’ universe.  Nothing frozen.  Microwhat?  Those were the days when chicken was seen in two states.

Tradition is a word which summons nostalgia.  Just mention "tradition" and a somber but pleasant feeling sets in.  Those were the days -- sigh -- cozy halcyon days when parenthood was an enviable job.  Much has changed.  Little remains as it was.

Daughters are now prepared like sons and sent off to work.  They leave home and live a life of their choosing. Many have no desire (or need) to become married.  They live with girlfriends (or boyfriends.  What can you do?).

Sons.  Oy.  Some are gay, “out of the closet.”  They have nice boyfriends who may make nice husbands and fathers. 

Some seem to never be able to find Ms. Rightstein.  It is no simple task to find a Jewish girl, settle down and have a family.  It is not so easy to find a Jewish girl.

Eggs are noi good for you.  Maybe once a week.  Wait.  They are good for you again.  Milk is poison.  Only the truly brazen and courageous would drink anything as heady as 2%.  Anything with fat is verboten.  Wait! A new study indicates it is good for you.  No butter for the challah.  No margarine either.  Salt, by the way, is a four letter word.  Red meat?  Depends who you ask.  Fowl is acceptable, as long as you are not too particular about hormones and factory farming.  Fruits and vegetables are okay.  As long as they are not sprayed and don’t have nitrites (whatever they are).  Then comes the unenviable task to convincing your family to eat things that are good for them but that everyone hates (read: bran).

Modernity has seen the transition of mother to means of transportation.  Appended to their bodies are numerous appurtenances that make their lives simpler and liberating.  From the watch, which does twelve simultaneous functions, to the phone which is stapled to her body and wires pinned to her ears, mothers are now free to be in six places at once.

So many perplexing and mind numbing dilemmas.  What does a mother do?  It used to be that she defined her role thorough her family.  But such things do not happen much any more and when they do these relationships are not reciprocal: children go their own way, spouses travel an independent path and when age creeps up they are on their own.

Lokshen and gefilte fish were a breeze by comparison with what the modern woman is up against today.  Society insists that everyone needs to reach their own potential.  Independence has replaced interdependence.  And yet there is something finely disconcerting about putting oneself first.

Unexpected results may come from using a cake mix with indecipherable ingredients rather than one made from scratch.  Unexpected results invariably arise from situations where our control is so much more tenuous and uncertain when our role is often confusing.

Conflicting expectations from within are trying enough without the added dimension of external pressures.  Life may change at a breakneck speed but Jewish roots provide a bit of cushioning.  If life is unstable, seek ground.  Judaism is the unchanging bridge which spans the chasm of time. 

Come home.

Grow and Allow Others to Grow

A teacher was lecturing his pupils on the story of Joseph who was sold by his brothers to passing slave merchants. 

At once, a sympathetic student began to weep listening as the tragedy unfolded.

The next year while teaching that same passage, the same student began to laugh uproariously.

“Are you insane?”  The teacher rebuked.  “Last year you were crying and now you are splitting your side with laughter?”

“Why shouldn’t I laugh?  After what happened last year Joseph should have learned his lesson!”

The stories in Torah do not change from year to year, but we do.   It is not surprising to understand them in an entirely different light with the passing years.

One year Moses may be our hero and the next, a man handicapped by all kinds of idiosyncrasies and deep flaws.  The same can be said for Rebecca or Abraham or Isaiah. 

There is one underlying concept, which undergirds the opinion we hold about the actors in the Torah: what makes a hero?  That entirely subjective question is determined by who we are.  The heroes we venerate are a reflection of our values.  For example, do you think Abraham, was fearless, unwavering in his faith to G-d?  Was he the paradigm of a religious human?  Or was Abraham too pliant, too easily moved to do evil?  After all, he was willing to murder his own son.

The answer to that question, like so many others, start with a simple question: Who is your hero?  Gandhi?  Akiva? Roosevelt?  Mao?  The next-door neighbor?  A relative? 

Why choose them?  What is it that makes them a hero to you?

We choose our heroes based on some ideal of human life.  When we know who is our hero, we understand who we wish to become.

That ideal changes as we grow.

“When I was young I admired clever people.  Now that I am old, I admire kind people,” wrote Abraham Joshua Heschel.  As we grow our priorities and wishes change.  Some become more conservative, others move to become liberal, while others change their world-view in myriad directions. 

The question burns: whom do we idolize?

A Midrash:  When Moses ascended to heaven to receive Torah the angels complained, “What is flesh and blood doing here, among us?” they wailed.

HaKadosh Baruch Hu responded, “He is here to receive the Torah.”

 “Nine hundred seventy- four generations have passed since the inception of the world.  Since that time Your word has been safe with us.  And now you want to give it to such beings??”

HaKadosh Baruch Hu responded, “They can do teshuvah.”

Hearing the clamor raging in heaven, Moses grew afraid.  What if the angels grew spiteful and destroyed him?

HaKadosh Baruch Hu soothed Moses’ anxiety saying, “Hold My throne and you will be safe.”

Even angels hold opinions. Allowing others to do likewise and respecting differences is what this midrash comes to teach.  Times change and people change along with them.  G-d trusted Moses and the people to change.  One upon a time we were radically different than we are today.  Thank G-d someone was wise enough to know we would grow out of it.