Truth

There is a Yiddish expression, der emes iz der bester lign, Truth is the safest lie."

Listen to these two ideas:

1) Everyone must be willing to entertain change for the sake of growth.

2) All must be consistent with their inner self; to do what make sense to the soul and not heed the outside voices.  "But," you interject, "aren't they conflicting statements?"  Yes, they are.  And still they are both true.

There are two kinds of truth - the immutable and the ephemeral.  Ephemeral truth is based on the needs of the moment.  It is the kind of statement found in the "Dear Abby" columns. It seems right.  Abby uses common sense based on circumstance and time.

For example.  There is the old Jewish line about the kid who murders both parents.  The boy then throws himself on the mercy of the court on the grounds that he is an orphan.  He speaks a truth.

For example.  It is a modern truism that character is developed largely through the media of sorts and the arts.  Growth patterns then follow after what they see and learn at music, art, little league and the rest.  And the best time to hone these skills is during the weekend.  It is also a truism that music, painting and sports collide with Shabbat and Holy Days as they vie for the same time slot.  So how can we reconcile that conflict?

All this reminds of the rabbi's dilemma.  Two entrepreneurs vehemently insisted to their spiritual leader they they were correct in their business venture and the other was at fault.  One at a time the present their arguments.  After the first states his case,  the rabbi turns to the first litigant and says, "You are right."  The other then states his case and the rabbi grudgingly said, "And you are right."  The rebbetzin, listening by the door, burst into the room and said, "How can they both be right?"  The rabbi responded, "You too are right." 

Ephemeral truth is like that.  Contradicting statements can be simultaneously ne true.  A dog can be both smart and dumb at the same time.

Immutable truth differs from ephemeral truth in one dramatic way: it never changes and cannot be contradicted by time or circumstance.  Whereas children “need” to learn how to play trombone, it is not essential for them or an adult to know how to play.  Similarly, it is important to call friends often so that they know we care, but it is not essential that we do so.

Immutable truth is grounded in being.  The Aseret haDibbrot (Ten Commandments) is one example or Immutable Truth.  There are no extenuating circumstances for shaming parents or for committing adultery. Everyone understands the inherent evil in these acts. Likewise, even though we have lacunae or doubts there is God, always.  Job, the improbable theologian, does not doubt God’s existence or His goodness. Job simply says, “God knows.”  There is a helmsman at the wheel. This is what we need to know, accept and understand.

There are three major Jewish festivals during the year, Sukkot, Pesach and Shavuot.  Sukkot is our time of uncertainty.  It gives rise to all the ephemeral truths of our lives birth, death, wealth, change, despair and hope.

It is hard to think much between reading labels and mopping the floor. Still, the overriding message of Pesach is freedom, which is more of a call than a truth. Pesach is the holiday that calls to our soul, “wake up.”

Shavuot, however, is the holy day of Immutable Truth. It beckons and we understand the depths of its eternal truth.  But Immutable Truth, unlike the truths of the moment, is difficult to accept. It leaves no room for negotiation. It just is.

This is, by the way, why I believe Shavuot Is always “forgotten holiday.” Strangely, Shavuot is the most power-laden holiday on the Jewish calendar. God speaks on Shavuot. His voice echoes from Sinai and Truth is heard. There’s no getting around the Law or Voice. It spans the epochs and is unchanging.

From Freedom to Free

A few weeks back we celebrated Pesach, a breathing memorial to enslavement to freedom.  We sang, “How is this night different!” in wonderment as celebrated our first freedom.   We declared, “Let all who are hungry come and eat” as if for the first time we had bread on our tables and declared that anyone could partake.

Seven weeks later we became a “holy nation” at Sinai as G-d shared His vision in the revelation.  This became Shavuot.

At the first celebration we are bound by history.  The shared past of pain and liberation is a story that continues to unite us.  We recall other seders, people who used to sit at our table, sang songs, and recounted a story that is part of our collective past.  We use the anniversary of the Exodus to appreciate what has happened to us, to give new focus to the past year and remember an event that made us a people.  We are bound to each other because of our mutual experiences, our history.

We used to be Ivrim, “others,” then we became am Yisrael, a people united by common shared experience.

Sinai is a radical shift in thinking.  Israel was freed through water but forged in fire.

Sinai is a vision that begins with a mountain swamped by smoke and fire and ends with a blueprint, a plan, for the future. 

When G-d revealed the Torah at Sinai it was not an event for posterity; it was an ever-unfolding moment that would reveal itself in stages through the prophets and holy rabbis.  Torah was always about the future, never the past.  And it holds out the vision of a new order, one where equality reigns paramount; where human dignity is a universal right (and demand); where every member is a holy priest; where a covenant connects all to the same end.

As if to prove the point, Torah indicates that “all the people” were present at Sinai and each accepted it.  Not the officers, the influential or the entitled were addressed and responded but “all the people.”  In Judaism there is no privilege.  Each person is equal and defined by his or her actions.  Even G-d is subject to covenant, which is why the Torah later declares, “it [the Torah] is not in heaven.”

Pesach is what G-d did for us, Shavuot is about what we are pledged to do for ourselves.   This sacred time is about our passage from slaves to visionaries.

“The day is long, the hour is late and the Master is impatient,” declares the Mishna.  We have ideals set before us; we are people of vision.  We remain unified by our shared history while being cognizant that we are covenanted to construct a better future based on what we can be.

On the Way to My Meeting

That was me waving at you while you were sitting at Starbucks.  I saw you drinking coffee and talking animatedly with your friend.  You were involved in the conversation so if you did not see me or if it did not register who was waving that is alright.  You were at a meeting.

The reason I did not stop was because I was also on my way to a meeting.  I did not want to be late.

We all have meetings.  They keep us busy.  Some are needful, some are friendly, and some are painful.  But we all have them.  They color our days, occupy conspicuous places on our calendar, are a joy and annoyance and a sign that we are needed.  For some people, the more meetings the more we are needed.

Everyone has a place and everyone has a role.  At work we take places around the table, set up a little perimeter around our seat, and steel ourselves for what is coming.

Meetings vary.  Some are clearly charged and energized for change and a healthy exchange of ideas to get to the change.  Others are more like a regular doctor check-up: we pray nothing happens.  Problems arise when it is not clear which of the two is supposed to happen at the table: Is this the one where we are supposed to be creative or one where change is challenge and represents danger?

I was wondering which of the two you were at when I saw you.  You looked concerned so whichever kind of meeting was I think it was the wrong one.  The knitted brows were the give-away.

Judaism asks for change and growth.  It looks at life and wants us to shake our stasis.  In fact, this time during the Omer when tradition demands that we count the passage of days from Pesah until the next holy day of Shavuot, we are supposed to imagine a long steady climb up a mountainside to meet God (that is what happened many millennia ago).  As we trek up the hill we mentally prepare for THE MEETING. 

Anticipating this meeting we take a long steady look at what we ought to be doing for this conference.  Change or inertia?

The fact is sometimes we are eager for change and other times reticent.  Most people I meet, including myself, want both at different times.  There is one overriding principle, though, that was written by Robert Fulghum.  Here it is:

The wagon driver said to his passengers when they came to a long, steep hill, "Them that's going on with us, get out and push.  Then that ain't, get out of the way."

If there is one constant that we must always observe it is for us to allow others to flex and grow and for others to return the favor.

The Countup from Pesah

From the second night of Pesah and throughout this month (and the next!) we count the Omer (it says so in the Torah, check it out in Leviticus 23:15).  Each evening we tick off another digit as the day passes.  Why do we do this?

The most obvious answer is that we are counting up (the reverse of a count-down).  In this instance, we are counting off forty-nine days; the number of days that our ancestors walked their way to the mountain in the Sinai desert to receive the Words of God.

The language we use to count goes like this: : Blessed are You, HaShem, our God, King of the universe, Who has sanctified us with His commandments and has commanded us concerning the counting of the Omer.   Then you say:  Today is ___ day[s] of the Omer.

Generally, what do we count?  We count things that are meaningful.  When a birthday is getting close, we count.  When a rocket ship is about to be launched, we count.  When we find out about a pregnancy, we calculate the time remaining.  We number the days until vacation.  And here we count the days until Revelation, the anniversary of Torah.  Counting is about the joy of anticipation.

Long ago it was different than it is today.  When the Temple stood in Jerusalem, Jewish people used to bring handfuls of barley (the handfuls were called “omer”s) to the kohan’im every day..  If they missed a day of bringing the Omer, they were not permitted to make it up which is why we try hard to not miss a single night of counting nowadays.  Also, the omer was supposed to be cut at night which is why we count in the evening in our time.

One scholar, Rabbi Yaakov Tzvi Mecklenberg, noticed that the commandment to count actually says, “You shall count for you…” What this saintly rabbi said was that when we count the omer, we are actually doing something that has deep soulful personal implications.  In counting off the days to the holy day of Shavuot, Torah Day, we are heightening our internal register of joy.  By making the time to mentally prepare for the greatest event of human history we create powerful anticipatory internal emotions.

What does this mean to you?  When we count the omer we create an internal hunger to feel the majesty of the moment of the Torah being given.  When the anniversary arrives it will be momentous.

At the same time, it also means that we craft the emotions we carry.  What we put into life is what we get out of it.  Whether it is the love that we continually nourish in our family, or the Shabbat candles that we faithfully light on Friday nights, or the ongoing effort we place into learning Torah, or simply counting up the days to Shavuot – what we take from life is what we invest into it.

Is there any greater truth than this?

Earnest Questions, Honest Answers

A student contacted me about gaining information about Judaism from a local rabbi for a college course she was taking.  She interviewed me and asked some well-thought questions.  She came equipped with many queries about the practices of Judaism.  I share the first few below:

1.  How has religion shaped your life?

 Judaism has influenced my life in more ways than I can enumerate.  It is the filter through which I see and hear all things.  I continually ask myself in every situation, ‘Is this what Judaism demands?’  ‘Is this what God wants?’   When I see a young man playing a guitar on the sidewalk with his guitar case open, I ask myself, what does my tradition demand of me?  Or, when I am insulted by unkind words or am the object of slander, what does the Torah tell me to do?  How do I react?  As the Jewish faith has an opinion and instruction about every facet of life it always be asked, 'what is the Jewish approach to this issue?' 

As both Judaism and God care intimately about how we interact with one another and the world there is nothing that is removed from the gaze of Tradition.  We matter.  Other people matter.  The welfare of the world matters.  For all these reasons we must act in accord with Torah.

2.  What are the challenges, if any, to practicing this particular religion?

Judaism is a demanding religion.  It is not simply for the synagogue or religious events.  It is breathing, eating, talking, walking, business....all.   If there is an Omniscient, caring God He does not only pay attention to us when we pray.  The eye of the Holy One is always peering at us and wants us to make the correct choices.  Ever since the exile from the Garden of Eden we have been burdened with the responsibility of making choices.

It is not always comfortable to be doing the right thing....especially when society is going in the opposite direction.   Yet, Judaism teaches through the many examples of the prophets that we are often called upon to make a moral stand.  We are supposed to speak for those who have no voice or for those who have lost the power of their voice.  We are charged to speak, sometimes yell, on their behalf. 

And then there is bias, hatred, antisemitism....  That is an ever-present challenge.  Still, hatred must never stand in the way of doing the right thing.

3.What are the important holidays and traditions of this religion?

 This is a very long answer.  There are many holy days that dot the year.  Look at a Hebrew calendar and there are major holy days, minor remembrances and small festivals that have through time blossomed into large, meaningful events.

Perhaps the most important of all the holy days is the most frequent one: the Sabbath.  It is God's day when He stopped the Creation process.  It is our day when we reconnect with the Maker and the universe.  Of course, Tabernacles (Sukkot), Pentacost (Shavuot) and Passover (Pesah) are also highly important.   Each of them contain elements of historical events (the passage through the Sinai wilderness, the anniversary of the Receiving of the Torah and Liberation from slavery) as well a natural events (fall harvest, spring harvest and planting season) in addition to holy time of connection between the Jewish people and God.  Then, in a separate category, comes the High Holy Days of Rosh Hashannah and Yom Kippur.  Each one is unique with its many symbols of foods, shofar, study, and prayer and vital to the lifeblood of Judaism.

4. What Bible do the Jews use? Does it go by another name?

Our Bible is the same as your Old Testament.  While the order may vary slightly it is the same text.  We have other names for it in Hebrew but we call it Bible in English.

In our understanding we divide the Bible up into three sections.  They are the Torah, the Prophets (Neviim in Hebrew) and the Writings (Ketuvim).  If you take the first consonant from each of the three Hebrew words you have the Hebrew word for the Bible, Tanakh.

5. What is the Torah? How many books does it have?

Torah is the Hebrew word for Pentateuch (penta as in pentagram, pentagon, five).  Torah is the 5 books of Moses, or the first five books of the Bible.  The word Torah means Law or Instruction.

Often times, the word Torah is used to convey the idea of a God-given message.  For this reason Jewish people might say “This is Torah” when they are referring a Law.