Mountains

Everyone is afraid of something.  Some people are terrified when they attempt to balance their checkbook (and therefore never do).  Others recoil at the thought of death and some shy from financial obligations.  We have all met people who are terrified of flying.  Some call these various fears, phobias.  Maybe they are.  All I know is that we all have dark corners in our self.  We are very different and have varying shadows that cause us fear and pain.

I remember officiating at a funeral in Massachusetts where I was told by the family in mourning that their mother missed out on much of life because she refused to travel anywhere.  As a result, they told me, she had led a lonely life.

Most of us do not let our disabilities get in the way of living. Nonetheless, they may still haunt us and deprive us of becoming whole.

Viktor Frankl, a survivor and analyst, wrote, “The crowning experience of all, for the homecoming man, is the wonderful feeling, that after all he has suffered, there was nothing he need fear anymore-except his God.” What a powerful affirmation of life! For Frankl, after his bid or years spent in Auschwitz there is clarity of vision. Life is for living. Without fear.

This from Dag Hammarskjold: “When all has become silent around you, and you recoil in terror - see that your work has become a flight from suffering and responsibility, your unselfishness a thinly disguised masochism: hear, throbbing within you, the spiteful, cruel heart of the steppe wolf - do not anesthetize yourself by once again calling up the shouts and horns of the hunt, but gaze steadfastly at the vision until you have plumbed its depths.”

Mountains are only obstacles when we can see no way around or over them. To a slightly different eye, they represent a journey, a new possibility of exploration and wonder.

Masters of our Fate

One of my favorite teachers was Rabbi Levi Yitshak of Berditchev.  Why? Perhaps because he was so full of life and vitality.  Every subject he spoke of, or examined, was infused with a special urgency.  Rabbi Levi Yitshak was aflame with Torah.  It is true that some could not stand his brilliance so they instead retreated to the safety of their minds.  Most however simply stood in his light and absorbed the radiance.  It changed them forever.

Some of the Master’s sayings were:

“You can get a hoarse throat davvening before the lectern.  But not before the Almighty.”

“Life can be so painful.  Know this: God Himself is in exile.”

“Lord, Master of the Universe”, prayed Levi Yitshak, “I saw a simple Jew bend down to pick up his tefillin when they fell.  He kissed them so sweetly.  Dear Lord, pick me up, your child.  Kiss me.”

“You can see whether a person really loves God by the way she treats people.”

“Your mind is the Holy of Holies”

We are a people in search of life.  To that extent pharmaceuticals are a reasonably safe investment.  They are about the only stock that has not done too poorly in the market downturn.  One reason for the popularity of drugs is that people are looking for some relief to take the edge off living and at the same time make life’s experiences more meaningful.  The best control over a random life, modernity thinks, is to be insulated from pain.

The Master thinks otherwise.  In fact, most of what he is quoted as saying revolves around sensation.  Levi Yitshak’s insistence is that we access joy within.  “Mitzvah g’dola l’hiyot b’simha,” It is a great Mitzvah to celebrate life, to be full of exuberance.  While the advice is simple enough it is not easily done.

There is an ancient tale about the powerful Greek conqueror, Alexander the Great.  He was sitting in judgment.  A man had come before him to plead for his life.  Alexander the Great, after hearing the defendant, pronounced his verdict, “guilty.”

“Your majesty,” he cried. “I appeal.”

“To whom do you appeal?” sneered the ruler.  “There is no one higher in authority than myself.”

“I appeal from Alexander the Small to Alexander the Great.”

There is much more in us.  We know this.  Becoming God’s vision of us would be consummate achievement-- for then we would know that we have become as “Great” as deep inside we know ourselves capable of being.

             Earlier this year we read about Avram who was called up by Gd to leave everything familiar and travel to unknown parts; “to a land that I will show you.”  Yet, no sooner had Avram arrived in the Land when a famine urged him south to Egypt.  So Levi Yitshak asks, ‘Why did God lie to him?’  Why was Avram told that he could live in the new land when famine expelled him from it soon after his arrival?’

             ‘No,’ say s Levi Yitshak.  The Torah says, “that I will show you,” not that will be forever yours.   God was giving Avram a vision of the future, a glimpse of the deep beauty that would sustain him in the darkest times when faith might otherwise abandon him.  So when Avram sought refuge in Egypt from the land’s destitution, he remembered the promise and the vision of the Holy Land.  In the dark nights of terror when Avram feared for his life, he would later recall what he was shown and this was enough for him to survive.

In a seminal work by survivor Viktor Frankl, he questions how survival was possible where every attempt was made to dehumanize the victims of the Shoah.  The camps were to become a mirror of what the Nazis tried to impose upon their victims.  How then to remain human where all vestiges of humanity were absent?  How can a person survive when riven of all hope?  The brutality of the Nazis was matched by their continual treatment of Jews as certainly less-than-human and less-than-animal.  How did those who were able to survive find both the will to live as well as maintain an image of their own humanity in the midst of such depravity?

Those who were able to focus on small acts of courage and keep mental images of hope had the best chance for survival.  Frankl tells tales of heroism like sharing a crust of bread or aiding the sick in the midst of a hell that only promised punishment for acts of goodness.  In this place words of hope could be exchanged provided a glimpse of a possible future.  “The prisoner who had lost faith in the future - his future – was doomed.”  In other words, Frankl, like Avram, saw a picture of how life once was and could become once more… and this was enough to sustain him.

“Life is a journey”, said the rebbe.  “And how we you traverse the road?”  He answered, “We begin with a single step.” 

Our teachers, Masters, and rabbis never indicated to us that life would be unencumbered or simple.  What they did teach us, however, was that with a vision how life can be, we can at least be masters of our own fate.

Make a Choice

“An old man sat at a crossroads.  A passerby approached and asked him how to get to the city.  The old man replied, “Both ways lead to the same destination.  That way,” he pointed, “begins in briars but ends in a smooth path.  The other way begins in smooth path but ends in briars.  Now choose.”

“So it is with us: there are some who only know peace but will come to pain in the end.  Others suffer now but their end is comfort.”  -Sifre

This passage is from an ancient source, Midrash.  Written thousands of years ago it acknowledges what we all come to learn.  There are always choices to be made.  Some we decide because they are convenient and others are chosen because they are the right ones, even if uncomfortable.

All those remarkable stories from Torah that we read are about making choices.  From the Garden, to Noah’s floating craft, to Moses each tale carries the same message.  It is about coming to a crossroads and making a decision. Some deride Noah for saving only himself.  That was a choice.  The descent to slavery was all about bad choices made by well-intentioned people.  That was a choice.  So was Abraham’s argument to save the city of Sodom as was the decision to eat the Forbidden Fruit.

Admittedly there are times when we feel compelled, like we have no choice.  When the herd runs in one direction it takes a great deal of inner strength to go opposite them.  In a concentration camp it was far easier to be a kapo, one who went along with the Nazi evils, than a person like Schindler, who valued life.  Schindler was the oddity doing what no one else dared do.  The kapo simply followed.

With this in mind Viktor Frankl, a survivor, wrote, “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of human freedoms—to choose one’s own way.”  Frankl insists that we always have a choice.  The Torah heartily agrees.  Nobody makes us do, say, or feel anything without our consent.  We decide to give tzedaka or hoard.  We make the decision to make peace or go to war with our foes.

Judaism insists on personal choice and responsibility.  That is why there is no devil or demon that is responsible for our actions.  There is only us.

The message of Haunukka is one that we usually gloss over.  You see, the real and most dangerous enemies of the Jews were…the Jews.  Those who had left the tent of Judaism and opted for the Greek modern way of life posed the greatest threat to the Maccabees because this nation was marching in lock-step in the wrong direction!  Most of the Jews had abdicated their freedom of choice and blindly followed after the masses.  A few said no.  They were the Herzls, the Schindlers, and the Kings of their time.  We celebrate their choice.  We are only alive because of their chutzpah.

God asks us to choose as well.  Every day.

Master of Fate

One of my favorite teachers was Rabbi Levi Yitshak of Berditchev.  Why? Perhaps because he was so full of life and vitality.  Every subject he spoke of, or examined, was infused with a special urgency.  Rabbi Levi Yitshak was aflame with Torah.  It is true that some could not stand his brilliance so they instead retreated to the safety of their minds.  Most however simply stood in his light and absorbed the radiance.  It changed them forever.

Some of the Master’s sayings were:

“You can get a hoarse throat davvening before the lectern.  But not before the Almighty.”

“Life can be so painful.  Know this: Gd Himself is in exile.”

“Lord, Master of the Universe”, prayed Levi Yitshak, “I saw a simple Jew bend down to pick up his tefillin when they fell.  He kissed them so sweetly.  Dear Lord, pick me up, your child.  Kiss me.”

“You can see whether a person really loves Gd by the way she treats people.”

“Your mind is the Holy of Holies”

We are a people in search of life.  To that extent pharmaceuticals are a reasonably safe investment.  They are about the only stock that has not done too poorly in the market downturn.  One reason for the popularity of drugs is that people are looking for some relief to take the edge off living and at the same time make life’s experiences more meaningful.  The best control over a random life, modernity thinks, is to be insulated from pain.

The Master thinks otherwise.  In fact, most of what he is quoted as saying revolves around sensation.  Levi Yitshak’s insistence is that we access joy within.  “Mitzvah g’dola l’hiyot b’simha,” It is a great Mitzvah to celebrate life, to be full of exuberance.  While the advice is simple enough it is not easily done.

There is an ancient tale about the powerful Greek conqueror, Alexander the Great.  He was sitting in judgment.  A man had come before him to plead for his life.  Alexander the Great, after hearing the defendant, pronounced his verdict, “guilty.”

“Your majesty,” he cried. “I appeal.”

“To whom do you appeal?” sneered the ruler.  “There is no one higher in authority than myself.”

“I appeal from Alexander the Small to Alexander the Great.”

There is much more in us.  We know this.  Becoming God’s vision of us would be consummate achievement-- for then we would know that we have become as “great” as deep inside we know ourselves capable of being.

             Earlier this year we read about Avram who was called up by God to leave everything familiar and travel to unknown parts; “to a land that I will show you.”  Yet, no sooner had Avram arrived in the Land when a famine urged him south to Egypt.  So Levi Yitshak asks, ‘Why did God lie to him?’  Why was Avram told that he could live in the new land when famine expelled him from it soon after his arrival?’

             ‘No,’ say s Levi Yitshak.  The Torah says, “that I will show you,” not that will be forever yours.   God was giving Avram a vision of the future, a glimpse of the deep beauty that would sustain him in the darkest times when faith might otherwise abandon him.  So when Avram sought refuge in Egypt from the land’s destitution, he remembered the promise and the vision of the Holy Land.  In the dark nights of terror when Avram feared for his life, he would later recall what he was shown and this was enough for him to survive.

In a seminal work by survivor Viktor Frankl, he questions how survival was possible where every attempt was made to dehumanize the victims of the Shoah.  The camps were to become a mirror of what the Nazis tried to impose upon their victims.  How then to remain human where all vestiges of humanity were absent?  How can a person survive when riven of all hope?  The brutality of the Nazis was matched by their continual treatment of Jews as certainly less-than-human and less-than-animal.  How did those who were able to survive find both the will to live as well as maintain an image of their own humanity in the midst of such depravity?

Those who were able to focus on small acts of courage and keep mental images of hope had the best chance for survival.  Frankl tells tales of heroism like sharing a crust of bread or aiding the sick in the midst of a hell that only promised punishment for acts of goodness.  In this place words of hope could be exchanged provided a glimpse of a possible future.  “The prisoner who had lost faith in the future - his future – was doomed.”  In other words, Frankl, like Avram, saw a picture of how life once was and could become once more… and this was enough to sustain him.

“Life is a journey”, said the rebbe.  “And how we you traverse the road?”  He answered, “We begin with a single step.” 

Our teachers, Masters, and rabbis never indicated to us that life would be unencumbered or simple.  What they did teach us, however, was that with a vision how life can be, we can at least be masters of our own fate.