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.

Fish Tail

      A Fish Tail

Say mazel tov! And many images come to mind.  We think of Bar Mitzvahs, Brises, weddings and many more memorable occasions.  Yet, the phrase “mazel tov!” comes from the heavens.  Each month brings with it a new constellation of stars in the night sky which we call mazalot.  Yes, mazel originally meant stellar constellation.

So, long ago when Jews wished another “mazel tov!” what they were really saying was, “May the fortune of the stars be with you.”

The Hebrew month of Adar (which comes in late winter) has the sign of the fish, or Pisces we call it.  Those born in the month of Adar came into the world under the mazel of the fish.

For Jews, the fish* is a great symbol of fertility, mystery, and hope.

In the opening passages of Beresheit, Genesis, God blesses the animals of the deep with “be fruitful and multiply.”  These same words shared with His crowning creation, humanity.  That is why there are traditions of having ketubot (marriage contracts) decorated with images of fish, as the couple is blessed with having many children.  It is also why many celebrations of marriage feature fish as a dish as they are wished many offspring.

Another tradition.  Jewish folks often place the head of a fish on their table for Rosh Hashanna.  This is a prayer that we will be blessed “as a head and not a tail” for the coming year.  At the same time, the placement of a fish on the table is a reminder of the bounty of the God-created world.

Another tradition. Fish are also associated with the Messianic time.  That is why gefilte fish often decorate the Shabbat table, whether on Friday night or for the “third meal” of Shabbat. 

As the denizens of the deep fish have no eyelids.  They are ever watchful and aware.  They wait for the appearance of the Messiah in a relentless vigil.  And they are the one creature spared from the Deluge during the time of Noah.  That is why they are considered specially blessed, ever free from sin. 

Another tradition.  On Rosh Hashanna we throw bread crumbs into the water, casting our sins away.  We call this Tashlikh (and yes it is a part of our tradition here are Beth Shalom.  Check your schedule.).  As fish are without blame they can absorb the crimes we have carried.

Perhaps it makes sense that some Jews are even given the name Fischel, an optimistic title.

Finally, according to legend, the End of Days will see us feasting on the flesh of the giant of the deep, Leviathan.

* Only fish with fins and scales are considered kosher, according to the Torah.

Only Receipts

Mishna teaches, “All whose actions exceed his wisdom, his wisdom will endure.  All whose wisdom exceeds his deeds, his wisdom will not last.” (Avot 3:5) 

This Mishna could mean that without implementation we forget.  Has it ever happened that no sooner had you learned an interesting fact that you lost it?  If we do not put into practice what we have learned the knowledge leaves us.  Question for contemplation: If this is true how would we change what we read or watch?

The Mishna could also be a philosophical comment.  What is the purpose of listening to the news?  Or reading the latest journal?  Why bother taking advanced courses or going to school at all?

For our faith, the purpose of learning is to inform life, not simply gather information.  In other words, we learn to change.  There is little value to knowledge if it does not lead to growth.  In fact, one of those most powerful statements of this belief is found in the second paragraph of the Aleynu where it reads our objective is, “to perfect the world.”  Knowledge can be used to win an argument, build a more effective way of killing people, or fix that which is broken.  We choose.

I have performed far too many funerals for my liking.  I recall few instances where the bereaved family proudly told me how brilliant the deceased was.  I remember times when their wisdom was lauded in connection with great accomplishments and also remember other times when their knowledge was mentioned in a derogatory, snide way.

Each hour should contain moments when we actualize the meaning of the Aleynu.  At the end of the day we ought to be able to recall times when we lifted grayness from the world and allowed more light to filter in; when the world became less broken and more whole because of something we did or said.

That is why Judaism insists of the path of mitzvot, action.  We have 613 mitzvot, or behaviors, that govern our lives.  It is learning put into action.

Winston Churchill said in 1936 at the brink of the World War, “I am looking for peace.  I am looking for a way to stop war, but you will not stop war by pious statements and appeals.  You will only stop it by making practical arrangements.”

We are -- there for we do.

A wealthy man approached the Gates of Heaven.  He tried to enter but the Ministering Angel blocked his way.  Finally, he took out his checkbook and said, “Everyone has a price.  How much do you want?”

“You don’t understand.  We don not take checks up here.  Only receipts.”

Happy Birthday!

In most of the world the sun is our guide.  Its slight movement across the sky determines the marking of our calendar: short days and long nights mean winter while long days indicate the warm, summer months.  Yet, does the moon impact measuring time? 

We peer into the night sky and gauge the waxing and waning of the moon.  We consult astrological charts which also refer to changes in the moon.  When people behave peculiarly, we even ask if they are luna-tics, i.e. affected by the full moon.  Is this night orb important at all?  Jews have marked time with both the moon and the sun as reminders us of the passage of the seasons. 

How long is a year? 365 ¼ days?  What if we are off by a few hours? (We always are!).  Isn’t then measuring time arbitrary?  What does a year mean anyway?  That the earth completed a pass around the sun? 

Another wrinkle.  Light—which marks the passage of days – is not the same everywhere.  Our day in America is not the same in all countries.  It is not eve the same within the borders of the United States.  Come to think of it, it is not all the same even in New York.  Time is therefore relative, not universal.  Yet, our lives are driven by our time-pieces. 

Time is important.  For example, nobody in my family ever knew exactly how grandpa was.  He ran from Czarist Russia and certain death when he was just fourteen.  Unfortunately, many things were left behind in the old country.  Including his age.  We never learned grandpa’s birthday.  We tried to figure it out after he died, but it was all guesswork.

Age and dates are important to us.  That is why we have busied ourselves with carbon 14 dating.  We have worked back into time to trace the roots of our presence.  For thousands of years the only measure of human time on earth was the Bible.  Scholars investigating the genealogies of matriarchs, patriarchs; of wars and treaties, prophets and saints have read backward to determine the present age of the world.  They read all the “begots” with a measured eye.  According to their estimate, the world is now five thousand seven hundred sevemty-odd years old.

According to the biblical account, the date of the birth of the world this year fell on September 16, 2012.  All the years of the lives of the ancient ones along with the passage of marked epochs of time bring us to this special birth date. 

Why is this date so important?  It celebrates an arrival.  Your birthday is important because you entered the world on this day.  All the gifts that you have brought would not have happened without you.  That is why the cake, candles and song.  You are both wanted and needed.  It is the same with the birthday of the world.  We fete its arrival with food, song and celebration.

Birthdays are also the occasion of re-assessments of self and being.  Every year we consider who we are, what we have become and where we have veered off the path of personal revelation, unfolding of the self.  Birthdays are a time of renewal.  Vows of weight loss, making more time for family, being a more considerate friend are all components of becoming.

September 16th is important as it celebrates both a beginning and renewal.  We wish the world a better future.  We have abused it far too much with de-forestation, pollution, lack of concern for life-forms that are dependent upon us, an absence of love.  We have uprooted without planting.  We have disemboweled the earth without replenishing it.  We have ravaged all but the heartiest of animals. 

At the same time, this yearly Rosh Hashanna is a call for renewal for inter-personal changes.  It does little good to treat the dog well if we abuse people.  Remember:  all people are as unique and as gifted as you.  Every person carries a blessing that they alone can give.  For the Jewish tradition it is said that any person can be the emissary of God.  The pauper on the street, a child’s face, your girlfriend may be the chosen one.  Since we do not know who the hidden emissary may be, we must treat everyone as if they are the One.

From the entire Jewish community, may this New Year be a time of renewal of hope and determined love.  May you be blessed.  May you be the blessing in 5772.  And, of course, happy birthday world!

Hasid or Tzaddik?

The Torah is not a series of disconnected tales.  It is stories, ideas and axioms intricately developed through the course of its many books.  For example, in the Garden of Eden humankind is limited by just one simple law: ‘Do not eat of that fruit.’  Noah, coming some ten generations later, is charged with seven laws which he and his descendents are obliged to follow.  As the Tree is gone, new laws govern human interaction with one another and the world.

One question posed by the ancient sages is, what view should we take of the strictures given by God?  Are they values that relate to the One?  Do they connect us to Him?  Or are they simply duties that must be followed?  To put this a different way, which is more worthy- to adhere to the laws because we fear God or understand that these laws are right by our own heightened sense of morality and thereby fulfill them?

A Hasid (a righteous individual, not a member of a sect) and a Tzaddik are paradigms of this question.  A Hasid is someone who follows the laws because he fears the Lord.  The Hasid has a sense of duty to God and will adhere to the halachot of Judaism because of yirat shamayim, Awe of Heaven.  A Hasid thinks, ‘My mind is too limited by its own boundaries to know what God wants of me.  He asks’, “What then do You ask of me, Lord?”  The Tzaddik, on the other hand, may be every bit as outwardly religious, but will act righteously because of his sense of what is correct.  Which is better?  To be a Hasid?  Or a Tzaddik?

A Hasid must be Jewish.  The word itself refers to someone who looks at the universe of God given dicta and zealously looks for opportunities to do the Divine Will.  A Tzaddik may be a Jew or non-Jew as they feel or intuit an awareness of what morality means.

It is implicit in the rabbinic mind that our faith does not trust humanity to make the right decisions about moral questions.  After all, the initial phases of the Torah are laden with tales of the descent of humankind into a great lacunae of goodness.  Think of the stories that are told from the episode of the Garden to the enslavement in Egypt.  The stories are of moral depravity and then the discovery of God and a higher authority. 

Yet, the question remains: Which is more praiseworthy—to be a Hasid or a Tzaddik?

In the Talmud, Mar son of Ravina declares, that “even a non-Jew who studies the Torah is comparable [in merit] to the Kohen Gadol.”  We know that non-Jews are not commanded to study Torah so it may then be assumed that reason or a personal compulsion to do “right” is greater than even an obligation carried out with fervor.  Even medieval heretic Baruch Spinoza came to the conclusion that “every person who accepts the authority of the seven commandments of Noah and applies oneself to their observance should be considered as one of the hasidei umot olam [a Hasid amongst the gentile nations].

There is no question that moral behavior is of paramount importance.  The outstanding philosophic question is what is the best route to get there?  The path of the Hasid?  Or Tzaddik?