God, History, and Torah

There is an ongoing tumult occurring in America.   The arguments are on campus too, largely waged between religionists on the right and religionists of the left together with secularists.  The distillation of the argument reached its apex a few years back in a courthouse in Pennsylvania.  The trial in Harrisburg is received a lot of coverage nationwide on CNN, FOX and virtually every newspaper in the nation.  The argument centered on the opening passage of the Torah describing creation.  How should biology –evolution -- be taught (if at all) in our school systems?

     One poll taken cites that 50% of Christian America                   believes the Biblical story of creation in the Bible should be          taken literally.  Various politicians have taken their stance on “intelligent design.”

What does Judaism have to offer on the subject?  In the Middle Ages, Maimonides one of greatest thinkers, teachers and physicians of his era and ours determined that science, by definition, could not be in conflict with religion.  That is, Maimonides believed that truth is not negotiable.  Torah is truth and to the extent that science would come into conflict with Torah, the Writ must not be understood properly.  If science proved something that contradicted Biblical thought, Bible required re-interpretation.    

Rabbi Abraham Kook, the first chief rabbi of Israel, wrote that there is no contradiction between the Torah and evolution.    Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, another Orthodox thinker, wrote that if the theory of evolution proved to be correct, it would be a testimonial to the wisdom of the Creator.

Albert Einstein said that science without religion is lame.  Religion without science is blind.

Jews must not be lame or blind. 

In the first Sidra of the Torah, Beresheet, the Text says, Vayhi ha-adam lnefesh chayah, “Man became a became a living soul.”  What does “living soul” mean?  Rashi, the medieval expositor said it indicates two things; Death and dibbur.  Rashi believed that the gift of God to humanity was that we were endowed with the faculties of reasoning and speech.   To deny these gifts is to deny our destiny.

Kabbalah has long taken that philosophic stance that the Torah is far above the tales we all learned in Religious School.  The Torah is about lofty principles.  It is not a history book; it is a book about God. 

Here is one obvious biblical fact: In its own narrative, Torah depicts light as having preceded the sun.  Two questions should be shouting at the reader: How could there be light without sun? And, how could there be a literal “day” of creation when there was no rotation of the earth around its star?

Our answer is that Torah wishes to say something powerful about humanity, God and, the universe without being reckoned as a textbook.  Truth is always the goal.

Not in Vain

The Talmud records that the entire world once convulsed with such force that it almost split apart as the Holy One uttered, "Thou shalt not take My name in vain."
"Why then?" asks a nameless scholar, "Why was the earth was nearly destroyed then and not at any other part of the Decalogue?" 

Perhaps because all society and civilization unconsciously accepts that it hinges on this one notion.  Without this mitzvah world could not exist.  Let me share how:
When the President of the United States takes office he swears on a Bible to uphold the Constitution.  Why a Bible?  Why not just say, "I'll do my best?"  Or, "I promise?"

When a witness takes the stand in court they also swear to God to "tell the truth."

What is it about taking God's name in vain that is so fearsome that we practice it universally today? 

A point of interest: When a Jew takes the stand they do not "swear" to God because we take the prohibition so seriously that we know, even unwittingly, we will not tell the entire truth so we "affirm" instead of swearing.

By these actions we acknowledge that this particular commandment (mitzvah) is the most powerful statement we can make (I have never heard of an atheist saying that he would not take the vow because it was not meaningful or strong enough). 

I wonder if the psychic underpinning for this is that we do not believe that we really control our lives.  Sure, we govern our day-to-day activities but when it comes to the larger issues like life and death, hope and despair, we feel powerless.

I recall an old Ann Landers column that told of a woman who, when uptight, would sit with her vacuum cleaner and let the wind blow into her face full force.  Her relatives thought she ought to be committed but Landers responded that sitting and hugging the vacuum was a reasonable response when there is no alternative.

Feeling helpless is not unusual or unique to us; it cuts a wide swathe though humanity.

In the Mishna, Rabbi Akiva is quoted as comforting the Jewish nation after the terrible Hurban, devastation of the destroyed Temple, with the words, "Happy are you, Israel, whose Father in Heaven never departs from you."

The faith of Israel is that God is always with us.

A story related by author Herbert Weiner tells of a conductor making his way down the train collecting tickets.  He came to a couple of Hasidim. 

They looked up and asked, "Why don't you ask the people in the engine cab for their tickets?"

"They are driving the train," answered the surprised conductor.

"So are we," said the Hasidim. 

So to keep order in the universe and chaos at bay we hold fast to the integrity and holiness of God's name.  This knowledge reassures and comforts us.  Or as Psalms says, "I will not fear for You are with me."

Here Today. Here Tomorrow.

Nothing was ever tossed out.  Food was kept well beyond their expiration dates (were there even such things years ago?).  Couches covered in tight plastic ensuring they would last decades, if not epochs.  Who would ever think of throwing out an appliance?  They could always be fixed for a fraction of the cost of replacing it.  New cars?  Sure, every ten years or so.

The Talmud has similar thinking.  If the rabbis had a theoretical discussion about some idea but no present application the Sages deferred making a decision and called their anaysis a hilkhata l’mashicha, a decision to be rendered in messianic days.  They did not discard their opinions or thoughts; instead preserving them for posterity.  One day, their insights might be needed, they reckoned, so they wrote down their ideas.  Thank God, for this insightful brilliance.  Because they preserved all their arguments and opinions, no matter how absurd or obscure, we now have clues to understand such diverse topics as in vitro fertilization and space travel.

What does all this mean?  That we are natural born savers? 

Two great Academies of learning in the Talmud were Shammai and Hillel. They fiercely debated every aspect of the sacred Torah.  You can find their names and discussions on virtually every folio of Talmud.  In most instances, Hillel’s opinion prevails.  Still, we preserve the artful input of his adversary, Shammai.  Despite the fact that we do not accept his verdict we have preserved his opinion.  Perhaps, reasoned past Chief Rabbi of Britain Jonathan Sacks, Hillel’s rendering is maintained for this world and Shammai’s is for the next.  Yet, there is another simpler explanation for preserving the minority opinion.  It means something far greater and deeper.

In Pirkay Avot, a scholar named Ben Azzai said, "Do not be disrespectful of any person and do not be dismissing of any thing, for there is no person who does not have his hour, and there is no thing which does not have its place."

This is real wisdom.  All things, ideas, and people have their moment.  Nothing should be discarded.  This could be the rationale for maintaining past conversations and out-voted opinions.

Another idea: Many people despair over our present as they contemplate the next generations.  The ever-dizzying rates of assimilation, intermarriage, and non-observance bolster this sentiment.  And yet, as surely as countless despots have tried to destroy us (think of Purim just past, Pesah about to arrive) we have clung to the anchor of our past and looked at the future while holding onto Torah.

When we preserve our past our future is assured. 

There is no doubt the Jewish people will be around forever.  The Promise has been fulfilled.  The Covenant is eternal.  Perhaps then, the reason we hold on to the past arguments and conversations is that it is the rudder that steers us toward the future.  Don’t let go.

Where Past Intersects with Future

“Bring us back to Your Torah, our Father, and draw us near.”

These words are in our Shabbat prayers.  They hearken back to the place where we came from, our roots, our point of origin.  We cannot be present, much less envision a future, without a firm grip on our past.  That is why we plead for a return to where we came from.

William Faulkner wrote, “The past is not dead.  It isn’t even past.”  The vibrancy of life resounds in the chords played throughout our history.  They must not be dismissed for they live within us.  They sing to our soul.  The chords are present in every milestone - Hanukkah, Purim, Pesach, memorials….  To ignore these notes is to miss the symphony of life.

Perhaps this is what brings us all to our present. We recognize the truth of remaining faithful to our heritage, our past.  It is the solid bridge that connects to where we stand today.  Tradition is who we are and the key to our future.

One great rabbi wrote about our strivings at the dawn of one Rosh Hashanna, “He returns to his starting point, to where he stood….”  It is always this way.  The path forward wends back and the way back leads to the path forward.

May we realize more wonder from our history, reap joy from this grand moment, and sow seeds of continuity in our families.

Words

Words carry enough weight to cause a war. 

Can you imagine that?  What a single person says could send men hurtling to their deaths and reduce nations to rubble.

Long ago, a man sent his servant to invite Kamza to attend a special, elite party.  The messenger delivered the invitation to Bar Kamza by mistake, a man despised by the party-giver.  Bar Kamza was excited to be included and arrived with great anticipation.  When the host saw Bar Kamza he shouted at him and shamed him, demanding that the offensive Bar Kamza leave immediately.  He was ejected in front of the community.  Bar Kamza got revenge by bringing in the Roman legions with lies about the aristocracy and, in the end, brought about the Fall of Jerusalem and the Destruction and terrible exile that followed.

Words can lay waste to an intact family.  In the aftermath of a few ill-chosen words a loving family can become a battleground. 

Think of Joseph who, by carelessly speaking to his brothers, ultimately caused his people to endure harsh slavery for generations.  Had Joseph kept his dreams to himself, the brothers would not have hated him, thrown him in a pit, sold him to Egyptians, and later found themselves begging for food at his doorstep.

Think of family celebrations and mark who is absent because of past words spoken too carelessly.  Brothers do not speak.  Children are estranged.  Connections are severed all because of words.

Perhaps that is why many people resort to writing e-mails, sending texts, and communicating innocuously.  A couple of thousand years ago there was a proto-postal service in Rome; it came in the form of a dispatched messenger.  This ancient service was called, “cursus publicus,” probably because it was a poor substitute for understanding the tone and gestures that accompanied the words.

Abraham Lincoln understood words and the power they carry.  When he became angry with someone he would sit at his desk and write a heated letter.  Lincoln would then tuck it into a drawer in the desk.  Later, in the calmness of letting time pass and his heat cool, Lincoln would take out the letter and write on it, “never sent, never signed."

Hear the words of the ancient scholar Avtalyon,  “Be mindful of your words lest you be punished with exile, and you will be exiled to the place of the bad waters, and your students who come after you will drink, and the name of heaven will be profaned.”  -Avot 1:11

            Words have the power to generate and regenerate.  Not only do words affect the listener, they are passed on to others in what may be a never-ending journey of blessing or toxicity.

One of the great benefits of Freud and the great tradition of psychoanalysis has been the ability to stir the unconscious by verbalizing our feelings.  One of the negative consequences of this same proficiency is that it does not always make us more skilled in being thoughtful to others.

Another Sage, Shimon ben Gamliel, said, “Whoever is profuse of words will eventually bring about sin.”  Enough said.

Thinking About Past and Future

As Jews, we have marked time with both the moon and the sun reminding us of the passage of the seasons.  Time is important.  For example, nobody 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 either.  We tried to figure it out after he died, but it was all guesswork.

Age and dates are important.  That is why we continually look back into time to trace the roots of our present.  The only gauge of time that goes back beyond human record-keeping is the Bible.  Scholars investigating genealogies of matriarchs, patriarchs; of wars and treaties, prophets and saints have read back into time 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 seventy odd years old.

The date of the birth of the world this year falls on September 5, 2013.  That date comes to us from all the years of the lives of the ancient ones along with the passage of the marked epochs of time. 

Why are birth dates 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 the reason for the cake, candles, and song.  We are wanted and needed.  We are unique and indispensable.

All birthdays are also the occasion of re-assessments of self and being.  We consider who we are, what we have become and where we have veered off the path of further self revelation.  Birthdays are a time of renewal.

September 5th 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 deforestation, 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 savaged all but the heartiest of animals and plants. 

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, while 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 Mashiah.  The pauper on the street, a child’s face, your girlfriend, your father, or spouse may be the chosen.  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 5774.

Death Date

When I give tours of the Synagogue to our non-Jewish neighbors and curiosity seekers, I point out that the boards at the back of the sanctuary list names of the deceased and their death dates- which we know as yahrzeit. 

Yahrzeit is an amalgam of two words- “yahr” meaning “year” and “zeit” which is “time.”  I go on to explain to our guests that in Judaism we commemorate a death date and place great emphasis on it.  “People come to say special prayers on the yahrzeit of their loved one.  These prayers are so old that they predate Christianity.”

“See those tiny bulbs on the brass plaques?” I ask.  “Well, if the light is glowing that means their death date is this week.”  They grow still as they wonder about this.

What I do not explain to the visitors is the meaning of the tradition of yahrzeit and kaddish. 

Generations come and go.  Despite the epochs, we recall those who have traveled this road before us.  Gazing at scrapbooks and faded pictures we remember zayde and bubbie (grandpa and grandma).  Memories float to the surface.  Eagerly, we point them out to our families, carefully explaining who each person was along with a tale of how their lives are still interconnected with ours.  Their legacy is us.  We are the possessors of their story, their lives.  When we recall them, name our children after them, they gain definition, even in death.

On the Holy Days we sing a prayer, zochraynu l’hayyim, “Remember us for life,” we plead with God.  At the same time, we also want, or need, to be remembered by the living after we have passed.  As age brings us closer to our ultimate destination a jarring question leaps to mind: “Who will remember me?”  Will anyone name their child after me?  Will anyone say kaddish when I am dead?  Perhaps it is a kind of double death to die and be forgotten.

We believe that when a person dies their body returns to the earth but their soul, being a gift of God, survives.  If this is true, perhaps then their soul still “knows” us.  What a gift to their spirit to be remembered, still cherished!  That they have not been forgotten may be the greatest balm to their spirit. 

Believe it or not we know Moses’ yahrzeit.  We know the date of Rabbi Akiva’s death.  And we read the names of the members of our congregation each Shabbat when their yahrzeits fall that week.  The list is long.  Many names are now familiar to me.  As I read the list, I smile at some of the memories and am saddened by others.

I imagine on those Shabbatot or during the week when we have evening services and someone stands to recite kaddish, a soul is nourished.  Somewhere is the vast cosmos a soul reflects, “See? I have not been forgotten.”  And that soul rises a bit higher on the letters of the kaddish as they are enunciated by the living.

The words are the same as previous generations pronounced, yitgadal, v’yitkadash… as they praise the Eternal One.  Perhaps that too is part of the gift.  “See Lord, I left a good legacy.  They not only remember me but through me they remember You.”