A New Day

There is no such thing as “having no choice.”  There is always an alternative.  In fact, the choice we make in any situation says something about us to others and something about us to us.

The first part of that last statement is pretty clear: if we are short-tempered people will be wary of us.  If, on the other hand, we are kind and generous, those around us will respond in kind.  The second part of the statement sounds confusing but it is as obvious as the first. Let me explain.

How we act creates self-definition.  We form an opinion about ourselves based on what we do.  Psychoanalyst Erving Goffman tells the story of a man who walks on the beach determinedly not looking at anyone.  He walks with a stride that says, “I do not see any of you.  I am busy doing something very important.  You can tell by my gait, by the way I gaze at distant objects, by my indifference, that I am outstanding.”  While striding along the seashore the man dons a mask that causes him to imagine that he is above all. 

And he wonders later why everyone is so distant.

Here’s another example. A woman wears the persona of a sharp businesswoman.  Her words are terse.  She does not tolerate idle conversation.  She is methodical and critical of anyone who says anything “stupid” or meaningless.  When she looks in the mirror she ties her hair tightly back without looking to closely at the reflection she does not like.

The Mishna tells of the great sage Hillel who passed a stream one day and saw a skull in the water.  He remarked, “As you have done to others, so others have done to you.”  Hillel was commenting that the way we treat others will come back to us.  Yet, I suspect he was saying something even more profound: Hillel was sounding a warning.  If we behave cruelly we will come believe in cruelty as a way of interacting with others.  The way we are seen is the way we will ultimately see ourselves.

That is why our faith places such a strong emphasis on how we behave, the way the talk, how we treat one another, and the way we approach God.  All these things impact others and the world.  But they also impact us.   Nasty words spoken by us make us feel nasty, unclean.  For many, there is only one thing to do when feeling dirty by our deeds, do more of it, which is a downward spiral.

We have a Mikveh which is a demarcation point where we go to divest ourselves of the accumulated psychic grime.   We have a daily “confessional” where we strike our breast and beg for a new beginning (new self-definition).  And, of course, we have Yom Kippur as a grand, large scale, opportunity to change.

I like to think of the many holy days that dot the Jewish calendar as moments of potential transformation too.  Shavuot is coming.  Least appreciated of all the festivals, Shavuot celebrates God’s ultimate gift to the Jews, Torah. We pray, sing, and study into the long hours of night as we seek an encounter with the Holy One, blessed be He.  Such an experience would alter the trajectory of our life.  Perhaps every mitzvah is an invitation to change how we are viewed and how we perceive ourselves. 

There is a tale about a man who once rigged an electric battery to his doorbell.  He was happy when he heard a loud ring when someone pushed the button.  He then connected a wire from that same battery for a light in his bedroom.  However, the light did not work.  So he called an electrician who examined the contraption and said, “Don’t you know that it takes more power to shine than to make a noise?”

It may take more power to shine but when we do we are radiant.

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.