It's My Body!

The idea that "my body belongs to me" has been an important factor in making modern life more secular and libertine. "My body belongs to me," some people say, "and therefore I can do what I like with it, as long as I do not harm other people." It sounds logical enough. We live with our bodies all the time. We can understand that there should be rules about what we do to other people. But my body is "me", so why should anyone else care? Why should the Torah care? Why should the Torah give rules for how I treat my own body? In fact, many of the rules and teachings of the Torah are precisely about our own bodies. The laws of Kosher concern what kind of food we feed to our bodies. There are special blessings to be said before and after eating. There are laws and ideals of modesty and of personal morality. There are laws against physically damaging our bodies. There is even a law against tattooing. Now, we understand that G-d is the Master of the whole universe and therefore He is able to give us rules through His Torah, which affect every detail of our lives. G-d created the world, and our bodies are part of the world, and therefore it makes good sense that there are Torah teachings and rules about what we do or do not do with our physical bodies. However, there is a further step. The Torah perspective is that our body in fact does not belong to us, it is totally Divine property. In this it is different from the possessions that we own, our money, computer, house, car. It is true that in general terms "the whole world belongs to G-d"1 but nonetheless, G-d has given us material possessions which we actually possess, although of course we have to use them in the right way, as guided by the Torah. By contrast, our physical bodies do not actually belong to us. The Sages tell us they are lent to us by G-d, and they retain their spiritual quality all during out lives. This is brought out by a comment on a law in the Parshah (Torah section) read in the synagogue during the parshah of Shoftim (Deuteronomy 16:18-21:9). The Torah tells us about the ancient Jewish legal processes, which included capital punishment for certain serious crimes. It states that such punishment can only be applied when witnesses have testified against the person.2 Maimonides explains that this means that Jewish law does not permit such punishment of a person just because of his own admission. If he claims to have murdered someone, and there are no witnesses, he is not punished as a murderer. Maimonides says, "This is a Divine decree."3 By contrast, in everyday legal cases concerning disputes about money and material possessions, if someone admits that he is in the wrong, this is accepted as the strongest proof possible. In the words of the Talmud, in such cases "admission by a litigant is the equivalent of a hundred witnesses".4 Why is there such a distinction between the legal rules concerning one's physical body, and those concerning one's material possessions? One explanation is because of the idea that our bodies, unlike our material possessions, do not belong to us. They remain Divine property. We are not entitled to harm our bodies by our physical actions, nor even by our confession in the law court. Only the full legal process, which in Temple times was very rarely applied, can lead to actual capital punishment. If our bodies remain Divine property, lent to us by G-d, we understand why there are so many laws about them. They are especially holy. The task of life is to respect the holiness of our own bodies, and also ultimately, through keeping the laws of the Torah, to bring holiness to all our material possessions as well, and to the whole world. Then everyone and we will perceive that all existence, in all its details, expresses the Glory of G-d.5

FOOTNOTES 1. Psalms 24:1. 2. Deuteronomy 17:6. 3. Mishneh Torah, Laws of the Sanhedrin, 18:6. Maimonides also suggests that the person might be using a devious method to commit suicide. 4. Talmud, Gittin 40b. 5. Freely based on the Lubavitcher Rebbe's Likkutei Sichot vol. 34, 106-113, discussing Rabbi David ben Zimra's comment on Maimonides.

Love of God

There are different types of personalities, thank God.  Yet, sometimes these “different” types can lead to misunderstandings.  Here is one example:

Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev was full of exuberance while Rabbi Baruch of Medzhibozh was reserved.  When Levi Yitzchak davenned (prayed) he was so full of joy and enthusiasm that he often shouted, swayed, danced and sang extemporaneously.  Rabbi Baruch was just the opposite.   He davenned quietly, moving his lips, barely swaying, the picture of calm.  Stories about Rabbi Baruch’s holiness and piety were legend. 

When Rabbi Yitzchak heard of Rabbi Baruch’s erudition and holiness, he yearned to spend a Shabbat with him.  Yet, he was warned not be to be over-ecstatic.  People told Rabbi Levi to control himself if he was going to sit in the presence of this great luminary.  It would not be fitting for Rabbi Levi to be his usual excitable self.

Rabbi Levi vowed that when he sat at Rabbi Baruch’s table he would not open his mouth except to say “Amen” to the blessings he heard.

When the date finally arrived, Rabbi Levi sat attentively at the table, barely moving.  He watched the motions of Rabbi Baruch intensely and yet refrained from budging an inch, although it was quite difficult for him.

There used to be a tradition on Shabbat that the meal would consist of sweet and sour fish.  The seated guests would take their preference. 

Late in the meal Rabbi Baruch turned to Rabbi Levi and asked, “Which do your prefer?  The sweet or sour fish?”

At that point Rabbi Levi could no longer contain himself and jumped up from his seat.  “Do I like sweet or sour fish?!!  I love God!” he yelled with gusto and joy.

As he sprang up, so did his Kiddush cup which splashed all over Rabbi Baruch’s tallit.  Along with most of the food! 

A hushed silence fell over the table.  When Levi Yitzchak saw what he had done he was embarrassed and apologized profusely.   Yet, the stately Rabbi Baruch shushed Levi Yitzchak and his guests.  He said, “Anyone who loves God so deeply is truly a holy man.” 

Shlomo Carlebach taught that Rabbi Baruch never washed his tallit.  The stains were there for the rest of his life as a sign of real devotion to God.

It is a Jewish custom that a person is buried in the tallit that they wore during their lifetime.  Yet, this was not the case for this holy tallit.  That tallit was handed down from generation to generation of rabbis until it came into the possession of the Munkitcher rebbe who only wore it at Neila, the conclusion of Yom Kippur, as the tallit was so fragile.  When the Munkitcher died the tattered tallit was finally buried with him.

Every day we read, “And you shall love the Lord, your God….”.   Is it really so challenging to choose love?  To elect to see goodness?  The way we view the world is a reflection of who we are.  Perhaps that is why the Torah is so insistent that we love God.  If we dedicate ourselves to finding the source of such love within ourselves the world becomes so much brighter.

Mitzvah

“We are sinful not merely because we have eaten of the Tree of Knowledge, but also because we have not yet eaten of the Tree of Life.”- Franz Kafka

Mitzvah lies at the core of Judaism.  Mitzvah is our attitude to life; our interrelationship with all things animate and inanimate.  I do not think there is any more oft misunderstood concept than this:

Mitzvot are the hands of life.  Mitzvah is the way the Jew reaches out into the universe and understands it.  There are 613 different ways to express Mitzvah, each one a definite action.  Some example:

We put on a Tallit, wrapped our torso in its fabric as we utter the blessing.

No one needy must be passed without doing tzedaka.  Some need money.  Some need food.  Many need a kind word.

The food that we eat must be balanced so that meat and dairy are not inadvertently mixed.  Meat is death.  Milk is life.  They are not to be consumed together.

Candles must be lit as the sun sets every Shabbas to bring light and deep warmth into our home.

The sick must be healed.

Slaves must be redeemed.

Jewish homes must have mezuzahs on their door.

The list moves on.  Each mitzvah is a commandment to use our hands. 

If Mitzvah represents our hands then learning is our heart.

Listen

“…With signs and wonders…” always vexed me.  The phrase is tried and tired.  I have long lost track of what it means.  The first word, ‘signs’, is otot in Hebrew.

According to the great Master, Rebbe Yehuda Leib Alter of Ger, otot comes from the same root as the word otiyot, letters.  Kabbalah informs us that the universe was spawned from a mixture of the holy letters uttered by God at Creation. 

An old argument amongst theologians, cosmologists and logicians is the debate as to whether the universe was created from something, or from nothing.  According to some, scientific theory has it that the universe came from something.  That is the universe contracted upon itself until it exploded spewing its infinitesimal nothingness into the void.  According to other scholars, it is inconceivable that something can emerge from nothing, so something must have existed to have caused the universe.  In our mysric tradition, the matter of the cosmos emanated from the letters or words of the Holy One, blessed be He.  Note that the Torah describes God as using language to create (like: “Let us make Man….”).

One reason why Hebrew is labeled as the lashon ha-kodesh – the holy tongue- is precisely because the strung-together letters, forming words, resulted in Creation.  We hold that words are holy creations and, in turn, create.  Avtalyon, an early Sage, warned that a misuse of words could lead to the worst types of destruction (Pirkay Avot 1:11).  Ill-spoken words cause the world to plunge into a terrible irredeemable dark abyss.  Many centuries later, Rabbi Israel Salanter commented that people do not die of hunger; they die of being ignored.  That is, everyone can have enough food to survive but humans will often suffer and collapse at the spoken or withheld, word.  Perhaps then, the Kabbalists are correct in calling the otot, powers that have the strength to create or destroy.

Remember Tevya and Golda in Fiddler on the Roof?  When Tevye asks Golda if she loves him (“Do you love me?), he is essentially begging for the kind of nourishment that makes life worth living when all else looks bleak.  Words.  Holy words.  Words of love that can restore Tevye’s aching soul.

In the real version of Fiddler on the Roof, Golda is dying.  Her last words to Tevya are, “Tevya, ich gey ois.  Tevya, ver vet dir machen vetchera? – Tevya, I am dying.  Who will prepare supper for you?”  Sholom Aleichem, Tevya’s and Golda’s creator, understood the import of such words.

Otot, otiyot.  Then there is simply ot, sign or letter.  We sing on Shabbat about the Sabbath being an ot he l’olam, an eternal sign.  What is the eternal sign of Shabbat?  That we are intimately connected to God and the rest of Creation.

What were the “signs” in Egypt?  Not merely the plagues.  Not simply the sea.  Not the staff of Moses.  Or the manna raining from the heavens.  The “signs” were the moments of recognition that there is a captain at the helm.  In those ineluctable moments of clarity, the universe comports.  Everything makes sense.  The otot are the moments of inner understanding when the communication of God finally reaches our ears.

Pesah (Passover) is not about the Haggada as an end; it is about the Haggada as a means of connection.  The passages in that narrative are the nexus between heaven and earth.   To be frank, there was no need for “signs and wonders” at the time of the Exodus.  It was enough that they were released from slavery.  What is the point of those “signs and wonders?”  They are the words that course the boundaries of time.  They seek our minds and souls and receptors of the otot and otiyot.

We are told to set a place for Eliahu HaNavi – Elijah the Prophet -- at our seder table. May we find that his seat is filled by the Presence of the Holy One, whom we have invited.  And heard.  Just like all the other signs and words He leaves for us.

Honors

Question: What if I do not feel “good enough” to be called for an honor at services?  Should I accept?  And if I refuse, isn’t that a bad thing to do?

Your question is good...and complex.  I am glad that you are wrestling with the issue.  Only through such striving does the truth emerge.

Let’s start with a simpler example, a minyan or quorum.  As you know we need ten Jewish adults to make a prayer quorum.  On the one hand, being counted in a minyan involves counting people who are both Jewish and capable.  In regard to that second issue (being capable), one who is counted in a minyan must be able to answer “amen” to a beracha.  So, in traditional Judaism what about women who are not counted?  What about children who know the right thing to do?  What about the mentally challenged? You may be aware for example, of the tradition of opening the Ark with only nine people...or the other tradition of counting a minor holding a humash....

It is not clear at all what the ultimate acceptable parameters of a minyan are.  The primary question at the center of a minyan belong to the field of "hiuv", that is 'responsibility'.  Who is commanded to do a mitzvah is what matters most.   If women are commanded to do "time-bound" mitzvoth (or any other sort), there is no question of their being counted in the minyan.  If they are not commanded they should not be counted in the minyan.

You will want to counter this argument by saying that there are many men who do not feel personally commanded to observe the mitzvot.  They, instead of feeling commanded feel entitled to pick which mitzvah they want to observe ...if any at all...and which they choose to ignore.  One response to that question is that everyone to a greater or lesser extent does this.  The other response is to ask whether we wish to enfranchise all women to become “hiuv” and thereby create a whole other caste of potential sinners.

There are instances of great historical rabbis counting women in minyans for such events a reading the megillah.

The issue of aliya is not so clear.  While it may be argued that a woman cannot accept the Kohen or Levi aliya because of problems with patrimony, the balance of them does require that the person not reflect poorly on the community.  Kavod hatsibbur – respect for the congregation - is a very important mitzvah!  There are communities where the tradition a minor can chant haftara and therefore take the maftir aliya.  They are most certainly not “hiuv” as they are not yet Bar Mitzvah.  There are synagogues in Israel where a child carries a scroll of the haftara in the Torah procession.