Young At Heart

 Our lives are dependent.  Some would say “interdependent” but I do not think that is entirely accurate.

Take trust for example.  In the prayers just after the Shma we declare “emet!” which means “truth.”  Saying this holiest of prayers, we verbalize faith, trust, belief and reliance of something other than ourselves.  In fact we repeat the word “emet!” to fully underscore our trust (dependence) in God.

Trust makes us vulnerable (and saying “emet!” is a confirmation of that) but it is also the basis of honesty to one another and to ourselves.  Here’s one example:

A woman purchased some fruit from a vendor and returned them saying, “How can I trust you, Getzel?  The apples you sent me are rotten and I have brought them back to you!”

Getzel: “Why did you bother bringing them back?  I would have believed you.  To me your word is as good as the apples.”

What is the moral of this tale?  That Getzel’s response soothed her spirit and she would be a good future customer? No. The moral is so pure and deep that it requires no explanation other than to say trust is a great binding force for good.

Whether God or humanity, placing our trust in another is the basis for living a kind life.

We are wary of trusting.  We do not want to be “sold a bill of goods” like the Brooklyn Bridge.  We want to be savvy and worldly, suspicious of connivers and frauds.

Alan Dershowitz wrote about a couple of Americans who went on a mission to Israel.  They were taken to a Tel Aviv nightclub where a standup comedian started to tell jokes in Hebrew. 

The Israeli guide was concerned because the Americans did not know Hebrew yet he saw them laughing with the rest of the audience.

“I do not get it.  I thought you did not know Hebrew. How did you know the comedian was so funny?”
“We don’t understand,” said the woman.  “But we trust him.”

Of course no one wants to be the victim of a scam but perhaps we are wary to the extent that we have sacrificed something that is pure inside us.

You remember what trust is like.  Recall sitting at the table with a bunch of adults after a tragedy and one of them said something that made everyone sigh.  You mourned along with them because you had faith.  You knew and accepted the idea that you were dependent. 

Is it really such an admirable trait to think everyone is “out to get you?”  Perhaps the unblemished part of our neshama yearns for those halcyon days.

Upon Reflection

“Upon reflection.”

I have always liked those words because they mean something.  Instead of blurting out the first thing that comes to to mind, “upon reflection” indicates depth.  That is precisely what is supposed to be happening now.

“Repent one day before your death,” advises Pirkay Avot.  But the Talmud wisely asks, “Who knows when they are going to die?” 

Precisely.  Therefore, they counsel, repent every day.  Easier written than done.

Expressing sorrow, regret, is complex.  It means defying the voice of the ego, which loudly proclaims, “You were right!  They were wrong!  How can you apologize to someone who is so callous?  A brute?  An idiot?”  If you say you are sorry you will become diminished.  

Of course this is a lie told by our ego but if it said loud enough who has the strength to go against it?

The Holy Days are the time for repair work.  Fixing stuff.  Hurt feelings. Broken relationships.  Hearing and responding to the soft but insistent voice of our conscience demanding that wrongs be made rights.  

Human nature does not change.  We have been at war with our self for eons.  Two thousand years ago scholars wondered, “What if they reject my apology?  Must I go back and humble ourselves again? (Yes, up to three times, they counsel).  What if the person is dead? (We visit the grave and speak to their spirit).

Judaism does not let us off the hook easily.  It insists that we find mechanisms to quell the voice of pride and the seemingly all-powerful defense mechanisms and become simple and whole once again.

It is easy, too easy, to see the flaws in others.  It far more daunting to see them in us and then ask, as Rabbi Jonah of Gerona taught, “One must ask oneself: ‘What have I done? What have I become?’”

The answer begins with these words, “upon reflection….”

Stories that Define

We are the carriers and tellers of stories.  Torah and Talmud are filled with tales.  Some are simple and others are complex but they are all invaluable.  We tell our stories because they communicate who we are.  They say something profound about our deepest beliefs.  We also tell stories to express profound truths, ones that surpass simple words.  Stories also have many layers.  They can mean different things.  The way we understand them defines us.

Abba Tahnah the Pious was swiftly walking to his home erev Shabbat, as dusk began to fall.  He was hurrying with a sack on his shoulders to greet his family before the sun set.  At a crossroads he met a beggar who was covered in sores, longing for assistance.  "Will you help me get home?" he begged Abba Tahnah.  

What is important that respecting Shabbat?  If he helped the stranger he would arrive home after the candles were lit.  That would be wrong.

Quickly deciding to help the beggar he picked up that ailing man and carried both him and his bundle.  Neighbors were horrified to see Abba Tahnah doing this work so close to Shabbat.  Undeterred, he continued.

A Heavenly Voice then declared that the sun would be delayed in going down.

Now that you have read this tale, consider what does it mean?  Choose the one that defines you:

Lesson 1.  Shabbat is critical to our existence.  It is our locus, our home in time.  Yet, life takes precedence,

Lesson 2.  God assists those who act with resolute altruism even to the point to reworking nature.

Lesson 3. Every moment is a test of who we are and whether we have mastered our personal interests.

Lesson 4. This story is meant for me to share with others so they will learn the importance Judaism places on human dignity.

Lesson 4. The afflicted, i.e. those with illness or disability, need special care.

Lesson 5. Human concerns always trumps religious concerns. 

Lesson 5.  The real definition of a tzaddik (pious one) is one whose heart overrules his head.

Now the most important questions, do you like your answer?  If not, what should it be?

Coming to the Holy Days

In the beginning, G-d created. . . teshuva (repentance or return).  Ancient sources speak of teshuva preceding the world’s creation. Pirkei D’Rabbi Eliezer goes so far to state that teshuva was part of the blueprint for the world.  In other words, the world could not exist without it.

Rashi adds that justice and mercy are two sides of the same coin.  Remove one of them and you no longer have a whole coin.  The universe requires both. This is such a critical idea is because this is the season of “letting go.”  Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are workbenches for us; they are opportunities to reshape our lives.  

How do we do this? 

1.    Confession.  Come to G-d with a mind full of breaches of faith, failures of action, and harsh criticisms of others.  Know them. State them.  Bring them the Sanctuary of G-d.

If, when preparing to daven, you own and acknowledge personal flaws by specifically naming them (speaking them aloud to G-d) there can be personal forgiveness.  This is part of the liturgy “(For the sin we have committed by….”) except we are supposed to pronounce  our personal warts, not other’s.

2.    Rav Huna, son of Rav Yehoshua became ill. Rav Pappa went up to inquire about him, and saw that Rav Huna was on the brink of death. Rav Pappa told people around him, “Supply him with provisions for his journey (i.e. prepare burial shrouds).”  Ultimately, however, Rav Huna recovered.

“What did you see?” they asked Rav Huna.  He said, “I was about to die, but at the last moment, the Holy One, Blessed is He, said to the Heavenly Tribunal, ‘Since he does not stand on his principle, we cannot be strict against him.’ As it is stated, He pardons transgression and overlooks sin. Whose transgression does He pardon? One who overlooks sins committed against himself.” –Talmud

Forgive others. Let go of past hurts.  As the story indicates holding past grudges affects us, not them.

L’Shana Tova Tikateyvu, May you be inscribed for a good year.

Rivke and Rabbi Jonathan Case

On Choice

“I dwell in possibility.” Emily Dickinson

In our imaginations anything is possible.  Sometimes our night dreams are an extension of those imaginings.  We conjure up images of vacations, vast wealth, great fortune, friends surrounding us with nods of approval and so much more.  That is why we embrace external changes with such gusto.  Buying the new I-watch will bring us closer to what we know we can become. The same can be said for any acquisition, experience or discovery.   The downside to innovations is becoming overwhelmed by their pace.

Let’s face it, life is challenging.  It takes a strong swimmer to keep up with the currents of change.  From watches to cars, innovation comes at a breathless pace.  Some of it we welcome.  Some we do not.

In the classic Marx Brothers movie, “Horse Feathers,” Groucho loudly sings, “Whatever it is, I’m against it!”  Frankly there are some times when we want to declare, “Enough already!  I’d like a little stability. Enough change!”

We live between these polar extremes of stability and change.  We want both.  At the same time.

We therefore attempt to navigate life between change and predictability.  For example is it true, “No one likes surprises?”  Sometimes.  I bet everyone has been guilty of saying both, “I love surprises!” and “I hate to be surprised!”

I heard an interview with Avatar producer, James Cameron. He noted that NASA’s motto is “Failure is not an option.” Cameron takes the opposite view.  He says that failure is an option. What is not an option is lack of imagination. Cameron distills the argument down to its basic idea: We must find our place in the world of change.  While retaining our imagination, our dreams of what can be, we need not jettison our personal life’s choices.

An illustration: A sales manager assembled his team for a pep talk.  On the screen was a big white spot with a single black dot in the middle.

He asked, “What do you see?”  All replied, “A big black dot.”  The manager said, “That is a poor outlook.  Look at all the white space surrounding it.  Those are all possibilities which are far greater than the dot.”

As sales manager he was correct.  The job of the sales force is to make sales, see more potential customers.  But that does not have to be our outlook.  We can choose our own path in life. 

I hope you take time this summer to mull over the life you choose, your soul’s path.  All things are possible but the choice is always in your hands.