The Rabbi

The swell of mail that reaches my desk on Monday mornings is daunting enough to want to stay in bed a few minutes longer than usual. There are many letters from communal packs, pressure groups, organizations that are seeking funds, groups that want support and, if I am lucky, some missive that actually connects me to my people.  

These letters (I won’t even mention the e-mail), covering a good portion of my work area, have the tendency of shortening the morning but sometimes making me feel a bit taller. It reminds me of the beautiful story of the venerable old Rabbi was dying. As his disciples gathered around the rabbi’s bed they begin to extol his virtues. One remarked, “His piety will never be equaled!” Another exclaimed, “Such learning surpassed the greatest sages of ancient Israel.”  A third stated that his kindness was akin to that of a tzaddik. During this time only the soft wheezing of the old man could be heard from the bed. Then the rabbi lifted his weary head, glanced around, and asked, “Is no one going to mention my humility?”

The positive side to all the attention brought to the congregational Rabbi is that it provides some measure of stature. It is nice to be reminded that one matters. All the eager lobbyists that continually badger the rabbi in the hope that their product will be sold to the congregation has an upside. They all insist that their interest is of prime concern and go on to demand that the next weeks sermon or message be devoted to their cause- Save the whales, environmental issues, school problems, nuclear proliferation, peace talks, electric cars, anti-Semitism, and you name it.  While I deeply appreciate the high regard they hold the office of the spiritual leaders of the Jewish communities throughout America, I believe they have mistakenly taken the relationship between Congregation and Rabbi to be as between newscaster and audience.  A close colleague pointed out, their interference in congregational work fits about as “snugly as a mother-in-law.”

The sermon, the talk, and the article, are all the immediate concern of the congregation. The relationship between Rabbi and community is close, personal and vital as a marriage. It must be continually worked, respected and never allowed to become outdated.  Therein lies the integrity of our relationship. It shall not be violated.

Why do I have to go to Hebrew School?

Why do I have to go to Hebrew School?

The simple answer is, you have to go to Hebrew school because I say so.  Not all children will go to Hebrew school because not all parents insist upon it. However, most parents do demand that the children attend a school of religion. Not many opt out.

When I was young my mother made me ingest all kinds of foods, which I hated. You name it, asparagus, lentils, and chopped liver. All sorts of terrible things. With the fullness of my heart I believed it was child abuse. Was my mother, and by extension all of the mothers in the world, guilty of cruel and inhumane treatment?

It must have been hard for her to coerce me into eating things that were not on the par with a Milky Way. Sometimes I would resort to dramatic measures like spitting the food out, refusing to eat it, crying, yelling and generally being disagreeable. Still, she remained firm and resolute in her demands. It would’ve been a lot easier for her to capitulate and fork over the gummy bears in place of the carrots but she stuck to her principles.

Why go through all the fights and the aggravation to convince me to eat those awful things? She could’ve made it easier for self as well as me. Why then?  Because she cared enough for me to insist upon something that was important, gummy bears are not good for me while carrots are.

It is the same with religious studies. I would have preferred playing baseball, or even, God forbid watching All My Children. But Hebrew school was like carrots on the dinner table. No plea-bargaining. Why? Because she loved me.  There is more to it than that.  She also cared that I would identify with something she cares deeply about, Judaism. It was critical that the next generation be given the opportunity to learn about Noah’s flood as well as how to celebrate Pesach and ask the Four Questions. And think of all the things you now know because of afternoon school. You can read a language that any of the kid in school would think would be some sort of secret code or mysterious language. At the bar mitzvah ceremony you learned and demonstrated how to lead services while your non-Jewish friends will never have anything like that opportunity. You are familiar with Torah, its stories and laws. The festivals are known to you as well as Jewish ethics and ideals.

If we did not have to attend religious school we would not. Right? Then what? We would be like everyone else. Jews with some disappear. After all, with nothing particularly distinctive about being Jewish, like being familiar with Hebrew or knowing how to chant the Kiddush, we would soon vanish from the face of the earth.  Unless we teach our faith it will wither and die. After so many thousands of years you wanted to disappear now? On your watch? Imagine grandpa’s face when he hears that news. Besides, it is just not fair to do such a precious treasure.

Thank of it this way: Isn’t get sad, bordering on tragic, when someone you love forgets to say happy birthday?  Isn’t it terrible when you never hear from your aunt or uncle? Our imagination tells us that they must have better things to do than keep in contact with us and remember our special day. That is hurtful makes us sad. Think of how all our relatives and ancestors would feel if we moved away from what they believed to be the most important asset in the whole world?  Forgot them and everything they believed in? That which some of them even gave their lives for?

There is a reason why many millions and millions of Jews feel so strongly attached to the roots. It may be a long story now but religious school tries to uncover the mystery by giving clues so that one day you too will feel strongly about giving your children, the next generation, a Jewish education.  After all carrots helps give you better vision.  Gummy bears only make cavities.

On the High Holy Days

Services are long.

As we cross the threshold of another year, we consider our presence during the season. What are appropriate expectations of our prayers? What is reasonable? What is unreasonable? In the end, we will ask of Him everything. All our hopes and aspirations lie before the Holy One. But what is the right path?  The holiest prayer we bring to God?

There is a discussion of prayer in the Talmud that is preceded by a brief description of the Hurban, the destruction of the Temple.  There, Rabbi Chanina opined to the question of whether our prayers are worthy of being heard by God.  In case they are unworthy because we may be distracted Rabbi Chiyya tells us to study Torah in the hopes that this will elevate our consciousness.  What happens if that does not work? he asks. Then try again; this time with greater fervency. (Berachot 32b)

This frank and human discussion wonders whether we can find the words to penetrate the highest spheres of heaven.

A parable. There once was a king who lived in an immense castle. Many were the entrances to his abode yet only one revealed the true way to the monarch. To confuse foes and attackers the king constructed the castle with only one real entrance.  Even that entrance took so many twists and turns that only the experienced person could gain access to the king.  Merely to have byways explained would not suffice, for a traveler had to be familiar with the passageways.

It happened yet the prince went on the long voyage and did not return for many years.    Having claimed great victories the proud son returned home. However as the prince approached the castle he discovered much to his chagrin that he forgotten the route to his father. As hard as he tried, the maze of entrances and side excursions defied his memory.

So too, we enter these days of awe; strangers to our Father’s palace. Familiarity lurks in every crevice and around each corner. But the mazes are too difficult to see your way through. There are too many distractions. Too many opportunities for choosing the wrong path.

Which is the way to HaKadosh Baruch Hu?  Do we extract meaning from the ancient rituals and service?

We turn the heart to prayer itself. We venture into the celestial chamber with no baggage, no threats or promises, no requests or indictments. God does not want claims made on Him before we even draw close. It must be enough to enter into his domain.

The spiritual longing for the Holy One will direct our hearts toward the truth. Love and devotion requires no personal gain, although we are always beneficiaries. We are not thoughtful to those whom we love for any obvious goal. It is enough that we love.  Once we have directed ourselves towards Him the passage becomes easier, more accessible. The illumination provided by the first journey will enable us to make other journeys. Once we have found the palace, there is comfort that we can locate it when we need it most of all. 

And if our success is not ours to claim at the first do not give up. The king’s son must try it again and again to find the correct entry point.  Above all, “Hope in the Lord and be strong. Let your heart take courage, hope in the Lord.”

Us and Them

“Public fasts should never be declared on Thursdays in order to not cause a sudden rise in market prices.” ~ Taanit 10a

We are attentive to life’s movements. This means that when nature seems to declare war on humanity or a spate of bad things happen to us we suddenly become superstitious.  Even if we disparage it at other times in our life it is hard to avoid wondering if something we did is bringing all this ill will upon us.  Remember the lucky rabbit’s foot?   Throwing salt over the shoulder?  Saying kana harato ward off the “evil eye”?  There must be hundreds of thousands of other superstitious action people take to keep them from powers of destruction.

The Rabbis of old recognized this human propensity.  So they enacted laws to assist people with their impulse to “keep the demons at bay.”  One of the ideas they brought out was that when a person feels afflicted they should engage in a fast to plead with God to remove the decree that they believe has befallen them.

Even though the Sages understood the value of taking action to ward away evil spirits they also enacted other counter-measures so that society would be protected.  In the instance of a fast they felt it was important to not allow a public fast to come on a Thursday as that was traditionally the day when everyone went to market.  A fast would have the effect of seriously harming merchants, perhaps even causing some to go hungry.

Idea: We are important to God.  How we feel, what we do, what happens to us matters a great deal.  Yet, society is greater than the individual.  The welfare of our community should always take precedence.  Our humanity will be challenged when we place our concerns above our neighbors.

Respect people and their boundaries.  No one is exempted from this mitzvah.  G.K Chesterton wrote: “You can free things from alien or accidental laws, but not from the laws of their own nature…Don’t go about…encouraging triangles to break out of the prison of their three sides.  If a triangle breaks out of its three sides, its life comes to a lamentable end.”

A Primer on Prayer

A Primer on Prayer

Relax.  Don’t agonize over keeping up with the pages.  If you find a prayer whose words touch you, stay there.   No need to rush.

Try not to carry on conversations.  Not just because of decorum but because chit-chat undermines the mood of refection and deep thought for you as well as others.

Come early.

Stay late.

A brief encounter may leave you cold.  Tap into the sprit of the day.

Relax again.

Think about you.  Think about God.  Perhaps try not to think at all.

Bring your whole self to the davenning. Put yourself into it. God loves you, haven’t you heard? And He wants to hear from you. Pour your heart out. Speak to Him. And listen.

Listening is critical. Do not just “read” the words of the siddur. Prayers were written by religious and psychological geniuses. When we open our hearts, the prayers the words form into a symphony.

Davenning is a privilege.  You are participating in a mystical colloquy with God, man, Israel and the Jewish people-past, present and future.

Participate in the Torah reading. Visualize the event. Ask the actors why they are doing what they are doing.

Don't take your pulse. If you’re enjoying the services, let it take you. Forget yourself.

If it feels good and right, belt it out.

Waiting

Waiting for Godot.  I have never known whether to laugh or cry at the play. The simple story is about an absurd conversation between two people, Gogo and Didi, who wait for their friend Godot to arrive.  Daily they meet in the place under a tree where Godot said he would meet them, only to find that he never comes.  Still they wait.

Is tragic to watch the terrible waste of two lives. The only thing that could have made Samuel Beckett’s play even more terrifying would be if Kafka wrote it.

The play reminds me of the horror I once felt when I learned that people sleep away 1/3 of their lives.  Then I reconsidered: If we were to efficiently use the rest of our waking hours efficiently, the scant third spent sleeping would be labeled as productive.  

Beckett’s characters represent humanity, us.  Our physical demands occupy a huge segment of our precious allotment of time. We have to work in order to eat which brings with it all sorts of unwanted aggravation. We have to pay the bills. The budget needs balancing.  The house requires attention.  The needs of our family are paramount which means shopping, consoling, loving, car payments, doctors appointments, cleaning house and being sympathetic to troubled times and friends.  Time becomes so fragmented that our actual productive time is negligible, leading us to wonder if we are wasting our lives.  

When we meet I will ask, “How are you?” Sometimes the response is, “I am tired” or “I am so busy!” or “It seems I have less time than ever before.”  I think of Waiting for Godot.  

Awful visions are conjured up, of regrets piled high, of years frittered away. What portion of our life will have been well spent? Waiting for Godot can be a long process, as long as waiting for the Messiah.

The Fall will soon be upon us with the High Holy Days, school reopening and all the demands of the New Year. Many of our members have been involved with changing the face Columbia with me. I will ask you again to become a partner in continuing this powerful process through the good works of MORE Justice.  New beginnings.  Finishing old business.  

In the meanwhile I have a suggestion: Maybe this summer we can begin to worry less over the hardening of the arteries and work related problems and more about whether we make time to play in the sun. Remember the summers of your youth. Take a trip. Listen to some music.  Let your feet lead you into a dance with someone you love. Wander in the woods.  Walk on the beach and skip rocks.  Take time to breathe, live, pray and be home.

Sweet is the light and it is good

For the eyes to see the sun.

For if a person lives many years,

Let him rejoice in them all.  -Ecclesiastes

Faith in

Hasdai Ibn Shaprut was a courtier and advisor to the caliph Abd er Rahman III in Córdoba, 10^thcentury Spain.

The Jews of another western European city were not faring so well. In Toulouse, the community was subjected to a yearly humiliation. Every Easter the citizens of Toulouse were compelled to gather at the Cathedral gate in the main square. The bishop would order the Jews to appear before him led by the Jewish elder. The elder would have to kneel before him, apologize, and present the bishop was 30 pounds of wax for use by the church for its candles.  The bishop would respond by slapping the Jewish elder across the face. The whole procedures served to remind the Jews that Judas betrayed Jesus for 30 pieces of silver and that they would have to pay for that cost for eternity.

In this particular year, the bishop accepted the offering of the wax. But when he struck the elder he hit in full force with a closed fist and killed him.

The Jews of Toulouse sent a message detailing what had happened to Hasdai Ibn Shaprut.  They requested that he -an advisor and courtier to the caliph in Cordova intercede for them in this abominable practice and put an end to the shameful procedure.

There is no more information about the story and we do not know what became of their plight. What is most illuminating is the fact that the Jews of Toulouse believed that they could change their situation. They firmly accepted the notion that the present could be altered despite their subservient position.  The Jews of Toulouse did not put their faith in the government but in a single man, Hasdai Ibn Shaprut.

We look to people to save us, the president of United States, the president of the Synagogue, the mayor, wife, even our children. Looking for solutions in people is why we create so many cultic figures. We make icons of people we revere.

Even though we do not know the end of the story of the juice of Toulouse, it is apparent that there is one powerful moral that emerges: do not assume that any person will be able to save you.  You have to save yourself. If the doctor tells you to lower your intake of certain foods you do not expect others to do that for you. 

Like the patient with the doctor, our unwavering trust in people sometimes leads us to make absurd decisions. For example, is it not absurd to expect our children to be Jewish if we have no religious home observance?  By placing our faith in the practice of the synagogue and its leaders we relieve ourselves of religious behavior. Is it not similarly absurd to believe that we will always have services? Sooner or later, may the time to be far removed from us, our steady committed individuals will no longer be here. Then what? Who will attend?  Who will work to propagate Judaism if not to you? Here is the person you should put your trust in. You. Not others. Do not wait.