Genuine Love

All love that depends on a (transient) thing, when (the thing) ceases, the love ceases; and (all love) that depends not on a (transient) thing, never ceases. What is the kind of love that depends on a (transient) thing? Such was the love of Amon for Tamar; and (what is the kind of love) that does not depend on a (transient) thing?  Such was the love of David and Jonathan.  -Avot 5:16

Love full.

Eight Days not Seven

Hanukkah does not make sense.  Once upon a time, a dedicated and zealous group of would-be soldiers the sons of Mattathias, overtook the superior Syrian troops.  

They routed the enemy’s armies and made desperate and successful lunge to recapture Jerusalem. When they entered the shambles of what once was the glory of Israel they could only locate a single small pot of oil, with the remaining stamp of the Kohane Gadol on it.   Only that oil was suitable for the eternal flame, the menorah. It was enough oil to last one day. And as we all learned that oil burned for an additional week well beyond the day's supply.

The rabbis, of blessed memory, take pains to point out that the miracle of Hanukkah was that the small cruse of oil lasted eight full days when expected to burn for only a single day. Then why does this holiday last eight days? If the miracle was that the oil burned until more could be prepared, seven days, and then why is Hanukkah not seven days in order to commemorate the miracle??

A Parable.

Once there was a king who had a rebellious son. The father chided the boy on his perverse ways. At times he scolded his son, at times he punished him severely; other times overlooking his evil, the father grew more and more despondent. When he could no longer tolerate the boy’s behavior, the sad father expelled the son from his empire.

Wandering aimlessly for days and weeks the boy learned some profound lessons. He endured terrible loneliness and silent afflictions until the boy accepted himself and understood how awful he had behaved toward his beloved father.

But the boy could not go home. He was filled with remorse at his past actions.  His heart, as heavy as a stone, began to seek atonement. He found a great sage and asked the ancient one how we could possibly ever return to his father, having shamed him before his people and even publicly ridiculed him.

”Have you nothing good to say about your early years?” the sage asked.  

“No.  I rejected everything he stood for,” replied the tearful son.  “When my father told me to eat I fasted.  When he told me to bathe, I covered myself with mud.  When he demanded that I study I shot arrows at his favorite flocks.”

The wise  one stared at the grieving figure for a full minute before speaking:

”Then how have you become so contrite? If you are so evil, what has made you realize your wrongs toward your father?”  He continued,  “No human being is fully evil. Every person has a residue of goodness in it--what we call a gute neshama.  You may return to your father because even as you spurned him, he loved you.”

Seven days are for the miracle of lights. However the flames would never have been kindled if not for the first pot of oil on discovered by the Maccabees. So on the final day we celebrate the miracle as well as the kernel of goodness that enabled festival of lights to occur in the first instance.

Mezzuzot

Every Jew should have mezzuzot on their doors.

What is exactly mezuzah? It is not the case that we nail on our doorframe.  The mezuzah is what lies inside the case. What is inside? Most of us never open one to see. 

One day a man’s curiosity got the better of him pulled the mezuzah off his door frame and peered inside.  Inside was a message: “Help.  Call the police. I am imprisoned in a mezuzah factory!”

What is really inside? It is a hand written parchment, just like our Torah, containing sections from the holy Writ. Scribed by hand are the words of the Shma and following sections that we pray daily. Each parchment must have exactly 22 lines and on the reverse side have God’s name, Shaddai.

Mezzuzot are ongoing reminders of God’s presence in our lives and in our homes. We see them on the right-hand side as we enter into the house. Traditionally, we touch it and kiss it as we go into our home seeking God’s blessing. It is at eye level so that we cannot miss seeing it when we come into our house.

When I visited Poland years ago I walked through the old town of Krakow. I saw one doorway after another with a rectangle about 4 inches long and 1 inch wide carved into the lintels.  These once Jewish homes are mute testimony to the vibrant life that once thrived in the communities of Eastern Europe.

Those old scars in the doorways tell stories. Once there were weddings and brises in this home. People gathered around seder tables and sang and studied. Children were chased and chastised. Love was consummated. Chicken soup wafted on the breeze every Friday evening along with the scent of freshly baked hallah.

Now there is only silence.  Yet these empty spaces are witnesses.

Our mezuzah also testifies to what happens there. They are watchful reminders of a power far greater than us.  They mark our homes as Jews who are proud to be counted as God’s people.  Like the lintels marked in Egypt during the final plague, they invite the Holy One to enter and bless us.

The threshold to every house is small; it is passed and a fraction of a second. Yet the threshold is also boundary. It divides the outside world from the inner world. It separates the home from the street, an office from the hall. This space bridges two worlds and is marked by a mezuzah.

Every room in our home has a mezuzah (the only exception is the bathroom).  This creates sacred space.  It is an invitation to God that the Holy One is welcome here.  It also reminds us that our home is holy and to treat everyone in it with care, not God forbid, with abuse or neglect.

Torah and Us

The problem is us. Not them. Us.

We get in the way of ourselves. We become hopelessly tangled up in the mess we have created. Lives become shattered as wrong words pierce the soul. Feelings are hurt and forever bruised with an offhand remark that was never intended to wound.

We later wonder, “How did it happen?”  “What was the catalyst for such pain?”

”Before you can find God, you must lose yourself,”said the Baal Shem Tov.

How do we find ourselves if we do not know that were lost in the first place? 

For the Jew the beginning and the end can be found in Torah. Genesis details the deliberate actions of the Lord and crafting the universe. Generation after generation wrestles with identity, truth and looks for peace.  We see in their faces the sorrow and the burdens that they carry as we retell and relive the Text year after year. The disappointments run deep. And still God hopes in us.

“Being full of ourselves leaves little room for the Divine Presence to dwell. Egotism is inherently anti-spiritual. Arrogance can be seen as a form of self worship that comes dangerously close to idolatry,”wrote Aaron Z. 

And so we move into the book of Exodus where God reveals himself, His will and His faith in us. God never abandons hope in what we can become.  That is why He shared His most precious possession, Torah, with us.  It is our guidebook to be less prideful, more humble, more inwardly loving and outwardly caring.  With clearer vision from its sacred words we see life for what it can be, not just what it is.

Moving forward into the book of Leviticus we learn how to talk to God and listen more intently to one another.  It teaches us how to reach into our inner core of being and be open, vulnerable and honest.  We learn the value of sacrifice.

In the fourth book of the Torah, Numbers, we learn about our worth. This book teaches the incalculable value of our people. Every person is holy and our nation is holy. You will find idea this stated in our prayers over and again. One Hasidic Sage commented, “Man is the language of God.”   

In the final book of the Torah, Deuteronomy we learn the power of loss and love.   A wise person once said, “If everyone of us was told we had only five minutes to live, the telephone lines would be hopelessly jammed because all of us would be rushing to tell someone how much we really loved them.”   Deuteronomy is Moses’ love song to his nation as he is about to die.  The book is filled with deep wisdom reminding us of the precious knowledge contained in these books.

With Torah we are rich.  We are one.

Hanukkah

The Festival of Lights. Even the name itself rings lustrous. Brightly burning flames, the aroma of frying latkes, shadows playing over the wall: they jump, fall and the rise again. We never know where they will go next.  In the deep recesses of winter we light the colored candles that radiate great hope when light becomes dimmest.

The Hanukkah stories are well worn. We are very familiar with the great wars, triumphs and amazing heroism of the Maccabees. We recall Mattathias, an old man standing up to a tyrannical power, and the handsome, winning bravery of Judah Maccabee  The stories are remembered and retold from year to year, generation to the willing ears of the new generation who listen wide-eyed with anticipation of what is coming.  These stories have all the components that summon our attention: they speak of a daring and courageous history where courage and light purge the land of Israel from impurity. Once we were fierce warriors. It was a different world.   

A child peers into the brilliance of the dancing flames and sees those epic battles relives them. Remember how many times we experienced and saw brave warriors in our minds, vanquishing all the enemies of the Jews! It is the moment of consummate triumph when we turned back the Greeks, the Pharaohs, the Hamans and even the Hitlers of history.

Which was better -- when mommy told us the stories as we lit the candles?  Or when we anxiously turned the pages of the book, or watched the movie?  It was a great and promising story from beginning to end. There is a clear demarcation of those that were wicked and bad and the other side, which was brave and righteous.  The good guys with God on their side prevailed.

What about the family playing dreidel that night? The gathered family and friends to celebrate, nosh and schmooze around the Hanukkiah?  When we push through all the cobwebs of the mind and remember those halcyon days they bring a smile to our face. Even now lips begin to curl upward in anticipation. We cannot help but recall the bubbling sound of frying potatoes in the kitchen. And the table set for eating, mixed together with a sulfurous odor from the Hanukkah lights.

Hanukkah was always warm. Steamed, fogged windows framed with light patches of water droplets.  Little fingers that drew pictures on the windows during those evenings when darkness came early.

The evenings were long. Filled with the sounds of voices, air that was so thick that it penetrated every fiber of our bodies, songs, games, stories…. it is hard to remember when it all ended. Did we get dressed slowly into pajamas?  Or did the night suddenly end as tired eyelids folded over and tiny bodies were tucked into bed? Those things remain in our hearts. The quilts under which our body snuggled became infused with the smell and the excitement of the sacred evening.

Good night and Hanukkah sameach.

On Sukkot

The Zanzer Rebbe had a sparsely decorated Sukkah.  Instead of spending money on decorations he gave it to Tzedaka, charity. The Rebbe used to say; “There is no finer way of decorating the Sukkah then to see that the poor are not hungry.”

The first two days in the last two days of Sukkot are counted as Yom Tov, holy days. The rest are still part of the holiday but do not carry the restrictions and commandments that adhere to the other four days.  So, on the Yom Tov days of Sukkot we go to synagogue, say Kaddish, refrain from work and commerce. Unlike Shabbat to enhance the holiday we are allowed to cook for our needs on the Yom Tov.

On the first occasion when we pickup the lulav and etrog, we say the appropriate blessings along with the Shechechiyanu, the prayer the Lord thanking God, allowing us to live in rejoice in this moment. Hallel, specific Psalms all of which contain the word Hallelujah or Hallel, is recited each of the days of Sukkot along with the requisite Torah readings.

The sixth day of Sukkot has a special designation: Hoshannah Rabbah or the Great Hoshannah.  On this day, seven circuits are made in the Synagogue carrying the lulu and etrog. Special prayers imploring and God’s mercy and kindness are part of the service. Traditionally, Hoshannah Rabbah is the last reprieve when Heaven will hear our final pleas for life, health and prosperity. After the Hoshanot have been completed, the willows (part of the lulav) are beaten on the ground.  As we leave the Sukkot holy days we pray, “May this be our final atonement.”

Many people will save the etrog as a fragrant spice-box to last until next Sukkot. Cloves are pressed into the skin of the etrog for sweet smelling b’sammim to be used throughout the year for Havdalah. The palm can be used for the search for leaven on Passover and the willow branches to make fire to burn our hametz at that time. The myrtle continues to exude its fragments for many months.

Shmini Atzeret is the final day of the Holy Days.  It is not technically Sukkot though.  We eat in the Sukkah but do not say a blessing when sitting there.  We do not bensch lulav: the lulav and etrog are set aside the day before.  Only the ritual service is basically the same as it was during the holiday.  Shmini Atzeret is the day of transition when we move from summer to fall, from the warmth and comfort of plenty of the harvest to the cool, reflective distance of shorter days and longer nights.  A prayer for water is added.  Introspection is an impetus to gaze into he pages of Kohelet, Ecclesiastes.  It is traditional that we read the wisdom of Solomon’s tome on the Festival.

Life as it Becomes

Wonder. A stream of light from the window provides a rainbow of colors on the wall. Daddy's watch creates an animated being that flickers up-and-down defying gravity. Who cares that it does not fall?   It glimmers and shimmers for me.

It is fun to dance with one’s shadow. Move and it moves. Wherever he goes, it follows.  There is a joy in life as all things are alive and beckon. A rock can be a boat tossed by the sea; mud a delicious appetizer.

Then he awakens a second time. This occasion is no less startling than the first. Arising again, he’s not so amazed as internally befuddled. Confusion sets in has he becomes aware of what people are really. He never suspected that uncle Phil was an alcoholic. Or that mom had such a bad temper. “If I was wrong about her,” he thinks, “perhaps I am wrong about other things too.”

So he grows to learn to satisfy himself rather than look to the world or to others to satisfy him. That was a painful lesson.  He takes great delight in his own achievements. Learning to laugh again he chuckles at mortality and despises obstacles. This creature becomes a monster on ego feeding. Stuffing himself on self-gratification, he lives to live. The joys of life right now measured in the markers of tangible success.  Values become slaves to valuables.

Hair loss becomes a dramatic loss of stature but he fights on. Using an arsenal of tonics, combs, singeing, he wages war on time. Tired eyes are masqued by paints. Until his strength is sapped in the war against the creeping ravages of time he remains a stalwart warrior. Paleo-diets swimming, weight watchers, tanning salons, hair transplants will stand in line waiting for his attention. In the final analysis, sedentary life wins. Time has more strength than he can ever possess.

Weight.  A quiet satisfaction slowly replaces the hectic race of physical aggrandizement, as the girth expands. It’s all right. If he cannot win, he might as will capitulate on this score so we can concentrate on the big one. “There are other wars to be fought,” he murmurs as he ventures on to the next challenge.

Soon death replaces life as his biggest obstacle. His family and relatives seem to prove a point with her passing. They succeed. He watches as bodies are swallowed up by the earth, the same earth that bore them. They leave without a trace. There are no goodbyes or departing words of wisdom. Pain accompanies the lives of the next generation. Even more than pain is the deep realization that maybe he has been playing the wrong game. Life itself suddenly takes on new meaning. For him, the joy in life can no longer be found in the trivial distraction of things. When mortality looms close he clutches fiercely onto life.

And again wonder.  The rush of light through the window raises his spirits. He’s happy again. It is amazing that the glass on the table reflects a rainbow of color that splashes on the wall. He twists the cup and the colors dance. So what if he did not meet all his earthly goals? He smiles as the grandchildren run around the house. This is what God intended. It’s just a shame that it took so many years to become so wise. 

At best, our lives are fragmented episodes related to reach other is some haphazard and seemingly random fashion. We work hard to find satisfaction and meaning.  But the world deceives us; it offers distractions instead of truth.  It does seem odd that the Holy One, blessed be He, can wait so long for His children to learn the truth.