Get Your Life

“Even if we cannot perform every mitzvah, we are directed to address ourselves to those achievable sections, ” said Rabbi Dow Marmur, one of my professors in London.  He recognized that all things are not possible but that should not discourage us from trying to do our best.  There are 613 mitzvot.  Some of them are easy and some of them are difficult but the point is there are ample opportunities.

Another one of my teachers, Louis Jacobs, quoted Israel Zangwill who remarked that in the Middle Ages kings rewarded people for discovering newfound pleasures while in the Jewish community people were feted for discovering new mitzvahs or their hidden meanings.

Life is full of choices.  We are a society overflowing with opportunities to fall out of airplanes, go gliding, skating, bowling, surfing, dancing, watch movies on screens so large we need to sit way back to catch the whole picture, zoos where exotic animals frolic, soccer, golf, kite flying, walking on the beach.   The choices are endless.  

As young parents we know all too well the myriad activities that keep out children’s bodies and brains in high gear.  They do karate, gymnastics, baseball, dance, and compete in all kinds of programs.  Will they grow to be a basketball star?  Perhaps their acting skills will make them a movie star.

Yet our faith calls us to ask the question, “What gives my life, and the life of my child, meaning?”  We all know the answer to that question despite the fact that we often ignore it.

In the Mishna, it states, “All who labor for the community should do so for the sake of heaven.”  Consider the profundity of this statement.  In the first instance, it tells us to do something for others. In the second instance, it indicates that self-worth comes out of giving.  

The concept of “Mitzvah” is that it transcends human desire.  It vaults us up to new heights of relationship and feeling good about who we are becoming.  Want to feel good?  Be happy? Of course you do!  We are ever in search of bring happy.   

Go do a mitzvah.

Do you remember those shirts that used to read, “It’s all about me”?  Awful. What a terrible misdirection to the meaning of life.  It is all about us.  We feel good when we do mitzvahs that are all about you, them, God and us.  All together.

Another scholar, Martin Buber, commented, “Speak as if God were listening to everything you say.”   He does!  And He sees what we do.  The Lord weeps when we waste precious resources, time, and baseless words.  He claps and rejoices when His children walk in His footsteps.

Looking for ideas?  

Put some money in the pushke (tzedaka box) every day.  Don’t have one?  Get one.

Say the ha-motzie before opening your mouth to eat.

Having nothing nice to say?  Don’t curse yourself (and God) by saying it.

Celebrate Shabbat in some new way (candles, challah, wine, shul, read a Jewish book).

The possibilities are endless.  They cost nothing or almost nothing.  Not doing them will cost you a great deal.

A Prayer for Pesach

A Prayer.

On this sacred night when our ancestors were freed from enslavement, we remember their pain.  We recall their misery and utter feelings of abandonment and a future that looked dismal.

God changed all that when He redeemed our mothers and father from slavery just as he promised Abraham and Sarah.

Oh God, open our hearts to the reality of You and of the suffering that exists all around.  We are keenly aware of the Covid-19 that, like the plagues we recite in the Pesach seder, seem all too familiar.  Make us aware of the need to be thankful for the blessings of freedom and hope that our children will enjoy the goodness that emanates from Above.  At the same time, we need open hearts to alleviate the unbearable pain of those who suffer from this virus, give courage to them and their families, to the children who lack adequate care and food during this quarantine with malnutrition, lack of a hopeful future, prejudice and death.  Keep us all safe, Lord.

When we remove all the leaven from our homes my we also work to eradicate all the detritus, anger, and resentments that keep us from being whole.  Help us, God, for we are weak.  At the same time, let us step out of the penultimate plague of Darkness into light by offering to bring comfort to those who need it.  Call someone today and find out how they are faring.  Bring them and the world greater light.

Infuse into our souls light, supernal light, which allows us to see clearly that every person is made in the image of God.  And let it be that on this Pesach we learn to become responsible for every Jewish person in our community and then moving outward to make life for everyone more bearable.

May we perform these sacred acts of the seder with joy and gratitude; our voices singing loud and clear declaring our unity and the Oneness of our Maker.  Fill our hearts with passion to feel Your love and the commitment, that holy covenant that You have honored to this day.

Our past:

Creation. The exile from Eden. The Flood. Noah. Then Abraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov. The Exile and the Exodus, and the giving of our Torah. The Tabernacle, Land of Israel, the Judges, the Prophets, and the Holy Temple. The Destruction. Purim, the Second Temple, and Hanukah. The Diaspora.. The Crusades. The Inquisition. Pogroms. The Cossacks. The "Enlightenment." Out of the ghettos ... Auschwitz. Treblinka. Bergen-Belsen. Reviving. Rebuilding. Re-Souling ... 

 Help us to realize, God that we are part of this great chain of unending tradition on these holy days.

Above all, Holy One, instill in our hearts hope.  You have never abandoned us.  Hold us close now.

Forget About It

We are taught to remember facts and formulas.  From early childhood this is how we were gridded and judged; by how well we memorized and used what we were supposed to learn.  They gave us tests, examinations and papers to write to prove that we could ably handle all that the teachers wanted us to know.  And our teachers were many: they were our employees, employers, parents, siblings, friends, cashiers, the mechanic....  We are constantly judged by how well we recall what we were told to remember.

Learning to forget is also a useful tool.  I do not mean to suggest forgetting what we should remember, but forgetting what we should not recall.

Universally we want to live with peace of mind.  Yet when we constantly relive painful experiences, when we replay hurtful conversations, and sneer that those who have offended us we can never live in peace.  We torment ourselves and those around us.  Those who bemoan the fact that they have few friends should consider practicing the art of forgetfulness.

Rebbe Nachman taught, "Most people think of 
forgetfulness as a defect. 
I consider it a great benefit. 
Being able to forget, frees you 
from the burdens of the past." 

A word about davvenning, prayer.  It is impossible to open your heart to prayer when you are bitter.  Thinking about how you have been harmed, abused or ignored serves to soil the prayer.  How can you communicate with the God who forgives when you are angry?  Forgetting past harms allows us to reach out from  the depths of our soul to the Holy One, Blessed He.  Real davenning begins with gratitude and it is hard to be grateful when we are filled with anger.

Pesach is coming soon.  No one would fault us for hating the Egyptians for enslaving our people for hundreds of years.  Yet, our tradition teaches us to let go of the anger, precisely because we know what it means to be filled with it.  Further, it demands that we be kind to the stranger so that we do not end up resembling our tormentors.  

Such remembrances lessen our lives.  It degrades our joy and aspirations.  It makes us mean, competitive (in order to make those who have offended us suffer).  I have learned this same lesson from many survivors of the Shoah.  How they learned to survive after their suffering is to forget their victimizers while remembering the lessons of tolerance.

Pain, our sages taught, is a great teacher.  It tells us how not to hold on to grudges and be filled with hatred.  It teaches us the opposite, how to be empathic and fight against bigotry and intolerance which are the first stops of the road to genocide.

Charles Handy wrote, "In the end, all societies are remembered for the way they spend their wealth, than for how they made it.” 

The same will be said of us, we will be remembered for how well we learned to forget and turn what could have been hatred into hope.  I hope that when we come to Pesach this year, we will turn our minds to the afflictions of the past (and reference the ongoing ones), forget the harm, remember the marvelous deliverance and work to become the model of what God knows we can be: givers of life and forgiveness.

Changed

Mother Theresa said, “We can do no great things, only small things with great love.”

It has been that way since the beginning.  Alexander the Great would have been nothing without an army behind him.  He, like every other memorable figure throughout history, was only one person.  Like you.  Like me.  It is the same with every leader.  They lead only because we give them permission.

Alone we often feel powerless, as if we do not matter.  Yet the people who hold the reins of power only do so with our imprimatur.  We empower or disempower them.

Israel Zangwill remarked that in the Middle Ages kings rewarded anyone who discovered a new pleasure while the Jews continually looked for new mitzvahs.

Why would we have such a different attitude until this day?  Because we know that everything we say and do matters.  Life is not about pursuing pleasures it is about making good choices and changing the world, even if it is only a tiny piece.

Example.  It does not take much to destroy a community. All you need are a few ill-tempered and negatively disposed people to poison the environment.  Many congregations, communities and even countries have imploded because of a few.

Example. To restore a sense of balance in a family or larger group all it takes is one right-minded person to do the correct thing.

How many times have our days been dramatically changed because someone did us an unexpected kindness?  How many lives have been changed because we did the same by calling someone we have not seen in while?  Sending a note to say that we miss them?  Or simply telling a friend how much they mean to us?

Bernard Baruch wrote in his autobiography that when he made his first million he told his father who was unimpressed.  Baruch said, “I am not even thirty and already I made my first million.  Are you not even happy?”
“What I want to know,” said his father, “is how you will spend the money you earned.”

Every day presents a new chance, a new opportunity.  The three dialogues we offer this month are one example to make new friends in a wider community.  Our Havurot program is an opportunity to get involved and make little change for your self and others.   Opportunities like Tuesdays with Friends abound.  The synagogue, your synagogue, is a great place to make s a start as a volunteer.

Here’s an idea if you are pressed to find out what you can contribute: smile at people randomly.  It will change their day and they will carry the joy you gave them back home and share it with their family.  

Find a place where you can make a difference.  Start today and make it a habit to make your world a little shinier every day.

Derek Eretz

Derekh eretz translates as “the way of the earth.”  But what the phrase really means is that we think before we act and speak.  Always.  

God’s eyes see all; nothing is secret or unknown.  Even if that were not that case, when we sin, it tarnishes our soul. We become more brazen and less intimidated by the wrongdoing that it becomes much easier to sin the next time.  Pirkay Avot says explicitly, “a sin gives birth to another sin” (4:2)  Derekh eretz implies that we treat everything and each moment with respect.

Derekh eretz is an also an attitude that insists demands that people be given “the benefit of doubt” for their perceived flaws.  We are pretty good at forgiving ourselves while being not so adept at forgiving others their shortcomings.

Derekh eretz means considering the food of life that we are about to consume is a gift from God.  It means understanding our breath as a blessing not to be taken for granted.  It means allowing others to get accolades instead of seeking them for our selves.  In fact, the rabbis of old were so insistent on this positive command that they said, Derekh eretz kadmah l’Torah, “Acting with dignity [even] precedes the Torah,” (Vayikra Rabbah 9). You cannot fully observe the Torah without first living the life of derekh eretz. This is a radical thought.  Respect for life is a prerequisite to Torah.

After all, what is the good in observing mitzvot if we do not treat one another and the world with derekh eretz?  We all know for personal experience that even holy things can be misused for profane purposes.

Talmud is vast and takes into account virtually every aspect of life imaginable. One little known tractate of the Talmud is called Derekh Eretz Zuta.  Here is how it begins:

This is the way of the righteous: “To be humble and not full of oneself.  To attempt to be filled with love, especially with the members of one’s household.”  It goes on to tell us to “be like Joseph who forgave his brothers, or even Job who accepted his pain uncomplaining.”

Derekh Ertez Zuta acknowledges that we are selfish.  It is an effort to fight against that internal yearning for self-aggrandizement especially when we are asked to compare our selves, our accomplishments, our possessions, and our wealth against others.  

The messiah who will appear not as God’s messenger but as a beggar, invalid or someone whom we would rather not associate.  When he is no longer banished to the fringes of society he will be free to reveal himself.  When each person is treated with derekh eretz the messiah will have arrived.

Remember that you are made in the image of God.  So is the person next to you. Love yourself.  Turn that love outward toward others.  That love should be equivalent (remember the Torah adage, “Love your neighbor [just as you] love yourself.”

Bless each breath, every morsel of food you eat, each moment when you greet your fellow, the words that come out of your mouth and even the thoughts that enter your mind.

MarHeshvan

November morphing into December is called by its Hebrew name, Heshvan.  Some call it MarHeshvan (the bitter Heshvan) because this is the only month in the Jewish calendar that does not contain a holy day.  Up in the northern climes the month is as dry and brittle as the earth with its dull brown grass now covered with curled leaves.

Heshvan is almost other-worldly:  it is in-between time.  Summer has passed.  Winter has yet to arrive.  The earth’s verdant hues have disappeared.

As the days pass it is easy to long for the warm sand that flowed though our toes at the warm beach.  Memories of cold nights in front of a warm fireplace are also somehow very distant.  It is Marheshvan, after all.

There is an old tale of a fisherman in his small boat out on an endless sea. Overlooking the ocean stands a high castle. The prince, daily comes out onto his balcony and sees the boat in the distance. 

“I envy him,” the prince thinks. “He has no problems or responsibilities. I wish I could go out in a small boat and just relax with my fishing pole in hand. 

At the same moment, the fisherman contemplates, “Wow! Look at that palace! The prince has servants to bring him all the food he could ever want, whenever he wants.  I wish I were a prince, not a fisherman.”

“More” and “less” is specific to the individual. That is why the Talmud tells us that richness is satisfaction.  If you are happy with what you have you are rich.  If you are unhappy with your lot you are poor, even if you have billions.

Most of us live perpetually wedged between two worlds. One world is the external one where we register our emotional quotient by what others have or say.  The other is independent of anyone except our self-value.  The internal world knows its place, accepts its lot, and does not begrudge others what they have or become envious or self-pitying.  Too often the internal voice passes unheeded.  The two worlds often vie to see which will gain control.

Sometimes worth is correlated to the value others place on it.  Usually we end up losing when we ask: Do we have a nice lawn (while looking across the street)? Do we own an expensive car (eyeing the neighbor’s)? Do our children get the best grades?  Do they have a good education  “I simply have to get my child into that program!)? Does our family radiate find grooming (“I was so embarrassed by your behavior today!”)? 

These are all questions where we are comparing ourselves to others and imagining what they think of us. 

As winter advances it is a comforting thought that we can curl up and listen to some fine music, dink mulled cider, dance in the living room, talk intimately to our God.  It is good to slow down like a bear getting ready to slumber.  Find that place.  Find that peace.

Boo-Boos

We are prone to making boo-boos.  Not the kind where you scrape your knee or hit your head getting out the car too fast but the other kind.  Boo-boos are good.  They mean we are experimenting, taking a chance, stepping beyond our usual habits.  

Take jokes, for example.  Some people seem to naturally funny and others, well, not so much.  Yet we all like to laugh and make other experience the joy of a good chuckle. When they fall flat, do not give up, try telling the joke again until you get it right.

There are many wondrous and difficult aspects to being a child.  One the other former is that we are game for about anything, jumping off a high limb, rolling in the mud, tasting dog biscuits and eating asparagus (that does no usually end up so good).

It is a sad day when we grow up and admit, “We can’t do it.”  And worse, we do not even try.

Y. Peretz, crafter of Hebrew stories wrote, “Nobody trips over a mountain; you trip over a pebble.”  When we fail it is hardly ever disastrous.  Failure is a signal that we need to modify what we did, not stop trying.

On June 2, 2010, Armando Galarraga, 28 pitched what seemed to be a perfect game, a feat only achieved twenty times in Major League Baseball's 130 year history. However, on the very last play of the game, umpire Jim Joyce, 65, mistakenly called the runner safe at first base, ruining the perfect game. After the game, understanding the mistake he had made and the implications to Galarraga, with tears in his eyes, Joyce went over to Galarraga and apologized, admitting his mistake. Galarraga graciously accepted his apology saying, "nobody's perfect. Everybody's human. " They then wrote a book together titled "Nobody's Perfect."

The thing is the pitcher did not retire or give up.  He continued on, having learned an unintended lesson of life.

Mistakes should always be purposeful, never meaningless.  Yogi Berra once commented, “I don’t want to make the wrong mistake.”  He was right, in his inimitable way.  There are some mistakes that are bad choices but even then we learn and grow.

Talmud, which is the judicial and philosophical backbone of our people, is full of trial, error and then more trial.  “Arguments for the sake of truth,” Rabbi Jonathan Sacks labeled it.

The Mei Shiloach, Rabbi Mordechai Yosef of Ishbitz, wrote, “A person can only uphold the teachings of the Torah when he has stumbled in them.”  The sage is telling us, “Go ahead, take a chance, a risk, make mistakes, learn from them, change, and grow.

It’s a New Year.  We are  year older and G-d willing, a year wiser.  Even Torah has Moss and David doing some real bloopers.  Yet their greatness is that they become great through their errors.

Give it your best shot.  Then give it your better shot.