Where Time Coverges

There is an odd passage in the Talmud:

Rav Pappa went to his teacher and asked, “Why were miracles performed in earlier times but not for us?  It cannot be because of our learning.  We study the entire Mishna whereas they devoted themselves only to study the passages on “damages.”  Yet, when the great Rabbi Yehudah would remove even a single shoe from his foot, rains would fall.  Why does God take no notice of us?”

The answer: “In earlier generations they were ready to sacrifice themselves for the sanctification of G-d’s name.  We consider only ourselves.”

 

To see shifts in contemporary thought we need to look over our shoulders to former times as a barometer of how we have changed.  Ask the elders of your family or community what life was like when they grew up.  They will tell you about growing up without technology, the hardships of getting by with less, family squabbles over meals, a chance meeting at a dance, milk delivered in glass bottles, the simplicity of a less complex life….  With a faint smile they will reminisce.  It is hard to imagine a life so significantly different from ours.  Equally, those who came before us also had trouble imagining what life was like in their parent’s time and so on for the generations before them. 

 

Society mores, attitudes and behaviors change.  Those changes happen imperceptibly and only those who are exceptionally attentive are able to discern those shifts.  In fact, those who witness those developments and report to us how we are changing are prophetic.  Prophets in the Jewish tradition are not predictors of the future; they tell us what is happening now with a clear lens.

 

Not surprisingly, prophets were almost always dismissed by their peers.  Labelled as crazy they wandered alone, often shunned, were unable to quiet their conscience and so lived a life of inner turmoil.  Knowing the truth and finding themselves incapable of convincing others of that truth, they often fell to despair.  

 

It is hard to see the world as it really is, and not through the filter of a society that accepts everything as “normal.”  

 

Example: Covid.  We accepted this virus as a part of our lives, almost as if it was always with us. In a few more years, perhaps it will be as if it were always present in one form or other.    And now technology has replaced so much of our interactions.

 

Example: Politics.  Were politics always so fractious? Did politicians really speak in pejorative terms?  Did they always humiliate ridicule on another and those who disagreed with them?  Not likely.  But when it happens with relentless frequency, we start believing things were always this way and cannot change.

 

In the middle of the forest all we can see are the trees that surround us.  

 

In the biblical book of Ecclesiastes the author states, “A generation comes, and a generation goes…while the earth remains…” The keen objective viewer understands that time passes while only a few inviolate truths remain.  What is unacceptable today will be embraced in the future.  The opposite is also true.  And as history is written those who read it will find our actions incomprehensible.

 

As Jews we are taught to question everything.  It is our way of ascertaining truth.  If what is being cited can hold up under rigorous examination, it is truth.  Our tradition teaches us to look at what we prioritize and ask whether this is congruent with what G-d wants.

 

The excerpt from the Talmud above is meant as a spur to think as the prophets of long ago.  When we elevate the ephemeral to the eternal we are committing a sin.  When we sanctify the name of G-d with our thoughts and actions and not sacrifice them to the zeitgeist we are being true seekers of truth.

 

Enjoy the summer months.  Dance, sing, discover and find joy in the present all the while remembering what has come before – who you are and where you come from – as it is a lasting truth.

 

Truth

 “Dialectic generally means “of the nature of dialogue,” which is a conversation between two persons.  Nowadays it means logical argumentation.  It involves a technique of cross-examination, by which truth is arrived at.  It’s the mode of discourse of Socrates in the Dialogues of Plato.  Plato believed that the dialectic was the sole method by which the truth was arrived at.  The only one.”  So wrote Robert Persig.

 

Truth is the goal of life. It is also the goal of Torah.  

 

Truth is not ephemeral; it is not true for one generation and untrue for another.  It is eternal.  The aim of Judaism is to arrive at truth through the art of dialectic.  For those who have studied case law or Talmud it is the precise application of argumentation to make sure that the “truth” we seek does not sink to the level of dogma.

 

A question I ask often of students is, “What truths do you know?”  The easiest, most accessible response is naming the physical – a chair, a shoelace, or yogurt.  Truth does not shift or change with the times.  It is eternal.  But what about the harder truths, the ones that are supposed to undergird society?  The ones that make us function as a caring society?   The ones we frequently ignore at the expense of our life’s meaning?  Truths are different than beliefs. 

 

In this brief article I’d like to list some truths. Some are from Torah, some from Talmud, and others from our Sages. 

 

> Helping someone to overcome their personal obstacle(s) to realize their potential is good.

> “Anyone who destroys a human life is considered as if he had destroyed and entire world.

Anyone who preserves a human life is considered to have preserved and entire world.” Talmud

>The ultimate purpose of mitzvot is to enter into a relationship with the Almighty.  It is responding “heneeni” to the question, “Where are you?”

> It is not about who is “right” but who is righteous (Heb. tzedek or tzedaka).

> You are unique (as are the people you love and those whom you ignore).

> If you treat people with kindness they will surprise you, and perhaps themselves.

> If you treat people with kindness and forgive them you elevate your soul.

> You have qualities that can enable building or razing, creating or eradicating.   

> Evil exists.

> Evolution of the mind and character are not givens; they are earned.

> Growth or death.  We are either learning/growing or unlearning/diminishing.  We are never still.

> Lashon ha-ra, gossip, is destructive and evil.

> Listen.  That is why you have two ears and only one mouth.

> If your life were to end now, would the world be a better place because you have lived?  Or not yet?

> Morality does not evolve.  Human instincts remain as they have always been.  If you want change, become it.

> What you do, how you behave is who you are.

>What you say, the words you utter, you become.

> You are the determinant of your happiness.  No one else.

> Shabbat is a gift God gave but you must accept.

> Sharing elevates both the giver and receiver.

> What you have owns you, not the other way around.

> Believing in God is less important than believing that God.

> The universe is awesome - from the tiny amoeba to the tallest mountain peaks.  See it.  Feel it.

> Bless the clerk, the homeless woman, the banker, gas station attendant, bless every person you pass whether known or unknown and then you will ultimately become a blessing.

Get an MBA

Rabbi Pinchas entered the Beit Midrash, the House of Study, and saw his students talking animatedly.  When they saw their master, they quickly fell silent.  Rabbi Pinchas’ curiosity piqued.  He asked, “What were you talking about?”  

One student shyly murmured, “We were talking about the yetser ha-ra, the evil urge, that chases after us day and night, whispering for us to do bad things.”

“Do not worry,” said the venerable rabbi.  “You are not advanced enough that the yetser ha-ra is chasing you, you are chasing it.”

An MBA, life’s primary objective.

Do I really need one, an MBA?  It stands for Moses, Brothers and Abraham (MBA).  What they had in common was that they were all shepherds guiding their flocks or ones in their care.

The great leaders of our past started out as simple shepherds.  Their task was to protect the most vulnerable.  In fact, midrash reveals that this was why Moses was singled out by G-d to take B’nai Yisrael out of bondage. The rabbis tell that when a young lamb wandered off to graze far from the flock nothing would stop Moses from walking miles to find them and carry them on his back to the safety of the flock.  G-d said, “If this man cares so much for the weakest of these helpless animals he will be the one to lead My people out of slavery.  He will ensure that all My children are safe.”

 

The same is true of our other founders.  Abraham argued with G-d to save even the dregs, the worst of humanity, from the impending doom of Sodom.  Jacob vehemently argued against revenge.  The qualifications for each of the vaunted leaders of our people chose to assist the weak, contend for the lives of each person even if that meant contending with G-d!

 

So we walk through life with its many challenges.  Our hearts are in a state of constant agitation over Israel.  “As it goes with Israel, so it goes with the Jewish people.”  Our destiny is tightly bound with it.  This is a truism even if we disapprove of the present government.

 

We are also rightly concerned with unjustified wars like the Ukraine, ongoing oppression in Burma, the latest mass shooting in America….   But what about the Hate Crime bill in South Carolina that cannot seem to pass in our senate and legislature?  What about the person in our congregation who cannot pay their funeral bill?  A member who lives in less than adequate housing, filled with mold and insects?  The food pantry that is stocked with food that we were happy to get rid of instead of something tasty and nourishing?  The families who sit alone during shiva.  These people are not the ones we have partied or go on vacation with, but they are the members of our flock of which each of us is a shepherd.  That is why we have our community; so that we can support the weak as the wheel of life turns.

 

Wisdom is discerning which voice in our head we choose to hear.  Is it the voice of the yetser ha-ra insisting that we fill our bellies and turn our heads away from the eyesores that we would rather not see?  That is as Rabbi Pinchas warned his students.  Or does wisdom live in us, so we do righteous deeds, like picking up the lost lambs and fighting governmental policies that are wrong --- staving off the insidious voices that want to derail us?

When Moses was ready to retire, he picked Joshua to take over the mantle of leadership.  Moses heard G-d tell him to find a man of integrity and determined spirit to lead the people.  They got a new shepherd.

Get an MBA.  That will safely guide you to a life path that is meaningful and one that will make a difference.

Nourishment

 The key to living is to feed and nourish the body. The key to growth is to feed and nourish the soul.The growth that is required by the soul is not about finding voices that agree with what we already know, our preconceived opinions. Instead, it is about being open to new possibilities, including the fact that we may be wrong.

George Washington wrote, "it is impossible to rightly govern the world without God and the Bible." Why would the first president of this nation make that claim? Perhaps he meant to suggest that we need to always be vigilant to the possibility that we may be in error. A true guide is one that challenges our beliefs. That guide has the potential to move us out of complacency and into real growth. That is why scholar and philosopher Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel said that ‘the Bible is meant to be our critic, not we its critic.’ With an open heart and mind we are supposed to open up the holy Torah daily and find signs that are meant to challenge, uplift and afford us the possibility of understanding ourselves and the world better.

"Do not make up your own interpretation and laws of Judaism or else you open the door to great sin and ultimate destruction into the cosmos." Introduction to the zohar
Open your heart and mind.

Rejoice on the Holiday

It is written in the holy Torah, “You shall rejoice in your festival, you, your son and daughter.  Said the Holy One, blessed be He: ‘You have for members in your household- your son, your daughter, your manservant and your maidservant.  I also have four, the Levite, the stranger, the orphan and the widow.  If you take care of mine together with yours it is a blessing.  If not, the joy will be shattered.’ ~ P’sikta Haditah

You are like God’s child.  That relationship also exists with everyone else.  What that means is that we are all related. As such, the lines that connect is to other people are not random, they are familial.  Every day we interact with our many cousins.

No castle has yet been built that can fully insulate those who live inside its walls from those outside.  All lines connect and interconnect.  We have co-workers. There are employees.  Our spouse has friends.  Our children meet new people continually.  The lines of connection crisscross across our city, states and country.

Since there is no way to fully seal ourselves off from our numerous relatives, the prudent thing to do is accept them as our family and not treat them as unwelcome intruders.

Perhaps God’s ultimate message to us is to have a heart big enough to invite our extended family in.  That makes the Holy One smile.

 

The Path of Pain

 We chose pain.  Can you imagine that?  Choosing pain?  Who would do such a thing?  Yet, that is precisely what happened.  We chose it.

If there is a single moral to the tale of Creation it is that Adam HaRishon (primordial man) elected to take the path of pain instead of spending his days in utter comfort.  The Garden was perfect.  There were no needs or wants.  There was work to be done and the possibility of failure did not exist.  There could be no failure.  Likewise there was nothing to succeed at.  All Adam HaRishon had to do was breathe.  

In taking the forbidden fruit shame ensconced itself in the consciousness of the two beings.  First naked and unabashed 1 Adam and Havvah felt their vulnerability begin to grow into an unrelenting self-conscious throb.  Once comfortable in their own skin the couple now felt no comfort; only a constant gnawing of self-doubt and recrimination.  Instead of roaming about the Garden, Adam and Havvah now crouched low in the bushes.  Just moments before the universe stretched before them.  In one moment he world had closed in on them.  The skies felt like they were crushing down upon them.  

Self-loathing and fear gripped Adam and Havvah.  Dark suspicions colored the previously pristine Garden.  They accused one another, contemptuously.  

He said, “The woman that You gave me—she gave the fruit…” The woman said, “The serpent…”  

Perfection was blemished.  Shunned from Eden, Adam and Havvah now had to deal with previously unimagined pains that would assault their physical being and relentlessly pursue their consciousness.  They crouched lower into the foliage, terrified of the growing inner darkness.  

Why did they choose the path of pain?
 

On Hanukka we celebrate in many ways.  Among the more opaque observances is the tradition of spinning the dreidle. A commentator, Rabbi Tzvi Elimelech of Dinov, said that the difference between Hanukka and Purim is best demonstrated by the dreidle and the gragger.  

The dreidle is spun by taking hold of the top and twisting one’s wrist.  The gragger is sounded by taking hold of the bottom and yanking it around.  One is gripped from below; the other above.  That reminds us of the difference between the two holidays.  While Purim celebrates Esther’s ability to find her self and God and save the Jews (below); Hanukka recalls God’s intervention in coming to the aid of the Hasmonean warriors (above) with the miracle of the oil.  

Redemption has different origins in the two holidays.   There are times when we depend upon God and other times when we must depend upon ourselves.  Yet, the connection between Purim and Hanukka is that redemption only comes about through struggle, pain.  Both tales are pock-marked with rivalry, desperation and fear.

It would be nice if life was different; if our lives were not so riddled with wounds…and it was for a brief flicker of time in our past.  The Garden of Eden.  We return to our first question: why did they do it?  Why did the sole inhabitants of Paradise forfeit perfection?   Why could they not turn their backs from the Tree of Knowledge and forever walk in the Divine Radiance?

The question of pain is paramount in this week’s parasha as Jacob’s family descends into the fist of Egypt that would last for hundreds of years.  At first it is a move that benefits everybody.  Prosperity swiftly turns to anguish and despair as Jacob’s children become slaves to their present-day neighbors.  Why such pain?  Why must generation after generation endure agony?

In connection with the week’s Torah reading, a tale offers the following insight:  

A farmer needed to yoke his cow.  The cow had no desire to have the wooden plank placed around its neck and then tightened on her shoulders.  She balked. Turning her neck this way and that the farmer could not yoke the animal.  So what did the farmer do? 

The farmer went to his shed and led her calf out in front of the mother.  Pathetically bleating, the calf made the mother-cow lurch protectively forward. Because of her child, the cow allowed herself to become yoked.

It was foretold that Jacob would migrate to Egypt long ago. 2  The descent into Egypt and the subsequent affliction was part of a pact that God made with Father Abraham.  There were countless ways to facilitate Abraham’s yet-to-be-born descendent leaving Canaan for Egypt but God decided to bring the calf first to induce its mother.  The Holy One declared: "He is My firstborn.  Shall I then bring him down to Egypt in disgrace?    I will draw his son before him, and so he will follow.”  Joseph was the lynchpin – the calf -- that forced Jacob to move.  Jacob was compelled to go down to Egypt.

What does this Midrash mean?  Does God want us to suffer?  He ordained the slavery?  It was part of God’s plan that Abraham’s descendents be slaves?  Why?

It would seem that man and God are in collusion: they both believe that suffering is a necessary part of the human condition.

Rashi commented on the remarkable episode when Moses viewed the blazing bush on the mountaintop. 3 “Just as you see this bush burning while remaining intact so you carry My mission and will not be destroyed.” 

God didn't promise that the process would be easy. There would be pain; the kind that invariably accompanies flame. God didn't say there would be no suffering. God only promised that we would not be alone and that we would survive.

In an early Talmudic passage there is the powerful statement, 4  “A voice from heaven courses through the world three times each day that weeps for the pain and loss of God’s people.” 

If God weeps for our loss why then do we suffer?  

The answer lies in the Garden of Eden.  In the great experiment of human contentment (a dismal failure) a lesson was learned: humanity is happiest when learning and growing from its own mistakes.  That is why Adam and Havvah chose the path of pain.  It not only gave them a choice but the experience of hurt and failure allowed them to grow.  

Perhaps that is also why God placed us in Egypt because that too, was part of our collective growth.  Could it be that the act of suffering leads us to new spiritual ground?

Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai said: The Holy One, Blessed is He, gave three good gifts to the Jewish people, and all are acquired through suffering: Torah, the Land of Israel, and the World to Come. 5 

Elsewhere, Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai taught: "Come and see how beloved is Israel to the Holy One, the Well of all blessing. When Israel went into exile, the Shechina went along into exile. They went to exile to Egypt, the Shechina went with them….They went to Babylon in exile and the Shechina went with them, as it is written, because of you I was sent to Babylon (Isaiah 43:14).  When they will eventually be redeemed, the Shechina will be redeemed along with them, as it is written, Then the Lord your God will bring back your captivity and have mercy upon you (Deut. 30:3). … God Himself returns along with Israel from its exiles.”  6

Once life was perfect and that was the problem.  Now we live a life that is rife with problems and it is perfect.

 

 

1 Genesis 2:25

2 Genesis15:13

3 Exodus 3:12  

4 Berachot 3a

5 Berachot 5a

6 Megilah, 29a

The many lessons of the season

 The many lessons of the season.

 

Pesah celebrates freedom.  Of course, the freedom we celebrate is literal: we express our gratitude for not being slaves. Had we not been liberated from the grip of Pharaoh we would have long ago ceased to exist. The Jewish people would have succumbed to the planned genocide.   

 

Besides relishing our freedom and existence the import of G-d leading the people Israel from slavery was that we developed an empathy for anyone afflicted.  Lesson: Torah directs us to be an “or la-goyim” an emblematic light to show how people are supposed to behave as protectors of one another.

 

Countless times the Torah and our prayers recount the great liberation as an ongoing reminder of this history-changing event.  Along with being empathic we are also directed to not venerate the man Moses as the liberator but G-d.  

Lesson: there is a caring G-d who is involved in our lives and deeply cares for our wellbeing.

 

Pesah is also a reminder of a broken-spirited human being.  In the midrash we read, Rabbi Abba bar Yudan said: “Everything that God disqualified in animals, He endorsed in people. For animals, He disqualified the blind or broken or maimed, but in humanity He endorsed the broken, downtrodden heart.” 

 

How many of those who were enslaved lived with the ongoing physical as well as psychic pain of having been abused?  We live in a community where everyone matters.  All are scarred.  All are wounded, not by the master’s whip but by verbal abuse, as victims of fraud and deceit, manipulated by those who wanted to impose their power over us. Pesach also teaches:   All the broken are cherished by God.  And we are all broken.

 

The table where we sit also seeks to teach us a mighty lesson.  It is not only the acceptance of all types of character that the story of the four sons tells but we are also prompted to ask, who is absent?  Who is so alienated from our family that they cannot sit with us?  Or whom have we cut out of our lives?  Who lives in the margins of our community that we cannot even conceive of inviting them to our table?    Maybe the undrained cup of Elijah is more than a request for deliverance, maybe it is also a recognition that we have missing parts of our relationships.  Lesson: Do not ignore the empty chair.

 

Pesah is not about flying frogs or getting to the meal more swiftly, it is about becoming aware of the signs and symbols that surround us that can make our lives more meaningful, endowed with a greater quality.  Even the great Moses had to be cajoled by G-d to remove himself away from the simple life of a shepherd with few responsibilities to become the champion of the Jewish nation.  “In every generation…” begins the narrative.  But we could easily change that to read, “In every generation people do their utmost to escape the real truth of their life – that they are endowed with unique gifts that once realized can make their entire life purposeful and meaningful.”  Most people want more by doing less.  And yet the simple truth that we all know is that our life takes on meaning only when we act upon our gifts, which means doing, sharing, and giving.  Think of all the accomplishments you would want remembered when you die.  Not the salary or vacation home.  Certainly not an accumulation of wealth.  Are the aspects that we will be remembered for not all basically the same? They incorporate the things we did for others, not for ourselves.  Think of the memories we hold for those who have died: they are invariably about their contributions, not about what they accumulated.  Lesson: Life is about what we give, not what we take.

 

Thought: Saul Levinsky interpreted the meaning of the Star of David.  “While the first triangle points one way, the second triangle insists on pointing in the opposite direction.”  

Perhaps Pesah’s lesson is to conceive of life differently.