D’VAR TORAH
BAT MITZVAH OF AVIVA ORIT DOLLIN
MARCH 20, 2010
5 NISSAN 5770
FIRST DAY OF SPRING
PARASHAT VAYIKRA
Wake up! Wake up to this moment. And what an exquisite moment it is! Our fourth child, our only daughter, one of two Dollin natives born here during our (what is now 16 year) tenure at the Hebrew Education Alliance in Denver, CO (Rose Hospital), becoming a bat mitzvah. Thank you all (family and friends) for being here to celebrate with us.
I have been patiently waiting all my years as a mother for this moment…the moment my only daughter celebrates her coming of age as a Jewish woman. I’ve written this speech a dozen times in my head. In it, I share with all of you what I have finally figured out…how to be a modern, and religious Jewish woman; how to reconcile tradition and modernity; how to make your voice heard while maintaining tzni’ut, modesty; how to infuse old rituals and traditional woman’s roles with new meaning (significance); How to be fluent in deciphering passages of Torah and Talmud, while adding one’s own distinct voice to the conversation of our patriarchs; how to care for others when they need help, while knowing how to make a good brisket for Shabbat. How to be a ‘mother in Israel’ without being subservient and relegated to a supporting role in history.
Needless to say, it’s been a humbling experience. Because I realized that I haven’t yet figured it all out! In many ways, I find being a woman in religious Judaism as challenging to me personally as it was 20 years ago. Actually, more so, as twenty years ago, at least I knew I was right! Now, I’m not so sure. Women in Judaism have come really far…the fact that you, Aviva, attend a school that unapologetically teaches Talmud to girls is proof of that. At the Denver Academy of Torah, a modern orthodox school, you have been taught Torah, Jewish law, Hebrew, prophets, and Talmud alongside your male classmates.
The question I have for myself, for Vivi and for you today, is ‘what will your role be in the history of our people’?
I have been privileged this year to be the teacher for an extraordinary group of women. This minyan of women, including many female leaders of our Jewish community, and I have been studying leadership and looking at our biblical foremothers as models. What do we learn from them? How do we learn it? When we look at women who came before us, what lessons of leadership do we glean? How have we exercised leadership differently than the men in our world? What are the different ways we make our voices heard? We found we could learn quite a lot from our biblical foremothers. And we were a bit surprised…while the techniques and strategies they employed were different than the patriarchs, their actions often led directly to redemption: of the Jewish people, and even of humanity. I’d like to introduce you to some of the women we have studied.
Sarah is our most ‘traditional’ woman. We don’t learn much about her from the biblical text, but the midrash (rabbinic commentary on torah) fills out her personality. The grammatical nuance in her name change, from ‘Sarai’ to ‘Sarah’ takes her from Abraham’s wife to the princess of a nation. And it is in her tent (her home) that God’s female presence (Shechina) dwells.
At the same lesson, I introduced two other Sarah’s of Jewish history: Sarah Schenirer, a fervently Orthodox woman, recognized that women needed to be Jewishly educated so their commitment to traditional observance stayed strong. With the blessing of the Belzer Rebbe, she founded the first Beis Yaakov school for girls. Agudat Israel adopted the Beis Yaakov model as its educational arm for women. Absolutely revolutionary in her time.
Sarah Aaronsohn forged a new role for women in the resettlement and regeneration of Palestine as a Jewish homeland. Born in Zichron Yaakov in 1890 to a prominent family, she never completed her formal education, yet spoke Hebrew, Yiddish, Turkish and French, some Arabic and taught herself English. She learned agronomy and botany, widely traveled the land of Israel (Palestine). Around the time Sarah Schnirer was organizing Beis Yaakov in Poland, Sarah Aaronsohn, a secular Jew, joined ‘Nili’, a pro-British underground movement of Jews in Palestine, determined to create a new Middle East by liberating the country from corrupt Turkish rule. She worked in intelligence and espionage, was captured and tortured by Turkish authorities, and committed suicide rather than divulge further information. She was called a “Jewish Joan of Arc”, and her martyrdom shattered many myths about Jewish women.
I asked my ladies to share the Sarah they most identified with; the maternal, pious, home-based biblical Sarah, the fervently religious Sarah who believed the perpetuation of Judaism depended on Jewishly educated women, or the brave, Zionist Sarah who forged new paths for women engaged in the enterprise of creating a Jewish homeland? We learned from each other as each of us chose the Sarah with whom we most identified: some of us choosing a quiet, home based life of devotion to faith and family, some pushing religious boundaries from within, and some shattering established norms of femininity.
Judges 4:5; “Devorah the prophetess, wife of Lapidot (Barak)…would sit under the date palm, between Ramah and Bet El on Mt. Ephraim, and the children of Israel would go up to her for judgement.” Devorah is history’s first female prophetess and judge; highly unusual, considering traditional Jewish law does not allow women to be valid witnesses. Her placement between two cities teaches us she had an innate sense of fairness, not favoring one over the other. She prophecies that the general Barak will be victorious, but that his success will come through the hand of a woman, which in fact happened. God had plenty of men around to choose as prophets. Why did God choose Devorah? She apparently, had something to bring to the table that a man did not. She referred to herself a ‘mother in Israel’. It is her maternal faith in the people, similar to what a parent feels for a child, that is needed at this moment in Jewish history. Devorah reignites the peoples’ sense of value as God’s chosen.
From Devorah, we studied the question “In a man’s world, how have you exercised leadership differently than a man?” We learned about empowerment rather than imposition, invigorate rather than force, cultivate rather than command. The skills Devorah used as judge and prophet in Israel were very different than the skills men brought to the job. At that time in Jewish history, patience, insight, and the ability to inspire and nurture were required, and God purposefully chose a woman to lead the people in that way.
We just celebrated the holiday of Purim, where we read the book of Esther. God’s name is absent in the book of Esther – God is not mentioned in the whole book. Yet by the end, God’s presence is felt. We learn from this that even when things appear hopeless, miracles can and do happen; and they can happen through the hand of man (OR, as in this case, through the hand of a woman). We further learn about the role of a woman. Esther, like other Persian maidens in the king’s palace, spends a great deal of effort and time focused on her beauty. As the Jewish people are threatened with extinction, her uncle Mordechai admonishes her, “Who knows but for this very moment you were destined to be in this place…in a position to save your people?” And in a transformative moment of clarity, showing exemplary courage, Esther accepts the challenge, saying “I will go to the king on behalf of my people, and if I should perish, I will perish.” Esther leads us to the question, do any of us experience such moments of clarity? Would we realize it, or would we need someone to point it out to us?
In just over a week, we will celebrate the holiday of Pesach. We will recount the story of the exodus from slavery in Egypt. We will recognize the sorrow of the Egyptians as they suffered through the plagues. We will feel the fear of uncertainty, doubt about our future as we rapidly bake our matzah and prepare for our leaving. We will joyously recognize the miracle of the parting of the Red Sea. And as we arrive safely on the other side, and our enemies are vanquished, Moses will sing a song of deliverance, and we will celebrate the crossing of the Red Sea, following Miriam’s lead, where she takes her timbrel and leads the women in song and dance. Miriam teaches us that God chooses women also as prophets; and that their way of prophecy may be different than a man’s. Miriam added the element of spirituality to our lives. We learn from her that God is not only served through the mind and through deeds, but also through the heart…the spirit. Miriam’s reward is no less than to be the progenitor of the Messiah.
Sarah, Devorah, Esther, Miriam, each exercising leadership of the Jewish people, yet in so many different ways. I used to think there was one way…lead like a man…out in front, bold, charismatic. But now I feel differently. Getting a bit older, learning from biblical and historical role models, engaging with modern women and their leadership choices, I am not so sure about the one way…the right way. So I ask Vivi today, and all Jewish women here, ‘what will your role be in the history of our people’?
Many of you don’t know that this is Vivi’s second bat mitzvah. Her first took place last year, as she turned twelve, quietly, among her girl friends and some family members and congregants present to hear her deliver a d’var Torah at mincha, followed by a gathering where we made blankets for Newborns in Need… and ate ice cream sundaes. This is what Vivi wanted. And to respect her as a young Jewish woman coming of age, this is how we honored her.
And this morning, is how she honors her father. As the rabbi’s daughter, he expected her to do what other 13 year olds did at our congregation, lead the service, read torah and haftorah, and speak before the kahal. And she did, beautifully, dutifully and happily. Through her actions, she taught me a lesson in humility. She was not so strident to think that there is only one way to behave in the world; she recognized that she was faced with competing priorities, each of critical importance in her life. She didn’t agonize, criticize or complain. She was not grouchy or resistant or mean. She accepted her world the way it was. She made peace with her place in it. She is a model to me of a righteous Jewish woman.
To wear a hat in shul or not? To accept an aliyah to the Torah or not? To speak out in front of others or to lead the way through subtle modeling? To cook a good brisket or to fight for our homeland? Who knows what is the ‘right’ way? In the words of your favorite country music song, (written by a man) “the only thing for certain is uncertainty.” So it is with humility, and uncertainty that I move forward. Perhaps I will be able to look back on my life and see clearly what my place was in the history of our people.
What I wish for you is not certainty, but security in knowing that before you came many, many Jewish women who all made their place in the history of our people in a different way. Know that all around you are amazing Jewish women, adding their unique spirit to our people. Know that this moment is precious, and will not ever be repeated. Don’t wait until you have it all figured out…you may never…but accept each moment for what it is. My wish for you is that you find your way, you add your unique voice to the history of our people, and I think, you are well on the way to doing just that.
Shabbat Shalom.
Tamra Dollin
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Friday, March 5, 2010
Jewish Unity
There is a great story about an embarrassed guest at the Shabbat table of a famous rabbi. The Shabbat table was meticulously set: a beautiful white table cloth that was used only to celebrate the holiness and joy of the family Sabbath. The guests were talking and enjoying when one of them accidently hits his wine glass with his hand and out spills the wine, soiling and staining the table cloth and everyone gasps in horror. With barely a moment passing, the rabbi takes his hand and intentionally hits his wine glass spilling the wine and making an even bigger mess.
To the rabbi, the table cloth was unimportant. How his guest felt was paramount. At the moment of the first spill, the guest was singled out: the center of negative attention; he felt alone and embarrassed and in a sense, alienated from the others around the table. The rabbi would not allow it; he spilled his wine to bring his guest back into the fold --people spill wine; you are one of us, we are all together despite our clumsiness, despite our flaws, despite our superficial differences.
Something similar happens in our parasha this morning. Moses is atop Mount Sinai, the people of Israel are down below. Seeing that Moses is delayed in coming down from the mountain, the people panic and insist that Aaron build them a Golden Calf. God is angry and tells Moses that He will destroy the people for their sin and make Moses and his descendants, God’s people. As Moses descends the mountain seeing the Golden Calf, he too is angered and throws down the tablets, breaking them as the base of the calf.
On the surface of the text, it looks like Moses throws down the tablets because he’s angry. But a midrash takes this passage in another direction. For the Midrash, Moses throws the tablets as an intentional sinful act. After all, God will not be pleased with Moses smashing His holy tablets. In effect, Moses is saying to God: the people sinned, but I too have sinned. If you are going to destroy them, then you will have to destroy me too. Moses will not let God separate his fate from the fate of his people. They are one, they are unified; leader and people and God spares them both.
I mentioned in my sermon last week about Esther, reticent to approach the king to advocate for her people. And Mordechai comes to her and tells her explicitly: do not think that you are somehow different and separate from your people. Their fate is your fate; if the Jews are destroyed, so will you be. And, of course, Esther does approach the king and in the end, saves her people, saves her crown, saves her own life.
In World War One, many German Jews distinguished themselves as officers and soldiers in the German Army. They were war heroes and the German government decorated them and honored them as loyal and courageous citizens of the German reich.
With the rise of the Nazi government, these war heroes assumed they and their families were safe –they had risked their lives for Germany; they were more German than Jewish. In fact, most German Jews as the Nazis were amassing power, believed that ultimately, in the end, the German people would not allow Nazi anti-Semitism to prevail; Jews had lived in Germany for generations. They lived, worked, had friends, were integrated and assimilated into German culture and society. But they were wrong for most all of them were murdered –the war heroes, their families, their children and grandchildren. If you had a Jewish grandmother, you were a Jew and you would die. Jews in Nazi Germany all suffered the same fate: as Mordechai said to Esther two and a half millennia before Hitler –do not think that you of all Jews will escape with your life by being in the King’s palace.” You won’t, we didn’t and we never will. History has shown us that the fate of world Jewry is our fate whether we like it or not; whether we are assimilated or not; whether we practice our Judaism or not.
If we are all in the same boat, than we had better figure out a way to get along and present a united front to what has always been a hostile world. It was for good reason that the original motto for United Jewish Appeal was “We are One.” We weren’t at that time, nor have we really ever been –but the motto stood because we knew then that internal division in the Jewish community threatened Jewish lives. In the second Temple period, the rabbis attributed the destruction of the Temple not to Roman invasion, but to divisiveness in our own community. They called it “sinat chinam,” senseless hatred among Jews. Their divisiveness made them weak so that the Romans had an easy time of it wiping them all out and leveling our Holy Temple.
There is dissension in the Jewish community today. Between those who understand their Judaism differently. Between Jewish Democrats and Jewish Republicans. Between Jewish hawks and Jewish doves. And of most concern to me now: diverse approaches to the support of the State of Israel. It has been since 1967 already, that the demonization of the Israel by many in the world, has grown and prevailed. We see it coming out of the Arab world, which we expect, but now we see it throughout Europe and in many quarters in America: particularly on college campuses and growing among some American Protestant denominations.
We are not immune to these characterizations and our children are even less immune. Most young Jews don’t know all that much about Israel so they are all the more likely to fall under the sway of Israel’s enemies. Israel, as a Jewish state is under attack. In the last several years, the notion of a bi-national state has been proffered as a solution to the problem. A bi-national state means that Israel would annex the territories, Palestinian refugees return, everyone gets a vote, and suddenly, Jews become a minority and Israel in no more. The greatest Jewish experiment in modern times is over. And make no mistake, the fate of Israel is the fate of world Jewry. If Israel were to fail, I am convinced, world Jewry would follow.
In the Jewish community, we can debate the merits of this Israeli government verses that one, this policy or that: that debate happens publically in Israel every single day. But to my mind, the American Jewish community must present a unified front to the world --American Jews support Israel as a Jewish State, today, tomorrow, forever. Divisions between younger Jews and older, between liberal Jews and conservative must not pull us apart for we have one message that only we can and must make: we support Israel as a Jewish state and will do whatever we can to protect it for the safety and security of Israelis and the for the future of our Jewish communities all over the world.
The rabbi spilled his wine all over his table cloth to let his guest know that no matter how clumsy, no matter how different on the surface, really, no matter what: we are the same. We are one family, one community, one people and as such, we will accept each other unconditionally and we will stand together so we don’t fall apart. When we have forgotten this lesson in the past, Jews perished. The fate of the Jewish people has been placed in our hands. It’s our responsibility now and soon we will hand it down to our kids. We have to be ready and we must equip our kids to do the same. We are called upon today to step forward to do our part. We really have no choice but to do so. Shabbat Shalom
To the rabbi, the table cloth was unimportant. How his guest felt was paramount. At the moment of the first spill, the guest was singled out: the center of negative attention; he felt alone and embarrassed and in a sense, alienated from the others around the table. The rabbi would not allow it; he spilled his wine to bring his guest back into the fold --people spill wine; you are one of us, we are all together despite our clumsiness, despite our flaws, despite our superficial differences.
Something similar happens in our parasha this morning. Moses is atop Mount Sinai, the people of Israel are down below. Seeing that Moses is delayed in coming down from the mountain, the people panic and insist that Aaron build them a Golden Calf. God is angry and tells Moses that He will destroy the people for their sin and make Moses and his descendants, God’s people. As Moses descends the mountain seeing the Golden Calf, he too is angered and throws down the tablets, breaking them as the base of the calf.
On the surface of the text, it looks like Moses throws down the tablets because he’s angry. But a midrash takes this passage in another direction. For the Midrash, Moses throws the tablets as an intentional sinful act. After all, God will not be pleased with Moses smashing His holy tablets. In effect, Moses is saying to God: the people sinned, but I too have sinned. If you are going to destroy them, then you will have to destroy me too. Moses will not let God separate his fate from the fate of his people. They are one, they are unified; leader and people and God spares them both.
I mentioned in my sermon last week about Esther, reticent to approach the king to advocate for her people. And Mordechai comes to her and tells her explicitly: do not think that you are somehow different and separate from your people. Their fate is your fate; if the Jews are destroyed, so will you be. And, of course, Esther does approach the king and in the end, saves her people, saves her crown, saves her own life.
In World War One, many German Jews distinguished themselves as officers and soldiers in the German Army. They were war heroes and the German government decorated them and honored them as loyal and courageous citizens of the German reich.
With the rise of the Nazi government, these war heroes assumed they and their families were safe –they had risked their lives for Germany; they were more German than Jewish. In fact, most German Jews as the Nazis were amassing power, believed that ultimately, in the end, the German people would not allow Nazi anti-Semitism to prevail; Jews had lived in Germany for generations. They lived, worked, had friends, were integrated and assimilated into German culture and society. But they were wrong for most all of them were murdered –the war heroes, their families, their children and grandchildren. If you had a Jewish grandmother, you were a Jew and you would die. Jews in Nazi Germany all suffered the same fate: as Mordechai said to Esther two and a half millennia before Hitler –do not think that you of all Jews will escape with your life by being in the King’s palace.” You won’t, we didn’t and we never will. History has shown us that the fate of world Jewry is our fate whether we like it or not; whether we are assimilated or not; whether we practice our Judaism or not.
If we are all in the same boat, than we had better figure out a way to get along and present a united front to what has always been a hostile world. It was for good reason that the original motto for United Jewish Appeal was “We are One.” We weren’t at that time, nor have we really ever been –but the motto stood because we knew then that internal division in the Jewish community threatened Jewish lives. In the second Temple period, the rabbis attributed the destruction of the Temple not to Roman invasion, but to divisiveness in our own community. They called it “sinat chinam,” senseless hatred among Jews. Their divisiveness made them weak so that the Romans had an easy time of it wiping them all out and leveling our Holy Temple.
There is dissension in the Jewish community today. Between those who understand their Judaism differently. Between Jewish Democrats and Jewish Republicans. Between Jewish hawks and Jewish doves. And of most concern to me now: diverse approaches to the support of the State of Israel. It has been since 1967 already, that the demonization of the Israel by many in the world, has grown and prevailed. We see it coming out of the Arab world, which we expect, but now we see it throughout Europe and in many quarters in America: particularly on college campuses and growing among some American Protestant denominations.
We are not immune to these characterizations and our children are even less immune. Most young Jews don’t know all that much about Israel so they are all the more likely to fall under the sway of Israel’s enemies. Israel, as a Jewish state is under attack. In the last several years, the notion of a bi-national state has been proffered as a solution to the problem. A bi-national state means that Israel would annex the territories, Palestinian refugees return, everyone gets a vote, and suddenly, Jews become a minority and Israel in no more. The greatest Jewish experiment in modern times is over. And make no mistake, the fate of Israel is the fate of world Jewry. If Israel were to fail, I am convinced, world Jewry would follow.
In the Jewish community, we can debate the merits of this Israeli government verses that one, this policy or that: that debate happens publically in Israel every single day. But to my mind, the American Jewish community must present a unified front to the world --American Jews support Israel as a Jewish State, today, tomorrow, forever. Divisions between younger Jews and older, between liberal Jews and conservative must not pull us apart for we have one message that only we can and must make: we support Israel as a Jewish state and will do whatever we can to protect it for the safety and security of Israelis and the for the future of our Jewish communities all over the world.
The rabbi spilled his wine all over his table cloth to let his guest know that no matter how clumsy, no matter how different on the surface, really, no matter what: we are the same. We are one family, one community, one people and as such, we will accept each other unconditionally and we will stand together so we don’t fall apart. When we have forgotten this lesson in the past, Jews perished. The fate of the Jewish people has been placed in our hands. It’s our responsibility now and soon we will hand it down to our kids. We have to be ready and we must equip our kids to do the same. We are called upon today to step forward to do our part. We really have no choice but to do so. Shabbat Shalom
Friday, February 26, 2010
Role Models, Priests and Queens
I ain’t no role model, I am a basketball player!. I suspect that just about everyone in the sanctuary this morning has heard of this comment by Basketball power forward, Charles Barkley who played for Philadelphia, Phoenix and Houston and retired in 1999. He was one of the best players ever in the NBA and in fact, he wasn’t such a great role model: spitting, fighting and gambling; he didn’t show the greatest of sportsmanship and was no stranger to indiscreet commentary on basketball and life. To be fair, his point about basketball players and role models, in context, meant that he didn’t think basketball players should be considered role models: most kids aren’t going to the NBA --great fame and tens of millions of dollars are unrealistic and inappropriate goals for children.
But Barkley said it and it got a lot of people thinking about the role models we have in this society. Barkley may have denied it, but he was a role model whether or not he was comfortable with the role. So much so that kids began going around saying, “I aint no role model either, just like Charles.”
Well, if sports figures are role models, then they have a huge responsibility to which many of them are ill equipped to manage. Tiger Woods learned a painful lesson as we watched his mea culpa on television just a few weeks ago. His behavior off the golf course does matter to us ---and especially to the companies that use him in their ads. Tiger Woods admitted in an interview to what many politicians and leaders of industry have admitted to: they thought that all the love, adulation, money and fame somehow made them exempt from the moral norms that applied to everyone else in society. And of course, they all learned in a painful and humiliating way that this is generally not the case. We love and admire our role models --but we also expect them to be people whose behavior we can respect in and out of the spotlight.
I think a part of what we enjoy so much about the Olympics is that the athletes, perhaps with a lot of coaching, act on camera in a sportsmanlike way. It makes us feel good. The skier Bode Miller embarrassed himself and all of us when he acted poorly in Torino where he won no medals, and made us all the more proud of him in showing some humility this year in games at which he won several medals. Those in the limelight are role models: there is no escaping it. They can do a lot of good if they come to realize this early in their careers.
We see an indication of this in the parasha this morning. Most of the parasha deals with what the Cohanim, the Priests are supposed to wear. The description of the priestly vestments is in excruciating detail; as if Priestly holiness is dependent on appearance. Yet one cannot imagine God concerned about clothing: the vestments aren’t for God, they are for the people. Priests must appear to the people in a certain way; they are role models --they show the people of Israel what it means to be distinct, dignified, respectful in a way that is worthy of approaching God in His sanctuary. Both what they wear and who they are watched carefully by the people; their behavior will determine the integrity and vitality of their religious community. Needless to say, the Priests have a big responsibility in their role as Israelite leaders.
We come upon another figure head and leader of the Jewish people, this weekend, as we read the Book of Esther. The Megillah is a funny book, but it has a side to it that we might consider deadly serious. The central figure in this story is most certainly Esther. All the other characters in the book are unidimensional; King Achashverosh is a simpleton, Haman is wicked, Mordechai is clever. But Esther, she is more complex; she is beautiful, assimilated (she becomes a Persian King’s wife), and perhaps even seductive. But when we first meet her, we don’t really know what to make of her. She becomes the queen and you suspect from the text, that the Jews of the land must be proud that one of their own could reach such heights in the Persian court. Then comes chapter 4 and now we learn what this lady is made of. Haman has declared the death of all the Jews and Mordechai sends Esther a message asking her to intervene with the King. She refuses saying that the King hasn’t summoned her and if one approaches the King without being summoned, that person will die. And she doesn’t want to die.
Then Mordechai teaches her a lesson in loyalty. He writes to her: “Do not imagine that you, of all the Jews, will escape with your life by being in the King’s palace. On the contrary, if you keep silent in this crisis, relief and deliverance will come to the Jews from another quarter, while you and your father’s house will perish. And who knows, perhaps you have attained to royal position for just such a crises.” Now Esther has a decision to make. Does she step up for her people or take care of herself? We wait in anticipation; we wait for her to realize that her high position is not one of entitlement but one of responsibility. She is in the public eye; she is the queen; she has the power, will she do what is right? And then she says: “then I shall go to the king, though it is contrary to the law; and if I am to perish, I shall perish.” The queen becomes a hero that day.
Esther becomes a true Jewish leader in this chapter as soon as she realizes that her life is not as important as the life of her people. Charles Barkley didn’t see this. Back then, he never asked himself the question, “perhaps I have attained success and fame for some deeper purpose.” To help inner city kids, to fund a youth sports league, to contribute to education or to promote exercise and good health. He, like every other leader, every other role model, has the power and influence to do good in ways most of us simply can’t do. You may have noted that Canadian Olympians Jennifer Heil who won a silver in women’s moguls and Alexandre Bilodeau who won the gold in men’s moguls pledged $25,000 each to charity and challenged the other medal winners in the games to do the same. Very impressive, I think, for a 26 and 22 year old. Everyone is watching them; everyone admires and respects them: everyone wants to be just like them. And this is precisely the time for them to be gracious and generous and do something that has lasting meaning. We all might believe that we “ain’t no role model,” but we are. Someone is always watching us; our kids, our students, our friends, our co-workers and we can’t let them down. We are all role models so let’s be role models for the good.
Shabbat Shalom
But Barkley said it and it got a lot of people thinking about the role models we have in this society. Barkley may have denied it, but he was a role model whether or not he was comfortable with the role. So much so that kids began going around saying, “I aint no role model either, just like Charles.”
Well, if sports figures are role models, then they have a huge responsibility to which many of them are ill equipped to manage. Tiger Woods learned a painful lesson as we watched his mea culpa on television just a few weeks ago. His behavior off the golf course does matter to us ---and especially to the companies that use him in their ads. Tiger Woods admitted in an interview to what many politicians and leaders of industry have admitted to: they thought that all the love, adulation, money and fame somehow made them exempt from the moral norms that applied to everyone else in society. And of course, they all learned in a painful and humiliating way that this is generally not the case. We love and admire our role models --but we also expect them to be people whose behavior we can respect in and out of the spotlight.
I think a part of what we enjoy so much about the Olympics is that the athletes, perhaps with a lot of coaching, act on camera in a sportsmanlike way. It makes us feel good. The skier Bode Miller embarrassed himself and all of us when he acted poorly in Torino where he won no medals, and made us all the more proud of him in showing some humility this year in games at which he won several medals. Those in the limelight are role models: there is no escaping it. They can do a lot of good if they come to realize this early in their careers.
We see an indication of this in the parasha this morning. Most of the parasha deals with what the Cohanim, the Priests are supposed to wear. The description of the priestly vestments is in excruciating detail; as if Priestly holiness is dependent on appearance. Yet one cannot imagine God concerned about clothing: the vestments aren’t for God, they are for the people. Priests must appear to the people in a certain way; they are role models --they show the people of Israel what it means to be distinct, dignified, respectful in a way that is worthy of approaching God in His sanctuary. Both what they wear and who they are watched carefully by the people; their behavior will determine the integrity and vitality of their religious community. Needless to say, the Priests have a big responsibility in their role as Israelite leaders.
We come upon another figure head and leader of the Jewish people, this weekend, as we read the Book of Esther. The Megillah is a funny book, but it has a side to it that we might consider deadly serious. The central figure in this story is most certainly Esther. All the other characters in the book are unidimensional; King Achashverosh is a simpleton, Haman is wicked, Mordechai is clever. But Esther, she is more complex; she is beautiful, assimilated (she becomes a Persian King’s wife), and perhaps even seductive. But when we first meet her, we don’t really know what to make of her. She becomes the queen and you suspect from the text, that the Jews of the land must be proud that one of their own could reach such heights in the Persian court. Then comes chapter 4 and now we learn what this lady is made of. Haman has declared the death of all the Jews and Mordechai sends Esther a message asking her to intervene with the King. She refuses saying that the King hasn’t summoned her and if one approaches the King without being summoned, that person will die. And she doesn’t want to die.
Then Mordechai teaches her a lesson in loyalty. He writes to her: “Do not imagine that you, of all the Jews, will escape with your life by being in the King’s palace. On the contrary, if you keep silent in this crisis, relief and deliverance will come to the Jews from another quarter, while you and your father’s house will perish. And who knows, perhaps you have attained to royal position for just such a crises.” Now Esther has a decision to make. Does she step up for her people or take care of herself? We wait in anticipation; we wait for her to realize that her high position is not one of entitlement but one of responsibility. She is in the public eye; she is the queen; she has the power, will she do what is right? And then she says: “then I shall go to the king, though it is contrary to the law; and if I am to perish, I shall perish.” The queen becomes a hero that day.
Esther becomes a true Jewish leader in this chapter as soon as she realizes that her life is not as important as the life of her people. Charles Barkley didn’t see this. Back then, he never asked himself the question, “perhaps I have attained success and fame for some deeper purpose.” To help inner city kids, to fund a youth sports league, to contribute to education or to promote exercise and good health. He, like every other leader, every other role model, has the power and influence to do good in ways most of us simply can’t do. You may have noted that Canadian Olympians Jennifer Heil who won a silver in women’s moguls and Alexandre Bilodeau who won the gold in men’s moguls pledged $25,000 each to charity and challenged the other medal winners in the games to do the same. Very impressive, I think, for a 26 and 22 year old. Everyone is watching them; everyone admires and respects them: everyone wants to be just like them. And this is precisely the time for them to be gracious and generous and do something that has lasting meaning. We all might believe that we “ain’t no role model,” but we are. Someone is always watching us; our kids, our students, our friends, our co-workers and we can’t let them down. We are all role models so let’s be role models for the good.
Shabbat Shalom
Friday, February 19, 2010
Adar and Joy
Mishe’nichnas Adar Marbim B’simcha. We read in the Talmud: when the month of Adar arrives, simcha, joy, increases. We announced the coming of the month of Adar in our service this morning, and according to tradition, this brings with it a sense of excitement and anticipation to celebrate, act silly and very simply, have a lot of fun.
Purim comes on the 14th day of this month. The celebration is based on the book of Esther, the careful reading of which cries out “farce.” The story is silly, filled with exaggeration: a six month feast, a 7 day drinking bacchanalia; a beauty contest in which the women primp and powder for a full year for their single night with the king. And of course, there is the pledge by a Persian official to annihilate all the Jews in the kingdom because a single Jew didn’t bow down to him in the street. The bad guy gets tricked and his evil plan foiled and the Jews celebrate their salvation without a single reference to God, a bit odd for a Biblical book but perhaps not so odd for this type of story.
We read the Book of Esther because it’s fun. We dress up in costumes, we gragger enthusiastically with mention of the name of Haman, we eat sweets, we feast and drink and joke and put on silly plays. It’s all about joy: mishenichnas Adar, marbim b’simcha: when Adar arrives, joy increases.
We use the word “simcha,” all the time in Judaism. It is a Hebrew word that almost every Jew knows: we are celebrating a simcha today, with the Bar Mitzvah of Spencer Soicher. Last week, we had three “simchas” on the bema: anniversaries and birthdays. We sing siman tov and mazal tov: we celebrate. The birth of a child, a Bar Mitzvah, a wedding. Every chance we get in Judaism, we smile and have a good time. With a history of persecution and stress, we don’t want to miss even a single opportunity to feel and express joy.
Purim has four mitzvoth: four observances that we are obligated to perform. Each of them legislates, in a sense, the enhancement of simcha. The first is the reading of the Megillat Esther itself. We can’t do this alone: we have to be together with other Jews to read the Megillah --the more the better. In the text, Haman says to the king regarding the Jews, “there is a certain people who are scattered and dispersed amongst the people in the states of your rule.” The commentators seize on this statement ---the people are scattered, which means that they are distant from one another, there is no sense of community with them, no unity. So the Rabbis require that the community in the present, now, does the opposite; we come together for the reading of the Megillah: and create a celebration together. There is a sense of power and a sense of belonging to something greater than the self, when the community assembles. Unity and connection to others feels good. The Rabbis in the Talmud knew this; when we come together, we experience joy.
The second mitzvah: matanot l’evyonim: giving to the poor. Here again, the enhancement of joy: certainly in the life of the needy recipient of tzedakah whose burdens are eased, at least for the moment. But joy also in the life of the giver as well. Nothing feels better than giving to those in need. To help another gives one’s life a sense of meaning and purpose. If you want to feel better about yourself, give of yourself. Giving tzedakah, increases joy.
The third mitzvah: mishloach manot. This is giving gifts to your friends. One of the plagues of our society is alienation from others. If we so desired, we would never have to leave our homes. Most everything in our lives need not be personal --we can shop, bank, work and be entertained, with virtually no human interaction. But there is a much better way, of course and that is to reach out and connect with others, to enhance friendships. In our community, there are couples that meet each other at a program called Baby University: which is a prenatal Jewish lamaze, of sorts. It is Jewish education and planning for the coming of a new baby. Couples in this program, perhaps most importantly, meet at the class and make friends at this formative experience in their lives and many of them remain friends for decades. They celebrate the bris or baby naming together; they send their kids off to preschool together; they join synagogues together; they celebrate holidays, and life cycle events, together, and so on through their lives. And it makes them happy! Friendships are the lifeblood of community and it brings joy to our lives. Mishloach manot: at Purim time, we increase joy by sending gifts to our friends.
And finally: the seudat Purim: the Purim feast. During Purim: we eat together. Purim is the story that defines the joke: at Jewish holidays, “the bad guy wants to kills us, we win and then we eat.” This Purim, the synagogue is sponsoring a community dinner: we will all come together to feast on great food, to watch a Purim speil, to laugh and joke and have a lot of fun. Jewish eating has never been about nourishment; it’s about building relationships and transmitting our culture and our values. The Purim feast does just that in an atmosphere of simcha: of joy.
With all of that in mind, I have to confess that I am uncomfortable with the phrase: mishenichnas adar, marbim b’simcha: when Adar arrives, joy increases. And I am uncomfortable with it because it implies that joy is somehow unique to Adar, only one of the twelve months of the year. But it’s not. We read in one of the zemirot, one of the songs traditionally sung at Shabbat dinner on Friday night: menucha v’simcha, or l’yehudim: “the rest and joy of Shabbat, illuminate the Jewish people. The deep spiritual rest of the Sabbath brings joy, perhaps an even deeper and more abiding joy than the celebrations which come in Adar. Shabbat is the foundation for the spiritual existence of all Jews who observe it.
There are about 350 of us here in our synagogue community that understand this; we are here every Shabbat morning for a spirited service and we remain, sometimes for hours, at our kiddush: connecting with friends and building our community. It’s very simply, fun and people do it each week. But we have a little over 2000 adults in our congregation and we are concerned about them too. We want to bring to at least some of them the deep joy that comes from Shabbat prayer, services and community.
As most of you know, the Cantor and I went to New York this past Shabbes to see some shuls that are doing innovative Shabbat services that attract hundreds of worshippers of all ages on Friday nights. In particular, we went to a congregation called B’nai Yeshurun, on the upper west side of Manhattan, to see what they do on Friday nights. They have a very soft and soulful service with voices accompanied by a variety of instruments that bring a full and joyous sound to the traditional prayers. Everybody in the congregation sings and sings loudly. The congregation has come to know the prayers and the melodies by coming often and their voices fill up the sanctuary: as do ours here at the Alliance on Shabbat morning. I had the sense as I sat there at B’nai Yeshuran, at this Friday night service, that my prayers were carried heavenward with the power and presence of the whole community singing as one. If one were to use just one word to describe the service, that word would be “joyful.”
As you might imagine, we were impressed. We want to bring that sense of joy to our Friday night experience, for all of you to come and for those in the congregation who might not feel that the Shabbat morning service is accessible to them, but are searching none the less for a deeper connection to the shul and to Shabbat. Perhaps what makes this service accessible to many is not only the great music and spirit in the sanctuary, but also the fact that Friday night services last just one hour.
We will call our service, “Nashira,” which means, “let us sing.” We will use instruments to accompany our voices for Kabbalat Shabbat until we come to the prayers that begin Shabbat proper and then we will put our instruments aside and chant the prayers together a cappella. The first service will be on April 9th and more information about “Nashira,” can be found in the March Highlights.
“Mi shenichnas adar, marbim b’simcha: Adar is upon us and we focus on the joy of living as a Jew. We will enjoy Adar and Purim this year, but we will continue with on simcha on Shabbat as well. We invite you all to this new service so that joy in our community will increase for us on Shabbat and indeed, all year round.
Shabbat Shalom.
Mishe’nichnas Adar Marbim B’simcha. We read in the Talmud: when the month of Adar arrives, simcha, joy, increases. We announced the coming of the month of Adar in our service this morning, and according to tradition, this brings with it a sense of excitement and anticipation to celebrate, act silly and very simply, have a lot of fun.
Purim comes on the 14th day of this month. The celebration is based on the book of Esther, the careful reading of which cries out “farce.” The story is silly, filled with exaggeration: a six month feast, a 7 day drinking bacchanalia; a beauty contest in which the women primp and powder for a full year for their single night with the king. And of course, there is the pledge by a Persian official to annihilate all the Jews in the kingdom because a single Jew didn’t bow down to him in the street. The bad guy gets tricked and his evil plan foiled and the Jews celebrate their salvation without a single reference to God, a bit odd for a Biblical book but perhaps not so odd for this type of story.
We read the Book of Esther because it’s fun. We dress up in costumes, we gragger enthusiastically with mention of the name of Haman, we eat sweets, we feast and drink and joke and put on silly plays. It’s all about joy: mishenichnas Adar, marbim b’simcha: when Adar arrives, joy increases.
We use the word “simcha,” all the time in Judaism. It is a Hebrew word that almost every Jew knows: we are celebrating a simcha today, with the Bar Mitzvah of Spencer Soicher. Last week, we had three “simchas” on the bema: anniversaries and birthdays. We sing siman tov and mazal tov: we celebrate. The birth of a child, a Bar Mitzvah, a wedding. Every chance we get in Judaism, we smile and have a good time. With a history of persecution and stress, we don’t want to miss even a single opportunity to feel and express joy.
Purim has four mitzvoth: four observances that we are obligated to perform. Each of them legislates, in a sense, the enhancement of simcha. The first is the reading of the Megillat Esther itself. We can’t do this alone: we have to be together with other Jews to read the Megillah --the more the better. In the text, Haman says to the king regarding the Jews, “there is a certain people who are scattered and dispersed amongst the people in the states of your rule.” The commentators seize on this statement ---the people are scattered, which means that they are distant from one another, there is no sense of community with them, no unity. So the Rabbis require that the community in the present, now, does the opposite; we come together for the reading of the Megillah: and create a celebration together. There is a sense of power and a sense of belonging to something greater than the self, when the community assembles. Unity and connection to others feels good. The Rabbis in the Talmud knew this; when we come together, we experience joy.
The second mitzvah: matanot l’evyonim: giving to the poor. Here again, the enhancement of joy: certainly in the life of the needy recipient of tzedakah whose burdens are eased, at least for the moment. But joy also in the life of the giver as well. Nothing feels better than giving to those in need. To help another gives one’s life a sense of meaning and purpose. If you want to feel better about yourself, give of yourself. Giving tzedakah, increases joy.
The third mitzvah: mishloach manot. This is giving gifts to your friends. One of the plagues of our society is alienation from others. If we so desired, we would never have to leave our homes. Most everything in our lives need not be personal --we can shop, bank, work and be entertained, with virtually no human interaction. But there is a much better way, of course and that is to reach out and connect with others, to enhance friendships. In our community, there are couples that meet each other at a program called Baby University: which is a prenatal Jewish lamaze, of sorts. It is Jewish education and planning for the coming of a new baby. Couples in this program, perhaps most importantly, meet at the class and make friends at this formative experience in their lives and many of them remain friends for decades. They celebrate the bris or baby naming together; they send their kids off to preschool together; they join synagogues together; they celebrate holidays, and life cycle events, together, and so on through their lives. And it makes them happy! Friendships are the lifeblood of community and it brings joy to our lives. Mishloach manot: at Purim time, we increase joy by sending gifts to our friends.
And finally: the seudat Purim: the Purim feast. During Purim: we eat together. Purim is the story that defines the joke: at Jewish holidays, “the bad guy wants to kills us, we win and then we eat.” This Purim, the synagogue is sponsoring a community dinner: we will all come together to feast on great food, to watch a Purim speil, to laugh and joke and have a lot of fun. Jewish eating has never been about nourishment; it’s about building relationships and transmitting our culture and our values. The Purim feast does just that in an atmosphere of simcha: of joy.
With all of that in mind, I have to confess that I am uncomfortable with the phrase: mishenichnas adar, marbim b’simcha: when Adar arrives, joy increases. And I am uncomfortable with it because it implies that joy is somehow unique to Adar, only one of the twelve months of the year. But it’s not. We read in one of the zemirot, one of the songs traditionally sung at Shabbat dinner on Friday night: menucha v’simcha, or l’yehudim: “the rest and joy of Shabbat, illuminate the Jewish people. The deep spiritual rest of the Sabbath brings joy, perhaps an even deeper and more abiding joy than the celebrations which come in Adar. Shabbat is the foundation for the spiritual existence of all Jews who observe it.
There are about 350 of us here in our synagogue community that understand this; we are here every Shabbat morning for a spirited service and we remain, sometimes for hours, at our kiddush: connecting with friends and building our community. It’s very simply, fun and people do it each week. But we have a little over 2000 adults in our congregation and we are concerned about them too. We want to bring to at least some of them the deep joy that comes from Shabbat prayer, services and community.
As most of you know, the Cantor and I went to New York this past Shabbes to see some shuls that are doing innovative Shabbat services that attract hundreds of worshippers of all ages on Friday nights. In particular, we went to a congregation called B’nai Yeshurun, on the upper west side of Manhattan, to see what they do on Friday nights. They have a very soft and soulful service with voices accompanied by a variety of instruments that bring a full and joyous sound to the traditional prayers. Everybody in the congregation sings and sings loudly. The congregation has come to know the prayers and the melodies by coming often and their voices fill up the sanctuary: as do ours here at the Alliance on Shabbat morning. I had the sense as I sat there at B’nai Yeshuran, at this Friday night service, that my prayers were carried heavenward with the power and presence of the whole community singing as one. If one were to use just one word to describe the service, that word would be “joyful.”
As you might imagine, we were impressed. We want to bring that sense of joy to our Friday night experience, for all of you to come and for those in the congregation who might not feel that the Shabbat morning service is accessible to them, but are searching none the less for a deeper connection to the shul and to Shabbat. Perhaps what makes this service accessible to many is not only the great music and spirit in the sanctuary, but also the fact that Friday night services last just one hour.
We will call our service, “Nashira,” which means, “let us sing.” We will use instruments to accompany our voices for Kabbalat Shabbat until we come to the prayers that begin Shabbat proper and then we will put our instruments aside and chant the prayers together a cappella. The first service will be on April 9th and more information about “Nashira,” can be found in the March Highlights.
“Mi shenichnas adar, marbim b’simcha: Adar is upon us and we focus on the joy of living as a Jew. We will enjoy Adar and Purim this year, but we will continue with on simcha on Shabbat as well. We invite you all to this new service so that joy in our community will increase for us on Shabbat and indeed, all year round.
Shabbat Shalom.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Vaera 2010
This past Shabbat at Musaf, I taught a class about Moses Maimonidies’ principles of faith. The Rambam, living in the 12th century, created the ideal of a religious Jew; one who believes in God, the Torah, reward and punishment, the coming of the messiah, with what he called, perfect faith. The students in the class, along with their teacher, had significant problems with the concept of perfect faith: we all have doubts --we live in a modern world where religious belief is often seen as irrational: as an emotional crutch, in some cases, just plain silly.
There is science, today, that threatens the truth claims of religion. There is even the science of religion.
Biblical archeologists, for example, have searched for clues to the historicity of the Bible. After decades of exploration, most of them contend that the characters in the Bible from King |Solomon on, that is, from about 930 BCE forward, definitely existed as historical figures. But before King Solomon, there is little archeological proof of the Bible’s stories: and that leaves the existence of our main character today, for example, Moses, in doubt. Apparently, there is no real proof of the Israelite’s enslavement in Egypt, no proof of the plagues, no proof of the crossing of the sea of reeds, or of a people wandering in the desert for 40 years, or of the existence of a person named Moses.
For the faithful, the claims of the archeologists can be very distressing. For fundamentalists who believe that every word of the Bible is literally and historically true, it can be devastating.
How do we deal with the Biblical archeologists? Here is my approach: I believe with a perfect faith, that all the stories in the Bible are true, but some are true both spiritually and historically; and some are true, only spiritually, which I believe, is more than good enough.
So we come to the miracles of the ten plagues that begin in our Torah portion this morning. Blood, frogs, lice, boils and so on. Did they happen just this way in Egypt? Were there Jews suffering from the yoke of a evil Egyptian king who made them build pyramids? To me, that really isn’t important; what is important is the moral lesson we learn from the story, and here, I think, is that e lesson.
God told Moses to go the people and tell them about God and tell them about freedom. But the people didn’t get it.
We read in the text, “v’lo sham’u el moshe mikotzer ruach v’avodah kasha” the people of Israel did not listen to Moses because of impatience of spirit caused by hard servitude. (Exodus 6:9).
The people didn’t listen to Moses and they could not hear God because their lives were filled with spiritual darkness. They had been enslaved: they were victims of tyranny, they were victims of fear. The evil ways of Egypt had enslaved them both physically and spiritually: God had become too remote: their false god had become the Pharaoh: who was also the false god to all the Egyptians. The one true God heard the cry of His people, but the people could not hear God crying for them.
So God decided to intercede in human history and create dramatic and miraculous displays of physical power to get the Israelites’ attention. Most people think that the plagues were to impress Pharoah and the Egyptians. Not so. God could have leveled the Egyptians with the blink of an eye. God was not concerned with the spiritual state of the pagan Egyptians because they would eventually come to disappear from history leaving nothing to western civilization but a few pyramids and some hieroglyphics. God didn’t create the plagues for the Egyptians, He created them for the Israelites because God was desperate to connect with his suffering people. For God had a plan for the Jewish People. According to God’s plan, the Jews would make an everlasting contribution to the world; they would be God’s partners in bringing light, and goodness and justice and righteousness to the people of the world.
So we have the plagues. The plagues themselves are very interesting: they were created to educate. As any good parent knows, a parent displays parental power and discipline not to overwhelm their children which just leads their children to one day rebel. Rather, parents discipline with power to educate and teach their children the proper path of behavior.
So it was with God. The slave people could not help but be impressed with Egyptian power, so God would bring the plagues upon Egypt to show the Israelites that Egyptian power was all facade. For the Egyptians, the river Nile was the source of life: it flooded each year leaving silt on the earth which fertilized the ground from which the Egyptians grew their crops. The Egyptians worshipped the Nile: it’s power, beauty and grandeur. The Nile no doubt impressed the Israelites too. So God turned the water to blood. In a single stroke, He killed the Nile. Human beings are not to worship rivers. Water and crops and sustenance come from the grace of God, not from the grace of pagan river gods. So God killed the river to teach this lesson.
Similarly, the second plague of frogs. The Egyptians saw their pagan rites, their temples, their dwellings, as clean and pure. Despite the tyranny, the slavery, the lack of concern for human life, the Egyptians saw themselves as righteous and clean. So God showed the Israelites the truth about the Egyptians. They were not clean and pure; their culture was morally corrupt, rancid, and spiritually filthy despite the wondrous dwellings they lived in. So God brought the frogs with mud and muck on their feet to fill the dwellings of the Egyptians with filth. The frogs covered everything. The houses, the people, the beds. Through this plague, God showed in external form, the internal truth about the moral decay of Egyptian society.
And each plague showed something similar. The gnats, the beetles, the boils, the hail: every aspect of so called Egyptian greatness was attacked and revealed to the Israelites for the facade that it was. The Egyptians were nothing without God. Their grandeur rested on a foundation of straw. With the mildest of divine winds blowing upon it, the whole wondrous Egyptian structure began to teeter on the brink of total destruction. And hence, the Israelites were impressed with how truly unimpressive the Egyptians really were.
Then we come to the ninth plague, the plague of darkness. Here was the penultimate lesson for the Israelites. We read in the morning prayers, psalm 30: “histarta panecha, hayiti nivhal,” when you hide your face from me, oh God, I am terrified.” The ninth plague of absolute darkness revealed the whole truth about the spiritual state of the Egyptians. There was no divine light in their society. God’s presence did not penetrate the evil and corruption of a culture that would enslave and debase human life. And the darkness was terrifying. Life without God’s light is a living hell of randomness, evil, meaninglessness, and emptiness. When the Egyptians saw the truth in the ninth plague, even they were terrified. God’s light does not shine into the lives of people who are unwilling to receive it. Evil keeps God away: goodness and justice bring God in. The Israelite dwellings had light during the ninth plague. And the light that they had allowed them to prepare to leave: to leave the evil, to leave the spiritual slavery, to find their way to freedom. Even in the midst of great evil, God’s light can penetrate to those whose eyes are open to see. And that light can redeem them. That light can guide them to freedom.
It took a great deal of effort, but God finally impressed the Israelites. He reached them, finally, and they ultimately saw the greatness of God.
So what can we say to the biblical archeologists who cannot find the historical proof for the exodus from Egypt? From my perspective, I say to them, so what? The historicity of Moses and the exodus is of little importance to the Jewish people and to the people of the world. What is important to us is what the Torah is telling us from the story; what the Torah is telling us about the nature of the world, and our place in it; what the torah is telling us about good and evil, about tyranny and freedom. The truth of the story is in its powerful moral lesson. And once we grasp the lesson, despite what the archeologists say, the story can transform our lives and indeed, change the world. And from my perspective, that is whole point; it’s what we are doing here; it’s why we are a people of faith.
Shabbat shalom.
There is science, today, that threatens the truth claims of religion. There is even the science of religion.
Biblical archeologists, for example, have searched for clues to the historicity of the Bible. After decades of exploration, most of them contend that the characters in the Bible from King |Solomon on, that is, from about 930 BCE forward, definitely existed as historical figures. But before King Solomon, there is little archeological proof of the Bible’s stories: and that leaves the existence of our main character today, for example, Moses, in doubt. Apparently, there is no real proof of the Israelite’s enslavement in Egypt, no proof of the plagues, no proof of the crossing of the sea of reeds, or of a people wandering in the desert for 40 years, or of the existence of a person named Moses.
For the faithful, the claims of the archeologists can be very distressing. For fundamentalists who believe that every word of the Bible is literally and historically true, it can be devastating.
How do we deal with the Biblical archeologists? Here is my approach: I believe with a perfect faith, that all the stories in the Bible are true, but some are true both spiritually and historically; and some are true, only spiritually, which I believe, is more than good enough.
So we come to the miracles of the ten plagues that begin in our Torah portion this morning. Blood, frogs, lice, boils and so on. Did they happen just this way in Egypt? Were there Jews suffering from the yoke of a evil Egyptian king who made them build pyramids? To me, that really isn’t important; what is important is the moral lesson we learn from the story, and here, I think, is that e lesson.
God told Moses to go the people and tell them about God and tell them about freedom. But the people didn’t get it.
We read in the text, “v’lo sham’u el moshe mikotzer ruach v’avodah kasha” the people of Israel did not listen to Moses because of impatience of spirit caused by hard servitude. (Exodus 6:9).
The people didn’t listen to Moses and they could not hear God because their lives were filled with spiritual darkness. They had been enslaved: they were victims of tyranny, they were victims of fear. The evil ways of Egypt had enslaved them both physically and spiritually: God had become too remote: their false god had become the Pharaoh: who was also the false god to all the Egyptians. The one true God heard the cry of His people, but the people could not hear God crying for them.
So God decided to intercede in human history and create dramatic and miraculous displays of physical power to get the Israelites’ attention. Most people think that the plagues were to impress Pharoah and the Egyptians. Not so. God could have leveled the Egyptians with the blink of an eye. God was not concerned with the spiritual state of the pagan Egyptians because they would eventually come to disappear from history leaving nothing to western civilization but a few pyramids and some hieroglyphics. God didn’t create the plagues for the Egyptians, He created them for the Israelites because God was desperate to connect with his suffering people. For God had a plan for the Jewish People. According to God’s plan, the Jews would make an everlasting contribution to the world; they would be God’s partners in bringing light, and goodness and justice and righteousness to the people of the world.
So we have the plagues. The plagues themselves are very interesting: they were created to educate. As any good parent knows, a parent displays parental power and discipline not to overwhelm their children which just leads their children to one day rebel. Rather, parents discipline with power to educate and teach their children the proper path of behavior.
So it was with God. The slave people could not help but be impressed with Egyptian power, so God would bring the plagues upon Egypt to show the Israelites that Egyptian power was all facade. For the Egyptians, the river Nile was the source of life: it flooded each year leaving silt on the earth which fertilized the ground from which the Egyptians grew their crops. The Egyptians worshipped the Nile: it’s power, beauty and grandeur. The Nile no doubt impressed the Israelites too. So God turned the water to blood. In a single stroke, He killed the Nile. Human beings are not to worship rivers. Water and crops and sustenance come from the grace of God, not from the grace of pagan river gods. So God killed the river to teach this lesson.
Similarly, the second plague of frogs. The Egyptians saw their pagan rites, their temples, their dwellings, as clean and pure. Despite the tyranny, the slavery, the lack of concern for human life, the Egyptians saw themselves as righteous and clean. So God showed the Israelites the truth about the Egyptians. They were not clean and pure; their culture was morally corrupt, rancid, and spiritually filthy despite the wondrous dwellings they lived in. So God brought the frogs with mud and muck on their feet to fill the dwellings of the Egyptians with filth. The frogs covered everything. The houses, the people, the beds. Through this plague, God showed in external form, the internal truth about the moral decay of Egyptian society.
And each plague showed something similar. The gnats, the beetles, the boils, the hail: every aspect of so called Egyptian greatness was attacked and revealed to the Israelites for the facade that it was. The Egyptians were nothing without God. Their grandeur rested on a foundation of straw. With the mildest of divine winds blowing upon it, the whole wondrous Egyptian structure began to teeter on the brink of total destruction. And hence, the Israelites were impressed with how truly unimpressive the Egyptians really were.
Then we come to the ninth plague, the plague of darkness. Here was the penultimate lesson for the Israelites. We read in the morning prayers, psalm 30: “histarta panecha, hayiti nivhal,” when you hide your face from me, oh God, I am terrified.” The ninth plague of absolute darkness revealed the whole truth about the spiritual state of the Egyptians. There was no divine light in their society. God’s presence did not penetrate the evil and corruption of a culture that would enslave and debase human life. And the darkness was terrifying. Life without God’s light is a living hell of randomness, evil, meaninglessness, and emptiness. When the Egyptians saw the truth in the ninth plague, even they were terrified. God’s light does not shine into the lives of people who are unwilling to receive it. Evil keeps God away: goodness and justice bring God in. The Israelite dwellings had light during the ninth plague. And the light that they had allowed them to prepare to leave: to leave the evil, to leave the spiritual slavery, to find their way to freedom. Even in the midst of great evil, God’s light can penetrate to those whose eyes are open to see. And that light can redeem them. That light can guide them to freedom.
It took a great deal of effort, but God finally impressed the Israelites. He reached them, finally, and they ultimately saw the greatness of God.
So what can we say to the biblical archeologists who cannot find the historical proof for the exodus from Egypt? From my perspective, I say to them, so what? The historicity of Moses and the exodus is of little importance to the Jewish people and to the people of the world. What is important to us is what the Torah is telling us from the story; what the Torah is telling us about the nature of the world, and our place in it; what the torah is telling us about good and evil, about tyranny and freedom. The truth of the story is in its powerful moral lesson. And once we grasp the lesson, despite what the archeologists say, the story can transform our lives and indeed, change the world. And from my perspective, that is whole point; it’s what we are doing here; it’s why we are a people of faith.
Shabbat shalom.
Shmot 2010; Moses and Leadership
Shmot; Birth of Moses and Leadership
Our Torah reading this morning deals with the towering character of Moses. It is an unusual story, akin perhaps to the stories of Joseph. As a narrative, it stretches the bounds of plausibility: for Joseph, a slave in Potiphar’s household becomes a viceroy of Egypt. And in the case of Moses, a slave baby becomes a prince of Egypt. Clearly, both texts are implying that the hand of God is involved. It is God that makes sure that the people have just the leaders they need at just the right time.
Moses in particular. For the Torah, Moses is the quintessential leader; the most important, the most central: the savior and the law giver, from military leader to wilderness guide. Moses takes on the Pharoah, deals with a cranky stiff- necked people, stands down a dangerous rebellion, brings God’s rebuke to the people and delivers their salvation. In the case of Moses, God is directing history, as He does in all the other stories of the Bible.
But Moses is unique. There is something more to Moses; something different from all the other characters in the Bible. For Moses has a distinct personality: we can learn from his central place in the history of our nation, but we can also learn from his well defined and compelling character. Moses, as a man, can teach us how to be leader. And ultimately, Moses, as a man, can teach us how to be a complete human being. Let’s take a look.
We learn the most about the young Moses in his first interaction with God. God says to this one time prince and now simple shepherd: “I have seen the affliction of My people in Egypt…and now go, I will dispatch you to Pharaoh and you shall take My People, the Children of Israel, out of Egypt.” And Moses’ famous reply, “Who am I to go to Pharaoh and that I should take the Children of Israel out of Egypt.” Rashi paraphrases Moses, “ma ani chashuv ledaber im melachim,” Moses asks God, “ am I important enough to speak with Kings?”
Moses, of course, grew up as the son of a King --why wouldn’t he think himself important enough? The text tells us why in the Book of Numbers: “v’ha ish Moshe anav meod mikol ha adam asher al p’nai ha adamah.” The man Moses was the humblest man on the face of the earth.
Humility, the first and most important character trait in a leader. The great Musar master Rabbi Bachya Ibn Pekuda, 12th century Spain, wrote in his work, “Duties of the Heart,” that “All virtues and duties begin with humility.” Proverbs 18: “Before destruction the heart of man is haughty, and before honor goes humility.” Moses seemed more than comfortable with his lot as a shepherd: sheep don’t rebel, for the most part, they don’t whine and complain. For Moses, even growing up as a prince of Egypt ---he did not see himself as the savior of God’s chosen people; in fact, he did not see himself special at all.
Humility requires that a person take an accurate assessment of the self. Moses knew himself quite well, Chapter 4, verse 10 “Please my Lord, I am not a man of words….for I am heavy of mouth and heavy of speech.” Moses argues with God about his ability to fulfill this Divine mission; Moses is not engaging in self-abasement, here; he challenges God’s choice in him because of a recognized lack of skills. God is not deterred; God will be with him, Aaron will be with him: God essentially says, “ you don’t have to be perfect to be a perfect leader.” But you do have to be humble.
Humility leads into the next essential quality of leadership. The Pharaohs of Egypt built great monuments to themselves. Go to Cairo and visit the great Pyramids which cost thousands of lives to build in order to entomb one, single Pharaoh after he dies. The Pharaoh’s looked out at the world and saw them. Their concern was their honor, their glory, in fact, what they considered to be their divinity. Moses grew up in the Pharaoh’s household but was different. And this is how he was different. The text says, “it happened in those days that Moses grew up and went out to his brethren and observed their burdens; and he saw an Egyptian man striking a Hebrew man of his brethren. He turned this way and that and saw that there was no man, so he struck down the Egyptian… “
What I find important about this verse is the phrase, “observed their burdens.” After he grew up --matured, became an adult, he went out and observed the burdens of his people. There is a saying: “if you want to truly know me, you have to see and understand what it is that causes me pain.” The Pharaoh looked out over his kingdom and saw no one but himself; his own needs and desires. Moses looked out over the kingdom and saw the injustice: saw human beings with heavy burdens; he saw his brethren in pain. A true leader focuses away from the self and witnesses and responds to the pain of those he presumes to lead.
And finally, a leader must honor incertitude. Moses was unsure how the people of Israel would respond to his mission to lead them out of Egypt. He asked God, “behold when I come to the Children of Israel…..and they say to me, what is [this God’s]Name? What shall I tell them?” “ And God answers Moses, I shall be what I shall be. And[God] said, “so shall you say to the Children of Israel, “I Shall Be has sent you.” Well, one might rightly ask: what kind of name is that? It doesn’t sound like a name; it doesn’t make sense. Moses is launched into his mission with uncertainty. He doesn’t understand how he is going to achieve his goal. He is unsure about the Pharaoh, he doesn’t trust his own people and now, the God who sends him is incomprehensible. Moses begins his prophesy with more questions than answers and must tolerate that uncertainty. Here is the ugly truth about leadership. No leader knows exactly what he is doing. No leader can predict the future and know what will happen as a result of any decision that is made. A true leader must fully understand that and share that with those he leads and yet remain focused on his goal. A leader or anyone else who purports to know the whole truth regarding anything is a deceiver. And if he believes it himself, he is naïve and even worse, dangerous. Leadership is a messy business. Moses understands that, shares that with his people and yet succeeds despite the uncertainty.
When I speak about Moses as a model for leadership, I am really speaking about all of us. We are all leaders in some part of our lives. At work, in the shul, as parents. We all must stand before others at some time or another and express our ideals, our vision, our goals. So the character traits of Moses: humility, a concern for others even at the expense of our own needs and accepting the fact that we don’t know everything --these characteristics are important for us in our everyday lives. They are the necessary characteristics of leadership, but they are also the necessary characteristics for being an adult; for being a mentch.
Shabbat Shalom
Our Torah reading this morning deals with the towering character of Moses. It is an unusual story, akin perhaps to the stories of Joseph. As a narrative, it stretches the bounds of plausibility: for Joseph, a slave in Potiphar’s household becomes a viceroy of Egypt. And in the case of Moses, a slave baby becomes a prince of Egypt. Clearly, both texts are implying that the hand of God is involved. It is God that makes sure that the people have just the leaders they need at just the right time.
Moses in particular. For the Torah, Moses is the quintessential leader; the most important, the most central: the savior and the law giver, from military leader to wilderness guide. Moses takes on the Pharoah, deals with a cranky stiff- necked people, stands down a dangerous rebellion, brings God’s rebuke to the people and delivers their salvation. In the case of Moses, God is directing history, as He does in all the other stories of the Bible.
But Moses is unique. There is something more to Moses; something different from all the other characters in the Bible. For Moses has a distinct personality: we can learn from his central place in the history of our nation, but we can also learn from his well defined and compelling character. Moses, as a man, can teach us how to be leader. And ultimately, Moses, as a man, can teach us how to be a complete human being. Let’s take a look.
We learn the most about the young Moses in his first interaction with God. God says to this one time prince and now simple shepherd: “I have seen the affliction of My people in Egypt…and now go, I will dispatch you to Pharaoh and you shall take My People, the Children of Israel, out of Egypt.” And Moses’ famous reply, “Who am I to go to Pharaoh and that I should take the Children of Israel out of Egypt.” Rashi paraphrases Moses, “ma ani chashuv ledaber im melachim,” Moses asks God, “ am I important enough to speak with Kings?”
Moses, of course, grew up as the son of a King --why wouldn’t he think himself important enough? The text tells us why in the Book of Numbers: “v’ha ish Moshe anav meod mikol ha adam asher al p’nai ha adamah.” The man Moses was the humblest man on the face of the earth.
Humility, the first and most important character trait in a leader. The great Musar master Rabbi Bachya Ibn Pekuda, 12th century Spain, wrote in his work, “Duties of the Heart,” that “All virtues and duties begin with humility.” Proverbs 18: “Before destruction the heart of man is haughty, and before honor goes humility.” Moses seemed more than comfortable with his lot as a shepherd: sheep don’t rebel, for the most part, they don’t whine and complain. For Moses, even growing up as a prince of Egypt ---he did not see himself as the savior of God’s chosen people; in fact, he did not see himself special at all.
Humility requires that a person take an accurate assessment of the self. Moses knew himself quite well, Chapter 4, verse 10 “Please my Lord, I am not a man of words….for I am heavy of mouth and heavy of speech.” Moses argues with God about his ability to fulfill this Divine mission; Moses is not engaging in self-abasement, here; he challenges God’s choice in him because of a recognized lack of skills. God is not deterred; God will be with him, Aaron will be with him: God essentially says, “ you don’t have to be perfect to be a perfect leader.” But you do have to be humble.
Humility leads into the next essential quality of leadership. The Pharaohs of Egypt built great monuments to themselves. Go to Cairo and visit the great Pyramids which cost thousands of lives to build in order to entomb one, single Pharaoh after he dies. The Pharaoh’s looked out at the world and saw them. Their concern was their honor, their glory, in fact, what they considered to be their divinity. Moses grew up in the Pharaoh’s household but was different. And this is how he was different. The text says, “it happened in those days that Moses grew up and went out to his brethren and observed their burdens; and he saw an Egyptian man striking a Hebrew man of his brethren. He turned this way and that and saw that there was no man, so he struck down the Egyptian… “
What I find important about this verse is the phrase, “observed their burdens.” After he grew up --matured, became an adult, he went out and observed the burdens of his people. There is a saying: “if you want to truly know me, you have to see and understand what it is that causes me pain.” The Pharaoh looked out over his kingdom and saw no one but himself; his own needs and desires. Moses looked out over the kingdom and saw the injustice: saw human beings with heavy burdens; he saw his brethren in pain. A true leader focuses away from the self and witnesses and responds to the pain of those he presumes to lead.
And finally, a leader must honor incertitude. Moses was unsure how the people of Israel would respond to his mission to lead them out of Egypt. He asked God, “behold when I come to the Children of Israel…..and they say to me, what is [this God’s]Name? What shall I tell them?” “ And God answers Moses, I shall be what I shall be. And[God] said, “so shall you say to the Children of Israel, “I Shall Be has sent you.” Well, one might rightly ask: what kind of name is that? It doesn’t sound like a name; it doesn’t make sense. Moses is launched into his mission with uncertainty. He doesn’t understand how he is going to achieve his goal. He is unsure about the Pharaoh, he doesn’t trust his own people and now, the God who sends him is incomprehensible. Moses begins his prophesy with more questions than answers and must tolerate that uncertainty. Here is the ugly truth about leadership. No leader knows exactly what he is doing. No leader can predict the future and know what will happen as a result of any decision that is made. A true leader must fully understand that and share that with those he leads and yet remain focused on his goal. A leader or anyone else who purports to know the whole truth regarding anything is a deceiver. And if he believes it himself, he is naïve and even worse, dangerous. Leadership is a messy business. Moses understands that, shares that with his people and yet succeeds despite the uncertainty.
When I speak about Moses as a model for leadership, I am really speaking about all of us. We are all leaders in some part of our lives. At work, in the shul, as parents. We all must stand before others at some time or another and express our ideals, our vision, our goals. So the character traits of Moses: humility, a concern for others even at the expense of our own needs and accepting the fact that we don’t know everything --these characteristics are important for us in our everyday lives. They are the necessary characteristics of leadership, but they are also the necessary characteristics for being an adult; for being a mentch.
Shabbat Shalom
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Power and the Maccabbees
Power and how to use it. The Jewish people’s relationship to power is ambivalent. We see that clearly from the sacred texts we access during the holiday of Hanukah: the last day of which we celebrate today.
We light candles, exchange some presents; we have parties during Hanukah, seeing this time of year as focused mainly on children. As the sun goes down early in December, we use the Hanukiah to light our homes and bring a bit of holiday cheer to our lives.
Interesting to note, however, that this holiday is based on a deadly serious historical event and since this event, the Jewish people, particularly the Rabbis in the Talmud, have not known what to make of it.
What was the event? It happened in the second century BCE. The Syrian Greeks, led by Antiochus Epiphanes IV, trying to shore up control over his kingdom which included the Land of Israel, sacked the Temple in Jerusalem, desecrated it with pagan idols and outlawed Jewish practices. He thought by doing so, he would break the will of the Jews, pacifying them. Just the opposite happened. The Jews of that time were furious and led by a rebel of the Hasmonean household, named Judah Maccabbee, a small band of soldiers, took on the Greek army and by virtue of their prowess, and a lot of luck, beat the army of Antiochus and regained control of the Temple. Many died in this battle and most of the Hasmonean household including Judah Maccabbee would die in subsequent battles. As for the Temple, the Maccabbees cleaned it up and rededicated it on the 25th of Kislev in the year 165 BCE. The Hasmoneans would have sovereign control over the land of Israel for the next 100 years.
The first book of Maccabbees, written more than likely by a court reporter of the Hasmonean household, focuses almost entirely on the military successes of the family. If there was a miracle that happened there, it was that a small group of soldiers beat a large foreign regular army. No mention of oil. No miracle with the Temple Menorah.
So then came the Rabbis of the Talmud writing more than 200 years later, during a time of an iron-fisted occupation by the Roman Empire. They looked at the military victory of the Maccabbees and it caused them anxiety. They had seen the results of Jewish rebellion in their era, the destruction of the Temple in 70 CE and the disastrous Bar Kochba revolt of 132 CE. The last thing the Rabbis wanted to see were more Jewish rebellions, leading to more slaughter, so they played down, even ignored the Maccabbean battles. In the Talmudic tractate Shabbat we read a passage about the meaning of Hanukah which discusses the of oil that should have lasted one day but ended up miraculously lasting eight. The miracle wasn’t military, it was ritual. And in the Haftorah of Shabbat Hanukah, again, selected by the Rabbis, we read the verse “Not by might and not by power, but by my spirit, says the Lord.” Military might is not necessary, implies the Talmud. God will fight for us and send us the messiah and perfect the world and our job is to believe and wait.
And this has been the Jewish way up until the 20th century. Jews lived in other countries, Jews kept to themselves, Jews did not rebel but followed the laws and the will of their host countries. There was almost 2000 years of Jews keeping a low profile and hoping for the best.
Of course, the best rarely happened in the Diaspora. Crusades, Inquisition, isolation, persecutions, massacres, expulsions and genocide. But the Jews waited none the less, as directed by the Talmud. It was just too dangerous, they thought, to fight back.
The last time, before 1948, that the Jews were in sovereign control of the Land of Israel was in the second century BCE, during the time of the Maccabbees. The last time before Zionism, with just a few exceptions, that Jews fought back to defend themselves to save their own lives, was in antiquity. How long would it be before Jews took their own fate into their own hands?
In 1980, I spent a year in Israel, taking classes at Hebrew University. Interestingly enough, our history teachers would cancel classes around Hanukah as they were all called up for reserve duty in the army. Why were they called up during Hanukah? Because during Hanukah, they would lecture to the Israeli army troops about the Maccabbees and what happened when Jews fought back. In Israel, there is a different ethic regarding the military which has influenced Jews around the world. Since 1948 and especially since the Six Day War in 1967, Jews have felt differently about themselves. We still wait for the messiah, but when necessary, we deploy an army to protect ourselves. Jews in this country become political activists to protect the interests of our people. Jews act in the world now, like the Macabbees did in their time. We are no longer passive in the face of our enemies. It is a different world now for the Jewish people.
President Obama gave what I believe to be the most important speech of his presidency thus far. When he received the Nobel Peace Prize, he did not hesitate to mention the irony of a war time president receiving a prize for peace. And he said the following, “we must begin by acknowledging the hard truth that we will not eradicate violent conflict in our lifetimes. There will be times when nations –acting individually or in concert –will find the use of force not only necessary but morally justified.” He said, “make no mistake, evil does exist in the world.”
I believe this speech is so important because it goes to the anxiety felt by the Rabbis in the Talmud and by Israel and the world Jewish community today. There is evil in this world and our people and all people must protect themselves from it consuming them. It has happened before and we must never let it happen again. Israel, as do all Democratic nations, wishes to be able to lay down their arms, dismantle their missiles, and send their soldiers home to their families. But to do so today would be an act of unforgivable naiveté and national suicide. As the President implied in his speech, this dream of world peace will probably not come true in our lifetimes.
The Rabbis in the Talmud knew that Jewish rebellion during the times of Roman occupation and repression was a lost cause. But Jews had no power then and remaining passive was good policy. That is not the case today nor must it ever be the case again. The world is very harsh on the State of Israel when it seeks to defend itself from its enemies. Perhaps the world is more comfortable with the idea that Jews are victims; they were victims for two millennia and so it should remain today.
And to that, we say no. The Maccabbees, not the rabbis, should be our model in modern times. Sometimes the careful, moral use of power is necessary and indeed, according to Jewish law, obligatory to defend one’s life. I think that is clear to our President and it is certainly clear to the State of Israel and the Jewish people. As it should be.
Shabbat Shalom and Happy Hanukah
We light candles, exchange some presents; we have parties during Hanukah, seeing this time of year as focused mainly on children. As the sun goes down early in December, we use the Hanukiah to light our homes and bring a bit of holiday cheer to our lives.
Interesting to note, however, that this holiday is based on a deadly serious historical event and since this event, the Jewish people, particularly the Rabbis in the Talmud, have not known what to make of it.
What was the event? It happened in the second century BCE. The Syrian Greeks, led by Antiochus Epiphanes IV, trying to shore up control over his kingdom which included the Land of Israel, sacked the Temple in Jerusalem, desecrated it with pagan idols and outlawed Jewish practices. He thought by doing so, he would break the will of the Jews, pacifying them. Just the opposite happened. The Jews of that time were furious and led by a rebel of the Hasmonean household, named Judah Maccabbee, a small band of soldiers, took on the Greek army and by virtue of their prowess, and a lot of luck, beat the army of Antiochus and regained control of the Temple. Many died in this battle and most of the Hasmonean household including Judah Maccabbee would die in subsequent battles. As for the Temple, the Maccabbees cleaned it up and rededicated it on the 25th of Kislev in the year 165 BCE. The Hasmoneans would have sovereign control over the land of Israel for the next 100 years.
The first book of Maccabbees, written more than likely by a court reporter of the Hasmonean household, focuses almost entirely on the military successes of the family. If there was a miracle that happened there, it was that a small group of soldiers beat a large foreign regular army. No mention of oil. No miracle with the Temple Menorah.
So then came the Rabbis of the Talmud writing more than 200 years later, during a time of an iron-fisted occupation by the Roman Empire. They looked at the military victory of the Maccabbees and it caused them anxiety. They had seen the results of Jewish rebellion in their era, the destruction of the Temple in 70 CE and the disastrous Bar Kochba revolt of 132 CE. The last thing the Rabbis wanted to see were more Jewish rebellions, leading to more slaughter, so they played down, even ignored the Maccabbean battles. In the Talmudic tractate Shabbat we read a passage about the meaning of Hanukah which discusses the of oil that should have lasted one day but ended up miraculously lasting eight. The miracle wasn’t military, it was ritual. And in the Haftorah of Shabbat Hanukah, again, selected by the Rabbis, we read the verse “Not by might and not by power, but by my spirit, says the Lord.” Military might is not necessary, implies the Talmud. God will fight for us and send us the messiah and perfect the world and our job is to believe and wait.
And this has been the Jewish way up until the 20th century. Jews lived in other countries, Jews kept to themselves, Jews did not rebel but followed the laws and the will of their host countries. There was almost 2000 years of Jews keeping a low profile and hoping for the best.
Of course, the best rarely happened in the Diaspora. Crusades, Inquisition, isolation, persecutions, massacres, expulsions and genocide. But the Jews waited none the less, as directed by the Talmud. It was just too dangerous, they thought, to fight back.
The last time, before 1948, that the Jews were in sovereign control of the Land of Israel was in the second century BCE, during the time of the Maccabbees. The last time before Zionism, with just a few exceptions, that Jews fought back to defend themselves to save their own lives, was in antiquity. How long would it be before Jews took their own fate into their own hands?
In 1980, I spent a year in Israel, taking classes at Hebrew University. Interestingly enough, our history teachers would cancel classes around Hanukah as they were all called up for reserve duty in the army. Why were they called up during Hanukah? Because during Hanukah, they would lecture to the Israeli army troops about the Maccabbees and what happened when Jews fought back. In Israel, there is a different ethic regarding the military which has influenced Jews around the world. Since 1948 and especially since the Six Day War in 1967, Jews have felt differently about themselves. We still wait for the messiah, but when necessary, we deploy an army to protect ourselves. Jews in this country become political activists to protect the interests of our people. Jews act in the world now, like the Macabbees did in their time. We are no longer passive in the face of our enemies. It is a different world now for the Jewish people.
President Obama gave what I believe to be the most important speech of his presidency thus far. When he received the Nobel Peace Prize, he did not hesitate to mention the irony of a war time president receiving a prize for peace. And he said the following, “we must begin by acknowledging the hard truth that we will not eradicate violent conflict in our lifetimes. There will be times when nations –acting individually or in concert –will find the use of force not only necessary but morally justified.” He said, “make no mistake, evil does exist in the world.”
I believe this speech is so important because it goes to the anxiety felt by the Rabbis in the Talmud and by Israel and the world Jewish community today. There is evil in this world and our people and all people must protect themselves from it consuming them. It has happened before and we must never let it happen again. Israel, as do all Democratic nations, wishes to be able to lay down their arms, dismantle their missiles, and send their soldiers home to their families. But to do so today would be an act of unforgivable naiveté and national suicide. As the President implied in his speech, this dream of world peace will probably not come true in our lifetimes.
The Rabbis in the Talmud knew that Jewish rebellion during the times of Roman occupation and repression was a lost cause. But Jews had no power then and remaining passive was good policy. That is not the case today nor must it ever be the case again. The world is very harsh on the State of Israel when it seeks to defend itself from its enemies. Perhaps the world is more comfortable with the idea that Jews are victims; they were victims for two millennia and so it should remain today.
And to that, we say no. The Maccabbees, not the rabbis, should be our model in modern times. Sometimes the careful, moral use of power is necessary and indeed, according to Jewish law, obligatory to defend one’s life. I think that is clear to our President and it is certainly clear to the State of Israel and the Jewish people. As it should be.
Shabbat Shalom and Happy Hanukah
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