Drashot for Shabbat Ki Tetze

The Pursuit of Justice

Friday, 31 August 2012

In America, any Jewish parent of my parents’ generation worth their gefilte fish wanted his or her children to grow up to be a doctor or a lawyer.  If the child was female, it would be good enough to marry a doctor or lawyer.  Things have changed somewhat over the years.  With more young women than men studying medicine and law, it has become more likely that one’s son will marry a doctor or lawyer.  But that’s another story, for another day.  Over the years, the notion that these are the two worthiest professional pursuits has not changed.  And it seems that this bias transcends national borders and continents.

                When I was young I didn’t understand this.  I did know that these are the two professions were where, on average, one earns the highest salaries of any professional.  But was it really all about money?  Don’t get me wrong; it’s important to do well.  Everybody should know financial security.  The ease-of-mind that comes from having the financial means to take care of their needs, and some of their wants as well.  Like many adults, I measure my financial success to some extent by the degree, to which I out-earn my parents.  I pray that my children, in their own professional lives, will far out-earn me.  No, it’s not the most important measure.  Of course happiness and personal fulfilment are more important and are not strictly dependent on wealth.  But I do hope that my children will know financial independence.  I hope that the current and persistent economic downturn will not ultimately make things more difficult for them in that area.

                As I studied Judaism and began to understand the values that are important in a Jewish worldview, I began to better appreciate the Jewish gravitation to these two professions:  medicine and the bar.

                In Jewish law and tradition, everything hinges upon life and good health.  For purposes of ensuring one’s health, most Jewish law is be pushed aside.  The minutiae of Jewish practice take a back seat to maintaining, or restoring, one’s health.  For example, one must not even consider fasting on Yom Kippur if one has any medical contraindications.  If you are taking medications that must be taken with food to be effective.  If you are hypoglycaemic or diabetic.  And so on.  And if beneficial medicine for one’s health condition contains treif ingredients, one must take it even so.  This issue comes up all the time with regard to vaccinations.  Many common vaccinations contain matter from forbidden species.  The bottom line for Jews is that we must take beneficial vaccinations and medications, regardless of the ingredients.  Additionally, all the laws of the Shabbat are pushed aside if one is engaged in the preservation of life.  And while many occupations are so engaged, medicine is probably the most obvious, and revered of these.  It is therefore no mystery – starting salaries and projected lifetime earnings aside – why most Jewish parents’ first choice is for their children to grow up to be doctors.

                I’ll never forget when Eyal was young – perhaps six or seven – and he came home to proclaim “I want to be a police officer!”

                “What a wonderful idea,” I responded. “And such a necessary and honourable profession.  What kind of police officer would you like to become?”

                Eyal looked at me, puzzled. “I mean, what branch of law enforcement would you like to go into?” I asked. “Would you rather be a neurologist, or an anaesthesiologist?”

                Please, no offense to any of my readers who are in law enforcement!  You probably want your kid to grow up to be a doctor, too!  Then there’s the law… 

                The Hebrew word we Jews assign to giving to philanthropic causes, is tzedaka, which means justice.  Not charity, which means love.  This is no accident.  At its root, our tradition prescribes taking care of the needs of the most destitute among us.  In this week’s Torah portion, we shall read about how the farmer cannot order his harvesting crews to go back over the fields, or the trees, or the vines, to get the fruit, veg and grain missed the first time.  The gleanings belong to the poorest and most destitute among us.  The orphan.  The widow.  The outcast in our midst.  Since most of us are not engaged in agricultural pursuits, we draw from this the lesson that we must give generously, in proportion to our means, to help the destitute among us.

                This doesn’t mean that we must open our wallets to panhandlers, for example.  Many of the latter are, after all, drug or alcohol abusers.  Must we reach into our pockets and sacrifice any loose change to enable someone else’s self-destructive way of life?  In a word, no.  But it is important to consider such troubled souls when planning our own systematic, philanthropic giving.  There are a number of excellent programs that reach out to addicts and alcoholics on the street, give them shelter, and offer them rehabilitation.  It may feel good on a certain level, to press a gold or silver coin into the palm of someone who is obviously suffering.  But if you really want to help them, give to the likes of the Salvation Army.  Then steer the street addict to their doors.

                When we think of the law today, we tend not to think immediately of philanthropy, or of giving to causes.  Criminal law does take into account the guilty defendant’s circumstances in sentencing.  To an extent.  But those circumstances do not come into account in deciding guilt.  Also in civil law, in disputes between parties.  What matters most are the facts of the case.  Many courthouses in my country are adorned by the image of ‘Blind Justice’ – a robed female figure holding a scale, and wearing a blindfold.  To many, this is considered the ideal in the administration of law.  But the Torah teaches somewhat differently.

                In Torah, there is an element of law whose purpose is to prevent, or act out against destitution and privation.  That’s why this week’s reading cautions about collecting debts – even though they may be valid debts – from the poor.  The poor are not entitled to an automobile.  Or a large, flat screen TV.  Or the latest smartphone.  If a poor person borrows money for such luxuries and finds himself unable to pay it back, I would not afford him any particular protection against having them repossessed.  Anybody who lends money to a poor person to buy such things is not ultimately doing him a favour.  But the poor are, or should be entitled to a roof over their heads.  Nourishment to sustain life and health.  Basic clothing to wear.  Amongst other things.

                For this reason, we have taken to use the phrase ‘Social Justice.’  It is used to refer to the quest to provide basic sustenance and opportunity to the disadvantaged.  We all benefit when the downtrodden can find ways to overcome their circumstances.  Even more so, when the downtrodden believe in their ability to overcome their circumstances. 

                The great Rambam, the Jewish philosopher of the 12^th century, understood this.  He wrote that the highest level of tzedaka is to teach a poor man an honest trade, to enable him to make a living.  He understood the connection between productive work, self-respect, and elevation of the soul.  That he considered this an essential element in the establishment of justice, is telling.

                Upon Googling ‘lawyer jokes Australia’ I had some 240,000 hits.  Therefore, I’m guessing that the legal profession’s image has suffered as much here as it has in America in recent years.  Lawyers are a species that we come to love to hate.  Doctors too, for that matter.  There were over a million hits for Australian doctor jokes.  This, while we revere both professions.  This probably reflects that we expect those whose calling is to such professions, to be miraculously free to human foibles.  And yetzer hara, the evil inclination.

                I think that, at the end of the day, we revere the professions of medicine and law because of what they stand for.  A life free of unnecessary pain and suffering.  And a life of opportunity and fairness.  To aspire to be the one of the enablers of these lofty goals for other people, is certainly a praiseworthy ambition.  Perhaps this is why even those parents who have made their own fortunes in business and entrepreneurship, would be happiest to see their kids grow up and go into the helping professions.  And especially these two.

                And it’s why we hold up these professions to the highest scrutiny, and lampoon their members when they don’t measure up. 

                The Torah makes it clear that justice is not only about the truth.  The latter is, of course, of supreme importance.  But truth is not the only element to consider, for the purposes of establishing and maintaining a just society.  Tzedaka, complete justice demands that we look beyond whodunit.  That we use the law as an instrument for lifting people up.  Including those of the most destitute circumstances.  Perhaps especially those. 

   

Model Seder at Sinai College

Let’s Use the Resources We Have

Saturday, 01September 2012

We all know the image of the Four Sons of the Passover Seder.  Sometimes I feel like the Fourth Son, the one who doesn’t even know what question to ask.  In short, sometimes I feel completely clueless.  Being a newcomer here in Australia has made me feel that way at times.

                There are the needs of which I’m aware.  For example, I know that I must file an Australian tax return.  So I asked around until I got what I thought was a good answer on how, and when, and where to file a tax return.  Clara and I are beginning to feel very much at home here, and we have the documentation to prove it.  We carry Queensland driving licenses, Australian ATM and credit cards, and our Blue Cards.  We have a tolling account with Queensland Motorways.  When using the Gateway Bridge we hear that comforting ‘beep’ from our transceiver and know that the toll has been paid.

Modern Classroom at Sinai College

But then there are the things which, if I don’t hear you talking about them, I’m left unaware.  So I was surprised this week, to learn that Jewish families here on the Gold Coast have a Jewish day school at their disposal to educate their children from Prep Year to Seventh Year.  And more than that; the school is co-located with a child care centre, run by the Jewish community, which offers an element of Jewish learning and socialisation to its early childhood curriculum.  Because bus service from the Gold Coast is available, Jewish families in our community can use these resources with a minimum of sacrifice.  I have to tell you, I was surprised and pleased.  At the same time, I was a bit dismayed that more members of this congregation do not avail themselves of these resources.

                Many of you know that Clara and I have made – and continue to make – certain sacrifices to send our children to Jewish school.  Eyal recently graduated from, and Ma’ayan is currently a senior in, a very unique and wonderful school in North Carolina, USA.  It’s a boarding school, meaning that our children have been home only for school holidays since the age of 14.  While we were until recently living in Colorado, our children were studying in North Carolina – half a continent away.  But it was worth this price – and the financial sacrifices we had to make – to send them to the American Hebrew Academy.  It’s a small high school with a dual curriculum:  a rigorous general academic experience as well as a complete Jewish studies curriculum.  But beyond the subjects taught, the American Hebrew Academy immerses its students in a Jewish environment that belongs to the children.  They are free to explore Jewish options in an atmosphere where it is normal to be Jewish.  It is hard to put a price on that.  It is well worth the sacrifice of not driving a newer automobile.  Or living in a larger home.  Or enjoying more holiday travel.

                When our children were in primary school, we were fortunate that they attended good schools.  They started in the UK, attending the small county school that was located a short walk from the estate where we lived.  In rural Suffolk, in the village of Beck Row the local school was a safe haven for children to begin to master the intricacies of literacy, numeracy and citizenship.

                After two years in England, we moved to Colorado where we lived on a military base.  The schools for the children of the families living on base were among the best in the state.  It was a well-run school district, and the educators running it were wise to partner with the military to utilise the wonderful human and material resources found on base.

                After three years, we moved to Germany.  There too, our children attended schools on the US base, remaining within the American curriculum model and system.  The schools were well-supported by the military command and especially by the parents of the children.  I was very involved in the schools, as chaplain to the faculty and in other capacities, for example judging for National History Day and for forensics competitions.

                But one aspect that always gave us a bit of consternation was that our children were almost always the only Jewish children in their respective classes.  We didn’t feel it was necessary for them to favour Jewish playmates exclusively.  And we taught them that being Jewish conveyed a certain responsibility to model the ideals of our tradition to their non-Jewish peers and associates.  We would always offer to make presentations in our children’s classes about Jewish holidays.  When a group of Ma’ayan’s non-Jewish schoolmates – and several of her teachers – sat through her bat mitzvah service, I was happy.  We didn’t want our children to be so particularistic that they avoided close friendships except with Jews.  But at the same time, we worried that they would never know the comfort of being surrounded by other children who share a lot of the concerns that, as Jewish parents, are important and unique to us.

                This is why we were excited to learn of the American Hebrew Academy, a co-educational, non-denominational Jewish boarding high school.  And why we were happy that, when we offered our children the opportunity to attend the Academy upon entering ninth year, they each embraced the idea.  Despite our living at the time back in Colorado and a day’s air travel away from the school, we were happy with the choice.  The passage of time has only acquitted us.  Our children have grown to be proud Jews, ready to represent our people in whatever endeavours they might choose.  At the same time, they have developed a certain independence that will only help them in life.

                Had there been a quality Jewish day school in Colorado Springs, we perhaps would not have focused so completely on sending our children out of town for high school.  If the benefits of a full-time Jewish education had been available without the residential aspect, we probably would have made whatever sacrifices required to send them there instead.  But one way or another, as committed Jews we agree that it is important to integrate Jewish and secular learning.  Only in that way can they begin to achieve a certain wholeness and integration of the different aspects of their selves.

                Our neighbours of other religions know and understand this as well.  Those who take their faith seriously, endeavour to send their children to schools that reflect the values that are most important to them.  One of the most difficult aspects of belonging to a minority faith is worrying about finding education for our children that reflects our essential values.

                I do not blame Jewish parents who send their children to Christian schools when Jewish schools are not available.  Often these schools are the best local options for academic rigour.  When our children attended county school in England, they were exposed to a certain amount of Christian religious programming.  Since it wasn’t coercive, it wasn’t problematic.  We didn’t have a problem explaining to our children that the Christian faith is a beautiful way to G-d, a path to goodness, but that the Jewish way is our special path.

                But when there are options that offer an integration of academic excellence and specifically Jewish values, I cannot but endorse those options.  For families on the Gold Coast, with young children up to seventh year, there are such options.  Thank G-d, we have at our disposal the wonderful Sinai College and Burbank Community Day Care.  They are not ultra-orthodox indoctrination centres.  Rather, they are places where Jewish values – free of any particular denominational bias – are part and parcel of the daily programme.  And their fee schedules make them entirely competitive with other resources currently being used by our families.

                I realise that this congregation has a demographic such that few of you have young children who might be served by Burbank Community Day Care and Sinai College.  But I also know that a number of you have grown children – and even grandchildren – who have kids in that age range.  In some cases, they live in this area but do not belong to this community, so I am not personally aware of them.  This is why I believe it is important enough to mention this at a Shabbat morning service.  There are obvious limits to the extent of ‘arm-twisting’ you can successfully carry out.  But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try!  So whether your offspring are married to other Jews or not, if they express an interest for their children to have a viable Jewish identity you can and should talk positively about this Jewish school and child care.  

                I wish it were so that a full Jewish upper school were available to our children here.  Perhaps someday it will be.  For now, we have a wonderful Jewish primary school.  Let’s do what we can to see that it is utilised by our community.