As we see in this week’s Torah reading, the people Israel respond
with great aplomb to Moses’ instruction to bring forth gifts and offerings of
specific materials for the building of the Tabernacle. Oh, how they bring forth gifts! So many gifts, that Moses has to say, Okay,
enough! As my colleague Rabbi Kim
Ettlinger at Temple Beth Israel observes in her drash this week: “I believe this is every shule treasurer’s dream.” And she notes humorously: “I think the Moshiach might come sooner.”
I spoke about one
aspect of this last night, about the juxtaposition of this narrative with last
week’s, where the people so recently brought forth gifts and offerings for the
Golden Calf. Today I wish to focus on a
different aspect. What makes people
give freely, or not, to the enterprise of religion? There are obviously commonalities between
the challenges in this area faced by us and our neighbours’ religions. But of course, I ask, and contemplate, from a
specifically Jewish point-of-view.
Of course, in
speaking on this topic, I realise I am taking something of a risk. You may see it as a matter where I have a
pecuniary interest, and you thus may dismiss what I am saying. But I do hope that you don’t. Because in reality, I have no pecuniary
interest whatsoever. When Clara and I no
longer feel that we’re making a positive contribution to the enterprise that is
Temple Shalom, then we will move on. And,
if we don’t feel we are contributing positively to Judaism, then we will move
on from the rabbinate. Whether that
might be tomorrow, or five years from now, or ten, or whatever. I will move on to other endeavours. Whether income-earning, or just deciding how
to spend my time in retirement.
If this sounds smug,
then forgive me. But it is a gift to be
a rabbi who is past being a ‘careerist.’ And frankly, it is a gift for you to
have such a rabbi. Because Clara and I
thus have the freedom to look at your lives, at your congregation, and tell you
what we really think. And not to
feel constrained in telling you for fear of our tenure here, or anywhere
else. Whatever you like, or don’t like
about what we do and how we do it, I’m sure you would agree that that is an important
gift we can give you. If you don’t agree
with what I’ve just said, then you are probably more concerned with trying to control
me, then to let me give you something enduring and positive.
So what makes people
respond willingly to the call for support of religion? It might seem self-evident, but since clearly
not everyone responds in that way, I will tell you why I think they do. Because religion represents our nexus with
God. We sense a need for God in our
lives. This, even though we don’t talk
about it very much. This, even though many
of us don’t worry too much about traditional Jewish observance. Many of us don’t worry about avoiding prawns, but
not because we don’t believe that God lives and that matters. Rather, because we rebel against the vision
of a God who cares so deeply about that sort of thing. So even Jews who (gasp!) eat prawns may give
generously to keep the shule and other Jewish institutions alive because this
God-meeting is important.
It’s true that our
shule is not the equivalent of the ancient Temple. When our forebears made the transition to
synagogue-based Judaism, the Judaism of prayer and study and mitzvot, it
was an important departure from the Judaism of the cultic practices of ritual
sacrifice performed by the Cohanim. This place, and what we do here, is not a continuation
of the Temple. No, it’s more a substitution.
And the later
transition, that which our more recent forebears made or perhaps which we
ourselves made, is no less important. In
transitioning from traditional Judaism, to progressive Judaism. This transition was not so much a substitution,
as it was a change of focus. That’s
why traditional and progressive Judaism now coexist and thrive side-by-side. One isn’t a radical replacement for the
other. It’s just a different focus. I never thought about this until an Orthodox
colleague pointed it out to me. As he
put it: The most non-traditional Reform
Jew has more in common with the most traditional Orthodox Jew, than he has with
a secularist. To hear this, and
reflect on it, was a revelation to me. And
it’s true. That many Orthodox Jews would
refute it, does not mean that it isn’t.
All this explanation
of the relationship of the Judaism of our age to the Judaism of the Temple is
interesting and instructive. Does Temple
Shalom represent a continuation, or a substitution of the ancient Beit
Mikdash? And does it represent a
substitution for a traditional shule, or just a change of focus? It really doesn’t matter that much. And that’s not to say that Temple Shalom isn’t
important. God can be present wherever
we are, whatever we are doing. But here
in shule, we intentionally call upon God, and we wait to feel His Presence.
And what about
those who do not freely support the shule? What is their reason? And of course, the answer is…it depends.
Obviously, some
of us simply have more discretionary income than others. The more you have left of your monthly pay
after you’ve paid the bills, the more generous you can be. But I don’t think that explains why many Jews,
whatever the modest circumstances of their financial situation, don’t give at
all. Not giving to the shule, even when
you do spend money on entertainment, and dining out, and non-necessities such
as the latest iPhone, is making an important statement. That the shule probably doesn’t matter to you. Or perhaps it does matter, but you’ve
somehow internalised that it’s simply an entitlement. Or perhaps, you don’t give because you are
frustrated at the way the temple is run?
If the last, then withholding support to the shule is not the answer. The answer is to make your voice heard above
the background noise. If you think
change is warranted, and you’re not a vocal advocate for change, then what does
that say about you? It’s understandable
to pull back – either by not contributing financially or by not being very
involved – when one feels frustrated. But
if it matters, then a better course is to let your voice be heard. Think about it.
Moses faced the
challenge of turning gifts away when all the needs for the Tabernacle were met. Our treasurer probably thinks he should have
such challenges! In our day and age,
keeping a shule running is a more tenuous enterprise than establishing, and
running, the ancient sanctuary. But
instead of just grousing about our reality, we should ask ourselves why we
contribute – or don’t. If we’re honest
with ourselves, it speaks volumes about what it means in our day and age to have
a meeting with God. How we support this
endeavour offers important insights into what motivates us, and why. It is an important element in the
self-awareness we should strive for as we look at the choices we make. Shabbat shalom.
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