Drashot for Parashat Noah - Enjoy!

Take Responsibility and See a Better Day

Friday, 29 October 2012

There’s a delightful Midrash on the creation of man.  In it, the angels complain to G-d about what a mistake He made by creating man.  This, because of the mess the offspring of Adam and Eve have made of creation.  G-d tries to argue with the angels, sort of as a barrister for man’s defence.  He argues that man has many positive virtues.  But the angels have too many facts at their disposal.  They make a damning case against man, ripping apart G-d’s best efforts to mount an effective defence.  Finally, G-d throws up his arms in defeat and says:  Okay, so I screwed up when I creating them, but I did create them…so we’re stuck with them!

          In this Midrash, G-d is modelling a mindset that would do us well to adopt.  I don’t mean about man, but I mean about other things that we might create.  We can spend the rest of our lives rueing what we’ve wrought.  Alternatively, we can do what we can to set things as right as possible and then learn from the experience and move on.  The Torah’s account of the interactions between G-d and man – and later G-d and the People Israel – show a Sovereign who slips up from time to time but takes His lessons well.

           We all make mistakes.  I won’t say it is impossible to live without mistakes.  But I’ve never met someone who made none.  On Yom Kippur we talk a lot about our sins.  The Hebrew word for sin – chet – means, simply missing the mark.  Not quite aiming straight.  Messing up.  This definition is not endorsing sin.  Rather, it simply points out the existential reality that we’re all subject to it…all the time.  Even when our intentions are pure, we have a way of being distracted and not hitting the target squarely.  When our intentions are not pure, that’s a different story.  That’s transgression, avon or pesha.  That’s why we need Yom Kippur.  Not because we’re all wicked.  Rather, because we all…screw up.

          Some of us, when we miss the mark, tend to make up all kinds of excuses for our failure.  As I’ve pointed out before, there is regrettably an entire culture built around avoidance of blame.  Jews are certainly not exempt from this mindset.  It’s an unfortunate truth in America, and it is so here in Australia as well.  We make mistakes or don’t quite hit the mark, and we look for all kinds of ways to explain that it was beyond our control.

          How many times have we heard people explaining their own failures by reference to circumstances over which they assert that they had no control?  I spent two years as a prison chaplain in a US Government federal prison complex housing some of the world’s roughest and most notorious violent offenders.  And yet, the entire complex is full of innocent men!  At least, by their own accounts.  How many times I spent a day talking to inmates, and drove home thinking that I must be the only guilty man alive! 

          Sometimes we engage in this denial for ourselves, and sometimes others do it for us.  Think of how many times you have heard someone defending someone who had committed a particularly odious act, or who had simply screwed up.  Two weeks ago, supporters of President Obama refused to accept that Their Guy hadn’t prepared well for his first debate with Republican challenger Mitt Romney.  Journalists who are in his pocket claimed it was the elevation in Denver, the Mile High City, where the debate took place.  Vice President Biden had a different take:  Romney lied.  But the President, to his credit, admitted:  I had a bad night.

          Think of how much better our lives would be if we could overcome this tendency to cast blame outside of ourselves, or the ones in whom we believe.  If we maintain that nothing is our fault, then we can and will internalise that mindset.  But the worst part of that is not that we’re never to blame and others are.  No, the worst part is that, if we’re convinced that we’re never to blame, then we deny ourselves the opportunity for examining the consequences of our actions.  For soul-searching, checking our motivations or our skillsets.  If we’re never to blame for our mistakes, we deny ourselves to opportunity to work past them and do better the next time.  We sentence ourselves to being caught in a rut, subject to the same mistakes, shortcomings and failures time and again.  That’s the tragedy of the blame-someone-else mindset.  We never have an opportunity to get it right.

          In this week’s Torah reading, the narrative models G-d as being nothing short of a self-help guru.  He admits that he got it wrong in creating man.  And He takes action to rectify his messing up.  For now, let’s not dwell on the enormity of the remedial action He takes.  On the death and destruction that must occur.  I’m not trying to whitewash that aspect.  I’m only trying to find the lesson in other aspects.  Our Midrash’s portrayal of G-d as man’s defender points to G-d’s regard for that which he has created.  Let’s assume that G-d was devastated by the enormity of what He felt he had to do – destroy the entire world with a flood – to right His mistake.

          He doesn’t destroy humanity altogether.  He preserves a remnant in the form of Noah and his family.  Noah, found to be the only righteous man on earth, is saved the fate of humanity.  And his merit applies to his three sons and their wives.  And then G-d realizes that his ‘remedial action’ is too harsh to ever happen again.  After all, what does G-d do immediately after the flood?  He places a rainbow, His sign of armistice with man, in the sky.  And he decrees that, every time it rains in the future, the rainbow will appear and remind man that the current downpour will not result in the destruction of the world.  The rainbow will serve as an eternal reminder of the power G-d has, and the restraint He practices.

          I know, I know!  The Flood Story and everything about it, is a fairy tale.  There’s a perfectly clear explanation in physics as to why the rainbow appears whenever it rains.  It has nothing to do with a supernatural ruler who offers it as an eternal sign of peace.

          To tell you the truth, I’m not sure I agree with this sentiment.  There are versions of the Flood Story in other peoples’ sacred literature.  I think it is perfectly reasonable that the world once experienced a deluge of epic proportions, and that our wickedness brought it on.  Yes, there’s a perfectly good explanation from science as to why the rainbow occurs.  I get it; the raindrops in the sky serve as natural prisms, dividing the sunlight into the different colours based on their respective wavelengths.  Really, I do get it.  But the does not negate the lesson of the rainbow.

          Light where all the colours are present and mixed together yields to the eye a kind of mottled brownish-purple.  It’s gloomy and, when we see it, it is easy to forget its completeness.  But when the colours are separated into the different bands, it reminds us of the completeness of the light.  It reminds us that, even though things may look gloomy at the moment, everything is present for beauty.  If we see a bright rainbow presiding over a mottled purple world, it counsels us to take heart.  The rain will end, and the sun will shine through again.  Our hearts will be warmed once again by the beauty of our surroundings.

          This, then is the lesson to take from the account of Noah and the flood.  First, our actions have consequences.  Second, we must admit our mistakes, be ready to change course and act differently in the future.  Our covering for ourselves and others, simply dooms us to the same mistakes over and over again.  Third and finally, when all appears to be lost, we should try to look at the entire picture and take hope.  A rainbow presides over every dark and gloomy scene, counselling patience and hope.  Even when it appears that our world is imploding around us, we should realise that redemption is possible.  We should clear our minds of the gloom and start planning and working towards the time that it shall have passed.

          Accept the consequences, be ready to change, and don’t lose hope.  If we can allow ourselves to internalise these important lessons from the Noah narrative found in this week’s Torah reading, then our time spent reading and contemplating it will have been well-spent.  Shabbat shalom.

In His Generation

Saturday, 20 October 2012

It is a truth that we judge people against those who surround them.  In a sense, Good and Evil are not absolute.  Each of us does not live in a vacuum, but among others who may make it easier or more difficult at any given moment to do the right thing.  No, you’re not hearing me contradict anything I’ve said in the past!  We still bear full responsibility for our actions and their consequences at each and every moment of our adult lives.  At any given moment, we’re doing either Right or Wrong.  We’re being either Good, Evil, or in some cases Neutral.  We can seldom claim ignorance over what is expected of us.  We have the Ten Commandments in our Torah.  But some would call these ten principles as tantamount to natural law.  This, because most of humanity accepts them in principle, even if they do not see the Torah as holy or authoritative.

Now accepting the Ten Commandments in principle and actually living according to them are two different things!  I would say that many ‘accept’ them on their surface but do not particularly try to understand their meaning and live by them.  But perhaps that is another drash, for another day.

This morning’s Torah reading gives us some insight to this truth.  In its beginning, Noah is described as follows:  No’ach ish tzeddik, tamim haya bedorotav.  Et Ha’elokim hithalech No’ach.  Noah was a righteous man, blameless in his generation.  Noah walked with G-d.

Blameless in his generation.  This phrase offers two possible interpretations, each one of which has been considered by our Tradition.

Some would say it impugns Noah’s character.  He was righteous in his generation of lawlessness.  This implies that his merit was only because of the bad times in which he lived.  So why do some of the Sages think he would not have particularly stood out in better times?

For an answer, we can contrast Noah with Abraham.  Noah, when told the world will be destroyed, proceeds to follow G-d’s instructions.  He begins building the ark, knowing that by doing so he will save his own skin and those of his immediate family.  But he seems to be oblivious of the rest of humanity.  He argues neither with G-d to relent, nor for his neighbours to repent.

Against this, look at Abraham’s reaction when G-d said he would destroy Sodom and Gomorrah.  G-d tells Abraham to save his nephew, Lot and his immediate family.  But Abraham bargains G-d into conceding that He won’t destroy the cities if only ten righteous men can be found among the lot.  Of course, in the end there were not ten.  But Abraham is still seen as meritorious for arguing the concession out of G-d.  Abraham clearly believed that at least ten existed, and that he had truly talked G-d into relenting in his intentions.

So these Sages believed that, had Noah lived during good times, he would not necessarily have stood out.  Rather, his exceptionality stems from his being compared to the lawlessness of his time.  He may have held himself aloof from the debauchery surrounding him, and that was in absolute terms a good thing.  But he apparently did nothing to influence people to be better.  Had he done the latter, perhaps he might have been instrumental in saving humanity from its fate.

Others, notably Rashi, argue the opposite.  Noah’s being blameless in his generation means that he was truly blameless since his generation was a lawless one.  Others, who have been ‘more righteous’ in the absolute sense but during easier times, deserve less merit.

There’s plenty to support Rashi’s view.  Is this not why we particularly celebrate the Righteous Gentiles who rescued Jews during the Shoah?  When your own life is forfeit for Doing the Right Thing, how much more righteous does that make it when you Do the Right Thing then?  When times are benign, there’s sometimes no particular risk in doing Good and Right.  That makes doing Good less heroic.  But when you’re liable for death for an act as simple as providing a parched soul with water, how much more notable is the act of providing water?  So in a sense Noah, by being a righteous man in a particularly dark and lawless time, stands out even more.

The truth is that, from my standpoint, the two views are not in conflict.  And the reason is that I don’t see the point of tallying up one man’s ‘righteousness points’ against another’s.  It’s as if we were in some sort of competition to out-righteous one another.  To what end?

Noah, during a difficult time, distanced himself from the hamas that surrounded him.  Hamas means absolute lawlessness.  It means anarchy.  It means a world where one has no sense of how to protect oneself and one’s family.  By all accounts, Syria today is in, or close to such a state.  Venezuela and Russia are probably not far behind.  Add to those any totalitarian society where the government responds to any perceived threat by making any imagined enemy disappear.  Add to those any lawlessness society where the police cannot keep citizens safe from criminals.

Noah did not take the initiative, as Abraham did, to argue against G-d’s intentions.  So that made him less chutzpahdik.  And perhaps Abraham, for his initiative earned a few extra ‘righteousness points.’  That’s why Abraham was chosen to be the principal in G-d’s covenant.  That’s why the three major monotheistic religions claim to be the heirs of Abraham’s legacy.  Of course, we all want to be associated with this man!

But we sometimes forget that Noah too, was a principal to a covenant with G-d.  We call it the Noahide Covenant.  Association with it – and therefore, righteousness in G-d’s sight – is available to all human beings, no matter what religion (or none) that they practice.

The Babylonian Talmud, in Tractate Sanhedrin, spells out the Noahide Covenant, which consists of Seven Laws.  Man must establish, and uphold, a system of just laws.  He must not murder, steal, commit adultery, worship idols, blaspheme G-d, or eat flesh cut from a living animal.  According to this teaching anybody living within these laws, regardless of his national heritage or membership in a particular religion, is considered just fine with G-d.  In that sense, it may be said that the Noahide covenant is broader than the Abrahamic one.  It is available to everybody.  That’s not too shabby!  I would say that having such a covenant named after one, imputes considerable righteousness.

So I say, let’s not worry about who was more righteous than whom.  There’s a lovely Midrash that illustrates this.  A certain Rabbi Zusya, approaching the end of his life, felt regretful over the smallness of his accomplishments.  Going to G-d in prayer, he apologised profusely.  I’m sorry I wasn’t a Moses, he said.  I’m sorry I wasn’t Abraham.  Then a heavenly voice came to him.  I’m not angry with you for not being Moses, G-d said.  I’m angry with you for not being Zusya.

G-d only expects each one of us to rise to the best self that is within us.  At the end of my life, I’ll have to account for not being the best Don Levy I could have been.  I need not fret over whether I would measure up to a Moses.  Or a Leo Baeck.  Or whatever.   Thank G-d, I’ll only have to answer to why I wasn’t the best Don Levy possible.  That is a big enough responsibility.  Anything more would be crushing.

Noah was a righteous man in his generation.  That’s the only generation that matters, because it’s the generation in which he lived.  Considering that, I think he gave a very good account of himself.  We can look to Noah and see him as a role model.  What tasks are given to us, if we are to be G-d’s partners in our generation?  Clearly not building an ark and gathering in pairs of animals.  But each one of us must search our souls and decide what it is that we are called to do.  Each one of us, thanks to our unique mix of talents and circumstances, has a unique contribution to make.  May each of us, when given clarity as to what that contribution is, act with the decisiveness of Noah.  Shabbat shalom.

How About an Armistice?

Friday, 12 October 2012

In researching this week’s drash, I tried to find attribution for the following quote:  Women; you can’t live with ‘em, and you can’t live without ‘em.  I didn’t succeed in finding the source.  But whoever did say it first, surely just about every man in this room can agree with the sentiment...at times!

The women here tonight are more likely to find a different quote resonates with them:  A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.  This one, thanks to the World Wide Web, I can attribute.  It was coined by Irene Dunn, in 1970 when she was a student at the University of Sydney.

In our crazy, crazy world, I don’t think anything ties us up in knots more consistently or more hopelessly than the question of men and women interacting, making sense of one another, and trying to come to terms with one another.  Some consider the constant friction between men and women to be tantamount to an ongoing war.  Author John Gray, in his famous Mars and Venus series of books likens the rift between men and women to the differences between two species from different planets.

I enjoyed reading Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus shortly after it came out to popular acclaim in 1992.  I think that Gray offered a lovely piece of humorous midrash on why men and women seem to have so much trouble communicating their true thoughts and feelings.  I’ve referred to the book countless times over the years of my rabbinate:  in my pulpit speaking, counselling, and when giving briefings on relationship dynamics to military audiences.  I would not hesitate to recommend that every person in this room tonight, if they have never read it, go out and buy or borrow a copy of Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus as soon as Shabbat is over.  Get the e-version for your iPad.  If you haven’t read it before, and no matter how successfully you believe you have navigated the shoals of the male-female question during your life, I can almost guarantee an Aha! moment when you take the time to read it for the first time.

Tomorrow when we take out the Torah we shall read:  Vayivrah Elokim et ha’adam betzalmo / be’tzelem Elokim bara oto / zachar u’nekeivah barah otam.  It’s one of the few verses in Torah where a verbatim translation into English just about manages to capture the poetics of the original Hebrew:  And God created man in His own image, in the image of God created He him; male and female created He them.  (This rendering is from the 1917 JPS translation.)  Powerful phrases, decreeing an aspect of our reality that – I daresay – will always vex humanity.

So our reality is that there are two halves of the species of humanity, each with its own quirks and each struggling into the Next World to understand and come to terms with the other.  What does this verse of Torah potentially add to this quest?  It informs us that men and women are both created in the image of G-d.  This tells us something important about the nature of G-d, and something important about the nature of mankind.

Often I hear complaints that traditionally, religion teaches that G-d is like an old man with a beard.  On a substantive level I reject that complaint, at least with respect to my religion.  My own religious training as a child was probably quite emblematic of the Cheder education commonly provided Jewish children all around the world, and transcending the different movements in Jewish life.  Yet I have no memory at all of being overtly fed an image of G-d as a bearded man.  The Bearded Men I learned about were Abraham, Moses, and Isaiah…not G-d.

Now having said that, there is an element of truth behind the charges.  Because we do focus on the aspect of G-d as the lawgiver.  G-d the authority figure.  G-d the stern ruler.  Obviously, this side of G-d is G-d in what many of us consider to be a masculine role.  This, despite decades of women coming out of the shadow of men and taking on – often quite successfully – any and every role in life. 

Yes, we still, on a very elemental level, see authority as being masculine.  If you don’t accept this assertion, look at how we – both men and women – tend to parody any woman who dares to step into a public role of authority.  Look at Prime Minister Gillard.  Obviously, some in this room are her fans, while others are her detractors.  That’s not my point.  Rather, look at some of the invective slung at her, some of the epithets and slurs.  Witch.  Another word that rhymes with the former, changing just the first letter.  You know what I’m talking about.  In America, we’ve heard similar words and worse slung at Hillary Clinton, for example.  Surely you can agree that some of this name-calling comes from deep in the gut.  From a place where without articulating it, some of us are prone to see a woman in command as something somehow unnatural.  An object of derision, not of respect.  That’s unfortunate, but it’s there.

So iff wielding authority is a ‘masculine’ characteristic, then perhaps it can be said that we have, if inadvertently, drawn up an image of G-d as ‘an old man with a beard.’  But G-d has neither facial hair nor a Y-chromosome.  G-d is in fact many-faceted.  This is why, in Torah, there are so many different appellations attached to G-d.  Shechinah, the-indwelling presence.  This is often thought of as being the ‘feminine’ side of G-d.  Tzur, the rock.  G-d the steadfast, the enduring and strong supporter.  Eil Rachum Vechanun.  G-d the merciful, the gracious.  Adonai.  Lord, but really, the name Adonai is a substitute for G-d’s unique, very person name that conveys such a level of holiness that we don’t even use it.

 When we read this simple and poetic verse in the Torah, we can read into it an assertion as to the nature of G-d.  If both man and woman were made ‘in the image of G-d,’ then G-d is beyond gender.  And if both man and woman were made ‘in the image of G-d,’ we also learn something about man and woman.  And that is, that each possesses the spark of the Divine within them.  And if so, then the Divine spark is above and beyond the differences that divide man and woman.  The Rabbis posited that ‘in the image of G-d’ means that we, like G-d, act as moral agents.  We constantly make decisions that involve moral choices.  Since G-d is incorporeal in our tradition, ‘in the image’ is not a reference to how one looks, to one’s appearance.  And if we are moral agents accountable to G-d, we are all moral agents:  male and female alike.  We stand equally at G-d’s feet…as it were.

So men and women are different.  Some would say profoundly different.  We tend to communicate differently.  So much, so, that it often seems as if we’re speaking entirely different languages.  To put it as John Gray did delightfully, as if we’re from entirely different planets.

But on the other hand, we’re profoundly the same.  We express ourselves differently at times.  We have different ways of setting priorities.  We assign different purposes to the same actions.  Perhaps most markedly, in the bedroom.  But we’re both moral agents, making choices just as G-d does, standing equally before G-d.  Both with the same spark of the Divine, alive within us.  Both capable of good and evil…and everything in between.  We’re the same in the ways that matter.  And we’re complimentary in the ways that matter.

Tomorrow morning, we’ll read the past part of the first chapter of Genesis, and the entire second chapter.  Think about this lesson as we take out the Torah in the way that we do each week, and read it with joyous ceremony.  And tomorrow, I promise additional food for thought on the reading.  But for now, there’s another kind of food we’re awaiting…Shabbat shalom!

 

What About The Other Possibilities?

Saturday, 13 October 2012

I spoke about the male-female question last night.  I know that I have spoken many times on the subject of marriage and commitment, about male and female.  As I said last night, I don’t think there is an area of life that is more vexing.  If we get it right, there’s not an area of life that brings more joy.  We talk endlessly about the challenges of Mars and Venus seeking to live together in harmony.

            This morning I’m going to veer a bit off the script of the Torah portion to talk about another kind of relationships.

            This is a somewhat conservative group, this congregation we call Temple Shalom of the Gold Coast.  That’s not surprising, given our demographics.  We are predominantly a group of senior adults.  By the time one reaches one’s senior years, one is not usually given to experimentation with new ideas and values.  One becomes comfortable with the status quo, or with one’s own perception of the status quo.  As the number of birthdays I’ve celebrated has relentlessly increased, I’ve found that this describes me, too.  I’m not as willing as I was in the past to embrace every new idea extant.  That’s absolutely natural, and nothing to feel ashamed about.

            But ‘conservative’ does not mean intolerant.  Or at least, not necessarily so.  And I find members of this congregation quite open and accepting of those who don’t fit into the mould, to which they’ve hewed during their own lives.  There are members of this congregation whose grown children are not exactly living the same lifestyle choices that you are.  For example, some of your children are living with a partner without being married.  This is something you would not have contemplated when you were their age.  You may very well disagree with this choice.  I believe that cohabiting adults should be married to one another wherever possible.  Please do not take offense by my saying this.  I believe our tradition informs us of the importance of making certain commitments and making them in writing.  But obviously, there are certain circumstances where marriage is impossible.  In those circumstances, we should not deny ourselves companionship and happiness.  We should just do the best we can with the cards we’ve been dealt.

One specific circumstance where adults are constrained from being married, at least in many places, is when both partners are of the same sex.  Here in Queensland, we have legal civil unions for same-sex couples.  Is it marriage except in name?  I'll let you be the judge of that.  We have at least two such couples in this congregation, and perhaps more who are not open about it.

            Our Union for Progressive Judaism, and our sister movements in North America and elsewhere, are conspicuously tolerant, and even embracing of those who are not heterosexual.  A number of my colleagues in Sydney and Melbourne have very publicly conducted same-sex marriage ceremonies or spoken out for what you call in Australia, ‘marriage equality.’  Non-Jews, and even some Jews in our community, sometimes have a hard time understanding why so many Progressive Jews have taken such stances.  After all, don’t we believe that the Torah is G-d’s revealed word?  If so, how do we reconcile these positions with Leviticus 18:22?  You know the verse.  It states:  Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind; it is abomination.  Once, in America, someone shopping for a shul telephoned me and demanded an answer to this question before he would consider visiting my shul.  Perhaps because others see me as being somewhat conservative, they often feel comfortable picking my brain on this subject.

            Since Leviticus 18:22 is not in this week’s reading, I don’t wish to get buried too deeply into explaining what this verse means to me.  But I do want to talk for a moment about how straight people can reconcile with same-sex relationships.  It is not out of a desire to stir up controversy that I speak about this.  Rather, it is because I don’t want those in our congregation for whom this is an issue to feel that in talking about male-female relationships as often as I do, that I wish to exclude parts of the community.

            You’ve heard me say that, as the years have gone by, I’ve accepted that there are mysteries in life.  Mysteries that I will probably never be able to grasp or explain.  For me, part of living in peace – peace with G-d, with life, with myself, and with those around me – is accepting that I cannot always grasp everything rationally.  I accept that some things will always transcend the impulse to want to rationally apprehend every aspect of life.  This was not an easy step to take.  All of my early education trained me, as yours likely did you, to demand understanding of everything.

            I have to admit that, as a straight man, I cannot understand homosexuality.  That puts me in good company.  I have known a number of gay men and lesbian women over the years, and I have at times cherished them as friends.  One of my nieces is a lesbian.  Despite that their attractions do not make sense to me, I do not want to judge them.  I wish them only the best, and I hope that they know that.

            On one hand, I read in this week’s Torah reading (Genesis 2:21-24):  And the LORD G-d caused a deep sleep to fall upon the man, and he slept; and He took one of his ribs, and closed up the place with flesh instead thereof.  And the rib, which the LORD G-d had taken from the man, made He a woman, and brought her unto the man.  And the man said: 'This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man.' Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife, and they shall be one flesh.  And most of us, while we struggle with the battle of the sexes, could not imagine the last of these verses - Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife, and they shall be one flesh – as being anything less than the ideal in life.

            On the other hand, there are those who will tell you that, for them to try to live this out as the ideal, would be completely unnatural for them.

            Again, I cannot pretend to understand this, but my instinct is to accept and honour what my homosexual friends and associates tell me about themselves.  Many homosexuals, especially men, will tell you that they did not desire to be this way.  When they first realised this about themselves, they were devastated.  Many took years to come to terms with themselves and lived in the closet for a long time.  Only through the gradual acceptance of family and friends, and sometimes years of soul searching and therapy, were they able to make peace with themselves.

            To me, this is a description of someone who is truly responding to what he is, to what he cannot control.  If one is to accept the years of pain and heartbreak that are often the lot of gays, then I can accept that it is a genuine state.  I can honour and accept them and their choices.  The Torah has many rich lessons to offer us about human nature and relationships.  But the Torah is silent about this.  I cannot understand this silence, given the experience of a significant number of us.  But I accept it and have decided to try very hard to make the non-heterosexual members of our community feel welcome.  And if my frequent speaking on the ‘problem’ of male-female relationships makes them feel excluded, I hope they will forgive me and understand that such exclusion is not my goal.

            A few weeks ago, we had a same sex couple take an aliyah together to celebrate their 35^th anniversary together.  When they requested this honour, I couldn’t imagine refusing it.  They are comfortable enough in their own skins to accept the risk of ‘coming out’ in such a public way.  Given that, it was the least I could do to facilitate it.  Yes, it’s unconventional, and yes, it was possible that one or two of you would have been confused and perhaps offended.  I hope nobody was, and I’m guessing that nobody was because I probably would have heard about it by now but have not!

At the time, I said that the moment didn’t feel extraordinary except that so many couples cannot make a go of it, and here these two men are soldiering on after 35 years.

I therefore make a proposal this morning.  When we read Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife, and they shall be one flesh, let’s understand it to apply even to couples of the same sex.  The point is not to define strictly what constitutes a couple.  Rather, the point is to inform us that we are to find our partner and seek oneness with them.  Let’s accept that, for many of us, this will remain a mystery.  It may force us out of our comfort zones.  It may disorient us as we wonder if it calls into question some of the values we’ve held all of our lives.

Perhaps.  But accepting this broader understanding of this verse, and of the kinds of couples it is talking about, also upholds a value that is important for most of us.  And that value is that we create happy homes where we support and uplift one another.

I’m taking a risk by saying these words this morning and by posting them in my blog.  Some of you may disagree deeply with what I’ve said.  Some of my friends who read my blog regularly may think I’ve gone off the deep end.  Yes, it’s a risk.  But it is one I feel I must take if I am to truly represent myself to you.  I have struggled, and continue to struggle, with this issue.  To be completely honest, I have never been asked to facilitate a same-sex marriage ceremony, and I’m not sure how I will react if or when the first request comes.  I won’t say, as President Obama famously did, that my views on the issue ‘are evolving.’  But I will tell you that my practices are not settled.  While I do on one hand dread the first request I will receive, I also welcome it as if will force me to achieve clarity.  

            I have been to a Pride Fest and I have to tell you that I was embarrassed by the public displays of fetish behaviour.  I did not find it at all edifying.  On the other hand, I cannot help but take pride when members of our community display the deep commitment to one another that I celebrate and encourage.  Even when their partnership is not the conventional kind – a man and a woman.  When you work as hard as you do to love and support one another, while at the same time facing a measure of loathing and derision, or at the very least lack of understanding, by those around you.  Even if it means stepping outside of my own box to do so, I cannot help but to celebrate your relationships.  I have never before expressed this quite so explicitly, but I hope you accept the sincerity with which I express it now.  I hope that, in saying this, I am speaking for many others in our community.  Shabbat shalom.

Drashot for Shabbat Chol Hamo'ed Sukkot

By Bread Alone

A Drash for Friday, 5 October 2012

This week, for Shabbat Chol Hamo’ed Sukkot, we take a little voyage back a few weeks in time.  Our Torah reading is from Parashat Eikev, which we read in mid-August.  If you remember my words about this portion from back then – or if you wish to revisit the transcript of my drashot on my blog – you’ll see that I see this Torah portion as hinging on the idea of cause and effect.  If you do ‘A,’ then ‘B’ will follow.  In that sense, Eikev is an important lesson for all of life.  Sometimes we fail to clearly see the cause-effect relationship.  More likely, we wish to deny it as a way of denying responsibility for the consequences of our actions.  In this age, we’ve built an entire culture around the idea that we’ll all just innocent victims of someone else’s capriciousness.  Parashat Eikev, with its simple and hard-hitting statements can bring us back to earth.  And that’s a good thing.

Everybody in this room who is my age or older, probably remembers back when ‘bread’ became a euphemism for ‘money.’  Hey, man!  You got any bread??!  This was not a request for a fresh loaf.  It was a request for what to buy it – or anything else – with.  I don’t know where this slang expression started or how.  But the use of the word ‘bread’ as slang for ‘money’ is logical to me.  After all, ‘bread’ is also commonly a euphemism for ‘all that is necessary to sustain life.’  In other words, even as many of us explore carb-free or low carb diets that preclude eating most bread products, we automatically think of ‘bread’ as the sum total of sustenance.  Perhaps this – the carb-free life – is an example of exaggeration to make a point.  And that is that we tend to consume far too many carbohydrates – including bread products – which, in excess, our bodies store as fat.

            And this leads me to the famous declaration, found in this week’s Torah reading.  Man doth not live by bread only, but by everything that proceedeth out of the mouth of the Lord.  (This translation from the Hertz Chumash, similar to that of the King James Bible favoured by many Christians, just exudes a sort of grandeur lost in more contemporary translations.)  This declaration follows the reminder that G-d fed the people Israel with manna during their sojourn in the desert.  The provision of the manna was, according to this verse, to teach that man does not live by bread alone.

            The statement is usually understood to not mean ‘bread’ literally.  In other words, it does not come to teach us that we shouldn’t eat only bread but should include asparagus in our diet.  Or broccoli.  Or Felafel.  Or all of the above.  Rather, it is understood to mean that it isn’t only physical sustenance that we require.  The urge to eat, or course must be answered if our lives are to be sustained.  The Rambam called this urge and others that are purely physical, ‘the appetitive urges.’  To him they represented man as the animal species, man expressing his need for self-preservation.  Of course, if we all ate only to preserve our lives, nobody would ever be fighting excess weight.  The planet’s food supply would be sufficient to sustain a population many times today’s.  Whole industries built around joyous consumption of food and drink would be wiped out.  Imagine life without Master Chef Australia??!

            So our consumption of food and drink is a response to an appetitive urge, but it is really much more than just that.  If you remember the famous quote from When Harry Met Sally, one of the all-time best films made:  Restaurants are to people in the 80’s what theatres were to people in the 60’s.  Some of us thought it was witty and true back when we first saw the movie.  But we do understand that we are further elevated if our interests go even beyond restaurant-theatre.

No, if man is going to be elevated beyond being just another animal species, then it is our task to seek ‘nourishment’ in other areas as well.  That’s the very purpose for religion – the reason we’re here today.  And for the arts.  Literature.  For just about any field of learning and knowledge.

            I don’t think that, to convince you of this truth this evening is a hard-sell.  Perhaps the part about religion.  At least, for the some of you who don’t see your purpose for being here this evening as having much or anything to do with G-d.  But that’s another story.  The idea that life as we know it, and cherish it, requires far more than material and physical sustenance, is doubtless a notion near and dear to most of your hearts.

            Nevertheless, we sometimes have to fight our inertia to get out of our homes to see a film or a play.  At the recent theatre evening to see Fiddler on the Roof, tickets for which were quite reasonably-priced, only a handful of the members of our congregation attended.  This, despite the fact that we’re all familiar with the play, and love it, and most of us have seen it more than once.  (By the way, those who did not attend missed a quite good amateur performance of the play.  I’ve seen the original Broadway production but was impressed by what the Gold Coast Little Theatre did.)  In a congregation of some 150 adult members, one would think we could have filled that 65-seat auditorium.  We did not.

            What is the source of this inertia?  I don’t have a definitive answer.  But my gut instinct is that we fight against potentially uplifting situations because we somehow need to be in a spiritually repressed state.  We almost revel in it.  It’s as if we need to feel this way, because it helps to explain the various unhappy circumstances of our lives.  After all, if we acknowledge that we have the power to elevate ourselves, to make ourselves happy, then that implies a tremendous responsibility – doesn’t it?  Maybe on some level, many of us are not quite ready to accept that responsibility.

            So man does not live by bread alone.  But by every word that comes from the ‘Mouth of G-d.’  In other words, the Torah.  The Torah can and does provide us with a means of spiritual nourishment and refreshment.  I’ve been rabbi-ing for 16 years now, but I never run out of new insights to gain from a particular Torah portion.  Each time you turn it over, something new and wonderful, some new insight for life or into human nature, is revealed.

            If we are to be truly nourished, we must acknowledge and participate in life beyond the basic needs of sustenance.  If we are as human beings to soar in flights of soul-elevation, we would do well to enjoy the arts and literature.  Not everything on offer is going to appeal to each one in this room.  Some of you like musical comedy, some opera.  Some of you like classical music, some baroque. Some of you like ballet, some contemporary dance.  Some don’t like dance at all!  Some like novels, some poetry.  If the latter, maybe you can explain to me why! (Just kidding!)  Some like religion that is very tactile, some prefer the philosophical.  Some like contemplative.  In all these pursuits of the soul there is something to grab each one of us if we would only explore and allow ourselves to find it.  I can certainly tell you that in Judaism there is some aspect that will resonate with each person here.  If it doesn’t speak to you, perhaps you’re stuck in one aspect of Jewish life, practice, belief or learning that simply doesn’t work for you.  Try exploring some other aspect.  Look in this month’s Gates of Peace and look at the educational offerings starting up late this month, then tell me which class interests you.

Man does not live by bread alone.  Thank G-d, we have so much more than ‘bread’ to choose from to enable us to truly live.  Shabbat shalom.

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When You Have Eaten Your Fill

A Drash for Saturday, 6 October 2012

As a military chaplain, I was often called upon to give an invocation for an event that involved a meal.  This follows the Christian custom of ‘Saying Grace’ before eating.  The first few times I felt a little funny doing it.  Not because there’s anything wrong with invoking G-d’s role in providing for the meal one is about to eat.  Simply because it is our Jewish custom to give thanks after the meal.  As you know, we begin a meal – when we do – with a very quick and simple blessing, Hamotzi.  Baruch Ata Hashem, Elokeinu Melech Ha’olam, Hamotzi lechem min ha’aretz.  We bless You, Lord our G-d Sovereign of the Universe who has brought forth bread from the earth.  In so doing, we invoke the partnership between us and G-d that produced the bread we’re about to eat.  After all, G-d did not ‘bring forth bread from the earth.’  Rather, He blessed the earth with fecundity so that we, through our industry can plant and tend and sow the grain which is then ground to flour and ultimately baked into bread.  The blessing for bread is an acknowledgement of G-d’s part in the process, by which we bring food to the table.

But the somewhat long-winded prayer of thanks, Birkat Hamazon, comes after the meal.  A couple of times, when comparing notes with colleagues I told them of this difference of practice.  Once, a Christian friend asked me:  Why do you give thanks after the meal instead of before?  To answer, I quipped:  If you give thanks after the meal, then you are truly giving thanks, because you have enjoyed it and can give thanks with a full heart.  So my colleague responded:  What if you didn’t enjoy the meal?  Do you now thank G-d?  I had to think for a moment.  You still thank G-d, I told him.  You blame the cook.

            The truth is, the basis for the practice of giving thanks after eating comes from this week’s Torah reading.  When you have eaten your fill, give thanks to the Lord your G-d for the good land which He has given you.  The whole point is that, we eat and drink to our fill, and otherwise avail ourselves of the bounty of our land to our satisfaction.  If we did not give thanks, then we would tend to start believing that it was only the work of our hands that sated us.

            Now having said that, we should take pride when our hard work and industry results in good provision for our needs and our desires.  It is so important to take our fate into our own hands:  not to wait for the things we desire to drop from the sky, or from the hands of a wealthy uncle.  Day after day, we are faced with so many choices that can and do change our ultimate destinies.  We can work hard and succeed, sometimes magnificently and sometimes modestly.  We can decide that leisure is more important and not work so hard.  For most of us, the ideal is somewhere between the two – a balance between industry and accomplishment on one hand, and time to savour life on the other.  When we manage to find that balance, we should give ourselves a little credit for it.  Pat ourselves on the back.  Because after all, you all know someone who has been given gifts at least the equal to what you have been given, but can’t seem to make a go of it.  They struggle and struggle.  It takes not only hard work, but also vision – the vision of a better life – to succeed where others, given the same tools, fail.  If you’re in the former category, allow yourselves a little pride in that.

            But give G-d His due also.  The point of this commandment is that pride in one’s accomplishments has a way of allowing us to think that it’s all in our hands.  And it’s not.  Each one of us who has succeeded, has enjoyed perhaps a measure of good luck in addition to the talents and gifts we were given.  Or perhaps, our timing was just fortuitous.  They say timing is everything.  I don’t agree, but timing – good timing – sure helps.

            So give thanks to G-d after you have eaten your fill and are sated.  So often we don’t, because we are not in the habit of doing so.  And why not?

            For one thing, the blessing is looooooong.  There’s no getting away from that.  So how about a shortened version?  If you have a bentscher, it undoubtedly has a shorter form of Birkat Hamazon.  Try that form.  Still too long?  How about this abridgement:  Baruch Ata Hashem, hazan et hakol.  Everybody can say that.  Everybody has time for it.  It will not overly embarrass you if you pause to say it in a restaurant, because by the time anybody has noticed you saying it, you’ve finished!  But if you’ve got a reason that you don’t give thanks in the traditional way, and whatever that reason might be, I challenge you to try this.  Before eating, say the hamotzi blessing if you’re going to eat bread with the meal.  If not, but there is some kind of cake or cracker to be eaten, say:  Baruch Ata Hashem, borei minei mezonot.  If there’s nothing like that in the meal, say:  Baruch Ata Hashem, shehakol yihye kid’varo.  Easy.  And afterward, as you’re getting ready to step away from the table, say:  Baruch Ata Hashem, hazan et hakol.  Try to do that every time you sit down to eat a meal.  Help one another by reminding them.  Remind me, because I’m as guilty as anybody else in this room of neglecting giving thanks to G-d.   I want to be reminded.  (It will show me you’ve been listening just now!)  Sure, it would be better to use a longer bentsching, but if you’ve not been doing it at all, try what I’ve just said.

            So how about it?  Do you agree that G-d had something to do with the successful provision of the meal you’re about to eat?  Do you think He is due at least some partial credit for the goodness of which you’re about to partake?  Say hamotzi beforehand, and hazan et hakol afterward.  Let your actions reflect what you’re thinking.

            Don’t even believe in G-d?  Do it anyway.  Trust me, it doesn’t make you a hypocrite!  It just acknowledges that it didn’t come 100 percent from you.  Even if it wasn’t G-d but rather luck, timing, or a beneficent friend.  Stop to give thanks, and you will remind yourself that you’re not alone.  And that’s important.  Because we’re not alone.  Or perhaps more accurately, we don’t have to be alone.  And that’s something worth acknowledging – and celebrating!

            Give thanks.  It’s a great way to keep ourselves in a thankful state of mind.  And that’s the way to feel that we are truly fortunate.  After all, what does it say in Mishnah Avot?  Who is rich?  He that is thankful for his lot.  Let’s learn to be thankful, and then we can all feel rich.  Because then, we will truly be rich – in the only way that really matters.  Shabbat shalom.