We have met the Enemy…and He is Us! A Drash for Shabbat Chanukah, 19 December 2014

Chanukah is, arguably, the most beloved of all Jewish festivals.  Periodic surveys of the Jewish community in the United States show, time after time, that lighting Chanukah candles is the one Jewish ritual that ‘marginal’ Jews are most likely to do.  In other words, if a Jew does only one overtly Jewish thing all year, it’s probably going to be celebrating Chanukah.  There’s no reason to suspect it is any different here in Australia.

          Given this, one would think that we’d have a good handle on the lessons that Chanukah comes to teach us.  Sadly, that is not the case for most Jews.

          We focus on the external enemy.  On the malefactor from without who seeks to harm us – who seeks to destroy us.  Most Jews, in retelling the Chanukah story to celebrate the festival, focus on the sins of the ‘evil’ Assyrians under their despotic king, Antiochus Epiphanes.  They tried to wipe out all vestiges of Jewish practice.  They took extreme measures to get the Jews to turn away from their religious practices and adopt the pagan cult of their conquerors.  As a result, the Jews rebelled and mounted a guerilla war against the Assyrian occupation.  The Jews succeeded in expelling the enemy.  Then they rededicated their Temple to the worship of G-d.

          The story, presented thusly, sounds compelling.  Presented thusly, it is a source of pride for Jews.  And we need a source of pride!  Our history since then has left enough of a pride deficit that, once a year in December, the injection of pride ‘serum’ is needed and welcome.  Just when our neighbours are preparing to celebrate their own major festival of Christmas which by definition excludes us, we need to feel some measure of pride at being Jewish.  The Chanukah story as presented, succeds in providing that measure.

          The only problem is that the story, as presented, is a lie.  Or at the very least, it is grossly incomplete.  And in its incompleteness, it misses the important lesson it could teach us.  That important lesson is the danger of assimilation.  That is, of trying too hard to accommodate our Jewish-ness to the circumstances – and to the attractions – of the world around us.

          There are those Jews who take incredible measures to separate themselves from their surrounding world.  They dress and present themselves in ways that ensure they cannot be identified as anything other than Jews.  They congregate with other Jews to the point that they hardly have contact with the greater world.  They affect lifestyles, and even mannerisms, that clearly allude to Jewish-ness.  They relish the degree, to which they insulate themselves from the world around them.

          But most Jews are not hyper-insular.  Most Jews reading this, unless I miss my guess completely, are the type of Jew who mixes freely in the non-Jewish world around them.  They struggle, not to find ways to express themselves in the wider world, but to find ways to express themselves as Jews.  This, without reducing their opportunities to mix in the wider world.  It is for these Jews that the lesson of the Chanukah story is most potentially beneficial.

          The Assyrian king did not concoct the notion that depriving the Jews of their religion would make them loyal subjects of his empire.  He got the notion by observing the many Jews who were happy to cast off their religion in order to embrace Hellenism.  When Hellenism came calling, many Jews were enamoured of the new culture.  They sought to integrate fully with the society of their conquerors no matter what the ‘cost’ in terms of distancing themselves from Judaism.  It was the loyalty and ‘usefulness’ of these Jews to the Assyrian empire, that informed Antiochus of the wisdom of wiping out Jewish practice.

          We need not look all the way to events of 2,200 years ago to learn this lesson.  Many have been the periods when similar desire by many Jews to adopt to the dominant culture, have resulted in disaster for the Jewish people.  But because the Chanukah story is one that resonates so strongly with Jews today, it is certainly one that we should not sanitise to the point of removing its message.

          We do not live in a Jewish society that has been conquered by outside forces.  We live in a multicultural, liberal, society which is – at least superficially – not hostile at all to the religious practices that cause Jews and other distinctive groups to appear, and act, different.  But you and I know that it is often challenging to be true to our religion whilst also participating fully in society.  So if we’re going to be true to any degree to our religious imperative, then that counsels an acceptance that our Jewish-ness by its very nature – and the nature of society – lessens our ability to participate in the latter.

          How might this lessening of our ability ro participate, manifest itself?  In varying ways.  Because I have come to a point where I put a fence around Shabbat, I must turn down many opportunities to mix socially and in other ways with my gentile friends.  I must forego many cultural opportunities.  There are all sorts of things that happen on Friday nights and Saturdays that I might enjoy, that I don’t even consider.  This could be termed a loss.  But it doesn’t feel like a loss because I acknowledge the profound satisfaction I derive from Shabbat.  Everything else about Jewish life, where it puts me in a position of sacrificing the ‘freedom’ to do one thing for the meaning that Judaism adds to my life, is similar.  We all know this.  And yet we sometimes make choices that indicate we’ve assigned little value to the meaning that Judaism adds to our lives.

          So celebrate Chanukah.  But when we tell its story, let’s not santise it to where it loses its meaning.  The lesson of Chanukah is the danger of assimilation.  Assimilation to where we’re willing to choose the ways of the many over our ways.  Assimilation to where it becomes easy to subsume our very identity as Jews, in favour of our identity as citizens of the land.  Our present circumstances do not require this.  And yet, so many Jews today, in Australia and other free societies, choose that very course.  That’s unfortunate.  Especially when we consider how many times in our history when the tendency of Jews to choose that very course, has brought on disaster and suffering to Jews.  Something to think about.  Shabbat Shalom, and a Joyous Chanukah! 

The Imperative not to Shame: A Drash for Parashat Vayeishev, Friday 12 December 2014

Tamar, from www.womeninthebible.net

When I was a military chaplain, I used to spend a considerable number of hours every month in marriage counselling.  I very seldom do any such counselling now.  Why not?  Because all those who came for marriage counselling were gentiles.  Gentiles, especially Christians, often seek out clergy first when looking for someone to help them sort out life’s issues.  Jews almost never turn their rabbis for that kind of help.  At the heart of it is that they don’t see a rabbi as being uniquely qualified to sort out relationship problems.  Since today I’m ministering primarily to Jews, I seldom do counselling, except to advise on specifically religious issues.

          Just so I’m clear, I’m not whinging about being under-employed in my role as counsellor!  Just stating the facts.  In truth, sometimes I regret that all that experience is being wasted.  Because marriage counselling is based on very simple principles.  And those principles apply not only to marriage, but really any kind of human relationship.

          Many young married people feel that marriage is supposed to be conflict free.  I’m not really sure why this is so, since surely almost none of them have seen conflict free marriages modelled.  Unless there’s a submission of one person’s will – either as a voluntary act or as a result of some kind of abuse – it is inevitable that there will be conflict.  So the existence of conflict does not call a marriage into question.  Or a friendship.  Or any other sort of relationship.  But it does point to the need for each one of us, unless we’ve determined to live out our lives as a hermit or an abuser, to learn the rules of conflict.

          Most interpersonal conflict is over issues that are not intractable.  But we approach conflict in ways guaranteed to build deep divisions, unlikely to heal except over long periods of time.  So conflict over relatively trivial matters can tear relationships apart irreparably.  And more than that.  The irreparable conflicts eat at our souls and wound us to the point where we have trouble having positive relationships with anybody.

            One of the most important ‘rules’ of conflict – so I’ve learnt over time – is that one must be careful not to publicly shame the other party to the conflict.  Then a simple disagreement becomes a wider war where bystanders feel forced to ‘take sides.’  And that is often the step that makes the conflict intractable.

          In this week’s Torah portion, we see a conflict between Judah and his daughter-in-law Tamar.  It is not a trivial conflict.  Tamar was married to Judah’s eldest son Er, who died without making an offspring.  According to existing social custom, Judah sent his second son Onan to her to make a child in his dead brother’s name.  But Onan avoided fulfilling this duty; as a result he too died.  Two of Judah’s sons died, but neither death was due to Tamar’s culpability.  But Judah is now spooked; he is reluctant to give Tamar his third and final son to make a child, lest he suffer a similar fate.

          Tamar is, therefore stuck in the role of childless widow; again according to custom she cannot marry again until she produces a child to carry on her dead husband’s name.  Until Judah sends Shelah to her for this purpose, she is stuck in limbo.  Tamar understands the injustice she is being forced to bear.

           Out of desperation she disguises herself as a prostitute and gets Judah to sleep with her; he doesn’t have what to pay her fee, so she retains his seal, his cord, and his staff until such time as he will send her the negotiated price.  Then she discards her disguise and Judah is unable to pay her and retrieve his things.

          Tamar gets pregnant by her father-in-law.  Being pregnant whilst not being free to marry is an offence punishable by death, and Judah as her father-in-law is the one to whom the trial and sentence falls.  He asks Tamar who got her pregnant.  She replies by showing him his own articles and responding “The one who owns this seal, cord, and staff.”  And of course, Judah knows immediately that it was himself.  And he immediately admits that Tamar’s offence was in fact been his own fault – and no punishment is called for.

          The Sages want us to know that the conflict solved itself because Tamar did not publicly shame her father-in-law, even though she was facing a death sentence and therefore might have been expected to lash out publicly.  Instead, she responded to him in a way that enabled him to see his own offence without losing face.  And seeing it, he relented and spared her.

          But it goes much deeper than that.  In the previous chapter, where the brothers sell Joseph to the Ishmaelite traders, it was Judah himself who counselled selling their brother.  So Judah is a major actor in an incredible injustice.  It’s clear that Judah’s character is already flawed.  But Tamar’s respectful approach enables him to make a decision leading to a good result.

          But there’s even more.  Fast forward to the reunion that will take place between Joseph and his brothers.  Joseph plays with his brothers, letting them think that he’s going to keep the youngest brother, Benjamin as a slave for a trumped up charge of thievery.  Knowing that would break their father’s heart, Judah offers himself in place of Benjamin.  In doing so, he breaks Joseph’s anger and this leads to another good result – a very good result – for the family.  The Sages see Tamar’s way of gently confronting Judah without publicly shaming him, as ultimately leading to Judah’s humility before Joseph years later.  And that act of humility saves the entire family…the entire people Israel.

          The lesson is clear.  When we have conflicts and disagreements, we must carry on these disputes with restraint.  It is only when we do practice restraint that we will pave the way to an ultimate rapprochement with the other disputant.  And peace on a wider scale, to the benefit of many.  But even more than that.  When we practice restraint and humility in conflict, it offers a proven means to heal our very souls.  Because we all need healing of the soul.  But especially when our souls are wounded by conflict, they need healing.  From individual healing, comes healing on a larger scale.  Shabbat swhalom.

It’s been a Long, Long Time: A Tribute for Pearl Harbor Day

The USS Arizona sinks during the Japanese attack
 on Pearl Harbor on 7 December 1941, a coffin
for 1177 sailors and officers.

Each generation must face its unique challenges.  And for the generation that came of age in the 1930’s and 1940’s, that challenge was the conflict known as the Second World War.  When we Jews think of this era, we usually think of the Nazi Holocaust, a chain of events contemporaneous to the war.  This is certainly a reasonable association since a third of World Jewry perished in the Nazis’ drive for a Final Solution to the ‘problem’ of the Jews.  But for the young Jews of the United States, the United Kingdom, Australia and New Zealand, going off to fight a war on distant shores – or perhaps not-so-distant – was their experience.  Or perhaps, waiting patiently for the return of loved ones who were out fighting.

          This Sunday we mark the 63^rd anniversary of the Japanese Attack on Pearl Harbor which brought the USA into the war.  For Australia, the war began much earlier.  But the entry of the United States, with its vast industrial base and huge pool of manpower, marked the turning of the tide:  both in Europe and in the Pacific.

          We Jews recount that, in every generation, a tyrant has arisen to torment and persecute us.  But in every generation, there are also the brave ones who answer the call to face down the tyrant.  Many say that Australia became a nation on the beaches of Gallipoli, in 1915.  If so, it can be said that she came of age in the Jungles of New Guinea and Burma, and also on the beaches of Anzio and Normandy and in the forest of the Ardennes.

          Tonight we salute the veterans of the Second World War who answered the call and faced down the tyrants of the 1930’s and 1940’s.  We remember the war dead, and we honour those who served on all fronts and survive yet today.

Okay, Let’s Cut Jacob Some Slack: A Drash for Parashat Vayishlach, Friday 5 December 2014

Jacob Meets Esau by Francesco Hayez

This week’s Torah reading is the third weekly reading in what might be called, ‘The Jacob Sequence.’  Once we get into the patriarchal narratives in Genesis, there are several readings where each patriarch, in turn, is the protagonist.  Now we’re in the series dominated by the third patriarch, Jacob.  I looked back at the assessments I gave you of Jacob’s character the last two weeks, and I realised I have not been especially complimentary.

            As I’ve said before, all the patriarchs were flawed.  That’s, in a sense a part of the beauty and truth of Torah.  It doesn’t whitewash the characters who are supposed to be seen as the ‘heroes’ of the story.  They weren’t perfect.  But each was, in turn, the ‘Man of the Hour.’  Hashem takes such as are available, and inspires them to greatness.  Being perfect is not a prerequisite for being a servant of G-d.  And Jacob was no exception.

            But if you read my blog, then you saw my post from earlier this week where I wondered if I could be given just a little slack.  In the same spirit, I’m ready to cut Jacob a little slack tonight.

            Last week’s reading began with Jacob having a dream, the so-called ‘Jacob’s Ladder’ dream.  Troubled by his travails, he dreamt that everything would turn out alright.  It gave him the courage to go on, the courage to do great things in Haran.

            This week’s reading begins with a nocturnal event, but it is not represented as a dream.  Jacob spends the night wrestling with an angel.  Some of the Sages suggest that Jacob is actually wrestling with his own nature.  At the end of this encounter, he is given a new name, Israel.  This name can have a number of different meanings.  But the most verbatim is ‘He will strive with G-d.’  Our tradition reads this as a reflection that the people Israel, taking its name from this patriarch, will make a calling of serving G-d but never in a spirit of blind submission.  Rather, the people who ultimately came to be called ‘the Jews’ have made an eternal calling of struggling to understand and agree with the Mind of G-d.

            But the Rabbis don’t think that Jacob had to struggle with his priorities.  They look at him through a critical lens, and they see him as being the worthier successor of his father’s legacy.  Worthier than his older twin, Esau.

            For example, look at the encounter between the two brothers in this portion.  Immediately after the night wrestling, Israel has to survive an encounter with his twin whom he hasn’t seen in years.  Esau is coming out to meet him in what is clearly a military formation.  Israel cannot overpower his brother; he must somehow manage the encounter so that he will survive and live to coexist with Esau in the land.

            In that encounter, Jacob sends forth a very generous tribute – a gift or a bribe – to his brother.  Esau does not want to accept it.  He says “Yesh li rav,” meaning I have plenty.  Israel counters by begging his brother to accept his tribute, telling him “Yesh li kol,” meaning I have everything.

            On the surface, it might not look as if there’s much difference between I have plenty and I have everything.  But to Rashi, there’s a big difference.  He sees Esau’s declaration as a boast, whilst Israel’s is a statement of contentment.  Esau’s I have plenty means: “Who needs your crummy gift??!”  Israel’s response I have everything means:  “I am satisfied with my lot.”

            Our tradition has never been one of asceticism.  With few exceptions, Jewish history has not known sects that eschew material pleasures.  Our priests – and this may come as a surprise to you – did not take vows of poverty as some, and only some, Catholic priests do.  And rabbis, the closest contemporary parallel to the ancient priests, also do not.  That said, I recommend that any young Jew looking for a well-paying career look anywhere but the rabbinate…

            On the other hand, our tradition has always recognised that the road to happiness is paved, in part- with contentment with one’s lot.  Mishnah Avot asks:  Mi ashir?  Who is rich?  It provides the answer, and it isn’t The one with the yacht, the showy decorator home, the Jaguar automobile and the seven-figure bank account.  Rather, the answer is:  Mi shesame’ach bechelko.  The one who is happy with his lot.  To be rich – in the only way that matters – involves contentment with what one has achieved.  Those who drip with expensive toys, are often miserable in their lot.  Perhaps it could be said, usually.  That’s not to say that the wealthy have a monopoly on misery.  Plenty of poorer folk are also miserable.  I suppose it can be said that it’s better to be rich and miserable than poor and miserable.  But that distracts us from the whole point that we have an obligation to be happy.

            Israel was happy.  Despite his travails – some of which being of his own making – the sages saw him as being happy, as being contented.  He was materially successful.   But that was not what he saw as bringing him his happiness.  According to Tanna devei Eliyahu, a midrashic text, Israel’s contentment was from his children.  In his encounter with Esau, the older brother looks at Israel’s children and asks:  Who are these?  And Israel replies:  The children, whom G-d has graciously given to your servant.  Our midrash posits that it was from these children that Israel drew his contentment, not from his material wealth.  In this, Israel had his priorities in order.

            Jacob.  He was flawed, like all of us.  But he was great enough to become Israel.  And he was imbued with so many positive traits in the end, that he becomes the worthy successor of Abraham and Isaac.  Shabbat Shalom.

Americans and Aussies: Two Different Species? A Humorous yet Serious Comparison…and a Sincere Apology

When I first moved to Australia, I wrote occasional pieces about the differences between the USA and Australia.  You can find them by checking the archives of this blog.  You’ll see that I definitely did not write them in a spirit of complaining about my new home.  Rather, I thought then – as I still think today – that the differences between countries, especially countries that are superficially very similar, make for a fascinating study of the results of geography, history and culture.

Sometime in my first year here, several Australian friends sent me an e-mail that offered a favourable comparison of Australia against America.  It was written by an American, a professor who had spent some time here.  Everybody wanted to know what I thought of it.  My response was that, whilst the author clearly had his rose-coloured glasses firmly in place, living in Australia is in many ways a very positive experience for this American.

A few years back, from 1999 to 2001, Clara and I lived in the UK.  A familiar trope there is:  Americans and British – Two People Divided by a Common Language.  The point of it is that, whilst the two peoples speak the same tongue, they attach different meanings to words.  This, not to mention the different cultural contexts.  So this ‘division’ is complex and can easily trip one up.  But the truth is that it seldom does trip up Americans and Britons, because most are aware of the pitfall and are watching out for it.

          Having now lived longer in Australia than I did in the UK, I can say that the relationship of Americans and Aussies is far more complex.  The reason for this is that the two countries seem far closer than America and Britain culturally, but that closeness often does not go beyond the superficial.  Although there definitely is a unique Aussie dialect called ‘Strine,’ most Aussies I’ve met speak something close to what I’d call ‘American’ English.  For example:  our British cousins say garage but Americans and Aussies say garage.  Here, a truck is not a lorry.  It is proper here to write ‘labour,’ But the Australian political party with that word in its name, spells it ‘labor’ as we do in America. 

In other areas as well, it is easy to get tricked into thinking that, in contrast to Americans and Britons who differ so much, Americans and Aussies share many cultural cues.  There’s a spirit afoot in this land, an individualism and self-reliance that Aussies celebrate and believe guides their lives.  Just like in America.  And the truth is that it’s largely a national myth, not really operative in most people’s lives.  Just like in America.  I could go on and on, but I think you get my point.

But there’s a point on which Australians are far closer to our British cousins, than their American friends.  Lord Jonathan Sacks, retired Chief Rabbi of the United Hebrew Congregations of the Commonwealth, now lives and teaches in the USA.  He observed a very important difference between the two peoples.  Americans, he says, are imbued with a sense of openness and possibility.  British, in contrast are imbued with a sense of tradition and place.  They’re two very different mindsets, making the cousins across the Atlantic very different from one another.

In Australia there’s a very strong egalitarian rejection of social class.  Very much like in America.  So it is easy to be deluded into thinking the two peoples of similar mindsets.  But the truth is that the Aussie mindset is really closer in this regard to the British than the American.

And that’s a trap where it is easy for an American to trip up with Australians.  Americans generally love their land, but love to hate its institutions.  To criticize anything American, to compare it unfavourably with the same thing in the UK, Europe, or just about any other place in the world, is paradoxically considered almost patriotic.  You can’t make something better if you can’t criticize it, right?  We even expect immigrants, to a point, to compare America unfavourably with aspects of the land they left.  After all, we tend to cherish immigrants – as long as they’ve arrived legally! – and celebrate that they bring the best of their former homes with them when they come to America.  And this, in turn, makes America better and stronger.  President Obama recently made that point in a speech.  And the late President Ronald Reagan made the same point in what many consider to be a very similar speech, years ago.

And visitors?  Bring on the criticism!  Even if we don’t agree with it, we’ll make great sport of arguing it out with you.  And then we’ll have a beer together!  (We’ll probably buy.)

And that’s where an American can inadvertently cross the line with Aussies.  Australians, for all their apparent irreverence and egalitarianism, are much more conscious of tradition and place than Americans.  Even when they express criticism of their own country, and admiration for other countries, they seem to have a much stronger sense of belonging than Americans.  And they don’t like to hear visitors criticise their country.  I don’t think they’re secure enough in their Australian-ness to take that.  They prefer to hear that their land is a utopia, The Lucky Country, even though when Donald Horne coined the phrase in his seminal 1964 book he didn’t really mean it to be complimentary.

The other day, in a fit of frustration at a meeting, I blurted out that this was ‘a miserable country.”  Wow!  Did I ruffle some feathers!  And had it been a remark made rationally, I’m sure I would have realised it would be taken as a hurtful utterance, and avoided saying it.  But it was at an emotional moment.  At least one Australian friend – and at least one Aussie who is definitely not a friend – understandably took offence.  I wish I could turn back the clock so I hadn’t said it.  But obviously I cannot.  An American would probably have agreed with me had I said that America was a miserable country, or at worst would have waved off the comment and entered into a conversation about why it isn’t that miserable.

So…I’m asking my Australian friends – and non-friends – to look back at the many positive things I’ve said in defence of their country over the years, and find it in their hearts to forgive me.  And cut me a little slack. 

If you will, I’ll promise to remember never to declare that they drive on the wrong side of the road here.  And I’ll promise not to talk about how I miss my guns and my concealed-carry permit.  And I’ll promise to remember to say weekend instead of weekend.  These are all very important.  Most of all, I’ll promise not to whinge (there’s an Australian word, eh!) about Chanukah occurring in the Summer, for cryin’ out loud!  Nu, a great Aussie day and good on ya, Mate!