By the Numbers: A Reflection for Parashat Bamidbar 29 May 2015

Remember paint-by-the-numbers sets?  I had one once.  It was fun and produced a picture.  I seem to remember that it was a seascape with sailboats.  It was something for my mother to kvell over.  Because she is my mother, after all!  But my mother is an artist.  After the paint-by-numbers sailboats, she bought me a book on drawing, by Jon Gnagy.  It taught composition and perspective.  Texture and depth.  Because I’d produced a passable picture, my mother thought I might develop in interest in the process of creating art.

The picture of the sailboats wasn’t memorable enough to survive my childhood.  But my mother kept quite of few of my later, freehand pictures.  Perhaps they weren’t as correct by the numbers as the by-the-numbers picture.  But they were something that the by-the-numbers picture was not.  They were windows into my soul.  They were snapshots of my feelings at the time, when I had poured out my thoughts and emotions onto the paper.  That’s something that cannot be captured in a sectioned picture where 1 equals black and 2 equals ochre, and so on.  Where the picture has already been drawn and one only follows strict directions as to where to put what colour.

Painting by-the-numbers does produce an accurate picture.  But it produces an illustration, not art.  Nobody’s going to go out of his way to visit a gallery showing an exhibition of paint-by-the-numbers.  In real art, there are degrees of realism.  Each person’s taste in art reflects the amount of realism they prefer.  But pictures that are only realism and not reflective of the mind and heart of the painter, do not move anybody.

          What about those who live life by-the-numbers?  There’s a name for such people.  We call them ‘bean counters.’  Everybody knows one, either from personal life or from work.  You probably know more than one, because being a bean counter, reducing to life its numbers, is a common pitfall.

Bean counters often gravitate toward the business world.  There, they are the managers you’ve met who are only concerned about The Bottom Line.  The Profit.  And bean counters get promoted in their companies because business is about, at the end of the day, making a profit.  If you build a business, one of your main aims is to make a profit and therefore provide your family with a decent or even lavish material life.  Nothing wrong with that.  But if it’s only about the profit, then you’re missing so much more.

As you know, I’m not down on stuff.  Far from it!  Stuff is good.  Give me stuff, and you’ll put a smile on my face.  But life isn’t only about stuff.  It’s about the satisfaction from realising deeper meaning in what we do.  That can be in our working career, in our relationships, or in our leisure pursuits.  Or best still, all three.  All of us expend some energy in desiring, and acquiring, stuff.  But if that’s the entire focus of our lives, then we build unsatisfying lives.  

A bean counter is only interested in the numbers.  He doesn’t get that, even in business, there are other values.  He does not want to give up one cent of profit to build a quality product.  Or conserve the land.  Or ensure the safety and well-being of the workers.  He wants the extra business that a company’s reputation for quality, or conservation, or happy workers, will bring.  But he regrets every cent expended in providing those things.  If it doesn’t directly increase the bottom line, it’s wasted.  It’s because of bean counters that we need a complex web of legal safeguards for the environment and workers’ rights.  And even then, the bean counters will always try to get around them.

As in business, so too in life.  The average consumer will say that he cares about quality, conservation, and workers’ rights.  But he will not spend one extra cent on a product, to support those values.  That’s why cheap goods from China, now dominate our economy.  Whole industries have folded.  The things they made are flooding into the country from prison factories that feed their profits into the People’s Liberation Army.  At the end of the day, bean counting provides stuff.  But it does not produce a desirable result.

          So how are we to receive Numbers, the fourth book in the Torah, the book which we begin to read throughout the Jewish world this Shabbat?  Okay, okay, in the Jewish world we don’t usually call the book, ‘Numbers.’  More often, we use the name ‘Bemidbar.’  So given because its opening words are וידבר יי אל משה במדבר סיני… “So Hashem spoke to Moses in the wilderness of Sinai…”  We therefore call the book, במדבר, “In the Wilderness.” The more common title “Numbers” comes from the census that forms a large part of the content of the book.  So whatever title you prefer, it is a book of numbers.

          Moses needed to organise the Israelite people into a viable army for the goal ahead:  the conquest of the land of Israel.  When you’re trying to organise a ragtag bunch into an army, your first chore is to make an assessment of your human assets.  You count how many people you have; nothing could be more basic than that!  Then you organise everyone into units and sub-units.  Then you identify the leaders at each echelon.  You charge and empower them to turn their units from groups of men, into effective fighting forces.  Then you design and begin to apply a training regimen.  Individual training in the skills each soldier needs to know.  Specialised training for individuals in their particular jobs.  Finally, unit training to teach a group of individuals to operate and fight as a unit.  It’s quite a process.  But it all begins with the counting:  the census.

          So by-the-numbers is a step that cannot possibly be bypassed.  But on the other hand, it is not the end of the story.  Mosheh Rabbeinu was no bean counter.  Counting people in order to place them in an organisational chart, does not make an effective army.  And the conquest of Eretz Yisrael was not just about acquiring the land.  It was about a much deeper quest.  It was about having the laboratory to build a society based on Torah.  A society that would be so infused with Goodness that it would serve as a beacon to the nations.

          That beacon was once realised, in antiquity.  Although most Jews today are not aware of this, somewhere between 10 and 20 percent of the population of the Roman Empire were Jews.  And Jews by conversion – pagans who had found Jewish life and faith attractive enough to become Jews – were a very significant share of those Jews.  They very possibly were numerically dominant.

          In our day, it is difficult to picture.  The modern state of Israel does not serve as a beacon to the nations.  But that is not because of any lack of merit on its part.  Much of the world will always be duped into seeing the Israeli Army as Jack the Ripper, and Hamas as Mother Theresa.  Despite all the evidence to the contrary.  And will turn their heads at the degree, to which Israel has achieved a diverse society.  That comes closer to the ideal of welcoming and integrating newcomers, than any other country on the face of the earth.  And will ignore the extent to which tiny Israel jumps to assist other nations in their hour of disaster.

          Why is this?  Why did the ancient world see the Good in the people Israel, whilst the contemporary world holds them to nothing but scorn?  Have we changed so much?  I don’t think so.  Perhaps the entire world is far more obsessed by life by-the-numbers.  Perhaps in the ancient world, the intangibles were of more concern to more people.  I’m not dreaming this up.  So many great writers and futurists have painted a picture of a future where life is ever-increasingly, by-the-numbers.  Where material comforts become ever greater.  While at the same time, life’s sublime meaning becomes ever more hidden.

          Each one of us feels powerless to influence the world as a whole.  And it is not our individual responsibility to do so.  But we can, and should learn to transcend by-the-numbers in our own lives.  To build lives around values that matter.  And not just stuff.  Moses, the Servant of G-d, did it for the entire people Israel.  Let’s each one of us, do it for ourselves.  Shabbat shalom. 

Weekly Post and Thought

Rabbi Israel Meir Kagan, ל"ז, The Chofets Chaim
1839-1933

Another week is drawing quickly to its conclusion.  We had a great time welcoming and celebrating Shavuot together on Saturday evening.  If you missed it...well, you missed it.

Shabbat approaches again, and we're back to our 'normal' schedule:

- Friday evening at the Southport Community Centre, Room F5, at 6.30PM.  Service to welcome Shabbat, followed by an Oneg featuring your culinary offerings.  $15 per person requested donation and bring a dish to share.

- Saturday at the Levy home.  11.00AM Service followed by lunch provided by Clara.  Then, after lunch a bit of Pirkei Avot.  $15 per person requested donation.

Speaking of donations, I need to provide the periodic reminder of how to donate but also, to inform you that there is a new way.

Jewish Journeys now have EFTPOS facility for accepting debit and credit cards for your donations when you take advantage of our Services and Classes.  I will have the EFTPOS machine available at all functions.  You can also e-mail or phone me (number below) with your card details if you want to use this method for payment other than in person.  Finally, the 'old' methods still work:  cash, cheque (to 'Jewish Journeys'), or bank transfer.  For the last, here are the details:

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To continue the daily thoughts would be a bit much, but based on your feedback I decided to continue adding a thought to my weekly e-mail with the conclusion of the Omer.  I am going to turn away for a time from Spirituality and into Ethics.  The truth is that the to are inextricably linked.  How can one claim to be 'Spiritual' without working hard to live ethically?  So really, I'm talking about a change in Emphasis.

One way that almost every person I know is challenged to live ethically - and I definitely include myself! - is in the area of Shemirat Lashon, literally 'Guarding the Tongue' but referring to the vast body of Jewish law concerning forbidden communications via speech or writing of any kind.

As you may know, I believe with all my heart that this is THE problem in the Jewish community today, and its pervasiveness makes a mockery of all our efforts to practice Jewish religion.  The essence of the laws is that we are forbidden to convey any adverse information about someone else except in very limited circumstances.  And those allowable circumstances are so limited that they only occur in very rare circumstances.

I have personally been irreparably and seriously damaged by the propensity in the community here (the Gold Coast, but Queensland as a whole, to engage in what our Tradition calls Lashon Hara, 'Evilspeak.'  But I am in good company.  I know of few people who have not been hurt at some point by this cancer.  Individuals and, sadly, leaders of Jewish institutions and even the institutions themselves - synagogues and other communal organs - are blatantly guilty, day after day, of perpetrating this awful crime.

Next week, I'm going to start presenting the thoughts of Rabbi Israel Meir Kagan (1839-1933).  Kagan, an influential Rabbi of the Mussar ('Ethics') Movement of the Vilna school, is usually known by the title of his magnum opus, called Chofets Chaim, meaning 'Desirer of Life.'  This phrase comes from the 34th Psalm:  (מי האיש החפץ חיים אוהב ימים לראות טוב - Who is the one who desires life, who loves days to see goodness? - נצור לשונך מירע ושפתיך מדבר מרמא - Guard your tongue from evil and your lips from speaking deceitfully)  Kagan eventually established a veshiva in Vilna, which he called Yeshivat Chofets Chaim.  

Whilst I don't wish to oversimplify the laws of Shemirat Halashon, their basis is this:  You cannot convey information that might be considered adverse about someone, unless the consequences of your refraining from same will be likely to result in severe injury of some sort to a vulnerable person.  Let me give you a couple of examples of adverse speech that would be allowed:  If someone you knew was considering hiring a child-minder who was a convicted sex offender, you would be obligated - not just 'allowed' - to inform the person of what you knew.  Or if you knew a woman who was planning to marry a man who had represented himself as never been married, but you knew for a fact that he had been married before.  These are obviously very severe cases, but I have deliberately used severe cases to emphasise that one does not convey adverse information lightly.

Let me give an example of an adverse communication that is not permitted, and this is from my actual experience, an incident where I very painfully fought the urge to speak.  A friend was looking for a Hebrew teacher for a serious course of study to be able to read the Torah.  In expressing his frustration, he suggested that he might approach a rabbinic colleague of mine who lives in his town and whom I know well, and offer to pay him for Hebrew lessons.  I wanted to scream out:  That would be a waste of time!  Why?  Did I want the business myself?  Well, I'm always happy to work with a new, serious student and yes, I can use the parnassah - income - that comes from teaching.  But that's not why I wanted to discourage my friend from going to that Rabbi.  I knew that, if he did, he would be wasting his time.  I know of people who have taken their kids to the man for Hebrew lessons, and their experience was that he would not show up when promised, would not give the student his full attention, would not give the agreed-to amount of time, and was just really not a particularly good and attentive teacher.  With every fibre of my body I wanted to warn my friend to try something else, but I kept hearing the words of the Chofets Chaim in my ears and would not say something negative about my colleague.  After all, my friend is a rational adult; if he had gone to this Rabbi, he would have quickly learnt that he wasn't going to learn from him.  There would be very little 'harm' done.  And on the other hand, maybe the Rabbi has improved over the years; maybe he would give my friend the attention he needed.  So I refrained.  (In the end my friend let me off the hook; before going to my colleague, he suggested that I might be interested in teaching him via Skype, and I agreed.)

The laws of Shemirat Lashon are particularly challenging because they deal with a proscription against positive action (that is, you can't repeat adverse information except in very limited circumstances) and also against negative action (that is, you cannot let someone else get away with lashon hara in you presence).  If he first part is difficult, the second is doubly hard.  But the health of our souls, and our community, demands that we learn, and internalise, and work to put into effect these laws.

One more thought and I'll leave you for now.  I don't think I've ever said so explicitly, but you are welcome to circulate these e-mails to anybody whom you think might be interested in them.  And they can get subscribed to them simply by sending me a quick e-mail.  Please, just exercise discretion by not sending my e-mail on to someone whom you think might use my address for nefarious purposes.  If someone meeting that description might benefit from these e-mails, tell them to become a follower of my blog (rabbidoninoz.blogspot.com) or the Jewish Journeys Facebook page (www.facebook.com/jewishjourneysaustralia).  Thanks, and Shabbat shalom!

Rabbi Don

Rabbi Don Levy

Queensland, Australia

The Forest for the Trees: A Reflection for Parashat Bechukotai, 22 May 2015

In the past few months, we had two occasions where I felt compelled to cancel the Friday evening service because of rain.  In both cases, we weren’t experiencing a little rain.  It was massive amounts of rain that left roads impassable.  And which prompted the local council to ask people to stay off the roads unless there was a very compelling reason to go out.

I like to tell the story of how, a long time ago, I spent an entire Shabbat in the Chabad House in San Antonio, Texas.  As the summer Friday afternoon began its late transition towards evening, there was a rain shower.  This was a gentle rain, nothing like the two aforementioned storms on the Gold Coast.  This Chabad was an old mansion built in the southern style, with larger covered verandahs from and back.  As I was standing on the front verandah, watching the rain sweep across the suburban landscape towards us, I realized that Rebbetzin Chani Block was standing next to me.

“This is what Rashi says Hashem is talking about in the Torah,” she said.

I asked for clarification.

“Where it says I will bring the rain in its season, be’ito in Hebrew,” she explained. “Rashi says be’ito means on Erev Shabbes, because it forces us to slow down and tells us that we don’t have to leave the house for our errands.”

Now I don’t know whether Hashem really meant be’ito to mean ‘Erev Shabbat.”  But I can say that, on the two occasions when it rained all day on Friday, the result was that Clara and I felt far more relaxed than usual on Friday night.  And whilst we missed meeting with our community, at the same time we enjoyed a rare treat of a Shabbat evening at home, and a relaxed dinner with blessings and song and good conversation.  So maybe, just maybe, Rashi had a keen insight on this matter.

This week’s Torah portion, Bechukotai, begins with the same promise:  If you keep my commandments, I will bring the rains in their season.  And a lot of other good things.  Good produce from the land.  Our enemies will be vanquished.  We will see fertility and increase in our numbers.  And then the converse is threatened.  If we don’t follow G-d’s commandments, then every bad result will befall us.  We’re reading it this week in the 26^th chapter of Leviticus.  The other place where such promises are made, which is one of the three passages in the traditional Shema, is the 11^th chapter of Deuteronomy.

The chapter in Deuteronomy is not so familiar to Progressive Jews, because the early reformists removed that passage from the Shema leaving only the sixth chapter of Deuteronomy, and the final two verses from the third part of the Shema, Numbers chapter 15.

When I was first introduced to Reform Judaism, as Progressive is called in North America, I asked my Rabbi, Joel Schwartzman, why Reform had removed Deuteronomy 11 from the Shema.  He told me it was because the sentiments expressed – that everything good was a result of following the commandments and everything bad from not following them – was abhorrent to the reformists.  Imagine, he challenged me, if every time the rains came in necessary measure and time, thinking that it was G-d responding to our merit.  And imagine thinking that every childless woman we met, was so afflicted because of her sins?  So the reformists had decided that this wasn’t a passage of Torah they wanted their members to be most familiar with through repetition.

At the time I accepted Rabbi Schwartzman’s words, because they made sense.  I’d read Harold Kushner’s wonderful book, When Bad Things Happen to Good People and was therefore sensitive to the issue of ‘blaming the victim.’

But just as most of us experience an evolution in our thinking over time, I’ve come to where passages like this no longer repel me.  As I have come to understand the Torah better over the years, I realise that many objections to passages of Torah are a result of not seeing the forest for the trees.

I think we all know this expression, not seeing the forest for the trees.  It means, focusing so much on details that one misses the whole.  In the case of the Torah, it means focusing on individual verses of short passages so that we tend to see them in isolation.  In isolation they can look far different, than in the context of the whole.  This is one of the reasons why, in Jewish life, we do not tend to memorise certain verses in order to use them ‘as weapons’ when engaging in an argument.  Like some of our neighbours do.  Oh, I think that there is a place for verse memorization.  It would be good to have in one’s memory, various verses of comfort and encouragement to use as armour when things are not going well.  But verse memorization is not a common Jewish way to engage in polemics, when we do engage in polemics.

To grasp what the Torah is trying to tell us it helps to have a good understanding of the Hebrew of the original.  That way, one is not held hostage to some translator’s take on a particular passage or word.

When we read these passages about what will result if we follow G-d’s law or not, we tend to think in terms of reward and punishment.  But that’s not what the text is saying here.  It is not promising reward and threatening punishment.  It is simply listing predicted consequences.  The image of a vengeful G-d sitting in judgement – You didn’t follow my law, so here’s what will happen! – is simply a superimposition of a notion that is not contained in the text.  It is a result of adding our own commentary.

I remember, when I was a child, reaching for the stove whilst my mother was cooking.  “Don’t touch the stove,” she warned. “Or you’ll get hurt.”

Now of course, as soon as Mum had turned her back, I reached again for the stove.  And was burned.  And it hurt.  When my mother warned me, she wasn’t telling me that, if I touched the stove, she would hurt me.  She was simply warning me of the likely consequences if I ignored her.

Passages like this are like that.  Hashem has devised for us a complete way of life with a set of laws to live by.  Some have to do with preserving life by carrying out reasonable safety measures.  Build on your roof a parapet.  Some have to do with maintaining healthy relations with your fellow, avoiding publicly shaming him and therefore risking his ire that could lead to quarreling.  Some have to do with how to behave vis-à-vis one’s enemy in war so as to keep the warfare within certain bounds and not causing an unnecessary escalation.  Some have to do with keeping a personal balance, and therefore better ensuring one’s ultimate happiness.  These are the laws, not of a harsh Divine Judge, but of a benevolent God who only wants the best for us.

But what about those who, by all reasonable appearances, keep G-d’s law yet it doesn’t go well for them personally?  The woman who lives according to Torah and yet experiences the pain of childlessness, for example?  The mistake we often make, is to think that Torah is always talking to us as individuals.  Instead, consider that it is, for the most part, an instruction book for a people.  If we follow G-d’s laws, we will be fruitful in the collective.  Someone is always going to be the exception, prospering when they don’t personally merit it or suffering when they’ve been good.  But when the Torah predicts good things as a result for following the law, it means to the Jewish people as a whole.  And even more specifically, to the Jewish people living together in their land.  Hashem can’t give the Jew, living among non-Jews, rain whilst withholding it from his gentile neighbours.  G-d is not omnipotent to that extent!

If we keep all these things in mind, and keep our context straight, then the G-d who comes to us through the Torah text begins to look quite different.  And the text itself looks different.  It is not something to repel us.  If we avoid superimposing a meaning that isn’t there, then the Torah sings to us.  Then there is no ambiguity in the statement all its ways are pleasantness, and all its paths are peace.  Shabbat shalom, and chag sameach!  

A Mindset of Abundance: A Drash for Parashat Behar, Friday, 15 May 2015

Every day, I encounter people who shrey gevalt constantly about what they do not have.  You know the people I’m talking about.  They will never be happy, because they cannot stop looking at their neighbours, looking at what they have, and thinking that they will never measure up materially.  They are exactly the people Hashem was thinking about when He inscribed the words of that Tenth Word in the stone of the tablet.  Lo tachmod.  Thou shalt not covet.  This is the most difficult of the Ten, for the most people.  The Seventh is a challenge for many.  (Do not commit adultery.)  But the Tenth…even the most virtuous person I know sometimes fails to withstand the temptation to covet.  We all find it difficult at times.

          I’m guessing that every parent fights their children’s tendency to desire with their eyes, that which their friends have.  I know that Clara and I did.  Count your blessings, we would tell them, over and over, having to stop and explain it from time to time lest they come to think of the words as little more than a mantra.  Be thankful for what you have, rather than resentful for what you don’t have.  It’s sage advice for every child ever born, not to mention every adult who ever survived childhood.  Because in truth, adults tend to be just as guilty of this mindset, as their children.

          The tendency to covet often comes from a mindset that I call The Mindset of Niggardliness.  Or to use a different word, Insufficiency.  A mindset that is never satisfied that its owner has enough.  Now, before you accuse me of making a racist statement, the word Niggardly has no linguistic connection whatsoever to ‘The N-word.’ You know, that epithet that is for many the ultimate expression of contempt for dark-skinned people of African extraction.  It only sounds similar.

          One who approaches life from a mindset of Niggardliness, goes through life obsessing over what they perceive others as having more than them.  This often manifests itself over material things.  There’s always someone out there who has a nicer home, a newer car, went on a more lavish holiday, has a more advanced mobile phone.

          But the mindset also manifests itself over non-material things.  My friends has a more attractive wife than I have.  Or, his marriage is happier.  Or, he has a better relationship with his parents.

          Manifested materially or otherwise, one afflicted by the Mindset of Niggardliness is never satisfied with what one has.  It leads to a life of striving after that which your neighbour has.  Or of complaining about what one doesn’t have.  This, depending on the degree of initiative or passivity one possesses.  But the mindset is the same.  It’s all about my neighbour.

          It seems that our Torah anticipates that the people Israel will tend to develop this mindset, and not just in including Do Not Covet in the Top Ten Commandments.  In this week’s Torah portion Behar, in the 25^th chapter of the Book of Leviticus, we find Hashem giving the people through Moses the commandment of the Sabbatical Year for the crops.  The year that the farmers must refrain from planting, and cultivating a crop.  The year that he land must rest, and only the residual crop growth – as well as the foodstuffs stored up from previous years – will be there to ensure the people’s survival.

          Of course this is entirely counter-intuitive!  Of course this is a Commandment, concerning which the people will tend to want to circumvent.  What agrarian economy would survive if it were shut down for a year?  What nation, dependent upon its own self-sufficiency for food, would prevent famine if it were to simply stop growing crops for one year out of seven?  Why would a ‘Rational’ G-d require this of us??!

          I think the answer to the above is that, on an entirely rational basis, it is perfectly reasonable to cease producing for a time.  A day, a week, a year.  Because rationally, if we’re working hard and being frugal and saving ‘for a rainy day,’ we can make it through a cessation of productivity.  But we tend to be irrational about it.  And as proof, I need only point toward the weekly Sabbath and out inability to observe it.

I can’t tell you how many times Jews tell me that they can’t observe the Sabbath because they ‘have too much to do.’  This very morning, I heard it from someone who is here for a month or so alone, with nobody else to worry about, and without work to accomplish – only assorted errands, none of which has to be accomplished on a Saturday.

Yeah, yeah, the Rabbi is complaining about people not showing up on Shabbes again!  I can hear you thinking that!  But think about it.  If our Mindset of Niggardliness even prevents us from setting aside one day a week for cessation from productivity, how could we possibly fathom a year’s cessation?  And yet either cessation – one day per week, or one year per seven – is not only possible but, for most of us, quite do-able.  We just need to re-order our priorities.  And we need to replace our Mindset of Niggardliness, with a Mindset of Abundance.  We need to see past that which we lack, and celebrate that which we enjoy.

In that sense, Sabbath observance is important not only as an end in and of itself.  It is, in reality, training for the Abundant Life.  If we can make this step, the step for Niggardliness to Abundant Life, then we can approach our Jewish lives with a sense of Nobility.  That is, we can see Hashem as being All-sufficient to provide us with a life of the deeper meaning we need to transcend our own pettiness.  And then we can invest ourselves in that Jewish life.  Materially and emotionally. 

At its heart, the Mindset of Niggardliness is patently irrational.  Because, if we spend our lives looking at what other people have that we don’t, we’ll miss and important truth.  A truth that should be self-evident.  And that is that a focus on others, makes one tend to conflate the blessings of each person we encounter, into an entirely mythical sum-total that is not representative of any one person.  So in reality, the ‘problem’ is not that we’re worse off than someone else.  Rather, that the sum total of what all others have will always make us feel deprived.  Chances are that each and every person hearing, or reading these words today, is quite well-off in absolute terms.  But you will continue to see yourselves as deprived, as long as you continue to compare yourself to another who is, in reality, a sum-total of all the others out there.

And all this comes from a Mindset of Niggardliness.  A mindset that seems to forever focus on what we lack.  A mindset that cannot seem to envision a life of Abundance.  An Abundance that, in reality, is already within your reach.  You only need to replace the Mindset of Niggardliness, with a Mindset of Abundance.  When we succeed to make that transition, we will live differently, even if our resources are constant.  Without really thinking about it, we will invest Abundantly of all our resources to enjoy our Jewish life In the Image of G-d.

The Jewish Holy Scriptures – The Torah

Yesterday I participated in an Interfaith Forum organised by a Korean organisation, HWPL, whose stated aim is to use such dialogue as a tool for achieving world peace.  Although there is cause to hold the organisation at arm's length as its leader is widely considered a cult leader in Korea, I didn't see any harm in participating as structurally, the event was similar to many that I've taken part in.  The 'assignment' for participants in the forum, was to speak about their particular religion's holy writings, answering the following questions: (1) Does your holy scripture contain history? (2) moral teachings? (3) prophecy? (4) fulfillment?

I thought my presentation was quite basic, but my words were well-received and Clara has suggested I share them with you.  Below, then, are the remarks I delivered at yesterday's forum, offered in the hope that they might be helpful to you in your own Interfaith Conversations:

Photo from a different HWPL gathering

We Jews call our Holy Scriptures, ‘the Torah.’  The word ‘Torah’ is Hebrew for ‘instruction.’  The name Torah refers to a specific series of scriptures, and more.  In its most limited sense ‘the Torah’ refers to the text that constitutes the first five books of the Bible for Jews, as well as for Christians.  That is, the books of Genesis through Deuteronomy.  But the term ‘the Torah’ can also refer to the larger body of sacred literature, what a Christian would call ‘the Old Testament.’  We Jews have a specific name for these scriptures in their totality:  ‘TaNaCH,’ which is an acronym for Torah; Nevi-im or ‘prophets’; and Ketuvim or ‘writings.’

If this is not complicated enough, the word ‘Torah’ also encompasses the traditional Jewish understanding as to what the words of these texts really mean.  And that traditional understanding has spawned an additional, larger set of texts.  There are, for example the Talmud, the Codes, and the Commentaries.  And all these texts – they form quite a library all together – are also considered ‘Torah.’

But more important than which texts constitute the Torah, is what they represent to the Jews.  They represent nothing less than the revealed will of the Living God.  Through Torah we discern God’s will for our way of life.  The way of life prescribed by the Torah is the way of peace and balance that everybody must have no matter what their life’s quest.  But Torah does not, of course, account for our specific life’s paths.  The Torah will not, for example, reveal to my son what profession he should pursue as his life’s work.  We Jews tend not to look for specific guidance from God as to the latter.  Rather, if we’re living a life of Torah and obedience, we should be able to discern through soul-searching and thoughtful consideration.

The five books that constitute the centerpiece of Torah – the aforementioned biblical books of Genesis through Deuteronomy – come to us in the form of a grand narrative.  It begins with the creation of the world.  It continues to God’s response to unbridled evil.  It chronicles the election of a man named Abraham and his offspring for a unique role among the nations.  And finally it tells of the preparation of those offspring through trials and instruction for that role.  In this sense, the books come as a sacred history.  But their purpose is always teaching morality.  We do not use the Torah quite as a history text.  Nor is it a geology text despite beginning with the creation of the world.  In every chapter, in every verse, we are supposed to draw out important lessons for living.

The Torah prescribes a way of life that encompasses interpersonal relations, marriage, child-bearing, work, dress, and food.  It orders our year by prescribing a calendar of festivals and observances for the entire community.  It orders our individual lives by prescribing the ways that we note life events and transitions.

For example. The Torah directs that each of us take a marriage partner and participate in the increase of the human race and the Jewish people.  We are to ‘be fruitful and multiply,’ to bring offspring into the world and educate them and help them to add to the goodness of the world.  For this reason, there is no Jewish monastic tradition.

The Torah directs a complex set of ethics in the way we live.  We are to honour our parents.  To neither murder not bodily harm our neighbor.  To respect our neighbour’s ownership of his material goods, not to mention his home and his spouse.  We are to keep and remember the Sabbath day as a memorial to the act of creation and of our liberation from servitude to the ancient Egyptians.  But we ae also to afford our families, our employees, and even our animals the same Sabbath rest that we enjoy.

It is therefore not surprising that a mastery of the texts that make up the Torah is the sine qua non of Jewish life.  We master the Torah so that we can live in its way.  Because there is no intermediary between the individual Jew and God, each Jew is expected to study the Torah.  And the ability to do so in its original languages, directly from the primary sources rather than translations, is highly prized. 

Much of Jewish life seems quite rationalistic because, for many Jews, it is.  There is an undisputable pragmatic essence to Jewish life.  The mystical, devotional aspects of religious faith, seem far more important to our neighbours in other traditions.  They are considered more personal in Judaism.  We do not tend to talk at length with one another about our individual spiritual practices.  We just do them.  Yes, we do have our share of mystically-inclined teachers and students.  And we have a rich mystical tradition which we call, ‘the Kabbalah.’  It consists of an additional set of texts, as well as a series of practices intended to bring the mystical-minded to a closer encounter with God.  But one doesn’t delve into the mystical world without a solid knowledge of the rational.

As I said, we Jews have a very specific, prescribed way of life.  It is nothing less than God’s will that we follow that way of life.  But it is not prescribed for every human being on earth.  Someone who is not Jewish, is not expected to live like a Jew.  The complex set of religious practices that make up our religious way are not incumbent upon others.  As an example, Jewish dietary practice precludes our eating pork or shellfish.  By we don’t imagine that God requires this discipline of others.  To put it another way, one does not have to be Jewish, to please God.  Each person chooses a specific path to holiness – or does not.  What God requires of each and every human being, according to Torah, is a basic ethical character that brings him or her to live within Seven Principles.  They are as follows.  Establish, or participate in, a system of courts to dispense justice, justly. Do not worship false gods.  Do not disrespect your Creator.  Do not murder or unjustly injure your neighbour.  Do not engage in incestuous, unnatural, dishonest or coercive sexual relationships.  Do not steal what belongs to another.  Do not practice cruelty o any of God’s creatures.  Any person who works to live by these principles finds God’s favour.  Judaism as a way of live, is God’s plan specifically for Jews.  The Torah teaches both paths.  It is therefore at once the guidebook for the Jews, and enduring wisdom for all.

It is a joy to me, to be invited to present these views to you, today, at this event.  By establishing, and maintaining a dialogue with one another, we offer insights into the wisdom that one another’s traditions offer.  We make ourselves better people.  We make the world a better place.  I wish you shalom - peace - and beracha - blessing.

Happy Mother’s Day…Anyway! A Drash for 8 May 2014

Every year, we celebrate Shabbat immediately before Mother’s Day.  After all, Mother’s Day comes always on a Sunday!  So every year, not just in my shule but in in most shules in the Jewish world, there are some special words said, some reflection, some unique observance to honour the mothers in the congregation.

          In the Reform Rabbis’ Facebook group this week, a colleague from the USA shared an article from a Christian website.  That’s not so remarkable; we rabbis understand that our world is limited in scope.  Our friendships with our Christian colleagues have shown us over time that many of the concerns that cloud their days, are concerns for us also.  I know that I have told you enough anecdotes over the years from my work, that you’re aware of this.

          The article shared by the colleague was from a website dedicated towards mutual support for pastors.  It was a letter from a woman in someone’s congregation.  The letter’s author begged her pastor to go easy on the acknowledgement of Mother’s Day in church this year.  The gist of the message was that hearing such words, and in particular watching the mothers in the sanctuary rise and be recognised was painful to her.  The letter did not explain why this particular woman was not a mother.  Reading it, I had the sense that she was infertile.  This, as opposed to unmarried or childless for any other of possible reasons.  She pled impassionedly about how remaining in her seat during the recognition of the mothers, year after year, had been painful.  So much so, that she had taken to not attending church on Mother’s Day at all.

          It was one of those posting which elicited few comments.  The comments that others did post were of the that’s so profound, that’s so true nature.  And now my confession:  my first reaction to the letter was:  Oh, give me a break!

          Nowadays, it has become the custom for people to take offense at just about everything.  So here was one more crybaby who, since she wasn’t going to be recognised, found someone else’s recognition to be painful.  So perhaps we should stop recognizing nonagenarians so that those whose parents passed away in their eighties won’t feel bad.  And stop recognizing 50^th wedding anniversaries to avoid hurting those whose spouse didn’t live long enough to reach that milestone.  Or who are divorced.  Or never married.  Or are gay, and therefore unable – in most places – to marry their chosen partner at all.  Or how about recognizing someone’s success in whatever endeavor, to acknowledge publicly the attainment of their goal?  Let’s not mention if someone in our congregation wins an election, since surely there is someone out there who lost the same, or another, election.  Or shep nachas over someone whose son graduated from medical school, since over there is surely someone whose child didn’t get admitted and had to choose another profession.  Or take delight in someone whose recent transaction netted a large sum of money, since surely there is someone out there who has only failed in business.  Every time we publicly recognise someone for some achievement, or whatever nature, there is possibly someone out there who did not succeed in the same endeavor.  So let’s just stop recognising people at all.  Because someone might be jealous, let’s just shut up about any kind of achievement and not express our collective delight.

          So, when I read this letter, I thought…more of the same!  Just one more reflection of the zeitgeist, where we’re ‘trained’ to take offense at almost everything we hear.  The human race today is so collectively unhappy that it as if we’re looking in everything we see and hear for the source of our unhappiness.  We cannot accept responsibility for our own happiness or lack thereof.  So we look for its source in everything outside of ourselves.

          We can’t seem to find happiness within ourselves for a number of reasons.  But I think the main reason is that we cannot seem to internalise the Tenth of the Top Ten Commandments:  Do not covet.  We have bought into the notion that life is a zero sum game.  Therefore, we find it difficult to see someone else’s success as not being at our own expense.  Every time we see someone else being favoured with success of whatever kind, we are apt to think of that success as something we should be enjoying.  I don’t think we do this deliberately.  But I challenge you to be sensitive to its manifestation.  The next time you hear about someone else’s success, in some area where success has eluded you, listen to your heart for your reaction.  If you’re being honest with yourself, you’ll very likely realise that your inner voice is wishing that person anything but well.

          Having said all that, I have reflected further on the issue of women whom motherhood has eluded, finding Mother’s Day difficult to endure.  And I’m inclined to afford such women a bit of slack.  Why is that?

          Because we make motherhood the sina qua non of womanhood.  And how can we not?  It’s true that, one might argue, the earth is full to bursting.  One could be forgiven for thinking that G-d’s commandment to be fruitful and multiply has been fulfilled, many times over.  And yet, we know that the various catastrophes worldwide that result from overpopulation are really caused by the various human follies that make resources not reach those who can best benefit from them.  There’s enough food and water to go around, but too much corruption hijacks too much of it.

          So, crowded as the earth might be, there really is room for many more babies.  And there is nothing that brings more joy than bringing children into the world.  This, despite the frustrations and pitfalls of parenthood.  So of course, one who is unable to have children is likely to feel profoundly left out.  And we should always remember to empathise with those who feel the loss that comes with not having the joy of children.

          I’m not going to refrain from honouring motherhood and mothers on this, the Shabbat immediately preceding Mother’s Day.  But at the same time, I’m going to be as sensitive as possible towards those women among us who have not experienced motherhood, and are feeling this loss especially this weekend.  For every childless woman who knows the pain of loss, we have no words to ease your pain, except to tell you that your childless status does not diminish your value to the rest of us.  But it is necessary even so, to look upon those who have experienced motherhood, and tell them:  there is no role on earth that is more sacred, more necessary than bringing children into the world and raising them to be good people.  We recognise what you have done, and what you are still doing.  We honour the contribution that cannot be likened to anything else in life.  Happy Mother’s Day and Shabbat shalom.

The Scapegoat...Additional Thoughts

This morning, in presenting the drash I shared on this blog yesterday, I had an extemporaneous flash of clarity that I'd like to share here.

Although I maintain that the ancient people Israel weren't really supposed to think that the goat for Azazel carried away their sins for the reasons I stated, it occurred to me that there might have been an additional purpose for the ritual.

Sometimes, our sins can weigh us down to the point that we are unable to face them.  If having the need to engage in repentance after dispatching their sins, as it were, on the back of the goat proved that the latter ritual didn't really dispatch their sins at all, maybe it accomplished something else.  It gave them breathing space with their sins, as it were, not breaking their backs as a necessary step toward facing them.

We often practice a distancing like this when we are in distress.  When some situation is weighing you down to the point where you can't cope, don't you sometimes lose yourself in something else in order to relieve the pressure.  When you return to the matter at hand, you find that it hasn't gone away.  But perhaps what you've down in putting it off for a while was a psychological necessity, if you were going to ultimately face it.

Perhaps placing their sins on the back of the goat to send to the wilderness, served this purpose for the ancient Israelites.  And perhaps it serves as a bit of wisdom of the ages for us.  When our sins and their consequences are weighing us down to he point of putting us into stasis, let's understand tht it's okay to push the matter aside for a time to give us a chance to regroup and  built up the energy we need to face it.