A Land that Devours its Inhabitants: A Reflection for Parashat Shelach Lecha, 12 June 2015

the 12 Spies bring back their report

You may know Israeli Jews as a patently fatalistic lot.  It is difficult not to be, living in such a land.  A land that, despite being the closest embodiment of liberal values on the planet, is commonly despised by the world’s Left.  A land that, despite the sometimes-fabulous wealth and political power of its Arab minorities, is frequently seen as a land where its minorities are confined to a series of Soweto-like slums.  A land whose army is probably the most moral in the world, whose soldiers ae held to sometimes-impossible standards in the conduct of combat operations where their enemy exhibits no moral scruples whatsoever, yet much of the world views that army as tantamount to Jack the Ripper and its Hamas enemy as the embodiment of Mother Theresa.  A land seen by much of the world as backward and hopelessly mired in thinking from former centuries yet whose research institutes have come up with an incredible number of the technologies that make our lives ever easier and healthier.

          Given all this, it should not come as a surprise that Israelis develop a jaded view of the world, and a fatalistic view of themselves.  Modern Israeli Hebrew is full of expressions of exasperation and resignation to one’s fate.  But none sums up that spirit more than the phrase, ארץ אוכלת יושביה (eretz ochelet yoshveiha) – a Land that devours its Inhabitants.  Every time an Israeli encounters some senseless behavior among his countrymen, or senseless conflict between them, he is likely to shrug and mutter, eretz ochelet yoshveiha.  It’s as if to say, we can’t help it.  We live in a place that devours its inhabitants.

          The expression, eretz ochelet yoshveiha, is actually found in the Written Torah, in the thirteenth chapter of the Book of Numbers, in this week’s Torah reading, Shelach Lecha.  It is part of the gloomy report brought back to Moses, Aaron, and the entire people Israel by the Twelve Spies whom Moses sent to scout out the Land so that the War of Conquest could be planned.  Actually, by the Ten Spies – since two of their lot, Joshua bin Nun and Caleb ben Yefunneh, reported positively.  The other ten reported that the land they’d been sent to scout out, was a land that devours its inhabitants.  Further, they reported that the land current inhabitants were giants.  They – the Israelite spies – were viewed by them as grasshoppers.

          What could the Spies have meant in declaring that the land devours its inhabitants?  Inhabitants who, in the next breath, they identified as giants?  Were they trying to say that conditions in the land were such that there was an overabundance of conflict and misery among its inhabitants?  The text, as in other places, leaves us hanging.

          But Rashi fills in the lacunae.  He asserts that eretz ochelet yoshveiha is a response to the Spies’ observation that there seemed to be an awful lot of funerals during the Spies’ sojourn.  If so, that was a slim evidence that the land devours its inhabitants.  And Rashi goes on to assert that the profusion of deaths among the Canaanites during the time of the Spies’ visit was even caused directly by Hashem, in order to provide cover for the Spies’ mission.  If so, the Spies were being fatalistic about a phenomenon that was for their very benefit.

          I’ve always found this Torah portion particularly fascinating and, given my own history in military intelligence, I’ve worked hard to understand exactly what was the Spies’ sin.  The sin so grave as to cause Hashem to decree the passing of a generation before the conquest could begin.  In the past, I focused on the negativity of their report and how it ‘infected’ the entire people with a negatively that would make the conquest fail with absolute certainty.  I know from my own experience, that an intelligence analyst’s job is to report the facts and reasonable conclusions concerning the enemy.  But it is not his job to discourage the commander from launching the operation.  His job is to help the commander decided how to succeed.  The reality is that the commander probably has no choice concerning whether to prosecute the battle.  He doesn’t need naysayers.  As we see in this Torah portion, naysayers have a tendency to infect the rest of the troops with their pessimism.  And any military man will tell you that the unquantifiable factor in any operation is the belief among the troops that they will succeed.  It’s unquantifiable, but it is essential.  As soon as the army believes it will fail, it will!  That’s why generals and other leaders are known for their colourful pep-talks to the troops on the eve of the battle.  As George C Scott, playing General Patton, famously delivered in the opening minutes of the movie Patton.  Scott’s soliloquy was taken directly from the text of Patton’s talk to his men as they prepared to deploy from Ft Benning for the launching of the North Africa campaign.

But before, I’d missed Rashi’s explanation, which does clarify matters.  A Land that devours its Inhabitants as a reflection of a large number of funerals whilst the Spies were on the scene.  And the Spies’ completely missed that the deaths were caused specifically to assist them in their mission!

Given this, eretz ochelet yoshveiha is not an understandable expression of fatalism.  Rather, it is completely irrational given the facts.  And the truth is that most fatalism is irrational.  And its result is predictable:  the breaking down of morale.  Unfortunately, we are all in danger, each and every one of us, of falling into fatalism.  No matter what land we dwell in.  And it’s always irrational.  Because fatalism is a self-fulfilling prophecy.  Defeatism brings about defeat.  More than any other factor.  In an army preparing or war.  In a nation preparing for success.  In a family striving for a good future.  Fatalism itself is the most accurate predictor of failure.

I’m almost embarrassed to offer the natural lesson from this, it is so self-evident.  It is incumbent upon us to be optimistic!  We plan and we scheme and we strive.  And if we truly believe that we will succeed, then we will!  Perhaps that success will not look exactly as it did in our plans.  But our belief in ourselves will lead us to a positive end. 

And what about our Israeli cousins?  Truth be told, they’re not really given to fatalism.  The expressions of fatalism that thy predictably make, are really expressions of wonderment.  Of lack of comprehension as to why things are the way they aree.  But the truth is that Israelis as a lot are no more fatalistic them others, and far less so than most.  So many Israelis ae aware of this.  I have been told time and again by Israelis that one must be patently optimistic to live in their land.  

But our Arab cousins are, in contrast, most assuredly fatalistic.  Far more so than many other peoples.  And that is certainly one of the primary reasons why there is so much misery in the Arab world.  But our Arab cousins can’t seem to see that.  Instead they see the relative joy of the Israelis, which so contrasts with their own perceived reality.  And they blame the Israelis for all their problems.  Or the Crusades, which ended more than seven centuries ago.  And this propensity to blame their present day troubles on a tiny nation of eight million, and at the same time on a war 700 years ago (which they won!) is about as irrational as it gets.

So let’s take the lesson.  The result of fatalism is fatality.  And therefore, let’s believe.  Shabbat shalom.  

Light to Behold: A Reflection for Parashat Beha’alot’cha, 5 June 2015

Oh, the things that we take for granted!  When I’m home and I need light, I reach for one of the wall switches and throw it.  Even in the dark, I hardly have to grope about for that switch.  I know where they’re all located, in every room.  And that’s important, because I’m sometimes a bit insomniac.  That’s a little ‘gift’ from my various life experiences, something that comes and goes but usually comes.  So I awake in a house that’s completely dark.  I need to find my robe, find my way out of the bedroom, close the bedroom door as gently as possible lest I disturb Clara, and find the light switch outside the bedroom.

          The funny thing is, even when I’m away from home I can usually instinctively find the wall switch.  It seems that they’re often placed in a logical location, and at a height where the average-height person is likely to reach for it.  So for one who gets up at night a lot, life is not terribly dangerous in that regard.

          Until I go camping.  Every camper worth his salt brings his torch – or flashlight as we Americans call it – and makes sure it has fresh batteries.  And then he places it close to his sleeping bag, so that a nocturnal need to get up will not result in excessive groping in the dark for it.  And that’s important.  Because a stroll in the dark at home might result in bumping into furniture or some such.  But a similar stroll at a campsite might result in falling into a hole in the ground.  The camper may sleep with his shoes on to save him from that bit of groping in the dark, but torches have a way of rolling under other gear in the tent.  Trust me, I have first-hand experience with this!

          A camper does not take light to see by as a given.  He knows that he must arrive at his campsite prepared with various types of torches and lanterns by which to perform the chores of camp life.  Campers tend to build and maintain large, roaring campfires whose only real purpose is to increase one’s carbon footprint.  But they still need lanterns if they want to read.  Or do kitchen chores at night or early in the morning.  Believe me, if you have kitchen duty in the morning in camp, you don’t wait until full sunrise to get breakfast started!

Almost everybody on the planet’s got a torch, because after all electricity occasionally does fail.  The problem for most of us is that, if we actually need the thing because the lights have gone out, we probably wouldn’t remember where we stowed it!  And when we bought it, we probably didn’t think too deeply about it.  We probably spent as little as possible on it, as possible.

          Campers, in contrast, engage in deep contemplation over which torch to buy.  It’s a most important piece of gear.  Go to your local Katmandu or BCF store, and you’ll find many choices of torches.  And campers drooling over them.  After a sleeping bag and tent, the torch is probably the most important symbol of camping life.

          Ask almost anybody what is the most important symbol of Judaism, and they will probably tell you it is the six-pointed star, the ‘Star of David’ or more properly the Magen David, the Shield of David.  The simple, geometric motif is found emblazoned on Jewish buildings and their furnishings, the covers of many Jewish books, and on all manner of Jewish tchotchkes.  In people’s minds, the Magen David is the Jewish equivalent of the Christian Cross.  Just as the Crescent is the Islamic equivalent.  But the Magen David hasn’t always been so strongly associated with Judaism and Jews.  It only appears as an important symbol of Judaism in about the 17^th century.  It was present in antiquity, but not particularly as a symbol of Judaism.

          In antiquity, the most important symbol of Judaism was the Menorah, the seven-branched candelabra which was one of the important furnishings in the Temple.  Today, one seldom sees a seven-branched Menorah on display in a Jewish place.  You’re more likely to see the Chanukah Menorah, more properly the Chanukkiah, its nine-branched cousin.  I more often see small, seven-branch Menorahs in Christian homes.  I’m not sure why that is so, but it is.

          I’ve got nothing against the Magen David as a symbol of Judaism.  Franz Rosenzweig wrote a wonderful book, Der stern der Erlösung. The Star of Redemption.  In it, he famously wrote that he saw in the intertwined triangles of the Magen David, the symbol of humanity reaching towards G-d whilst G-d simultaneously reaches toward humanity.  It’s a compelling vision, and a compelling case for the Magen David as the primary symbol of Judaism.

          But let’s not be so quick to toss away the Menorah as a symbol of Judaism.  And there is no shortage of symbolism in the Menorah.  First and foremost, it is a reminder of the Holy Temple, which itself was a reminder of G-d’s Presence among us.  And it was a vessel that bore light, reminding us of how G-d’s Light illumines our lives if we let it.  And its seven branches can be taken as symbolic of the Seven Branches of knowledge.  The ability of Understand a draw conclusions.  The knowledge of nature.  The knowledge of the soul.  The knowledge of biology.  Music.  Metaphysics.  And finally, the knowledge of Torah.  It was to be made by beating it out of the purest gold.  This is a reminder of G-d’s Purity.

          This week’s Torah reading, Beha’a lot’cha instructs the Kohen Gadol, the High Priest, to light the Menorah each day.  The message is clear.  The Kohanim, serving in their unique role in the sacrificial ritual, made G-d’s Light shine so it was visible to all the Jews and, by extension, the entire world.  Today, whilst some Jews claim priestly lineage, there is no priesthood to serve that purpose.  All Jews serve that purpose as a “nation of priests, a holy people.”  Would that we were worthy of that responsibility.  

G-d’s Light is not automatically discernable.  It must be tended and nurtured.  Powerful symbols make it real.  Those symbols become Holy by extension, because we have a need to see and touch holiness.  Let this Shabbat be for us a symbol of G-d’s Holiness.  As we revel in its sounds and tastes, let us feel as if we’ve been touched by G-d Himself.  Let us neither grope in the dark for Him, as a camper might grope for his torch at night.  Let us not take Him for granted, as we might take the availability of electric light for granted.  However we wish to visually symbolise that, is just fine with me.  Shabbat shalom.

Weekly Post and Thought

Dear Friends,

Another week is drawing quickly to its conclusion; where do the days go?  I have to tell you; last Shabbat was wonderful for me.  The energy and joy at our services was palpable.  I hope you felt even a fraction of what I did!  I hope you'll come and be a part of this week's helping.

- 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.

Remember that we now have EFTPOS facility for accepting debit and credit cards when you attend, if you prefer to donate/pay that way.  But the 'old' methods still work:  cash, cheque (to 'Jewish Journeys'), or bank transfer.

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We're going to hold a fund-raising garage sale on Sunday, 28 June at Paul's home:  142 Morala Avenue in Runaway Bay.  Got any stuff just taking up space?  Of course you do...Clara and I have only been here three years, and even WE do!  So...donate your surplus items to Jewish Journeys to sell at our Garage sale and raise a bit of cash for the treasury.  Bring small items when you attend Friday evenings or Saturday mornings until then.  For large items, talk to Paul or me about dropping them off; if you haven't the capability to transport them, we'll pick them up from your place.

Help out with your precious, surplus goods, but also plan to come and help - and have a good time doing so! - on the day.  We'll be selling food and drink, and talking to people about Judaism and Jewish Journeys.  Paul tells me that his street sees a lot of traffic on Sundays, so this will raise our profile.  In the coming weeks, we'll circulate signup sheets to enable you to volunteer to cover cooking and greeting during specific times, but for now just mark your calendars for Sunday 28 June and stand by for additional information.

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As I said last week, the next series of weekly thoughts will be 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.

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 promised last week, that this week I would dive into the teachings of the Chofetz Chaim, Rabbi Israel Meir Kagan (1839-1933), who published extensively on the subject and indeed is considered the all-time master teacher on what the Torah has to say about it.

But if you'll indulge me, before we delve into the Chofetz Chaim, I'm going to offer some background from theWritten Torah.

If you'll look at the Torah, in the book Vayikra (Leviticus),Parashat Kedoshim, chapter 19 verse 16, you'll find the following Negative Commandment:  לא תלך רכיל בעמיך -Don't go about as a tale-bearer among your people.  The word 'rachil,' tale-bearer is the equivalent of 'gossip.'  It means to spread any information that is not positive, about someone else.  Does this mean that you can't tell others, when some mutual friend of acquaintance is (for example) unwell?  No.  As long as you're sure that the person in question does not desire to keep that information private, for whatever reason, there is no prohibition on the spreading of such information when it is clearly for the purpose of letting people know of the distress of someone else for the purpose of getting them to provide support.

Likewise, if the information is clearly positive and is presented in that spirit, then there's no prohibition on relaying such information.  As an example, you've heard that so-and-so's son is getting married.

But where there's any doubt about the information being taken as positive, then to go about repeating it is tantamount to being a rachil, a tale-bearer.

But keep reading in the verse:  ולא תעמוד על דם רעיך - so you don't stand upon you neighbour's blood.  The Torah is clear; to be a rachil is tantamount to being a murderer.  That's strong language, but if you think about it, it is not an exaggeration.  The damage that tale-bearing can and willdo to someone's character, their reputation, their ability to earn a living...is immeasurable.

The final clause of the verse is ויראת מאלוקיך אני השם - so you shall revere your G-d, I am Hashem.  The message is clear; if we revere G-d - and we are commanded to do so - then we must comply with this difficult principle.  The Torah invokes this clause wherever a commandment that is expected to be difficult to obey, is presented.

I hope that everybody is having a great week and look forward to seeing as many of you as possible on Shabbat!

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:

Jewish Journeys Ltd

Westpac The Ridge

BSB 034142 Acc't 148110

If you pay that way, a quick e-mail to Mavis at treasurer@jewishjourneys.com.au to explain the purpose(s) of the payment would be appreciated! 

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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.