Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Shemini Atzeres: Extending Sukkot

We are approaching the end of Sukkot, which means the end of the holiday season that kicks off the Jewish New Year.  Yet just as Sukkot comes to a conclusion, we are called to celebrate one last day, Shemini Atzeres/Simchas Torah.  What is the purpose of this day?  What is the reason for so many holidays in such quick succession?
 
Here is one idea:

On Rosh Hashana we proclaim God is “Melekh al kol ha’aretzKing over the entire world.”  We do not say He is King of Israel, but over the entire world.  Rosh Hashana is a time of judgment and teshuva not just for the Jews but for all people, as Rabbi Sampson Raphael Hirsch expounds upon in his book, Horeb.  Sukkot, too, has a universalistic aspect.  During the times of the Temple in Jerusalem, over the seven days of Sukkot seventy oxen were brought to the Temple as sacrifices for the seventy nations of the world.  A midrash tells us that the sacrifices are to cause rain to fall upon the lands of all the nations (as Sukkot is the holiday when we begin praying for rain since the rainy season begins in the fall in Israel).  Furthermore, over the seven nights of Sukkot we invite seven usphizin (guests) to visit us in our sukkah – Avraham, Isaac, Jacob, Yosef, Moshe, Aaron, and David.  Why these seven?  Rabbi Eliyahu Kitov says these seven were chosen because they 

wandered from exile to exile, and attain rest only after great toil and travail….  [But] the King of all the worlds grants life and loving-kindness to all the world’s inhabitants.  Can He not then provide rest and security for those who love Him!?  Why did He make [the seven ushpizin] wander, moving them from place to place without rest? 
He did so to enable them to shed light, goodness, and blessing upon all of humanity.

Rabbi Kitov proceeds to explain the characteristics and verses in Tanakh proving this point.

From this we can certainly see the universal aspect of Judaism.  But not to be forgotten is the fact that we don’t just say “Baruch Ata Hashem Melekh al kol ha’aretz – Blessed are You God, King over the entire world.”  We conclude the blessing “Melekh al kol ha’aretz me’kadesh Yisrael – King over the entire world who sanctified Israel (i.e. the Jews).  And it is not the seventy nations of the world that each bringing an individual sacrifice for themselves, but the Jews who are bringing the sacrifices on behalf of all the nations.  It is not the nations of the world praying on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.  It is not the nations of the world dwelling in sukkot (huts) on Chag HaSukkot (the holiday of Sukkot).  It is the Jewish people that have been charged to do these things.  It is us, the Jewish nation that has been chosen and accepted the task to lead the world towards God, our Creator.  

And only after we have performed this service for the entire world may we rest.  That is why we have Shemini Azteres/Simchas Torah immediately following the conclusion of Sukkot.  On Shemini Atzeres we leave our sukkot (huts) and return to our homes.  We discard our lulav and esrog, the mitzvoth of the holiday.  We return to our day-to-day life and there are no mitzvoth particular to Shemini Atzeres.  It is just us and God – celebrating, relaxing, enjoying.  From Rosh Hashana through Sukkot we are working on our relationship with God, searching, improving, giving, learning, and bettering.  On Shemini Atzeres, it is all internalized.  We celebrate for one last day – just us and God.  We finish the Torah, dance with the Torah, show our joy and appreciation for the Torah we have been given, which guides us through our lives. 

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Aseres Yemei Teshuva 2013: Repentance and Return

The Sages referred to the first 10 days of our Jewish year as the aseres yemei teshuva – the ten days of teshuva (repentance/return to Hashem).  These days begin with Rosh Hashana, a day of malchus (kingship) and din (judgment), where we focus on God’s reign over the entire world – melech al kol ha’aretz.  They continue with the seven days prior to Yom Kippur; days of repentance, reflections, self-improvement, making amends for past transgressions against others and against God.  And finally the ten days commence with Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, on which we are provided an atonement for our sins, provided proper repentance.  From both the lectures I have heard and the books I have read related to teshuva, it appears the rabbis believed that shame (i.e. embarrassment) is a feeling that would stop someone from returning from their incorrect path(s) in life to God, the Torah, and the Jewish lifestyle.  Therefore they cautioned against this potential thought.  This thought is espoused by both the Rambam and Rabbeinu Yonah, and the introduction to the Artscroll Machzor for Rosh Hashana states, based on Rav Dessler: 
 
Let not his [the sinner’s] thoughts confound him and restrain him from repenting on the grounds that he is ashamed of his sins.  He may think, ‘How can I be so brazen as to repent, when I have erred, been iniquitous, and willfully sinned!  I have done such and such; I have transgressed over and over countlessly.  How can I come before Him again, ashamed, like a thief who has been caught; for I am ashamed to stand before Him! Moreover, how dare I step into His courtyards, and how dare I observe His decrees!’

There may have been a time when this method of instruction was relevant.  It is still relevant, I believe, to many religious Jews. It is certainly relevant to an introspective, honest, soul-searching individual.  But the majority of Jews in the 21st century are, sadly, numb to such instruction.  How many Jews today can honestly approach God with a feeling of shame that they have erred?  There is, I believe, a surface level introspection amongst the majority: I need to improve myself by improving this relationship, by making an effort to give back to my community, by not gossiping….  Yet even when someone recognizes today that they have improvements to make, I don’t think the feeling of shame overcomes them.  And even less people take the initiative to actually make improvement – to pick up the Chofetz Chaim’s book on loshon hara in order to become more sensitive to gossip, to learn the details of the way one’s speech can really impact a person and, perhaps, a community.  To actually improve one’s self takes effort, time, commitment, and resolve.  And it’s hard. 

But things that are hard are often most meaningful to our lives and make the most difference in our lives.  I think we can see this through the haftarah readings (a selected reading from Prophets each day) on the two days of Rosh Hashana.

As I was reviewing the Torah and Haftarah (Reading from the book of Prophets) on the two days of Rosh Hashana I noticed a difference between the themes of the day.  A gemara in the Talmud (Rosh Hashana 11a) tells us that “On Rosh Hashana Sarah, Rachel and Hannah were remembered.”  This is a reference to our matriarchs Sarah and Rachel, and the mother of the prophet Samuel, Hannah, who were praying for children and God answered their prayers on Rosh Hashana. Based on this verse, we read of Sarah in the Torah reading on the first day of Rosh Hashana and of Hannah in the haftarah.  But on the second day, when I would expect to read of Rachel, we are instead greeted by a Torah reading about the sacrifice of Isaac (which took place in the month of Tishrei) and a haftarah from Jeremiah that promises redemption of the Jewish people.  Struck by the difference between the two days, I discovered an article by Rav Moshe Lichtenstein explaining the differences between the two haftarot:

In the story of Chana, we read about a woman of amazing spiritual strength, whose prayer is answered and whose aspirations are realized by virtue of her actions.  God remembers her in the wake of the self-sacrifice that she demonstrates and the powerful prayer she offers, [offering her first born to the service of God]….

In the haftarah read on the second day, on the other hand, we encounter the opposite situation.  (Jeremiah) prophesies during the time of the destruction [of the Temple]….  He does not explain the redemption as following from Israel’s merits, but from their wretchedness….  [As it says:] They shall come [to Israel during the redemption] with weeping, and with supplications will I lead them.  I will cause them to walk by the rivers of waters in a straight way, in which they shall not stumble, for I am a father to Israel and Efrayim is my firstborn. (Jeremiah 31:6-8)….

In the second days’ haftarah, Rav Lichtenstein continues, the beginnings of teshuva (repentance) comes on the heels of the redemption.  God’s mercy saves us and when we recognized His compassion and kindness towards us we will then begin the process of repentance and returning to Him. 

On the first day we read of the ideal redemption – to be redeemed through our merits.  Through self-sacrifice.  Through prayer and deed.  Through development of a relationship with Melekh al kol ha’aretz, the King of all the world.  But on the second day we are comforted: even if we are unable to attain this lofty level of conduct and connection, “God will treat us graciously and with compassion.”  Therefore we pray on Yom Kippur before beginning viduiy, confessions:

Do not ignore our supplications, for we are not so brazen and obstinate as to say before You, Hashem, our God, and the God of our forefathers, that we are righteous and have not sinned.  Rather, in truth, we and our forefathers have sinned. 

And we recall His mercy:

[God says,] I, only I, am the One who wipes away your willful sins for My sake, and I shall not recall your errors.  And it says, I have wiped away your willful sins like a cloud and your errors like a mist – so return to Me, for I have redeemed you.

From Rosh Hashana up until Yom Kippur we are focusing on teshuva, improving ourselves, becoming better people and better Jews, resolving to make the next year better than the last through a closer connection to God and our Judaism (which in truth encompasses our entire lives).  On Yom Kippur we have the same resolve, but we recognize how small we are, how much we have strayed from God, how much potential we have let fall by the wayside.  We say viduiy during all five services of Yom Kippur, confessing and expressing our sins, humbling ourselves.  Perhaps the rabbis intended some comfort in the prayers in the way that Jeremiah did: we will be redeemed even if we have fallen short of where we should be.  We must strive to utilize all of our potential, but when we fall short, Hashem’s mercy and compassion is still there to support us.  He is our “God, King Who sits on the throne of mercy; Who acts with kindness, pardons the sins of His people, removes them one by one, increasingly grants pardon to careless sinners and forgiveness to rebels, Who deals righteously with every living being.”

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Rosh Hashana 2013: Malkhut

In a post for Shavuot in 2012, I wrote that on each holiday God calls out to us: “Ayeka? Where are you?  And each chag, the question takes on a slightly different intonation and we are called upon to answer the question differently based on the time of the year and the holiday’s theme.  This was the first question in the Torah, when God asked Adam after he ate of the Tree of Good and Evil: Ayeka? Where are you?

Two years ago on Shavuot I wrote:

On Rosh Hashana we may reflect on the question: “Where are you in your relationship with family, friends, prioritization of work-family…and where are you going?” ….

But I believe I was mistaken.  This is not appropriate for Rosh Hashana, the first day of the New Year.  Rosh Hashanah is a day of judgment.  But it is God who judges on this day.  It is not up to us to speculate about His judgment, to judge ourselves, or to reflect upon where we are and who we are.  No, that is what Elul (the month proceeding Rosh Hashana) was for and what the days between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur will be for. 

Rosh Hashana, however, is a day of God’s malkhut, His kingship.  On Rosh Hashana, we crown God as “melekh al kol ha’aretz - King over the entire world” – not just Israel, not just the Jews, but the entire world.  The gemara explains that Rosh Hashana is the sixth day of creation, the day when humankind was created.  There is a Talmudic statement that reads “ein melekh b’li am – there is no king without a people.”  When Adam was created, God became King – He gained a people.  On Rosh Hashana, we are commemorating the creation of man by crowning God as King.  Our prayers do not focus on atonement (the theme of Yom Kippur) or self-improvement (a focus of Elul and the days after Rosh Hashana) or teshuva (repentance).  Rather, the prayers revolve around malkhut, kingship.  

God is no longer "ha'kel ha'kodesh - the holy God" but "hamelech ha'kodesh - the holy King."  "We bend our knees, bow, and acknowledge our thanks before the King Who reigns over kings, the Holy One, Blessed be He."  "True is our King, there is nothing beside Him."  

As the Torah states: Hashem shall be King for all eternity.

And in the Writings it states: For the sovereignty is Hashem's and He rules over nations.  And ...Who then is the King of Glory?  Hashem, Master of Legions, He is the King of Glory, Selah!

And in the Prophets it states: So said Hashem, the King of Israel and its Redeemer, Hashem of Legions: 'I am the first and I am the last and aside from Me there is no other god.'  And, Then Hashem will be King over all the world, on that day Hashem will be One and His Name will be One.

"Therefore, we put our hope in You, Hashem our God, that we may soon see Your mighty splendor...to perfect the universe through the Almighty's sovereignty." 

During the height of the mussaf service (Rosh Hashana morning), we have three times where the shofar is blown.  We breathe life into the shofar, just as God breathed the breath of life into us, mankind, on this day so many years ago.  The shofar announces the King’s presence, our King’s presence.  On the day when He is judging us and inscribing us in the Book of Life for the upcoming year we are busy crowning Him as King, recognizing that all that emanates from Him is ultimately good and just.  We, mankind, were the pinnacle of creation!  We, mankind, were the central focus in God’s “mind” as He created the universe!  What a privilege and also what a responsibility!  The world was not created perfect.  We are partners in creation.  We express our emunah - oft translated as faith, but sharing the Hebrew root of "to create."  God spoke and the world was brought into existence; we were blessed with the ability to speak, which is to create.  On Rosh Hashana we attend shul and create - as best we can through our speech - a crown for God without Whom we would not exist.  And when our speech fails, we blow the shofar to capture the prayers that words cannot and bring them up to the King.  

"Blessed are You, God, King over all the world."

Sunday, August 18, 2013

Parshat Ki Teitze: Coming Closer to God

Of course all mitzvot are a means of becoming closer to God.  Yet some are more understandable than others in helping us achieve that goal.  This week's parsha, Ki Teitze (literally, "when you shall go forth"), contains numerous commandments that fall into the "ethical" sphere that we can easily understand and, through fulfilling them, become more God-like ourselves.  There are others that are not as easy to understand the reasoning, but nonetheless it is possible to realize that all the commandments - God's mitzvot - are means of connecting us, finite beings, to God, the infinite.

Yet when the Piacenza Rebbe, writing from the Warsaw Ghetto and a concentration camp, wrote about our connection to our Creator, he did not chose to explain any of the numerous mitzvot.  Rather he began with the first passuk (verse) in the Torah portion:
When you will go forth to war against your enemies, and they will be delivered into your hand, and you will capture (shavita) its captivity (shavyo). (Deuteronomy 21:10)
You.  God appears to be speaking to us, the Jewish people.  But, says the Piacenza Rebbe, the verbs in Hebrew are in the singular tense and therefore can also be read as directed to each individual. You, as an individual, are being spoken to.  As it is said:
The Lord hath sworn and will not relent, 'you are a priest forever because you are a king of righteousness.' (Tehilim 110:4)
We, the Jewish people, are a nation of priests.  You, as an individual, are a priest, a king of righteousness.  That title was engraved upon us at Sinai and will not be removed.  But how do we actualize our potential?  How do we answer God, who speaks directly to us?

According to the Rebbe of Piacenza there are two ways: avodah shel lev (worship of the heart) and avodah shel seichel (worship of the mind).  Avodah shel seichel occurs through our study of Jewish texts - Torah, Talmud, Tanakh, Halacha - and becoming part of the ongoing Jewish tradition of learning the way and the word of God.  Torah study is not a static activity, but one in which we engage the texts in front of us and become a part of the dialogue on the page, the will of God.  Avodah shel lev, however, is accomplished through our tefilot, our prayers.  When we pray, we direct our prayers directly to You, our God.  Baruch Ata Hashem, Blessed are You, God.  We form a relationship with God not by creating any barriers between us and Him - not priest or prophet, nor third person dialogue.  We form a direct relationship through direct communication, not referring to "Him" or "Her" or "It" as an abstract, untouchable and unknowable other.

By saying You, we make ourselves connect as one with God by bringing more of Him into us, says the Piacenza Rebbe.  This point, however, seems paradoxical to me.  By using the second person "You" we are making God a distinct entity outside of ourselves.  How is it that this act makes us, at the same time, become "one" with God by letting Him in?  I think the answer (at least partly) is this: other people are a reflection of us.  When we are happy and smiling, it is contagious and others we are around also tend to smile.  If we are unhappy that mood also will rub off on others and we will be able to feed on that to continue our unhappiness.  So too with God, what we put into our prayer to Him is returned to us and becomes a part of us.  I pray to You, God, with my heart and my mind, and my heart and mind are in turn filled with God (or at least a greater awareness of God). 

With this in mind, the Piacenza Rebbe relayed a different meaning of the first verse of this week's parsha: rather than reading "captives", we should read "return" (from the root of teshuva).  Return to God.  We must engage with Him in the dialogue that He started at the beginning of creation and continued at Mount Sinai, through the prophets, through the commentaries we have today, and through our tefilot

Shabbat Shalom from Jerusalem!

Sunday, June 30, 2013

Parshat Balak: Zelophechad’s Daughters, Moshe Relinquishes his Leadership, and KOACH’s Closing

It was quite fitting that this week in shul, I was given the fourth aliyah, which continues and finishes the laws of inheritance that arise in the merit of Zelophechad’s daughters.  It is fitting because this story, more than any other, reminds me of KOACH (and Conservative Judaism) and, sadly, this was KOACH’s last Shabbos.  I was heavily involved in KOACH and the Conservative movement during my junior and senior years at Miami University, and the organization and rabbis in the organization were instrumental to my growth as a Jew.  And although I no longer identify as Conservative, I found myself surprisingly sad last week when I heard that the KOACH program had been defunded.  I put a lot into and got a lot out of it in college, and many rabbis and friends I know have been and still are being affected by it.  I suppose that gut reaction just goes to show how important KOACH really was to me.

I remember learning in depth some of the laws of inheritance at the Conservative Yeshiva and how they stemmed from this week’s parsha about Zelophechad’s daughters who wanted to carry on their father’s name and inherit a portion of the land of Israel.  They brought their request before Moshe, who in turn passed their request on to God, who replies: “The daughters of Zelophechad speak properly.  You shall surely give them possession of inheritance among the brothers of their father” (Numbers 27:7).

But laws of inheritance aside, I remember the story of Zelophechad’s daughters being used as an example to inspire us, as Conservative Jews at KOACH to stand up for what we feel is good and right, even if not the norm (I can’t remember if this was taught by a rabbi their or was brought up by a fellow student, but it stuck with me either way).  It certainly was not the “norm” for daughters to receive their father’s inheritance, but Hashem deemed the daughters of Zelophechad’s request to be good: “The daughters of Zelophechad speak properly.”

I and many others who were involved in KOACH as participants and leaders, often felt that we too were working towards a Jewish community that was more “right”, more complete, more holy, than what is currently available on campus…and in the broader Jewish world.  Towards what many called a “pluralistic halachic community.”  A community of acceptance, observance, and Torah learning.

But as I read over the text of my aliyah (along with rabbinic commentaries) again this afternoon, I was struck by what comes immediately after the story with Zelophechad’s daughters.  The torch of Jewish leadership is passed from Moshe to Joshua before the Israelites enter the land of Israel – a land which Moshe himself, our leader for 40 years, will not be allowed to enter.  According to Rashi, these two passages were placed side-by-side because Moshe may have thought that, just as the daughters’ request was received favorably by God, that God might also grant his request to be allowed to enter the land of Israel.  Instead, God reiterated his previous response hat Moshe would not lead the Jews into Israel: “You shall see [the Land] and shall be gathered unto your people, you, too, as Aaron your brother was gathered in; because you rebelled against My word in the Wilderness of Zin, in the assembly’s strife, to sanctify Me at the water before their eyes” (Numbers 27:13-14).  Moshe, like Zelophechad’s daughters, directed his heartfelt plea for what he felt was right, even earned and deserved, to God.  But his response was not as he hoped; God said “no”.

Like Zelophechad’s daughters and Moshe, we must give voice to what our inner self tells us to be right – but our voice must be directed to the right place.  Zelophechad’s daughters voiced their concerns to the leader of the Jewish people, Moshe, and then God Himself.  His answer to them confirmed that, yes, their inner thoughts were appropriate and they were allowed an inheritance.  But we must realize that the answer will not always be “yes”.  Sometimes – like with Moshe being allowed to enter Israel – the answer is “no”.  And when the answer is “no” we must accept that as equally as when the answer is “yes”.  Moshe, when he is told he will not be entering Israel, responds with a prayer for the Jewish people: “May Hashem, God of the spirits of all flesh appoint a man over the assembly, who shall go out before them and come in before them, who shall take them out and bring them in; and let the assembly of Hashem not be like sheep that have no shepherd” (Numbers 27:16-17).  Despite his desire for the answer to be otherwise, Moshe accepts God’s answer that he will not be allowed to enter Israel, and continues to be the leader of the Jewish people, looking out for their best interests even when he experiences personal disappointment.  

Interestingly enough, I think that may be one of the reasons (among many) I drifted away from Conservative Judaism.  Sometimes it just seemed that many halachic leaders of the movement were just not able to accept a “no” answer.  Their voice wasn’t always directed to the right place and their answers didn’t always come from the right place.  Nonetheless, I would not be the Jew I am today without the wonderful experiences I had and the wonderful people I have met and become friends with through KOACH, the Conservative Yeshiva, and the broader Conservative Movement.  The loss of KOACH will certainly be felt on campuses across the country. 

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Shavuot: The Jewish Experience

I recently listened to a lecture by Rabbi Akiva Tatz on the importance of finding your roll in life. During the lecture, Rabbi Tatz explained that there is a basis of humanity that we must all learn in order to be decent people: respect for others, the right to certain freedoms, etc.  Upon that broad base, one “step up” is the unique foundation of Judaism, the ideas and ideals that the Jewish people must live up to.  And after becoming a part of humanity and becoming a part of our unique Jewishness, we must express our unique individuality given the tools life has given us.  As I listened to Rabbi Tatz set up this platform, I began to wonder: Why is it that, in my Jewish learning, there has been a big focus on ‘Jewish uniqueness’ and ‘the important of being an individual’ but the foundation upon which these things rest, humanity, is not as oft discussed?

I think one answer may be that we as Jews do not carry the torch of humanity alone.  We are one small nation among many other, more populous nations.  Yet despite this insignificance in size, the Jewish race has played a much larger role in the development of humanity both in the present and the past than perhaps any other nation.  Monotheism, treating others with respect and as equals, caring for the needy, technological and medicinal developments are just a few areas that our impact as Jews on the world has exceeded our size.  Another reason may be that societal norms are often at odds with Jewish values.  The more pronounced these differences, the more natural is the reaction to withdraw from participating in society, and to instead place greater focus on one’s smaller circle of like-minded individuals and one’s individual purpose. 

I don’t necessarily have a “problem” with the focus on Jewish uniqueness and one’s individuality, per se.  Both are things to be proud of!  Rather, I sometimes find that the lack of focus on humanity can indirectly lead to unintended consequences, such as lack of respect for others (non-Jews) and lack of ability – or desire – to relate to others human-to-human.  This is certainly not a prevalent problem, and Judaism certainly does not preach this practice, but it does seem to take hold among some. 

However, I do not intend (at this time) to write a dissertation on Judaism’s teaching methods and unintended consequences.  So….

If there is one holiday where Jewish uniqueness and individuality are especially prominent (although they are certainly prevalent in almost every aspect of life) that is the holiday of Shavuot, otherwise called Matan Torah, the holiday on which God spoke to the Jewish people and gave us with the gift of the Torah.  “Indeed, all the earth is Mine, but you shall be to Me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation,” God tells us (Exodus 19:6) on this day. 

Yet despite the significance of Shavuot in establishing the Jewish people’s progression throughout history as “the People of the Book,” it is the least well-known holiday among the majority of Jews (namely, non-Orthodox Jews).  The other four major holidays – Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot, and Passover – are more often celebrated by the vast majority of Jews than Shavuot.  And, interestingly, these holidays all seem to have a greater effect on the gentiles than Shavuot.  Maimonides states in the Mishnah Torah (Teshuva 3:3) that all people, not just Jews, are judged on Rosh Hashanah and their judgment is sealed on Yom Kippur.  On Sukkot, seventy sacrifices are brought on behalf of the seventy nations of the world (Rashi, and Zechariah 14:16).  And on Passover, while the focus is certainly on the Jewish people’s freedom from slavery, the involvement of other nations (namely, Egypt) is essential to the Passover story, and the Haggadah uses our experience as slaves to teach us: “You shall not oppress a stranger (i.e. non-Jew), for you know the feelings of the stranger (outsider), having yourself been strangers in Egypt.  When strangers (non-Jews) reside with you in your land you shall not wrong them….” 

Shavuot is uniquely focused on the Jewish people.  Sadly, perhaps this is partially why it is the least celebrated Jewish holiday.  There is an emphasis in many non-Orthodox denominations and congregations to push towards universalism: the global need for Tikkun Olam (repairing the world, most often used in the environmental sense by liberal Jews), the integration of Jewish values with societal values, the acceptance of interfaith marriages and families, the abolishment (rationalized or outright) of halachot (Jewish laws) that may keep us distinct from non-Jews such as kashrut and fully observing Shabbat, to name just a few.  Rabbi Tatz believes that Shavuot was lost to many Jews because of its central theme: From Pesach, the story of our freedom, we count fifty days (sefirat ha’omer) to Shavuot, the celebration of the Torah, the book of Mitzvoth, our obligations.  The modern Jew would rather forget the responsibility that being a Jew entails.

And while I agree that the responsibility of being Jewish is a great burden, I find no doubt that the blessing to be a Jew is much greater.

On Shavuot, the Jewish people stood at Mt. Sinai and accepted the Torah in a miraculous event, hearing the Ten Commandments directly from God: “And all the people saw the thunder and lightning, the voice of the shofar, and the mountain smoking; and when the people saw it, they trembled and stood at a distance” (Exodus 20:15).  After hearing the 10 Commandments, they were awe-struck and fearful of hearing God’s voice.  They called upon Moses: “Speak to us; and we will obey, but let not God speak to us [any more] lest we die! (20:16).”  The Sinai experience was one the Jewish people, despite their preparations, were unprepared for – a synthesis of the senses, an overtaking of the body by the soul, a transcendence of the barrier between the earth and the heavens.  The Jewish people did not hear, but saw thunder.  They drew close to God, but remained far from the Mount on which His voice emanated. 

In the haftarah, Ezekiel encountered a similar experience of divine revelation: “I looked, and behold, a stormy wind came out of the north – a huge cloud and flashing fire, surrounded by radiance; and in the center of it, in the center of the fire, a gleam as of amber” (Ezekiel 1:4).  Ezekiel, like the Jews at Sinai, is reluctant to receive his prophetic vision and become God’s prophet, as it says: “He [God] said to me [Ezekiel], Mortal, eat what is offered you; eat this scroll [God’s words], and go speak to the House of Israel.  So I opened my mouth, and He gave me this scroll to eat, as He said to me, “Mortal, feed your stomach and fill your belly with this scroll that I give you” (3:1-2). 

In discussing the Jews receiving the Torah at Sinai, the Gemara seems to state that the Jewish people, like Ezekiel, were “force-fed” the Torah:

“God suspended the mountain over [the Jewish people] like a barrel and said, “if you will accept the Torah, it will be good, and if not, here will be your burial place” (Shabbos 88a). 

Rabbi Yitzchak Cohen points out the seeming contradiction between this statement and the Torah verse where the Jewish people wholeheartedly accept the Torah willingly, saying “Na’aseh v’nishma – we will do and we will hear,” upon which the same Gemara comments:

“Rabbi Elazar said: when the Jewish people said “we will do” before “we will hear,” a voice from heaven came forth and said “who revealed to my children this secret that the administering angels use, as it says (in Tehilim 103:20)  bless God, his angels, mighty in strength, that do His will to hear the voice of His word.” 

To resolve the apparent contradiction between the verse claiming the Jews willingly accepted the Torah and the verse implying quite the opposite, many commentaries (Midrashim, Rashi, and the Maharal among them) state that the Jewish people did accept the Written Torah and certain mitzvoth, but not the complete Oral Torah.  In Rabbi Yehuda Amital's words, according to the Maharal, “the people’s observance of the Torah cannot be based simply on voluntarism and good will.  It needs to be based on coercion, on commitment, on worship of God; one must keep mitzvoth because one is obligated to do so, and not simply because one desires it.”  Therefore the Jews needed pressure to accept the whole Torah, in addition to their initial loving acceptance of the Written Torah. 

Interestingly, Rabbi Amital also touches on a factor causing Shavuot’s minimal status among today’s Jews: “Many people, especially in recent years, approach the Torah based solely on a spirit of voluntarism.  They want to fulfill those parts of the Torah that ‘speak to them,’ and operate without this feeling of commitment.  This is what the Gemara’s statement that God suspended the mountain over them comes to teach us: Torah can only be fulfilled properly through a sense of absolute commitment to the word of God, and not by doing just what one wants to do.” 

The coerced, and committed, Ezekiel concludes his consumption of the scroll by remarking: I ate it, and it tasted as sweet as honey to me.  So too, the Rabbis reference the Torah as sweet like milk and honey.  The willing acceptance of the Torah – na’aseh v’nishma – is a beautiful idea.  But it is fleeting – it allows for one to change their mind; it doesn’t demand full commitment.  The full obligation may be forced, such as it was to Ezekiel and the Jewish people at Sinai, but once we have swallowed it (“feed your stomach and fill your belly”), the fulfillment of our obligation tastes sweeter than the voluntary acceptance of only parts of the Torah. 

The Talmud teaches that the soul of every Jew, those born and those yet to be born, was present at Mt. Sinai to receive the Torah.  I think that one meaning of this Talmudic statement may be to impress upon us that we, not just our ancestors, accepted the Torah.  We, not just our ancestors, have obligated ourselves to follow the Torah.   And we, not just our ancestors, can taste its sweetness in our lives. 

Yes, as Rabbi Salomon Gruenwald puts it, “I don’t know exactly what the Talmud means by telling us that we were all at Sinai.  My mind cannot grasp that literally.  Nonetheless, I sincerely believe it to be true.”  I believe the spiritual experience of Sinai has produced a lasting Torah that has been carried on from generation to generation.  Pirkei Avot 6:2 says that “each and every day a divine voice calls out from Mount Horeb (i.e. Sinai).”  Our response to this voice is manifest through the halachot within the Torah, the performance of which “bridge the Torah from the written word to the living deed.”  This is the core of our Jewish uniqueness. 

At z’man matan Torateinu, the time of the giving of our Torah, the Jewish people accepted upon themselves and we accepted upon ourselves these halachot.  Our neshama, soul, experienced an incredible closeness to God, while our bodies fearfully crept further from Mount Sinai.  We lovingly accepted the Written Torah, but with a sense of fear and awe we were also coerced into accepting the entire Oral Torah.  The merging of all these aspects in our current lives – love, awe, and fear of Torah; a spiritual closeness to but understandable distance from God – is the core of our Jewish uniqueness.  And the way we unite them all into our own lives, is each of our individual struggle.

Chag Sameach!

Friday, May 3, 2013

Parshat Behar-Bechukosai: The Blessings and Curses

After a multitude of commandments are given in the previous few parshiyot and Behar, which is the first of two portions read this week, we come to parshat Bechukosai.  Bechukosai seemingly caps off the commandments by God telling the Jewish people of the concept of reward and punishment associated with the mitzvoth He has just given, specifically related to the privilege to reside in the land of Israel.  He begins with reward, stating: “If you follow My laws and faithfully observe My commandments…I will grant peace in the land…and I will be your God, and you shall by My people” (Vayikra 29:1-13).  And then He continues with the tocheicha (admonishments): “If you do not obey Me and do not observe all these commandments; if you reject My laws and spurn My rules, so that you do not observe all My commandments and you break My covenant, I in turn will do this to you: I will wreak misery upon you – consumption and fever…I will break your pride…I will go on smiting you sevenfold…I will spurn you…And you I will scatter among the nations” (Vayikra 26:14-42). 

The admonishments far outweigh the curses, encompassing twice as many verses.  God tells us (between each admonishment above) that he will give us chances; he will not instantly spurn us, but will first bring misery upon us as a warning.  If we do not repent, he will further oppress us; and the more obstinate we become the more he will punish us until our land is desolate.  As we read of this foreboding warning, it is eerily reminiscent of Pharaoh who was given ten chances (arguably only five) to release the Jews from captivity and each time he refused, he was smitten with a harsher plague until finally, reluctantly, he let us go (only to change his mind again).  So too, only after “I [God] have been hostile to them [the Jewish people] and have removed them into the land of their enemies, then at last shall their obdurate heart humble itself, and they shall atone for their iniquity” (Vayikra 26:41).  I am not sure the reason for this connection, but I do find it interesting….  Now, moving on to a commentary on the same verses:

The Ibn Ezra comments that these blesses and curses are placed at this point in the Torah to enforce the fact that when we inhabit the land in the Book of Numbers (Bamidbar), which we begin to read next week, we must still remember the Covenant we entered into with God.  That Covenant is the reason why we are able to inhabit the land flowing with milk and honey; when we forsake the Covenant “the land shall become desolate and your cities a ruin” (26:33).  The Covenant is the basis of our lives as Jews, and our lives are only as strong as our commitment to it.  And this Covenant is both strengthened and displayed through the performance of the mitzvoth.  Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch states that “none, not even the smallest of your activities – your deed, your word, even your thought – is without effect; they bring blessing or curse immediately, for every duty fulfilled gives you a greater capacity to fulfill new duties, each sin committed makes you more familiar with sin, less capable of doing good and more capable of committing further sin” (Horeb, Chapter 22).  Judaism believes (as do many modern psychologists) that our actions can shape our beliefs; repetitive performance of mitzvoth can strengthen our connection to and belief in them, just as a continuously forced smile or a mumbled compliment can transform us into a kinder person.  And these same actions are the ones that display our commitment to Judaism. 

Rabbi Heschel (who I find agrees with Rabbi Hirsch) believes: “Man is not for the sake of good deeds (mitzvoth); the good deeds are for the sake of man.  The goal (of deeds) is not that a ceremony be performed; the goal is that man be transformed; to worship the Holy in order to be holy” (God in Search of Man: A Philosophy of Judaism).  Yet despite Heschel’s assertion, Maimonides (who also seems to agree with Heschel) remarks: “You should believe that just as God wishes man to be erect in stature, broad chested, and to have fingers, so too He wishes him to move or be at rest of his own accord and to perform actions voluntarily.  He does not force him to perform them nor prevent him from performing them” (Commentary on the Mishna, Eight Chapters, pg. 1168).  And this is the reason for God’s warning against straying from the commandments.  We are given the choice to perform them, and they have indeed been given to us for our sake…but we must nonetheless struggle to realize this and struggle even further to live up to their lofty standards.  It is not always easy or apparent to us how they are a benefit to us but, as Hirsch alludes to, performance of the mitzvot are instructive in helping us understand them. 

Rabbi Berkovits says in the introduction to his philosophical/halachic work, Not in Heaven, that “Halacha is the bridge over which the Torah moves from the written word into the living deed.”  The mitzvoth bridge the gap between heaven and earth, trying to connect our physical reality to its higher purpose.  This is one thing God teaches by placing the tocheicha at the point in the Torah: our forefathers Avraham, Yitzchak, and Ya’akov were promised their ancestors would inherit the land of Israel and flourish; despite how often or long the Jewish people may forsake God, He reminds us that He will remember his promise.  He tells us: “I will remember My covenant with Ya’akov; I will remember also My covenant with Yitchak; and also My covenant with Avraham; and I will remember the land” (v. 26:42) and “I will not reject them [the future generations] or spurn them so as to destroy them, annulling my covenant with them: for I the Lord am their God. I will remember in their favor the covenant with the ancients, whom I freed from the land of Egypt in the sight of the nations to be their God; I, the Lord” (v. 26:44-45).   God will remember our covenant when we too remember the covenant to follow in His paths, to tranform our thoughts to deeds, and  to form the halachic bridge that increases our capacity for good.