Then & Now

“14 Million: World Jewry Matches 1925 Numbers”

This is headline of a recent article in the Israeli media.  According to data released by the Central Bureau of Statistics, the number of Jews in the world currently (14.7 million) matches that of 1925 but is still short of the pre-World War II figure of 16.6 million.

This got me thinking: What was going on in the world in 1925?  What was it like then?  How does that compare to now?  Especially, today on Yom Ha’atzamut – and during a time so full of Jewish memory, we are more aware than usual of the passage of time.  Think of how much has transpired since 1925!  Think about what happened between 1945 and 1948 and since then?  Think about how much has happened since March?  Remember March?

So please indulge me in a little bit of “Then and Now.”

Here are some highlights and firsts from 1925.  The first motel opened.  The Great Gatsby was published.  Mount Rushmore opened to the public.  It was the year of the Scopes Monkey Trial which put the tension between science and religion on display. 

Anyone ever drive a Chrysler automobile?  (Who says automobile anymore??)  The Chrysler Corporation was founded by Walter Chrysler.  Margaret Thatcher and Johnny Carson born.  Mein Kampf was published.

On the Jewish scene, Hebrew University opened, and that year featured a three-day yom tov for the first days of Pesach.  Rabbi Joseph Lookstein preached a sermon on Shabbat Chol Hamoed about Shir HaShirim.  (Check out the Bulletin HERE.)

A lot has transpired since.  I am not thinking about a historical timeline.  I just think it is appropriate to take a look at the headlines today.  As we commemorate and celebrate Pesach, Yom HaShoah, Yom HaZikaron, and Yom Ha’atzmaut, and as we grapple with the quarantine and uncertainty of the Coronavirus crisis, what is happening around us that will define “Now.” 

We have heroes whose stories can inspire us.

One of those who connected “then” with “now” is Benjamin Levin, who passed away from Covid-19 over Pesach.  He lived an amazing 93 years.  He was the youngest and last surviving member of the celebrated “Avengers” partisan group, who blew up Nazi trains and bridges, and helped sustain other Jews trapped inside ghettos.  Levin later swam off the destroyed Altalena and smuggled himself into the new Jewish state.  When he told his life-story to Steven Spielberg, the acclaimed director called Levin “the Forrest Gump of Jewish history.” 

Benjamin Levin, like all living survivors, helps us bridge then and now.

While we’re physical apart, some are now feeling more connected. 

An Independence Day survey shows that Israelis have a record-high sense of belonging and that the number of those expressing a shared fate with the State of Israel is surging, especially among ultra-Orthodox and Arab Israelis.  Maybe being stuck inside allows us to better realize that we really are connected.

Today, Israel is an amazing place.  There is no way anyone could have dreamed about the things that take place there today.  There are too many to count, but this image caught my attention.

In Bnei Brak's Mayanei Hayeshua Medical Center, Dr. Abed Zahalka, an Arab doctor, entered the hospital’s coronavirus unit in full protective garb, holding a Torah scroll wrapped in a tallit (Jewish prayer shawl) for use by the patients there.  Zahalka was moved by the arrival of the Torah.  “I felt like I was making the connection even stronger, that I was a part of the place, of the people, of the tradition,” he said.  “I am a person of faith, and I see a lot of people of faith here and a lot of Bnei Brak’s rabbis.  I also think there’s a connection between faith and successful treatment,” he notes. “You see people who simply give up compared to people who were in very serious condition and are dealing amazingly with the disease and are recovering.”

Then and now.

On Israel’s 72^nd birthday, we are celebrating in a far different fashion than ever before.  (How many Zooms have you attended in the last 24 hours?)  At the same time, one thing remains constant:  Our appreciation and celebration for the role the State of Israel plays in our lives.  It is a spiritual, religious, national, cultural beacon for the Jewish people and the greatest miracle we have experienced.  When we say “Am yisrael chai,” we acknowledge the power of the present while looking back to what was, and having confidence, please God, in our future.

I leave you with a rendition of Hatikvah, which combines “then” and “now” and can give each of us pride, joy, and hope on this special day.

Yom Ha’atzmaut Sameach!

Love Israel More!

 

What are your first memories of Yom Ha'Zikaron and Yom Ha' Atzmaut?

As a child, I remember a memorial candle lit in the dining room.  I knew it was not a holiday on which yizkor is recited nor was there a yahrzeit.  My father explained that this candle was to remember Israel's fallen heroes and to participate in Israel's Memorial Day.  The next night, my parents would hang a giant Israeli flag in the den to mark Israel's Independence Day.  I did not go to a Religious Zionist day school, and we had no assembly, special songs, or Hallel.  My Yom Ha'Atzmaut celebration was that giant flag along with falafel for dinner.

My strong childhood memories paved the way for these modern Israeli holidays to mean so much to me.  Yom Ha'Zikaron and Yom Ha'Atzmaut are sacred days.  When I watch as Israelis stop what they are doing as the siren sounds; or see the images of families remembering loved ones; or watch the videos that tell the inspiring story of Israel, I am filled with awe, joy, reverence, and inspiration.  How fortunate we are to have the State of Israel!  We must commemorate, celebrate, and be grateful to God for this miracle!

There are numerous articles and messages that are written and disseminated in honor of Israel's birthday.  I am sure you have seen plenty, and you can easily find them on the internet or social media.  It is heartening that so many people with so many different perspectives are celebrating Yom Ha'Atzmaut and recognizing all that Israel has accomplished and represents.  

One thing I noticed in a number of messages and articles is that their authors temper the congratulatory spirit by addressing some of the problems Israel faces and acknowledging some of the voices critical of Israel.  We all know that the situation in Israel can be "complicated."  It is a wonderful country, a beacon of freedom in a tyrannical region, a high tech juggernaut, and our homeland.  But...There is always a "but."

It is legitimate to raise the tough issues and engage in self-examination and self-criticism.  (If you read the Israeli press, you'll know how good Israelis are at it!)  When we celebrate Israel, however, the focus should be on the positive.  For one day - or even just the birthday message, let's focus on the greatness of Israel.  Tomorrow, we can get back to addressing any shortcomings.

In today's world, there is concern about the Jewish community's connection to Israel.  It is weakening - especially within the younger generation and those Jews with weaker Jewish identities.  A frank conversation about Israel is needed as is more education.  At the same time, one way to instill pride and strengthen the positive feeling for Israel is love it even more.  Let's identify all the great things Israel has accomplished, is accomplishing, and will accomplish.  Are there problems to address?  Absolutely!  We can better address those with a foundation of a strong love for Israel.

In the early twentieth century someone brought a dilemma to Rabbi Avraham Yitzhak Kook, first Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi of pre-state Israel.  He had given his son a good Jewish education.  He had always kept the mitzvot at home.  Now, however, the son had drifted far from Judaism.  He no longer kept the commandments.  He barely identified as a Jew.  What should the father do?

"Did you love him when he was religious?" asked Rav Kook.  "Of course," replied the father.  "Well then," Rav Kook replied, "Now love him even more.

Israel is only 72 years young.  How can we better connect ourselves and our children to the State of Israel?  How can we properly evaluate, praise, and even critically discuss the Jewish State?  

On Yom Ha'Atzmaut, let's love Israel more.

Bring Back Tzara'at!

How do you translate the word tzara'at?

If you're like most people, you probably are thinking leprosy.  Well, tzara'at is not leprosy.  (Although my Chumash with the English translation of Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch's German translation does translate the word as leprosy. Maybe something was lost in translation)

What is it?  Tzara'at is a spiritual or religious indicator that a person is not speaking properly.  The Torah teaches about a person who finds this strange patch of skin.  They show it to the Kohein.  If it is, indeed, tzara'at, the individual goes into seclusion, a religious "time out," to contemplate their actions.  If the individual successfully addresses the root cause of their transgression, the tzara'at will disappear, and it is back to everyday life - after an appropriate sacrificial atonement.

The Torah actually never states explicitly that speaking lashon ha-ra (negative speech) leads to tzara'at.  It is implied in the story of Miriam speaking ill about Moshe's wife and then be afflicted with tzara'at.  Tradition puts one and one together, and tzara'at and lashon ha-ra are forever linked at the hip.

So, we have a spiritual affliction whose goal is to remind people of the need to speak civilly.  Hmmm…

We need to bring tzara'at back.

Everywhere we turn, we hear loud, divisive, and outrageous statements being made.  There is so much noise.  Whether on the news or social media, more and more often statements are not made to bring people together.  Statements are made to shock or draw in the listener.  That's important for clicks, views, ratings, and advertisements.  With more time on our hands these days, it is easy to pay even more attention to these kinds of comments and as we flip through the channels and scroll through the news feed.

Whatever happened to the idea of: Before you speak ask yourself if what you are going to say is true, is kind, is necessary, is helpful. If the answer is no, maybe what you are about to say should be left unsaid.

Maybe if those who speak without measuring the meaning of their words has to worry about coming down with tzara'at, they would think twice before saying some of the things they say.  (I am sure that they would be more careful if they had to worry about getting leprosy from their statements.)

I understand people have different views.  There is right and left; Democrat and Republican.  But the decibel level and the tone are getting ugly.  There needs to be a better way to speak to each other than to shout and go for shock value.  I understand some of it is politics or for the cameras, but we need to find a way to think before speaking and try to only say what we really mean.  

I think the threat of tzara'at might help, but I am not sure we can count on it.

The Midrash Lekach Tov (Tazria 35b) quotes Rabbi Yochanan saying that we won't find tzara'at today because we no longer have capable judges.  Now, the Midrash doesn't put it this way, but I see it as teaching that, already over a thousand years ago, there was a problem of not having the right people to stop the scourge of incivility.  

Listening to what is said out there today, the problem has only gotten worse.  At the very least, we must tune out and call out those who make false, radical and, dangerous statements.  In a time when there is no tzara'at, the people must speak up.  Let's learn to speak more softly and seek out those voices which do the same.  During these times, we can use a lot more consideration of whether our words meet the standard of:

Is it true; is it necessary; is it kind?

It's Not Over - It's Omer

What happens if you forget to count a day of the Omer?

We’re familiar with the calculation.  If one forgets to count at night, one can count during the day without a beracha and can then continue counting with a beracha going forward.  If, however, one forgets to count a complete day, then one can no longer count with a beracha.

This is actually a machloket, a dispute.

The Halakhot Gedolot teaches that the key phrase is “temimot,” seven complete weeks.  One who forgets a day can no longer satisfy the requirement of completeness.  According to this view, the 49 days constitute a single religious act, and if one of the parts is missing, the whole is defective.  It is like a Torah scroll.  If a single letter is missing, the entire scroll is invalid.

According to R. Hai Gaon, however, each day of the 49 is a separate command.  The Torah states, “Count off fifty days.”  If one fails to count one day, that means one commandment has been missed.  That is not an impediment to counting the others.  For example, if one fails to pray on a given day, that doesn’t impact one’s ability to pray on subsequent days.  Each day is a distinct entity in itself, unaffected by what happened before or after.

The final law mediates between these two opinions.  Out of respect for R. Hai, we count the subsequent days, while, out of respect for the Halakhot Gedolot, we do so without a blessing.

These two halakhic positions can help us better appreciate the religious mission of Sefirat Ha-Omer.

1)  There is a macro, collective, and historical message.

2)  There is a micro, personal, and individual message.

1)  The view of the Halakhot Gedolot looks at the totality of the Omer period.  This reflects the idea of the totality of Jewish time.  Past, present, and future merge to form the Jewish story. Each and every moment, each and every component of Judaism, is essential.

Pesach is not enough. We must move forward by counting the Omer.

  

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch captures this theme by noting that the Exodus is a hatchala, a beginning, and not a tachlit, an end to itself.  Pesach is the start of Jewish history, yet it is incomplete.

Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik (Festival of Freedom, 177-178) wrote:

To exist as a Jew means to be at the juncture of past and future, of that which is no longer real and that which is not yet real.  Our mission is to live in both dimensions.  The experiential merger of past and future, of recollection and anticipation is symbolized by the process of counting.  When one counts, one ushers in a mathematical series, a continuum…This time-awareness is our challenge.

Judaism does not exist without this essential connection, and our daily counting – without missing even one day – demonstrates our pivotal role in joining the past with the future.

Rabbi Norman Lamm calls the Omer period one of creative nostalgia.

Think about it.  The entire tenor of the period has been determined by historical events.  We limit our celebrations because of the death of Rabbi Akiva’s students.  Moving further along through Jewish history, critical moments like the Crusades, Chmielniczki massacres, and the deportation and murder of Hungarian Jewry all took place during this time of year.  On the opposite end of the emotional spectrum, Israeli independence and the reunification of Jerusalem took place this time of year.

  

As we proceed from Passover, we dutifully keep track of every moment that has contributed to our story and our identity.

2)  Sefirat ha-omer also provides a more personal and practical message for each of us.

According to R. Hai Gaon, each day of the Omer is distinct.  Each day is a unique opportunity to rise to the challenge and count the Omer.  Will we succeed every day with a 100% success rate or arrive at Shavuot with a more modest record?

Similarly, our religious lives are not viewed as all or nothing.  There are highs and lows, moments of inspiration and difficult disappointments.  We should embrace the challenge – and the thrill - of each and every opportunity to transcend, sanctify, and ennoble. 

The Omer period offers 49 days for reflection and self-improvement.  This fits with the idea of the days and weeks of the Omer being connected with the Kabbalistic sefirot, emanations of God experienced in the physical world.  Rabbi Kalonymus Kalman Shapira (1889-1943) writes that even those who don't understand Kabbalah, can find meaning in these sefirot by seeing each day as an opportunity to achieve something connected to one’s religious development.  There are numerous actions, character traits, and attitudes to develop and improve here on earth.

Appreciating each and every day as an opportunity for growth is the hallmark of the free individual.  Rav Soloveitchik (Sacred and Profane) writes: 

            A slave who is capable of appreciating each day, of grasping its meaning and worth, of weaving every              thread of time into a glorious fabric, quantitatively stretching over the period of seven weeks but                        qualitatively forming the warp and woof of centuries of change is eligible for Torah.  He has achieved                freedom.

Counting the Omer proves that we are up to the privilege of Passover’s freedom.  It allows each of us to look inwards and identify the path that is best for us.

  

Chasal Siddur Pesach…Pesach is over.  It’s time for Omer.

We utilize the gift of freedom to internalize what it means to count, what it means to be a product of our historical experiences, and how we are critical to forging the future. At the same time, we have 49 distinct days to practice what it means to seize the opportunity to perform mitzvot, to elevate our lives, and to impact those around us.

In particular, this year provides us with a unique insight into the dual nature of the Omer period.  We are facing a Pesach unlike any other.  Jews have faced difficult challenges in the past, yet this year has left its mark, and it will change us.  On a personal level, this season of quarantine has given each of us a chance to look inwards at who we are, what makes us tick, what really matters, and what we need to do to accomplish our goals.  As a people, we will be stronger from this experience, and, as individuals, we will grow.

A story is told of an individual who attended a silent Quaker service.  During the worship, he turned to an usher and asked, “When does the service begin?”

The usher looked at him and said, “Sir, we believe that the real service begins when you leave the sanctuary and live with your fellow human beings on the outside.”

Pesach is over.  At the same time, our work is just beginning.

What a Familiar Haggadah Tells Us This Year

The Haggadah text is so effective and meaningful because it is so familiar.

In 1973, after the Yom Kippur War, Israeli Prime Minister Golda Meir was invited to be the guest of honor at a dinner in New York hosted by the Conference of Presidents of Major American Jewish Organizations.  Rabbi Shlomo Riskin was there and witnessed the following exchange. 

During the dinner, the Prime Minister already was looking looked bored as an unplanned presentation was added to the program.  She was given a new copy of Rabbi Mordechai Kaplan’s interpretation of the Haggadah.  In this new version, the Egyptian slavery was replaced by the Holocaust, and the State of Israel was center stage as the Israelites travel in the Sinai desert.  Mrs. Meir skimmed quickly through the Haggadah and returned it, saying “Thank you very much, but I’m not really interested.” 

The American leaders making the presentation were shocked.  “But you are not Orthodox, and this new rendition makes the story more relevant for a generation that experienced the horrors of the Holocaust followed by the creation of the State of Israel!”  Golda’s response was priceless: "No, I am not Orthodox, and I never will be. Nevertheless, I do host a Pesach Seder each year, especially for my grandchildren. What is most important to me is that my granddaughter at the Seder uses the same words that my grandmother said at her Seder.” 

The beauty of the Seder is that the very familiar words are relevant in all times and situations.  Here are some thoughts on what the Haggadah says to us during this extraordinary year of the Coronavirus pandemic.

הָא לַחְמָא עַנְיָא דִּי אֲכָלוּ אַבְהָתָנָא בְאַרְעָא דְמִצְרָיִם

This is the bread of affliction that our ancestors ate in Egypt…

This year, we have a deeper, personal understanding of affliction.

 כָּל דִכְפִין יֵיתֵי וְיֵיכֹל

Let all who are hungry eat…

Usually, we make this declaration as a reminder to open our homes for the Seder and beyond to those in need.  This year, we cannot welcome a guest or even family members.

הָשַּׁתָּא עַבְדֵי, לְשָׁנָה הַבָּאָה בְּנֵי חוֹרִין

Now, we are slaves. Next year, we shall be free.

This year, we are burdened, constricted, and restricted. Next year, please God, we will, quite literally, be free, outside, and together.

מַה נִּשְׁתַּנָּה הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה מִכָּל הַלֵּילוֹת 

How different is this night from all other nights! Why is this night different from all other nights?

This year, we know how and why this night is different.  And, yet, we still have so many questions.

בָּרוּךְ הַמָּקוֹם, בָּרוּךְ הוּא

Blessed is the Place (Omnipresent), Blessed is God

This year, our places, our homes, require blessing.  We have a new appreciation for space and place.

מִתְּחִלָּה עוֹבְדֵי עֲבוֹדָה זָרָה הָיוּ אֲבוֹתֵינוּ

In the beginning, our ancestors were idol worshippers

This year, we look to the past for new insights into the present and guidance towards the future. Our ancestors have withstood challenge before. So, please God, shall we again.

וְהִיא שֶׁעָמְדָה לַאֲבוֹתֵינוּ וְלָנוּ

This has stood for our ancestors and for us

What is “this?”  Maybe “this” is faith.  Maybe, as we raise our glasses for this passage, “this” is our ability to raise our cups to celebrate no matter the circumstances.  This year, we need to rely on “this” more than ever and maintain confidence and joy in the face of fear and uncertainty.

וַנִּצְעַק אֶל־ה' אֱלֹהֵי אֲבֹתֵינוּ, וַיִּשְׁמַע ה' אֶת־קֹלֵנוּ

We cried out to the Lord, God of our ancestors, and God heard our voice

This year, we double down on the need to call out in prayer for those who are ill, for those who are suffering, and those heroes on the front lines providing care for those at risk and in need.  And, this year, we know God will hear our voice.

אֵלּוּ עֶשֶׂר מַכּוֹת שֶׁהֵבִיא הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא עַל־הַמִּצְרִים בְּמִצְרַיִם

These are the ten plagues that God brought against the Egyptians

This year, we can better understand the power of a plague.

כַּמָה מַעֲלוֹת טוֹבוֹת לַמָּקוֹם עָלֵינוּ

How many levels of kindness has God bestowed upon us!

This year, despite the difficulty and uncertainty, we appreciate all the kindness God continues to bestow upon us, the little gifts we can find in everyday life.

דַּיֵּנוּ

It would have been enough for us!

This year, we each have our own personal “Dayeinu!”  Enough sickness.  Enough time inside.  Thank you, God, for everything, but it’s enough. 

בְּכָל־דּוֹר וָדוֹר חַיָּב אָדָם לִרְאוֹת אֶת־עַצְמוֹ כְּאִלּוּ הוּא יָצָא מִמִּצְרַיִם

In every generation, a person is obligated to view themselves as actually leaving Egypt.

This year, we can appreciate the feeling of anticipation for the moment of redemption. We yearn for freedom and a release from our current circumstances.

לְפִיכָךְ אֲנַחְנוּ חַיָּבִים לְהוֹדוֹת, לְהַלֵּל, לְשַׁבֵּחַ

Therefore, we are obligated to thank, praise, and laud

When the moment of redemption comes, we will sing and rejoice.  This year, we sing with gusto in anticipation of better times and knowing that, please God, we will have much for which to praise and be grateful.

לְשָׁנָה הַבָּאָה בִּירוּשָלָיִם הַבְּנוּיָה

Next year, in a rebuilt Jerusalem!

This year, we are acutely aware of how much we yearn for next year.  This year, despite our situation and surroundings, we can sing with confidence that, next year, we will celebrate a joyous Pesach Seder unlike any other before.