An Upside to Closed Synagogues?

We all miss attending synagogue.  We miss the services, the cantor, the rabbi, and the Kiddush.  So much of Judaism is enhanced by our encounters with family, friends, and even strangers.  We need people!  No one would ever voluntarily forbid such interaction or close the synagogue.

Except maybe Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch.

If I had the power I would provisionally close all synagogues for a hundred years.  Do not tremble at the thought of it, Jewish heart.  What would happen?  Jews and Jewesses without synagogues, desiring to remain such, would be forced to concentrate on a Jewish life and a Jewish Home.  The Jewish officials connected with the synagogue would have to look to the only opportunity now open to them – to teach young and old how to live a Jewish life and how to build a Jewish home.  All synagogues closed by Jewish hands would constitute the strongest protest against the abandonment of the Torah in home and life. (Quoted in the “Introduction by Translator” to Horeb, “The Classification of the Mitzvoth,” p.1xix)

Rabbi Hirsch never acted on this impulse.  His radical suggestion was meant to highlight the need for Jews to be able to lead meaningful Jewish lives on their own.  Yes, we need a shul and the scaffolding of Jewish communal institutions.  We need the mohel and the shochet and the sofer.  We should, nevertheless, not ignore the very real responsibility we have to know how to observe and celebrate meaningful Judaism on our own.

We certainly have had such opportunities these past months.  Many people made Pesach for the first time in their lives.  We have transformed living rooms into miniature synagogues and dining room tables into Batei Midrash (study halls).  We’ve ushered in the new month with out own versions of Birchat HaChodesh and had the chance to read the Haftarah without worrying about being corrected.  We miss shul and interacting with others, but we have been able to demonstrate to all – especially our children – that we can create joyous Judaism ourselves.

The only way we can make Judaism for ourselves is to study Torah. Torah is the fuel that drives the engine of our Jewish living.  We have the benefit of teachers, rabbis, shuls, and schools to provide us with Torah.  In the end, though, it’s up to us.

Torah, literally, makes the world go round.

Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin, the primary disciple of the Vilan Gaon, taught (Nefesh HaChaim 4:11) that, “without a doubt whatsoever,” if there would be a moment in which Torah would not be studied somewhere in the world, the world would revert to nothingness. 

In order to make sure this would not happen, in the Volozhin Yeshiva, they ensured that someone was on call to study Torah 24 hours a day every single day.  When Yom Kippur ended, someone would stay behind to study while everyone else ate, and he would only eat when the next person on call came back.

For those less mystically inclined, the lack of Jewish learning is held up as a major factor in the weakening of Jewish identity and participation.  Noted Jewish historian Jack Wertheimer, in his book, The New American Judaism, identifies the lack of education as a primary reason behind the shrinking of the non-Orthodox denominations.  Without Jewish knowledge anchoring one’s Jewish commitment, there is less of a reason to participate in organized Jewish life.  On a different part of the Jewish spectrum, Ambassador David Friedman addressed this subject yesterday.  He described Jewish illiteracy as the greatest threat to the Jewish community and asked “How many of us are fluent in Judaism?”

We need Torah!

I think that this Shavuot is the perfect time to internalize this message.  We can’t go to shul.  We can’t socialize. We can’t even participate in any form of communal Torah study.  It’s all up to us.  I feel encouraged to stay up all night this Shavuot even more so than usual, and I encourage you to try and do the same.  There are so many resources online that can be printed up to study. 

Our studying Torah is not only a necessary ingredient in our own Jewish living.  It is also a terrific example for our children and families.

There's a fabulous story about this picture taken at a soccer match between Israel and Glasgow in November 2018.  As the television cameras scanned the crowd, viewers caught sight of a rabbi, wrapped up against the cold in a thick coat and scarf, reading a book!  

The rabbi is Rabbi Zev Leff, the American born rabbi of Moshav Mattityahu in Israel.  He was in Scotland visiting his children, and he took his grandchildren to the football game.  Rabbi Leff did not have any interest in attending the game, especially not in a cold Scottish winter.  He went because, as his daughter explained in an interview, he wanted to spend time with his grandchildren, participating in something that is important to them.  What did his grandchildren see was important to the rabbi while he accompanied them?  Torah.

It is a marvelous lesson of being responsive and present for our loved ones, and it also highlights that we need to show our children what matters to us if we want it to matter to them.  It’s another reason to study Torah this Shavuot.  Since we’re all home together, our families will see that it is important.

Otherwise, it withers.

One afternoon in Jerusalem, a rabbi was on his way to the synagogue for the afternoon prayers when somebody called out from a doorway asking him to complete a minyan in a house of mourning.  He gladly agreed to pray with the mourners, and, upon entering the apartment, he was surprised to observe that although it was full of Jewish books, the mourners themselves did not appear to be religiously observant.

After the minyan had concluded, the rabbi took out a Mishnah Berurah to examine it, and he noticed that its margins were full of astute insights and comments.  He inquired about the owner of the books, and one of the mourners replied that they all belonged to his father.  The rabbi probed further, asking whether any of the other family members used the books.  The son responded that although his father had been a very pious and learned Jew, none of his children had followed in his ways.  He explained that when his father came home each night, he would lock himself in his study and spend hours poring over his beloved tomes.  However, because his Torah study only occurred behind closed doors, his children never observed him learning and therefore did not absorb his passion for Torah and Judaism.

We need to learn Torah to make our own Judaism relevant, and we need to learn in a way that our children will, likewise, appreciate the critical need of Torah in their lives.

I hope we get back to shul soon.  While we’re home this Shavuot, let us double down on our commitment to studying Torah – for ourselves and also for our children and families.

The Everlasting Joy of Jerusalem!

“Har ha-bayit b’yadeinu – the Temple Mount is in our hands!”

Each I time I hear the recording or see the images, I feel something inside.  Jerusalem has a powerful hold on our souls and imaginations.

Today is Yom Yerushalayim, commemorating and celebrating 53 years since the reunification of Jerusalem during the Six-Day War.  I think that Yom Yerushalayim has a different feeling than Yom Ha'Atzmaut.  Yom Ha'Atzmaut is the grand moment of national return, the rebirth of Jewish sovereignty in our ancient land.  Yom Yerushalayim is more spiritual, a profound and intimate opportunity to joyously celebrate the reunification of the Jewish soul with the Holy City.

Jerusalem’s unique spiritual role is noted by Isaiah (2:3):

כִּי מִצִּיּוֹן תֵּצֵא תוֹרָה וּדְבַר ה' מִירוּשָׁלִָם

For Torah shall come forth from Zion, The word of God from Jerusalem

What is the difference between Torah from Zion and the word of God from Jerusalem? 

Torah is the Jewish religion.  God established a covenant with the Jewish people of Torah, of Judaism.  The natural home for this covenant, the place for its fullest expression is Zion, Israel. 

Jerusalem has a different message.  The word of God is a spiritual force, an intimate religious feeling.  This feeling is felt most in Jerusalem.

Think of the power of the Kotel to elicit tremendous religious feeling from all who visit.  Jews – and non-Jews – are powerfully moved by the experience.  That is the spiritual power of Jerusalem.  On Yom Yerushalayim, we celebrate the reemergence of this experience.

Think of how the reunification of Jerusalem has impacted Jewish life today!

The reunification of Jerusalem was a powerful moment in history.  The weeks leading up to the Six Day War were fraught with terror.  The Arab armies were gathering, and their statements were threatening.  In Israel, they were digging mass graves for the thousands of anticipated deaths.  Diaspora Jewry was in a state of panic.  People thought it was the end of the State of Israel.

And then….

Yeshuat Hashem k’heref ayin – The salvation of God came in the blink of an eye.  (Midrash Pesikta Zutreta 4:17)

All of a sudden, like a bolt of lightning, a victory that was unimaginable.  This is also the dvar Hashem from Jerusalem, a Divine message of redemption, transforming the terror into celebration.  (We can certainly appreciate a reminder about the possibility of redemption today.  It will happen!)

The reunification of Jerusalem transformed Jews forever. 

I have heard Rabbi Lookstein describe on several occasions how the Six Day War transformed the identity and personality of world Jewry.  He describes Jews before 1967 as maintaining a “question mark” posture.  They were stooped, uncertain, tenuous.  After 1967, Jews stood up tall and straight like an exclamation point!  A popular post-Six Day War image was of a Jew transforming into Superman in a phone booth.  (See above.)  Subsequent Jewish involvement in public activities like the Soviet Jewry movement or the rise of pro-Israel activism trace their roots directly back to the 1967 victory. 

Har ha-bayit b’yadeinu!  Our proud Judaism traces itself directly back to these words. That is what we are celebrating when we celebrate Yom Yerushalayim.

I never had to imagine an Israel without a unified Jerusalem.  Today each of us should try to find one way to connect to the eternal legacy and power of Jerusalem to uplift our souls.

"Har ha-bayit b'yadeinu!" was not only the announcement of a military objective in 1967.  It remains a declaration of pride in the Jewish present and hope for the future.

If We Finish a Book of the Torah and Nobody Hears it, Do We Still Say Chazak?

It’s hard to believe, but it’s our tenth Shabbat out of shul.

We have now missed reading the entire book of Vayikra publicly.

If we were in shul this Shabbat, after the reader chanted the final verse of the book, we would declare, “Chazak chazak v’nitchazeik – stay strong, stray strong and let us strengthen each other!”

Have you ever wondered why we say this?  What are the origins of this practice?

The earliest source for saying “Chazak” in the context of Torah is the Sefer HaManhig, written in the 12th century.  He notes that in France and Provence, the minhag is for the ba’al korei to say “Chazak” to each person called to the Torah.  Others suggest the practice to say “Chazak” to the last person to receive an aliyah.

Rabbi Moshe Mintz in the 15^th century, notes that the minhag in his community was to recite “Chazak" after the completion of each book of the Torah.  He compares it to the recitation of the “Hadran” formula after finishing a tractate, or giving someone a “Yasher koach” after completing a mitzvah.  We encourage those who complete learning or complete a mitzvah to continue on that path.  It’s a validation of the achievement as significant.  Everyone can use some encouragement!

Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik raises the possibility that the minhag to say chazak out loud at the conclusion of each book of the Torah may actually a mistake.  The original practice was for the congregation to recite the last verse aloud.  (This would be similar to the custom of reading aloud the end of each day of creation during the Chatan Bereishit reading on Simchat Torah.)  The printer put in the instructions חז"ק, which stands for chazzan (reader) and kahal (congregation).  People mistook this abbreviated instruction as encouraging all to call out “Chazak!”

(Rav Soloveitchik actually thought that the primary explanation to recite “Chazak” is based on the rabbinic teachings in the Gemara that Torah needs chizuk, strengthening and encouragement.)

All fine and good, but what if we don’t hear the Torah reading?  If we finish a book of the Torah and nobody hears it, do we still say chazak?

It’s like the famous thought experiment: If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? There are many ways to unpack this question.  What is sound?  Does it require a human ear for there to be sound?

If we finish a book of the Torah and nobody hears it, do we still say chazak? For Torah, the answer is yes!

Finishing a book of the Torah is an accomplishment that deserves attention, celebration, and encouragement.  This year, in particular, we must focus on the accomplishments that we HAVE achieved and not dwell on what we have been missing.

Some people may have read each parsha from beginning to end from the Cumash.  Some of us have developed a meaningful Shabbat morning routine.  ( Personally, I started davening on Shabbat morning in the living room but switched to the dining room since it had a better Kiddush Club!)  Maybe our weekday prayers have become more important to us or we’re attending a Torah class on Zoom.  Maybe we’re more mindful to pray for those in need of healing or to support those on the front lines helping people in these crazy times.

Not hearing the Torah read in shul is one of the many things that have changed the last few months.  They are not omissions or deficiencies.  We are responding to a new normal the best we can.  We should emphasize our achievements rather than lament what is missing.

Chazak, chazak, v’nitchazeik!   In these surreal times, now more than ever, we need strength, encouragement, and to encourage each other.

Maybe we should shout it out loud every single day.  Let’s be strong, stay strong, and strengthen each other!

It's a Bird; It's a Plane...It's a Kohein!

Who is your favorite superhero?

      

(The Rabbi belongs in the mix.  Keep reading.)

Why do we love superheroes?  They represent how a single person has the capacity to make the world a better place if they put their distinct powers to good use.  We are drawn to the heroic – whether in the comics or in reality - since, deep down, we each want to make that kind of difference.

It’s natural to feel this way.

A 2017 study from Kyoto University in Japan found humans are drawn to heroes from early stages of development.  In a series of experiments, infants as young as six months were shown short animations in which one figure chased and bumped into a second.  Meanwhile, a third figure watched from afar.  In one version, the third figure steps in and prevents the collision, and in the other, it runs away without intervening.  After watching the clips, the infants were presented with replicas of the intervening and non-intervening third figures, and they consistently preferred the one who saved the day.

These findings suggest that our sense of justice - and likewise, adoration for heroes - is innate and explains why kids and adults alike have a love affair with superhero stories in popular culture. 

It is very Jewish to be drawn to superheroes.  It is very Jewish to draw superheroes.

Many superheroes were created by Jews with Eastern European backgrounds.  Jewish comics creators include Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel (Superman); Bob Kane and Bill Finger (Batman); Jack Kirby (Fantastic Four, Incredible Hulk, the X-Men); Jack Kirby and Joe Simon (Captain America); and Stan Lee (who helped create Spider-Man and a whole bunch of others).

Danny Fingeroth, author of Disguised as Clark Kent: Jews, Comics and the Creation of the Superhero, suggests this is not a coincidence.  He writes that the Jewish heritage of the superhero creators influenced the first generation of superheroes and the worlds in which they lived.  Their experience as immigrants or first generation Americans prompted them to create characters who, although different from the rest of society, possessed the abilities to right wrongs, rescue those in distress, and save the day. 

Judaism recognizes the power of superheroes to inspire ordinary people to greatness.  Generally, the Torah’s heroes are of the spiritual variety.  Like the Kohein (priest).

In one word, Parshat Emor commands the people to honor the Kohein and relate to him with an air of respect and admiration, while also providing everyone with a role model to inspire each of us to aspire to become our best selves.

“V’kidashto – You must treat the Kohein as holy.” (Vayikra 21:8)

This verse is the source of a mitzvah to venerate the Kohein.  The Kohein is called first to the Torah and is given priority treatment in a variety of ritual ways.  This verse also obligates special treatment for the Kohein, who may not engage in menial activities that are “beneath him.”  At the same time, the Kohein has to properly step into his role.  He deserves respect only when clothed in the special priestly garb and projects a dignified, majestic, and noble appearance.  The Prophets note that a true Kohein is as impressive in behavior and comportment as an angel of God.  

The Kohein is, quite literally, awesome.  He may not be stronger than a locomotive, but when the Kohein dresses and acts the part of a spiritual superhero, he is then viewed as such by the people, commanding the respect of the average person and serving as a role model for all.

Whether it is Superman, a Kohein, a rabbi, a teacher, a doctor, a first responder, a parent or a stranger, heroes represent the best of what we aspire to be.  Having their image in front of us can give expression to the latent ability inside each of us to excel and change the world.

The Kohein is a spiritual superhero.  But we all can put on the cape.  Maimonides (Shemitah v’Yovel 13:11) writes:

Not only the tribe of Levi, but each well-informed thinking person whose spirit moves him to devote himself to the service of the Lord, to know the Lord, and has walked uprightly…indeed divinely consecrated…

The Kohein may be the original spiritual superhero, but each of us has a superhero inside that can emerge if we choose to let it out.

Every day at 7:00 pm, I go outside to join the cheering for our heroic first responders.  It is a nice break from the daily grind.  Why clap?  Can they hear us?  Several have told me they appreciate the overwhelming support from so even if they personally can’t hear it.  One reason I clap is that I find it uplifting to think about ordinary people – doctors, nurses, hospital workers, first responders, and so many others - who are heroically doing what needs to be done.  Each of us can be a hero by performing the task in front of us.  Whether it’s caring for family, running a company, or saving a life, heroes abound.

The Talmud (Sukkah 53a) presents a teaching of Hillel which should inspire the hero in each of us:

אם אני כאן הכל כאן ואם איני כאן מי כאן

If I am here, everyone is here; and if I am not here, who is here? One must consider themselves as the one upon whom it is incumbent to get things done and not rely on others to do so.

We love heroes – comic book, spiritual, and real.  Most importantly, let’s become heroes.  Let’s take on the roles – large and small – that only we can accomplish.


Don’t look up in the sky.  Look in the mirror.  It’s a superhero.