Don't Let the Light Go Out!

Don’t let the light go out…

It’s the chorus on the classic Peter, Paul, and Mary Chanukah song, which is turning 40 this year. David Broza gives it a contemporary spin in a new version. (Listen HERE.)

I always feel that Chanukah starts slowly but rushes to its conclusion. On the third night, it seems like we’re in a good groove. A few nights into Chanukah, we’ve had some latkes, at least one Chanukah party, and a present or two. The fourth night means Chanukah is only halfway through. Then, all of a sudden, on the fifth night, it seems like things are moving too fast. The holiday zooms to its conclusion from there.

What can we do so that, even as Chanukah ends, the lights don’t go out?

The Chasidic master Rebbe Shlomo of Karlin (1740-1792) had a personal custom to light with wax candles on Chanukah. He felt that when the wax drips and the liquid hardens, an imprint is made that lasts well beyond the eight days of Chanukah, whereas oil simply burns and nothing of it remains. Wax candles symbolize the lesson that Chanukah must make a lasting impression on the soul.

One year he was unable to acquire the wax candles, and he used oil instead. It happened that, one night, the menorah tipped over, and a small fire started that was quickly extinguished. It did, however, leave a dark burn mark on the wall. Reb Shlomo was actually pleased with this development since, once again, Chanukah had left its mark.

Chanukah must make an impression on us.

This Chanukah, there has been a lot of focus on shining and sharing the light. In times of uncertainty – whether its antisemitism or confusion or internal division, publicly lighting Chanukah lights was undertaken in all sorts of ways to illuminate the darkness. From Time Square to the Atlantic Beach Village Green to the front steps of the shul, we shared the light, publicized the miracle, and demonstrated Jewish pride.

Will the light last? It’s up to us.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe once pointed to a candle and asked a visitor what he saw? The visitor responded, “A candle.”

The Rebbe replied, “It’s not a candle. It is simply a lump of wax with a string in the middle of it… When does a lump of wax become a candle? Only when you bring a flame and ignite the wick does it become a candle.” The Rebbe continued, “The ‘wax’ is our body…and the ‘wick’ is our soul; the ‘flame’ is the fire of Torah and mitzvos. When the soul is lit up by the flame of Torah, achieving the purpose for which we are created, that’s when the person becomes a ‘candle’. This is the goal, to help every man and woman achieve the purpose for which they were created.”

Before leaving , the visitor asked, “So… has the Rebbe lit my candle?”

The Rebbe shook his head, and answered in a quiet, serious tone, “No, no…I am only able to give you the match. It is you who must light your own candle.”

How will this Chanukah leave its mark on us? Did the candles “light” us up? Which Chanukah insight will shed light on the coming months? Which gift did we give or get which will remind us to be kind, to be attentive, or to be more supportive of others?

Chanukah is ending. Did it leave its mark? Will the light shine on?

A Colorful Coat for Each of Us

 

It’s one of the most famous coats in history. (It even appears in a Seinfeld episode.)

יִשְׂרָאֵל אָהַב אֶת־יוֹסֵף מִכׇּל־בָּנָיו כִּי־בֶן־זְקֻנִים הוּא לוֹ וְעָשָׂה לוֹ כְּתֹנֶת פַּסִּים׃ 

“Now Israel (Jacob) loved Joseph best of all his sons - he was his “child of old age,” and he had made him a ketonet passim.” (Bereishit 37:3)

What is the ketonet passim? You’re thinking it was the coat of many colors. While that’s how we describe it, what do the words actually mean?

Artscroll translates it as “a fine woolen tunic.” The Jewish Publication Society says it’s “an ornamented tunic.” Koren calls it “a coat with long sleeves.” The Metzudah translation uses the more familiar and popular “long, colorful cloak.” You get the idea. Something we all think is pretty obvious – that Yosef’s coat had many colors – is actually not so simple after all. (Don’t tell the producers of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.)

The classic commentaries present various explanations of the coat. The Midrash adds several layers of interpretation and symbolism. (See HERE for an article summarizing many of the views.) The coat was everything from a simple gift to the forerunner for the priestly garments to a foretelling of the Jewish future.

I believe the story of the “coat of many colors” is a lesson for the generations. It is a timely reminder of the privilege of being Jewish, how that will make us appear different, and differences are no reason to keep us apart.

Yaakov gave Yosef something special, something no other bother had. While this can be understood as favoring Yosef (had he learned nothing from his experiences with his own, brother, Esav?), it also taught Yosef that he possessed unique strengths and responsibilities. Yaakov was instilling in Yosef a sense of mission and purpose. “I see great things in store for you. I present you with this very visible and noticeable symbol of that responsibility.”

Might this cause tension with the other brothers? Of course! Yosef dreams didn’t help either.

Yaakov knew this. The text (37:11) says clearly that Yaakov kept the matter in mind. That didn’t stop him, however, from sending Yosef out in search of his brothers – wearing that colorful coat, the visible reminder of Yosef’s potential that would certainly trigger the brothers.

“Lech na re’eh et sh’lom achecha ­– Please go and check on the wellbeing of your brothers.” (37:14) Yaakov tells Yosef, “They may dislike you, but you still have to encounter them and be concerned for their wellbeing.” Yosef’s future wasn’t to keep to himself. His future was to lead by engaging with his brothers – disagreements and all. There was no avoiding that fate regardless of the potential for danger.

And Yosef took on the assignment. “Hineni – Here I am.” (37:13) Yosef doesn’t hesitate to accept the mission. Even when he gets lost – an opportunity to return home saying he would love to find the brothers but couldn’t, he seeks help from the mysterious man on the road. “Et achai anochi mevakeish – I am seeking out my brothers.” (37:16) With these words, Yosef accepts his ultimate mission – not only to fulfill Yaakov’s request to locate the brothers. Yosef is ready to engage his brothers in full “coat of many colors” regalia. They may not want to see him; but Yosef is committed to find them.

One creative way of interpreting Yosef’s response to the mystery man is “Et achai – I am looking for my brothers” because “anochi mevakeish – that is the only way I can find my true self.”

We know how the story plays out. Yosef finds his brothers. They are, indeed, triggered. They tear off his coat because they do not understand or appreciate the role that Yosef is mean to fill in modeling leadership, compassion, and responsibility for all. Yosef ends up in Egypt, yadda, yadda, yadda…

The coat of many colors remains relevant in our role as Jews today. There is no avoiding the fact that we stand out. It’s a privilege. This may attract unwanted attention and cause strife with outsiders – and even fellow Jews. Like Yosef, we need to find the passion and determination to wear our colorful coats out into the world in search of a way to connect to all of our brothers and sisters – whether we agree or disagree - and live lives of mission and purpose that will enlighten the world.

That’s quite a coat.

The "Ish" in Each of Us

 

What do you think of when you hear the word "wrestling?" 

I must confess that I associate wrestling with the entertainment variety. That’s the one that everyone says is “fake” or entertainment. I grew up in the era of the World Wrestling Federation and personalities like Hulk Hogan and Sgt. Slaughter. Parshat Vayishlach tells the story of the first wrestling match in history, the “main event” between Yaakov and…

With whom exactly is Yaakov wrestling?

"Va-yivateir Yaakov levado va-yei’aveik ish imo – Jacob remained alone, and a man wrestled with him until daybreak.” (Bereishit 32:25)

Who was this ish?

Rabbi Ari Kahn, a senior lecturer at Bar-Ilan University, addresses this and a number of other issues in this story. One answer is that Yaakov fought against the angel of Esav. Another suggestion is that Yaakov was fighting against himself. If Yaakov was alone, though, with whom was he wrestling?  Why would a sane person wrestle with himself?

Rabbi Kahn notes that there is another, less enigmatic “ish” in an earlier verse:

“The man (ish) prospered exceedingly and he possessed great herds and maids and servants and camels and donkeys.” (Bereishit 30:43)

This “ish” is clearly Yaakov. He is successful and prosperous. The blessings he received, which had initially been meant for Esav, have come to fruition. Yaakov has "made it". He has completed a metamorphosis from being a “man sitting in the tent” to becoming a successful entrepreneur.  

Yet Yaakov struggles with his success. As he prepares to meet his brother, he is left alone. Yaakov looks at all the wealth which he has accumulated, and he questions his identity. “Is this who I am really meant to be? Might I have become too much like Esav?” All night long, Yaakov’s spiritual self and his physical self wrestle with each other as he tries to determine his true identity. In the end, Yaakov prevails, but he is injured. He receives a new name, Yisrael, and he limps away. From this point on, Jews do not eat the hip tendon (gid ha-nasheh) of the animal to remember this battle.

Rabbi Kahn writes: “In the resolution that is finally achieved, the physical realm is forced to yield. Laws, like that of the hip tendon will create spiritual boundaries within the physical experience, making possible the elevation of the physical world to a spiritual plane. This is Yaakov's resolution – and a resolution for us, his descendants. Yaakov may look like Esav, but he is now Yisrael, the name which speaks of his relationship with the physical and spiritual realms.”

This battle continues within each of us.

The upcoming Chanukah holiday is an appropriate time to remember the struggle. It is a holiday with a spiritual message of the light that shone due to the miracle of the oil. At the same time, Chanukah commemorates a battle of ideas and cultures, Judaism and Hellenism. The Jews fought the Greeks, but they also fought with each other over how much outside influence can be allowed in. The struggle continues today. We are incredibly blessed with rich Jewish lives in the middle of an incredible modern society that, at times, challenges our Jewish identities. There is a struggle.

Embrace the struggle. Elevate the struggle. It is right in the middle of this disequilibrium that our future will be won. 

How will we transmit passion to our children?

What should I be studying that will fortify my Jewish commitment?

How can I respond to the turbulent times?

How can we ensure our commitment to the Jewish people and Israel can transcend our many disagreements?

How can I make a difference in a world where the volume is louder and common ground is getting smaller?

I don’t know, but let’s get ready to rumble!

Having the Last Laugh Against Antisemitism

It’s a classic “Seinfeld” scene:

Dr. Tim Whatley: Jerry, it's our sense of humor that sustained us as a people for 3,000 years.
Jerry: 5,000.
Dr. Tim Whatley: 5,000. Even better.

Our sense of humor plays a huge role in the Jewish mindset and the story of our survival.

Ruth Wisse wrote a book entitled No Joke: Making Jewish Humor, which explores the phenomenon of Jewish humor, jokes, and comedy. She quotes the London Daly Telegraph (4/10/01) that “Jewish humor is one of the wonders of the world. No other community can compete with the range and subtlety of Jewish jokes.” Jews are empirically funny. Some estimate that the proportion of Jewish professionals in U.S. comedy is as high as 80 percent. Wisse notes (p. 17) that “Jewish comedy must go where the Jews go, into the concentration camps of Adolf Hitler and gulags of Joseph Stalin.” There is a Yiddish witticism recorded in the Warsaw Ghetto that captures the essence of Jewish humor: “God forbid that this war should last as long as we are able to endure it.”

Our ability to laugh is built into the spiritual DNA of our peoplehood.

Avraham was chosen to be a patriarch of a great nation. For that to happen, he needed to have a child. What did Avraham do when told he would have that child? He laughed. It wasn’t only Sarah who laughed. She just seems to be the one blamed…

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (Bereishit 17:17) explains this laughter as essential to Jewish continuity.

“The beginning of the Jewish people was absurd. To the rational mind…this people's history, expectations, hopes and life appear as a monstrous, ludicrous, pretension…The laughter that follows the Jew on their way through history testifies to the Divine character of their path. The laughter does not disturb them, because they were prepared for this laughter in advance.”

Yitzchak provided the Jewish people with a legacy of laughter. How to laugh off the challenges and difficulties. We have already heard whatever joke our enemies want to tell, and we’ll have the last laugh.

Recently, there has been more attention paid to jokes about Jews and when the line is crossed into antisemitism. Yes, Dave Chappelle’s Saturday Nigh Live opening monologue. I know some – even some Jewish comics – thought it was funny. Some thought it was not funny. Some thought it was funny, but this is not the time for such humor. I played the monologue for my teenage daughter. She was bored.

Last week, I heard Jerry Seinfeld live in conversation with Brian Williams. When asked about Chappelle, he commented that comics should avoid saying things that will then be associated with statements or actions that are inappropriate. Don’t go treading down the slippery slope.

I think there is a heightened sensitivity these days because comments go viral, and the media can take an off-the-cuff reference and make it a headline. The wider the jokes are heard can create a danger, but it doesn’t mean the joke teller is necessarily antisemitic. It is a serious issue, but it shouldn’t define our daily lives or affect our sense of Jewish pride. We cannot control other people’s portrayal of us. We can control what we do as individuals and as a community.

I find it interesting that the targets of antisemitic aggression (e.g. slurs shouted, shoving, hats knocked off) are more often visible Jews. While it is often the comments or jokes which garner the most attention (and go viral), the violence is more often directed at visibly Orthodox or Chasidic Jews. How do they respond? They don’t write articles, call for corporate boycotts, or start campaigns. They partner with law enforcement and local government, advocate for more protection, and keep going to shul.

We get the last laugh by doubling down on being Jewish and showing Jewish pride. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks wrote: “Non-Jews respect Jews who respect Judaism, and they are embarrassed by Jews who are embarrassed by Judaism.” (Radical Then, Radical Now, Chapter 15)

Yes, there is rising antisemitism out there. There are important educational and communal initiatives that wonderful organizations are offering in response. The issue is on the governmental and law enforcement radar screen. I know this from firsthand experience chairing Nassau County’s Task Force on Antisemitism. Good people care and want to act. Our job, though, is to just be Jewish. Be more proudly and visibly Jewish. The world is complicated and hateful speech and antisemitism are an unfortunate, growing reality. Actions, though, speak more loudly than words or laughs or likes.

Jews may be getting the message. An article in the New York Times described how in-person Shabbat meals are making a comeback. It seems that some young people who are busy on Friday nights are gathering on Thursday nights for “Shabbat: meals. “It’s a little weird that it’s not on a Friday,” Rabbi Green said, “but whatever gets people excited about Shabbat works for me.” What?!?!

I thought this isjust one more example of the sense of entitlement Gen-Z’ers have. Shabbat has to respond to their lifestyle. But it seems that, for some, the increased interest in Shabbat is an opportunity to support and celebrate Jewish culture in response to the rise in antisemitism.

“People want to show that they are proud of being Jewish and they believe in the spirit of Judaism.”

“As we are watching antisemitism come to an uncomfortable rise, we need to do more.”

So…go for it! More Shabbat, more Judaism. More Jewish pride!

Chanukah is an ideal time for proudly doing Jewish. The lights of the Menorah face outwards so people will see them. We can share the light with friends, family, and neighbors. I encourage everyone to transform their home into a “Chanukah Home of Light” and choose one night to host people for the Menorah lighting – especially if you know people (Jewish or non-Jewish) who are less familiar with Chanukah. Large Menorah lightings are great opportunities to show Jewish pride and spark a conversation about Judaism. This year, the JCAB will spearhead be two large, outdoor Menorah lightings in Atlantic Beach – one outside the Shul and one at the Green on Park Street.

Yitzchak Avinu underwent many trials in his lifetime - from his early rivalry with Yishmael to the binding to the rivalry between his sons to going blind in his old age. Yet, it is Yitzchak who carries a name that means, “He will laugh.” Perhaps it’s because when Jews persevere and remain committed to our Torah and our people, we get the last laugh.

What To Do With Leftovers

It is a very relevant question the morning after Thanksgiving: What should we do with leftovers? (Do you remember this commercial for Perdue’s over stuffer roaster?)

Some people love them, while some people hate them. For some, leftovers are welcome reminders of what remains from a delicious meal. For others, it is time to move on, and they won’t touch leftovers. When there is a lot of food, there are going to be leftovers. Thanksgiving or Shabbat or Yom Tov generates leftovers. What might we learn from leftovers?

Psychologist Alex Korb explains that some people get pleasure from finishing leftovers because of dopamine. The brain releases the neurotransmitter dopamine when we experience pleasure as well as when we finish a goal. For example, Pringles are so addictive because the dopamine that gets released when you eat a chip, drives you to eat another, and the anticipation of more keeps releasing more dopamine. When you finally finish the whole can, even more dopamine gets released. Thanksgiving leftovers are so delicious because dopamine gets released due to the goal of the meal being completed.

I am not sure this works for everyone.

Rabbi Berel Wein tackles leftovers from a Jewish perspective. According to Jewish law, one may only cook on a holiday what is needed for that day. However, one may cook extra food if one thinks guests may show up. The extra food isn’t viewed as potential leftovers; it is viewed as food that is necessary to fulfill the mitzvah of hachnasat orchim (welcoming guests). Implicit in this idea is the concept of friendship and familiarity that Jews should feel about casually visiting one another to share the joys of the holiday. What some may consider “leftovers” (or potential leftovers) are really the tools to create closeness.

The Torah provides another example of “positive leftovers” when the Jewish farmer harvests produce from the fields. Every Jewish field has a corner that is not harvested and left over for those in need. Sheaves of grain that have fallen to the ground during the harvesting process are left over for the poor, and rows of produce that somehow were forgotten in the tumult of harvesting the field are left behind for the needy. These leftovers are a testament to the fact we are not he exclusive owners of our own property. God is in charge, and we are commanded to be kind to those in need.

Another lesson of “holy leftovers” is our connection to the past. Each day in the ”Al HaTzadikkim” blessing of the Shemone Esrei, we pray for “the remnant of scholars” of previous generations. They are not merely part of the past. We gain so much when have living grandparents or great-grandparents to inspire us. Even when not physically present, their spiritual legacy is essential to who we are today. We strongly embrace “holy leftovers,” the people, teachings, and stories that continue to nourish us.

Leftovers may not taste the same as when first cooked, but they serve as a still-tasty reminder of how we must connect and support others while remaining connected to our past. As Rabbi Wein concludes, “So, the next time that you are privileged to partake of warmed-over Shabbat food on Tuesday, think of it as being a blessing and not merely a method of using up extra food.”

I think the same is true for Thanksgiving – or any other – leftovers.

Youth is Not Only for the Young

“If you are not a liberal at 25, you have no heart. If you are not a conservative at 45, you have no brain.”

This quote is a version of a sentiment attributed to various thinkers including Thomas Jefferson. As people age, their viewpoints change. Some people are more idealistic in their youth, while, with the passage of time, some may become more cynical and less optimistic of being able to solve the world’s problems.

We cannot stop growing older, but we can try to maintain our youthful enthusiasm and optimism our whole lives.

“Sarah’s lifetime—the span of Sarah’s life—came to one hundred years and twenty years and seven years.” (Bereishit 23:1)

The commentators note the redundancy in the verse to mean that Sarah lived an incredibly meaningful life for her entire life. Rashi notes that, even at the age of 100, Sarah still possessed characteristics of a much younger woman of 20 and even some childlike qualities of a girl of 7.

The Talmud (Bava Kamma 97b) notes that there was a coin that represented Avraham and Sarah. (Think of those commercials for commemorative coins from the Franklin Mint. Remember those?) On one side, there was a likeness of an old man and an old woman, and, on the other, there was a likeness of a young man and a young woman. Some commentators explain this as representing Avraham and Sarah and Yitzchak and Rivkah. The older generation giving way to the new. I prefer understanding both sides of the coin as representing Avraham and Sarah, who, while older and wiser, maintained their youthful curiosity and idealism. We may think that both sides of the coin are not found in the same person, but they can be. For Avraham and Sarah, wisdom and idealism were mutually exclusive ideas but two sides of the same coin.

This may help us understand the debate regarding how old Avraham was when he discovered God. Some say he was 3 years old. Others say he was 40. The answer is both! Avraham had a childlike relationship with God, one of simple faith and awe similar to the way preschool students think about Hashem. At the same time, Avraham also thought deeply and rationally about his relationship with God. It wasn’t all songs and wonder. Avraham related to God as a mature adult with all the complexity that entails.

Each of us must strive to combine youthful enthusiasm and thoughtful maturity. Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik teaches:

 “The child is endowed with a capacity of an all-absorbing faith and trustfulness; youth bursts with zealousness, idealism, and optimism; the adult, mellowed with years, has the benefit of accumulated knowledge and dispassionate judgment. Each age is physically and psychologically attuned to particular emphases, but the superior individual can retain and harmonize the positive strengths of all three periods during his or her lifetime” 

                    (Man of Faith in Modern World by Rabbi Abraham Besdin, p. 89)

How can we harmonize our youthful zealousness and adult mellowness?

Firstly, we need to learn from each other. Older people should seek advice from the young people to infuse some fresh ideas and creativity into the way we’ve always done things. This can be at home, in school, in shul, or in communal institutions. Young people are always telling me I’m old. Instead of being insulted, I should ask them how they think I can be less old. At the same time, young people should seek advice from those who have been around longer to gain wisdom and life experience.

A second way to merge idealism and experience is to encourage intergenerational activities. It is true that the music may be too loud for the older people and the program too long for the youngsters, but the best way to optimize the experience is when we all come together. There is a time for different demographics to do their own thing, but we can strive for a synergistic relationship in which new approaches are taken without abandoning the past. Each generation needs to appreciate its essential role in being the generation that came before and will come next.

George Bernard Shaw famously said, "Youth is wasted on the young" It doesn’t have to be true. We can be old and young at the same time. Just as young people need the wisdom and tradition of the past, older people need the enthusiasm, passion, and idealism of the old. The goal is a synthesis. Rav Kook put it best: “Hayashan yit-hadesh vehahadash yitkadesh – That which seems old can become new, and that which is new can become sacred.”

The Protest of Avraham

Avraham was a trailblazer.

He was the first monotheist to share his teachings with the world. He stood up for family and fought for Lot - even if they didn’t fully get along. And Avraham stood up to God when he felt God was unfairly destroying Sodom.

“Chalilah Lecha - Far be it from You to do such a thing! To bring death upon the innocent as well as the guilty, so that innocent and guilty fare alike. Far be it from You! Shall not the Judge of all the earth deal justly?” (Bereishit 15:25)

Think about it. Avraham is better known for obeying God. God said, “Go,” and Avraham went. God said, “Listen to Sarah to send away your son, Yishmael,” and Avraham cast them away. God will tell Avraham, “Offer your son as a sacrifice…” You get the idea.

In the case of Sodom, however, Avraham pushes back. God tells Avraham the people of Sodom are wicked, and the place must be destroyed. Avraham essentially accused God of un-Godly conduct. Why? Did Avraham think he could change God’s mind?

The question is compounded by the fact that the wickedness of Sodom was anathema to the goodness and kindness of Avraham. Why should it bother Avraham so much to see evil eradicated?

Finally, when Avraham fails in his mission to save Sodom, the Torah says (Bereishit 15:33), “Avraham shav li’meloko - Avraham returned to his place.” Where else did he go? What do we learn from how Avraham handled defeat?

In the Sodom scenario, Avraham models several critical characteristics that are in short supply these days. 

1)  When something seems wrong, speak up. 

Elie Wiesel tells the following story about protest. ("Words from a Witness", p. 48) 

One day a Tzadik came to Sodom. He knew what Sodom was, so he came to save it from sin, from destruction. 

He preached to the people. "Please do not be murderers, do not be thieves. Do not be silent and do not be indifferent." 

He went on preaching day after day, maybe even picketing. But no one listened. He was not discouraged. He went on preaching for years. 

Finally someone asked him, "Rabbi, why do you do that? Don't you see it is no use?" 

He said, "I know it is of no use, but I must. And I will tell you why: in the beginning I thought I had to protest and to shout in order to change them. I have given up this hope. Now I know I must picket and scream and shout so that they should not change me." 

We can never just accept a scenario that seems wrong, unfair, or unjust. 

2.  Don’t give up on people. 

Avraham refused to believe there was a place that had no redeeming people. Even as an exemplar of loving kindness, he wasn’t ready to give up on wicked people without a fight. 

Sometimes, we may be quick to write off those who are different or people with whom we have less in common. Who needs ‘em? Maybe we’re not looking hard enough at what we do have in common with them. Our default setting should be to try and find a way in which we align rather than jumping to write such people off. 

3.  It’s OK to lose. 

Avraham lost. God convinced him Sodom was irredeemable. How did Avraham respond? Shav li’mekomo. He went back to where he was before. Avraham was undeterred. He went back to being Avraham, the same God-loving, obedient, kind monotheist he had become.

He fought the Lord, and the Lord won. Now back to the business of being the best Avraham he could be. He went “li’mekomo,” back to where he had been before.

I thought about Avraham’s reaction in relation to the recent elections in Israel and the US. Elections are a battle of people and ideas. Not an actual war, but it can be intense. How do the losing candidates and their supporters react?

Congresswoman Elaine Luria, who narrowly lost her re-election bid, had a terrific perspective. 

When her loyal supporters booed her concession announcement, Luria admonished them. “Please don’t boo,” she said. “Because the success of this district depends on my opponent’s success. This was a hard-fought race; she won this election. We came out short of where we wanted to land. But the truth is that we do need to wish her the best of luck and my team is here… we’re going to be fully behind a smooth transition.”

Shav li’mekomo. Don’t let a setback or defeat alter who we are or what we believe. 

It’s not easy to protest. It’s not easy to see the redeeming qualities in those who are different. It’s not easy to lose. It’s not easy to be like Avraham. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try. 

The Army of Avraham

Who else, as a kid, was a member of Tzivos Hashem?

Tzivos Hashem, literally the Army of God, was founded in 1980 by the Lubavitcher Rebbe as a youth group to increase religious observance and knowledge of Jewish customs and religious practice in Jewish children. The idea was to empower participants by using military language, imagery, and even ranks to add structure, competition, and fun to Judaism. You would start as a Private and then be able to climb the spiritual and literal ranks all the way to General.

I was a career Private.

Viewing our Jewish responsibilities as a military mission was not a modern innovation. Avraham was the first Jewish (or Jew-ish) soldier. He joined the battle of the five kings versus the four kings to rescue his nephew, Lot. Avraham did not want to fight, but he felt the need to stand up and do battle for what was just and to protect his family.

The Torah says (Bereishit 14:14) that Avraham armed his “disciples,” and they went off to battle. What is the significance of the Torah describing these soldiers as disciples? Avraham did not merely impart information to his students. He taught them to act. His students didn’t just absorb lessons and values. Avraham impressed upon them the need to act upon and even fight for those values.

Students are not usually the ones who go off to battle. Most of us do not fight with weapons. Each and every one of us, though, has a mission. We have orders to follow and battles to win. Our mission is to follow Avraham’s example and stand up for what is right. Our battle is to fight for goodness and respect and kindness. It is a battle to be a mensch, a good person and a good Jew.

We don’t have weapons with which to fight. We have our smiles, our mitzvot, our acts of kindness, and our commitment to do what is right.

Next Friday is Veterans Day. Several years ago, at a Ramaz Veterans Day assembly, Mr. Manny Gross, a veteran and father of Esther Kremer, asked to say a few words. His powerful message was absolutely incredible! (I strongly encourage you to watch it HERE.) Mr. Gross described his army experience. He focused on how he maintained his Judaism throughout his time in the military. He put on tefillin EVERY SINGLE DAY. He described keeping kosher and how he would trade his rations with other soldiers for food that he could eat like crackers, jam, and tuna fish. Mr. Gross is a military veteran as well as a veteran – and a victor – in the battle for Jewish identity and values.

We can learn a lot from our veterans about dedication, purpose, and standing up from what is right. This Veterans Day, coming on the heels of Parshat Lech Lecha, we also remember the Torah’s first veteran, Avraham. We remember that he led his students to battle. Each and every one of us is a student of Avraham. Let’s do our best to fulfill our individual missions and win the battle for what is right.

Conquering a World of Confusion

 

As we read Parshat Noach, I feel it’s appropriate to quote Genesis…the rock band.

    There's too many men
    Too many people
    Making too many problems
    This is a land of confusion…
    Tell me why, this is a land of confusion.

Parshat Noach begins and ends with confusion. Let’s explain why.

The word mabul, flood, has the same Hebrew root as bavel, as in Tower of Babel. BLL is the root for words which mean “upend,” “mix,” or “confuse.” Essentially, God upends the world with a flood so it can start again and responds to the Tower of Babel by confusing everyone. Let’s look a little more closely at the Migdal Bavel, Tower of Babel episode of confusion.

“Everyone on earth had the same language and the same words.” (Bereishit 11:1)

People were all speaking a common language. They acted together to build a tower to the heavens to make a name for themselves and protect themselves from “being scattered all over the world.” God takes a look and is displeased. “If, as one people with one language for all, this is how they act, then nothing they may propose to do with be out of their reach.” God sees this ending badly. So God decides to “confound their speech, so that they not understand each other.” And that’s what God did. “That is the place is called Bavel since this is where God confounded (BLL) the speech of the whole earth and scattered them over the land.”

What was so wrong with the plan to make a name and build a tower? What did God’s confusing and scattering them solve?

Rabbi Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin, the Netziv, explains it was the mindset of the Builders of Bavel that was so detrimental.

“The text did not explain what the people’s 'few words' were…[I]t wasn't because of the content of the words themselves that the Holy One of Blessing was distressed. They were what they were, and in its simplicity there is not sin, and on the contrary all appears well. But here what happened is that all thought the same thing, and this came to be the problem of the settlement.”

The problem with the Builders of Bavel was they were trying to construct a society built on absolute conformity, of people being required to think and act alike. It is one thing to have a common purpose or community standards. It is destructive, however, when the people demand absolute allegiance to a society of their own creation.

The answer was to confuse them. Force people to have to find a way to live together even when speaking and acting differently. The Netziv comments that we don’t know what happened to the tower they were constructing. It doesn’t matter. With the people separate and disparate, it was now up to them to find a will and a way to get along and live together.

What was true then is still true today.

We live in a world where, all too often, people want to live only with those who think, act, and speak alike. Long ago, Martin Buber (1878-1965) noted this problem with society. He wrote the fact “that people can no longer carry on authentic dialogue with one another is not only the most acute symptom of the pathology of our time, it is also that which most urgently makes a demand of us.” 

The solution is bavel, learning to appreciate different kinds of people, ideas, customs, and practices. It can be good for us! S. Y. Agnon, in his short story “Between Two Towns,” wrote: “The good Lord created a vast world, with many people in it whom He scattered wide, giving each place its singular quality and endowing every man with singular wisdom. You leave home and meet people from another place, and your mind is expanded by what you hear.”

Parshat Noach describes a messy world in need of fixing. The first fix was a reboot. In the Tower of Bavel episode, the fix required messing things up a little bit to challenge humanity to learn to live with each other – differences and all.

I close with Genesis:

    This is the world we live in
    And this is the hand we're given
    Use it and let's start trying
    To make our world a place worth living in

Here’s to elevating the confusion.

Where is Gan Eden?

 

Paradise? A real place? Something mystical, other-worldly, or part of the afterlife? An Iron Butterfly song?

All of the above and maybe more. Let’s have a look at the sources.

Adam and Chava were placed in a “gan b’eden mi’kedem – garden in Eden in the east.” (Bereishit 2:8) However, God banishes humanity “mi’gan eden - from the Garden of Eden” (3:23) as punishment for Adam and Chava eating the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. They are driven out eastward, and “the cherubm and a fiery ever-turning sword, guard the way back” (v. 24) These verses seem to describe Gan Eden as a paradise lost, an amazing place that could have been ours. We want to return, but there’s a pretty big, fiery, and sharp obstacle preventing us from entering Gan Eden again.

Or it can again be ours if only we could find it. The Torah describes the rivers that border Gan Eden. Find the rivers, find the garden. It’s not so simple. Reish Lakish (Eruvin 19a) speculated whether the entrance to the Garden of Eden was in Israel, Arabia or between the rivers of Babylonia. Ramban posits Gan Eden is located at the equator based on its spiritual characteristics.

It might just be easier to view Gan Eden as a spiritual realm where the soul goes after a person passes from this world. We mention this in the Kel Maleh Rachamim memorial prayer when we hope that Gan Eden will be the resting place for the soul of the departed.

Maybe Gan Eden is both a physical place and a spiritual place. It is hiding in plain sight and impossible to find. God intended the garden to be a paradise, but it didn’t work out that way. Instead, Gan Eden has taken on multiple meanings in various locations – or simply an elusive perfection for which we dream and strive. Mine is different than yours, and all of ours are Gan Eden.

Rabbi Shalom Noach Berezovsky, the Slonimer Rebbe, writes in his Netivot Shalom that every person needs to read the Torah as if it was written for them. In other words, we do not read about creation or Gan Eden as history only in the past. Our challenge is to read Torah in a way that it resonates with our existence. The story of creation might be filtered through our understanding of science or, in particular this year, the amazing findings and pictures of the Webb Telescope. The serpent might represent that voice which discourages us from doing what we know we should. It will be an interesting year of weekly portions to find ourselves in each one.

Gan Eden might be where we live (“Everything’s better by the beach!”), our homes (“There’s no place like home!”), time to ourselves, or time with family and friends. And it’s not a bad Iron Butterfly song either. Let’s keep searching for our individual Gan Eden while making our lives a little more idyllic wherever we find ourselves.

Beat It!

Sunday is Hoshana Rabbah, the last day of Sukkot. The day gets its name from the “Hoshana” service in the Beit Mikdash in which the people would circle the altar carrying an aravah, a willow branch, calling out “Hoshana,” which means “save us.” On the 7^th day of Sukkot, the service included seven circuits around the altar. More circuits meant more declarations of “Hoshana,” prompting the 7^th day of Sukkot be called “Hoshana Rabbah,” the day of many pleas for salvation.

Nowadays, Hoshana Rabbah is also marked as the last day of the High Holy Day season. In addition to an extended Hoshanot service of 7 circuits around the shul holding the lulav and etrog, there are additional prayers recited, and the tunes of the High Holidays are used. Some people extend a High Holiday greeting of “Gmar chatimah tovah” (a good sealing in the Book of Life) or the Yiddish “a gut kvittel” (a good verdict notice). I’ve always understood this as our verdict is written on Rosh Hashanah, it is sealed on Yom Kippur, and the book goes back on the shelf on Hoshana Rabbah. (Although some Chasidim extend the judgment season through Chanukah!)

The Talmud (Sukkah 43b) mentions another ritual performed with the willow branch on the 7^th day of Sukkot – chibut. Many commentators (including Rambam) say this meant to beat the aravah on the ground. This has developed into the practice known as “klopping hoshanos,” or beating a bundle of 5 aravot on the ground at the end of the Hoshanot service on Hoshana Rabbah.

What is the reason for klopping hoshanos?

Some understand the practice as a more intense way to pray - especially for rain. The Mishnah teaches that Sukkot is the time the world is judged regarding the year’s rainfall. The last day of Sukkot is when the verdict is given. (This is why we subsequently recite “Geshem” and pray for rain on Shemini Atzeret.) The physical movement of beating the branches on the floor is meant to evoke a more passionate plea for rain. Some note that all the branches being beaten at the same time actually sounds like rainfall.

Another way to understand the beating of the branches is that we are beating away sinful behavior. This evokes the malkut, the punishment of lashes Beit Din would impose on certain sins. We klop in the hope that God views this act as expiation for our sins.

Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak Ha-Kohen Kook, in his classic style, offers a deeper explanation. He references the Midrash that the four species represent different types of Jews. The etrog, with its smell and taste, represents a Jew with Torah and good deeds; the hadasim and lulav represent Jews with good deeds but no Torah or no Torah but good deeds; and the aravah, which has neither a nice smell nor a good taste, represents those Jews who have no Torah or good deeds. The aravah, therefore, represents the simple Jew, who often demonstrates intuitive, healthy, and natural religious instincts. On Hoshana Rabbah, Rav Kook explains, we do not “beat the aravot," but “beat WITH the aravot,” invoking that simple religious fervor in our pleas to God.

However you slice it – or beat it, klopping hoshanos can be a very powerful, spiritual, and uplifting ritual. Kids love it! They try to smash the branch to smithereens. (So it can be kind of messy.) This ancient activity is a physical movement at the conclusion of a long series of pleas for salvation, health, wellbeing, and blessing. This is yet another way that Judaism moves us. We don’t just talk the talk; we walk the walk (7 times in fact) and beat our branches in an effort to literally and aggressively propel us forward into the New Year.

Klop on! Beat it!

I May Be a Golden Girl But That Doesn't Mean I'm Old

Have you ever watched the “Golden Girls” on TV? Considering that the show, which ran from 1985-1992, is about the lives of four widows in a retirement community in Florida, it’s amazing how many people my age remember the show. It was a big, award-winning hit.

And I just realized that I am a Golden Girl.

How old do you think the characters were in the show? I thought they must be, at least, in their 60s. I was recently shocked to learn that Blanche Deveraux, played by Rue McClanahan (above), was scripted as being 47 years old when the show began.  What?!?  She’s an old lady. I’M 47!!!!! So, you see, I am a Golden Girl. It’s been a rough week…

I know I am not old. I know many people who are in their 80s, 90s, or even 100+ who don’t act old. One such person liked to say, “Age is only a number – and mine is unlisted.” There is a chronological age, and there is an attitudinal and perspective age. The goal is to always approach life with as fresh, vibrant, and energetic perspective as possible.

Sukkot is a holiday of many messages. One is the message of freshness.

The Mishnah (Sukkah 3:1) teaches that lulav ha-yaveish pasul, a dried out lulav is disqualified and may not be used. Why is a fresh lulav required?

Rashi says that the problem with yaveish is that it lacks hiddur, it is not beautiful enough. In other words, we try to fulfill the mitzvah in as an ideal way as possible. A completely dried out lulav doesn’t even qualify for the base-line requirement to be considered as passable.

Rabbi Avin, in the Talmud Yerushalmi, says that the problem with yaveish is due to the verse in Tehillim that we read during Hallel, “Lo ha-meitim yehaleil kah – The dead cannot praise God.” Part of the performance of the mitzvah of the Four Species is the na’a’nuim, wavings, during Hallel. A dead, dry Lulav has no place in such a joyous activity.

Rabbi Yaakov ben Asher, the Ba’al Ha-Turim, explains that Lulav has the gematriya (numerical value) of chaim, life. Both are 68. That, he says, is why a dry lulav is unfit. A lulav signifies life, so it must be fresh since that is how life is meant to be lived.

Throughout the Sukkot holiday, we encounter rituals and symbols of beauty, joy, and vitality – etrog, lulav, sukkah, Simchat Torah, and more. Taken together, they create an atmosphere of freshness that is meant to combat any negative or stagnant feelings that may make us feel “old.”

So, I’m OK with being a Golden Girl. Age is a number. Jewish life is a glorious joyous, fresh adventure. L’chaim!

Just One Shabbos!

 

It’s a classic! I listened to the Mordechai Ben David song “Just One Shabbos” in my youth. My kids sang it in school. I imagine some of you are now singing it in your heads.

The lyrics tells the story of the transformative power of Shabbat. The chorus of “Just one Shabbos, and we’ll all be free!” invokes the Rabbinic teaching (Jerusalem Talmud Ta’anit 1:1): “If Israel would keep one Shabbat properly, David’s son (Moshiach) would immediately come.” This statement is the motivation for initiatives like Shabbat Across America, The Shabbat Project, and other efforts to encourage more Jews to experience and observe Shabbat. It’s a beautiful thing and might just bring the redemption.

While I am a big fan of large Shabbat gatherings, I am not so sure we’ll get all Israel to keep Shabbat together. I understand the statement as a call for each of us to make Shabbat the best we possibly can.

During this time of year, we review of our past actions, recognize our mistakes, repent, and resolve to do better. Sounds simple enough, but it can be quite a tall order. Where do we start? On what should we focus?

Rav Yehuda Amital, the late Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshivat Har Etzion, suggested we keep it simple. In his inimitable wisdom, he said we should focus on three things.

1. Identify and focus on the mitzvah or aveirah, the good actions or challenges, with which we struggle most.

2. Choose a mitzvah we enjoy and build upon it. It might be prayer, minyan attendance, blessings, or volunteering. Add something to something at which we already are succeeding.

3. Everyone should focus on Shabbat and find a way to enhance it. Attend services in shul, invite guests, add zemirot (songs) or a Dvar Torah to the meal. Each of us can make the Shabbat experience just a little better and more meaningful.

This is the first Shabbat of 5783. The year ahead may not see all Israel observe “Just One Shabbos” together, but it can definitely be the year we take our Shabbat and find “just one way” to make it – and our entire year – more exalted, liberating, and meaningful.