War, What is it Good For?

 

"Absolutely nothing!"

The above subject and quote is a reference to a Seinfeld episode in which it is falsely suggested that Dostoyevsky’s War and Peace was originally entitled War, What is it Good For? I’m a Seinfeld fan, and I also sometimes use humor to deflect serious situations.

Russia’s invasion of Ukraine is more than a military conflict. According to the Council on Foreign Relations, there are 27 ongoing conflicts in the world today. Millions are impacted by the violence, displacement, insecurity, and pain these wars inflict. Ukraine is different for several reasons.

It upends the world order of recent decades. We’ve grown accustomed to how things operate in the post-Cold War era. It may not have been peaceful. After all, this is not Russia’s first incursion into Ukraine. Nevertheless, it is shocking to read headlines of how the events unfolding are unprecedented since World War Two. Troops are being redeployed, and the NATO Alliance is mobilizing. We have not seen this in recent memory.

This situation has a major impact globally. Russian going to war isn’t the same as a coup in Burkina Faso. (How many people even know where that is?) Look at the fluctuations in the financial markets or the cost of the price of gas. We are far away from the action – and there won’t be American boots on the ground in Ukraine, but this situation is real and worrisome. It’s not only media hype. (Although wars are great for CNN and Fox News.)

There is a large Jewish community in Ukraine. We pray for all Americans and all humanity, but we pay particular attention when it’s our family in harm’s way. It’s complicated in Israel, where some Jews from the Former Soviet Union support Russia, while others side with Ukraine, and where the government needs to maintain good relations with both side while trying to do the right thing.

What can we do?

After chapters of descriptions, details, the Mishkan (Tabernacle) is finally built.

וַיַּעַשׂ מֹשֶׁה כְּכֹל אֲשֶׁר צִוָּה ה' אֹתוֹ כֵּן עָשָׂה׃ וַיָּקֶם מֹשֶׁה אֶת־הַמִּשְׁכָּן וַיִּתֵּן אֶת־אֲדָנָיו וַיָּשֶׂם אֶת־קְרָשָׁיו וַיִּתֵּן אֶת־בְּרִיחָיו וַיָּקֶם אֶת־עַמּוּדָיו׃

In the first month of the second year, on the first of the month, the Tabernacle was set up. Moses set up the Tabernacle, placing its sockets, setting up its planks, inserting its bars, and erecting its posts. (Shemot 40:17-18)

Rabbi Ovadyah Seforno notes that constructing the Mishkan in the order described would be complicated – if not impossible. The Torah says the Mishkan, which refers to the outer covering, was put in place first, before the frame. How is it possible to have the tent before the frame? Seforno suggests two possibilities. It was a miracle. The only way to construct the outside before the inside would be for God to facilitate it happening. The other possibility is it was a team effort. One group of people held the tent in place, while a second group of people constructed the frame. Then the tent was lowered onto the frame.

The Mishkan, like much of life, requires both religious and human solutions. We are not on the battlefield in Ukraine, but we must still be engaged spiritually and materially.

We can pray. While any prayer or recitation of Tehillim is appropriate, here a prayer straight from Ukraine. Rabbi Natan, the primary disciple of Rebbe Nachman of Breslov composed the following:

יְהִי רָצוֹן מִלְּפָנֶיךָ יְהֹוָה אֱלֹהֵינוּ וֵאלֹהֵי אֲבוֹתֵינוּ, שֶׁתְּבַטֵּל מִלְחָמוֹת וּשְׁפִיכוּת דָּמִים מִן הָעוֹלָם, וְתַמְשִׁיךְ שָׁלוֹם גָּדוֹל וְנִפְלָא בָּעוֹלָם, וְלֹא יִשְׂאוּ עוֹד גּוֹי אֶל גּוֹי חֶרֶב וְלֹא יִלְמְדוּ עוֹד מִלְחָמָה, רַק יַכִּירוּ וְיֵדְעוּ כָּל יוֹשְׁבֵי תֵבֵל הָאֱמֶת לַאֲמִתּוֹ, אֲשֶׁר לֹא בָּאנוּ לְזֶה הָעוֹלָם בִּשְׁבִיל רִיב וּמַחֲלֹקֶת חַס וְשָׁלוֹם, וְלֹא בִּשְׁבִיל שִׂנְאָה וְקִנְאָה וְקִנְטוּר וּשְׁפִיכוּת דָּמִים חַס וְשָׁלוֹם, רַק בָּאנוּ לָעוֹלָם כְּדֵי לְהַכִּיר וְלָדַעַת אוֹתְךָ תִּתְבָּרַךְ לָנֶצַח,

May it be Your Will, our God and God of our ancestors, to abolish wars, end bloodshed, and bring grand and wondrous peace to the world. People should no longer carry swords and engage in way. Instead, may we realize that we were not brough into this world to fight and to stir controversy, God forbid, nor for the purpose of hatred, provocation, and violence, God forbid. We are here only to know You, King of Kings, forever. (Likutei Tefillot II:53)

We offer support. There are many organizations helping the people of Ukraine. The Jewish community is mobilizing in response. UJA-Federation is supporting its partners on the ground to assist 40,000 poor Jewish elderly and families, mobilize an existing network of 6,900 volunteers to reach Jews across every part of Ukraine, and support JCCs in Kharkiv, Odessa, Dnipro, Kyiv, Zaporizhzhia, and Lviv. Chabad has a large presence in Ukraine and is in a position to directly assist those in need.

The battle in Ukraine is something new. The Jewish response to care, to pray, and to give remains the same.

The masks - or veils - we wear

“Virtue has a veil, vice a mask.” - Victor Hugo

For the past two years, masks have been a big part of our lives. In a few weeks, masks will take center stage on Purim. This week, in Parshat Ki Tisa, we read about both veils and masks, and I think Hugo may be correct.

While we generally refer to the “Sin of the Golden Calf,” the Torah (Shemot 32:5) refers to the sin of “eigel maseichah,” a molten or mask of a calf. The commentators explain this word as referring to a solid piece of metal forged by heat and shaped. In effect, it’s an attention-grabbing artificial surface, a mask.

At the end of the parsha (Shemot 34:33), Moshe’s face is shining as a result of his Divine encounter. This overwhelms the people, so Moshe takes to wearing a masveh, a veil, when not communicating with God or teaching Torah to the people.  

What is the difference between a mask and a veil? Masks conceal, divert, and distract. Veils cover, but they also reveal and inform. 

In the aftermath of the Golden Calf, the Torah reinforces the prohibition against idolatry. It ends by stating (Shemot 34:17), “Elohei maseicha lo ta’aseh lach - You shall not make molten gods for yourselves.” Why does it need to add another example of idolatry? We get the point already! 

While some commentators explain this as a timely allusion to the Jews’ most recent sin, Rabbi Mordechai Yosef Leiner, the 19th century Ishbitzer Rebbe and author of Mei HaShiloach, says elohei maseichah refer to thinking and acting in a way that is hampered by a constricted, unfocused, and impulsive mindframe. Elohei maseichah are not idols or molten images - we know idolatry is forbidden. Instead, it is a call to do our very best to live our lives in a way that is not guided by our worst natures. (Think about that Twilight Zone episode in which the patriarch has his family wear terrifying masks that reflect who they are - and turn their faces into those masks.) It is a difficult call to be our very best selves. No easy task.

Masks are, according to the Ishbitzer Rebbe, the vices that may, at times, cause us to want or do or say things we don’t REALLY need. Masks may be the distractions of social media or being so set in our ways that we can’t appreciate others who may be different. Masks - like vices - are destructive. 

How about veils?

Abarbanel notes that Moshe wore his veil to separate matters of holiness from everyday matters. He had to compartmentalize his life between revealing himself to God and teaching the people, and covering himself up when living an “ordinary” existence. That sounds more like a mask. Rabbi Shlomo Luntschitz, the Kli Yakar, sees the veil differently. Moshe, in his great humility, was embarrassed when people gaped at the radiance of his face. The veil technically covered, but it actually revealed something about Moshe’s virtues and helped him be the great teacher and leader he was. 

Each of us strives to be our most authentic selves (without masks). At the same time, our public persona may benefit from the veils which refract our best selves outward. Like Moshe Rabbeinu, each of us can choose what kind of veil we need to wear to most comfortably and effectively be the best that we can be.

In this season of face coverings, let’s be sure to wear those that generate the best version of ourselves so that we can feel good about who we are and present our best “face” to those around us.

Six More Weeks Until...

“Punxsutawney Pinchas saw his shadow. There’s gonna be a second Adar.”

On February 2, we woke up to the fact that there are six more weeks until…PURIM!!! 😊 

I know you were thinking that, since Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow, we’re in for six more weeks of winter. That may (alas) be true. But Groundhog’s Day was also Rosh Chodesh Adar Rishon, which means six weeks till Purim.

 

Two Adars can make things complicated in calculating a Bar Mitzvah or commemorating a yahrzeit. They may also provide a double dose of joy. The Talmud (Ta’anit 29a) teaches: Mi’shenichnas Adar marbim besimchah – When Adar arrives, we increase our joy. Some spoilsports would like to posit that only the second Adar gets a boost of simcha. After all, the source of the joy is Purim, and that is celebrated in Adar Sheini. I prefer to be machmir (strict) and follow the view that we should increase our joy in both months.

 

What’s with all this happiness in the first place? Why are we instructed to increase our happiness one month out of the year? If you’ll answer that it’s because of Purim, my response would be, “What about Pesach or Chanukah or Sukkot?” Why the month-long (or two months-long) exercise in increased happiness?

 

It’s not easy to be happy.

 

There is a vast literature about happiness. There is a happiness index, a ranking of happiest countries (Israel is #13; the US is #19), and a whole field of positive psychology. There is also no one formula for happiness. Each person is different.

 

Judaism values joy and happiness. (We could spend days discussing the difference between these two words as well as how to translate simchah into English.) If I could summarize Judaism’s approach to achieving happiness, it would be: It’s a process.

 

The last comment of Rabbi Moshe Isserlis (known as the Rema) to the first section of Shulchan Aruch is to quote Proverbs 15:15: “One that has a happy heart has a continual feast.” Is this really the way to end the book of Jewish law dealing with daily living? Actually, yes. After 697 chapters of how Jews wake up, pray, observe Shabbat, and celebrate holidays, Rema closes by stating that it’s the totality of life that will contribute to happiness. There are moments of celebration and joy, but a happy heart emerges from the vastness of life’s experiences.

 

It’s not easy to be happy. It’s a process that can be incredibly rewarding, but it’s a process. Jewish mysticism (Tikkunei Zohar 22) notes that the letters forming the Hebrew word “besimchah” (with joy) are the same letters that spell “machshavah” (thought). In a world full of distractions and shortened attention spans, this is a reminder that some things require attention, focus, and patience.

 

That’s why Judaism puts a month of joy on the calendar. Maybe it’s the right time of year – slower winter months, less going on, heading into a festive Purim-Pesach season – for us to increase our focus on happiness. As David Sable, puts it: It’s a month to practice being happy. This year, we have two months. The onset of two Adars of increased joy won’t necessarily make us happy. They do, however, give us extra time to consider what bring us joy and how we might be able to bring joy to others.