Here He Comes to Save the Day: Eliyahu HaNavi is on the Way!

 

“America Pulls Back from Values that Once Defined It”

This week, the Wall Street Journal reported on the results of a poll which found that the values that once helped define the national character are in decline. Patriotism, religious faith, having children, hard work, and community involvement are among the traits that just don’t matter as much today.

Some highlights – or “low”-lights: 

-  38% said patriotism was very important compared to 70% in 1998
-  39% said religion was very important compared to 62% in 1998
-  In four years, those saying tolerance for others is very important has dropped from 80% to 58%
-  Only 23% of adults under 30 say having children is important
-  The only priority that has grown in importance is money – up from 31% to 43% since 1998

As Yogi Berra said, “The future ain’t what it used to be…”

What’s going on and what can be done? While polarization, the economy, instability all over the world, and other factors play into the decline of values, values don’t remain values without dedication, commitment and communicating what’s important with each other and the next generation.

This Shabbat, the Torah reading opens with the words “Tzav et Aharon v’et banav – Command Aaron and his sons.” Rashi comments that this verse is meant to imply that the command should be performed diligently and with passion now and by future generations. Rabbi Shimon Schwab, the religious leader of the Washington Heights Breuer’s community, asked why does a verse specifically relating to Aaron and his sons become the springboard for instilling passion in future generations?

Without passion, the key values will not be instilled in the next generation.

When reading of the declining of appreciation for key values, I said sadly to myself, “This makes sense.” If we don’t demonstrate our commitment to God, country, family, and community and talk about their importance with the next generation, why will they care? So much of contemporary society directs the individual to focus inward. We walk around with Air pods listening to our own little world looking at the screens of our own reality. Why should we value the importance of things bigger than ourselves?

Rashi picked up on this. Do we want what’s important to us in creating a purposeful, meaningful world to be appreciated and practiced by the next generation? We’ll have to be passionate about them ourselves and talk about them to our children. We need to speak about the importance of faith and Torah. We need to talk about Israel – even with those with whom we disagree. We can acknowledge that times change and the experience of the next generation – be they Millennials or Gen-Z – won’t be exactly the same as ours, but Judaism always remains at the core of who we are.

We need to model our inner Eliyahu HaNavi.

Next week, we’ll pour a cup of wine and invite Elijah the Prophet inside. Even for those who don’t actually see him (don’t be ashamed! 😊), Eliyahu remains a symbol of the values which matter. We need to understand his message of Judaism remaining relevant from one generation to the next. 

When the Talmud poses a question which is not resolved, the conclusion is sometimes “teiku,” which stands for tishbi yetareitz kushyot v’abayot – We will only resolve the issue when Eliyahu the Tishbite provides an answer in messianic times. Why should we turn to Eliyahu in messianic times? Thanks to the promised resurrection of the dead, won’t there be other Jewish greats to ask – maybe Moshe or one of the Talmudic giants? 

Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev explains that it is Eliyahu who remains more relevant than any other Jewish hero. Moshe died and went to the next world, never to be heard from since. Eliyahu ascended to heaven in a whirlwind. (II Kings 2:11) Eliyahu never died, and he remains “in touch” with us until today. He “attends” every bris ceremony, at which we give him a special chair. He makes an appearance on Saturday nights and is part of the traditional liturgy recited by many. And Eliyahu makes it to every Seder on Pesach. Eliyahu can answer the questions better than anyone else since he has maintained the greatest connection with Jews throughout history.

Eliyahu bridges the generation gap. Eliyahu represents the ability of Judaism to remain relevant from one generation to the next.

וְהֵשִׁיב לֵב־אָבוֹת עַל־בָּנִים וְלֵב בָּנִים עַל־אֲבוֹתָם

Eliyahu will reconcile parents with children and children with their parents…(Malachi 3:24)

Clearly, the new generation is seeing things differently than before. Eliyahu reminds us – and encourages us – to bridge that gap. Parents should understand that the next generation is being brought up in a vastly changed world with very different technological and social norms. Children should appreciate the value of being the next chapter in a story that goes back thousands of years and assume responsibility for carrying the traditions forward.

When we open our doors for Eliyahu, we may not see him physically, but we encounter something far more meaningful: an approach to redeeming the Jewish present and ensuring the future.

Sacrifices Today

 

Will we bring korbanot, sacrifices, in the future?

Some Jews are excited by the possibility, and they aren’t waiting for the future! Each year, there are individuals who attempt to bring a lamb for the Korban Pesach, pascal offering, forcing police to intercept them before they ascend the Temple Mount. 

Other Jews reject the possibility of restoring sacrifices. In ancient times, in Biblical times, and in Temple times, we had sacrifices, but we’ve moved on. One of the first changes to the liturgy made by Reform Judaism was to omit the Shabbat Musaf service. The very idea of praying a service whose very identity came from the musaf sacrifice is an antiquated concept.

Many Jews are ambivalent about sacrifices. While we daven Musaf and there are prayers invoking the return of sacrifices, there are other issues to worry about, and we don’t have the opportunity to do so anyway. Often, the opinion of the Rambam is invoked. In his Guide for the Perplexed, he writes that sacrifices were the starting point for prayer.

“The purpose of sacrifices being incorporated into the Divine service of the Jewish people was to accommodate the transition of the people going from the extreme falsehood of idol worship to the extreme truth of worshipping one true God…Now, through strict rules and regiments, they could direct it toward the service of God.” (Part III, Chapters 32 & 46)

What about the future? Rambam writes:

“In the future, the Messianic king will arise and renew the Davidic dynasty, restoring it to its initial sovereignty. He will build the Temple and gather the dispersed of Israel…the observance of all the statutes will return to their previous state. We will offer sacrifices…” (Laws of Kings 11:1)

Many quote Rabbi Avraham Yitzhak Kook as holding the view that there won’t be sacrifices in the future. Rav Kook’s views on the subject, as is often the case with his Torah, are complex.

I think anything relating to the Messianic era, the Third Temple, or the resurrection of the dead is complicated. When it comes to sacrifices, I suggest a “wait and see” attitude while trying to find meaning in what may, on the surface, seem to be a brutal, bloody mess. We should look to the root of the word “korban,” which is K-R-V, closeness.

Ramban explains the role of the korban is to draw the individual closer to God. I think the sacrifice is also a directive to bring us closer to other people. Even if actual sacrifices do not resonate with us, we can embrace sacrificial values. Here are a few examples:

1.  The Torah describes that “adam,” a person brings a sacrifice. Of course, a person brings a sacrifice! Maybe the Torah is teaching us the need to be an adam, a mensch, a person who lives with dignity and respect, one who has purpose and mission. The very first lesson is to be an adam.

2.  One of the offerings is the korban chatat, the sin offering. Why does the Torah require an offering for an act which was completely accidental? Let the person apologize to God and commit to do his best in the future. Why a sacrifice? The korban chatat teaches the value of learning from mistakes. There is a charge on the credit card for the animal or the family photos of the trip to Jerusalem to bring the sacrifice in person. The sin offering is a tangible reminder of the error, but it also represents transcending and learning from that error.

3. Life requires sacrifice. The words the Torah uses to introduce sacrifices are “ki yakriv mikem – when you bring of yourselves.” There are spiritual and emotional costs if we want to raise ourselves up, grow, or help others. “There are no free lunches.” “No pain, no gain.” As Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, the Alter Rebbe of Chabad, taught: It’s not about what we need; rather, it’s about what we are needed for.

A man with a sick daughter begged the Chasidic Rebbe for heavenly intervention. The rebbe told him he could do nothing for him until he was willing to sacrifice, to give up something. When the man said he would give up his business activities on the Sabbath, the rebbe promised his daughter a full recovery. And so it was.

Life is never as simple as Chasidic stories. At the same time, the value of sacrifice is one of the lessons and values we learn from korbanot. Even if we’re not excited about bringing animal offerings, they can still inspire us to strive to be better human beings, who learn from our mistakes, and understand the need for and value of sacrifice.

The Mishkan and the Megachurch

I admire Lakewood.

The Lakewood Yeshiva is the largest yeshiva in the world and plays a major role in the yeshivish community today. I am, however, actually referring to the Lakewood Church in Houston, Texas.

Lakewood Church is led by Joel Osteen, one of the most popular preachers in America today. From very humble beginnings, Lakewood is now housed in what used to be the home of the Houston Rockets, the Compaq Center. Each week, the main service attracts 16,000 worshippers with thousands more attending other Sunday services.

Lakewood is part of the megachurch phenomenon in the US. A megachurch is an American term for a Protestant church having 2,000 or more people in average weekend attendance. There are more than 1,300 in the US with around 50 churches having an average attendance exceeding 10,000. The Yoido Full Gospel Church in Seoul, South Korea attracts more than a quarter of a million people each week. (Talk about soul!)

What can explain the extraordinary appeal of the megachurches? In a word: Mishkan. It has the right name for a successful, mega-congregation: Tabernacle, and it had some 600,000 members.

What is the secret to the Mishkan modeling successful religious engagement and inspiration. The Mishkan combined a sense of obligation, mission, and purpose with finding joy.

Throughout the account of the construction of the Mishkan in Parshat Pekudei, we find the refrain, “ka’asher tziva Hashem et Moshe” – as the Lord commanded Moshe” some 18 times. Why are there so many? A Mishkan requires obedience to the will of the Creator. God makes demands, and we are His people. It is much more than following rules. Rabbi Yoel bin Nun, an Israeli educator, explains that the layer of obligation in constructing the Mishkan creates the framework for connecting to God. While God is accessible to any who reach out, a framework is helpful. Following directions enables the creation of a lasting, sacred means to serve God.

Yet, this is not enough.

When Moshe sees everything is completed, he blesses the Jewish people. Rashi fills us in on the text of Moshe’s blessing:

"Yehi ratchon she-tishre shechinah b’ma’aseh yedeichm - May it be God’s will that the Divine presence reside within the work of your hands." Moshe then adds the verse, “Vi-yhi noam Hashem Elokeinu aleinu…– May the pleasantness of the Lord our God be upon us…”  (Tehillim 90)

We can understand Moshe’s hope and prayer that God’s presence rest within the Mishkan, but what about the pleasantness?

The Mishkan must be enjoyable. Strict adherence to the detailed laws and guidelines is critical, but insufficient. Besides obedience, the congregation must incorporate “noam Hashem Elokeinu,” an aura of pleasantness, of joy and of meaning.

At times, the commitment to complying with God’s guidelines, leads us to minimize the importance of a pleasant, joyous atmosphere that should pervade our homes, our shuls and schools, and our daily lives. Moshe knew this. When he saw that the Mishkan was built according to the rules, he blessed the people to ensure that beauty and joy always be present as well.

Through surveys, researchers have identified a number of the characteristics of successful megachurches. They attract new people including many who haven’t attended any church in a long time. Members bring in perspective members and invite family, friends or coworkers to try it out. Participants are attracted to the worship style, the senior pastor and the church’s reputation. There are multiple portals for engagement.

Any of this sound at all familiar?

You may be thinking that it sounds like Chabad. I would, however, contend that this philosophy that should be shaping any Jewish institution that strives to create a meaning, purposeful, joyous platform to educate and inspire Jews. It certainly is my philosophy.

Some feel the synagogue is past its prime and that God has relocated. One such individual wrote, “There’s a reason the kaddish and the prayers for the sick are the best parts of many services – they’re the only parts people care about. Let’s cut the other parts.” I disagree. We must remain loyal to tradition and maintain the foundation of the service. At the same time, we should always be open to ensuring the joy and relevance of the service.

Megachurches are impressive, but we can look back to the Mishkan for a blueprint to create a Mega-Shul. It’s not only about numbers. The Mega-Shul is a sacred community that remains loyal to what God commanded while being infused with energy, passion, God, tradition, values, and care for others.

The Jews were too generous in donating to the Mishkan. The Torah states, “V’hotair – there was too much.” Halevai! Let our biggest problem be that we become too successful.

Seeing - and Seeking - Red

 

Have you heard of the “Cattlemen of the Apocalypse?”

Gershon Gorenberg, an American-born Israeli historian and writer, devotes a chapter in his book, The End of Days, to these zealous Christian ranchers and rabbis from The Temple Institute working together to engineer the birth of a parah adumah, a completely red heifer. Huge sums of money have been raised by Christians for this undertaking, and there have been a number of “almost” red cows born. Each time, the color changed or black hairs also grew in.

In September 2022, hundreds of people arrived at Ben Gurion Airport to welcome five completely red cows. They were donated by an Evangelical Christian farmer from Texas and were sent to live on a farm in the Bet She’an region in the hopes they would remain red (they didn’t) or be used to breed a parah adumah. (I haven’t heard of any success yet.)

Why all the excitement? There is a tradition that the birth of a parah adumah augurs the coming of Mashiach. As the Rambam excitedly writes (Parah Adumah 3:4):

“Nine red heifers were offered from the time that they were commanded to fulfill this mitzvah until the time when the Temple was destroyed a second time… And the tenth will be brought by the king Mashiach; may he speedily be revealed. Amen, so may it be God's will.”

Rabbi Yisrael Meir Kagan, in his Mishnah Berurah (685:1), notes that our annual reading of Parshat Parah is also a prayer that we get to experience the ritual ourselves: “We read Parshat Parah in prayer before God that we merit to have sprinkled upon us speedily in our day the purifying waters of the parah adumah.”

Why does the parah adumah capture the religious imagination? It provides a catalyst for grappling with difficult challenges and emotions, inspires us to think bigger, and provides with a reassuring message that we can come home again.

1)  The parah adumah is a response to death.

Death is sad, sometimes tragic. Death can leave us with an empty or angry feeling. These are the emotional manifestations of tum’at meit, the ritual impurity that affects anyone who encounters death. What is the Torah’s response to death? How do we move beyond tum’at meit? The parah adumah. We can’t explain how or why it works, but it just does. There is a mitzvah or meaningful course of action that is the Jewish response to death or any difficult situation.

2)  The parah adumah is a reminder that life is bigger than what we know.

Rabbi Norman Lamm, in a 1976 sermon, noted that the parah adumah “re-inculcates in us a sense of wonder at the fundamental mystery of existence.” In modern times, we know a lot about the physical world around us, but the parah adumah defies logic or usual categories. It presents us with an awareness of the grandeur that exists beyond our technical knowledge of things. “It reminds us that life is more than biochemistry, that man is more than machine or computer, that religion is more than dogma, that Torah is even more than moral conduct.”

3)  The parah adumah is a way back to God.

The ritual was one of purification, facilitating the individual to visit the Beit Hamikdash and other holy areas. Despite exposure to the most serious form of religious impurity, there is a way out. Rabbi Herschel Cohen, the late longtime Associate Rabbi of Lincoln Square Synagogue, would comment each Parshat Parah that God is always looking for ways to ease our way back to a connection with God. No matter how impure we get, the Jewish people have a parah adumah to help us find our way home.

These days, it can be easy to be distracted or deflated by tragic headlines, a sense that things will always be the same, and feelings of distance, dissonance, and discord. The parah adumah is a bright, inexplicable, yet very powerful reminder that things can and will get better.

Purim & Turning Things Around

 What is the best part of Purim?

There are plenty to choose from. Each observance of the holiday provides an enjoyable experience. We come together with friends, family, and community to hear the Megillah and celebrate (even more festive in costume). We are required to think of those less fortunate and give charity. We share gifts of food, and it is a mitzvah to, literally, eat, drink, and be merry!  

This year, I can’t get the words “V’Nahafoch hu -Things turned around” (Esther 9:1) out of my head.

On Purim, we celebrate the unlikely turnaround of the Jewish situation in Persia. The day meant to mark our annihilation turned into a great victory. Purim is the holiday celebrating that things can turn around.

There is always something to “turn around.” In particular, this year, there is a lot going on in Israel which is very concerning, difficult, painful, and in need of being turned around.

There is loud and painful disagreement over the proposed judicial reform.

There are protestors blocking roads, and police using water cannons and stun grenades to disperse them.

There have been 13 Israelis murdered in the last 6 weeks with an uptick in violent attacks against Jews.

There were shocking pictures of Jews attacking and burning Palestinian homes in what an IDF General called “a pogrom.”

There have been hateful remarks by Israeli leaders include one saying “the village of Huwara should be erased.” (Even though the minister provided a clarification, this is the headline the world reads.)

It would be simpler to just move forward, but we need to confront reality and try to turn things around.

This week, we read Parshat Zachor which commands us to remember the evil of Amalek as well as battle against all subsequent evil. Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev provides a radical explanation of what it means to remember and fight against Amalek.

“It is not only that the Jews…are commanded to erase (destroy) Amalek…Rather, every person in Israel needs to erase the evil part that is concealed in one's heart that is known by the name Amalek.” (Kedushat Levi, Derush L’Purim, Devarim 25:17)

If there is evil, we need to confront it and address it – even if we cannot solve it.

“Ohavei Hashem sin’u ra – Those who love God must hate evil.” (Tehillim 97:10)

So much of the disagreement we see today seems to be entrenched. One person’s hero is another’s violent extremist. If we love God, we need to be united in opposing hatred, discord, and anger from taking root amongst us. Things don’t seem to be getting better, and I often feel a sense of déjà vu when reading the news. We  cannot let feelings of despair overwhelm us. Even without a solution or resolution on the horizon, we still need to believe in “V’Nahafoch hu,” things can turn around.

Rabbi Yosef Zvi Rimon is a leading Religious Zionist Rabbi in Israel today. In advance of Purim, he sent out a letter encouraging people to see the upcoming holiday as an opportune time to find areas of agreement. Even a united nation is permitted (and sometimes even good) to disagree. But always to love and listen with respect.

Since Ta’anit Esther, 13 Adar, commemorates a moment of Jewish unity, we should use this coming Monday to pray for each other (especially those impacted by recent events), to find areas of agreement and consensus, not to speak badly of those with whom we disagree, and try to listen to those with differing opinions. He composed a prayer to be recited after Torah reading on Ta’anit Esther and Purim: 

מִי שֶׁבֵּרַךְ אֲבוֹתֵינוּ אַבְרָהָם, יִצְחָק וְיַעֲקֹב הוּא יְבָרֵךְ וְיִשְׁמֹר כָּל אֶחָד וְאַחַת מֵעַם יִשְׂרָאֵל,יִתֵּן בְּלִבֵּנוּ לְהַבִּיט בְּעַיִן טוֹבָה עַל הַכֹּל,יִתֵּן בָּנוּ אַהֲבָה גְּדוֹלָה עַל כָּל אֶחָד וְאַחַת מִיִּשְׂרָאֵל,וְנִזְכֶּה לְאַחְדוּת אֵיתָנָה וְלִגְּאוּלָּה שְׁלֵמָה בְּקָרוֹב בְּיָמֵינוּ,וְנֹאמַר אָמֵן.

May God who blessed our patriarchs bless and protect each and every member of the Nation of Israel. Place in our hearts the ability to look favorable on all and give us a love for each and every Jew. May we merit to achieve genuine unity and the complete redemption soon in our times and let us say Amen.

While we celebrate and enjoy Purim, we should remember that Purim is not only a one-time phenomenon. Purim was the first – and won’t be the last – crisis from which we will emerge victorious.