Riding into Rosh Hashanah: What Bike Riding Has Taught Me

I enjoy spending hours cycling on Long Island’s roads. One of the first things you learn when riding for such long stretches is not to grip the handlebars too tightly. This may seem counterintuitive. What about when careening down a hill? What about when following closely behind other cyclists? The key, however, is a relaxed grip. Beginners often grip the bars so tightly that they complain about sore necks and shoulders, and even numb hands.

The secret about riding a bike is instead balance rather than grip. So it is with life. You have to let go of holding on too tightly.

In a few days Jews throughout the world will be celebrating Rosh Hashanah—the Jewish New Year. I am thinking that this holiday is about restoring that balance. It is about realizing that we cannot hold on to life with too tight of a grip. Examine the day’s prayers. They speak about the fragility of life. They frighten us with the exclamation: “On Rosh Hashanah it is written and Yom Kippur it is sealed. Who shall live and who shall die…”

The message is clear. It is not all in our hands. It is not all in our control. Hold on—but loosely—and enjoy the ride. Don’t forget, fill your hearts with gratitude. Stop trying to wrest control...

This post continues on The Wisdom Daily.

Soccer, Torah and Life

The Israeli novelist, Etgar Keret, writes:

I love soccer because it is so painfully similar to life: slow, unjust, fairly random, usually boring, but always holding out the hope that, at some moment, however brief, everything will come together and take on meaning. There’s no getting away from it—life isn’t about limber athletes sinking hoops from the three-point arc; life is an ongoing, uncoordinated, anguished effort to transcend our trivial existence, an effort that, if we’re lucky, might lead to one brilliant move by Messi, Kaká, or some other dribbling magician. And then, for one split second, that whole damp 90-minute mishmash will turn into something coherent, beautiful, and worthwhile. And, when that moment and its endless playbacks fade, we will all return to our same drab reality of wasted time, pointless fouls, unreceived passes, and wild kicks that miss the goal by kilometers, only to wait with infinite patience and boundless hope for that next moment of grace.

I do not share Keret's observation that most of life is boring (or his talent for spinning humor out of the ordinary), but I do share the sentiment that life, like soccer, is punctuated with flashes of brilliance and grace when everything seems to work and everyone seems in sync.

Such is not the story in this week's Torah portion, Korah. Our portion is about the greatest rebellion against Moses and the authority God placed in him. In fact one can read much of the Torah, especially the Book of Numbers, as a record of how bad things can really go and how telling Keret's observation may be. Very little goes according to plan. God frees the people from Egypt, gives them the Torah and prepares them to entire the Promised Land. They in turn whine and complain. They gripe about Moses and his leadership.

Korah screams, "You have gone too far! For all the community are holy, all of them, and the Lord is in their midst. Why then do you raise yourselves above the Lord's congregation?" (Numbers 16: 3) In the end Korah's rebellion is violently crushed. God does not easily forgive those who question Moses' authority.

The Israelites move on to the next episode. Again they complain; this time about a lack of water. In this episode it is Moses who questions God's authority and is punished.

Where are the flashes of brilliance? Where are the models to emulate? My teacher used to quip, "There is no one in the Bible you would want your son or daughter to grow up to be like."

Then why read the Torah? If it is not to provide us with models to emulate and characters to which we aspire, why read it at all?

It is because the Torah mirrors life. It is filled with ordinary people who occasionally do extraordinary things and more often than not do embarrassing things. We can see ourselves in its characters. We can find ourselves in its pages. How often do we discover the soccer-like quality of present reality in the words of Torah?

There is a little bit of Korah in each of us. There is a measure of Moses in all.

Loving the Torah does not always mean imitating it. Loving the Torah and Bible does not mean saying, "It must be right if David did it. It must be true if Moses said it." Torah means instead learning and growing from its words.

There are times when you can appreciate Keret's observation. It was not so long ago that I stood on the sidelines watching my son slide to make a save or leap to knock the unexpected shot out of bounds. Most of the time it was spent kibbitzing with fellow parents, talking about schools, parenting, the news and weather. To be honest I sometimes had to be told about the slide or leap because the kibbitzing so distracted me. You have to remain attentive. You have to be patient. The moments do arrive.

The hours of driving and watching are redeemed by those brief moments of beauty and grace.

We travel from moment to moment, through ordinariness to such grandeur. We are sustained by the moments of illumination and brilliance. We pray that they might be more frequent. We recognize that they are elusive—and infrequent.

Such is life. Such is soccer. Such is Torah.

Vaetchanan and Swimming Medals

Olympic swimmers break records every year.  Their skills are extraordinary.  Michael Phelps and Katie Ledecky amaze.  Swimmers improve their times at every Olympics. 

The first medalist in Olympic swimming, in modern history, was Alfred Hajos-Guttmann.  And who was Hajos-Guttman?  A Jew.  In fact he was a Hungarian Jew.  He earned two gold medals at the 1896 games in Athens.  He won the 100-Meter and 1200-Meter Freestyle.  His time for the 100-Meter was 1:22.2.  By the way, this year’s winner touched the wall at 47.58.

Granted Hajos-Guttman did not swim in a 50-Meter state of the art pool but instead in the cool waters of the Mediterranean in which there were the occasional 12-foot swells.  There is a big difference between swimming in a pool and an ocean!  Even more noteworthy Hajos-Guttman also earned titles in Hungary’s national competitions in running, hurdles, discus and soccer.  Later he coached Hungary’s national soccer team. 

And when he returned to the 1924 Olympics he competed not in sports but the arts.  Apparently back then it was not just about sports, and sportsmanship (although there have been both stirring and disturbing examples of this during these summer games), but other disciplines.  Hajos-Guttman earned top honors in architecture. 

And so I’m just saying.  Maybe it really did begin with a Jewish achievement.

And why did Hajos-Guttman take up swimming?  At the age of thirteen his father drowned in the Danube.  It was not so much about the medals but instead about saving life.  In fact he changed his name to Hajos, which means sailor in Hungarian.

The Talmud teaches that parents are obligated to teach their children Torah and a craft.  To not teach them a craft is likened to teaching them to steal.  And some say to teach them to swim too.  Why?  Because their lives might depend on it. (Babylonian Talmud Sukkah 56b)  And Rabbi Moskowitz adds: To teach them to ride a bike.  Why?  Their enjoyment might depend on it.

The Torah reminds us: “And you shall teach them to your children. (Deuteronomy 6)

No one can swim as fast as Phelps or Ledecky but everyone needs to know how to swim.  And it all started with Alfred Hajos-Guttman, the Jew who took up swimming for no other reason than his life might depend on it. 

It’s really not about the medals.

Addendum: I would like to acknowledge Abby Sher and her recent article in Jewniverse: The First Swimmer to Win Olympic Gold Was This HungarianJew.  Sher pointed me in the direction of Hajos-Guttman’s achievements.

Say It Ain't So, Lance

Lance Armstrong's Decision Not To Fight Doping Charges : The New Yorker

Martin Schoeller writes:

That is why I am so deeply appalled by his announcement yesterday that he would no longer fight the charges against him. He said he was tired of the fight. Tired? Really? Armstrong made it clear on several occasions he would fight to the death. (My favorite Lance quote about pain, clearly applicable to the accusations, is, “Pain is temporary. It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place. If I quit, however, it lasts forever.”) 

Yes, quitting lasts forever. And he did not even have the decency to admit his guilt. Oddly, two of my colleagues—both of whom had ridiculed me mercilessly for supporting Lance—wrote to me today to say that they actually felt sorry for the guy. 

I do not. Lance Armstrong stood for something. He was a man who, despite the hatred, the envy, and the odds, would never quit, would never concede. He was the great American—a man of principle who also won. Now, I am afraid, he is nothing.

I am not surprised about the news.  I remain so disappointed.

Korah

This week’s Torah portion contains the story of the most famous of the rebellions against Moses’ authority.  Korah and his followers rebel against Moses. 

“They combined against Moses and Aaron and said to them, ‘You have gone too far!  For all the community are holy, all of them, and the Lord is in their midst.  Why then do you raise yourselves above the Lord’s congregation?’”  (Numbers 16:3)  Korah and his followers are severely punished for rising up against Moses.  “Scarcely had he finished speaking all these words when the ground under them burst asunder, and the earth opened its mouth and swallowed them up with their households, all Korah’s people and all their possessions.” (16:31-32)

On the surface the rebels’ critique does not appear to justify such harsh punishment.  For centuries commentators have offered different interpretations, attempting to explain why their complaint was so problematic.   Some have argued that it was how they questioned Moses’ authority.  Korah and his followers did not argue with a sense of machloket l’shem shamayim, arguments for the sake of heaven.  Others have suggested that it was not so much their arguments with Moses but instead their lack of faith in God’s chosen leader.  It was not a rebellion against Moses but instead against God.

Recently I discovered a different interpretation.  It is found in the collection of Hasidic commentaries, Itturey Torah.

“What was the source of the dispute between Korah and Moses?  Moses gave a hint at this when he stated, ‘Do you then want the priesthood?’  All that Korah wanted was the prestige of being a priest, but not the attendant duties and responsibilities. “

Ask your children the following question.  Would you prefer to sit on the bench of a winning team or play the entire game on a losing team?  I suspect that most of our children would choose winning over playing.  Many would probably offer the justification that even on the bench there is a chance that they would play, if only for a moment.  Still is it better to play for one minute and win or play for 90 minutes and lose? 

I always prefer to be in the game.   I prefer the challenge.  Most people appear to prize winning over hard work.

The priesthood of course was not just about standing in front of the people and hearing the shouts of amen to one’s every sermon and prayer.  It was also about slaughtering animals.  It was also messy and most importantly, laborious. 

Too few value such messy hard work.  Too many only want the prizes and accolades.   Too many are like Korah who only wanted the prestige and not the duties and responsibilities.  The lesson is that such glory can only come from hard work and struggle, challenge and sacrifice. 

This is why Korah was punished so severely.  He failed to understand that you must first ask for the hard work.  You must seek the challenge.  You must welcome the responsibilities.  You must run to get into the game.  The glory follows—but only sometimes.

Winning is not the only purpose of the game.

Tebowing for Hanukkah

What follows is my recent sermon about the upcoming holiday of Hanukkah, delivered on Shabbat Vayeshev, December 16th.

Nes Gadol Haya Po.  A great miracle happened here.  This is what is written on dreidles in the land of Israel.  Millennia ago the small, outnumbered Jewish army led by the Maccabees defeated the Syrian-Greeks and recaptured the Temple in Jerusalem and of course rededicated it to Jewish worship.  According to the rabbis the holy oil necessary for this ceremony lasted eight days rather than the expected one.  The miracle of oil!  But the victory of the small army over the larger, better equipped and supplied, army was no less a miracle.

I have been thinking about this story as we approach Hanukkah, the holiday which begins on Tuesday evening.  I have been thinking especially about miracles.  What is that we really believe?  A lot has recently been written about this question.  In fact more questions about faith and belief have appeared in the sports sections than the paper’s other sections.  These articles are by and large about Tim Tebow, about his beliefs and his public prayers and of course the Bronco’s miraculous wins. 

I don’t know how many people watched Sunday night’s game of the Broncos vs. the Bears.  It was quite the miracle. The Broncos were down by ten, in fact 10-0, until about four minutes left in the game.  Then Tebow led his team to a touchdown.  With no time outs remaining and no way to stop the clock the Bears seemed sure to be able to run out the clock.  But then a veteran running back, Marion Barber, ran out of bounds and stopped the clock giving the Broncos time for a few plays.  The Broncos now had a little less than a minute to score.  With three seconds remaining their kicker kicked a 59 yard field goal to tie the game.  Chicago won the toss to gain first possession in overtime and again was nearly in field goal range to win the game when Marion Barber made another mistake and fumbled the ball.  Tebow led his team to field goal range and the Broncos won 13-10 in overtime.  A great miracle happened here!  By the time overtime began I gave up on my many Chicago friends and started praying along with Tebow for his Broncos to win.  After all who prays for a loss? 

Prior to Tebow’s starting as quarterback, the Broncos were 1-4.  Now with him at the held they are 7-1 and leading their division for a playoff spot.  Such appears the power of faith and the power of prayer.  But what is Tebow is really praying for?  Does he pray, “God let my team defeat our opponents and win this game.”  Such would seem an improper prayer.  Judaism would counsel us that we should only ask God for that which benefits all.  One cannot pray for one’s own success if it comes at the expense of another.   In football Tebow and his Broncos’ success comes at the expense of the other team.  Marion Barber might especially need our prayers for strength and courage far more than Tebow does.  May Marion Barber rise above his mistakes and become an even greater human being.  To be honest our prayers should never be about being a great football player, or basketball player or baseball player or any player for that matter.  Instead they should be about being a better person.  Yet it is human nature to pray for the winning side. It is certainly human nature to pray for what might be called, my side.

I remember some of the prayers I have uttered when watching the Jets.  There have been many times over the years as I watch the Jets game and especially in those final minutes find myself praying as the other team lines up for a field goal or last attempt at the end zone, “Miss it.  Miss it.  Miss it.  Please.  Please.  Please.”  Of course sometimes my prayers appear to be answered and other times not.  It occurs to me that perhaps we are the most religious when rooting for our side.   Then again, how can it be a good prayer if my success, or my team’s success, depends on someone else’s failure?

To be fair Tebow states that he is not praying for a win.   He also has repeatedly stated that football is only a game and that God does not care who wins.  His example continues to remind us that faith and prayer are meant to be inspiring and can also apparently inspire others to greatness.  For this teaching we owe him a debt of gratitude.  In a world where there are far too many examples of the abuses of religion we are grateful for his reminder that faith can inspire and help us become better. 

We should also be thankful to him for another reminder.  As we approach the holiday of Hanukkah that was all about being able to be Jewish in the public square, Tebow reminds us that it is good to pray in public.  Some might be uncomfortable with his public displays of overt devotion, of Tebowing as it is called, but Hanukkah was about the struggle to proudly declare I am Jewish.  The Hanukkah menorah is after all supposed to be displayed so that others can see it, so that the miracle is publicized.  Hanukkah is not supposed to be celebrated behind closed curtains.

Faith is meant as inspiration.  It is meant for the world to see.  For Tim Tebow’s reminder about this I commend him.  The fact that he appears to pray after his successes and others’ failures I fault him.  I am waiting for what might be his greatest example, to see his public devotion, embracing the other team in prayer, after his team suffers a stinging defeat.  Nonetheless he has taught us that faith is meant as a goad for us to do better, to improve our world, to better ourselves. 

Faith does not mean waiting around for miracles.  We must bring them about.  We must not wait for God to perform miracles.  Miracles are first and foremost in our hands.  This is what Tebow teaches us.  He is not just praying.  He takes to the field.  He appears at his best when he faces the most challenges.  In the fourth quarter when most others might give up, he becomes better and appears to bring about miracles.  Others seem to resort only to their prayers.

Like any good Jewish book our prayerbooks recounts many miracles.  These books are not meant to sit on your shelves or to be read quietly in your room.  You can’t just wait for a Mi Chamocha moment to happen to you. Don’t wait to sing this song of redemption. You are supposed to carry your prayerbooks with you.  Then whenever you need a little extra inspiration you can find it there in its pages.  If you just sit in a room and pray for God to rescue you then you will find far fewer miracles in your lives. This is also what Hanukkah reminds us.  The Maccabees led the charge.  They did not hide in caves waiting for God to fix their world.  They did not sit quietly pouring over the words of their prayers.  They made the miracle.

On Hanukkah we recite the blessing, “Blessed are You Adonai our God, Ruler of the universe, who performed miracles for our ancestors in those days.”  The Hasidic rebbe, Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berdichev asked why we say this blessing for the Hanukkah miracles and not for the greatest miracle of all, that of Passover.  Being a rabbi he answers his own question.  He says that it is because the Hanukkah miracle was dependent on our actions.  It was not dependent on God alone.  On Passover God alone split the sea and battled the Egyptians in that defining Mi Chamocha moment.  On Hanukkah we brought the miracle; it was dependent upon our own success.  We did not wait for miracles to be done for us.  We brought them to the world.  God inspired us.  We did the work.

This is the most important lesson of Hanukkah.  We look to past events for inspiration.  But when we start to believe that miracles are happening here and now it gets dangerous.  It is dangerous because then we stop doing the hard work of getting into the game ourselves.  Then we try to let God do all of the heavy lifting for us and pretend there is no weight on our own shoulders.  God does provide much inspiration.  But the lifting has to be done by ourselves. 

In the end that is why the better dreidle is our dreidle rather than Israel’s. On our dreidles it says, “A great miracle happened there.”   It keeps the miracle at arm’s length.  It keeps miracles as sources of inspiration rather than a crutch.  It reminds us that we have to do the hard stuff ourselves.  God will inspire us.  But our hands make the miracles.

Thus, if you want miracles to happen here you only have one choice.  Take to the field yourself!

Ryan Braun Wins MVP

Ryan Braun Wins MVP - by Marc Tracy - Tablet Magazine
Which is better?  Ryan Braun winning MVP or the Cardinals winning the World Series?   The Cards!  Nonetheless this should be noted especially as we gather to celebrate Thanksgiving, a holiday that marks the confluence of our American and Jewish values.

Marc Tracy writes: Jewish slugger Ryan Braun was named the National League’s Most Valuable Player today, becoming the first Milwaukee Brewer to win the honor since Robin Yount in 1989 (when the Brew Crew were in the American League) and the first Jew since Sandy Koufax in 1963 (the Dodger great won three Cy Young Awards but only one MVP—the short list of pitchers who have accomplished both gained a new member this year, as Detroit Tigers ace Justin Verlander took home both in the AL). The other Jewish MVPs include Al Rosen (1953), Lou Boudreau (1948), Hank Greenberg (1935, 1940), and … that’s it. So, yeah, historic.

On to football season!