Vayakhel

This week’s Torah portion, Vayakhel, reiterates the command regarding Shabbat observance.  “On six days work may be done, but on the seventh day you shall have a sabbath of complete rest, holy to the Lord…”  Around this commandment Judaism constructs the many details of Shabbat observance in particular its demand that we refrain from working on this day.  The Talmud self consciously remarks that these myriad laws of Shabbat restrictions were like mountains suspended by a thread.  In this portion the thread is revealed.

The remainder of the portion occupies itself with the details of the tabernacle’s construction.  And so the rabbis reasoned that all the labors detailed in constructing the tabernacle are forbidden on Shabbat.  There are 39 labors in all.  There are sub-categories of work and sub-sub categories.  There are fences around the laws and fences around the fences.  The mountains have become endlessly magnified.  At times the mountains and fences obscure the essence of Shabbat.

What is the essence of this extraordinary day?  In his masterpiece, The Sabbath, Abraham Joshua Heschel argues that Shabbat is a palace in time.  We construct this palace by refraining from work, by saying no to weekday activities.  Today it has become increasingly difficult to put the weekday aside.  Blackberries and iPhones have blurred the line between work and home.  Facebook and Twitter have blurred the line between home and work.

Recently my extended family and I traveled together on our first cruise.  I could have done without the endless buffets and the thousands of other travelers, but I rejoiced in the fact that my Blackberry was unable to get any signal when at sea.  (Ok I confess, it took me some time to adjust to this.)  Our children could not text their friends or write on someone’s Wall.  Every evening we gathered for a family dinner with only the distractions of the ocean’s waves outside the windows. We were left to talking to each other—and we relished in it. 

That is the essence of Shabbat, a day that returns people to their families and friends, a day that demands that we speak with each other rather than in the broken phrases of email and BBM.  There are great advantages of today’s technologies.  There are also great advantages found in our tradition and its Sabbath day.   Heschel writes: “To observe the Sabbath is to celebrate the coronation of a day in the spiritual wonderland of time, the air of which we inhale when we call it a delight.”

Each of us can construct this day for ourselves.  In fact it is not even dependent on our congregation’s services.  The palace in time can always be built—each and every week.  There is no heavy lifting involved.  It is only a matter of following the thread back to the Torah, placing the weekday aside and delighting in one extraordinary day.

Psalms 25-27

My apologies for the delay.  Distractions abound.  Let us return to our sacred texts.

25. This psalm is an acrostic.  Each verse begins with the next letter in the Hebrew alphabet.  Its organization is therefore artificial.  Although it might be easier to memorize such a poem it lacks an inner structure.  Each verse stands on its own.  Alef is for, bet stands for, gimmel and so on.  Nonetheless a few verses intrigue me.

(Alef) O Lord, I lift my soul to You

my God, in You I trust;

may I not be disappointed…

There is a certain power in the notion that we must lift our soul.   To be religious, to look toward God requires effort and work.

(Gimmel) O let none who look to You be disappointed;

let the faithless be disappointed, empty-handed.

If you have faith then it is my prayer that you might not be disappointed.  Nonetheless disappointments are everywhere.

(Cheyt) Be not mindful of my youthful sins and transgressions;

in keeping with Your faithfulness consider what is in my favor,

as befits Your goodness, O Lord.

This is a good one.  Imagine all the things we did in our youth that we now regret, that we now wish we could take back.  One of the problems of the internet age is that all of our mistakes are forever preserved online.  I am thankful that my friends did not have smartphones when I was in high school.  Now I can be not mindful of my youthful sins.  What will happen to those whose indiscretions circulate endlessly through cyberspace?  To be young is to make mistakes.  To become older is to have learned from those mistakes.  Part of that learning is forgiving yourself and by necessity forgetting.  What happens if it can never be forgotten? 

26. Judge me, O Lord,

for I have walked without blame;

I have trusted in the Lord;

I have not faltered.

Really?  I try to walk without blame.  I often falter.  None of us is so righteous as to have never sinned.  Perhaps this is a prayer.  Let me not falter…

Probe me, O Lord, and test me,

examine my heart and mind;

for my eyes are on Your steadfast love;

I have walked by Your truth.

Do I really want to be tested?  According to the tradition the righteous are tested more often than the wicked.  There is a sense that the righteous can take it and are therefore made better by their trials and struggles.  The rabbinic image is that fine metal is made finer by firing it more.  That may very well be true, but what kind of motivation is this to be righteous?  Wouldn’t one rather be ordinary and have less trials?  I have often surmised that we should never look at someone else’s troubles and say “You will be made stronger for this.”  Let them say that about themselves and their own difficulties.  Who are we to offer such explanations and justifications for their suffering?

27. This psalm is read on the High Holidays.

The Lord is my light and my help;

whom should I fear?

The Lord is the stronghold of my life,

whom should I dread?

If I hold God before my eyes I will fear nothing.  But it is not so easy to always keep God at the forefront of our thoughts.  More often than not we reach out to God out of fear, when we are afraid.  If God becomes our mantra we might fear less.  Such is part of the basis for Rabbi Meir’s call to recite 100 blessings every day.  Fill your heart with enough blessings and there will be less room for fear.

One thing I ask of the Lord,

only that do I seek:

to live in the house of the Lord

all the days of my life,

to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord,

to frequent His temple.

That would be great!  To have our synagogue building.  Is my dream the same as the psalmists?

O Lord, I seek Your face.

do not hide Your face from me;

do not thrust aside Your servant in anger;

You have ever been my help.

Do not hide from me.  I seek You all the days of my life.  Yet You appear hidden and removed.  How do I search after something that remains so hidden?

Look to the Lord;

be strong and of good courage!

O look to the Lord!

If I look towards God I will gain strength and courage.  Such is my faith.  I will never discover the answers to all questions, but I will gain a measure of koach.  That is the most I can hope for.  That is all I pray for.

Ki Tissa

“When the people saw that Moses was so long in coming down from the mountain, the people gathered against Aaron and said to him, ‘Come, make us a god who shall go before us, for that man Moses, who brought us from the land Egypt—we do not know what has happened to him.’” (Exodus 32)

So begins the story of the Golden Calf. Only a few weeks earlier the people were slaves in Egypt where they had witnessed God’s mighty acts and Moses’ extraordinary leadership. The people had just stood at Mount Sinai where they received the Torah and in particular the Ten Commandments forbidding idolatry. Their leader disappears to the mountain top for but a few short weeks and they quickly lose faith and bow down to idols. If only they had waited. If only they could have waited for their leader’s return. Then this sin could have been avoided.

If only they could have waited. So many of our own wrongdoings can be avoided by exercising a little patience. How many times have we fired off an email response to only regret it minutes later? How many times have we screamed at a cashier to only find our children’s embarrassed stares looking back at us? If only we could have waited.

Even Moses stands guilty of this sin. When he comes down the mountain and sees the wild, idolatrous house party (remember my kids are in high school), he smashes the tablets. He could have paused, perhaps even cried or at least stopped to gather his thoughts, rather than allowing his anger to smash the tablets. Moreover, even God stands guilty of this wrong. At first God wants to destroy all the people. Initially God also seethes with anger. But it is only because of Moses’ intercession that God’s anger is quelled. Anger is sometimes understandable but it is rarely, if ever, commendable.

We learn a number of things from this portion and its story. First of all, impatience fuels anger. Many regrets are piled upon the words if only I had waited. If only I had not been so quick to say that or so hasty to do that. If only I had not screamed in anger. In a world where information travels at the speed of light we should be more cautious when relaying feelings at a similar speed. Anger, and love for that matter (texting is really only about speed not feelings), are always best delivered in person. Difficult words especially are best said face to face.

Second, we learn that friends are invaluable. They comfort us when we are sad, but most importantly they, like Moses did for God, help to soften our anger. Too often friends nod in agreement when we bitterly complain about the injustices served against us. Feeling another’s pain is well and good but it does not help to lift another out of despair. It often has the opposite effect. It often deepens our anger. “You are so right!” are not always the best words to offer to a friend. Such words do not pull us from our anger. Moses implores God, “Now if You will forgive their sin well and good; but if not, erase me from the record You have written!” And God’s anger was cooled.

The rabbis teach that both the new set of tablets and the broken set of tablets were placed in the tabernacle. Both the broken and whole were placed in this holy vessel. We like to think that we should forget our wrongs and do away with our regrets. But regret also fuels repair. Regret motivates us to do better and improve ourselves.

The brokenness is never discarded. It too can be made holy.

The Voice of Freedom

I can't believe my eyes and ears! Watch this clip. You will think you are watching a NFTY promotional video and listening to a Dan Nichols song, but instead it is musical tribute to the Egyptian protesters.



Thank you to today's Tom Friedman column for again pointing me towards MEMRI. And kol hakavod MEMRI for tirelessly translating the Arabic media!

Am I actually witnessing Egypt change for the better? Will it really be forever as the song says, "Our dreams were our weapon?"

#33

It is not a Grammy but my blog was named one of the top 50 Jewish blogs.  Always nice to be recognized, even from afar....

Tetzaveh Sermon

This week’s Torah portion begins with the details of lighting the ner tamid, the eternal light.  Interestingly this required the priest’s constant care and attention which is why ner tamid is better translated as “always light.”

The remainder of the portion details how the priestly garments are to be made.  There was a blue thread (techelet) that ran through the headdress.  The garments contained finely spun gold thread.  And according to the rabbis, shatnez, the mixture of wool and linen, was even required for the making of the priest’s clothes.

With all of these chapters and verses about the priest’s clothes I have been thinking about the clothes we wear.  What do these clothes say about us?  Like you I receive many different invitations with directions of what I am supposed to wear to different occasions: black tie required, black tie optional, business casual, and my favorite, smart casual (with this one, I always worry that I might be labeled not so smart if I wear the wrong outfit).  Our society is distinguished by the clothing we wear.  Athletes wear uniforms.  Their uniforms are supposed to make a statement about their team and its history.  The military wears uniforms.  Remember how powerful it was to have a marine in his full dress uniform read the prayer for our country on Rosh Hashanah?  Would it have been the same if he did not wear his uniform?  I think not.

We would like to say that our clothes don’t matter and that the details for an ancient priesthood are irrelevant, but this is simply not the case.  It does matter.  Moreover our choices are not entirely our own.  They are sometimes prescribed, whether it be by the Torah or a friend’s invitation. 

This is why I find wearing a tallis so powerful.  It is how I dress up for prayer.  It does not matter if I am wearing my nicest suit or even my shorts, when I come to pray I always wear my tallis.  It is the nicest clothing I could imagine wearing for this occasion.  It is as well the great equalizer.  Rich and poor, all wear a tallis. This is also why according to tradition all are buried in a white shroud.  All are equal when standing before God.  We no longer have priests!

The tradition attempts to remind us that clothing does not make the person.  Death is the ultimate reminder of this truth.  The inner is more important than the outer.   As we saw with Bernie Madoff, dressing a crook in beautiful suits does not make him less of a crook.  And this is why white collar criminals (think about the term!) offend our sensibilities even more.  It is because they hide their criminality beneath a veneer of goodness, a facade of fine clothes and white shirts.

The Talmud suggests that the worst thing you can do is to say you are religious while also cheating in business.  To suggest to others that you are religious, by wearing a kippah or a tallis, and then cheat is to add defaming our great religion to the sin of stealing.  To be ritually scrupulous but ethically lacking is to not understand the true meaning of our religion, or any religion for that matter.

This is why I am thankful that we let go of the priesthood and its dress.  The dress of office too often corrupts.  Perhaps that is part of the lesson in today’s Egypt.  The suit can never make the man.  Mubarak’s Western suits did not make him Western in outlook or world view (he was certainly no advocate for democracy).  I am of course thankful for the alliances he forged with the United State and Israel.  But we must be on guard.  Just because Egypt’s youth dresses like us and Facebooks like us does not mean their values will hue to our own.  You can judge only so much by the clothes people wear. 

This is exactly why Judaism dresses the Torah as we once dressed the priest, in a robe adorned with pomegranates and bells.  We place our faith in a book not a person.  It alone holds a place of royalty in our lives.  And that is as it should be.   No person—only a book—is elevated above everything else.

Finally, many of the stories in our tradition depicting the messiah imagine him dressed as a beggar.  Here is why.  You can’t then be fooled by his dress.  Then there can be no pretense about his intentions.  His goodness is then clearly inner and not outer.  You can’t be fooled by his suit or even his priestly garb.  It is only about the good he does. 

And that is how we must be judged.  Dress in finery, but even more important dress your acts with compassion and goodness.   Dress your words in finely spun words of healing and friendship.  Those will always be the most beautiful and lasting garments you can wear.

My Tears for Mubarak

My Tears for Mubarak - Israel Opinion, Ynetnews
by Eitan Haber
Another perspective on the events unfolding in Egypt.

President Mubarak was indeed a tyrant. He was apparently corrupt as well. Yet this is the same Mubarak who wore suits and ties, spoke English, upheld the peace treaty, hosted Israeli leaders at his palace, arrived at the Rabin funeral, and even – imagine that – provided us with gas at a special price. This will likely be the only article today praising Mubarak. In politically correct terms, it would be proper to laud the masses and join in the celebration of democracy. After all, all the hypocrites in the Western world are coming together for this “civil rights party.” Yet I, such an uncivilized creature, am already starting to long for the president who was forced to quit. How I wish to be proven wrong.

Such is the view just to the north of Cairo.

The Lessons of Cairo

Obama, America, And Egypt's Liberal Revolt | The New Republic
TNR's most recent editorial about the upheaval in Egypt says it all.  It begins with the words:

The spread of democracy around the world is a natural American aspiration, but sometimes the sincerity of that aspiration is tested by the disruptions of democratization. The astonishing events in Egypt are such a test. They are so thrilling in their purpose and so unclear in their outcome. They provoke exhilaration and anxiety. But they demonstrate to a new generation that the democratic longing is itself one of history’s most powerful causes. And, for the United States, they make clear that the spread of democracy is not only a matter of morality, but also a matter of strategy.

And its conclusion is very much on target:

Now, the hard question. What if, in promoting democracy in the Arab world, we find ourselves acquiescing in the inclusion of Islamists such as the Muslim Brotherhood in the new arrangements? Would this not be both a moral and a strategic disaster? A number of commentators have waved away the threat posed by the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt, arguing that the group is not actually as radical as everyone thinks. Whatever the evolution of the movement since the hideousness of Hassan Al Banna, it strikes us as glib to dismiss the worry about its participation in an Egyptian government. It is true that a majority of Egyptians and a majority of the protesters do not want the Islamists in power; but the 30 percent of the electorate that the Muslim Brotherhood commands is not trivial. We are supposed to be reassured because the Brotherhood opposes Al Qaeda. Good for them-but what about women’s rights? Religious freedom? The treaty with Israel?

And yet we are where we are. Mubarak is over. He was not overthrown by the Islamists. And the Islamists owe what social power they possess to him and his asphyxiation of his society. So we find ourselves at one of those historical moments that bring to mind Frost’s adage that “the best way out is always through.”

We recognize that liberal democracies do not spring up overnight. Where decades of cruel autocracy have devastated civil society, diplomatic skill will be required for the pangs of transition. But this diplomacy must be based on the recognition that the breakthrough of the liberal democratic temper in Egypt is not only a crisis for the United States, but also an opportunity. Cairo has taken its place alongside Budapest and Prague as one of the modern capitals of liberal revolt. Now we must do everything we can to keep this liberal revolt liberal.

Even if it were possible to do so support for the region's stability over and against the Egyptian people will not in the end serve our interests. We may worry about Islamists gaining power, and I most certainly do, but the old regime is now gone, so we have only one choice and that is to support and nurture democracy. We must hope and pray and work that this democracy hues to the values we hold dear, namely standing against terrorism, allied with America and for peace with Israel.

And of course read Leon Wieseltier's article about what the Egyptian revolution means for Israel:  With Our Eyes Wide Open.

Google Exec Interview

Below is the interview with Google Executive Wael Ghonim after his release from prison. The clip is supplied by MEMRI (Middle East Media Research Institute).



Wael says in part:

We are not serving anyone's agenda... Some of us are very rich, living in the best homes, driving the best cars. I don't need anything from anyone. I didn't ask for anything. The things we did put our lives in danger, and we didn't know anything about it. We said we would do it, and that's it. We said that we would fight for our rights, because this is our country. We put our lives in harm's way, and none of us did it for personal gain.... The real heroes are the people on the street, each and every one of us. There was no knight on a horse urging people to take action. Be careful that no one tries to con you this way. This is a revolution of the Internet youth, which later became the revolution of the youth of Egypt.

He also states that the Muslim Brotherhood was not responsible for organizing the demonstrations.  Nonetheless they might still hijack the revolution.

Regardless his interview serves as powerful testimony.  It is moving to watch him tearfully claim that he is not a hero.  It is wrenching to see the concluding pictures of those youth who lost their lives.  Most of all the interview reminds us of the power of ordinary people to change their own lives and hopefully, transform their own countries.

For more information about the protests in Egypt, read these articles from the Times:
Wired and Shrewd: Young Egyptians Guide Revolt by David Kirkpatrick
Roger Cohen's Wael Ghonim's Egypt
and Nicholas Kristof's Obama and Egypt's Future
Perhaps it is not about food and jobs, but instead about democracy.

Tetzaveh

Let’s talk about clothes.

This week’s Torah portion, Tetzaveh, relates details about the priest’s clothing.  Their outfits were quite elaborate, containing a breastpiece, long coat (ephod), robe, fringed tunic, headdress and sash.  (Sorry, no shoes are mentioned.)  They were made of gold, jewels and finely woven fabrics.

Two curious details.  The forbidden mixture of wool and linen was required for the priest’s clothes.  Why was something forbidden to the masses required of the elite?  It is because clothing signifies station.  To wear something that is inaccessible to the majority sets the wearer apart.  God forbids this mixture to everyone but the priest in order that his very clothing might set him apart.

Bells and pomegranates adorned the hem of the priest’s robe in order that his clothing would announce his arrival before he actually entered the room.  According to the rabbis this teaches us that we must also announce our presence when entering a room.  The priest could not sneak up on anyone, most especially God when entering the Holy of Holies.

Clothing of course signifies many things. We wear clothes to fit in.  And we wear clothes to stand out.  Unlike the priest our clothing does not choose us.  We instead choose our clothes.   We decide what impression we wish to make.  During biblical times the priest’s clothes were assigned.  They signified his standing in Israelite society. 

We believe that today we are free to dress as we please.  But are such decisions really free?  Would you feel less comfortable if your doctor did not wear a white coat?  Would you feel uneasy if a plain clothes police officer pulled you over for speeding instead of a uniformed officer?  Is a rabbi less of a rabbi when not wearing a tallis and kippah?  Every year at least one of my students asks me if I wear my kippah all the time.  “Do you wear your kippah in the shower?” the wise guy asks.  (And I of course answer, “No because then I would not be able to wash my hair.”)  I imagine they are thinking: if the rabbi is always a rabbi then he must always dress like a rabbi.

In an age when seventh grade girls dress in mini-skirts to appear more attractive and Middle Eastern women dress in chadors to become less attractive, we might do well to recover the meaning our clothing conveys to others.  What is it that we wish to signify by the clothes we wear?  As much as we might wish, it is not only about what we want to wear.  It is as well what others see in our clothes.  This is what the details in Parashat Tetzaveh teach us. 

To be honest I prefer shorts, a t-shirt and no shoes (blasphemy!).  But then again clothes are not just about being comfortable.  Clothes are not only about what we choose to wear.  They are as well what others see of us.  And like the priest of old they are about announcing our presence.

Egypt's Turmoil Sermon

Our Torah portion begins with the words, “You shall accept gifts for Me from every person whose heart so moves him.” The Torah’s intention seems clear. The Tabernacle could only be built if the people were moved to participate. Later we will read that the people’s hearts were joined together in this effort—and it was only because of this that they succeeded.

This brings me to my question for the evening, the question of the turmoil in Egypt. Are the people indeed joined together? Ok, perhaps the connection to the Torah portion is thin but I promised that I would about what is happening in Egypt so here it goes. Let me make a few observations and then open it up for discussion.

Years ago when on a rabbinic mission to Israel I met with Dr. Yuval Steinmetz. He is currently the finance minister and a Knesset member from Likud. He made dire warnings about Egypt. He observed that there was a great deal of saber rattling emanating from Egypt and that Egypt was increasing its ground forces. I dismissed his warnings, thinking that it does not matter because Israel has a peace treaty with Egypt.

Israel’s papers reported recently (2008) that a Gallup poll of Egyptians showed that 60% favored instituting Sharia (Islamic law). 80% of women there undergo female circumcision. Moreover the Muslim Brotherhood represents the beginnings of jihadist Islam. It began in the 1920’s. It had strong ties to the Nazis, and continues to dispense antisemitic tracts. The Muslim Brotherhood rejects the peace treaty with Israel. To be sure the group seems to be moving away from violence but I have great worries about its intentions.

It is of course still unclear what is going to happen. We only know that at present there is great instability in the region. In addition to Egypt we just witnessed Tunisia’s jasmine revolution. Yemen is now also convulsing and Yemen is crucial to the US efforts to fight radical Islam. Jordan is now also teetering. A Jordanian descent into chaos could prove even more worrisome for Israel.

So let me make a few observations. If these events are indeed a march to democracy it will be remarkable that it was brought about by the information age and technology rather than by making wars, as we attempted in Iraq in Afghanistan. This is why I so admired Google when it pulled out of China. The company stood by its principles that information should lead to freedoms and can do good (or at least do no harm, as Google would say). But technology can also be used to hunt down these same protesters as Iran has systematically done over the past year.

Still I remain skeptical that we are seeing democracy unfold in Egypt. Perhaps we will see greater freedoms emerge there, but not sweeping democratic reforms. I share the goal of bringing democracy to the world, but I am constantly reminded that the Middle East has remained inhospitable to such reforms.

The protests in Iran led nowhere—except now to the arrests of the protesters. I believe the Obama administration failed these protesters in not speaking more forcefully in their behalf. I continue to wonder why this administration speaks for protesters against an ally, but did not speak for protesters against an enemy. (I do sometimes see things in simplistic and stark ways.) I also still wonder how Obama could offer such little criticism of Egyptian government when in Cairo. Yes, he did speak for democracy and against the suppression of freedoms, but he did not single out the Mubarak government for criticism, except in reference to the Copts. It makes you doubt how much faith the protesters have in the US.

Lebanon’s cedar revolution that brought democratic reforms to that country has ultimately led to Hezbollah gaining power. Similarly the Bush administration’s support for elections in Gaza brought Hamas to power.

It is quite the moral quandary. I believe in democracy. But time and again it has brought our enemies to power in the Middle East.

Now to Israel. Today I participated in a conference call with Dr. Kenneth Stein of Emory University. The call was sponsored by AIPAC. He made two important observations. It is in Egypt’s interest to maintain peace agreement with Israel. It is a strategic benefit. It might never be a warm peace but the peace treaty will hold. I certainly hope he is right! None of the protesters have said that their protests are about Israel or the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

Stein continued, the protests are first and foremost about jobs and food. They are really not even about democracy. Here are a few statistics. The majority of Egyptians live in poverty, living on $2 per day. 700,000 students graduate from Egyptian colleges every year. Only 200,000 new jobs are created every year. 35% of Egyptians are illiterate (out of a population of 80 million).

Israel is understandably nervous. This is what they are talking about there, in the Israeli press. Since the Egyptian peace accords Israel has not fought a conventional war. All of the recent conflicts have been asymmetrical. To adjust its military planning to face a large Egyptian army (now supplied with US military hardware) could alter modern Israel.
Because of the peace treaty Israel has reduced its military spending and lowered the age for reservists. Even adding discussions about the possibility of a conventional war with Egypt would be a terrible psychological blow to Israel and Israelis.

Israeli armaments travel through the Suez canal. In addition 3% of the world’s oil travels through Egypt. The majority of Israel’s natural gas is imported from Egypt. Also many commentators have noted how quickly US apparently turned on its ally. This has also caused a great deal of nervousness.

It is unclear what these current protests will lead to. If they lead to more representative government and less human rights abuses wonderful. If they also lead to greater empowerment of Israel’s and America’s enemies then this month will mark the day that we returned to the problems of the 1970’s.

There is of course little we can do. And Israeli especially and even America should at the moment sit on the sidelines. All we can do is wait, wonder and of course pray. I will always pray that all can enjoy the freedoms of democracy. And I will also do what little I can to make sure that our allies are guaranteed their security, most especially my beloved Israel.

Our Cantor in Concert!

Here is a great YouTube video featuring one of my favorite singers as well as pianists. It contains a medley of Israeli favorites.



Way to go cantor--and Natalie!

PM Netanyahu Addresses the Knesset

Prime Minister Netanyahu: The situation in Egypt 2-Feb-2011
This is yesterday's remarks by Netanyahu to the Knesset regarding the situation in Egypt. Israel and Israelis are understandably nervous and worried about the turmoil there. Netanyahu said in part:

It is clear that an Egypt that rests on these institutions, an Egypt that is anchored in democratic values, would never be a threat to peace. On the contrary, if we have learned anything from modern history, it is that the stronger the foundations of democracy, the stronger the foundations of peace. Peace among democracies is strong, and democracy strengthens the peace.

The Iranian regime is not interested in seeing an Egypt that protects the rights of individuals, women, and minorities. They are not interested in an enlightened Egypt that embraces the 21st century. They want an Egypt that returns to the Middle Ages. They want Egypt to become another Gaza, run by radical forces that oppose everything that the democratic world stands for. 

We have two separate worlds here, two opposites, two world views: that of the free, democratic world and that of the radical world. Which one of them will prevail in Egypt?

We wish to support democracy but worry that it might bring our enemies to power, namely the Muslim Brotherhood.

Yossi Klein HaLevi remarked in yesterday's Times:

For Israel, then, peace with Egypt has been not only strategically but also psychologically essential. Israelis understand that the end of their conflict with the Arab world depends in large part on the durability of the peace with Egypt — for all its limitations, it is the only successful model of a land-for-peace agreement. 

For now we watch and wait--and pray.

Terumah

Following the revelation at Mount Sinai we first encounter laws of how to order a just society. These are the details of last week’s portion, Mishpatim. In this week’s reading, Terumah, we learn of how to construct a sanctuary and thereby bring God to earth.  We read chapters and verses containing inordinate details of how to construct the tabernacle and its furnishings.

The portion begins: “The Lord spoke to Moses, saying, ‘Tell the Israelite people to bring Me gifts (terumah); you shall accept gifts for Me from every person whose heart so moves him…  And let them make Me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them.’” (Exodus 25:1-8)

But how can God dwell on earth?  How can people believe that any building they construct would house God or even befit God?  King Solomon responds in the words offered at the dedication ceremony of the First Temple.  “But will God really dwell on earth?  Even the heavens to their uttermost reaches cannot contain You, how much less this House that I have built!”  (I Kings 8:27)

The Rabbis disagree, arguing that God wants to dwell on earth.  It is like, they say, a king who says to his daughter on the day she marries a prince from a distant country.  “Sweetheart (ok, I added that) I cannot prevent you from moving away with your new husband, but it saddens me to think of you living so far away from me.  Do me this favor.  Wherever you live, build an apartment for me so that I can come and visit you.”  Similarly God says to Israel, “Wherever you travel, build a sanctuary for Me so that I may dwell among you.”  (Exodus Rabbah 33:1)

I think that we often place too much importance in such buildings.  We place more faith in buildings than in the people who dwell there.  This was the cause of our economy’s recent downfall.  Buildings are but means to an end.  Their purpose is not found in their structures.  Their purpose must always be in the people who gather there.

Sometimes when the flowers are blooming on my front yard (may that day be very soon!) and my house is awash in their colors, I think to myself how fortunate I am to have such a beautiful home.  Then I remind myself that the purpose of my home extends beyond its landscaping, decorations and rooms.  Its purpose extends even beyond keeping my family warm and safe.  The purpose of a home is only realized when it brings a family closer together.  The purpose of a home is found in the people who gather there.

Even the sanctuary that we dream of one day building is but a means to an end.  All buildings are to help us sanctify our lives and cherish our relationships.  I stand with King Solomon.  No place can contain God.  Every building is for us.

When God commanded the Israelites to build a sanctuary God understood that all its details were for the people.  Perhaps the Israelites had to believe that it could contain God in order for their hearts to be moved to give.  I imagine that God’s most fervent prayer was that the people’s hearts might be joined together and thereby inspired to build a better community.  Every sanctuary is so that we might turn towards each other.  

That is why the instructions for building a just society precede the instructions for building a sanctuary.  It is always about the people.  It is first about the community.

Mishpatim Sermon

Following the revelation at Mount Sinai we move to a detailed listing of laws.  Here are a few of the many laws and mitzvot listed in this week’s parsha.  Some make sense and others appear outdates.  There are the logical and the mysterious.  Most of the laws fall into the category of mishpatim, laws whose reasons are obvious as opposed to hukkim, laws whose reasons are mysterious.

The portion begins with laws concerning the treatment of slaves.  We begin with the outdated.  Then there are laws about manslaughter and murder.  The Torah establishes asylum for a person who accidentally kills another so as to prevent the seeking of vengeance.  The death penalty is prescribed if you hit or insult your parents.  Perhaps the parent of a teenager wrote this one.  We also find here some of the basis for our own contemporary laws.  For example if you cause injury to a person Jewish law states that you are responsible for five types of restitution: for injury, for pain, for medical expenses, for absence from work, and for humiliation and mental anguish.  How progressive!  If you cause a miscarriage then you are required to make restitution as well.  This is the context for an eye and for an eye which mandates fair and equitable restitution not as commonly understood vengeance.

My favorite is the law of the goring ox.  The owner must make restitution only if the ox is in the habit of goring and he did not guard against this happening.  Similarly you are liable if you leave a pit uncovered and an animal or person falls in.  There is a fundamental tenet here of our responsibility to others.  You must make restitution if you start a fire or steal a neighbor’s livestock.  If you lose something that someone asked you to keep, even if it was stolen, you are responsible for it.  You shall not wrong the stranger, orphan or widow.  You must not take bribes.  Many of these laws were constructed to help build a just society.  The Torah is not just worried about how we approach God but also about building a community that cares for one another.

There are laws regarding the lending of money and charging interest.  Another one of my favorites, you have to stop and help your enemy’s ox—if it is lost or if it is struggling under its burden.  Observe Passover, Shavuot and Sukkot.  Leave the gleanings of the field for the poor.   Let the field lie fallow on the seventh year.  And now to some that are more difficult to understand.  Get rid of all the Hivites, Hittites, Canaanites, Amorites, Perizzites and Jebusites.  Don’t offer the blood of the sacrifice with anything leavened.

And finally, you shall not a boil a kid in its mother’s milk.  This is one of the classic examples of those laws called hukkim, laws whose reasons are mysterious.  There are many attempts to explain this law.  Most likely it was an ancient Canaanite practice that the Israelites found abhorrent.  If you have to get rid of all these peoples then you also have to get rid of all their abhorrent practices.

This verse is obviously the basis for the prohibition regarding the mixing of milk and meat.  The most common explanation for this observance is that we must not mix what gives life with the life that was taken.  Not mixing milk and meat is a discipline that brings Jewish consciousness to the everyday.  It makes you think about your Jewishness even when you are preparing food.

The early Reform rabbis rejected kashrut because they found such practices that regulated dress and diet to be for a different age.  But what was really going on was that the early Reform rabbis had great faith in reason.  If the reason was mysterious and did not fit with their modern sensibilities then they rejected the practice.  But post Holocaust and now because of post-modernism we have come to doubt reason.  And if we don’t doubt it we should.  We should not have complete faith in reason.  The Holocaust not only destroyed six million Jews and millions more it also destroyed our faith in reason.  Here was a country, namely Germany, at the height of culture, science and philosophy that used all of these and reason to evil ends.  

So it can’t all be about what our minds are capable of. It can’t all be what our heads can explain or reason can fathom.  Dr. Micah Goodman in his new book talks about redemptive perplexity.  I like this notion that there is a redemptive quality to not having it all figured out.  That is what he argues is the point of Maimonides’ "Guide of the Perplexed.”

And so I have come to think that we must recover mystery.  That is what not mixing milk and meat is about.  It is a daily affirmation of the fact that sometimes we must do things that cannot be adequately explained. Mystery must be a part of our lives—just as much as reason.  Wondering why must always be a part of our Jewish lives.

I am not suggesting that everyone must practice as I do.  Or that everyone should even keep kosher.  But I do believe that we must recover mystery.  Not every Jewish thing that we do can be explained by reason.

One more example.  I have been thinking about snow lately.  I am sure it is clear why this has been on my mind.  It is hard to see beauty in 18 inches of snow and the piles that tower over my head.  But you have to admit if you don’t have to get anywhere the snow is beautiful.  Moreover snow has a teaching in its accumulation.

All plans come to a crashing halt.  You can plan and schedule all you want.  But we don’t control everything.  We don’t understand everything.  Some things are just beyond our control.

Jewish tradition suggests that the highest reason for doing a mitzvah is not for a promise of reward or even because you find its reasons compelling, but instead because it is God given.  Because the reason is beyond our understanding we do the mitzvah for its own sake.

We do things for the sake of mystery.   On this Shabbat I would like us to work to restore mystery to our lives. The search for answers and reasons must always continue.  But unresolved questions do not mean giving up the quest.   It means instead affirming the mystery of our lives.  It means praising the mystery in our lives.

Amidst all of these laws in this week’s portion we find of course the quest for a just society but also this affirmation of mystery.  And with such mystery comes peace and contentment.

Mishpatim

The Zionist thinker, Berl Katznelson, wrote: “When I see a person walk among us as though he has solved all riddles and conundrums, or as one for whom a new ‘Guide of the Perplexed’ has been written…or one who really doesn’t need any such guidance at all, since his mind is clear and relaxed and he has never known any sort of confusion, I think of him as someone who lives in another world, beyond the reversals, torments and hopes of our own muddled world, or perhaps someone who has solved all problems by chewing some magical cud.  As for myself, I’m happy with my confused, uneasy soul…”

This week’s Torah portion, Mishpatim, elaborates many laws and introduces the Jewish notion called by its name.  According to tradition it is these mishpatim, laws, for which there are rational explanations.  An example: “When a person’s ox injures his neighbor’s ox and it dies, they shall sell the live ox and divide its price; they shall also divide the dead animal.  If, however, it is known that the ox was in the habit of goring, and its owner failed to guard against this, he must restore ox for ox, but he can keep the dead animal.”  (Exodus 21:35-36)

There are certain laws by which a just society is built.  How can you build any community where people do not take responsibility for each other?  How can you build a society where people murder?  Or where people steal?  Or for that matter, where people do not prevent their animals from injuring others?  The reasons for these laws are obvious.  They are mishpatim.

If you know that your ox (perhaps your dog or then again, your car) is a menace then you must guard against it injuring others.  Perhaps we should understand this law to mean, if you know a friend is a dangerous or reckless driver then you have a God given responsibility to keep them from harming others.  In the Torah there is no such notion as “It is none of my business.”  Everyone is responsible for building a just society.  The mishpatim, laws, detailed in this week’s portion are where we begin.  They are our society’s foundation.  They are the building blocks of any community.

There is another category of rules, however, called hukkim, for which there are no rational explanations.  Our Torah portion provides another example.  “You shall not boil a kid in its mother’s milk.” (Exodus 23:19)  This verse, repeated three times in the Torah, is the basis for the kosher dietary laws preventing the mixing of milk and meat.  According to the rabbis even this repetition has meaning.  One must not eat milk and meat, cook this mixture or even derive any benefit from it. 

Also according to the rabbis the rationale for this rule remains obscure.  There are many interpretations justifying this observance of not mixing meat and milk but all are mere attempts to explain what will forever remain mysterious.  This law remains part of the group of laws whose reasons remain obscure, perplexing and mysterious. 

Let us be honest.  Observing the dietary laws does not help build a just society.  Instead refraining from eating milk and meat together affirms mystery.  Too often we think that all problems can be solved, all questions answered.  Sometimes we even think that we control every aspect of our lives, that all is in our hands.  This is not the case.  Not everything has a reason.  Not everything can be explained.  Doing things whose reasons are mysterious does not make them irrational.  It makes them only unexplainable.  Just as mystery is part of lives so too must hukkim be part of our lives.    

I too am happy with my confused, uneasy soul.  And every time I pause to think, “Do I use the meat or milk utensil?” I am reminded that even the most ordinary of act of eating can sometimes affirm the mystery and give voice to what might forever remain my many, unanswered questions.

An Infant Dies, and a Jewish Ritual of Birth Begins

An Infant Dies, and a Jewish Ritual of Birth Begins - NYTimes.com
Read this!  Nothing more need be said.  Every word of mine might undermine the article's power.  It should simply be read and appreciated.

Yitro Sermon

In this week’s Torah portion the Ten Commandments are revealed.   Rather than focus on their familiar words I prefer to focus on the verse that follows.  “And the people saw the thunder—ro-eem et hakolot.”  How could they see the thunder?

There are two possible explanations.  1. Anything is possible because the Mount Sinai experience is a miracle.  But this is too easy an explanation.  And besides, there would not be much to discuss if I followed this line of reasoning.  2. In such an extraordinary experience the senses are overwhelmed and play tricks on you.  This is analogous to smells that sometimes awaken long since suppressed memories.

Neither of these reasons explore the meaning of seeing the thunder.  A Hasidic teaching suggests a better line of reasoning:  “What they heard on Mount Sinai they later saw translated into action in their homes, in the way they lived and in their behavior.  What they heard they later saw: the spirit of the Sabbath, the spirit of kosher food, the spirit of purity. They saw the sound.  Often, sound remains that and no more.  There are people who hear but never see; there is nothing in their daily behavior which gives evidence of the Torah which they heard.”

This is a beautiful explanation.  We must make what we hear, seen.  In other words, taking a teaching to heart is to make it visible.  It is to translate a teaching into action.

Judaism is skeptical about feelings.  This does not mean that it dislikes feelings.  Love is of course a very good thing, and its opposite, coveting is bad.  But Judaism refuses to rely on feelings.  It trusts instead actions.  It relies on what can be seen, not what is felt.

This is why “You shall not covet” is transformed into “Don’t steal.”  This is also why the tradition frames love within the holiness of marriage.  We build laws of actions around feelings.  We wrap our feelings with to do lists.

This is also why Judaism does not believe that a gift is tainted even if it is given for the wrong reason.  Tzedakah is not always given with a full heart.  It could be given because of a tax break or even to accumulate prestige.  The issue is not the feeling of the giver but the needs of the recipient.

Recently I asked my students these questions.  Who does the better act?  Two people of equal means are asked for a tzedakah donation of $200.  The beggar explains that it is for the purpose of buying winter coats so his family might better survive winter’s cold.  One person is moved to tears and gives $100.  The other is gruff and angry but grudgingly gives $200.  Who does the better act?  Our tradition says that the person who gave $200 does the better act.  Our students always answer that it is the person who gives with a full heart.  But it is about the needs of the recipient.  It is not about the feelings of the giver.

The ideal of course is to give the right amount with the right feeling.  But if you have to choose between feelings and actions, Judaism always chooses actions.  It trusts what can be seen, not what is felt.

Here is one of my favorite questions to ask our students.  I first learned it from Dennis Prager.  Your pet dog is drowning in a lake.  A complete stranger is also drowning there.  You can only save one.  Who do you save?  The Jewish answer is that you save the person, even if he or she is a stranger.

Our students always answer, “My dog,” after they first try to change the scenario.  “I would jump in and throw a life jacket to the other at the same time.”  When I say that most people don’t usually carry a life jacket with them and insist that they make a choice, they say, “My dog because my dog is a part of my family.”  One student recently added, “Maybe the person is really mean.”  In this student’s world, dogs are always nice—and I presume, people are unfortunately mean.

I understand our students’ responses.  Their world is built on relationships and family.  But Judaism believes that human life is more sacred than animals’.  So if you have to choose between the two you save the human life.  That is all there is to it.

And this is why feelings are not to be trusted.  We rely on actions.  You can accumulate many positive and altruistic feelings during a lifetime but to be righteous is a matter of piling up positive actions.

In next week’s Torah portion we read something that adds more force to this week’s and our current discussion.  The people respond to God’s commandments on Mount Sinai with the words, “Naaseh v’nishmah—All that God has said we will do and we will hear.”  First we do then we hear.

When we do, we hear.  You can only see the thunder when you transform your feelings into action. That is the meaning of the people seeing the thunder.

And so I resolve to leave fewer ideas locked in my heart.  I resolve to bring as much as possible to my hands.  It is in the doing that miracles are to be found.

Yitro

This week’s Torah portion, Yitro, details the revelation at Mount Sinai and the giving of the Torah, including the Ten Commandments.  It is these words that are emblazoned on the walls of many sanctuaries. 

“I am the Lord your God.  You shall have no other gods beside Me.  You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain.  Remember the Sabbath day.  Honor your father and mother.  You shall not murder.  You shall not commit adultery.  You shall not steal.   You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.  You shall not covet your neighbor’s house.”  (Exodus 20)

The most interesting of verses however, immediately follows the Ten Comandments: “All the people saw the thunder and lighting, the blare of the horn and the mountain smoking; and when the people saw it, they fell back and stood at a distance.”  The revelation at Mount Sinai was accompanied by many miracles and wonders. 

But how could the people see thunder?  The first answer is that the event was so miraculous that the revelation defied reason.  God could make the people see what is normally only heard.  A second explanation is that the experience overwhelmed human senses.  A powerful experience sometimes confuses the senses in the same way that a smell can trigger a memory and bring tears.  Still I question: what is the meaning of seeing thunder?

Rabbi Shmuel Yaakov Rubinstein, a 20^th century Hasidic rabbi, writes: “What they heard on Mount Sinai they later saw translated into action in their homes, in the way they lived and in their behavior.  What they heard they later saw: the spirit of the Sabbath, the spirit of kosher food, the spirit of purity. They saw the sound.  Often, sound remains that that and no more.  There are people who hear but never see; there is nothing in their daily behavior which gives evidence of the Torah which they heard.”

Every time we live by the words of our tradition, every time we live by the words of the Torah, we see the thunder.  The miraculous is in our hands!  Miracles are not about quaking mountains and booming voices.  They are instead within our grasp.  It is as simple as transforming feelings into action.

Judaism often, if not always, seeks to translate feelings into action.  In fact the Ten Commandment’s coveting is understood by the tradition as stealing property.  Commandment eight is then re-imagined as stealing a person, namely kidnapping.  Our tradition measures people by what they do rather than what they profess, what they perform rather than what they feel.  Judaism is uncomfortable with feelings.  It is skeptical about the heart.  It chooses instead to rely on the hands.

I wonder how many feelings and promises have failed to reach my hands.  How many good intentions have never worked their way out of my heart?  How many remain locked within?  And so I resolve—again and again, if Judaism is to be a force for good then it must leave the heart and reach out to the world!  Let us not be “people who hear but never see.”  Thunder can in fact be seen—each and every day, in each and every one of our lives.

Psalms 22-24

22. My God, my God

Why have You abandoned me;

why so far from delivering me

and from my anguished roaring?

My God,

I cry by day—You answer not;

by night, and have no respite.

According to the New Testament (Mark 15:34) Jesus invoked this opening verse when crucified on the cross.  It is a powerful opening for a prayer.  Anyone could have mouthed such words from the midst of their anguish and pain.  The psalmist often opens with such words but then concludes with words of praise.  The psalms open with pain and conclude with faith.  This psalm however is far longer on pain.  It concluding words are as follows:

Let all the end of the earth pay heed and turn

to the Lord,

and the peoples of all nations prostrate themselves before You;

for kingship is the Lord’s

and He rules the nations.

But the psalm began on a personal note of pain: why have You abandoned me?  It concludes with an impersonal note of faith.  Has faith indeed been restored?  Earlier the psalmist writes:

Because of You I offer praise in the great congregation;

I pay my vows in the presence of His worshippers.

Let the lowly eat and be satisfied;

let all who seek the Lord praise Him.

Always be of good cheer.

What began on a personal note concludes in a rather formulaic manner.  Again and again I find the psalmist speaking from the depths of personal trial and pain and then repeating rather mantra like statements of faith.  Yehuda Amichai writes of “the precision of pain and the blurriness of joy.”  Is pain indeed easier to speak about than joy?  Is faith more elusive than struggles and trials?

23. The most famous of all psalms.  I turn to Robert Alter’s new translation.  It is quoted here in full.

A David psalm.

The Lord is my shepherd,

I shall not want.

In grass meadows He makes me lie down,

by quiet waters guides me.

My life He brings back.

He leads me on pathways of justice

for His names’ sake.

Though I walk in the vale of death’s shadows,

I fear no harm,

for You are with me.

Your rod and Your staff—

it is they that console me.

You set out a table before me

in the face of my foes.

You moisten my head with oil.

my cup overflows.

It is difficult to interpret this psalm for it has a resonance beyond its exact translation and meaning.  How many times have we recited this at a funeral or shiva?  Here Alter translates the most famous of lines: “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for Thou art with me…” differently.  I prefer his translation of the Hebrew.  A vale of death seems more apt than a valley of death, although the Hebrew is usually translated as valley and might be more fitting to the metaphor of God as a shepherd.  Regardless many people are attached to the King James translation.  There is a certain majesty found in the old English.  There is a certain comfort in reciting words that one memorized in grade school.  At funerals I notice a divide between the generations.  When there are many people in their seventies, educated in American schools in the 1950’s, I can invite the assembled crowd to recite the 23^rd psalm in English.  The group will then recite the old English from memory.  There is great comfort in hearing the group reciting these words in unison.  Maybe we should teach our children to memorize this psalm as well.  Then they would be able to call upon it when they face loss.  But how many of those who recite these words from memory think of the meaning of the words?  There is a rhythm and music to the words.  Yet notice the faith of the psalm.  God is our shepherd.  Our greatest heroes like Moses and David were shepherds because shepherds tend to their flock but also know where the errant sheep wanders.  The shepherd cares for the flock as well as the individual.  God cares for the people and the individual in pain.  We march through the valley.  We do not remain there.  And one day our eyes will not be moistened by tears but our head by oil.  Redemption is our hope and prayer.  We will fill our cups and they will be brimming with joy.  Such is the faith of this most famous of psalms.  Again note how the pain is personal but the faith is in the impersonal third person.

24. The earth is the Lord’s and all that it holds,

The world and its inhabitants….

Who may ascend the mountain of the Lord?

Who may stand in His holy place?—

God is so high and mighty and lofty then no one can possibly stand near.  Such is the sense created by this opening.  But then we learn it is not beyond our reach.  It is as simple as living an honest life.  To live the ethical life is to ascend God’s holy mountain.

He who has clean hands a pure heart,

who has not taken a false oath by My life

or sworn deceitfully.